Okay but xie lian really do just being lying the whole series

guarded | jhs x reader | chapter one: fan mail

summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you.  now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: mafia AU, E2L, slow burn, tsundere, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 2.8K

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

***************************

You stare at the words for a moment before folding the paper in half and slipping it back into the envelope you pulled it from.  

Honestly?  

It’s not the first time you’ve gotten a threat. It happens from time to time in this line of work.

But this note plucks a chord of anxiety inside of you. Must be the eleven missed calls you suspect go hand-in-hand with your little love letter. Your phone hasn’t stopped buzzing for a half-hour now.

“Are you okay?”

Hyejin’s voice filters through your thoughts. She’s taken stock of the strange look that crosses your face in the split-second before you school your features back into a mask of calm.

She’s observant like that.

“Oh yeah, it’s nothing,” you say, shaking your head.  “Just some fan mail.”  

Your phone buzzes against the papers on your desk -- again -- and Hyejin raises an eyebrow.

Make that twelve.

“Tell you what,” she says, standing to stretch her legs. “I’m ready to go blind from reading these files and I could use an Americano.  You want one?”

“Actually yes,” you exhale.  “That’s exactly what I need. You’re a lifesaver.”

She gives you one last are you sure you don’t need to tell me anything? look before opening the door to your office.  You reassure her with a soft smile but the second the door to your office closes, you blow out one long, heavy breath and reach for your phone.

you: what the hell? [ 3:15 PM ]

namjoon: this can’t wait [ 3:15 PM ]

you: clearly [ 3:16 PM ]

namjoon: come in ASAP [ 3:16 PM ]

You groan.

Namjoon knows you avoid that place at all costs.

It’s not a good look for you to be seen there -- and so as a rule -- you’re not.  Your brother is usually understanding about your stance on the matter. But it’s not like him to push so there’s probably a damned good reason why he’s summoning you to his office like some wayward employee.

You glance back at the stack of files on your desk, riddled with notes and highlights.  Even after a morning spent tag-teaming with Hyejin, there’s still a shitload of work to be done. But then you look back at that envelope sitting on your desk and pick up your phone again.

you: give me thirty minutes [ 3:19 PM ]

namjoon: okay [ 3:19 PM ]

Paperwork is going to have to wait.

*****************************

You’re not a moron.  

You know what people say about your family, what they say about you.

You know what they whisper when you show up to charity galas and fundraising dinners. You know what they murmur the second their false smiles fall and you turn your back. They say that the money that paid for your prep schools and top-notch legal education is blood money; paid for by one of Seoul’s oldest and most powerful crime networks.  They say that you took a job prosecuting crime to assuage for your family’s sins.

They’re not wrong.

Your father -- your cruel, unsophisticated father -- shelled out top dollar to put you in fancy schools and fancy clothes and fancy riding lessons.  He threw elaborate birthday parties where he showered you with extravagant gifts in front of guests who were only there to celebrate because they feared turning down the invitation.

So others saw your material good fortune and mistook you for a pampered mafia princess. None of them had to come home every day to the stench of death and destruction. None of them had to endure the gossip and the looks and the cold shoulders.

That was a burden you shared with only one other person.

You and Namjoon huddled together during your lavish and turbulent childhood, leaning on one another for strength because no one else understood. He was the only safe harbor you had in the storm you both lived every day.

And then you left.

You walked away from your father and the Gajog and crossed the country to study law.  Far from the vicious gossip and prying eyes and violent drama that always awaited you in Seoul.  You walked away and decided that you weren’t going to live that life anymore.  

But you also walked away from Namjoon.

Now it’s a cold comfort, seeing your brother seated so naturally at the throne of power your father vacated when he died.  The old-school brute-force organization your father ran for decades is a thing of the past.  In its place, a well-oiled, highly-organized machine -- making far more money and far fewer mistakes.  

Namjoon single-handedly pulled the crime syndicate into a new era, dusted it off and dressed it up.  He legitimized parts of the business, took up residence in one of the city’s most expensive buildings, and basically dared law enforcement to come get him.

They still haven’t.

And there isn’t a day that Namjoon doesn’t cross your mind.  

There isn’t a day that you don’t pray that the menace that existed inside your father never takes root inside of your brother.  You pray that he can shoulder the burden of his responsibilities without rotting from the inside out.  

If anyone can, you tell yourself, it’s him.

**********************

Namjoon cuts an imposing figure behind his grandiose wooden desk.

He’s seated when his assistant first opens the door to his secure private office, but as soon as you follow her inside he makes to stand.

He looks so tall now, you think -- as though it’s been years since you’ve seen him.  

In reality, it’s only been a few months since your last brief encounter, but it’s still hard sometimes to recognize the handsome, polished man in front of you as the kid you grew up with. You’re hit with a pang of regret that it’s been so long since you’ve seen one another face-to-face.

Two men stand guard on either side of Namjoon’s desk, which doesn’t surprise you. Your brother is always surrounded by guards these days.  

The only one you recognize is Min Yoongi, who gives a slight bow in your direction as you cross the broad expanse of the office.  You’re certain you’ve never seen the second man, who stands eerily still on your brother’s other side.  You can feel the stranger’s stare from a distance and avert your eyes.

You bow to Namjoon and take a seat in the plush chair facing his desk.  A fond look passes over his features but when he opens his mouth to speak his tone is businesslike, serious.

“I know you don’t like coming in here,” he begins carefully, “and so I have to apologize for asking you to make an exception.  I hope you understand this can’t be helped.”

“Yes, of course,” you say softly. “Sorry it took me a while.  I’m buried with a new case.”

Namjoon nods.

“That case is the reason why we’ve run into a bit of trouble in the past few days,” he admits. “Some of our friends across town are pretty upset about it.  Apparently very agitated and hoping to leverage the fact that you’ve been assigned to this case to their advantage.”

“I see,” you murmur.

You knew the men you’d been assigned to build a weapons trafficking case against were part of a rival organization -- but on paper they were low-level foot soldiers, considered expendable in a business like theirs.  Why the Ssijog were so worried about losing a couple of nobodies from their ranks was a bit puzzling.

“I guess that explains this,” you say, reaching into your bag for the letter delivered to your office.  

You hand it to Namjoon and he reads the words with a tight expression before turning it over to the man you don’t recognize.  It’s a relief when the stranger’s focus moves away from you and onto that paper. You take the opportunity to get a closer look at him.

The first word that comes to mind is sharp.

Everything about the man is sharp -- from his meticulously tailored suit to his severe jawline to the angles of his body.  Intense dark eyes set in honey gold skin and black hair carefully styled off of his face. You’re caught staring when his eyes snap up from the paper and back to you.

You clear your throat, gaze darting back to your brother.

“They want you to make this go away.”

You sigh.

“I can’t do that. I don’t have that kind of authority. And besides, it would attract all the wrong kinds of attention to me and -- “ you pause, choose your next words carefully, “ -- to my ties to this organization.”

Namjoon concedes your point with a slow bob of his head.

“Right.  So we have a problem,” he admits.  “Because the message we’re getting is that they’re willing to do whatever it takes to get what they want.  And it’s been made quite clear to me that hurting you is not off the table.”

You take in a deep breath.

“This is Jung Hoseok,” Namjoon says after a short silence, motioning to the stranger at his side. You straighten when the man acknowledges you with a barely-there bow.  

“I’ve assigned him to your detail.”

“Detail,” you repeat slowly.  “Like a bodyguard.”

“Exactly like that.”

“Namjoon, I -- “ you look away from the man to turn your attention back to your brother,  “-- I can’t have one of your guys following me around.  People are going to talk.”

“Amsaja,” he sighs, “They talk anyway.”

You bristle at his use of your childhood nickname.  

You know it’s meant as an endearment but it still feels infantilizing in front of his men -- one of whom hasn’t seen you in years, one of whom knows nothing about you at all.  You’re a grown woman, a successful prosecutor, and more than just Kim Namjoon’s little sister.

“Joon -- “

There is annoyance behind the way you fire off his name and one of your brother’s eyebrows lifts in warning.  A silent reminder that in this room, in this building, in this realm, he is the absolute authority.  You swallow back the argument on the tip of your tongue.

“Namjoon,” you start again, this time with a restrained calm.  “Please. Let’s have this conversation in private.”

He drums his fingers across the surface of his wooden desk before nodding his agreement and raising a hand to motion his guards out the door.  You wait until both men are gone and the heavy door to Namjoon’s office clicks shut to speak again.

“You’re putting me in a terrible position here,” you exhale. “I’ve worked so hard to -- distance myself.  I can’t walk around with a reminder of my family history at my heels.”

Your brother stands from his seat and walks to an ornate sideboard, pours liquor from a heavy crystal decanter into a highball glass.  He takes a slow drink before speaking.

“You are worried about your image; I’m worried about your safety.  Those two concerns are not equal. Not to me.”

Your face heats at the kernel of truth in your brother’s assessment.  

Certainly, it’s about how it looks, but it’s so much more than that. It’s about the life you’ve worked so hard to build away from the drama surrounding your family name.  It’s about a future that depends on the burial of your past.

Namjoon leans against his heavy wooden desk, arms crossed.

“You should know me by now,” he continues.  “If I thought these were empty words, I wouldn’t have bothered you with them.”

“I know that,” you admit quietly.  Doesn’t make the pill any easier to swallow, though.

“Hoseok is under orders to stay with you at all times. Obviously, he won’t be physically at your side while you’re working, but he will be close by.  And he will be staying at your apartment for the time being.”

You blink.  “In my apartment?”

A flash of irritation crosses your brother’s face. “Yes, in your apartment.  I’m privy to information you don’t have.”  He takes a long drink from the highball glass.  “It’s necessary until we have this situation under control.”

“I don’t know this man,” you argue, and that eyebrow lifts again at the rising heat in your tone. “Can’t you give me Yoongi or Seokjin or someone else?”

“No.”

“Thanks for considering that, Joon.”

You don’t even bother to hide your displeasure now, climbing out of the plush chair and walking over to the massive window that makes up the back wall of your brother’s office. You look down at the street. From this height, the cars below look like toys and the people look like ants.  

Namjoon joins you in front of the window, drink in hand.

“I don’t want to fight with you, I want to protect you. Jung Hoseok has worked for me three years now and he spent many more years serving in the military.  He is the man I want for this assignment and I need you to trust me on that, too.”

You say nothing, staring out the window and feeling suddenly exhausted.  You hate everything about today -- the letter, the case, this arrangement you now have to endure.  You hate that this is the first real conversation you’ve had with your brother in months and you’re locking horns.  

“Okay,” you whisper after a while, reluctant to let the tension escalate. Your brother has asked so little of you since you severed ties with the Gajog -- and effectively, with him.  You swallow past the taste of guilt when you turn to look him in the eye.

“I’ll play ball, Jaegyueo.”

Your brother seems to soften when you use his childhood nickname in return, shoulders relaxing as he takes another sip from the highball and looks out over the city he basically runs.  

“Thank you, Amsaja.”

*************************

Hoseok

“Has she seen this?”

Hoseok stares down at the glossy photograph in his hands.  

There’s little to be gleaned from the details in the picture.  There are no shadows, no reflections, no personal items to give away any clues as to who took it or when.

You are asleep, one bare shoulder peeking out from underneath your plush bedding -- your hair spilling out onto your pillow. You appear blissfully unaware of the danger standing just a few feet away.

“Hell no,” Namjoon exhales.  “And I would like to keep it that way. She’d probably never sleep again if she saw that shit.”

Hoseok hands the photograph back.

“I need the two of you to figure out who got into her apartment.  And then I need you to bring him here.”

Namjoon doesn’t finish that train of thought -- he doesn’t have to.  Hoseok and Yoongi hear clearly everything he hasn’t said.  

“We’ll find him,” Yoongi vows, and Hoseok nods his agreement.  “It’s gonna be handled.”

Namjoon scrubs a hand down his jaw, eyes still glued to the picture on his desk.

He’s an uncharacteristically even-tempered boss, particularly in this line of work.  Seeing him this unnerved is unnerving to Hoseok, who’s seen him handle countless shitty situations with an unnatural calm.

“She’s my sister,” Namjoon says quietly.  “I don’t expect any of you to understand our dynamic, but I need you to know that her safety is my top priority.”

“Understood,” Hoseok murmurs and in that moment, the heavy door to the office opens wide. Namjoon shoves the photograph into his desk drawer.  

Hoseok studies you as you trail Namjoon’s assistant across the length of this massive office.

The first word that comes to mind is small.

You’re much smaller than Hoseok imagined you’d be, basing that assumption almost entirely on Namjoon’s tall and solid frame.  Physically, you are nearly the opposite of your brother, delicate features set in smooth skin, any appearance of height owed directly to the high-heeled shoes you’ve carefully matched to your business suit.  

Hoseok notes that you have the same stubborn set to your jaw, though -- a defense mechanism that slips momentarily when you lock eyes with your brother.  He catches the brief flash of sadness in your face before you manage it away.

In the years he’s been with the Gajog, he’s only heard your name a handful of times --  almost always followed by hushed exchanges and pained expressions.  Never once has anyone breathed your name in front of Namjoon, though.  That appears to be an invisible line everyone understands not to cross.

But now you’re here, in the flesh. One piece of the puzzle revealed.

Hoseok watches your exchange with Namjoon with curiosity. It’s not the easy back-and-forth one would expect to see between a pair of siblings -- but there is an underlying affection between the two of you. A quiet respect.

Amsaja, Namjoon had called you.  Lioness.

Hoseok doesn’t see a lioness when he looks at you, though.  

He sees a rich girl desperate to prove how much better she is than her own flesh and blood.  He sees a social climber so eager to make a name for herself in this city that she walked away from her own brother to make it happen.  

This is the moment that Hoseok decides that you’re not the kind of person he could ever respect.

Because unlike you, he would never put ambition above loyalty.

Never.

**********************

tag list:

@yoongbug @brilliantlybasicb @lemonjoonah @illnevertrustmyselfagain​@sunkissed75 @taetaewonderland @shadowhale​

Hi 👋 hope your staying safe! Can I request something with Santi, please? Could you write something where Santi and reader used to be friends as kids, Santi having looked out for reader when she was picked on or if she fell over at school, but then after he graduated they lost contact until years later reader reaches out to him randomly and they reunite, maybe fall in love??

Sorry if it's strange, I'm going through something similar but I'm trying to get the guts to reach out to the guy, it's nerve wracking!! 😳😨 Maybe reading something will give me a boost 😂

Tinder [Santiago Garcia x F!Reader]

Word count: 1,700

Rating: 18+ I guess? I don’t know. Nothing explicit, it’s just Tinder is an 18+ app.

Warnings: food mention, tinder mention, allusions to sex

Masterlist

Tinder. It was so tedious. An app that had gained it’s reputation for being nothing more than a “hookup app” or even a “sex app”. It was associated with superficiality and laced with sexual innuendos. It was the app that had been accused of igniting modern day hookup culture. It was the app that Santiago Garcia frequented every damn day. The man even paid a premium! It was a quick and easy way for him to meet girls for drinks and a quick fuck. It’s all a man like Santiago had time for. Falling in love wasn’t an option for him. It was something he’d never considered until Games Night last week. 

Once upon a time, Will’s small living room was just filled with him, Santiago, Frankie, Benny and Tom, but the head count had grown extensively over the past few years. Tom had reconciled with Molly, Yovanna and Benny had something going on, and now even Frankie was engaged to the blonde haired, blue eyed girl who sat quietly in the corner sipping tea and doodling in her sketchbook. 

Santiago didn’t mind the girls. In fact, he actually enjoyed their company, but their presence only had him yearn for something more. He’d never been one to think about settling down or starting a family of his own, but he felt an indirect pressure. Maybe trying out one long term relationship wouldn’t be so bad after all? But he was so used to his flings. How was he ever going to grow out of his commitment issues and find someone he could really connect with.

Truthfully, he’d already found her, about fifteen years ago.

You and Santiago Garcia were the best of friends. You used to do everything together; walking home from school hand in hand, singing and dancing when you thought no one was around, playing LEGO and building up jigsaw’s. He was your soulmate, in every sense of the word. But you can’t stay young forever and eventually Santiago left your small neighbourly town to join the military. And you never saw him again.

Which is why it was a surprise when you, half asleep at 2 am, and drooling on your pillow, lazily swiped right on his profile. You weren’t even paying attention. Just another tanned skin man with dark brown hair and chocolate eyes. It was a haze, and your desperation to move on from your ex boyfriend had you yearning to meet someone new. You groaned tiredly, deciding you were never going to find someone as good as your ex, switched your phone off and shoved it under your pillow before finally getting some sleep.

At around 3 am, Santiago still wasn’t asleep, thanks to his roommate Frankie and his fiancée keeping probably the whole apartment complex awake. He pulled out his phone from his nightstand and checked Tinder. That’s when he saw you. Before even checking your name, he could tell it was you by that familiar sparkle in your eyes, and the way your perfect lips curled into a smile. It might have been fifteen years since he’d last seen you, but just looking at your photo made it feel like yesterday. He couldn’t contain his wide grin as he flicked through your photos. You looked just as beautiful as ever, and Santiago recalled the crush he had on you when you were both kids. He wondered how come you hadn't settled down already. He knew you always dreamed of getting married and having kids, with a big house and a big dog. So why were you on Tinder?

In a simple spur of the moment, Santiago swiped right.

‘It’s a match!’ the words blew up on Santiago’s screen and illuminated the dark bedroom. Streamers and confetti exploded around your photo; the typical thing that always happened when he matched with women on Tinder, only now it actually felt like celebrating. This meant that you must’ve swiped right on him too. 

You spent the morning the same way you always did, laying in bed and checking the notifications on your different social media. Just before you were about to get up, you remembered how you’d impulsively installed Tinder the night before and, on a whim, you opened the app to see if you had matched with anyone.

You scrolled through the eight matches you’d gained through the night, frowning and twisting your face in disgust at some of the profiles. You really hadn’t been paying attention to who you were swiping.

Your eyes went comically wide when you read the name at the end of the list.

‘You have matched with: Santiago Garcia! Say hi!’

It was like time had frozen and you read the words over and over again. Santiago Garcia. Santiago Garcia. Santiago Garcia. You wondered how many Santiago Garcia’s lived in New York City - or more specifically, only three miles away?!

You hammered your thumb into your screen to view his profile and you were blown away as you went through his photos. That was definitely him. That was definitely your childhood best friend. Although his hair was once dark and curly, it was now short and slightly salt and peppered. He had a slight graze of facial hair in all of his photos, and in most of them, he was seen to be hanging out with a bunch of other guys. Wait- was that Francisco Morales too? They were still friends?

You were so nervous to say something. Truthfully, if you had come across his profile at any other moment where you weren’t half asleep, and hopelessly desperate for love, your fear would’ve stopped you from swiping right. You’d been in love with Santiago since pre-school. It had been over a decade but you still thought about him every single day and cherished those long lost moments you spent together. 

But the reality was, that he’d swiped right on you too. He was interested in you as well! Which had to count for something. You took a deep breath and typed out the words “Hello :)” before quickly turning your phone off and throwing it across your bedroom. 

You sat bolt upright in your bed for a few moments, contemplating what you had done. You told yourself it would be okay and asked yourself what was the worst that could happen. You sighed and forced yourself out of bed to get ready for the day ahead.

Turning off your phone was a good idea because you’d actually forgotten about messaging Santiago until about lunch time. You flicked through the television channels, holding a lazily put together sandwich in your free hand, and landed on a dating game show. You considered applying, thinking about how fun it might be, when you remembered you might already have a shot with someone else. Santiago. You dropped your sandwich on the coffee table in a frenzy, ran to your bedroom and turned on your phone. The painful minute it took to completely boot up sent butterflies rampant in the pit of your stomach.

Santiago: Hey! How you doing? I gotta say I was really surprised to see that we matched last night. It’s been a long time!

Oh my god. He’d replied. He’d replied three hours ago and you hadn’t said anything back. Shit. You wondered if you had already blown your chances, but little did you know, Santiago had been holding out for a message from you for a long time.

You: Right...almost fifteen years, I think! I’m okay. How are you?

You pressed send and took a deep breath. It was okay. Just casual small talk. It would be okay. You slid your phone into your pocket and went back to eat your sandwich. No matter how hard you tried to focus on the game show, you just couldn’t stop thinking about Santiago.

“Santi! You got a new message!” Frankie called from the other room, taking a huge, messy bite out of a candy bar and picking up his phone.

“Frankie! I’m literally on the toilet… can it wait?” Santiago cried, face palming and chuckling incredulously. Living with his best friend for five long years meant that Santiago had become accustomed to interactions like this.

“No, I don’t think so,” Frankie mumbled, knotting his eyebrows together as he read the notification that had popped up on the screen. “Hey, are you talking to Y/N L/N from high school?”

“Wh- what?” Santiago asked, feeling his cheeks flush.

“Oh my God you are!” Frankie gasped excitedly, typing in his friend’s passcode for his phone and getting inside. “On Tinder!”

Santiago finished up washing his hands and walked out the bathroom, an unamused scowl drawn upon his lips. Frankie swallowed at his best friend’s expression.

“This has to stop,” Santiago warned, taking his phone from Frankie’s hand. “I love you buddy, I really do. But you’re getting married next Summer. You can’t keep trying to talk to me while I’m on the toilet!” 

Frankie laughed and rolled his eyes before getting back to his video game. 

Santiago was shocked to be reminded that you had remembered exactly how long it had been since you last saw each other. He began to compose his next message. You practically screamed when you felt your phone vibrate at the notification.

Santiago: I’m well, thanks for asking. Would you be interested in meeting up sometime for a few drinks? I’d love to catch up.

Drinks. A catch up. It sounded perfect. You already found your mind racing as you wondered what to wear.

You: That sounds great!

Santiago’s reply came fleetingly.

Santiago: Are you free tonight? X

Tonight was so soon… but you were free, and it felt like you’d been waiting forever to reunite with your childhood crush. And he felt the same way. It was so exciting for both of you.

You: Tonight sounds great. See you then :) x 

You and Santiago spent the rest of the day in anticipation to see one another. You didn’t know then, but the accidental Tinder encounter turned out to be the long lasting and perfect relationship both you and Santiago craved. The soulmates were reunited at last.

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the last great american dynasty--Bucky Barnes

summary: A short story on how she lived her life after her sweetheart was kiiled during the war.

words: 1,934

author’s note: it’s been a while since i last worked on this and i think it’s a bit choppy, but i hope y’all like it. it’s slightly inspired by taylor siwft’s song the last great american dynasty. 

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She didn't expect to meet him. The usual parties her father threw were filled to the brim with spoiled brats and entitled jerks. But he wasn't one of them. 

              He wore a crisp blue suit, his hair gelled back and his eyes bright like the sun. His smile was infectious and she found herself smiling from across the room just seeing the sight. He made his way towards her and she didn’t imagine how much her world would change.

              Bucky, that's what his name was, had not come to one of those gatherings before. It was usually his father that came. But his father was out of town, and he was to take over the small company soon anyway, so he came. His bright smile and twinkling blue eyes knocked her world out of its axis. 

              They talked all night. Not those pretentious, boring conversations. Actual conversations. He told her stories about his sisters and his best friend. How his best friend was the best person in the world, how he struggled so much and yet never once lost his kindness. How his sisters were always up to mischief. Bucky's eyes shine bright at those simple anecdotes, and she shone with him, for him. 

              After that, he would sneak in through her window some nights and they would talk in hushed tones or nap cuddled to each other. He would leave by dawn, a couple of hours before his Father expected him to appear and help him with the business. Other nights, he would appear by the front door, by the end of the afternoon a bouquet of flowers in his hand and the most charming smile she had ever seen. He would hand her the flowers and shake her father’s hand and then he would whisk her to dance the night away. 

              And then….And then the war happened. And her heart would beat stronger and more anxiously every time she remembered that soon Bucky would be one of those boys that needed to enlist. He would say that everything would be fine, he would kiss her worries away leaving her flushed and distracted, only focusing on getting his lips back on her again. 

              But he got drafted. 107th infantry, leaving to the other side of the ocean, first thing after that 1A was seen by him. Bucky took her out dancing the night before he was sent away from her. She was left with a promise: he would go back to her, no matter what. And then he gave her a ring. Not something that would symbolize the promise of marriage, but the promise of his love. 

              He left with her heart in his pocket. She cried the entire day after she was him waving from the ship, him getting smaller the more the embarkation got away from her. Steve consoled her, held her hand and told her everything would be okay. But he too left for bootcamp, leaving her for the war. 

                he took over the company soon after her dad fell sick. It was a couple of years into the war, the ring Bucky had given her heavy on her finger. They exchanged letters, he would profess his love in every single one of them. But she could tell his exhaustion, she could tell the trauma he was facing. Then the letters stopped altogether for months. And she braced for the worst. 

              She buried herself in work and money and lavish parties for those horrible months. She filled her pool with champagne, swam in it with the best artists in New York. Inside she was bleeding, absent of a heart. She missed Bucky. She missed everything about him. 

              A letter came in the mail with his hand-writing on it and suddenly the parties weren’t needed anymore. He told her Steve was different now, like someone had injected steroids on him, and someone most likely had. He told her he had been captured and taken as a POW for those months he didn’t write.  He was sorry that she worried for him. 

              She was just glad he was alive. She was just glad that she could see a light at the end of the tunnel. The war was ending, Hitler was nearing a dead end, the Allies would win and Bucky would come back home to her and everything would be alright.

              Then again, hope really is for suckers. MIA. Three little letters changed her life forever. She had officially lost her heart. Forever. 

              She forfeited her right to the company. She remained on the board, but was rarely ever seen near the company’s building. She bought a house near the beach, few neighbors and quiet enough to live the rest of her life in peace. As much peace as she could get. 

              Sometimes she would fall back into bad habits: lavish parties, blowing her money on the ballet, not remembering enough of the night in the morning after. Most times, she would just live through the day and stare at the sea during the night, hoping and praying to whatever was out there that at least Bucky found some peace in the after life, just like she was trying to find hers. 

              She lived in that house for 50 years. She died in the house and left it and all of her money to Bucky’s sister, Rebeca.

              And that was how Bucky discovered the house. He got a letter from a nephew he didn’t even know of that there were some letters addressed to him in the attic of his house and he would like Bucky to have them. 

              Bucky headed to the house, soon after he got the letter. The man welcomed him to the house--his home--and Bucky took notice of the little things about it. The walls were littered with pictures of family. Pictures of his sister growing older with her husband and kids. He guided him to a big and oddly cluttered attic. The nephew showed him a couple of boxes with Bucky’s name scribbled on it. 

              Bucky gave his nephew--God it was weird to call a man older than him that--a strained smile and the man left him alone. Bucky sat on the ground in front of the boxes and took out his gloves. He ran a hand through his short hair, sighing. It was weird to be in front of these. Because these things belonged to a man that was long dead. He wasn’t that guy anymore. He wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore. He was somewhere in between.

              He took out a small knife from his pocket  and tore the tape that held the box closed. He opened the box carefully and took a peek inside. 

              There were clothes on top of it all. He took it off. A jacket, military one with Sargent Barnes stitched on it. He did know how his sister ended up with it, how it wasn’t lost in the destruction of war was beyond him. He set it aside in his lap and moved to the rest of the items in it. 

              There were a lot of photo albums of when he was a kid and a teen. He spent a lot of time browsing through them, trying to remember those memories, trying to convince himself it belonged to him. Once he was finished with that box he moved on to the next. 

              The box was filled with letters. Stacks and stacks of letters most of them addressed to him. As soon as he opened one of them he recognized immediately who wrote them. 

              He hadn’t thought about her yet. He had refused to. It hurt too much. But he was still there with the letters on his hands, delicately caressing them as if she was there with him. She wasn’t, and it hurt too much. 

              He sighed and opened one of them. It dated a week after he was declared MIA.

              21/01/45

              Dear Bucky, 

              According to the Army, you’ve been missing for a week. I’ve been missing you for longer than that.

              God, I don’t even know why I’m writing this letter, you’ll never get to read this. Colonel Phillips was very adamant that you were most likely dead. I guess I just need to get this off my chest. 

              I just miss having you around. I miss everything about you. Your smile, your eyes, your voice. A hole was carved in my chest when you left and it will never be full again. I’ll never find what I had with you. 

              I never took the ring off. I never forgot you Bucky, not in the years you were away. Well, I guess you’ll always be away now.  

              I’m so sorry, Bucky. I’m so sorry you couldn’t come back from the war. I’m so sorry you couldn’t come back from the war. I’m sorry we couldn’t be together for more than we were. 

              I love you, Bucky. I’ll always miss you, like I’m missing my heart.

                He sniffed and swallowed nervously. He folded and returned the letter in the envelope. He opened another. 

              14/01/46

              Dear Bucky,

              It’s been a year since you were declared MIA. 

              I spent the day with Rebeca. She’s getting married in a couple of months and I was helping her with the planning. It was good, it took my mind off the emptiness of this day.

              She’s so happy Bucky. You would have liked the guy, he’s a smart guy, like you. He’s so sweet and respectful and he’s good for her. 

              She went to college, Buck. Can you believe it? She wants to take over your dad’s business so she made sure she was prepared. 

              You would’ve been so proud of her. She misses you. I know she does. She just never says it. 

              I love you, Bucky. 

              He then opened another. And another, and another and another and another. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed in the dusty attic. It felt like a decade. It was probably just a couple of hours. He dug through every single letter of that box, craving for those moments he lost, he was robbed of. 

              At the very bottom of the box he found a tiny velvet box. He opened it. The ring he had given her sat perfectly in the velvet cushion of the box. He took it. He remembered buying that ring. He had enlisted Steve to help him out, insisting he’d come. 

              He was so nervous she wouldn’t like it, fearing it may have been too much. But he remembered the way she smiled and teared up at his confession. He remembered how she flung herself at him, smashing her lips on his with passion and so much love. 

              He loved her still. He hadn’t had the chance to stop loving her. And maybe if he had he wouldn’t have stopped. He doesn’t know, he was robbed of so many things and this was only one of them. 

              He sighed and returned all the letters to the box. He came downstairs and chatted a bit with his nephew, before asking if he could get those boxes. He said yes, of course, mom would have wanted that. 

              He took those boxes to his apartment in Brooklyn. On the bad days he would read back those letters, just to feel a bit of love. On the good days, he would look at them and think about the life he’d have to live for those people he had left behind, that he was ripped away from. 

              He’d have to make sure he’d live his best life for them. 

Island Dreams - Chapter 11

Hi all,

Chapter 11 is here. So far this is my favourite. Rowan and Aelin go on the adventure he promised her and... well... there is fluff. Almost 5k words of fluff.

Aelin get to listen to Rowan's favourite groups. One of them is called Peat and Diesel. The guys are from Stornoway and I LOVE them. Their music is super original and fun. In this youtube video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YZM6qAiZZKA you have an introduction of them. Listen to their accents and you have an idea how people on the Western Isles talk and the guy with the red jumper (Innes) has the kind of accent that Rowan has in the story. 3 of my favourite songs: Western Isles: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zo2zuDxqf6A This video is hilarious and the guy go around Stornoway. My Islands: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EoLBnk05ris&t=89s Stornoway: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=efx_4YxLFRc

Peat and Diesel have been a constant soundtrack while writing this fic.

The second group are Runrig. Alas they are now retired but they have been playing for decades and they are the first Scottish group I have discovered once I moved to Scotland. I have seen them live and they were incredible. They sing in both English and Gaelic.

Happy reading and for once may the fluff be with you <3

-------

At 6am next morning, Aelin was in front of her house with her backpack strapped on her shoulders and all ready to go. The forecast for the day was meant to be wonderful with really high temperatures for Scotland. A heat wave, the meteorologists had announced. She was wearing shorts and a nice polo shirt and a baseball cap with a Saltire on that she bought at the tourist office. She probably looked ridiculous but she did not care. A text from Rowan came, announcing that he was on his way and five minutes later his car finally arrived. “Took you long enough.” Aelin commented while jumping in the car. “I was my aunt’s place to gather food. And knowing you, it had to be a lot.” Aelin punched his arm and he laughed in response. Once at the terminal they parked at the front and they both went inside the terminal to buy the tickets. Aelin was about to go ahead and order them but Rowan blocked her “my treat.” He said. With tickets in hands they returned to the car and joined the queue of vehicles ready to check-in and board. “This is so exciting.”

“Only a tourist like you would find the embarkation process exciting.” He joked and flipped her hat with his hand, making it fly. “And this tourist here is going to get a fridge magnet as well.” She replied while putting her baseball hat back on in defiance. Around 7.30 it was finally time to get on board. After they left the car on the car deck they climbed back on the passenger deck and Aelin dragged Rowan outside. “No way I am staying cooped up.” “It’s going to be cold.” He told her zipping up her jacket in a very protective manner. “I spent the entire journey here on the deck. And it was a bit cooler than now. You point is not valid.” He raised his hand in defeat “It’s your freezing ass.” He removed his windbreaker and Aelin noticed that her was wearing the university of Glasgow hoodie that she had stolen from him. “That’s my hoodie.” She protested. “You asked me to make sure it smell like me again. I am just following procedure.” She snuggled to him and inhaled his scent “A couple of more days, then it’s mine again?” Rowan laughed “Fine.” The ferry finally started to move and Aelin turned to the aft side of the boat and very dramatically she started waving at the people at the pier. Rowan followed her. He hadn’t been this excited by a trip in ages. And it was all thanks to her. Aelin leaned against the handrail, her face half turned and her hair flowing freely and in that instant Rowan took his camera out and snapped some picture of her. “Someone had a fancy camera.” She took a step to him to have a look at the picture he had just taken and was impressed. They were super good. “I am just the modern brat who uses her phone.” And she snapped a picture of him smiling. “Yes! I got a good one.” She was planning to take a lot of pictures of Rowan. Lysandra had asked her for some proof that this mysterious man existed and she was going to show her friend. An hour and a half later land was in sight again and they got ready to disembark and Aelin could not contain her excitement and not a long later they were on the road again. Rowan had attached his mp3 player to the car stereo and started playing some music. “This band is called Peat and Diesel, they are from Stornoway and they are one of my favourite groups. I met them once and they are hilarious and very down to earth and their music is brilliant if you are from there, you can relate.” Aelin listened to the tune and had to admit the songs were great. She started to dance in the car and Rowan laughed. “They are awesome.” “They are playing this year at HebCelt I have tickets for their concert…” he offered. “I am coming.” Then she stopped herself “If you want me, of course.” “I’ll think about it.” And he gave her a huge grin. “This song is called Stornoway….” He told her. “I love their style they add the accordion added to rock music. This is brilliant stuff.” “Good,” and his hand went on her knee. They drove for about five minutes, just enough to get out of the town and Rowan pulled over. Aelin was speechless the landscape around her was of barren mountains and in front of her lay this amazing beach. She got off the car and ran out and sat on the bench on the side of the road. The silence around her was incredible. Rowan was at her side a minute later. “This is Ardmair beach.” The he took her arm and pointed ahead “Those over there are called Summer Islands. You can take boat trips to visit them.” Aelin leaned against this shoulder and inhaled his scent mixed with the one of the sea. For ten minutes they sat in silence staring at the sea and listening to the seagulls. “Come on… we still have a bit to drive.” While on the road Aelin’s phone rang and was happy to see it was Lysandra. “Hi darling.” “Hi babe, quick call because I don’t have much time. Aedion and I have a surprise.” Exclaimed the woman at the other end. “Lys, please don’t tell you are pregnant already.” Lysandra laughed “No, Aedion and I have taken holidays.” Aelin grinned “So you are phoning me to tell me that you and mister hot hands are taking two weeks off to have crazy sex? Gee stop bragging.” She turned her head and noticed that Rowan pretended not to listen. In response she put a hand on his leg and his breath hitched at the contact. “No. We re coming to see you. We want to see all those amazing places.” Aelin screamed and almost gave a heart attack to the man at her side. “Ae, I have two minutes. We are coming up soon. I will text you all the details but we are staying for two weeks.” “Good text me everything and we’ll get some adventures organised.” Lysandra squealed on her side of the phone and then hang up to go and have fun in surgery. Aelin looked at Rowan “Lysandra and her boyfriend are coming up for two weeks.” “Given your screams I guessed it was something like that.” She squeezed his leg again and went back to admiring the landscape being amazed at every single corner. An half an hour had passed when Rowan stopped the car again and parked in a small car park. Aelin’s mouth fell open when she noticed the ruins of the castle on the loch. “That is Ardvreck castle.” He told her, getting off the car. Aelin followed and took the hand he offered. “When will this country stop to surprise me?” “Never.” Admitted Rowan “and this part of Scotland is one of the most stunning and the northern we get the wilder and unspoiled it gets.” “Ro, this is incredible.” She left his hand and started walking to the ruins. For a moment he just stared at her in admiration. Stared at her legs and the rest of the ensemble. Lyria had called her a stick, but Rowan disagreed. Aelin had curves and he was dying to get his hands on every single one of them. She turned around and called him and he woke from his revelry. Alas, they did not have the place to themselves and a group of tourists was walking around the ruins as well. “What do you think?” He asked joining her. “I want to climb on it.” “Well, you can’t.” Aelin grumbled something and Rowan let her explore the site. Five minutes later he noticed her talking happily with the group of German tourists. He was jealous of the simplicity with which she could talk to people. When she came back to him she had a smug smiled painted on her face “what did you do?” Asked Rowan expecting the worst. “One of the lady was asking about books. They are coming to Stornoway next week so I told her about our shop.” Our. She probably didn’t even notice the pronoun she used but Rowan felt a deep sense of pride and joy and his traitor mind reminded him that Lyria never called it like that. It was always your shop and when they had fights she would add a damned for emphasis. “We don’t have books in German.” He whispered. “Oh no, she is looking for books in English to practice.” Aelin took his hand “thank you for taking me here.” “The adventure is nor over yet.” He started walking. They crossed to road and he started to walk on the grass and followed the small river. They walked for a bit and then Aelin spotted some small waterfalls. The land was on different levels and the path of the river was broken, thus creating a small series of waterfalls. Rowan sat down on a rock and began opening his backpack. “Lunch time.” Aelin was at his side in seconds. He had made sandwiches for both. That morning he had woken up early and he had prepared a lunch for both. “It’s not a lot but we’ll eat when we get to Lochinver. There is a place where they make the most amazing savoury pies.” “You really know how to woo a woman.” She grabbed the sandwich he passed her and sat down in silence and stared at the water flowing down from the mountains. “Do I get to meet Lysandra?” Aelin munched faster and nodded “She will kill me if she doesn’t get to meet you.” Once done eating Rowan stood and offered her his hand “Come, let’s go. We can a have a long break after we arrive at our final destination. And we need to stop for pies too.” In a second Aelin was up and they walked back to the car. It took them fifteen minutes drive to reach their next stop and Aelin was giddy. Rowan had put more music on and she had discovered another of his favourite groups called Runrig and she fell in love with them. They also sang in Gaelic. She made a mental note to get all this groups from him once back home. Home.Because that’s where she was. And it felt right. A few houses and the hint of a village appeared out of the window and Aelin guessed they were arrived. Rowan pulled into the petrol station “Sorry. My car needs to eat as well.” And he gave a wonderful smile. He was always smiling to her recently and she wished he could do it all the time because it was one of the most beautiful sights she had ever seen. Five minutes later they moved to the car park next to the petrol station and Rowan again offered his hand to her. The Larder was the name of the bistro they were going to. They went inside and sat at a table. “This one is on me. In the end we didn’t finish the meal after winning the bet, so that’s me now buying you the meal I owed you.” “Ro, you don’t have to.” He put a hand on hers and squeezed gently “I know, but I want to.” They were eating their meals when Rowan broke the silence “The local high school asked me to join them on a part time basis as swimming instructor.” Aelin’s hand stopped half way to her mouth and looked at him “No way.” He nodded and she saw a hint of sadness in his eyes. “How do you feel about it?” His hand deposited his fork on the plate and he leaned back on the chair sighing heavily “Torn.” A hand ran through his hair “I want to. I miss it so much. But I don’t know if I can.” Aelin grabbed her chair and moved closer to him and grabbed his hand in hers “Give it a go. Tell them you want to do a trial lesson. See how it goes. How you feel. Then decide.” “It would be for just two mornings a week, and the extra money is a plus.” He gave her a faint smile. “And I will look after the bookshop, so don’t worry about not being able to open. If you trust me, of course.” His face leaned closer and for a brief moment the space between them was very minimal. “I trust you.” Her hand all of a sudden had a life on its own and she found it going straight for his head and ran it through his hair. At the touch he closed his eyes and hummed very lightly. A second later Aelin retracted her hand and blushed furiously but he did not seem mad at the gesture. Quite the opposite, he had a very satisfied grin on his face. She was probably beetroot red just now, but it felt so good. They left the bistro and walked a bit along the promenade in the village, but she was dying to see the next stop and Rowan noticed her urgency. “Fine, fine we’ll go.” She ran back to their car while Rowan took his time walking just to annoy her. “You are such a grandpa.” Fifteen minutes later they stopped in car park and once out of the car she could spot a beach in the very distance and excitement cursed through her. She grabbed her stuff and was all ready to go while Rowan was doing his best to move so slow that a sloth could beat him to it. “Whitethorn!” She barked through gritted teeth. “Such an impatient woman.” He finally locked the car, picked his backpack from the ground and joined her. “I can see a beach. I have no patience.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him. Once they finally reached the sand, Aelin stood transfixed. In front of her opened a bay with sands so white it hurt her eyes and with the waters of a turquoise that could not be real. She was speechless. Also the beach was empty and they were the only two there and that was a bonus. “Welcome to Achmelvich beach.” She finally managed to move, dropped her backpack, removed her shoes and ran to the water. Rowan grabbed her stuff and moved it closer. He lay down a towel and sat down watching her play in the water with the unbridled joy of a kid. She was carefree and she was beautiful. “This is amazing.” She shouted at him while walking the length of the beach. Ten minutes later she was on her way back with a smile that melted his heart. “I just wish the water was not so cold because I’d die to have a swim in those waters.” Rowan patted the towel beside him. Aelin sat and then lay down with her head on his thighs and looked up at him and wondered if she had gone too far but he didn’t seem to fussed. They had been getting much closer but she still wasn’t sure how far she could go with her affections. She almost had a heart attack in the bistro when she brushed her hand in his hair. “Ro…” “Hm?” His voice sounded peaceful and she looked up and noted that his eyes were closed and he had a peaceful smile on his face. “Where do we stand?” “What do you mean?” “You and I. What is this?” Rowan sighed. He had been asking himself the same question for a few days now. There was definitely something there. Something more than friendship, but he could not define what it was exactly. “Are we friends? More? A couple? Because we have been behaving like one.” His hand brushed her hair and traced the line of her forehead “I don’t know, Fireheart.” She sighed and felt the same frustration as him. “You still have Elias. You two are still going out.” “We are not…” she paused “I mean, we are not a couple. And I need to talk to him.” She lifted her hand and with the back of it she brushed his cheek. “Why don’t we take it slowly. See how it goes, figure out our feelings and not put a label on it just yet?” He looked down at her. He could do that and it was probably the best way to go. Not rush things for once. Take their time. “But can I still do this?” And his hand traced her arms then reached her neck. His thumb continued his journey to her lips and brushed them gently while the hand cupped her cheek. Then he bent over and placed the chastest kiss in history on her lips and Aelin’s heart raced madly in her chest. It was brief and barely a kiss but it sent shivers all down her spine and she wanted more but she didn’t press. The hand left her cheek and moved down again tracing the length of her arm, until his fingers twined in hers “I like doing this.” “We can just be Aelin and Rowan for now. Status undecided.” And he heard her chuckle. Aelin nodded “A Buzzard and his Fireheart. What do you think? Way more epic.” She offered as an alternative. He brought her hand to his lips while still in his and kissed it “I love it very,” a kiss “very,” another one “much.” Aelin giggled and then her stare turned serious again “I am not going back to London.” And he stared at her almost understanding the weight of her admission. A selfish part of him had been hoping for that. Another reason why he didn’t want to make things official with her. He could not bear the idea of getting into a relationship and having to let her go back to her old life. And the idea of a long distance relationship was out of the question. “I feel like I don’t belong there anymore.” She continued and he let her “Not when I am currently living in a corner of paradise, where life seem to have slow down to a point that on the islands everything is closed on a Sunday. Where there so much nature around me and I feel like a can breath again. After a month I crave all of this desperately and the idea of going back to my old frenetic life… I don’t think I can do it anymore.” She closed her eyes and a pained expression was on her face “I can’t go back to all that. And definitely not to my old job.” Another deep breath “I have been looking for jobs here, at the hospital, but there is nothing at the moment.” “Aelin, that’s great.” He caressed her head “Something will come up. There is always a shortage of doctors on the islands.” “Will you be mad at me if I leave the bookshop?” Rowan gave her a huge smile “No. You go and follow your dream. If a job comes up you go for it.” And he meant it. Lyria had left him because she was bored and the job was only a way for her to make some money. Aelin was different, she would be going back to her dream job. And the fact that she asked meant she cared. “I can come and help from time to time, you know? Your display need my mastery touch.” Rowan erupted in laughter “My displays were doing okay before you arrived.” “Aye, but now they are doing great.” She sat up in front of him and resisted the urge to kiss her, more deeply this time. He shook the thought away and stood “Come, there is another thing I want to show you.” They grabbed their stuff and Rowan began walking on the rocky formation until they reached what looked like a small fortified construction. “That’s a weird building.” “That’s Hermit’s castle. Europe’s smallest castle.” He helped her navigate safely the rocky formation. “Gee, that is small.” He came behind her and his arms went around her waist “it’s quite a fun place and the views are incredible.” He grabbed her hand and pointed at the mountains at the horizon “that peak over there is called Suilven.” Aelin turned to face him “Can we go inside this castle?” “I knew you were going to ask it.” He took her hand and guided her back to the entrance “Be careful, it can be slippery.” She followed him into the entrance and noticed that he almost had to bend over to get access and laughed at him. “The joys of being short.” She mocked him. They spent a bit of time exploring the ruins “This is one of the weirdest places I have ever been to.” Once they were out Aelin sat on the cliffside and enjoyed the view. Rowan towered over her and was taking pictures, mostly of her when she was not looking in his direction. When her expression was natural. He sat beside her “You have three options now: one, we go to Clachtoll beach nearby, a bit smaller but still super lovely. Option two we get back into the car and we drive to a lighthouse, three we do both but we can’t linger too long because we have to drive all the way back to Ullapool for our ferry back home.” “I’ll take three.” “Good. So, get your arse of this rock and let’s go.” She jumped on her feet and followed him back to the car. Five minutes later they had reached their next destination and she was glad Rowan was the one driving. The roads were far too small for her and although she was getting used to it, she was still very apprehensive. He, on the other hand drove with the experience of someone who had driven along those small roads all his adult life. They took a nice stroll on the beach and Aelin again had to walk in the water and Rowan followed her. “We should come back to this part of Scotland… for… a longer vacation.” His eyes bulged in surprise and his heart fluttered. She was already thinking longterm and he realised that probably they were more involved than either of them had the guts to admit. Truth was… he had been thinking about something like that all day. Having a proper holiday with her and show her the north west of Scotland. Show her some of his favourite spots. “If you are deemed worthy of having me as a tour guide.” He joked and with his foot he splashed her on the legs and as revenge she did the same. “Such a mean old man.” “And you are a brat.” But you are my brat. “Come on menace, out of the water. I want to go to the lighthouse and then on our way back.” “Yes, sir. At your orders, sir.” She gave him a military salute and in her response he pushed her out of the water . “You will be the death of me.” And shook his head on his way back to the car. Twenty minutes later they reached the lighthouse and its position was just as dramatic as the one at the Butt of Lewis, with the Minch right in front of her. The wind had picked up and it was cold again. As if on cue Rowan arrived with her jacket in his hands “Put this on,” he pulled the jacket around her and zipped it up “Don’t get sick because I am not playing nurse with you.” And he grinned at those words. Mean her lips mouthed to him while he worked on the zip and for a second he stared at those lips and thought about the chaste kiss he had given her on the beach. He had a different idea altogether about what he would do to them. They reached the edge, and Rowan pulled her against his chest “Be careful, it’s quite a drop and the wind is savage. Stay away from the edge.” “You don’t need a jacket?” “I am used to this, I am fine.” He hugged her tighter and she enjoyed the heat emanating from his body. “See over there? That thin stretch of land?” He pointed at the horizon. The wind had cleared the sky so much that she could see land on the other side of the Minch. “That’s home.” At that word she put her hand on his and squeezed. She was enjoying the view but when she started shivering Rowan pulled her to the car “It’s cold. Plus we have an hour and a half drive back to Ullapool and I want to be there in good time for the ferry.” The drive back felt like it took longer than on the way out, probably because she knew the adventure was almost over and she wanted to spend even more time with him exploring. They made it back to Ullapool with a few hours to spare and Rowan showed her around the town and he took her to the town’s bookshop and they both ended up buying some books, like the two book addicts they were. Then Rowan took her for a coffee when he noticed her shivering and bought her a slice of chocolate cake. An hour later they were back in the car and in line to get on the ferry. “I really like these Peat and Diesel guys.” She commented while listening to his music. “They make me want to dance.” Rowan in response extended his arm and caressed her head and she almost purred. Once on the boat they stayed inside. The weather had turned all of a sudden and the wind had become quite bad and it was far too cold to be on the deck and Rowan convinced Aelin to take a seat and stay inside. He took a book out while Aelin leaned against his shoulder and almost instantly fell asleep. An arm went around her shoulder and pulled her closer to a more comfortable position and relished in the beauty of her body against his. The book forgotten, he now stared at her and her face was one of pure bliss. His thumb very gently stroked her cheek and then turned his neck and kissed the top the her head and lingered there for a moment inhaling her wonderful scent. She had been so cold that she had reclaimed her hoodie back and he was more than happy to oblige. He was tired of restraining himself. He realised sometimes that day that he was done pretending he did not feel anything for her. He wanted her. Badly. But until she had sorted her situation with Elias he could not do anything. And a pang of jealousy surged through him. He tried to read one more time but his mind could not concentrate, so he closed the book and decided to take a nap as well.

“Aelin,” he shook her gently as soon as the boat had started the docking procedure “we are almost home.” “Hm?” Then Aelin looked outside the porthole and noticed the familiar image of Stornoway’s marina. “Shit, did I sleep the whole time?” “We both did.” Rowan stood and gathered their stuff “Let’s go.” Rowan drove her home. It was past 9pm by the time they got back but it was so bright it was day but she felt exhausted. She had the most amazing day with him. “Rest, and I will see you tomorrow.” She brushed his hand and wished him a good night. Once back in the house she collapsed on the sofa exhausted. She finally remembered her mobile and when she looked at the screen she noticed two missed calls from Elias and a few text from him. It was Sunday for him as well and he was exploring the city and he had sent her some picture of places he had been and the complained that he missed her and that adventures without her were boring. Then she read the last message and her heart sank. He was coming back in a few days in the afternoon and he had invited her to dinner.

She threw the mobile on the sofa and went for a shower. And the more she thought the more she could not find a way to leat him down without hurting him.

Unexpectedly good| h.h.

summary: Getting out of your comfort zone isn’t as bad as it seems, getting to know strangers can be fun. Espesially cute ones.

words count: 3.2+

pairing: harry holland x writer!reader

warnings: none

a/n: this is my first time writing about Harry, but I thought why not? 

True love exists they say. You're seeing it all around you as you taking a walk around your neighborhood, you’re reading it through written words late at night sitting on your bedroom floor, you’re hearing through melodies while driving around the city.

But does it last forever?

You also notice people getting their hearts broken, couples married for decades separating their ways, fighting for things they thought they never would. You’re listening to your friends crying, or artists expressing this pain through paintings, poems, even movies with actors playing their roles really well, drifting everyone with their emotions. Promises, vows are getting broken.

And you can help those questions that are always running to your mind: if it doesn’t last forever,then why the hell do we bother with it? Why do we even dragging ourselves into these situations when we could easily just be alone and happy after all? If love means suffer, why do others are still falling in love?

It would never make sense. Are they dumb?

Maybe.

We’ve been taught from early years some rules.

Number one: always be kind to others around you.

Number two: listen to your parents.

Number three: find someone to love.

And is not that they told us to do with words, but somehow they showed us with their actions. Your dad would kiss your mother goodbye before work, or give her presents. Your mum would prepare a fancy dinner for him, usually to thank him for everything he’s done for their family. They would go on dates, spoil each other, “I love you"'s would be heard every now and then. Or after an argument they’ll fall asleep and the next day they’ll get up with smiles on their faces and a forgiving speech already made up.

“My parents are divorced.”

Are they single? No, at least one of then has moved on and met somebody to love.

And that is my point. They got their hearts broken once, why do they risk it for the second time?

“Hey are you okay?” the blonde girl asked next to you, clearly worried.

“Umm yeah? Why are you asking?”

“You have these weird expressions while you’re writing and you scared the shit out of us. Also I’m really curious to know what caused you this” your male friend sipped his iced coffee. You laughed at him closing your notebook leaving your pen inside it and copying his movements. The cold liquid felt hydrating.

“I don’t think you will any time soon baby" you placed your cup at the table. “And to be honest with you, nobody will"

“The disrespect! Girl, we’ve been here for the past two hours and this is the first time you're talking" her voice sounded serious at first, turning to more playful after. They both knew that you were an artistic soul, always with a pen in your hand ready to imprint your thoughts at a paper. Writing meant everything to your existence, the only getaway from the world.

“You need to be more confident with your writing y/n. You are talented and you keep wasting your talent away. Imagine how you can change the world with all your inspirational things you write for us, all of your creative stories that I have no idea how your mind is capable to think of them. And I'm not saying this because I'm your friend, this is my honest opinion”

“And some may say that you are just a hopeless romantic. But I am in awe with you and how you describe feelings that are so difficult to talk about.”

You smiled bright at your friends. “What did I do to deserve friends like you guys?”

“You were just lucky that we felt sorry for you that day at the library” he took your hands into his and turned to the girl next to you, that had wrapped her arms around your torso and had placed her head to your shoulder. “Do you remember how lonely she looked?”

“Ouch"you said moving your hand towards your heart playing it hurt. “Oh my Gosh, was I like this?”you asked biting your lip. It was your first year at a new busy town, with people that looked way cooler that you were, a lifestyle out of your comfort zone. Denying that you didn’t seemed lost would be a lie.

They both nobbed their heads laughing and you covered your face thinking how much you have changed the past few years and even though you still wokred with yourself, you had made progress there.

«I think we should go guys, it's getting late and I have work to do» the man of the group announced, Gigi next to you complaining that he just ruined her night for the dumbest reason «in history»

«Who goes home to do work? Have you lost your mind? Let's go get a drink» she turned to you «Is he crazy?»

«I mean he may have a reason»

«Are you siding with him now? Do you have a boyfriend and you just don't want us to know?»she leaned to his side wanting to learn more curious. Your friend was the person that wanted to know everything about the others, not because of the gossip, she wasn't like that. The reason behind it was that Gigi felt the need to protect her family and close friends from bad situations. And to do that, she pressured others just so they can help her create a picture about them, a guide for her that she might need in the future.

Noel on the other hand seemed more like incurious about his friend's private life. Not that he didn't care, but he would wait for the other with no pressure. He was there for who might needed his help, whenever they felt ready to open up. Lies was the only thing that he couldn't forgive. From anyone.

«I'm gonna kill this bitch I swear» he got up following you that you were already behind them giggling with them.

«You are so annoying Noel» Gigi grabbed you by the arms and made her way to the exit of the cute café you spent your afternoon at. You glanced back at him with curved lips but eyes drowning with tears of laughter, while he was getting up from his chair, laughing with his sweet laugh of his and looking around for things that you might have forgot.

«Oh I'm sorry» you heard your friend apologizing at the same time you crashed with her back. You turned your head at her ready to reassure her, before your eyes met a pair of brown ones.

«It's my fault I wasn't paying any attention» a blonde boy next to him apologized shyly.«Ladies first» they both stepped back making room for the both of you to make your way out. You took a look at the boy that caught your attention at first smiling shyly back at him when you noticed him doing the same. You held onto your friend tightly as you walked away, giggling with her quietly.

«Gigi what was that?» you asked after a while, being sure that none of them would here you.

«I have no idea» she said before slowing her step finally staying still in front of you. «But they looked cute» her eyes made their way behind your back.

«Yes he did» you mumbled taking a look at your shoes. At the very time you realized what words your mouth left out loud you corrected yourself quickly «They were cute yeah..um..where-where is Noel?» you shallowed the inside of your cheeks staring back at her.

«Behind you» she replied with a smirk. «Hey baby y/n forgot her pen there, would you wait for us? Just for a minute?»

«What? No-»

«No she didn't, I checked everywhere. Y/n just search again at your bag»You rolled your eyes and opened your bag, diving your hand into the mess inside just for you to reveal the pen that was missing apparently.

«I can't with you guys sometimes» her walking far from the two of you had you chuckle at your friend, yet thinking that something would have come out of this. But it was just a stranger, a handsome one, that you would never see again. The chances of meeting this man were minimal so you tried to not distract your mind with possible scenarios.

You were curious though. What would have happened if you went back there? Maybe he wouldn't be there, not all people like to enjoy their drinks inside a room with others. Maybe he would have been sitting at a table with the blonde guy talking about his day or problems hat he might have. How will his voice sound like? Or he would be the one listening to his friend.

Or they would be waiting for their girlfriends to come.

It sounded more realistic at that time.

«What happened now?». You grabbbed his arm slowly walking behind the blonde annoyed girl friend of yours. The irritated sound of his voice was showing, tired of her attitude she had the past xouple of minutes.

“She is just a little mad at us, you know she had other plans for tonight. What can I say? We are bad friends I guess" you joked making the boy next to you roll his eyes smiling.

_

Few days later you found yourself into your little appartment, working at a new assignment that had to be ready in a couple of hours. Your fingers tapping the keyboard faster that lightning, the words showing in front of you in seconds, your mind working nonstop, new ideas popping every now and then out of nowhere.

Three hours later and ten pages were ready to be sent back at your boss. Ten pages fillled with things that only God knew how much you loved them.

The power of art. How art can change someone completely, how people can be reborn, how the prospective of life can turn, how individuals could change into creatures ready to rule the world with their creativity, their visions of a better future.

Your phone rang unexpectedly, the sound of the familiar ringtone disctracting you from checking possible mistakes on your writing. You picked it in your hand, the photo of your blondie friend lit up the screen.

“Hello” you answered happy to hear her after days.

“Hi y/n, what are you-” a loud car horn stopped her from finishing her sentence, voices from far away screaming, a chaos starting to build up. “Watch where you’ re going phycho” you bit your lip curious as her aggressive tone sounded from the other side of the phone.

“Are you okay? Gigi?”

“Why do all idiots get driving license?”

“I don't know babe, let's just pretend that they didn't pay others"

“That's true" she paused for a while and then continued “Yeah anyway, what are you doing?”

“I just finished my article. Do you wanna come over?” you suggested.

“I was thinking if you're interested in meeting at that café we went with Noel” it was only ten minutes away from where you lived, so it worked perfect for you.

“That sounds like a plan”

“Great! I'm gonna be there in twenty minutes so take your time"

“Okay I'll see you soon" you hanged up the call and moved to your closet. The weather was cloudy and windy, unlike the day before. People were walking down the streets holding on to their jackets really tight, so you assumed that it was getting really cold out there, a feeling of sadness covering you from the inside as summer was coming to an end sooner that you'd thought.

_

Ten minutes after you were outside finally, hugging your body as tight as possible, holding your own jacket, try to protect your self from the cold. Your rapid steps got you to your destination earlier that usual. You opened the door, the warm air hitting your face, the smell of coffee and donuts filling your lungs. You scanned the space around you, an empty table catching your eyesight a few meters away from where you stood. You sat there ans waited patiently for your friend to come and join you. The attention of yours caught the food that was getting ready to be served to customers, looking like the most attractive thing in the universe. I'm getting one of these for sure.

“Sorry for being late. Guess who I bumped into” Gigi interrupted your thoughts as she sat at the chair across you.

“Bratt Pitt?”

“I would have died. Try again I'll give you one more chance”

“Is it a celebrity?” you leaned to her half smiling.

“Nope" she shaked her head and crossed her hands down to her chest, leaning back.

“Then why would I know? Was it your ex?”

“Who sees their ex and smiles like that? Wake up"

“I give up"

“Do you remember the two cute boys we saw here?” she placed her arms at the table. “Yes don't look at me like that. They will be here in a few"

“You invited two strangers? What if their intentions are bad? Have you lost your mind?” you started panicking, yet making sure that you won't drag all the attention to you from the others.

“That would have been fun for your miserable life but no they're not bad. They seemed really nice actually and that's why I told them that we will be here so shut your mouth. And you even said that you liked that brunette boy, you should thank me”

“I never said anything like that Gigi. And I don’t care if they are the nicest people we've ever met, they're still strangers-“

“Not anymore" she lifted her arm and then stood up with a bright smile on her lips. “Um hey guys" she greeted them and then pointed towards you. “This is y/n I told you about" you got up and turned around so you can meet them yourself.

“Harrison" the blonde guy said to you and you smiled back at him.

“Y/n" you shacked his hand politely. He did not seem bad at all and even though you felt sorry for him, it was still irresponsible from her to act like this. You made room for him to pass you and came face to face with the brunette boy.

«I'm Harry» so that's how his voice sounded like.

«I'm y/n. Nice to meet you» he shacked your hand and you couldn't ignore the feelings you got, the warmth, the electricity you felt, the sensation just from the palm of his hand. You sat back down, across your bestfriend and next to Tom.

At first you felt really awkward, compared to Gigi that looked so confident and never stopped talking, moslty about her life, how she ended up in this town, what she's studying, her hobbies. She was a person that had the ability of opening up to strangers real quick, very friendly. She made you feel like home, like she was the big sister everyone wanted. That's how she won a place into your heart, you have always needed a friend like her, and she was at the right place the right time.

«So y/n what do you do in your free time?» Harrison asked.

«Oh..um I write I guess?»

«You have to see what she wrote last week. I admire her talent and I'm sure she will get far one day»

«It's not that big of a deal» you grabbed the cup in front you. «I just love writing about life and things in general»

«I would love to read something of yours» you heard Harry speaking and you turned to watch him. His curls seemed perfect covering a little of his forehead, his cheeks a light red, probably from the heat, his eyes staring back at you.

«You think so?» he caught you by surprise, as mostly the people that learnt about your obsession with writing never actually asked you to read anything from your writings, and maybe there was a chance that this was the reason behind you doubting all of your work. It was a battle that you didn't ask for.

«Yes» his lips turned into a smile, your did to as you couldn't help it. And you met him only half and hour before.

Their stories were interesting. Harrison had a passion for acting and was actually preparing for a really big project that he couldn't share much information for. But your curiosity was loud, you wanted to learn about this job, or how he was able to handle his emotions.

Harry was into photography, a fact that surprised you in a good way, and as you heard him talk about it more as the time went by, both of you gained more confidence and comfort around each other, absorbing plenty of informations.

At this point you thanked your friend for inviting them, and noted to do that in person after. They were truly the nicest people and seemed like two boys that you would totally hang with them anytime.

“This is amazing. I would love to see them one day” you stated. He moved closer to you, his one arm came behind your chair and rested there.

“I'm free for you anytime, as long as I'm gonna read anything, a poem or a story, only of yours”

“You really want to read them? They are not that good” you pointed at Gigi "Don't listen to her"

“You're really cute” he pulled your hair behind your ear “And yes I want to read one of your writings, I know that they will be good, I can already tell how artistic you are and I like that” he really said that? Was this true?

“Hey mate we have to go. Tom is waiting for us" Harrison pushed Harry's arm destroying your little moment, thankfully cause you actually didn't have any answer for his statement. Just questions that he wasn't going to answer.

“Already? He can't wait for a little more?” Harry got up after Harrison as he wore his jacket.”I'm so sorry girls. We'll make up for this I promise you. And I'm gonna bring my work with me just for you" he whispered his last sentence to you, while the other two of the group were talking on their own.

“It's okay don't worry. I'm sure he has a reason for whatever happened"

“No my brother is just a asshole and not responsible but don't let me get started" you laughed for a moment and watched straight at you, Harrison and Gigi hugging each other. They seemed like they got so closed within an hour only. It was unbelievable how she knew exactly what to say to win everyone's heart and mind. “I'm just hoping that I'll be able to see you again"

“Um I hope to as well" you smiled at him goodbye and waved at the two boys, that were walking now outside the café.

“You're lucky that I have Harrison’s number”

“What?”you turned your attention back to her. She was in a really happy mood and it showed not only from her expressions but from her body language as well.

“You dumbass how are you gonna see him again if you can't find him huh?”

She was right.

“I'm sorry for earlier. I was wrong" you apologized, feeling sorry for staying mad at her when all she wanted to do was to get you out of your comfort zone.

“You're still thinking about it? Just tell, how was he? He was cute right?”

_

After 2 hours of gossip and analyses you were finally back at your safe place, wrapped around with your favorite blanket and your favorite movie on. Everything seemed okay when a message from an unknown number called you back into reality.

‘Hey this is Harry! I forgot to ask your number but I was lucky enough to find it. Goodnight<3'

-----------

he is so cute what the hell?????

introducing : cary o’hare

〔 scott foley, 49, cis male, he/him ) cary o'hare was seen listening to “ just haven’t met you yet ” by michael buble. cary is the town’s weatherman and known to be bubbly & insecure

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚜

full name ~ cary michael o’hare birthday ~ OCTOBER / 15TH / 1971 job status ~ employed as a weatherman at the local news station relationship status ~ (currently) single orientation ~ gay (closeted)

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚘

tws for : strained family relationships , homophobia , discussion of sex

cary o’hare was the first born child of the upper-middle class o’hare family, named after his mother’s favorite movie star. it was one of the rare concessions at the o’hare patriarch gave to his mother, and he’d never let her forget about it.

from a young age, cary was the picture of raw charisma. grocery store trips took forever, with his mother being halted at every aisle by enchanted older women who wanted to catch a glimpse of the adorable baby cary. his cuteness almost made up for how busy his mom was at all hours of the day, especially when his younger sister became cary’s irish twin, born a little over 9 months after cary was.

his younger sister becomes the bane of his existence as soon as they’re both conscious enough to get on each other’s nerves. they’re close enough in age that the competition is always there, fueled by the teachers, friends, and extracurriculars that they share. they found their niches soon enough: cary was good at sports, while his sister was good at dancing (which elementary-age cary would vehemently insist was the exact OPPOSITE of a sport). their father would go to cary’s games, but not his sister’s recitals, a fact that he accepted without much thought. 

cary’s world, until middle school, was very small. the only people on his mind were him, his family, and his ever-shifting cast of close friends. there wasn’t much room in that world for insecurity or introspection, not when his biggest issue was the occasional fight he and his sister would get into over who’s turn it was on the remote. this all changed when cary was introduced to a fact about himself that made the world so much scarier: people were talking shit about him behind his back. it was the little things, of course- a comment about how stacy from english told someone who told someone who told someone that she thought he was short, or hearing a rumor about himself filter through the grapevine. it was startling, and cary reacted in kind, putting much more thought into his everything. he began to think about the way he dressed, and the way he smiled, and the way that when he answered questions in class, people would remember whether he got them wrong or right. 

suddenly, nothing was more important than his image. he wanted to smell nice, but not too nice, or else his dad would make some mean spirited quip about his son being fruity. he also needed to date girls, but not too many girls, or else they’d think he was a jerk. it was a careful, obsessive balance that he kept, one that dictated everything about the way he acted. 

against all odds, his mission was successful. he was generally well-liked. he had middling grades, and he wasn’t especially happy, but things were working. even the fact that his parents still picked his closest friends based on whether or not mr. o’hare liked their parents couldn’t break his stride. only one thing could truly break his stride, and that was the events of sleepaway camp, the summer before his sophomore year of high school.

sleepaway camp was fun. too fun. he was fast friends with jonah, who lived in a town four hours away from cary’s. over their three week stay at camp timber lake, cary and jonah ended up doing everything together. they shared secrets, snuck out of the cabin late at night to explore the woods, and on one memorable instance, went skinny dipping in the lake. near the end of their time at camp, things changed, suddenly and without warning- cary would blame the full moon. if you interrogated him, he’d insist that the only reason he kissed jonah was because the moon was full, it was the last night of camp, and they were alone in the woods in the dead of the night. he’d also insist that he didn’t mean anything by it, and that it didn’t mean he was gay. the truth, however? temporary insanity didn’t push cary to kiss jonah, and it wasn’t the reason that jonah pushed cary away with a horrified look on his face. much to cary’s relief, neither of them ever spoke about it. it became a secret just as soon as it became a memory, one that cary would agonize over for years after the fact.

cary walked into his sophomore year of high school with this secret heavy on his chest, paired with a desperate need to distract himself from it. he loaded his plate with all kinds of new activities, but the first one (aside from his regular slate of sports) to catch his fascination was learning to drive. he liked driving. he liked being the friend who knew how to do it, and he liked having jovial conversations with his dad about different types of vintage cars. he was the first of his friends to learn how to drive, and he used it to his social advantage. 

3 girlfriends, 2 state championships, and 1 prom king crown later, cary was a senior in high school, choosing between two football scholarships while desperately trying not to think about the gay thing. he would ask his parents for advice, if not for the fact that his dad would kick him out for even considering “the homosexual lifestyle” while his mom would tell him to “not think about it and move on”. he picks his college based on a coin flip, and keeps his mouth shut.

college is a new beast for cary, who’s suddenly thrust into a whole new world. the only time he’d lived somewhere other than the o’hare house (lovingly referred to as the o’house) was at sleepaway camp, but uni? that was a sleepaway camp where there were no rules. his major was undecided, and his time was mostly spent juggling gen eds, the football team, and the rowdy parties that he was invited to. 

the thing that made him decide his major, funnily enough, was a pregnancy scare. he’d hooked up with a cheerleader, more because she was a cheerleader while he was a football player than for any other reason, and three weeks later, she called him in tears, talking about a late period. on the drive to the doctor’s office to check, they got to talking about how they landed in this position. she admitted that she slept with him because he “reminded her of a weatherman”, and his career path was set. once his former hookup was given the clean bill of “not pregnant”, cary felt free to go along his way, rocking every public speaking class and doing pretty-okay on his meteorology courses, his road in life officially planned.

cary didn’t realize that he was capital g Gay until he actually had sex with a man. the process itself was undignified, beginning with eye contact across a dance floor and ending in a stranger’s bed. he was in a strange city, telling all of his friends that he was sick in the hotel while they were out at a bachelor party. he was paranoid at the gay bar, until he let himself get swept up in the music, and consequently, the spirit of lighthearted experimentation. even if when it happened, he’d already graduated from college, it still counted, right? either way, the end product was the same: him, in a stranger’s bed, trying to catch his breath. the guy’s name was paul, and the sex was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. it was electricity, and nerves, and magnetism, and cary was left without a doubt over the fact that he was exactly what he feared.

the years after that encounter moved in a predictable pattern, a cycle that he couldn’t break. first, he’d find some success in his career. then, he’d find a nice girl and try to make it work. then, the relationship would crash and burn. finally, he’d break again, and allow himself a weekend of gay debauchery. sometimes the cycle would take a few weeks to complete, and other times it would take a few years. this cycle filled up years, and then it filled up two decades, until he was 42 years old and truly exhausted. 

his parents wanted him to get married. more than anything, they wanted him to get married. it was one of the few things his mom and his dad agreed on, and in a way, they bonded over it. the whispers about why the local weatherman was a perennial bachelor certainly didn’t help his nerves, neither did the scores of posts from his high school and college friends announcing marriages and pregnancies. 

the big break from his cycle came in the form of hazel robson, a fellow member of a book club that he joined (he wasn’t super into reading, but the flow of a book club was deeply calming to him). their relationship blossomed over the book club pick of “love in the time of cholera”, following an especially insightful note from hazel. he asked her out to coffee, wanting to learn more about her opinion. their initial coffee date was legendary, their conversation lasting through two cups of coffee and an extended walk in the park. cary loved seeing the world through hazel’s eyes- she talked about literature with such a vivid intelligence that it was practically contagious. cary left that first date invigorated, like he was scores more intelligent just from having been in her vicinity. 

cary couldn’t put into words exactly why it worked so well with hazel, even though he didn’t like her that way. he knew, logically, that he was gay, and that he’d never wake up and love hazel the way she deserved to be loved. emotionally, however? he still kind of hoped that that day would come. their relationship continued to progress, without the dramatic endings that he’d gotten used to. what they had wasn’t going down in flames like his attempts at romance before- it was working. when he proposed, it was at the coffee shop where they had their first date, and he refused to let his guilt show on his face. 

things were exactly how his parents wanted it: he was married to a lovely woman, his career was booming, and the for-fun football team that he was a part of kept him in shape. it should’ve been perfect, but cary couldn’t help but feel restless. incomplete. not even his pre-game catchphrase (”my name is cary o’hare, and we are gonna win this thing fair and square!”) could keep that itch of the unfulfilled at bay. it only got worse when he met the living embodiment of everything he couldn’t have: liam lexington.

his father joked that a wandering eye was a normal part of being a married man, but cary suspected that his dad didn’t mean it like this. liam was bold, attractive, and shameless- cary couldn’t quite tell if he wanted to be him or be with him. he decided on the former, after some meaningful eye contact/hand on knee action at an applebee’s post-game celebration. it escalated into a torrid affair, one that he pointedly refused to talk about with liam or anyone else. 

it all fell apart on his 46th birthday. hazel walked into their house, ready to deliver his birthday surprise, only to walk in on liam delivering his birthday surprise. first there was the yelling, then there was the crying, until finally there were divorce papers. right after they both signed, there was a long stretch of silence, standing across from each other. then, cary broke the silence. “you know, hazel, i know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but i think one day, you and i are going to laugh about this. i know it’ll be far off in the future, and you hate me right now, but… one day, maybe when we’re old, we’ll be sitting on a porch, and we’ll be laughing about what happened.”

the official party line for the cause of the divorce was the question of kids, leaving cary right back at the start. he was a childless divorcee, and no longer his dad’s favorite. he’s gotten back into the routine of being single and publicly straight, something helped by his now-ex wife moving away. now that she’s back in town, and cary is finding less and less reasons to stay in the closet? it’s about to be a wild year for cary o’hare. 

we’re halfway there??? does that make anyone feel better? lamao

more warning for another minor character death lamao!

The Five Times Étienne Fell in Love

PART III

 It takes Étienne a while before he starts again once the storm of emotions has come and gone really. Edward nearly insists they stop for now, but just as he’s about to, Étienne picks up the conversation again.

 “It was decades – hell almost a century later, when I ran into Nicolas, quite by accident really. He was missing a nickel for the tramway fare and I happened to be right behind him. On top of that, he didn’t really speak French and I could tell the driver was getting irritated, so I stepped in and paid for him. Everyone seemed appeased and I didn’t think much of it, but we ended up sitting besides each other and he started chatting to me – I didn’t mind; he was very cute and his accents was utterly endearing.”

 “It turned out that his parents had immigrated after the first war. A relative of theirs had settled here and so his parents had followed afterwards. Nicolas was born shortly after they arrived, and he’d always considered himself British. He hadn’t really taken to the French vibe of the city, but at the time, it didn’t really bother me. He was handsome and cute with his deep blue eyes and charming smile, and he could have spoken a completely different language and it would have been fine!” Étienne laughs at that, amused by his own tale.

 “We ended up talking throughout the entire ride and both realised we had missed our stops when we got to the end of it. The driver had to tell us to get off. We were in a part of town he was unfamiliar with, and I volunteered to show him around – maybe to show him how nice the city was, maybe to stay with him a little longer – maybe even both. Whether out of genuine curiosity or growing interest, he agreed and so we spent the better part of that afternoon walking around town.”

 Edward can easily imagine Étienne coming to the aid of a cute stranger and then playing tour guide for them. Hell, Étienne’s played tour guide with him a number of times and it’s a role that suits him quite well. Étienne has a knack for making the city come alive as he weaves tales about it and he’s very skilled in finding all the right places one ought to see.

 “I was fascinated by him – his accent, his upbringing and his view of the world. He wasn’t like the usual people I hung around with and maybe that’s what pulled me to him initially. He was into different things, he played different sports, he read different books – everything about him was borderline exotic.  By the end of the evening, we were famished, so we went to one of my favourite restaurants for dinner. He was so funny – the way his nose crinkled when I suggested some items on the menu or how he laughed when I purposely mispronounced things in English.”

 “What was most surprising though, was at the end of the night, when we were headed back towards our respective places, he asked me if I wanted to come over – for a night cap or some other bogus excuse. I wasn’t exactly sure I was reading him correctly, but I thought that was extremely bold of him – to ask so openly and shortly after meeting me, even if it was just for a drink. I obviously said yes. I had enjoyed our time together and even if he would have been straight, he was easy on the eyes and interesting to listen to, so it was an easy decision to make.”

 “He actually did go through the motions when we got to his place; a charming little apartment that was the perfect size for a single guy. He did offer me a drink, which I accepted, but once the it was served and we were seated, I don’t have to paint you a picture of what happened next. He was very forward, which was surprising, considering, and also a nice change of pace. It was still risky of him – I could have gone to the police about his advances and he could have been prosecuted, but he flat out sat close, placed an arm around my shoulders and then leaned in to kiss me.”

 Edward too is surprised by the forwardness of Nicholas, considering the time period and the location, but then again, Montreal had always had a bubble of exceptions that had managed to thrive, one way or another, despite the catholic stronghold that had overseen the province for decades. One thing is for sure, he envies the ease at which Nicholas seemed to have conducted his life and nearly envies him that.

 “I was shocked! Surprised! But also extremely pleased by this turn of events. This, already, was so much different from the other men I had been with up until then. This wasn’t some brave soul in a brothel, or some anonymous jacking off in a bush with some man filled with shame and self-disgust. Nicholas was self-assured and okay with who he was. He left the lights on when we kissed and he didn’t kick me out of his bed after our first time together. He kept me close and even asked me if I wanted to spend the night. I was enchanted. This felt surreal. Needless to say, I stayed that night, the one after that and we started spending a lot of time together. In fact, it almost felt as though I had moved in with him within weeks of our first meeting.”

 “Being with Nicolas was exhilarating in ways I hadn’t experienced in years, at that point, and even though we were quite different, our differences made us work. There weren’t those usual franco-anglo tensions and as much as I took delight in his expressions and ways of being, he genuinely seemed to like my own quirks. For the first time since Charlotte had passed, I felt like I was at the top of my game; the sex was good, the company better and with time, I did come to love him – a lot.”

 “It was exhilarating to be with a man and even more so with Nicholas. He was – alive. Intelligent and – oh, he was flirty to boot! I loved being with him. It was easy being with him, which is saying something considering the fact that he wasn’t necessarily out, but he didn’t exactly hide it either. It helped that his parents lived far and that he wasn’t particularly close to them. In a way, he was carefree and I loved that about him. He managed to make every shitty situation better; it was just the way he was – very positive about life. What was even greater still was that at least, this time around, there’d be no pregnancy scares – I didn’t have to worry about that and losing both him and a baby all over again. We could simply be and it felt like opportunities I had never experienced before. He made it feel as though this could be a long-term thing and that maybe, one day soon, same sex relationships could be accepted. That we could be fully out in public beyond the underground meet up places.”

 “That sounds quite euphoric,” Edward says, disbelief evident in his voice. The 1930s weren’t exactly the most forward thinking of times, but hearing Étienne go about this part of his tale, it almost sounds as if he’s talking of some far away future.

 “I know, but that was part of Nicholas’ charm. He made you think that anything was possible. It was like a magic power he had; even when the news was terrible, he’d manage to find something positive to focus on and get my mind off of it and I loved that about him. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, I had a lover. We were together in ways I had never thought I’d want to be ever again and I loved him. Fully and truly and so did he. It felt wonderful and it felt like a dream. We were together for a few years and they were spectacular years. I honestly thoughts I had found the one and that I could spend the rest of his lifetime with him. That I could wake up next to him for many more years to come and I looked forward to that...” He trails off again and once more, Edward knows that this is the part of the story that shifts and goes from good to bad.

 Étienne takes a deep breath and sighs sadly.

 “And then came the stupid war.”

 There had been many people in Québec who hadn’t wanted to participate in the war effort. This wasn’t their conflict, but one happening across the ocean. They felt bad for the people who died, sure, but it wasn’t up to them to be cannon fodder. The divide and tensions had been mighty and if anything, it had only made Quebecers even angrier – more resentful.

 “Of course, Nicolas wanted to join. He was British. He felt compelled to help the motherland or whatever. I tried to dissuade him from it. I didn’t want him to die, and it wasn’t up to him to save the world. Others could do that great sacrifice. He could stay here, with me, where he’d be loved and looked after and where we could be – happy. At first, he resisted and I managed to keep him safe, but I could tell that it bothered him that he was here, when he could be out there fighting.”

 “D’you know what he did in the war?” Edward asks softly, out of genuine curiosity. The letters had never mentioned and he’d always wondered.

 “He flew those goddamned planes.” Étienne answers him with an annoyed sort of sigh.

 Edward nearly laughs and tries to disguise it as a cough, but his boyfriend notices and gives him a sharp look. “Sorry, sorry – it’s just ironic,” At the questioning look he receives, he goes on, “I wanted to join as well – to fly planes more than anything.” He twiddles his thumbs nervously and avoids looking at Étienne, as if afraid he’d get angry or that for some reason he’d be hurt by the admission.

 “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I’m certainly glad you didn’t – would’ve worried sick over you had I known.”

 He’s touched by Étienne’s comment and gives his hand another squeeze to help him calm down. Nothing had happened in the end. He’d chickened out, in a way. There would have been too much paperwork, he would have been away from home for too long of a stretch and it could have negatively impacted him. Then, there was obviously the fact that he couldn’t really die, which would have been a strange thing to explain during a war and too much of a headache to bother with. In the end, he’d stayed back and had found other ways to contribute.

 “Anyways; Nicolas waited out as long as he could, but in the end, he signed up regardless and promised to write as often as possible. I hated that I couldn’t be enough and keep him here where it was safe. It felt as though I was second best to some stupid war where the casualties kept climbing day after day and I came to resent him for it.”

 “I still remember the morning he left, clear as day. I hoped and prayed that as he headed out, he’d have a change of heart and come back to me, but after one last quick kiss behind the door, he left and never even looked back… It hurt. So much. I hadn’t cried that hard since Charlotte’s funeral. Still, I must have written to him every single day, hoping and praying that he was safe and sound – that he’d come back to me soon. We’d even decided to use Élyse as our middle-woman. It would be less strange for a “love-struck” woman to write to the front to her sweetheart, than for me to do the same. It worked, for a while. She’d get the letters and bring them over, and I would give her mine to mail out.”

 “Obviously, I didn’t hear from him as often, since he was on the front, but every letter I got from him was like a lifeline – assuring me that he was still alive. I heard horror stories back here, from wounded soldiers who returned and part of me wanted him to get hurt enough to be dispatched back home. Where I could take care of him. I wanted our old life back. I wanted its simplicity and I wanted to hold him close. I missed him, and every time they put up the list of new fallen soldiers, I checked, heart racing, hoping I wouldn’t see his name. When I didn’t, I would be relieved for a moment, until the anxiety would settle back it and I would worry until the next posting would be made.”

 “There were those few who were proud of their sons and men who’d gone off to fight – the proud widows who’d wear their grief as an honour badge, but I wanted none of that. I wanted a coward who had weaseled his way out of the war and who could stay with me. I didn’t want some war hero. I didn’t care about that.”

 He fidgets with his lighter, forcefully flicking it on and off with more force than necessary. Edward lets him and remains quiet, but keeps an eye on him in case Étienne was to accidentally set something on fire. Even Mercury looks up at him, concerned but Étienne ignores them both and takes a shaky breath to try and settle his nerves.

 “It would have been easier not to love him.” He says through gritted teeth. “It would have been easier to simply bed him and move on, but instead I went ahead and fell for him hard. The time we had together was too short and I hoped he’d come back to me – that we could resume our lives together.”

 “Of course, the universe had other plans. Of course, I wasn’t allowed to have any prolonged happiness. They went to my sister with the news, after they found the letters addressed to her in his bag. They assumed Élyse was his girlfriend and went to her with the news – telling her of the terrible accident – of the bravery the men in the plane had faced – of the great sacrifice they had done for our country. The usual bullshit they’d told so many others. There was no body found in the wreckage and so they pronounced him missing in action.”

 “The minute they were gone, she came to see me to tell me the news. The moment I saw her face – the moment I saw her walk up to my door, I knew she had news of Nicolas and that it wasn’t good. I think I would have preferred him to be dead for good, instead of the ugly false hope that lived in me for years after – that he might show up one day, out of the blue. Instead, I was stuck unable to mourn properly. There was no body to burry, no marker to go to, and no way for me to find closure. Until the war ended and every soldier was returned, I was left waiting and hoping. And even then. Years after, I was still looking for him. Sometimes, I’d think I’d hear his laugh. A person with similar hair would trick me into believing it was him. He was gone and yet, I saw his ghost everywhere.”

 Despite knowing all of this, Edward stills at the mention. He wonders how he would have reacted had he been in a similar situation and knows he would have been as much of a wreck as Étienne had.

  “On top of that, I couldn’t even find comfort or solace with his family. His parents didn’t know of us and neither did his other siblings. The only one I could turn to was Élyse and she did her best – really, but she wasn’t Nicolas, and what I wanted above all else was him.”

 “Eventually, years later, I bought a little spot at the cemetery and buried the last of his belongings that I had. I needed to put him to rest in my own way to move on. I still couldn’t cope and I needed to – do something. I took the clothes he had left at my place and the bag they had brought back to my sister and buried them in that little plot. There was no big fanfare about it and only a small headstone to mark the place, but it was some type of closure, even if the body wasn’t there.” Étienne tries not to draw parallels between Charlotte and Nicholas – of graves that have been more or less lost to time and that no one has visited in years. He knows where both are and has, on occasion, purposely passed by to reflect and commemorate. Time has done its due course and has healed some of his aches, yet there have still been times when he’s yearned for one more chance to see them again.

 Edward gives the necessary space to the words that Étienne has just said. He thinks about how unlucky his boyfriend has been in love, but keeps the comment to himself, convinced Étienne is properly aware. He’s buried his own fare share of friends he’d been close to; brothers and sisters lost in one way or another and he supposes that to a certain point, he can related. Yet knowing how close Étienne keeps his pains and how much he internalises everything, he wonders just how deep his wounds really run.

 “I asked Emma, later, to look into him – to use her contacts to see if she could find out anything. She told me there wasn’t anything else – what I knew was what was out there and I left it at that. Still, there were times when I felt as though she had found out more – some terrible truth, or maybe just something more emotionally painful. I didn’t pursue it. I didn’t want to re-open old wounds that had barely started to scab over. I chose to believe her that he’d died just like they’d said – he’d died in his plane and his body had been lost over the sea. The other possibilities were too painful to consider and I chose to remember our time together as one of love instead of having it tainted by something ugly.”

 “After Nicolas, I felt like I had been left to the side of the road to die. I felt empty – as if my heart had been ripped out of my ribcage. It was easier to return to the previous status-quo – to go on with everyday life and forget I had ever felt anything for them. Charlotte and Nicholas were gone and I was still here. That’s always been our curse – we can’t die and we don’t really change, while everyone else around us does. We notice them grow older until they’re gone and no matter how hard we try to remember, eventually even that’s taken away... But I’d get over it – with time. I’d had my fun and I had been reminded why I had found the whole thing pointless. Why it was best to stay away from love.”

 Edward agrees to a point. It is hard, certainly, but in his opinion, there is also beauty in love and in falling in love. He knows Étienne means it from a point of hurt, so he keeps the thought to himself and listens on.

--

Part II

Part IV

For the prompt game 12//07//25 please? Ah... Ohmtoonz? or a pair you've been itching to do :3

EACH TIME I SAY I WONT OVERDUE IT

Yet here we are. >.> 

AU: BabysitterTrope: Childhood friendsPrompt: “I know this looks bad, but I swear it’s not.” 

Pairing: Ohmtoonz

“Okay, I know this looks bad-” Ryan had to take a deep breath to keep from bursting out in laughter at the scene. His kitchen, which had been pristine and tidy when he’d left for a meeting with his lawyer three hours ago, was covered in more colors than he thought he could process. In the middle of the room sat Joe, hands splotched in yellow and smearing the substance down the tiles already coated in pink. The ‘babysitter’, (the term used very loosely, since it was a last minute decision after Joe’s original babysitter got sick) was in no better shape. Blue clumps of paint (Ryan hoped it was paint) were threaded through hair he remembered being much fluffier when they were children. Age had tamed it, though the red beard was even brighter now with fingerpaint between the strands. The place, his four year old son, and his babysitter were a disaster that Ryan still wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry over. “But I swear it’s not.”

“Luke.” Trying to keep from smiling, Ryan stepped forward, hands leaving his slack’s pockets to point above. “My ceiling is purple.” 

“And orange!” Joe supplied happily, splashing his hands down into an actual pile of paint beside him. 

“What happened? You’re a police officer; you literally shoot people for a living. How did a four year old get the jump on you like this?” Ryan had to tease, because it’d been so long since he’d been able to. Luke had always been the one that got away; his best friend for nearly two decades before, at eighteen, he left to travel Europe and ‘find his meaning’ in life. Ryan had wanted to go, nearly asked to join, but had simply stood in the airport and held back tears just long enough for Luke to enter the gate without seeing them. He’d been head over heels in love back then, and sometimes he’d thought the feeling was mutual. But all the ‘what ifs’ flew away with Luke on his plane, and Ryan had forced himself to move on. 

Eight years, one messy divorce, and a son later, Ryan had run into his high school love at the bank four months prior. Luke had come back to their hometown years ago to become a cop, but Ryan’s wonderful ex-wife had demanded he move to the west coast with her. He’d never got wind of Luke’s return, too distracted by the birth of Joe and the mother of his child abandoning her duties to run off with the pool guy. Ryan hadn’t been able to move back to his hometown until four months ago, still working on finalizing the paperwork and letting Joe finish his first year in pre-school before moving him back across the country. 

He’d felt a little lonely, raising his toddler without a hand to help support him on days he didn’t want to get out of bed. It wasn’t like his marriage had given him much in that department, either. She’d been distant after Joe was born, jealous of the attention Ryan gave their son, and sought her happiness in someone else. She hadn’t even said goodbye to their son when she left, which had been the coldest part of it all. And Ryan didn’t know how to de-thaw from her abandonment. Joe helped, because he was Ryan’s world. Honestly, the only good thing about the marriage was the ball of optimistic sunshine. But he had bouts of crying and questions about why his mom left that kept Ryan awake and aching for hours. Wounded with nobody willing to help heal him. Maybe he’d always been that alone, that empty and unlovable-

Except one look of relief and the words ‘There you are’ in a bank full of people was enough to fill his heart to the brim again. 

“Your kid’s way sneakier than the idiots in our town.” Luke glanced down at Joe with a grin that proved his next words were affectionate. “Like a damn little squirrel.”   

“That’s my favorite animal!” Joe gasped out, and Ryan shook his head in disbelief. Two days ago, it had been a flamingo. He’d begged Ryan to buy him a lawn decoration of the pink bird, which Ryan had firmly said no to. They barely even had a lawn, and he knew that Joe would never play with it. The puppy dog eyes were hard to refuse, but Ryan was getting better at putting his foot down. They did not need the bird.

But then Joe asked Luke, who bought it before Ryan came back from the bathroom. Ryan wasn’t sure who he scolded more that night over chicken fingers and fries. 

“Yup, you mentioned that. Six times.” Without an ounce of annoyance, Luke let Joe climb onto his lap, sitting cross legged so the toddler had a better seat. Green was smeared over Luke’s sweatpants from where Joe had dragged his knees, but like the amazing human he was, Luke didn’t show any regret over being a human jungle gym. “And remember what I told you each time?”

“Daddy’s favorite animal is a bunny,” Joe chirped back, and the long forgotten memory bubbled up too quick for Ryan to hide his blush.

“Luke!”

“What? I didn’t tell him why you like rabbits so much.” Except there was a grin on Luke’s face that was anything but innocent. Because how could it be, when Luke had never let him live down the time he walked in on Jonathan and Evan’s first time. He hand’t meant to blurt out ‘they were fucking like rabbits’ so loudly, and didn’t know that Mini had been recording the party. Craig got the perfect angle of Ryan nearly throwing himself down the stairs to escape the traumatizing experience. He wasn’t sure who had the tape anymore (maybe Panda, since his friend always liked to watch it whenever he was needing a pick me up), but Ryan had to guess that Luke watched it over a hundred times. 

“We’re not talking about this,” Ryan said, sending Luke a meaningful look through his blush. “We need to talk about who’s going to clean this disaster you and my son created.” 

“I’ve got the kitchen if you take the rugrat.” The offer of help was so simple, yet every time, it sucker-punched Ryan. Luke had not been expecting Joe when Ryan came back from California, blaming Jonathan’s ‘lack of understanding with the English language’ as to why he didn’t know. Ryan hadn’t been a fan of social media, and only kept in touch with a few old friends from the town. But like Joe was his own, Luke didn’t hesitate to jump into the fray with Ryan, helping out whenever he could. Being a cop meant weird hours and long shifts, but Luke never complained when he popped over to visit them after work. Ryan never needed to ask for help; Luke just gave it. Whether it was cooking Joe food while Ryan took a much needed shower, or picking out pjs as Ryan bathed the fussy kid, Luke was there to lend a hand and a smile right when Ryan needed it.

But for the life of him, Ryan couldn’t figure out why. Luke was attractive and single, and the talk of the town even now. It was hard to go into the supermarket without hearing one of the cashiers asking Ryan how Luke was doing. It was common knowledge in their little town where Luke spent most of his days, and it seemed people thought the best way to catch his attention was through befriending Ryan again. The jealousy and insecurity from high school reared up, and Ryan had to attack it with a fire hose to keep from Luke knowing. Luke had a right to date, to court whoever he wanted, because he didn’t owe Ryan and Joe anything-

“Uh oh, daddy’s daydreaming again.” Joe’s words and a snort of Luke made Ryan re-focus, turning his attention back to the two still on the floor. Luke looked so content with the toddler in his lap, and Joe showed no signs of discomfort being so close to the other man. They were covered in paint and his house was a wreck, but Ryan felt his heart swell at the warm image. 

“Maybe you should go pick out your pjs so I can check in with your dad.” Luke’s words were like magic; with a quickness that he never had when Ryan asked him to move, Joe scampered out of the kitchen. Little purple footprints made Ryan groan, but his shoulders barely got to slump before warm hands were pulling him forward into a hug. 

“You’re covered in paint,” Ryan protested weakly, though put up no real fight. The smooth hand that slid down his spine melted his stress away, and Ryan felt helpless to the urge of sinking into Luke’s warm chest. 

“What did Tyler say?” Luke didn’t mince words, but kept his voice low against Ryan’s ear. There was no reason to shiver at the contact or intimacy of their position, because Ryan knew it meant nothing like what his heart hoped it would. 

“He said this next court case will be the final one; she’s not fighting for any custody.” He should have been happy about the news, since it’d been what he and Tyler had asked for when discussing Joe’s fate. But it’d stung, knowing that even now, his ex-wife wanted nothing to do with the son they had created together. How did he explain that to Joe when he got older? When he asked questions about her, when he got angry and confused about his own self-worth? Ryan would do whatever he could to raise Joe with love and care, but fights would happen. They’d disagree over bigger things than eating broccoli or only reading two stories before bed. Who would Joe turn to in those moments? That was why he’d probably tried so hard with his ex-wife to begin with; he’d never wanted Joe to feel unsupported or disadvantaged because he’d only have Ryan. 

But he couldn’t make her love Joe. And that killed him more than the divorce ever could. 

“She’s an idiot.” Luke’s words of anger toward a woman he never met was unlike him. Charisma and open-mindedness were his middle name, never judging a book by its cover. But Joe’s mother seemed to be the one exception, Luke showing disdain toward her from day one. “She had everything anyone could ever want, and she gave it up like an idiot.”

“You really liked babysitting Joe that much, huh?” Ryan tried to make a joke, but his laugh was cut off when Luke grasped his shoulders and pulled him back far enough to force eye contact. 

“I’m not just talking about him.” The serious gaze made it hard to breathe, Ryan’s chest stuffed with too much to sort through. His eyes blinked slowly, reminiscent of the unspoken feelings he’d shut down at the airport years ago. Now they oozed out without his permission, and he didn’t have a plane to help hide them this time around. 

“I’m…I’m not-”

“Not what? Intelligent? Charming? Sweet? A great father that your kid would spend every second of the day with if he could? Not someone who deserves love?” Luke’s words were followed by a grin, a warm palm cupping Ryan’s face and slowly dragging a thumb under his wet eye. “Not the most amazing guy I’ve ever got to meet? Who, if I ever got the chance to call my husband, would never go a day without knowing how crazy in love with him I was? Cause I’ll tell you right now, you are all of those things. Every single one of them. You are worth so much more than you could ever know. And I’ll knock out any fucking moron who says anything else.”

“Luke…” But what could Ryan say? His stomach fluttered at the words, hope rising in his throat and keeping his vocal chords from speaking again. There was no room for protest, because Luke’s steady words and lack of hesitation proved the statements came from his very being. He really saw Ryan as something to brag about, as someone to keep. When his own wife, who was supposed to want him until death do them part, threw him away. Ryan knew he needed to say something, to give a response in some way to the confession (and Jesus, did Luke say he loved Ryan?), but his mind was too fuzzy and scared to speak and destroy the fantasy. 

“Luke said a bad word!” Joe, however, had no such problems, and Ryan forced his eyes away from Luke to see his son with his hands pointing to the counter. “He needs to put money in the swear jar!” 

“Oh, ri-right.” Ryan swallowed slowly and tried to focus, but a little peek at Luke from the corner of his eye made his heart jump into his throat again. His blush was deep, he knew it, but there was no saving himself. “You owe a dollar to the jar.” 

Luke’s grin was a mile wide as he slipped past, dropping the bill into the jar while keeping his eyes set on Ryan. And when he spoke, Ryan knew he wasn’t speaking about the swear. 

“So worth it.”

Change of Pace - Epilogue (Late Summer 2019)

cowritten by @achinglyshawn

summary: Shawn and Maya meet again 10 years after life got in the way of love

warnings: language

wc: 3.5k

----------

Shawn doesn’t settle at the piano until the crowd at Emilia’s has grown. The loud chatter echoing in the small restaurant quiets when he turns down the music tinkling through the soundsystem. Heads turn towards the sleek black piano in the corner of the restaurant as he places his well-practiced fingers on the ivory keys. 

He speaks into the microphone as he begins to play his favorite melody. 

“This is a song about finding love again when you least expect it,” he coos softly, so as not to interrupt anyone who doesn’t care for the live music. 

(He’s not sure why you’d come to Emilia’s on a Thursday night if you don’t like live music, but to each their own.) 

“Maybe I had too many drinks, but that's just what I needed. I hope that you don't think that what I'm saying sounds conceited…” 

Chatter in the restaurant kicks up again, but those closest to him seem willing to forgo conversation for a free concert. It’s quiet in this little corner of Emilia’s, save for the plinking of the piano and the delicate croon of his falsetto. 

“When I look across the room, and you're staring right back at me, like somebody told a joke and we're the only ones laughing...” 

Maya’s at her new favorite table watching her old favorite guy do his favorite thing. Back in the day, she and Shawn used to cozy up in a booth in the far corner. They could be gross and kiss there without anyone looking at them funny. They were kids. 

Shawn plays regularly at Emilia’s now and Maya loves to watch, especially on days like today. Maya’s been in the studio she shares with Shawn since just after her sunrise surf. She’s had one of her first commissions since starting to paint semi-professionally in Avila and spent her whole day focusing on the piece — it’s a landscape, oil on canvas, based on a crumpled old Polaroid the client got from his grandparents of the boardwalk when they lived in Avila years before. It’s nice. Maya’s proud to do it. 

She and Shawn expanded his studio when the space next to his came available. Now it’s their studio. Mostly, she adds her artistry to his instruments, adding little painted elements or even much larger ones, like in the case of that first piano Shawn built. She ended up adding a whole gorgeous Avila sunset mural on top. It sold for a lot (!) more than expected. Her business acumen has also helped them in their new ventures together. 

Tonight is a welcome break from it, though. They’ve both been working themselves so hard to finish pieces commissioned by some of Margaret’s San Francisco finance friends. But tonight, back at Emilia’s like nothing ever changed and at the same time like they’re brand new, Shawn plays her song. 

Not her only song, obviously. He’s written her many over the years. This is the new one, the one he started a decade ago, tripped over through that first hazy summer and finished around the time they decided to move in to Maya’s cottage together. She’s heard it before, whispered into her hair, plucked quietly against the backdrop of sea and sand on their daybed outside. Never like this, in front of a crowd of strangers who mostly all know their story. 

Maya watches him smile as he sings the words like he always does, like he has a secret, like he got the girl in the end after all the trouble. It makes her smile too. 

Shawn takes a breath, suddenly aware of Maya’s eyes on him from across the room, though he hasn’t looked up since he began playing. 

“Don't know why I tried, ‘cause ain't nobody like you, familiar disappointment every single time I do…” 

She must’ve tucked into their new favorite table right as he started playing, or else she would’ve pressed a good luck kiss to his temple like she always does before he performs. She insists he doesn’t actually need luck, but they both like the tradition, anyway.

“Every single night my arms are not around you, my mind's still wrapped around you. 

Baby, tell me when you're ready, I'm waitin'. Baby, anytime you're ready, I'm waitin'...” 

He knows where she is without searching, so when he tilts his head and finally opens his eyes, she’s there, staring him down like he’s something magical she’s never seen before. His face heats, because even after all these years, being the sole focus of Maya’s attention makes his heart race. 

He catches her gaze with his and the corner of his mouth ticks up in a tender smile. Memories of the night before race through his mind and send a shiver down his spine; memories of staying up far too late to make love over and over until sleep pulled Maya under, with Shawn easily following. 

His breath hitches, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of her as he continues to sing the words he’s already pressed into the curve of her neck while tangled together between their sheets. 

“Even ten years from now if you haven't found somebody I promise, I'll be around. Tell me when you're ready, I'm waitin'...” 

Maya’s lips switch around a shy smile. She knows, somehow, when he’s looking at her like that, that he’s thinking about last night.

Last night is just the latest in a long thread that they’ve had since reestablishing their relationship. They’re hot and frantic or lazy and sensual and completely perfect. They’re the kind of nights when sleep holds no appeal at all, that touching each other is the only kind of satisfaction they need.

A curl flops over Shawn’s eyes as he plays and sings right at her. She grins for real because she can’t help it and props her chin up in her hand as she watches.

A pair of warm, flabby arms wrap gently around her shoulders and she feels the weight of a chin on her head.

“You know,” Emilia’s gritty voice says softly near Maya’s ear, “I think the two of you are my favorite thing that’s ever happened in this little beach town.”

Maya rubs Emilia’s arm and nods. “I think I agree.”

Emilia winks at him from her perch above Maya’s head. Shawn flushes, still unable to control the rush of blood to his cheeks each time Emilia looks at him with that mysterious twinkle in her eye. He watches the women murmur to one another, and his heart beats a little faster, just enough to feel against his ribcage. 

But before the galvanized rhythm can overwhelm him, Shawn closes his eyes and continues to sing. His voice is soft, as though he’s decided to sing the rest of the song to himself. Sometimes it’s the quiet moments with his music that have the most powerful impact on an audience, and more importantly, on the woman he’s in love with. 

“And if I have to, I'll wait forever, say the word and I'll change my plans. 

Yeah, you know that we fit together, I know your heart like the back of my hand…” 

Shawn’s energy shifts. He gets quieter, like he forgets he’s not in the studio playing quietly for her or in their house, sitting at the baby grand piano he built for them as a housewarming gift when he moved in. 

But there’s just so long he can go without looking at her. His gaze is drawn to her, as if pulled by a magnetic field so strong he couldn’t fight it if he wanted. His fingers climb along the piano keys while he watches Emilia press her cheek into the top of Maya’s head. It’s his turn to wink, but he directs it at Maya.

“So baby, tell me when you're ready, I'm waitin'. Baby, anytime you're ready, I'm waitin'...”

She giggles at the way Emilia squeals teasingly in her ear. As Shawn’s voice fades out and the song ends, the restaurant claps politely. Maya mimes whistling at him and continues clapping.

Emilia releases her from her loving near stranglehold. Maya tilts her head up at the woman’s face, grinning ear to ear and covered in sunspots.

“Can I have a coffee milkshake with caramel and whipped cream please?”

Emilia tosses her head back and laughs, a big, strong belly laugh that doesn’t match the finer aesthetic she’s created for her still quirky restaurant since the renovation. They don’t even have milkshakes on the menu anymore -- too lowbrow. But Emilia kept the machine. Maya and Shawn are glad she did.

Shawn manages to catch Maya’s request when he’s heading to their table. He grins up at Emilia, slings his arm over Maya’s shoulders and slides into the seat beside her. 

“I’ll take a chocolate shake, Em, if it’s not too much trouble.” The smile that splits his lips is as sugary as the treats they’ve ordered. Emilia calls it his ‘popstar smile’ when she’s trying to give him shit, but he thinks she likes it more than she lets on. 

The woman shakes her head, but smiles as she wipes her hands on the front of her black apron. “You’re always too much trouble, kid.”  

Emilia gives Maya one last look, something Shawn can’t quite read, then scurries back to the kitchen, repinning her curls to the top of her head as she goes. 

“So,” he murmurs, angling himself towards Maya, “What were you two talking about? I can only assume it was me.” His nose nudges her temple, lips brushing over the apple of her cheek. 

With his heavy arm around her shoulders, Maya curls comfortably into Shawn, resting her hand on his stomach as he peppers her cheek with kisses. She can feel the way he smiles through it, just happy to be close to her. She knows the feeling.

Maya crosses her legs, resting her foot against his calf. She shrugs. “You always think everything is about you. You’re not the sun.”

She’s teasing. He knows she was talking about him anyway. She moves some floppy curls out of his eyes.

“She just loves us, that’s all.”

“Everyone seems to love us these days, don’t they?” he asks with a smile. 

Maya and Shawn are a bit of local lore. The town is small and it talks. Everyone knows about the guy who owned the workshop whose long lost love came back to where they spent a few weeks in love one summer, and how the beach brought them back together. They’re not too nosy, but Maya and Shawn are noticed, and not just by Emilia.

She brings them their milkshakes, making a silly show of pretending to hide them so the other customers won’t wonder where they came from.

Shawn nearly moans. The milkshakes are beautifully decorated, with a smooth caramel drizzle topping Maya’s whipped cream, and a deep brown ribbon of chocolate swirled around his own. 

“Em,” he says with a laugh, “If you wanted to be inconspicuous with these, you shouldn’t’ve made them so pretty.” Shawn grabs his spoon and digs into the homemade whip Em always keeps around just in case he and Maya stop by. 

“Maybe,” hums Emilia, “But y’all deserve a nice treat every now and then.” With that, she drops a kiss to the top of Maya’s head and shuffles off to the busy kitchen. 

“She’s spoiling you rotten, Lemon,” Shawn garbles around a spoonful of milkshake. As he swallows, his mouth stretches into a wide, close-lipped smile, his cheeks ruddy, the corners of his eyes crinkling.  “But I don’t think I can blame her.” 

Maya rolls her eyes, swallowing her own enormous mouthful of espresso-y goodness. She winces at the slight brain freeze and shakes her head quickly before answering.

“Spoiling you, too. She gave you extra whip, I can tell,” Maya accuses playfully, jabbing her spoon at his overflowing glass.

She settles back into his arm and continues poking at her own shake. The restaurant is lively tonight, warm with conversation and good energy. Emilia’s is almost always like that. It’s why she and Shawn love it so much. She may even miss it while they’re gone.

“How much do you have packed?” Maya asks him carefully after swallowing, narrowing her eyes.

They leave for Greece tomorrow. Three weeks of beach hopping around the coast, exploring little towns, enjoying history, even taking some sailing lessons in the Mediterranean.

Maya herself has barely packed. But he doesn’t need to know that.

Shawn wipes a dribble of chocolate from the corner of his mouth. He tilts his head, swirls his spoon in his glass so the rest of his whipped cream mixes with the shake. 

“Packed? For what?” he asks with a quirk of his brow. He keeps his gaze trained on his glass, the most promising method for maintaining his silly rouse. 

A bag full of light summer linens packed specifically for Greece is stashed on his side of the walk-in, where it’s been for a few weeks now. Shawn’s been eager to get away with Maya since even before they bought the plane tickets. Packing his bag so early was a cathartic release for the frantic energy of his anticipation. 

He certainly has more to pack, though. It’s hard, however, when every free moment he has tends to be occupied by efforts to make his girlfriend come as much as possible. 

Maya rolls her eyes and swallows a mouthful of ice cream, elbowing him softly.

“For what, he asks. Like you’re not counting the seconds.”

They both are. They both have been. They don’t lead extraordinarily stressful lives, but they’ve been pushing hard lately. They took on their first commissioned project together, a harp with an intricate design described and ordered by a doting grandfather for his granddaughter. He sent to pick it up yesterday and called the studio to relay his effusive praise personally, letting them know it would not be his last purchase and he wanted to tell all his friends about them.

Now that that project is done, they’re ready for vacation. Maya herself still has some things to toss into a bag. She’s packing light, though. Staying in a series of villas around Greece with Shawn doesn’t call for much in the way of clothes. Some light, breezy dresses, plenty of bikinis, and not much else.

She can’t fucking wait.

She finishes the milkshake with a deeply contented sigh and presses her cool lips to the side of his neck. 

“What are you most excited about?” she coos, the same question she’s asked over and over since they booked the trip -- a fun way to anticipate and daydream as they prepared for their first vacation together since they came to Avila as kids.

Shawn hums. He pushes his own empty glass away and curls his arm tighter around Maya’s shoulders, tipping his head so his cheek brushes the top of hers. 

“I think--” the word is drawn out, as if he really has to consider what might possibly excite him during their trip, “I think I’m most excited about finding a little cafe where you’ll jump up on the table and start singing Dancing Queen to me. Or Mamma Mia. Whichever fits the cafe scene better.” 

Shawn smiles into the kiss he presses to Maya’s head. The scent of her coconut milk shampoo floods his senses and he sighs, content to spend the rest of his life with his nose buried in her hair. As much as he’s looking forward to their trip, nothing beats being nestled together at their favorite table in their favorite restaurant, full of their favorite milkshakes. 

Maya snorts. “Gonna have to feed me a lot of ouzo to get that to happen.”

She has no doubt there will be a lot of ouzo and a lot of cafes. But if Shawn wants Maya singing in public, he’s also going to have to smile real pretty. Which, as it turns out, he’s an expert at.

One of their regular waiters drops the check on their table. Maya lets Shawn put down his card because she’s footing most of their vacation bill, since it was her idea.

“What about you, Lemon?”

“I thiiiiink,” she teases him with a smile, running her fingers against the back of his neck, “Probably all the skinny dipping we’re gonna do in the Adriatic. Or Mediterranean, either or. I’m not picky.”

She nips his jaw and reaches for her purse to stand. They have more to pack, so it’s probably time to be heading back. Maya blows Emilia a kiss and catches the one she sends in return. She makes a mental note to find her a nice gift while they’re abroad. 

“I don’t know about skinny dipping, Lu,” Shawn muses as he guides her out of the restaurant, aiming a friendly wave over his shoulder to Emilia as she bustles around the main dining room. “Those European seas get pretty chilly. And I’ve got precious cargo to protect.” 

She almost chokes on a breath.

“Did you just refer to your cock and balls as precious cargo? Not that I’m disagreeing, but Jesus, Shawn,” she laughs, squeezing his hand playfully. 

Shawn grins, the dimple in his chin popping out. “Bad joke? It was Geoff’s, first. Blame him.” 

He swings their joined hands between them, making sure to keep his pace at a leisurely stroll while they head down the boardwalk. Sure, there’s some packing to do, but Shawn’s not in a rush. The sun hasn’t even set. The breeze is warm, salty, perfect. Maybe Maya will go for an evening surf before they have to get down to business. 

The waves swell, roll in, crash, retreat. 

Maya finds herself slowing her pace to match his. Sometimes she catches herself power walking around this sleepy beach town like it’s Manhattan at rush hour and she has to remind herself to slow down. There’s no need for that anymore, and Maya is so grateful that he’s here to help keep her from sprinting through life.

Maya admires the way his curls rumple in the shore breeze. He squints adorably through the golden hour sun. She thinks about painting him this way and wonders if she could ever hope to capture the colors accurately.

Shawn turns so he’s walking backwards ahead of Maya, their hands still clasped together. “You wanna go for a surf? You didn’t get out there this morning.” 

She shrugs and plays with his fingers while they walk. “Maybe. Kind of just want to stay on land with you.”

He watches her bend and stretch his fingers as he continues his backwards trek. She studies his face, and he knows she’s got her artist eyes on from the contemplative intensity of her gaze. He stays focused on their linked fingers. A look like that from Maya is full of weight Shawn’s not sure he understands. 

He comes close, though, when he writes music about her. 

“Do we have to pack right away?” he asks eventually, swinging around to walk forward again when they near the house. “Let’s get stranded on the beach for a little. Watch the sunset. If no one’s around, I could make you come.” 

Shawn’s itching with the need to savor this last night in Avila, because it feels as though tomorrow will change them. They’ll be a different couple on the other end of this trip. He’s eager for it, to really begin his life with her, but he’s not in any rush. 

They have the time for another sunset. 

Maya’s eyebrows lift. “Well, I certainly think I could make time for that in our very busy, very official pre-travel schedule.”

Maybe they’ll be up late throwing clothes into a bag, dazed and smiley after spending another several hours in bed like they’re prone to do. Maya doesn’t mind. It’s always worth it with him.

They live far enough off the boardwalk to avoid most foot traffic. The house is quiet but warm -- they left a few lights on when they left for dinner, giving it a cozy glow. Maya looks up at it with pride. It was the best thing she’s ever done for herself, buying this house. And now it belongs to them both. It feels right.

The sun is starting to dip below the horizon when they arrive out on the beach in front of the house. She stops and drapes his arms around her shoulders like he’s a blanket, facing them toward the sunset. She looks down at their feet, hers between his, and traces her toe around the inside of his foot.

“Love you,” she murmurs softly. Maya’s not afraid to say it. She saves it for the most special occasions, and for some beautiful, cosmic reason, this feels like one. 

Her gentle words push his heart into his throat. His pulse is loud— drum drum drum— in his ears, and he hides his satisfied smirk in her neck. 

She makes him feel painfully twenty-one again with such simple words. 

But he’s not twenty-one anymore, and he’s pretty fucking glad for it. He was a huge idiot back then, even if he did fall in love with the right girl. He’s better at loving her now, with his newfound, middle-aged wisdom. 

“I know,” he growls into her neck when he manages to find his voice. He bites at her throat, then kisses his way to her ear. “Now stop bragging about it, Lemon, and watch the sunset with me.” 

-----------

Thank you for joining @achinglyshawn​ and I on such a special journey! We loved sharing this story with you and appreciate every message, like, or reblog. 💜 wishing you all safety and love.

@smallerinfinities​ @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn​ @infiniteshawn​ @mendesoft​ @singanddreamanyway​ @alone-in-madness​ @abigfatmess​ @shawnitsmutual​ @awkwardfangirl2014​ @september-lace​ @sinplisticshawn​ @rollingxstone​ @randi-eve​ @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire​ @itrocksmysocks​ @parkerspicedlatte​ @simpledomain​ @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day​ @thecurlsofgod @magcon7280​ @bensbuttercup​ @shawnsmusical​ @paigeasourous​ @tell-me-when-ur-ready​ @softmendesss​ @searchingunderthestars​ @buggy-blogs​ @mendesficsxbombay​ @siennarossi​ @lostinshawnsmemory​ @umbreakablesoul​ @sleepybesson​ @shawnsheaven @desire-to-live​ @jillian-nd​ @shawnwyr​ @curlsofshawn​ @graysonmendes​ @tnhmblive​ @meltingicequeen​

Five times Alex surprised Forrest and one time he didn’t

Chapter 2! It’s even longer than chapter 1, I must have lost my mind.

A little warning: this Chapter is Guerin heavy, and not exactly Guerin friendly. Sorry in advance.

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

2.

They didn’t talk about Guerin.

To be fair, it was not like Alex purposely had avoided talking about him, just, there had been no good chance to. When they were together, out on a date or stayed in, they had so much to talk about: their shared passion for emotional artistic outlets, either music or poetry, their combat days, and how they both didn’t agree with the concept of war but had no choice but to fight, their different PTSD-symptoms, their true selves, just to name a few. They also had silly and meaningless conversations, like who their favorite slayer was, or how they cried over the new episode of Queer Eye. There was never a dull moment in their three months long relationship, and at no point would Forrest willingly talk about Alex’s ex. He didn’t even know if Guerin WAS Alex’s ex or not, from what he’d gathered from Alex’s friends, they’d not been dating to begin with.

Which brought him to the second scenario where Guerin might have been a topic between them, if he had ever shown to the friend group thingy (still didn’t how to call it) whenever he was around. He knew Guerin would be there, as long as Forrest couldn’t make it. And when they accidentally bumped in each other, whether with or without Alex’s presence, Guerin would always politely nod, mumble something like “howdy”, and turned away. He steered away from open mic nights completely.

So it was not like Forrest could abruptly turn to Alex, when they were in the middle of discussing what they would do after Friday’s dinner date, and said casually, “hey you know Michael Guerin? The one you apparently have been in love with for at least a decade, who, judged by the looks he throws your way when he thinks you are not looking, is also in love with you. Who you wrote an epic love song for and SANG it in front of your family, your colleagues, the whole town, and ME? How is the love between you two doing? Still going strong?”

No, that was not going to happen. Besides, he was kind of afraid what the answer would be. So he asked an easier question.

“Why don’t we just go back to your house, so we can netflix and chill?”

Alex smiled fondly, “We ‘netflix and chill’ed the last Friday. Don’t you want to do something more fun?”

“How dare you to assume any time we spend together is anything but fun, you wounded me, Manes.”

“Oh my God”, Alex laughed, “I thought you were done with the cheeky lines.”

Forrest smirked. “For you? Never.”

Alex shook his head, but he also turned a little pink in his ears, which gave Forrest enough courage to say the next bit.

“And after we ‘chilled’”, he winked, Alex rolled his eyes, “I thought maybe I could spend the night?”

And there it was, the “I don’t think this is a good idea but let me think of a way to let you down gently” face. It came out every time Forrest brought up the sleepover thing.

Honestly, Forrest was a little tired. They were dating three months now, they texted each other almost every single day, they spent time together regularly, they had three or four dates each week, and they ended having sex after ALL of their dates. It was frankly a little ridiculous that they always had to leave after sex to go to their own houses, even when they were bone deep tired and they had tangled in each other in warmth.

So he interrupted whatever Alex was trying to say, and turned on his most charming smile, even though his voice was a little shaky, because hope mixed with fear for rejection was always scary as fuck.

“I make a killer pancake, if I do say so myself. I’d hate for you to miss out on that.”

Alex blinked. Searched his face for a minute. Looked down. And when he looked up again, the let-down face was gone, and he said, softly but determined, “Well, if you put it that way, I’d hate for me to miss out on that too.”

——————————

Dinner was great. The ‘chill’ part was mind blowing as usual, though they didn’t do much of the netflix part, because, and Forrest could not stress this enough, the chill part was REALLY good and they kinda had a hard time to keep their hands to themselves even after the “chilling”. So they just made out for God know how long, lazily and contently, between laughs and little convos, until they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

That was, until Forrest was startled awake by some loud knocking. Next thing he knew, Alex was already out of bed and headed to his front door.

“Wait, what? Who?” In his defense, he was not fully awake.

Alex threw him an apologizing smile over his shoulder, and gave him a name he least want to hear.

“It’s probably Guerin, and it’s probably nothing. Go back to sleep.” With that, he was gone.

Like hell he was going back to sleep after THAT.

Sitting up in Alex’s bed, Forrest realized Guerin never spoke while knocking on the door, and Alex was so sure it was him before he even got out of bed. Which did not just suggest their complex relationship, but also indicated it was not a one time occurrence.

Suddenly, Forrest thought of the many times Alex rejected his request to spend the night together and wondered if that was the real reason behind it.

It was insecure and unhealthy as fuck, he knew. And he also knew Alex was never this type of man. But the fact Alex left him in the middle of the night (clock said 2 am, Jesus), and didn’t even hesitate to come to Guerin, was enough to make his blood boil.

So he decided, then and there, fuck it, I’m gonna be petty because I sure as hell feel petty.

They were on Alex’s couch in his living room, sitting respectfully far enough. Guerin’s face was buried in his hands, and Alex was saying something, quiet and soft.

Forrest went out, barefoot, bare chest, came directly in front of Alex, dropped a kiss on his forehead, and said in a sleepy voice:

“What’s wrong, honey? Why aren’t you in bed?”

Only then he pretended to notice Guerin, and acted innocently surprised.

“Alien Guy! What are you doing here, at this hour?”

Through all his antics, both Alex and Guerin seemed frozen on spot. Good. Dramatic effect accomplished.

Then Alex turned to him, gave him his “I know what you are doing but I don’t approve” captain glance, which was unfairly hot, at the same time Guerin blurted out,

“Wait, he is sleeping here now?!” He seemed WAY more upset about this than whatever had been bothering him before he came.

Alex turned his glance to Guerin, added a warning “Michael”, and Guerin deflated like a punctured ballon. He curled in around himself, defeated, and threw some puppy eyes towards Alex. And Alex visibly softened.

They looked in each other’s eyes, seemingly having a silent conversation, and Forrest suddenly felt cold without his shirt and shoes.

He was prepared to be told again that he should go back to bed when Alex spoke, steel in his voice.

“Forrest is my boyfriend, we’ve been dating for three months now. It’s natural that we spend the night together at this point, don’t you think?”

Guerin looked like he was punched in his gut.

Alex stood up, went next to Forrest, and continued.

“You know you can come to me anytime you need me, Michael. And I’m willing to do whatever I can to help you. You’re my family, that’s never gonna change. But your issues with Max, I can’t help you with. It’s something you need to talk to him. Hell, you both should see a therapist together at this point. But you’re never gonna have answers and solutions by coming to me and crying on my shoulders.”

“So what, I can’t talk to my family about my problems, just because they can’t solve it?” Guerin stood up too, anger and hurt all over his face.

“You can, just not after midnight, when my boyfriend is here. So right now, you need to go.”

Guerin looked down, “You don’t have to say the B word again, I heard it first time.”

He turned around and left, without looking at Forrest even once.

After he slammed the door shut, Alex took several deep breaths, eyes teary, and asked in a small voice.

“I know we need to talk about this”, he leaned in to Forrest, head rest on his shoulder, “but can we talk in the morning? I’m exhausted and just wanna sleep now.”

So they slept.

——————————

Next morning, Forrest was making pancakes and working out some plausible excuses as why he behaved like a goddamn high schooler and preparing for the hurtful but inevitable “look I’m sorry but I still love Michael” speech, when Alex appeared in the kitchen, freshly showered and looking like all of Forrest’s wet dreams rolled into one. It’s so unfair, the high schooler in Forrest whined.

What Alex said though, took him totally by surprise.

“I kinda liked it, you know.”

“...My pancakes? You’ve not had them yet.” He said, knowing perfectly that was not Alex was talking about.

Alex smiled, shyly. “No, I mean, when you came out and claimed your stake on me.”

Forrest blushed. He’d NEVER blushed. “You mean when I made a fool of myself being petty and immature like fuck?”

“Come to think of it, it WAS indeed very irrational and somewhat a dick move, so not adult-like”, Alex teased, but his eyes were warm and fond, “But I liked the fact that you would become this emotion-driven for me. And also the fact you’re willing to fight dirty for me, for us.”

Forrest felt so giddy he could combust. “Be careful there, Manes. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you are enabling my bad behavior.”

Alex laughed. “Oh God no. For future reference, I’d prefer we solve our insecurities and problems by communicating, not through some childish possessive bullshit”, he paused, considered for a minute, and said in a quieter voice, “but I get it. I didn’t exactly give you a chance to talk about Guerin and our history, and I didn’t handle the situation very well when he showed up. I should have talked to you before I went to him, I’m sorry.”

Forrest didn’t want to push, he really didn’t. But when it came to Alex, he was seriously lacking impulse control, so he went and asked, “Why didn’t you then?”

Alex seemed to be lost for a moment. But then he began to talk, slowly but surely.

“Michael and I, we had this instant connection and we have loved each other for a long time. But we also shared painful history and a ton of issues. We decided, over and over again, that we didn’t work, but we were always drawn back together like we were being pulled by some invisible strings.”

He inhaled, exhaled. And continued.

“When I sang that song, I didn’t know he was gonna be there. But when he showed up, I thought, well, maybe it was a sign, that I should fight for him one last time, so I looked into his eyes, and bared my heart and soul for him.”

“Then he walked out in the middle of the song.”

He seemed so heartbroken Forrest couldn’t help but went to him and held his hand.

Alex held on tight.

“I decided then and there, I wanna move on, like, truly move on. Free myself and see if I can find someone who makes me happy and for me to make him happy. And I’m so glad that I found you.”

He looked into Forrest eyes then, raw and open.

“I don’t think I’ll ever able to fully stop loving him, it’s like in my blood. He knows this, and he’s under the impression that he is currently not good enough for me, and he’s improving himself, so that when our timing is right, he’d come back and we’ll live happily ever after.”

Forrest felt his heart sank. He wasn’t sure he was able to pick it up again.

“But heart doesn’t work that way. I can’t just order it to wait and not to fall for anyone else. When I’m with someone, I’m all in. I don’t treat them like they’re just a stepping stone for somebody else, that’s not how I’m built. And when I’m all in, I see all of you. And it’s really easy to fall for you, because you are the best thing that happened to me in a very long time.”

Forrest opened his mouth, but no word would come. He felt his emotions were on a roller coaster today, he didn’t even know where to begin to untangle his messy feelings.

Alex took his silence as hesitation and started to pull away.

“I get it if you don’t want to throw yourself in my mess. But I really want to try to work it out. Because you’re worth fighting for. WE are worth fighting for.”

At that, Forrest had no choice but to wipe his tears, hold him and kiss him.

They would fight together.

Just a Simple Lie

Chapter 1

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Description: Having worked on small independent films for the better part of a decade, your friend tells you about an opening for a script supervisor with a large studio. Wanting to advance your career, you apply and get an interview. The only downside, they prefer to hire crew who are married. It’s just a simple lie, right?

A/N: This fic is simply for fun. I know nothing about the personal lives of the two actors in this series and mean no harm. I am also totally guessing regarding the studio talk. This particular chapter is Chris light as it’s mainly a getting to know the reader. Chapters going forward will be heavy on the Chris aspect. Comments, reblogs, and likes are always welcome. Tag list is open, please send me an ask.

“Do you have the ring?”

“Of course, I have the ring.” You let out a frustrated breath. “This is so silly.”

Joanna chuckles over the line. “Where did you manage to get a ring from anyway?”

“It’s my grandmother’s. I feel like I’m majorly disrespecting her by wearing it when I’m not even engaged. Not to mention I’ve been single for-ev-er.” You drawl out.

“Breathe babe. Just breathe.” She says softly.

You inhale deeply and exhale it slowly.

“Maybe don’t do that directly into the phone.” She laughs again.

“Joanna Elizabeth.” You growl. “Why am I doing this?” You ask catching a glimpse of your reflection in the review mirror. Running a hand through your hair, you see the diamond engagement ring on your left finger. It feels so foreign, even stranger seeing it.

“Because this is a great opportunity to advance your career. Stone Lite is a major studio, Y/N. You can’t keep working on those student films.”

“Hey! I worked on a couple of independent movies. One even showed at Sundance.” You defend.

“And that’s awesome. Really. But this could be your big in. You’ve been doing this, what, for ten years?”

She was right. Ten years and the majority of your income came from student funded films and slinging beers three nights a week.

“And by your silence, you know I am right.”

Smug bitch.

“Ahuh.” You sigh.

“Look, I know it’s not right, but if this increases your chances of getting hired, just wear the damn ring.” Joanna huffs out.

“Easy for you to say, oh, wise married one.”

Joanna previously worked for Stone Lite Studios before moving on to Sony. It was a well-known amongst the employees that if you wanted to get hired for any position that put you in direct contact with any of the actors, you needed to be married. The studio was concerned with fan girls and fan boys. As if adults couldn’t control their urges and not make unwanted advances. Not to mention, married or not, some people still have affairs. Now granted, not every person there was married, but you had a greater advantage to get the job if you were. Right or wrong.

You drew the line at saying you were actually married and settled on being engaged. Not wanting to worry about details like how you kept your last name and lying on the tax forms you’d have to fill out. Even though you’ve only worked on small projects, Hollywood was surprisingly small when it came to the industry. It would be a lot harder to explain a sudden husband versus a fiancé. With Joanna’s agreement, you took your grandmother’s engagement ring from your jewelry box and slipped it on your finger.

“I’m just saying, give it a shot and see where this goes.” She reasoned.

“You’re right. You’re right. I better go in anyway. There’s a golf cart that keeps circling around the lot. They’re probably getting suspicious as to why I’m still in my car.”

She let out a chuckle. “They’re going to give you a ride to the offices. Welcome to the big leagues baby.”

 “Ms. Y/L/N, may I call you Y/N? Barbara Floyd, the interviewer and also the production manager asked.

The two of you had already gone over your previous crew history where you held a variety of positions including editor, grip, writer, and even wardrobe. On a whim, you took a script supervisor position on an independent short and really enjoyed it. The next job you took was on full length film in the same position, that’s when you decided that’s where your passion lied. Despite the copious amount of responsibility and that often brought on your anxiety, you loved the challenge.

“Of course, Mrs. Floyd.”

Her eyes went directly to your left hand. “That’s a beautiful ring.” She says.

Here we go.

“Thank you.” You stick your hand out for added affect.

“When’s the wedding?” She asks.

“Next year. We have a lot of out of town family. We just want to make sure they have time to arrange travel.”

Look at me lie. Maybe I should have tried acting.

“I’m sure it will be lovely.” She replies with a wide smile. “I’d like to introduce you to a few people. Please come with me.”

You received a contract via e-mail later that evening. They were bringing you on for one film with the option of three additional films after production. Granted, that’s if you didn’t mess up. Joanna was right, this is the big leagues. If you could make it through the next three to four months, you’d have a long term contract with a major studio.

The next day you received the script. Winter’s Sin was the working title. Whether or not the title would stick was anyone’s guess. You had worked with a few well-known actors, but more of the B list variety. Wonderfully talented actors, but they just didn’t get the parts or the recognition they often deserved. This film had a couple of big names, Keanu Reeves and Chris Evans to be exact. Maggie Jessup was this year’s it girl and rumor had it, this movie was going to launch her into stardom. Generally, you didn’t get star struck, but this was Keanu Reeves! You first fell in love with him when you saw Speed. And again, when you watched The Lake House. Too bad you were technically “engaged”.

Pre-production was set to start next week. This week would be spent going over the script a few times and creating notes. Some wouldn’t consider it the fun part of the job, but you loved diving into a script before it was brought to life. It was also a bonus that you generally liked the script. It was sort of a weepy drama with a love story tied in. But the main plot was between two friends, Milo played by Keanu and William played by Chris. You stayed up half the night and made it almost all the way through. To say you were invested was an understatement.

You read through the script twice more over the next few days and felt ready. Next week you would meet with wardrobe and the writers. The cast would be fitted and you would take photos for your own personal files to make sure styles remain the same for the shoot. Of course, this could all change the day shooting begins which is why you needed to be on your A game and get all the drinking out of the way tonight. You’d have Sunday to recover before starting at the studio on Monday.

 Laurel Tavern wasn’t necessarily your favorite bar, but it had become the place to get a bite to eat and a few drinks. It was also the most centrally located place for you and your friends to meet. Joanna and her husband Ian picked you up on the way, knowing you wanted to drink to excess. The three of you along with Travis and Jemma were celebrating your new job tonight. The five of you often found reasons to celebrate whether it was finding a twenty dollar bill on the side of the road, not getting fired from a particular job you’ve been slacking at, for the record, that was Travis, or getting a full eight hours of sleep. Tonight, was really worth celebrating.

“What do you want girl?” Joanna asked, getting up from your usual booth. “First rounds on me. If you’re nice, I might even buy you a second.” She throws you a wink.

“Ummm. I’d like a margarita, hold the margarita.” You say in all seriousness.

“Tequila. Got it.”  She says before turning away and heading to the bar.

“Extra limes.” You shout.

She waves her hand behind her head, not bothering to spare your table a look.

Travis joins your booth, a couple of pints of beer in hand. “Here, I brought you one.” Setting a pint of golden goodness in front of you.

You lean over kissing his cheek. “I feel so special.” You coo.

Travis wormed his way into your life seven years ago. He was a senior in college at the time, tall and lanky with hair that stuck out from under his hat. He was filming his final project before graduation. The two of you had a mutual friend in common, Jemma, who was an ex-girlfriend of Travis, how they stayed friends, was beyond you. You helped with directing, a little bit of script management, and even filled in for makeup on a few days. Anything to help a friend of a friend. Travis became your pseudo little brother, well, a brother that you kissed once. You had just broken up with Chad, never date a guy name Chad. Anyway, you had just broken up with Chad and were feeling down in the dumps about yourself. He fed you some bullshit about never being there for him when he needed you. You got angry, he got angry, and then he told you that you weren’t hot enough for him. Yep, Chad was a douche. Travis invited you over, feed you pizza and a ton of beers, then you kissed. He wasn’t a bad kisser, but it felt weird. He was five years younger than you, but it wasn’t just that, he was too much like a brother. The two of you agreed that it was a mistake and never brought it up again. Not even Jemma knew.

The five of you munched on burgers and grilled cheese sandwiches. Jemma bought you a margarita, even after you told her you just wanted the tequila. Her motive was to mooch some of the beverage off of you.

“I don’t want all of the calories. I just want to try it.” She grins. Big rosy cheeks and wild blonde hair. Her British accent on full affect after already consuming a few shots herself. She had lived in the United States most of her life, but when she drank, the accent became heavier.

She grabs your drink, taking a hold of the straw and consumes half of it in one go. If you didn’t love her, you would have ditched her years ago.

Pushing Ian out of the booth, you get up on wobbly feet and make the long twenty foot journey to the bar. “I’ll get my tequila myself. Thank you very much.” You tell the table.

 It’s after midnight by the time you’re dropped off. Running a makeup remover cloth over your face and stripping down to a cami, you call it good enough and crawl into your cozy bed.

 After a pit stop at Starbucks, you make it to the studio an hour earlier than you need to be. After parking in Timbuctoo, you graciously accept the golf cart ride from security.

One of the admins directs you to a small office down a long hallway with similar offices. There’s a laptop computer, various pens and notepads on the desk. You unpack a small plant you picked up yesterday after you dragged your hungover self out of bed and to the grocery store for food. There was no window in your office which you figured; a little greenery would liven the place up, literally.

 An hour later, one of the producers, David, came by to introduce himself and walk you around the grounds and through the soundstage you’d be shooting on. Filming would take place on the soundstage for a little more than a month. Then everyone would move the whole operation to Vancouver. The movie was called Winter’s Sin after all and there wasn’t a whole lot of winter in Los Angeles.

Before stopping back in your office, David popped into the office across from yours. He knocked while walking in, apparently already comfortable with the occupant.

“Hey Monica. I want you to meet Y/N. She’s the assistant script supervisor I was telling you about.”

Assistant? What?

Monica got up from her chair to greet you. You plastered on a smile and stuck out your hand. She was around your age and seriously gorgeous. Beautiful thick brown hair with a touch of caramel highlights that hung just above her chest.  

“Hi, Y/N. I’m looking forward to working with you. Would love to hear some of your ideas.”

“Same.”

What could you say? You weren’t told that you were an assistant script supervisor, you thought you had the position. Apparently, it was a shared position.

“Y/N will be working primarily with Chris and Keanu.”

Whoa. Well, at least there’s that.

Monica scoffs. “Really?”

Your eyes automatically go to her left hand. No ring. Of course.

“Yes, really. You’ve got Maggie. I think she can really flourish under your direction. Not to mention you have Hector, Tim, Daisy and Joe.

After the awkward exchange, you traded cellphone numbers with her and made plans to meet after the first read through with the cast.

Walking across the way into the safety of your office, you figured you might as well ask.

“I wasn’t aware that I was being hired on as an assistant script supervisor.”

David ran a hand down his face. “Y/N, listen. This is your first big film; you need to walk before you can run. Alright? If this goes well, you’ll probably get hired on as the lead.”

“Okay.” You sighed out

“Alright, I’ll see you later. Meeting at three on the soundstage.”

“Got it.” You replied, plopping yourself down in the desk chair.

David peeks his head back into your office. “You’ve got some visitors.”

“Thanks.” You call out, standing back up and pulling your door open wider.

Your heart stopped. At least you were pretty sure it did. Keanu and Chris were both in front of you. Yes, you were there to film a movie, but this felt like a freaking movie. The two of them, side by side, grins on their faces. Keanu’s hand outstretched while Chris’ hands were snugly in the front pockets of his jeans.

“Y/N, pleasure to meet you. I’m Keanu.”

You accept his hand but your pretty much speechless. You may have muttered “hi” but you can’t be sure. Sensing your nervousness, he gives you a smile and releases your hand. He looks to Chris and they exchange a silent conversation. Chris steps forward offering you his hand and once again you can’t breathe.

Has he always been this attractive? Apparently, I haven’t watched enough Avengers movies.

His hair’s a bit longer than what you remember from the one or two movies you’ve seen. He’s also sporting a full beard. Definitely something he can pull off.

You mentally slap yourself and pull your hand from his after you realize you hadn’t said anything.

“Um. Sorry. Haven’t had enough caffeine today. It’s nice to meet you both. I look forward to working with you on this shoot.”

“Nice plant.” Keanu says, pointing at the fern taking up the front corner of your desk.

You giggle. Like actually let out a giggle and you’re pretty sure your cheeks are flushed.

You’re a professional. Get your shit together.

“Well, you know?” Shrugging your shoulders. “Need to green the space up a bit.’

Chris nods his head and offers a closed mouth smile.

“Well, we won’t take up all your time. Just wanted to say hello.”

“Hello.” You reply with a wave.

Why am I so awkward?!

They both chuckle and Chris waves back at you.

Tomorrow you wouldn’t be so starstruck. These are just two men that you work with. Who cares that they both seem nice and are dangerously attractive? You’re an “engaged” woman who is also a professional. You can do this.

Yeah. I can do this.

If you are crossed out, I can’t tag you.

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Nothing upsets me more than a legitimately good story being ruined by “extra” content. I’ve already complained at length about Pokemon Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon’s story changes over the original games so now it’s The World Ends With You: Final Remix’s “A New Day’s” turn because CHRIST

I’m writing this as I come across points while watching a playthrough, so:

God, Coco is the single most insufferable being. “totez hilar” just dated this content so baaaad, and I’d even say it was dated language when Final Remix came out. No other character abuses modern slang as their entire character. Like, slang is used but not as a substitute for personality. Beat speaks in a very casual, urban style but it never ends up being detrimental to his character as a bit of a punk with a “perfect little sister” that he wasn’t as naturally smart as, so he just gave up on trying and ended up being a bit of an aggressive slacker. Heck, he tones it down a bit for emotional moments, too. Coco, though, comes across like her ultra-modern “cutesy” text message slang is supposed to be her personality, and even when it’s revealed that she’s the villain of the episode you just can’t take her seriously through the “like, ohmigosh, I can’t believe you’re ruining my plaaaaaans” bullshit. What does she have going for her if you rewrite all of her lines without that speaking style? She’s just a generic manipulative brat

Frankly I also just disagree with the entire premise of A New Day and the plot threads it sets up for a potential sequel, i.e. “having Neku and Beat run through a game again as a trap to get Neku into yet another game in a possible sequel.” TWEWY is a complete experience and had been for at least a decade. Literally every character had a complete arc. The worldbuilding was rich enough that they had more than enough to come up with a sequel set in the same world, but in an entirely different town with an entirely new cast and, heck, even entirely new rules for the Game that would’ve expanded upon the world of the games without taking away from the characters whose time in the Underground was already done

But, noooooooo, we’ve gotta bring Neku back. Can’t have a game without Neku they literally SAY THAT (”The Game, like, literally can’t go on without Neku.”). And let’s bring Minamimoto back, too, as a good guy! The fans loved him! This doesn’t come across as pandering at all!

Just... you have the girl with the red headphones designed! Make the sequel set in Shinjuku with her as the main character! (Hell, I don’t think I would have even minded Minamimoto coming back for that because there was enough leeway in the base TWEWY for him to have survived his encounter with Josh, just leave Neku out of it). This is the most infuriating part because it actually takes away from Neku’s story. The entire GAME was a test of character to see if even the worst, most closed off person could learn empathy and respect and Neku DID. And in return, that sparked a change in Josh. His story is done. Coco using Neku, though, has nothing to do with him as a character and everything to do with him being the face of the game and it shows

And why the hell is Neku so trusting of Coco anyway? I get that he opened up over the course of TWEWY, that was kind of the point. But you come back to life, everything’s fine, and then suddenly you’re in a death game again and so is one of your best friends, like, he should be WAY more concerned and suspicious. But one little Reaper gives him the sad eyes and he just caves instantly like “fine, come along.” Even when Neku grew to like some of the Reapers, like Uzuki and Kariya, it was still far more of a rival-like respect. He knew damn well that it was their job to see him gone and while he accepted their help when they gave it and helped them when their lives were in danger (possibly, up to player choice), they weren’t buddy-buddy with each other, knowing that as soon as the immediate danger to them had passed they’d be on opposite sides again. And these are the Reapers he’s closest to, even at the end of the game. And then all of a sudden Coco goes “but I’m a wittle wost baby weaper” and Neku’s response is, “well, shit, welcome to the team.” WHAT

I hate using the term “Mary Sue” but Coco is absolutely a Mary Sue in its original meaning. The plot bends over backwards to accommodate her at the expense of the main characters’ personalities or reason, all while giving her a clothing style incongruous with everyone else’s meant to stand out and make her look special and not having her face any repercussions for her actions (so far which is, again, another issue with the very premise of A New Day since that’s exactly how things will end off if TWEWY doesn’t get a sequel, the possibility of which is not a guarantee AT ALL)

Shiki and Rhyme start saying blatantly false things about themselves and handwaving it away with “ohhh, that must have been our new Entry Fee! Just the exact same ones as the first time again!” and only BEAT is suspicious and NEITHER OF THEM are suspicious of Coco, the only non-generic Reaper they’ve met so far. Christ, I appreciate Beat being attentive with matters of his sister because that’s in-character but NEKU was always the more paranoid AND observant one yet all he thinks about is “gee, I’m sure having weird visions today, huh?”

And then Coco starts BLATANTLY gaslighting them about Kariya and Uzuki’s personalities and they’re STILL not suspicious of her like ughhhhhhhhhhh. Nekuuuuuuu you LIVED THROUGH JOSH WEEK 2, you have BEEN IN A SITUATION where the mastermind partnered up with you to divert your suspicion and keep an eye on you how are you less suspicious of this brat than Beat is???

And why are none of the characters bringing up the fact that you have to be DEAD to be in the Game??? You all spent three weeks of hell to claw your way back to life, how are you not more upset about what seems like you all dying again, basically immediately after you just got brought back? And I know the Shiki and Rhyme in A New Day are illusions, but Neku and Beat AREN’T. Nobody even comments on the implication that they’re dead again and what that means!

I can’t believe they made new expressions for the fake Josh’s changed personality but still refuse to make anything for Shiki’s true appearance

Hell, there’s enough lore with Josh that you could make an entire prequel about him becoming the Composer instead of this mess and, you know, EXPAND on someone’s character and what led to him being so disillusioned with Shibuya as the Composer instead of employing the Happy Ending Rewrite on Neku and then gutting his personality to make Coco the focus. I’d LOVE a Josh prequel with competent writing. Kingdom Hearts made the Xehanort prequel and hooked me in a single chapter with expanded worldbuilding and interesting ties with Xehanort’s character to friends that humanize him, do the same for Yoshiya “Joshua” Kiryu!

Pfffffff hire me and let me make the dream TWEWY trilogy: Joshua prequel > TWEWY sans A New Day > sequel set in Shinjuku starring Red Headphones Girl with Occasional Josh and Hanekoma Interaction

It is so unnecessarily cruel to make Beat relive Rhyme’s erasure and subject Neku to believing that Shiki was erased as well, and yet they do NOTHING with it except have it be cheap tension for five minutes. The characters basically say “wow, I’m so sad!” and then IMMEDIATELY move on to “OMG is Neku seeing the fuuuuuture?” Your LITTLE SISTER and FIRST REAL FRIEND IN YEARS just seemingly died permanently! When Rhyme was erased the first time it took Neku one and a half in-game days to even talk about it because he was so upset, and from then on he was focused on avenging her/bringing her back. Shiki was his entry fee in Week 2 and that made him hyper paranoid the whole time! WHY ARE WE JUST GLOSSING OVER THIS especially since they made SUCH a big deal about how they just finally started believing that the fakes were real (after a whole TWO conversations)

And then at the end they say that they’re inside Coco’s Noise that is SO BIG that it has an ALTERNATE DIMENSION INSIDE IT and Hanekoma’s like “I’ve never met a Reaper POWERFUL enough to make a Noise like this. Wow, Coco, you’re so POWERFUL that even I, an Angel, am impressed!” This. Coming from the guy who specifically chose Minamimoto as his failsafe to kill the Composer should the Game go wrong because a Taboo Minamimoto, heavily refined using forbidden methods, would be strong enough to defeat THE COMPOSER. And he’s now going on about how Coco’s the strongest Reaper ever, basically admitting that she’s probably stronger than the Composer of Shibuya. SURE. BECAUSE COCO WASN’T BAD ENOUGH ALREADY SHE HAS TO BE THE STRONGEST REAPER EVER, TOO

And then it just ends with Josh and Hanekoma exposition dumping about how Shinjuku got erased as Noise entered the RG (WHAT?), Neku’s visions were probably caused by the red headphones girl who’s super special (who???), and Coco’s just so special powerful (why...), but it’s not their problem so fuck it. Oh, and also Josh doesn’t care about Neku anymore, despite that being the whole point of TWEWY. Yeah, the guy who flew off all upset when Hanekoma asked him if he wanted to hang out with his friends at the end of the game. Uh huh. Even if he’s lying, why even put that THERE instead of saving it for the sequel?

And then Coco just... revives Minamimoto. Even though, oh, right, the Taboo Refinery stuff was so precise that the only reason Minamimoto came back the first time was because Hanekoma, THE PRODUCER AND AN ANGEL, set it up for him. But I guess Coco’s just soooooo super powerful and knows FORBIDDEN HIGHER PLANE KNOWLEDGE and can just do whateeeeeever she wants. Not like Hanekoma was so paranoid about someone finding out what he did for Minamimoto that he went into hiding, certain that he’d be reported to the higher Angels and destroyed

A New Day is so painfully shallow from a writing experience. It’s a poor continuation off of the solid, complete TWEWY story experience that just doesn’t have a handle on Neku’s character, turning him into this bland vision machine with no emotional connection to anyone. The way that it expands the worldbuilding with “Inversion” does one thing that I HATE, which is taking an emotion-and-character driven story and turning it into a generic “end of the world” scenario, “raising the stakes” in a way that divorces it from what made it memorable in the first place. If Kitaniji directly effecting the RG during the main Game’s plot was the point where he crossed the line in-universe, then that loses its special nature and impact if you then go “oh, btw, Noise can destroy the RG city if you let them”

And then there’s the absolute black hole of a character that is Coco Atarashi. She wasn’t designed to fit into the world of the game, she was designed to stand out. On its own that’s not a bad thing, especially given the themes of the game that revolve around owning your true self and baring it to the world, but then you combine it with no personality beyond being a manipulative brat obsessed with the events of TWEWY, extremely lazy text message slang dressing up her dialogue to make it stand out, the way that Neku and Beat’s personalities change to accommodate her presence just to shoehorn her in and then have a cheap “omg she was bad” twist, and then dumping powers on par with Josh and Hanekoma on her and there is NO saving her character

The only good part of A New Day is “Wake Up.” And even then, there’s better TWEWY songs, I just like the vaguely Kingdom Hearts Dream Drop Distance vibes it has in parts

Well, even though I’m already getting ready for Xmas, we can’t ignore thanksgiving. How bout a piece on Tom meeting the whole family on this day but it’s a chaotic mess because holidays can just bring out the best or worst in us. Maybe that’s just my family. Anyways, happy writing! 🦃

Thanks for the request babes :-) I hope this is what you had in mind (I vaguely say aunts, siblings, cousins, so the reader is able to imagine however many they have) enjoy!! ❤️

Word count: 2,145

✭♡✭♡✭♡✭

Even though you had been dating Tom for eight months, the two of you had never spent the holidays together. You had met at the most imperfect time, in late February.

Though you didn’t want to admit it, what unfolded tonight at your family’s Thanksgiving dinner would determine how you would continue on with your relationship. Your family was incredibly Important to you, and their opinion on your boyfriend was just as significant.

Despite the pressure that weighed on you and Tom’s shoulders, you were calm and collected. You were almost positive that they were going to love him as much as you had grown to.

Tom though, understandably, was a nervous wreck.

“Ughhh they’re gonna hate me.” He whispered, crossing his arms in a childish manner, mimicking one in a way that was intended to make you laugh. You chuckled loudly from the driver’s seat, trying to not keep your eyes off the road for more than a second.

“I think the fact that you have a British accent is enough to make my family like you.” You teased, reaching across the armrest and setting a comforting hand on his thigh. He relaxed immediately as you continued.

“We’ve talked about my past relationships before. But I’ve brought worse boys home, you being a decent human being is most definitely enough.”

“I know I know.” He mumbled, setting his hand over yours. “I just want it to be more than that. I’m here to prove myself whether you feel like that’s what’s gonna happen.”

“Yeah, totally.” You quipped, a bit flattered that he was so anxious to meet your parents and siblings. A guy had never shown this much interest in you before, yet alone your family.

“I can see you trying not to smile.” He teased.

Breaking into a smile, you shook your head, purposefully turning farther to the opposite side. Tom always did this, and you smiled every single time.

“Shush up and let me focus on the road”

Whatever your boyfriend said next faded into the background, and he soon turned his attention to his cell phone.

It had been months since you’d been to your hometown, and you were anxious to see it again. You were a well known actor like Tom, and that had kept you in many unfamiliar places surrounded by unfamiliar people. Coming back to your roots on such an important family holiday was what you had been waiting for. To see the people you loved again, and to introduce someone special to them.

Though your hometown was smaller, and not entirely significant, you were proud to be from the area. It was lively and decorated, the landscape stretching on for miles with rolling hills and hundreds of trees.

Your house was placed in a tight knit family friendly area. And as you drove closer, the aspects of your beloved neighborhood and town had become distinct, even the familiar layouts of the back roads put a smile on your face.

You breathed a sigh of relief. Nostalgia was a killer, and you were excited to show Tom around the town you held so close to your heart.

“Here we are.” You turned onto the block, and pulled into the driveway.

Tom tucked his phone away and focused his attention on what lay before him. “It’s lovely.” He smiled, pointing to a window on the second floor. “I bet that used to be your room.”

“Correct.” You tried not to giggle like the little girl you used to be. Unbuckling, you leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek.

As you pulled away, Tom was staring intensely. One look at you, and his nerves seemed to fade. You were so happy to bring him back. He loved to see you fulfilled, and loved that he was part of that reason.

Without another word, the two of you gathered your bags and made your way up to the front porch. The smell of holiday scented candles was the first thing you noticed when you opened the door. You could hear the afternoon football game playing from the living room loudly, and the bustling of your mother in the kitchen.

But before you stepped over the threshold into your warmly lit home, you leaned over and purred into Tom’s ear. “If you behave, you’re in for treat tonight.”

Tom snorted, nudging you away. “Shut up, I haffta focus.”

You kissed him again, but this time it was fully on the lips. You winked before screaming, “IM HOME!”

Then it was madness. Your family flooded to the front door, taking your bags so they could embrace you for the first time in months. It felt so good to be back, it was almost as if you had never moved out. Everything was the same, everything was familiar.

Introductions ensued. Cooing from your mother, going on and on about how handsome he was, though you had already shown her pictures. (She had seen all his movies already, but she would never admit that.)

A brooding stare from your father- which soon turned into a firm handshake. Your father didn’t really care who walked through the door, as long as they would watch sports with him. Tom definitely had some homework.

And your younger siblings of course, they had been waiting to meet Spider-Man since the moment you told them you were dating a superhero. They poked and prodded him, asking if he could play with them later and give they battle strategy tips.

It was all coming together, and thank God you arrived over an hour earlier than you had intended, so you could find some peace before the storm. Tom was unprepared for the mayhem that was about to ensue when suburban women had to prepare a Thanksgiving dinner.

Though you weren’t prepared for it, you were grateful. You were happy, watching him smile, his eyes twinkle, the corners of his eyes crinkling when your mother showed genuine interest in his career and experiences.

You were sentimental, wishing you could have spent a portion of your childhood with Tom, something that could have developed into an epic love story, one that stretched across decades. Your families would have already been close, before the fame. But when you thought harder about it, you were satisfied with what you had. You were incredibly smitten with Tom, and by the effort he was putting forth, he was equally smitten with you.

Tom had never been to the suburbs, so this trip was equivalent to a vacation for him. Which you found strange, given the fact that it was the fucking suburbs– but you didnt want to ruin his fun.

And ruined it was, or so that’s what it seemed like as your mother screamed at the top of her lungs for your younger siblings to leave the kitchen. You were by her side, also in an apron, trying to carve the turkey as best as you could while your mother mashed potatoes like she had never mashed them before.

“When are the aunties coming?” You squirmed and ripped another chunk of meat off the turkey bones, tossing them into a glass bowl.

“On their way.” Your mom said breathlessly, finishing the mashed potatoes and focusing on stirring the gravy. She then ordered you to crack open a few cans of cranberry sauce.

“Will we be done in time?” You glanced to the oven that had biscuits baking in it.

“Yes. Your grandmother is bringing doubled eggs and relish plates. Your aunt is bringing…” she trailed off as her attention was turned to the stuffing that had yet to be loaded into a plate. Unfortunately, your mom had fallen behind schedule this year and had to cook everything in the last couple hours. Part of that reason was because she was distracted with your arrival. It was a mess, but it was all coming together. With your help of course.

“Is there anything I can help with, Mrs. L/N?” Tom peaked his head around the corner at the commotion. You knew he had been distracted with a long friendly lecture from your father.

Your mother didn’t seem to hear him, as her train of thought was interrupted by the oven beeping. The biscuits were done.

She breathed a sigh of relief, and turned the oven off. Everything was finally cooked, and still piping hot for all the family to enjoy. Yet your mother still seemed anxious. But that was just how she was, every single year.

“You’re the guest, Tom.” You smiled. “And everything is done.”

He gave you two thumbs up, flashing a cheshire grin. Surprisingly, he seemed over the moon, probably excited for the food that was lying in front of him. It was aromatic, and your stomach started to grumble.

“Can I at least help set up?” He asked, guilt flashing across his face. Tom was one of those people that hated to sit around and watch everyone else take part in activities, even if it was as simple as setting up the dinner table. ‘Let me do something’ He mouthed, practically pleading with his eyes.

Your father made his way into the room, but before he could say anything, your mother piped up, back still turned away from the three of you.

Your mother chuckled. “Oh sweetie, guests don’t help set the table.” She walked past him, picking up the carved turkey and setting it gracefully in the center of the elongated wooden table.

“Guests?” You father chortled, clapping Tom on the back. “He’s practically family now.”

Your father’s eyes met your for a moment, and you were pleased to find his statement was genuine. Your heart fluttered, forever grateful that your parents seemed to approve of him. That was a first.

“Oops!” Your mother laughed. “You’re right, honey.” She walked past Tom and guestered for him to follow. “Grab whatever you’d like and bring it over then.” Normally, she would have made a joke, but you could tell she was tired, and wanted to eat.

Snorting, you shook your head. You knew she was trying extra hard to impress Tom. Like you, she had been waiting for another man in the family to spoil. Nodding towards the biscuits, Tom gained the hint that you wanted him to snatch something else to help set up.

That was the calm before the storm. The hustling and bustling of dishes signaled to your siblings and cousins that it was time to eat. They practically ran into the kitchen, a whirlwind of thank you’s in their paths. Taking advantage of that opportunity, your mother started handing them dishes to set on the table.

And before you and Tom knew it, there was nothing left to place on the table.

Setting the biscuits sheepishly on the edge of the table, and handing a few to your cousins at the kiddie bench, he rounded back to your side.

“I feel worthless.” He whispered in your ear, knowing it was a light-hearted joke.

“It’s fine babe, next time.” You left a light kiss on his cheek.

The two of you started to make your way to the table, unable to ignore the grumbling in your stomachs. You had purposefully told Tom not to eat a single thing before the gigantic meal. You had also advised that it was more than welcomed to take seconds, thirds, and even fourths.

And then, as if on cue, the front door violently swung open, and in hurried your aunts and grandparents. “Oofta, traffic was a killer.” You heard you grandmother’s voice complain loudly from the front entrance. A chilling breeze followed, refreshing in the warmly lit atmosphere.

You turned and saw your grandfather balancing at least four pumpkin pies in his hands. Tom rushes forward to help, and you followed suit.

“OH MY GOSH IT’S Y/N’S BOYFRIEND!” Your rambunctious aunt seemed to yell at the top of her lungs when she spotted the stranger.

Tom’s eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Be prepared for kisses.” You warned, smiling from ear to ear, knowing he had already been warned of their excessive amounts of affection.

It was going to be an incredibly wild night. One that you and Tom would remember for years to come.

Some People Be Shitting on My Girl Ariel

And I am here to tell you why saying shit like "Ariel left her family for d*ck whereas Moana did it to save her village" is not on.

Ariel from the very start of the movie is shown to have a profound fascination with the human world. Her passion for anthropology is such that she befriended the only bird who'd come near her and avidly listens to him to collect every tidbit of information about humans that she can get.

In the famed song "Part of that World" she sings about how she longs to "ask them my questions and get some answers", which goes to show that she often feels ignored and tossed aside when she expressed curiosity. Her interests don't matter. Her concerns are invalid. (There's a lot of proof of this in the prequel where we see her dad completely ignore her when she tries to make a point about music and how Atlantea should have it.)

She also sings about wanting to be somewhere where "they don't reprimand their daughters", showing once again that she feels scorned and diminished. Powerless.

She doesn't sing about wanting to go to balls and meet dudes to thirst on. She sings about wanting to explore a new world, discover a new culture and - hopefully - better her own fate by going to a place she, although knowing little about it - feels and hopes is more progressive than her world in certain key areas, namely the respect given to young women.

Lo and behold, she sees a mortal man and is infatuated. Saves him. Sings to him. Bonds with him in the throes of danger. This is the first time she is close to the object of her passion - a real live human - and he is fascinating and male and pretty damn fine.

We don't know how much contact Ariel has with merman, but her best friend is a literal fish, her chaperone is a crab and like... do we see Ariel interact with any mermen? Or her sisters? Never. This isn't conclusive evidence but considering how tight a leash Triton tries to keep her on, I honestly wouldn't be shocked if she just plain wasn't allowed to talk to guys - tailed or legged - that were even remotely sexually compatible with her ever. So yeah.

She's out and about unsupervised, saves a hot dude, spends the night high on adrenaline and feeling like a powerful heroine while in the closest proximity she's ever been to a man who isn't her dad EVER... and the night before she'd seen him singing and dancing and being generally good humoured and not a jerk? She is going to fall hard and fast.

That's not a character flaw, okay. I repeat. FALLING IN LOVE ISN'T A CHARACTER FLAW.

It doesn't make her silly or weak or stupid to fall head over heels for a guy who represents everything she finds inspiring in a very short time. It makes her *sixteen*, her canon age, if I'm not mistaken. Hormones are high, mood is lit, guy is attractive. She's going to be attracted. She is going to love him. Love what he represents. Novelty. Freedom. Joy. Adventure.

Most of all, she's going love what he inspires in her: courage, strength, daring. And yeah, beauty and sexiness too.

He makes her feel more powerful than she's EVER felt before and they haven't even spoken yet! Unsurprisingly, she is going to confuse attraction and a feeling of empowerement with "true love", especially if she's never been told she was powerful before.

Ariel has been told she's pretty and sings well and all she's good for is sitting tight in her shell and combing her hair and performing for concerts.

As someone whose father has told them - and I quote - "the only thing I know that you can do well is sing" (ouch...), it smarts okay. It *hurts* to want more and be reduced to your voice. Unsurprising that Ariel didn't see trading it as a big deal.

By the time she goes to see Ursula, she has *saved a man's life* in the middle of a raging storm while the sea was on *fire*. Her chaperone has betrayed her leading to her father disrespecting her one time too many and then *destroyed* her most valuable possessions to "teach her a lesson". She is in love and angry and empowered. And he expects her to what? Go home and fucking *sing*?

Honestly, if Ursula hadn't asked for her voice, she'd probably have offered it up anyways in exchange for one (1) Atlean salt-and-vinegar chip.

So... keep in mind that this is the mindset of the girl who "gave up her world and family for d*ck".

Her dad's a jerk. Her sisters don't share her interest or understand her. Her best friend is a *fish* and just not able to keep up or truly connect with her the way she wishes he could. She is *lonely*. She is young. She is a girl.

And do you know what girls are taught? They're taught that the only thing that will make them feel more powerful than being in love... is being someone's mom. Ariel is too young to care about motherhood. But she is the perfect age to buy the "true love is the most powerful feeling you will ever experience" bullshit hook, line and sinker.

So if she feels empowered around a man? A good looking man at that? Must mean she's madly in love with him.

And see... this narrative... it isn't just Ariel who has it. She has spent *years* passionate about humanity and its culture only to be dismissed, mocked or forbidden to explore her interests at every turn. Her troves, build over years of exploration, is annihilated in *seconds*. Her father has NO respect whatsoever for her desire to learn about humans.

Ariel's true passion: anthropology of humanity is completely invalidated. No one sees it as something of value in this girl, much less something that might empower her enough to seek out the sea witch and give up her tail and voice to pursue. Least of all her.

And yet, it is. I am willing to bet that if she'd gone home after talking to Flotsam and Jetsam, the idea of seeking out the sea witch would have stayed there and within a decade, she'd have gone anyways.

The thing is... the interest of women and girls aren't taken seriously. They're "childish" and "immature" and "unimportant". The most important thing a woman can do is be in a relationship with a man and then a mother, or so we're told. That's why even accomplished career women are seen as having something fundamentally missing if they're single.

My point is... Ariel didn't abandon her family and home to chase after a guy she hadn't even talked to yet.

She abandoned her family and home to chase after a dream she'd had for years. The guy was a side quest that temporarily obsessed her because hormones and also threat of doom via seawitch... but folks. The sheer *delight* on that girl's face during her carriage ride through town is not the face of a woman whose biggest concern in life is getting married. You know... when her life isn't under threat if she doesn't.

What you should be pissed off about isn't that a sixteen year old dared fall in love with a guy who made her feel powerful, even though she didn't know him. And it's not that said sixteen year old was willing to trade the things OTHER PEOPLE told her were her most valuable assets (family that doesn't value her as a person, home she wants to leave, singing ability that has been used to demean her to a useless pretty thing)...

What you should be pissed off about... is that Triton thought it was okay to destroy the trove his daughter worked years towards. Would have NEVER allowed her to trade her legs and voice to go be human just for the sake of learning and enjoying human culture...

But was *blessing* her decision to do just that when framed under the lense "I'm in love with this dude I've know for less than a week and I'm gonna marry him, unfortunately tail's gotta go to make that happen and I'm never coming home ever."

He would have dragged her back kicking and screaming if she'd asked to leave so she could go pursue her passion. No amount of "proving herself worthy" would have made that an okay thing for her to do. But because it's "true love"... sure. Fine. She can go. He's fulfilled his fatherly duties anyways and made sure she's done the most important thing a daughter can do: marry a rich dude.

The moral of this story is...

A. Stop shitting on women for falling in love. It doesn't make them less worthy or their decisions less legitimate.

B. Stop shitting on women for confusing feeling empowered with falling in love when they're told about how amazing and magical the latter is and don't even know the former is exits, a lot of the time.

C. Start shitting on people for giving more legitimacy to the concept of "true love" as a motivator for making huge life changes than they do to shit like "because this thing interests me and I like it a lot and it makes me feel good when I do it". Start shitting on people for making a woman seeking a sense of fulfillment not worth a happy ending unless there's a romance too.

D. Moana was super selfish for wanting to leave her home to go explore even though she had a good family and her island was happy. And that's *okay*. Women are allowed to want things for themselves. They don't exist to please others and pacify their societies. Good on her for saving her village though.

E. Ariel was super selfish for wanting to leave her home to go explore even though her family was arguably much less awesome than Moana's. And that's *okay*. Good on her for meeting a dude she liked, falling for him and making the relationship last and be, as far as Ariel II shows us, a pretty decent one. WOMEN ARE ALLOWED TO WANT ROMANCE and it doesn't make them frivolous, even if they want it more than the "important" shit they're told they should be interested in instead. (Not that Ariel's main interest was romance, btw)

F. Women are allowed to be happy dammit. Be it via romance or career or hobby or academics or all of the above or *none* or other.

Just let women be happy without putting one down in favour of the other and shitting on them.

Ariel is a *great* movie and Ariel is a badass character and she is smart and extremely competent and *brave* and strong and good and anyone who says otherwise is a superficial coward whose forgotten what it feels like to be 16 and disrespected. In this essay I will...

Dragon Ball Super Movie 1: Broly (1/2)

This ended up taking longer than I expected, so I decided to break it up into sections.     The first Dragon Ball Super movie premiered in Japan on December 14, 2018, and then in the U.S. and Canada on January 16, 2019.   

After Resurrection F, just about every episode of Dragon Ball Super aired, and this movie takes place after all of that.    So just to get everyone up to speed: Beerus had a friendly tournament with his counterpart in Universe 6, and the King of Everything liked the idea so much that he threw his own event called the Tournament of Power, which saw eight universes square off in teams of ten.    But our universe was short-handed, so Goku arranged for Frieza to be brought back to life for one day so he could participate, and then Whis revived Frieza for keeps after Beerus was pleased with Frieza’s performance.  

This movie is important for a few reasons.    First, it features Aya Hisakawa as Bulma, the first time the role has been recast following Hiromi Tsuru’s tragic death in 2017.  

Second, this movie reintroduces the Broly character.   In the DBZ films, he was a side-story, non-canon villain, but this movie works him into the main canon.    Well... as canonical as Dragon Ball Super gets, I suppose.    Similarly, this movie also does the same thing with Gogeta.   

Third, this one currently stands as  the highest-grossing Dragon Ball movie ever, and one of the top-grossing anime films of all time.    I looked at the Wikipedia list, and it’s at #12.    But Resurrection F is at #19, so I think it’s safe to assume that any future Dragon Ball movies might break the record.     Even so, I knew this one was a bigger deal when I went to see it.   Res F only played in my town for three days, I think.   Broly ran for maybe three weeks and I couldn’t see it on the first try because it was sold out that night.   If it’s true that Akira Toriyama came out of retirement because of how bad Dragon Ball: Evolution was, then I think it’s safe to say that he’s exorcised that demon.

Fourth, this movie’s box office success and popularity led to the downfall of American voice actor and sex pest Vic Mignogna.   Vic has played Broly in all of his past movies, as well as the video games and any other localized Broly media.   But he’s also garnered a reputation over the decades for creeping on women and girls at fan conventions.    DBS: Broly put him in the limelight again, and I’m pretty sure this caused a lot of people to ask why we’re still putting up with this perv in the year 2019.    A few weeks after the movie premiered in the U.S., RoosterTeeth cut ties with him and re-cast all the parts he played for their shows.   A week later, Funimation did the same thing.   Quite stupidly, Vic tried to sue his way out of this mess, taking Funimation and two of its voice actresses to court for defamation and conspiracy, and the case was dismissed with prejudice on October 4.    The last I heard, he was doing public appearances in the basements of creepy malls.   Maybe there’s still venues willing to do business with him, but as I understand it, most anime conventions have recognized that he just isn’t worth the bad publicity.  

Anyway, it’s kind of weird to be doing this with a movie that just came out eleven months ago.     This will probably be more text-heavy than usual, since I have a lot of things to say about this movie that I never got around to earlier in the year.  

For example, what the hell is this thing?

All right, so the first... I dunno, fifteen minutes?... of this movie is a flashback of what Planet Vegeta was like before Frieza destroyed it.    For clarity: the main story of this movie is set in Age 780, the same year as the Tournament of Power in the DBS TV series, while this flashback takes place in Age 739.... I guess?   The Dragon Ball Wiki contends that Goku and Broly were born in Age 737, and they look about two years old in this part, but I dunno.   

Anyway, King Cold has come to Planet Vegeta to inform King Vegeta that he’s retiring from the space-villain business and putting his son Frieza in charge.   This was always very satisfying to me, because I never quite understood King Cold’s role in the Frieza organization.     Turns out he used to run the whole thing, and then he handed it over to Frieza, which allows him to retain a lot of power without actually having to run things directly.  

It also explains why the Saiyans lasted as long as they did under Frieza’s rule.   Conquering the Saiyans happened under King Cold’s regime.    Once Frieza took over, he spent some time reconsidering that decision.    Anyway, Frieza hands out scouters to King Vegeta, explaining that they’re the new latest and greatest technology for detecting and quantifying powerful fighters.   He even shoots down some Saiyan snipers just to demonstrate how well they work.

King Vegeta doesn’t like this turn of events, maybe because he had hoped King Cold would grant the Saiyans independence when he retired.    But there’s no much he can do about it, so he consoles himself in his son, Prince Vegeta.   The tests show that Vegeta has enormous potential, and the King is certain that his son will one day grow powerful enough to overthrow Frieza and rule the universe himself.   

Then he sees another life support tank with another Saiyan baby in it, and he throws a hissy fit about it.    See, Saiyans in this era raise their newborns in these tanks, and this particular tank farm is for babies singled out for having elite fighting potential.    The guys who run the place explain to him that Colonel Paragus’s son had exceptional test results, which may even exceed Prince Vegeta’s.   The King tries to see for himself, but the measuring device overloads and explodes.   

Then this lady walks up and tells him Broly might possibly become the next Legendary Super Saiyan, which doesn’t exactly put the king at ease.    

So King Vegeta orders Broly to be shipped off to the planetoid of Vampa.   When Paragus learns of this, he demands an explanation, since you only do that sort of thing for weaker, low-class Saiyan babies.    That’s what Raditz said way back in DBZ episode 2, you know, but Broly’s already been shown to be far stronger than this.   Also, Vampa’s a dump and everyone knows it, so even if Broly subjugates the planet, no one would want to buy it, so what’s the point.    King Vegeta explains that Broly is probably some kind of mutant, and no matter how strong he may be, he’ll eventually lose control of that power and become dangerous.   At least this way he’ll be on Vampa instead of being dead.    But Paragus thinks the king is only doing this out of jealousy.    He can’t handle that a mere colonel’s son tested better than the prince, so he’s sweeping Broly under the rug.  

So Paragus hijacks a spaceship and flies to Vampa himself to rescue Broly.   His plan is to desert King Vegeta and the Frieza Force and raise Broly on some other planet until he can make Broly into a great warrior.    Another Saiyan named Beets tries to talk him out of it, but ends up getting roped into the hijacking.    Paragus foolishly crash lands the ship on Vampa, and when Beets says he can’t repair the ship, Paragus shoots him so the rations will last longer.    I like this scene, because when they first arrived on Vampa, Paragus made Beets come with him, fearing that he’d take off and leave them if he stayed behind.   Beets swore he’d never do that, but Paragus doesn’t believe in trustworthy Saiyans.    So his shooting Beets is just proof of his cynicism towards his own people. 

Then we flash forward another five years.    That seems kind of fishy to me, but okay.  

Bardock and his comrade are on their way back to Planet Vegeta, because Frieza ordered them all to come home.    Bardock is suspicious, because if Frieza had orders for them, he could have just relayed them by radio, and if he has weapons to distribute, then there’d still be no need to have every Saiyan on the planet at the same time to hand them all out.   

I know people don’t care much for the Dragon Ball Minus version of Bardock, but it does make a lot more sense than the “Father of Goku” version.   This movie expands on the Dragon Ball Minus comic by explaining Bardock’s reasoning in greater detail.    The other Saiyans simply can’t believe that Frieza would do anything drastic to them, mainly because they work for Frieza and do what he wants.    But Bardock knows that the Saiyans dislike Frieza, and that the feeling is probably mutual, and he might just be planning to do something about it.  

Then one of his pals mentions that Frieza’s administrators have been asking around about the Super Saiyan legend, and that’s the final piece of the puzzle.   Bardock realizes that Frieza’s worried about a Saiyan uprising, which normally wouldn’t be a threat, unless a Super Saiyan emerges.  

The point I’m driving at here is that he doesn’t really need psychic powers to see all this coming.    He just happens to be smart enough and paranoid enough to figure out how Frieza thinks.   It’s not as dramatic as “Father of Goku”, but it’s still effective.  

The thing I tried to do last year was to write a fanfic that combined this version of Bardock with the “FoG” version.    Basically, to have Gine in the story and have her cope with her husband having doomsday visions.    I really ought to get back to that sometime.   

As for Frieza, his people report that the Super Saiyan and Super Saiyan God are nothing more than old stories, but Frieza insists that he had to be certain.    Even so, he plans to blow up all the Saiyans anyway, since he’s got them all together in one place.    I don’t know, maybe he only asked about Super Saiyans because he was afraid this upcoming attack might provoke a Super Saiyan survivor.  

Moving on, if you know the story of Dragon Ball Minus, you know what’s coming next.    Bardock meets up with his wife Gine, and I dig this chubby Saiyan working at the meat-packing place.    I think that’s my favorite part of this movie, really, just seeing all the diverse kinds of Saiyans running around on this planet.    Fat ones, thin ones, weak ones.    That one lady looked like some kind of scientist, and the guy in King Vegeta’s court looked like a butler or something.    It’s a nice change from DBZ, where every Saiyan extra ended up looking like Raditz, more or less.    And every Saiyan from Universe 6 looked like they were made of noodles.   

Bardock asks about their kids, and Gine explains that Raditz has been assigned to off-world duty with Prince Vegeta.   As for Kakarot, he’s still in his tank, which just sort of sits in the middle of their home.    Bardock plans to steal a space pod and send Kakarot to another planet, since he thinks Frieza’s going to blow up Planet Vegeta soon, because he believes the Legendary Super Saiyan might appear.

Gine is upset with this, obviously.    What really threw me when I first watched the movie was how all these characters speak of the Legendary Super Saiyan.   No one seems to quite believe in the idea, or maybe it’s more accurate to say that they don’t particularly care if it’s true or not, since it would have happened so long ago.    But there’s a forboding sense that it could happen again.    King Vegeta are looking forward to it, because they think their sons could fill that role.   But Bardock and Gine dread it, because that dumb story convinced Frieza to kill them all, and it’s going to get their son shot into space.   Anyway, anytime someone mentions the Super Saiyan in this movie, someone else always goes “You mean the Legendary Super Saiyan?”   No, mate, I was referring to the ordinary kind you see on every street corner.

Anyway, this was why I started writing my fic, because this legend was such a big deal in early DBZ.    No one in-universe seems to know anything about the previous Super Saiyan.   Even if the guy never existed, you’d expect there to be some details.  My assumption is that this was all lost over the past thousand years, to the point where all anyone remembers is that some Saiyan got tired of being nice and decided to go ape shitt.   And that run of destruction was so memorable that people still talk about it a thousand years later, even after everything else got forgotten.    For me, that’s a writing prompt, and I’ve spent the last four years trying to write a story and build an OC who could make Frieza nervous enough to blow up an entire planet of his own henchmen.  

So when I watched this movie, I sort of worried that one of the characters might drop some new, unwanted lore about the Legendary Super Saiyan.   Up to this point, all we knew about the legend was what Vegeta recalled, but for all I knew Gine studied up on the subject when she took that mythology course at Saiyan University.   “Super Saiyan?   You mean like Topotay, the seven-foot-tall heteronormative man who hated cooking and never left his home planet?”   

So Bardock prepares the pod, and when Gine asks him why he’s bothering, especially when they can’t save themselves, he explains that it’s because he spends all his time fighting that he wants to try to save something for a change.    I like that a lot, because so much of the Saiyan culture in DBZ is extrapolated from Raditz and Vegeta’s perception of it, which is slanted towards ultra-violence and ruthlessness-as-virtue.   And sure, there’s plenty of that.   We get a lot of it in this very movie.    But there’s two sides to the coin.   Paragus was genuinely worried about his son, and Beets seemed to be sympathetic to him as well.    Bardock embraced his wife in front of someone, and now this.   Character traits aren’t hard rules.   It isn’t out-of-character for a violent man to crave peace once in a while, or for a brutal warrior to finally appreciate compassion, especially when he thinks he’s about to die.

The big twist here is that Bardock sent Goku to Earth to save his life.  He was not, as Raditz assumed, deployed to Earth by the Saiyan government to conquer it.    In fact, Bardock chose the Earth specifically because it was far enough out of the way that he didn’t think Frieza would bother with it.   Gine would later contact Raditz to inform him of all of this, but she left out the details of why they did this, probably for fear of being overheard on the communicators.  

In orbit, Frieza’s aides point out that the Saiyans make up half of their fighting force, but Frieza doesn’t care.   He knows the Saiyans aren’t going to quietly tolerate his rule forever, so it’s better to deal with them now.   That’s how afraid of the Super Saiyan he is.   He’d rather blow up half his military than worry about it.    Presumably, King Cold never cared in the first place.   He could barely rememer what a Super Saiyan was, even while he was watching Trunks turn into one.   

Anyway, Frieza does the fingerbang thing, Bardock tries to stop it, but he fails and gets zapped back in time to the Episode of Bardock special, and the planet explodes.    We’ve seen this moment maybe a dozen times by now, but I do like the part where Frieza monitors the destruction on his scouter, and the number of power signals coming from the planet count down to zero. 

Elsewhere, Prince Vegeta’s group hears about this, and they find the whole thing suspicious, because the official story is that the planet got hit by a meteor.    Vegeta and Raditz don’t particularly care.   They both have brothers off-world, but they dismiss them as unimportant weaklings. 

Then we finally flash forward to the main story of the movie.   Baby Kakarot has grown up into Son Goku, the hero of Earth, and Vegeta lives here too, and he’s married the richest lady on the planet.   They both turned into the next Legendary Super Saiyan, and recently they just got done teaming up with Frieza to win the Tournament of Power, proving that their universe deserves to exist.   But Goku and Vegeta still want to get stronger.   Goku, because he wants to fight all those strong guys he met from the other universes, and Vegeta because he’s convinced that Frieza will attack the Earth again now that he’s returned to life.     Also, Beerus and Whis are here, for no particularly good reason.  That seems to be the Dragon Ball Super brand in a nutshell.    What made Movie 14 so good was how they introduced them as new characters, made them the focus of the story, and had them shake things up.    Since then, they just hang out on the sidelines and eat snacks.    

This works out, though, because Bulma gets a call from Trunks about someone breaking into her lab and stealing the six Dragon Balls she had collected, as well as the Dragon Radar.    They quickly realize it was Frieza’s henchmen who did it, and so they head off to find the 7th Dragon Ball before they do.   Whis wants to tag along, but Beerus doesn’t, so she leaves her baby behind and asks him to keep an eye on her.   D’awwwwwwwwww.

On the way to the ice continent where the last ball is located, Goku asks why Bulma was collecting the Dragon Balls in the first place.  She admits that she wanted to ask Shenron to de-age her by about five years.   Just five?   Bulma figures that if she makes herself too young all at once, people will think she had plastic surgery.   Why not just get plastic surgery?     Wait, I’m asking the wrong question here.    Don’t people already think Bulma already had work done?   She hasn’t aged since the Cell Games.

So what does Frieza plan to wish for?   When he first appeared back in early DBZ, he wanted to become immortal.   His aide, whose name I have forgotten, asks if he’s going to try that again, but Frieza says no. 

I’m confused by his reasoning, but Frieza explains that while he was dead and in hell, he realized that it was torture being unable to die or move, so immortality holds no meaning for him.   Okay, but that only happened to you because you died.   Does Frieza think that becoming immortal would leave him unable to move?  Or is he just afraid of getting trapped in some situation where death would be the only release, like when Garlic Junior got trapped in the Dead Zone?

At the very least, I’ll give credit where it’s due: it looks like Toriyama finally gave Frieza a bit of character development to play into his resurrection.   My big complaint about Resurrection F was that Frieza came back to life and immediately went right back to doing all the stupid shit that got him killed in the first place, and it seemed like the 15 years he spent in hell had no effect on him whatsoever.   He wasn’t afraid of dying again, nor was he dismayed by the knowledge of what awaits him on the others side.   Now, in this movie, he at least has some perspective.   Shenron could make Frieza immortal, but he can’t make him stronger than Goku, so maybe he’s worried that Goku might throw him into a black hole or something. 

Even so, it was weird to watch this movie and see a Frieza who utterly does not care about becoming immortal, because he seemed so obsessed with it back on Namek.  But now that I’ve watched DBZ in Japanese, I’ve noticed that Frieza never seemed all that concerned about it.    He’s not Voldemort, who was terrified of death and sought to conquer it, or Kars, who wanted to eliminate his few remaining weaknesses.   Frieza only seemed to want immortality back then because it was the only thing he could think of that he didn’t already have, and maybe to screw with Vegeta, who saw the Dragon Balls as the only way to beat Frieza.    Still, I find it odd that Frieza isn’t even a little worried about what’ll happen to him when he finally kicks the bucket.   His aide suggests that he might wish for an invincible-but-still-mortal body, and Frieza says that would take all the fun out of “the game”.   So I guess he’s adopted an Android 17 outlook on life?   Well, so be it, but he knows he’s going to get hung up on the happy fun tree again whenever he dies of old age, so why doesn’t that weigh on him?    In Movie 15, he seemed to think he only ended up there because he died on Earth.   Does he think if he dies someplace else, that he’ll go to a better hell with free wifi and room service?    If I were Frieza, I’d be doing some serious churchin’ up.

Anyway, his other, cooler aide, Berryblue, already has this figured out: Frieza wants to wish to be taller.  Specifically, five centimeters taller, so that it won’t be too conspicuous.    I really like Berryblue, even though this is about the only thing she does in this movie.   Both of these aides appeared in the flashback, implying that they’ve been with Frieza for decades and somehow survived his fifteen-year death.   There would have been no need for someone like her on his Namek campaign, but the absence of characters like her was exactly why I never cared much for Frieza’s classic henchmen.    They were all jacked up thugs constantly licking Frieza’s boots and not much else.    Berryblue’s not afraid of this guy at all, probably because she changed his space-diapers when he was little, and if he kills her, he won’t have anyone to bring him space-wine from the ship’s space-cellar.   

So why doesn’t Frieza just use his second form, the one he used to fight Piccolo on Namek?   That form was like eight feet tall, but also fuck Frieza’s second form.   He only had those forms to regulate his power, and these days he doesn’t even use them.   He wants to be taller in his default state.   But he doesn’t want to be too tall all at once, or it wouldn’t look natural.   This from the guy who went out of his way to turn mustard yellow at full power.

Personally, I’m torn on this whole gag.    It is kind of funny that Frieza is after the same dumb kind of wish that Bulma was, but it’s also kind of stupid that Frieza is after the exact same thing that Commander Red wanted way back in the original Dragon Ball.   The problem with bringing Frieza back is that no one knows what to do with him.     They already had him attack Earth again, die again, and come back again.   We’ve even seen him team up with the good guys.    But DBS ended with him going off on his merry way, and it looks like he’s rebuilding the Frieza Force, but that feels kind of hollow while he has Goku and Vegeta on his mind.     Having him make another go at the Dragon Balls is a solid move, except the Dragon Balls alone aren’t a motivation because you still need to have something to wish for.    This whole “5cm taller” thing just feels like a gag to cover the lack of an actual answer to the problem.  

  Meanwhile, let’s check in on these two.  The green lady is Cheelai, and the orange guy is Leemo.   They’re in the Frieza Force, but not as warriors.   Leemo’s just a transport pilot, and I don’t really know what Cheelai’s official job is, but their current assignment is to search the galaxy for strong warriors to recruit for Frieza’s army.    When you think about it, Frieza’s pretty bad at this whole “private army” business.   King Cold left him the entire Saiyan race, the Ginyu Force, Zarbon, Dodoria, and whoever else.   First, Frieza wiped out the Saiyans, which made up half of his soldiers.    Then he deployed his finest troops to Namek, where they al got taken out by Goku and Vegeta, two of the Saiyans he neglected to kill.    Then Frieza gets himself and King Cold killed on a pointless revenge mission, leaving Sorbet to try to keep the whole thing going.    Across a fifteen year period, Sorbet probably loses a lot of good soldiers to insurrections and desertion.  Then Frieza comes back and assembles an army of 1000 warriors, and he kills all of them on another pointless revenge mission.

So yeah, in this scene, Cheelai laments that there just aren’t many warriors out there with a power level greater than 1000.   Well there used to be, until Frieza got them all killed.  Now he’s down to scrubs like Leemo, who’s worked for Frieza for decades, but can’t fight worth a damn.    According to Cheelai, she only joined up because she stole a spaceship or something, and knew the authorities wouldn’t chase after her if she was in the Frieza Force.    Really?  I don’t think Frieza would go out of his way to personally avenge or rescue her if the Galactic Patrol caught her.   

There’s a cute gag here where Cheelai mentions how Frieza turned out to be shorter than she expected, and Leemo warns her never to say that again if she values her life, recalling how Berryblue mentioned that Frieza used to execute some of his men for mocking his height behind his back.   Gee, why could Frieza have a staffing problem?    This is why Cell is the best villain.   He’s plenty tall, and he’s not so friggin’ insecure, and he can handle his own shit.

Anyway, the pair pick up a distress signal and it turns out it’s coming from Vampa, where they find Paragus striking... a pose.   Yes.   It’s like he knew he’d be wearing a shower curtain over his legs for the rest of the movie so he wanted to flaunt his goodies now while he still had the chance.

Paragus is now old and grey-headed, but he still has a power level of 4200, which is weaker than Nappa, but still good enough that Leemo and Cheelai are thrilled to take him back on their ship.   But then they get attacked by the giant head lice on Vampa, and Paragus calls for Broly to save them...

...And Cheelai is astounded by his power, which is too high to measure on the scouter.   That... doesn’t mean a whole lot these days, unless they increased the scouters’ range since the Freiza Saga.   Hers doesn’t explode, at least, so they managed to improve that much in the past twenty years.   

So on the ride back, Cheelai spends some time with Broly and gives him ration bars, or maybe it’s just candy, I dunno.    Paragus tells Broly to thank her, but she finds it too formal, and teaches the “Okay” sign as she tells Broly to just say “thank you” and leave it at that.    

Aboard Frieza’s ship, Paragus explains that he had to cut off Broly’s tail because he was getting too powerful, and that Broly would have these surges in power where he would lose all control of himself.   To deal with these, he put a shock collar on Broly’s neck, and he keeps the remote in his fanny pack.   He demonstrates how it works, and Leemo and Cheelai are horrified.

But they’re not so horrified that they balk at their reward for finding these two.  Apparently everyone in DBZ outer space gets paid in ball-point pens.

After Leemo and Cheelai leave, Frieza explains to Paragus that Planet Vegeta was destroyed a long time ago, though he neglects to mention that he did the destroying.   Not that Paragus cares, since he gave up on ever going back there because of King Vegeta.   Frieza mentions that Prince Vegeta is still alive on Earth, and offers to help him get revenge.   

Notably in this scene, Frieza refers to Prince Vegeta as “Vegeta IV,” which makes his dad King Vegeta III.   It’s nice to finally have that settled after all these years.    

I hadn’t noticed this until now, but there’s another lady on the ship besides Cheelai and Berryblue.   Probably not that remarkable, since Cheelai already explained that Frieza was hiring more women now that he couldn’t afford to be picky.   There are sources that say Frieza’s organization just didn’t allow women, period, but I always find those sort of absolutes hard to believe.   There’s also been talk that Frieza’s species has no gender, which is entirely plausible, but then why should Frieza bother with making sexist hiring policies?   

Wait, maybe Frieza got frustrated with it.   Like, he kept misgengering his staff, and he didn’t like looking foolish, so he just went, you know what, no women.   That actually makes some sense, especially in light of this movie, where he’s on a hiring spree for his ultra-important campaign to grow two whole inches.

Oh, wait, I just remembered that tough-looking lady they introduced for Dragon Ball Z: Kakarot.    I guess she was working for Frieza the whole time, but maybe he made special exceptions for quality talent.    Or he separated his crews by gender, so whenever he boards a different ship someone has to tell him which pronouns to use.    This is why Cell’s the best villain, because if you tell him your pronouns, he’ll just fucking remember instead of being a jackass about it.    All thanks to Piccolo’s cells.   Also Nappa’s.  

When Broly and Paragus come down for some food, Cheelai invites them to their table, but Paragus isn’t interested in chatting, and Broly doesn’t seem to know how.   Cheelai asks him why he’s still wearing the green fur around his waist, but when she tries to touch it he flips out, and she backs off.     Mostly, I just like this shot of Cheelai here.  

Also this one, where she gets upset with Paragus for not allowing Broly to tell his tragic backstory.   But we’ll have to save that for the second half of this review.