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haliyam · 3 years

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interim (i)

zeke x reader/oc (warning: slow burn with some plot)

summary: You return to Liberio not long after the Warriors arrive home from their failed mission in Paradis and discover that things have changed. (Or they will, and maybe a little more with Zeke than you expect.) [Season 4 and manga spoilers ahead]

AO3 link | Ch 2

Hi everyone! This is part of the series I mentioned on my oneshot Asset, but it's a prequel. I'd love to continue the season 4 stuff, but I want to see how the manga ends first so I can plot out Reader's part in it all. (Also edit post-139, I've completely fallen in love with Zeke who deserves so much better and while I always intended to take my time with the Asset prequels, I'm in no rush to get to the Asset sequel. I do want to update as regularly as possible though, rl willing!)

The Reader/OC will be a cis-female Eldian character with a set background, as you'll find at the end of this chapter. Reader’s default name is Lucy, just because I personally don’t like writing ‘Y/N,’ but please feel free to set the substitution for Lucy to you or your character’s First Name using the InteractiveFics browser extension! So on the browser extension that would be: Lucy = Your or your character's First Name. Because reader will have a set background, you'll have a set surname as well.

I will say that Zeke may seem a little OOC/angsty in the beginning of this story, if only because Reader and Zeke were good friends before he became the shitstain we know and love today and Reader is fairly familiar with his true moods even when he is being annoying as hell. (And Zeke is annoying. I swear I do like this guy hahah...)

I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

It’s strange how easily you fall into step with the soldier ahead of you.

You don’t march, and your eyes wander stern walls and imposing doors that have long left your dreams, but your footfalls follow only one beat that echoes throughout the hallway as he leads you through it. There’s an almost comforting order to the sound that belies the way your heart tries to hammer its way through your ears or right out of your chest.

It feels like forever and far too soon when you arrive at a familiar waiting room. Motioning to the chairs around a small round table, the soldier knocks twice on the door opposite where you entered. When no one responds, he simply stands there, and you have no recourse but to take that seat.

Voices filter in, muffled, from the other room, and you slip your hands under the desk to squeeze your fingers together. Maybe this was a terrible idea after all. You can still leave, pursue your medical degree back home…

“No,” you whisper to yourself, even if you do abruptly stand from your chair. You just need a moment to freshen up. Facing the soldier, you begin, “I would like to—”

Alarm replaces the question in his gaze when two heavy knocks cut through your words. He stares at you a little longer, a new question, and you reply with a deep exhale.

“Never mind.”

He nods. “They’re ready for you.”

You enter the conference room, which is far too large for the four people sitting at one end of the long table there: an older man with more lapel pins and crow’s feet than you remember, and three others closer to your age—the esteemed Warrior Unit and their commander, Theo Magath.

Six long years later, they all look different enough that under other circumstances, you might hesitate to recognize them. But you know this place all too well, the lighting and their seating arrangement so familiar that you can mistake them for no other than Zeke Yeager, Pieck Finger, and Porco Galliard.

It soon appears from their expressionless gazes that they can’t say the same for you. Not that you can blame them—they had no reason to expect your arrival, and it’s Commander Magath who huffs at their frigid reception. “Is that how you Eldians treat old friends?”

The three glance at one another. You venture a small smile, and the recognition and surprise that sink into Zeke’s features make Magath snort as Pieck leaps from her chair, shattering the chill in the room as surely as she crashes into you with an embrace.

“Lucy!”

The joy in her voice sweeps aside your initial fears and brings your excitement bubbling out of your throat in your own laughter. “Pieck!”

She’s talking before you even part and still holding onto the back of your blouse when you do. “You look so… old,” she grins. “That is—me-old.”

Her languid excitement makes it difficult for you to keep your composure. “I am you-old,” you say, trying not to giggle, but your toothy smile already reaches from ear to ear.

Before you can say more, Commander Magath clears his throat. “If you two are finished…”

Both of you freeze instinctively at his tone. Stealing another squeeze, Pieck steps aside as Magath rises from his chair. “Good of you to drop by, Blanchard.”

You quickly cross the distance to shake his proffered hand. “Thank you, Sir. And congratulations on your promotion.”

He shrugs, taking a seat and gesturing that you and Pieck do the same. “Still not a far cry from playing nursemaid sometimes.”

Pieck shakes her head. “Don’t say that, Sir.”

“You’re right. I’m at least a pay grade or two above nursemaid,” Magath chuckles just a little, and to his right, Zeke continues to stare at you.

“Is that really you?” he asks, mouth set in a line under his new beard.

“In the flesh.” His expression remains neutral through your nervous chuckle. Shifting in your seat, you nod away toward Porco. “It’s so nice to see everyone again. Galliard.”

Though he gave you an appreciative once-over as you entered, Porco is now as uninterested as they come. “I didn’t think you’d still know our names. Thanks for taking the time to drop by, I guess.”

“Oh, come on, Pock,” Pieck teases, ignoring the air of hostility that starts to surround you. As though Porco is only an unruly child, she says in feigned apology, “A few days with the Jaw and he’s already this cocky.”

“Ah.” You can’t bring yourself to mirror her mirth. “I heard about that. I’m sorry about Marcel. And Bertholdt—and Annie…”

Pieck glances away, and because you can’t meet Zeke’s eyes at the moment, you address the commander instead. “What about Reiner? I heard he’d returned.”

“Braun is still undergoing a debriefing.”

A debriefing, you think, when they’ve been back a fortnight already? But it dawns on you easily enough that what Reiner is undergoing is an ideology test. Reindoctrination.

“I see… but…”

“It was on my recommendation,” Zeke cuts in, daring you, a civilian, to protest. His arms are crossed now. “Otherwise he’s in danger of passing on the Armor a full six years too early.”

“I only meant to say that Reiner is the most loyal Eldian I know,” you answer levelly, eyes boring into his. Your nails dig into the cloth of your skirt on your lap as you pretend not to hear Porco’s scoff. Taking the Armor from Reiner? The operation was a massive failure, but that consequence is far too severe... however expected. “After you, of course.”

Zeke tilts his head, obscuring his gaze from your view when the light above reflects off his glasses.

“It’s a good thing, in any case,” Magath explains. “Behind enemy lines for over five years, he—”

Whatever his opinion, the commander abruptly stops himself from sharing it and clears his throat instead. You know better than to protest when an unsettling pause rests over the room—exactly what you feared would occur.

To your surprise, it’s Porco who comes to your rescue, even if his disdain is palpable. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“Well,” you begin gratefully, “I’m—”

“I asked her to come,” says Magath, completely ignoring the tension. “But my meeting prior ran overlong, and I have another coming up. Can you come in tomorrow morning? Ten sharp?”

You sit up straight when he addresses you. “Of course, Sir.”

Magath smiles—still a novelty to you—and pushes himself up out of his chair. The rest of you do the same, following him to the door as he speaks. “Go ahead and catch up in the meantime. And Blanchard—it’s good to see you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“The rest of you—dismissed.”

He leaves the room with the Marleyan guard at the door. The other three let out a breath of relief once it closes.

“Blanchard,” Porco enunciates, stretching his arms. “Are we really still doing that? Who are we supposed to be fooling here?”

Pieck sighs, but it’s Zeke who stays him with a light backhand to the stomach. “Settle down, Galliard.”

Porco pushes his hand away. “Seriously? Of all people, you—”

“Your first transformation was pretty brutal, Galliard,” Zeke casually announces. He winces for good measure, like he’s actually worried. “Why don’t you get some rest?”

The hostility on Porco’s face quickly shifts to embarrassment, and you feel for him. “You’ve transformed already?”

“I wanted to go check on the Warriors anyway,” he says instead, eyeing you with a curled lip. “Nice seeing you again, Blanchard.”

“You too,” you call out, but he’s already stalked out of the room.

You feel Pieck’s hand loop around your arm. “Don’t take it personally,” she says gently. “Learning about Marcel was difficult for him.”

“I can only imagine.” She gives you a small smile at your words, and you understand. Casting a more pleasant gaze around the room, you ask, “How are you two? I thought it might be nice if we could get some lunch together.” You check your watch. “...Very late lunch.”

“I would love to,” Pieck says cheerfully, leading your way out of the room— “Tomorrow. I still have so much paperwork to do.”

Zeke snickers. “The joys of working with a team.”

“Life is unfair,” Pieck declares, but smiles when her hand slips down to yours. “I’ll pick you up after your meeting with Magath tomorrow. It’s a date, right?”

You squeeze her fingers in return. “Definitely.”

Her leisurely footsteps fade down the hallway, and you soon find yourself alone with Zeke. You dust at your blouse idly, but you must eventually look at him. “I suppose it’s just you and me today, then.”

He only eyes you, scratching the side of his bearded jaw. It’s even worse than him outright declining.

“Unless,” you quickly add, detesting the dead air, “are you… training the new Warrior class?”

Zeke snorts. “No. I’ve been busy with other work, but you can check in on their progress if you’re interested. Seems like the Commander wouldn’t mind, seeing as he invited you here.”

You ignore the jab: And you accepted. “What’s kept you busy?”

“Good question.” His smile is a facetious one. “But you know that’s top secret.”

You scoff, but you were braver in front of the others. Now his indifference is too much to bear.

It’s only after you turn away that Zeke asks, “Why don’t you drop by the house? My grandparents should be happy to see you again.”

“I… actually came from there. They asked me to stay. I hope you don’t mind,” you follow, and regret the words as soon as you say it. It’s like you’re trying to piss him off. “I’ll pay for my share of everything, of course.”

He doesn’t react with anger, but you were stupid to expect him to. “Oh?” he asks instead, managing the most sarcastic one-word question in existence. His voice has gotten so much deeper in the last six years, and somehow that makes it worse. “I would have expected the distinguished Miss Blanchard to prefer better accommodations by now.”

You resist the urge to wince. “Don’t say that. The Yeager household was like home to me for several years. More than home, sometimes.”

There’s a pause where only your footsteps, still in time with one another, are all you hear as you make your way down the empty hall. The thought of Zeke’s gaze right now shames you, but it’s ahead he’s looking when he lets out a whistle. “You’re making this difficult for me,” he laughs. “How can I kick you out after such high praise?”

Your last footfall echoes as you stop, reaching for his arm. “Zeke—”

He yanks it away without even looking at you. “We should head back before the Commander decides he wants something from me after all. Come on.”

Your face burns with humiliation even though there’s no one else around to watch him walk away, his long strides too fast for you to catch up.

The Yeagers are pleased to have you over for dinner and beyond, and though you already dropped by before making your appearance at HQ, Mrs. Yeager does not run out of subjects to discuss with you, updating you on several of your neighbors’ lives. Who has married, who has passed away, and whose children have joined the Warrior program themselves, only to fail. Zeke doesn’t talk except to comment on something his grandparents say, or very rarely something you say so as not to arouse their suspicion. They have none. They are too busy doting on you after your long, long absence.

After dinner, when your stomachs are full and your chest is light with laughter, you stand up to collect the dishes and bring them to the sink. “Absolutely not,” Mrs. Yeager says, realizing your intention once she hears the light clatter of tableware. “You’re our guest, Lucy!”

“Please,” you call from the sink. “I miss doing this with all of you around.”

Dr. Yeager sighs in agreement with his wife. “Not on your first night. Zeke.”

Zeke is already on his feet, leaving only everyone’s glasses as he makes his way to the sink with the placemats. Dr. Yeager has brought out their good wine to celebrate your return. “I can do this myself,” he tells you, trying to wave you aside.

You don’t budge. “But I can help. We’ll get it all done more quickly.”

He levels a look at you—one you haven’t seen since you were very young, from before you were friends. “Sit with my grandmother, Lucy,” he murmurs so that only you hear. “Don’t make her crane her neck just to talk to you.”

Shame and something completely unfamiliar fill you at his reprimand, and you surrender with a nod. You make your way back to the table and squint at Mrs. Yeager. “Only tonight, though.”

Mrs. Yeager laughs, reaching for your hands across the table. You give them to her easily. “You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman,” she says. “Your parents must be very proud of you.” You nod with some unease, and Dr. Yeager, even as he enjoys his wine, clears his throat. Mrs. Yeager realizes her mistake. “Ah—I...I’m sorry, dear. I know they passed away several years ago. But I’m sure they would be proud of you now.”

“That’s all right,” you reassure her. “I hope it’s not too bold to say, but… you and Dr. Yeager were mother and father to me for a time as well, when they couldn’t be. I will always be grateful for that.”

“Oh, Lucy,” Mrs. Yeager smiles, her eyes quickly shining, “That isn’t bold at all. We felt the same way. We only wish you had written more!”

A scoff makes its way from the kitchen. “Grandma,” Zeke reminds her lightly, even as he scrubs the plates with renewed vigor, “you know Lucy has been busy.”

“I know that, dear, I wasn’t trying to—”

“No, it is my fault,” you agree. “I promise I’ll be better about that the next time I go.”

“Next time?” asks Dr. Yeager, suddenly sitting up straight. “Where are you going?”

You blink, turning your attention to him, and attempt to wave the confusion away with your hands. “No, no, Dr. Yeager, I’ll be staying here for a while. I only meant that for the next time I leave Lib—”

“Next time?” Dr. Yeager repeats, his hand knocking over his wine glass as he eyes your left sleeve with intent. It trembles as he grasps at his scalp. “If you’re leaving, why aren’t you wearing your armband?”

The faucet shuts off, leaving only the sound of alcohol dripping from the dinner table to the floor, and Mrs. Yeager turns to him nervously. “Dear—”

“Don’t leave without your armband again, Faye,” he pleads, looking straight at you. He rises from his seat, voice more and more frantic as he swipes at a nearby cabinet with nothing to show for it. “Where is it? Where did you put it?”

Zeke is already wiping his hands on the hem of his shirt, and Mrs. Yeager goes to take her husband’s arm. “Darling, no, this is Lucy, remember?”

But Dr. Yeager is already heaving. It’s not long before tears are streaming down his face and he cries, “Why would you do this to me again? Why did he let you remove your armband, Faye?!”

“Dr. Yeager—I’m Lucy. Lucy,” you insist, hurrying over and tucking your hair behind your ears to show him your face, smiling as you’ve done many times in an attempt to calm him. You hold his arms, trying to jog him back to reality, but by now he is screaming and weeping, digging his fingers into your arms and repeatedly calling out his daughter’s name.

“...Come on, grandpa.” Zeke pries Dr. Yeager’s hands from your sleeve with his grandmother’s help. Stunned by his sudden lapse, you can only watch—able to follow only when they are already struggling with him by the stairs.

“Zeke—”

“Stay there,” he hisses with rancor that freezes you in place. Mrs. Yeager apologizes, but of course you shake your head and return to the dining room. Your hands shake as you clean the spilled alcohol from the dinner table and the floor, going over what you could have said to set off Dr. Yeager.

This is hardly the first time you’ve seen him like this, but it used to take only very specific words to remind him of that event, and so much easier to bring him back from those memories. The memory of his weeping face seizes at your heart, tempting you to launch yourself upstairs and ask after him, but Zeke is right. You’ll only make things worse.

You’re getting started on the dishes again when you hear heavy footsteps plod down the stairs.

Zeke. You cuff the faucet off, mouth already open when he smiles, reaching over to graze your exposed ear with his thumb and his index finger. “Did growing up damage your ears? I said I’d take care of the dishes.”

The unexpected contact sends a strange rush through you, but it’s the insult you focus on ignoring. Even if you do untuck your hair. “I’m sorry about Dr. Yeager.”

“It’s not your fault,” he shrugs. “It happens more often nowadays.”

“I didn’t know it had gotten so bad.”

“How could you? You’ve been away.”

You gnaw on your cheek at that. “I’m sorry, Zeke.”

For a moment, you finally see it—the recognition of the words you’ve been trying to say since you met earlier that afternoon, and the reason why. An eddy of hurt and confusion reflects in his eyes, pulling at the air around you. You want to rise above it, or else drown, or just beg for his forgiveness, but he knows you, or knew you as much as you knew him, and he cuts you off before you can speak.

“You really have grown up.” His droll chuckle makes your heart sink into your stomach. “You never used to apologize for anything.”

You make a face. “That’s not true.”

“Maybe. You were pretty damn insolent when you wanted to be.”

“I guess I could be,” you murmur. Your eyes lift to his, on a tightrope’s edge. “Remember when Marras overheard me complaining about firearm maintenance?”

Zeke snorts. “Magath had you cleaning Warrior arsenal for a week.”

You can’t help but laugh. “That was awful. Only Marcel snuck out to help me at night, and that was to impress Pieck. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.”

You squint at him. Zeke grins, warmly now, and hope almost finds you—but your words catch up with you first, and both of you remember when you really are.

“Marcel,” you can’t help but say with regret.

“Yeah.” Coursing a hand through his hair, Zeke brushes past you to the sink. “Anyway, I’ll take care of this. You go to bed. You have a meeting with Magath tomorrow—that’s why you came back, right?”

“No, not just—”

The sudden burst of running water from the faucet and the wall of his back means the conversation is over. Again. Clenching your fist, you bite your tongue and slowly breathe out your growing frustration.

“Good night, then, Zeke.”

You’ve already gone up the stairs when Zeke swallows the lump in his throat, staring at the spoon splashing water upon his palm. He’s been washing it for the last two minutes.

“Night, Lucy.”

Zeke has already left for HQ by the time you come downstairs the next morning. Dr. Yeager is still in bed, exhausted as he gets whenever he remembers his children, but Mrs. Yeager has prepared breakfast. Try as you might, you cannot resist sitting with her and sharing a meal together. You make it to the Liberio military headquarters just in time to hear the new Warrior instructor barking out to the children jogging around the courtyard.

You wander a little closer, unable to help your curiosity—but a nearby guard spots you and quickly corrals you away, back to the offices. “They’re expecting you,” he says, looking you over as he hands you back your permit. “Don’t know what top brass wants with a civilian, much less an Eldian, but...”

“Top brass?”

The soldier almost sneers at you. As if you don’t know, Eldian, it says, and you’re starting to think you actually don’t.

He’s led you not to the same conference room as yesterday afternoon, but to an office that you distinctly remember as off-limits. When the soldiers standing guard let you inside, you understand why.

Top brass is right. More than Commander Magath, there are a number of higher-ups waiting for you inside - some faces you’ve glimpsed since you were a child, and others you have seen as recently as months ago. One in particular stands out—an intelligence officer who reports directly to your brother. Three are generals at some of the highest levels in the army.

“Blanchard,” Magath calls out. You nearly stiffen at his voice again, but relax in time, to the chuckles of the men in the room. The commander ignores them, staring straight at you. You detect the slightest hint of an apology in his hardened gaze, or maybe that’s wishful thinking to keep your growing displeasure in check. “Glad you could make it.”

“Sir, I—”

A nearby general cuts you off. List. “You can dispense with that, Magath,” he says. “We’re all in the know here.”

“Yes, Sir.”

General List turns toward you.

“Thank you for coming, Miss Tybur,” he says. There is no smile in his harsh features, but he is not unkind. Careful, maybe. “Please, sit. We have a proposition for you.”

So... yes! I admit, part of the reason I wanted to write something in the AoT/SnK series is because I loved and hated the addition of the Tyburs. So I wanted to write a little more about the family but also since I'm thirsty, write a Zeke fic and eventually a Levi one (whether AU or not). Obviously we'll eventually go into why the Tyburs would send one of their own into the Warrior program, among other things, but bear with me for now.

Also disclaimer: This is a Zeke/Reader story set in the AOT world, so it’s a romance with a guy who gleefully murdered a shit ton of innocent people and helped Marley level countries. Please don’t look to this story for a completely morally upright character/reader/OC who makes all the right choices. (Though expect that Reader will take them into consideration.)

Last thing! This is a slowburn with some plot, so while you can definitely expect romance (and smut) down the line, and while this fic does go heavily into Lucy's/Reader's relationship with Zeke, it also features interactions with other characters. I just wanted to give fair warning if you expect it to focus only on Zeke.

Thank you for reading!

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all1e23 · 4 years

Text

Chocolate Dipped

Pairings: Sugar Daddy!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Steve has finally had enough of these two idiots.

Warnings: Angsty stuff.

A/N: I am feeling better! Just in time to make you guys cry for Christmas. This is in Steve’s POV at the start. I think I grabbed everyon’s tags but I was pretty sick this week. If I forgot to add you please shoot me an ask and I’ll correct it today. Also, half edited. I got lazy. lol If you like it come sing me a song, write me a story or scream at me! This is the sixth part of my series Sugary Sweet. Make sure you catch up!

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!***

“You goin’ home tonight, buck?”

Steve hung around the doorway to Bucky’s office, hovering like a worried parent. The small room was lived in. Two weeks have passed since they attended Stark’s gala, and Bucky made it a point to work himself to death every single day since. There were cartons upon cartons of takeout, guest pillows from his penthouse on the leather couch that sat under the large windows on the south wall, and Steve caught Bucky wearing the same white button-up three days in a row.

Bucky was avoiding something, and Steve had a decent idea of what that ‘something’ was.

“Hm?” Bucky mumbled, barely looking up from his computer as he did. “Uh, no. Not tonight. I want to get this done for the Danvers account.”

Steve sighed as he spun his keys around his fingers, debating how far he could push this before he drove Bucky away.

“We have people who do that now, Buck. Go home and get some sleep. Wash your hair.”

To Steve’s delight, Bucky looked up, humor lighting up his eyes and smile curling up the corners of his mouth.

“You sayin’ I look bad, Stevie?”

Steve forced through his concern long enough to grin.

“I’m saying you haven’t been home since you broke up with Y/n. Are you ever going to tell me what happened?”

Bucky’s smile fell the moment Steve said her name, and his eyes fell back on his computer. He wasn’t going to talk about Y/n or their arrangement. There was nothing to say. It was never a real relationship as much as Bucky wanted it to be, so there was no reason to treat it as such.

“I don’t have anything to say about it. There was no break-up. It was a temporary situation, and it’s passed. Let’s all move on with our lives.”

“Bullshit.”

“Goodnight, Steven.”

The quiet tug of the door and the hitch of the latch echoes in Bucky’s empty office, leaving him alone in the darkened building. He knew Steve was trying to help, but Steve wasn’t. Bucky didn’t need to be babysat. He needed to go back to that coffee shop, pay for your coffee, and walk away before he let his heart fall yours. Yeah, he knew sulking in his office wasn’t going to fix anything, but he couldn’t face going home. Your toothbrush was still hanging next to his, that drawer in his dresser was full of your clothes, and there was the picture of the two of you resting on the nightstand. Taking down the pictures in his office was bad enough; at least here, the sheets didn’t smell like you.

It has been weeks when the hell was he going to get over you?

Bucky really hoped it would be soon.

The bar was packed. No stool was empty, and the floor was full of kids half his age waiting for what was probably their first beer. Steve groaned. Dealing with grumpy Bucky and now this was completely unfair. The loud cheering made Steve wince as he pushed towards the middle of the crowd, it was hard to see through the crowd of twenty-year-olds, and he has never felt quite as old as he did at that moment.

When did he become this grumpy old man? He blamed Bucky.

Steve caught his wife’s whistle and grinned when he spotted her in one of those half booths that no one actually enjoys sitting at.

“How is he?”

Steve sighed and placed a kiss on her cheek as he squeezed into the seat next to her. That was a loaded question. He gripped his wife’s legs and pulled them over his lap, tucking her under his arm. Steve was going to make the most of the dollhouse-sized booth.

“He’s… a mess. I know he misses her, but he won’t talk about it. I’m not sure what happened, but I don’t think it was a clean break like he’s making it sound.”

“Do you think she left him?”

He shook his head.

No, Steve knew Bucky well enough to know guilt when he saw it.

“I think Bucky didn’t speak up when he should have is what I think, and maybe she got tired of waiting to be more than a game.”

Steve took a sip of Sharon’s red wine and made a face. She grinned and ran her fingers through his bread, scratching gently until he hummed softly and leaned into her touch.

“Well, I think,” Sharon whispered, watching the sleepy smile tug at Steve’s lips. “We are stuck sitting at the bar. The dining room is full of what appears to be teenagers. Somehow when we weren't looking, we became the oldest people in the room. It's a tiny booth or share a table with strangers.”

“That’s alright. We can stay right here.” Steve nudged her chin up with two fingers and smiled. “I like being stuck with you.”

“You think that sweet talk is going to get you somewhere?”

“Pretty confident. Bucky taught me all I know."

Steve grinned and pecked her lips.

A loud voice interrupted Steve’s train of thought and he couldn't help but listen in.

“Look, if fancy man bun can’t see how awesome you are, then you don’t need to waste your time on him.” Steve tried to fight his smile. Whoever that was, he wouldn’t mind sharing a table with them.

“But… I think I love him.”

Steve froze when he heard your voice, and he subtly peeked over his shoulder to find you sitting at a table nearby. You weren’t alone. There was a blond guy he didn’t know, his arm was around your redheaded friend that scared the life out of him sometimes, Nat he was pretty sure, and another red-haired woman he didn’t know. He turned back around before you caught him spying, and he tried to listen over the boisterous shouts and loud, obnoxious music.

This was getting ridiculous. He was getting too old to go to places like this.

“And that sucks,” The guy continued."He’s shit for dragging you along because he knew how you felt. Everyone knew. I’m not saying marry Johnny Lightning--”

You were talking about Bucky.

“Storm.”

“Storm. Whatever. I’m not saying marry him, but it will help take your mind off the asshole who broke your heart.”

“First of all, I only know his name. I don’t have his number because I don’t want to go out with him, Clint. I don’t want anyone else. Can we just stop talking about this, please? It’s bad enough you drug me out of my nice warm bed and made come here. Please stop talking about Bucky.”

“I wasn’t going to let you hide in bed for the rest of your life,” The woman -- Nat, said with a hint of venom in her voice. “I wish you would have talked to him like I told you to. Something is off about this whole thing.”

“I didn’t have time! Things were over before I realized they were.”

“You could go talk to him now?”

“What’s the point? He’s obviously done with whatever we were. I haven’t heard from him in days.”

Bucky was the one that broke up with you? Steve hadn’t expected that, but perhaps he should have.

Steve fidgeted enough to wiggle his phone out of his pocket, silently quieting Sharon before she could make a fuss and draw your attention. He snapped a picture over his shoulder, even though he shouldn’t. You were staring at rose necklace Bucky gave you in Boston while your friends chatted amongst themselves, your eyes were red and puffy like you had been crying non-stop for days. You looked incredibly lonely for someone sitting in the middle of a crowded bar and surrounded by friends.

He dropped the image into a message and sent it off to Bucky.

“I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

Steve placed a kiss on Sharon’s head and slid out of the booth, smiling at her confusion. He walked straight to your table and stopped next to you, making a point to get his shoes and black dress pants in your line of vision. You looked up, and your fingers slipped off the necklace, your mouth fell open and stuttered incoherently.

“Y/n, I think we should talk.”

-----------------------

Across town, Bucky sat in his office, still sitting at his desk hours after Steve left him only now he was staring at his phone instead of his computer. Bucky hasn’t been able to look away from the damn thing since Steve’s text came in over twenty minutes ago. You looked good. Great. A little sad, maybe, but beautiful. He read Steve’s words one more time, and his heart clenched again.

She doesn’t look like someone who moved on. I think you left a few things out of the story.

So he did leave some things out. It was his right to leave out whatever he wanted to. Steve didn’t need to know why things didn’t work out. It wouldn’t change the outcome.

“Hi.”

Bucky’s fingers shook at the sound of your voice, so much so he dropped his phone back onto his desk. You stood in the doorway to his office, fidgeting and uncomfortable. You were still in that little black dress you were wearing in the photo, so you must have come straight from the bar. Bucky slowly leaned back in his chair, his eyes glued to yours.

“Hi… what are you doing here? How did you get in?”

You looked guilty, and Bucky had to fight back a grin.

“Steve gave me his ID.”

You held up a little white card as an explanation and gave him that same shy, nervous smile you gave him when he offered to pay for your coffee all those months ago. Steve could never just mind his own damn business. Nosy little punk.

Bucky should probably thank him for meddling this one time -- depending on how the rest of this night goes.

“Of course, he did.”

You took a few steps in, just enough that you could place the card on Bucky’s desk a keep your distance. Bucky watched your eyes scan his desk for your missing pictures, and he wanted to jump in and tell you they were on the bookshelf behind him now. They were hard to look at it all the time now. He saw relief flood you as you spotted them.

He still didn’t understand why you were here.

“Is everything okay, sweet girl?”

The name just slipped out. Bucky hadn’t meant it to. You weren’t… well, you weren’t anything anymore, and he didn’t have a right to call you pet names, but he couldn’t help it. Bucky wanted to call his sweet girl forever. Would have, too, if only the stars had aligned the way Bucky had wanted.

Bucky watched you as hesitated. You took a step forward and then stopped as if you were trying to decide where to go, towards him or out the door. He saw the conflict in your eyes as you fought with yourself, and then you stood up taller with your shoulders squared, having made your choice. You strode towards Bucky with determination, walking around his desk, and Bucky pushed off from his feet, letting his chair roll back enough to give you the space you needed-- wanted.

He hoped it was what you wanted.

Bucky didn’t move or make a sound. Just held his breath and waited.

You sank down on his lap, straddling his waist as you’ve done during the hundreds of times you’ve visited him in his office. Bucky waited until you settled comfortably, and his hands came up to wrap around you and rest against your backside. Your own find their favorite spot tangled in his hair, and the tears catching in your lashes were caught right away.

It took every ounce of strength he had not to lean in and kiss those tears away.

“You left.” You whimpered. “Just disappeared and stopped talking to me like we were never… something.”

Bucky’s heart twisted into something dark and ugly. He hadn’t thought there was much to say. Things had been off since he came home from Boston, and then that boy, he didn’t think there was anything left after that.

“I thought--” Bucky’s arms tightened around you, fingers pressed into your skin as he forced himself to admit what he was scared of since he first met you -- you didn’t really want him.

“I thought maybe you liked that kid from the gala. He's closer to your age and… he could be someone who wants the same things you want. I didn’t want you to feel like you were stuck with me if you didn’t want-- if this was temporary. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“No, that’s not what I want.”

Bucky swiped his thumb under your right eye, wiping away the tears he could no longer stand to see. He didn’t know how to ask if you loved him or how to tell you that he wanted more, but this? He knew this. Bucky’s spent the last eight months asking you want you wanted and doing everything he could to give it to you.

He could do this.

“What do you want, babygirl? Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”

There was only one thing you wanted.

“I want you to love me,” you choked out in a desperate, hopeless plea. “I want you to love me like I love you. I want you to be in love with me.”

“Oh, baby.”

Bucky cupped the back of your neck and let the other rest on your back, firmly holding you in place on his lap. This was something he should have said months ago.

“I’ve been in love with you for months. Maybe since I bought you that first cup of coffee and you looked at me with those sweet lips and pouty eyes. You’ve had my love, sweet girl.”

You sniffed and took a breath, your bottom lip still trembling as you twisted over his words.

“But-- I, I heard you telling you Sharon you didn’t want a future with me.”

Bucky’s nose crinkled, and his brow furrowed. “What? What are you talkin’ about, baby?”

“In Boston. That night you were drinking at the bar. I came down to… to see you, and you said you didn’t want a family right now and not with me.”

Bucky was smiling, and he could tell by your pout you were about to jump off his lap because of it. He couldn’t help it. This was good. The best news he has heard in weeks. This was all because he was an idiot, and he could fix that. He could stop being an idiot. Bucky took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around your waist, letting the chair lean back all the way, so you fell against his chest, and your feet came off the floor just enough to make you unstable if you tried to get up on your own.

He needed you to stay put a little longer, and if you wanted to leave after he said his peace, he would let you go.

"Did you hear what I said after that?”

“No," you squeaked. “I ran back up to our-- your room.”

“Our room.” He corrected.

"Our room." You amended. "Then you came up and we-- Well, we made-- we..."

Bucky didn't need you to say anymore. He remembered. Bucky absolutely remembered making love to you. He held you against him and carefully explained what really happened that night.

“I did say that, but that wasn’t what I meant. It came out all wrong, and you'll be happy to know Steve and Sam would beat my ass to defend you without a second thought. What I meant and what I explained to them that night was I wanted to wait until you were ready for all that because if I’m going to do all that? Get married and have kids; I only want to do it with you.”

You groaned and thumped your head against his chest. “Why is Nat always right? She said you didn’t mean it. That it was a mistake.”

Bucky chuckled quietly. His fingers gently rubbed at your scalp, and his lips found your skin, pressing soft kisses to your temple. “Probably because she could see it written on my face. According to Sam, I look like a lovesick idiot every time you’re near me.”

Forcing yourself to lift your head, you met his eyes and whispered,” Bucky, I do love you, and I don’t want that dumb bellhop from Boston or any other guy. You’re all I want, but I’m not ready to get married right now. I know you are, and if you want all that right now-- I don’t know, okay? I graduate in May, and then I want to work and-- and --I don’t think I can--”

Bucky’s thumb settled over your lips, stopping your panic.

“I know, and that’s why I said I wanted to wait. Let you find your footing in a new job and get yourself settled there before we even talk about it. I wanted to tell you all this in Boston. Tell you how much you mean to me. How you’re all, I think about, every damn day and the nights that I’m not with you are like torture.”

Your eyes twinkled with someone Bucky didn’t like, and his cheeks warmed right away.

“So that was the whole picnic thing? And renting out the skywalk?”

Bucky nodded sheepishly.

“I might have chickened out. I was worried you didn’t feel the same, and I wasn’t ready to lose you.”

One thing was certain; you were made for each other. You were both idiots.

“So, you do see a future with me?” You asked, nerves showing through your shaky voice. You needed to be sure. You couldn’t go through all that again.

“You weren’t just changing the subject with sex every time?”

Bucky barked out a laugh, the chair under you shaking from the force of it. You pursed your lips. He didn’t have to laugh so hard. It was a serious question. Bucky gave your hip an apologetic squeeze and shook his head.

“No, I didn’t mean to do that. It was incredibly sexy to hear you say you only wanted... me. You could have asked me for anything, and you just wanted me. I like that."

“It’s true, though. I don’t want any of that other stuff. You’re the only thing I want, Buck.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened, and his hand slipped under the hemline of your dress. “Somethin’ you want… right now?”

Your slender fingers gripped his wrist, and you shook your head. “Nope. What I want right now is to get you home, shower, and maybe sleep till late tomorrow. I haven’t-- I haven’t been sleeping great lately.”

The confession made Bucky remember how terrible he probably looked from his own sleeping habits over the past eighteen days. The last he saw in the bathroom mirror, the dark circles under his eyes, were getting pretty hard to hide. His beard was unkempt and thick and Steve wasn’t wrong about needing to wash his hair. He raised the arm you were still clutching and pressed a kiss to your fingers.

“This how it’s going to work from now on? Just goin’ tell me what to do all the time?”

“Yep. That’s how it works when I’m your girlfriend.”

Your eyes widen dramatically, and Bucky grins.

“I am… I mean, it’s okay I said that, right?”

“Well, you are my girl.”

Bucky can feel your tension deflate, and he really likes the smile on your face.

“Mmm, and you’re my sugar. My sweet fella.”

#sugardaddy!bucky x reader #sugar daddy!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #alternate universe #sugar daddy AU

2K notes · View notes

saebyeog-i · 4 years

Text

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

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lovingmyselfcore · 3 years

Text

i can go anywhere i want just not home

A fic based on My Tears Ricochet!! Highly recommend listening to the song while reading. Very angsty, it's if something happened and Aelin was forced out of Terrasen and had to fake her death. So yeah. I'm working on my Illicit Affairs one so that should be soon? No promises

**Not beta-read or anything we die like men here and I think I'm allergic to editing after 8pm so I can't be blamed if it's really bad

“Do it,” She spat, staring up at him - at all of them. Rowan was the only one who met her eyes, he didn’t flinch away from her, he never flinched away from her. Until recently, at least. There was a sort of comfort in knowing that she was horrible enough that Rowan Whitethorn had finally flinched.

She felt that achingly familiar lick of flame, starting at the base of her spine slowly curling up, lighting the hollows in her spine and bones, in her soul.

Something must be smoldering in her eyes because Rowan shifted, almost imperceptibly. Only being his mate and carranam did she recognize it for what it was. He’d shifted enough to have placed himself between them. Between her, Chaol, and Dorian.

With a bitter laugh, she spat again, “It’s come to this? You’re protecting them from me!” Her voice got shrill.

“Fireheart,” Rowan started but she cut him off.

“No. No. Don’t. You. Dare. Call me that.” It took all her years of training in hiding herself, of becoming other people, that allowed her to keep her voice steady.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to curl up in her massive bed, half sprawled against the comforting warmth of her husband, with Fleetfoot resting in her lap and a good book in one hand, the delicious chocolate hazelnut cake an elderly woman in town had learned to make just for her in the other. She wanted to go home.

But home was a long way from here.

Dorian shoved forward, elbowing past Rowan, ignoring Chaol’s muttered warning, and stopped once he and Aelin were nose-to-nose.

“We didn’t want to do this.”

She just hummed, not backing away from him.

Those flames still curled, ready for her to wield.

“This is better than the alternative,” Chaol spoke up and she and Dorian both moved to look at him.

She arched a brow and schooled her face into that indifferent arrogance she knew made nearly everyone see red. “The alternative? What was the alternative to forcing me to flee my kingdom I have fought so hard to keep and fake my own death with only,” She jabbed a finger at each of them, “You three knowing the details of what happened.”

“The alternative was taking away the fake part,” Dorian said, cold water to match her own burning flame.

She started, and against her better judgment, looked at Rowan. “You were going to,” She swallowed and tried very hard to ignore the agony in his gorgeous eyes. “Kill me?”

“If it makes you feel better, I don’t think anybody voted for that.” Dorian offered.

“Voted?” Her voice went shrill again and she saw Rowan twitch. “You all voted on what to do with me?”

“You couldn’t stay in Terrasen anymore, not after what you did, so yes. We voted.”

“And you three are the lucky bastards who have to force me out.”

“Force is only needed if you decide to fight us, Aelin,” Chaol said.

She ignored how pointed the words were, how they angered those festering embers.

“So Lorcan didn’t volunteer? I was sure he’d be the first to want to force me out of my own home and fake my death.”

“Nobody volunteered, Aelin. Nobody wanted this to be the way it went.”

“Hmm, well it seems someone did. Since we’re here, and all.” Her voice dropped low and she was suddenly talking only to Rowan. “Was what I did so unforgivable that you don’t love me anymore?”

He couldn’t look at her, this man, who used to look at her like the stars were born in her eyes, now couldn’t look her in the face. “I’ll always love you, Fi-” He cleared his throat, “Aelin. Don’t ever think I stopped but-” He looked like words had become too hard and merely stared at whatever his eyes were fixed on, somewhere behind her left ear.

Chaol and Dorian were both looking anywhere but at the two of them.

Looking at him in the dying sunlight filtering through the web of branches formed from ancient oak trees, the way his eyes glittered, the hard lines of him all highlighted, and his hair ruffled from the autumn wind, her resolve broke. She took a step, then another, then she was running. He caught her, swept her up, and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

It was oddly reminiscent of a time long ago, in Adarlan. That, however, was a reunion. This was a goodbye.

Tears streaked down her face and he held her closer; as if trying to further commit all of her to memory. “I’m sorry, Rowan.” She whispered.

“I know. I am too.”

She pulled away first. He wiped her tears away with painstaking gentleness and kissed her forehead, “This may not be the end.” From his tone and the way he was looking at her, he believed it as much as she did. Which is to say, this is the end. “Promise me you’ll stay alive.”

She nodded but didn’t say anything.

“Take care of Terrasen for me. They need you.”

He nodded, his hands still resting on her face, making no move to leave. “Where will you go?”

She shrugged helplessly, “Maybe I’ll bring Lillian back. I don’t know. I’ll just stay in the shadows for a few centuries, try and build a life where nobody knows me, nobody knows Terrasen.”

He nodded again and slowly dragged his hands from her face. She was the one that was ‘dying’ but he looked ready to keel over himself. He took a few unsteady steps backward and stooped to pick up a backpack they’d brought. He tossed it to her and she caught it easily, slinging it along her back.

She turned and looked at Dorian and Chaol, biting her lip. She wanted them to hurt, she wanted them to feel the betrayal she felt. Not a sting, no, she felt like she’d been stabbed. And as someone who had been stabbed many times before, she felt confident in her analogy. But they were her friends, once.

Make them hurt a voice whispered deep from inside her. She clenched her fists and felt the flames bubbling up.

Aelin. Rowan. In her head.

She breathed in deeply and nodded to them once, they nodded back. She acknowledged the pain in their eyes with not a small amount of satisfaction.

She took off sprinting into the forest and didn’t look back.

~~~~~~

They were walking back to Terrasen, they’d let Aelin off at the border.

“Rowan,” Dorian laid a hand on his arm, “Are you-”

He shrugged the young king off and shifted, taking to the skies, as far from them, from anyone, as he could get.

“We made the right decision, right?” Dorian’s voice was so strained it cut at Chaol’s heart.

“Yeah, yes. This was the right choice. The only choice.”

He nodded, but Chaol could tell the doubts lingered. As long as Aelin was out there, on her own, free but never allowed to return home, the doubts would always linger.

~~~~~~

Her knees buckled not far from where she’d taken off running from the three of them. She flew forward, throwing her hands out and scraping her palms along the rocks as slid to a stop. She tried to breathe, ragged, shaking breaths, as she tried to calm her mind. The world blacked-out around the edges and a whimper fell from her mouth. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t fucking do this.

A weak scream ripped from her throat and she dug her hands harder into the rocks, they sliced her palms open, warm blood trickling into the grass.

She tried to wrangle the fire, she tried to use the tactics Rowan had taught her what felt like lifetimes ago, but just like it had which led to her being here, she couldn’t control it.

It didn’t explode like she thought it would, it bubbled. Like lava in a volcano, it bubbled out of her, hot smoldering fire, trickling down her face like tears, tracing lines along her body like blood. It covered the grass around her and spread, her cry was futile. It burnt straight through some of the ancient oak trees, bringing them down and melting them entirely into the earth.

Despite the chaos around her, despite that first anguished cry, she knelt in the dirt. Wind ripped her hair away from her face as she burned the world around her, nobody could say Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius went out gracefully.

~~~~~~

Despite the initial burning at the border, no sign of Aelin had surfaced. He had to give her credit, the woman knew how to disappear. The thought sent an ache through him, intensifying what was already there.

He’d been like some kind of ghoul, Lorcan and Fenrys traded shifts watching over him, making sure he bathed and ate. Someone always sat at his bedside with him, waking him when the nightmares took him. Nightmares that Aelin was still held captive by Maeve. When they resurfaced, the first night his hand had shot out, seeking a warm body that wasn’t there. He’d flown into a fit of panic until someone had brought someone in. One of the women, Elide, maybe? They had calmed him enough to tell him Aelin wasn’t with Maeve. They weren’t in the war anymore. He remembered where Aelin was. That he didn’t know where Aelin was, only that he had sent her away. In some ways, that hurt worse.

Most of them had moved into the castle and would stay until most of Terrasen, until Rowan, settled enough to be left. Most of them were Lords and Ladies, however, so they alternated. One week Elide would stay at the castle, the next week Lorcan would. The same went for Aedion and Lysandra. He knew it hurt them, being separated like that, but they never once complained. Rowan hadn’t entirely been paying attention when they had decided how Aelin’s ‘death’ had happened, but they’d fabricated a story and spread it. Today was her funeral, nearly a month after she had left - since they’d made her leave - and Terrasen’s people had been in mourning ever since. They would be for a long while, but not nearly as long as Rowan would be.

He wasn’t sure what woke up, it wasn’t even dawn, but his eyes fluttered open. He oriented himself with what - who - surrounded him. Fleetfoot, that damned dog, was at his feet. She hadn’t taken Aelin’s spot, as if hoping she would be back. There was another animal asleep near the foot of the bed, on the floor, Lysandra or Fenrys, and he watched their chest slowly rise and fall and matched his own to it. His heart had been racing. Maybe that’s what woke him, an unseen nightmare.

He crept past the sleeping figure, probably Lysandra then, not as attuned to his every move like he knew Fenrys was.

He slipped out onto the balcony and was struck with the memory of the time Aelin had woken him and he had found her staring with tear-filled eyes at the Kingsflame blooming across those rolling hills.

He surveyed those same hills, the sleeping town below, and leaned forward, bracing his hands on the railing until he was close to tumbling off the edge and stayed there in silence for a long while before speaking. “Damn it Aelin!” He was nearly sobbing, he had no idea when the tears had started. “Why didn’t you stay? Why didn’t you fight harder? Gods,” He broke off and slumped down, unable to speak thanks to the sobs wracking through him. “Please stay,” He nearly whimpered. “I know it’s too late but please, Fireheart, I need you. I need you.”

He fell asleep there, on the balcony, soothed by the beat of his heart. A beat that sounded suspiciously like an echo of Aelin’s fingers dancing along the pianoforte, drawing out a sound she commanded while quietly singing a lullaby she had told him her mother sang to her when she couldn’t sleep.

His eyes closed and he could’ve sworn her voice carried on the wind, that lullaby, followed by a nearly inaudible, “I love you, Rowan. I love you.”

~~~~~~

Half the time she slept in the forest like some kind of wild animal, the other half of the time she disguised herself and found some disgusting tavern to sleep in. She had no idea where she was anymore, she was just wandering aimlessly. She was currently sitting on the roof of one of said taverns. It reminded her painfully of her days as an assassin. She stared up at the stars, unblinking, the night wind was cold and stung her face but she was past caring. Up here, she took off the glamour, becoming Aelin again.

“Do you miss me, buzzard?” She asked the stars. “I hope you miss me as much as I miss you.” She shook her head and laughed angrily. “You became everything you didn’t want to, didn’t you? You bastard.” Her voice was getting louder with each word. “To whatever end? Right.” Angry tears streaked her face for what was definitely not the first time. “I’ve listened around enough that I learned my funeral is tomorrow.” She didn’t even know what she was doing anymore, besides pacing on a roof and shrieking at the sky. “Maybe I’ll stop in, I’ve always wanted to see my own funeral.” She jabbed an angry finger at a star she had deemed was Rowan’s stand-in. “I hope you make it worthy of me, you bastard. Gods, I hope you know me enough to make it as me as you can.” She blew a kiss at that star and something in her cracked, “I love you, Rowan Whitethorn. I shouldn’t, not anymore, but I do.”

She pulled her glamor back on and jumped down from the roof, landing on her feet with practiced ease. “Let’s see if I can make my own funeral, hmm?”

~~~~~~

It was as outrageous as Aelin would have wanted. Everyone was miserable, even those within the inner circle who knew what had really happened. Most everyone was here, except for all the royals within Erilea, and every other land Aelin had touched.

Music flourished from every corner, musicians from all over had come to play pieces for her, in honor of her. It was like some kind of twisted wedding, the way everyone turned when the royals entered. The leaders that Aelin had not known as personally entered first, stopping individually to give impersonal speeches about her. Then Galan entered. He knelt before the basically-shrine honoring her. “You were one of the greatest Queens this world has ever seen, cousin.” He cleared his throat, “You were so much more than all your titles give you credit for, and that’s saying a lot. You were so full of life and energy and,” A broken laugh. “Fire. You burned bright, Aelin. And now that you’re ash, we’re ash too.” He cleared his throat again and stayed kneeling next to the other leaders, murmuring words meant only for him and his cousin.

Manon entered next, she knew the truth but despite that, her eyes were rimmed an angry red. She stood next to Galan, “Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius.” She went silent for a moment before sinking to her knees. Everyone gasped. Family knelt, but other than that no leader, especially not a witch, knelt. “You-” She broke off and bowed her head, curling her hands into fists at her side.

When it was clear Manon wasn’t going to finish, Dorian entered. He knelt beside Manon (cue another gasp) his mouth moved, but it was only for him and Aelin. The goodbye he hadn’t had the chance to say in that forest.

Nesryn and Sartaq strode in, Sartaq didn’t speak, but Nesryn did. Her voice carried, unwavering. “No King or Queen is perfect, but Aelin was pretty damn close. She and I were never the closest but,” She hesitated and Sartaq reached for her hand, “She believed in me. She never looked down on me because I was human, and wasn’t in any huge position of power, and that faith in me never changed even when I became,” She gestured at her and Sartaq, at her dress, “Aelin mattered in a way that not many people have ever mattered. She will be remembered, for her fire and power, for what she’s done, but also how she has a soft spot for dogs and chocolate,” A few wet laughs, “How she loves music and theater, how kind she is to everyone.” The crowd nodded their agreement, there wasn’t a soul that wasn’t crying. “You did it. You made your mark.” She bowed her head and it was clear she was done.

Rowan was last, Goldryn in his hands. He laid in with pain-staking gentleness at her shrine. He stepped back and opened his mouth as if about to speak. His fingers fiddled with the ring on one finger. The ring Aelin had given him that he hadn’t taken off. That he would never take off. “Damn you,” He said finally. “Damn you, Aelin.” He bowed his head to hide from the crowd and someone moved, Elide. She came up to him, murmured a few quiet words, and led him to kneel next to Sartaq. She waited a few moments before returning to her spot.

The music rose as everyone knelt, heads bowed, before their dead Queen. It was ghostly, the way they knelt in total silence, besides their tears. Aelin was going to haunt everyone, for a very, very long time.

If anyone had been looking, they would have seen a female figure in the trees, slipping away as quietly and quickly as she could, tears flowing freely at the love everyone held for her.

“Goodbye,” She whispered. Well, looks like she could make a graceful disappearance after all.

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langdxn · 4 years

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Going to meetings w/ Cody then coming back home to cuddle blurb? 🥺

I blame my hormones for making this 100x more angsty than you asked, I’m so sorry anon! I’ll happily do a much fluffier one if you like! 🖤

Pre-shoot consultations with the AHS writing team about your character were equally terrifying and exciting. While normally one-to-one, today’s meeting was far more on the terrifying side — they called both you and Cody at the same time.

“You’ll be killing Cody in episode 2.”

You sloped forward in your seat with your mouth agape, as if hoping, praying you misheard the producer.

“I’m what now?”

Slumping back in his chair, Cody snorted and stared down at the floor. He’d been in this position numerous times before, a Cody Fern edition of déjà vu.

“Look,” the producer clasped his hands studiously over the script on his desk. “I won’t sugarcoat the situation. Your relationship is very high profile now. The media are all over you both, they’re outside your apartment every day.”

“Yeah, we’re aware of that,” Cody scoffed, rinsing his face with his hands.

“What we’re trying to say is, the media will spend every second watching for your tells. How long you have shared screen time, how you cover up your real chemistry, how your characters handle each other. It’ll take over all the airtime American Horror Story gets, it could even endanger our renewal.”

Therapy once taught you to play with your hands for ten seconds before reacting to something that would upset or rile you. Those ten seconds were up.

“Are you saying I’m the reason Cody’s being killed off again and risking AHS being cancelled entirely?”

Cody’s hand wandered to rest gently on your thigh, reassuring and comforting just as he could see your blood beginning to boil.

“No,” the producer sighed. “I’m saying we need to keep it on the down-low this season. It’s a big one, it’s season 10 for Christ’s sake.”

“This is our lives, for Christ’s sake,” you barked, snapping up to your feet. “We’re not dolls, action figures you can manipulate just so everybody stops talking about us.”

“Y/N, it’s okay, plea—“

“No, Cody, it’s not okay. It’s far from okay. They can’t walk over you for the third season in a row. Your name’s Cody Fern, not Sean fucking Bean.”

Storming for the door, you sniffled softly into one hand while the other flailed expressively in front of you. Cody hesitantly followed suit, inaudible apologies pouring from his tongue in the direction of the producer. You spun on your heels at the last moment, hoping some awe-inspiring last words would tumble into your mouth.

“If our relationship means Cody’s career has to suffer, then just fire me. I’m dispensable, this indescribably talented man is not.”

The office door slamming echoed throughout the offices, leaving an emptiness in its wake that suggested you may have just destroyed your entire career. But it was worth it, to save Cody’s.

------

Sinking into the void-like crease of your couch, you drew your knees up to your face and buried it between them, consuming yourself in the vain hope that Cody wouldn’t see you falling apart at the seams.

Cody could see it more than you could, however. He dropped his bags at the door and raced to your side, arms wrapped around you tightly and peppering featherlight kisses on your hair tumbling over your shoulders.

“I can’t believe what you said back there,” he whispered calmly, fingertips ghosting lightly over your neck. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“Of course I did,” came a feeble, strained voice from beneath the depths of your hair. Cody gently brushed your parting to one side so he could see you, regardless of how contorted your face was beneath dried mascara smudges and fresh flowing tear tracks. “You love this job and I’ll be damned if you’re gonna be bumped off just to salvage a PR situation.”

“Baby, I had my time at the front of this show. If I’m killed off early this season, it just means I can spend more time with you and not frantically learning lines in the bathroom mirror at 4am.”

He held you closer as you choked back even more tears. He was taking this so much better than you were, and it was his career on the line. The last thing Cody needed was his girlfriend making it about her, right?

Somehow you’d made yourself feel guilty about feeling guilty. The foetal position crying fit you were struggling through right now was far more self-indulgent than you ever intended.

Just as you plucked up the courage to shake off your floods of tears, wipe away the ruined makeup and apologise at Cody’s feet, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Breaking your despairing hunch to retrieve it, you discovered an olive branch.

1 message from Ryan Murphy.

Y/N, you were right. We have just enough time to rewrite before the shoot next month. Cody won’t die this season.

P.S. the Sean Bean reference made me laugh.

Cody’s phone vibrated in turn, your eyes darting to his as he discovered a similar update on his screen. Smiling warmly, Cody pulled you in for a loving, lingering kiss, fingertips lightly grazing your cheek as he cherished your company, your loyalty, your general existence.

Scooping an arm around your waist as you dipped into the crook of his neck, Cody pecked the curtain of your hair flowing onto his chest.

“Ryan says I should thank you,” he hummed softly, his honey-like Australian drawl gushing with love and affection. Silently, Cody was counting his blessings, finding a woman who stood up for him when he didn’t ask for help but he truly needed it. He cinched you into his waist with a cheeky grin dancing on his full, pink lips.

“Mind if we take this to the bedroom so I can thank you properly?”

#cody fern #cody fern fanfiction #cody fern imagines #cody fern x reader

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mimzy-writing-online · 4 years

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I'm incredibly sorry for this ask , but I'd like the opinion of different writers. I have this story I have finished. It's has been re-read, edited, polished. It's technically done. The story is consistent, the pacing is okay. But what I don't like is how the characters are portrayed. They lack life, and I think it may be because during the years I improved my writing, and now I'm sure I'd be able to do better. What would you do? Would you rewrite the story from scratch? Thanks in advance.

First, no worries about asking for advice. That’s legit what I’m here for. And having been in the same position you are now, (twice) I know how impossible it feels.

Off the bat, advice I would recommend:

Beta Reading: Get some fresh eyes to look at it, ideally someone who 1) reads books in that genre and that age range, and 2) has no obligation to worry about your feelings.

Thoroughly consider why you want to rewrite it: make an actual pros and cons list. It sounds silly, but it helps because you realize what decision you’re arguing for, what your instinct says.

Give yourself a shot at attempting a rewrite. Give yourself a set time limit to try it out. Your current book isn’t going anywhere and publishing takes forever anyway, so what’s another month or another three months?

At the end of this trial run you can ask yourself: Did a rewrite make it better? Do the characters and their world feel more alive? Even if it looks like a mess, given more time to finish and edit, would it look better than the original?

If you find you like the characters better, if you feel like you know them better, then you can consider going through the book and highlighting where they feel out of character compared to your new understanding of the characters

Watch Whispers of the Heart. I mean it! It’s a Studio Ghibli movie, and I swear to god it will inspire you and make this decision a little easier. The whole movie is about developing your creative craft. Its overall analogy is that of a geode. Your craft looks rough and sloppy on the outside, but with time, practice, and love you’ll find the beauty hidden underneath and make it shine. Amazing movie, it will change how you think about writing.

Now, finally, ask yourself: Is this the story I want to debut with? Is this the story I want to begin my writing career with?

This will be when you make your decision.

That’s the most objective advice I can give you. Since you’re asking a lot of writers for their stance, you’ll probably have a few different opinions, but I think running through this troubleshoot method will give you a chance to see for yourself.

My biased opinion?

It comes from my own experience with A Witch’s Memory.

This is about to be a very long story, fair warning, but it’s my entire thought process over 7-8 years of working on and off with the same project. A big part of the reason why I’m going in depth about the experience is because I keep going back to what you said:

“I think it may be because during the years I improved my writing, and now I'm sure I'd be able to do better. What would you do?”

The same thing happened to be. I started the series when I was much younger, but in the 7.5 years since then I’ve changed a lot as both a person (not adult/not teenager) and as a writer (who’s had several projects since then). I’m gonna walk you through 7.5 years of personal development and how it affected the project.

I joke that A Witch’s Memory has three universes, and those universes are all different rewrites. I first started the series I was seventeen. I finished the rough drafts of three books in the series and got down to full on editing the first book after I graduated high school. Within a year I had a finished novel that wasn’t necessarily polished (not by my standards today) but at the time I was ready to move forward and publish. I sent query letters out to lit agents but didn’t get any bites back. I didn’t get to work at it for long due to health issues, my whole body kind of just crashed so for six months I was too sick to do much of anything, let alone stress myself out over query letters. I started community college the next semester and got more involved in school than in writing.

17 when I started, 18 when I started editing, 19 when I queried and got sick, almost turning 20 when I started college.

I put the book on hold for another year and focused on school. During that time I had a lot of personal development as a person. I got more experience being myself, being an adult who can make decisions for themself.

And I realized that at age 19 I’d developed a lot of insecurities about my book.

In my case, it was the world building. I love my characters, and at their heart they’re still the same, albeit a bit more realistic. I re-examined what about the world building I didn’t like.

It felt too much like Twilight to start, with the way vampires and werewolves were supposed to hate each other, and witches and fairies hated each other, because that just made sense to a 17 year old who had never read paranormal before Twilight changed the direction of the genre.

I didn’t like magic being a secret that no human could know about, so I changed that. I didn’t like my character’s backstories too much, so I tweaked that too. For the best.

At age 20/21 (it was right around my birthday) I rewrote the entire first book. After finishing the rough draft I looked at editing it, looked at starting the rough draft of the second book, and I realized I didn’t like this version either.

So I put it on hold for anther two years. I worked on two different projects, experimented with writing style, got to know myself as a person better.

At 23 I reexamined what I didn’t like about “Universe 2″ and I realized-

I wasn’t comfortable with the way the book was written now. Too many main characters meant to many pov changes and too many personal plot lines to plan. I could see from the beginning how much I favored Anna and Ulric and Felix over my other main characters, so I cut my cast of six main characters down to three, focusing on my favorites. I also saw that the setting wasn’t working for me and it would be a lot less stress for me to chance the setting to somewhere I was more familiar with, setting it mostly in America instead of the U.K.

And I decided to stop worrying about what my past beta readers would think if the book didn’t look the same in “Universe 3″ and to just run with my heart.

(For any wondering, the beta reader in question is my mum, who has been the biggest supporter of my writing since I was 14 and believed I would be published even when I was ready to give up writing and work at a different career. She’s very attached to “Universe 1″ but it’s not where I want to go, and I know she’ll love this new direction when she reads it)

I started the rough draft for Universe 3 in January of 2019 (almost a year ago to the day I’m writing this). I did it on a whim. I had a dream of Anna and Ulric flying to safety from a villain on a broomstick and I asked myself why witches never had broomsticks in my old world, and I was like “why not, let’s add it”

And I just messed with world building. I aimed it for a more whimsical feel than my older angsty versions. I’m gonna blame all the Studio Ghibli movies I saw that year. Some of my local theatres have been doing special weekends where they show the movies, and I’ve gone to see four in the last year or so. I saw Kiki’s Delivery Service a few months earlier with my best friend (A) and then a month after starting the new draft I saw Howls Moving Castle and Spirited Away (same week, I think, all in theatre) and then as I was finishing the rough draft I saw Whispers of the Heart for the first time.

(this was the moment I realized that specific movie would help A LOT on this decision making process, so I included it above)

Anyway, I just gave myself permission to go in a completely different direction with my book.

I should note, that at 23 I had been visually impaired/blind for some 3 years, although it wasn’t medically official until I was 22. I’d also fallen in love for the first time and broken my own heart. I’d also spent the last two years struggling with gender and sexual identity and really starting to understand that part of myself.

So in general, the whole experience with those last two years of my life really changed the direction I took the book.

I focused more on internal struggle as well as the outside “main bad guy” I’d always been planning to work with. It

I kept the heart of my characters the same. Anna is still the kindest person you’ll ever meet, as well as sarcastic and brilliant and studious. Ulric is an anxious mess who is crazy loyal to his friends and who wants to gain his own independence. Felix is still a brat, but a loving one with the dryest sarcasm and a penchant for mischief.

Anna’s more cautious than her original incarnation. Ulric wasn’t disabled in previous versions (but at 23 I was disabled and I wanted to write a blind character, but I didn’t want blindness to be their only trait, so I took my most developed character and made him blind). Some of the characters are POC instead of white, I let myself have multiple LGBTQ characters (because 17 year old me thought the token queer was the norm because I only had one queer friend before that and we weren’t that close) and I changed some origin stories. It’s much better for that.

Growing up taught me how to put more life in my books, how to write more realistically less melodramatically, and what it feels like to have friends. Seventeen year old me didn’t have many friends in life, but 24 year old me has some wonderful friends.

Summary in Short?? (can I even do that?)

This advice post is getting long and I’m feeling bad, so okay, here I am: I’m almost 25 (in March). 17 and 23 year old me were very different people with different priorities and different levels of experience. And if I had to choose which book I would go with?

I’d stay with Universe 3 (and Universe 1 will just be a thing my mum and I know and keep to ourselves, mostly)

I’m nearly done with the 1st edit. I still have days of self doubt, but they’re nothing like what I had years ago. I’m closer to publishing than I was before, mostly because I have a solid plan now and I’ll be self-publishing, allowing me to publish on my own.

In my case, rewriting was the best decision I could have made. I’m not everyone else though, nor am I you. You know yourself and your story better than anyone, and I know you are the most qualified person to make that decision. I have confidence in your ability.

#writing community #writeblr #writing advice #writing tips #anon #ask #Mimzy answers an ask #dear god I hope this helped #Anonymous

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makeste · 6 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 045: Superhero Names

Previously on BnHA: Everyone licked their emotional wounds from the sports festival arc. You wouldn’t think a simple sports festival would cause so many emotional wounds, but here we are. All Might hugged some kids. Iida visited his brother in the hospital. Todoroki visited his mom. Ochako’s parents came to cheer her up. Deku ate dinner. Bakugou brushed his teeth.

Today on BnHA: Aizawa wears an infinity scarf. Deku gets mobbed by people on a train. The draft pick totals are announced. The kids pick their superhero aliases. Somehow this ended up being one of my longest recaps ever because I went off on tangents like three separate times, talking about everything from the new volume’s character page to the stuff I think I might have been spoiled for by accident. Like, when I went back to edit this it was like whoa.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 104 now, so any ETAs will reflect that.)

looks like it’s the start of another new volume (and arc!), so let’s see what extras we’ve got today!

well there’s not much end-of-volume-5 stuff, but I did find this fascinating

honestly, this wrapped up in less than 20 chapters though. to me that’s incredibly fast. either way, I have to hand it to him, because the pacing was just about perfect. nothing dragged out to the point of becoming boring, and we didn’t waste time on anything we didn’t need to see, but we did get to see just about everyone have at least one cool moment. that’s about all you can ask for, really.

and lord, have you ever heard of a final battle in a tournament arc lasting just a single chapter?? I still can’t get over that ending. that just flew in the face of everything I’ve come to anticipate from a Jump manga, and once I realized what was happening it was as much a thrill as it was a shock.

apparently Endeavor was on the back of this volume cover the whole time. hey, Endeavor!! [deep breath] ...FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOUUUUUUU

all right, on to the new volume!

goddamn this series’s cover art is something else

is Iida even wearing his glasses here?? (ETA: nope!)

he looks so cool and barely like the usual Iida at all

that Stain guy really fucking looks like Small Gia you guys. I apologize in advance if this ends up being something I never stop talking about

and I see Deku’s back in his original costume, but with a couple of upgrades. got what appears to be new gloves, some lines on his jumpsuit that I don’t remember seeing before (ETA: because they’ve changed color), reinforced collar/shoulder protection, and did he always have those big knee guards before? at any rate, it’s a vast improvement on the original look and I approve

what is this

why would Ochako dress up as a giant cancelled sign

and Deku’s Tokoyami hat is both so cute and so disturbing to me. cute because it’s so damn cute look at it, and disturbing because it’s realistic to the point of looking like his actual severed head almost

also are they working at a 7-11 or something. lol

volume title: “Struggling.” I’m feeling it. very relatable

all of the characters are wearing street clothes on the character page!

oh my god Aizawa’s infinity scarfff

SHOUJI WITH ONE OF HIS INFAMOUS PONCHOS

I CAN’T TELL IF DEKU’S ARM IS FUCKED UP FROM THIS ANGLE DAMMIT

DOES HORIKOSHI HAVE SOMETHING AGAINST DRAWING JACKETS/SWEATERS/BUTTON-DOWN SHIRTS THAT ARE A NORMAL LENGTH

BAKUGOU WILL JUST ALWAYS BE WEARING HIS PANTS LIKE A GOOD 3 INCHES BELOW WHERE THEY ACTUALLY SHOULD BE HUH

SHOUTO WITH THE THREE-QUARTER-LENGTH SLEEVED SWEATER. I DON’T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO SAY ABOUT THAT. IT LOOKS REALLY GOOD ON HIM THOUGH

AIZAWA’S SCARF DESERVES ANOTHER MENTION EVEN THOUGH I ALREADY MENTIONED IT. BRO LOOKS LIKE LENNY KRAVITZ AND I’M HERE FOR IT

IT’S A CRIME THAT SO MUCH OF JIROU IS HIDDEN BEHIND IIDA’S GIANT FORTY-YEAR-OLD MAN HEAD BECAUSE I LOVE HER FASHION SENSE SO MUCH AND THAT JACKET LOOKS SO FUCKING FINE ON HER WORK IT GURL!!

LAST BUT NOT LEAST ALL MIGHT WITH THAT BLAZER. ALL MIGHT YOU LOOK SO DAMN GOOD, IF YOU WERE A PHASER ON STAR TREK YOU’D BE SET TO STUN MY GOOD MAN

like a fool, I didn’t scroll past the table of contents quickly enough and my eyes glanced over the title “Gran Torino Appears.” and that shit sounds fucking familiar. some part of my brain that picks up on subconscious clues is telling me that this person is All Might’s master. guess we’ll find out probably in the next chapter. or at the end of this one maybe

Deku is on the train to school and people are recognizing him

“wow you’re that crazy kid from the sports festival, right? you were just sooooo crazy you little wackadoodle.”

but actually he seems to be getting praise from them! some guy is giving him a thumbs up

and now he’s surrounded

this might not be so good, actually. these people are fairly harmless, but this could get out of hand pretty quickly. there’s a reason celebrities always have bodyguards around. and we live in a world without supervillains. these kids are just kids, but some of them have already become household names and faces, and we know that at least a couple of them have also attracted some villainous interest as well. they’re safe enough at school with the security there (I know, I know, but they must have learned their lesson after the last time), but outside is a different story

I’ve been meaning to bring this up at some point, and now seems as good a time as any: another thing I’ve been spoiled about is the fact that I’m pretty sure at some point, some or possibly all of the kids from class A move into U.A. dorms. I’ve seen dorms mentioned enough that I’m pretty sure it’s a canon thing (I wasn’t sure at first). so since then I’ve been on the alert for this to come up, and if/when it does, I’m thinking something like this might be the reason why

and since we’re on the subject, here is a brief list of the other (still relatively few) things I’ve been spoiled for/sort of spoiled for:

Aizawa’s ridiculously hot ponytail. also a scar that’s under his right eye, but I’m thinking that he probably got that during his fight with Noumu and I just haven’t seen it yet because he still had bandages on his face during the festival

at some point there is going to be something really angsty involving Bakugou. because I know I’ve had an irrational love for him since the start, but at some point it seems like something’s going to happen with him that causes just about everyone to feel sympathetic toward him lol. I have no clue at all what this thing is going to be though

this Bakugou angst is going to lead to some good BakuDeku shit. I don’t know what shit, but I can’t wait for it. I have a feeling it’s still a looooong ways out, though

(ETA: well we did have an arc where Bakugou got kidnapped, so for a while I was sure this was what all the angst was about. but now that’s done and things have quieted down again, and we still haven’t gotten that BakuDeku goodness, so I’m thinking there must be still more angst on the horizon! which, frankly, good. yes. moooooore bring me more)

there is some guy with wings I think. not sure what his deal is

I keep seeing Shinsou in a mask similar to Deku’s

lastly, I blame the anime for this because they’ve thrown in some filler related to it that no one asked for, but: I’m pretty sure I’ve seen All Might’s master. but I kept throwing my hands up in front of my face or looking away or closing my eyes whenever I realized what was going on lol. but he was writing a letter to someone in episode 13, and I figure it has to be this person. and I saw like a brief silhouette of someone with long dark hair. and I think I’ve seen fanart of this person before. I can’t quite remember the details of it but I feel like this person is probably the aforementioned Gran Torino? the good thing is it seems like I don’t have much longer to wait before I finally find out more about that one.

(ETA: so obviously the person in question with the long hair was Shimura rather than Gran. so I was spoiled but also not spoiled I guess, because even though I’d gleaned Gran’s name from somewhere, I never actually saw him until he made his appearance in the manga.)

anyways, that’s it as far as I can recall!

so Deku’s made it to school now but he’s really tired. probably from all the nearly dying two days ago

someone’s running up behind him in a raincoat, and this bulky frame with its awkward arm motions could really only be one person

yep

never does anything halfway, this guy

Deku says they’ve still got five minutes before the first bell rings, but Iida insists that “the students of U.A. make it a point to arrive ten minutes early!!” wow I really would not have done well in this school

Iida immediately tells Deku he doesn’t need to worry about his brother and he’s sorry if they caused him any concern

the way he says it and the way Deku stares at him and dots afterward makes me think there is indeed cause for concern though. plus, like. you were on the volume cover, Iida

looks like all the kids had strangers coming up to them and congratulating them on their efforts

WOW look how well Aizawa has them trained

EVEN BAKUGOU WOW. Sero and Kouda switched desks, Ochako sprinted twenty feet all the way her seat at the back of the room, and Kaminari fucking teleported into his seat out of nowhere damn

so let’s see if this man has that eye scar now, then!

yes!!!

holy shit, and this is going to be there for the rest of the series. I fucking love attention to detail like this

what is hero informatics class. that sounds like something Deku would excel in. Deku should probably teach the damn class

Kirishima says it’s stuff about “hero law and junk.” oh my god I instantly have so many questions

GASP!!!!!!

GOOD LUCK BEATING MY NICKNAMES FOR ALL OF YOU LOSERS. OH MY GOD I’M SO EXCITED LOL

also, they really let these kids pick out their aliases at age 15? granted, most of them have probably been thinking about this for nearly their entire lives, so it’s not just a spur of the moment thing. but still, that seems awfully risky. I hope they’re allowed to change them later if they wake up one morning cringing over the choice

ohh! but first, pro draft picks!

he says it’s based on who the pros think will be ready to join the workforce after another 2-3 years of experience... so after graduation, basically. or really whenever they turn 18. well that makes sense

he says it’s not a guarantee of anything though; the offers can still be revoked if things don’t pan out

jesus christ

the top four stole the show, but the top two are in their own fucking league

worth nothing that Bakugou managed these numbers even with his personality out there on full display as well

I think a large part of that has to do with the guy that raked in 4,123 draft picks. the fact that Todoroki is that powerful and Bakugou still managed to beat him in the finals. of course, that wasn’t him at full power though, which I expect Bakugou is still salty about and will be for quite some time

only 108 people recognized Momo’s utter flawlessness. that’s everyone else’s loss

and even fewer gave Ochako a chance, but at least she still got 20!

and of course the most notable thing about the entire board is the fact that Deku’s not up there at all, which is fully understandable since his power’s drawback was thrust into the spotlight. I can’t imagine any pro hero agency wants to deal with that.

well, it’s just like he was thinking back in the last chapter -- he’ll just have to find another way to manage things

poor Aoyama is in a huff about not having gotten any picks either

Momo congratulates Shouto, but he says it’s mostly just his dad’s influence. I really hope he can break away from that eventually. basically his entire life has centered around his dad up till this point, first with him being trained as his successor, and then later when he became obsessed with defying him. I just want him to be able to go after his dreams for his own sake and have pride in himself on his own merits without worrying about his parentage and how that comes into it

Mineta is shaking Deku and telling him, “I told you you scared them,” and no one fucking cares about your opinion on anything Mineta. this isn’t news to anyone

anyhow, Aizawa says that whether they were picked or not, they’ll all get a chance to work with the pros as part of their education

oh thank god, he says the names are only tentative. “but you’ll still want to pick something appropriate.”

now someone else is cutting in and screaming “OR ELSE YOU’LL KNOW TRUE HELL”

oh my god please let this be some poor sap who got saddled with the worst superhero name ever

nope it’s just Midnight

but she says the name might end up being what the world ends up calling them, so they still need to pick carefully

oh, true... if something eventful happened and the media ended up reporting on it, what was previously a “tentative” name might end up becoming a permanent one just like that

then again, IRL celebs change their names all the time and no one usually bats an eye

also Marvel superheroes change their names a fucking lot too. “it’s Iron Patriot now.”

looks like Midnight is here to make sure they don’t fuck it up. Aizawa says he’s no good at that lol. you picked the best fucking name out of anyone, fucking Eraser Head

my gooood I’m so curious and so excited to see what they pick. I haven’t been spoiled for any of this at all, and I’ve barely done any speculating, because I tend to just pick the first thing that pops into my head and stick with it, myself

they only got 15 minutes to do this, but like I said, I can’t imagine a single one of them hasn’t already thought this out. at worst, a few of them might have a little trouble narrowing down like a top 2 or 3

oh my god Aoyama

it’s perfect

omg Midnight is so supportive and nonjudgmental. all she does is tell him it’ll be “easier” if he takes out the “I” and changes “cannot” to “can’t”

but are you really telling me that this twinkly little lad is about to make his debut as “cantstoptwinkling.” because that literally is a tumblr handle

Mina wants to be known as “Alien Queen”

also this finally all but confirms that her quirk is indeed acid. you all have no idea how long that speculation was eating at me

(ETA: pretty sure you do by this point since this is like the 10th time I’ve mentioned it haha)

Tsuyu’s up next! the best nickname I had for her was “frog girl.” she’s chosen to go as Froppy instead which is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my life

OH MY GOD MY BOY KIRISHIMA WENT AND PICKED “RED RIOT”, FUCK YEAH WHAT A NAME. APPARENTLY IT’S DERIVATIVE AND HE BASICALLY STOLE IT FROM ANOTHER GUY NAMED CRIMSON RIOT, WHICH IS SOMEHOW EVEN RADDER. BUT THEY’RE CALLING IT AN “HOMAGE” SO HOPEFULLY THEY’LL AVOID ANY LEGAL TROUBLE

speaking of people who want to pay homage, Deku has a whole fucking list of All Might tribute names

it’s a toss-up between “All Might Jr.” and “Mighty Boy”, clearly

I’m personally hoping for some kind of Alexander Dumas-related thing, going with the One for All theme, but I doubt we’ll go that route

(ETA: cuz we were saving it for the bad guy, clearly!)

Kirishima really hasn’t thought of a name yet??? dude, lightning is literally the easiest element to make a badass name from. see: Wikipedia’s list of fictional characters with electric or magnetic abilities. just fucking name yourself Zeus or some shit

Jirou tapped him on the shoulder and said “how about Jamming-Yayyy” and I'm pretty sure she was just fucking with him but he actually seems really into it omg

her face I can’t

(ETA: Jirou’s inability to keep from cracking up when Kami overuses his quirk is possibly my favorite running gag in the series)

so now we’ve got Jirou, Shouji, and Sero as Earphone Jack, Tentacole, and Cellophane. all good names, though Jirou really went full literal, there. just went for broke on being as straightforward as possible

though nothing beats “Tailman” for literal

Satou’s sign says “Sweets” hero and his name is Sugarman?? first of all, I LOVE IT, and second, DUDE WHAT THE FUCK. this guy’s really been out here the whole time with some kind of donuts power or something and he somehow passed the entrance exam with it and we still have yet to see it??

AND HOMESTUCK’S CHANGED HER NAME TO PINKY NOW LMAO

Kaminari ended up going with Chargebolt, and for some reason he wrote this longass math equation explaining it, just in case it somehow wasn’t clear

HAGAKURE LITERALLY PICKED THE NAME I’VE BEEN CALLING HER THIS ENTIRE TIME GOD BLESS YOU GIRL

THAT’S ONE OUT OF TWENTY. I’LL TAKE IT

Momo went with “Creati.” I... guess...

OH MY GOD SHOUTO JUST WENT OUT AND HIT A HOME FUCKING RUN

OH MY FUCKING GOD LMAO

BUT ALSO, IT’S ACTUALLY A REALLY PERSONAL DECISION FOR HIM, BECAUSE IT’S HIS FIRST NAME AND NOT HIS LAST, AND THUS REFLECTS HIS DETERMINATION TO CAST OFF ANYTHING RELATED TO HIS FATHER

BUT STILL IT’S LITERALLY JUST HIS FIRST NAME OH MY GOD I LAUGHED SO FUCKING HARD. THERE WERE TEARS

I KNOW WHO TSUKUYOMI IS THANKS TO ITACHI. THANK YOU ITACHI. COOL PICK, TOKOYAMI

FUCK YOU MINETA

MY SOFT ROCK BOY KOUDA IS GOING WITH “ANIMA” AND HE IS DESCRIBING HIMSELF AS A “PETTING HERO” AND I THINK I LOVE HIM

so by my count, that just leaves Iida, Ochako, and my sons

this boy really went and tried to put “murder” in his fucking superhero name

URAVITY

OMG

OCHAKO REALLY WENT AND PUT A FUCKING PUN IN HER NAME

?? Midnight’s saying that the only thing left is Bakugou’s revision? um Deku and Iida are sitting right there??

I should learn to scroll down before I start to fly off the handle like that huh

oh FUCK ME

FUCK. FUCK

okay, so I’ve had a weakness for this very specific type of angst ever since KHR nearly did this to Yamamoto during the Inheritance Arc. in the end he was healed and he made it out okay though. but now, ten years later, Iida’s brother has been sacrificed to the gods of shounen manga angst, and they have finally been appeased. holy shit

so this is going to be a tribute to his brother then I take it

oh!!! his brother asked him to take his name and Iida had started to write it down but then erased it at the last second and put his own first name down, thinking that he wasn’t ready yet :’(

so now it’s just my lads

here goes nothing Deku!

oh my god

based on everyone’s reaction and that remark... lol this fucking guy

lol Kacchan’s face

WHY ARE WE CUTTING AWAY BEFORE I GET TO SEE WHAT BAKUGOU PICKED

oh! someone picked Deku in the draft after all!

All Might’s asking who it is -- OH MY GOD. THAT CHAPTER TITLE FROM BEFORE. DON’T FUCKING TELL ME

based on All Might’s response... yep

and then one last little jokey panel of Bakugou’s revised name “Loud Explosion Murder” lmao. they could be here a while

(ETA: THEY NEVER ACTUALLY REVEALED HIS NAME THOUGH OH MY GOD?? or did they and I somehow missed it? IT’S BEEN 60 FUCKING CHAPTERS. dude what the hell)

BONUS:

oh my god Present Mic is the one who came up with Aizawa’s name. this is probably Mic’s greatest contribution to human society.

young present Mic is adorable and young Aizawa looks like Gaara with messier hair

and today in “Horikoshi explains away plot holes that no one was ever going to care about in the first place”, we have Mina apologizing for mixing up the directors of Alien and Aliens

fucking incredible

#bnha #boku no hero academia #makeste reads bnha #holy shit how do I even tag this though #basically everyone was in this one but I'll just stick with the ones I talked about most #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #aizawa shouta #iida tenya #todoroki shouto #there we go that should do it

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babblingfishes · 6 years

Text

Another FroodPad Update

(I’m sending an email instead of tagging people about this one because the majority of you guys have changed urls.)

For anyone who used the original FroodPad (PiratenPad) teamsite for fic writing, the host is taking down the site next month.

As before with the Mozilla alternative, I have backups of most of the text.

Here’s what I do not have:

Backups of locked pads

Chat logs

Authors / authorship colors

Time slider histories

If you want any of those, you’ll need to grab them yourself asap! If you’ve forgotten a password, the quickest way to grab my attention is to let me know via the tumblr messager (or my Discord, if you have it) and I can help you.

As for the actual text of the pads, I have these saved! I can send them to you whenever you like. Under the cut is a VERY lengthy list of the pad titles I have backups of. I can also do a text search if you need.

!!HEY GUYS -- WRITER PROFILES *Goat scream* 2SPOOKY 2c Stories 365 days of Rabbit No! A Very Frood Pad Christmas An attempt to organize chaos And the Band Plays On Annie got her gun Ask Walter Kids BADLY SINNING BRAINTHUNDERING Best Ship Around Broken little pieces CC 4 editing Care Cat!Steve. Don't ask. Cat's sehr whichtig grad portfolio stuff Catori's Little Pad ^^ Cheeroko: ES Drabbles And Possible Story Cheeroko: Elder Scrolls Brainstorming Cheeroko: Fanficing Fanfics since ... Today? Cheeroko: Has Started Yet Another AU Cheeroko: Rabbit Appreciation Pad (Aka, SPG Pad) Cheeroko: Walter Manor Cheeroko: What Should I call this? [{Original Fic}] Cheeroko: You Know What? I'm Just Going To Use This Pad For My Gender Stuff Christmas List Come keep French Company! Please? Configuration (new-new CC and biocore planning) Counter Nonsense Crazy Community Fanfiction Crazy Community Fanfiction II Crazy SPG Collab Thing 2.0 DANGER 5 SOLVE THE GREATEST CRIME OF ALL Derelict (spoilers yo) Derelict 23 and other stuff Derelict Chapter 20 Derelict Chapter 24 Derelict Chapter 25 Derelict Chapter 25 for real this time Derelict Dragon Dreads Derelict Take 73 Derpy-Nuns Don't come here unless Fish is whining at you Don't look Dr. Babblefish's Quest to Only Become Moderately More Insane Dragon Lurve Elephants and Nachos Everyone Writing Everything FRANKENPAPPY Fantastic Mister Vox Fish Does Terrible Things Fish Fanfictions Salgexicon Now Fish and Serif attempt a role play thing. Fish and its monospaced text Fish has an F in evil Fish is Sailing a Ship Fish is a terrible person. Fish is just rambling Fish writes things about other fandoms Fish's Awkward Nonfandom Headcanons Fish's Lupin Drabbles Fish's Magical Tragical Guide to Not Writing Mary Sues Fish's OC Boat Fish's Originalish Pad Fish's Plots and Characters French Rambles French Writes Stony French is a Poet Froodpad Rules and Instructions Further proof we're all insane Futureverse G-Mans and Watering Cans GW2 Cav stuff Ghost! Ghostfacers! Hangout pad Happy Little Family Happy Little Family Notes Here ye go, Redacted Heyo, Achgfd Homestead-Ch.1 How to be nice in RP I blame everyone but me I figure at this rate I should just make a Weird SPG Dreams pad I have no idea what im working on I never tire, I serve I- I- I- LOVE ROBBIE DARREN IT IS A SMUT POWERED BLANKET MY GOOT SAR Ice Cream and Knit Bow Ties Imma figure this thing out by posting prompt responses Improb In Which Pappy Dies In Which Reed Becomes a Robot In Which Steve Drops Bass In Which There is an Abandoned Lab In which robots become metaphors for Autism Spectrum stuff Laying Down The Law Here MATURE REPLY MBG Tumblr Planning MERRY HOLIDAYMAS YOU WEIRDOS! MWFGOH Notes MY FRIEND MATT WHERE YOU AT May B. we Feta get outta here May B. we Feta get outta here pt2 Muppet Baby Giraffe Fics Myth fanfiction maybe??? NOBODY PANIC (MICHAEL GOT THE D) Neoma's Writes Not Actually a Funeral Not!Derelict Nuns could use help writing a comedy piece for English Nuns does a research paper on GAY GODS Nuns fools around with a hero's journey Nuns hunts for the Holy Grail (and a good essay grade) OC ADVENTURE!! OFF Musingses OOPS Oedipus Script Old Money On the wings of steam One of the Fanmily Original stuff is harder than we anticipated PSILENCE WILL FALL Pappy Pad 2 Pappy Rabbit Old (Still needed though!) Pen & Kari's Pad of Fairytale Badassery Philosophy Notes Pokemanz SPG Post-Derelict Headcanons Princey and Leeland's Walter People Pad Princey definitely isn't using this pad for homework anymore Princey is the best right Leilani right Princey tries Original Stuff Princey wanted to write OC stuff too Princey's self-indulgent stuff Princeyfic (An Accident of the Smallest Kind final chapter) Princeyfic: An Accident of the Smallest Kind Princeyfic: Basically nothing but a mermaid OC Princeyfic: Canoe Catastrophe Pronz Psi does homework and other stuff Psi does homework occasionally Psi gets his shit together Psi is in pain. Also class. Psi jacks Cat's characters Psi plans the Derelict!Verse RP blog early because he's bored Psi reads Marsupial Psi takes out dysphoria on The Spine Psi tries for "canon" SPG Psi writes Cabin Pressure stuff Psi writes a thing about an author Psi's Headcanon Psi's Kazooland OCs??? Psi's class notes Psi's class notes and HatchWorth stuff Psilent's Hatchworth Feels Psilent's Pscribblings Psilent's Pstuff Psunny's Muppet Babby Stuff Public pad 2: 2 public 2 pad Pun and Psi Make a Porno Punny: Ask Index Punny: Broken little pieces Punny: Crack Fic ideas Punny: Ficlets Punny: HLF Th teen years Punny: Happy Little Family Punny: Justice Giraffes Punny: Major fics Punny: Rainbow! The Spine Punny: Trying to figure out how the hell Super spg works RABBIT NO RABBIT NO 2: electric boogaloo Rabbit writes fanfic Relish's Ramblings Reverse Pre Mid Life Crisis 3000 Rex and Captain. Rover! SICK ROBOTS. (Princey and Leeland) SIMNANIGANS SO I may have discovered aquabats and it may have given me some muse SPG/Avengers cross over collab-fic SS kills a lot of young women SS: Aftertheendverse SS: Aggressively writes happy fanfiction SS: Amnesia Home Pad SS: Amnesia Revisions SS: Amnesia!Spine Headcanoning SS: Ancient Mariner SS: Angsty Poetry xP SS: Annie/V SS: Dragon!Steve SS: Genderbends because of reasons SS: Just our positronic electronic harmonic SS: Michael wants the D(erelict!Steve's dick) SS: Michael wants the D(erelict!Steve) #2 SS: More Spine/OC junk SS: Okay actually writing Amnesia now SS: Poems by Peter VI SS: Possible Natalia 'Verse SS: Private Party SS: Ratchet and pumpkin SS: Spine/OC SS: Spine/OC #2 SS: Spine/OC #3 SS: The Only Constant SS: The Way Home SS: hoamwork Satyr Adventure script Secret Santa (Sign-ups closed, Santas have been assigned!) Serif needs to kill something apparently Serif's Dump Pad Serif's Dump Pad 2 Seth only starts things and never finishes them Sewing Stitches SisterofaFish's Pad So much craft poisoning Something Wicked This Way Comes Space-Opera Spoons' Stuff Goes Here Stalking Information Steve has Joined Your Party! THIS IS WHERE THE PARTIES AT TIME TO SCARE THE BABIES Tango's Reason Why The Case of the Quest of the Missing Coffee The Mythos Mythos The Rake This is a public pad because Fish is bored This is utter crap Thunder Charge Title! Too Many Thoughts Untitled 180 Untitled 217 Untitled 314 Untitled 322 Untitled 323 Untitled 324 Verse Fable...or something like that WE GON WRITE FLUFF WE LAV U HRUP WRITER PROFILES We write Mirrormask fics now. Mirrormask is cool. Well look what the cat dragged back in World Building You know what, ignore Nuns a surprise in every pad and no one was ever happy the end awkward monsters/spg campfire song song cat used to write hannafic class notes copper conduction 3: REVELATIONS copper conduction p. 4 death lullaby ye everybody look down fear and loathing in san diego half-baked hatchworth stuff hesitantly works on new chapter how rabbit got his groove back 2 i leik ur silileh lteile hat incdrop - frisk incwrites it's sort of like hellraiser except not lemarchand's fic oh heck there's a plot one time ruffy wrote angst original sexy awesomeness possibly part of Two Birds One Stone possibly not psi is the batman psi's original story (caution may contain robots) ((totally contains robots)) psi's presentation that's due in six hours ruffy's writing a thing schoolwork and such (go away) shit so many fics so little time so much writers block sometimes i doubt your commitment to sparkle motion the end. the fucking crying game the future doesn't love you the wit and wisdom of spg woo lets write pirates woo

#froodpad #long post #(sorry if tumblr doesn't cut this @ mobile folks)

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juuls · 6 years

Note

Got any stuckony recs?

YES! Absolutely yes!

My apologies this took until today. I had a busy weekend and had to rest a lot, but I’m here now. :) Also, I don’t have my old bookmarks list (long story) so I’m having to go through and look for my favorites, old and new. Long process! (This took me over four hours, though I was doing a few other things as well. Still, I’m a bit of a slowpoke.)

See below the cut for some of my favorites, and don’t forget to leave kudos and comments (even just an “I liked this!”) for the authors, to let them know their hard work is appreciated!

(If someone knows an author’s Tumblr handle, let me know or tag them so that I can edit this rec list and tag them appropriately!)

Equilateral by FestiveFerret @festiveferret

It was the way Steve had said, “I found him,” the desperate, agonized hope, that had Tony replying with, “Bring him home,” without any hesitation.

But now, now he was hesitating like fuck.

Penny Candy and Sparklers by StrivingArtist @striving-artist

James Buchanan Barnes: formerly the Winter Soldier, formerly Captain America’s right hand man, formerly a sergeant, formerly a dock worker, formerly Stevie’s best friend…. currently a glorified prisoner of Prince T’Challa…. had trouble wrapping his head around all those former selves. He spent too much time thinking about all the bits of him that he kept gluing back together to pretend he was a person anyone would want to keep. He spent even more time picking at the cracks, pointing the flaws out to himself. Only thing he did more than that was make sure no one else noticed how far he was from human.

So, James Buchanan Barnes, who didn’t know what to call himself, who didn’t know how to go forwards, agreed, and moved back into the tower where his best friend lived with a husband orphaned by the Winter Soldier.

Hide A Heart of War by RayShippouUchiha @rayshippouuchiha

“You’ve got war in your heart boy,” Howard sneers, “don’t ever try and pretend to be anything but what you are.”

Tony feels the familiar burn of a flower mark being etched into his skin but he doesn’t look, doesn’t try and check to see what it is. Instead he keeps his eyes on Howard and his hands cupped around his bleeding mouth and nose.

Of Spiders and Super-Soldiers by AuddieAussie (Juulna’s note: I come back and read this all the time when I need some family feels and a smile. :))

After the hell that was Ultron and the Sokovia Accords, Tony doesn’t blame the team for wanting nothing to do with him. To make up for past mistakes, Tony disappears into his lab and focuses on using his money and brains to provide the Avengers with more fancy tech than they’ll ever need. By doing this, he also doesn’t have to worry about Steve’s grim frown, Bucky’s hateful gaze, or everyone else’s cold annoyance.

For six long months, this formula worked, but then fate decided to be a Loki-like dick and Tony wasn’t sure how it happened, but in the span of one week, he’d somehow acquired a kid.

and you needed someone to show you the way by SailorChibi @tsuki-chibi

Tony knows what the team really thinks of him. It’s a delicate balance: they tolerate him because of his money and his toys, and he gets to stay on the team and fight with them. He’s okay with that. So long as he hides the fact that Steve’s and Bucky’s names are written on his skin in the most embarrassing act of one-sided love affection ever, everything will be fine.

It just figures that a fantastically stupid villain, a kidnapping plot and a video camera will bring Tony’s well-kept secret out into the open.

The Mechanic, The Soldier, and The Captain by AvocadoLove (Juulna’s note: this is sad)

HYDRA need a replacement for Zola’s genius, and they have years worth of experience breaking and brainwashing a good man into something they can control.

Beware of Super Soldiers And Their Enticing Laps by Confused_Emo

Tony’s eyes shifted back toward the remaining occupants of the room only to realise there was literally no space in the sitting area for him.

This apparently was the best time for Bucky to make suggestive gestures, as the soldier patted his thigh lasciviously, “Why don’t you come sit on my lap, plenty of space right here.”

Just Far Enough by TheSopherFly (Juulna’s note: please read the tags. This is triggering and sad and angsty but fucking phenomenally well done and one of my all-time favorites… And I don’t like angst at all.)

Tony couldn’t honestly remember how long it had been like this. Probably since the day he’d called T’Challa and offered his help. At first it had just been compulsive self-denial: you can’t eat until you’ve drafted your opening remarks, until you’ve finished your research, until you’ve rewritten every last colon and comma and apostrophe in those Accords so that everyone can come home.

Those goals had been realistic. Lately, they’d become impossible. Until everyone forgives you. Until you forgive yourself. Until you make up for every bad thing you’ve ever caused.

He was fine. He was coasting in a dangerous place, but he was fine. He wasn’t taking it too far - just far enough.

Trinity by cinaea (immediately followed by pt. 2: Volition)

He’s become the kind of monster he all but died trying to stop.

A D/s, soul-bond AU set in modern day. More than two years ago, Bucky Barnes was lost during a Howling Commandos mission and captured by HYDRA. He and fellow prisoners Clint and Natasha—all submissives—are treated as slaves and forced to carry out terrorist attacks for their masters. An attack by the Avengers enables their escape but leaves Bucky with an incomplete soul bond to two superheroes.

Vowing to never be imprisoned again, Bucky and his friends go on the run from HYDRA, from law enforcement, and from the two dominants who will do anything to find him.

Don’t Tell Pepper by Crematosis

Tony convinces Steve that it is totally okay to include Bucky in their relationship because nobody will ever know. They’ll keep it a secret from the team and they’ll absolutely keep it a secret from Pepper because she’ll only yell at them.

Like most of Tony’s good ideas, it comes back to blow up in his face.

Underneath the Mistletoe by DreamcatchersDaughter @dreamcatchersdaughter

5 times Tony gets caught underneath the mistletoe and one time he doesn’t (and thank fuck for that).

and another like it by the same author:

Christmas Kisses (aka Sam is So Done With Your Shit)

Their mutual pining is driving him crazy, but its okay cause Natasha’s got a plan.

The Colors That Bind Us by yasminakohl @stuckonstoney

When Steve Rogers was six a boy saved him from a bully, then sky went from white-gray to brilliant blue.

When Bucky fell, the world stayed colorful and everyone told him it was because of the serum, he believed them.

When he woke from the ice and he finds the black and white he’d expected years ago, sixty-six years ago it seems, he’s crushed.

Now there’s color again, this time it comes with amazing reds and golds.

Until he wakes up and his sky is brilliant and his color mate is trying to kill him, his first color mate.

Will Steve ever be able to have his blue, red and gold?

The Melting, the Spark, and the Suffocation by btBatt @batterology

“So, Bucky,” he said, clapping his hands. “You ready to change the lives of asthmatic little punks everywhere?” Bucky sent a skeptical look Steve’s way.

“It seems to be my calling in life,” he said. Steve just smiled. He looked a little like he was having a moment, one of his oh-my-God-I-have-Bucky-back moments, so Tony smiled too.

“There are worse things,” Tony mused.

“Hear, hear,” Natasha said.

The Limitations of Wax by RayShippouUchiha @rayshippouuchiha (Juulna’s note: This has been untouched for quite a while but there are separate WiPs being written and branched off of this – and completed – that are fantastic, and the core character study in this fic is fantastic so I still recommend it.)

Toni Stark grows up with the tale of Icarus swirling in the back of her mind. Instead of taking it as a precautionary tale about hubris and overreaching she decides it’s more about the limitations of wax.

Years later when she builds herself wings of her own she makes sure to build them out of better material.

Difficult Conversations by yumekuimono @yumekuimono

HYDRA had brainwashed their Asset into silence, and then muzzled him to boot. It’s not that surprising that Bucky no longer considers talking to be one of his strong suits. So why does he keep having to have difficult conversations?

Or, the road to loving Tony Stark is never an easy one. (Juulna’s note: Eventual/Pre-OT3)

Strip it Down by Batfink

“Think about who you’re talking to Bucky. I am the technology king. What you’re asking me to do goes against everything I hold dear.” Tony looked positively distraught.

Bucky slid his hand onto Tony’s cheek, tilting his head until their eyes met. “Crying, Tony. Over the fucking washing machine.”

Giving a Friend a Hand by neunundneunzig (seasidesunset)

Bucky gets Tony’s help dealing with… anatomy malfunctions, and it turns into much more.

Operation: Knuckleheads by FestiveFerret @festiveferret

Bucky is enjoying his new, post-Winter Soldier life at Avengers Tower, until he discovers that the constant tension between Steve and Tony was caused by a recent (and mysterious) breakup. Determined to make his friends happy, Bucky gives himself a new mission: figure out what went wrong, and get these two idiots in love back together again.

Compass Heading by antigrav_vector @disco-pinecone

So… It’s complicated. Steve went and got himself killed on a mission, and, somehow, in the aftermath, Tony ended up getting together with Barnes. He’s still not entirely sure how that happened, really, but he’s not about to question it too hard. He’s enjoying it too much.

Then, because the universe loves turning his life upside down, they find Steve. It’s been two years, and things have changed, but Tony still cares about the asshole, and that, right there, is a problem.

Too Damn Short by MrShyRockstar

“I’m too short for this shit.”

This literally sums up this little ficlet. Tony’s too short, Steve is clearly (to anyone with eyes *coughnottonycough*) pining, and Bucky is just watching everything with exasperated amusement. That is all.

Put Your Arms Around Me, Hold Me Tight by StarSpangledBucky

Tony and Bucky desperately need to sort out the kink in their relationship, before they both lose Steve, or one of them does. It isn’t until the second week Steve is away on a mission that Tony goes through a nightmare, and Bucky decides to comfort him. From there, it gives them a chance to talk. And by the time Steve comes back, he’s more than satisfied by the results.

Minefields by arianapeterson19 (Juulna’s note: Please heed the tags! Content is triggering for abusive relationships.)

Being in an abusive relationship was a bit like needing glasses. He didn’t realize it until the damage was done.

Funny how people assume only men can be abusive.

And a new fic by a new author I would like to recommend to people to read:

Lonely Boy by thereddame @the-red-dame

Tony gets a visit from a Tony from a different universe and she needs him to help keep her children safe until Girl-Tony can kick some HYDRA ass. She’s being pretty tight-lipped about the father but he’s got a sneaking suspicion it’s Steve. Hey, maybe he can get ‘best babysitter in the universe’ award after this?

I’m sure since you are sending me an ask you know about my fics (though maybe not my oneshot), but I’ll list them anyway. ;)

Necrosis by Juulna

Necrosis (from the Greek νέκρωσις “death, the stage of dying, the act of killing” from νεκρός “dead”)

Tony always thought he’d die first, of the three of them. He’d accepted it, even. Hell, he wasn’t even sure that Steve or Bucky coulddie. Shows how much he knew.

Hanging From a Cross of Iron by Juulna

Toni Stark never - not even once - had a soulmark appear. Not one she can remember, at any rate. But when one finally appears, and the date of her rendezvous seems impossible to meet, does she decide to move on with her life, and forget the words written upon her skin?

Of course not. She’s Toni fucking Stark. Making the impossible possible is practically her family motto.

Well… there we go! I hope that that suffices for recommendations? If you want some more, I’m happy to provide them! Happy reading, and don’t forget:

Leave the authors your love in the form of a kudos and/or comment!

MUAH! xoxo

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eirenare · 6 years

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FFXII: The Zodiac Age — I finished it in New Year’s Eve, and...

... and, gods, my feels.

MY FEELS.

*screams into the void*

Feels-y demonic wall of text below “read more” because it’s not going to be spoiler-free at all.

[NOTE: the edition of the post is done! Changes made: corrected writing mistakes, highlighted words properly to make the text easier to read, and added some new text.]

First of all, I have to say I haven’t completed the game. I’m not close to it, I still have Espers to collect, preys to hunt, side missions to beat... but I just wanted SO badly to finish the story of the game.

I had accidentally spoiled myself of some things of the ending beforehand, and I have to say, I thought things would be predictable... I’m glad I was wrong because, even if I knew some things were going to happen, it wasn’t everything at all.

The ending is... quite impressive.

The first time I saw the Bahamut, FUCK, it was SCARY. All that mist and smoke around it, how humongous that airship was... Damn. Well, when the mist and smoke is no more he’s not that much scary, but it’s still SO impossing. I love its design.

I have to say I expected the Bahamut to be more maze-like, to be more complicated a dungeon that in reality was. In that sense, it was a bit of a letdown, because I expected more in that sense. But still, the design of the place was cool, and dealing with the runic/magic bishops was a bit of a hell (a welcomed one once I realized the place was little, though).

Seeing the Bahamut fire, by the way, that’s IMPRESSIVE. The battle between the two armies, and seeing Ondore in CG, man... I LOVED IT. I was agape at the battle scenes, and there were a lot of scenes in general, in this last part of the game, something I enjoyed very much.

Vaan faking to be Larsa was genius! To be honest, I thought it was weird that Larsa would let these mistakes slip, but I didn’t remember the device that changed the voices omg.

I loved that moment of “you have good friends”. It was SO heartwarming...! 💛 Vaan and Penelo are such sweethearts, damn. I want to hug them.

I also love and respect just how brave Larsa is. He’s but a kid, but he’s so pure and so courageous. I love him, really. He’s gold. Opposing someone like Vayne, that’s his brother as well, just adds bonus points. Larsa’s going to go far.

Gabranth... Ouh.

You see, I knew beforehand that he was going to die, and that Basch was going to take his place, and I heard something about Gabranth being stabbed, about him protecting Larsa, but I didn’t know the context ot anything. Although not knowing the context was a relief, it took part of the drama of the ending, which is sad.

But well, continuing on...

Gabranth, my boy. Gods, he just WANTS so badly to hate Basch. I mean, I’m sure there’s a part of him that’s really bitter about him, but I think the hate he’s spat like venom is just... him TRYING to hate his brother. To have a reason to go on, to not give in to sorrow. I don’t know the exact details of what happened in their past (maybe the manga shows it, or talks about it with more detail? I have to check it), but man... THE PAIN. I can understand why Gabranth would feel like that.

And Basch... Basch is so pure. Oh my goodness, is there even any trace of hate within him? His brother RUINED his life and his country, put in serious danger other people and killed many, yet he believes his brother can be saved and return to who he once was. Man... I love Basch with every fiber of my being. He’s the best thing ever to exist.

The talk between Basch and Gabranth is so angsty... I liked it a lot. Although, to be honest, the combat didn’t last long in my case.

[ADDITION EDIT: I’ve checked about Gabranth and Basch’s past just recently in the Wikia, and... Oh my goodness... That’s such a difficult situation to be in, for both twins. Such brutally heavy sorrow and guilt in both of them...

For what it seems, during the invasion of Landis 19 years ago Basch took the decision to flee to Dalmasca to serve in the military, leaving his brother and his mother (who was sick) behind. No mentions of their father, which means he either died or abandoned them. Gabranth moved with his mother to Archadia (her homeland), and it seems that “Gabranth” was the woman’s surname, which he took as his new name. He entered the military, like his brother... But Basch didn’t know about this, and he thought them either dead or enslaved to the Empire after Landis fell.

No wonder why the brothers (a detail: Basch was the older twin, something that’s mentioned in the Japanese version but not in the English one) focused on their militar careers. Their only ways to cope with all this were (asides from that), in Gabranth’s case, to redirect his hate and blame to Basch, and in Basch’s case, to devote himself wholly to serve and protect his new country and its royal family.

Heartbreaking story, no doubt... Big pity that we don’t get to know the details during the game and that this data comes from other sources.]

When Vayne and Ashe finally confront... Oh man, I’m SO proud of Ashe. She’s come a long way from hate and a desire from revenge, and that’s some serious progress. I liked that exchange, when Vayne asked her about who she is, and she just said “she’s herself, nothing more and nothing less”. That’s my badass queen-to-be!

And Larsa, again, showed serious balls when he just picked up his sword and stood against his brother.

It caught me by surprise, by the way, that Vayne would fight with fists and legs, rather than with swords or any other weapon, at first. The kicks he did were pretty cool.

What wasn’t very cool to me, however, was the design o Neo Vayne. I mean... Well, he’s imposing, and the swords swirling around him and obeying his every whim, along with the cool special attacks he performed, where quite the sight... but then I looked at his very own design, an I was a bit disappointed, like, I didn’t like it much, since more than imposing, he really just looked like a mountain of muscles. I really hoped that wasn’t his only transformation because, as much as it took me a bit to take him down, he wasn’t that much scary to deal with.

Gods... When Larsa got electrocuted, well, because I knew he would still be alive, but if I didn’t know? I would have suffered for my beautiful child there, I’m sure. And still it hurt to see the poor guy fall.

When Gabranth appeared and turned his back on Vayne, damn. What a man Noah is. I love that he’s SO loyal to Larsa, that he wants to protect him at all costs, it’s endearing. I mean, you can tell from time ago that he isn’t protecting him just because he’s the future of their country, but because he CARES for Larsa as much as Drace did.

[ADDITION EDIT: not to forget that Drace had been Larsa’s mentor, and that Larsa had been put under Noah’s charge... But seriously, poor kid, he lost SO much people he loved. His mother, his other 2 older brothers, his father, Drace, Vayne, and now Gabranth... So much tragedies in this game (and I didn’t know this until today, but it seems that Ashe had 8 older brothers and they all died either because of the war or from illness, omg).]

A moment I loved and whose screenshot I want to have as my PC’s background is when Noah’s helmet breaks and you can see half his face, his expression, his determination. That was SO stunning, damn. It hurt, though, when you see him get hurt so much for protecting the young lord...

And, again, Larsa showed himself swift in thought and ballsy and, with a smug expression, he just stopped Vayne from murdering Noah and Basch by using the same artificial nethicite that his brother had used on himself. Oh, the irony. Liked this twist a lot.

"Is he a good master?”

“Yes, he is”.

I LOVED THIS. Noah just went full proud older brother (or father, even?) with Larsa. He loves this kid a lot, and that’s endearing and makes me crave hard to know and see more about their relationship.

[ADDITION EDIT: I edited Noah’s phrase because it seems I either didn’t read it well or didn’t remember it well, but still, even corrected, I think it has that sense of pride for Larsa... And I would say it has as well a feeling of Noah being like, well... searching for validation of his choice?]

Oh, and Basch so protective around his brother when he’s on the ground... My feels.

Vayne is interesting, because he REALLY thought he was doing the best for his country, and for the world itself. He REALLY believed that fear was the way to rule, that any means were justified for his goals. And, well, if his older brothers’ deaths happened before Venat appeared in his life and Cid’s, I wonder just how much it was Vayne’s mentality a result of Archadia’s life... I mean, he may be a noble, but heck, that’s even worse, given the fact that the Senate is there, and there’s conspiracies, and war. I would say Archadia influenced him to be how he is now, but the thing is, on how much quantity...?

And Venat.

Venat, who appeared from nowhere, whose motivation to turn her back to the other Occuria we know not exactly... I mean, sure, she gave the man the knowledge to create the artificial nethicite and so on, but WHY?

[ADDITION EDIT: maybe I’m just reading too much and Venat just really wanted to give back the reins of history to the hands of men, though. But still, something HAD to trigger that... And I would have loved to know about it.]

It’s kind of interesting, though, that she looks genuinely attached to both Cid and Vayne, all the more Cid. It’s not like she’s using them, no, they all have a kind of a symbiotic relantionship that I think it’s quite unexpected. I mean, how many times have gods manipulated humans in stories? It’s something that often happens, yet this time it took a good twist. Venat is different, for what it seems; for some reason, she seems to have developed a bond with these humans whose lives are shorter than a sigh compared to an Occurian’s immortality.

[ADDITION EDIT: it’s kind of interesting, too, that Vayne and Cid really seem to regard each other as close friends, given their interactions and that even Vayne remembered him at the end (although I wonder if he knew about Cid wanting to become something akin to a god).]

I would love to know more about Venat and the Occuria, about Vayne, and so I’m hoping that the manga provides more insight, because I think the relationship between Vayne, Cid and Venat is fascinating.

[ADDITION EDIT: something I haven’t mentioned is the relationship between Vayne and Larsa... As much as Vayne has done so much wrong in all of his life, the way he seems to feel for Larsa is quite interesting.

I mean, at first I really thought he cherished his little brother, but as soon as I found out just some things he did I thought “oh my god he’s going to try to kill him”... Yet he didn’t. In fact, he really did what Emperor Gramis wanted and asked for to both Vayne and Noah: to not let Larsa stain his hands in blood.

I wonder if Vayne would have attempted to assassinate Larsa, though, if the kid had been chosen as Emperor... I think he wouldn’t have tried, in all honesty, but that instead he would have tried to influence him a lot and continue staining his hands so that his brother wouldn’t. The thing is, I’m a bit confused about that part when Larsa gets electrocuted... Was it accidental, or...?]

But well, going back to the action...

I like that moment when Vaan is stopped from chasing Vayne just because Venat shows herself in front of the boy’s sight. Venat does nothing, she just... stares, and buys Vayne time. Must be a bit of scary, having such a creature looking right at you like that.

I liked that conversation between Venat and Vayne and OH GOD THAT TRANSFORMATION. Now THAT is what I was waiting for, and not just Vayne on steroids! He looks AMAZING, like a mechanic version of the summon Bahamut! That design is something I loved, and it gave me goosebumps the sequence when the metal adheres to him to give him this appearence.

The battle was a bit long, but apart from a scare or two that involved his most powerful attacks (the animations are SO GOOD), I could take him with not much problems, just giving it time.

I loved this all.

And, gods, when you defeat Vayne... That was so relieving. Like, you see the guys looking at the sky, all relaxed, thinking “it’s all over now”. And you see Balthier and Fran doing that cute gesture with their fists, you see them all smiling, Basch looking at Ashe from behind, smiling...

It was so peaceful.

... Well, nevermind, though, the moment lasted so little.

It managed to make me nervous the fact that, even if I did know who would die and who wouldn’t, the Strahl couldn’t fly. Balthier and Fran have some serious balls and they’re SO amazing.

[ADDITION EDIT: Balthier is just such a smooth badass. I loved that interaction between him and Fran when he carries her...! I ship them a lot by the way, they’re too amazing together to my eyes ♥]

Between the scene of Noah dying, and Ashe screaming Balthier’s name in despair to the device as he carries Fran in his arms (because, yes, in Japanese Ashe literally screams his name, while in English it’s toned down so much it hurts)...

Ah, man, the feels.

To be honest, I see Ashe and Balthier more like very good friends, like, the kind of friend that knows all your shit because he tells his too? BROTP could be said, I guess? I see them like that, although I totally understand why a lot of people ships them.

About Noah... Gods, he seemed to go in peace and I liked so much that, if he had to go, he would go like that. It wouldn’t have been a good thing if he left the world full of hate (not just because of that fact itself, but because well, you know... Remember some of the hateful spirits you’ve sometimes fought? Exactly). The scene when he’s dying, with Basch is clinging to his dear brother like a lifeline with such pain, and Larsa looking so sad... Gods, it’s heartbreaking, they’re all in such sorrow. It gets even more sad when Larsa takes Noah’s hand between his, knowing it’ll be over soon.

It’s killing if you imagine Larsa could have had Noah around him for ALL of his life. I mean, imagine it... It wouldn’t be only that Basch had with Noah always, but Larsa would have been all of his own life with him around as well. And for Basch it would have been difficult as hell to deal with this, but Larsa? Larsa’s is just a kid... Still, even if he’s so little, he really is courageous and doesn’t crumble in front of Noah, which is what Basch is somehow managing to do as well. Noah didn’t deserve to die...

[ADDITION EDIT: I’ve been thinking about it, and... gods, just how much disturbing must be to see your own twin die? It probably must feel like... watching youself die...?]

And I have to say that I understand the motivation behind asking Basch to take care of Larsa, but... Again, Basch “The Martyr”. Again, his life is taken from him. His homeland, Landis? Destroyed. His life on Dalmasca? Taken. And now, his possibility of a future in which he can be free. It’s heartbreaking. All the more because Basch is such a pure soul...

But well, the good thing is that he would have Larsa by his side, and Larsa would have him, and they seem like they could be very good friends, which is a relief.

I still have to play Final Fantasy XII: Revenant Wings though (I’ll start soon becaue I want badly to play it), so I don’t know how things will be, but I know they could find comfort in one another in their kinda-fucked-up (in different degrees) lives.

I loved how the ending was portrayed, with a letter from Penelo (who looks absolutely gorgeous and amazing, by the way), showing that life goes on even if things didn’t quite end up in a happy ending (Ashe becoming distant and more lonely because of her position, Basch forced to sacrifice his freedom and more years of his life to take care of Larsa...).

The moment “Kiss me goodbye” started playing, I cried. I didn’t cry as much as I could have done a while ago (because it seems as if I’m kind of losing that “crybaby” side of me, or getting a bit “numb”), but I cried, and gods... I couldn’t stop grinning, and I continued doing so until the end.

I also think that seeing Rabanastre getting restored was amazing and precious.

Oh, and the Bahamut looks beautiful with the plants overrunning it, like a huge tower~

The thing is, the fact that Balthier and Fran were alive I knew, but if I didn’t, I’m pretty sure would have cried a lot more (which I think I would have done as well with the scenes of them at the Bahamut and Noah). I loved that Balthier gave Ashe her ring back, and that they “stole” the Strahl. That was a genius comeback.

But what probably made me all the more happy was the part of Penelo’s letter that involved Basch, and that Larsa, wearing that smug expression, gave it to Basch so that he himself could read it.

So Penelo asks how is Basch, and then literally prays that he can return soon to Rabanastre... AND TO ASHE. Oh, dear... But that’s not everything, no, no... Penelo says that and THEN she says (if I recall well) that Ashe wouldn’t be able to say it given the situation, but Penelo thinks she misses Basch.

OH GODS. FINISH ME.

Finish me, because I ship Basch and Ashe so much...! I just can help but love them, they’re precious to me and I cherish their pairing a lot 💛 But well, going back to what I was saying...

It’s obvious that Ashe misses her friends, but the way Penelo just worded that part of the letter... OMG. I mean, the way Penelo talked about the matter screamed that there was something going on, and the fact that Larsa gives that smug expression to Basch while giving him the letter, and then giving him space to read it?

There’s a lot implied there, and not only by words, but by gestures (*).

I feel that it is, as minimum, a confirmation that at least from Basch there’s more than duty and friendship for what he feels for Ashe. I thought I felt some of that coming from him, but this just looks like plain confirmation.

But still, even if it wouldn’t imply a romantic relationship, it would still be endearing. I mean, Ashe. Ashe, missing Basch. I wonder just how much closer were to each other before the events of the game, or during the game, since they traveled a lot. And by foot mostly, which makes the group spend a good amount of time together (I tried to make some calculations and, hold your horses... it probably takes like 1 week to reach Mt Bur-Omisace from Rabanastre), and thus, a lot of untold scenes could have taken place with the group, and between Basch and Ashe.

What can I say... This ending was so AMAZING and beautiful...! I loved it so much! 💛💛💛

[ADDITION EDIT: omg, that scene with Vaan giving a piggyback ride to Penelo. That was SO cute. I loved it, all the more because I ship them~]

Oh, and I almost forgot it, but... THE CREDITS, OH MY GOODNESS. That was a cuteness overload! Basch and Noah when they were younger; little Ashe embracing a chocobo (I saw that image some time ago and I thought it was just a very well done fanart, but I wished it was official — In the end it was, which is funny); Fran, Mjrn and Jote together; Cid with baby Balthier (I’M NOT CRYING YOU’RE CRYING); Fran and Basch in such a cute/funny pose... Not to mention other stunning artworks, but these were ones I’ve never seen before, and that was fantastic to watch!

Without a doubt, Final Fantasy XII: The Zodiac Age has taken its place at my TOP 3 Final Fantasy games (but that’s a matter for another different time maybe).

Now, I guess I’ll just combine doing what I have left to do in FFXII with playing FFXII: Revenant Wings then~

I’m so excited to see what happens in the sequel...! 💛

(*) Gods, this game is FULL of body language and gestures that tell so much. I would love to analyze that aspect as much as I can, one day.

P.D.: I really hope I’m not forgetting to mention anything right now, but well, if I did, I’ll just add it later in a new paragraph. Although I think I hadn’t forgotten a thing, though.

#Gods I LOVE this game it's so beautiful and amazing!#FF12 TZA #FFXII TZA #FF12 The Zodiac Age #FFXII The Zodiac Age #Final Fantasy 12 TZA #Final Fantasy XII TZA #Final Fantasy 12 The Zodiac Age #Final Fantasy XII The Zodiac Age #FF12 #FFXII #Final Fantasy 12 #Final Fantasy XII #FF12 Revenant Wings #FFXII Revenant Wings #FF12 RW #FFXII RW #Final Fantasy 12 Revenant Wings #Final Fantasy XII Revenant Wings

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asnowingfandomofashes · 7 years

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Chris/Claudia Teen Wolf Headcanons

First of all, it was really early morning when I wrote this out and I’ve not done much editing. I included the note while typing this that “the sun will rise soon - and I’ve had no sleep.” I also tend to ramble a lot at any time of day, for any reason. So please forgive the very long post and over-explanation.

Secondly, I’m never going to write this because I never end up writing anything, but I would love to read other peoples’ versions of this, so if this in any way at all inspires you please, please, please, send me a link to read it when you post? (Alternatively, if this sounds in any way familiar and you know of a fic with similar plot, I’m also always looking for fic recommendations to read.)

Warning for when you get to the actual scenes: somehow wayyy more angst snuck in as I was typing it.

(I’m also sorry for tagging under the read-more but I gotta give credit where credit is due, and I never would have thought of any of this without a few inspiring posts. :X )

Okay, so I’ve seen the whole Christopher Argent Appreciation Week post going around the Teen Wolf fandom, so that’s partly to blame...

But this can also be claimed to have been inspired by the awesome @inell who asked for Chris shipping prompts. My first thought was, of course, Chris/Stiles/Peter. However, Inell does rare pairs, so my next thought was something like “Don’t waste an opportunity: What’s something you’ve never seeN - gasp!!!!! Chris/Claudia!!!”

[ I swear it came entirely from left field of my brain, interrupted my own thoughts, and utterly shocked me speechless - thoughtless? - for like a minute. ]

I almost rejected the idea immediately, however, because I can’t imagine Claudia not being with the Sheriff. ... But then my brain once again piped up with a “What if it’s before she meets the Sheriff?” And so I had my prompt, I was going to type up an ask and send it to Inell’s tumblr... And before I could even reach the keyboard to ask for young! Claudia/Chris sappy stuff, my brain was whirring away and throwing plot bunnies everywhere to scatter and start planting angsty scenes and implicit headcanons into all my thoughts. So, it’s a bit too detailed for a prompt (and much too long to send in an ask), but thought I’d share anyways and hope people enjoy it.

[ As a side-note, I’m normally one who is quick to turn away from a fic if it starts out one ship and uses the relationship as nothing more than a stepping stone to another ship. But I realized today in this little bit of brain-storming that sometimes a ship might not fit to be a lasting one for a “forever” relationship with the characters, but it doesn’t mean the ship wouldn’t have interesting dynamics and a lasting impact on the storyline. (That being said, now that I’m typing this I’m also curious to see what sort of an interesting story might come of Chris/Claudia getting together while young, then later inviting the Sheriff into their relationship for a lasting Chris/Claudia/Sheriff Stilinski relationship.) ]

Anyways... on to the actual headcanons/scenes now.

So first of all, Chris and Claudia are high school sweethearts. The single most perfect, happy, sappiest couple you can possibly imagine. Chris may have grown up in a not-normal, very hardened family... But Claudia just makes everything so breathtakingly beautiful and happy. She’s far too easy to love.

Unfortunately, Chris is a hunter... or at least a hunter-in-training. He goes on trips with his dad all the time. And, of course, there’s often talk of moving away - and he knows it’s coming, they never stay around too long. They’re together for a while... - a couple of years maybe. And they don’t fall out of love, so much as... They just know it’s not going to keep working. They still love each other; they promise to be friends. Long distance best friends, because Chris is always going to travel.

Claudia meets the (then) Deputy Stilinski. And she falls in love. She still loves Chris, they’re still best friends, but she’s not in love with him anymore. Chris... Chris is complicated. But he has Victoria now. And she’s also from a hunting family - she understands, she knows, she was raised to the same life as him. It isn’t love at first, it’s just a means to an end - a way to get their families off their backs. But he does love her eventually. In love with her, though? He doesn’t know.

Claudia and Chris start drifting apart. They still care for each other, but they haven’t seen each other in years. They restrict themselves to phone calls. Their feelings haven’t lessened, but the time between calls grows longer. Claudia still calls Chris when Stiles is born though. She calls him a lot around then actually - the first two years or so, she’s always calling her best friend to rave as only a very proud, very happy momma can.

[ Years later he’ll remember these calls, and think about how proud she was of her son no matter how trivial a thing it was as he first toddled around. ]

CW for this bit: Angsty feels, Character Death, Funeral

When she gets sick, she calls him and he knows something is wrong - but she doesn’t tell him. Not that first time. Or the time after that. Or the time after that.

She starts calling more often, but she’s so very different. Things don’t quite add up between each of her calls. Eventually, she lets it slip. He gets off the phone with her that night and researches all he can about the words - the diagnosis - she’d whispered to him, half hysterical.

...He stops taking her calls as often. The guilt eats him alive, but her ravings are getting worse and he can’t handle it. When her home number changes to a hospital number and she informs him it’s permanent, he finds a case that’ll take him far away from everything and everyone and be too damn difficult to risk thinking about anything else.

When he finally gets a message telling him about funeral arrangements, it’s left on voice mail in a hollow voice with a sentence claiming it to belong to Claudia’s husband (Claudia’s husband was always alive in her stories, not dead and empty, but this voice is the furthest thing from alive that he’s ever heard. He’s almost afraid he’s gotten a message from a ghost or maybe a zombie. - No, he knows the real ghost haunting him is in his head and not on his phone, but it’s easier to pretend.)

[ Maybe Chris never goes to the funeral. He hasn’t seen her in years, and it’s a travesty to have your last memory of someone be of their corpse, not her life. But maybe he goes anyways. Maybe he stands in the back of the crowd, begging whatever higher powers there may be that no one recognizes him. Avoiding even looking in the direction of her husband - or fuck, her kid. The kid she was so proud of. Maybe he goes, but spends the entire time not looking. ]

CW: More angst, ambiguous feelings (I swear this part wasn’t angsty except for a single line... until I started typing and it wrote itself in.)

Chris is a hunter - he compartmentalizes. They move back to Beacon Hills. He sends Allison to the high school he’d met his first love. He doesn’t think of her. He ignores it when the Sheriff’s name is too familiar. He pretends it’s just any other town.

When Ally first mentions her new friends and the people she met, he has a bit of a shock hearing that name. The Sheriff’s son was in the same classes as his daughter. He pretends he didn’t recognize the first name, and the second holds no significance.

When he realizes there are wolves at the high school and his daughter is hanging out with them, he worries a bit. What if?...

When he realizes who the wolf is, all he can think of is Allison is dating a werewolf, and Claudia’s son is involved with werewolves.

[ He nearly chokes on the irony. ]

When he sees Stiles for the first time all he can see is a boy in danger and reminders of Claudia. Reminders of a dead woman.

[ A woman he loved? Or a woman he was still in love with? He didn’t know if it was regrets. Or if it was guilt. Or if it was fear. He shoves it down and compartmentalizes.]

CW: conversations with a headstone/tombstone/the dead, bittersweet ending, Peter/Stiles mention

After the nogitsune, Chris goes to visit Claudia’s grave. He sits down and tells her about things.

[ After everything, he thinks he has at last finally found at least some closure with her. Maybe not with the more recent things that have happened in his life... He still can’t hardly think of his daughter. But he can do this - he can talk to the first person he fell in love with, the woman who was always his best friend. ]

He tells her how strong her son is, how she gave birth to an ‘awesome’ kid who had her heart. He tells her she should be so proud.

“And I know not to tell you not to worry. I know as parents we have to worry about our kids. But he’s going to be alright, Claudia. He’s so strong. Stiles’ is going to be alright.”

He tells her about Stiles and Peter. He talks about how she probably has watched the things Peter has done lately. But then he tells her about how “You knew him though, remember? He was that kid who...”

[ Because maybe they all went to high school together. Or maybe she was a few years older than Peter, but worked at a bakery or a coffee shop that all the teens frequented. Maybe she was friends with Talia and heard all the rants from the annoyed older sibling. Maybe it was all three. ]

But teen! Peter’s antics were enough that all these years later, people remembered them. And still found amusement from them. So he reminisced to her, about the guy her son is now dating. And he knows if she was here, she’d know exactly who it was within the first couple of stories. And she’d have so many more stories about a young Peter Hale than Chris has, even all these years later.

P.S. - I have actually read fics where Stiles and Allison are siblings and there’s either implied or stated past Chris/Claudia, but it’s always ‘off-screen’ with Claudia always already being dead.

#teen wolf #Christopher Argent #Claudia Stilinski #Headcanons #Chris/Claudia #Stiles/Peter #Character Death #thank you inell for all your wonderful rarepairs #my headcanons

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comicteaparty · 5 years

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February 28th, 2019 CTP Archive

The archive for the Comic Tea Party chat that occurred on February 28th, 2019, from 5PM - 7PM PST. The chat focused on Zenchav by Draco Plato.

Featured Comment:

Chat:

RebelVampire

COMIC TEA PARTY- THURSDAY BOOK CLUB START!

Good evening, everyone~! This week’s Thursday Book Club is officially beginning! Today we are discussing Zenchav by Draco Plato~! (http://khyatix.com/)

Remember that Thursday discussions are completely freeform! However, every 30 minutes I will drop in OPTIONAL discussion questions in case you’d like a bit of a prompt. If you miss out on one of these prompts, you can find them pinned for the chat’s duration. Additionally, remember that while constructive criticism is allowed, our focus is fun and respectfully appreciating the comic. All that said, let’s begin!

QUESTION 1. What is your favorite scene in the comic so far and why?

Draco Plato

hmmmm

flips through chapters quickly

RebelVampire

just say all the scenes cause as the creator its the one time you can get away with it XD

Draco Plato

I'm sure I have a favorite

shiz everything exists on a neutral plan of emotion

RebelVampire

for my favorite scene im gonna pick that time everyone was pursued by spiky chia pets and oziel and ara argued to the point damian snapped his finger at them and told them to focus.

Draco Plato

I was leaning towards that myself too

RebelVampire

damian did what we all wanted to do deep down in that moment

Draco Plato

yeeeeeah

I love the finger snap

I always enjoy drawing the damon and lyall scenes the most

I like chapter 14 but I think it was a bit hurried seeming overall.

I picked up the pace for webcomic time but I think I should have slowed it down a bit there

that was my favorite chapter to draw recently tho cause damon and lyall

Kabocha

I think... My favorite scene is a toss up. I really liked Nadia and Damon's meeting -- Damon's priorities are basically mine: "OOO SPARKLY" http://khyatix.com/Zenchav/Volume1/ZenchavVolume1#p=98 But I also really liked how crushed Damon was when he burnt up Liberty's body. http://khyatix.com/Zenchav/Volume3/ZenchavVolume3#p=157 Can't do anything else? Well, at least I can make sure nobody asks too many questions right~?

Draco Plato

aaaaaaaaaaaaah

I have so many mixed feelings about damon burning his daughter's body

like was that a GOOD decision? it's so morbid

I always get a laugh out of that

Kabocha

It felt pretty emotional

and yessss

I really like the first volume a lot, to be honest. The art in it has a lot of character which helps the black and white pop

Draco Plato

yeah I agree! Whenever I re-read it I think the early chapters actually have a lot of charm to them

I used to be really bothered by the flaws but that doesn't really bother me now

Kabocha

Yeah They're cute! And... Damon was... very angsty in volume 2's start

Draco Plato

hahah his brief gangster look

RebelVampire

it was nice to see damon grow up from an innocent boy into angst rage machine into hi everyone im stay at home dad who makes jam

Kabocha

it is pretty fun when you get very... uh... ...I don't know the term but when you pull the expressions pretty far and make them somewhat more cartoony

Draco Plato

yeah! I agree. I think I pushed limits a bit more in the earlier chapters. Honestly I think my disdain for drawing shines through too much now

I mean, it all looks great, lmao

Kabocha

"Oh, I like it when you touch me" -- Sayeth Lyall, volume 2, page 12

Draco Plato

Aaaaaaaaaaah, I feel so awkward about those early scenes

where lyall's feelings start shining through

Kabocha

Lyall honestly just needs anyone's affection

RebelVampire

another scene i like is http://khyatix.com/Zenchav/Volume3/ZenchavVolume3#p=42 where damon and lyall are flirting sort of and rex just shows hes watching and hes very bored. i think it was a great way to bring rex back in while also paying off on all that tension buildup of him coming back.

Draco Plato

he just needs damon's affection

Kabocha

...Damon's hair is also kinda kelpie-ish, so I meaaaaaaaan

Draco Plato

yeah I liked that scene too!! and that's true, I hadn't thought he looked a bit like kelpie there

I'm kinda with what Dark said about wtf is going on with his hair in chapter 5

like yep, that's why it lasted a very short time that look

oh i remember my fave scene now

Kabocha

What did Dark say?

Draco Plato

i need to find it

she wasn't a fan of the chapter 5 damon hair, which I agree with since I'm not a fan of it either

Kabocha

I don't dislike it, he just seems very... ...high stress right now

RebelVampire

i like to think damon's early life is characterized by phases. you got the angst phase, the emo phase, the cute kid phase, the weird flirt with your uncle phase

Kabocha

all business, no play

Draco Plato

there it is, the scene that always haunts me in re reads

oh that's true Rebel, it very much is

Kabocha

cough There's inappropriate jokes that one could make about coming in handy

But I'm not going to make them tonight

Draco Plato

I just...that line in retrospect is so BAD

Kabocha

But it's Lyall~

Draco Plato

i think that's the only time he really had pedo bear vibes

maybe not the only but the biggest

Kabocha

http://khyatix.com/Zenchav/Volume2/ZenchavVolume2#p=38 This page, Lyall's like... "This woman's going to kill me, Damon, and everyone in this neighborhood"

Draco Plato

there's also that time

Kabocha

What does Nadia do, anyway? Is she actually a mob boss? I know she's gonna be different in the upcoming video, but... >:D

Draco Plato

Lyall thinking she's a homewrecker there ruining his chance at future happiness as Damon's husbando

Yeah she's the head of her mafia

her backstory is actually the same as the animated version but without the interference

https://youtu.be/gGdGFtwCNBE

that's my song for lyall in chapter five

Kabocha

"I feel like I've known her" -- "Oh, yeah, last time around, she tried to kill you a buncha times, and I heard she's gonna do it again."

Draco Plato

wheeeeezes

Kabocha

"Also, she's your sister. Or will be. Different lives and all."

Draco Plato

It just gets worse

#TrueLove

Kabocha

I wonder what their entanglements were like in previous lives >:D

RebelVampire

you know what other scene i like? this scene http://khyatix.com/Zenchav/Volume2/ZenchavVolume2#p=48 where lyall tells damon he didnt love liberty. partly cause it was cute seeing damon be this angsty adult and get hit with the reality stick in such a way hes still little boy shocked that this is a thing that could happen. and it was also nice cause lyall revealed something in an angry outburst and thus one more truth was added to the truth pile

Draco Plato

i really should have made a chart for Nadia's lives, the main one I know that has her and Damon together before that life is when she was Lili's sister

Oh Oh I like that scene too!!

Kabocha

I would be interested in seeing Lili's sister

and aaaaaaaaaaaaa, yes. Lyall: Truth teller in bad situations

Draco Plato

I can always feel a mini heart attack when Lyall says he didn't love her

cause I know how much that hurts damon

Kabocha

"you made my mother a whore and you didn't even CARE?"

Draco Plato

Lili's sister doesn't have much to her, she married Muir at the same time as Lili but ended up leaving and letting Lili and Muir be alone

Damon was too pure then, lol(edited)

he was really hung up on the sleeping with his mom thing for a long time

Kabocha

I can't blame him, especially if he thought it was gonna damn Liberty to hell

but nope, just ends up with her coming back one day as a cute smol girl

Also... Lyall has no last name. JUST TAKE DAMON'S! nau

Where did the nickname Sha come from by the way?

Draco Plato

actually why didn't he take Liberty's last name

Oh!!! Lol nobody has ever asked before

She wanted to call him a shark but he lacks the bite so she dropped the k

looking back on this nickname it doesn't make much sense lmao

I think it originates from an earlier version that made more sense

RebelVampire

i like to think that lyall not taking a last name was his way of rejecting the permanence of their situation. but also not having a last name sounds helpful when in the mob. "Hey Joe you gonna kill that Lyall fellow we were ordered to kill?" "Which Lyall?" "I don't know man. Let's just pick one."

Draco Plato

truuuuue

altho how common a name is Lyall

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

"but joe theres like 20 other lyalls" "just kill them all"

Draco Plato

LOL

omg XD

Kabocha

It soon became the great Lyall purge of 1930

Draco Plato

Lyall: I don't have a last name because I'm waiting to marry you and take yours

Kabocha

Lyall probably used that pickup line a few times

"I don't have a last name, but why don't I borrow yours for the night~?"

Draco Plato

ffffft

sadly i don't think that's one he'd use since it's rather personal to him

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

also i'm not sure what y favorite scene is theres a lot of them lol

Draco Plato

it's okay, my mind went blank too

and I should know all the scenes

Kabocha

pick a volume, flip through, find your favorite

Draco Plato

i know cali's fave

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

which one

LMAO

RebelVampire

QUESTION 2. As shown in the comic, Apus has been going on quite a recruiting spree. How do you think Damian will adjust to his new life situation, especially after what happened? How will Damian deal with Damon joining the Demon Council? What do you think the story is with Firosofi and Euripides? Will they adjust to their life there and will the others adjust to them? Will recruiting Draco go smoothly, or will matters be complicated because of Draco’s situation with B.I.T.E.? What do you think is up with Earth suddenly recruiting so many demons and non-humans all at once? Lastly, do you think Amai will learn to do field work, and how might it change her?

Draco Plato

i'mma delete that one for gore tho

Kabocha

Damian's going to angst a lot when he finds out his dad's on the Demon council. And then be like "MY FATHER BETRAYED US" And worry a lot. And continue to be grumpy until he becomes older Damian.

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

i feel like damian will go crazy and become numb to all the weirdness

and then take wizard drugs

become damon

Kabocha

But also they're just gonna ship him off to the future to hang out with his dad, soooo

Draco Plato

i feel like these questions would have been good for me to ponder before writing

OoO spoils Damian's immediate future, lolol

Kabocha

Ooop, Damian, you're gonna sleep with that hot bird-brained nurse~

Draco Plato

why is the Earth recruiting all these people, I just figured apus was understaffed

aaaaaah that spoiler!!!

their romance took a flight

Kabocha

It definitely did... You could say their hearts fluttered like little wings

Draco Plato

Vivi was born from a little egg

not that it's relevant but it's cute

RebelVampire

i like to think Earth just felt like it. was bored and said "you know what would be funny? is if i put all these demons at apus and force the people i 'hired' to get along with them. this sounds like a fun social experiment."

Draco Plato

I mean I feel that's about as hard as she thought about it

but now I feel I should think of a good reason and make it seem like I had something deep behind it

Kabocha

Vivi was born from an egg, eh? :3

I'm kind of curious now

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

plot twist, apus is just earth's ant farm but with people and demons

Draco Plato

yuuuuuus

omg XD

anytime someone mentions an antfarm I remember the one my bro had, where all the ants came dead except one and that one ant worked hard to bury all the other ants(edited)

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

rip ant

burying it's brethren

Draco Plato

antfarms are SAD

just burying all your dead kin

symbolically damon will be the ant

and we'll pretend this was a metaphor

Kabocha

Apus as an ant farm? I guess The Earth hasn't changed. She's just gonna try to burn it next time Damon shows up

Draco Plato

nah tho, Apus is meant to protect the earth

probably

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

maybe

we just dont know

Draco Plato

but she allows the demon council too

and is an aid to rex

so the earth plays both teams

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

news reporter interviews the earth "Miss earth? why did you create apus?" "lol idk i just wanted to"

RebelVampire

ya know consider earth talks to both sides, its more like these are her little play soldiers and she got more from the store so she could have an epic battle.

Kabocha

Cadence got her planet in the end

Draco Plato

baaaasically

her being the earth is totally karma for having made a planet

and not being it's planet seed

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

i just imagined like a fight going on and someone jumping at someone

but in realityits just earth throwing one of her play soldiers at another one

Kabocha

She doesn't seem to hate it at least. She's probably like, "heh, I'll show you whose Karma fucked them up"

Draco Plato

muahahaha

I think the rational was that she wanted to see which side would win out

the planet itself is neither good nor evil, a neutral party

if a planet becomes totally good or totally evil it will end

because it must exist within duality

so that makes me think her ultimate goal would be to make it either totally good or totally evil so that it can die

since that would be freedom in a sense for her soul

Yes, beautiful, perfect earth

she don't care which time wins, just so long as someone does

Kabocha

YEP

she finally got it

a shame Samantha couldn't think big tho

Draco Plato

so much of Soul Hymn is still in the air tbh, especially with Sam

Kabocha

unless she's working with Decebal...

Draco Plato

cause I thought it'd be fun to make her more of an important baddie

Kabocha

"Yeah, I'll let you be the planet seed if you help me out*

Draco Plato

fffffft, being a planet seed is the last thing she wants

Kabocha

Sam wasn't really listening, she heard "You get a planet"

Draco Plato

it may be fun if sam is an antagonist to both erik and decebal

since if she regains her powers she'd be quite a formidable foe

RebelVampire

maybe lets bring the topic back to zenchav at this point XD

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

"you get a planet and you get a planet"

Draco Plato

Decebal becomes Oprah

Damian will not be pleased Damon joined the DC

nope

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

but hey he gets to spend time with his daddy

i guess

Draco Plato

I actually don't know if they'll ever meet face to face during that time tho

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

O_O

damon and rex i mean

lmao

Draco Plato

LOL

Damon is so happy about that, yeeeeah

RebelVampire

my question implied damian adjusts at all. which i would argue damian doesnt adjust to anything. just sits in eternal grump land.

hey

damon got new clothes already

id say thats a great dad

Draco Plato

LOL you make an excellent point Rebel

but they're not blue see, they have to be blue, so he's sad

Kabocha

Question: Will we get to see Mr. Philosophy get a sword

Draco Plato

Yes!

Kabocha

YES

Draco Plato

Firo has two swords

RebelVampire

i think Amai will be fine with field work cause firo can do all the heavy lifting metaphorically speaking. or ya know he could sip tea and wave at her from afar

Draco Plato

Firo actually can't kill anyone because it would be too kind a death for them

Kabocha

Then he gets to be mad at Dakin and Amai all the time :3

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

one to put jam on his toast and the other to poke things

Draco Plato

this is true, firo will do way more heavy lifting than Amai

buuuuut Amai will probably have plant powers like Dakin

which wasn't in the story originally so tentatively she'll be a bit more bad ass when she awakens to that

firo doesn't get mad

RebelVampire

by that implication amai doesnt know she has the plant powers?

Draco Plato

if firo gets mad that's gotta be something really really bad

nah Amai thinks she has no powers atm

she's been very sheltered

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

would he get mad if someone cut him off on the freeway

Kabocha

bwahahahaha

Draco Plato

No O_O

Kabocha

WHAT

he is inhuman!

Draco Plato

He got mad once as a kid tho

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

say if it isnt so

Draco Plato

kid cut off his ponytail

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

off with his head

Draco Plato

yus O_O you don't touch Firo's hair

but he probably wouldn't get mad at that now

but there is a time when he will get mad

maybe more than one

Kabocha

He didn't even get mad when his life was threatened, so

I mean

he's a pretty chill dude

RebelVampire

will it be at damon for damon being a little rex puppet murderer?

Kabocha

I almost wrote "Chill dad" and then I was like

"naaaaaaaaaah"

Draco Plato

oh firo having his life threatened was like a tuesday, no biggie

nah he won't get mad at damon

EveryoneLovesDamon

RebelVampire

Firo: I'm not mad at you, Damon. Just disappointed.

Draco Plato

YES!

that'll happen

Damon: But I looooove him father

/shot

RebelVampire

damon goes home and rex tells him the same thing, that hes not mad, just disappointed. only then rex kills some kid or something.

Draco Plato

Rex just makes Damon's wounds heal slower

when he's mad at him

RebelVampire

you know

thats a lot more tame then i realistically expected

good on rex

Kabocha

sorry, I got distracted reading OoO again

Poor Damian

Draco Plato

yeah, damon is the fave

RebelVampire

slightly less of a jackass than he couldve been

Draco Plato

ffffft, that's a good reason to get distracted, lol

Rex to damon's other siblings is pretty swift to kill

so they have to tip toe a lot more

I think Damian is pretty lucky

got to go to school in the future, meet all those kooky people

damian at apus is interesting tho since there's more reasons than just damon at the DC he's sour about

RebelVampire

on the otherhand, he got to go to school and meet all those kooky people and deal with a huge jump in technology and his dad being a wizard. it may perhaps contribute to the grump.

you mean like liberty being dead O_O

Draco Plato

nervous laughter

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

shes fine

its just jam

RebelVampire

QUESTION 3. In recent events, Damon has been forced by his father to join the Demon Council. What activities do you think Damon will be doing for the Demon Council? Will Damon manage to fit in there, or will he stick out too much? Will he at least be able to get along with his new sister Theia? As time passes, do you think Damon will come to agree with Rex’s ideals? Or, do you think he’ll stay steadfast in his own beliefs? Do you think Damon will find out Damian is alive and with Apus? How might this change his actions in the future? Also, how might his relationship with Lyall change him? Do you think Rex will keep his promise of not hurting Lyall? Finally, will Damon reconnect with Purusha’s life to escape the darkness?

Kabocha

wait, I'm mis-remembering things... Who is Dakin's dad XD

Draco Plato

Firosofi

Amai is his mom

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

firosofi more like

Draco Plato

sorta

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

firosofty

Draco Plato

it's complicated

wheeps

was so surprised when there was a Firo in Baccano

https://tenor.com/view/firo-playing-baccano-gif-11864371

RebelVampire

#spoilers

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

i think rex will make damon think hes gonna make him do really bad stuff, but he just makes him sit down and play chess all day

Draco Plato

Rex: Damon, I want you to be the greatest chess master to ever live. Damon: Father....I hate to break it to you but that's never going to happen, I'm an idiot.

damon can probably play chess

RebelVampire

maybe damon will get super good at chess cause chess is half just about remembering the patterns and knowing the best move for each pattern.

and damon can make little dresses for the chess pieces

Draco Plato

ffffft

Kabocha

Lyall would make very pretty chess pieces

Draco Plato

Lyall is very good at chess

Kabocha

Damon would make them regal clothing, befitting their stations in life

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

rex walks in sees his chess set all mangled with pretty dresses

Draco Plato

damon says plz he's not that much of a loser

weeps

I think Damon's ideals already died long ago

he mostly just wants to not die and not have Lyall die

probably

Kabocha

he'll get better one day

Draco Plato

when he goes insane

What will damon be doing at the DC ponders

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

eat donuts

Draco Plato

a mystery

RebelVampire

hes gonna make up for lost time. go on fishing trips with rex. fight over a stuffed animal with theia, etc. etc.

Draco Plato

Damon can't taste donuts tho

€heshire777

Nggh, I missed it

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

plot twist DC means donut council

Draco Plato

omg XD

€heshire777

Oops

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

yer right on time cheshire

Draco Plato

oh yeah, him and Theia will wrestle all right

RebelVampire

we still have an hour left to go

€heshire777

Too bad I didn't read all of it...

Draco Plato

that's okay~!

it is 400 something pages

€heshire777

I usally do tho

Ah well

Draco Plato

no worries~

Kabocha

Well, that's fine Cheshire! You can chime in about what you did read

or are you just here to talk about how much you didn't?

€heshire777

I'll talk! I confess!

Kabocha

https://giphy.com/gifs/the-simpsons-excellent-mr-burns-8fen5LSZcHQ5O

So, I think it'll be interesting going forward, to see what happens more with Firo and his buddies -- mostly because I read the original draft once upon a time, and Amai is very dear to me. XD I wanna see her do more stuff! Yell at her mom! Ask Pavonis why he's such a stick in the mud

RebelVampire

its also fine to just live read and comment your feelings as you read, @€heshire777 ~!

Draco Plato

awwww, I'll make sure to put her in more knowing that ;3;

Kabocha

So uh, is Pavo's original... backstory... still valid

Draco Plato

yus I think so

Kabocha

wherein he was so in love with Earth and...

cackle

RebelVampire

you cant just ask pavo why he's a stick in the mud. mostly because i expect itll wind up like that time he tried to explain apus to damian and damian was just like "whaaaaat"

Draco Plato

he lived in ancient greece sometime

LOL

Pavonis: You know what, you're clearly not going to get this, go see the nurse

Kabocha

Pavonis has no middle ground either. Either he's with Earth and Apus, or he's a demon, helping Rex commit atrocities.

Draco Plato

pavonis has a really really thin line between good and evil

pavonis would be evil for the earth

he wouldn't second guess it

Kabocha

http://khyatix.com/Zenchav/Specials/ZenchavSpecials#p=64 I see you, Sotiris (http://khyatix.com/world <- see the dark reddish brown-life)

Draco Plato

loooooool

i really like that special

and it's plot based too

but sotiris looks like a freakin chef there

I keep wanting to do more with Minos, now that they're at the DC I'm hoping I can have him show up

RebelVampire

i do think thats the best of the specials. just cause it was nice to see lyall before he became a bitter old house wife who was jilted by rex.

yes

do that

cause with this special in mind i want to see minos and lyall interact

Kabocha

Yeah! I wanna see what's happened to Minos -- Rex didn't kill him for that but I do wonder what he'd have done to him

RebelVampire

cause for lyall its been eons, for minos probably not that many eons

Draco Plato

yeah!! it actually hasn't been that long for Minos since lyall was pregnant with rex's kids

before then Lyall and Minos used to whore around together

Kabocha

Rex disappears for a few minutes, comes back with Lyall and an extremely scarred Damon

Draco Plato

i mean they never slept with each other but they'd pick up women together

YEP

It's actually probably been a few years since Theia got there

but between rex dropping lyall off and picking damon up that's probably a few days at the DC

if Rex bothered to wait, which I think he did cause he changed his clothes

but in one of my stories that may just be an hour later

Kabocha

Rex goes to get some tea

remembers, "Oh yeah, I should pick up Lyall."

Draco Plato

and change my clothes while I'm at it :>

/shot

that's just damon tho

probably

altho rex is pretty fashionable

Kabocha

Hehehe

So anyway, there's reincarnations, time travel shenanigans, and lots and lots of suffering for Damon.

RebelVampire

the changing clothes is just part of their genes. encoded on their dna.

Kabocha

And we're just getting started

Draco Plato

Lyall can do that

he often makes clothes with his powers

since he can make any organic material so he makes it soft like fabric

RebelVampire

maybe its a rule in the DC. no outfit is allowed to be worn for over 3 hours.

Draco Plato

nah, that's the rule in OoO

7 times damon?!?

if it's a joke nobody will blame the creator for clothing ADD

RebelVampire

i wonder if therell be a love triangle between damon, lyall, and minos.

Kabocha

Oh my

Draco Plato

Oh nooooooo

minos is an asshole so probably not

amongst other reasons

but alternatively will sotiris and theia ever have a thing

Kabocha

https://giphy.com/gifs/jaw-drop-oooooh-6FymBmqKeBrl6

Draco Plato

I honestly don't know atm

RebelVampire

well theyd at least be a sexy pairing

and lyall could make "hey stop touching my daughter maybe" faces

Kabocha

Having read Out of Order, I kind of can't wait to find out about how Damon and Claire meet in this life. I've heard rumors that it is ... bordering on "not good"

Draco Plato

oooooooh, it's fun!

I really like randolph and claire at apus

they were actually with each other longer than they were with damon

not as a couple of course

and Damian is older than both of them, lolol

well maybe not randolph, i dunno, it's a toss up

RebelVampire

one day after many people die, damian will sit there going "wait a second im the older person here"

Kabocha

Randolph and Claire were a duo?

Draco Plato

oh gawd no

but they both worked at Apus together

Claire was raised there from age 13 and Randolph took care of security

Randolph had his own room that he stayed in almost exclusively but people have to visit him cause he's the techno master

uh room being where all his security systems are

claire was a field worker though

so basically claire and damian would visit him and bicker

RebelVampire

QUESTION 4. An ominous tone seems to be setting in on the future. What do you think Pavonis meant in saying that Firosofi’s arrival signaled “certain things were set into motion?” Does it have something to do with the declaration of war that Oziel claimed recruiting Damian would be? Is it something else entirely that has more to do with Firosofi, Damon, or someone else? Of the characters we’ve met, who in Apus and who in the Demon Council do you think will clash first? What do you think will happen? Overall, do you think the conflicts between Apus and the Demon Council will ever be solved? As a last bonus, what time periods do you think we’ll see in the comic considering it involves time travel?

Kabocha

Firosofi's going to take over the story soon, and we're gonna see him go face down his destiny... And reclaim his last name...

..................No?

RebelVampire

wait wait

this is why lyall didnt have a last name

theyre going on the quest together

Kabocha

Firosofi X and Lyall WHY

Draco Plato

fffffffffft

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

and something Z

Draco Plato

will they ever even meet

who knows

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

o wait zenchav

Draco Plato

muahahah

what time periods would people want to see

Kabocha

There we go. The mysteries of the plot, explained.

Draco Plato

i have some up in the air atm

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

cavemen

Draco Plato

LOL

dies

Kabocha

I'd honestly like to see some mid-2000s Damon. Baggy jeans, Anime hair... Debating who's better: Trunks or Vegeta

Draco Plato

That we will see!!

already in there

Kabocha

(It's totally Trunks, by the way.)

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

damon: ugga ugg lyall: ugga ugga damon: ugh >_>

€heshire777

Steampunk Damon

Draco Plato

I do love trunks but i love vegeta too

steampunk would be pretty awesome

I think I can do that

Kabocha

Damon WOULD go for a Steampunk aesthetic

Draco Plato

he totally would

He's going to have a hell of a motorcycle collection, lol

Kabocha

Next world they go to in OoO will be a steampunk world, totally

Draco Plato

Claire's original clothing aesthetic was supposed to be steampunk too

but it looked too out of place

that'd be good for OoO tho, i'll think about it for that

cause I have it kind of wide open atm for where it's going

oh I know where i can fit steampunk into Zen

muahahah

€heshire777

Goth

RebelVampire

i cant think of a good time period so im just gonna go with ancient egypt. where someone can sneak into a tomb and write a message in the hopes it confuses the heck out of future archaeologists

Draco Plato

goth will be in the animated version!

ancient egypt would be interesting, I hadn't considered that

i remember an older version I had them live in ancient persia for awhile

Kabocha

YES

Ancient Persia would be awesome!

€heshire777

Chinese?

Kabocha

Some of the clothing they have in pseudo-historical Bollywood films... it's so pretty

Draco Plato

Chinese would be good too!! I was just appreciating their clothing the other day

true!!!

Damon will go to india at one point

Kabocha

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v7K4vGYL9zI Allow me to share this song with you

Draco Plato

!!!! I LOVE THAT SONG

that actor does such a good job in that movie too

RebelVampire

thats good damon gets to go to india. i think it will suit him ;3;

€heshire777

Caveman?

Kabocha

It also fits the overall reincarnation theme, too, I think

Draco Plato

cavemen would be so weird XD

€heshire777

I like weird

RebelVampire

if lyall went with him, cavemen would murder him cause thats 0 tech zone

Draco Plato

oh yeah, that's right Firo is from India too

Lyall says that sounds like where Rex would send him

€heshire777

Ok, and lost you again...

Kabocha

Firosofi's one of the recently introduced characters -- he's more clearly introduced here: http://khyatix.com/Zenchav/Volume3/ZenchavVolume3#p=63

€heshire777

That's just about where I'm at

Draco Plato

oh yeah~!

he's also Haranasa

€heshire777

If you say so...

Kabocha

Well, Draco would be the one to say so... as the creator

RebelVampire

are we going to get to see oziel more? i need more oziel spunk in my life.

Kabocha

http://khyatix.com/Zenchav/Volume3/ZenchavVolume3#p=80

Draco Plato

coughs I'm honestly not sure what Oziel's future is in the story atm

but I can add him more if you want

I know some other people liked him too

ah both names at once there, lolol

€heshire777

Who was that again? (edited)

RebelVampire

more i just think theres potential between him and damian. cause of the whole ya know, you got my sister murdered

Draco Plato

that fellow is oziel

€heshire777

He's cool

Draco Plato

yeah I agree Rebel, I've been thinking that should be explored more too

I always like Oziel's hair

Kabocha

I like Ara better

Draco Plato

fun fact he was in a wheelchair for a portion of his life

Kabocha

and I wanna know what the fuck Ara did to get his future lives the way he did XD

Draco Plato

LOL

Kabocha

(But this... is not... in Zenchav yet... I'm speaking partly about stuff that I know that is... spoilers...)

OK Draco, Draco

Draco Plato

Ara ara ara, ahahah

Kabocha

if you could pick one character that's not Damon to make super sparkly

who would you choose

Draco Plato

Firo~

€heshire777

Atlantis would be cool

Draco Plato

Firo was originally the main

Atlantis is a great idea

yeah I can use atlantis

Kabocha

atlantis would be cool

€heshire777

I'll just keep suggesting stuff as long as you'll let me

Moon base

Draco Plato

loooooool, would be too sailor moon

Kabocha

DRACO I CANNOT WAIT TO SEE SO MUCH COOL STUFF

Draco Plato

awwwwww ;3;

I really want more firo now

I never get to draw him

but i'll be in the most recent chapter

€heshire777

Norse?

Viking era?

Draco Plato

That's a good idea too, I could do that

I used to love Norse mythology

altho marvel kinda eeeeehed me a bit to it

even tho i like marvel

€heshire777

Yeah. same

Marvel nut

Draco Plato

me too

well....I haven't read all the comics

cause there's ALOT

€heshire777

Oop, cell service

Bye

RebelVampire

i was just about say draco, youre gonna be stuck drawing firo for quite a while now in this upcoming arc.

Draco Plato

laters, Cheshire :3

Not as much as I'd like cause he mostly stands in the BG

which means I'll cut him out of panels a lot for drawing time

buuuut I think the chapter after he really stands out

and tbf shading his hair sucks so much

RebelVampire

this almost sounds creepy. draco and amai talking in the forefront, firo just in the background of the shot smiling at the reader all the time, as if to say i see you.

Draco Plato

that'd be so in character for Firo XD

this is why he can't be the MC

actually I think most of it is Draco talking to his peeps tho

buuuuuut

I dunno maybe I'll add in more firo

cause him just standing there in the BG of chapter 13 was kinda lame too

RebelVampire

maybe he and draco can at least share a warm hug

CalimonGraal(Fenauriverse)

i wanna see them hug

Draco Plato

>w> well that will probably happen

draco can leap onto him in a bear hug

Kabocha

Hugs for everyone!

RebelVampire

i cannot picture this bear hug. although i can picture euri and amai being like wtf

COMIC TEA PARTY- THURSDAY BOOK CLUB END! Sadly, this wraps up this week’s Thursday Book Club chat for now. Thank you so much to everyone for reading and joining us! We want to give a special thank you to Draco Plato, as well, for making Zenchav. If you liked the comic, make sure to support Draco Plato’s efforts however you’re able to~!

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