#but the couple vacation/summer themed ones I got lined up are gonna be cool too I think :3

[elvenbeard]

Spent a couple of hours at the beach today and got feels for a moment thinking about Kerry taking Vince to the Philippines for the first time and just asskfrmrdsmd...

Like...... Vince never was on a proper vacation. Once with his family when he was like, 5 or 6, cause his parents worked so much they just never had time (and also rarely both of them at once). Back then they visited his father's side of the family in Japan, it was the first time Vince stood in the ocean, blown away by how huge and far it is.

After he ran away from home he could barely survive on his own for a while, and when he worked for Arasaka he saw a few cool places around the world, but it was always work related.

Kerry comes from a simple background and made it big, like, I bet his first vacation all by himself somewhere that had *nothing* to do with work must've been a huge deal for him as well like... fuck yeah, I made it! I earned this! Time to chill and party after busting my ass for years (as you should).

And omg... the first time they're on vacation together somewhere... Vince is really gonna struggle with sitting still and resting *his* ass for once, while Kerry's like "oh my god, just... enjoy yourself, please!! Relax!!"

After a while though I think he'd be able to wind down xD But his favourite thing would be actually having Kerry show him his favourite spots, some hidden gems and secret locations he's discovered over the years.

#random blorbo thoughts #otp: to bad decisions #vincent ezaki #kerry eurodyne #as if I dont have enough VP ideas already #but the couple vacation/summer themed ones I got lined up are gonna be cool too I think :3 #cyberpunk 2077

[yukidragon]

Our Life Snippet - Surprise Aquarium Trip

Just because the Step 3 DLC dropped doesn’t mean I’ve stopped writing for Our Life: Beginnings & Always. Figured I’m past due to post another first draft clip for those who enjoy my novelization self-indulgence.

This particular clip was of an original moment for Step 1 that I started even before @gb-patch dropped the teaser image of Cove at the aquarium. After playing Happiness in the new DLC, I now find this scene I wrote fairly amusing for various reasons that will be apparent for those who have also played it. I guess this would add a few extra lines of dialogue to that DLC scene wouldn’t it?

...

Weekends had little meaning for kids on summer vacation, except for those with parents or guardians who were off from work for two whole days in a row. For most kids, these days were an opportunity to go out and do something special with the family, such as take a trip to the movies or a theme park.

For Cove, that was the last thing he wanted if it meant spending time with just his dad.

Mealtime with his dad had become tense since the move, but this morning Cove found Cliff absolutely insufferable. First he was woken up with an obnoxiously excessive amount of cheer. The big breakfast his dad made was fine - pretty tasty actually - but it was the constant battering of conversation during the meal that grated on his nerves.

Things had finally settled into something of a routine at the new store, which allowed Cliff to take the Saturday off. His plan for the day was to spend as much quality time with Cove as possible. He came to his son with a laundry list’s worth of suggestions for fun father-son activities to share.

It was a shame that Cove rejected every single one of them.

Not all of the suggestions were bad. A few sounded kind of fun, but Cove still refused on principle. He hadn’t forgiven his dad for uprooting his entire life and taking him away from his real home and his mom. Being offered to do things that they used to do as a family with only the two of them just reminded him of how broken his family was now.

“I’m going to go play with Jamie,” Cove said, raising his voice as he rose from his seat. He was finally finished eating, so he didn’t have to sit through this annoying conversation anymore.

Cliff faltered mid-sentence at his son’s declaration - he hadn’t even gotten to finish his latest pitch. He had been so sure that a visit to the aquarium would do the trick that time. “Are you sure?” he asked, not hiding the disappointment in his voice. “I heard the aquarium has a big shark exhibit. It might be pretty cool, don’t you think?”

It did sound cool, but Cove shook his head with a displeased grunt, refusing to be swayed, no matter how tempting it was

 If his dad was actually giving Cove the option to choose not to go, then he was going to reject anything Cliff threw his way regardless of what it was; it was only fair after what his dad put him through without giving him any choice in the matter.

It was clear to Cliff, as he watched his son walk swiftly away from him, that he would have to resort to drastic measures if he was going to have a day out with his son. “Hey, I have an idea,” he said as he got out of his own seat. “How about we see if Jamie can come with us?”

That suggestion brought Cove to a halt. That… actually wasn’t a bad idea from his dad for once. Jamie had a way of making anything fun, and he knew she loved the ocean as much as he did. He had little doubt that she would be thrilled to come.

The prospect of looking at all the amazing creatures the sea had to offer became just a little more exciting than it already was when Cove pictured doing it with Jamie. It would even be worth putting up with his dad.

“Okay,” Cove said, fighting to hide his smile as he looked back at Cliff. Just because he was now looking forward to the suggestion didn’t mean he could let his dad know that he was excited.

Cliff beamed at his son, easily crossing the distance between them to ruffle Cove’s hair, much to the little boy’s chagrin. Jamie saved the day once again. “That’s great! How about we head over right now and ask her moms for permission and see what Jamie thinks?”

The Leimomis were good people. Noelani and Pamila were all for encouraging the friendship between Cove and Jamie, so chances were good they would agree to let Jamie come on the trip. Sure, it probably would probably mean that it would go from just the two of them to six, but Cliff could still squeeze some father-son bonding in there; he could even offer to pay for admission for all of them to seal the deal.

As long as Cove was happy, that was all that mattered.

Father and son had barely stepped outside the house when they spotted activity at the Leimomi house. Pamela was loading something into the trunk of the car, while Jamie was walking swiftly down the sidewalk in her direction.

“Hey, good timing,” Cliff said to Cove, though his son wasn’t even looking at him. He turned to wave across the street, raising his voice. “Hey neighbors!”

Pamela looked over her shoulder and waved back. “Morning, Cliff. Morning, C-”

“Cove!” Jamie shouted happily, unintentionally talking over her mom. She waved energetically before dashing past Pamela to meet up with her best friend in the middle of the street. “Hi!”

Cove gave Jamie a shy smile. He could never quite match her enthusiasm, but it always made him feel good to see her so happy to see him. “Hi Jamie.”

Cliff grinned at the exchange between his son and his friend before shifting his focus to Pamela. “I hope we’re not interrupting anything, but Cove and I are planning on taking a trip to the aquarium today, and Cove was thinking of inviting Jamie along.”

The suggestion put stars in Jamie’s eyes, and she looked from Cliff to Cove as she let out an amazed gasp. “Really?”

Cove nodded, happy to see Jamie so excited. “Mm hmm. There’s supposed to be sharks there too.”

“Cool!” Jamie cheered as she bounced onto the balls of her feet. “I can’t wait!”

Pamela placed her hand on her daughter’s shoulder and shook her head when Jamie glanced up at her. “Sorry, kiddo, but I’m afraid that’s gonna have to wait for another day. You’ve got a lesson in half an hour, remember?”

Jamie blinked before visibly deflating with disappointment. Not only was she going to miss out on spending time having fun with Cove, but she was going to miss out on something cool as going to the aquarium. It wasn’t fair.

“Lessons?” Cove repeated, brow furrowing in confusion and displeasure. “But it’s  summer vacation.”

“Guitar lessons,” Jamie explained with a sigh. “I have them all year ‘round.”

“That’s right,” Pamela said wryly. “Jamie’s Saturday mornings are reserved except for holidays and special occasions. Sorry. Guess it’ll be just you two boys and the fishes today.”

Cove folded his arms over his chest, not bothering to hide his scowl.

Jamie looked up at her mom, giving her best puppy dog eyes. “But… going to the aquarium with Cove is a special occasion.” She made the argument tentatively as she anxiously twirled one of her pigtails around her finger.

Pamela wasn’t swayed by such adorable charms into changing her mind, but it did make her honk Jamie’s nose lightly. She chuckled at her youngest daughter’s indignant squawk at the playful gesture. “Sorry, kiddo, but Mx. Morgan is waiting, and you don’t want to be rude and cancel on them right before you’re supposed to see them, do you?”

Jamie sighed and wilted as her last ditch effort failed as well, but her mom had a good point. Her guitar teacher was a nice person, and she didn’t want to be rude to them just because she wanted to play with Cove - it might hurt their feelings.

Cliff rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he tried to figure out how to salvage the situation. He probably should have expected the possibility that the Leimomis could have other plans. “I guess it can’t be helped,” he said after a moment. “Sorry to disappoint you, Jamie. Next time I’ll try to remember to give more notice.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Pamela said with an easy smile. “We’ll just have to shelve it for another day. Have fun, you two.” Gently, she nudged Jamie’s shoulder in the direction of the car. “Come on, Jamie, or we’re gonna be late.”

Jamie reluctantly went along with her mom, but she gave Cove one last regretful look over her shoulder and waved with far less enthusiasm than before. “Bye, Cove. Have fun at the aquarium.”

Cove gave a small wave in return, but he couldn’t return the weak smile Jamie sent his way, not when he was too busy being unhappy about this development. “Bye.”

This wasn’t fair. Why did adults always have to make them do stuff they didn’t want to do all the time just because they were kids? Cove wished they were older, then he and Jamie could go to the aquarium by themselves and spend the whole day there having fun together.

Cliff tried his best to rekindle Cove’s enthusiasm for the aquarium, but it was clear that his son was in no mood to go anywhere after the one thing he wanted to do the most - play with Jamie - got cancelled. Cove never reacted well to a change of plans once he had his heart set on them.

Although Cliff was unable to talk Cove into going on an outing, he did manage to coax his son into a couple card games at home. Winning a few rounds of go fish did brighten Cove’s mood enough that the grumpy boy let a few smiles slip.

It might not have been the big father-son day out Cliff was aiming for, but he counted himself a winner anyway.

#Our Life Beginnings & Always #Our Life #ourlifeba #Cove Holden #Jamie Last #Cliff Holden #Jamie Leimomi #My Writing

[saebyeog-i]

bitter brews (i) | syh

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

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

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

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

pairing | Johnny Seo x fem reader

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

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

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

What a joke that turned out to be.

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

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

Right. The whole summer.

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

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

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

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

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

“What? What do you want now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was going to be a long summer.

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe.

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

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

Back to your task at hand.

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

“Sigh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How come? That seems so—”

“Impulsive?”

You frowned. “Yeah, exactly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

Distracted? Peeved? Worked up?

Horny.

The word you were avoiding was horny.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jesus fuck—”

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

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

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

You scream again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, everything okay in here?”

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ ✧ ✧

Johnny never asked you about the panic attack.

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

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

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

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

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

Two months…

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

“We?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Navigation?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But salmonella—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had to get him out. Fast.

tbc.

—

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

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

[zombieratt]

Alright so forewarning this is LONG as FUCK specifically because i came up with this idea in early high school and was just today POSESSEd By the Spirit Of Musical Theatre to put it to paper— er Tumblr.

So without further ado:

DEAR EVAN HANSEN BUT EVAN ISNT A TERRIBLE PERSON AND CONNOR LIVES.

the beginning is the same, canon diverges just after waving through a window.

*this ended up getting written is script format? i also just sorta ignore alana’s whole exsistance bc in this version of the play she’s unnecessary*

In the moments before he talks to Connor evan decides to omit Zoe from his letter, having resolved himself to move on from her. (instead of being a hella creep.)

Connor: “dear Evan Hansen,” what are you writing letters to yourself? *he laughs*

Evan: its, uh, its for my therapist. its just a stupid little assignment that she says is supposed to help me process my feelings or— uh or something

Connor: hm. here. * hands Evan the letter*

Connor: your cast. no one’s signed it.

Evan: uh no. no one has.

Connor: gotta sharpie?

Evan: huh?

Connor: gotta sharpie? im gonna sign it.

Evan: *handing the sharpie to Connor* w- whuh uh why?

Connor: *shrugs* feels right.

Evan: i wish i could do that

Connor: what?

Evan: UH, IMEAN—

Connor: no wait- dude.

Evan: i mean uh, i meant that i wish i could just be, y’know impulsive like that.

Connor: Why Cant you be?

Evan: i uh, my heads pretty messed up, and stuff like that just, makes it worse i guess.

Connor: well theres some thing we have in common— were both fucked up in the head.

*the bell rings*

Evan: oh shoot! i missed the bus—

Connor: i’ll give you a ride.

Evan: are you sure i mean i can walk its not far-

Connor: all the more reason, i probably have to pass it on my way home anyway, cmon.

——

they meet Zoe in the parking lot

Zoe: I have Late practice today

Connor: whatever, gotta passenger.

Zoe: who the fuck would be crazy enough to trust your ability to drive?

Evan *being Brave*: Me Apparently?

Zoe: Uh, Evan Right?

Evan: yeah, uh, yeah.

Zoe *holding her hand out to be shaken*: i’m Zoe, we’ve met though right?

Evan wipes his hand on his shirt and shakes it: yeah, uh, nice to formally meet you, Zoe.

Zoe: i’m off, don’t kill him stoner.

Connor: i wont Princess

Evan breathing heavy: that was,, an eventful ten minutes.

Connor: oh fuck— you cool? or—

Evan: Panic Attack.

Connor: Right, uh

Connor: can you get in the car?

Evan: yeah

*car nonsense*

Connor: Can i start driving or do you want me to wait

Evan: Distractions are good,, Can Uh, Can you Talk about Stuff?

Connor: What stuff!??

Evan: any Stuff!

Connor: Is Zoe okay??

Evan: Sure?!

Connor: Uhh we don’t get along as well as we used to?

we were really close as kids, shes a huge asshole now but *fully venting now*

i kind of miss it you know? having someone to talk to and care about— and i still care about her— but its scary and i always fuck it up! not to mention the fact that our parents hate me— make her see me as some alien and not just a fucked up kid who wants to talk and — (more ranting that i dont feel like writing, but its a whole monologue bro)

Evan: Connor

Connor snaps his mouf shut: yeah

Evan: thanks

Connor: oh that, uh actually helped?

Evan: yeah focusing on your voice and whats real and stuff— it makes a difference.

Neither of them noticed that Connor was just sort of Driving. they end up at the park where in canon Connor commits Sewer-slide.

Evan: i didn’t know there was a park here.

Connor: huh, oh, yeah i guess i just sorta auto piloted, i come here to think.

Evan: About stuff?

Connor: Yeah, Stuff.

*the convo lulls*

Connor: do you have a laptop?

Evan: no, i uh, i left it at home? why?

Connor: give me a second

Connor walks to the car and grabs his back pack out of the back seat

Evan watches Quizzically from the swing-set

Connor pulls out a Sketch Pad and Pen, flipping to a clean page.

Connor: So tell me how to write one of those letters of yours.

Evan: uh, well you start like any other letter- just addressing it to yourself

Connor writing: Dear Connor Murphy,

Evan: and uh, my first one was supposed to be about my ideal summer vacation? since i started in middle school- but you don’t have to—

Connor: thats perfect.

Connor starts to sing for forever,

eventually Evan joins in there is a minor gay moment where they’re holding hands face to face.

the song ends with Connor hugging Evan.

Evan: its- its pretty late.

Connor obviously crying: just— just a couple more minutes.

Evan lets go and grabs Connors sketch book of the ground, closing it and handing it off to him: then how about this, labor day weekend- we actually go.

Connor: what are you talking about?

Evan: being spontaneous?

Connor: o-okay.

and it cuts to black.

theres a small montage here, as the set changes to Connor and Evans bedrooms

sincerely, me is a lament in this context, Connor and Evan are duetting from their respective rooms, writing to themselves.

(the lyrics are completely different and i will not be writing them here because thats too much fucking effort.

but they’re duetting from their bedrooms about making a connection to another person, feeling seen, for the first time. what it felt like and how they really want to keep it up but are afraid of making a mistake and ruining it.

its got some themes of waving thru a window, and a little bit of for forever, but its still largely the same notes just in a different key.)

after wards, Zoe knocks on Connors door to tell him dinner is ready to find him peacefully asleep.

requiem is the same, Zoe sees Connor as Dead to Her instead of actually dead, so some of the wording changes, so and so about how a monster doesn’t deserve peaceful rest etcetera.

school day happens, Connor doesn’t die, but the hot goss is that everyone saw Connor and Evan go home together after school, jared makes a shitty homophobic joke to Evan and Evan kind of tells him off about it. they argue and it culminates in Evan saying “well god forbid I’m friends with someone who isn’t YOU!” or smth like tht and it hits jared right the fuck at home man.

Connor says from the side lines: damn that was pretty hard core dude.

Evan: you have, no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that.

Connor honest to god l a u g h s, theres a number of people who hear it and lose their shit, Zoe being one of them: i have a pretty good idea, wanna get some lunch?

Evan: yeah, sure.

this general routine continues until labor day weekend, when they plan to go on their little escape. theres a short scene of Connor leaving the house with his keys and a backpack.

Connors mom confronts Zoe about his oddly upbeat attitude and hows he’s seemed differently lately Zoe Shrugs but decides to investigate his room.

she finds the letters. the first one is for forever, the theme plays as she reads it frantically, and is signed “Sincerely me (connor murphy)” so she knows its him, i f i could tell her begins but its a real duet between Connor and Zoe and at the end she resolves to try harder to connect to him.

Evan sings disappear to Connor after breaking into a formerly public park, in this context its him confessing that he broke his arm attempting su!c!de. Connor records it, for personal reference.

jared hacks Connors phone and steals the video, posting it to yt, in an effort to ruin their friendship.

Evan and Connor get in a little fight about it, and in the meantime Evan is called to the school to give an assembly because hes a phenomenal speaker and Disappear got like 1000000 views over night.

Zoe and Connor bond a little bit in a short scene before the assembly

Zoe: wheres Evan what happened?

Connor: Kleinman Did!

Zoe: what?

Connor: Why Do you care?

Zoe: because! you look happy around him!

Connor: i, i do?

Zoe: yeah? he could tell the worst joke ever written and you’d crack up. i haven’t heard you laugh like that in years Connor, maybe ever.

Connor: oh.

Zoe: Come back inside?

Connor: y, Yeah.

they all perform You Will Be Found together.

end act 1.

(no more dialogue from here i got tired)

to break in a glove is Connor’s dad trying to reconnect with him, it goes mediocrely, but Connor feels like hes being seen by his dad for the first time in years. its said in metaphors, but this is Connors dads way of saying that if Connor is willing to put in the work, so is he. they hug at the end, things are looking up. some talk of therapy is sprinkiled in the dialogue as they walk of stage together.

Only Us is Evan and Connor saying that they saved each other. its loosely romantic, as its a love song, but they don’t out right say that they’re in love or anything, they don’t know if theyre ready for that. its a promise. the song ends with Connor finally apologizing for pushing Evan over at the beginning of the show.

good for you is sung by jared only, as a power ballad, about losing people you didn’t treasure. its his attempt at an apology, but it ultimately fails, since jared is unable to take responsibility for his own actions. this is where jared and Evan go their separate ways.

Evan’s mom comforts him, as he sings words fail, which is about specifically jared, and how their rocky friendship is ruined and Evan pegs himself as the cause, instead of parents or perfect girl he uses metaphors that apply to best friends— maybe more. and talks about how he didn’t try, he was happy so he ignored that jared was hurting, and how that was really shitty of him. but instead of it being a generally somber song the end is lighter, because Connor is there— waving through his front window.

Evans mom sings So Big/So Small as Evan steps out the front door to embrace Connor and they mime talking about jared, hug and take hands. the house moves off stage in preparation for the finale.

Connor and Evan open the finale saying each others names, and sing it together as the test of the cast (minus jared) joins in, Evans mom taking his hand and Zoe Taking Connors, Evans mom the Murphys and Zoe break off to the back where Evan and Connor finish the final “all i see is sky for forever” while looking into each others eyes, and finish the musical by embracing (maybe kissing if thats ur jam).

#dear evan hansen #deh #connor murphy #evan hansen #zoe murphy #musicals #broadway #deh rewrite i guess? #this is more like the outline of a fic i’ll never write #kd.txt #i was posessed to write this #tree bros

[b99fandomevents]

Thank you again to the awesome folks who joined our first ever Fic Exchange!!! We hope you enjoyed writing your fics as much as we loved reading them. 

Under the cut is a masterlist of all the submitted works, compiled and arranged in alphabetical order by the amazing @amez-santiago. ♡ (If you don’t see your fic here or notice any errors, please let us know!) 

If you’re interested in joining the Fall 2019 Fic Exchange, definitely keep an eye out for our next announcement post within the next couple of weeks. 

a summer rain is passing over, and it feels like a dream | AO3

↝ by @exploding-snapple for @storyinmyeyes​

Amy takes Jake to go see a play, but it’s really the walk home afterward that he enjoys the most. (set a few weeks after 3x02)

Cause you’re what I always wanted | AO3

↝ by @sandylovesfandoms for @a-wren-d

Rosa shows Gina Babylon, and sparks fly

Coming Out | AO3

↝ by @the-poodles-of-pulitzer for @yaboring-yabasic

Rosa’s POV for coming out.

Dancing around each other | AO3

↝ by @disruptedvice for @amydancepants-peralta

“Ah! Amy! Help!” Jake shrieked the moment she answered her phone, not really concerned about volume control since he was kinda trying to not die at the moment. It had gotten through four rings before she finally picked up, and this would’ve been it for Jake if it’d gone straight to voicemail. Amy frowned, looking around as if he could see her, but soon brushed it off as her being paranoid. “Jake? What’s wrong?” “I’ve got the goose!” He shouted, jumping to dodge another swipe that could only be described as intelligent and intent. “The goose is here! The goose is here!”

Soulmate AU where one person finds a goose who leads them to the other person. The difficulty comes in not being mauled by a goose 

doggone summer | AO3

↝ by @timeforginasopinion for @sandylovesfandoms

Amy should have known it was going to be an awful summer from the moment Jake Peralta appeared on her front doorstep carrying a dog. “Morning, Ames,” he chirps, irritatingly cheerful, as if he’s passing her in the hallway at school rather than standing in front of her house during the sadly fleeting time of year she’s supposed to be free of this bullshit. “Cheddar, say hi to Amy.” The corgi swaddled in his arms, predictably, doesn’t respond. Jake fixes it with an offended frown. “Well, that was rude.” Amy sneezes a lot and thinks longingly of her bowl of oatmeal squares, now growing soggy on the kitchen counter. Her life was so much simpler ten minutes ago.

everything's good, everything's just as it should be | AO3

↝ by @fezzle for @the-poodles-of-pulitzer 

“Jake,” she starts, slow and deliberate. “Do you know who I am?” He stares at her a moment before shaking his head, and her stomach swoops. Oh my god. or Jake gets an appendectomy, and there happens to be an amusing side effect as he wakes up from his anesthesia.

foolishly, completely falling | AO3 [E]

↝ by @fezzle for @kamekamelea

“Are you… asking to hook up with me?” Amy asks slowly, every syllable enunciated carefully. “Whaaaat? No! Nope. No, I definitely was not! What I meant to say was -’’ “Becausetheanswerisyes.”Jake freezes, eyes bugging. “Wh-What?” “I-I said yes.” or Jake and Amy are friends with benefits. What could go wrong?

Heads and Hot Dogs and the Best Day Ever | AO3

↝ by @vernonfielding for @nerd-husbands

Nikolaj spends a day at the precinct not helping Rosa solve a case. He's never been happier. 

hold me in this wild, wild world | AO3

↝ by @dmigod for @santiagoswagger

He wants to say he doesn’t know how he got into this situation, but he knows exactly how it happened (or, at least mostly): with a bet. It’s not news to anyone that he and his professional partner are competitive—Santiago is a type A tightwad who feels like she has to prove herself to everyone (except him), and Jake, well, Jake likes to spite her. And to win. He really, really loves winning.

hold me in this wild, wild world | AO3

↝ by @johnny-and-dora for @meepmorpperaltiago

“It takes every ounce of willpower he has left not to kiss her like it’s their last night on earth. Despite the odds, he refuses to kiss her like he’s saying goodbye.” or, a forbidden love/royalty/fairytale au in which jake comes up with an alternative solution to amy being forced into an arranged marriage with the most boring man in the seven kingdoms.

i found a mirror for my soul (i don’t need no other) | AO3

↝ by @b99peraltiago for @exploding-snapple

When she realizes her sleeve has rolled up a little, showing the skin of her wrist and tries to cover it again, it’s already too late. Jake’s seen it. He’s caught sight of the glowing “S” printed there. “S” as in, Soulmate. Amy finally found hers – and, obviously, it’s not him. (Post-4x22 soulmates AU, in which Jake and Amy are not soulmates and she finds hers while Jake is in jail.)

i’ll put it all on the line | AO3

↝ by @amydancepants-peralta for @callginalinetti

"We have to find her, Jake!” He looks up from an evidence marker, furrowing his brow. “I’m sorry … her?” “Your mystery woman! The beautiful woman you were stuck on the subway with. She’s obviously your soulmate.”

I’m going home, to the place where I belong (where your love has always been enough) | AO3

↝ by @storyinmyeyes for @outofinspo

It’s moving in day for Jake and Amy and she’s a little stressed out over all the boxes that need unpacking, but in true Jake fashion, he provides a distraction.

I’ve got a really bad feeling I’m gonna love you so good | AO3

↝ by @amesantiagos for @romanovember

A typical Friday night at Shaw’s bar with the Nine-Nine …or not quite. “Really, I just wanted to check if you’re okay.” “Why wouldn’t I be?” She frowns at him, her eyes dark in the dimly lit booth, “and why do you even care?” “Well, first off, that’s rude,” he raises he eyebrows at her, “and secondly, because you’re my partner, and I know I normally come across as a badass, emotionless action-hero like type– ” “No, you don’t.”

if they’re meant to be together, they won’t stay too long apart | AO3

↝ by @startofamoment for @e11evenseggos

They’d first met in the fall of their freshman year. Amy can still remember it with perfect clarity: how Jake rushed into the lecture hall, hair unruly and plaid shirt rumpled. He looked like he’d just woken up, or maybe never slept. Perhaps he’d pulled an all nighter in prep for their big exam. (She had gotten the recommended eight hours of sleep, naturally, and had gotten up with more than enough time to have a balanced breakfast and to go over her review sheets.)

It is like Oatmeal……. | AO3

↝ by @dancezwithwolvez for @cheddar-the-dog

Another chance.

it’s your love i’m lost in | AO3

↝ by @stolethekey for @ofbuttsandbombs

She smiles. “That’s been the theme of the entire Holt-Cozner relationship. Finding love, despite everything telling them that they cannot. Being confronted with danger, with fear, with risk, but making the incredibly brave choice to love anyway.” or, an mcu post-snap au in which holt and kevin renew their vows

julian santiago and the case of the sister’s mystery boyfriend | AO3 

↝ by @amyscascadingtabs for @397bartonstreet

Eventually, he makes the educated guess that there must be someone else in her life. She must have wanted for this to break-up to happen, he figures, and a new mystery lover could very well be the reason. Julian simply has to figure out who it is.

long live all the magic we made | AO3

↝ by @benwvatt for @startofamoment

He deserves to know about cheering charms, or spells that change mice into teapots, or a potion that could double his age. He belongs in her world, she thinks. If only he were. Rule number one of being a Santiago: Neighbors like the Peraltas don’t have any business knowing about magic. Amy ignores it and finds everything she was dreaming of.

of babies and binders

↝ by @a-wren-d for @acanoftrash

domestic peraltiago

Of Debates and Chickenshit Boys | AO3

↝ by @professionalpenthief for @imalloutofhoots

Amy’s happily dull life turns upside down when a mystery admirer’s love for her goes viral in her high school. As she navigates the new uncharted territories of being in the public eye, she finds love does defy all expectations. 

Regarding The Incident In Which Raymond Ran Away To Mexico | AO3

↝ by @nerd-husbands for @amesantiagos

“Can you clarify,” Kevin said into his cellphone, using his other arm to hail a cab, “how much wedding cake did Cheddar eat?"  The Honeymoon episode, from Kevin’s perspective.

Run, Hide, Fight (Show Me Going) | AO3

↝ by @cheddar-the-dog for @vernonfielding

around two days after the active shooter situation in Brooklyn Heights Hotel Rosa wakes up from a nightmare that she soon realizes was not a nightmare at all

sailing home once and for all | AO3

↝ by @kamekamelea for @disruptedvice

In the universe where Jake is a sailor from New York, he finds himself coming back home to this one special girl - detective Amy Santiago.

Sick Leave | AO3

↝ by @winnietherpooh for @amyscascadingtabs

Amy decides that Jake needs a vacation after he returns prison, and he finally begins to open up about his recovery as they read Harry Potter together.

Something more than a catalog of non-definitive acts | AO3

↝ by @chipmunksallshipklefan for @professionalpenthief

Jake and Amy go undercover as a couple.

The Beer Burglar | AO3

↝ by @outofinspo for @cheeto-anaconda

Brooklyn Nine-Nine and The Good Place crossover where Jake arrests Eleanor

The Date Night 

↝ by @meepmorpperaltiago for @amazingsantiago

Based on the prompts: jealous Amy and Jake being Amy’s hype man

The Desert Sucks, But Being a Damsel in Distress Isn’t Too Bad | AO3

↝ by @romanovember for @fezzle

I’m never drinking again. Jake Peralta thinks as he comes to consciousness, his mouth full of cotton swabs and sandpaper and his head pounding like a sledgehammer on concrete. Or maybe 50 million sledgehammers, a freight train and another 24 elephants. Ugh Jake rolls over, and pulls his crinkly and hot duvet closer, relaxing his aching and hungover body into the cool embrace of… sand? And on his head? An honest to god cowboy hat. Yeehaw?

The in-between | AO3 

↝ by @disruptedvice for @amydancepants-peralta

Amy’s thoughts between ‘go back to being colleagues’ to ‘screw light and breezy’

the interrogation room | AO3

↝ by @yaboring-yabasic for @timeforginasopinion

one-shot based loosely on the prompts badly trying to keep a secret, locked in, and kid fic with some peraltiago, dianetti, and the whole squad.

the smell of coffee runs through my veins | AO3

↝ by @elsaclack for @winnietherpooh

five times jake smells like fresh coffee grounds (and one time he doesn’t)

the stars lean in a little closer all because of you 

↝ by @peraltasames for @b99peraltiago

baby peraltiago + beach house 2.0

there was a time when a moment like this wouldn’t ever cross my mind | AO3 [E] 

↝ by @kamekamelea for @disruptedvice

She looks deeply into his eyes, dark from the desire overwhelming him and whispers straight into his lips in an authoritative tone. “No, Jake. Fuck me with my uniform on.”

THIS BOY WILL BE THE DEATH OF ME | AO3

↝ by @ofbuttsandbombs for @stolethekey

Jake Peralta and Amy Santiago, self- proclaimed 'best detectives of the Nine-Nine’ (and 'of the NYPD’, 'no, USA!’, 'no,the entire freaking world!!’, when they get a little drunk) are handed a routine murder investigation which goes off- track. Will this cause their already fragile relationship to change? The journey from 'Peralta and Santiago’ to 'Jake and Amy.’

time is ticking away (and there are too many things I wanna say) | AO3

↝ by @what-about-gay for @johnnydora

Amy is stressed because she can’t find her soulmate, while Jake couldn’t care less about his soulmate. Time is ticking and they have to find their soulmates, because when the clock is at zero and you haven’t found your soulmate yet, you and your soulmate both die.

Variations on sharing a bed 1/2/3 | AO3 [T to M]

↝ by @disruptedvice for @amydancepants-peralta

Peraltiago drabbles + sharing a bed trope

We Are The Greatest Love Story (The World Had Ever Seen) | AO3

↝ by @cheddar-the-dog for @dancezwithwolvez

the night they meet his life changes forever and he’d never go back to before or how the story of Kevin and Raymond found its start

we could be a beautiful miracle, unbelievable | AO3

↝ by @stolethekey for @johnny-and-dora

Kylie hums, reaching over to unzip the back of Amy’s dress. “Well, whatever you’re not anxious about is going to lose his mind when he sees you in this. Seriously.” “He has a girlfriend,” Amy snaps, shimmying out of the dress and snatching her leggings off the wall. “And this isn’t for him.” - in which Amy throws a New Year's Eve party that subsequently implodes.

we were good at faking forever | AO3

↝ by @johnnydora for @dmigod

David Santiago has super powers. No matter how much effort Amy gives to everything she does, he always manages to beat her tenfold, including obtaining the girlfriend of his parents’ dream. With ten days until her brother Miguel’s wedding and no date, Amy has no choice but to convince the next person she sees to fall madly in love with her.

we were wild and fluorescent, come home to my heart | AO3

↝ by @santiagoswagger for @benwvatt

Desperate to find a last minute gift for her mom, Amy stumbles into the only open flower shop in her neighborhood. Unfortunately, the florist is very annoying.

we won’t run (we can fight) | AO3

↝ by @amydancepants-peralta for @chipmunksallshipklefan

“Be careful who you give your midnights to, my darling. Midnights are for talking - for old friends and new; for truth and never for lies. When you’ve only got the stars to illuminate, everything else falls away. Midnights are for confessions.” Her hand falls to Amy’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “They’re for falling in love.” Well that’s just ridiculous. She and Jake were definitely not falling in love. Oh. Medieval AU where the evil King Vulture is ruining Brooklyne. Amy and Jake work together to take him DOWN.

whelp, this might be your view for the next seven years | AO3

↝ by @callginalinetti for @galaxygaydreams

sometimes you get to meet your soulmate twice (basically a new version of how jake and amy meet and fall in love)

When You’re Home

↝ by @397bartonstreet for @peraltasames

jake and amy’s first night back together after the ambulance scene in coral palms pt 3 + fluffy reunion goodness.

where’d you go, david santiago | AO3

↝ by @acanoftrash for @brillliant

when amy’s brother goes missing, she hires private detective jake peralta to find him.

You Already Know | AO3

↝ by @e11evenseggos for @what-about-gay

a one-shot of Gina and Rosa’s wedding ceremony.

you showed me something i can’t live without | AO3

↝ by @amazingsantiago for @dailyb99

Alternative ending to Casecation. Jake is left reeling after Amy’s “start over” comment. Title from ‘I Believe’ by the Jonas Brothers.

#b99 summer 2019 fic exchange #b99fandomevents #summer 2019 fics #b99 fic

[luvdsc]

Hihi Cat! I've come to deliver some good news! (This is pretty long huhu ToT)

MY ERB HAS BEEN APPROVED AND I CAN PROCEED TO RECRUIT PARTICIPANTS!! Ahh it's been such a blessing to be able to proceed immediately! I've actually hit my target amount of participants in less than a day (IT'S CRAZY) but I'm gonna collect more responses cuz the more the better! (Would you wanna check the questionnaire out? I can PM you the link!! :3)

Also also I PASSED THAT FINALS! The one I took a day after my vaccination (1st dose) ToT GAHH I'm so happy I won't even ask for more, it's enough :3

I've been writing my thesis during this sem break but it's progressing pretty slowly cuz I've been so drained from last semester and the vaccine itself. Huhu but I've written a brief rundown for my proposal so there's a rough idea there, just needa rly assemble it into a clear narrative. And yes I agree! Psychology studies are a beautiful fusion of science & human essence imo, and its fascinating learning more abt ourselves and how we as the human species progress in life ya know? 😌

I got my second dose exactly a week ago and got the same side effects - headache, arm soreness, hunger, fatigue; I felt like a fusion of psyduck & snorlax HAHAHAHA 😂 - it wasn't anything serious so yay I'm fully vaccinated! (in a few weeks time keke I'll be)

HAHAHAHA my vaccination appointments were pretty eventful. The nurses and volunteers were all so warm and friendly! I'm the type of person who feels whatever's being injected into me, it's not the pain that I wanna distract myself from (it wasn't pain tbh) but that sluggish discomfort I get from the needle ejaculation >//< sooo as they showed me the vile and syringe before injecting me, I prepped my Yangyang photocard in my hand. During my second dose, the nurse thought I had some fancy way of taking a video when in actual fact I was just looking at my Yangyang photocard hehe UwU she asked me whether I wanted to see the needle going in (smtg I can't look at tbh) and I was like HELL NAH ToT

And also some recap from the previous ask!

There's no need to apologise for the delayed response okie!! UwU my sem break is ending this week, but I've spent my time completing my academic research trainee tasks (transcribing audio clips), I've also created the content & design for my uni's newsletter, did some thesis writing, and I took a course on financial planning on Coursera to prep myself for the adulting life ToT

And idm sharing my back up / failed topics! I didn't have a lot of cards in my hands, but here are some of em!

1) time perspective and meaning in life 2) anticipatory nostalgia 3) not a topic but a variable! fragility of happiness / happiness aversion

what ideas did you settle on for yr art pieces? If you dm sharing, I'd love to hear abt it! 💖💖💖

Tbh I can't think of a fav ice cream flavor hmm 🤔 i rly didn't think it'd be so hard thinking of a fav ice cream flavor but the first that comes to mind is green tea! I like them milky flavored ice cream😍 though my fav from this ice cream place I go to is thai milk tea, it's so fragrant and milky!! 🥺💖 I just got myself a tub of milk & biscoff gelato keke UwU what's yr fav ice cream flavor? :3

For my course structure:

We have 2 long sems (Jan - Apr, & Aug - Dec, 16 weeks) & a short sem (May - July, 9 weeks)! Our sem breaks are only around a month then it's back to sleepless nights ToT AND YES those weeks were the most stressful weeks ever 🥺😭 I'm glad I'm graduating soon for that reason 😂(though idk what awaits in the working world ToT that is another fear I have :/)

Thank you for being part of this journey and being open to listening to my lil adventures! 🥺🙆🏻‍♀️💖😭 esp w the amount of responses and ppl helping me, I feel a lil more motivated to work and excel in this pregnancy (thesis, I call it pregnancy cuz it's around 9 months too HEHE) Since the pandemic, it's been pretty hard separating studies & hobbies :/ I've learnt it the hard way from my period cramps last sem (mine's the severe type where you can faint ToT), and it was also on my last paper for finals !! Very traumatizing ._. but I'll continue to manage myself better! :3

Huhu Cat since you're working now, I also wanna ask abt yr experience in job seeking! Cuz unemployment is a real deal here esp. w everything that's going on :') I don't have working experience either (only had 1 through internship) and it literally feels like I'm going into the unknown ToT I've been running over some case studies and assessments just to better prep myself for this. Do you have any advice as someone who's already working? UwU

Take care and stay lovely as always!! 💖💖💖

hi, sweetpea !!!! 🌸 omg major congratulations for getting your ERB approved, honey bee !!!!! 🥳🥳🥳 that’s absolutely amazing, and I’m uber proud of you 🥺💗💗 also, it’s wonderful that you hit the required number of participants so quickly !!!!! (And I would love to participate if the questionnaire is still open 🤧)

AND HECK YEAAA CONGRATS ON PASSING THE FINAL TOO 🤩🤩🤩🤩 big congrats to you all around, miss smarty pants 💓💓💓

Oh gosh, I hope you got to rest during your semester break too ): you’re working so hard, please remember to take care of yourself !! 💕 your mental health is more important 🤍 have you finalized your proposal now? And omg yes exactly !!! It’s so interesting to see the thought process behind an action and how it can be manipulated or influenced by various stimulants or there’s also the argument between nature versus nurture too and how that affects psychology and it’s just all so cool to learn about 🤩

Omg you had so many symptoms, I’m so sorry to hear that 😭 I only had a sore arm, but that’s what happens when I get any shot 🤧 I hope you’re feeling better now 💘💘

I’m really glad to hear that the nurses and volunteers were kind and friendly !! it’s always comforting to have nice people as doctors, especially when you’re trusting them to stick a needle in you bshdjdjdkd omg yangyang to the rescue !!!! 💞💞 we’re not allowed to record record any medical appointments, like I think the nurse thought the person in front of me in line was recording when they were getting their vaccine and said they weren’t allowed to do that 😅 and aaaaa I always have to look when they inject me, I don’t like being taken by surprise 🤧

oh my gosh you were so productive over your semester break !!!! :o and oooo you do content & design for your school’s newsletter? Do you do stuff like graphic designing and write articles? 💓 and how was the financial planning course !! Did you learn a lot? Did you like the studies? :’)

aaaaa those topics sound so cool ??? 🤩🤩 I would definitely be down to read about those omg 💛

for my 3D design class, I decided to do lightbulbs and flowers as my overarching theme for my art pieces !! I included a couple pictures below under the cut at the bottom 💓 the first one is a soft sculpture made out of newspaper, and there’s a pencil next to it for size reference, the second one is made of wires that I shaped myself, and the third one is made of foam boards that I cut and assembled myself as well 💕 and I included a picture of my final painting project! it’s a triptych and I believe the size was like 18 x 24 for each one? If you click on the picture, it should be better quality!

omg I love green tea ice cream too !!!!! 🍵🍦 I like going to somi somi for their matcha and milk swirl ice cream with red bean taiyaki 💚 I only had thai milk tea ice cream once, but it was phenomenal 🤩 I wish they sold it near me too !! milk and biscoff :o I’ve never tried that flavor! I’ll have to see if it’s sold around here :’) green tea is my favorite, but I also really like everything but the... from Ben and Jerry’s !! 💛 also alcoholic ice cream.... like there’s this one kind where it was a breakfast esque type with vanilla, corn flakes, and bourbon, and it was delicious 😋

omg what 😭😭 you’re basically going to school year round with no break bahsjdjdjdkd when I was in uni, i had a month off for winter break (usually something like dec 9 - jan 9) and then mid june to mid September off, so around three months of summer vacation? Your school schedule sounds absolutely brutal 💀💀

and omg of course !!! Thank you for letting me be a part of the journey 🥺💗 bdjdjddj pregnancy omg that’s such an interesting way of seeing it :o sending you all my love and support for a successful delivery of your thesis baby 🥰🥰 oh yeah, it’s definitely been a struggle to separate everything, especially when the lines between home and workspace blur with online school or working from home. And oh my god ???? Are you okay ?? Did you go see a doctor or take any medication? I hope you’re feeling better now !! Please take care of yourself 😭

ah, I got my job through my internship, so I’m not sure how helpful I will be 😅 but during the process of interviewing for internships, there were several rounds for each company that range from a group interview, a one on one interview, video interview where they give you random questions that you have to answer on the spot (some of mine were discuss the stock market, give a sales pitch on something you’re interested in, etc), a test, etc. I think it’s different depending on the job you’re going for, but that’s what I had to do in the business field! It’s important to study and prep for all of this!! It’s like taking an verbal exam for one of your classes. And also make sure to study the company’s website and familiarize yourself with what they do/sell.

My one piece of overall advice would be about interviews! Interviews are important in which the person interviewing you is seeing if you’ll be a good fit with the company, not in terms of skill, but personality. They already know you’re qualified and have good skills - that’s how you got the interview. With the interview, they’re essentially trying to see how personable you are and if you will work well with their team. Some people are so intent on proving their skills that they kinda just rattle off all their achievements and whatnot, and it’s like... the interviewer already knows this, it’s all on the resume they reviewed when they decided to give the interview offer. Be friendly, open, maybe make a little small talk at the beginning (“hey, how are you? any weekend plans / how was your weekend?” This is what I did for all my business interviews, and I got an offer back from every one 🤧💗), make appropriate jokes / be a little funny, just show that you’d be a fun person to have in the office whom people will want on their team, but that you will also be dedicated to the job and work hard 💘

And thank you so much, honey bee!!! 💞 I hope you’re doing well and having a good week , and please take care as well 🌷🌷

#asks #jaeismytamtation

[greenishbucket]

Autumn Serenade

Ford, summer, and hockey. 1.8k, also on ao3.

For Day 1 of OMGCheckPlease! Women Week 2017

Here’s the thing: Ford loves playing hockey.

Her brothers had balked when she’d told them happily over Skype that she’d joined up for the local rec league, no real training but enough vague knowledge and passion to power through. She’s hardly expecting to be on the first line or anything, it’s just fun and exciting and a way to get to know people. Ford’s been involved in local theatre for as long as she can remember – and it’d been the first place she’d looked at when she moved into the area – but stage managing is her forte and it’s a lonely task, the gratitude and respect warming but the responsibilities endless.

Ford can let go in hockey. It’s no contact but there’s the same satisfaction in using careful moves to snatch the puck from the opposition as there is in watching the curtain fall on a perfect show. Only the satisfaction is several times a game rather than a few nights preceded by weeks of organisation and she has a whole team to burn with the satisfaction in time with her.

Her parents had been worried about injury but were easily comforted by the assurance she’d have a full face cage and enough ragtag gear to keep her safe (though she didn’t share how the league had probably had since forever the way it stank). Both her brothers played football well into their college days; her parents are no strangers to accepting their kids playing dangerous sports.

She’s under no misapprehensions about the level of acceptance in the league compared to her usual theatre crowd as her mother suggested, either. Ford knows how hockey is. Besides, theatre kids are so, so far from perfect and Ford’s been black and a lesbian her entire life; she’s not going to let some jackasses stop her from expanding her horizons, especially since she seems to have lucked out massively with her teammates. Lardo, as both her team captain and one of the founders of the league, is both one of the coolest, chillest and one of the most unflinchingly assertive people Ford has ever met.

Ford wouldn’t have let her parents stop her anyway. She’s an adult now, free from college and just about managing to live away from home by sharing her apartment with a squirrely PhD student and a midwife-in-training and carefully budgeting every penny. So what if she wants to portion some of the careful budgeting to the rec league fees, to going out for drinks with the girls after a game? It’s fun, it’s new, it’s giving her thighs to die for.

Here’s the other thing: so far she hasn’t actually played in a real game.

Ford signed up as part of the rec league after coming to watch their final two games before the long summer break. Rec league never really breaks –  or so Lardo and Farms both remind anyone who dare use the term ‘break’, five timetabling spreadsheet tabs open and four group chats pinging continuously on three laptops between them – but summer means people vacationing with family and wanting to be outside in the sun rather than holed up in a scruffy ice rink no matter how hockey-loving Ford knows the girls to be.

There are a couple of games for fun over the months and plenty of street hockey and people can practice as often as they like in twos or threes – plus Heaven knows Ford is busy enough with the local theatre summer production, she couldn’t resist – but their first real league game isn’t until the very end of September. Ford has it circled in red marker on the calendar in the kitchen and every morning she looks at it with a mix of burning hot excitement and sick trepidation.

Until now, Ford has always been a summer girl. Every year as school or college started the transition ached, the first few days spent forcing herself to look away from the windows and focus on work again instead of grabbing hold of the last stretches of real warmth, the sunlight golden and the leaves just beginning to turn brown. She always feels weird and mismatched pulling on her jeans and socks and fall sweaters again, the layers and weight a trap compared to her light summer dresses and skirts and shorts, the ease of simple flats or sandals. Ford loves summer. Everything feels possible and endless on a bright summer’s day stretching out into a warm summer’s night and it revitalises every part of her that gets worn down and exhausted in the decay of fall and the long, cold winter. Spring is a start but nothing gives to Ford like summer does.

This year Ford feels like summer has passed at half the speed it usually does, even now in mid-September the weather reflecting a September dragging its feet on leaving summer behind, and she’s impatient with it. The rush of playing what few games ran during the summer was a wonder but Ford can’t help but think what it could be like in a real game, in something that doesn’t count in the grand scheme of things but counts to her and her teammates in this rec league among rec leagues. She can’t help but see her experiences now as a pale imitation.

Ford is already half in love with hockey and now she wants to play it.

This year each browning leaf and pumpkin-themed Pintrest board and knitted scarf means moving closer to the rec league getting under way for the season. Fprd finds herself watching the transitions with anticipation rather than her usual sadness and the thought of her summer clothes being replaced by the weight of her gear, disgusting though the pads may be, doesn’t have the usual quasi-claustrophobic panic.

“Last day of summer today,” her brother says, eye on his own calendar as they try and figure out a time to meet up over FaceTime. “Always makes me think of you.”

Once when Ford was seven she’d cried inconsolably on the last day of summer even though the weather hadn’t been truly summery in weeks, confusing and worrying both her teacher and parents. It had just been the finality of it, the confirmation that all the opportunities of the summer really were passed. This morning she’d spotted the tiny note in the day’s square and felt a twinge of something, a sadness that it was over for another year and a weariness at the prospect of the aches and pains and boredom of winter, but nothing like when she was seven. Ford’s pretty sure she’d even been a lot more upset the year before, too, wearing summer clothes in protest even when it was cold enough that she was shivering all day.

“I know, I saw,” she says, “and like it sucks, my God fall is boring and winter sucks, but I’ve got my first hockey game tomorrow. Which is pretty cool.”

Her brother is silent for long enough that she looks over at the screen to make sure he hasn’t been cut off. He’s still there, face up close to the camera like he’s trying to get a better look at her.

“Who even are you?” he asks, phone so close all Ford can see is one eye.

“Quit it, your eye is freaking me out.”

“You’re freaking me out. What happened to ‘summer is all that matters, all other seasons are a capitalist cage, I want ice cream but I’m too cold, football can kiss my ass, all my theatre nerds are sick with flu’ blah blah whatever the fuck?”

“I never said any of that!”

“You know what I mean,” her brother finally pulls his phone back a little but the look he’s giving her is still alarmed. “You’re always complaining that summer is over until, like, April. It’s part of my routine.”

Ford shrugs. “I don't know. I guess the game is taking precedence over mourning summer. Fall is so depressing and winter is so cold I can’t go anywhere – I’m looking forward to having enough to do that I'm too tired to miss the sun but also, like, getting to actually hang out with people instead of just bossing them around.”

Her brother considers this then laughs. “Well, shit, if you say so. Maybe we should have tried to get you into hockey when you were younger if it was gonna make you this okay with seasons passing. Remember that time you cried all day? How old were you, twelve?”

“I was seven, you asshole.”

His voice goes high pitched and whiney, a horrible impression of seven-year-old Ford: “Summer’s gone and I don’t want to learn more math I want to go swimming and eat bugs and I hate school and–”

She hangs up on him. A minute later he texts a suitable time to meet up and good luck for the game tomorrow. Seconds later her other brother, probably prompted to do so, texts a reminder to keep her teeth intact if possible. Ford sends both of them back a heart, smiling and genuinely touched in spite of herself, then sets her phone aside to make dinner.

Outside, there’s rain lashing against the windows and the weather report last night had confirmed it was unlikely the weather would pick up again before temperatures started sliding for real. Ford listens to her phone buzzing while she cooks and knows it’s probably one of the girls getting chirped to hell and back in the group chat, checks neither of her flatmates have disturbed the gear bag she’s left by the door for tomorrow.

Spring and summer have always been Ford’s time, the pressure pleasantly on with shows to polish up and perform and the long days to fill, with fall and winter at a pace too slow and unfocused to be satisfying. Ford knows herself and she knows needs to be challenged and kept driven, anything else feels draining. Hockey is giving her direction, not to mention friends she so desperately needed in a new place, and Ford thinks she could love it for that alone.

Luckily, she doesn’t have to. The next night she gets a messy assist and even their team losing in the final minutes after a close three periods doesn’t soften any of the thrumming delight under her skin, doesn’t stop the helmet-taps she receives for getting an assist in her first game (her first game!) or the exclamation marks her family text in response to the news. Not even the cold wind that’s icy against her neck as she stands outside the rink and answers three separate emails on set production can ruin her mood. It's fall and she's still busy enough with things that excite her that she feels the pressure of it, feels the tiredness in her muscles. It's amazing.

Ford loves playing hockey.

Feeling charitable, she gets herself a pumpkin spice latte on the way home. It’s not quite her usual cold vanilla sweet cream, a flavour that’s like a mouthful of summer to her, but Ford thinks perhaps it’s something she could learn to like.

#omgcpwomenweek #check please fic #my writing

[i-like-your-genitalia]

You are going to kill me... buuut all 200 questions? I'm keeping you busy and thinking about your life

200: My crush’s name is: Jennifer 


199: I was born in: a hospital? (Jks 1998)


198: I am really: funny 


197: My cellphone company is: Lebara


196: My eye color is: boring ol’ brown 


195: My shoe size is: a ladies 9


194: My ring size is: I actually don’t know


193: My height is: 5'10 


192: I am allergic to: nothing surprisingly 


191: My 1st car was: 1998 Subaru Legacy (the station wagon)


190: My 1st job was: Checkout Worker


189: Last book you read: The Accident Man


188: My bed is: a king 


187: My pet: I don’t have one atm 


186: My best friend: Anushka 


185: My favorite shampoo is: I don’t have one (but I like anything coconut or tropical scented)


184: Xbox or ps3: don’t care 


183: Piggy banks are: lit


182: In my pockets: I’m a girl, only 20% of my clothes have pockets big enough to put anything in 


181: On my calendar: “Spotify Premium runs out on the 27th of August"


180: Marriage is: Not married 


179: Spongebob can: 


178: My mom: is awesome 


177: The last three songs I bought were? Whatever I listened to last on Spotify? 


176: Last YouTube video watched: review on Aztec clay face mask 


175: How many cousins do you have? 4 step cousins and then 6 blood related cousins 


174: Do you have any siblings? Just a younger sister 


173: Are your parents divorced? Nah they still together and in love 


172: Are you taller than your mom? Only just 


171: Do you play an instrument? I used to play the piano 


170: What did you do yesterday? Worked

[ I Believe In ]


169: Love at first sight: kinda 


168: Luck: yes 


167: Fate: not really 


166: Yourself: sometimes 


165: Aliens: yes 


164: Heaven: yes 


163: Hell: no 


162: God: yes 


161: Horoscopes: I mostly enjoy the zodiac memes and compatibility and personality horoscopes 


160: Soul mates: yes, but I believe you have more than one 


159: Ghosts: yes 


158: Gay Marriage: big yes 


157: War: nope


156: Orbs: it would be cool but I’m neutral 


155: Magic: yes

[ This or That ]


154: Hugs or Kisses: Hugs 


153: Drunk or High: Drunk 


152: Phone or Online: Online 


151: Red heads or Black haired: Red heads 


150: Blondes or Brunettes: Blondes 


149: Hot or cold: Hot 


148: Summer or winter: Summer 


147: Autumn or Spring: Autumn 


146: Chocolate or vanilla: Chocolate 


145: Night or Day: Day 


144: Oranges or Apples: Oranges 


143: Curly or Straight hair: Curly 


142: McDonalds or Burger King: Maccas 


141: White Chocolate or Milk Chocolate: Milk Chocolate 


140: Mac or PC: Mac


139: Flip flops or high heels: High Heels 


138: Ugly and rich OR sweet and poor: Sweet and Poor 


137: Coke or Pepsi: Coke


136: Hillary or Obama: OBAMA


135: Burried or cremated: Cremated 


134: Singing or Dancing: Dancing 


133: Coach or Chanel: Chanel 


132: Kat McPhee or Taylor Hicks: who are they?


131: Small town or Big city: Big city 


130: Wal-Mart or Target: I haven’t been to either 


129: Ben Stiller or Adam Sandler: Ben Stiller 


128: Manicure or Pedicure: Manicure 


127: East Coast or West Coast: East Coast 


126: Your Birthday or Christmas: this is too cruel to answer 


125: Chocolate or Flowers: Chocolate 


124: Disney or Six Flags: Disney 


123: Yankees or Red Sox: um don’t care

[ Here’s What I Think About ]


122: War: It’s expensive and unnecessary and should be a last resort. It’s not worth the lives lost, people injured and relocated. The monetary cost is ridiculous and it barley solves anything. It cause more issues and potentially more wars

121: George Bush: did 9/11


120: Gay Marriage: It’s actually crazy how long and how much effort it took to get this accepted. And I just hope this right isn’t taken away! 


119: The presidential election: Donald Trump and Pence need to die or be locked up forever, I don’t even understand how anyone thought that Hilary Clinton would be worse. 


118: Abortion: Pro-choice for the win 


117: MySpace: I wasn’t old enough for this 


116: Reality TV: my guilty pleasure tbh 


115: Parents: I love my parents and they are good to me. But it would be great if they could be less homophobic. 


114: Back stabbers: I don’t know why people feel the need to intentionally hurt and embarrass someone, especially someone who isn’t prepared for it or trusts you 


113: Ebay: I don’t really use eBay 


112: Facebook: I use it to tag my non tumblr friends in memes and to stalk people 


111: Work: I’m sick of my job but I’m having to stick it out for now. 


110: My Neighbors: They are seasonal but if their kids could not move and rearrange the bedroom at the ass crack of dawn that would be fantastic 


109: Gas Prices: New Zealand, especially in the towns. Gas prices are so high. Spain isn’t so bad


108: Designer Clothes: I’d rather have more clothes than one designer one 


107: College: 


106: Sports: I have zero hand eye coordination and therefore hate sports! But I will watch the Olympics 


105: My family: They are cool for the most part 


104: The future: is scary and it makes me wanna throw up if I think too much about it

[ Last time I ]


103: Hugged someone: like a week ago 


102: Last time you ate: I’m eating chocolate right now 


101: Saw someone I haven’t seen in awhile: my grandparents and my cousins today 


100: Cried in front of someone: it’s been forever 


99: Went to a movie theater: like a good 6-8 months ago


98: Took a vacation: ummm like 4 months ago 


97: Swam in a pool: yesterday 


96: Changed a diaper: not since my babysitting days 


95: Got my nails done: literally before I left New Zealand so 5 months ago


94: Went to a wedding: it’s been years 


93: Broke a bone: never actually broken anything in my body 


92: Got a peircing: I got my ears pieced when I was 12 


91: Broke the law: Probably when I was driving, speeding or something but nothing I've been charged with lmao


90: Texted: like a couple of hours ago

[ MISC ]


89: Who makes you laugh the most: my sister 


88: Something I will really miss when I leave home is: having consistently good home cooked meals 


87: The last movie I saw: probably shrek 


86: The thing that I’m looking forward to the most: being back in New Zealand! Or doing some travelling 


85: The thing im not looking forward to: working 


84: People call me: gay
83: The most difficult thing to do is: be honest 
82: I have gotten a speeding ticket: I actually haven’t 


81: My zodiac sign is: Leo 


80: The first person i talked to today was: my girlfriend 


79: First time you had a crush: the first crush I remember, I was in year 4 (so 8 years old) and it was on this boy named Joseph 


78: The one person who i can’t hide things from: I’m good at hiding things tbh 


77: Last time someone said something you were thinking: my sister when my mum and dad were talking shit 


76: Right now I am talking to: my sister and my friends from New Zealand 


75: What are you going to do when you grow up: Hairdressing tho I kinda would like to do pre school/nursery/kindergarten teaching 


74: I have/will get a job: currently working as front of house at a little supermarket 


73: Tomorrow: I’m working and doing house work


72: Today: I slept and then worked 


71: Next Summer: I will hopefully be enjoying the sunshine 


70: Next Weekend: Working yet again and having dinner with my grandparents 


69: I have these pets: Definitely a cat, and also a dog 


68: The worst sound in the world: chalk or finger nails on a chalkboard 


67: The person that makes me cry the most is: myself 


66: People that make you happy: my sister, my friends and my girlfriend 


65: Last time I cried: when I watched beauty and the beast 


64: My friends are: absolutely incredible, I don’t deserve them


63: My computer is: I don’t have one anymore 


62: My School: I’m not in school 


61: My Car: I don’t have a car atm 


60: I lose all respect for people who: are snakes 


59: The movie I cried at was: beauty and the beast


58: Your hair color is: brown and boring 
57: TV shows you watch: Atm limitless, shooter, Shetland, Rewatching Criminal Minds, AHS and Black Mirror


56: Favorite web site: boohoo.com or iherb 


55: Your dream vacation: A cruise or a historical/relaxed tour of the ancient world 


54: The worst pain I was ever in was: in a tie between slamming my fingers in a car door or when I got a virus (it’s a really bad version of food poisoning) and I actually thought I was gonna die. 


53: How do you like your steak cooked: medium to well done 


52: My room is: relatively clean and currently got that minimal plant theme going 


51: My favorite celebrity is: Dua Lipa 


50: Where would you like to be: with @dysfunctionalgroup


49: Do you want children: yeah one day 


48: Ever been in love: yes 


47: Who’s your best friend: Anushka 


46: More guy friends or girl friends: it used to be a balance but now mostly girl friends 


45: One thing that makes you feel great is: cute underwear and a good nights sleep 


44: One person that you wish you could see right now:


43: Do you have a 5 year plan: yes


42: Have you made a list of things to do before you die: mentally but it’s not written down anywhere 


41: Have you pre-named your children: no, but I have some names I really like lined up 


40: Last person I got mad at: my sister 


39: I would like to move to: the Uk or NZ 


38: I wish I was a professional:

[ My Favorites ]


37: Candy: Reece’s pieces or skittles 


36: Vehicle: Kinda want a Range Rover or a Land Rover but in the old style. Or a classic car


35: President: Obama


34: State visited: ive never been to America 


33: Cellphone provider: Lebara 


32: Athlete: my bio teacher, she played for a big women’s netball team 


31: Actor: Jensen Ackles 


30: Actress: Gal Gadot 


29: Singer: Dua Lipa


28: Band: The Internet

27: Clothing store: h&m or boohoo


26: Grocery store: I don’t have one 


25: TV show: Brooklyn 99


24: Movie: I have too many 


23: Website: this hell hole


22: Animal: Cats or Goats 


21: Theme park: I’ve only been to Disney 


20: Holiday: Christmas and Halloween 


19: Sport to watch: Gymnastics 


18: Sport to play: None


17: Magazine: who reads magazines anymore 


16: Book: the Mysterious Benedict Society 


15: Day of the week: Friday 


14: Beach: as long as it’s sandy I’m cool 


13: Concert attended: J Cole


12: Thing to cook: Pizza and Sweet and Sour Pork 


11: Food: Cheesburgers 


10: Restaurant: Any that sell food I like 


9: Radio station: ZM




8: Yankee candle scent: most of them




7: Perfume: Dolce and Gabbana, Floral Drops




6: Flower: forget me nots




5: Color: Green




4: Talk show host: don’t have a fave




3: Comedian: don’t have a fave




2: Dog breed: Border Collie




1: Did you answer all these truthfully? Guess you’ll never know

#all done #my asks #answered asks #ask me anything

[wintryethereal]

Forgiveness, Thankfulness and Remembrance: Chapter 3 - Homeroom Thoughts

From my Quotev.

-❄❄❄ September 6, 2017. 9:01 AM  ❄❄❄-

        I look up from my phone as a cute, somewhat short male student with silky, light brown hair and beautiful brown eyes passes me. Oh, isn't he the second guy who passed us in the hallway? He gives me a brief, small smile as we make eye contact. He quickly reaches the fifth and final row to sit in the desk near the window. Ah, so this is our main protagonist.

        "Uh, good morning, Baekhyun." Mrs. Mok says, making a slight face as she turns on the SMARTboard behind her. Is this not his usual morning behavior? 

        He turns to her from looking outside for a moment. "Hi, Mrs. Mok."

        "Are you feeling OK today? You usually sit in the front, right beside where Eunju is sitting."

        Baekhyun catches my eyes that paced between him and Mrs. Mok. "Your name is Eunju?"

        "Yes, I transferred here from Canada for my last year. It's nice to meet you, Baekhyun."

        Baekhyun's chest slowly sinks as he exhales. "It's nice to meet you, too." He gives another little smile, but his expression reflects anguish. Should I... ask? 

        As I open my mouth, Mrs. Mok takes my place. "Baekhyun, are you feeling alright?"

        "Yes, I'm fine." His tone doesn't make it seem that way. Just as Baekhyun finishes his sentence, more students file in, filling the seats. I guess it's not my business to ask what's wrong, but I still can't help but wonder if his mood has something to do with the student he was walking with, this morning. The bell chimes again, then shuffling comes from the speaker on the ceiling's corner to the left of the door.

        "Good morning, SGHS." Oh, this is the secretary's morning announcement. "Welcome back from summer vacation, we hope you all had fun. Today's block rotation is 1-2-2-3-4 after homeroom. As a reminder, you only have to be in homeroom before the first block for the first week for attendance."

        "The first dance of the year is on the last Friday of this month, the 29th. The theme is Fall Fair, so dress in denim and plaid if you want to. As always, there is a small prize draw, and admission is ₩8200." That equals about $10 CAD. "You can preorder your copy of the yearbook starting October 1st by the office."

        "They are ₩45, 600 until December 1st, then they will then be ₩53, 900." That equals around $55 and $65 CAD. Ugh, my other high school had overpriced yearbooks, too. "That is all for today's announcements. This has been Seo Jeonghae, your secretary in the office. Have a wonderful day."

        There's a bit more shuffling as Jeonghae ends the announcement, then Mrs. Mok rises from her seat. "Alright, good morning class, I'm Mrs. Mok." She begins to write her name in Hangul on the SMARTboard with the black pen. "As Jeonghae said, welcome to the 2017 school year." Mrs. Mok adds her name in Hànzì underneath.

        "Mr. Jeup and I teach Korean, Japanese, English and Mandarin, so we collaborate our classes." She writes her name in Hiragana and English, then sets down the pen and puts her hands at her sides. "Our students often share one language and wish to learn another that a peer knows. It's a trade that has shown to be enjoyable and educational for everyone. Language has helped people communicate for generations, and it's my job to help you communicate wherever you go."

        "How many people here are looking to learn English?" A good half of the class raises their hands, and everyone looks around like curious puppies to see each other. I notice that Baekhyun is one of these people. "Ah, a big number, like always." Mrs. Mok smiles.

        "Good, very good. Who is here to learn Korean?" A small portion of the class raises their hands. "Mm, good. How about Japanese?" Another small portion raises their hands. "And, Mandarin?" I raise my left hand with a third small portion of the class.

        "Excellent, everyone here is looking to learn something different. Mr. Jeup and I enjoy posting videos of students talking to each other in their newly learned languages on our school's YouTube page. We have a collection of playlists that has been growing since 2012. We will teach you through various games, exercises, and activities. At the end of every week, you will be tested by talking with me using what you learned that week. If everyone does well, you all get ice cream. Does that sound good?"

        We cheer and applaud collectively, laughing at ourselves. "Now, may our new student come to the front and introduce herself, please?" I rise from my seat and walk to Mrs. Mok's left side. She gives me little nod and smile. "When you're ready."

        I huff, nodding firmly, then turn to the class. "Hello, my name is Young Eunju, I'm in this class to learn Mandarin. I am in twelfth grade. I am a transfer from Canada on two scholarships. I enjoy writing and can make friends easily because of my personality. I look forward to knowing you all; please treat me well." I bow to finish my speech, and the class gives me a warm applause, Baekhyun included, who looks a little interested and a little relieved of stress.

        "Thank you, Eunju. You may return to your seat, now." Mrs. Mok says, and I nod in response, doing so. "Now, let's go over the course assignments and begin the first assignment." Mrs. Mok picks up the keyboard on her desk and closes the application, Word 2017 beneath it.

        She puts down her keyboard and hands a stack of booklets to the leftmost student in the front row. "Please take one and pass it on." After everyone had taken one, Mrs. Mok proceeds to go over the assignments for the course. Our first assignment was to create a poster in our chosen language, with help from Mrs. Mok, of a small self-introduction. We would present them to the class on Thursday, then they would be posted to the bulletin board outside for a week.

        We began to work on our projects, making rough drafts on lined paper about what we wanted to put down. I met Hyejae, who's in twelfth grade, during the class's Q&A time featuring me. She was adorable and idol-image-material with big, dark eyes and short, black hair. We clicked right after I mentioned we were both lactose intolerant, knowing the struggles of not being able to find vegan ice cream so easily.  She turned out to be vegan as I am, and she cosplays as Kagamine Rin, so we got excited about Vocaloid, too. 

        I received many questions from students about my home country and town, which is Vanderhoof, located in the geographical heart of British Columbia, scholarships, dwarfism, and the way I walk. Of course, this lead to a brief explanation of my knees for the upteenth time. I discussed my other interests, starting with Pokemon and my preference of Water and Fairy types and favoritism of Mudkip and Sylveon, and Project Diva, and that I like music and can sing but wouldn't sing then and there. I talked about Minecraft and why I don't play online or Story Mode, cosplaying, and that I don't own a maid outfit and sew the costumes myself, and how I play Magic: The Gathering casually and attend Friday Night Magic.

        Everyone who asked me questions and listened seemed thrilled to meet someone as unique as me. It didn't surprise me because I knew my appearance alone would raise questions. I noticed that Baekhyun was among the intent listeners, quietly working and smiling a little when I talked about how I adore Miku and all of her possibilities, and why I'm not a great Magic player: unlucky decisions. After everyone had asked their burning questions, I thought about Baekhyun and the student I saw him with. Baekhyun's face was red, and the way the other person was holding his wrist was a clue that something was happening.

        Maybe someone did something to anger the other person, like try to... take... Baekhyun away. Oh my God, I think they might be a couple. Pretty fucking sure that guys don't hold each other like that unless they're gay. The latter being totally fine to me, I mean, hell, gay and lesbian etc. people can be just as wonderful as straight people. They probably went somewhere more private than a bathroom, they missed two of them by the time I stopped looking their way and missed if they turned the right corner or went down the stairs at the end of the hall.

        I think the former option is most likely because Haeun told me that the door to the fenced school rooftop is always unlocked. The door follows the Information Technology and Law classrooms, on the right, and the third set of stairs, on the left, at the end of the hallway after the turn. The History, Social Studies, and Planning classrooms are on the left wall as well. They might have went there and had a talk. Oh geezums, now I'm curious and worried, when it's none of my business.

        I quietly sigh, looking to Baekhyun from the protection of my hair over my desk. I hope everything's OK, he seems to . Also pretty sure that if I asked someone about the two, I'd get some raised eyebrows. Or, maybe I wouldn't. Hm, I'll observe people in the school a little more, see if I can spot Baekhyun with anyone. Or, maybe I'll meet someone who knows Baekhyun and what's going on, and they'll tell me. I... I fucking hate being an author, I overthink things way too easily. Eh, at least I've got a plan. 

        I feel like a fucking cool-ass teen detective too, like Nancy Drew, but with brown hair and green eyes. Even though I'm naturally a dark blonde, so there's that, too. After everyone was working for fifteen minutes, the bell rang. "Alright, I'll see you tomorrow for the double block." Mrs. Mok says, standing from a helping a student at their desk while everyone hastily packs up.

        I wait for everyone to file out so I don't get run-over, insisting to Hyejae and a few other students that I was sure of my choice. Yeah, I'd say this is going pretty well. Mom's gonna be glad to hear about this. I look over my left shoulder as I watch Baekhyun approach me. "Hi, Eunju."

        "Hi, Baekhyun. Did you need something?"

        "No, I was just wondering what your next class is."

         "Oh!" Not a question I expected from him. "After ASWM, I have Visual Arts."

        "Really?" Baekhyun gives a light huff. "I have those courses, too. Do you wanna go to math, together?"

        "Sure, I wouldn't mind." Baekhyun nods, then we take a right to the staircase that way.

        "So, ASWM, huh? You're not good with math, either?" I chuckle.

        "No, I'm not very bright in math or science." He lowers his shoulders. Oh, something's telling me his parents may have high expectations for him. 

        "Are you good at art?"

        "I'm not bad at scenery painting." Baekhyun answers as we descend the staircase. "I'm good with people and gardening, too. I might go into social work, or my parent's business at the greenhouse." I give an 'mm' in reply. "What are you going into, Eunju?"

        "Something with writing, if I'm lucky. I have a business certificate, and I've worked at a bank before, so I could work in an office, too. Something where I'm not up on my feet all day." Baekhyun nods a little in understanding. "By the way, what grade are you in, Baekhyun?"

        "I'm in twelfth grade, too." He answers, waiting for me at the bottom of the first set of stairs. "So, your knee incident actually happened?"

        "Yeah," I answer, starting the final set. "I'm wearing black pantihose to help hide my scar. I mean, I shave, but I had a habit of scratching at mosquito bites as a kid, so I have circular scars all over my arms and legs. That's why I chose to wear the long sleeved uniform." Baekhyun gives a low 'mm' in understanding.

        When I was a little more than halfway down the stairs, the student that Baekhyun was with this morning halts in front of the opening into the hallway from the right. I never realized how tall he was until now, and his face is kind of baby-like, his eyes are very dark, piercing brown. "There you are, Baek. Are you coming?" Whoa, that’s a deep voice, if I ever heard one.

        "Chanyeol, you still have to go to class, after homeroom." Baekhyun replies, reaching the bottom. "We have to wait until break to..." He pauses, then shakes his head a little as I finish descending. "...To talk on the roof."

        "Just for a minute, come on..." Chanyeol whines.

        "Nope, we're going to class." Baekhyun replies, taking Chanyeol's left hand and pulling him along as we go to the math classrooms down the hallway. Chanyeol's face holds this bewildered, judging and pleading expression, telling me that they're a couple, and that Chanyeol is the masculine figure who is currently confused at his partner's actions. He's also judging me because he may think I have something to do with it, and pleading to be released from Baekhyun's hand so he can recapture it and away with Baekhyun. Just... just fuck my analyzing brain; I'm thinking too much, and I have math, next.

-Forgiveness, Thankfulness and Remembrance-

WE: 2260 words, yes, very good. To clarify, if an idol is born before '95, they are in tenth grade. '95 liners are in eleventh grade, and '94-'90 liners are in twelfth grade. There are many exceptions for the sake of ship-relevancy for idols who are in twelfth grade. Yep, you heard that right. Ship-relevancy. Thanks for reading!

#exo fanfiction #bts fanfic #twice fanfic