#for god’s sake man… rest. i hope he really just has a nice long summer and goes to scotland to golf and flash his calves in a kilt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saebyeog-i · 4 years

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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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jungkookiebus · 5 years

Text

Hellblazer 2.5 | jjk

Genre: demon!au Pairing: demon!Jungkook x FemConstantine!reader Word Count: 2.6k Rating: PG Summary: Now that the true identity of the new Prince of Hell has been revealed to you, you are left back on Earth, wandering aimlessly through life hungry for another taste of him while being repulsed by his memory. You find your health failing and in one last attempt for help, you drag yourself to the Vatican only to find yourself falling deeper into the darkness surrounding you. Ever so slowly, you’re slipping towards a death you didn’t think would come so soon. Author’s Note: I hope you guys still find this interesting. I guess this can be seen as “filler” to progress their relationship, but I find it really starts to expose true feelings here. More to come!

Sluggish. Languorous. Torpid. Stagnant. Those four words and more were how you would describe your life right now. It had been three months since your last encounter with him. You had woken up in your bed just as before; sore and almost lifeless. Before, he haunted your dreams. Now, he was all you wanted and your worst nightmare. You felt pushed and pulled in two directions.

Lost.

Utterly lost.

You were seeing him more and more, standing under the massive altar in the Basilica, sitting at the same table at the coffee shop, just around the corner in the bookstore, and basking in the sun at Trevi Fountain. The few people you knew, because you didn’t have any friends, were noticing your declining health. You became withdrawn and idle. Just living each day, sometimes eating, getting out of bed when needed, and spending less time outdoors as the months rolled on.

Even the Pope came to see you, worried about your health. At first, you felt good knowing someone cared but then you reminded yourself he only liked you for information. His visit didn’t go quite as he had planned when the thought dawned on you and you cursed at him, demanding he get the fuck out of your house.

You had never planned on staying in Rome this long. Yes, it was the hub of your line of work, but you didn’t want to be here, yet you felt tied. You felt as if you left then you’d never see him again, but then again, you didn’t want to see him. Not really.

You were starving, but not for food. If you had a soul it would probably yearn. This was a different kind of pain; something deeply rooted into your heart. Your body was lacking something, and you weren’t sure what.

When you were ready to throw yourself off the nearest cliff, you trudged reluctantly in the direction of the Vatican. Your limbs felt like they were filled with sand. People gave you strange looks as they passed. You knew you hadn’t brushed your hair in a hot second nor had you really been concerned about your personal well-being either. The closer you got, the worse you felt. You found yourself stopping and leaning against a wall more than once trying to catch your breath. It felt as if you had been running when you could barely walk. By the time you got to the Vatican Obelisk, you were stumbling, struggling to stay upright. A Swiss guard recognized you despite your unkempt appearance and rushed over immediately, calling out for assistance.

The bright summer sun, a flash of pink, and what you had thought was him were the last things you saw before you succumbed to that falling feeling. Peace. Finally, you were able to rest.

When you awoke again, your limbs were just as heavy if not heavier. You heard the faint beep of a machine and the whir of air conditioning, but beyond that was silent. Your eyelids felt as if they had weights on them as you struggled to open them. Finally, you were able to peer into the semi-darkness. Blinking a few times, you slowly scanned the room. It was very nicely decorated, with a fireplace, and your guess was confirmed when you saw the framed picture of the Virgin Mary. An IV stand was next to you and you followed the tube of fluids to your arm. Wiggling your fingers a little, you made sure you weren’t paralyzed for some reason. As if by divine intervention, a nurse came scooting in backwards with a cart. You watched as she blissfully hummed and then turned towards you, jumping back in surprise as you looked at her.

“Oh, dear!” she exclaimed, holding her hand over her heart. She moved closer to the bed, first looking at the machines, and then back at you. “Hey, are you okay?”

You nodded. Your throat was so dry you didn’t think you’d be able to say anything.

“Let me get you some water!”

She turned away again and to a pitcher that was sitting on a table, filled a glass of water, and made her way back to you. She held the glass to your lips as she held a cloth under your chin. You drank gratefully and sighed as the cool water soothed your throat.

“What happened?” you finally asked once you were able to speak properly.

“The guards saw you stumbling around outside. You collapsed right in a crowd of people!” She threw her hands up excitedly as she recounted the story to you. The Pope had insisted you stay in the ”house of the Lord” in case what was happening to you was “demonic” in nature.

He knew better.

“How long?”

“Oh, let’s see,” she paused. “About a week and a few days now.”

No wonder you felt as if your muscles hadn’t been used in a million years. You still felt just as bad, if not worse than before. Before you knew it, you were slipping slowly. You wanted to stay awake, you feared falling asleep again, but your body was giving up. Slowly, darkness overtook you.

When you awoke again, you felt as if you couldn’t breathe. You half expected a paralysis demon to be perched atop you when you were finally able to open your eyes.

The room you were in was the same, but this time there were more machines. You looked down to see that your hair had grown a considerable amount. Panic washed through your body and you heard the rapid beat of the machine as your heart sped. A small alarm sounded as your blood pressure rose. You were being thrown headlong into a full blown panic attack. The same nurse as before came rushing into the room and was at your side, checking the readout on the machine, and then reached into a small refrigerator for a glass bottle. She pulled the cap off a syringe, pulled the liquid into it, and then pushed it into your IV line. Your body immediately relaxed. She held her hand on your forehead as she grabbed her stethoscope. After she determined that you were okay, she laid a hand over yours.

“He wants to talk to you. I’ll be right back.”

What? You had just woken up after god knows how long and she’s worried about someone wanting to talk to you? You were so thirsty.

The Pope came rushing through the door, dressed casually, and looking both distressed and surprised.

“____!” he exclaimed as he rushed to your bedside. “It’s been months.”

Months? Surely…not?

He turned his head to where you couldn’t see his face, but you saw the look of surprise on the nurse’s face as she nodded and then left the room. He turned back to you; concern written in his features.

“____,” he began again, as he pulled a chair to your bedside. “When did you meet him?”

Your brows knitted. You had already told him when you met the new Prince of Hell.

“The Archangel. God’s general.”

Your blood ran cold. How did he know?

“You have the sigil,” he said reaching out just a little, “behind your ear.”

For fuck’s sake. You were getting peed on by everybody in Hell. You wet your lips a little. Or tried to. Realizing that your mouth was probably dryer dirt, he grabbed the pitcher. Funny, one of your last memories was almost this exact same situation months ago. Once again, you were fumbling with your voice, having not used it for some time. He sat patiently as your mouth moved robotically. You were frustrated that you couldn’t just spit it out and you felt helpless as you lay there with your overly heavy limbs.

“He fell,” you finally croaked.

“What?” He didn’t believe you.

“The demons. In Rome.”

You saw him piecing things together with your minimal words. He had warned you that things were happening in Rome.

“You mean…,” he trailed off in disbelief.

“War.”

It wasn’t a secret that there was a war in Heaven before when Lucifer fell. You had met a few demons that fell with him, recounting the day in vivid detail to you. Now there was going to be another one. God’s greatest ally had betrayed him.

“But then…” He glanced towards the spot behind your ear. “Those are meant for protection.”

You half shrugged. You weren’t about to admit to him what had happened…twice.

“Get your rest, _____.” He patted the back of your hand, stood, and left from the room without so much as a backwards glance.

The Pope stood before the statue of the Archangel taking down Lucifer with his golden spear. His heart was tight in his chest as he prayed.

“Dear God,” he was at a loss for words as he gazed above him. His voice echoed in the cavernous expanse.

A low, menacing laugh filled the space as soon as his voice died out. The darkness suppressed around him and fear filled his heart. He clutched to the rosary in his hand as he turned around. The laugh seemed to be coming from every direction, bouncing off the walls, and doubling back in on itself. This type of darkness was one that he felt deep inside of him.

“There’s no point in that,” he heard whispered amongst the laughs that were slowly dying out.

Out of the darkness and through the pews of one of the service areas walked a man, dressed darkly, and even darker than the murkiness around him. The candles that had been lit on the altar went out one by one. A heat filled the basilica that had him sweating under his night robes. A smell so pungent that he recoiled filled his nose and it was soon replaced by the sickly sweet smell of roses.

He emerged into the dimly lit expanse of the area before the main altar and he was able to see his glowing eyes and pale skin contrasting against his black suit. His hands were clasped behind him as he walked slowly. His footsteps didn’t make a sound. His smile was malevolent. As he approached closer and closer, he began to faintly smell burnt wood. By the time he was within feet of him, it was as if someone had snuffed out the fire in a fireplace. The smoky smell filled the area and assaulted his senses. A usually comforting scent was now going to be reminiscent of this new fear he felt.

“Where is she?” he asked, leaning in close.

He saw the sigil on his lapel as it caught the light.

“A-are you…?” he stammered.

“You know exactly who I am. Now, answer my question, Your Holiness.”

He stared into his dark eyes and saw nothing there. Only emptiness.

“I’m not giving her to you.” He held onto his rosary tighter as he willed himself to be brave in the face of evil.

His smile spread, but then suddenly turned down at the corners. He could see where he was once beautiful, but now he was beautiful in a terrible way.

“If you want her to live, you will.”

He was shaking as he held out the hand that clutched the rosary. The Prince looked down at it in disgust before speaking again.

“Your trinkets won’t do anything to me.”

“Why do you want her?”

“She belongs to me.”

“Your sigil is meant to protect. What are you doing to her?”

He sighed as he brought his hands in front of him, intertwining his fingers and holding them to his lips. The Pope saw the tattoos that you had mentioned, and it further confirmed his fears.

“The real question is, what are you doing to her?”

He suddenly became defensive in the face of the Prince.

“I have been protecting her and keeping her alive for these last few months.”

“Have you, though?”

“Quit talking in circles, demon!” He was red faced now, utterly angry. He was angry that a Prince of Hell was here on hallowed ground and he was angry that he seemed to think he had some claim over you.

“This space you feel like you’ve created for her to heal is killing her,” he said simply.

You had no soul. Heaven couldn’t protect you and now that it was weaker, they would be no closer to doing so.

“The sigil…”

“She’s dying on holy ground. If I take her, she won’t.”

The Pope was torn. What he said made sense, but what if he were lying? He had no reason to tell the truth. But why would he want you?

He slowly removed the brooch from his lapel and suspended it in the air between them, but the Pope refused to reach out and take it.

“I promise you protection. On my word.”

“I don’t make deals with devils,” he said snidely.

“It’s in your best interest to do that now. There’s going to be a war soon and Earth will suffer just as many consequences. You’ll want to find yourself on the right side.”

The Pope walked briskly down the carpeted hallway with the Prince walking closely behind. None of the guards were around as they turned corners and he knew it was his doing. When they reached the door to your room, he looked back at him tentatively. He seemed eager for him to open the door. He pushed it open, stepping inside, and to the side. He watched closely as he crossed the room and to your bedside. You were asleep, laid back amongst the pillows, and looking as frail and drawn as ever.

“How could you let this go on for this long?” he asked as he undid the IV at your arm.

The Pope was frozen to the spot as he watched him quickly detach you from any and all machines, alarms going off left and right. The nurse came running down the hall in her robe. He held out his arm in front of her as she crossed the threshold and froze to watch the scene in front of her.

He was lifting you from the bed gingerly. You had lost so much weight that you were very easy to carry. He turned with you in his arms, curled against his chest, and the Pope saw a shadow of who he once was. His expression was soft, yet worried, giving him a glance at the Archangel he used to pray to.

“You have my protection,” he said before seeming to disappear into thin air. In the blink of an eye, he was gone, leaving the Pope and nurse dumbfounded.

The next time you awoke, you felt lighter. Your breathing came easier and your mouth didn’t feel as if it were on fire. The pain in your head was starting to subside and overall, you felt as if you might survive whatever was wrong with you. You moved your fingers over the sheets beneath you and felt an all too familiar silkiness. Your heart raced with both fear and some unfound excitement. Slowly, you opened your eyes and you were met with the same grey stillness of the bedroom that haunted your dreams. You were afraid to move but you desperately needed to see if you imagined the presence behind you. You quietly and gently as possible turned your head.

He looked so peaceful.

Fast asleep, mouth slightly agape, he laid beside you, hand rested on the pillow. He had saved your life, but that was only because he had marked you. You hadn’t asked for this, but you were starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, it was what you wanted all along.

#bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #ficswithluv #demon!au #demon!jungkook #jungkook x reader #reader insert #femconstantine!reader #constantine!au #constantine x bts crossover #bts #hellblazer #hellblazer 2.5 #nonidol!au

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nerdzzone · 4 years

Text

Light After Dark: Chapter Five

Summary: Brooke Harris was trying her best to be grateful. As the world tackled the COVID-19 pandemic, she was healthy and safe and so was the rest of her family, but her dreams had very quickly been crushed by the economic fallout. Trapped on the quaint island of Jersey with nothing, but free time to wallow in her mistakes, Brooke’s mental health was taking a hit, but when she collides with a handsome stranger she starts to realize that the future might not be so bleak and there might still be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

A/N: Any names or info about Henry’s family is completely made up and all the gifs I found on google (feel free to contact me for credit if they’re yours!). I would love to hear any feedback on the story so far! :)

______________

May. 5. 2020

"Mum!" I shouted from the kitchen as I admired my creation on the counter. "Where exactly do the Cavills live?"

I heard brief footsteps before my mother's head popped into the kitchen.

"Oh, wow, Brookie," She gasped. "That looks incredible!"

I grinned proudly at the beautiful cake on the counter. It was three tiered and designed to look like Superman. The top being his head, the middle being his torso and the bottom being his bottom half. Complete with cape, curl on his forehead and Superman logo all made out of fondant icing.

"Thank you. Do you think I could walk it over or would I need to take the car?"

"Hm, walking might be safest," She mused as she grabbed her phone off the counter to take a picture. "It's not far and I can come with you if you don't mind. I wouldn't mind saying hello to Marianne."

"That would be great. I'd feel better having someone else to help support it."

"Perfect!" She nodded. "Honestly, darling, this is magnificent. The detail is amazing."

"Thanks," I smiled. "I just need to change quickly and we can go."

She didn't answer as she was so wrapped up in photographing my work so I scurried off up to my room, buzzing with excitement.

****

May was always a tricky time for choosing how to dress. It wasn't overly warm, only about fifteen degrees, but the cool weather we'd had the week before made it seem a lot warmer than it actually was. Carrying the cake would be tricky and I didn't want to show up to Henry's house all sweaty and gross, but I also didn't want to show up dressed for the middle of summer and have him think I was insane.

I groaned as I tossed another shirt disapprovingly onto my bed and heard a giggle from the door.

"Are you struggling?" Cassie teased as she moved into the room and sat on the bed. "It looks like a hurricane has been through here."

"I don't know what to wear," I whined. "I've not seen him in person since we've started talking, I want to make a good impression."

"You're just dropping off a cake, Brooke, you're not even going on a date."

Her statement was intended to calm me down and take the pressure off a bit, but it did the opposite. My cheeks heated up and I suddenly felt incredibly silly.

"I know," I bit my lip as nervous anxiety bubbled in my chest. "I'm blowing it out of proportion, aren't I?"

"A little bit," She nodded. "It's nothing to stress about, hun."

"Was I stupid for making the cake at all?" I asked, "Is it too much?"

"What?" Cassie's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Why on earth would it be too much? That wasn't what I meant at all. I just meant that you don't need to get yourself all worked up over something silly like what to wear."

"It's just weird," I groaned, dragging myself away from my closet to sit on the bed next to her. "We've been talking for almost a month now, but it's hard to figure out where we stand when we can't actually see each other in person. I don't want to overstep if maybe I've read the signals wrong."

"Okay, well, first of all, he asked you to make him a cake so even if he only asked you because he knows you're a baker and he wants a really nice birthday cake then you're still not overstepping," She reminded me. "And second of all, I've seen your conversations. He likes you. He'll be just as excited to see you again as you are to see him."

"Do you think so? I mean, I think we're flirting, but I'm notoriously bad at reading the signs and he's fucking Superman for god's sake, why would he want to flirt with me?"

"Because you, my darling sister, are hot," Cassie smirked. "And you're funny and sweet and thoughtful. You're a total catch and even if he is Superman, he's the lucky one in this equation."

I couldn't help, but smile at her kind words, knowing she meant every one of them.

"Thanks Cass," I said softly, feeling some of the nerves in my stomach dissipate slightly. "I just don't want to get ahead of myself. It's fun talking to him, but it's hard when you can't actually meet face to face."

"Well, from all the giggling that comes out of this room when you're talking to him on the phone, I would say that you have nothing to worry about," She assured me before standing from my bed and heading to my closet. "Now, let's find you something to wear."

By the time Cassie was done styling me I was wearing a long black sleeve shirt under short style overalls. It was a good mix of warm, but cool for a sunny spring day.

"Are you sure I don't look like I'm dressed up as a farm girl?"

Cassie giggled at my question, but shook her head.

"No, you look adorable," She insisted. "And it shows off your legs. You have great legs."

I looked down at them in the mirror and thought they looked pretty average, but I took her word for it, thanked her and headed back downstairs to meet my mum.

"I thought you said 'quickly'," She scoffed as I walked back into the room. "You've been gone almost half an hour."

"That is quick when you're getting ready to see the man you've fallen in love with."

I spun around to scowl at my dad who'd appeared by the kitchen door.

"I'm not in love with him," I argued. "We're just friends."

"Quite the extravagant cake to make for a friend," He teased. "You've never made me anything like this."

"I make things for you all the time," I mumbled, letting my hair fall in front of my face to hide my red cheeks. "Just because I'm living at home again doesn't mean you need to tease me like I'm fifteen."

"You just make it too easy, Sweetheart," He grinned. "But I'm sure your boyfriend will love his cake."

I groaned as my mom smiled and scolded her husband on my behalf.

"Alright, we should get going," She told me. "If we leave it much longer we'll catch them in the middle of their supper."

She was being dramatic, it hadn't taken me that long to get changed, but I nodded and slipped my phone into my back pocket before gently lifting the cake off the counter.

****

The walk over was slow going. It should have only taken maybe ten minutes to get to the Cavill's house, but I was so terrified of dropping the cake that it took almost twice as long. Focusing on that was a good distraction though and by the time I was placing the cake stand on their doormat I felt less nervous and more excited for him to see it.

Once it was safely placed on the ground, I knocked loudly on the door and scurried back to where my mom was waiting on the other side of the porch, six feet away.

"I hope he's the one who answers the door," I thought, voicing it out loud to my mother. "Or someone might end up very confused."

She laughed quietly beside me as the door swung open and Henry was standing there only a few feet away. They say that you tend to build things up in your mind when you go without it for a while so there was part of me that had thought there was no way Henry was as handsome in person as I remembered. But he was.

My breath caught in my throat for a minute as he glanced down at the cake and then up at me with an ear to ear grin on his face.

"Happy birthday!"

"Wow, thank you so much," He chuckled. "I didn't think you'd actually make me a cake."

I dropped my jaw in an exaggerated way before rolling my eyes.

"You absolutely did," I insisted. "I was worried if we didn't get it here soon you'd come looking for it. You've mentioned it almost every day."

"Alright, I did," Henry admitted with a smirk as he picked up the cake. "But, wow, this is next level. It's amazing!"

All the commotion had drawn a crowd to the door that came into view as Henry moved the cake to a little table on the porch and set it down.

"Sue! Hello!" A woman called as she made her way outside. She was around my mother's age so I assumed she was Henry's mum. "How lovely to see you!"

"Oh, it's lovely to see you too!" My mum smiled. "Brooke said she could use some help carrying this cake over so I jumped at the chance. Isn't it awful being cooped up at home all the time?"

"Gosh, it's just terrible."

"Mum," Henry called, interrupting the little reunion as he lifted up the dome I'd used to protect the cake. "Look how amazing this is."

There was a chorus of 'wows', impressed gasps and various other praise and I felt my cheeks go red from the attention.

"Did you make this all from scratch?" Henry asked as a curly mass of brown hair flew through the door and over to the table. "Whoa, careful Alfie, don't knock it down."

Henry grabbed the boy, who looked to be about eight, gently by the shoulders to stop him from getting too close as he stared at it wide-eyed.

"That's so cool," He whispered in awe. "It looks like Superman!"

"It looks like Uncle Henry!" Another, slightly younger, boy shouted as he scurried over as well. "When Uncle Henry's in the movies!"

"I'm glad you think so! I tried my best to make it look like him," I smiled, drawing their attention away from the cake and towards me. "And yes, I did make it all from scratch. But I did wear a mask and gloves the whole time and I thoroughly sanitized the kitchen before I started so it's completely germ free. Not that I have any germs to pass on, I promise."

"What a strange time we're living in that you have to provide such a disclaimer when giving your friend a cake."

That observation came from an amused woman standing in the doorway and, as if he read my mind, Henry spoke up.

"Sorry, I should do some introductions," He realized. "Brooke, this is my mother and Father. My brother, Simon, and his wife, Louise, and their three kids, Alfie, George, and Amelia. Everyone, this is Brooke and her mother."

My mother spoke up before I did, informing him that she'd met them all before at one time or another, but once she was done I offered an awkward wave.

"Hello, everyone! It's nice to meet you all."

"I can't believe that after my brother almost broke your ankle, you made him a birthday cake," Simon smirked as he balanced his daughter on his hip. "It's not poisoned, is it?”

I giggled as Henry rolled his eyes.

"It was just as much my fault as his," I insisted. "It's just unfortunate for me that he's as solid as a brick wall."

"Sometimes those muscles do more harm than good," His mum smiled fondly, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Now, who wants cake? You'll stay for some, won't you?"

My mother leapt in before I could answer.

"Oh, that would be wonderful!”

There was a flurry of commotion as Marianne rushed off to get plates and the kids immediately started arguing over which piece of cake they wanted. I heard Henry softly clear his throat and, when he caught my eye, he nodded his head to the side. He didn't wait for me before sneaking off quietly down the stairs and I followed, but not before catching the knowing look my mother was throwing at me.

"Be careful," She warned quietly. "We're still in a pandemic and you're still vulnerable."

"I know," I assured her, biting back the urge to remind her that I wasn't a child and could look after myself. "I won't be long."

I rushed off after Henry before she could give me anymore advice or we caught anymore attention.

****

I found Henry just around the side of the house standing in quite a spectacular garden.

"Happy Birthday," I repeated with a smile, alerting him to my presence as I walked closer until I was the appropriate distance away. "Are you having a nice day?"

"I am, thank you," Henry returned my smile. "It's been as relaxing as can be expected in a house full of children, but it's been nice seeing them all try to make my day special. Until you came and upstaged everyone."

He playfully shook his head at me and I felt the nervousness fade away. He may be drop dead gorgeous, but he was the same Henry I'd been messaging.

"I didn't mean to," I insisted with a laugh. "You wouldn't shut up about the cake so I had to make it something special!"

Henry chuckled at that.

"Seriously though, I really appreciate it. Thank you very much," He grinned at me, making my cheeks heat up at his praise. "It must have taken you hours."

"It took all morning," I nodded with a smile, not admitting that I got up at just after six am to make sure I had enough time. "But it was really enjoyable actually. I haven't felt much motivation to bake fun things so it was nice having an excuse to get back into it."

"Oh, well then you're welcome."

His words were said with a smirk that made me roll my eyes, shaking my head, but just as I was about to tell him to be quiet a massive black and white ball of fur came bounding around the corner from the back of the house.

"Oh my gosh," I gasped. "Is this Cow?!"

Henry barked a laugh at that as the big dog ran around both of us in circles, his tail wagging at top speed.

"It's Kal," Henry corrected. "But yes, this is my dog. He's probably incredibly thrilled that he's getting to meet a new person for the first time in months."

I smiled and squatted down to wrap my arms around his neck.

"Awe, well, I know we're supposed to keep our distance from people's pets now too, but how could I resist you?" I cooed to the dog who danced in place while licking my face. "My goodness, you're the sweetest thing I've ever seen!"

"He is pretty great," Henry agreed, a hint of pride in his voice, but after a few more moments of me fussing over his companion he spoke again. "You know, I've always liked how Kal stole the attention away from me, but I think this might be the first time it's actually making me a tad bit jealous."

My head snapped up in his direction, worrying for just a moment that I'd actually upset him, but the soft smile on his face put me at ease. Nevertheless, I stood up, much to Kal's dismay.

"Wow, Henry, that's pretty self-centered," I teased. "I know it's your birthday, but that doesn't mean the attention needs to be on you every minute of the day."

"It doesn't? I was under the impression that was exactly what it meant."

"Nope," I shook my head. "It just means that you're one step closer to those senior discounts."

"Oh, please," Henry rolled his eyes. "Thirty-seven is really not that old."

"I was debating getting you a walking stick to go with the cake," I teased. "You know, because you might need it any day now."

Henry glared at me for a moment, but it quickly melted into a laugh.

"If I'm days away from needing a walking stick with these muscles," He paused briefly to flex his biceps which, despite making my breath catch in my throat at their size, earned an amused shake of my head. "You must already be a cripple with those weak ankles of yours."

"Oh my god, I can't believe you just did that," I laughed. "Trying to impress me again, are you?"

"I don't have to try," Henry smirked. "I can tell you're impressed."

I opened my mouth to protest, but resigned myself to a simple shrug as I crossed my arms.

"Well, yeah, okay, of course I'm impressed," I admitted with a smile. "You're sculpted like a Greek god."

"It really is mostly for practical reasons," He informed me, his usual humble side returning as he scratched Kal's head. "You can't wave swords around for hours without hurting yourself if you're not strong."

I cocked my head to the side suspiciously.

"I don't remember Superman using a sword."

"He didn't, but there was a lot of dangerous stunt work and did you see the suit they made me squeeze into? I had to be in top shape or it wouldn't have fit."

"Alright, that's fair," I nodded before a realization hit me. "Oh my gosh, do you even eat cake?"

Henry stared at me blankly for a moment before laughing.

"On my birthday? Of course I do!" He nodded. "I do try to keep a pretty healthy diet, but on holidays or special occasions I don't restrict myself too much."

"Thank goodness," I breathed a sigh of relief. "For a moment there I was panicking that I should have made you some kind of healthy protein cake creation instead."

He pulled a face at that suggestion, making me giggle at his over the top look of horror.

"If you're going to do cake, you have to do it right!"

"I'm glad you think so," I smiled. "Because there is a lot of sugar in that icing. It's probably about a thousand calories a slice."

I was being a bit dramatic, but it earned a full body laugh from Henry and I felt a warming in my chest at the sight. He was such a lovely person to be around. Lovely might seem like a boring description, but it fit him perfectly. He was genuine, funny, easy to tease and quick to tease back. He was constantly impressing me with how down to earth he was and he had a very calming presence that made all my anxiety melt away. He made me feel lighter.

He asked a few questions about how often I made such fancy cakes, about the different techniques involved and how I'd come up with the idea and for the first time in a few months it actually felt good to talk about my baking. I'd been really crushed by my failed attempt at opening a bakery. Sure, it wasn't really a sign of my skill or business management abilities, but opening a bakery just for it to be permanently closed a few months later was pretty defeating. It had left a bad taste in mouth in regards to baking anything that wasn't practical food.

We got lost in our conversation only pausing when a deep 'boof' came from the dog that had been circling us. He was staring in the direction of the gate so we followed his gaze and saw Henry's tiny little niece toddling towards us. A grin burst onto Henry's face, making my heart melt just a little bit.

"Hi, sweetheart," He cooed as she came over before lifting her arms to be picked up. Henry did so happily, resting her on his hip. "Did you enjoy the cake? It sure looks like you did!"

I laughed as he wiped some of the icing off of her cheek. It was all over her face as she smiled up at him and nodded. She shyly told him that it was yummy, eyeing me suspiciously the whole time.

"This is my friend, Brooke," Henry told her. "She made that cake for me. Can you say thank you?"

"Thank you..."

She still seemed wary, but I smiled in what I hoped was a reassuring manner.

"You're very welcome!" I told her. "Now, I can't remember what your Uncle Henry said your name was, can you remind me?"

"Amelia."

"It's lovely to meet you, Amelia!"

As I spoke, her mother appeared at the gate, relaxing in obvious relief when she saw Amelia in Henry's arms. She shouted over asking if we were okay with her, but Henry waved her off before turning his attention back to the child.

"Can you tell Brooke how old you are?"

She held up two chubby little fingers and I held back an 'awwe' at the sight.

"Two? Wow. Uncle Henry must seem pretty old to you then," I teased him earning a roll of his eyes when she wasn't looking. "He's thirty-seven!"

"Well, she is almost three," Henry clarified. "So she's almost as old as me really."

"No!" Amelia protested, disgust written all over her face. "I'm little!"

"You're little?" Henry gasped in mock shock. "Weren't you just telling me the other day that you're a big girl now?"

She shook her head insistently and I laughed at the pair of them.

"Don't worry, Amelia. He keeps trying to say that I'm as old as him too and I'm six whole years younger."

She giggled at that and looked up at Henry before scrunching her nose.

"You're old."

"Thanks for that," Henry laughed, shaking his head in my direction. "I'm not old, Amelia. Don't listen to her."

He tickled her tummy making her squirm and giggle in his arms. It would have been almost impossible not to laugh along with her, but once she got herself under control her face got very serious as she leaned in to whisper something in her uncle's ear.

"Oh, I'm not sure that will be possible," Henry chuckled earning a very over the top, but heart-wrenching pout from his niece. "Your birthday is a long way off, we might not all be here together by then."

From what he said, I had a rough idea of her request, but I gave Henry a questioning look, prompting him to elaborate.

"She wants to know if you would make her a birthday cake on her birthday."

"Oh, honey, I would love to make you a cake if you're still here on your birthday," I smiled. "When is it?"

She mumbled something incoherent as she rested her head on Henry's shoulder so I turned to him again for clarification.

"July twenty-ninth."

"My birthday is on August fourth," I told her. "That's pretty close together, hey? Maybe I can make a giant cake for both of us!"

Her eyes lit up at that suggestion.

"A fairy princess one?"

"Is that what you would like?" I asked as she nodded frantically. "Then it's a deal. If we're still here on you birthday, I’ll make us a giant fairy princess cake to share."

She grinned at that information and wiggled to be put down before running off through the gate under Henry's watchful eye, presumably to tell her parents the exciting news.

"What a sweetheart," I smiled. "She's adorable."

"She is and she knows it," Henry chuckled. "But she's quite quiet and calm so she tends to get overshadowed by her brothers who have an endless amount of energy. It's been hard for them having to stay home so much so they end up with most of the attention because if they're left to their own devices someone usually gets hurt."

"It must be hard not being able to go to the park and burn off all that energy."

"Exactly," Henry nodded. "But luckily the garden is fairly big so there's a lot of football and playing chase with Kal, anything that lets them blow off some steam, but Amelia doesn't like those things so I've been trying to spend some time with her too. She loves reading so we've been doing a lot of that while the boys wreck havoc."

"That's very sweet," I smiled as my heart fluttered at the thought of the giant, muscled man in front of me sitting with his tiny niece curled up in his lap as he read to her. "She must love that."

"She does and really, I do too," Henry admitted. "Don't get me wrong, I love running around with the boys, but it's nice to have those quiet moments too. It's one positive thing that's come out of this whole mess, getting to really bond with them all."

"I've felt the same with my niece," I nodded. "She's probably about the same age as Alfie and I always made an effort to see her as much as possible, but it's nice to have an excuse to be around all the time and really get to know her little personality."

"It is and honestly, I can't wait to have a family of my own," He confessed with a sheepish smile. "So it's nice to get some practice in."

A smirk slid onto my face.

"Well, after seeing you with Amelia, I'm sure you'll be a super dad."

Henry shook his head at me and sighed dramatically, but despite his incredible acting skills, he couldn't help, but laugh.

"You're hilarious," He told me, his words dripping with sarcasm as I grinned proudly at my joke. "Always have a pun ready to go, don't you?"

"They just come to me," I giggled. "It's a gift."

"If you weren't such a good baker, I'd suggest you do stand up comedy."

His words were once again laced with sarcasm, but I just smirked.

"Maybe I'll do both," I shrugged. "Maybe that was part of my downfall, there wasn't enough comedy to go along with the pastries. I should have set up an open mic."

"Ah, yes, because it's well-known that the British just love the awkwardness of amateur comedians."

"True, that might be a bit too cringey," I admitted with a wrinkle of my nose. "But I could have at least come up with some clever, play-on-word names for everything. What a missed opportunity."

"It was, especially for someone as clearly multi-talented as you."

I couldn't help, but laugh at his flat delivery, but quickly forced it into a glare.

"Alright, that's enough sarcasm out of you," I playfully scolded him. "We both know that I'm at least funnier than you and really, that's all that counts."

"I think we both actually know that it's the other way around," Henry raised an eyebrow. "Or was that another one of your jokes?"

I shook my head at his teasing, but before I could argue, Henry's brother shouted over to us.

"Henry! Brooke! If you want some cake, come get it now before George eats it all!"

A tiny voice shouted his protests at being blamed as Henry and I laughed.

"Well, it sounds like we should get back before I don't even get to try my own cake," Henry chuckled. "But thank you, Brooke. All jokes aside, I really appreciate that you put so much effort in to making me that cake."

"Don't worry about it," I assured him, feeling my stomach flutter at the genuine kindness in his eyes. "Just because we're all in lockdown, doesn't mean that you can't have a nice day. I'm glad I got to help make that happen."

Henry smiled and nodded understandingly before walking past me towards the gate. We'd stayed pretty much six feet apart the whole time we'd been talking, but he broke the rule as he walked by, brushing his hand just briefly against mine. It was subtle and fleeting, but his pinky wrapped around mine and squeezed gently.

He didn't even stop walking so as fast as it happened, it was over. Perhaps I was just feeling rather touch starved from not being near anyone but my family since our last meeting, but the brief connection left me buzzing. I'd always assumed the novels and movies that describe the electric sensation when two people touch were being dramatic, but it suddenly seemed very real. My skin felt like it was on fire and it was suddenly like my mind had gone completely blank of anything that wasn't how soft his skin felt.

Kal broke me out of my trance with a lick to my hand and I took a deep breath to get myself back down to earth. I thought to myself how embarrassing it would have been for Henry to see what an effect his simple action had on me, but when I looked up and saw him standing by the gate with a smirk on his face I was pretty sure that he was very much aware.

#Light After Dark #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fic #henry cavill x ofc

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roseinthenight · 4 years

Text

Back to town [Jughead x OC] - Chapter 2

[Summary] | [Ch1]

2| Old best friends

Later that day, around 6 pm, Archie knocked on the door of his sister’s room. April opened it rather quickly and looked up at the ginger boy.

”I was wondering if maybe you’d want to meet up with Betty, Jughead and Veronica at Pop’s?” Archie asked right away.

At the mention of Jughead April’s heart instantly started beating faster. She tried not to show too much interest, but honestly, she failed miserably.

”Yeah, sure,I’d love to! Buut... who’s Veronica exactly?” April tilted her head to the side as the question left her mouth.

”She’s new to the town, came from New York. I met her on the last day of the summer vacation.”

”I see. Well, why the hell not?” the girl shrugged. ”Just a sec,” she held up her index finger, singalling Archie to wait.

April looked at herself in the front camera of her phone. She wanted to look her best if she’s going to meet Jughead -and of course the others. After a few seconds, she put it in her back pocket, ran her fingers through her hair and turned back to her brother.

”Alright, I’m ready to go.”

----------

The red neon lights shined brightly in the warm August evening, bringing every bypasser’s attention to the diner coated in blue wooden panels. April could already see the familiar blonde ponytail and grey beanie from the window. She felt her palms beginning to sweat as she and Archie got closer and closer to the entrance. She fiddled with the hem of her flannel shirt nervously, not knowing at all what to expect from he best friends.

Finally, the bells above the door chimed, indicating that someone had entered. When the siblings turned towards their friends’ booth, Jughead was already on his feet, pacing towards them with disbelief in his eyes as he stared at April.

He didn’t change that much since April saw him the last time. He was wearing black boots, a gray pair of jeans, a darker grey T-shirt with an ’S’ on it and a thin black denim jacket. He also had a flannel shirt tied around his waist, and of course his signature beanie. Locks of his raven hair have lightly moved as he walked towards April.

She couldn’t help but let a huge grin appear on her face. She was so, so relieved to finally see her best friend (and crush, but that’s not really important, right?) again. Even Jughead seemed surprised at his own actions when he reached the girl; everyone knew that Jughead Jones was not a fan of PDA. Yet, he hugged the girl so tight and close to himself that you couldn’t even fit a piece of paper between them. April, of course, had nothing against this. She wrapped her arms around his waist and let her head rest on his chest. Jughead put his chin on the top of her head and just enjoyed the closeness of the smaller girl with closed eyes and not a word spoken between them.

They stood there, in the middle of the diner for what seemed like hours. The two girls who were still at the booth looked at them just as shocked as everyone else. The first to break the awkward silence, which seemed to have slipped the pair’s noce, was none other than Veronica Lodge.

”Excuse me for disturbing your cuddling,” she started with an edge in her tone, ”but you have your girlfriend right over here, Jughead.”

The mentioned boy lifted his head up from its previous position, but before he could even turn around and say something much likely rude as a response, Betty has already stood up for him.

”It’s okay, V,” she placed a hand on the black haired girl’s shoulder, a calming smile on her face showing that she really meant it.

”What? Are- are you fine with Jughead hugging another girl like his life depended on it?” Veronica asked with furrowed brows, not understanding the situation one bit.

”She isn’t just some girl, Veronica,” Jughead spat, every single word of his dripping with venom.

The raven boy looked at her like she had committed some kind of felony. He has now let go of April, but still stood close to her, their arms touching. His piercing eyes burned a hole on Veronica’s face. He unconsciously clenched his fists, which were slightly trembling with anger.

”Juggie, calm down,” April gently squeezed the boy’s shoulder. ”She doesn’t know me, remember?”

Jughead looked down at the girl, took a deep breath and slowly calmed down with April’s hand still on his shoulder. When it felt safe to leave his side, the brunette stepped in front of Veronica.

”Hi! I’m April Andrews, Archie’s sister. Jughead and I have been best friends literally since we can remember, so hugs like this aren’t really extraordinary. Plus, we haven’t seen each other for 2 years!”

While explaining the situation to the girl, April could feel Jughead stepping close behind her. She felt the warmth radiating off his body, his protective aura practically surrounding her. Even though she didn’t need any protection from a girl like Veronica, she wasn’t about to complain; she loved it.

”And I’ve already told you V, I’m okay with it,” Betty stood up from her spot and came over to April. ”Hi! I’m so glad you’re here again!” she smiled at the girl.

”It’s been so long, Betty,” April grinned and hugged the blonde, who returned the gesture.

When they let go, everyone sat in the booth, Jughead, Betty and April on one side and Veronica and Archie on the other. April saw that the ”new girl” still wasn’t really okay with her, but she did apologize and introduced herself as Veronica Lodge.

Pop Tate came over to their table to take their order.

”Well, well, what a surprise, little Andrews is back to town!” the man chuckled as he took his notepad in his hand.

”Hello!” she greeted him joyfully. ”Umm, I’ll have a strawberry milkshake please.”

The others also gave their order.

”So, April,” started Jughead when Pop Tate went away. ”What about your new style? I mean, you look cool, I’m just a little surprised.”

”Yeah, same here,” chimed in Betty.

”What could I say? Pinterest does wonders, especially when you have lots of freetime on your hands,” she replied with a soft giggle.

That was when the door opened again. April turned her head towards it, and saw the well-known faces of Riverdale High; the Bulldogs with Reggie in the middle. She wondered though, where could Jason be?

As Reggie scanned the place for an untaken booth, he noticed April and smirked at her, immediately starting her way.

”Wow, April Andrews,” he clicked his tongue. ”How come you’re back?”

”You know Reggie, there’s this thing called moving. Maybe you should try it,” April said. The distaste she felt for the boy was evident in her cold eyes and sarcastic tone, but her sickly sweet fake smile said otherwise.

The other people who sat at the table laughed quietly.

”Still the old brat, I see,” he laughed. ”If you change your mind, I could always take you on a ride,” he winked at the girl.

”Hey, watch it! You’re talking to my sister, for god’s sake!” Archie yelled protectively.

”Calm down, Andrews. I’m just sayin’,” with that he left and sat in a booth far away from April and her friends.

April shook her head while chuckling and didn’t notice that Pop brought them their drinks and food.

----------

It was about an hour later when April needed an escape from Betty and Jughead, so she excused herself and almost run to the bathroom. Until then, she could keep herself from feeling miserable and heartbroken, but it was just getting too much. They were stealing each other’s food, stealing kisses from one other and so on. It shattered April’s heart into pieces. She always thought she didn’t have a chance with Jughead, but there was at least a little bit of hope; now it only became clearer that she was never going to end up with her secret crush and she just needed to get over it. He was with Betty and April would never want to break them apart. They were so perfect together, she couldn’t even imagine how she could compete with someone like Betty. She was not an excellent student, she could never be as strong and pretty as Betty. April could go on and on about why she would never be enough for someone like Jughead, but she figured that she’ll have time for that when she gets home.

These thoughts didn’t help her hold back her tears, but at least she could keep down her sobs. After minutes of trying to dry her tears, she finally succeeded. After getting herself together, she left the restroom and went back to their table like nothing had happened.

----------

At 10:23 pm, April was laying in her bed, staring at the white ceiling and thinking about today’s events. Suddenly, a loud thud shook her up from daydreaming. She looked over to her window and cautiously walked over, to be greeted with Jughead’s face and a ladder leading up to her window. She stumbled back a bit, before sighing in relief and opening her window.

”You scared me, shithead,” April looked at him angrily, crossing her arms.

”Sorry,” he smirked, not at all looking apologetic. After climbing in, he casually walked over to her bed and sat down on it, April following him.

”Soo, what you doin’ here?” April asked him.

”I just happened to be walking around this part of the town, you know, like in the old times.”

”Mm-hmm,” she hummed, putting her head on his shoulder. ”Well, I’m sleepy, Jug.”

”Yeah, I can see that much,” he chuckled as he looked at her face, noticing how she could barely keep her eyes open. ”It must have been tiring, travelling for so long.”

April nodded, then put her head back to its original place. Neither of them talked for a while, just enjoying the calm quietness. In the end, Jughead broke the silence.

”I missed you, you know?”

”I missed you too, Juggie. There wasn’t a day when I didn’t think about you.”

”I can say the same. I also thought a lot about the old times. When we were still kids, with no real problems.”

”Yeah, those were nice times,” April agreed. ”Oh, by the way. What happened to Jason? I didn’t see him with the Bulldogs at Pop’s.”

”Uh... he- he was murdered. His body was found a few days ago,” Jughead thought it would be better to say it simply.

”O-Oh, I’m...” April couldn’t find the right words. She wasn’t really close to the Blossom boy, in fact, she never even talked to him, but it still scared her a little bit. But mostly, she felt sorry for Cheryl, she knew how close the twins were.

”I’m writing a novel about it,” Jughead stated casually.

”Oh, so you’re still into writing? I’d love to read it someday.”

”I guess I can show you,” Jughead grinned. ”But right now you should sleep. I’ll go, okay?”

April definitely did not want Jughead to leave, but she was just so tired and it wouldn’t be nice if her father or Archie met with Jughead in the morning in her room.

”Okay, but be careful. A murderer’s on the loose.”

”Sure thing,” he stood up and walked to the window. ”It’s good to have you back, princess,” he smiled genuinely at the blushing girl. April didn’t expect him to call her by her old nickname. Only Jughead had called him this.

”You too, Juggie,” she whispered, his words still repeating in her head.

It filled her with joy, knowing that Jughead remembered and still used it. She got this nickname when she was about 5 and Jughead was 6.

Archie, Jughead, April and some other kids were playing hide and seek and the girl hid in a small, unfamiliar wooden cabin. When she entered, she didn’t notice that the lock has slammed down. Soon, she could hear that they were about to start another round, loudly arguing about who the seeker should be. She panicked and tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. She shouted for Archie and Jughead, tears running down her red face.

Jughead rushed to the door first, but when he didn’t succeed in opening it, he went over to the side and broke in the window with a branch from the ground. He helped April climb out, then hugged the sobbing girl.

”It’s okay. You’re safe now,” he whispered.

After long moments of calming the girl down, he let go of her.

”You were like a princess from a tale,” Jughead laughed softly. ”And I saved you.”

That night, April fell asleep with Jughead’s words on repeat in her head.

”It’s good to have you back, princess.”

----------

Word count: 2162

#riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale fandom #riverdale archie #riverdale jughead #riverdale betty #riverdale veronica #veronica lodge #betty cooper #jughead jones #archie andrews #romance #fluff #original character #jughead x oc #jughead fanfiction #jughead imagine #pop's #pop's chock'lit shoppe

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fossadeileonixv · 4 years

Text

Inter 3 Milan 0

Oh boy.....

Some thoughts on each player and ramblings at the end.

DONNARUMMA was not at his best today. Could easily have come off his line to make a play on Lukaku’s cross on the first goal. Just wasn’t very aggressive all day to be honest. Very quiet as well. I’m used to hearing his voice on the telecast. Nothing today.

I haven’t seen CALABRIA get spun around like he did on the second goal today in a really long time. The threat of Perisic kept him at bay.

KJAER looks like all the games over the summer and straight into this season are catching up to him. Looked slow but also very frustrated. When it comes to a CB partnership usually one is the ball carrier and the other is more of a stay at home guy or stopper. It’s never been clear how that dynamic works with Kjaer and R13. Hard to tell which is which, especially in a game like today. Those 2 jut don’t seem right. Something is definitely ‘rotten in the state of Denmark’.

And ROMAGNOLI might be what’s rotten. I think we can all agree that he’s not exactly world class but at this rate i’m not sure he’s even making the bench for the Euros. At 26 he should be hitting his peak as a CB and instead he seems to be backsliding. Him man marking Lukaku today was akin to a horsefly marking a stallion. The sight of him backing up and backing up without ever challenging Lukaku on the run for that third goal was embarassing. that was the kind of weak spined stuff DeSciglio used to do. You’re the captain man. Make a challenge.

I would love to have a sit down with Pioli and find out exactly what THEO is supposed to be doing. Does he want him to sit high all game while other players take turn covering for him? Or is he supposed to defend at least a little bit? What happened to the defense first guy that looked near world class last summer? You know, the guy that picked his spots to make opponents pay? Whatever is going on over there it’s becoming a big problem. Teams know attacking down his side is where they will find tons of joy. Somehow Pioli doesn’t.

AC MILAN FACT OF THE DAY

Theo Hernandez has played the most minutes of any Milan field player this season and the most minutes of any field player in Serie A including all competitions.

Dude is tired.

I thought TONALI played good today. He was decisive and made some things happen going forward. We are starting to see some glimpses of what he might become. Giving him MOTM on a day like today feels like a backhanded compliment. MOTM nonetheless.

KESSIE really looks tired.

SAELEMAEKERS played. I guess. Had a couple nice crosses right after the half but that was it. It’s great that very little happens in his area for the other team. It’s also a problem that nothing happens in his area for our team. When we go down and need to score he’s a massive liability.

HAKAN, REBIC, IBRA were all so bad I’m honestly not sure where to start. A bad touch here, an extra touch there it’s really hard to tell what the plan was to score. I guess just stand around hope someone else did? Looked like 3 guys making dumb mistakes and blaming the other guy.

Subs

Pretty sure the only reason LEAO was brought on was to.... actually I’m not sure why he was brought on. He’s not the guy that’s gonna come on and make an impact, especially down. Did his standard walk about. Maybe just for rest and rotation? Bummer because some of his best games have come against better teams. After his cameos at AM and striker I wanna see him more in the center of the park.

MEITE played.

So did SAMU. Both were white flags.

Coach

PIOLI got most everything wrong today. This was yet another game where our tactics got eaten alive by teams that play 352. It’s kryptonite to our Theo-centric 4231. I understand fans that don’t see it. They’re fans. What I don’t get is Pioli not adjusting. Can’t keep repeating these same performances. Inter want you to attack them early so they can get a quick goal and then counter all day long. Pioli and his Theo first scheme fell right into that. We start the game like this:

Ibra

Rebic Hakan Saele

Kessie Tonali

Theo R13 Kjaer Calabria

but for some reason that quickly becomes something like this as we aggressively press early:

Ibra

Theo Rebic Hakan Saele

Tonali

Kessie R13 Kjaer Calabria

Kessie ending up all the way to the left is bad enough. Toss in R13 man marking Lukaku which drags him all over the place. Also consider that entire front five can’t be bothered to help. So you end up with Tonali Kjaer and Calabria to track 5 mids and Lautaro. Sprinkle in Donna being rooted to his line far too often today and it’s a recipe for disaster.

So now you are down 1-0 to a perfect counter attacking machine. Great.

RAMBLINGS

- For God’s sake just rotate the whole lineup for the Europa League game Wednesday. No one cares.

- As our frustrations build keep in mind we do have one of the youngest teams in all of Europe and probably still have more starts by players under the age of 25 than anyone.

- My crazy plan B fantasy lineup (3-5-2) R13 Kjaer Tomori; Theo Benna kessie Tonali Calabria; Leao Ibra

- Many times over the years on here I’ve talked about a team and their identity. Usually it was Milan and our lack of identity. Right now I’m not sure there is a team in Italy that knows who they are more than Inter.

- If you wanted to see what happens when a well rested really good team plays a decent team that had to play mid week this is it. Milan were on fumes while Inter were rested and ready.

- Somehow we had 10 ‘key passes’ and 12 ‘successful dribbles’. Supposedly these are good thing that lead to ‘expected goals’. You tell me guys. Did you really EXPECT any goals today?

FORZA

Lisi

PS: We are still 6 points clear of the last CL spot. All is not lost.

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introvertllux · 4 years

Text

Copia’s World: Chapter 1

Story Description: Lena is gifted with extraordinary powers, that much is true but what happens when she discovers that her powers are more of a curse than a blessing. Will Lena be able to fight the dark path she seems fated for or will she be able to confront her ever-growing powers in order to forge her own path? Secrets and lies discovered as Lena navigate through family, love, and self-discovery.

Genre: Romance, Drama, Comedy, Drama

Warnings: 18+, depictions of bullying, Christianity discrimination, mental health, mental disorders, racism, suicide, discrimination. (Please do not read, if you may be triggered).

*Any depictions referred to in the warnings are based on MY PERSONAL EXPERIENCES. Please do not think I’m making fun or or mocking anyone, again these experiences are based on what I have seen and, or been through myself. Also, I am not intending to romanticize mental health or disorders in anyway. Lastly, If you do decided to read this story I am very thankful and I hope you enjoy it. : )

Notes to add:

I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS

THE ORIGINAL STORY IDEA IS MY OWN

THE CREATION OF THE CHARACTER PROFILES ARE MY OWN DOING (I DO NOT OWN THE PHOTOGRAPHS ARE ART WORKS OF EACH CHARACTER. HOWEVER, I DID EDIT THE PICTURES OF MY OC (BRI HALL) TO MATCH MY OC DESCRIPTION.

THIS STORY WILL TAKE SOME EVENTS FROM THE COMICS, ANIMATED SERIES, AND THE LIVE ACTION MOVIES.

IN THIS STORY ALEX IS YOUNGER THAN SCOTT AND THE AGES VARY BASED ON THE ACTOR THAT PLAYS THE CHARACTER AND FOR THE SAKE OF THE PLOT

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Third Person’s P.O.V.

Friday, July 27, 2019

Lena inhaled the crisp cool summer air as she gazed outside of the large crystal-clear window of the deep corridor. A breathtaking blend of coral and peach sunlight filled the sky as birds soared high and low while chirping a captivating melody. She exhaled, as she gently opened her yellow-amber eyes and watched the pattern the birds flew in. Lena, then gripped the frame of widow seal, careful not to crush it underneath her superhuman strength. Oh, how badly did she want to leap out of the wind and fly, to soar, and join the feathered-winged creatures.

(You look like you want to join them) she heard a voice say inside of her head.

(More than anything…) I responded back.

(I think that freedom is what you seek more than anything, Lena) the voice said.

Lena looked at the person next to her from the lower corner of her left eye.

(Grandpa, freedom is the one thing I desire the most out of this world. It’s funny you know… how easy it seems to be able to have. To get too. It’s literally right outside my door. But for me, it seems unreachable. It’s bittersweet to know that my only desire is so close yet so far. But as a mutant as… me, I know that I would rather give up my dreams to protect my family and those who can’t protect themselves.)

she said as she turned her full body towards the founder of the Xavier Institute.

(As usual, that’s very brave, kind, and noble of you Lena. But as I told you many times in the past you can be all those things and more without giving up on the things you want. Balance is key to anything you do in life, Lena. Once, you've mastered that you’ll be impossible to stop) Professor Xavier said.

Lena let out a sigh, (Grandpa you and I both know the circumstances that prevent me from being free. I-I just want to be like them) I communicated to him as I pointed my arm out of the window at the birds in front of me. (How long do I have to be a caged bird? How long until I can use my powers to help instead of hurting. How long until my powers stop feeling like a curse. How long until nobody fears me and they except me! How long until I can be free!?)

She yelled telepathically causing the man next her to groan in pain as he gripped the sides of his head.

Lena’s P.O.V

“Uh! Grandpa, I’m so, so, sorry!” I yelled as I kneeled next to his wheelchair. I tried to gently console him, trying to be extra careful of my strength and the volume of my voice.

“It’s alright, Lena.” He said softly.

I looked at him with glistening eyes, “I’m sorry. I’m so stupid.” I said quieter.

“Far from it my dear, very far. You just have trouble controlling your powers is all. We’ve all been there. I have your mother, your father, and the rest of the students that live here. Your case is just a special one… and like the rest we will find a way for you to control them.” He said optimistically.

I stared at him for a split second as I read his facial expression. Although he always made sure to remain level-headed and positive at all times, I know that deep inside he’s afraid. He’s terrified. He more than anyone that we know, knows how much of a ticking time bomb I am. He knows that I’m capable of the world ending power, yet he masks it all in hopes that “we” find a solution in an unpredictable time.

“Now, Lena if my time is correct and I’m sure that it is you have about 5 minutes before Colossus will be looking to join the others in the Danger Room. You know how organized he is.” He said smiling softly.

I mentally rolled my eyes as he mentioned Colossus.

“Have fun, and make sure you pay specific attention until how each student is managing their powers. I think it might help you find your source of control.” He said.

“Will do, grandpa. Have a nice rest of your day.” I said as I ran down the long hallway and down to my room.

As I entered my room, I quickly opened my side table drawer and pulled out black gloves that covered every inch of my hands. I quickly pulled them on my hair, careful not to tear them. I looked down at the gloves as I started to feel anxiety.

Looking at these gloves was a constant reminder of how defective I was. Usually, when I felt my powers start to lose control in the slightest way, I would put these gloves on. Today… when I broke the telepathic link with my grandfather was a sign of lack of control, although not a big one it was still something.

One of my first abilities I was able to master at a young age was telepathy but seeing as of late I’m losing my grip over it I think the gloves will stabilize me. God forbid I go to training and I bump into someone and I absorb their abilities or hurt them in any other way.

With about two minutes left before training, I left my room (which wasn’t too far from the danger room only about 10 feet). I walked with a neutral expression on my face as I entered the control room. I took “my” seat next to a standing Colossus whose body shined in pride at his team below.

“Nice of you to join us today, Lena.” He said without looking at me. I nodded my head back at his as I looked down at the white dull sneakers on my feet that seemed to pique my interest at the moment.

“I didn’t see you for breakfast, AGAIN. How can you expect to be a good hero if you aren’t eating a well-balanced meal?” He said in a lecturing tone.

No, how can I expect to be a good one, if I’m not allowed to use my powers?

I heard the sound of his body turning towards me, I hastily moved my hands behind my back so he wouldn’t see that I had my gloves on.

He cleared his throat and said, “I want you to watch closely. Today the team will be working on teamwork protocols. As a member of this team, I need you to see and understand how each team member's abilities work as well as how they complement one another.” He said as he turned back, getting ready to speak into the intercoms.

This is why I hated “training”. First and foremost, I’m not really a part of the team. I’m what you call the “final choice”. I’m the SWAT team to the police force. The Hulk to the Avengers. I’m the big guns. If our chances of winning are extremely low, they are banking on me to bring the bacon home. From an outsider’s perspective, it sounds like an honor… but in reality, it’s quite the opposite. I’m the caged animal that they only let free on the special circumstance. They don’t want to see me, talk to me, or USE me until they need me.

As for their powers, I know them left to right. I know every single one of my teammate’s power sources, origins, and weaknesses. How could I not? I live my life watching them all have fun with their powers and showing them off while I stay dormant, in complete comatose. Get this… isn’t it hilarious, how my parents always told me that mutants were special, that I was special but one mistake… and now I’m too special to use my gifts?

Don’t get me wrong at all. I love every and any kind of mutant good or evil no matter what their gifts are, they are all special and unique to me. But that all goes out the window when: 1.) I don’t use my powers so I’m basically a regular person and 2.) When I have the ability to absorb, replicate, and keep any power I’m exposed to. Having that ability, that curse, makes everyone around you feel ordinary and that’s something I hate about myself. I never want anyone to feel less than. I rather it is me so that they never know how it really feels.

Okay, team, I’m commencing the portal now. Get ready.” I heard Colossus say. A few seconds later I saw the lights deem as the computer speak:

Commencing Protocol 24389: Team Civilian Rescue

I sat up in my chair slightly making sure to keep my hands in a place where I knew Colossus wouldn’t be able to see. Within a few seconds, I analyzed the protocol. It seemed as though each section and customized by each person’s powers. Each person had their weakness placed in each section but would require help from a member to move through. Their ultimate end goal was to rescue an elder-women and her cat (Ha, how cute Colossus).

I continued to watch for a few moments, already seeing that they were not working as a team. I glanced up at Colossus from the side of my eye and noticed his stone-cold expression.

Which I knew was translated to mean anger, disappointment, and shame. It seems like the only person that was trying his best was Alex, better known as Havok. He tried to guide the team and even give some advice but he was stopped but Mr. Hothead himself Pyro, or John who’s ego was so big he wouldn’t take direction from anyone because he was the leader and what he said went even if he was wrong.

Then there was Jubilation Lee or Jubilee who was a poor long-term focuser so when it came to making plans and strategies, she wasn’t all the way there. And last but certainly not least the Lovesick King, Sam aka Cannonball, he was so in love with Jubilee all he heard, saw, and thought about was her. If it didn’t involve her, he wanted no parts and that’s exactly what was happening.

A few more minutes went by and I heard the screams of agony ring throughout the control panel. I flinch and quickly stood up hoping that nobody was hurt. The lights slowly turned on as I realized that the scream I heard was from the elderly women hologram. I let out a small sigh… glad that everyone was okay (well almost everyone).

Protocol 24389: Team Civilian Rescue. Failed.

I heard the computer say as the light was on completely. I heard Colossus' large steps start to exit the control room. I knew better than to try to leave and retreat back to my room. I hated conflict and I knew this would be another confrontation and I knew deep down inside It would be my fault because that’s just my role on this team.

“This! This is teamwork!?” Colossus yelled as he waved his hands in front of the other students.“Well, If John helped out more- “Sam started to say before he was cut off by everyone auguring back and forth all at once.

“Enough!” Colossus yelled once more.

“This is not what good teams do! Arguing and fight one another. That’s for the villain, not the heroes.” He said

.He let out a sigh, “You, “He said as he pointed at John, “You are the leader. You are supposed to lead them with humility and a good plan. You did neither of those. If you do that on the real battlefield do you expect to lead your team to victory or their deaths.”

He said sternly. “Jubilee, you need to focus on the battlefield you can get yourself and others hurt or worse. Samuel, you need to focus on your team and the civilians, keep your head on the battlefield, not on your heart.” He said as he exchanged looks between the both of them.

Colossus looked up and down at Alex swiftly, “Alex, great work for what little you had to work with. Keep it up. It’s clear that you all need more training so… I will see you bright and early at 6:00 AM tomorrow.” He said as he began to turn around and walk off.“But… tomorrow is Saturday!” I heard Jubilee yell. Colossus just waved as he exited the room. I turned, trying to leave the room unnoticed.

“Where do you think you’re going.” I heard John say. I stopped for a moment, deciding not to let him get to me today.

I heard him snort, “Got the gloves on, huh? Bad day?” He said with a chuckle.

I quickly grabbed my hands and folded them up to my chest tightly as I kept walking.

“You know it’s your fault we failed that protocol.” He said with venom in his voice. I stopped in my tracks, my back still facing him.

“You just sit up there in the control room acting all high and mighty while we do all the work. What’s the point of doing all the work, when you can do it? You have the ability to have any and every power known to man yet- because you’re so defective we have to do the work. It’s pretty pathetic, to be honest.” He let out a sarcastic sigh, “I guess… I’ll always have that over you, huh? being flawless, being more than enough.” He said in a taunting manner.

“John, back off.” I heard Alex say.

“Shh… your leader is talking. And as the leader, I say my “team member” needs some constructive criticism.” He said wickedly.

“You know… now that I think about it I kind of own you. Everything I say goes. I mean look your powers are banned. You don’t train with us, you can’t leave this house, and… a big part of that is thanks to me. One of my greatest accomplishments to date I think.” He said as he started to laugh widely.

I began to shake in my spot, tears threatening to spill. I didn’t want to look up at John. All I wanted to do was run and retreat back to my room, the place I knew I would always be the safest. But instead, I decided that I had to look up, into the eyes of the man that made my life living hell every day for years. Not one part of me wanted to think he was evil or malicious when he tormented me on a daily. I wanted to see the good in him, as a fellow mutant, as a teammate, as a person. But all I could see what a selfish and wicked cold-hearted man.

I speed to my room devastated and broken. This was nothing new under the sun. Every day, John would take his shots at me tearing me down in front of our peers and they would just let it happen. John hated him with all his heart and soul and the rest didn’t understand me. They didn’t bother too. That just knows about the accident that leads to my powers awakening and from then on, they’ve avoided me like the plague. It just me to see that even in my own home that I will never kind anyone who truly gets me or a place where I belong.

I laid on my bed fast down as I cried myself to sleep. What felt like a minute later, was actually hours as I heard tapping on my window. I walked to my window and opened it wide as something swiftly flew in. I looked at the figured and smiled.

“Cuzzo! It’s been a while!” I heard my cousin Peter yell.

I quickly jumped on him as we landed on the bed with my hand covering his mouth. “Shh,” I whispered.

Of course, I was very happy to see my cousin Peter. It’s been too long but like a true prisoner, I am not allowed to have any visitors and the same goes for Peter even though he’s family.

Peter’s eyes roamed down to my gloved hand and he mumbled something against. I moved my hands down and looked down at my lap, knowing how concerned he would be to see my gloves on. I didn’t want to ruin our reunion, but I felt as though I already did.

He grabbed both of my gloved hands and squeezed tightly, “Lena…” He expresses in a worried voice.

“Peter, I’m fine. I promise. Let’s talk about something else. Let’s talk about you I haven’t seen you in so long, aren’t you taking Online Summer courses at MIT?” I asked genuinely interested.

Peter’s looked lingered for a few seconds before he gave in, “Yeah I am actually. They’re killer. Dad wanted me to try and stay on campus and do the whole college thing a try, but I wanted to be able to patrol at home and- “He said before I interrupted “And your crush” I said in a teasing voice.

“Lin.” He said in a whining voice as he pursed his lips and I continued to laugh a bit.

“Well, I think uncle Tony just wants you to give you a fair shot at the whole being a “normal” kid type of thing. But you’re too far gone, Spider-Man. We’ve lost you to the dark side.” I said as I continued to joke.

“Tell me about it, right now I’m on the dark side of college homework.” He said as he began to pull out his homework from his bag.

“I also brought some ice cream. They’re rock solid, so by the time I get done with this they should be defrosted.” He said.

We talked back and forth as Peter did his homework. I helped quite a bit with the equations he was having problems solving.

“Lena, I always knew you were smart… but you’re better at solving these problems than I am. Maybe you should be at MIT, instead.” He laughed.

“No, way Peter. You’re a genius. I just like a challenge that all. Plus, engineering isn’t my passion.” I said with a shrug.

“To be honest you’ve never really talked about your passions before.” He said sounding intrigued.

“Um, my first one would be getting out of here. I might get spontaneous and travel to every state.” I said laughing while being serious.

“You know… being here all my life and not being allowed to leave unless supervised never gave me the chance to really find myself. I went to school here and never had the chance to go to college. The one constant thing that I find myself doing that I like is helping. I also like kids too, even if I’m not around them often. But when I was around Franklin and Valeria I was in awe. I wanted nothing but to see them happy you know. I don’t know maybe… maybe I’ll become a teacher.” I said quietly.

“Well, I think you’re an amazing teacher. You’re creative, smart, kind, and you always put other's needs before your own.” Peter said as he smiled softly at me as he placed his hand on my shoulder.

I flinched back, as he stared at me with his arms in surrender at me. “ah… um, I’m sorry.” I said frantically. “I just… my powers and the gloves um...” I said starting to panic.

“No, no. I’m sorry Lin I should’ve known better.” He said. “Um, ice cream?” He said after a few moments of silence.

I nodded my head as he handed me, a mocha chip flavored ice cream. I smiled and thanked him. He always remembered by favorite. As we ate my ice cream, he talked to me about his dad and what the rest of the Avengers were up too.

“Wait so Thor is fat now?” I repeated. “Yeah, but he’s got more a dad bod thing going in verses the devastated drunk bod. He’s getting there. Aunt Nat and Uncle Clint are taking care of the psychical and dad are doing his version of emotional support and the rest of us are doing real actual support.” He said as eat another spoonful of ice cream.

I smiled, “I miss them. I wish I was there to see their faces.” I said feeling low again. “I know they all miss you, I missed you. I promise even though I have these dumb classes I’m coming to visit you more often even if Uncle Logan tries to kill me and hang me over the fireplace.” He said in a joking yet serious manner.

“When I told dad, I was going to sneak into your house, he said, “Why go all Bond on them, we can walk right up and make it a party.” He said laughing.

I shook my head, “I think at that point it’s more about our dad’s deep intense hatred for one another.” I said.

“They have a lot in common that’s why. They both think they know everything or can do anything better than another person.” Peter said.

“Ugh, tell me about it. Back to the party thing, it’s almost your birthday in two weeks what are you going to do. I know Uncle Tony will want to throw you a big bash.” I said.

“Yeah, now you tell me about it. I told dad something quite with the family but of course, it went in one ear and out the other. At this point, I don’t care what he wants to do. If you can’t come then, I don’t want anything.” He said.

“Aww. Peter, no don’t throw away your party for me. It’s not worth it.” I said. “What? Lena, are you hearing yourself? You’re my cousin. I’m not going to have a party that’s supposed to have family and friends there and you not be there. I don’t care if I have to invite every single member of this household in order for you to be able to come, I will do it.” He said.

I was a bit stun that he said he would invite everyone just for me. I know Peter wasn’t super close to the rest of the team members closer to our ages but Peter was the extroverted one out of the both of us so if it came down to it he would have no problem socializing with them, even if it were for a minute.

A few more minutes pass and Peter and I exchange goodbyes as he exited out of the window. About 10 minutes later another knock could be heard from the window.

What’s with my window tonight.

I raised the window and looked outside of it. “Hey, Angel.” I heard my Uncle Angel say to me with a wave. I waved back. He drew in closer to the window. “Hard day?” He asked as he nodded towards my gloves. I shrugged but didn’t say a word.

“How about some Angel Time.” He said as he referred to the nickname, I called our flying time together when I was a child. I knew the repercussions that would follow if we left the house without telling anyone, we both did, but I need this. For me flying was like a rocking a baby back to sleep, it was soothing to me, it was liberating.

I took a step back from my window and leaped out. Smiling widely as I levitated in the air. I began to fly up higher with my arms stretched wide. This is the feeling I’ve been missing for so long. I continued to smile as I fly all around my uncle. We flew together for a while until he landed on a cliff and patted his hand down on the grass near him. I flew down and landed gently.

“You know, when you’re up there flying around, you look just like your mother.” I smiled softly at his observation.

“Before you were born your mother and I used to fly all the time. It’s one of the only times I’ve really seen your mother look so happy, that or when you or your dad are around.” He said.

“Is that why you fly. Because it’s your freedom too.” I asked. He looked over and smiled at me. “You know before I discovered my wings I was from a very wealthy family. From the outside, everyone thought I was so happy and perfect because of it but I was so miserable. When I discovered my wings, I got on my knees and praised God because nothing could stop me from escaping the hell in which I lived. I had the power to leave and discover my own path and that’s what lead me to the school. Flying doesn’t solve all my problems, no. But it helps me to get on the right track.” He said with passion.

I hummed in satisfaction at his answer. It was so detailed and liberating. I related to it in many ways. Uncle Angel and I continued to laugh and talk about things from my childhood and things of his past, until sunrise. As the sun rose so did my anxiety and panic because I knew when I got home, I was in trouble. I knew I probably missed training so that was a dead give away that I wasn’t home like I was supposed to be.

We flew back home, with Uncle Angel telling me he would help explain the situation to my parents. However, that didn’t make me feel better considering the fact that there was no reasoning with parents as overprotective as my own.

We landed swiftly and opened the door to the mansion and made our way to the kitchen, figuring they would be there having their morning coffee and tea.

“Lena Oni Howlett! Where have you been? You just don’t leave the house without telling us or someone going with you!” I heard my mother yell.

“I know. “I mumbled quietly that only my father could probably hear with his advanced hearing.

“Wait Ororo, please don’t yell at her it was my fault,” Angel said as he stood in front of me.

“She was having a bad day and-and I know flying helps to calm her down, so I took her.” He said trying to explain the situation.

“Do you have any idea what could’ve to happen with her flying up there. “I heard my father say with a growl.

“Nothing, I was with her-“ Angel tried to finish before he was interrupted “Then you’re dumber than I thought birdbrain. Her powers are unpredictable right now. We don’t know what triggers then and what doesn’t. You could’ve gotten yourselves both killed.” He said with anger in his voice.

I flinched when he called my powers unpredictable and when he said I was capable of killing both of us. It was true and I didn’t want it to happen. I never want to hurt anyone ever again but the way my own father was describing me it was like I was some kind of monster.

“Logan…” My mother warned.

“Can you believe this bullshit!” He yelled as he slammed his hand onto the marble countertop causing a crack to form.

“Watch your language!” My mother yelled at him.

“As soon as we do a better job at keeping track of our own, damn daughter. Oh, or do you not remember the stakes that are at hand!” He roared.

“Of course, I do! That’s why we’re taking the percussions we are now!” He yelled back. At this point, they were arguing with one another about me in front of me completely ignoring how I feel at this point. I felt awful knowing that my parents were arguing because of me. They rarely argued. Mostly playful banter. But I was the cause of this me. I hate conflict but I had to make it right.

“Stop!” I screamed at the top as my lungs as my eyes glow dark pink and my hair floated up in the air slightly. “Have you ever thought for a second how this all makes me feel? I’m the one with uncontrolled powers. I’m the one that ends up hurting people. I’m the common denominator! Keeping locked up like-like some monster won’t solve any of it.” I said looking at them with my eyes still glowing.

“This-” I said as pink aura started admitting from my body, “You say it’s special, but I have to hide it. You treat how society treats mutants. I don’t know whose side you guys are on or if you see me as some dangerous mutant…. or as your daughter.” I said in a shaky breath.

“I’m warning you both now. That if you don’t give me some space… or just an inch of freedom I will explode and nothing- and I mean nothing in this world will be able to contain it not even me.” I said sadly as I turned my back on them and left the kitchen quietly.

I went to my bedroom and looked into the mirror on the way to the far right and stared at it. My eyes were still glowing, and my pink aura was still surrounding my body. I sat down gently and started to close my eyes and take deep breaths until I felt my power level constrain back into my body. I take a few more moments before I hop into bed.

I take off my gloves and lay them on the side of my bed. I stare at my hands. The hands of murder. The hands of filled with extraordinary power. The hands of a murderer.

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

Link to:

Masterpost

Chapter 2

I wanted to thank everyone who has liked or reblogged anything that has to do with this story. I want to give a HUGE SHOUTOUT to the following people for showing me some support (I apologize if i’m missing any names)!!

@jaydeee86 @cyberdoshee @princess-of-fuckup @nygoddess @kenbechillin @queenwinchester27 @themilkcartoonkid @nunubug99 @discowh0requeen @my-massivelyhopefulcollection @eroticababylv @cocoplovely @loveinsunlight @grandetan @deansblackbeauty @lumbs17 @rls905 @girl-oddity @noble-kale @love-livinglifetothefullest @rudebot @black-is-beautiful18 @kaylahemsworth @sanders2017 @save-feza @alexthesupergay @missellaineous @princessshanae14 @mismerccray @amethyst09 @bunniotomia

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et-lesailes · 5 years

Text

missing linc //chapter two

series masterlist

pairing: ceo!dad!steve x reader

word count: 1960

series summary: you are a college student working at a daycare full time during your summer break, and you have grown especially fond of one of the toddlers in your class, lincoln rogers. you are certainly not expecting to develop such a huge crush on his dad steve when you meet him for the first time, but you can’t help but be attracted to the businessman– despite the fact that he’s married. however, as intelligent and mature as steve comes across, he has a few secrets behind his marriage- one in particular he may never be able to make up for.

series themes: romance, drama, age gap, infidelity, smut in later chapters

chapter summary: steve comes late to pick up linc, and a little more background is given on steve and tiana’s relationship.

taglist: added in reblog

** please send an ask if you would like to be added to the taglist!

It was 6:05 PM and Steve had still not shown up, despite the daycare technically closing at 6. It was not too rare for some parents to run late, especially with rush hour traffic, and so you were not too worried. It wasn’t like you ever got to leave right at 6 anyways, considering you had to clean up and shut down the room.

It was only you and Linc in the room; Stephanie and the other children had left. The only people in the building were you and the director of the center, who was really only still there because she locked up the place after everyone was gone. Linc was starting to get fussy; his mother normally picked him up at five, and it was clear that the extra hour of being there was tiring him, especially after having seen every other child leave with their mothers and fathers. He was currently snuggled up to you on your lap as you sat against some pillows in the little cozy “library” area of the room, holding onto you tight with his head buried in your chest, whimpering every now and then while simultaneously dozing off.

By 6:13, you were starting to wonder if you should pull up Linc’s parents’ numbers on the computer and call either Steve or Tiana, when the man suddenly came bursting into the room. “Hey. My God, I’m so sorry.” He instantly apologized, and you could tell by his features that he sincerely felt bad. “I got stuck in a meeting and by the time I got out, traffic was terrible.” You smiled and shook your head, standing up carefully as you held the child close to you. “Don’t worry about it, it happens.” You reassured him it was alright as he walked over to you, and you smiled as Linc immediately perked up upon hearing his father’s voice, wide blue eyes now looking up towards the ones he had inherited. “He’s a little cranky, but he’s tired. He’ll probably sleep on the way back home,” you told Steve as you handed the toddler over, unable to help but coo fondly seeing him nuzzle up to his dad’s chest. “Hey there, my sweet man. I missed you so much today. I’m so, so sorry I’m late.” Steve murmured, and you felt your heart melt.

He looked to you and smiled, still apologetic. “Thank you so much. I was actually hoping you’d still be here with him, since he seems to like you so much-- I wasn’t sure what time you generally go home.”

“I work from 9-6,” you informed him with a smile, “so I’m pretty much always here with him, except for a little while in the morning. I think your wife tends to drop him off early.” You had really only mentioned that last part to see if he would want to talk about Tiana at all while you had him here, it didn’t hurt to be subtly nosy, right? “Ah. She goes into work pretty early, yeah, so if I’m not here that’s really the only time she can do it.” He explained somewhat vaguely, and while you were a bit disappointed, you also weren’t sure what you had been expecting- it wasn’t as though you had given him a reason to go off into a spiel about their relationship. “Well, tell her I say hi!” you said, but instead of letting you know he would, he changed the subject. “Are you leaving now too? Let me walk you to your car.” He offered, then playfully bounced Linc in his arms. “This little guy would be thrilled to, he’s a perfect gentleman you know.” You blinked and giggled upon seeing Linc clap his hands, nodding your head as you went to go get your bag. You had already cleaned up while it had just been you and Linc, and so you had nothing left to do to close the room- the cleaners would take care of the rest. “Sure, that’d be nice. Thank you.”

You could feel your director staring holes into your back as you walked out of the building with Steve, almost as if you were the couple picking up your child from daycare. Something about walking alongside him as he held Linc felt so right, but you dismissed these thoughts. You had just met the man, for God’s sake, and he was married. Not to mention he was way older than you; disappointment settled in as you realized he probably simply saw you as some type of little sister figure, maybe even a daughter. But what had you been expecting? He had a child and an extremely successful career, why would he look twice at someone who was just a teenager less than a year ago?

There were only three cars in the parking lot- yours, the director’s, and Steve’s. Seeing the shiny Mercedes practically glimmering a few spots away from your very average Nissan Altima was almost a bit embarrassing, especially as you indicated to Steve that that was your car, but he did not seem affected at all as he walked you over. “Thanks again, Y/N, and I’m sorry,” he spoke sincerely, and while it was not a big deal, you noticed he did not use the ‘Miss’ in front of it like how he had referred to Stephanie. In fact, you were happy enough he even remembered your name. Did that mean something? God, you really needed to stop overanalyzing this. “Of course. I love spending time with Linc, it’s really not a problem. He’s good company,” you giggled as you reached out to give him a playful poke on the belly, making him squeal in delight, clearly in a much better mood than before.

“Then maybe you’d like to come by and babysit sometime?” the CEO suddenly inquired, and you blinked before nodding eagerly. “I’d love to!” Honestly, it was not even about Steve or Tiana-- you genuinely loved taking care of the child you had grown so fond of, and being able to outside of work sounded fun. “Great. Let me get your number.” He shifted Linc to his other arm, pulling out a sleek phone from his pocket and going to his phonebook before handing the device to you with a charming smile. You forced yourself not to stare at it, taking the phone and inserting your name and number before giving it back. “Great. Thank you, this will be a lot of help. I’ll reach out to you soon.” He told you, and even though it was childish, you couldn’t help but feel excited that you would have this man’s number. ‘Relax,’ you thought to yourself, ‘it’s just for babysitting. It’s not like we’re going to be friends.’

“Awesome,” you replied with a smile, giving Linc one last squeeze on the hand. “I’m looking forward to it.” You pressed the unlock button on your key, but before you could open the door, Steve reached out and opened it for you himself. “It was nice meeting you today, Y/N,” he spoke casually, as if his charismatic self had no impact on your beating heart whatsoever. “I get the feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the future.” You got into the car trying to nod normally, having no idea what he meant by that-- you didn’t need to say anything, anyways, because he closed the door once you were safely inside, barely leaning down and giving you the same wink he did before walking off towards his car. You were left completely confused like before, wondering for the hundredth time that day if you were overanalyzing everything or if he really was showing some odd type of interest.

“Are you finished?”

Steve looked up from his phone as Tiana was standing up from the dinner table, holding her empty plate in one hand and Linc’s in the other. Linc was gazing at him adoringly from his high chair he just barely fit into, flouncing around with pasta sauce all over his face. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry, had an email I had to reply to.”

A lie. After getting your number, he had been far too curious. And so he had shamelessly looked you up on Facebook, scrolling through your photos with interest. He couldn’t deny they were cute. Pictures of you with friends, out to eat, at bonfires, sporting events, even at the beach wearing a particularly tiny bikini he stared at a little longer than he’d like to admit.

He handed his empty plate to his wife with a grateful nod, then looked towards Linc with a little grin. “Look at you, tiger, you’re a mess. Come on, let’s clean you up.” Locking and setting his phone face down on the table, he stood up and took the boy out of his high chair, carrying him over to the kitchen sink while Tiana began to put the rest of the food in the fridge.

“How long are you going to be home this time?” Tiana asked as Steve leaned over the counter to properly wash his son’s hands and face. “I’m flying out to Manila next week,” he answered, raising an eyebrow slightly while scrubbing sauce off the little boy’s ear, at this point not even surprised that it had somehow gotten there. “Why? You can have David over when I’m here, you know.” The woman immediately froze and Steve somewhat regretted saying it out loud. He didn’t even mean it in a salty way, but even then, the entire situation was… messed up, to say the least. “And make him more confused than he probably already is?” Tiana hissed, turning around and gesturing to Linc. “Than he’s going to be when he grows up and learns the real circumstances surrounding his parents? No thank you. As it is, David only comes here when he’s asleep, and as far as I’m concerned, you have no right to be upset about that.”

“I’m not. You know that.” Steve replied calmly, sighing. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that. That was me trying to be accommodating in-- in whatever this mess is. But how long can this go on, Ti? It’s been a year, almost two. Are we really going to keep living like this?”

“It’ll go on as long as I want it to,” she replied simply, the answer having been quite predictable based on their last few conversations about the matter. “Right. Until David finally decides he wants to lock it down, right?” Steve retorted, now unable to help but get a little more annoyed. “I know what I did was wrong. But now you’re just using me, and my money. In the beginning I let you because I felt bad. But this is too much.”

She widened her eyes, clearly shocked and offended, but before she could reply, Linc tugged on the collar of Steve’s shirt. “Baba?” he asked hopefully, and as stressed as Steve was in that moment, he felt some of it melt away thanks to his sweet, wholesome child. “Okay, yes. We’ll go outside and blow bubbles, little man. Really big ones.” He sighed deeply as he looked to Tiana. “We shouldn’t be having this conversation in front of him, anyways. But please. You know what I want, and I know you want it too, even if you’re in denial. So think about it. And stop letting David be a factor. This “secret” relationship you two are in is just juvenile, Ti.”

Turning around, he headed for the door to the backyard, first opening one of the cupboards to take out the tube of bubble soap. “C’mon, buddy. Show Daddy how you make super big bubbles, yeah?”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers au #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x you #dad!steve #ceo!steve #ml

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essaysbyciara · 4 years

Text

Thy Neighbor II: Lovin’ The Crew [Chapters 19 + 20]

[Prologue] [Chapters 1 + 2] [Chapters 3 + 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapters 7 + 8] [Chapters 9 + 10] [Chapters 11 + 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapters 14 + 15][Chapter 16] [Chapter 17] [Chapter 18]

Warnings: Language, smut thoughts

The madness continues...

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Y'lan's favorite spot inside of this lavish AirBnB just blocks away from Center City is the outdoor patio. Full of lush bushes peppered with flowers of multiple hues and a large table long enough to fit more than twelve disciples, it's job as the bar is doing the trick. The table is way more than a wet bar, stacked with every type of whisky, gin and tequila known to man. It's also the grandest medicine cabinet Y'lan could have in hopes to soothe his raging emotions toward Trevante.

Y'lan always knew Trevante to be a loose cannon when it came to women. He heard some of the stories straight from the horse's mouth, the worst of them coming from both Michael and Yahya, his best friends. But what he's been hearing from -- and about -- Trevante during the early hours of this pre-bachelor party has him on edge.

Trevante just spoke of "sexing down some chick" just weeks ago, describing her as "super thick, nerdy bitch, tight pussy, all that." Y'lan would only know of Ciara's shape, need to wear glasses and disposition toward learning new things. He never got the chance to see if he'd get stuck inside of her love. However, hearing Trevante talked about Ciara -- or who he imagines to be, at least -- this type of way disturbs him beyond belief. The same girl that Trevante spoke of "ending his playboy ways" with is being talked about in a room full of immature frat boys as just another "fuck", as Stephan just called her. A label that Trevante didn't correct but rather laughed at.

Maybe Trevante just wants to impress his friends or he is trying to keep up appearances. Either way, Y'lan wasn't having it. A shot of top shelf whisky is to keep his mind on other things.

"Yo, bro ... we got all night, man." Trevante catches Y'lan just as he pours his next shot. He saw him pour his first two drinks, watching him out on the porch as the rest of his friends cracked jokes and delved in laughter around him. Trevante didn't want to talk about Ciara in this way. She wasn't a "fuck"; she was his girlfriend. While he loves her body, makes her keep her glasses on during sex as a fetish thing and puts her at the top of his "best sex ever" list, he didn't mean to make their love life his boys' business. Trevante reverts to number-eight-on-his-SPR07 line when he's around the fellas. He's grown since then, he thought. But once he saw Y'lan leave the room, he knew he messed up.

Quiet as it's kept, Y'lan is who Trevante wants to be. He admires Y'lan's drive to live life for something greater than himself, volunteering and giving his life to the church. Trevante wasn't a religious person but he would pay attention to how Y'lan would talk about how God helped him get his act together from a life of doing dirt, Ciara catching most of those stains. He felt Y'lan's "stand up" energy and wanted a part. Him checking in on Y'lan is in his way of trying to be better -- and hoping that he didn't turn off the person he hopes can turn into his best friend.

He pours himself a shot as well. "Y'lan, you cool?"

"Yeah. Just a lot going on in there, man. That's all."

"If you're not feeling this, we can always dip out. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable or anything. This really ain't for us anyway. "

Y'lan is taken aback by Trevante's invitation to leave. In one way, he's glad that his friend is aware of what may or may not be a place that he would want to be. On the flipside, he's hurt that his friend is responsible for making him feel uncomfortable in the first place. "Nah, man. I'm good. It's just for today. The wilderness lasted forty days. I'll be solid." Y'lan knocks down another shot. "Let's head out to the day party spot. I'll be cool. I just need to breathe a bit."

---

"I feel like I can breathe up here..." Ciara marvels at the orange, auburn and marigold-hued leaves that fall around her and Winston as they wind around a somewhat busy trailway on a Saturday morning. They make sure to make room for the bicyclists and runners with their strollers as they walk the twisted pathway through trees and rotting cabins. "This reminds me of back home."

"Where's back home for you?"

"Suburban Maryland, toward the mountains. We were like the only Black family there but it was a beautiful place to grow up. What about you, Winston? You've been in New York all of your life?"

"Ehh, it's a long story."

"I got time..."

CHAPTER TWENTY

Raised by a preacher father and a stay-at-home mother who were both full-on fire-and-brimstone, barring secular music and television inside of their house, Winston and his sister, in church six times a week and twice on Sundays, were forbidden to go on class trips or to sleepovers. Feeling trapped, Winston started hanging out with all of the "'Rican and Dominican" kids from the neighborhood. There he met his best friend, Ronald.

Built like a NFL player by tenth grade, Ronald scared everyone except Winston, big and bad just like he was. As much as Winston's parents didn't like his new crew, they knew Ronald's mother from church so they lessened their grip. The two became inseparable, Winston spending weekends at Ronald's house during the summer. He got to watch BET and play XBox for all hours of the day, this little ounce of freedom in a world full of restrictions.

But then one day, he couldn't go over Ronald's house anymore and Winston's dad wouldn't tell him why. Winston would hang outside with Ronald but then his mother would drag him into the house. "I better not catch you hanging out with that boy..." is all his mother could say. Nothing made sense until it did. Ronald's mother found a note written for Winston. Inside were Ronald's feelings for him, feelings that his mother felt "were for girls..."

"So that's why you're writing about the persecution of sexuality in the early Church, then? Makes sense." Ciara exhales from hearing Winston's story. It was a lot to take in but Winston felt comfortable enough to tell her about it.

"Yeah. I'm passionate about why we do what we do, you know? There's a root to everything. But I didn't mean to make this all sad and stuff, I'm sorry..." Winston laughs to break up his somber tone. Ciara finds it nice to break up her life with some God talk. Outside of school, she doesn't get much of it. She definitely doesn't get it with Trevante.

"No, you're good! I appreciate it. It kinda reinvigorated me to get back to working on my paper, actually. I don't get to have these conversations with other students often because of work and like, all my close people aren't in the church like that, so..."

"I'm always down for meeting over coffee whenever you're free, if you need to keep fleshing things out."

"Man, Winston. I would love that so much..." Ciara pauses to take a look at Winston before he gives a response. His smile says enough.

"We should be getting you back though, I know your girls are probably looking for you..."

"They ain't even thinking about me. They in that house knocking down mimosas like it's a job." Winston and Ciara both laugh as they turn around on the trailway. The closer they get to the house, the louder the sounds of Jodeci are coming from their AirBnB.

I've been watchin' you for so very long tryin' to get my nerve built up to be so strong/ I really want to meet you but I'm kinda scared/ 'cuz you're the kind of lady with so much class...

The crowd at this day party is way too young to know anything about Jodeci. Most of them weren't born when K-Ci, JoJo, Dalvin and DeVante were killin' the streets. But Trevante, Y'lan, Stephan, Michael and the boys make the most of it. And the worst...

"Yo, Stephan is a damn savage," Michael says as he watches his friend's married frat brother flirt with another girl that looks just a shade over 21. Y'lan's been waiting and watching Stephan all night, calling him a "fuck nigga" under his tequila-laced breath. The girl's look of discomfort is clear to everybody else but Stephan.

It's even more clear to Trevante. Stephan wasn't just drunkenly flirting with some random. He grabs the girl's hand and takes her to their VIP section.

"Yo, yo... this is Meganne. She's a Lambda. Ain't think they were still out here looking this fine, shit." Meganne gently smiles to hide her embarrassment. She spotted Trevante and his crew some time ago as she and her girls grooved to another Ma$e song that they were too young to know. After Trevante told her to cool it for the sake of his relationship, she didn't walk by his office like she would always do, hoping to catch his attention.

After talking to her prophytes, she realized that Trevante was in the wrong for how he treated her. She felt strung along, feeling as if Trevante had this "girlfriend" for as long as he was taking her home from work and to lunch everyday. He would be her first "fuck nigga". Too bad he had to be so damn fine.

So as she sits down, she tries not to catch eyes with Trevante. Trevante is staring holes into her and Y'lan notices. He then remembers running into a girl that looked just like Meganne trying to hold back tears as she ran out of his office. Y'lan puts what he thinks is two and two together. He had enough. His fingers -- and the liquor -- went to work.

I ain't trying to win you back, Ciara. So that's not my move. You just need to know how trash this dude is. You deserve better, straight up.

Taglist: @doublesidedscoobysnacks @diva-princess-on-fleek @voyagetoadinas9 @walkrightuptothesun @wvsspoppin @dreamlovealways @rockwit609 @thegayaxeman @joyfulwombatdreamermaker @blackpinup22 @hookedtoherfire @kris-did-it @l-auteuse @styleismyaddiction

#trevante rhodes x fanfiction #trevante rhodes #y'lan noel #winston duke #thy neighbor

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pascalpanic · 4 years

Text

Just One Mission (Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x Champagne’s Daughter!Reader)

Inspo: I Like It, I Love It by Tim McGraw

Summary: Your father, Champ, runs Statesman, and you’re his best- and only- female agent. Your normal partner, Tequila, is out, leaving you with another agent. Normally this would be fine, but it’s with Whiskey, who practically ignores you, despite the fact that you’re crushing hard on him. You’re sent to the county fair to track an undercover bad guy under the guise of being a couple for your latest mission, and it starts to feel more and more like something is happening, not just between your fictional couple.

WC: 5.1k

Warnings: language, obvious mentions of alcohol (this is Statesman after all)

A/N: Can I get a yeehaw for our favorite cowboy? Biggest of thank yous to @remmysbounty for helping me name this!

“You can’t be serious. Why can’t anything ever be straightforward around here? Why do I always have to go play make-believe?” You asked, pushing your glasses back up your nose to clarify his hologram. You move from where you stand, against the window showing the New York skyline, to walk towards the meeting table.

Champ gives a chuckle, as if he knows everything. Of course he does. He’s your boss and he never fails to make that known. “You came into this job knowing you’d be doing undercover work, Amaretto,” Champ says with a pointed look. You bite down on your lip to avoid cussing and look down to avoid his eyes. “Plus, you’re our best. And our only lady.”

“Whose fault is that?” you grumble, crossing your arms. Normally it doesn’t bother you much, but today you wished more women worked in the field. “Why can’t I go with Tequila? Him and I work well together, you know that,” you ask, hating your voice and your tone. You sound like a whiny teen complaining to her dad. Honestly, it was close enough, and maybe even worse: you were a fully grown woman complaining to her dad.

Your father, Champ, sighs and removes his hat. “For God’s sake, ‘Retto. Tequila’s mission has been extended. I’m sorry to tell you that Agent Whiskey will be your partner for just one mission, for one night.”

“Dad, I-”

“That’s Champ when you’re in here, Amaretto,” he chides, which makes you groan and plop down on an office chair, kicking your legs up onto the table and crossing them. “It’s a small mission. You can handle it. Whiskey’ll treat you right.”

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you knew you could handle it. You would be more than fine pretending to be Whiskey’s sweetheart for the evening. It was what came after that you didn’t want. You had known Jack for a while now, and had been hiding a crush ever since the man first entered your life.

You had been a Statesman ever since your father revealed to you that he wasn’t just the head of the Kentucky distillery- he was the head of a spy organization under the same name. Your career here hadn’t been long, but you were already proving that the skills must run in the family. You were the first female field agent, had a perfect mission record, and no unnecessary kills or injuries. That impressed Jack as much as the rest of the facility, maybe even more. You were a stunning and sharp woman with brains to match.

As much as Whiskey wanted to flirt with you, to tell you just what he thought of you, he held back. Your father held his job by a string. In order to hold back everything he thought, he kept a distance. You were the only woman in the company Whiskey didn’t flirt with. “He hates me,” you say sharply to your father, telling him what you really thought Whiskey’s opinion of you was. He complimented every woman around him, but he actively avoided you. When you had talked in the past, it was brief and he had always found an excuse to leave. How else could you take that?

“Prob’ly just jitters around the boss’s girl,” your father drawls, and you want to scream and shout and throw a temper tantrum. “Besides, you both have roles. Neither of you have to be yourself.”

Stopping you before you can launch into a rant, a knock comes at the meeting room door. You look and- speak of the devil- Whiskey peeks his head in, finding you alone in the meeting room. “Sorry. Heard ya talking, you in a meeting?”

Your father laughs as he hears the man’s voice. “Tell him to put on the glasses,” he tells you, only audible through your earpiece. You relay the message to him and once Jack’s glasses are on, he straightens a little, addressing your father. “Good to see you, Whiskey. Just telling Amaretto about the mission,” Champ tells him, and you roll your eyes.

“Right, that mission. Next week?” He asks, clarifying, eyes darting to you briefly before finding your father again.

“You got it.” A knock comes at the meeting room in Kentucky, and your father turns for a moment, then back to the two of you. “Ginger’s callin’. Talk to you later, darlin’, and you too, Whiskey.” He takes off his glasses and the image of him disappears.

You remove your legs from the table, swiveling your chair and removing your glasses. “How exciting, huh?” You ask dryly, eyes finding Whiskey’s. “The hottest week of the summer and he’s sending us to Alabama to spend a night outside.”

Jack chuckles a little, your sarcasm penetrating through the shield he has up specifically to deflect you. “At the county fair, no less. Couldn’t these idiots set up shop in a refrigerated warehouse?” He sighs, adjusting his hat.

Tearing your eyes from him, you look out of the impressive window instead. “Sure to be a fun time,” you shake your head. He looks so handsome, and it makes you want to punch something. “Why my father loves to put me in these situations, I’ll never know. He’d never do this to Julep,” you lament. “I must be the expendable kid.”

“Julep is 17,” Whiskey reminds you, raising a brow. “You’re the only one of age, and you’re probably the only competent one too. He showed me a video of Rosé at the gun range and good Lord, how the hell did a man like that birth something so clumsy?”

“Why do you know so much about my sisters?” You ask him, tilting your head.

“Your father never shuts up about ‘em. He shows them off constantly,” he shrugs. “Shows us videos, pictures. Even knew plenty about you before you came.” You raise an eyebrow at that, and he shakes his head quickly. “Barely anything personal. Hell, I don’t know your real name. He’s never called you or your sisters anything but your nicknames.”

You stand, gathering the folder you brought into the room with you. “Well, that’s a comfort. I’m not Champ’s daughter, I’m Agent Amaretto, and that’s the way I’d like to keep it,” you say, your voice slipping away from sharp and into flirtation. Whiskey’s deadpan slips into a smile and you press the folder into his chest as you walk past him, and out of the room. The smile grows wider as he turns to follow you.

Whiskey was right. It’s the hottest week of the summer, the August heat making you feel sticky and swollen, and you’re in Alabama. Disgusting. You look in the mirror and groan as you look at yourself. You were told that you and Jack need to blend into the atmosphere of the county fair, and you sighed.

The past week, the two of you had prepped for your mission, slowly melting the thick layer of ice that subdued both your crush and his flirtation. He had slowly slipped into his regular self around you, which you didn’t notice. You didn’t know the real him. You had become more of yourself too; less sharp, more smiles, even a few laughs at his terrible southern euphemisms and adages. He finally called you darlin’ and sugar and sweet thing, and you felt your face warm more than it should. You let your walls down by the time you got on the plane, joking around with him and making actual conversation. During the flight, the two of you had enjoyed picking cover names, deciding on Beau and Jolene Pruitt, a newly married couple. Both were native Alabamians with thick drawls, not that it would be out of character for Jack.

Getting to wear casual clothing around that man excited you far more than it should, and you had spent a stupid amount of time picking out something that would fit in but also look nice. The wardrobe women had packed you plenty of options to mix and match from, and you settled on something that seemed to be a mix between your cover and yourself. You wore short denim cutoffs, ripped and distressed, with cowboy boots to match. You also wore a white tank top and a red, white, and blue flannel, either to be worn open or tied around your waist. A large gold cross pendant rested on your cleavage, as many women around here similarly had. It was imperative that neither you nor Whiskey could be recognized, and you had been given a wig of thick hair the opposite of your natural color, plaited into two French braids that were long and ended around your waist. No mission was complete without your gold, wire-rimmed Statesman glasses.

You have to admit, you enjoy this look, minus the gaudy jewelry. You get to show off a little bit more than you normally would, and you secretly hope Whiskey may up his flirtation with you. You’re recognizable to someone who would know you, but the change of hair color and the glasses are a solid cover-up. You snap a picture in the mirror, sending it off to the ladies in the wardrobe department. you ladies spoil me- I love getting to look cute for a change!

The women reply a moment later with a picture of all of them. You’re always cute, sugar! Show that man what he’s missing!

So, maybe you had confided to the wardrobe ladies that you found Jack attractive. Who didn’t? They agreed, but all showered you with attention and insisted you should make a move on this mission. You had said no, but they had hounded you over and over until you told them yes. It was a lie, but they didn’t need to know that.

A knock comes at your hotel door, and you smile before you can stop yourself. You force yourself to drop it, tossing one of the braided tails over your shoulder, and open the door. “Well there, Beau,” you drawl as you see Whiskey, but you stop and laugh a little as you scan his body.

His reaction is the exact same, after a brief scan of your outfit. You both break into laughter. Jack is wearing cowboy boots, jeans, a white t-shirt, and a flannel with a different pattern but the same colors- red, white, and blue. “Stealing my thunder with the outfit, I see. Are you going to put your costume on or what?” You ask teasingly, and he shakes his head.

“Believe it or not, Jolene, this is my costume. Seems the only different thing about being Beau is my name.” He grins wide at you, adjusting his similarly gold-rimmed aviators that rest beneath his classic Stetson.

You shake your head but smile. “Why am I not surprised?” You tease, turning and grabbing your phone and the large bulletproof purse you’d be carrying tonight. “The ladies in the wardrobe department are going to love this,” you chuckle, and then freeze for a second.

They did this on purpose.

Whiskey has the same thought as you. He had confided in the ladies in the wardrobe department that he found you absolutely stunning but unattainable, due to the fact that your father was the control of his… everything. They had chattered excitedly, telling him that he should make his move on the mission too. He had done the exact same as you- said yes, but as an appeasement. “Well, they sure are. We’ll have to get someone to take a picture of us while we’re there.”

You nod, your heart skipping a beat at the fact that he wants a photo of this. It’s just for the mission, of course, you tell yourself and brush it off. “Oh, and that’ll be perfect cover. Of course these two would want a photo taken of them. We can do it right in front of the marks- better yet, we can ask them to take the picture,” you chuckle happily and sling the heavy purse over your body.

“Or we can take a picture now,” he chuckles, nodding to the mirror you just took a picture in a moment ago.

“Sure,” you nod and lead him over to it. “Uh… smile?” You laugh and hold out your flannel for the photo. Jack makes finger guns and gives the camera a seductive face in the mirror, making you laugh. “Jesus, I thought you were the smooth agent.”

“Smoother than you. You’re smooth like a gravel road in a dry spell, look at that pose,” he says and zooms in on the picture. “Pose like you have some confidence in that pretty little head, honey,” he teases. “Copy me.” He makes the same pose, and you mimic it, taking a picture before bursting out laughing. “Much better,” he nods as he looks at the image. “Better send me that,” he nudges your side before walking to the door. “Well, Jo, let’s get this show on the road.” Smiling at the picture, you send the image to the wardrobe ladies. very subtle, Charlotte! You fire off before pocketing your phone and following him along. “Aw, Jo and Beau,” you coo, your personas snapping into place as soon as you leave the hotel room, clutching his arm.

The two of you meander down through the hotel, finding your way to the parking lot. You break away from him to sit in the Bronco (of course he brought it) but you find yourself missing the contact of your arms intertwined. It’s probably for the best though, you think to yourself. If you have to keep touching him all night, it’s quite possible the Alabama heat may melt whatever’s left of the iceberg you’ve built to hold back your crush on him.

A man bumps into you, and Whiskey is at your defense before you can defend yourself. “Watch it, cowboy,” Jack fires back, his hand resting on the small of your back. You smile up at him, practically making heart eyes. It looks in character, and you’re glad for that, but it’s entirely you.

“My hero,” you giggle and place your hand on his chest.

“Just for you, sugar,” he says sweetly and you beam up at him. He looks around, as you do, but the two of you rest there. It’s hot, unbearably, but yet you enjoy the contact your body makes with his. Both of you wear your flannels around your waist, allowing your grip on his arm to hold his strong muscles directly. It’s definitely enjoyable. “You hungry, honey?” He asks.

You have to admit, you haven’t eaten much today, mainly out of nerves for the mission. But everything is going just swimmingly: you have eyes on the target, have a plan to infiltrate them later, and are now just biding time to seem normal. “I… yeah, I am,” you nod and look up at him. “How ‘bout some cotton candy?”

“Now, darlin’, if you’re hungry, that ain’t gonna do the trick,” he says and raises an eyebrow, removing his aviators and hooking them on his collar. “This is the county fair, for cryin’ out loud. Let’s get you something deep fried.” You nod in agreement and the two of you wander over to a stand selling various deep-fried atrocities. You smile and chuckle, letting him order for the two of you. The vendor hands you each a ridiculously large corn dog, and you laugh.

The smell of the food makes your stomach growl. “Oh god, I didn’t realize just how hungry I was,” you moan as you bite into the food, your thick accent dropping. “Good choice, babe,” you tell him, smiling at how easily it comes.

“I know you, sugar,” he teases, leading you to a picnic table where he sits across from you, munching on his own. No one else is around here, allowing you to speak freely. “Really, I do. I found out your real name the other day,” he says with a smile, and you nearly choke on the breading, halfway down your throat. He finally says your name aloud, drawing it out, making it sound like it’s coated in honey and dripping with flirtation.

You look down at your food, biting your lip. “Who told you that?” you ask, still staring down.

Jack chuckles at that, ignoring the question. “Beautiful name for a beautiful lady,” he teases, and you chuckle, shaking your head. The flirtation is much better than the stone-cold silence before a week ago, but it doesn’t do anything for the growing crush you have on the man. “Champ must’ve known you’d be a stunner.”

“Have you heard of nominative determinism?” you ask as you look up, tilting your head and twirling one of the long braids of your wig around your finger. The words sound funny with the thick accent you’re putting on. Whiskey shakes his head. “It’s this theory that your name shapes who you become. So, if you said that my name was chosen for beauty, I would grow to become my name, so I’d be beautiful.” He nods a little at that. “Do you believe in that kind of thing?” you ask him genuinely, tilting your head and taking another bite of the corn dog.

“Clearly,” he chuckles through a mouthful of food before swallowing it. “Your name is pretty, you’re pretty. Someone has a name with a bad reputation, they become it.”

“Your mama named you Jack Daniels, you become Agent Whiskey,” you tease with a growing smile, accentuating that drawl that you’ve perfectly picked up from your father and the mustached man in front of you. “I’ve thought about that a lot with you. Did they assign you that name because of your name? My dad never talked about work with us before I became an agent.”

Whiskey shakes his head at you but does give a laugh. “Prob’ly, just thought it’d be funny, I ‘spose. They needed a new Agent Whiskey anyway, I believe. Last one died or retired, they never told me. Filling the vacancy while making a pun out of it. Your father has a sense of humor, doesn’t he? ‘S sure great at givin’ nicknames.”

You shake your head at that. “Don’t I know it. He’s been calling me Amaretto since I could give him sass back. Told me I was a little bitter, just like the word means in Italian. Julep’s too sweet, Rosé is a mix of gentle and bold. No one calls us by our real names unless we’re in trouble,” you chuckle. “You should hear my mama shout when Julep gets in trouble. She nearly shakes the house, and Julep likes to avoid it by pretending she can’t hear her. She’ll hide in her room, and my mama just shouts and shouts until the neighbors come over to make sure the family’s all still alive. It’s in a loving way, of course, nothing bad.” You shake your head, clearing the topic from yourself. “But it’s like your mama knew you’d get into something with alcohol. That’s odd.”

Jack chuckles and takes the last bite of his food. He doesn’t respond, just cleans up his little area and waits for you to be done, watching you with his chin resting in his palm. You smile as you notice that, looking away, and he does too. The two of you stand and walk along again. He offers his hand, to hold it, and you take it. You’re not entirely sure that he did that as Beau, and you’re certain you didn’t take his hand as Jolene.

Walking through the midway, you catch your mark out of the corner of your eye. “Go time,” you murmur to the man, dropping his hand. “Sir,” you ask and pat the man’s shoulder as he walks past. He stops and you shoot him a cheesy, massive grin. “Hi there, would you mind takin’ a picture for my husband and I?”

The man nods. “Sure, ma’am. Where do you-”

“Oh wonderful. Here,” you say and position the man, handing him your phone, then move back to stand by Jack. “Beau, honey, here,” you say as you position the two of you for the camera. You wrap his arm around your waist and place your hand on his chest, grinning ear to ear. He’s doing the same.

“How ‘bout this?” he asks, swooping you up and holding you bridal style.

You squeal into his ear, laughing. You almost call him by his real name but stop yourself. “Beau, quit!” You giggle and smack his chest teasingly, playing along with it and smiling for the photo. He lets you down only to pick you up again, hoisting you onto his back, piggyback style. Finding no other choice, you wrap your arms and legs around him, and he rests his hands on your thighs to hold you up. “Beau Pruitt!” You exclaim, emphasizing the words, hoping that the man taking your photos registers the name, knowing it’s not someone threatening. He’d probably take your phone and run if he heard you call the man holding you up by his real name.

He finally lets you down and you thank the man, taking the phone back and continuing to walk along, naturally lacing your fingers through Jack’s. “What was that?” you ask lowly, smiling despite the pretend annoyance in your voice.

“Playin’ the part, sugar,” he shrugs and smiles at you. As you wander through the midway, Jack’s eye catches on a brightly colored, massive teddy bear hanging from the rafters. When Jack gets a plan, he goes all in. “You know what, honey, if this is to be a proper date, I am gonna win you a teddy bear,” he chuckles, grabbing his wallet.

You quickly push the hand holding his wallet down. “Don’t be ridiculous, babe. I don’t need a teddy bear,” you laugh.

“I am takin’ you on a date to the county fair. It’s only fitting that I win you a teddy bear!” He argues back, laughing. He hands a bill to the attendant, earning him quite a few balls to toss at the stacked milk jugs. “Here we go. This is for the big, tie-dye one up there,” he declares before hurling a ball.

It hits the top jug and Jack winces. “Ah fuck. Bad shoulder,” he chuckles, picking up another.

“Then why the hell are you doing this, Beau?” you ask, catching yourself before you can call him Jack and holding down his arm. “I don’t need the teddy bear!”

“I already paid the attendant,” he chuckles and leans in to your face, taunting you. He uses your distraction to slip his arm from your grasp, throwing it and hitting the second row of bottles. “Hell yeah!” Jack crows excitedly, arms in the air. You laugh at his excitement and decide to let it happen. He throws three more balls before he knocks down the whole final row, whooping excitedly. “That one, if you please,” he tells the attendant and points to the large bear hanging from the ceiling of the booth. The attendant takes it down and hands it to him, and he promptly hands it to you, beaming. “For you, my dear,” he says, pride radiating from him.

“I love it,” you laugh and hug the massive bear to your chest, kissing its forehead. “I think I’ll name him… Whiskey.” He grins at that and takes your hand again, leading you through the crowd.

The rest of the night passes more like a date would than a mission. You and Jack converse happily, simply avoiding real names but talking like you would between friends. His hand rests in yours the whole night, and you enjoy it. The sun begins to go down and the humidity lessens, as does the stifling heat. It’s almost cool now; the both of you wear your flannels properly now, unbuttoned in the front. You munch contently on some cotton candy you finally convinced Jack to buy, even feeding him some to further your ruse. Sighing, you look around and take in the absolute perfection that is this tiny county fair. The sunset is beautiful and the lights of the carnival section are starting to come on. You start to speak until you hear a too-familiar voice through your earpiece.

“Amaretto, Whiskey. They set up shop in the pig barn, but they’re at their most vulnerable. Time to move.” You both groan as you hear your father’s voice. You look down at your interlocked hands between the two of you, then up quickly, remembering. Your father can see what you see with these glasses on. His voice comes in through your earpiece alone now. “See, I told ya it wouldn’t be so bad to spend a little time with Whiskey. I’ve noticed you’re not hating it.”

You shake your head and pull out your earpiece, tucking it in your pocket and murmuring a curse to your father. Jack notices and you simply shrug. “Wasn’t working right. You’re gonna have to relay the messages for me.”

He nods then pauses, listening. He chuckles and turns to you. “He says to put it back in, he knows you can hear him just fine.” You groan and put it back in with a frown. “Next time you want to have family dinner, count on one less plate,” you hiss through the piece, making both Jack and your father laugh. “Whatever, get us to the pig barn then.” Your father guides the two of you through your mission. They’re indeed at their weakest, just four men loading their van with their backs to you. Luckily, they’re the four that Statesman wants. You and Whiskey each easily take out two, leaving them tranquilized on the ground. “Pops, they’re good. Send in the recon van.” A few moments later, the van rushes in through the utility door, and two recon members load the men into the van. You and Whiskey give them a nod, smiling at them and thanking them before leaving the barn.

The voice comes through on just your earpiece again. “Take the rest of the night off. I know you want to.”

He’s right, you do want to, and so for once, you listen to your damn father. “The rest of the night is up to us,” you say as you turn to Whiskey, removing your earpiece and your glasses and putting them in your bag. You reach for his earpiece, taking it out too, both of you almost shivering at the contact of your wrist to his cheek as you take it out. Jack catches your palm and plants a kiss to it and you grin. “Would you like to stick around, maybe go on some rides?” you ask and put away his earpiece before sliding your hand into his. “As Whiskey and Amaretto?”

Jack grins at you. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The rest of the evening is spent on rides and eating ice cream, getting squished into Jack’s side on the Scrambler and flipped around on the Slingshot. You both laugh practically all night, overjoyed. You check your watch and look up excitedly, eyes lighting. “The fireworks are gonna go off in ten minutes.” You look at the wait for the ferris wheel- it’s about as long. “Let’s go on the ferris wheel to watch it.”

Jack nods. “Whatever you say, sugar,” he nods, lagging for a moment as you start to run to the next ride, then catching up and pulling you into his chest, kissing your head. You laugh at the feeling of being trapped in his arms and wrap your arms around him too, allowing the bear hug to last a moment longer than it should.

The both of you wait in line for a few minutes, continuing the conversation you’d been having before.

The line eventually shortens enough for the two of you to get on, and you sit, hands on the lap bar. Whiskey sits next to you, draping his arm across your shoulders. You look up at him and smile, scooting into his side. You give a little whoop of excitement as the ride starts moving, and you jump at a loud bang.

You timed it perfectly.

The sky lights with different colors, a variety of fireworks lighting off and illuminating the dark night sky. The stars are clear all the way out here, in the middle of Alabama, and you beam at the image. You pull out your phone to snap some pictures but Jack holds your hand down. “The pictures never do it justice, darlin’. Just look up at those and remember ‘em real hard.” Laughing softly, you rest your head on Jack’s shoulder as you watch. It’s stunning, absolutely gorgeous, and you look at Jack for a moment to find he’s not watching the sky, but has his eyes trained on your face, watching your reaction.

The moment is perfect. He can handle the rejection, he decides, if he has to, but he has to move now. “Can I kiss you, Amaretto?” He murmurs quietly, his face already moving close to yours. You give an answer in the form of a gesture: taking his face in your hands and closing the gap. The kiss is perfect, his soft lips tasting of the cotton candy you finally persuaded him to buy a few hours ago.

He sighs softly, his hand finding the side of your face as well. He breaks away for a moment and looks at your lovely face, grinning at the way your eyes reflect only his face, the dark night sky, and the colorful fireworks. “I think your pops named you wrong. Furthest thing from bitter. You’re the sweetest, most perfect thing I ever did taste,” he drawls before closing the space again, pressing his lips to yours. Your heart pounds in time with the bursts in the sky, erratic and loud, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re finally kissing the man you’ve been crushing on since the moment your father introduced you to the Statesman.

A particularly loud firework startles you and you jump, breaking your kiss and grinning at him, the adrenaline from both the scare and the kiss pounding its way through your body. You look at him and want to say something but can’t find the words. You simply giggle and look into his eyes, making him laugh too. You sit there for a moment, laughing, while the ferris wheel stays stationary. As it moves, you cling to his chest again, looking up and beaming at him. “Kiss me again, cowboy,” you demand, and he chuckles.

“Any time, sugar,” he says with a smile as he takes your chin in his hand and kisses you again.

#agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #agent jack daniels x reader #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #agent jack whiskey daniels x reader #agent jack whiskey daniels #kingsman: the golden circle #agent jack daniels #pedro pascal fanfiction #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #i am a simp #agent whiskey

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altumvidetur · 4 years

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Pacific Rim: Newmann Fic Recs

So, I was thinking about the coronavirus pandemic and what I could do to help people out. I’m isolated because I’m at higher risk, so I can’t really offer to go out for my elderly neighbors or my family… but I thought I could try to help keep people entertained.

Because I don’t have an AO3 account right now, I’ve been compiling fic recs for my own amusement for a year or so. And I thought – maybe that’s the time to share these with everyone? So everyone will have plenty of things to read while they have to stay at home, or even to escape anxiety a little bit if you’re forced to go out.

Of course, these cater to my own tastes, so you may find stuff you don’t like around here. I never include works in progress. The Mature and Explicit works will be in italic. I ask you to READ THE WORK’S TAGS before continuing, so you won’t find anything that makes you uncomfortable.

I haven’t managed to read the whole Newmann tag yet (started on page 183, am now on page 77). From what I’ve gathered, most of these recs are from before Pacific Rim Uprising. I watched that movie (although I wish I hadn’t), so feel free to discuss it. I hope you like them!

“The Things That Stay” ‘verse, by singagainsoon

a collection of non-linear moments, snapshots, tiny dots on an endless timeline

i would kill to make you feel, by singagainsoon

Hermann gets really red when he’s mad - his ears, his cheeks, his stupid fucking cute nose. Even his neck gets these big red spots on it. It’s funny. It’s really, seriously funny.

i’ll be a rockin’, rollin’ bitch for you, by singagainsoon

“Don’t be foolish, Newton. I can think of a hundred better things for you to do with that mouth-“

Entomologist AU, by singagainsoon

Two weeks ago, he’d been in the midst of furiously tapping out an absolutely incensed email to the man who somehow managed to consistently infuriate him from another department, even, and what Hermann would have given then to strangle him, truly - and then Dr. Geiszler himself had appeared in Hermann’s doorway, toeing the carpet with his scuffed up Doc Martens and asking if they might try to talk things out over dinner.

Hermann hadn’t known it was a date.

they did the mash!, by singagainsoon

obligatory newt-wears-a-sexy-halloween-costume-and-hermann-has-to-rail-him-because-he-can’t-help-himself ficlet!! tis the season!!

(video) call me at any time, by singagainsoon

When Newt finds himself away from Hermann for a business trip of sorts, they figure out fairly quickly that they won’t last until Newton comes home.

Good Vibrations, by singagainsoon

“Newton, are you quite certain about this?”

Newt smiles, gives the odd-shaped dildo in his hand a teasing wave and sets it aside in favor of the vibrator. His face seems to hint at something along the lines of Funny Thing To Say When You’ve Just Had A Dildo In Your Ass, but he doesn’t say it.

my lovely, talented friend and fellow writer gaby commissioned me to write this piece and let me tell you i had the time of my life (as did hermann, i’m sure)

A Certain Step Towards Falling In Love, by singagainsoon

“You’re terribly lucky, darling, that my father is away,” he says, voice low, smoothing his palm over Newton’s wind-tousled hair.

Eating In, by singagainsoon

It really was supposed to be just a massage.

you make me feel so young, by zach_stone

In the wake of saving the world, Hermann decided to appreciate the little things.

Or, Hermann and Newt go grocery shopping. And, because it’s Newt, shenanigans ensue.

seven minutes in heaven, by zach_stone

Hermann was enjoying a quiet, peaceful morning when Newton burst into the lab and shoved both of them into a closet.

in other words, i love you, by zach_stone

Newt is having a difficult day. Hermann has an idea to make it better.

hold me in this wild, wild world, by zach_stone

Hermann didn’t often allow himself to cry. Humanity was barreling towards the end of days, and he simply didn’t have time to fall to pieces, not when people needed him — needed his work. But four rangers had died. He decided he could allow himself one small moment of grief.

–

Or, some Hermann-centric hurt/comfort because I just want to give him a hug. Set pre-canon.

it might be over soon, by zach_stone

To celebrate a victory, Newt steals a bottle of booze and he and Hermann drink, argue, and maybe finally act on their feelings.

hey i just met you (and this is crazy), by zach_stone

Newt Geiszler accidentally texts the wrong number when trying to message his roommate Raleigh, and instead winds up texting Hermann Gottlieb, who he’s never met.

(AKA a college texting AU that I promise was absolutely necessary)

worthy of celebration, by zach_stone

It’s a well-known fact around the Shatterdome that Hermann does not like his birthday. This year, Newt’s determined to change that.

lab-appropriate decor, by zach_stone

“For god’s sake, Newton, that is wildly inappropriate,” Hermann snapped. “Those things are not cute, they are abominations. I don’t know why I’m surprised, once again you prove that you have no tact —” “Oh, give it a rest, Hermann,” Newton retorted, rolling his eyes. “It’s not an abomination, it’s two feet tall and made of plastic.”

Or, some backstory to the one of the kaiju figures in Hermann’s lab in Uprising.

The Geiszler & Gottlieb Post-Saving-the-World Lecture Tour, by zach_stone

Following Newt and Hermann as they tour universities, argue across podiums, and fall in love.

feel your heartlines, by zach_stone

Newt and Hermann cuddling on the couch at the end of a lazy summer day.

We Don’t Skip A Beat, by decadent_mousse

Summary by me: Newt, Hermann, and their heartbeat over the years.

the lure of adventure, by zach_stone

Newt is a reckless treasure hunter. Hermann is an intrepid journalist. On their search for some long-lost treasure, they run into a little more trouble than they bargained for.

AU based loosely on the Uncharted video game series - no knowledge of the games needed to understand the fic!

wouldn’t it be nice, by zach_stone

Newt and Hermann spend a day at the beach.

take your time, make it slow, by zach_stone

Hermann was far from shy in bed, but was quick to brush off Newt’s insistent (and one hundred percent correct, Newt might add) claims that he was the sexiest person to walk the earth. Well, if Hermann wouldn’t believe his words, then maybe he’d believe his actions. And Newt was nothing if not a man of action.

–

Prompt fill for Newmann Porn Fest 2018: “Body Worship” !!

when you are close to me, i shiver, by zach_stone

When the heating goes out in the lab, Newt comes up with a great idea on how to stay warm.

–

Another fic for the Newmann Porn Fest 2018! Prompt was “huddling together for warmth” ;)

it suits you, by zach_stone

“Newton, for goodness’ sake, can we just — no.” Hermann frowned at the selections Newt held up in front of him. A pair of overalls and a red-and-black flannel shirt, both Newt’s. “I am not wearing dungarees.” “Okay, first of all, cute that you call them dungarees,” Newt said, grinning. “Second of all, you would look very cute in these, they’re seasonal, and I am not kidding when I say you’ll ruin your slacks if you wear them to a farm.” He wiggled the overalls in Hermann’s direction, the buckles on the braces jingling as he did so. Hermann let out a long-suffering sigh, mostly for show. He really did need to invest in a pair of jeans.

–

Fic for the Newmann SFW Fest! Prompts were “sharing clothes/personal items” and “pumpkin/apple picking”

ease my slumber, by zach_stone

Newt can’t sleep; luckily, Hermann’s got a really soothing voice.

–

Or, a conversation about how Hermann would have a good voice for ASMR turned into this.

pick up and start again, by zach_stone

“This,” Hermann says imperiously, glaring at Newt from the other side of the elevator, “is your fault.”

Newt whips around to face him so fast he almost loses his balance. “My fault?! How the hell is this my fault?!” He gestures wildly at the elevator door. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I forgot it was my personal responsibility to make sure this piece of shit elevator is maintained so I don’t get trapped in it with the most annoying person in the Shatterdome —”

“You’re always trapped with yourself though, aren’t you?” Hermann sneers, and Newt lets out a hysterical bark of laughter. This cannot be happening. Of all the times for the elevator to break down between floors, it has to happen now, when he and Hermann are in the midst of a fight that’s quickly blown itself out of proportion.

–

Newt and Hermann get stuck in an elevator, and are forced to work out some of their shit.

just your touch could cure my lonesome blood, by zach_stone

Four times all Newt needed was a hug from Hermann, and one time it was the other way around.

(Or, sentimental cuddling: the fic.)

Heart and Soul, by zach_stone

A quiet day in the lab is interrupted when Newt coerces Hermann into playing piano with him.

My contribution to The Last Line of Defense Zine (spring 2019)!

Lullaby & Rain, by j_gabrielle

It still blows his mind, still makes him stop in his frenetic need to move, speak and think whenever he remembers that Hermann…

Whatever Hermann is to him these days.

Carry Me To You, by j_gabrielle

For the prompt on the kink meme that asked for; Hermann/Newton. Lab sex

the world ablaze, that’s the best for me, by postcardmystery

Summary by me: Newt and Hermann are two unstoppable forces of nature.

Please, Sir, May I Have Another, by eigengrau

It isn’t until Newt is bent over the desk, papers and glass specimen jars strewn about like the debris of a hurricane, white-knuckling the hard stainless steel with his pants around his ankles, that he realizes the gravity of the situation.

Hide and Seek, by DoubleStashed

Summary by me: Hermann Gottlieb - life and love for Newt Geiszler.

pull the trigger without thinking, by liginamite

It’s manageable for the first few days. Shared emotions, shared thoughts, words spoken in unison. But it’s only when they share a nightmare born of memories that it finally occurs to them that maybe this isn’t going to go away.

Rechtsbrecher, by Ezlebe

“If you’ve lost your key again, you’re not getting another,” Hermann says, sidestepping past Newton’s hunched form on the steps.

Darling, by BeeLove

In which Newton rides Hermann for all he’s worth. Or at least tries to.

unravelling, by kiyala

It’s been a while since Newton’s taken his meds. Hermann begins to notice.

All of Your Flaws and All of My Flaws, by CinnamonCake

Hermann is still there tomorrow and the day after and Newton tries to not break his face with the door again.

and i fell fine, by ohgod

The other night I dreamt of knives, continental drift divide –

what history has given me, by kiyala

In which Newton is a girl and she really doesn’t have the time for your shit.

Solving For X, by griesly

No matter what opinion Doctor Gottlieb had proclaimed concerning his tattoos on numerous occasions, Newt knew the score. He’d glimpsed a heady rush of somewhat mortified appreciation, just an old memory surfacing in the Drift from the first time Newt rolled up his sleeves in the lab. He could still feel it like a taut string in Hermann’s mind, in the same way he knew his lab partner was too surly to ever admit it. It was all tangled up with his impression of the way Newt approached the world, a precisely calibrated instrument in one hand and a nail-bat in the other. Newt had to smile at the way Hermann saw him, a churlish adolescent and a half-mad genius all wrapped up in a hurricane.

…or, sometimes even the sharpest minds in the PPDC can be excused for a being a bit dense.

Towards, by orphan_account

Based vaguely off the Lemony Snicket quote: “When someone is crying, of course, the noble thing to do is to comfort them. But if someone is trying to hide their tears, it may also be noble to pretend you do not notice them.”

Hermann finds Newt in the lab after the clock stops, and realizes that sometimes all you can do is wait.

Dear Diary,, by ohgod

That is way, way, WAY too close to my whole InuYasha phase. Do-over!

the night will go on, by ohgod

Mako is sheltered, Herc is old, Raleigh doesn’t want to know about any of this, and Tendo is a perpetual asshole.

I Get My Kicks Above the Waistline, Sunshine, by ambitiousbutrubbish

Summary by me: Newton’s exploration of his asexuality.

corpus callosum, by hieronyma

1 + 1 = 1.

when it’s broken, it’s perfect, by liginamite

Love is not divided up into neat little graphs and numbers and theorems, able to be charted if one only took the time and effort to do so. No, love is… it is unpredictable and volatile. Hermann doesn’t really do unpredictable and volatile, but with Newt he doesn’t have much of a say in the matter.

After the Rockets Calm, by callmejude

written for the kink meme prompt: “The morning after Newt and Hermann sleep together for the first time, Hermann comes over all ridiculously British and can’t cope with the intimacy and loss of inhibition. Newt is having none of that nonsense and tells him to quit fussing and come back to bed for snuggles.”

behind us, by kiyala

After the Breach is closed, Newt asks Hermann to go to Boston with him. Hermann doesn’t leave.

They Say It’s Your Birthday, by callmejude

for the kink meme prompt: These two have worked together for many years, and obviously have had to continue working through special occasions, including their birthdays. I know they strongly disliked each other, but deep down they are good friends and I’d love to see anything (slashy or friendshippy) showing how they acknowledge or celebrate birthdays. I’m betting Newt is secretly into baking and Hermann comes in one day on his birthday not expecting anyone to even know, only to find a Kaiju shaped cake on his desk with a sparkler or a candle stuck messily in the centre. Or or or Newt comes in on his 30th birthday and he’s like depressed and absurdly quiet for the day cause he’s not ready to be that old and Hermann realizes why he’s being all docile so he takes off at lunch only to return with pizza and stuff to cheer Newt up and celebrate his birthday. OR YOU KNOW ANYTHING YOU WANT.

within reason, by kiyala

Newt goes to the Skull Temple after the Breach is closed. Hermann goes with him.

pull you through the mirror (before you come undone), by griesly

The War is over. The war is over, and everyone else has something important to do and somewhere else to be except Newt.

shaken, by kiyala

Newton has nightmares. Sometimes, Hermann has them too.

Imagine Sisyphus Happy, by Jenni_Snake

They’re colonists… we’ve practically terraformed it for them. -Dr. Newton Geiszler

“The thing we saw with the Europeans was that they wanted their new world enough: they didn’t care who stood in their way.” -Dr. Melanie Mountain Horse

“Do not rely not on the likelihood of the enemy’s not coming, but on our own readiness to receive them.” -Sun Tsu

“The gods had condemned Sisyphus to ceaselessly rolling a rock to the top of a mountain, whence the stone would fall back of its own weight. They had thought with some reason that there is no more dreadful punishment than futile and hopeless labor. … I leave Sisyphus at the foot of the mountain. One always finds one’s burden again. … One must imagine Sisyphus happy.” -Albert Camus

How The Light Gets In, by griesly

He’d told Hermann time and time again that he didn’t love the kaiju, he studied them with a curiosity born from a life-long fascination with the giants of the earth. Newt had always been the dinosaur kid – still was, if he was being honest with himself, and the kaiju were the biggest, most awe inspiring terrors he’d ever seen.

the body is not an apology, by BeeLove

In which Hermann triggers some of Newton’s insecurities and strives to make up for it.

When Two Substances Collide, by Emileesaurus and ripkord

Doctors Geiszler and Gottlieb — the first ones in and the last ones out. Thirteen scenes from the countdown to the end of the world.

Scar, by mlle

A tiny thing written for Jaegercon Bingo.

Not every tattoo makes a scar.

I’ve got nothing to say but it’s ok, by madness_and_smiles

Newt’s burned into Hermann’s brain now, like an itch he can’t scratch. Whenever they’re in the same room together – which Newt likes to make sure is almost always – there’s the low hum at the back of his mind telling him Newt is there and Newt is feeling and breathing and sometimes they feel and breathe in unison and it makes Hermann drop his chalk.

in which kaiju guts were not part of the wedding vows, by orphan_account

“You’ve got your glower face on,” Newt remarked above him, and Hermann opened his eyes just to scowl at Newt’s concerned face.

“I am a thread away from murdering my own science team, so, yes, I suppose a glower here and there would not go amiss.”

Seeing in Color, by what_alchemy

The Dr. Geiszler Hermann had found in the publications — printed pages worn with constant handling and tucked into his briefcase for easy access — was an eloquent scientist whose work functioned at a level far above almost anyone else Hermann had ever encountered in the field, and yet he neither patronized his readers nor expressed himself in the inexplicable jargon which so infected much academic work. He was singular in his intelligence. Hermann thought this was a man he could understand — and who could understand him in turn.

More fool he.

Kämpfen, by Huntsmonsters

“The point is that Hermann loves numbers like they were his children, except that Hermann hates children. He loves them and the way they go together the way Newt loves every sample that enters his collection, the way he loves tattoo needles and his books of scribbled anatomical drawings and the harried, barely legible, 4 in the morning notes scrawled around them when the first pieces of a freshly dead Kaiju come in. These are the tools with which they carve themselves, the knives and chisels and guides, the planes on which their shapes are made. Hermann is held up by his cane, but it isn’t the reason he’s standing. They’ve both gone through the rabbit hole and come out again with something clenched in their fists. ”

In which arguments are had over equations and entrails, vivisections are banned, and Newt uses ink to prepare for the possibility of death.

I Was the Match And You Were The Rock, by griesly

Written for the Jaegercon Bingo Square: ‘The Drift’

'Hermann is strong and solid and stable even if no one else at the PPDC would ever think so, Newt knows so, and come to think of it, he always has. He just never knew the man’s mind would be so goddamn beautiful, so bright and full of purpose and satisfaction at a job well done that somehow, impossibly, included him.’

Lucky Number Seven, by griesly

'Newton?’ Hermann called out, only to hear an answering 'Shhh!’ issue from behind a moving curtain. He appeared to have cordoned off an area in the back corner of the lab with heavy screens, labeled 'Light-Sensitive Specimens – DO NOT TOUCH.’ Newton poked his head around the corner with a slightly manic grin.

'Lock the door,’ he advised before motioning Hermann enthusiastically over to a break in a thick curtain. Hermann frowned and paced across the room, wondering what could possibly be so important and so secretive that Newton would have to obfuscate its very existence.

Whatever it was, Hermann was certain he wasn’t going to like it.

autoclave, by cynicalRaconteur

Or: How the fuck is she so attractive, she dresses like my grandfather, I want to punch myself in the face: the Newt Geiszler story.

nyctophobia (into the light of the dark black night), by orphan_account

“See, the thing about birthdays is they’re totally an annual thing,” Newt explained, handing Hermann his latte. “And I’ve known you for, what, twelve years? Thirteen?”

“Fifteen,” Hermann interjected tersely. “And a half.”

Do you have Prince Albert in a can?, by mwestbelle

Newt has a Prince Albert piercing. That’s about it.

This Most Beautiful System, by rosepetalfall

Like Watson and Crick, Newton Geiszler and Hedda Gottlieb are two scientific names almost invariably thought of together.

Hedda Gottlieb and Newton Geiszler grow up, save the world, conquer academia, defy the odds, do some ill-advised things, do some brilliant things, and learn about love. Not necessarily in that order.

In the Midst of the Blackest Storm, by TrufflesTheMushroom

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, at the precipice of our hope, at the new beginning of our time, we can choose not only to believe in ourselves, but in each other. Tomorrow, there will not be a single person on our shores who shall stand alone. Not tomorrow. Tomorrow we will face the monsters that are at our door and take the fight to them. Tomorrow, we are facing the apocalypse. As one.

Or: Tendo Choi used to coerce every Jaeger Strike Team in the Hong Kong Shatterdome into boosting its dwindling funds with shady black market deals, and this is how he gets everyone to slowly become a family once more as the world faces the re-opening of the Breach and humanity’s darkest hour.

Or: How To Trust When All Seems Hopeless

i forget the difference between seduction and arson, by gyzym

Ignition and cognition.

animals trapped (the cage is full), by liginamite

Because that’s the problem, isn’t it? The world doesn’t have time for affection, for intimacy, for anything more than quickly coming and cleaning off and heading back to work like nothing ever happened.

The Mathematician’s Answer, by ConstanceComment

“Prosper our handiwork; O prosper the work of our hands.” — Psalm 90

People Might Laugh at Your Tattoos, by callmejude

It’s armor.

Conversations You Don’t Know We’re Having, by adventuring

The spleen was doing something very uncooperative now, turning colors no alien spleen was meant to turn, and oh god, was something bubbling? That could not be good. “No, baby, no, I can fix this, I can do better, just give me one more chance,” he begged it, ignoring Hermann’s baffled, “Pardon?” in his ear. He grabbed frantically at the tongs, fumbling them, realized he probably couldn’t fix this situation one-handed, and said to Hermann, “Gotta go, important work to be done.”

“Newton, I swear to you, do not hang up this phone, follow my instructions—”

“No time, man, science is happening,” he said, and then without thought tacked on, “Bye, love you,” and threw the phone in what was likely the direction of his desk, not bothering to end the call. Hermann probably kept talking, but hello, science.

California King, by notastranger

Hermann is not a sleep cuddler. Bummer.

that every man might have need of other, by lymricks

In the few hours it took to reconcile Newton’s gone with Newton left, Hermann had created an elaborate fantasy: Newton kidnapped, Newton taken, Newton needing to be saved. He had not considered that leaving had been Newton’s idea. He had not thought it would be voluntary.

You Lost, Doctor?, by hailtherandom

“The next morning, Hermine goes to work with a clear head. It sticks for all of about thirteen minutes, until Newt walks into the offices in a pair of jeans and an old, threadbare undershirt instead of her usual button-down, and numbers flicker out of Hermine’s mind like lights in a Jaeger. Newt glances up and shoots her a filthy grin, then drops her coat on her desk and pulls out a pair of gloves. Hermine loses whole equations to the kaiju rippling over the muscles in Newt’s forearms.”

Private in Public, by spirogyra

Dr. Newton Geiszler and Dr. Hermann Gottlieb get introduced to life in a shatterdome, and somehow survive showering together for ten years even when they’re on separate continents.

Nightmares, by beckettemory

“Hermann frowned, remembering the bags under Newton’s eyes and the constant bubbling of the coffee maker in the corner brewing pot after pot of strong coffee all day.” ——————- Hermann, sore after a long day, passes the laboratory and realises that, though well into the night, Newton is still working, and has been acting strangely for a few days.

Lights On, by berlynn_wohl

Hermann’s solitude and shame was an immovable object inside him. He had yet to find out that it would soon encounter an unstoppable force.

Not While I’m Around, by callmejude

written for the kinkmeme prompt: In all the years they’ve worked with each other, Hermann can’t remember ever seeing Newt angry - upset and frustrated, maybe, but never angry. Sure, they argue and raise their voices at each other all the time, but that’s just lively intellectual discourse - they’re never really mad at each other. Hermann has always just kind of assumed that Newton is so easy going that nothing can set him off.

And then someone messes with Hermann, and Newton absolutely explodes with rage.

Come Away To The Water, by funnylookingfella

The Kaiju War is over, there are no Jaegers left, the mourning period has passed… but the hive mind lingers.

A Little Friendly Challenge, by moonblossom

Newt knows how to get Hermann to cooperate.

I wear your granddad’s clothes, I look incredible., by notastranger

Newton comes up with what he thinks is a hilarious Halloween costume. Things do not go as planned.

venus in fleurs, by indications

6.7k of boring-ass white boys touchin dicks

so it goes, by liginamite

The world needs Newton Geiszler, and with that thought in mind, it’s Hermann that drifts with the Kaiju instead.

sugar, spice, and graduate programs, by classyfanperson

Newt works at a coffee shop. Hermann is studying abroad at MIT. Pumpkin lattes are good for the soul.

Good Day for Ghosts, by cryogenia

Hermann wakes into the new world, and carries the remains of the old with him.

Equality, by pickleplum

“‘Immediate family only’ is our policy and no amount of yelling at me will change it, Doctor Geiszler. Unless you are Doctor Gottlieb are long-lost brothers, you need to calm down and wait in the reception area or we’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Newt makes a very loud exasperated noise and throws his hands in the air, but turns and marches into the waiting room. He drops himself onto a couch and pulls at his hair in frustration. I’m going to behave, he tells himself firmly. I’m not going to freak out over this total bullshit and get myself tossed out of here. No way. I can do this.

no man is an island, by narcomanic

Running away from the hive mind is easier said than done, especially when you’ve been so clever all your life that you never had to learn how to ask for help.

Time Will Crawl and Our Mouths Run Dry, by hailtherandom

It was Hermann’s idea, oddly enough. Sometimes Newt never quite believes that, thinks he made it up in a dream or a drunken haze, because Hermann, Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, does not suggest things like that. But he did, and Newt laughed in his face, and then blinked a few times and said, “what, really?” “Yes, really,” Hermann said. “It’s logical, Newton, if you take a moment to think about it.” — Hermann and Newt. Mutual handjobs at twenty-one hundred hours every Wednesday and Friday. Slight complications develop.

After Zero, by what_alchemy

The war is over. Hermann and Newt get on with their [sex] lives.

More Than I Can Return, by callmejude

written for the kinkmeme prompt: “Newt likes to flirt with Hermann, the fact that he never flirts back does not discourage him at all. An outsider might think that Newt is foolishly in love with someone who doesn’t care about him back at all. But one day in the lab out of nowhere, Hermann says, "Alright, what if I just bring you off with my hand? Will that make you more bearable?”

Newt’s thrilled and doesn’t miss a beat. “God, Hermann, a handy would be awesome right now! Thanks, man!”, all while he’s unzipping his fly and grabbing the surgical lube for improper use.

From then on they start hooking up whenever it pleases both of them. Sometimes handjobs, sometimes frottage, occasionally one will penetrate the other. But most importantly, Newt never stops calling Hermann “man” or “dude” during the act, and keeps talking as if Hermann was just doing him a mundane favour, or he was doing a favour for Hermann.

It isn’t until they sit on the sofa in Hermann’s room one night, cuddling up and making out after a taxing workday, with no signs of anyone unclothing or unzipping, that Newt thinks maybe affection has something to do with it.“

Jackpot, by notastranger

People say some strange things when coming out of anesthesia.

Cleaning Days, by jotc

All Hermann Gottlieb wanted was a clean lab space of his own.

Feels Like Reckless Driving, by lakehymn

“Did you just say I’m right about something?” Newton asks, feigning shock. Then he lightheartedly elbows Hermann in the ribs and adds, “I always knew you loved me.”

everyone needs a place (it shouldn’t be inside someone else), by orphan_account

His brain goes a gazillion miles an hour in loopy misdirectional circles, and when he dreams he dreams of kaiju biology, of being back in their lab, of sharp elbows in a small bed.

Chatter, by berlynn_wohl

“What do you think? Is today going to be a good day?”

Unhappy Campers (or Why You Can’t Perform CPR on Someone Who’s Still Breathing), by Jenni_Snake

A summer science camp field trip to the mountains. What could be more fun? Probably anything, especially for a group of nerdy science kids.

Hermann Gottlieb’s Stacker Pentecost Obsession Trapper Keeper, by what_alchemy

Hermann has a giant man crush on Stacker.

Newt finds it delightful. Herc, not so much.

what’s your rush, by Byacolate

Summary by me: An elaboration of Hermann and Newt’s relationship before and after the closing of the Breach.

Baby, You’re Hotter than my Bunsen Burner, by SkysongMA

They argue like they breathe—but that’s not all there is to it. Newt flirts, and it’s disgusting.

It’s not that Hermann minds flirting. The Kaidonovskies have propositioned everyone in the PPDC, or so it seems, and Tendo has intimated more than once that he wouldn’t mind spending some time in the lab, “talking numbers.” The Shatterdome is a small place. One has to practice somewhere.

It’s just that Newt is so bad at it.

Becoming History, by Scientia_Fantasia

Sure, the phrase “crotchety old man who obviously pays no attention to the current scientific community” may have snuck its way into one of the letters, but hey, that’s what you get for calling Up-And-Coming Scientific Rockstar Newton Geiszler “some kid.” Like, the guy had it coming. Really.

It Is not Heaven, It Is Home, by bravinto

Finding the love of your life is awfully anticlimactic.

Fleece, by berlynn_wohl

Newt and Hermann enjoy a day of terminally fluffy domesticity, with maybe a few minutes set aside for shenanigans on the sofa. Also, monsters (duh).

For What It’s Worth, I’d Do It Again, by callmejude

Between finding Newton seizing on the floor and running to get Pentecost, Hermann needs to make sure Newton is okay.

The Stretch and Pull of Disused Hearts, by billiethepoet

Newt notices that the move to the Anchorage Shatterdome is affecting Hermann’s leg. So Newt builds him a hot yoga studio out of spare parts and an abandoned storage closet. Obviously.

Best Cock On The Block, by hobbitdragon

They’ve been so close and yet so far for fourteen years now, but the drift is the pebble that starts the avalanche of change. (By which we mean sex)

This started out as a short ficlet and quickly grew beyond ficlet status into a full-blown fic. I guess I really wanted to write more trans smut.

The Seconds In Between, by orphan_account

Sort of a day in the life of Hermann (and Newt, always with Newt). Mostly, I had a lot of tiny little headcanons and then tried to spin them all together in a fic.

hallo mutti, hallo vati, by classyfanperson

Newt and Hermann visit the Gottlieb family after the Breach is closed. Some are happier to see them than others.

The Cost of Craving Dark Instead of Light, by sonnie

Summary by me: Monica Schwartz and her son, Newton.

The Two Weirdos Who Work In The Lab, by berlynn_wohl

Two vignettes about the worst kept secret in the Shatterdome.

he’s thunderstorms, by mundaneanarchy

Wherein Newt maybe possibly has a teeny tiny itsy bitsy almost microscopic crush on a certain grumpy old mathematician and Hermann falls and can’t get up. Angsty pining ensues. (explicit for chapter 2)

Never Done with Killing Time, by orphan_account

In between one day and the next, there’s always some time for some loving.

Quantum Degeneracy, by trell

Newt makes a sound from where he’s hidden behind his kaiju, behind his arms, and then he croaks, "I can’t play anymore.”

Hermann’s eyes flick to the electric keyboard sitting near Newt’s desk—a paper-covered, disorganized disaster of a thing—and he says, quietly, “Ah.”

the best laid plans, by liginamite

The plan, you see, was to totally sex Hermann up immediately after the world was saved. But you know that old saying about well-laid plans.

Generated Affects, by trell

Twelve is you washing your hands ten times up to the elbow in the space of the half an hour you spend prepping kaiju entrails for long-term cryo. It’s him that stops you, him that struggles over to the sink on his cane and grabs you by the wrists, hands fitting perfectly over the open maws of Hundun and Yamarashi, and he says “Stop,” and “Newton, think, this isn’t like you, it is like—” and the me hangs unspoken but you get it, let him guide you over to a bench in the lab and force you to sit still long enough to tone down the compulsion.

five times newt proposed to hermann and the one time he said yes, by mundaneanarchy

title is self explanatory.

alternate title: the fear of falling apart

warning: cheesy and kinda dumb

macho dudes in lace undies, by mundaneanarchy

Summary by me: Newt, Hermann and a lingerie kink.

one last kiss while we’re far too young to die, by mundaneanarchy

Newt and Hermann meet, fall in love, hate each other, lose each other, find each other, kiss drunkenly, save/destroy the world, and get married. All in that order.

it is one way to live, by fuckener

Newt would stay stuck in the wartime if nobody tried pulling him out of it.

Black Velvet Rabbits rockstar AU, by spirogyra

Summary by me: In which Hermann is the number one fan of Newt’s rock band, The Black Velvet Rabbits.

Sea Swept, by cypress_tree

A high seas fantasy AU in which Hermann is a ship’s navigator and Newton is found washed up among flotsam.

there are no atheists in foxholes, by liginamite

Newt and Hermann have been feeling off since they helped to cancel the apocalypse. They’re losing time, long black-outs, periods of aggression. The feeling that there’s something else, something they can’t pin down.

The thing is, the Kaiju drift left something behind in the both of them, and it’s determined to get out.

Can’t Wait for You to Shut Me Up, by callmejude

written for the kink meme prompt: “Hermann tells Newt to shut up, Newt tells Hermann to make him. They make out. That’s the prompt.”

(That may have been the prompt but I admit to it going much further than that.)

Dead Letter Chorus, by QuokkaFoxtrot

It’s if you’ve never heard anything true. But we will try 'til the next time or the last time. Dead Letter Chorus - You Am I

Newt owns a coffee shop. Hermann is a tenured professor at the local university. Their relationship has its ups and downs.

Also: Chuck is a champion barista, Mako is a world travelling Direct Trade negotiator, Stacker and Herc play a lot of chess, and Tendo owns Shatterdome Records.

Much coffee is consumed. (Except by Hermann who is a priss about how his tea should be prepared.)

bones, sinking like stones, by mundaneanarchy

You don’t love him. You don’t love him even though you do, you know you do, you know you do so much it hurts, but you don’t.

have yourself a merry little christmas, by classyfanperson

Hermann isn’t going home for Hanukkah, so Newt insists they both visit his family back home. They continue to not talk about their feelings.

Or: A Very Geiszler Christmas.

Newton Geiszler’s 11 Ways to Save the World, by kaijukonjou

Keep to yourself, keep your chin up, and maybe you’ll make it out in one piece.

Five Times Newt And Hermann Kiss While They Are Drunk, by luceluceluceluce

A brief timeline of the apocalypse from the perspective of a pair of nerds: a story of science, alcohol, and love.

Become What We’ve Always Been, by irisbleufic

Hermann doesn’t have enough time to experience a crisis over Newton’s response to his unvoiced request; he’s drifting into that self-same lethargy, eyelids heavy, his arm across the cane gone slack.

it wouldn’t be make believe, by infinituity

“By the way, dude,” he says, and he reaches down both to grab his notepad as well as to avoid looking at Hermann, “my parents think we’re dating.”

Instead of the expected angry yelling, he gets only silence in response, so he looks up to see Hermann opening his mouth to speak, reconsidering, closing it, and repeating. After several more repeats than strictly necessary, he sighs and slumps down in his seat.

“Of course they do,” he says.

sweet as anything, by classyfanperson

Newt is embarrassed about certain aspects of her body. Hermine is considerably more enthusiastic.

The Statistics of Touch, by WheresPeebs

Alternate Title: If You Would Just Stop Interrupting Each Other, Everything Would Be Worked Out in the First Friggin’ Paragraph.

Hermann is uncomfortable with public displays of… well, anything. It causes problems.

First, by cypress_tree

Newt and Hermann’s first time is Newt’s first first time.

Roses are red, and if that’s kaiju blue so help me Newton, by unnecessary

Summary by me: Newton and Hermann have some communication problems.

point me in the direction of the last setting sun, by orphan_account

They were two women standing against the end of the world.

Urine Trouble, by kinkitsecretkinkitsafe

Hermann has a thing for watersports. Newt finds out.

breathing free and even, by classyfanperson

He’s working on it. They’re working on it.

High-Five for Hatesex, by kinkitsecretkinkitsafe

Summary by me: Newton has a thing for Hermann and justifies it as hate!sex. He might be wrong.

Counterpoint, by kinkitsecretkinkitsafe

Summary by me: Sequel to High-Five for Hatesex.

a thousand spiders down the drain, by Byacolate

Children can be so cruel to boys who pick flowers.

Secret Agent Scientist, by Malteaser

Written for the prompt: Hermann, secret badass; He has something cool like a fencing saber installed in his cane and when someone fucks with them he kicks their ass and keeps talking like nothing happened.

A Little Kindness Goes a Long Way, by patster223

Newt liked to purposefully annoy Hermann in order to get rough sex. Which worked out great, until Hermann found out about it and decided to punish Newt by giving him excruciatingly nice sex.

cross my heart and take me with you, by drashian

The first time Hermann meets Newton Geiszler, they are pleasant with each other for about 10 minutes until suddenly they’re duking it out about Hermann’s theories of transdimensional transport.

The second time Hermann meets Newton Geiszler, they just start yelling.

The third time Hermann meets Newton Geiszler, it is in the toxic blue haze of the Drift.

Anthology ‘Verse (& Related Errata), by irisbleufic

Summary by me: a study of the relationship between Hermann and Newt, from the beginning to the future.

Parallax / Perihelion, by irisbleufic

Parallax—the apparent displacement of an observed object due to a change in the position of the observer; from the Greek, παράλλαξις (“alteration”). / Perihelion—the point in the orbit of an asteroid, comet, planet, or other celestial body where it is nearest to the sun (again from the Greek, περιήλιο).

One-Week Rule, by irisbleufic

Somebody’s got a stick up his theoretical vortex. Starting this off with a bang?

We’re Revolutionaries Now, by AxolotlQueen

One really shouldn’t attempt to cut one’s own hair.

(Or, Hermione Gottlieb gives herself a bad haircut and Newton Geiszler helps out.)

Newton Geiszler and His Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Interns, by cambion and casdere

“I know, it’s all a bit silly,” he admits.

“You always get a bit silly about your crushes, yeah?” She teases easily, and Hermann nearly spits out his mouthful of soup. Jasmine gives him another concerned look, but he waves her away.

“Vanessa, can you please not,” he hisses under his breath, and she laughs with the phone pulled away from her face, sounding like distant bells, and he feels taken back to high school, and remembers the fumbling idiocy of his crush on her, and knows immediately she is right, and he ought to give up the fight. He has a crush, an honest to God crush, and at his age! He knows, surely, it started with his fascination of the man’s intellect, but he also knows how quickly and easily he was drawn into his off-kilter charisma, as well.

or: hermann and newt are college professors, newt is working on his sixth doctorate, hermann is nursing a nasty crush, and i fit way too much into one chapter

scene after scene, by drashian

Everything had been banking on the world ending.

It doesn’t end, though, and that leaves everyone with this big hole where the future they didn’t plan for suddenly stretches ahead of them.

Newt struggles and reaches to fill that hole, and comes up with two things: Hermann Gottlieb and a cross-country road trip.

Chalk It Up To Love, by patster223

Newt replaced all of Hermann’s white pieces of chalk with pink ones. Or: the one in which chalk is a form of courtship, Hermann is head-over-heels, and somehow the entire Shatterdome gets involved.

The Apple In Our Hands, by irisbleufic

Summary: 1950!AU in which Newt is a cryptozoologist trying to find the Loch Ness monster, Hermann is more or less the same, and they have to share a cabin in Scotland.

Ice to Meet You, by patster223

Hermann is eating a rather phallic-looking popsicle and Newt is pretty sure he might actually die from sexual frustration.

In Sweden, and Elsewhere, by rillrill

Newt had just thrown down his end of the half-assembled bookshelf and shouted, “Whatever! It still makes no sense that two acclaimed and accomplished scientists with the combined brainpower of four average adults can’t put together a goddamn shelf!” Because, seriously, he can build an improvised neural bridge out of old lab machinery and an ancient Mr. Coffee, but he’s undone by three missing pegs? Fuck this.

Newt and Hermann rebuild, relocate, accept the Nobel Prize for Physics, fight over furniture, and strive to carve out a space for themselves in a world where they’re inextricably linked - in the the press, in their personal lives, and in their own heads.

Magic and Progress, by patster223

The Hogwarts AU in which Newt is a wizard, Hermann is a Muggle, and somehow they manage to save the world and love each other anyway.

Self-Destruct, by pinkmoon

“He learns how to never be wrong. He learns how to be indispensable. He realizes it makes him unstoppable.

Newton Geiszler is one tick away from self-destructing for the rest of his life.”

A character study of Newt’s lifetime of risky behavior and predilection for taking risks of the “rock star” sort. (Spanning many years, continents, arguments, and accidents, but landing, unexpectedly, in a happy ending.)

Today Your Barista Is: Hella Fucking Gay, by unnecessary

Hermann is a professor. The barista at the coffee shop across the street is cute and very, very single.

It is inevitable, really.

Predictable, by cypress_tree

It’s a movie date, but they’re not really watching the movie.

Adventures In Knitting, by decadent_mousse

Newt decides to knit Hermann a sweater, with… mixed results.

You’ve Taken A Pizza My Heart, by decadent_mousse

Hermann and Newt are so busy with work, they don’t get much time to go out to dinner, so Newt decides to improvise.

Fear of a Name, by uhnonniemiss

Newt and Hermann never could decide on how to define what they are to each other. It takes several years, thousands of kisses, a vat of acid, a big fight, and a sunny Boston evening to help them choose.

every day I fight a war against the mirror, by thekaidonovskys

“It came at a price,” he says. “To understand them, I had to learn how to fear them.”

Cut to the Chase, by patster223

Hermann needs a haircut. He does not need the cute hairdresser to flirt with him, he does not need a scalp massage, and he does not need anything trendy or stylish done to his hair.

Thankfully, these are things that happen anyway. Barbershop AU, featuring hairdresser!Newt and smitten!Hermann.

The Sublime, by Lucretius

The waves are coming closer to them now, and yes, the tide is coming to them with crescendo crashes.

The white fringe of sea is mere fathoms away.

“Can we?” Hermann asks.

And it is the question that one asks because, the choice having been made in what feels like another lifetime, now, for the first time, there is someone here, here, right here—who can see a way of being and seeing long dormant under so many layers of performing and seeming.

Recover, by irisbleufic

You’re my new favorite blanket. Come inside?

Untoward, by LemonScience33

Newton licks his bottom lip. “Maybe, um…” he says.

Newton doesn’t continue. Hermann wills his breathing to remain steady. “Yes?”

Newton shrugs casually. “Maybe we could give each other a hand,” he says. “Just two friends… you know, helping each other out.”

Knocking Socks, by decadent_mousse

Hermann and Newt go sock-shopping.

Listening, by cypress_tree

Newt has a dirty talk kink, and Hermann has a really nice voice.

Act Together, by irisbleufic

“You know I’m only a liar when it matters, right?”

You + Me = Happiness ², by steviekat

The thing is, Newt had never really put much thought into the future. The future of K-Science? Sure! Her own? To be fair, this probably better than anything she could have imagined.

Got Your Back, by Doooooooom

The workload is taking its toll on Hermann’s shoulders. Luckily, Newt is a dab hand at shoulder massages.

That’s one way to shut you up, by offensiveagentpie

Based on this fanart by pixiepunch.

Hermann tries a new tactic to get Newt to be quiet for once.

wash us away, by thekaidonovskys

Thank god Hermann undresses after he’s entered the bathroom, or else walking in to find Newt sitting on the bench top would have been much much worse.

visions are seldom what they seem, by mundaneanarchy

Hermann likes Tchaikovsky. Newt likes Hermann.

The Sun On Your Face (I’m Freezing That Frame), by irisbleufic

“Hate to break it to you,” Newton whispers, kissing Hermann’s neck with a happy sigh before letting his head drop to rest against Hermann’s shoulder, “but we’re busted in five, four, three—”

“Your ass is mine, Geiszler!” shouts Officer Hak, barging into the lab. “You too, Doctor Gottlieb. If you think you can get off so easy—”

The Good Old Days, by decadent_mousse

Hermann and Newt go scavenging for supplies during a blackout and get more than they bargained for.

A Proper Family Christmas, by uhnonniemiss

When Hermann ends up in the medical wing, he looks all set to spend Christmas by himself. Not if Newt gets a say in it, though.

Or, in which adopted and blood family save the Holidays

The Friendmas Ficlet Collection, by cypress_tree

A collection of five unrelated ficlets written as Christmas gifts for friends:

geniusbee: Hermann hurt/comfort patster223: Hermann wearing nail polish thehorrorinsymmetry: Hermann in lingerie bravinto: belly rubs decadentmousse: Harvest Moon AU

Aftershocks, by tastewithouttalent

“Hermann has to stumble away because the Drift is still too fresh and he can’t tell the heat of Newton’s body apart from his own anymore.” The impact of the Drift hits Hermann, and he and Newt don’t make it back to the laboratory.

Au Naturel, by decadent_mousse

Newt gives Hermann a wake up call during a very boring meeting.

Fortune’s Favor, by tamerofdarkstars

In which there is kissing, the end of the world, the subsequent salvation of the world, and more kissing.

Fills Trope_Bingo: Round 4 - Celebratory Kiss

Bump in the Night, by unicornsandbutane

Newt’s made a mistake, and it’s really a subjective matter whether it was a poor decision altogether or just a mere miscalculation. Regardless, he is forced to phone Hermann in the middle of the night, to deal with the consequences.

But the Gesture is Ruined, by cypress_tree

Five times Hermann tried to be romantic, one time he succeeded without even meaning to. A K-Sci romcom, basically.

Strange Bedfellows, by decadent_mousse

When Hermann and Newt first arrive at the Hong Kong Shatterdome, a paperwork mix-up forces them to share a room for awhile.

followed your ashes into outer space, by parpar

The numbers of the War Clock ticked down to zero, and the resulting euphoria was thick as smoke in the air. The assortment of PPDC members and civilian contractors were in an uproar, and Hermann and Newton made their way down the LOCCENT steps to stand in the midst of it.

When Tendo had finally managed to get Mako and Raleigh to stop hugging and cooperate with the rescue team, Newton had leaned his forehead into the curve of Hermann’s shoulder.

“We actually pulled it off,” he had whispered. “We did it, holy shit, it’s over.” Hermann had gracefully ignored the tears soaking into his collar and patted his colleague on the back while he pulled himself together.

Occupational Hazard, by decadent_mousse

Hermann overworks himself and gets a migraine.

In Space No One Can Hear You Mop, by decadent_mousse

Hermann and Newt are janitors sent to a derelict ship to clean things up after a group of aliens massacred the entire crew… but are they the only ones on board?

Liminality, by what_alchemy

What we know, after.

Fortuna Favet, by Mipeltaja

Newton seemed to think one could invoke good fortune simply by being bold enough or loud enough, a notion Hermann found utterly ridiculous.

It wasn’t that Hermann didn’t believe chance could on occasion work in his favour, it was just that life had taught him not to rely on it.

Brainspace and Kinkspace, by Emmalyn

Summary by me: Newt and Hermann exploring some of the delights of kinky sex.

Desperate Times, by decadent_mousse

Newt finds Hermann in a terrible state.

Matchsnaking, by patster223

There is a snake in Hermann’s apartment. This is not how he wanted to start his day.

Apartment neighbors AU where Newt’s snake keeps sneaking into Hermann’s apartment.

Put a Pin in That, by unicornsandbutane

Newt tries to convince Hermann to participate in a charity event. What ensues might be classed as ‘hijinks’, ‘shenanigans’, or ‘hilarity’, depending upon your perspective.

Remains, by berlynn_wohl

Newt and Hermann wrap Christmas presents and talk about death.

You Love Me Not, by mundaneanarchy

A story of love and coping with love told from the second-person perspective of Newt.

Newt loves Hermann and Hermann loves Newt but sometimes it’s not that easy.

Statiscally Significant Other, by unicornsandbutane

Flattery will get you everywhere.

Or, the fic computerbaby on tumblr requested, in which Newt compliments Hermann and Hermann is really really into it.

Pasta Aisle, by cypress_tree

Hermann and Newt meet for the first time in a grocery store. Hermann helps Newt grab something off a high shelf. Newt takes offense.

Disconnect, Connect Again, by cypress_tree

Raising Newt Geiszler has never been easy. Seeing him fall in love can be harder.

The development of Newt and Hermann’s relationship, from Jacob Geiszler’s point-of-view.

Spaces Between, by adropofred

Newt had not realised, somehow, that the world not ending would mean it would stubbornly keep on turning without waiting for him to catch up.

So what? He’s a scientist. He’ll do some catching up of his own and lose himself in the labyrinth of his and Hermann’s brains and their bodies.

This is absolutely not to be considered hiding, not that they can hide much anymore.

The Six Million Pillows Man, by adropofred

As it turns out, Hermann’s room is nothing special. His bed, on the other end, is very, very special.

Of course, Newt wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t find a way to turn this revelation into a situation where he could put his foot in his mouth.

Time For You and Time For Me, by patster223

A collection of Newmann prompts that I’ve filled on my tumblr. Contains: AUs, pining, flirting, bickering, several chapters of Hermann’s filthy exhibitionist kink, and two nerds learning to love each other in as many ways as possible.

The Beholder, by ItsClydeBitches

Written for the Newmann-uendo Hurt/Comfort challenge.

Hermann is feeling pretty insecure about his body. He’s unattractive. That’s a fact. Luckily Newton Geiszler’s number one law is still in place:

Hermann Gottlieb is ALWAYS wrong.

we’ll leave our tracks untraceable, by confused_android

When she steps off the plane in Logan International, something tight in her shoulders cracks, loosens, and she shakes free the last barb the PPDC had through her spine, through her brain, keeping her tense and wary for most of a decade. She yanks her heavy suitcase off of the carousel, identifiable by the years of layered duct tape repairing a seam that could once have been stitched, and flags the first taxi that will stop for her.

Permanent Ink, by mundaneanarchy

Inspired by this piece of fanart (http://rockstar-ologist.tumblr.com/post/126950663313) by rockstar-ologist

Newt gets Hermann’s initials tattooed on his hand. A month into their relationship. Hermann isn’t too happy about it.

Castaways’ Window, by Chancy_Lurking

“There are no words for the thoughts he has in that moment, because they are not his thoughts.”

Rings, by perniciousLizard

Three scenes, post movie. They’re happy.

Right Hand: Heart, by QuokkaFoxtrot

Two beers. That was all it took these days.

Dance In The Graveyards, by LemonScience33

As they round the next corner and lights come on, Newt’s first thought is, This had better be worth it, because we’re definitely gonna get caught.

His second thought is, That is the skull of Otachi’s baby, with lights strung over it.

His third thought is, This is definitely worth it.

Sweater Wars, by paenteom

Hermann takes his fashion illiteracy to new, festive levels. Newt is forced to retaliate.

Die Musik Kommt, by romangold

Maybe everyone’s drowning in the day, the night, memories and regrets and guilts, in relief, in pure, unadulterated happiness. Maybe they’re all dying.

Hermann finds Newt after the apocalypse is cancelled, and the two realize that perhaps they aren’t so toxic together after all.

Nigel, by uhnonniemiss

A particularly harsh snowstorm has brought the boiler- and Hermann- to a standstill.

(My piece for the 2015 Pacrim Holiday Swap!)

Etude, Op. 25 No. 12, by romangold

The climax always resolves to major, no matter how many times you play the piece. And the heroes always win, despite the amount of times you rewind to the beginning or fast-forward to the end.

sharing half our genes, and nothing in between, by getmean

“Christ, Hermann, is this a letterman jacket?” Newt cried, spinning and holding it up with a level of glee he hadn’t reached since he got that salivary gland from Mutavore. “How cliché can you get?”

Plausible Possibility, by cissues

Newt and Hermann experience some odd post-drift effects.

mountains sunk below the sea, by getmean

Newton has been, and always will be, what his father calls a ‘tough nut to crack’, but has an element of horrifying vulnerability that makes Hermann’s skin crawl. He selfishly likes Newton best when all his walls are intact.

netflix and chill, by w0rm

Hermann does the Netflix, Newt does the chill.

How to Deal with Accidental Neural Oversharing and Other Scientific Conundrums, by yourguardianangel

The world has not ended. Operation Pitfall is successful. Celebrations are had. But how are two snarky scientists meant to cope with having way too much of each others internal monologues retroactively overlaid with their own memories?

(with smut, that’s how.)

It’s All Good, by spirogyra

Thoughtless words, hurt feelings, cryptic statements, the drift makes things easier and more difficult, but in the end… it’s all good.

追伸, by lamphouse

“If I recall correctly, this is the man who confessed to wanting a pet Godzilla for his twentieth birthday, is it not? Glass houses, Dr. Geiszler.”

It takes two months for Newton Geiszler to fall in love. It takes thirty months, around two hundred letters, several time zones, and two missed-ish connections for him to actually admit it.

it’s alright, don’t you let it inside, by areunasty

They’re taking Gipsy Danger out for a trial run, and Newt watches with mild interest as the mech slices cleanly through the ocean. He thinks that if he was that big anything would be easy. Loving someone difficult, being loved, the quiet and painful twist of Hermann’s mouth whenever he looks at Newt recently.

The Price of Ghost Drifting, by confettiinmyhair

Newt is home early. Hermann has a surprise.

concentric circles, by lamphouse

It’s times like these that Hermann finds himself checking and double-checking his list of reasons why he works at the library. It’s also times like these that prove why nowhere on said list does it mention the people he works with.

The Boyfriend Experience, by berylnn_wohl

In the Shatterdome, Hermann confesses his disappointment that his and Newt’s relationship lacks romance. After the war is over, Newt vows to spend one year righting this wrong as they travel the world together on a lecture tour.

Everything We Never Said, by JennaCupcakes

Newt has a few regrets about his drift with Hermann. Namely, that he’s had a crush on the guy for a while and really doesn’t want him to find out.

Echoes in the Well of Silence, by unicornsandbutane

Hermann can hear Newton through the ducts.

Wishbone, by cypress_tree

Hermann doesn’t have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving, so Newt invites him over for food, family, and a little bit of flirting. Just a warm, fuzzy college AU to get you through the holidays.

Do Scientists Dream of Cloned Sheep?, by paenteom

Newt fumbles with the key card before he finally manages to swipe it, throws the door open and freezes.

There’s only one bed.

It’s massive, and covered in the fluffiest blanket he has ever seen, but it’s undeniably singular.

“Uh,” he says. “Awkward.”

Laughter, Confession, by cypress_tree

He’s nervous and awkward and he’s afraid he’ll mess up, but god, he wants this so bad.

Proving a Point, by steampunkepsilon

Newt thinks Hermann is a shy, reserved, vanilla kind of guy. Newt is wrong, and Hermann has sources.

Slumber Sequence, by strigine

Summary by me: Newton and Hermann’s sleeping habits.

Clean Clock, by cissues

'“So, you’re that guy, huh?” The man says, finally. He has his back to the newly emptied and even more newly dirtied sink and Hermann’s gaze is fixated on the encrusted plates and wine-stained glassware.’

Or, where Hermann is a hermit and also a clean freak with messy roommates.

Linguistics, by cypress_tree

Literally just a thousand words of Newt masturbating while listening to Hermann give an interview on a podcast.

i ain’t holy, i ain’t close, by queenofthestarrrs

The end of the world feels like home.

tell me you’ll love me for a million years, by buckgaybarnes

Hermann is working late, so Newt decides to be a great husband and tackle their chores. He mostly succeeds.

lost connection, by orphan_account

When the Shatterdome stays open for continuing research, the K-Science team realizes they’ll actually have to deal with the after-effects of their Drift.

Trial and Error, by cypress_tree

A romantic comedy of errors in which Newt and Hermann try to spice things up….and fail spectacularly.

Mixed Signals, by SkysongMA

After the Drift, Hermann starts having sex dreams.

Newt’s sex dreams.

That are all about Hermann.

Oh Mein Me, by junkiechurch

You wonder how a heart like his could ever love a man like you.

clothes (or a lack thereof), by orphan_account

Once the war is over, Hermann and Newt move in together. Newt realizes how little clothing they actually own.

#pacific rim #newmann #newton geiszler #hermann gottlieb #fic recs #please warn me if any links are broken #and reblog it if you can so more people will see it #otp: the favors of fortune

29 notes · View notes

currahee-gal · 5 years

Note

Omg can you give us some slowburn Liebgott? Or any Liebgott? Also your Toye fic was excellent!!!

WOW THIS ONE IS SUPER OLD! And wait…did somebody say slowburn??? Because do I HaVe A tReAt FoR yOu!! I really hope you like this Liebgott slowburn. I put my blood, sweat and tears into it. And thank you so much!!

The Five Times Joe Liebgott Almost Kissed Her (and the One Time She Did It for Him)

Pairing: Joe Liebgott x Reader

Warnings: Frustration, angst, minor character death, Liebgott being a dorky jerk, reader being a dorky jerk back, lots and lots of cursing, fluffy, honestly it has a little bit of everything except smut so. Please also watch out for misspellings, grammatical errors, as well as overall awkward sentence phrasing. This took a very long time to write and I am very tired. Mostly edited, but I’m not perfect.

Word count: 7,220 (oops my finger slipped)

A/N: Did somebody say slowburn?!?! You request, I deliver. This monster is finally finished and all I can say is thank goodness it is. I really hope you guys enjoy this. I did. I love Liebgott. Send me more Liebgott because I love him. These stories are solely based on the actors from the Band of Brothers series, not on the actual heroes

The hunting party watched the deer flee into the forest in annoyance. Joe slumps his shoulders and groans.

“Oh damn it Shifty, you let ‘em get away! Army oughtta be glad to be rid of you.”

Shifty nods a little before lowering his M-1. “I wish, you know? It seems they want me to stay around a while.”

“Are you serious?” Liebgott’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.

“How many points you need?” Malarkey asks on the other side of the line.

“15.” Shifty sighs, turning his head to Malark.

“15? Jesus Christ, I thought I had it bad.” Malarkey sighed in disbelief. Shifty shrugged and readjusted the firearm in his grip.

“No purple hearts, never was injured.” With his statement, Shifty took a step forward, the rest of the party following.

There was a long moment of silence that followed. The only sounds that could be heard were the sounds of birds chirping and the crunching of twigs and dry leaves under their army issued boots. It was broken by Malarkey with a statement that made everyone perk up.

“God, if Shifty ain’t goin’ home…”

Liebgott immediately thought of you. He flashed on the conversation he had with you at breakfast this morning.

“Can I have your toast?” You asked, your voice still filled with sleep and your eyes cloudy. Joe shrugged.

“I don’t know Y/N, can you?” Joe sneered, glancing up at you from his eggs and potatoes.

“Joseph David Liebgott, may I please have your toast, for Pete’s sake?” You groaned, reaching for your coffee and taking a sip. He smiled and shrugged.

“Yes you may.” Joe handed you the warm, buttered slice of bread.

You mumbled a “thanks” as you took a bite of the slice.

Joe poked at his potatoes with his fork for a moment before peeking up at you. You were staring out the window, the sun was hitting your face and making your gorgeous eyes sparkle in the morning light. He also noticed the dark circles under your eyes.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You whipped her head to face him, looking startled. He could see your thought shrinking smaller in your eyes. He felt his chest tighten with a pang of guilt.

“You okay?” Joe put down his fork and furrowed his brows at you worriedly.

The look that came over your features made his stomach churn with worry. Your skin turned pale and your eyes darted down to stare at the contents of your coffee mug. He saw your hands tighten around the cup, your knuckles starting to turn white. He could tell you were debating something in your head. He noticed your jaw clench and unclench as you took a glance out the window again. After a moment, brought the mug to your lips and closed your eyes, taking an inhale before heaving a deep sigh.

“Winters pulled me aside last night. I’m five points shy of going home. I’m being shipped back out.”

“Y/N isn’t going home either.” Joe muttered.

“What do ya mean?” Malarkey almost hollered.

“What do ya think I mean?!” Joe yelled back, spit flying from his mouth as he spoke. “She’s five points short.”

“You’re kidding.” Perconte sputtered, shocked. “Christ, it don’t matter if she’s got the points or not, send the poor girl home. She’s been through enough…”

Bull started laughing a little, making the group of men turn their heads to the gentle giant.

“You’d think that after everything, she and Liebgott would’ve gotten married by now.”

This made everyone chuckle, except Joe.

“What the hell are you guys talkin’ about?! I-”

“Oh come on Liebgott,” Ramirez shook his head at his friend. “Don’t play dumb.”

“The two of you have been dancing around your feelings for each other since we were running up Currahee. Don’t try to deny it!” Malarkey grinned. Joe shook his head, a fuzzy feeling bubbling in his chest.

“You guys are nuts. I haven’t even kissed her.”

“You’ve known her for three fuckin’ years now and you haven’t even kissed her yet?! You’re the one that’s nuts, pal.” Perconte chuckled.

“But they have come pretty close a couple of times, if I do remember correctly.” Bull snickered.

Joe blinked a couple times, the memory floodgates bursting open.

1. Lunchtime

The stale summer air lingered in the dining hall at Camp Toccoa. Joe sat in front of his lunch, which looked meatloaf, but he honestly couldn’t tell. All of Easy was exhausted from running Currahee so there wasn’t much talking going on at the table. That was until Webster slapped Joe’s shoulder a couple times.

“What do you want, Web?” Joe drawled.

“Look, it’s her.” Web pointed to the girl in line to get food. Everyone in Easy had heard about the female NCO in their company, but few had been brave enough to try and talk to her. People say she’s fairly quiet and keeps to herself, but she’s impressive. Joe had seen your while running, you were quite the athlete.

“So? She’s just gettin’ her lunch. Big fuckin’ deal.” Joe glances up at you as you start walking towards the tables and soon passes by the two of them.

“Have you talked to her?” Webster glances over his shoulder to see you sit down with Luz and Toye a few tables down. Joe shakes his head, running a hand through his sweaty hair.

“No, don’t even know her name.” Joe gets up from the table, grabbing his tray.

“Where are you going?” Web asked.

“Jesus, Web, quit grilling me! ‘M not hungry, this food is fuckin’ disgusting. I’ll be right back. Try not to miss me too much.” Joe gets up and starts making his way towards the kitchen window. He places his tray on the counter and gives the chef a tight smile. Just as he turns to leave, he runs straight into somebody.

“Jesus, watch where you’re going!” Joe looks down to see the girl standing right in front of him. Now that he’s up close, he can see when people have been ogling at you since you’ve stepped foot on camp. You’re fucking gorgeous.

“Sorry, I just-”

“No, I’m sorry. The heat’s getting to me, my patience is weathering away.” Joe muttered an apology, scratching the back of his neck.

“It’s fine, that run has me exhausted too.” You smiled a little, making his heart skip a beat. Joe clears his throat once or twice before attempting to casually lean up against the counter.

“So, you’re the new chick, right?” Joe asked, just realizing how stupid that sounded when it left his mouth.

You nod, sighing as you extend your hand. “Haven’t seen any other girls wandering around, so yeah, sure. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Liebgott, Joe.” He shakes your hand. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. “Cigarette?”

“I don’t smoke, thanks though.” You kindly declined. Joe shrugs and lights his smoke.

“So, what brings you here?”

“What brings me to war? I want to fight for my country and show that a woman can do it just as good as any man.” You take a step closer as you speak. “But if you’re asking me why I came here to the-”

Joe mirrors your action, taking a step forward. You look a little taken aback when he does. You clear your throat as you look up at him, your faces inches away from each other. “Sorry, but can I please squeeze by you? I need to get to the salt.” You cough, looking down at your boots.

“Hm?” Joe cocks an eyebrow, turning around to see about a dozen salt and pepper shakers behind where he was just standing.

“That’s why I came to the counter… I needed some salt…” You meekly point to the shakers. “Whoever set the tables didn’t give us one.” You say with a simple tone, glancing up into his deep brown eyes. You feel your stomach fill with butterflies when you do, so you look at your fidgeting hands. He’s still so close.

Joe blinks, confused for a moment before he steps out of your way. You take the salt shaker and start making your way back to the tables. “It was nice talking with you, Liebgott.” And with a wave, you leave Joe standing there looking like a blushy fool.

“She was tryin’ to get fuckin’ salt?” Joe was kicking mentally himself. What the fuck was he thinking? That you were trying to make a move on him, so he meets you halfway? When all you really wanted was fucking salt?! Good one, Liebgott. Real fuckin’ smooth. Great first impression.

Joe looks to see you already back at your table, laughing at something George had said. Joe crosses his arms as he starts walking back to his seat with David.

“Hey Lieb-”

“Shut the fuck up for once, will ya Webster?”

2. The Party

The celebration was in full swing and the music could barely be heard above the cheering. Liebgott was chatting with Popeye and Talbert, drinking beers and laughing.

“So, Liebgott,” Tab slurred with a wolfish grin. “People have seen you gettin’ closer with Y/L/N.”

“Yeah,” Popeye smirked. “What’s all that about?”

You and Joe had gotten closer since you had met at that one lunchtime. He had learned that you were just a little shy, but once he started talking to you, you were a real hoot. The rest of the company learned that too over time. He had earned the title “Pretty Boy” (a pet name bestowed upon him by you, of course). That was another thing that the company had learned quickly. For some reason you, seemingly, favored Joseph David Liebgott.

Joe grins and shakes his head. “So I talk to her, what a scandal! C’mon, guys, so I hang out with the girl. What’s the matter with that?”

“Nothin’ it’s just- ” Tab trailed off and stared at something behind Joe. When Joe turned around, he saw you and Donald Malarkey go to the small open space at the front of the room and start to swing dance. He’s spinning you around and lifting you and your smiling and laughing. Joe feels his heart stutter at the sight, but something in his chest swells. He wanted to make you feel like that. Was he jealous? He would never admit it, but yeah, probably.

“Tab?” Joe turns to his friend. “Hold my beer.”

“Lieb-” Tab tries to say something but Joe is already on the move. By the time he reaches the pair, the song is coming to an end.

“Can I cut in?” Joe holds his hand out for you to take. You glance over at a now pouting Don, and him a sympathetic smile as you leave his arms and take Joe’s hand.

“I don’t know, can you?” You pull Joe out onto the floor.

“Smartass.” Joe tsks.

“You know, it’s not very polite to address a woman like that. You’re being a bit of an ass.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry ma’am.”

Just then, a slower paced song begins to play. Joe glances up to see Luz and Tab standing by the record player, Tab raising his beer in the air, mouthing “cheers” and Luz grinning the biggest grin Joe has ever seen. Joe rolls his eyes at the pair before places his right hand on your waist and takes your right hand in his left. You begin to sway to the music flowing from into the room.

“You’re hair looks good, Lieb.”

“Gee, thanks! I washed it.” Joe grins and he spins you and pulls you back to him.

“I didn’t take you for much of a dancer.” You observed with a smirk. “I saw you more as a ‘stand-in-the-corner-and-brood-with-a-beer’ kind of guy.”

“There’s still a lot you don’t know about me yet, sweets.” Joe shrugged.

“Joe Liebgott, full of surprises.”

“Tell me about it.” Joe nodded with a chuckle. “How’s your night so far?”

“I missed dancing. My older brother Stanley and I used to go dancing every Saturday.” Your face lit up at the mention of your brother. Joe smiles and nods.

“You gotta brother?”

“Two. I got my older brother Stanley and my younger brother Brian. Stan enlisted in the Navy and Brian’s only fourteen so he’s stuck at home with Mom. He’s probably bored out of his mind.”

“Navy, that’s impressive.” Joe remarked with a smirk. You nodded.

“He’s an impressive guy. Bull reminds me of Stan. Big guy. Looks like he could snap you in half but he’s a real sweetheart, ya know?” You laugh and Joe laughs along with you. Watching you laugh made Joe’s chest prickle with some kind of feeling. It made him pause, but he put it out of mind.

“Bet he scared off all your boyfriend’s that came knocking on your door, huh?” Liebgott gushed, not being able to stop himself. He felt his cheeks warm out of embarrassment for asking such a forward question so boldly, but you just seemed to laugh it off.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

You two danced for a few moments, swaying to the music in each others arms. You lean your cheek on his chest and Joe tenses for a moment.

“What about you?” You wonder out loud, your voice almost in a whisper.

“What about me?” Joe questions, glancing down at you. He noticed your head fit perfectly right under his chin. The thought made his lips twitch into a smile.

“You got a broad back home waiting for you to come home after all of this is over?” You bring your head up from his shoulder to look back at him, noses practically touching. You could feel Joe’s heart beating in his chest and he could feel yours. Joe shakes his head.

“Nope, just me.” Suddenly his confidence slowly leaves his body, his voice low and almost wavering. He was looking right back into your eyes, and he felt himself drowning. You were so close to him, he could smell your perfume. It was intoxicating.

His eyes slowly drifted down to your lips, which were painted a bright cherry red. You bit your bottom lip, your hand slowly snaking its way behind his neck.

“Lucky me…” You sigh as your eyes flutter closed.

Joe closes his eyes, he starts to lean in and-

scrEEEE

“TEN-HUT!”

The two of you leap apart from each other and stand at attention. Colonel Sink struts into the room with Major Strayer and Winters and Nixon off to the side. Joe sighs with a defeated look evident on his face. He glances over at you to catch you already looking at him. You quickly flick your gaze back to the Colonel.

Colonel Sink gives a short speech detailing how proud he was of the company.

“I want you to know that I’m damned proud of each and every one of you. However, I would like to take a moment to recognize Corporeal Y/N Y/L/N. You’ve shown just what it means to be a fine soldier and paratrooper, and you, m’dear, set the bar high for these men and for everyone that follows. You’re making history here. Congratulations, Corporeal.” The Colonel smiles down at you.

You feel yourself flush red as the who company starts to cheer your name and you salute Sink. “Thank you, Sir.”

He gives you a nod and turns his attention back to the crowd. “Now you deserve this party.”

Chuck comes up with a pint of beer for the Colonel, to which Sink thanks him.

“Now I want you to have fun, and remember our motto. Currahee!”

“Currahee!” The entire company shouts. And with that, the celebration resumes. Chuck and Popeye approach you with a pat on the back and a hugs.

“Congrats, Corporeal.” Popeye mimics Sink with a smirk. You laugh and give him a slap on the shoulder.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up now. I’ll be outranking you suckers by Christmas, just wait and see.” The group that had formed around you laughed. You glanced around the group and your eyes locked with Liebgott. He smiled as he gave you a quick once over before taking a sip of his beer. You smiled, your cheeks flushed a pink tint.

This was going to be a long war.

3. Normandy

To say that Joe was stressed about the jumps into Normandy would be an accurate assumption. To say that Joe was stressed about not being with you on the jump into Normandy would be an extreme understatement. He knew you would be fine (only because you reassured him before going your separate ways) but he couldn’t help it.

Neither of you have spoken about that night since it happened. If someone else tried to bring it up around you two, they would get shot down immediately and were told to drop the topic. He couldn’t tell if you never brought it up because you were embarrassed it happened and just wanted to forget about it, or for whatever reason. He tried not to think about it. Despite that, he could safely say that, by this point, you were one of his closest friends he had made on this journey thus far. And maybe he had deeper feelings than just friendship, but he didn’t have to tell anybody that. Ever.

When Liebgott got to the assembly area, you were nowhere to be found. A couple people from your plane had arrived, so all he could do is wait and he hope for the best. He sat on a dirt mound with Joe Toye and a couple others as they waited for instructions.

“Relax, Lieb. She’ll get here.” Toye tried to help his friend relax.

“What? Nah, I’m fine. I’m worried about the other guys too. They’ll get here, I know.” He muttered, trying to keep a cool composure. Toye scoffed.

“Whatever you say.”

His hopes only got higher as he saw a group of Easy men walk in.

“Ah, Easy Company.” He greeted, getting to his feet. After greeting his fellow E company men, as well as this Hall character from A company, we turned to sit back down. Then, his ears perked up.

“Pretty boy!” Joe heard you cheer from down the road. To your left was Bill Guenere, grinning like a cat as he watched you practically skipped to Liebgott.

“Glad you could finally make an appearance.” Joe teased as he engulfed you in a sweaty hug.

“You know me, always making an entrance and showing up fashionably late.” You giggled.

“Fashionably?” Joe reaches out and smudges the tar still on your face. You flinch and smack his hand away.

“Like you look so dapper yourself. What happened to your hair?” You reach out and ruffle his brown locks. He scrunches his nose and grabs your wrist and puts it back at your side.

“It’s called jumping out of plane, try it some time, sweetheart.” He sneered.

“Actually I just did, and I think I still look pretty good if I do say so myself. And I do say so.” You rebbuttled with a smirk.

“Y/N Y/L/N, cocky as ever.” He teased.

“Me? Cocky? Take a look in the mirror, you scruffy little-”

“Scruffy?! Fuck off!”

“You fuck off!”

“Love birds, please! Can we keep it moving? We have a war to fight and Nazis to kill. You’re bickering is disgustingly adorable, just get hitched already.” Bill announced, a grin plastered on his face as the fellow E company men started chuckling at the scene. He sauntered off, but not before shaking his head and muttering a “Jesus Christ”.

The two of you watched him go and take a glance at each other before you fall into a fit of giggles. He hooks his arm around her shoulders and guides her down the path.

“Got me worried there for a second. Thought a Kraut ate ya or somethin’.” Joe snickered as you gasped at him.

“A Kraut? Eat me?! Please, I’d shoot ‘em if they got within a hundred feet of me.” You groaned, a smile blooming onto your face.

Joe opened his mouth to respond when a boom echoed in the distance. Joe held you closer as he looked up to the sky. When he looked down, you were scanning the area with wide eyes. He squeezed your shoulder.

“You scared?” He asked in a lower tone, half joking, half serious. You flinched for a second, flicking your gaze to meet his. You nodded, not seeming confident.

“Liebgott, I just jumped out of an airplane and trekked eight kilometers through a warzone in the pitch dark. I fear nothing.” You stepped out of his grasp and turned to look at him. “You?”

“Never.” He replied, not really convinced by his own words. You nodded and let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Good.”

And with that, you turned and walked off to join Toye and Buck.

Joe watched you go, the sound of gunshots firing off in the distance. Suddenly, it was all very real to him. The honeymoon phase was over and it was time to get down to business. There was a good chance that they weren’t going to make it out of this alive, and that scared the shit out of him. But he couldn’t focus on that. Not now. So, he pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and put his fears in the back of his mind.

Joe couldn’t stand it in the back of the truck anymore. The stench made him wanna hurl. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Jesus! Get me outta here.” Joe hopped out from the back of the truck, hearing Sergeant Lipton yell something about “light discipline”, but Joe couldn’t get out of there faster.

He started walking down the street, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he passed dozens of soldiers. As he walked, he saw a silhouette leaning against a stone wall standing on the side of the road ahead. Without much thought, he knew it was you. As he approached you, he saw you picking at her nails, probably trying to get the dirt out from under them. Your helmet was by your feet, giving Joe a rare look at your hair shining in the moonlight.

“Evening, Miss.” Joe greeted, making your head turn to see him. Even in the dark, he saw the small smile appear on your face.

“Evening to you too, Mister.” You greeted as you adjusted your stance so you were standing a little taller, but still leaning against the wall.

“Want some company? You looked a little lonesome.” Joe stood in front of you now. You shrugged, glancing down at your shoes.

“Just in my thoughts is all.” That was the only thing you could muster. After all, it had been a long ass day.

“Penny for ‘em?” Joe moved to lean against the wall with you. You didn’t really say anything at first, you just kinda stared into space, but Joe nudged you with his elbow. “Oh c’mon, don’t go all shy on me now. It’s just me, you can talk to me. I’m your Pretty Boy, remember?” Joe teased, making you smile. God, he loved that smile.

“Joe Liebgott, what would I do without you?” You sighed.

“Enlighten me. What would you do? My curiosity is piqued.” Joe smirked, quirking an eyebrow at you.

“I’d probably be bored out of my mind.” You confessed, turning to look up at him. “You’ve kept me smiling through the whole time I’ve known you. Don’t get me wrong, I love Luz, he’s a crack up, but you’ve kept me on my toes.”

He creased his eyebrows.

“Corporeal, have you been drinking?” Joe asked, not really expecting such a genuine answer. You shook your head and rolled your eyes.

“Just take the compliment, Liebgott.” You groaned. He chuckled and nodded.

Just then, a car rumbled by, its headlights shining towards them as it drove by. With the passing flash of light, Joe noticed a cut on your right cheek.

“Woah, what happened?” Joe cupped your cheek and ran his thumb lightly over the wound.

“What? The scratch? It’s nothing.” You reached up to grab his wrist and pull it away, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Has Gene looked at it yet?”

“Lieb-”

“How’d you get that?”

“Lieb, really I’m fine-”

“It looks like it’s deep, you might need stitches. Here, I’ll take you to go see Doc-”

“Joe!” You grabbed his face, forcing him to look you in the eyes. “I’m fine. I already went to go see Doc, he said I was fine. It was just a graze from some shrapnel earlier today-”

“When the hell did you get hit with fucking shrapnel, Y/N?!” Joe shouted, the vain starting to pop out on his temple.

“I don’t fucking know, Lieb! I was trying to survive while I was being shot at by a bunch of Krauts! Shit happens.” Y/N snarled back. “And to be completely honest, it coulda been a whole lot fucking worse. This litte papercut compared to what happend to some of the guys today, so if you could stop yelling that would be fan-fucking-tastic.”

The two of you just sized each other up for a moment before Joe slouched against the wall and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry…you’re right.” He muttered, sounding exhausted.

“It’s alright,” You nod, looking straight ahead at the passing soldiers. “Never thought you cared so much…”

Joe scoffed at your words, shaking his head.

“‘Course I fuckin’ care.” Joe pulled you into him, wrapping his long arms around you, resting his chin on your head and engulfing you in a hug. You wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your left cheek against his chest. He slowly started to pet your hair as you tighten your grip around his middle. “Maybe I care a little too much sometimes.” He muttered, not really meaning for you to hear. But of course you did.

You look up at him, a smile playing on your lips. “I care about you too, Joe.”

God dammit he couldn’t take it.

“Y/N, I gotta ask ya somethin’-”

“Easy Company! Get your gear, we’re moving out!” He heard an officer call out over the crowd. You groaned, burying your face in Joe’s chest.

“I gotta go grab my stuff, I’ll catch up with you?” You smiled sympathetically at Joe, who nodded.

“Yeah, sure. See ya.” Joe waved and watched you jog off to God knows where. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying not to scream. Instead, he banged his fist against the stone wall a little too hard.

“Fuck!” He cringed, shaking the pain out of his hand.

He was in deep shit.

4. Bastogne

It’s cold. So fucking cold that Joe thought his balls would freeze and fall off. Everyone in Easy was miserable, but after Colonel Sink’s visit, everyone seemed to be in semi lighter spirits. Joe surveyed the crowd, looking for his best friend, but he couldn’t see her.

“Hey Shift?” Joe turned to Shifty.

“Yeah, Joe?” Shifty looked over at Joe, tightly bundled from head to toe.

“You’ve seen Y/N?” Joe asked, taking another glance around. “Haven’t seen her since this morning.”

“Have you checked her foxhole?” Shifty queried.

“Of course I have.” Joe groaned, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It was the first place I looked.”

“Mess hall tent?” Shifty tried again.

“Tried there.”

“Is she on patrol?”

“No, checked with Lip about that a bit ago.”

After a pause, Shifty pointed through the trees with a gloved hand.

“Is she sitting on that log down that way?”

Joe turned around to see your from sitting on a log with your back to them. Joe nodded.

“Thanks Shift.” And without waiting for a response, Joe started trudging through the snow.

A lot has happened since Normandy. With time, you both got closer, if that was even possible. With that, you both bickered a lot. Replacements would come in and assume the two of you were a married couple that enlisted together. The funny thing was when they asked, the NCOs didn’t tell them otherwise.

You had opened up to him about life back home, too. You told him everything from you first pet’s name to your first heartbreak. You recounted painfully awkward Thanksgiving dinners the one time your brothers put Brian’s pet frog in your bed as a prank and how you jumped so high, you could have hit the ceiling. He enjoyed hearing about your life back home, but he thinks you’re doing it more for yourself rather than just for the sake of telling stories. It was one of the only ways it could keep you from flying off the rails.

Joe finally made his way over to you and plopped himself down on the log next to you.

“Y/N, where were ya? Sink just dropped by for a lovely visit, did ya hear him? Nuts!” Joe laughed, and bumped your shoulder.

When he looked over at you, you weren’t laughing. You weren’t even looking at him. Your gaze was fixed straight ahead, unblinking and blank. Your knees were brought up to your chin as you shivered in the cold.

“Sweetheart, you good?” Joe softened his tone, feeling the heavy silence in the air. It was almost suffocating when her expression remained the same. He moved to kneel in front of you and put his hands on top of your knees. “Y/N? What’s the matter, talk to me.”

You finally looked at him, eyes turning glassy. You swallowed thickly as you grabbed the opened envelope sitting by you on the log. You held it up and took a shaky breath.

“Letter from my mom.” Your voice cracked as you spoke and looked at the neat cursive handwriting on the front. Joe saw your lip began to quaver as you took a quick inhale. “My brother’s dead.” You handed Joe the envelope with a shaky hand.

“Jesus…” Joe took the envelope from you and examined it with darting eyes.

“He was in Micronesia somewhere. Peleliu or some shit like that…” You wiped a stray tear from your cheek and looked at your hands in your lap. “Killed in action.”

“Y/N I- fuck…I’m so sorry-”

“Merry fucking Chrismas, right?” You whispered. Then, you broke down. You head fell into your hands as you started to sob. Joe jumped up and held you.

“Shhh…hey you’re okay…” Joe muttered into your hair, rocking you back and forth as you cried into his coat. He felt your hands grip at his jacket in tight fists, clinging to him. He didn’t really know what to do, he’s never seen you cry before. Not even when you rolled your ankle while running Currahee in Toccoa and you still made it back down the hill. You never cried.

After a couple of minutes, you calmed down and you were reduced to whimpers. Joe pulled away and wiped his thumbs across your wet cheeks. Your scratch from Normandy and had scarred over now.

You leaned forward and pressed your forehead to his, you eyes screwed shut.

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize. Never fuckin’ say sorry for something like that.” Joe snapped back sternly. You nodded.

“Okay.”

You opened your eyes to look at Joe staring back at you with a gentle intensity. His hands still cupped your cheeks and held you close. Joe glanced at your lips before licking his dry ones. Despite being chapped and swollen from crying, you still looked just as beautiful that night you were all dressed up for the party. And he wanted to kiss you even more now than he did then.

“Y/L/N, you okay?” Malarkey had just happen to walk by the scene in front of him, his can of food in hand. You pulled your head from Lieb’s hands, sighing. Joe’s hands drop to his lap with a loud smack.

“Yeah, fine.” You smiled tightly, turning to Malarky.

“You sure? You don’t look too good. Maybe go and grab some hot chow?-”

“On it, Malark.” You cut him off, followed by a curt nod. Malarkey turned his hands up in surrender and walked off to join Muck and Penkala.

You grab the letter off the snowy ground and stuff it in your pocket.

“I’m goin’ for a walk, I’ll catch ya later, Lieb.” You muttered quickly before standing.

“I’ll go with you-”

“No that’s fine, Joe. Go grab some lunch, I’ll be back.” Just like that, you zipped off into the fog without another word or a glance back.

Later that night, he walked past your foxhole on the way back from taking a piss. And there you were, wrapped up in a blanket, shivering, with a cigarette hanging from your mouth.

“Thought you didn’t smoke.” He whispered, not wishing to startle you or disturb other foxholes. You look up at him from your hole and shrugged as you took the cigarette from your lips and blew out a stream of smoke.

“I don’t.” You said simply. Joe nodded.

“You gonna be okay?”

“…I will be.” You assured him.

Suddenly BOOM! German artillery started bursting in the sky. Joe jumped into your foxhole with you as you both tried to shield yourself from any shrapnel. The blasts were short lived and soon they were given the all clear. Joe looks over at you as he moves to get to his feet.

“Thanks for your hospitality.” He said with a little laugh. “I guess I’ll see you-”

“Joe?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay with me. Please.” Your voice was so soft and meek, it surprised Joe. Your eyes were pleading. “Just for the night.”

“Yeah, of course.” Joe nodded, laying back down on the dirt.

“Thank you.” You whispered before you cuddled into Joe’s chest.

Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly to him. He fell asleep almost instantaneously.

However, when he woke up in the morning, you were gone.

5. The Truck Ride

You didn’t talk to Joe a lot after that. You really didn’t talk to anybody after that. After you got news of your brother, you really didn’t want to talk to anybody. With Joe, you wanted to talk to him, but you were afraid to because after that night, you were so afraid because you might have been falling for the guy. So, you kept your distance the rest of your time in Bastogne, and barely spared him a glance while Easy was up in Haguenau. He really could have used your company then, Webster was being a real pain in the ass. You finally started talking to him again in the back of the trucks on your way to Bavaria.

“Can I have one of those?” You croaked as Lieb lit a cigarette.

“So she speaks? You finally talkin’ to me now?” Joe sneered with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, smoke billowing from his lips.

“Joe-”

“You barely spoken a word to me since Christmas and, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, it’s April now and the first thing you say to me is you ask me for a cigarette?”

“It’s a start, isn’t it?” You mutter, not breaking eye contact with the seething eyes piercing back at you. “Look I’m sorry, I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“The nerve on you-”

“Quit soundin’ like my mother, Joe. My brother died and suddenly you get all butt hurt when I needed some goddamn space for two fucking seconds. I apologized, now can I or can I not have a cigarette?”

Joe looked at you for a moment. Your eyes had lost some luster he remembers you having a long time ago. Your eyes are sunken like you haven’t slept since Normandy. Even your hair had lost the brightness in color. He sighed as he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a cigarette.

“I don’t know, can you?” He says with the slightest hint of a smile creeping onto his face. He hands you the cigarette. You take it and put it in your mouth and lean forward, looking expectantly at Joe. “Oh, you want me to light it for you too, your majesty?”

“Mhmm.” You hum with a nod of your head and a roll of Joe’s eyes as he pulls out his Zippo.

“I have to do everything in this fucking relationship-”

“Shut up.” You laugh as you pull the lit cigarette from your mouth and blow smoke in his face. He smirked at you, waving a hand in front of his face.

“You know, it’s not very polite to blow smoke in someone’s face. You’re being a bit of an ass.”

You smiled and shook your head in disbelief. “Deja vu.”

“Tell me about it.” Joe smiled back.

After a moment of silence, David decided to pipe up.

“What about you, Y/N?” Webster asked.

“What about me?”

“What are you gonna do when you get home?” Webster took a bite his food as he awaited for your answer. You ran a hand through your hair as it flowed in the breeze.

“Home? Jeez, I don’t know. Hug my family?” You laughed.

“We’re all gonna do that. I mean life stuff. Got any plans?”

“Well,” you paused, thinking about it for a second. You haven’t given it much thought lately. “I’d start off by getting a job. Maybe waitressing or something like that, that’s what I did before the war. Then,” you paused, glancing up at Joe, who was already staring at you with some kind of look in his eyes. You couldn’t look away.

“Then I’d probably find someone to settle down with. Have a kid or two, and try to have a normal fucking life that is far away from this shithole. Try and be happy.” You finished but taking a drag.

“That’s a good goal.”

“Gee, thanks Web.” You muttered sarcastically.

“That sounds real nice.” Joe said, a soft smile appearing on his lips. You nodded.

“Sure does.”

After making a stop, the seating got switched up. Now you were sitting next to Joe, his arm around you as you fell asleep on his shoulder. Joe looked down at you, warmth spreading in his chest for the first time in a long time. You were back, and you looked so peaceful.

“Jesus, Lieb, just kiss her already.” Web laughed across from Joe.

“You’re lookin’ at her with the biggest heart eyes I’ve ever seen.” Luz chuckled. “Are you ever gonna tell her how you feel?”

“Will you both shut up?!” Joe spoke between his teeth. “She could wake up and hear you knuckleheads.”

“Lieb, she’s knocked out cold.” Perconte observed from down the row.

“Can you blame her??” Joe asked, his voice suddenly sorrowful. The boys glanced at you. They had to admit, they haven’t seen you actually sleep since you found out about Stan.

The car goes over a rather large bump in the road, waking you up with a start.

“Morning, Sunshine! How was your nap?” Luz drawled throwing his baseball in the air. You yawned and lay back against Joe.

“Fine. I had a dream about you, Pretty Boy.” You muttered, closing your eyes again.

“Oh did you now?!” Luz exclaimed, throwing Joe a knowing look and smirk.

“Pray tell.” Web piped in.

“Well,” You put your chin on Joe’s shoulder and turned to face him. “You, sir,” you poked his cheek. “Were going on and on and on about something beyond boring when I up and punched you square in the jaw. And even in my dreams, you don’t change a bit, because even after I hit you, you would not shut the hell up!”

This made the entire car laugh, even Joe. When he turned his head to you, he bumped his nose with yours.

“Sorry.” He murmured, pulling his head back a little. You shrugged.

“It’s okay.” and in a brave moment, you leaned forward and rubbed the tip of your nose to his in an eskimo kiss. “G’night.” and with that, you fell against his shoulder and started to snore. Everyone in the car was staring at him with wide eyes and hanging mouths. Joe could only shrug.

Easy Company had decided to play a company baseball game. It was a warm day, partially cloudy. It was perfect.

“I wanna play!” You squealed. Buck arched a brow at you.

“You know how?”

You scoffed and grabbed a glove out of the box next to the batting cage. “Buck, I grew up the middle child of two boys. Yes, I know how to play.”

“Alright, play ball then, I guess.” He laughed, his chest rumbling.

After playing for a few hours, hitting a line drive and throwing a couple guys out, they jokingly declared you Easy Company’s Rookie of the Year. The peace was disturbed by Speirs.

“Easy Company! School circle!”

As the company gathered around Major Winters, Liebgott pulled you under his arm and you wrapped an arm around his middle.

“You never told me you played ball so well.” He said barely above a whisper. You snickered and leaned up to whisper in his ear.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Liebgott.”

“Touché.”

“Listen up!” Winters announced, glancing at the two of you with a small smile. “We’ve got some news. This morning, President Truman received the unconditional surrender from the Japanese. The war is over.”

You felt like the air had been punched out of your lungs. For a couple moments no one moved, probably afraid that if they did, they would wake up from this crazy dream we all must be having. You laughed a little and looked up at Joe. He smiled and nodded.

“We did it.” He grinned.

“Yeah we did!” You responded. Soon, the men started to disperse. You however, jumped into Joe’s arms and wrapped your legs around his torso as he held you up.

“We made it!” You squealed. Joe laughed and put you down.

“I knew we would.”

Before he could say anything else, you grabbed his face and smashed your lips onto his. He responded immediately by cradling the back of your head and holding you as close as possible. You could hear cheering from the men around you.

“Fuckin’ finally!”

“It’s about time.”

“We’ve only waited three damn’ years for that to happen.”

“I don’t know if I’m more relieved that the war is over or that their finally sucking faces.”

“Yes! Hey Bull, you owe me thirty bucks!”

When you broke apart, Joe was panting with the biggest smile you have ever seen on his face.

“Come back home to San Francisco with me? We could make that dream of yours happen.”

“The one where I punch you in the face?” Your face scrunched up in confusion.

“No, dufus,” he laughed as he cupped your cheeks. “Settle down, fall in love, get hitched.” He kissed the tip of your nose.

“Well I’m already in love with you, so you can check that off your list.” You grinned.

“God, I love you Y/N. Never leave my side.”

“I don’t plan on it. C’mon, let’s get home.”

Taglist:

@gottapenny

#band of brothers #band of brothers imagine #bob #bob imagine #imagine #request #anon #joe liebgott #joe liebgott imagine #joseph liebgott #joseph liebgott imagine #liebgott #liebgott imagine #slowburn #slow burn

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