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x0401x · 4 years ago

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Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #26

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Opera-phile

I had a hobby that I couldn’t tell anyone about. People like me were no rare breed.

Amongst the hobbies I had heard about from my friends until now, the one that made me think “this might be a bit hard to tell someone” the most was that keeping ice cream lids when they finished eating it. They said they would write down the date on each lid and store them in one of those clear files sold at 100-yen shops. They could only eat ice cream on special days when they were little, and they still couldn’t get over the habit of that time. The face of the person who had told me about this seemed simply satisfied in some way. Regardless, this may not have been something so difficult to say because it was revealed at a drinking party.

Now. Bringing the topic back to me.

If you were living alone in a foreign land called Sri Lanka, you could do whatever you wanted. I could get up at any time, eat whatever I felt like, study the things I enjoyed and go wherever I wanted with my Three-Wheeler. I didn’t have much, but the prices were cheap. My culinary repertoire was also noticeably increasing. Even if I danced alone in my room, no one would be watching. No, my dear dog Jirou would stare at me with a bit of a strange look, but there were times when he’d eventually jump up and down and start dancing with me. Even if I listened to music at a loud volume, the same went for my neighbors.

Therefore, I was now thinking that maybe my stopper had come off a little.

I had bought the CD in Colombo, the real capital of Sri Lanka. As one would expect of the biggest shop in the country, they sold a lot of things that were unlikely to be available in Kandy.

The jacket featured a black-haired woman with a spellbound face, both of her arms outstretched. It was an opera CD with twelve songs.

I went back and forth in my room, shouting, “ah~, ah~”. What an opera was? No, I did know. It was traditional singing style – something like a musical, in which singers such as tenor, paritone, soprano and alto would perform along with a play. But something about them that diverged a bit from musicals was that the words used were old, the melodies weren’t excitable, and they were mainly either Italian or French, I believed.

I had no choice but admit it at this point. I liked opera.

Nakata Seigi had the words “I’m in love with opera” floating about in his head. I was driven by an urge to scream “gyaaah” and make said words disappear, but on the CD jacket, Maria Callas was making a spellbound face as usual, and that made me happy. I had purchased this CD after much hesitation over buying this or buying that. There was no way I wouldn’t be happy about it. Still...

Somewhere in my head, I recognized this as something embarrassing.

My dear boss was always telling me to think rationally at such times. He told me that whenever I thought my mind was moving in absurd ways, it always happened that there was some sort of timid development in me, which I either hadn’t noticed or, even if I did notice it, I’d ignore it – but once I understood it, it would stop being absurd.

Why would opera be embarrassing in the first place?

How I had come to like opera? The trigger was the radio. When I was staying at a hotel for a while back in Tokyo, I tended to feel down because I had nothing to do other than study, so I’d sometimes listen to the radio broadcast at the hotel while devoting myself to physics and English.

The singing voice I heard at that time was – how should I put it? – tremendously wonderful.

I couldn’t think that it was the voice of someone from the same world as myself. Someone was singing in a place just a few ways away, and as I listened to it, my body felt like my body was airily floating up – it was that kind of voice. I didn’t have any preferences for either male or female, and if anything, I liked both. The title of the song being streamed was written in the hotel’s guidebook, so I went to a video streaming site and searched for the same song by other singers and the songs that came before and after said piece. Faust. Madama Butterfly. Otello. Rigoletto. The Magic Flute. Don Giovanni. Whenever an opera song was used on a TV show, i became able to at least tell which prelude it was from.

And this passion hadn’t cooled down even now that some time had passed since then.

I walked around the room again, shouting, “Uuuh, uuuh”. Jirou energetically followed me from behind. It was almost as if he meant to say, “It’s fun to go a stroll even inside a room, huh, owner?”. Sorry but it’s not like I’m taking you on a walk, I thought, yet Jirou couldn’t care less, letting out a sweet voice as I held him up and rocked him, and then running off to the yard as if he had gotten excited. Just as I felt relieved, thinking about what a cute fella he was, I found myself imagining something. I could see myself at the drinking party, talking about how I liked opera. The reaction I pictured was an explosion of laughter.

“‘Opera’, you say. What’s up with that? It’s that thing where fat people raise their voices like crazy, right? You like that? Why? No way, Nakata, didn’t you just want to have a rich people hobby just ‘cause you’ve well-off these days? Like, those that feel like you’re superior. That’s exactly what opera is. Okay, I get it, but that ain’t very interesting, so how about we change the topic?”

It gave me chills.

I wasn’t creeped out by how people might talk about my hobbies. However, it was painful to have the whole genre of opera, which had saved me back when I was put in a spot like a light reaching out from the sky, be judged by people who didn’t even know the difference between Callas and Pavarotti and not be able to defend them. I had to protect what was important to me. Or else, it would get damaged. I wasn’t referring to the long-standing form of art that had been cultivated for hundreds of years. I meant my own heart. That was painful to me.

Yeah, I was somewhat aware that this wasn’t an “embarrassment”. But I was scared.

I was low-key terrified of having people pointing their fingers at me from behind with words such as “eccentric”, “weirdo” or “pretentious” for having a preference that was different from other people’s – and something that I seriously liked, no less.

With a deep breath, I took the CD’s vinyl cover. Unlike Japanese CDs, there was none of those convenient little ears that made the cover come off when you pulled it. I slowly cut it with a pair of scissors, set it on a nostalgic stereo radio and played it while referring to the table of track numbers on the backside.

Just from the intro, I already knew who was singing and what song it was.

Maria Callas’s “Casta Diva”. It was a song from an opera called “Norma”, and the meaning of it was “chaste goddess”.

What it made me reminisce to was a seriously horrible time, when I had to prepare for my death to a certain extent. Whenever this song played in the hotel’s radio program, which repeated itself over and over, this song would connect me with paradise, telling me that I didn’t need to worry about trivial matters, so I was able to leave it all aside and relax. It was that kind of song. Without a doubt, my biggest and best saver was that beautiful jeweler, but from the sidelines, opera had definitely helped me keep my sanity.

That was amazing.

I was grateful from the bottom of my heart that this form of art, which couldn’t be classified as mainstream at all in Japan and probably overseas as well, had maintained its thread of life across the centuries. It had saved me. Would the CD sales be of any help to it? Thankfully, I had some money to spend and was probably able to buy a set of all-track CDs per month. Would that be a form of repayment of any kind? It would be great if so, I thought wholeheartedly.

“Casta Diva” wasn’t too long a piece. With a voice that sounded like it was vanishing, the song ended. For whatever reason, it made me feel like crying, no matter how many times I had listened to it. It was too beautiful. It was an impossible speculation, but if Richard turned into a song, I felt that his form would change into something very close to this one.

Once I finished listening to the track, the “aaah”s and “uuuh”s had disappeared from my head. I liked opera. Opera turned into my strength. So I wanted to cherish it.

Even if someone ridiculed me for it, the problem was with the person, not with me or with opera. And my precious, beautiful shopkeeper had stated that “no discriminating other people based on their preferences” was one of the main principles of Etranger. What was I going to do by discriminating myself?

I was going to keep buying opera CDs from now on too, I swore proudly to my heart, yet secretly decided not to write about it in my blog or talk to Richard about it. Not because it was embarrassing. But rather because I had the gut feeling that I couldn’t predict what would happen in the end if I told him.

On that day, I was busy with preparations for cooking. First Saul-san, and then Richard would come to Kandy to hear the reports about the progress of my studies. It was also like a test. But I hadn’t studied half-assedly enough to chicken out at that. Above all, thanks to the negotiations in Ratnapura, I was conscious that my eyes were well-trained, if I could say so myself.

If it didn’t go well even with this, that was fine. I was happy to find new challenges. Lots of things became easier once I started feeling that studying was fun.

And since they were coming over, they wouldn’t get angry if I prepared a bit of a feast. More than anything, being able to cook a few people’s share in this house had me overjoyed. After all, I was basically living alone, so just how many times had I found delicious-looking and cheap food but had to tearfully give up because I wasn’t sure if I could eat it all by myself?

Being surrounded by things that made you happy was extremely good for the heart.

Deciding to go for an additional blow, I set the CD in the radio. A long aria began at the end of the first opus of all songs. It was a French opera called “La Fille du Régiment”, and being fond of this one had greatly helped me when I was studying French.

The man who started to sing that he was going to marry the army was a world-renowned tenor.

In the beginning, the man sang that he was going to do meritorious deeds in the army, cheered on by his companions. Since I had been listening to the words ever since back when I could only hear them as katakana spelling, my mouth moved without any reference. Of course, my voice didn’t sound like that of a tenor, but it had the same gist as somehow trying to sing in the range of a singer from some music show. Just that was fun enough.

A fish pie was baking in the oven. There were three types of curry in the smaller pots. My Nakata-style sliced veggies pickled in soy sauce, which were a mixture of chopped coconut sambal and dried fruits, were lined up on a cutting board, and the fresh fruits that I planned to make into mixed juice were all completely ready. The only thing I had left to do was preparing watalappan for dessert. It had to chill in the fridge for a while, so it was necessary to make it in advance. However, since it was my third time making it, I had the procedure memorized. No worries.

The tenor raised his voice amidst joy. The man who sang, “Ah, I’m going, I’m going to marry the army” didn’t like the army in particular, he was just in love with the abandoned girl that all the men from the regiment he was enlisted in were raising together.

The key switched to waltz. The true value of the tenor would ensue from that point onward.

The oven beeped, indicating that the pie had finished baking. With light steps, put on my gloves, took out the whole iron plate with the pie on it and gently slid it into a white porcelain plate.

A series of splendid high Cs. This referred to when the tenor raised their voice a great deal. If the composer was wonderful in reproducing the feelings of happiness into the music so keenly, then so was the singer who sang them so faithfully, I believed. The feeling of excitement turned into the melody just the way it was.

I arranged the dishes on the table and peeled the fruits. The high Cs continued one after another. I opened a can of coconut milk and mixed the contents with nut paste. The song was approaching the end. “What a fate, what a fate,” he sang, sounding merry. The highest note was near.

The song was coming to a close while celebrating happiness with the highest note. The feelings of the singer weren’t recorded in the CD, but I could hear them as comfortably as could be.

It wasn’t nearly high enough, but I sang along at a fairly loud volume.

At the same time as the song finished with a flashy grace note, I lightly kicked the open lid of the oven. It closed up neatly. With this, everything was all set. I was going to put away the CD set before the guests arrived.

Or so I had planned.

After the peak of my excitement, I noticed that someone was standing outside the window. He hadn’t come in from the front door. Hence the chime didn’t ring.

“Bravo, bravissimo.” A beautiful man wearing a white shirt and sunglasses, said glasses charmingly pushed up above his forehead, was smiling while applauding at my stiffened self.

The test was terrible that day. I didn’t think there was any issue with the contents of my answers. However, since I was stuttering so much, Saul, my mentor who was so picky about manner of speech as well as the contents of it, pointed out that I should “act more dignified”. I knew that better than anyone. There was too much noise interference in my head with things such as, “Why did I put opera on in such high spirits? What did he think of me now? As I thought, does he think that this hobby doesn’t suit me? No, that’s definitely impossible when it comes to my teacher, so I have to take control of my self-consciousness”.

And so, this is a story that happened more than half a year after that. Something that took place in Sri Lanka in May.

“Eh?”

“Happy birthday, Seigi. Here is a little present.”

“A bank deposit transfer certificate?”

“Good job reading it. That is from the USA.”

“USA...”

“There was a seat that you would probably like, so I purchased a year’s worth of it.”

“A year”? This wasn’t potato chips or cup noodles. What kind of seat was that? Was there a truck coming to deliver it? While thinking about such things, I continued reading the A4 paper, and when I got to half of it, I roared loudly. I let out a voice that sounded like a crushed frog, I believed.

The seat that Richard had given me was indeed a seat. But at a music theatre in America, which was likely the world’s most famous. It was a one-year membership card.

This was proof that “a seat will be reserved for you”. A seat just for me, for any performance, that I could use whenever I went there.

I felt lightheaded. Just how much had this “seat” cost him? What was he trying to do by giving something like this to someone who sat in swivel chairs sold at mass retailers? I did have such rational retorts in my head, but above that, I was so, so happy that I started jumping up and down. I could go to a theatre that I only knew about from CDs. Anytime, as long as I had the plane tickets. No matter who was singing.

“Can I really have this?!”

“Do you think I’m some sort of boorish lad who’d take back the treasure after making the other person happy?”

“No way! Uoooh, I’m too excited; that’s bad!”

“You are reacting like a dog again...”

“I’m gonna run in the yard for a bit!”

As I, with a messy katakana pronunciation, sang to myself the chorus part of the aria that had just finished while rolling around in the yard, Jirou ran over and mounted on me without restraint. “Owner, we’re going to play here, right? We’re going to play here, right? Come, let’s play,” he seemed to say, energetically wagging his tail. I was so happy that I hugged him and rolled about, but then I could see Richard laughing. The yard was on a slightly lower level than the house, so the house was wholly visible, so I didn’t think I was mistaken. He really was making a happy-looking face. This might have been my first time seeing that man laugh with such a child-like expression.

At that moment, something suddenly came to mind.

When Richard told me for the first time that he “likes pudding”, did he also think for a bit that it was embarrassing or wonder about what I was going to say? This man had thorough knowledge about the so-called “society”. There was no way that he hadn’t considered the possibility.

But he had told me about it.

Did I not say anything weird to him back then? “A man, liking pudding?” or “Why would a foreigner like a Japanese dessert?” It gave me the creeps. Back then, I didn’t have as much care as now regarding how to handle such circumstances. I just had words jumping out of my mouth like knives. This still applies even now, but I wanted to think it had gotten better, even if just a little.

Had I not said anything to him? Had I not hurt him? I didn’t have any way to confirm that now. If I apologized without knowing what I had said, it wouldn’t be a sincere apology.

But right now, Richard was looking at my happy self and smiling.

So I decided to stop thinking about these things. And from now on too, I would keep making heaps upon heaps of the things he liked.

I had to protect what was important to me by myself. But if I happened to notice something that mattered to someone who was dear to me, I wanted to cherish it too. I had no other choice.

After stroking Jirou, I went back to where Richard was and bowed to him again. He reciprocated the bow with a “you are welcome” and seemed about to start laughing again.

“That’s right, I was gonna make pudding. Wait just a bit more.”

“Is there anything I can help with?”

“You already got me a seat at the MET; I can’t go along with that flattery even as a joke. I’d be happy if you played with Jirou, though.”

“Then, I will take you up on those words.”

Rubbing my chest in relief, I went back to my room, patting my whole body to remove the dirt and dog hairs, and after washing my hands with soap, I returned to the kitchen.

By the looks of it, I was going to be able to listen to an opera in person one of these days – at least within a year’s time. Once I watched it live, all the curtains would close, right? For real? Was such a thing possible? Apparently yes. Hard to believe but it was true.

That man who was like an incarnation of the worldwide definition of “beauty”, and above that, who was a genius at pleasing me, was fooling around with my hybrid brown dog in the yard, illuminated by tropical sunshine. It seemed that the preparations for our feast would still take a while.

“What a wonderful day,” I hummed tentatively in French. A gorgeous tenor voice wouldn’t come out of my throat, but the things I liked would firmly support my heart nevertheless. Almost like a backbone for it. And there was someone supporting this backbone. Honestly, what a wonderful day. For now, I’d be making pudding. And share at least a little bit of this feeling.

#housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #housekishou richard #jeweler richard #the case files of jeweler richard #nakata seigi #richard ranashinghe de vulpian #richard ranashinha de vulpian #jr short story collection #tsujimura nanako #yukihiro utako #novel #my translation #richard

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whirlybirdwhat · 4 years ago

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belong among the wild flowers

For kyo for the 2021 Sake Exchange!!!! I hope you enjoy <33333 READ ON AO3 - outsider pov, ‘you’ are the outsider pov, gen, straw hat focus

You’re a seller. A seller of flowers that is. Beautiful flowers from seeds grown all over the world, grown by you and your wife – and.

Well.

Grown by you now, but it’s all the same. 50 years and your flowers haven’t lost their vibrancy, only gained.

This morning you smile, breathing in the cool air so soothing on your old lungs and head out into the fields of beautiful flowers, filled with oranges, blues, pinks, and –

Red.

There’s –

There’s red in your fields, between the blues and the yellows.

The reds are the complete opposite side of the farm, by your wife’s grave, because she loved the color so much.

What is red doing here?

“Shishishi!”

Ah.

The hackles in you calm. Its just a boy.

(Your wife had loved children.)

He’s small, thin, dressed in vibrant baggy blue shorts and a red tee, open to display scarring on his chest. His head is turned away from you, black hair flying in the wind to shield his face but –

There is gold upon his head. Golden straw.

Odd.

(The last man who came here wearing golden straw had died, his death in the newspaper. Oddly, already, you hope this boy won’t be the same.)

Its wrapped in a red ribbon, bright red. Red doesn’t belong. Red –

“Shishishi!” The boy laughs and turns to her again, smile wide, scar under his eye sloping and wave like, so much more faded than the angry red across his chest. “Ah! Old person! Do you know where these flowers came from?”

You blink. Once. Twice. Eyes darting to the watering can in your hand and to the dirty but lovingly patched overalls you’re wearing, then back up to him. “Come again?” Is all you can say, but he’s already off on a tangent.

“Ooh! Pretty! Hey, old person, these are almost like the flowers from back home! And the ones on Robin’s flower beds, the ones from where she grew up – Shishishi, I’m gonna take a few, kay?”

And he reaches down, down down and –

“No!” You yell, sudden, grabbing his hand, and hitting him over the head with your watering can. “Don’t pluck those flowers young man!”

“Owwwwww-why do you have haki?” He rubs at his head, eyes wide, and huh.

Who knew such a scrawny brat could know haki?

“It’s the New World, brat! All old people know haki!” You tell him, a faint whisper of laughter in your voice. “Stop stealing my flowers!” You snap again as his hands snakes out and snaps back with a rubbery twang.

“But they aren’t your flowers!”

“Yes they are”

“No! They’re Robins!”

“NO!” You shout, forehead to forehead with this boy. “They’re MINE! I grew them! I loved them! They are mine to pluck!”

He stares at you, pulling back, head cocked to the side, before his eyes brighten. You look at him critically as you bend down, easing dirt back into place and burying a worm back into its home.

“Ah!” The boy shouts, fist landing in his hand. “They’re your dream!”

Your dream…

You haven’t had yours in a long time.

When you last did, it was with your wife by your side.

You shake your head at the boy, irritation bleeding into melancholy. “No. These flowers aren’t my dream.” You ease a petal up, gently brushing off dirt and giving it a gentle kiss. Your wife had always laughed when you did that, right before she gave you a kiss as well.

“What is?” The boy asks, bending down with you, sitting on his heels and now careful – so very careful – not to touch your flowers.

“Mm?”

“What’s your dream?” His hand drifts to the same petal you are touching, and you look up, and oh –

There’s earnesty in his eyes. Honesty. A raw kind of hope, a raw kind of belief. He’s open, and you can never understand him, never want to, never will be able to look deeper than that bone deep honesty but –

You know this boy is a pirate. Only pirates chase dreams as honest as this. Only pirates want dreams as honest as this.

(How old is he? The last pirate you saw was an old man, and the closest to this boy’s age was still a cabin boy. You don’t think this boy is like that – he can’t be. He’s got too much in him for that.)

Your tongue speaks without your bidding, without your permission.

“I used to have one. Don’t have it now.”

He gives you a look. And maybe – maybe his eyes catch on the lines on your face, the etches of sorrow, the pockmarks and signs of age and the places your wife kissed. Maybe he knows that you’re a liar as much as this boy is not.

“Then what do you want?”

Again – your mouth moves without you wanting it to. This boy has power, some strange presence, a compelling to him that you can’t seem to fight.

“Well, the Duke’s head would be nice.”

The boy nods, standing up, casting a shadow on you as the sun rises behind him. “Alright! I’ll beat up the Duke for you, and then you’ll give me flowers!”

Wait what –

“Let’s go!” Unstoppable as a whirlwind, this boy grabs your hand and tugs you forward, and off you go, running through the paths of the flowers and determination in his eyes.

“BOY WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!” You scream, panicked, watering can left behind.

“Shishishi!” Is all you get for an answer, a laughter like petal in the end and –

Well.

It’s been awhile since you went on an adventure like this.

The boy’s name is Luffy – Monkey D. Luffy.

(There hasn’t been a D. on this island since the last man with a straw hat.)

You learn this because a red-haired girl screams it when you crash into her, raging and furious, leaving Luffy with large bumps on his head.

“MONKEY D. LUFFY!” She cries, fists raising down and bracelets and log pose catching in the light. “DON’T DO THAT!”

“Owwwww – Nami!” Luffy looks to her, giving her a long reminiscent of puppy dogs and pleading.

Nami sighs, brushing off dirt from her orange overalls, and gives him her own look, something between terrible fondness and annoyance. “Don’t rocket!” She tells him, before tossing him a tangerine – one of your neighbors, by the looks of it. “Look!”

(You and your wife had walked through the groves when you were young and in puppy love. You had taken a flower and put it in her hair, just as your neighbors’ father had chased you out of the grove for theft. It had been fun.)

Luffy catches the tangerine, looking it over, then up at Nami.

“They’re just like Bell-mere’s!” Nami tells him, her eyes bright with something like nostalgia, so different from the rage only moments before. Her enthusiasm is earnest, just like this boy’s, and oh - they must be crew. “I can’t believe Cocoyashi trees are all the way out here!”

The name catches your attention, with the disbelief, and you smile at her. “Our island, Flors, has plants from across the world – the rarest, prettiest, sturdiest you can think of. Are you from Cocoyashi? Must have been a long time since you saw trees like these.”

She gives you a glance, an assessing look, then tosses her head back and laughs. “No, I have my own trees back our ship. Ah – who are you?”

Trees on a ship? Tangerine trees? What-

“NAMI!” Luffy interjects, before you can give your name, dancing on the tip of your tongue. “Which way is the Duke?”

“The Duke?” Her attention switches from you to him in a moment. “There’s a Duke?” You don’t think it’s possible, but her eyes – they seem to turn into belli signs. “Where? Why do you want him? Is he rich?” She’s shaking Luffy now, and you can’t help but let out a laugh, same time as Luffy.

“Shishishi! If I beat up the Duke, I can get flowers from the field for Robin!” He says, as if it makes perfect sense. It doesn’t. You aren’t sure where he got the idea that you would give him flowers, or that he’ll be able to beat up the Duke, but –

“Okay!” Nami says, brightly, soundly, understanding this wild boy. “I’ll find out where the gold is.”

Gold?

When had gold come into the equation?

“You go ahead – I’m sure if you run around enough someone’s going to come out and yell out you. Then I can have all the Duke’s gold!” In seconds, she’s pulling a staff from her waist, snapping it together and twisting, so that electricity crackles at the top. Her eyes alight, and there’s something dangerous about her. Something a bit deadly, a bit wanting, a bit fierce. “Be done soon Luffy! The log pose should settle by the end of the day, and I want to get out of here before the storm hits!”

Storm?

“Aye Nami!”

You remember deciding that this boy was a pirate, for how he talked about dreams. You decide this girl must be a pirate, for how she’s unafraid of the storm, the wind, the weather.

You stare at her, old limbs creaking, bewildered. She reminds you of your wife, when you had first met her, all wild hair and adventure. Something aches, quietly, inside your chest – but, strangely, this time, it isn’t a sad ache.

Just a nostalgic one.

In moments, Luffy arm is around yours, and he’s running, your feet off the ground and yourself carried in a side hold.

“BRAT!” You say, elbowing him with Haki, but this time his own defense is up and you simply have to bear the running for now.

Seeing the island go by, faster than it ever has, you can’t seem to make yourself mad.

The next stop is apparently up in a tree, though why you can’t fathom. All you know is Luffy was running and running, and running despite your yells of terror again, and then he stopped, slamming you into his back. It had lasted all but a moment, before he was reaching a hand up and shouting that absolutely dreadful phrase –

“GUM GUM ROCKET!”

-And dragging you high into the sky, crashing through branches, and into the waiting arms of a long-nosed man.

He screams.

You scream.

He doesn’t drop you though, only settling you on the part of the branch closest to the trunk, and continues scream.

You stop, then start again, because there is a living plant wrapped around him, moving like a wolf, and a bug the size of your head fluttering next to his.

You are a seller. A gardener. You deal with bugs. Just not the bugs this particular orchard has, because Old Man Johnson is terrifying and likes to collect bugs bigger and bigger than your face.

Fuck, you think, looking down to the bottom of the forest floor but finding it far too high for your old, brittle legs, even with haki.

Luffy has no such problem, falling off the branch only to bounce right back up, tumbling into the long-nosed man just as he had tumbled into Nami. “Usopp!” He cries, joy in his face and –

Usopp’s face, morphs from terror to joy and pride and happiness in an instant, his arms coming around to circle Luffy as if this wild boy had always belonged there. It’s sweet. It’s comforting.

It’s rocking the sturdy branch you are sitting on, and you have no idea how Usopp is managing to keep his balance.

Then you notice the living plant pushing against Usopp’s back, the bug helping, and immediately understand how.

But not why.

Does this man have control over plants or something? A bug devil fruit? His crewmate, Luffy – for what else could Luffy be than his crewmate – has a devil fruit, you think, so it wouldn’t be so surprising. It’s like magic the way the vines grows and growls, familiar to you in some distant way that you can’t quite name and –

“Luffy!” Usopp cries, holding Luffy to his chest. “You’re here! When you shot off I tried to look for you, but had to fight a thousand giant flowers first! Each threatening to swallow me whole but I defeated them with my trusty slingshot!”

What? You start to think, something that you think is far too common with these people, before noticing the way Luffy’s face shutters at giant flowers and swallow whole. Odd, you think, odd, but you aren’t the only one to notice. Usopp’s face flicks over Luffy’s with careful affection, cautious notice, and then lunges into another tale.

“It was after that I stumbled upon these! Look – Luffy they’re just like the island I trained on!” And Usopp shoves a bunch of seeds into Luffy’s face, seeds that split before your eyes and grow into beautiful figures and designs.

Luffy’s eyes turn into stars as you watch. “OOOOO! From the mystery Island with the plants!”

“Ah Bowin Archipelago Luffy.”

“Bowie Archipelago!”

“Ah, close enough! Anyway – with these I can breed new types of Pop Greens! Like maybe a dragon!”

“A Yeti!”

“A giant tiger!”

“A giant!” They go on like that, trading amazing fantastical thing after amazing fantastical thing, each more incredible with the last, each with full surety that this thing could happen. It’s… its foolishness mixed with childish glee.

(You remember looking after your neighbors’ children with your wife, watching as they laughed and laughed and laughed. They had the same tender joy that Usopp and Luffy have, though where the children were edgeless and free, Usopp and Luffy’s joy is tempered with age and hard muscle, truth of pirates beyond the fantastical wildness of dreams. Its joy brought into reality.

You wish your wife as here to see it.)

Usopp takes a pause from chattering with Luffy, and also a pause from making the branch bounce far to much for what you’re comfortable with.

(Your wife had always teased you for your fear of tall, wavering places. It made you smile when you climbed crows nests for her.)

“I do wonder,” the long-nosed sniper ponders, “How these plants got all the way here. The Bowin Archipelago is in Paradise – nowhere near here.”

“Shishishi! Nami’s tangerines were here too!” Luffy tells him with glee. “And Robin’s flowers!”

“Really!? Amazing! Hey – who’s your friend? Do they know anything about this?” Usopp turns to you, gaze piercing like any sniper should.

You gulp.

Then register what he called you.

“I’m not his-“

“They’re a mystery person!” Luffy cuts in. “I gotta beat up a Duke to get Robin’s flowers from them!”

You would face palm, but that would mean letting go of the trunk.

“A Duke!?” Usopp cries, a mix of fear and readiness. “Did you tell Nami? She’s going to want his money before you beat him up.”

The confidence these people have in this boy – you don’t get why.

(Maybe you’re starting too. He’s pulled you away from your garden, hasn’t he?)

“Shishishi! Nami knows! She’s gonna get the gold while I beat him up!”

“Do you even know where the Duke is? What if he’s strong? Terrifying? What if he has a thousand teeth and eyes and wants to eat me for picking his flowers – Luffy you gotta beat him up, you gotta!” Usopp chatters, wavering between fear and terror and sheer bravery. An odd one, this boy is. You like him though.

“Shishishi! I will!” Luffy promises him, grin stretching wide on his face and promise ready on his tongue, not a doubt in his mind. “Just watch me!”

Usopp melts, just a little. Ease ripples through him, and he lets out a quiet, proud “I know.” Then – he turns to you. “Uh, would you like a ride down?”

Yes. Yes you would. You nod, before Luffy stretches out his hand and oh god not again, your joints are not good for this adventure –

“OI! SHIT HEADS!”

Luffy’s arm stretches back, a laughing tumbling out of his mouth and you turn to your savior.

It’s a man, in the most god-awful shirt you have ever seen, with boat shoes and horrible matching shorts.

It’s a man, with blonde hair and cigarette and swirly eyebrows shadowing a glare on his face as he holds giant fruits from the seeds of the giant land of Elbalph inn either hand with ease.

It’s a man, who is floating in the air.

You let out a large squeak but no one seems to notice.

“SANJI!” Luffy cries, and this must be another one of his man crewmates, and just how many of them are on this island, exploring and racking up havoc.

You spare a moment to consider how Sanji got over the giant fences Farmer Green had set up. Then you remember, right, he’s flying, and wonder how that’s happening.

Sanji gives a kick, and dodge Luffy’s lunge, letting him fall to the forest floor and bounce back up. “Hey Captain. You guys know where Nami-swan or Robin-chwan are? I found some rare fruits that I can use, and I want to give it a try.”

“Sanji! Meat!” Luffy cries, practically salivating.

Sanji gives a shrug. “No meat, Captain. Haven’t found anything like that on this island – just plants, plants, and more plants.” Luffy sags where he stands, in a pout so childish, and Sanji’s next words come out in a rush that he tries to play off as nonchalant. “Me and the shit-swordsman can go and cut up a sea king. I think I saw some off the coast.” Here, his tone turns ponderous. “I could make a Sea King platter with this dressing – and palate that with a fruit salad or start shish-kabobbing if we are more pressed for time…”

“And dessert!” A voice pops up, tiny and squeaky, and a racoon dog in a hat pops up from behind Sanji’s shoulder. “You promised me desert!”

“CHOPPER!” Luffy and Usopp cries, and in an instant, the animal is jumping from where it was clinging to Sanji’s back and into his apparent crew-mates arms.

“Usopp! Luffy!” The animal cries, holding up his bag. “I was able to restock EVERYTHING I had from the Birdie Kingdom! Even the rare ones that only grew there! I even found the herbs that can help with heart stuff that everyone thought went extinct! This place is AMAZING!” There’s sheer glee in the animal’s – Chopper’s?- gaze and-

Oh dear sweet mother of oceans. The animal speaks. The animal has a name, speaks, and knows medicinal plants.

You want to faint. You want to go back to our flowers. You – you –

Chopper is right next you, holding a vial of spicy something underneath your nose, rescuing you from your faint.

You somewhat wishes he didn’t. You are old and quite done with this, you think. Are any of these folk even paying for what they are grabbing?

“Ah! You’re awake! Make sure to drink more water okay?” Chopper tells you, looking so concerned, and oh, he’s adorable.

You nod, belatedly, then tune back into the conversation.

“…beat up the Duke for Robin’s flowers!” Luffy is telling Sanji determinedly.

“Ah! Anything for Robin-chwan!!” Sanji twirls in the air, eyes like hearts. “I’ll help – ah, Never mind. I need to get these to the ship – this kind of fruit supposedly decays within five hours of being cut from the branch, which is why they’re so rare. I think the Duke’s mansion is that way though.” Sanji tilts his head, blonde hair shifting, and gestures to the distance. Luffy follows his line of sight like a dog after a ball.

“Shishishi! Thank Sanji! Make a biiiiig feast for when we’re done! A party!”

“Alright captain. Chopper!” And Sanji turns to you and the tiny – doctor? Is he a doctor? – and calls over. “You coming with me or do you want to help Luffy beat up a Duke?”

Chopper perks up and turns from you, leaving Sanji to glance over you, mostly hidden behind the very fluffy reindeer. “With you! I want to make these medicines soon as possible so I can get more if needed.”

Sanji nods, and gives another kick with his legs, keeping him in the air somehow – even with Haki, you have never seen this – and turns to Usopp. “Usopp?”

“Ahhh I would only overshadow Luffy if I went! Too little a job for me!” Usopp crows, hands on his hips, grin on his face.

“Coward.” Sanji tells him, deadpan clear. You remember the tale this man told at the beginning and wonder what his role on this crew is.

Usopp squawks but doesn’t deny it to both Chopper and Luffy’s uproarious laughter. Sanji gives a sly grin, and in seconds, faster than you can tell, Chopper is back on his back and Usopp beside him on the branch. He nods to Luffy, and with a brief “See you, Luffy!” he’s off, kicking his way through the sky.

Usopp stares for a moment then starts yelling again, leaping fearlessly from branch to branch, and you realize, with sudden clarity, that it was not the bravery that was the façade, but the cowardice.

Luffy’s crew is odd. You just want to wonder how he fits into it all.

Luffy takes you on his back this time, scratchy straw placed carefully on his head instead of crushed against your cheek.

It’s running, so much running, and stretching and stretching.

You have time to think. To wonder. To question.

It builds in you, tumultuous and roiling. This boy – he’s running across the entire island, all for a chance for some flowers. He wants to face the Duke, the Duke who is so terrible, so terribly horrible, just for some flowers. For some Robin.

It’s clear he could so easily take them anyway – you may have haki, but you are no match for the muscles rippling under this boy’s back – but he doesn’t.

You’re dream, he had said, and it marks him as a Pirate but it just makes you question –

What’s his dream? Who’s Robin? Why is this straw hat so familiar? Who is he? Cabin boy or crewmate or something more?

You start with the simplest.

“Brat. Who’s Robin?” You ask him as he pauses upon the top of one of Flors’ giant mushrooms. He pauses for only a moment, before turning to you with the most blinding grin.

“She’s Robin! My archeologist!” My, he says, like she’s his. My, he says, like he’s in charge.

My, he says, like he’s the captain, and suddenly, you realize that’s because he is.

This boy, smaller than you were when age didn’t bend your back like a willow, with sloping and burning scars, and a smile like the sun – is a captain, the captain of Robin and Nami and Usopp and Sanji and Chopper, and more you haven’t met. A pirate crew in the New World.

It humbles you, in a way you didn’t expect.

“She likes flowers?” You ask, instead of voicing why, why does a pirate crew need an archeologist, why do they follow him, who are you straw-hatted boy?

“Yeah! She has a whole garden on the Sunny! And the flowers in your garden are from her home! She showed me a book of them once.” Every word is said with pride, and you wonder how you missed it all before, the way he cried Usopp and Nami and Chopper and Sanji with mine, and love, and protection all those times before. This boy is a Captain.

Then, his words strike you.

Home island.

Those flowers in your garden were from Ohara, given to you by a woman so long ago, a gift from her home island in turn for a glimpse of the stone at the center of Flors. Your wife had loved those flowers.

Ohara is gone now.

These flowers are all that’s left.

These flowers, and Nico Robin.

Oh, you think, oh.

Straw Hat Luffy, 1.5 billion berry wanted man, laughs from where he carries you, dashing from mushroom to mushroom.

He’s so young, and yet, not really. He’s 19, or so the papers say, and he’s taken on all three of the government strongholds and come out almost on top each time, has fought emperors and warlords, saved kingdoms and islands. He’s young, but not in the naïve way, the childish way. Only the youthful way, in that his face still has baby fat and his smile has crinkles from laughter not rage.

(No one who holds a loved one in their arms like that is young. You speak from experience.

Your wife had been soft and bloodstained when she brush the hair from your face.)

He’s…

This boy – this man…

You have run out of words to describe him.

Suddenly, like before, like in your field of flowers, the words spill from your lips unbidden. This boy has revealed so much by only praising his navigator. You could so easily turn him in. Yet –

“The Duke is a cruel man,” You begin, not really sure if Luffy is listening, not really caring in the end. “He came here ten years ago, drawn by our beautiful, beautiful flowers and plants. He thought he could make a profit, thought he could earn billions from this place and – he – “

Luffy stops moving.

He doesn’t interrupt. But –

There’s not a lack of care in him. In his eyes as he turns to look at you. It’s a lack of need.

“I don’t need you to tell me this. The Duke hurt your dream, right?”

You nod, small, quiet.

“Then I’m going to beat him.”

Simple as that, he smiles at you, not brilliant, not vibrant, but safe. Sure.

(I’m going to turn the world upside down! The last wearer of this hat had cried, so sure, so confidant.

The echo of that – louder and changed and triumphant – is here.)

Luffy moves again, and you don’t speak. You don’t think you possibly could.

(Here’s a story, that the future King of the Pirates will never know, but one that draws close to your chest.

You were born and raised on this island, collecting sea grass by the sea, when your wife had washed up on the shore, wild haired and half drowned. You had rescued her, your strange, sea-faring wife, and learned of her travels, her tales, her losses at sea. It’s a miracle she made it to shore.

It’s a miracle she wakes up in your arms, and offers you a kiss.

You loved her then, and you will love her for the next infinity. She tended the gardens with you, loving the colors and the reds that you had saved her in. She loved and lived and so did you.

Then the Duke, cruel faced and greedy, had shown up, making each of you sell your wares in stead of trade, bringing in outside sales, and taken all of the profit for himself.

Then the Duke, cruel faced and greedy, had fought your wife who was bold and terrifying and a pirate with her sword still strapped to her waist, even at 30, 40, 50 –

And struck her down.

That’s the end of the story, for you are just a gardener, a seller of flowers, with old bones and the haki your wife taught you, who once saw the Pirate King and the archeologist of Ohara, collected seeds from a thousand islands and planted them with care, who had a dream, once, shared with your wife but –

Your wife is dead, and so the story ends here.)

(A boy in straw is here, and so your story blooms.)

A voice sings out from the flowers, and it’s with joy that Luffy jumps down, rubber easing the impact that shocks up your back, to sing with a skeleton.

A skeleton, who has an afro and a guitar and who can sing.

“Yohohohoho!” The skeleton laughs, melodious even without vocal chords. “Hello Luffy!”

“Brook!” Luffy smiles, “Franky!”

Who –

“YEOW LITTLE BRO! Isn’t this island SUPER!?”

A singing skeleton, and a cyborg, with a hair shaped into sunflowers. Sunflowers.

If it weren’t for the sting of the vial still sniffling in your nose, you think you would pass out again. The New World is weird – but not this weird.

Dear mother sea almighty – these two tower, yet are dressed in sparkling floral patterns and shirts.

Luffy jumps into their arms without hesitation, setting you down just before he does in the first time since the tree and the other members of his crew. The cyborg – Franky, you think, by Luffy’s laughter – catches him easily, swinging him about and finally settling him on his shoulder, where the skeleton, Brook, places a crown of flowers around his hat.

It’s sweet, with love and adoration in every motion. This whole crew is like that, and it hurts you, emboldens you, does to you a thousand things to see them be like that. Loving, without restraints, without fear, whole and happy. It is incredible that this boy, only a teen, this man has been able to gather to him such authority, such power, such loyalty.

It warms you, you think.

(It strikes a chord in you, you think, of something like jealous but not all at once. You want this, but you will never be a part of this crew, and you never wanted to have this, never knew it was missing before this but – here it is.

Without you.

You miss your wife.)

“Who’s this, Luffy?” Franky asks, gesturing to you with a large red hand. Flowers are painted over it, in the colors that the children use to paint the fences. Little handprints scatter about, and its obvious that these two had had a run in with the children of the island, and cared for them, gentle and loving.

“Shishishi! They have the flowers Robin likes! From her island! I’m gonna beat up the Duke for them so I can get the flowers!”

It’s an old routine by now. You still don’t quite believe he can do it, no matter that you know he has beaten billion belli pirates and warlords and emperors. He’s just – The Duke is –

“Sounds perfect, Luffy! We beat a few of the Duke’s ah, lovely gentlemen there.” And the skeleton waves his hand to the path behind him, sweeped beneath giant flowers, to where bodies lay in the ground, bloody, barely breathing, and decidedly unconscious.

All covered in the white uniform of the Duke’s men.

Oh, you think, feeling familiar rage bubble up at the sight of them. Oh.

“They were picking on some SUPER kids! Had to put a stop to it, knew you wouldn’t mind.” Franky enunciates, striking a pose. “Zoro helped out, but we lost him when we turned away for a second.”

“He really blends in with all this green, Yohohohoho!” Brook snickers, and you remember bounty posters with a piercing glare and green hair and none too little blood, and wonder how you lose an entire ex-bounty hunter turned pirate.

You don’t think you will ever know what these people are. Ever.

“Shishishi! We’ll find him!” Luffy reassures, already grabbing onto you again.

“Bro, you’re just as bad!” Franky tells him, and you wonder with what? Before Luffy has hauled you onto your back.

(Maybe you should invest in hiring someone to do this. You haven’t been off your feet so much in YEARS.)

“Shishishi! Bye Franky! Bye Brook!” Luffy shouts, ignoring his crew and dashing off into the woods yet again. “Sanji’s throwing a feast after I beat the Duke!”

You leave the clearing, bouncing through sunflowers, to the sounds of cheers of “Knock ‘em dead Luffy!” and “A party! How delightful!”

Running, and running, and running. Always more running. Are these pirates always like this – running from location to location, dashing and jumping, never settling more than a moment?

“Shishishi! Yeah! What’s the fun in staying still?”

Oh, you said that aloud, didn’t you?

“You’re funny old person!”

“Oh, shove off you brat. What happens when you can’t beat the Duke?”

When, you say, purposeful, deliberate, smothering the hope in your chest. When.

“I will.” Comes Luffy’s response, and you should have expected that, you should have but –

“But-”

“I Will.” Comes Luffy’s grin, and –

“Why?”

It comes out of your throat strangled, half dead because you don’t get him, you don’t, you don’t, an you don’t know why because this boy is just like your love and your wife, adventurous and outgoing.

“Remember?” He looks at you, never moving, and oh, you do. “The Duke hurt your dream! He can’t do that!” And he won’t, goes the unspoken promise.

“Oh,” You say, like you said before, trying to commit that truth to heart. Oh.

It’s mid-afternoon by the time you arrive at the Duke’s mansion. It’s gleaming white, made off the backs of the poor farmers of this station, who only wanted to grow plants and share seeds in peace. It fills you with rage. Horrible, horrible rage that consumes your very soul and makes your bones ache.

The place where your wife last caressed your face burns.

“This it?” Luffy asks you, and you give a nod. He slides you off his back, offering a steady arm for your to grab onto, and you both stare at the mansion. You have dreamed of setting this place on fire. Dreamed of it.

Here, Luffy is ready to make it a reality.

“Now – where’s the Duke?” Luffy tilts his head to the side, peering at the building. You peer with him, trying to remember where the Duke liked to make his nest when –

“You! Peasant! Off my lawn!” Comes a voice, a voice that fills you with rage, from the Duke’s own personal garden.

“Oi – what’re you doing old man? I’m trying to sleep here,” Comes another voice, younger with a deep timber and ooh–

Luffy’s tugged you by the wrist and you go over the hedge, landing squarely in front of –

“Zoro!” Luffy cries, and tackles the man with three swords, lying on the ground.

Ah.

That’s why Franky and Brook thought this man would blend in. He’s so green. Like a little moss ball. A marimo!

Adorable.

Zoro caves easily to Luffy’s demands, catching him and moving aside so Luffy can find his own place wrapped around him, ease in every motion. Comfortability in every act.

“Hey, Luffy – you know where everyone else is? I was beating up some of the weird guards around this place and wound up here.” Zoro asks, seemingly entirely genuine.

Luffy only throws his head back and cackles. “You got lost!”

“No, I didn’t! This place moves that’s all! Like Usopp’s plants!”

“No, you’re just stupid Zoro.”

“I am not!”

“Are too!”

“A-HEM!” The Duke calls, interrupting, and to his credit doesn’t even flinch when the unimpressed glares of Zoro and Luffy land on him.

The Duke is – he’s towering. Eleven feet tall with muscles toned and strong, haki perpetually on his fists and a war hammer on his back. He wears pristine white suits, a flower in the lapel, red and plucked from your own garden, and his servants lay out a carpet before him, so he doesn’t have to deign to step in the mud in on an island of farmers and gardeners.

You hate him. You hate him.

Something flies in the air, landing perfectly on the Duke’s white clothes.

A – a booger?

You look to your right, and there is Luffy, picking his nose and looking entirely unimpressed. “Heh – Who are you?” He asks.

The Duke, pale skinned and furious, goes red. “I,” He declares, pompous, his servants cowering in the background, “Am The Duke of Flors, Lord” –“

“Ooooh, you’re the Duke! Zoro doesn’t he look like the axe-dude?” Luffy cuts the Duke off before turning entirely to Zoro. Zoro, for his part, cocks his head to the side.

“You know, if I cut off his arm, he really does.”

You stare.

The Duke stares.

Luffy wheels back his hand and smashes his fist into the Duke’s face, coated in haki and a direct hit to the man’s face.

There’s a cracking noise and a scream as the Duke goes flying.

You stare.

The Duke is too far to see.

Zoro snorts. “What he do?” He asks. Luffy cocks his head toward you and Zoro gives a hum before settling back down into the ground. “Wake me up when you’re done. The bastard interrupted my nap.”

You stare.

Zoro snores.

The Duke comes crashing down from the sky with furious screaming, fist cocked back, only to be met with Luffy bouncing him off and back – blowing himself up like a balloon.

You stare.

The Duke screams.

Luffy laughs, and jumps into the fray, easily knocking back the guards that attack him, and Zoro defending himself easily with one sword as he lies down.

(He has three swords though. Why? Why do you need three swords? You are so confused.)

You stare, surrounded by guards attacking you as this invincible fortress, surrounded by walls of white and a legacy of blood, begins to be torn down. The Duke comes back, white clothes ruined, trading blows with Luffy who almost looks as if he’s toying with him. In the midst, a skeleton and a cyborg appear, riding atop a motorcycle of all things, knocking down entire walls of this palace that should have never been.

Usopp appears, the same time as the aerial squadron of the Duke’s arrives, and giving you a small nod head into the battle without a second of fear. He’s – he’s no act of bravery, and now, yyou think you could believe in every one of his tales, as you watch plants bloom to life to become dragons and snakes and forces of nature hundreds of feet tall. Chopper, the small raccoon dog – he’s different now, charging and shifting forms in an instant, and he’s a zoan, but you thought zoans had three forms.

Not seven.

Not – Chopper crunches something and grows and roars – not eight.

You are frozen, held in place, even as Sanji comes to drape a jacket over you before heading off, by this crew.

The Straw Hat Pirates, they are called. Dangerous they are called.

And they are.

But you can’t help but feel anything but awe as you stare at them, magnificent and beautiful and deadly, wielding nature and bending it to their very whim. They know they can win – and they know that this is nothing.

They’re having fun while they do this, with amazing feats and sights that you – even living in the Grand Line, the New World, thought you would never see. The last straw hatted man who came through here, walked these fields and touched these flowers – he had nothing on this.

“Ah!” A voice next to you says, loud enough amidst the explosions of laughter and fear, familiar and sweet. “Should have known this was where Luffy got up to!” It’s Nami, with a large bag on her back.

You give her a look, then look at Luffy – now fighting the Duke in the sky, with a giant fist, covered in haki and fire.

This boy –

“Amazing, isn’t he?” Nami asks you, settling down and adjusting the solid gold crown on her head. “He saved all of us – saved entire kingdoms. Just because we were his friend.”

Really!? Amazing! Hey – who’s your friend? Do they know anything about this? Usopp had said, and Luffy hadn’t protested.

Friend.

The Duke had hurt your dream, and here Luffy is, destroying an entire kingdom for you and your dream.

It’s – it’s incredible. This boy, he –

“He’s the man who will be King of the Pirates,” Nami tells you, nothing but truth ringing loud and free in her voice. “And we’re going to follow him, and chase our own dreams.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you watch the Duke fall from the sky, chased by a man made of rubber, chased by a king in a straw hat, chased and chased and chased and –

“So,” Nami smiles to your side, looking into your face. “Are you ready to chase yours again?”

The Duke slams down into the ground in a flurry of petals and red, and oh –

It’s red. Red your wife’s favorite color, wife the color of your favorite colors, red the color of the horizon and everything god, red, red, red –

Red, the color of the ribbon around a straw hat, and red, the color of the vest of a king.

It’s beautiful.

“Yes.” You say, trembling as the Duke fails. “Yes – I’m. I’m ready. My dream – my dream –“

Luffy raises a fist, and delivers a single punch that frees your entire island, avenges your wife, saves you.

He smiles as he does it, a grin on his lips and a shout to the sky – “I’M THE MAN WHO WILL BE KING OF THE PIRATES!”

It’s red.

“My dream is to collect all the flowers in the world! To shelter them! Even the flowers at Raftel!” It’s like an oath, spilling from your lips, last said hand in hand with your wife but now – now alone, but not, because your wife may be gone but she’s still here – never forgotten, always loved, and alive in your shared dreams.

Nami smiles, Luffy laughs, and you think red looks beautiful in your garden.

There’s a party on the shore, next to a ship with a sunflower head, decorated in flowers and the fruits of the island. The Straw Hats celebrate, as well as with the other residents of the island, who praise them and thank them and welcome them, lading their arms with all sorts of delicacies.

You aren’t there. Neither is Luffy.

Instead, the two of you head back to your farm. This time your back is straight and there’s a smile on your face. You stand tall and on your own but not alone and –

It’s good.

Luffy smiles at you, gentle and brilliant, and you look to the fields where the flowers he wants are –

Being tended to, by a woman with long black hair and a tender smile. A fishman is next to her, blue and tall, seemingly awkward amidst the yellows and blues and delicate petals, but just as willing to stand with who you can only assume is Robin.

“Luffy!” She cries first, so happily, showing the petals to Luffy. He jumps into her arms, swinging her arounds, and in quick motions you carefully take the plants from the earth to wrap into a boquet, roots attached to be easily replanted, and had it it Luffy. By the time he sets Robin down, he’s pressing the flowers into her hands.

“For you!” He says, bright, and you know he gave you a dream back but –

You know, in truth, he really defeated the Duke for his crew. For his family, his nakama. For Robin, to see this bone-deep happiness on her face.

She smiles, and later you will hear tales from the guards of the stone, who speak of a women who could read the ancient script inscribed upon It while having a thousand arms but –

For now, you see a woman gifted the world, and know joy.

The fishman beside her – Jimbe your recognize, first son of the sea – gives a laugh and oh, is there red here, is there love here.

This boy, this king to be, Luffy, he came in and swept you all like wildflowers in the wind, simply to make one person happy.

Amazing, you think, looking around your island that’s unchained and your dream restored and your fields filled with red, how one man’s selfishness, leads to an island’s freedom.

You wave goodbye from the cliffside, your wife’s grave beside you. Upon the ship of a king is a bag, to be filled with the flowers of the island at the end of the sea and returned to you after that. You had been given a hug before you left, one made of rubber limbs and crushing weight, and watched as he rejoined his crew and celebrated another adventure.

You had watched the party they had upon the shore, so wondrous, so amazing, and had watched them sing out victory over the crowds, with chopsticks up their noses and a rock star as their backdrop.

The Straw Hat pirates – their names dance on your tongue.

How amazing, how wonderful, how world-shaking to know them, even for just a moment.

You have met straw hat wearers and archeologists and kings but never – never have you met anyone, just like them.

So you wave from the shore, your wife with you, and belatedly, tragically realize that you gave them your dream, but never your name.

Damnit!

53 notes · View notes

taeminyourmind · 4 years ago

Text

The 12-Year Promise x Taemin (M)

Genre: Mature - Smut (Soft)

Summary: Forced to move away, you and your best friend Taemin make a promise to meet again on your 25th birthday.

Pairing: Taemin x Reader

Word Count: 3.9k+

October 2006

A crisp autumn breeze commands the fallen leaves to dance along the uneven gravel road of your neighborhood. The street, once filled with children playing, is now silent as neighbors gather in front of your house to bid your family farewell.

You and Taemin hide behind a thick row of bushes behind your house, sitting side-by-side with faces of confusion and sadness. Every day, you wake up and pray that it was all a dream, but the brown boxes sitting on your desk with your name scribbled on the side in black sharpie mock you every morning. You could never forget the moment your mother brought the news down on you in a way only she could.

Rain hits against the window while you and your parents eat dinner in silence. The sound of utensils scraping against the ceramic plates makes you cringe, causing you to squirm in your seat.

“___,” your mother monotonously says, “We’re moving at the end of the month.”

Your eyes snap towards your mother who doesn’t bother making eye contact with neither you nor your father. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. You look to your father, hoping he can read your mind, but all he offers is a gentle hand on the shoulder and a soft smile.

“Why?” You finally manage to say, though it comes out as a squeak. Your eyes leave your father and lands on your mother who wipes her mouth with the linen napkin, leaving her red lipstick stain on it. “Why?”

“How many times must I remind you?” Your mother firmly asks, tossing the napkin on her empty plate. “I am the parent, and you are the child. And if I say we are doing something, you say ‘Okay mother’ not question me. Understood?”

Your stomach does backflips as your mother’s eyebrow raises and lips pursed together. There is no need in fighting her, in arguing, because your words will fall on deaf ears. Instead, you shove your father’s hand off your shoulder and let your legs take you as far away from the house as possible.

Your legs burn at your speed and your lungs feel like they’re about to explode. Your vision becomes blurred with burning tears before they slide down your cheeks. Though it’s hard to see, you follow your heart and find yourself outside the house of your best friend, Taemin. Many believe you became instant friends because you shared the same birthday and others believe it was the working of your stars and paths crossing at an early age. A friend since you were in diapers, a friend who never leaves your side, and a friend that you promised to marry if you were both still single at 25. With him, you were never alone and invisible; with Taemin, you were free to be who you were and felt loved.

You throw pebbles against his window until you see his shadow move towards the window. Huge headphones are pressed against his ears when he opens his curtains and window. He opens his mouth to speak but closes it when he sees the look of defeat and distress painted on your face. He simply nods his head and you take off to Dollie’s, a place the two of you frequent, a place where you settle all your problems and plan your next adventure. Except for this time, you must tell your best friend that you’re moving far away, for good.

“I don’t want you to go,” Taemin pouts, his hand unconsciously pulling at the grass beside him.

“I don’t want to go either,” you whisper while blinking to hold back your tears. “I want to stay here with you.”

Silence falls over the two of you as faint farewells are being said in the distance.

“Let’s promise to always be friends!” He exclaims with a beaming smile. “When we’re older, let’s meet again!”

A wide smile spreads across your face at his exclamation. If you were darkness, Taemin was light, always lifting spirits and showing optimism wherever he goes. Your smile becomes contagious as Taemin smiles back at you before facing ahead. His eyebrows furrow the longer he stares in the distance as if he’s focusing on something or someone. Following his trance, you take in the beauty of autumn’s hues of red, orange, brown, and yellow, a sight you wouldn’t see anytime soon.

“25!” Taemin says, making you look towards him in confusion. He brings a hand out of his pocket and holds up a quarter that glistens in the sunlight. “We’ll meet again when we’re 25 at Dollie’s!”

“Aren’t we supposed to be married by then?” You ask and snatch the quarter from his fingers. “What if my husband doesn’t want me meeting you?”

He cocks his head to the side with a mischievous smile. “But I will be your husband.”

A moment goes by before the two of you burst into laughter. You grab your stomach from how much you were laughing and get into a playful wrestling match until the harsh sound of your name makes the both of you stop. Your mother’s voice makes you shiver. Taemin looks at you with glossy eyes, mouthing ‘don’t go’ as you begin to stand.

“I...have to go,” you barely manage to croak while stuffing the quarter in your pocket.

Putting your back to him, Taemin wraps his arms around you, squeezing you while his fingers latch onto the fabric of your jacket. You manage to free yourself enough to face him and bring him into an embrace. Tears freely fall down your cheeks as you choke on your sobs. You squeeze your eyes close and try to remember this moment; the light floral scent of his clothes, the warmth of his embrace, his comforting voice, his soft facial expressions, and the taste of the shortbread cookie he gave you earlier.

“___!” Your mother shouts again.

“Noon,” Taemin quickly says when he feels you begin to pull away, leaving the coldness to replace your warmth. “We’ll meet at noon at Dollie’s when we turn 25! Promise me!”

“I promise,” you say, wiping the tears from your face. “I promise.” Turning, you sprint away from Taemin, leaving him to sink to the ground and cry into his knees. The only thing keeping his head up is your promise, a promise he will replay in his mind as the days go on.

July 18, 2018 - 11:30 a.m.

Aromas of freshly ground coffee, baked goods, and flowers fill Dollie’s while light upbeat instrumental music plays overhead. Taemin taps along to the beat while nervously looking towards the door each time the door opens. Each chime makes him sit straighter and when he realizes none of the people that walked through the door were you, he slumps a little and glances at his watch.

The steam from Taemin’s mug of coffee places soft kisses on his nose as he stares into its rich color.

“She’ll be here,” he whispers repeatedly to himself. “She promised.”

July 18, 2018 - 12:15 p.m.

Taemin watches the seconds pass on his watch as noon passes. Around him, people are busy with pleasant conversations leaving Taemin to daydream about what it would be like to have you in front of him so he could hear your voice.

The last glimmer of hope he has in his heart slowly loses its flame as he pushes his empty mug away from him. Part of him feels foolish for thinking you would remember a promise made 12 years ago and another part of him wonders if someone is keeping you from him. He hides his face in his palms and squeezes his eyes shut, his shoulders falling in defeat.

“Hi Ms. Ha, is Taemin still here?” A voice desperately asks between breaths.

The sound of his name makes Taemin pop his head up and look towards the front counter. Ms. Ha’s face lights up as she points in his direction. When your glance follows her direction, Taemin feels his breath hitch in his throat. Neither of you could contain the wide smiles spreading on your faces as you rush to his table.

When you’re a few feet away, Taemin jumps from his seat and pulls you into a warm embrace; his palms gently pressing in the middle of your back until his quick heartbeat can be felt against your chest. A small chuckle hums against your lips as you hold him close, nestling your face in the crook of his neck and feeling tears well in your eyes at the nostalgic scent of floral lingering on his clothes.

An unknown amount of time passes before Taemin invites you to sit with him. There was so much you wanted to say to one another, so many stories to tell, and so many I miss yous to you wanted to say, but those words get lodged in your throats. Instead, you exchange a warm smile and nervous chuckles while you examine one another, your eyes finding what’s changed about each other.

Taemin finds himself lovingly staring into your eyes, admiring the girl he’s missed for the past 12 years. Aside from your appearance, nothing has changed about you; your eyes and smile are still warm and your nose scrunches and eyes squint when you’re concentrated on something or someone.

“And a birthday candle for my twins,” Ms. ha sings before placing a coffeecake with powdered sugar in the middle of the table.

“You shouldn’t have,” you gasp while eyeing the delectable cake with wide eyes.

“Eat and enjoy you two,” she says while swatting in your direction. Turning away, she gives Taemin a playful wink before hurrying to the front of the house.

“Happy birthday, ___,” Taemin smiles while handing you a fork.

“Happy birthday, Tae,” You smile before devouring your half of the cake.

The moist cake melts in your mouth, causing you to sink in your seat in delight. As fast as the cake appeared, the cake was gone as you and Taemin lean back in your seats with a full stomach.

“I missed you, Tae,” you softly say while reaching across the table to place your hand on his. “How have you been?”

Your warm hands cause Taemin to shiver slightly while he gets lost in your eyes once more. Your question makes him stop for a moment to think; how has he been? It’s been so long since he’s taken care of himself and even longer since someone asked how he was.

You can see the internal struggle in his eyes. His eyes fall away from you and to the empty plate, his eyebrows furrowing in contemplation. Every now and then, he opens his mouth to speak but hesitates and closes it again.

“Talk to me, Taemin,” you whisper while leaning forward, your hand shaking against his to grab his attention. “You’re in front of me, but your eyes are distant.”

“I’ve just been stressed lately,” he begins, squirming in his seat. “I’m studying for my master and I’m worried about failing.”

Concern falls on you while you watch your friend express his troubles. His words pour from his mouth and tears of frustration well in his eyes, though they don’t fall.

“You’ll make it,” you say reassuringly. “I know you’ll make it.” You pause for a moment and take in his tense posture. Deep in thought, you finally look back towards the boy and smile. “You’re coming over for dinner tonight. I’m going to cook something special.”

Taemin smiles and shakes his head. “Don’t you live a few hours away?”

“Correction. I now live 30 minutes from here.”

You and Taemin exchange an excited smile before he places his free hand on top of yours and gives it a gentle squeeze. His soft eyes make you blush before nodding his head.

“Okay, let’s go.”

The day gradually transforms to night as the infinite stars in the sky twinkle against the black canvas. With your legs placed over his, you and Taemin make yourselves comfortable on your couch with a glass of wine.

“How was it, moving away?” Taemin hesitantly asks, causing your face to fall for a moment.

“Hard. My parents got divorced not long after the move and my mother decided it was best I stay with her. But you know how she is, overbearing, a workaholic, and insensitive. I couldn’t take it anymore! I ran away to my father’s, but she never came after me. From that moment, I swore to myself three things, I would never turn into her, marry someone like her, and never become a mother like her. Since then, I’ve just been trying to find myself and my purpose in life, you know?”

Taemin soothingly rubs your leg while giving you a gentle smile. “I know.”

As the moon rises higher in the sky, your conversations with Taemin become more personal the more you allow yourselves to be vulnerable. Between his and your worries and fears about the life ahead of you, it’s a miracle neither of you has developed gray hair.

Even in these moments, Taemin found himself falling for you, flaws and all. Everyone could see he had a crush on you when you were younger, and he’s held onto the thought of meeting you one day and how it would feel seeing you again after so long. It’s better than he imagined. While you poured your heart out, his eyes moved across your face, trying to burn your face in his mind. He wanted to remember you, the way you looked, and the way you make him feel.

“I’ve talked too much,” you apologetically say.

“I haven’t seen you in 12 years, I don’t mind.”

You hide your flustered smile by taking a sip from your glass. You find yourself looking over the rim and find yourself thinking of Taemin as more than a friend. What would your relationship look like if you stayed? Would you still be friends? Lovers? Married? Strangers? The past is over and only the present lingers while the future lies ahead. You have to get your mind off of Taemin.

“Look at the time,” you say, pointing to the clock that reads 1 a.m. “It’s too late for you to go back. You can sleep in my room -”

“Where are you going to sleep?” Taemin abruptly interrupts with slight disappointment in his voice.

You pat a spot on the couch. “On the couch.” Setting your glass down, you stand and help Taemin off the couch, leading him to your room. “I’ll put out extra blankets in case you get cold.”

Standing near your room’s doorway, Taemin watched you scurry about, pulling out numerous blankets and throwing the decorative pillows to the side. Though he sees your mouth move, he’s too focused on understanding his feelings for you to hear what you’re saying.

“Stay with me,” he blurts, causing you to stop in your tracks. “Just like the sleepovers we had when we were younger.”

Memories of blanket forts lined with pillows and flashlights flash before your eyes as you remember the two of you competing on who could tell the scariest story and talking about kid stuff like school, parents, and the latest episode of your favorite cartoons. With a blink, you’re transported back to your room with Taemin gazing at you with bright eyes. He opens his mouth to apologize but closes it when you nod.

“I’ll stay with you,” you sheepishly say with a soft smile. “Just like we used to.”

You and Taemin face each other under the warmth of your blanket, though it feels warmer because of how close your bodies were. The moonlight seeping through the gaps of your bedroom blinds, striping the room and giving little light. But even in the room’s dimness, Taemin’s eyes shine brightly as they gaze into yours.

There were things you wanted to say to each other, both friendly and amorous. Your complicated feelings create raging waves in your stomach, threatening to crash into you. But there were too many times in your life where you’ve held yourself back by listening to this uneasy feeling and not your own desires.

Being here with Taemin, his body so close to yours that his shallow breaths tickle your nose. Under his loving stare, you feel exposed while his eyes trace over your face. You inch yourself closer to his body and gently glide your thumbpad across his soft lips. His fingers gently wrap around your wrist, stilling it before kissing it. Your heart thumps harder under his touch. No matter how many times you try to deny yourself of feeling anything romantic towards him, they come back stronger.

“Marry me,” he whispers. His hand guides yours towards his chest, allowing you to feel his heartbeat.

The word ‘marry’ transports you back to the playground at school. Hidden behind a tree were you and Taemin, holding hands and promising to marry each other when you turned 25. And now, you’re lying beside your best friend after 12 years, feeling his heartbeat under his careful gaze, as he remembers one of his promises.

A smile slowly spreads across your face as you inch closer to his face until your forehead rests against his. “Okay.”

Leaning forward, Taemin’s lips press against yours, passionately moving across yours, inviting you to join in the dance. Your fingers latch to the front of his shirt while you deepen the kiss, your breath temporarily seizing when his tongue glides pass your lips. The taste of his cherry chapstick enters your mouth, teasing you to go deeper. He softly moans against your lips when your tongue dances around his while his fingers gently massage your lower back.

Gentle whispers of “I missed you” spill from your lips before Taemin slowly pulls away. His lips are slightly red and plump, slightly parted as he catches his breath. Over and over he says he really missed you and how much he loves you. His sweet words make your cheeks grow warm as you softly push his bangs out his face. The flame of his eyes flickers in affection as he hesitates to say the words he wants to say.

But you know what Taemin wants, and you want it as well. Leaning forward, you latch your lips to the side of his neck, placing tender wet kisses on the crook of his neck. His soft moans turn to groans when your hand slips down his sweatpants and begin to massage his member. He sharply gasps through clenched teeth when you firmly grip his member and pump him, ensuring every inch feels your touch.

“___,” Taemin breathlessly whines, his hips rocking in sync with your hand.

His eyes flutter shut and his lips slightly part when you teasingly make light circles on his tip. A mischievous smirk spreading on your face fades when Taemin’s hand slides down your pants. His fingers spread your lips while his middle finger glides from your entrance to your clit, spreading your wetness. Your movements pause at the feeling of his finger flicking your clit. You try to suppress your moans but fail when his deep voice whispers in your ear.

“You’re so wet.”

His middle and ring finger carefully push through your entrance, curling once they’re in. Your hand around his member grips tighter at the sensation, creating more friction as he thrust forward. It doesn’t take long until you feel a wetness coat your fingers. As if connected, you both removed your hand from each other’s bodies. Your wetness that coats Taemin’s fingers shines in the dim light before he pushes them in your mouth, his eyebrows furrowing while he moans at the feeling of your tongue sensually licking his fingers clean.

Slowly, Taemin removes yours and his pants, his eyes never leaving yours. Grabbing the back of your thigh, he lifts your leg over his waist while his other hand guides his erected maybe to your entrance. Your walls tighten at the feeling of his tip gliding back and forth between your lips. Slowly, he guides his member inside you, thrusting upward until he finds shelter in between your walls.

Taemin’s presence prompts you to let out a lengthy moan, closing your eyes to feel every inch of him. His hands anchor your hips in place as he begins to slowly thrust upwards, going deeper while he places lovebites on the top of your breasts. ‘Yes’ drips from your lips over and over as he thrusts one last time and grinds into you, ensuring every inch feels his length. Your walls tighten and toes curl while you hold him close to your chest, your moans turning into whines as you feel yourself edging closer to the edge. This powerful feeling makes you want to pull away, but the feeling of euphoria makes you stay, enduring the overwhelming pleasure.

Taemin knows you’re close, your walls squeezing around him, ready to milk his seed. He hisses when your nails break his skin, but he doesn’t mind. Pulling your tank top down, he admires your breasts and hardened nipples before latching his lips around them. His teeth softly graze your nipple before his tongue swirls around it, causing shivers to travel up your spine.

Cupping his face to bring it to yours, you place sloppy kisses against his lips before gaining enough strength to roll on top of him. As your lips move together in sync, you slowly bounce up and down. Moaning into the kiss, Taemin’s hands caress your breasts, his fingers teasingly pulling at your nipples.

His hands stay on your breasts when you sit up as you begin to slowly rock your hips back and forth. The hunger in his eyes makes the knot in your stomach tighten. Your eyes never leave his when you slide your fingers down and rub circles on your clit. Your chest quickly rises and falls because of the pleasure, causing you to lean your head back. Faster, you rub your clit as you feel yourself about to fall off the edge. Your eyes slightly roll back when you feel the knot break, Taemin’s name falling from your lips followed by deep breaths.

Reaching up, Taemin brings you down until your chest is against his, your skin sticking together. His arms lock you in place as he plants his heels in the bed and thrusts upward. He grunts in your ear, wanting to quicken his speed but controlling himself to take things slow to make this euphoric feeling last longer. His thrusts become shaky as his grip around you tightens. The sweet touch of your lips against his neck allows him to let loose as he thrusts up once more and spurts his seed inside you, your walls milking him for every drop.

His soft grunts subside as he tries to calm himself, slowly rocking his hips to come down from his high. When his grip around you loosens, you sit up enough to see his face - flushed and glistening with sweat. You exchange a tired smile before you remove yourself from his member that’s now coated in a mixture of yours and his orgasm.

Falling beside Taemin, his arms immediately embrace you, pulling you closer until your head rests against his chest. The morning’s bright light replaces the moonlight, painting the room in a warm hue. He presses a gentle kiss on the top of your head as he holds you tighter, afraid that this is just a dream.

“I guess there’s only one more question to ask,” Taemin says after a moment of silence. Your eyebrows furrow as you look up in curiosity to which he gives a sweet smile. “When’s the wedding?”

#taemin smut #shinee smut #kpop smut #taemin scenarios #shinee scenarios #kpop scenarios #taemin fanfic #SHINee FanFic #kpop fanfic

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peaches-writes · 4 years ago

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how to appease your asian aunties ch. 1 - christmas

description: in the immortal words of wine aunts and aunts you’re not even related to but forced to call your aunt at gatherings, ‘do you have a boyfriend?’ member: jisung / han genre: fluff, fake dating au, implied rich kids au, eventual childhood / best friends to lovers au, college au, implied fem reader (but i still used they/them pronouns) word count: 7.5k chapter warning: food, drinking, explicit language, one comment about weight note: insp by a twt meme + this is my first attempt at making a story with parents having a bigger role in them omg

ch. 2 // ch. 3 // series masterlist

Though you’re a semester away from graduating college, with your own circles of friends, clubmates, and close classmates, you still can’t understand why your mom and her sorority batchmates feel the need to have reunion parties every single year. Maybe it’s the product of growing connectivity in this modern age or just simply your wide age gap preventing you from having the same nostalgic feelings attending these dinners; nevertheless, ever since your mom started bringing you to these parties to socialize with her friends’ children when you were four, you've always personally found it a bit troublesome.

They see each other at mall sales, weekend brunches, weddings, birthdays, and anniversaries all the time—a lot of them even work closely with each other. For as long as you can remember, you can’t help but endlessly wonder in this time of year: will they ever get tired of each other?

As you adjust your coat over your semi-formal attire for this year’s dinner party, you sigh in front of the full-length mirror by your house’s front doors and mentally conclude that they probably never will. This is your 19th reunion dinner now and even from meters away in the kitchen, you can hear your mom fuss to your dad and the helpers either worriedly about the desserts that everyone in the house (and your nearest restaurant branch) was forced to bake two nights ago; or excitedly about seeing her college best friend, Mrs. Hwang, even if they literally just dragged their respective families to the monthly brunch last weekend—like she always does minutes before you leave. She always sounds like a crazed woman but you know deep inside that she’s excited to see her friends again and reminisce about the same old college memories you’ve even memorized by heart now.

It’s cute and all, maybe you’ll even end up the same in a decade or so but you swear at present on the dinner menu tonight that the more you spend your first day of Christmas break attending these dinners, the more you’ll slowly lose your mind over this unofficial holiday tradition: from your mom’s dramatic ramblings at the start of the night to the prospect of spending the rest of the evening laughing off your unofficial aunts and godmothers’ unnecessary backhanded comments and trying not to get caught in the trouble the younger children make.

It really just isn’t exactly your type of scene. It’s like family Christmas parties but with more passive-aggressive internalized drama since you’re not related to any of the guests by blood.

“Y/N, dear, come along now, we’re running late!” Your mom scolds you as she approaches your direction to the double doors, carrying cupcake caddies and cake boxes with your dad and your six house helpers. She’s wearing the dress you helped pick out last month, you observe, which is another tradition of hers. Rich people and not wanting to be seen wearing the same clothes twice, you guess. “Oh dear, I need to fix my hair in the car!”

You take one last look at yourself in the mirror before sprinting to the doors and helping your dad open them. You also take a couple of boxes from one of the helpers as you all pile outside, letting everyone pass through before closing the doors behind you.

The nine of you then head to your dad’s Ford you parked outside the house gates earlier this afternoon, loading the everything in the back of the car without much difficulty before parting ways with the helpers for tonight with the same house instructions from your mom to not wait up for the three of you.

“Bye!” Your mom waves at your helpers through the rolled down windows on the front passenger seat as your dad begins to drive away from the house.

Once your house begins growing smaller in the distance behind you, only then does your mom attend to her hair while your dad closes all the windows and locks the doors.

You, on the other hand, lean back in your own seat, taking out your phone to pass the ten minutes travel time to one of your godmothers, Mrs. Kim’s house in the adjacent subdivision.

“Y/M/N! Y/F/N! Welcome!” Mrs. Kim greets you at her house gates with her own mini army of house helpers, kindly helping you and your parents unload your party contributions and transfer them inside her recently renovated kitchen. “Oh, Y/N! Look at you, you look so beautiful tonight!”

You smile politely through the wave of compliments and ‘oh you gained a bit of weight’ comments that follow as you try your best to not to trip over the slippery marble steps leading to the house. Contrary to what your mom has been worrying about earlier at home, you eventually discover that you’re fairly early to the party for the 19th year in a row with only half of the families already in attendance to greet you when you entered the house.

“Y/N, all the teenagers are upstairs on the second floor, by the way.” Mrs. Kim informs you once your cupcakes have been neatly organized in the caddies at the very end of the buffet table, making you cringe internally at her preferred term for you and the other older kids in the house. “Dinner is at 7:30.”

“Thank you, auntie.” You smile one last time at her before excusing yourself to go upstairs, sighing internally in relief that her son, Seungmin, has smartly gathered everyone upstairs for the third year in a row to avoid the aunts and uncles for as much as possible.

You’re not completely fond of the parties, sure, but you can’t deny that there are little parts that have unconsciously grown on you—like your unlikely band of childhood friends and your shared hatred for this particular party.

Climbing up the slippery staircase as fast as you can with a death grip on the railings, you reach the second floor in no time to be greeted by six out of the eight people you’ve sort of grown up with in these parties occupying the common area: Felix and Hyunjin having a Wii dance battle in front of the television, Seungmin and Minho having a violent game of UNO on the coffee table, and Ryujin and Yeji scrolling through their phones on the sofa before abandoning them to approach you at noticing your presence by the staircase.

“Y/N!” Ryujin calls you in as she reaches you first for a brief hug and a short exchange of compliments on each other’s outfits, as if you didn’t just meet at one of your shared class’ Christmas parties yesterday. Though all of you attend the same university, you see Ryujin the most since you’re in the same college, just in different departments. “So nice to see you again!”

“Yeah, yeah, hello to you too again.” You chuckle, more genuinely now in the company of party guests you’re actually comfortable with, before waving hello at Yeji who trails behind.

Yeji then naturally hugs you next, pulling you a few steps away from the staircase so the two of you don’t topple over when she leans her weight on you. “Y/N, took you long enough!” She says next to your ear. “Hyunjin and I were starting to make bets if the aunties suddenly trapped you downstairs like Chan and Miyoung.”

You hug her back with equal force, a little more than you did with Ryujin, pulling away after to playfully slap her arm for the teasing comment. “I’d sell my arm first before I let that happen.” You retort as the two of you laugh. “I just helped set up desserts—mom made us do an extra two boxes of brownies and cookies this year so you better get a lot later!”

“Of course, but only if you eat a lot of the spaghetti my mom made!” She reminds, kindly fixing your hair for you. “I missed you! You look so pretty tonight!”

Behind the two girls, the boys also greet you in scattered casual ‘hi’s and ‘hello’s before going back to their own activities. You greet them back as they acknowledge you (and even reciprocate Felix’s long-distance high five mid-dance), crossing off everyone’s names in your mental attendance list as your gaze wanders around the room.

Since Chan is busy being a grown-up and showing off his fiance downstairs, you conclude that only one person is missing among your eight friends.

“Ya, Han Jisung!” As if on cue, the missing eighth person in your list emerges from the staircase behind you as Minho calls his name. “Welcome back!”

Jisung greets everyone back in their second wave of scattered greetings as he walks to Minho and Seungmin’s direction, purposely acknowledging you last by suddenly turning around and walking backwards to send a wave and wink your way. He almost trips over the long ruffles of the big accent carpet as he does this, making you, Yeji, and Ryujin laugh as the only witnesses.

“Oh my God.” You place a hand to your forehead in secondhand embarrassment, stifling your laughs as your best friend regains his balance and looks behind him in case anyone else saw (which, unfortunately for you, they didn’t). You can’t believe that despite missing last year’s party because of his study abroad program’s strict schedule, he still manages to do his ritual clumsy carpet accident somehow. “This dumbass, I swear.”

In front of you, Jisung only laughs it off as well. “You didn’t see that!” He adjusts his coat with one hand and scratches the nape of his neck with the other in between laughs, walking forward to you properly after with his arms extended for a hug. “Stop laughing and come here, ugly. I missed you.”

You feign a scowl but hug him back anyway, Yeji and Ryujin slyly stepping away with knowing smiles that only you can see with Jisung’s eyes turned away. You stick your tongue out at the two girls as they abandon you and walk back to the sofa before slapping Jisung’s back harshly for the familiar insult. “Speak for yourself, you ugly. I missed you too.” You reply to his latter comment with an amused chuckle of your own. “How are you?”

“Better now that I’m seeing you in person again.” He pulls away after with his signature flirty smirk, visibly eyeing you up and down now while his hands are still on your upper arms. Though he knows such gesture irks you, especially when it comes to the aunts and uncles downstairs, Jisung is the only one among your friends confident enough to tease you this way. Knowing each other a bit longer than everyone else has its perks, he’s come to realize over the years. “Look at you, all dressed up tonight. For me?”

“Of course I’m all dressed up tonight, it’s Chan’s engagement announcement later.” You retort, swatting his hand away to adjust your now wrinkled clothes. “You’ve known me for twenty years, already; I think it’s time to stop assuming I’ll ever dress up for you now.”

He only shakes his head, his teasing and lighthearted mood unwavering in front of you. “Nah, I really think you dressed up for me tonight.” He insists jokingly, a hand lingering over the fabric of your coat. “If I get welcome back parties like this from you in the end, should I just do more one-year study abroad programs?”

“And leave me to fend off the aunties every other year? I don’t think so.” You’re quick to turn down, walking pass him to rejoin your group now. Jisung naturally follows along like a lost puppy, suddenly changing his mind on joining Minho and Seungmin to follow you around now that you’ve started conversation. “You owe me for leaving me to take all the ‘I can set you up on a blind date with my godchild’ and ‘are you dating anyone’ comments last year.”

The two of you sit next to Ryujin and Yeji who, without even looking up from their phones, quickly scoot away to the other end of the big sofa which makes you send pleading looks their way while Jisung laughs and gains enough confidence to sling an arm on the sofa behind your shoulders.

Another annoying thing from this yearly reunion party is how it’s an unspoken rule in your group to leave you and Jisung alone whenever you’re engaging in your usual banter. You and Jisung are the enemies type of best friend, for God’s sake. You don’t understand how everyone (yes, even Seungmin) thinks the two of you are being cute.

“I keep telling you, you wouldn’t get all those comments if you just tell them you’re dating someone, dummy.” Jisung returns to your conversation once you’re settled, purposely placing a suggestive emphasis on the pet name. “That’s just the most natural thing to do in front of the aunties.”

“And who would I show them if they ask who?”

“Try me.” Jisung answers smugly, earning him an eye roll from you.

“As if.” You deadpan, leaning to his arm anyway as you take out your phone and connect to the wifi. “Given your new fuckboy look to the aunties, I’m pretty sure they’ll see past that kind of bullshit, especially Yeji and Hyunjin’s mom and Minho’s mom. They’d be more convinced if I tell them I’m dating Seungmin instead and he’s already in a relationship.”

You don’t even have to look to your side to see Jisung pouting as he whines in complaint, his free hand going up to your side to shake your arm. “That hurts.” He dramatically points to his chest when you show the slightest hint of turning his way. “And having Bumble on your phone isn’t being a fuckboy, I don’t even use it to get dates.”

“That’s not what the aunties think.” You point out, knowing just how much your aunts and uncles easily misunderstand concepts from your generation like social and dating apps. “I’m telling you, I prefer you swaying the conversation for me over you pretending to be my boyfriend.”

Jisung is quiet for a moment and you’re convinced that he’s decided on ending the conversation at this point until he suddenly twists his body towards you and challenges, "Do you wanna bet? Test out that theory?” He smirks again. “It’d really spice up this party, besides Chan’s announcement, of course.”

Only then do you look up at him since you sat down, deadpanning, “No.”

“Come on, it’d be really interesting!” He taps you on your shoulders with a laugh, a combination of habits he always does whenever he’s trying to involve you in his usual trouble-making antics. “My mom will finally get off my back for always nagging me as a ‘fuckboy’ and our mom’s sorority friends will finally get off yours for not dating.”

“You’re crazy.” You comment, crossing your arms in front of him. “I think I’ll just re-download Bumble too and bring someone to the party next year.”

“You’re really taking too much jabs at my heart right now,” He sighs with a contrasting smirk. “and we’re not even past dinner yet.”

“Because you deserve it,” You chuckle back at him, pretending to punch him on his stomach which he reacts to dramatically. “I’ve always known you’re a dumbass but that’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard from you.”

Stubborn, he shakes his head in disagreement as you speak. “Nah, nah, we’ll see about that.”

And as if on cue, Mrs. Kim emerges from the staircase and announces that dinner is ready, luring everyone out of the second floor before you can even ask Jisung what he means with his words.

“Ya, Han Jisung!” You call for him when he sprints to Seungmin’s side when the latter begins leading everyone downstairs.

You try catching up to him but the staircase becomes too narrow for you to squeeze past everyone, forcing you to walk with Minho and Ryujin at the back of the group. With this, Jisung then takes this as an opportunity to look up at you from the turn on the staircase and send you another wink, a more confident one this time since he doesn’t trip after.

Your ‘age group,’ as the aunts differentiate you from the younger children, hogs the extensive buffet and steals the best table in the backyard, near the karaoke machine so you can stop the uncles from singing too much of ‘My Way’ once they get drunk later on and as far away from the children’s table as possible so you don’t have to be obligated to take care of them later on. Chan, the eldest among you now, joins your table with his fiance, Miyoung, after they’ve officially declared their engagement before the buffet opened, happily handing out their save the date cards for their May wedding.

“Just remember, Miyoung, that you can literally get all your wedding needs from us, okay?” Yeji comments amidst all the talk about the wedding, gesturing to everyone as you eat and drink champagne. “Like Y/N and Seungmin for catering, Ryujin for the attires, Felix for your honeymoon trip, me and Hyunjin for the flowers and documentation, and Jisung can dress up as a clown for your reception.”

“Ya!” Jisung protests to your left, cheeks full of steak and spaghetti that makes the whole table erupt in laughter. “Chan’s and Minho’s studios can arrange the music and the decor; my mom will probably argue with Miyoung’s mom for the locations and hotels.”

“I can just tell my dad to hire you as a clown, though.” Minho shrugs nonchalantly, further fueling your laughter. To your right, you can even see Miyoung giggling through her glass of champagne, having given up on stifling her laughs. “It’d make good entertainment.”

Jisung then leans over to you to turn to Miyoung on your other side with a pout and a pleading look to her and Chan. “You two are just letting them drag me like this?” He whines dramatically before turning to you. “Y/N, back me up here.”

“No!” You press a finger up to his forehead and playfully push him back on his seat. “It’s a great idea, what are you talking about?” You tease as you do so, much to more whines from him. “There’s like five months before the wedding, think about it.”

Next to you, Miyoung forces herself to stop laughing, teasingly asking Chan, “Babe, what do you think? Should we just demote Jisung from groomsman to clown?”

“I’d very much prefer being a groomsman, please.” Jisung asks over Chan, leaning over the table. “I can’t compete with Changbin for best man but as long as I’m not dressing up as a clown I’m good!”

“Hey, how come Jisung’s a groomsman?” Seungmin complains from across you, frowning cutely at the couple. “Miyoung, I’m your cousin! I introduced you and Chan in university!”

“You’re a groomsman too, Minnie, don’t worry.” Miyoung reassures with a warm smile before elbowing her fiance. “As long as you can get your parents to cater with Y/N’s family.”

The offer makes Seungmin’s ear perk up in interest. “Okay, call!”

“Can we all be in the wedding party at this point? I’m seriously pushing it now, I want to dress up really cute!” Yeji, who sits on Chan’s other side, pleads.

“Me too! I second that!” Felix backs her up immediately, the two now leaning over the table expectantly in Chan’s direction. “Though I’m not so keen on designing things.”

“Ah, but we have to make more room for actual relatives.” The groom-to-be in question laughs sheepishly. “Though, knowing our parents, I’ll try to squeeze everyone in somewhere in the program. Just let us iron out everyone’s contributions first.”

“Yeji, I’ll take note of your suggestion, though.” Miyoung points at the younger girl with an appreciative grin. “I’ll message the groupchat once Chan and I meet up again with the planner.”

Meanwhile, Chan’s last comment gives you and Minho an idea and the two of you suggest in chorus, “Get Seungmin to sing!”

“Jinx!” You and Minho exchange winks and long distance-high fives from Jisung’s two sides after while Chan and Miyoung ask Seungmin about said idea, making Jisung pout at you.

The general table conversation then naturally flows to other matters, mostly about the famous names you might be expecting at the wedding, but Jisung doesn’t participate much anymore, turning to you instead and asking, “Ya, are you cheating on me with Minho now? You sacrifice me as entertainment then back Minho up but not me!” He rambles in between mouthfuls of food, making you and even Minho chuckle in amusement despite the latter being in another conversation with Ryujin and Seungmin. “I just left for one year and you’re already doing this to me!”

“What are you on about again, dumbass?” You roll your eyes with a scoff, stealing a piece of steak from his plate for the third time this dinner. “Finish your food, everyone’s done and you’re so slow!”

Jisung then belatedly swats your chopsticks away, “I’m almost done, dumbass, stop mooching off my plate!”

"Then hurry up, you still have to accompany me to the dessert table.” You point out, referring to your least favorite part of this reunion parties: getting attacked by invasive questions on your return trip to the buffet table. “Remember, you owe me. I’m not going in there alone again.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He replies on his last two bites of food, eating one then handing the other one to you. “Have the other one, then.”

He pokes your lips with the last piece of steak and you instinctively lean your head away, catching the food with your own chopsticks instead. “Thanks.” You bring the food to your mouth before carefully patting the oil he ended up smearing on your lips with your table napkin.

Across the table and out of your earshot, Yeji elbows Hyunjin and points to the two of you. “They’re at it again.”

Without you or Jisung looking, Hyunjin looks at the two of you in feign disgust. “I know, every damn year.”

On Hyunjin’s other side, Seungmin nods frustratingly in agreement which makes Yeji laugh. “We shouldn’t have taken last year for granted, 'no?” He sighs. “Last year was so peaceful without them together.”

“Agreed.” The Hwang cousins agree in chorus before listening to the table’s general conversation again.

Meanwhile, Jisung finally finishes his food and excuses the two of you from the table to get dessert. Miyoung waves at you politely and Felix playfully orders that you two get him cupcakes but the rest only acknowledge you with simple nods as they’re completely engrossed in betting on whose dad will be singing My Way on the karaoke machine first (everyone’s in the middle of betting on Mr. Bang). With that, you and your best friend then take your leave, going back inside the house and making a beeline to the kitchen.

Unfortunately for you, you catch your mom, Mrs. Han, and Mrs. Hwang gossiping by the punch bowls once you reach the kitchen’s open doorway—literally the worst combination of sorority aunts to be bombarded with invasive questions.

“Shit.” You mutter under your breath loud enough for only Jisung to hear, the two of you still out of the three women’s sights. Looking up at Jisung with pleading eyes, you ask, “Should we just go back later?”

Quickly seeing this as an opportunity to get back at you, Jisung only smiles evilly and links his hands with yours, dragging a hesitant you inside the kitchen and towards the direction of the dessert table. “No, let’s get dessert now, baby.” He dismisses your silent pleas teasingly, making sure his voice is loud enough to get your worst nightmare of trio’s attentions. “Felix also asked us to get cupcakes too, remember?”

And like vultures, the three women immediately turn to you and Jisung as you head in their line of vision, three different shades of questioning looks on their faces. You especially catch your mom’s face, a mixture of surprise, amusement, and genuine curiosity for some reason, which sets all the gears in your head into panic mode while Jisung only gains more confidence from this.

You swear at that moment on Jisung’s sort of untied shoelaces that you just want Mrs. Kim’s new kitchen floor tiles to swallow you up right there and then.

“Hey, mom!” Jisung greets his own mom with a wave, coming off as sweet to her but mocking to you. He then bows politely to your mom and Mrs. Hwang and you’re forced to follow along for the sake of courtesy. “Mrs. Y/L/N, Mrs. Hwang.”

The three women look at each other curiously, as if in a silent debate on what they’ve just heard, while Jisung pretends to be unfazed, passing you a dessert plate and examining tonight’s dessert options.

“Jisung, I swear to God,” You hiss at him as you take a slice of chocolate cake for him. “I’m going to kill you after this party.”

He leans close to your ear while gathering cupcakes on a separate dessert plate, whispering, “I think it’s too late for that, though.” before your mom, Mrs. Han, and Mrs. Hwang suddenly appear in front of the two of you on the other side of the buffet table with sickeningly sweet smiles, and a million questions.

You especially fear Jisung’s mom. Mrs. Han and your mom often go to the mall together, especially when there’s an ongoing sale, and you’ve been forced to carry all their shopping bags over the years because Jisung and his older brother usually bail on you. Though she’s very sweet, you’ve always known her to be very picky on some things and it just makes you think that she’s picky on who Jisung dates too.

“Mom,” You call for your mom with wide eyes. “Do you need anything?”

But she waves her hand dismissively with a reassuring smile at your question. “Oh, nothing, Y/N dear,” She answers, eyes darting almost threateningly between you and Jisung. It makes your hand shaky as you now complete your tower of dessert plates. “your aunties and I were just talking and we didn’t mean to but we saw you and Jisung so we just got curious and thought we’d ask how the two of you are.”

“Oh, just ask them already!” Mrs. Hwang exclaims excitedly, slapping your mom’s arm like a school girl. “If you won’t, I will.”

But Mrs. Han is already leaning over the table with a knowing smile, straightforwardly asking, “Are you two kids dating?” which immediately makes your mom and Mrs. Hwang erupt into fits of giggles. “Come on, the aunties want to know!”

“Oh, um—” You stammer out before Jisung beats you to it.

For the second time tonight, you feel Jisung’s arm on your shoulder as he speaks over you confidently, “Y-Yeah, we’ve been for a while now!” He then places his dessert plate back on the table and boyishly rubs the nape of his neck which only elicits swooning reactions from the three women, a complete contrast from your expectations a while back. “Just some time before my program ended so it’s been a bit long-distance for the most part.”

“Oh? But how?” Mrs. Hwang asks curiously. “I didn’t hear of you going to Malaysia this year, Y/N, and Jisung, your mom told me you didn’t have time to go home!”

“You could’ve just told me, Sungie! Then, I would’ve had you sent home earlier if you wanted to see Y/N!” Mrs. Han adds as well, clasping her hands in satisfaction. “I knew this was coming! You two have always been so cute together!”

Your mom agrees, “Luckily, I refused Mrs. Park’s offer to set Y/N up with another one of her nephews a while back. Had I known you two were dating, I wouldn’t have talked to her tonight at all!”

You open your mouth to try and speak but Jisung beats you to it again. “We’ve been in touch: message, calls, and video calls, you know.” He half-shrugs casually, as if he’s been rehearsing the line for a while now. “It’s our first time meeting since we started seeing each other so telling you guys just kind of flew past us.”

You groan internally but you also can’t help but sigh in relief at the prospect that you avoided getting set up by Mrs. Park again because of Jisung. Though this doesn’t completely erase your annoyance over him for putting you in this situation, you still owe him a ‘thank you’ after somehow.

So, you conclude that you should just follow along. It’s fake dating your best friend over another pointless blind date at this point now, after all. “You’re okay with this, right?” You decide to ask in a follow-up, pretending to not know that they’ll agree anyway. Next to you, Jisung’s eyes visibly widen and, seeing it from the corner of your eyes, you quickly elbow him in response before giving your most innocent look to your mom. “I mean, Jisung won’t be studying abroad now and we’re graduating, anyway, so it’s cool, right?”

Judging by their softened reactions, you feel like you could challenge Hyunjin to acting now.

“Of course we’re okay with it!” Your mom answers first, Mrs. Han nodding along happily. “I’m glad that it’s someone I know at least and I’m sure your dad wouldn’t mind.”

You hear Jisung gulp nervously at the last comment. If you’re afraid of his mom, he’s afraid of your dad because of the one time he helped you practice for your driver’s license and the two of you almost ended up crashing the Ford on your subdivision’s club house. You allow yourself to relax and laugh at this, making him tighten his grip on your shoulder.

“Me too, sis.” Mrs. Han agrees, gesturing over to her son. “My Jisung here’s been going on dates with strangers online before this so I’m glad he’s finally stopped and settled for your kid! Modern love, huh?”

“Oh my God, mom!” Jisung whines, his free hand coming up to his face in embarrassment. “I’ve told you before, I use them to meet friends! Not in front of Mrs. Y/L/N and Y/N please!”

“Ay, it’s the same thing!” His mom insists to him before turning to Mrs. Hwang and your mom. “Social apps, dating apps, they’re all the same. Why do you even use them if you’re just going to fall in love with the person right in front of you? I taught you better than that, Sungie.”

“Mom!” Jisung hisses, cheeks tinted pink. “This is so embarrassing!”

You snicker next to him, catching his attention. “Your mom’s right, you know. Tsk, dating people from miles away and you just end up confessing to me on FaceTime.”

He scowls at you in a way that scolds you for suddenly turning this situation in your favor. You only smile triumphantly at him which the three aunties take as a really sweet moment.

“Aw, look at them! So cute!” Mrs. Hwang gushes before turning to her two best friends. “Should we just leave them alone now? We’re intruding!”

“Right! It’s especially embarrassing since we’re both here, Mrs. Han.” Your mom agrees, leading the three out now. She then turns to you and Jisung, “I guess we’ll be off now, then? Don’t want to intrude to you two lovebirds anymore!”

You smile up to your mom, making sure Jisung does too. “It’s fine, mom, we’re going back to our table now too, anyway.”

But Mrs. Han waves her hand dismissively at you. “No, no, we’ll run along now first! See you later, okay?”

You and Jisung bid your moms and Mrs. Hwang goodbye, overhearing your mom bragging that she’ll share this new information to Mrs. Park while Mrs. Han and Mrs. Hwang agree before the three completely exited the kitchen.

Once they’re out of earshot, you sigh in relief and elbow Jisung harshly who responds by dramatically taking a step back and massaging his side. “Ow!” He winces, careful not to hit the dessert table. “What was that for?”

“I told you to drop the fake dating thing a while back.” You protest, threatening to hit him with your plate of chocolate slices. “Now I have to have you at home more often. I’ve already had enough of you at campus, here, and when your mom visits at home.”

“Ya, but you played along!”

“That’s because I was put on the spot! And they did mention another blind date from Mrs. Park’s army of nephews.” You explain. “It was between you and another blind date.”

“At least I got you out of another potential blind date, right?” He points out defensively, proceeding to put your hand with the chocolate slices down on the table with caution. “And more effectively now than before, too! So why’d you hit me?”

“Yeah, I know but still, that doesn’t cancel out how you got me out of that.” You frown in disappointment, taking both of your dessert plates now. When he holds his hand up defensively, as if expecting you to throw them to his face, you only roll your eyes and walk past him to the direction of the second kitchen exit. “Now, I have to fake date you for real either until Mrs. Park lays off the blind dates or until I actually date someone.”

Jisung immediately follows you suit, genuinely rubbing the nape of his neck in a bashful way now. “We don’t have to, maybe they’ll forget about it.” But when you give him a pointed look, as if suggesting that what he just said seems unlikely, he ends up suggesting, “Okay, fine, should we break up after Chan’s wedding, then?”

He then glances over at you to see you contemplating and calming yourself down so he instinctively insists on carrying the dessert plates for you, walking a little bit ahead as well and opening the screen door leading back to the backyard.

When you’ve made yourself calm down and think more rationally, you firstly point out, “That’s too far away and wouldn’t that be too scandalous? It’s a big event so it could become gossip.”

Passing the entire length of the backyard now, you receive a few congratulations and questions confirming your relationship from some of your mom’s sorority friends and their husbands, forcing Jisung to hold his thought until you’re not being swarmed again.

“But if we do it before, it’d be too suspicious since we’d only be dating for less than 6 months.” He counters once the adults have left you alone, glancing ahead and seeing your entire table looking at you with quirked up eyebrows and comically intimidating looks. “Remember when my older brother did that as a joke to the aunties and got caught because they only did it for 3 weeks? They smell fear and deceit, Y/N.”

You sigh in defeat, “Let’s just figure it out later.” With that, you reach your table, setting your plates down and asking, “What did we miss?”

Judging by the way they eye you, your mom has probably told Mrs. Kim who’s gone table to table.

“It’s fake, isn’t it?” Ryujin speaks up once you’ve settled back in your seat, making the table break character and laugh. “It can’t be a coincidence since you two were just talking about that a while ago inside!”

“Please be fake.” Seungmin adds, gesturing to you and Jisung. “It’d be more annoying for all of us next year if it’s true.”

You and Jisung, having the same thought and trust for your friends, nod simultaneously at Ryujin’s question, eventually joining in on the laughter.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you’d actually try that!” Ryujin cackles, a clear giveaway that she and Yeji were eavesdropping on you and Jisung a while back to a degree.

“To be clear, though, it’s his fault!” You add in between laughs for clarification, pointing to Jisung with your dessert spoon. “He started it!”

“And they were about to get set up on a blind date by Mrs. Park again.” Jisung gestures to you back, completing the thought. “I was being a good Samaritan.”

“Ooh, and what did they say?” Felix asks curiously, one elbow propped up on the table as he listens intently.

Jisung groans in exasperation as he eats his chocolate cake. “We bumped into my mom, Y/N’s mom, and Mrs. Hwang so you can imagine how they reacted.”

“I can imagine, especially our mom.” Hyunjin sighs with his hands carding through his hair in secondhand embarrassment.

“At least now we know where you inherited certain qualities from.” Chan teases, making the younger boy exclaim ‘ya!’ at him.

“This is good, though isn’t it?” Yeji asks curiously over her iced tea. “I mean, Mrs. Park’s wouldn’t set you up on blind dates now.”

“Yeah, but that leaves me as Ms. Park’s only target!” Ryujin moans in frustration. “You know Mrs. Park doesn’t get convinced with dating people online!”

You shake your head at Ryujin’s complaint. “Yeji can fake date you, though.” You point out, much to the girl’s annoyance. “Or ask out that girl from our lab.”

“So, does this mean we’re getting a dramatic break-up at Chan and Miyoung’s wedding?” Hyunjin interjects, having moved from playing with his now long hair to his glass of champagne. “Because if so, then you better tell us now so we won’t get too drunk at the reception until it happens!”

“I honestly want to see that happen too.” Seungmin agrees, the two high-fiving at the thought.

“That’d be interesting, breaking up at weddings.” Minho chuckles along now too. “People usually propose or hook-up so this is new.”

“Hey, no stealing my spotlight on my wedding!” Miyoung complains playfully to you and Jisung this time. “We’re all supposed to have a good time there!”

Chan nods in agreement. “If you break up at our wedding, you’re getting kicked out.”

So you shake your head reassuringly in between eating cupcakes. “We aren’t planning to.”

“You’re going to date for real?” Felix asks teasingly, earning him a glare form you.

“Gross, no.” You and Jisung turn down the thought in chorus.

“Jinx.” Jisung adds, stealing a spoonful of cake from your plate.

“So when are you breaking up?” Chan asks, leading the whole round table to look back to you.

“Whenever, I guess.” You shrug casually, belatedly swatting Jisung’s hand from your plate this time. “Until Mrs. Park gets off my back and Jisung actually stops fucking around on Bumble.”

“I don’t fuck around on Bumble!” Jisung complains over a mouthful of chocolate cake.

“Well, that’s going to take a long time.” Chan dismisses. “At least let us all know so we can schedule faking a whole drama in this group.”

“Anyway, it’ll die down soon, surely.” Jisung assures with a half-shrug. “Also, our parents only meet up constantly during this reunion party. If anything, we just have to fake date in front of our moms since they meet up more often.”

“And Mrs. Hwang.” You point to Hyunjin and Yeji. “Since we all go to brunch once a month.”

At the mention of the monthly brunch, Yeji’s eyes widen. “Does that mean Jisung has to be at our monthly brunch?!”

“Oh, ew!” Hyunjin adds in disgust. “I’ve had enough seeing you at campus already!”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?!” Jisung exclaims back in complain. “I doubt I’d get invited to that, we’re supposed to be dating not getting married!”

Jisung turns to you expectantly, sighing in relief when you say, “That seems unlikely, it’s my mom and Mrs. Hwang’s thing, anyway. It’s not the Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner brunch.”

“It better be!” Hyunjin says with crossed arms. “Hopefully our moms don’t get that kind of idea.”

You quietly agree. Having Jisung on your monthly brunch with the Hwangs would just cause so much trouble and cement him in your mom’s good graces—but as your boyfriend, this time.

That’s probably not good.

The party officially ends some time around 3 AM, when most of the parents with elementary school children have gone home hours earlier and, besides the Kims, it’s just your family, the Hwangs, the Hans, Chan, and Miyoung left at the front gates, bidding each other goodnight.

“Thank you for having us again, Mrs. Kim.” You bid Seungmin’s family last since they’re the hosts, bowing politely to Seungmin’s parents before giving Seungmin a high-five.

“See you after break.” Seungmin greets you after your high-five. “Have fun in Japan.”

“And you enjoy your trip to New York.” You reply with an enthusiastic smile. “I do hope your mom reconsiders staying longer so you can spend the New Year there.”

He nods with a sigh, “Yeah, I know. Still, I’ll try my best to convince her.”

Your mom then approaches the two of you, bidding Seungmin and his parents goodnight before taking you away by the arm then turning you towards the direction of Jisung and his family. “Goodnight, Seungmin, Mr. and Mrs. Kim!” She smiles warmly to them before turning to you. “Y/N, aren’t you going to say goodnight to Jisung?”

“I already did.”

“Ah, but go to him anyway! Your dad still has to start the car.”

You groan internally. After a whole night of drinking, singing, and gossiping with her friends, you’d think that she would’ve forgotten about earlier.

Yet you oblige anyway, excusing yourself from your parents and approaching Jisung whose parents are busy having last-minute small talk with Chan and Miyoung, probably endorsing their chain of hotels as early as now for the wedding.

“Hey, ugly.” You greet him casually as you approach, both your parents out of earshot so the old nickname naturally comes out. At this, Jisung immediately turns from scrolling through his phone to looking up at you with wide eyes. “My mom didn’t see us say goodnight a while ago so I’m here.”

“Oh,” He muses, eyes flitting to your mom behind you once. When he sees her glancing expectantly, he turns to you and suggests, “Should we hug?”

“Yeah, I guess.” You sigh, going straight into his extended arms. “‘Night.”

“’Night, baby.” Jisung hums gently, too sleepy now to throw more witty comebacks besides the cheesy pet name that originally got you in trouble tonight. “See you after the break.”

“No, see you on our moms’ next shopping spree.” You correct firmly, pulling away from his warmth before you could accidentally fall asleep on him. “Since we’re ‘dating’ now, you’re morally obligated to attend shopping bag duty now, too.”

This makes Jisung sigh in defeat, “Fine, fair enough. See you on our moms’ next shopping spree, then.” He pauses for a moment then asks, “The day after New Year, right?”

“Yeah.” You confirm with a nod when you catch him pouting, “You started this so don’t pout now.”

“I know, I’m regretting it now.” He rolls his eyes with a scoff, only making you chuckle. “I suppose it’s different when we hang out as friends and when our moms think we’re dating.”

You continue laughing anyway until a thought crosses your mind and softens your gaze up at Jisung. “Anyway, thanks for saving me from another date—I almost forgot. The means is still annoying but I have to appreciate it somehow, right?”

This time, it’s him chuckling, “Now you appreciate my efforts. See, I told you, something good comes up with this.”

“Whatever.” You dismiss before you hear your mom calling for you as your dad pulls up in front of the Kim’s gates. “Okay, that’s me. Bye, ugly!”

“Hm, bye!” With a final wave, Jisung then sees you off before joining his parents who he didn’t even realize have already gone to their car.

Seating himself at the backseat of his mom’s car a moment later, Jisung accidentally glances over to his mom from the rear view mirror only to see her wiggling her eyebrows at him.

“So,” Mrs. Han says. “you and Y/N.”

“Yeah?” Jisung response with a questioning tone. “Me and Y/N, what about it?”

Mrs. Han only shrugs from the driver’s seat as she now drives away from the Kim’s house. “Nothing, you’re just both really cute.” She comments casually with a proud smile. “I like it. Though it is too bad we can’t invite them to dinner since they’re going to Japan for Christmas this year.”

“How about next year?” Jisung’s dad suggests. “We can go on one of our hotels abroad.”

“Ah, but—” Jisung stammers, only to be interrupted by his dad again.

“Or, honey, when you and Mrs. Y/L/N go to the mall again.” Mr. Han quickly quips in to Mrs. Han before turning to their son in the back seat. “I expect you’d stop bailing on your mom when she goes to the mall now since Y/N’s always at these shopping trips.”

At this, Jisung shakes his head, “I won’t. I’m ‘morally obligated’ now, apparently.”

“That’s good.” Mr. Han says, turning back to the road ahead and relaxing into the front passenger seat. “You better.”

Jisung sleepily props his elbow up by the window and sighs, letting his parents enjoy this new prospect of him seriously dating someone now. “Yup.” He ends the conversation, closing his eyes and getting a few minutes of sleep before arriving back home.

Suddenly, this is probably not a good idea—lying to his already hyped parents.

ch. 2 // ch. 3 // series masterlist

tag: @t-toodumbtocare @sandaigdigan-reads @pwarkhans @ruellelix @malai-barfi @mahalau @milkywayfelix @qweens-stuff

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wordsoflittlewisdom · 4 years ago

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Watching bop again

I kinda forgot Cass was at the roller derby game. Love how all the characters are connected

Why does Roman’s voice...sound like that

Boss Bitch is weirdly nostalgic now

I like that the whole roller derby team is wearing like. team jackets. and harleys got her whole fringe sleeves thing going on

YES LOVE WHEN SHE THROWS THE NECKLACE AWAY

The chemical plant blowing up as fireworks was a very Harley choice

“So I’ll start where I fucking want” four minutes ago

huntress huntress huntress huntress huntress

I read somewhere that this huntress and Montoya scene was one take and they just changed the lighting to show the change

romans middle name being beauvais is probably the clearest clue they could have given that he was from a rich family

Love that Renee finds the necklace and knows Harley and the joker broke up. I like this idea that superheroes/villains are kinda like celebrities in this world

The egg sandwich scene is great what more can I say

Love that there’re cars and people just living their lives in this city

It’s a crime that we never see Harley wear this glittery fanny pack

The music is really good in this

It’s neat how the line between her narration and her dialogue is blurred, like how she’ll say the first part of something in narration and the second part in dialogue

Huntress’s little flute theme

And Montoya knows Cass; c o n n e c t i o n s

Montoya’s been going after Roman, too

And now we’re flipping back to the bertinelli massacre and diamond

Even if the whole missing diamond plot isn’t that unique, everything’s woven together so neatly

And now Dinah and Renee are on the phone about Cass and the diamond

It’s all connected

Harleys whole “I’m here to report a terrible crime”—she could have just run in there but she wanted to be Dramatic

I do wish the vocals were a little louder here maybe?

Big fan of this fight choreography

Harley pausing on a frame where she’s making a weird face before rewinding to explain about the diamond—it’s so rare to ever get to see women like. making weird faces in movies. All the women in his this are gorgeous but they don’t always have to be; they look beat up after fights and get dirty and make weird faces and it’s great

Dinah singing? Exceptional

“Loans, liquidity, laundering” ah yes the three L’s of illegal business

I unironically listen to Black Canary’s man’s world.

I like that everyone just calls Dinah “Canary”

“I’m all on my lonesome. It’s great” Harleys even an unreliable narrator when she’s just talking

I’ve really never seen a movie that feel like it’s from the female gaze visually as much as this one—all the rings and earrings, the hair, the makeup, it feels like what women might fantasize about dressing like

Dinah yelling “you motherfucker!” While beating some creeps up is quality

What time of day is it? Dinah would probably be leaving early in the morning, but I Refuse to believe that Roman would be awake particularly early any morning

She either canary is leaving her nightclub singing gig in the late morning/early afternoon or roman is still awake from the night before and is going to go to sleep soon

Cass and Dinah in the same building. (Bernie voice): I am once again talking about the connections

I’ve riffed on this before but i refuse to believe that Roman can drive

This Dinah and Renee scene establishes character, backstories, and moves the plot along all at once

Jesus some of ewan mcgregor’s acting in this is painfully bad

I love that Cass has a big bomber jacket and longer, looser shorts

Jurnee’s abs wow

The lights from behind the hands with the eyes behind Harley, who’s surrounded by people and then Roman and Victor emerge from the back, whispering to each other? Beautiful

One of the grievances roman has against Harley is “constantly interrupting him, like I’m doing right now”

Harleys “you’re really not as complicated as you think” bit is almost satirical of this cult we’ve created of “complicated” white male movie villains who have massive fan followings (cough cough joker)

Interesting that Roman holds the knife to Harleys face but hands it off to Victor to do that actual cutting

Someone handed Roman a bowl of popcorn

Harleys pocket tampon

It’s diamonds are a girls best friend yeah babey!

The male backup dancers are wearing muzzles/masks (Roman has one too for a split second) is an interesting flip on the way women are typically the ones being silenced, as well as Harleys desire to silence the men around her and be the one telling and controlling her own narrative

“Hey! you’re that singer no one listens to!” “Hey! You’re the asshole no one likes!”

Harley with her glitter gun

Harleys reaction when the sprinklers go off is perfect—Margot makes her feel like a living cartoon

This cell block fight scene is a showstopper

I like that cass doesn’t immediately want to stay with Harley. It gives her some agency in a story where she’s mostly just following the curveballs life throws her

Harleys little stare straight into the camera when cass admits to eating the diamond

Harley at the grocery store really emphasizes that she’s a total weirdo

I think I heard somewhere that the pic of child Harley with the nuns is a pic of young Margot??? Not totally sure though

Cass not knowing who the joker is goes with the whole supers are like celebrities thing—cass probably follows a whole different group of them (like how most kids follow different celebrities than their parents)

Huntress huntress huntresssss

“Give me number 32. Mild”

This kid in helenas flashback doesn’t really look like she’s grow up to look like Mary Elizabeth Winstead

This filming in this flashback has so much style

Helena practicing in the bathroom mirror with her drawing and her multiple bottles of travel mouthwash

We’re in the scene where Roman makes the girl dance on the table and oh god it’s so uncomfortable

No no no no no not this hate this

Alright that nightmare’s done

“and that’s why you should never pay federal income taxes”

Harley offering to bring cass to Roman after hearing doc say “business is business is interesting

OH ITS HIT ME WITH YOUR BEST SHOT TIME

Dinahs car is yellow because it’s...canary yellow

Roman putting on the mask is cool and all but he’s just gonna have to take it back off to get changed

This Harley vs Renee fight is fun because they keep mirroring each other—they’re fighting each other, but they’re really on the same side

The way the women all kind of circle each other at first and don’t immediately get along

Cass popping up with the gun also gives her some agency—she’s at the end of her rope with the diamond and being betrayed by Harley

“I am nOT THE CROSSBOW KILLER”

The way Huntress sounds so uncertain when she says “...and now I’m done” Mary’s acting really popped off

Roman’s a bitch but I like his outfits

Helenas little smile when Harley says “you just killed his BFF”

I love how excited Harley is when they all agree to work together

Roman’s giving his little speech in the back of a pickup truck?

When all the guys turned around with masks on I got chills

“I love this chick she’s got rage issues.” “I DONT HAVE RAGE ISSUES”

Huntress stabbing the guy while going down the slide is peak cinema

This set lights up as the scene progresses and reveals more

I love love love that Helena is genuinely caring towards Cass and recognizing that children shouldn’t have to go through trauma like her

“When the fuck did she have time to do a shoe change?”

THE HAIR TIE YEAH

Forgot to mention this but it’s a stroke of genius for this place to be called the booby trap

Love me some canary cry

“Told ya she had a killer voice”

Harleys chase was a real group hurrah—the canary cry cleared the way and pushed her forward, Huntress towed her, Renee gave her the gun with one bullet

Cass and Roman are just sitting in the back seat. That must have been an awkward car ride

Cass pulling the gun away from Roman when he tries to shoot up at Harley when Harleys on top of the car is elite

Damn this is one foggy pier

When Harley starts with “your protection is based on the fact that people are scared of you” you expect her to say that it’s wrong or something but she says “I’m the one they should be scared of” this movie messed with tropes so much

That also includes the whole “one bullet” thing—Harley misses with her one bullet, and you don’t really know what’s gonna happen next

“I took your ring”

You can pinpoint exactly when Harley and Roman realize what Cass did

I’d put the entire taco scene here if I could

Renee moving the drink away from cass shows her caring side—she doesn’t want a kid to get into alcohol and make the mistakes she did

“Does she always talk like the cop in a bad eighties movie?”

Harley and Cass stealing the car is a fun way to show that she may be on the side of the good guys sometimes, but that doesn’t necessarily make her one

“Woman” by Kesha

Wow the outfits in this scene are iconic

I mean they are in the whole movie but I especially like these

Cass riding around with Harley and a hyena, wearing cute outfits and learning the ways of chaos

Harley got her sandwich!

The credit art for this movie is cool

Especially how they represent each character

In conclusion this is still my favorite movie

I know I’ve been kinda absent recently, but watching this again has really reminded me how much I love it. I got really busy but I’m going to Make An Effort to be a contributing member of the bop fandom again.

#birds of prey and the fantabulous emancipation of one harley quinn #birds of prey #harley quinn #huntress #black canary #Renee Montoya #Cassandra Cain #Roman sionis #Victor zsasz #words of little wisdom

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boogiewrites · 4 years ago

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Never Break the Chain Pt. 3

Part 3 of 5

Characters: Javier Peña x OFC

Summary: Esme keeps her distance and Javier's obsession gets worse. She decides to let him find her and they're both faced with the hard questions they've been suppressing for decades.

Warnings/Tags: Reunited Lovers. Angst. Yearning. Difficult adult conversations. Regret. Nostalgia.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

Steve stood staring and ignored by a red-eyed and greasy Peña still hunched over a desk with boxes of old files piling up around him. The boxes obscured half of him, stacks that started on the desktop, now on the floor. His nose twitched from the dust and his eyes burned from lack of sleep.

“Did you ever leave?” Murphy moves a few boxes to sit on his desk that had been commandeered for Pena’s obsession.

As if snapping out of a trance, Javier looks up and around, seeing morning light again through the high windows in the cool-hued room that lacked any warmth in its sterile choice of furnishings. “Guess not.” he yawns and looks back down at the work he’s done.

“You look like shit, man.”

“Thanks.” he gruffs out and stretches, a noise that half groan and half yawn escapes him.

“Did you at least find anything?”

“Plenty.” he pauses and rubs his face. “Unfortunately.” he pushes a legal pad full of scribbled notes with dates.

“These...all her?”

“I think so.”

“Damn Javi, you sure can pick ‘em.” he grins at the expense of his partner.

“She always said she was gonna be rich.”

“The Lucchia Heist?” Steve snorts in amusement.

“Potentially. She’s…” he lets out a slightly crazed but hushed laugh. “She’s fuckin’ good.” he covers his face before resting his head on his palm, supported by the desk. “I’d bet my badge she’s framed more people than I’ve even had time to find. Had a million aliases. Been everywhere from Corpus Christi to Lima. I’ve traced her down the continent.”

“And she landed right in your backyard.” Steve tosses the roughed-up papers, months of research, back in front of him. “You’re not a man who believes in fate are ya Javi?” he smirks.

“She said she didn’t know I was here.” a mumbled response as he begins putting away his research.

“And you believe her?”

He focuses on removing the evidence of his fascination, putting it away in a drawer that’s near full and dedicated to her. He stops and pauses, a thoughtful expression before answering, “I might be another sucker in the long list she’s got but... yeah, I do.”

-----

With the aged bulbs in the generic hotel room, the woman with him was easy to push out of his mind. He outstretched his arm as she pulled on her panties with a jump.

“Who is Esme?” she asks softly, attempting to make a connection with a man she felt she almost knew with as many times as they’d been together.

He didn’t look her way and motioned the hand with the money in it again.

“You’ve had your nights before but… the past few months you’ve... and now tonight? Should I be worried?”

“No,” he states with a bite. It wasn’t directed at her but himself. He tossed the money onto the bed and moved to light a cigarette. “You shouldn’t be no matter how I act.”

She holds in a sigh, a grimace on her face as she pockets the money and dresses. “Are you su-”

“What do you want to hear?” he turns his head sharply her way, brow low, but not aggressive enough to make her fear him.

She knew men, and she knew his problem was a woman, not the job like it usually was. Javier didn't get emotional over work when they were together. He would be rougher sometimes, softer others... but a disconnect was far from the usual. He was a client she was glad to hear from. He treated her with respect, he looked her in her eyes and handled her as if he cared about how she felt while they fucked. It was rare but entirely welcome. She curses herself silently for caring. He was right.

“I’m sorry,” she answers curtly. “You’re right.” she nods and gathers her things. “I’ll go.”

“It’s not you-” he begins with his head down before she passes him at the foot of the bed.

“I know. It’s not my business. It’s... I know women. It's hard to believe you would have trouble with one.” she lets out a smile to break the tension and his face doesn’t tell her if she succeeded or not. “You know where to find me.” she says kindly, something he felt he didn’t entirely deserve at the moment. He could hear her heels patting down the hallway outside when she left, fading until she was down the elevator and gone.

He gives his forehead a hard rub, nails scratching into his scalp before taking a long drag. “Fuck.” he exhales loudly to an empty room. He couldn’t get her out of his head.

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

The heat was something he had grown up with, he never found that part of Colombian weather to be difficult. But the humidity, that was a different experience. He quickly lost any self-consciousness about the sweat showing through his shirts, everyone else's looked the same. Propped against a stucco wall that was radiating the sun's warmth into his back, he partook in his condensation-covered beer bottle and his favorite public activity, people watching. It was an art form for him, once an amusing pastime that he made a living off now. There was no short of things to look for, the Festival of Flowers was in full swing and everyone was crowded into the streets. It was loud, a bit chaotic, and exactly the sort of crowd he felt comfortable observing.

The Discoteca a few streets down was powerful, sending music out over the radios in stalls and stores dotted along the streets surrounding it. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant but that didn’t stop Javier from having an annoyed expression. Songs from his past would play casually, feeling anything but in his head. He knocked back the rest of his drink and promptly got another every time a memory was triggered.

It had been almost a year now since he’d seen Esme. From what he’d learned, he wasn’t surprised. She could keep playing the phoenix forever. She could’ve been across the world by now and he was powerless to pursue her. Of all the possibilities, he still held onto the statistical probability that she was still around. She had good connections here, it made sense for her to stay. This unignorable fact led his obsession to be indulged by his profession, his paranoia fueled by his keen observational skills. A handful of times he would’ve bet he'd seen her. Sometimes he could follow, others he couldn't. Either way, he ended up at a brothel and with a woman who may look like her but wasn’t. The boisterous festival crowds would be a perfect place for her to be anonymous, the plumes of flowers were cover to disappear in plain sight. He wouldn’t admit to himself, but he was feeling hopeful. Or was it the alcohol?

Esme, with her head heavy from the large crown of flowers she wore, matching her brightly colored traditional dress skipped and hopped her way across the rooftops of the lively streets. She held the flowers to her head and jumped from pitch to pitch with her woven shoes. She knew this part of the city in light or dark. Not just for her safety but for means to get the drop on others. Her work with the cartel made sure she was knowledgeable in such things. But it also came in handy for a specific reason she’d been indulging in for almost a year now.

He was moping around his usual watering hole for this part of town. She sat with her head on her hands, between two flower pots, watching Javier from the safety of the rooftop across the street. She’d seen him many times, mostly taking home girls, or spoiling them with nice hotels for the night. Since she now knew the Pena she’d heard of was HER Pena, she asked the local sex workers about him and she wasn’t let down with the gossip they shared. She found out he’d been looking for her, not that any of them knew she was this infamous woman the playboy was hung up on. After a polite offer of employment, she dipped out and felt an odd satisfaction in what he’d become. It wasn’t ideal by any means but he was a good man. That was more than she would’ve guessed he’d become with the company he kept.

Each song from their past hit their ears at the same time, both suppressing a sigh as it floated down the streets, imagining a simpler time with one another. She’d missed him. Just as he had, she’d tried to drink and fuck the pain away for a bit but it didn’t work as well for her. She was left feeling nostalgic and downright amorous about him, seeing him lean, strong, and handsome against that wall. Sweat beading down his neck like it did on the bottle he held. She wanted to pop those buttons right off his shirt and- she knew it wasn’t smart to indulge in such fantasies. But he was the only man left that she even cared to think about when he wasn’t directly in her line of sight. She wanted to see him again. Was she willing to throw away months of laying low for a rendezvous? The summer sun made her feel young, the songs pumping blood to places, like her heart, it didn’t normally flow anymore. It made her feel young again. And at this point, it was a welcome and sought-after feeling.

——

A group of dancing girls covered in flowers with wide sweeping skirts made their way down the street. They wore smiles and the brightest of colors, dancing with each other and passersby as carts of flowers were pushed around them. Esme had been in South America long enough to know how to blend in. It was easy considering she didn’t look like a gringo. Her Latin heritage assured a degree of anonymity and mixing in, adding in the factor of whirling skirts and a blur of color from flowers she melded right in. Her chameleon skills were enviable but Javier’s observation skills were better.

Of course, he’d look at the group of beautiful women flouncing towards him. He seldom passed a woman he didn’t take a second glance at. As he glanced over their faces, to see if any had been friendly to him previously, the set of emerald green eyes grabbed him as they sat deep-set in a heart-shaped face he used to know intimately. Like a dog with a scent caught in his nose, he perks up, bottle discarded as he takes a step towards the street. She separates herself, a clear view of each other for a moment before a smile as bright as the sun beating down on them meets his gobsmacked expression. For only a moment there’s an unbroken line of sight and he instinctively pursues. With a bite of her lip that was a mix of flirtation excitement and a challenge, she spins on her heel and runs to an alleyway. He was fast on his feet behind.

This was where she felt at home, fast and light on her feet through small spaces and over walls. She desired to test Javi, combined with her caring about anyone seeing them, luring him to a safe space. She could hear his grunts and calls of her name like it was a swear as she’d climb and hop drain pipes and fences. All he could hear was the occasional heavy breath and giggle coming from her. They moved away from the busy streets, up higher over every sketchy rooftop, and eventually came to climb onto a secluded and blocked-off rooftop together.

“You've still got it Javi.” she laughs breathlessly, hands on her knees from the far side of the roof he’s slid onto.” her face beams his way, a sheen of sweat catching in the sun as she fluffs back her hair.

“I never lost it,” he grunts, dusting off his jeans. “Can’t afford to.” he pauses and regains his cocky posture.

“You look good.” she offers as a compliment, both closing the space between them to face off.

He takes his time, looking her up and down, unsure of her motives, yet she'd always had that wild streak. He used to love that about her. Now it made it hard to read. “So do you.” he presents in response to her out-of-place compliment.

“It's nice to finally see you up close.” her face is relaxed, too relaxed in his opinion. She touches his chest, hands light on his collar and moving up to tuck back the messed pieces of dark hair from his sideburns.

“That mean you’ve seen me from afar?” he stands stoically still, letting her touch him, not ready to reciprocate.

“Possibly,” she smirks, eyes trailing over his now-adult facial features. His brow had hardened, his jaw rounder but still sharp. Her favorite part, his nose was now proportionate and he was even more attractive up close. She lets a small sigh slip, dedicating his handsome face to memory. “Couldn’t let you pick up on my location could I?”

“Is that why you knocked me out?”

She lets out a chuckle and pats his chest. “That was… an unfortunate mistake on your behalf and a fortunate one for me. I have laced lipstick I wear during jobs. Easy to kiss a man and get away. Less messy than shooting. And far quieter.”

“Poison lipstick…” he nods thoughtfully.

“I’ve spent years perfecting it, dosing myself with tiny amounts to have immunity. Took a note from the Renaissance covert killers.” she smiles proudly. “I’m very proud of it.”

“You should be,” he admits begrudgingly. “I’ve looked up your work. It’s… impressive.”

“That means a lot coming from you. Your career has been notable as well.”

“Looks like we both got what we wanted, huh?” The response was bleeding with sarcasm.

She bites her lip, her shoulders slumping just enough for him to notice. “It is what we said we wanted.” her voice was softer now, less playful and confident as he sees the lump in her throat bob up and down. He lets her sit with her words for a moment, seeing a passing sadness behind her eyes. They seemed even brighter green than he remembered. But memories aren’t always honest.

“Where have you been?” a demand, not much of a sweet inquiry.

“If you’ve looked at my records then you know already. “

“This past year. Where have you been?"

“In Colombia.” She gives a subtle shrug.

“So I don’t get an answer?”

“You want the longitude and latitude? I can’t give you exact locations so you can know where to find people.” She frowns.

“You think I give a shit about that?” His brow furrowed and his head tilts. She’s caught off guard by his defensiveness. “The shit I deal with… a couple of stones means nothing. I want to know about you. That’s why I asked where you had been. Not who you’d been with.”

She felt scolded. It wasn’t something she was used to. Still, he was the only man who could pull it off. “I have a place in the mountains I stay at on occasion. I float around and do jobs. There’s no specific place.”

“You have a place here and you couldn’t come find me?” He sounded almost hurt.

“I can’t have anyone know we know each other. They’d kill me. Kill you.” She knew he was accusing her of not caring. Which couldn’t be farther from the truth. “I didn’t want you getting hurt.” She finally averts her eyes, a vaguely familiar ache in her chest growing.

He lets out a harsh laugh. “Should’ve thought about that twenty years ago when I thought you were dead.” He spits out. He sees the hurt in her eyes and he takes a moment to move her hands from him, and take a ragged breath. “You’ve been SO close this whole time. And I didn’t know…” he clenches his jaw and looks away to the horizon. Readjusting his posture he swings his head back her way and flares over her, an accusing finger in her face. “I can’t take this... you running around and not knowing SHIT about it.”

With sad eyes but a firm expression she swallows. “You used to get possessive like this. I remember… I’d-” Her voice is breathy and her hand moves to remove his from her face, a gentle hold that he answers harshly.

Grabbing her wrist, her eyes widen as he stares her down. “Don’t fucking tease me, Esme.”

Her brow furrowed quickly as she tries to tug away.

“I could take you in right now you know. For so many reasons.”

“You wouldn’t though.”

“Would I not?”

She stares with wide eyes that would’ve made him drop to his knees and beg her forgiveness when he was young. His worst fear was to hurt her back then. Now it was her getting hurt from her own actions.

“You have no idea the hell you put me through, do you? All this time not knowing for sure. And you’ve raised from the dead and think you can fuck with a man's head like this?” She could feel the bite of his words as he spoke quietly to her, letting her wrist go after he made his point. “Do you even give a shit or is this another game you’re running? Are you conning me too? Is there some guy who’s fallen for this shit somewhere with a gun on me right now?”

“How could you say that? I’d never.” She holds back a stutter in her throat. She felt something she hadn’t in a very long time, the sting of tears in her eyes. He regretted his outburst as soon as he saw it. He just had so many years of anger and hurt built up it was hard not to explode.

“Did you miss me at all?” His voice a whisper now, eyes wider and opening up like he was trying to.

It broke her to see him like this now. This stoic figure was just a shell covering that young man she left. She didn’t know it would hold onto him this long, that he did love her that much. “If you saw the wear on my rosary you'd have your answer. I prayed you to be safe. For you to get what you wanted.” She clears her throat and tries not to break.

“All I ever wanted was you.” A clear and plain statement. It was a fact.

“I had to make my own life.” She said it as an excuse and she hated the way it sounded coming from her. It made her feel weak. “You wanted yours.”

“We were kids. We didn’t know what the fuck we wanted.” He huffs out a strangled laugh.

She takes a deep breath and her time in answering. “We were. We didn’t.”

It was an admission of guilt on both their behalfs. They got what they said they wanted but was it really what made them happy? They’d been chasing a fix to fill a void of their own making. And now on the other side, the ugly truth of their dreams stares them and their unhappiness down every day.

“I’m sorry.” She adds and lowers her head. “I felt trapped and I knew you’d… do exactly what you are right now if you thought I was out there.”

“You were right.” He sighs and reaches to lift her chin revealing tears falling down her cheeks. He cups her face and wipes them away with his thumbs.

“I shouldn’t have reached out to you again.” She shakes her head.

“No...no, you should have.” He sighs heavily and pulls her into his chest, something she didn’t expect. “I’m sorry too.” He remarks into her hair, closing his eyes and feeling her in his arms. “I’m just…” he trails off. What could he say? I’m lost, I’m tired, unhappy, empty, angry? There wasn’t enough time to explain how he felt about this... about her. “I’m sorry too. I’m glad you let me find you. Okay?” He leans her head back to look up at him.

“I didn’t know you were here. In Colombia. I came here for work.”

“So did I.” He looks away purses his lips. “You know you can’t work for those men.” He wipes away her tears again, his hand smoothing her black waves away from her face. “They’ll kill you, Esme. The second you do something wrong they won’t even blink.”

“Like talk to you?” She arches a brow and gives him a soft smile. “I know, Javi. I know the risks.”

“And you still did it?”

“I missed you.” she admits with a soft exhale.

He pulls her in again, tighter this time. A kiss to her hair as he strokes his hands over her. “You know you need to get going. It’s almost night they’ll be crawling all over soon.”

She nods but doesn’t pull away. “They can’t see us here. There are no lookouts. It’s why I brought us here.”

“You know this place that well?”

“I have to. I don’t have a choice.” It felt hopeless as it left her trembling lips and it reflected more regret as she let it escape. It sounded as tired as she felt. It was as if being in his arms made her aware of how exhausted she was. How worn and hollow she was.

He knew the sound of exhaustion well. He heard it when he would deflect questions from the women he would pay to distract him from the one in his arms. “I know, sweetheart. Believe me, I know.” When she didn’t pull away, he didn’t make her. It gave him the answers he needed. At least what he needed to make it through another day without her for a short while.

@jaegeeeeer @likedovesinthewnd @inkededucatednnerdy @biharryjames @ladamari68 @past-romantic @weliketomoveit @shikin83

#javier pena #Javier Pena Fanfic #javier pena fic #javier pena x reader #javier pena fan fic

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capaimagines · 4 years ago

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lee minhyuk - answer

Pairing: Lee Minhyuk x Reader | Genre: angst | Warnings: none | WC: 2.1k

You held your breath as you stared at the school doors in front of you. You had spent the whole month debating whether of not to attend your high school reunion. It wasn’t that you didn’t have friends or that you weren’t popular, on the contrary. You had a few friends that you still talked to and while you weren’t one of the most popular people or the it girl, you were nice enough and everyone seemed to enjoy you or at least talking to you.

You were mainly hesitant because you knew that he would be there. Him being, Minhyuk, your high school crush that you just never seemed to get over. While your friends had begged and tried to get you to confess your feelings at the time, you just never could. You would get all clammy and too nervous. You two were fairly good friends and enjoyed similar things. You were just always afraid if you confessed, that the relationship would change and that was the last thing you ever wanted.

Did you regret it? Sure, sometimes. Would you go back and change it? Probably not. You two still talked from time to time, even went out for a meal a few times over the years just to catch up on each other’s lives. He was studying hard at college, excited to be graduating soon whilst you had opted not to go to college and were enjoying your quiet life working at a cute café near your apartment. You weren’t rich by any means, but you had enough to live comfortably. School was never really your forte anyways.

That was how you and Minhyuk had first started talking. Your teacher had insisted you get tutoring for your math class and Minhyuk was the lucky pick. He was really helpful and at the time, you found yourself actually understanding the material and passing the tests. You had passed math, thanks to him and the two of you continued to talk afterwards, having mutual friends and all it was hard not too.

You remember the first day you knew you had feelings for him. He was always a social person, liked talking to people and making new friends, regardless of who the person was. The morning you had walked into school and saw him leaning against the lockers, talking to one of the more popular girls, you felt your gut twist. The bright smile on his face and the adoration in his eyes was enough to tell you that he had some type of feeling for the girl other than friendship.

That’s when you had decided to just keep your feelings to yourself. Never speaking about them again with anyone except the stupid pink diary you had hidden under your pillow at the time. He’d come to you for advice. How he should ask her out, what the perfect first date would be, how to ask her to homecoming and prom. Of course you’d always give him the best advice you could. Letting your heart break, piece-by-piece, every time he went to her. Seeing them hold hands or flirt or looking at each other with so much love in their eyes always broke you a little more inside, but he was your friend and if he was happy. Who were you to take that away?

You sucked in your breath, holding your head up high as you walked through the doors of your old high school. You had made the decision tonight to tell him how you feel about him. You just couldn’t hold onto it anymore and you needed an answer. Whether he returned your feelings or not, you still needed confirmation so that you could properly let yourself move on.

You found your table, heart sinking a little as you noticed you were sat with Sana, the girl you had helped Minhyuk woo during your teenage years. She still looked just as beautiful, but had dyed her hair blonde instead of her usual black.

“Y/N! It’s so good to see you! It’s been so long,” She said as she wrapped you in a hug to which you responded. She wasn’t ever mean to you and while you wouldn’t go as far to say you were friends, you spoke to each other and were nice.

“Sana, it’s so good to see you. I love your hair, it looks great!” She smiled, thanking you and pulling you to sit down next to her. Catching up on the past years of your lives though she did most of the talking as you just listened. You were always better at listening than talking. Something you had yet to change.

“How uhm, do you still talk to Minhyuk?” You asked, biting your bottom lip and picking at the skin around your nails under the table.

You saw her smile but she had a sad look in her eyes, “We actually broke up a little bit after we graduated,” Your eyes widened a little and you tried to control the little bubble of hope that made its way into your stomach.

“Really? What happened? I had no idea!” You really did have no idea. You and Minhyuk were really good about avoiding the topic of your love lives when you did talk. You had just always assumed that they were still together because he had never brought it up. They were the perfect couple after all.

“Well, we were just in different places.” She shrugged and you hummed, “Actually,” She laughed a little, turning to look at you, “He had a crush on you. Even while we were dating. He told me about it one night after he’d gone out drinking at a party with friends,” You were shocked and you knew that showed on your face. Your eyes were wide and your mouth was hanging open a bit.

“That’s not- there’s no way- he didn’t,” Immediately you were feeling guilty that you had been the reason they had broken up. It wasn’t intentional, but you still felt guilty. You knew Sana really did like him and maybe she did love him.

“I don’t blame you Y/N, and besides, we were going to different schools miles and miles away. It was bound to happen eventually. I always knew it wouldn’t last forever. Part of his heart always belonged to you.”

You honestly had no idea what to say. All these years you had both pined over each other and neither of you said anything! How had you not noticed? Sure, you weren’t the brightest in school but you had a pretty knack for reading people. You had never gotten that impression from him, even a hint.

“Do you still talk to him?” You blurted out, not sure what else to ask.

“No,” She shook her head, “We lost contact during our first year of college. What about you?”

You told her it was just casually and then you switched the conversation, done talking about Minhyuk for now. You were more determined than ever right now to tell him how you feel, but you had yet to spot him amongst the rest of your old classmates. You enjoyed your dinner and conversation with Sana and the rest of the people you sat with. It was a little nostalgic for you and you secretly hoped that this wouldn’t end even though you knew it would.

“Y/N! Let’s go dance!” Sana said as she dragged you out to the dance floor. You had tried, desperately, to get out of her grasp but she held firm and before you knew it, you two were in the middle of the dance floor and Sana was swaying her hips. She may have a little too much to drink. Though, you just indulged her for a little bit, dancing badly with her and just enjoying your time left with your old friends.

“I’m gonna go grab us some water!” You shouted to Sana over the music as you fought your way through the crowd and back to the makeshift bar that was set up as you wiped some sweat off your forehead before asking the person for two waters. As you were waiting, you felt someone step beside you. Your heart started beating even harder once he spoke.

“Y/N! I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You look gorgeous, as always,” You were glad your cheeks were already red from how hot you were, but you could feel them heat up even more from his comment.

“Minhyuk! Sorry, I’ve been with Sana most of the night and I couldn’t find you. I’m glad you’re here though,” You smiled and gave each other a quick hug. Your conversation started easily and carried on, “Minhyuk, I actually- I need to tell you something.”

You had placed your hand on his arm and you felt like you wanted to vomit. You kept telling yourself to get a grip; you were an adult now, not some hormonal teenager. It shouldn’t be this hard to tell him how you feel, but the fear of rejection was always lingering in the back of your mind, “I wanted-,”

“Minhyuk! There you are!” Your eyes snapped over to a girl you knew didn’t go to your school. You would have remembered her. She was absolutely gorgeous. White teeth that shined every time she smiled, beautiful brown hair that hung in loose waves over her shoulders, the gold sequined dress she had on made her slightly hazel eyes pop. She was fit and you had to admit she was attractive. She linked her arm with Minhyuk’s and he smiled down at her.

That’s when you noticed the large diamond on her finger. A very important finger at that. You felt your heart shatter and your eyes burn with tears that you were praying would wait to fall until you could at least get to the bathroom. Minhyuk patted her hand, smiling at her before introducing you.

“Hyejin, this is Y/N, the girl I was telling you about from high school. That I get lunch with from time to time.”

She offered you a bright smile and you did your best to mirror it. You didn’t want to hear what she was to him, you didn’t want to know, but you couldn’t be rude. Yet, your eyes stayed trained on the diamond that adorned her finger. The more you looked at it, the more you felt yourself sinking into that black hole. You wanted nothing more than to just run out, go back home and cry. Cry it all out and then finally just move on.

“Y/N, this is Hyejin, my wife,” He said it so proudly, so prideful and so happily that it made you sick. You hated that it made you sick because again. Who were you to wish that he wasn’t that happy? Who were you to have held on to hope that he was single? Why didn't you know he’d gotten married? You thought that would be something pretty big to leave out on your lunch meetups.

“You didn’t tell me you were, uhm, married,” You hated how weak your voice sounded and if you were looking at Minhyuk right now, you would have seen the small flash of sadness in his eyes. Sana wasn’t wrong when she said there was always a part of his heart that would belong to you.

“We never really talked about our love lives,” He said simply and you hummed. Hyejin linked your arms together and started pulling you away. You couldn’t be rude and she just wanted to talk.

“He’s told me so much about you! He said everything he did to win me over he learned from you during high school. You’re pretty good at that. You should be a matchmaker!” She said to which you offered her a strained chuckled before Minhyuk came up behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist. Hyejin happily stared up at him and you swallowed the bile rising in your throat.

“It was nice seeing you, Minhyuk. Nice meeting you Hyejin. I have an early day tomorrow, I’m going to head out.”

They said goodbye, Minhyuk offering to drive you home but you politely declined. You turned and walked away and maybe if you were paying attention you would have seen the longing gaze Minhyuk had on you, even just for a split second. You just couldn’t turn around and you didn’t want to look at him right now. Or ever again.

You finally had your answer, and it wasn’t the one you were expecting.

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johnkrrasinski · 4 years ago

Text

𝐄𝐱𝐢𝐥𝐞

Chapter 2: Those Eyes Add Insult to Injury

full masterlist // series masterlist // commission open // support my work

Pairings: Dark!Steve Rogers (in future chapters) x Reader

Word Count: 2,554

Summary: Steve Rogers; a Hollywood A-lister and your clandestine occasional hookup. Best friends since childhood, but people change and friendships fall out. Now you were merely strangers with benefits. What happens when one day you stopped being his doormat to be a better man’s queen? The selfish Steve Rogers would not like it. How far is he willing to go to get his favorite possession back?

Warnings: smut, non-con/dub-con, dark Steve (in later chapter), angst, Steve Rogers is an asshole in this one, no redeeming qualities. (MUST BE 18+)

A/N: this series is dedicated to the lovely @belovedcherry who commissioned this story and developed the concept. thank you for being a friend when i truly needed it. i’m really glad that you trusted me to write this story for you. with all my heart, i sincerely hope you like it. this series will be updated everyday, there will be 4 more chapters ahead.

Several years had passed since you graduated. You and Wanda remained close despite the bustle of life would get in the way sometimes. She got accepted in Yale University and she chose to study Psychology. Maybe that’s why she and you got along so well. You both were humanitarians at hearts.

College was a lot more fun than high school but that also meant the bigger pressure would come along in one package. Nothing that you didn’t expect. You went into social study major to groom yourself for the future you had set for yourself. Life went along as methodically as you originally designed.

But fate was a comical thing sometimes. When it has settled its decision to place two people who have such a rich history in their past together, it would be inevitable and inescapable one way or another.

The past couple of years of high school, you and Steve were practically strangers who went to the same school. He never greeted or talked to you anymore in class and he abandoned every ritual you had in the good old days. He stopped calling or texting, he stopped answering and he stopped coming over.

He just… stopped knowing you.

There wasn’t a day that passed by without you pondering about where did it all go wrong? How did the fair-headed friendship that bloomed like the flowers in spring slip away as briskly as a bottle of wine? A million questions rushed through your nostalgic head and as the season changed, the gap between you and Steve kept extending wider and wider.

You didn’t even know whether he really went to college or not. Or perhaps, he decided to go straight into auditions and found himself a good agent who was willing to manage his career. You still remember when he was so eager to do whatever it takes to study in NYU but you assumed that things had changed since then. He was a different person, after all, maybe he had new plans to pursue his dreams. But of course, life deprecated its surprises being spoiled.

Who would’ve warned you that you would get accepted to New York University as well as Steve?

You didn’t know until you ran into him at a sorority party that you were reluctant to go at first because you were never that much of a party gal, but your roommate, Natasha coerced you to.

Natasha was a kind person but she could also be a little bold than you were used to. You were grateful that she was your roommate though, you were a little worried that you might have to live with someone who was mean or untidy, everything that Natasha was not. You could imagine the relief when you learned how organized and sensible Natasha was. You had a feeling that the friendship you and Natasha had was going to last a lifetime.

“My sweet girl, y/n, I love you but you really gotta put yourself out there, okay? Forget that motherfucker Steve Rogers. He ain’t shit. If you go to the party with me, you might actually find yourself a decent guy who’s a lot cuter than him and who will treat you right. Because if he doesn’t then I’m gonna kick his ass and he will think twice before cheating on you.”

“I’m not looking for a boyfriend, Nat. Besides, I don’t care about Steve anymore,” you lied. “It’s not even about him, I’m just simply not much of a partier.”

“Bullshit. You are now. Let’s go. I won’t hear any more excuses.”

So you had no other choice but to put on a simple dress and went to the party with Nat. There was no saying no to her when she had made up her mind. Plus, you thought it would be a good idea to familiarize yourself with the vicinity and your potential classmates.

You also wrote a new resolution in your invisible diary that you were going to expand your connection in college and socialize more. You were only really friends with Wanda back in high school. You also shared a few classes with Pete Parker who was nice and smart, despite being a little gauche sometimes and you would often talk to him but that was it.

You also lost your childhood best friend who knew you better than anyone else before Wanda did. It truly deteriorated your trust issues and that’s why it was difficult for you to insert yourself in social situations and just effortlessly talk with any stranger.

You stood in the corner with a red plastic cup in your hand that was still almost full of beer. You didn’t drink either so you had no idea why you even bothered holding it. Maybe it gave you a sense of comfort that you wouldn’t be totally alone in this party.

Natasha had asked you to dance but you knew you’d look like an untrained clown at a circus, so you refused to join her. Natasha was currently lost in the music, dancing with a guy named Clint. You had no idea who the hell he was but he seemed nice, and you knew that if Clint had bad intentions with Natasha, he wouldn’t stand a chance and you wouldn’t let him so you assigned yourself the job to watch over Natasha and bring her home safely in case she chugs down a little too much alcohol.

Your eyes wandered around the room, trying to recognize and learn some faces. It felt like you were the only lonely person in the room as the exuberant music faded into the background. Everything felt slow and steady until the person who just walked through the door made your heart stop.

It was Steve. Steve Rogers.

The person you had incessantly wondered about. You hadn’t seen him in over a year even during the gap between graduating and starting your freshman year in college. You were too occupied in moving out, spending as many time as possible with Wanda and your family and filling out college requirements. Steve would emerge in your mind every once in a while but you tried to erase him away as quickly as possible when it happens because you didn’t want to waste your time missing a ghost and someone who probably never spared a second of his life thinking about you too when you are surrounded with your loved ones for the last time.

You didn’t know when you were going to be able to see Wanda again. She was going to New Haven and that means, it would take at least at two hours drive to visit her so you cherished the last moments that you had with her. She was like a sister to you. You still talked to Wanda nearly every day through texts but you also didn’t want to intrude her study too much. Besides, you had your own duties too as a college student now.

So why did it feel like your lungs stopped functioning when you saw his gorgeous face and those familiar pair of cerulean blue eyes? He had a grin on his face as he walked in with five other college boys. You didn’t know who they were but you assumed they were his new group of nitwit friends. Steve was wearing a brown leather jacket with a black shirt underneath.

He walked to where the kegs were with the boys trailing him along like they were his security team. They joked with each other boisterously as if they owned the place. Typical. Nothing you hadn’t seen in high school. But you couldn’t avert your sights from Steve. You were too riveted by the fact that Steve was here, at a sorority party of NYU.

It couldn’t really be him, right? I mean, is this serious? You two really attended the same university? This must be a joke.

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted when Nat pat your shoulder with her energy still blazing from the dance floor. “Whew, that was fun but I need some drink now.”

You didn’t respond as your lips were still agape, not knowing what you were supposed to say to her.

“Y/N? You alright? You look like you saw a ghost.”

“He’s here.”

“What? Who?”

“Steve Rogers. The guy that I told you about.”

“Where?!”

You pointed in his direction where he was surrounded by a bunch of pretty girls in skimpy dresses now. One of them was groping his bicep shamelessly and Steve had his arm around her waist. She threw her head back as she laughed cheerfully at something he just said.

“You gotta talk to him! Have some closure.”

“What? What the hell am I supposed to say to him?”

“Tell him that you and him are through and maybe, throw a drink at him afterwards. That scumbag deserves it.”

“Nat, no! Are you insane? I don’t wanna cause a scene.”

“But you can’t just let him get away with whatever he wants, y/n!”

“No, let’s just go home and forget it, okay?”

“Alright, if you’re not gonna talk to him, then I will.”

“No, Nat! Stop! What are you doing?! ” But she was already approaching him with ardent footsteps and fire in her guts as she brazenly inserted herself into the middle of the scene.

“Excuse me,” she sarcastically greeted the group. “Yeah, hi, I just need a minute. Are you Steve Rogers?”

You followed behind her but you stood just a few feet away from the incident so that Steve wouldn’t see you. But you could see from over Nat’s shoulder that Steve had a perplexed look on his face. His eyebrows were furrowed and all the girls around him were staring at Nat like she was a crazy person who just randomly popped up uninvited.

“…yeah.” He answered.

“Oh, so you’re the asshole that my roommate has been talking about. Man, she really didn’t lie.”

“Excuse me?” The puzzled look on his face turned into an offended one.

“Yeah, my roommate y/n. Does that ring a bell?”

He was aghasted at the mention of your name. Before he was given a chance to answer, Natasha filled his silence with more of her venomous words. “You really have the audacity to show your face here, huh? I swear to you, the next time I see your irritable face again, I will make you regret for ever breathing in my direction, but for now, I think this will do.” She threw the beer in her cup onto his face, humiliating him in front of everyone who was entertained by the drama.

Steve wiped his face with his hand and he was too stupefied by the information that had just been dumped on him like a cold water. Well, it wasn’t entirely figurative though.

Before Natasha walked away, she sneered with a sly smirk on her face, “enjoy your party.” She shoved the empty cup to one of the girl’s chest as she reflexively caught it, with a flummoxed expression, her eyes didn’t stray from Natasha.

She walked away vauntingly from the flock towards you, “let’s go, y/n.” as she kept walking towards the entrance. You were still frozen in your spot as she was already going for the door. But before you could follow her, your eyes landed on Steve’s doused face as his eyes were already fixated on you.

For a moment there, there were only you and Steve and the intimacy of unspoken farewells and muted longing that were encapsulated in one bubble of silence that comes when two people understand each other. It was like the drawer of Steve’s things that he left with the memories and he never asked you to return came hurdling back like ocean waves and everything just evaporated in the ticking time.

There was no need for words because your eyes delivered more than both of your lips had in the past couple of years.

“Y/N?” He uttered your name. That was perhaps the first time he had called you in years. And with that, it was like every broken piece you had intensively woven back together ruptured and there was no safety net that would prepare you for this fallout.

He was bewildered by seeing you here and you had no clue what you were supposed to say. So you threw him a poignant smile, forcing yourself to put on an impassive facade in front of him. You were good at that, you had years of practice from all those times you found Steve making out with Janet in the parking lot. You wonder if they were still together?

You wordlessly walked away and joined Natasha to the front porch. Steve watched you turn your back on him, not knowing whether he should call your name again, follow you or he should just let you go. You on your way back home were filled with so many thoughts. You couldn't help but wonder, what would’ve happened if you had stayed and talked to him at the party? What would he say to you? Would he even care at all?

But on the other hand, you were relieved. It’s like, you truly got the closure Natasha said you deserved. Never in a million years, you would ever dream about standing up to Steve like that. Hell, you weren’t even brave enough to tell him how you feel back when you were younger. But may God bless Natasha and her parents for creating her, she defended you in a way that you could never do. And she showed you that maybe, it’s time you hold on to your promise that you vowed to yourself, that you were finally going to move on and bury him into your memory dump.

You were in college now. You had no time to wallow in sadness and heartbreak caused by a douche like Steve Rogers. So you made peace with the fact that it was probably the last time you were ever going to see him. You might run into him around college but you weren’t going to let it shake your ground. You unlocked the door of your dorm with a contented smile on your face as you sat on your bed.

Natasha instantly went for the small closet to change into her pyjamas but was briefly delayed by your mumble. “Thank you.”

“Pardon?” Natasha turned her head into your direction.

“Thank you. For doing that… At the party.” You smiled at her. You sincerely meant every word.

“I’d never let a man walk over a good woman like you, y/n.”

You nodded as she carried on with what she was doing. She went into the bathroom to wash herself off and you laid in your bed, feeling lighter than you had ever felt in years. Maybe she was right. It was time you realize your worth. You spent too many years doubting yourself just because Steve was too much of a reprobate to cherish you.

You closed your eyes, relishing in the comfort of your bed without fearing a ghost looming in your sweet dreams anymore now.

Letting tomorrow surprise you with whatever it has in store. Sometimes it involves a charming devil standing on the other side of your door with flowers in his hands and a wicked scheme to accomplish.

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bookwyrminspiration · 3 years ago

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Shattered Upside Down

A kotlc wings au: masterpost here

Chapter 10: The Reconnections

word count: 8.6k

chapter summary: So many things just went wrong, now Sophie and her friends have to pull themselves together and help each other process it, otherwise they'll never figure out what to do next.

warnings: mentions of blood/injury, brief mention of bodies (non-human), general distress and confusion, suppressing emotions, panicking, crying, swearing, purposeful misuse of grammar, a lot of caps (not in an angry way, just excited yelling), and I think that's everything

taglist: I’ll reblog with it. let me know if you want to be added or removed!

Hello! Ten chapters! We're in the double digits now! To celebrate I'll be posting a deleted scene from the earlier chapters, so if that sounds interesting to you, feel free to check it out! Now, I know you're probably eager to find out what happens next, so I'll stop !!

ao3 link here or read below

Everything froze.

The world was silent.

That little girl looked at her, tears streaming down their face, fingers clenched in that creature’s fur, nearly tearing it apart. They stared at her, and Sophie stared back.

Her friends were arranged in a circle around them, stumbling from the rubble, slipping in the carnage, trembling forward. Everyone’s eyes wide, mouths agape, dust clinging to their skin.

Eyes on the girl.

The girl wouldn’t take their eyes off Sophie. There were ten of them arranged in a perfect circle around them like some sick ritual from a human horror film.

Their mouth fell open, salty tears clinging to their lips,

and

they

screamed.

Cracks and tremors exploded their way through the rough ground cascades and shock waves of terror and sheer power ricocheted through the pathways of earth travelling along hidden roots and sending the whole world into a frenzy and it was so so so so unbearably loud.

Sophie clapped her hands over her ears, gritting her teeth as she tried to stop her very brain from rattling about in her skull. Her eyes closed for one moment but that was all it took.

The girl was gone when she opened her eyes.

There was a bag in her hand. Heavy, stuffed with metal pieces and tools and things she didn’t understand. Someone was holding her hand. A cloak had been draped across her back.

People were asking so many questions. What to do. Should they leave? Was Sophie’s shoulder okay? Was anyone else hurt? Would their parents try and come back? They couldn’t, she had their pathfinder. Should they just leave the bodies here?

Because there were bodies everywhere. Flattened into the ground, entrails strung between crumbled buildings like streamers. Thick, gleaming rivers of blood filled the cracks in the pavement, inching ever closer and closer, turning the claw marks and paw imprints in the ground into puddles, into drenched ground and soaked soil.

There was a dandelion growing between the cracks, petals now completely, entirely red.

She couldn’t see through the glass on the building to her side, but she could see her crimson reflection in the sheet of blood running down it, the drops drying like wax to the side.

It vanished, feathers blocked her view.

Deep browns spattered with gold and teal, a grey so dark it looked black, and--blue. A deep, rich blue.

Fitz, Keefe, and Maruca stood at three different points, a triangle amongst the ten of them, wings spread as the entire group faced inward. Blocking everyone’s view.

“What--what now?” Biana whispered, face drained of all color. There was a smudge of dirt on her cheek, bite marks in her lips.

“Who was that?” Keefe asked, grimacing, his hands held awkwardly at his side, like he couldn’t figure out just what he was supposed to do next.

Her fingers tightened around the pathfinder to the point of pain. Sophie just wanted this to be over. She’d been fighting so many people for so long. She didn’t want to anymore. She wanted to take a break, to go to the beach at midnight and push her friends into the water. To tend to a garden because she wanted to and not because she’d die without it. To listen to music on a blaring speaker without the looming terror it would draw something terrifying, something unnaturally scarier than her.

Twirling the pathfinder rhythmically beneath her fingers, she sighed. “Let’s just go.”

Keefe looked to her, alarmed. She didn’t care.

“Anyone have any last minute errands to run while we’re here,” she said, much too lightly. She couldn’t see the carnage through the feather barrier, but she could see it, knew what it looked like. The image was burned blisteringly detailed into her mind, and would remain for the rest of her goddamned life.

“Um...no,” Wylie answered, a bit confused, scratching at his head.

Sophie rubbed at her face; it felt like there was something stuck to her skin. A layer of filth and grime and wrong shuddering through her cells that refused to go away. She gasped, stumbling slightly--her shoulder. The movement jostled her shoulder. Throbbing aches thrummed their way through the surface of her skin, melting her nerves into rivulets of illusory, constant stimulation. Trembling, she exhaled.

Fitz reached out to steady her, frowning as he pulled her in to take a closer look. She didn’t let him. Covering it with her good arm, she tried to sort through her thoughts.

The sight of that little girl again…

“Then let’s just go.” Sophie looked up, startled. Linh. That had been...Linh. Her arms were crossed against her body, brow furrowed. Tam hesitantly placed his hand on her shoulder, seeming to convey something no one but her could understand. Linh shrugged in response and his expression only darkened, fingertips noticeably darker when he dropped his hand.

Almost reluctantly, they all linked hands. Like they were uneasy leaving this place the way it was. But what choice did they have? What could they possibly do?

Run away. That’s what they could do.

Again.

She couldn’t get it off. She couldn’t get anything off. The dust and grime from that haphazard city stuck to her skin like pollen and her clothes were damp with sweat and suctioned to her body and those wings were stuck to her back and she wanted to rip rip rip them off and set them alight and dance through the flames.

But there was dirt on the porch and she needed to sweep it off.

There were flower petals on the couch and she needed to clear them away.

There were wires and metal plates and parts to be sorted.

So she pushed it away. Pushed it down. Took a deep breath. And got back to work.

Unnerving quiet crept through the cracks of the wood planks beneath her feet. Too quiet. No wind blew through the canopied trees, no animals chirped in the forest. Everything had...paused. Or maybe that was just her, unaware of the world around her as she methodically plucked flower petals from the seat of the chair, tossing them out a window.

Everything she did pulled against the bandages wrapped haphazardly around her shoulder. She’d popped a few pills when she’d gotten back, human medicines she’d grabbed with Tam, rinsed the wound off, poured an antiseptic over the top--it’d stung like a bitch but she’d live--and wrapped the thing up. She didn’t want to deal with it anymore than she had to.

Attempting to clean her wound had disturbed some of the neatly wrapped bandages from Elwin--which was surprisingly difficult with all the pollen. But her right arm was still good and covered, the other good from about the elbow down. Right now, she could probably pass as one of those haunt actors in a human haunted house, some kind of resurrected mummy.

As she wandered around, she passed by friends moving, living their own lives, shadows trailing behind them, marring their faces. Biana and Fitz had disappeared somewhere the moment they’d gotten back, tears trailing down their cheeks. Linh had vanished too, arms crossed and expression tight, Tam right behind her, apprehensive, unable to deduce what was wrong.

What wasn’t wrong? That would’ve been a better question.

They were living just to the left of where they should’ve been. They were all together, everyone was alive, but everything was just slightly off. This was not right. They weren’t supposed to be like this. What had happened to them? Was it still happening? Who was that little girl?

She found a closet in one of the empty houses, a broom and some lengths of handmade rope, flowers curling out from a handful of the woven vines. That...didn’t seem like how rope was supposed to exist, but she also didn’t know much about making rope. Or anything about it.

A broom sat in the corner of the closet, which she made sure to note. She’d need that.

Slinging the length of rope over her good shoulder, she carelessly tossed a throwing star from hand to hand as she made her way through the village.

The bridges needed repair.

Just ahead, one of the bridges had snapped off entirely on one side, dangling over the edge and into a sharp drop much in the way those comical action movies had shown from when she was little.

Thunk. She’d set the supplies near the edge of the platform, but she didn’t care.

Tossing her legs over the edge, she braced herself; this would take a level of control she wasn’t sure she possessed--especially not right now.

Pressing off with her hands, she lowered herself into the air, just like when she’d lowered herself into swimming pools as a kid. Not the time to be nostalgic, Sophie. But she couldn’t help it. The sun had been overwhelming, the air muggy and humid. A beehive had started to form under the water slide and her and her sister would always plunge beneath the chemical surface when a bee flew near, or even just the sound of those wings approached.

The very same sound her own wings were now making, holding her gently in the sky as she urged herself forward, muscles in her back tearing at the scratches, the mite marks in her shoulder. Grabbing the frayed ropes and hauling them back to the platform she’d jumped from, she used her body weight to anchor it down while she tied and wove and cut the fresh rope--that’s what the throwing star was for. She didn’t think there’d be any scissors in an abandoned village, but she was open to surprises.

Actually, no she wasn’t. The unexpected oh so frequently came begging alongside disaster and terror, singing a sweet song of promise only to rip it to shreds as soon as you let it in.

Testing the strength, she tentatively walked across the planks, bouncing in the middle. She probably shouldn’t have been walking on it if she was unsure of its stability, but she wouldn’t fall if it broke. A dangerous mindset to play with and she knew it, but she didn’t care. Either way, it held. Good. Something was fixed. Something was better now.

She did it again. Time ticked passed, the supply of rope slowly dwindled, knot after knot slipping through her hands, fixing bridges until her fingers were raw and red and the muscles in her back were threatening to pop out. Her shoulder stung, the entire area burning as if set alight, but she didn’t dare take more than a minute’s break. Anything more would snap her out of this zone.

Back to the closet, then. She grabbed the broom. Anything, anything to keep her body moving, physical labor to numb her mind.

Dust showered over the edge, tumbling towards the ground far far below. She could watch it touch the ground if she wanted; instead, she let her mind disappear. Letting herself live in her own body would lead to circles and circles and circles, coming back to everything and anything she’d ever said.

Each mistake she’d made. There was nothing she could undo, but her mind could replay the possibilities over and over and over again. What if she’d tucked the wings inside her shirt instead of relying on just the cape after they’d escaped that creature. What if she’d agreed to meet in a different city, let Mysterium be just a mission for Dex, contacting their parents separate.

She should’ve tried harder, fought stronger. Should’ve. She hadn’t. An infinite cascade of what-ifs and maybes were drowning her, shoving her head under the water and there wasn’t a drop of energy left in her to scream.

Bristles brushed against the wood, precise. Methodic. She worked her way out from the inside of the platform, moving the dirt to the edges to watch it fall away.

Realizing there was grime inside too, she entered her little home. When had she come back to it--she could’ve sworn she was out further. Shifting the rug out of the way, she efficiently swept the floor. Kicking aside furniture with barely half a thought, holding a couch up with one hand, careful to avoid stepping on the stained glass littered about the floor. Bare feet didn’t mix well with glass, and her body was too bruised to torment further. Not that it was stopping her.

There was so much to do, so many tasks to complete.

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how she was supposed to react, she knew that much. She had quite possibly just permanently severed her connection to her old life. Had maybe seen her father for the last time. He’d seen her, knew there was something wrong.

And she stood here with a broom she’d found in that empty home, sweeping rivers of dried dirt off the wood floor, watching it shower all the way down to the ground below.

She didn’t remember how she got back here.

She didn’t remember what she was supposed to do next.

She didn’t remember her name.

“Hey, you,” he said, gently, approaching hesitantly from behind. She still flinched, muscles tensing. Keefe took the broom from her hands, setting it to rest against the side of a nearby wall. That--that wasn’t her wall. When had she strayed so far from her cottage?

She hadn’t realized she’d stopped moving.

Almost like he was afraid he’d break her, he pushed a few strands of hair back behind her ear, the ones that were obscuring her face. Hiding the trails of tears crying silently down her cheeks.

He inhaled softly, eyebrows creasing with concern as his other hand came up to rest on the other cheek, holding her in his hands. She hadn’t even looked at him and yet she could still picture every minute detail of his expression.

“You okay?”

She didn’t know if she was physically capable of responding. Softly, her own hands covered his, savoring the warmth of his skin against her own, pressing her eyes closed in a futile attempt to dry her eyes.

Sophie leaned forward, her forehead pressing against Keefe’s chest as his arms widened around her, caught off guard for a moment before his hands slowly settled on her back, careful to avoid the wings.

“O-oh. Okay. We can--we can do this, then. If you need.”

She did need. Desperately. Tilting her face to the side so her cheek was pressed to his chest instead, she held him close. And let him hold her. They didn’t talk. Just stood there, bodies flush.

Eventually, he raised one of his hands from her back, brushing it through her hair, chaotic and tangled from the style she’d hastily torn out. She felt his fingertips combing through the strands, ghosting across her scalp as he pulled at the knots, untangling it with his fingers the best he could. His fingers slid against the back of her neck, lifting the strands stuck to her skin. Gentle. He was oh so gentle with her, like she was a porcelain doll and one wrong move would shatter her into pieces.

“You doing alright, Sophie?”

Sophie pulled back and nodded, smoothing out his shirt, pulling it back down and pointedly avoiding eye contact. He wasn’t having it.

Keefe held her chin, slowly directing her to look back at him, his skin warm against the dried salt on her own.

“Are you okay, Sophie? Please talk to me. Or anyone. I know that mission didn’t go well and--”

“Stop,” she whispered, and he shut right up. It was so so much harder to talk than she thought it would be. “I can’t. Not right--I can’t. Too much. Everything. All at once. I can’t.”

He was nodding, the wings at his back shifting slightly, readjusting themselves, a deep charcoal grey. Her fingers tightened into fists in this shirt before she realized what she was doing and released the fabric, stepping back, exhaling.

Today had been absolutely awful and she hated everything about it. From pushing her old life even further away to accidentally revealing the wings to the little girl on that intelligent monster down to the chill in the air that morning.

But Dex had gotten his supplies. He’d had everyone help carry everything back--though he tried to get her to let them all handle it, what with the shoulder. And they were all still here. And everyone else had been taken back to the underground unharmed. Those were wins. They were positives. They were good things but she just couldn’t focus on them.

“Do you...want a distraction?” Keefe asked, hesitantly waving a hand in front of her face to bring her back to reality.

She nodded, running her hands down her face. It was too much. Too many things had gone so wrong so quickly and she’d wanted to bury her imparter beneath her mattress because it was exploding with messages and hails and just the thought of reading them made her so nauseous her knees had buckled and she’d had to lay on the floor for several minutes.

That’s when she’d remembered how disheveled the place was. So she’d started cleaning and hadn’t stopped. Not until he’d come to find her.

“Okay,” he breathed, hands combing back through his hair as he squinted off into the distance. Thinking. He hadn’t had anything planned and was thinking on the fly. He glanced to her.

“You stole Grady’s pathfinder, right?”

“No need to rub it in,” she grumbled, patting at various points all over her body, trying to remember where she’d put it. She’d thought she’d tucked it into her waistband, but it wasn’t there. “I think I left it inside.”

He pulled at his lip with his fingers, lost in thought. “Okay. Cool. Where?” She gestured for him to follow her, leading him across a few bridges, some she’d repaired and tied back into place, others they had to take a route around because she hadn’t fixed them yet.

She ducked her head inside, scanning the space, the little tables. There. She jogged inside, snatching it off a chair and returning back outside, holding it out to Keefe.

Taking it from her, he began to spin the facets, a new pattern emerging. It seemed familiar, although she could never quite understand how the crystals worked.

He smiled slightly to himself, glancing. When he saw her looking back he quickly averted his gaze, cheeks turning red. Tilting her head to the side, she watched him hold up the pathfinder to the afternoon light.

Lacing their fingers together, he looked over his shoulder at her. “I don’t think you’ve ever been where we’re going, but it’s not the location that’s important. Got it?”

She shook her head, but he didn’t elaborate further, pulling them both into the light.

Purple grass had never made much sense to Sophie. Foxfire had purple grass, but no one bothered to explain why. It was one of those elvish things that hadn’t been deemed important enough for her to learn.

This grass wasn’t just purple, but varying shades of seafoam greens and delicate blues as well. Tall, reaching to about her knees, some adorned with flowers.

That was all. Grass, as far as she could see.

Keefe sighed next to her, then rubbed at his neck, smiling sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure if this place would be clear or not.” Clear of monsters. Taking a chance, coming here without scouting or defense aside from their new mobility and Sophie’s strength--not that she was in great shape at the moment. Perhaps the others had strange new traits too, not that she’d ask. Fitz had been staring off quite a lot recently, but she didn’t know if that meant anything.

“What are we doing here?” she asked, looking around. There was...nothing. Nothing was good. Nothing meant they were safe. Nothing meant this place hadn’t been overrun or corrupted just yet. But it also wasn’t like Keefe to do nothing.

Tucking the pathfinder away, he ran his fingers through his hair, standing slightly taller, pulling himself together. “Okay. Look around. What do you see?”

“Grass.”

“Yeah, there’s grass. Who do we know who likes grass and fields and streams?” He was trying to lead her somewhere but her brain had turned to lead. Wait. A stream? Huh, now that she thought about it, the faint gurgle of something wet rushing by could be heard. Water pouring over rocks.

Sophie rolled her eyes at him, but he just smiled back. Okay. Grass. Someone who liked--

“Oh!” She could feel her eyebrows shoot up, putting the pieces together.

Keefe full on grinned now, but she shut her eyes, sinking to her knees amongst the foliage, deliberately ignoring the light, tickling brush off the blades against her skin. .

Bracing her, holding her steady just in case, his hand rested atop her shoulder as he came to stand behind her.

Pressing her fingers to her temples, she transmitted her query across the world. Hello? Are you there? Over and over and over again, unsure which direction to send the message so sending it everywhere, a full 360 around her body, waves of power rushing from her mind that no one but people like her could sense.

Finally, her message was answered.

SOPHIE! HELLO! FRIEND!

Silveny’s exuberant shouts filled her mind and she barely even grimaced. Apparently maintaining the mindbubble so often had built up her resilience to pounding noise inside her head.

Yeah, she responded, leaning back into Keefe. Do you want to come visit? Me and Keefe?

FRIEND! VISIT! KEEFE!

Sophie nodded her head, then realized the glittery horse couldn’t see her. Yes. It’s safe. Well--yeah, we’ll go with that. Safe! Just a really quick visit, okay? I don’t want to put you in danger.

Keefe was fiddling with the sleeves of her shirt, unrolling the parts that had gotten bunched up.

VISIT! SAFE! SOPHIE!

Yes...that is...that’s what I said.

WHERE! WHERE! WHERE!

“I’d like to contact whoever designed alicorns and file a formal noise complaint,” she grumbled, and she could faintly hear Keefe’s snickering before her attention was too far gone to process anything anymore.

I’ll show you, she said, gathering up an image of the place. That must’ve been why Keefe had asked her what she’d seen, to ensure she had a clear visualization before reaching out. Hadn’t he come up with this on the spot? Why was his attention to detail so casual?

Almost immediately after sharing the image, Silveny severed their connection, still mulling over and looking at the details Sophie’d provided.

Groaning, she sat back up, realizing she’d been leaning practically all of her weight onto Keefe, who’d sat down behind her at some point during that conversation--it must’ve lasted significantly longer than she’d realized.

“So?” he asked, shaking his arms out and stretching a bit, rolling his wrist and straightening his shirt.

Sophie blinked a few times, the fading light still too bright after her eyes had been closed for so long “She cut me off. I showed her where we were and then she severed the connection, so whatever that means--”

Crackling thunder rolled through the air, making them both jump as a hole tore itself through space, several sparkling winged alicorns emerging, prancing their way through the sky as they circled down to land a ways away, trotting over to where they both sat in the grass.

“Hey, Glitter Butt,” Keefe whispered, stroking her face, brushing the icy strands of hair out of her eyes. She snorted and butted his hand in return, pressingly firmly into his hand. His smile was infectious, the wings at his back a near blinding white to match the alicorn before him.

KEEFE! KEEFE! KEEFE!

“She’s sure excited to see you,” Sophie told him, rubbing at her temple; Silveny was even louder in person.

Meanwhile, she was surrounded on either side by two little foals bumping up against her thighs, trying to knock her into the grass so they could play. But their movements were...disjointed. Erratic. Colored with fear and panic.

“They’re anxious,” she realized, frowning. Keefe’s expression had darkened slightly too, his wings shifting back to grey.

“Are you, mama?” He consoled, pressing up close to her neck, petting her all down her side. She didn’t know why she’d bothered to say it aloud--he could already feel it.

Sophie relented after a particularly brutal push from Wynn, sinking to the ground once more, letting him curl up in her lap, trembling beneath her fingers as she stroked his mane. Luna took more to Keefe, pulling at his shirt with her teeth, nearly tearing the fabric, pressing her wet nose to his skin, making him jump slightly.

He laid back in the grass, wings spreading behind him, Luna curling up beside him and laying her head atop his stomach. It was in this moment, the wind gently stirring the pastel grass cushioning their bodies, the intertwining feathers, the way his eyes closed and he leaned back, hand tangled in Luna’s mane, that Sophie yearned to be an artist. To capture this moment right now and make it real somewhere else, to allow it to exist outside her mind.

What she wouldn’t give to preserve this moment, this reprieve.

KEEFE? KEEFE? KEEFE OKAY? Silveny interrupted, blasting her thoughts into Sophie’s mind, hopping about anxiously, refusing to settle. Greyfell stood a little ways back, wary eyes observing the environment.

There’d been no news of anything catastrophic that Silveny had shared with her, nothing alarming or dangerous. But she’d kept secrets before. What had they seen? What had they met that made them so skittish?

Wynn butted his head against her side, demanding more cuddles and attention.

Yeah, Keefe’s okay. Why?

Silveny had pressed in closer, stomping at the ground. She tried to grab him by the shirt, pull him closer to her, but he ducked back, holding up his hands.

“Hey, hey, hey. You’re fine. It’s okay. Calm down, mama,” he whispered, gently stroking her head, trying to calm her. It was only marginally effective; she stopped her stomping, but her eyes were frantic, darting between Keefe and the ground and the area surrounding, sniffing the air, exhaling heavily.

Keefe glanced to her in question. Asking what was wrong.

Silveny. What’s wrong?

MONSTER! KEEFE! PROTECT!

I--what? What are you talking about? To Keefe she said, “Something about monsters. I think she’s trying to protect you.”

SMELL! MONSTER! PROTECT KEEFE!

Turning towards the panicked alicorn, he smiled slightly, nervously. “Thanks, but I’m good. You don’t need to protect me. You need to protect yourselves and your family. I’ve got other people to have my back.”

Silveny wouldn’t relent, her motherly concern boiling over and exploding from within her too-caring heart. Pressing forward, she tried to snap at Keefe’s wings, biting at the feathers.

They pulled back, snapping shut behind him just before she could reach as he sat up fully, backing away from her.

Oh.

Keefe.

Monster.

He was the monster she was scenting.

Silveny didn’t seem to understand anything Sophie tried to explain. Not until she told her that biting those wings, the monster, would hurt Keefe. Then she stopped trying.

But she didn’t give up, convinced there was something she could do to protect him from some creature, not understanding it was him she scented.

“I didn’t realize just how much our scents had changed. I mean, I know Ro told us but--” he cut off, still slightly shaken, expression drawn. Luna still curled around him, but the wings were tight to his back now, significantly darker. More shadowed. Haunted.

Silveny refused to leave his side, pressed close to him in the grass. Sophie had kept her own wings tucked in close, flat against her back. It felt unnatural, like they wanted to remain spread, but she could do it easy enough. Keefe’s were so much more obvious, that’s what’d tipped the alicorns off. Hers could be hidden, discreet. Anything to prevent more disruption, to worsen that aura of hurt lingering around Keefe, the one he was trying so hard to pretend didn’t even exist.

Sophie couldn’t think of anything to say, instead staying silent.

Distraction. They needed a distraction. That’s why they’d come all the way out here, although she didn’t know where that was. To have fun. Relax. Ignore everything else for just a single moment.

You know what? Fuck it.

Hey, Silveny? Want to fly?

Head perking up, her eyes focused on Sophie.

FLY? FLY? FLY?

She nodded, debating how she was going to navigate this. Yeah. Fly! Her shoulder could probably take it. She’d regret it tomorrow, but it wasn’t tomorrow yet.

“What are you saying to her,” Keefe hissed, leaning back a bit as Silveny’s wings began to flap slightly, rising from her sitting position to towering about the two of them sitting before her. Even Sophie felt as though she could feel the waves of excitement radiating off her, and she wasn’t even the empath. Keefe’s eyes were slightly clouded, like he was sorting through something before coming back to himself.

Sophie brushed him off. “You asked me to trust you when coming here, now it’s your turn to trust me.”

“That is so unnecessarily cryptic, Foster.” She stared at him. “Okay, alright. Point taken.”

Silveny bent down, expecting the two of them to climb atop her back, but Sophie shook her head. Keefe’s eyes widened and he slowly turned to look at her, mouth comically agape, like he was questioning whether her mind still worked properly. Probably not.

No. We’re gonna do this a little differently this time, okay? Trust me.

DIFFERENT FLY? TRUST? DIFFERENT FLY?

Shaking out her hands, trying to dispel the nerves, she nodded. Yep. Trust us. You go ahead and we’ll join you.

It took a minute or two more of explanation, but finally the stubborn alicorn relented, her family following behind. Taking off into the sky, the four of them began to circle a few dozen feet about the ground, moving around the two of them left on the ground.

“Are you serious? You’re really--are you sure?” he asked, hands on either side of his head, fingers digging into his scalp as his eyes remained oh so open, scanning her from head to toe.

She shrugged, turning away as she straightened her clothes out; the fabric had bunched and remained full of grass. “Want to join them or not?”

“Well--uh--you know--ah--we can’t--why…” Sophie looked to him over her shoulder, realizing he truly was stunned. Entirely at a loss for words.

“Hey, you don’t have to, you know. You’ll be fine either way. Nothing will happen.”

He rolled his eyes at her, insulted. Of course he would follow her, he just couldn’t believe who she’d become. The decisions she made so casually that would’ve sent her spiraling into anxiety before. Part of her didn’t believe it either, pretended nothing had happened at all.

Crouching down slightly, she gathered her energy for a moment before leaping into the sky, wings snapping out behind her. Steadily, she made her way into the sky, turning back to see Keefe.

His wings beat steadily behind him--he must’ve practiced, she realized with a start. Light grey feathers shivering in the wind as he caught up to her, color staining his cheeks already.

“See? Everything’s okay,” she whispered, unsure whether she was comforting herself or him. Either way, he smiled in return, chaotically bumping into her with his shoulder, nearly tumbling out of the sky in the process. Hiding her wince, she smiled wider. Yeah, that injury did not like all this movement, but she’d never been known to listen to her body.

“Yeah. Okay. We’re okay.”

With each beat, it grew easier. The tightness in her chest eased, her smile gradually felt true. Every time she took to the sky she landed more skilled, more aware of her own body. They worked in tandem, the two of them. Her and the wings.

SOPHIE! KEEFE! FLY!

The impatient alicorn had darted down and was now flying in concentric, tightening circles around the two of them, whining in excitement.

Yeah, Mama. Fly. Silveny let out a shriek of excitement, tumbling through the air, her two little trouble makers coming up beside them to butt into their legs, testing their balance.

Sophie moved much more sporadically than the five of them, rhythmically shifting in the sky while they moved steadily; something about their wings having feathers and hers being insect-based, she assumed. But she didn’t want to do any thinking right now.

Right now there were four alicorns and someone she loved right beside her, laughing and intertwining and dipping through the sky.

Keefe waved frantically, drawing her attention. “Foster! Look!” Wynn hovered beside him in the air, and on some unknown signal both of them snapped their wings shut, gravity taking them by the hand and dragging them down head first, dozens upon dozens of feet rushing past in a few moments as the ground grew nearer and nearer.

At the last possible second, they both opened their wings, pure white feathers catching the wind as they pulled a sharp turn, skimming the top of the grass before the momentum sent them rocketing back into the sky, looping around to come to a mostly steady pause in the air.

“Why? Why would you do such a thing,” she managed, clutching her chest. She’d trusted him, but watching him drop headfirst, unprotected, had ignited some visceral panic, adrenaline humming through her veins, making it slightly more difficult to maintain her position in the sky.

KEEFE FLY! KEEFE FLY! KEEFE FLY! Silveny cheered in her mind, but Sophie tried to ignore the pestering. Greyfell seemed to be occupying most of her attention anyways.

“Aww, what? Do you care about me or something?” he teased, circling back around to her, squishing his cheeks between his palms.

Swatting at him, she glitched back a little, wings buzzing and failing to hide her grin. “Unfortunately, I’m invested in your physical and mental well-being, you dumbass.”

Keefe scrunched his nose up at her, pressing in close and grabbing her by the wrist, drawing her away slightly, leading her through loops in the air. He let go eventually, realizing it was much more difficult when holding on to someone, the same way running was so difficult when holding someone else's hand.

She missed the warmth of his skin, though. Missed it desperately.

Music. In a human film, there’d be soft, soothing music playing over a montage of the two of them whirling through the sky, the sound of their laughter cutting through when Sophie’s shirt rode up and the fabric got bunched on her face, when Keefe tried to stay low and fell from the sky, instead ending up rolling through the grass.

Everything was okay, just like they’d said. Like they’d promised. All she could hear was Keefe’s voice, his ringing laughter, and all she could see was his smile, the blinding, near glow of his bone-white feathers.

They let the time pass.

They stopped trying to stop it.

Hey--where are you? Fitz interrupted her as she darted around an alicorn wing, testing her own agility.

Hmm? she replied, startled.

I asked where--

Oh. Mind processing what he’d said a few seconds later, she interrupted him. I don’t know. Keefe took us here.

She could’ve sworn Fitz was mentally trying to strangle her, shake some sense into her. Sophie took the brief moment of silence to slow down, coming to a hover as she closed her eyes, focusing on the conversation. It was hard to escape her body with the pounding in her shoulder, but she managed.

Alright, he said finally, clearly distracted with something on his end. Can you come back, please? Did you even tell anyone you were leaving? What are you even doing--you know what? Later. Just...I need you. Please.

Wings rushed rhythmically beside her, Keefe having noticed her distraction and coming to make sure she didn’t tumble from the sky. How considerate.

Are you okay? Heart skipping a bit, she resisted the urge to pull at her eyelashes. It was that brief moment before disaster, that poignant pause where the next few words would determine whether the adrenaline kicked in in full or her panic would waiver and they’d laugh about it later. Those few seconds before it set in where you tried to figure out if it was real.

He hesitated. I--I don’t know. Is it even possible to be okay right now?

Okay, okay, she consoled, instincts kicking in. Give us a few minutes and we’ll be there, okay? I promise. Don’t do anything stupid, please. We’re coming.

Yeah...okay.

The connection cut out and she opened her eyes, disoriented for a moment. Keefe was grimacing, shaking his hands out, trying to dispel something.

“What’s got you all anxious, Foster?” Ah. Right. He could feel the sudden souring of her mood.

Moving away from him, towards the alicorns, she called over her shoulder. “We need to go. Fitz asked for us to come back and he sounded really upset.”

Keefe started for a moment then followed after. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. But he wants us back so we’re going back.”

“Okay, yeah. Yeah let’s go.” he repeated himself a few times, and Sophie swore if she were an empath she’d feel the same waves of dread and anxiety rolling off of him as he felt from her.

Silveny, Keefe and I need to leave. You and your family need to go back to wherever you’re safest, okay? I’m sorry we couldn’t stay longer.

KEEFE! SOPHIE! STAY! She begged, sounding like she wanted to kidnap the two of them and steal them away permanently, convinced she could protect them.

She shook her head, curled up in the air beside the alicorn, cradling her head between her hands, pressing their foreheads together. We can’t, mama. But you need to stay safe. We’ll see you again soon.

SEE SOPHIE SOON!

Yeah! We won’t wait so long next time.

SEE KEEFE SOON! Silveny playfully bumped into Sophie, circling away to do the same to Keefe, who said much of the same as she had, wishing her well and promising to visit sometime.

Neither of them knew if they’d be able to keep that promise.

Wynn and Luna butted against them too, demanding a few last pets and snuggles before they followed behind their parents, Greyfell unexpectedly brushing wings with Keefe in farewell before they vanished into the void with one last message.

SOPHIE SAFE! KEEFE SAFE! STAY SAFE!

It was useless to wait here any longer, but they both hesitated for a single moment, long enough to take a breath. To watch the grass shiver in the breeze, the pollen dance through the air.

Offering Keefe her hand, Sophie conjured the clearest image she could of the gnomish village, the way it looked from up above. Their fingers intertwined and Sophie stopped beating those wings, letting herself fall into a dead drop just as Keefe had, but this time they didn’t catch themselves: they plummeted into the void.

Humidity condensed into clouds, obscuring her vision. Apparently her best image of above the village was from that dragon fight, much higher than she realized. The two of them descended in slow, coiling circles, both of them wishing they could go faster but not sure if they should risk it.

Wylie waved at them as they landed from a bridge a little ways away, so she waved back.

We’re back; where are you? Hand dropping back to her side, she resolved that if he didn’t respond within the next fifteen seconds she was tracking him down.

She reached ten before his voice filled her head.

My...house, he said, unsure what to call it just like the rest of them.

Biting her lip, she glanced to Keefe. “Do you know where Fitz is staying?”

He nodded, taking the lead. A stab of guilt threaded its way through the lining of her stomach, coiling around her ribs and squeezing tight. How shameful that she’d gotten so caught up in her own life, her own troubles, that she didn’t even know where he was staying.

Leading her through a series of bridges and turns, a cottage came into view, slanted and twisted around the side of a tree, a spiral of stairs leading towards a splintered door left agape, a pattern of slashes in the front that she forced herself to remove from her mind.

It was the highest building in the village, roof open to the sky.

No creaks or groans came from the stairs as she practically ran up them, imagining the worst of possibilities, heart lagging behind, stumbling with dread. Keefe was only a moment behind, cursing as his feathers snagged on a tear in the railing.

Tentatively, she knocked on the door, but when no response came she just pushed inside.

“Fitz? You alright?” she called out, glancing around the area. Gasping, she let the door swing behind her. The room was in chaos, papers strewn about the floor, his bag discarded near a beanbag chair, spilling empty vials and snack bars onto the ground.

A shuffling came from upstairs--there was an upstairs? Fitz tumbled into the room a few moments later, disheveled, like he hadn’t realized they were actually coming.

Keefe let out a low whistle. “Okay, buddy. What the fuck.”

Fitz was picking at his lip, distracted, frantically scanning the papers on the floor like he was looking for something. “Hmm. Yea,” he responded absentmindedly.

Sophie was too busy scanning him from head to toe, searching every inch for sign of injury or distress. His knuckles were red and raw, his hair sticking out in every possible direction like he’d been running his hands through it, pulling at it.

“What did you need?” she asked, voice soft and gentle. Something was wrong. Something was eating eating eating at him enough that he’d asked her to come.

Fitz exhaled heavily, reaching up to run his hands down his face, then dropped them to his sides. “I don’t know,” he whispered, clenching his jaw. “It doesn’t make any sense.” he was picking at his lip again, arm shaking.

She tried again. “Well, maybe if you tried describing it, we could figure--”

“No.” He had turned around, lowering himself to the floor, collecting the papers and starting to place them in some sort of order. Where had he gotten paper? He glanced at her guiltily. “Sorry. That sounded rude. I didn’t mean--I’m sorry. I don’t mean that I don’t know what the problem is, the problem is that I don’t know. I don’t understand this. I keep--I keep going over what we know, organizing it into notes and sections and treating it like a goddamned homework assignment but I just...the pieces don’t fit together. And there are so many loose strings and things to tie up and come back to and I can’t get that information, which just makes it--”

“O-kay, babe. Let’s slow down there for a hot second,” Keefe interrupted, lowering himself next to Fitz. Fitz slumped, all the air rushing out of his body seemingly at once, expression softening into delicate pain.

Sophie just stood there for a moment before shaking herself out of it, kneeling on the floor beside him, taking the papers from his hand. It was just pages upon pages of notes, scribbled diagrams besides carefully organized and sectioned observations, notes about the wings and the creatures, notes about the little echo and the way Tam’s eyes had changed.

“Here,” he said, handing her a book on top of it all. “That’s what I’ve been working on.”

Oh. It was the book. The monster book. The journal they’d all started who knew how long ago, a collection of notes and things known about the various creatures they’d encountered so far. Their behaviors, their traits, the noise they made if any.

She’d forgotten they’d brought it along.

He clearly hadn’t.

“Okay,” she said, trying to collect herself. “What is...what have you been working on?” His thoughts were so disjointed, something occupying his mind so intensely he wasn't speaking clearly. Hard as she tried she couldn’t make sense of it.

Fitz gestured like it was obvious. “I’m trying to solve it. The wings.” He scooted closer to her, reaching out to flip through the pages to a new section.

A section...about all of them.

It felt so very wrong and off-putting, seeing themselves beside all those horrid things in that book. But she shook it off. Not now.

“Solve? What do you mean ‘solve?’” Keefe asked, leaning in closer to see the pages, quickly turning away when he caught a glimpse of a few sketched feathers, all in various shades of grey.

Fitz groaned, rubbing at his face again. “I can’t--I can’t explain it, okay? It just--it doesn't want to make sense. I swear it makes sense. There’s just--I’m just missing something and then I’ll figure it out and--there’s an explanation somewhere. If I just find it then we can--”

“We can what, Fitz?” Keefe asked, painfully soft.

He went quiet. His fingers curled, nails digging into his face until Sophie reached out to pull them away, lacing her fingers through his own. The movement aggravated her shoulder but she ignored it, letting out only the smallest sound. It didn’t matter. He was crying.

Keefe moved closer and began rubbing his back, the space between the protruding wings, telling him to breathe, the instruction accompanied by a wince of his own as all of Fitz’s...whatever it was hit him, flooding through his mind, visible on his face. But he just shook it off, continuing the slow circular motions.

“I don’t even know what I’m trying to do,” he laughed, hollow. His fingers tightened around Sophie’s before relaxing, falling into his lap. “We’ve already messed everything up. There’s no coming back from this. I don’t even know why I’m trying.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Sophie said, rubbing her thumb against the back of his hand. “We’re still trying. We’re always going to try--it’s what we do, right? Together. All of us. That’s how we work. That’s us. I like it that way.” She had no idea what to say.This was so...unexpected. Out of nowhere. Or maybe she just hadn’t been paying as much attention as she should’ve been.

He hummed half-heartedly in response, cheeks flooding red. Keefe absentmindedly reached up to brush a stray piece of hair from Fitz’s forehead, bumping him lightly with his shoulder.

“You should listen to Foster; she knows what she’s talking about most of the time.”

Sophie rolled her eyes at him, but Fitz was smiling slightly. “Yeah...she usually does. I guess that’s why I asked for you.”

“You don’t need a reason to ask for me,” she reminded him, letting go of his hand to flop back against the hard wood of the floor, the sound of something clattered to the ground accompanied it. But she didn’t notice, flinching as she hit her shoulder, staring towards the sloped ceiling, the veins of vines curving around the roof. Like the ones that had trapped that creature.

A pang of guilt overwhelmed her for a moment, almost enough to take her breath away. She still hadn’t told anyone about that. But she turned her attention back to the situation at hand. Keefe was looking at her funny, but he shook himself off and turned away.

Fitz shifted forward, flopping down on the floor beside her, wings spreading beneath him to accommodate for the shift. She couldn’t imagine it was comfortable, but he seemed fine.

“I know,” was all he said.

Keefe frowned. “Well now I feel a little left out. Do I get to join the cuddle session?” Fitz laughed, a real laugh, patting the open space to his right, inviting Keefe in.

When Keefe joined, Fitz was sandwiched between the two of them, the three of them looking off at nothing, pretending they didn’t notice the way their skin brushed against each other. No one spoke, the echoing of their heartbeats more than enough to fill the passing time.

They had responsibilities, yes. But this mattered more. Her friends, her family, would always matter more.

Fitz’s breathing evened out, the tension draining from his muscles. Whatever distressed frenzy he’d been in when they arrived started to ebb, his pulse slowed.

Sophie counted each beat, the three of them combined, still unnerved that she could even hear their hearts. Fitz’s hand was playing with her hair, rearranging it around her face as he lay beside her, oh so careful not to jostle her shoulder, the bandages. They’d shifted at some point, Sophie now more atop his wing so she could be closer to his body, Keefe the same on the other side. He was fiddling with Fitz’s hand, pulling at his fingers and tracing the lines with his palm.

“Thanks for coming,” Fitz whispered, breaking the long silence.

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t have to come,” he explained, not looking at either of them. “But thank you. I..I needed this. Someone.”

Keefe rolled over, propping himself up on his elbows, looking down at the two of them. “We’re always going to be here when you need us, Avery.” Fitz rolled his eyes at him, smiling.

“Just…” Sophie began, pausing and restarting. “Thanks for reaching out. Instead of dealing with it on your own. Thanks for letting us in.” He blinked, like he hadn’t thought of it that way before.

Keefe pushed himself up further, looking over at something, drawing both of their attention. “Hey, uh. Foster? You’re getting some messages.” Her imparter--oh, that must’ve been what the noise was. It had fallen from her pocket, discarded somewhere on the floor--she’d turned off the vibrations and sound so she wouldn’t hear it if someone said anything. It was stupid, she knew, but she hadn’t known what else to do.

Exhaling, she closed her eyes. Yeah. She should deal with those now. Nodding to herself, she pushed herself into a sitting position, bearing her weight on her good arm. Keefe lowered himself back down next to Fitz.

One thing at a time.

Reaching over, she grabbed her imparter, bringing it to her lap so she could see it better.

Her mouth fell open. Fitz was watching her carefully, messing with Keefe’s hair and trying to act nonchalant, like he wasn’t observing her every move, gauging her reaction.

“How bad?” Keefe asked, head resting on his arms.

Sophie didn’t even respond, sitting up straighter and thumbing open the device, going straight to her messages. The most recent ones.

“Elwin--he messaged me.” She blurted out, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

They both stopped moving.

“He says he wants to meet up. Secretly. Just--just with him.” Trembling, she turned the screen around so they could read it.

Sophie. I don’t know what’s going on with you or your friends, but please let me help. I want nothing but the best for you and I can’t help you if you’re hidden. I’m not asking you to reveal your secrets, but let me in just enough to patch you up. I don’t need all the answers, but I won’t sleep well until I know I’ve done everything I can. You have injuries left untreated.

But it was the last part of the message that really stunned her.

No one knows I’m sending this, so don’t let them know. We can keep this just between us. You’re a strong, independent young woman, but I hope you’ll accept my help.

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