my honest to god reaction to hearing “give me back my girlhood it was mine first” for the first time

Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve

(can we pretend it says silverstone instead of melbourne thank you)

Part 1: Dear Reader  | Part 2: Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve | Part 3: coming soon

pairing: driver! reader x f1 grid

inspired by: Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve by Taylor Swift (ik the song is unrelated but if anyone wants to cry over the possible Taylor and Joe split, my dms are open)

a/n: a couple months late but you asked and now you shall receive! thank you so much for all the love for Dear Reader, it means the world to me 🥹🤍 super sorry for going ghost (went thru a breakup, cried over a 🤢boy🤢 and tried to get my shit together) but i’m all good now and better than ever! definitely in my reputation era which means y/n will be too... soon. anyways, hope you like this and sending everyone hugs esp after the shitshow that was the aus gp (justice for carlos!!)

warning/s: a bit sad??? longer than i expected it would be but yes

If you would've blinked then I would've Looked away at the first glance If you tasted poison, you could've Spit me out at the first chance And if I was some paint, did it splatter On a promising grown man? And if I was a child, did it matter If you got to wash your hands?

The rest of your time in Monaco was spent coordinating with your team on possible moves forward in F1. Come Tuesday morning, you and Abi were on the way to your home country, a half-assed plan and bundle of nerves in your hands.

“It’ll be alright. You’ve got a kickass mom who’ll drag Christian’s ass to court and back if she has to and you also have me. You know I got your back— even if it means breaking a law or two.” Abi says, squeezing your hand twice as you make your way to your family home.

“For legal reasons, that was a joke.” you chuckle.

“Please, I’ll even help you bury the body.” your mom replies, giving you a small wink from the driver's seat.

You shake your head as you smile, the familiarity of the scenery as well as the playful conversations with your mom and Abi bring you a sense of comfort you had missed. It’s good to be home.

When your mom had pulled up to the driveway, your grandparents were already waiting by the door, a small banner written “welcome back home girls!” in your Nana’s penmanship.

“I missed you guys so much.” you almost cry out as you reach in for a hug.

“Our little racer isn’t so little anymore.” Nana coos.

“We watched your race in Austria, sweetheart. Almost forgot how much of a softie you actually are when I saw you drive.” Papa teases.

“Don’t tell outsiders that she’s a softie, we have a reputation to uphold over here.” Abi pipes, tone going high as she struggles with her bag.

“As if everyone doesn’t know that she’s a softie.” Nana says as she rolls her eyes affectionately.

You all chuckle as you finally make your way inside, Nana noting that she would have supper set up at 6pm.

The rest of the afternoon was spent settling in your respective rooms. Wandering around as you take in your surroundings, a picture frame on your dresser catches your attention.

The 2017 British Grand Prix.

Oh, God. If only you knew.

Oh, oh All I used to do was pray Would've, could've, should've If you'd never looked my way

You placed third at the Formula 2 British Grand Prix. Ahead of you was Charles Leclerc and your teammate, Norman Nato, respectively.

“You know, if he weren’t so cute, I would definitely be screaming at him for overtaking you like that.” Abi mutters as she hands you a towel.

“Please, we both know you’d probably use that as an excuse to make a move.” you playfully scoff as you wipe your face.

“I would,” she shrugs, “but I’m rooting for your enemies to lovers love story”.

“Oh, Abi.” you sigh, “Where did you get that idea?”

“Please, you’ve seen the way he looks when you pass by.” she giggles as she mocks what you assume were lovestruck eyes.

“Quit it. He doesn’t like me like that. He just” you pause, “has that charm.”

“Sure,” she grins, “but when you guys end up together, I’ll be mentioning this moment in my Maid of Honor speech.”

Before you can protest, Kenny Kirwan, your team manager, clears his throat behind you.

“Y/n, Abi, I’d like to introduce you to Christian Horner, the team principal of Red Bull Racing.” he tilts his head to his right.

“Christian, This is Y/n, this is our driver I’ve been telling you about. We’re lucky to have her in our team.” he continues, his smile faltering as you remain stoic.

“Hi. I’m Abi. Her social media manager and best friend.” Abi speaks up, breaking the awkward silence. She extends her hand, eyes darting between the two of you.

“Nice to meet you.” he grins, shaking her hand. “Congrats on second, by the way. I’m so proud of you.” he looks at you, engulfing you in what you suspect was one of those weird man clap hugs.

“Oh! Uh, thank you.” you smile, immediately pulling away. “I didn’t think you would watch my races.”

“I try to. You’ve been progressing well.”  he comments.

“Planning to win the championship, so, you know, gotta get those points.” you reply, shifting your weight between your legs.

“You can do it. You are your father’s daughter after all.” he smirks.

“Uhuh.” you wince.

Kenny does his best to ease the tension, raving about how he discovered your talent and how much potential you have to further in Formula 1.

“Well, it’s been lovely catching up with you but we really have to go. We promised Lorelei we’d be home before late to celebrate.” Abi interrupts.

“Oh! Of course.” he smiles awkwardly. “Um, before you go, maybe you’d want to go to the race tomorrow? I’d love to have you as my guest.”

“Sure. I’d like that. Abi’s my plus one.” you reply. “If that’s okay.” you quickly add, to which he smiles.

“Of course. Well, I’ll go ahead. Gotta get ready for FP3 and quali. You still have the same number?” Christian asks.

All you do is nod as he walks away, a dumbfounded Kenny following suit.

“Wait ‘til your mom hears about this.” Abi breaks you out of your trance, yanking your arm to lead you to your room.

I would've stayed on my knees And I damn sure never would've danced with the devil At nineteen And the God's honest truth is that the pain was heaven And now that I'm grown, I'm scared of ghosts Memories feel like weapons And now that I know, I wish you'd left me wondering

As it turns out, Formula 1 had a completely different vibe from Formula 2; the screams were louder, the air was hotter and everyone seemed more tense. However, no one was as tense as you.

“I don’t know Abi.” you sigh, your hands gripping the wheel. “What if it’s worse than yesterday?” you turn to look at her.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” she asks, eyes trained on the mirror as she applies yet another layer of lip gloss.

“His wife can hate me. I get run over. I run over someone. I make a fool out of myself in the paddock. I unintentionally ruin my chances of ever becoming a Formula 1 driver which will then stop me from achieving my dream of becoming a Formula 1 World Champion.” your grip tightening as you ramble on.

Abi glances at your hands, sensing that you were about to slip into one of your spirals. She immediately grabs a hold of those and squeezes twice. Breathe In.

“She’ll love you. You won’t be on the track. You won’t be driving. You can always apologize and flash your adorable smile. I won’t let you ruin your chances. You will become a formula 1 driver. You will become world champion. It’s going to be fun, trust me” her hands squeezing yours twice again. Breathe Out.

“Fuck it. Okay. Let’s do this.” you mutter, quickly closing your windows and stepping out of your car.

The two of you pass through the gates, feeling a bit out of place and out of your element as a guest. Christian gave the two of you a tour of the Red Bull hospitality, introducing you to the crew while at it. Although they all seemed nice, your stomach churned every time surprise would flash their face when Christian introduced you as his daughter.

When time was nearing the race, he excused himself to look for his drivers. Abi left as well, muttering something about finding the ladies’ room. That left you standing alone in a corner of the garage, too shy to add on to the hustle and bustle of the race day.

“You look lonely, want some company?” you hear a voice to your right.

“Oh! Um, sure. If you want.” you reply, flustered.

“Okay.” he heartily laughs, “So, are you here for a sponsor or something?” he asks.

“A personal guest? I think.” you chuckle, “It’s complicated.”

“Well, complicated, nice to meet you. I’m Daniel.” he grins, offering you his hand to shake.

“I actually know who you are.” you smile back as you shake his hand, “Not that I stalk you or anything! I’ve watched a few of your races.”

“I’m a driver too. Well, currently in Formula 2.”  you continue, embarrassment tinging your cheeks, “Y/n y/l/n”.

“Oh no, more young drivers!” he dramatically gasps, “Another reminder that I’m aging.”

“You don’t look a day over 70!” you joke, face immediately paling when you realize what you just said. “Oh God! I’m so-”, your apology cut off by Daniel's laughter.

“Oh, I like you. You’re funny.” he breathily sighs. “We can be friends now.”

“So sense of humor is part of your friendship checklist?” you tease, mentally thanking whichever angel God sent you. “Sadly you didn’t tick that box on mine.”

“Okay,” he pouts his lips. “Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?” you roll your eyes.

“Chickens.”

“Chickens who?”

“Enkkk.” he voices out, mimicking a buzzer. “Owls hoot, chickens cluck.”

You purse your lips. “A for effort. We should be friends so we can work on your sense of humor, grandpa.”

Daniel scoffs and places his hands on his chest, feigning hurt.

“Daniel!” someone hollers. “Mate, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Damn it.” Daniel chuckles. “I really thought I was gonna win at hide and seek this week.”

“Christian says we have to go over some notes before the race” he goes on, clueless to your presence.

“Well, it seems I have to bid you adieu.” Daniel turns to you, bowing to add to your amusement. “Till next time, mademoiselle.”

Daniel leaves, heading to what you guess is their meeting room. The stranger follows him, sending you a sheepish smile, presumably his form of apology for interrupting your conversation. You wave him off with a smile, shouting a quick “Good luck!” as they pass.

If you never touched me, I would've Gone along with the righteous If I never blushed, then they could've Never whispered about this And if you never saved me from boredom I could've gone on as I was But, Lord, you made me feel important And then you tried to erase us

Despite both of the Red Bulls not being able to set foot on the podium, the garage still celebrated points; P4 for Daniel and P5 for his teammate, Max. Daniel, being Mister Congeniality, insisted (quite ruthlessly) that you come to the afterparty. This is how you and Abi ended up back in your room, flipping out over outfit options.

“I think we need to find you the perfect ensemble that screams I’m classy but I can be a slut if I want to.” Abi shouts from inside your closet, another batch of dresses being thrown towards the growing pile on the floor.

“I can’t look like a slut, Abi. My father might be there.” You mutter, setting up your makeup at the vanity.

As much as it bothered you, you knew better than to try to clean while Abi rummaged through your clothes. She once gave you an earful, going on about how messy people are creative geniuses. Thus, the artist shall not be disturbed.

“We’re trying to attract a driver and a driver’s seat, not your father. ” she gags, head peeking out of the closet. “Have you seen the way that Max guy looked at you?”.

“No, because I’m not looking at him.” you turn away. “Besides, I thought you were rooting for a certain Monegasque.”

“I am, but it's rude to disregard other contenders.” she shrugs, passing you a little black dress. “I think this is it. Max will definitely keep his eyes on you tonight.”

Just as always, Abi was right. When you had finally arrived at the pub, Max immediately spotted you, nudging Daniel towards your direction.

“Glad you can make it, mademoiselle.” Daniel greets you, reenacting his bow from earlier that day.

“Good evening, Sire.” you curtsy in response.

“May I escort thee to thy party chambers?” he continues his act, mimicking a posh accent you’ve mostly heard in period dramas.  

“I’d be most delighted, o good Sir.” you nod, locking arms with him and Abi with the other. “I’d like to introduce my companion. Sir Daniel, meet Lady Abigail.”

“Delighted to make your acquaintance, Lady Abigail.” he waves with his free hand.

“You guys are crazy.” Abi snorts. “But likewise, Sir Daniel.”

He leads the two of you to a booth, excusing himself to get the two of you a drink. Max was still seated at the same spot, nursing a half empty bottle of beer.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your conversation with Daniel before the race and for not introducing myself then.” he sheepishly smiles at you. “I’m Max.”

“Y/n, and no worries about that. It was a busy time.” you smile back. “This is my friend by the way, Abi.”

“Congrats on P5.” she nods at him, eyes immediately darting back to the crowd.

Before Max could get another word in, Daniel returns with drinks in his hands.

“Three margaritas for the lovely ladies and myself.” he gives a cheeky smile while passing out the drinks. “Another beer for Max.”

The four of you spent the night getting to know each other better. Halfway through your drinks, Daniel excuses himself to mingle with other guests. Abi excuses herself as well, saying she needs to get water but you later catch her wink at you while a guy talks her up at the bar. That bitch (affectionately).

“So, you come to races often?” Max asks, shifting your attention back to him.

“Mostly busy with my own but I watch you guys from time to time.” you smile.

“You race too?” he chokes on his drink.

“Currently in Formula 2, yes.” Handing him a tissue, you chuckle. “I kinda take offense at your shock.”

“Sorry, it’s just that-” he starts off, wiping off his lips. “I think it’s best if you don’t finish that sentence.” you giggle. “So, Max, how long have you been racing?”

“Well, pretty much ever since my dad thought I was old enough to start.” he mutters.

“So, since you were in the womb?” you joke.

“Pretty much.” he laughs. “You?”

“Similar. Got into it because of my dad as well but continued for myself.” you look down and fidget with your rings.

“Anyways,” he clears his throat. “What’s your favorite team?”

“Ferrari.” you grin. “Big Vettel fan here.”

“You were hanging out in the wrong garage then.” he muses. “Any way I can switch you over to my side?”

“I can be convinced,” you tease. “if given enough incentive.”

“How about I convince you over dinner?” he asks.

“Bold ask.” you giggle. “I’d have to think about that.”

Oh, oh You're a crisis of my faith Would've, could've, should've If I'd only played it safe

At that time, it seemed like the world was working in your favor. You had three consecutive podiums in Hungaroring, Spa and Monza. To add to the excitement, all of those races coincided with that of the F1 calendar, giving you more chances to hang out in the Red Bull garages.

The highlight, though, would be Monza. After winning first place, Christian invited you to breakfast to celebrate and “make up for lost time”. Abi, being the perfect balance of tough love and unending support, decided it’d be best for you to go alone, much to your dismay. You paced back and forth in the hallway, making a mental list of things to not bring up. Your thoughts come to a halt when you hear the click of the door, revealing Geri on her way out.

“Y/n! Christian’s inside. You can just head in.” she smiles, hand holding the doorknob.

“Oh, okay.” you breathe out. “Sorry, I’m just a bit nervous.”

“It’s alright.” she chuckles. “He’s nervous too if that’s any consolation.”

“A little.” you giggle. “Um, I hope it’s not an intrusion. Me being here, I mean.”

“That’s nonsense!” she exclaims. “I just thought it’d be better for the two of you to talk things out alone. But, if you’re open to it, I’d love to get to know you better as well.”

“I’d like that.” you exhale. “Well, I think I should head in.”

“Of course.” she laughs, moving towards the lift. Turning around she says, “He’s trying, you know.”

Not knowing what to say, you offer a smile and head inside their room.

“Honey, do you think she’d want more food? Or is this enough?” you hear him shout.

Heading towards the dining area, you chuckle. “She left already. But, if you’re planning to feed the entire grid, maybe we can order more food.”

“Y/n.” he grins. “It’s lovely to see you.”

“You too.” you mutter, taking a seat opposite him.

“So,” he clears his throat. “I saw you win yesterday, congratulations!”

“Thanks.” you beam. “I heard you guys got P2 and P3 for quali. Must be looking forward to this race huh?”

“Quite.” he hands you a plate of waffles. “You still like this, right?”

“You remembered.” you gasp. “Even the strawberries and bananas.”

“I checked with your mom to make sure I got it right.” his cheeks tinges with embarrassment. “Gotta feed next year’s potential F1 driver well.”

“What?” your jaw drops. “Formula 1?”

“I introduced you to Franz Tost for a reason. He told me he’d love to have you in Toro Rosso next year.” he muses. “Maybe after that, you’d be racing for Red Bull.”

“HOLY SHIT!” you scream. “Is this for real?”

“Yes. It is.” he chuckles.

“Wait, who’s leaving?” you pause.

“Well, you’ll be taking Daniil’s seat. Carlos is moving to Renault for the last few races which leaves you, hopefully, and Pierre to complete the team next year.”

“Will they still be racing next year?” you ask.

“Carlos will be with Renault and I’m still unsure about Kvyat.” he says. “So, thoughts?”

“I’d have to discuss it with my team but personally, it’d be an honor.”

If clarity's in death, then why won't this die? Years of tearing down our banners, you and I Living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first

You get up from your bed, hands still clutching the picture frame. Based on the dark view outside your window, you assume you overslept, completely missing supper. You tuck the frame in a random drawer. Out of sight, out of mind.

You make your way to the kitchen, moving quietly to not wake anyone else up. You almost scream when you see your grandpa sitting on a barstool, a faint light casting a shadow.

“Why are you up so late?” you clutch your chest, trying to calm your heart.

“Just thinking, you know.” he mutters. “Worrying about you.”

“Oh Pa, I’m alright.” you hug him, taking a seat at his side. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, kiddo.” he breathes out. “I heard you crying earlier. I know you’re not fine.”

You sit there in silence. Although you were raised so open to emotions, you still had trouble expressing your own, worried about worrying others.

“When you had your first accident during your karting days, I freaked out. I almost had your mom pull you out, thinking that the sport was too much for you.” he starts. “Then, on our way to the car, you walked up to me and Nan and said, ‘look Pa! I have battle marks! I can go against the tough ones now!’. You had tears in your eyes and a bruise on your leg and arm, but you looked so happy.”

He grabs both of your hands, rubbing his thumbs across the back. “I knew then I didn’t have to protect you, not because you didn’t need it. God knows I tried my best to do that. But, you didn’t want it. You were so good on your own.”

“Not to be a sexist asshole but there were times when I wished you chose a more common hobby. Ballet, piano, anything that didn’t have a high risk of me losing you.” he breathes out. “It wasn’t just the physical aspect too. I just- I see complete strangers say just cruel things about you and how you started losing bits of yourself.”

“You’ve grown, but I used to be able to still see that little racer in her braids and a goofy smile with a missing tooth. Now, it’s like you turned into this machine. I get that it’s a tough sport but I worry you will lose your heart and spirit.”

“I- ” you sniffle, “I love racing. I know that.”

“I can see myself doing this for the rest of my life but right now I feel so lost.” you continue. “I never would’ve imagined being this close to achieving my dreams and now it’s gone.”

“And it’s silly. Like, I know I have mom. I have you and Nan. Abi too.” you breathe in. “But he should’ve been part of my life as well. He’s not just mom’s friend from college who knocked her up. He’s my father.”

Although your tears start to flow, you continue. “As much as his absence hurt, I still tried. I gave up my childhood and other dreams I had to be here.”

“The worst part of it all was me thinking I finally got what I wanted. That I finally had a dad.” you exhale. “Then he sold my femininity to the world then threw me away.”

God rest my soul, I miss who I used to be The tomb won't close, stained glass windows in my mind I regret you all the time I can't let this go, I fight with you in my sleep The wound won't close, I keep on waiting for a sign I regret you all the time Oh, God rest my soul, I miss who I used to be The tomb won't close, stained glass windows in my mind I regret you all the time I can't let this go, I fight with you in my sleep The wound won't close, I keep on waiting for a sign

Heading to the track felt like hell, dread filled your stomach and your hands were clammy with sweat. For your sake, Abi had ensured you wouldn’t get any press time and to your surprise, the teams agreed. Thinking about it now, you assume it was to save their dwindling reputation. Although your social battery was at an all time low, you still stopped to interact with your fans on your way to and from the paddock. As genuine as your gratitude was, your smile and thank you’s were visibly forced.

Everyone knew what this race weekend meant to you. You’ve been looking forward to racing in Silverstone, making it your goal of the season to go on the podium at your home race in your dream team. However, that seems like something only possible in an alternate reality. Despite Max’s pleas of you staying in Red Bull, you refused. You didn’t even bother telling him about your shift back to Toro Rosso or that you had moved out of his place. He’ll find out one way or another.

Thankfully, your schedule and distance from their garage minimized your interactions with certain members of the Red Bull team. Nevertheless, keeping true to your promise, you invited Daniel and a couple other drivers to meals in between practices, doing your best to front a “I’m doing better than you think” facade. You even reached out to Alex Albon, making it clear that there is no bad blood between you and that his replacement isn’t something you took personally.

Come Sunday morning, you have grown accustomed to your new (or old) team. Staring at the mirror gave you a sense of deja vu; the bold text of “Red Bull” across your suit mocked you. Wiping off a few stray tears, you can’t help but think about yourself from a year ago and what she would’ve thought about your situation. Would she laugh at the irony or would she cry with you?

You turn around when you hear a faint knock. Abi peeks in, a small smile gracing her face. “It’s almost race time. Are you ready?”

“Fuck no.”

a/n: as always, would love to hear your thoughts so feedback is more than welcome (but please be kind) !!!  to all that shared their love for Dear Reader, you have my heart and i hope this part did not disappoint 🫂 took a while to get here (seriously wrote a long ass piece then completely changed everything but ohwell) and i think i’m happy with the direction so far?? also, please let me know if you want to be part of the taglist or if it’s not working (still unsure abt how this works but i shall figure it out!)

taglist: @lighttsoutlewis @holy-macncheese-balls @for-fuck-sake-im-alive​ @idkiwantchocolatee @dan3avocado @aquamariene-me 

lord you made me feel importunt..

so basically… i feel like taylor is singing from karlie’s perspective in WCS. and i think she is addressing two people— taylor and josh.

i imagine this song as the culmination of a lot of arguments and negotiations between the three of them over the years about how to proceed with things. i think it’s not too wild to imagine that karlie has been caught in the middle of the two of them a lot, in terms of emotional labor. i don’t have a specific time pinpointed for this song but maybe it is the “night i nearly lost you” that taylor talks about in the great war. it was karlie finally reaching her boiling point, and airing her grievances at both of them.

judging by interviews and karlie’s overall persona and demeanor, i think that karlie is the type of person who puts others before herself, and doesn’t easily let things get to her. so i imagine that when she does get angry enough to raise her voice, that it’s very jarring and would stick with you.

here is a selection of lines that i draw parallels with, which, in aggregate, make me think wcs fits more in the kaylor narrative than anything about jm:

years of tearing down our banners // tore our banners down took the battle underground

living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts // i knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired

if i never blushed, then they could've never whispered about this // they whisper in the hallway, "she's a bad, bad girl"

if you never touched me, i would've gone along with the righteous // touch me and you’ll never be alone

and if i was some paint, did it splatter on a promising grown man? // you paint dreamscapes on the wall

i keep on waiting for a sign // you never gave a warning sign (i gave so many signs)

stained glass windows in my mind, i regret you all the time // you say what a mind, this happens all the time

i miss who i used to be // remind her how it used to be

the tomb won’t close // spineless in my tomb of silence

memories feel like weapons // we can plant a memory garden

some other small points are..

i think she sings with a certain tone to her voice that reminds me of karlie. her emphasis on the word “important” reminds me of how karlie famously pronounces that word funnily, and there are a few expressions that remind me of how people in the midwest/southern united states speak “damn sure never would’ve” “but lord you made me feel” “god’s honest truth” “god rest my soul” etc

plus, karlie was introduced to josh at 19 years old so. there’s that parallel too.

so given these things i think the first verses might be addressed to josh and the second verse to taylor and maybe the third is to both of them. “if clarity’s in death than why won’t this die? years of tearing down our banners you and i” at her and “living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts give me back my girlhood it was mine first” at him

and a sidenote: following a similar framework i actually think it’s possible that illicit affairs is also from karlie’s perspective directed at the two of them.. “don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby”

i also think it’s sort of important that both of them are older than karlie, in terms of the dynamics. i feel like maybe it had made karlie feel like a toy or pawn or not listened to… or that the way they talked about what karlie should do—their style of communication when risk assessing—might have felt too clinical at times. the muse as object. and over time, perhaps she looked back and wondered, was this right? should i have gone along with everything like i did? or was it just what i grew up knowing?

listening to the song this way makes me incredibly emotional.. getting so close to being together publicly indefinitely, all the praise and centering of karlie as the hero and centerfold of taylor’s life during 1989 era, only for the backtracking and erasing. one might also say we were starting to get flickers of this with early lover era. years of tearing down banners.

so yeah… and, we count renegade as written from her lover’s perspective because of the tn tweet,

so i think it’s not that far out to assume she wrote other songs with karlie’s perspective too

just this idea of taylor taking the time to explore her muse’s perspective.

so yeah, this is my thought.

My Small Analysis of Would've Could've Should've

Forward notes

I am not a native English user, neither am I cultured by western literture or religion. Yet, I've been learning English since a little kid, and have watched and read many stories in western themes. So I am confident with what I write about. But if I make a clear mistake, feel free to point me out anytime.

Futhermore, everything I write are just my opinion. I do not know Taylor, I do not know if she is queer. These are just my interpretation of her art and her music, no need to say anything rude about what I think. But discussion is welcomed in the comment section. ☺️

My First Thoughts

This song is gay as hell.

I can't believe there's only a few people who thinks of that (even the gaylor community didn't seem to see this song too much). This song is sooo LOUD. The theme of thinking love is a sin, of 'gone along with the righteous' if 'you never'd touched me', of thinking 'pain was heaven'? Oh my god, so gay. What kind of people will think their love is a sin? Queer people.

Thoughout history, sinned love happens because of society's disapproval. Like loving a sex worker, loving a woman who is married, or loving the same sex. If there are only parents who disapprove, it wouldn't make it such as a 'sinned' love. What is suspicious though, in Taylor's case, she was always seen dating men with nice appearances, white, famous and rich man. And if people are right, if they are really dating, why should you feel sinned dating these fine men? People may say that John Mayer is a bad boy, but no one would call dating a bad boy as a sin.

Besides the sinned theme, the other part I think was gay is during the bridge when she yells, "Give me back my GIRL... hood, it was mine first." I literally didn't hear the 'hood', I thought that was her coming out for a second. But then a looked up the lyrics and oh, no she said "girlhood". But still, I kept the thought that the original lyrics was "girl",

Song Lyrics Analysis

I'll try my best to explain myself since English is not my first language. It'll be difficult and I'll have to check the dictionary to make sure with some of the words. And I'll try my best doing line by line. Here we go!

If you would've blinked then I would've Looked away at the first glance

If you tasted poison, you could've Spit me out at the first chance

These two lines are simple. The lover is looking at Taylor intensely and Taylor tries hard not to fall for them (I'm using gender neutral pronouns here. Because why not?). Also, Taylor think of herslf as poison, I guess it could refer to "I once was poison ivy." In Don't Blame Me. And it also pointed out how sinned Taylor thinks herself was.

If I was some paint, did it splatter On a promising grown man? And if I was a child, did it matter If you got to wash your hands?

These are the lines I thought about quite frequently to figure out what it is all about. I guess, the paint is like something colorful, probably something like gayness. And it splatter on a grown man, who I guess is the elder lover, asking: did my gayness pass over to you as I splatter on you?

If I was a child, meaning if this is all childish and shouldn't be taken seriously, did you get to wash out the gayness we had?

Ooh, oh All I used to do was pray Would've, could've, should've If you'd never looked my way

Now Taylor hoping that this love never happened. And "praying" for it, as in a religious way, hoping the love intrest didn't lured her and took her away from what she was the first place.

I would've stayed on my knees And I damn sure never would've danced with the devil At nineteen And the God's honest truth is that the pain was heaven And now that I'm grown, I'm scared of ghosts Memories feel like weapons And now that I know, I wish you'd left me wondering

I think it's quite obvious here so I'm not gonna say much. Just vibe with it yall.

If you never touched me, I would've Gone along with the righteous If I never blushed, then they could've Never whispered about this

Touching me is sinned? GAY.

People whispered about our love? GAY.

And if you never saved me from boredom I could've gone on as I was But, Lord, you made me feel important And then you tried to erase us

So now we figured why Taylor's so sad, because her lover wants to erase thier love. I deeply doubted that this song is about Emily who had married in and probably "moved on" and erase everything they had. But I don't know anything, it's just speculations.

You're a crisis of my faith Would've, could've, should've If I'd only played it safe

I saw someone on Reddit talking about the feeling of this love made a crisis. I think the person interpreted it so well. You can go check it out by jsut searching "Would've Could've Should've Gaylor"😆

God rest my soul, I miss who I used to be The tomb won't close, stained glass windows in my mind I regret you all the time I can't let this go, I fight with you in my sleep The wound won't close, I keep on waiting for a sign I regret you all the time

So I guess this is Taylor sitting through her sleepless nights thinking about how she regrets doing it wrong then. Letting her past lover chase her down as a phantom in her dreams. Really scary isn't it.

If clarity's in death, then why won't this die? Years of tearing down our banners, you and I Living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first

The bridge is also a part that I have no idea about. "Clarity's in death" may be saying that their love is already secret and private and no one really know what happened, but even though this love is basically invisible, it still won't die. It still aches.

"Tearing down the banners"? Well I seriously can't think of anything. I might guess parading, but it doesn't seem so.

Last two lines? I'm so sorry. I can't get anything out😭

So. That was my first Taylor Swift line by line analysis. I think I could do better but I just really want to share my thoughts. Please comment if you have different ideas!!!

I was going through the midnights album and got to “Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve” and I made some very sad and depressing comparisons with Feyre and that song and I didn’t want to suffer alone.

“If I was some paint, did it splatter on a promising grown man”

“If clarity’s in death then why won’t this die”

“Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first”

I’m just copy and paste what Genius says about that girlhood line real quick…

“She regrets him, not only because the relationship was unhealthy, but because he was a grown man who decided to date someone who was just a “girl,” taking advantage of their age difference and resulting power imbalance. This experience forced her to grow up quicker than she should have, ending her “girlhood.” Now, years later, she laments the loss of her youth, wishing that she had been a girl a little while longer.”

She had to grow up pretty damn fast not only with taking care of her family but she felt suffocated and felt forced to marry Tamlin and practically become/act like a grown woman so young. Also Taylor mentions she was 19 in this song… Feyre was 19 when she started to get involved with Tamlin.

I’m going to go cry in the corner if anyone wants to join me😭

I'm going to join you in that corner, anon. Let's cry together

I'm so glad that Feyre has Rhys, who showed her that even in seemingly hopeless situations, she has a choice and he does everything to give her that choice

@timesconvert and I allready did some comparisons between Taylor and Feyre and the way both see the world AND their appearences are fairly similar

What's your favourite lyric from Midnights?

Oh my god! My favourite lyric from the whole album?! That's so hard! It definitely depends on my mood and I love different lyrics for different reasons. I can't actually chose just one but here are a few...

From the main album, I love the final chorus of 'You're On Your Own, Kid' ("From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes / I gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this / I hosted parties and starved my body / Like I'd be saved by a perfect kiss / The jokes weren't funny, I took the money / My friends from home don't know what to say / I looked around in a blood-soaked gown / And I saw something they can't take away / 'Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned / Everything you lose is a step you take / So make the friendship bracelets / Take the moment and taste it / You've got no reason to be afraid / You're on your own, kid / Yeah, you can face this / You're on your own, kid / You always have been") and "So I peered through a window / A deep portal, time travel / All the love we unravel / And the life I gave away" from 'Midnight Rain' and "I made you my world, have you heard? / I can reclaim the land / And I miss you / But I miss sparkling" from 'Bejeweled but I also feel so seen by "It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me / It's me, hi, everybody agrees, everybody agrees" from 'Anti-Hero' and "To you I can admit / That I'm just too soft for all of it" from 'Sweet Nothing.'

As for the 3am tracks, I love the final verse from 'The Great War' ("We can plant a memory garden / Say a solemn prayer, place a poppy in my hair / There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair / And we will never go back / To that bloodshed, crimson clover / Uh-huh, the worst was over / My hand was the one you reached for / All throughout the Great War") and 'Would've, Could've, Should've' really hits home so lyrics like "If I was some paint, did it splatter on a promising grown man? / And if I was a child, did it matter if you got to wash your hands?" and "But, Lord, you made me feel important / And then you tried to erase us" and "God rest my soul, I miss who I used to be / The tomb won't close, stained glass windows in my mind / I regret you all the time / I can't let this go, I fight with you in my sleep / The wound won't close, I keep on waiting for a sign / I regret you all the time" and "Living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts / Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first" hit so hard that my stomach hurts but in a really validating way.

Okay, that was way more than one and way more than even a few but I couldn't help myself. I love lyrics and I love Taylor lyrics. What's a girl to do?

Thank you so much for your ask!

What’s your favourite song on Midnights and which one do you think is gayest?

hi anon thanks for the question ^_^

i am sooooo madly in love with midnights, i just adore every single song so it's hard for me to choose just one! also i really love the way they all flow into each other so my mind almost doesn't even separate them. it's like one cohesive piece of work.

but to rave more specifically (and i'll try not to just list all of them lol) my top tracks today are mastermind, would've could've should've, question, bigger than the whole sky, vigilante shit, midnight rain (......ok i can see i'm just listing the whole album lol)

as for the GAYEST, hooooo boy! i feel like the 3am tracks are much more explicitly gay than the main album songs, which makes sense (possibility that fewer ppl will listen to "bonus tracks" ? or consider them part of the whole).

paris. "i want to transport you to somewhere the culture's clever, confess my truth in swooping sloping letters." i think that says it all.

glitch, omg, i don't know how a person could hear this beauty as anything other than about a woman falling in love with another woman (and specifically taylor falling in love with her alliterate model who KODES : GLITCH!!?) "we were supposed to be just friends" but oops she hates accidents except when they went from friends to this 🤭 "i'll go back to wanting dudes who give nothing" "i thought we had no chance" (cause they're both girls and they shouldn't) "i was supposed to sweat you out" makes me think of "fever dream high in the quiet of the night" in cruel summer which i think is about the same story. i imagine her being told by a higher-up to get over this infatuation a la harold zidler telling satine to get over christian in moulin rouge because he's bad for business and it can't be allowed to become something real. (that was an image i'd had simmering for a while) and then of course there's the ridiculously specific "2190 days" which if you haven't heard what we calculated that matching up to, give it a look ☺️😉

"a brief interruption, a slight malfunction, i'd go back to wanting dudes who give nothing, i thought we had no chance and that's romance (let's dance)" ohhhh it's just so goddamn sexy in a forbidden sapphic love way that ahhh 🫠 i cannot get over it!! taylor alison swift wrote this song recorded it and put it on an album skfjekiwkendjk

as for would've could've should've, i'm as gaylor as they come but i honestly hear this song as about a man. it's funny, i honestly feel like her most scathing angry rageful vicious songs are about men (and the tender lovely deep foreverlove ones are about women lol it's just my gut!). definitely in part because of the age 19/dear john reference, but also because of the unfairness of misogynist society "if i was some paint did it splatter on a promising grown man?" a how there are endless instances of older men hurting younger women, romantically or reputationally or other.

however, one day i decided to listen to it with my gay-ears and it was QUITE interesting !! it is full of religious guilt imagery, sinning and pondering her own accountability in that, as well as blaming the other person for "ruining" her. it's an extremely powerful interpretation, imo, even though there are details in the beginning that don't fit. but hey, she's added hetwashing details to other songs (like dress, betty, love story, etc) that would be SUPER undeniably gay if she hadn't thrown those things in, so! that hasn't stopped me from hearing deliciously overt queerness in her songs before, and i hope it won't stop you because it is so so interesting to listen to it that way!

i must wrap this up but i could talk for daysssss about midnights, so perhaps i'll add on to this in the future ☺️

It’s time for

Favorite Lyrics from every Midnights Song

Lavender Haze I’ve been under scrutiny/ You handle it beautifully

Maroon And I chose you/ the one I was dancing with/ In New York, no shoes

Anti-Hero I’ll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror but also the entire bridge

Snow on the Beach stars by the pocketful/ you wanting me/ tonight feels impossible

You’re on Your Own Kid I hosted parties and starved my body/ like I’d be saved by a perfect kiss

Midnight Rain Probably just: he was sunshine, I was midnight rain But I also want to shout out: my boy was a montage/ a slow motion, love potion/ jumping off things in the ocean

Question...? ‘cause I don’t remember who I was before/ you painted all my nights/ a color I’ve searched for since

Vigilante Lately, I’ve been dressin’ for revenge or while he was doing lines and crossing all of mine

Bejeweled I made you my world, have you heard?/ I can reclaim the land

Labyrinth  oh no, I’m fallin’ in love again

Karma karma is a cat/ purring in my lap ‘cause it loves me and karma is the thunder/ rattling your ground

Sweet Nothing you say, “what a mind”/ this happens all the time

Mastermind I laid the groundwork, and then/ just like clockwork/ the dominoes cascaded in a line and I swear/ I’m only cryptic and Machiavellian/ ‘cause I care

The Great War my hand was the hand you reached for And soldier down on that icy ground/ looked up at me with honor and truth and the whole song

Bigger than the Whole Sky you were more than just a short time

Paris “Did you see the photos?”/ No, I didn’t, but thanks, though And I’m so in love that I might stop breathing

High Infidelity  put on your records and regret me

Glitch And I'm not even sorry, nights are so starry/ Blood moonlit

Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve Obviously, give me back my girlhood, it was mine first But also: And if I was some paint. did it splatter/ on a promising grown man? 

Dear Reader If you knew where I was walking/ To a house, not a home, all alone 'cause nobody's there/ Where I pace in my pen and my friends found friends who care

my (current) most relatable lyrics on midnights but this is gonna change like 50 times also i am mentally ill

1. “did you hear my covert narcissism i disguise as altruism?” - anti-hero

2. “living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts, give me back my girlhood it was mine first” - would’ve, could’ve, should’ve

3. “if i was some paint did it splatter on a promising grown man? and if i was a child did it matter if you got to wash your hands?” - would’ve, could’ve, should’ve

4. “i wake up screaming from dreaming one day i’ll watch as your leaving and life will lose all it’s meaning for the last time” - anti-hero

5. “you’re a crisis of my faith” - would’ve, could’ve, should’ve

6. “i wake with your memory over me, that’s a real fucking legacy to leave” - maroon

7. “i searched the party of better bodies just to learn that my dreams aren’t rare” - you’re on your own, kid

8. “i peered through a window, a deep portal, time travel, all the love we unravel, and the life i gave away” - midnight rain

9. “maybe it’s the past that’s talking, screaming from the crypt, telling me to punish you for things you never did, so i justified it” - the great war

10. “god rest my soul, i miss who i used to be, the tomb won’t close, stained glass windows in my mind, i regret you all the time, i can’t let this go, i fight with you in my sleep, the wound won’t close, i keep on waiting for a sign, i regret you all the time” - would’ve, could’ve, should’ve

11. “you were more than just a short time, i’ve got a lot to pine about, i’ve got a lot to live without, i’m eber gonna meet what could’ve been, would’ve been, what should’ve been you

12. “on the way home, i wrote a poem, you say “what a mind”, this happens all the time” - sweet nothing

13. “bet i could still melt your world, argumentative antithetical dream girl” - hits different

for the game, how about top 5 favorite colors? and what are your top 5 taylor albums? (if you can narrow them down lol, it’s so hard to narrow down that kind of stuff! but i want to hear your thoughts 😁)

hi!! how are you :)

Sage Green, Lavender, Rust, Cream, Muted Yellow, and Dusty Blue are all my favorite colors. Just kind of natural looking colors that I like to incorporate into decor in my room

I just did my top three, but I cannot come up with the next two. It's impossible. It's either Fearless than Lover OR Rep than Speak Now. ---- 1. Folklore/Evermore: It's a cop-out, but in my mind there is no separating Folklore & Evermore. I would say that I prefer Evermore. I love the rich lyricism and the soft instrumentals that are the backbone of her most poignant album, but there would be no Evermore without Folklore. Both albums (in my humble opinion) build and expand the TS-lore she's known for, which is something I really enjoy. I mean Evermore's storylines, from mourning her grandma to seeking revenge on an unfaithful husband are wide to say the least.

Favorite Lyric: I can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland, my house of stones, your ivy grows, now I'm covered in you Favorite Song: Seven & Evermore

2. Red: Red is the only album self-described as a break up album. It's full of some of the deepest cuts and others are confusing and seemingly missed place. Red, to me, is also nostalgic. I remember listening and adoring it at 11 and adoring it all over again at 20 last fall. My favorite tid-bit from this album, is the story behind We Are Never Getting Back Together. This song, according to TS herself, was created to be a pop single played over and over and over again on the radio that would make the muse so annoyed because it's glaringly obvious it's about him and he despises pop music. It was a petty move, and I have to say, I respect it. Another thing about this album is that it marks her transition from a country artist to a pop artisit. Untill the release of Folklore/Evemore, TS found a place in the pop world. This wasn't necessarily the case prior to the release of Red. It's evident by the "Vault tracks" released on Red (TV) that she wanted to include more pop-inspired songs on the album, but wasn't album to do so (management/label).

Favorite Lyric: Put your lips close to mine as long as they don't touch. Out of focus, eye to eye 'til the gravity's too much Favorite Song: The Last Time

Midnights: Midnights, arguably, is TS's most vulnerable album yet. Songs like Anti-Hero, Bigger Than The Whole Sky, Would've Could've Should've, and Dear Reader reveal the inner workings of TS's mind and thoughts. Midnights is reflective, not unlike the thoughts that keep us burning the midnight oil. I really love when Jack Antonoff and TS work together. Usually his sound is more expressive, but they did an amazing job using the narative of late night/sleepless nights to create a subued sound that provided audiotory interest while still allowing their strong lyricism to shine.

Favorite Lyric: If I was some paint, did it splatter on a promising grown man? And if I was a child, did it matter if you got to wash your hands? Favorite Song: Would've Could've Should've (I'm a fiend for her songs with religious themes)

Yelena

Hi everyone, as promised when I reach 50,000 hits! We get to see a different side of Yelena, a bit softer since we hear her inner thoughts. I hope you enjoy!  (Also, unlike the other mini fics I post on here, this one is canon and exists within the series!)  _____________________________________________________________

           I am barely old enough to tie my shoes, I when I meet Natasha. She walks in first, leading a group of young girls like her- wet and frozen. But she holds her head high and commands the room, despite barely being up to the guards’ waist. It hadn’t been my first time seeing her, as I look down from my hiding spot on the stairs, but it is my first time noticing her. The next day, during our free hour, I seek her out.            She is in the courtyard, alone. We are never alone here, so this being the case is odd. It took a great deal of effort on my side to get out here without Fredrik, one of the guards for the younger girls, to notice me.            “Hello,” she greets me without taking attention off her task, “Yelena, correct?” She turns around now, her eyes bright and face kind. Kindness, such a rarity.            “Yes,”            “I am Natalia,” She sets down the stick in her hand, “You were watching last night, when we came home.”            “I heard some of the older girls, this is when they start to have less of us.”            “The trick is to take off your coat and keep your hands cupped.” She sits down on the grass, stick in hand once more. I walk over, looking down at her project. They are swirling lines, graceful, looking like art. “It is cursive English. I am practicing,” She explains.            “No one else would tell me about the water,”            “Everyone else wants you dead,” She states matter-of-factly. No deception or tricks.            “You don’t?” I do not yet understand the permanence of death, only that it was undesirable, worse than even the Red Room.            “No.” She wipes the sand from her palms, and then leans back to look up at the sky.            “Why?”            “I don’t want any of them to die. I can’t save everyone, but I’ll die trying.” Her mouth form into a hard line, and to most, it would cute, seeing a little girl seem so resolute. But that same look of determination, years later, would cause men to scream in fear.            “You talk like an adult,” She always spoke as though she lived a thousand lifetimes. I would joke later on that she was born serious. Though sometimes, later on, she would point out clouds in the sky that look like different animals, or weapons. And on rare occasions, we would spin each other around as fast as we could, to fall back and look at the sky spinning above us.            “See Yelena? We make the world go ‘round,” she’d joke.            And then, two days after our meeting, we are in a combined class. Three different years, all together, working on letters of different alphabets. My elbow knocks over a jar of red paint, splattering across a stack of white paper, like blood on skin. Last week, Svetlana tripped and broke a plate. Madame slit her arm with a letter opener. I stare at the pile of paint in fear, unable to move or make a sound. Natalia appears at my side. She stains the arm of her shirt with paint and begins to apologize loudly. Madame walks over, since that night, she seems to always be where Natalia is, and sees the mess.            “Did you knock over this paint?”            “Yes, Madame,” The woman strikes like a snake- her cane striking the back of Natalia’s knees, forcing her to the ground. “Clean it up. Then you clear her up as well,” I look down and see I am stained with paint, across my stomach like a bullet wound.            “Why did you do that?” I ask as Natalia washes my pinafore.            “I am going to protect you, like sisters.” Familial words like that are forbidden, even saying friend will get you a warning glare.            “Sisters,” I reply, watching as she wipes out the red.

           I am nearly eight when I first see Natalia crack, just a little. She is angry, furious. She tries to run away, without me. I heard what everyone was saying. She made her first kill. Secretly gentle Natalia, who once hid and nursed a baby bird back to health in her courtyard. The bird still visits, and I frequently find her smiling out the window when she sees it. Or not smiling. Just happier than the flatness she normally sports.             But in front of me now, she dances with glass in her shoes. A morbid part of me thinks of Cinderella’s glass slippers. Perhaps this is what really happened to her feet. When she finally stops, Madame breaks her cheekbone, for her pride, I think. For being unbreakable.            The last time I see Natasha in the Red Room, our courtyard days are long over. Both of us have graduated and sit at a table separate from the students. The number of adult Widows has dwindled as the KGB sends us on more dangerous missions.            Her spark has begun to dim. She is getting worn down, like they want. The first that burns with in her, that in explicably Natalia, should not be put out. That evening, for the first time in a long while, I slip into her bed.            She moves closer, so our shoulder touch, something she doesn’t normally allow anymore. Since she turned thirteen, she has grown more and more opposed, and I don’t need to ask why.            “I have a mission in America tomorrow.”            “Alone?” She nods in the dark.            “Don’t come back,” I request, daring to speak the words. She stiffens beside me.            “Don’t say silly things, Yelena. We are not children.”            “They are going to kill you.”            “It is what I was made for.”            “No. You were made for better things. If you get the opportunity, don’t come back.”            “There is only one way I don’t,” she whispers, “I will bring you back sweets, Little Sister. They’ll be hidden in the same spot as always,” Inside the rip in my mattress. It hadn’t occurred to me until now, that the reason she keeps coming back, might be for me.            Except she doesn’t, and I am grateful. They tell me she is dead, but I know better. The next time I see her, it is to burn this place to the ground.            In America, she has people who care for her. A best friend who takes me in, a nephew. And they welcome me in too. We celebrate Christmas together, spend time with one and other. Natasha, as she is now called, is finding herself again. That fire within her grows stronger once more, rising out of the embers that had begun to die out.            After Christmas, I leave for Europe, following leads about the Red Room. There is a rumor that Ivan is still alive, that he could resurrect what Tasha and I destroyed. I have to kill him, kill him before he can find out Natasha is alive, or get anywhere near her. His prized possession. That is what he used to call her. I step out of my taxi, heading into the hotel lobby, where the once lush carpets are worn down from years of suitcase wheels and feet. A bellhop smiles at me, and a man sitting at a nearby table, drinking coffee, catches my eye.  _______________________________________________________________

           “Yelena?” I blink, feeling nauseous. Clint, Tasha’s American, is sitting close to me, too close. He looks almost as though he has seen a ghost. A part of me, for some reason, feels like it has been a long time since we have seen each other, though it has only been a few weeks.            “You look old,” I tilt my head. He grins and squeezes my shoulder. “Where are we?”            “We’re on a quinjet, we rescued you,”            “Rescued?” He seems reluctant to answer.            “You were being held prisoner,” I feel pressure building up in my head, the feeling of hitting a wall.            “Where’s Tasha?” I get up from the cot, my legs unsteady, and pull back the curtain. Rather than seeing Natasha in the cockpit as I expected, there is a gaggle of individuals deep in discussion. A slight brunette catches my eye, blushing furiously and looking away.            “Yelena, they’re friends,”            “I don’t know, they not friends.” I growl.            “They are my friends, Nat’s,” Clint explains, “Tony, Sam, Rhodey, Bruce, and,”            “Wanda,” The girl offers, her voice timid and unsure. He looks at her with a particular tenderness that makes me inspect the girl closer. She has folded into herself, as if she is trying to disappear.            “Nice to meet a member of Nat’s family. I was always curious,”            “Not the time, Tony.” The American glares at the man. Though, they all seem American.            “Where is Tasha?” I try again.            “We’re on our way to her now. We were on a mission,” One of the men, Sam, explains. I look him up and down and give him a little smirk. The girl calls my attention again, however. She does not speak again, playing with the rings on her fingers.            We touch down on the tarmac and the gangplank drops. They do not handcuff me, which seems foolish on their part. Though, I suppose I am not a prisoner. But maybe I should be, I don’t know what I have been doing since I last saw Natasha.            “Hey Friday,” Tony begins, “When are Steve and Nat landing?”            “They are currently in the kitchen,” I break into a sprint. There is some kind of AI wired throughout the area, and I ask for directions. The AI, whom had been referred to as Friday, provides the answers promptly. AI, something that had seemed like a distant future just days ago, or weeks, months, years.            I skid to a stop in the kitchen. Her red hair shines like a beacon.            “Tasha,” I breathe, my heart aching. My mind may not know how long it has been, but my soul clearly does.             She spins around, along with the man she is with, gun drawn. I put my hands up, remaining passive. A piece of me fears she does not remember me, does not know who I am. But she has to, it is us.            Clint and his little friend run into the room, panting. They quickly take in the scene and turn their attention to Natasha.            “Nat, put down the gun,” He tries. She doesn’t take her hard gaze off of me, the gun steady.            “That isn’t, it can’t be, you saw, you were,” She speaks in half sentences, her words becoming lost in her head, in her memories. Whatever happened to me, she was there for it.            “Is me, Tasha,” I swear once Clint affirms who I am. She is beginning to become distressed, her hands starting to shake. I’m upsetting her.            “Mom,” The girl says quietly. Mom? I whip around, looking at her. She still sounds fragile, quiet. But she called Natasha mom. “It’s her. I looked. I saw her giving you a pair of ballet slippers and sitting with Cooper as a baby.” What the hell does that mean? I saw, how would she see? Home videos, maybe? How does that ensure I am me?            She comes between Natasha and I, gently taking the gun out of Natasha’s hand and putting it back in her holster. There is a quiet moment shared between the two, before she finally speaks.            “Lena?” Relief, elation. Elation is the only word I can use to describe the optimistic hope that lilts up at the end of my name.            “Hi Tasha,” I beam.            “How are you here?”            “I don’t know,” I feel pressure begin to build again, “I think it has been long time, yes? It feels like long time.”            Ten years she tells me. She tries to take the blame, as she did when we were children. Whatever happened, I know it was not her fault. She had begun to panic, believing none of this is real, that I am not real. I tease gently about her pulling a gun on me again, though it is a legitimate concern.            Then she properly introduces Wanda. The girl doesn’t meet my eyes, almost hiding behind her mother. Her mother. Natasha has a daughter. An adopted daughter, like how I am her adopted sister. Because that is what Natasha has always done, she takes in strays, people in need of help.

           The girl. Wanda. She sits next to me on my couch, while Natasha is on her date with Steve. This couch from Pottery Barn that we bought together, after she had shown me a particular episode of Friends. Clint informed me that she does not talk a lot to anyone but Natasha, even his own children and her best friend, a fellow superhero, get few words from her. So, whenever she says anything to me, I feel particularly flattered.            And the guilt for what I had done to her when I first found out about her past continues to eat me alive. Guilt is supposed to be Natasha’s specialty, but it seems as though I am taking on some of her traits.            “We order takeout?” I ask the witch. She looks up from her phone, where she scrolls through social media, a new trend that I am still trying to catch up with.            “Okay,” She looks back down.            “You can go home,” I offer, not wanting her to feel trapped. Her lips pinch momentarily, “You stay, I order food,” She raises an eyebrow before going back to scrolling.            I have no clue how I am supposed to be an aunt. Barton’s children, they refer to me as Auntie Lena, and that is definitely my familial position with Wanda. But I’m twenty-, no. I’m in my thirties. I pass a mirror on my way into the kitchen, catching a look at my face. Time has barely passed on my body, in my mind, but the world kept going while I was on pause.            “Wanda,” I call, coming to a decision, “We go out,” I come back into the living room, the girl craning her neck to look at me. “Put on nice dress, we go out. Have fun.”             She stares at me, considering for a moment, before nodding, hopping up from the sofa, her powers bursting.            “What are we doing?”            “Go to gala,”            “What gala?”            “I not decide yet. Put on gown and be back in twenty. I do your hair.”            She returns fifteen minutes later, donning a ruby red satin gown. It looks custom made. She also holds a makeup box and a red clutch, clearly well loved.            “I was supposed to wear this to a charity event in November,” she explains, sitting down at my bathroom vanity. I’m given no other explanation, and though I wait in silence for more information, unlike most people, she does not open up.            I sweep her hair to the side into a side bun. She leans forward, doing her own makeup. She glances back at me every few seconds, taking her attention off her eyeshadow.            “Do you want me to do your makeup?” She puts down her brush. She stands up, and I can hear the faint mechanical whir of her leg as she stands up. To anyone with unenhanced hearing, it would be silent. I don’t know how I missed it initially.                        I sit down on the stool and face her. Wanda’s eyes meet mine momentarily before looking away, going through her palette.            “You like doing makeup?”            “I used to wear it a lot,” She shrugs and continues to do her work, and then steps back to admire it. “Okay,” She picks up a handheld mirror.            “Oh, you should have been one to do Tasha’s makeup for date,” Wanda blushes to the color of her dress, ducking her head. “Okay, I go change, then we leave.”            When I come out of my room, wearing a dress the color of a night sky, Wanda is busy scrolling through her phone.            “There is a gala at 583 Park Avenue tonight, it is for one of the mayor’s pet projects.”            “We go,” She watches as I grab my beaded wallet, “I call us cab,”            “Uber, Yelena. No one calls taxis anymore.” She rolls her eyes, teasing, and we head down to the lobby.            We take the car to the venue, and the beautiful Greek revival is lit up by glowing pendants, the four pillars casting shadows down on us. Security stands at the front, checking everyone for a ticket.            “They are sold out online,” Wanda’s bottom lip juts out.            “Come on,” I grab her hand, pull her behind me as I round the corner, heading towards the back entrance of the building. “You watch and play along, da?”            “Okay,” I spy a pair of busboys sharing a joint, taking a break from the mayhem of the evening. I think of the whole song and dance I had planned to get us in. Fake being locked out, fight with my boyfriend who is a staffer for the mayor and got us tickets.            “Three hundred for each of you if you let us in.” The pair exchange a glance and stand up holding out their hands and opening the side door.            “That was watch and learn?” Wanda laughs as we head down the hall.            “Sometimes money speaks better than words,”            We enter the hall and I grab us each a glass of champagne. It is not very often, or rather never, that I get to attend galas without having to kill or torture somebody. However, Wanda seems to fit right in. She wears large diamond studs, each the size of a blueberry, and this custom-made gown. However, her anxiety is visible in the way she grips her clutch, almost like a security blanket.            “Is special to you?”            “Hm?” She follows my eyes to her wallet. “Oh, this is the first gift Nat every bought me. It was for my sixteenth birthday.” Her face softens at the memory.             “We find people to dance with, come.” She laughs as I introduce her as a foreign princess, and the man plays along, despite the obvious fact that she is her.            I, on the other hand, am still harder to identify. The world news has not been plastered with my face for the past two years as it has her. I am not burned into the collective consciousness. I dance with a woman is a white cocktail dress, keeping one eye on Wanda the entire time.            After two songs, the pair break apart, and I bid the woman adieu. Wanda takes an empty seat, and I next to her.            “Hello,” I look at the nametag, “Mr. Abbot,”            “Mrs. Pruitt,” She responds, eyes twinkling. We order more champagne, or rather Wanda does while I switch to vodka on the rocks, and take canapes and caviar off passing trays.            “And then, as Tasha in middle of mission, she stop to,”            “Stops to save a cat from being hit by a car,” A voice finishes. I turn around.            Natasha and Steve stand behind us. Natasha looks stuck somewhere between amused and stern, while Steve is doing nothing to hide how humorous he finds the situation.             “How did you two get in here?”            “I pay,” I reply hotly, jutting out my chin. She moves her gaze to Wanda.            “We bribed the busboys.”            “I not say who we pay,”            “Do you even know what this event is for?”            “Dogs?” “Children?” We both say at the same time, causing a fit of laughter. My sister pinches the bridge of her nose.            “Well, since you two are here, you may as well come to the after party,” She looks to Steve for agreement, who nods. “But you, Little Witch, will not be having any more champagne,” Wanda’s face, already flushed from alcohol, seems to redden even more. “Come on,” Nat leads us out the front door where a town car awaits.            “We are sorry for ruining date night, I had no idea that you were going to be there,”            “It was on the calendar in the kitchen, perhaps that is where your subconscious got the idea,” Natasha teases and fixes the strap on her daughters dress as we climb into the car.            We pull up at the Avengers Tower, and take the elevator up to the penthouse.            “There you are, and you brought company!” Tony cheers, “Good, I could use some of her expertise,” I expect him to be pointing at me, but instead he is at Wanda, “You are the expert at naming things, I have a list of baby names and need your help,”            “I thought you were naming her Morgan,” Nat calls, heading over to the bar.            “Middle names, Natalie!”            “Did he say names, plural?” Steve asks.            “Did he call you Natalie?” Natasha pours Steve a glass of whiskey and I another cup of vodka before coming around the bar with her own drink, a martini.            “You snuck my underaged daughter into a gala,” She leans back next to me, watching Wanda and Tony, while Steve begins to thumb through the vinyls next to the record player.            “Was either that or Chinese food again,”              “Maybe try bowling next time,”            “With ax throwing,” I grin.            “Galas, then,” Natasha laughs.            “Sorry for ruining date night,” I say earnestly. I hadn’t expected them to be there.            “Oh, please,” She waves me off, “Tony already did. Pepper called us saying Tony was here at the tower, working late, and you know,” She nods to the empty bottles, “Trying to develop a special crib or something. Asked Steve and I to check in. We ran into you two while we were heading out.”            “You can’t give her the middle name Una, then her name would be Morguna,”            “I like the sound of that, put it on the list!” Tony cheers, while Wanda scrawls on the glass screen.            “This is good life,” Steve finally selects a record, and the Beatles start to play. The first lyrics, Flew in from Miami Beach BOAC, cause Natasha to grin. “Is our song!” I cry out, tugging her out into the center of the room, kicking off my heels. She laughs as I spin her around, spilling her drink the process.             Tony, Steve, and Wanda join in as we dance to the Beatles at one in the morning, I can’t imagine a life any better.

Shattered Lives Ch 39 Pt 1

The noise that filled the apartment woke her up, the sheets cold on Gustaf’s side of the bed telling her he’d let her sleep in. In the few days since the visit from Uncle Elias the kids had hardly been home. Gustaf taking them out for lunch and the movies, Stellan and the boys going bowling, and the pajama party with Valter and Gustaf’s two youngest brothers last night. She could hear Gustaf chatting to Stellan through the ajar door, the boys settling back in after the overnight with grandpa. The happiness in their voices made her smile, far less grief than this time last year, not a hint of anger or sorrow. She heard Gustaf get them situated before he came in, smile wide, damn she loved that smile, the look of him.

“Hey there lovely lady.” He murmured sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning down to claim her mouth. God the man knew how to kiss.

“Hi.” She breathed out, wrapping her arms around him securing him to her. “Sounds like the monsters are back.”

“They are, and they’re excited that we leave for the cabin tomorrow.” His kiss lingered. “Time to get up, lots to do.”

“Yeah, I need to take them shopping later for snacks, I promised them one treat each for the trip.” She kissed him sweetly. “I’m starting to regret my decision as it means I have to take them out in public.”

He chuckled, those laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “What were you thinking?” He said, the sarcasm thick.

“I wasn’t, that’s the problem.” She snorted, thumb brushing his crows feet. They both laughed at the squeak of dad dad as Lily padded her way into the room all excited, Gustaf picking her up and kissing her until she giggled. “Someone had a good time away.”

“Dad said she was running the house as soon as she woke up this morning, keeping the boys in line.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me.” She muttered. Just looking at him with her in that instance made her belly flip, the whole kids of their own thought sailing through her head like a bright neon sign. He placed Lily on the bed and she crawled over to Sildie for cuddles while Gustaf took a shower.

“He’s much happier today huh little lady.” She murmured as Lily snuggled in. She’d been worried, the days since Elias had been brutal on him. She’d phoned Elsa and dealt with more paperwork while Gustaf was shut up in his office laying down the law with his lawyers and security team. She’d never heard him so angry, the shreds he’d stripped off the building security, the anger and fury that had unleashed again as he made arrangements to have Dana’s entire family under surveillance. Especially when they were informed he’d made bail and the trial wouldn’t be until April 5th. Sometimes the system just sucked and so did the timeframe. She also knew that being away for filming over the next few months was making this whole situation far worse, she sensed his anxiety already poised to drag him under. It was a clusterfuck and added pressure he didn’t need.

“I’m going over to mums for lunch today, she wanted to chat about the whole Ana thing.” He said as he came out wrapped in nothing but a towel, setting all her wild fantasies aflame. “She’s... concerned.”

“That’s one way to put it.” She said softly. “Do you need us to be there?” Her voice was quiet, apprehension he thought.

“Not if you don’t want to be.”

“I do, I just don’t want the kids around when we’re talking about all that, about her.” She would protect them from it as much as possible. “They don’t need that in their lives.”

“I already told mum it would just be me.” He toyed with her wisps of hair at her face and kissed her tenderly. “For exactly those reasons, and I also know that Eija and Alex are there today too, family meeting about it really. I’ll get them up to speed. It’ll be fine.”

“You know the spiel as well as I do now anyway.” She trailed a finger along his jaw. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” His thumb brushed the dark shadows marring her cheek, it still made his anger flare. He tossed a shirt and jeans on and collected Lily from the bed. “Up you get love, I’ll make some tea.” He kissed her quickly and went to see why the boys were suddenly so quiet.

She could hear them play fighting as she dressed, and smiled. The beginnings of their family, fun times, happy memories, they’d build more tomorrow and over the coming weeks. The ruckus she came out to made her chuckle, three boys tackling the fourth freakishly tall one. He was a big kid at heart, that gorgeous smile plastered across his face, not a hint of anxiety or stress in him. They were both eager to be in the mountains away from everything for a while.

Leaning against the counter she watched, videoing what she could. She laughed as Lily came to the rescue of her dad dad, the boys laughing, so carefree and happy, just as it should be. Gustaf could never fully understand the precious gift he’d given them, stability, love, a family. He’d brought them together as a family unit. “I hope you’re seeing this brother.” She muttered under her breath. “He loves them as if they were his own.” Her smile went wide as Lily tackled Gustaf to the floor, the boys cheering. She fisted a hand and tapped it on the counter thinking. “He’d make a great father.” She whispered, her breath catching. Breathing out a steadying breath she saw Gustaf calm them down and leave them to play some Mario cart.

“They’re ready to go when you are, they’ve had breakfast.” He chuckled, that gorgeous smile lighting up his face as he stopped in front of her, fingers reaching to toy with the soft waves of her hair she’d left down.

“I love seeing you this happy.” She said, hands cupping his face and kissing him sweetly.

“You make me this happy love, so do they.” He kissed her, sensing something had knocked her off kilter a little. “I love you Sildie, the five of you are my world.”

“You’re ours sweet man.” She smiled, her kiss lingering. “Go have a good lunch with your mum, we’ll get some snacks and shopping for the trip. I need to get Lily another jacket, she’s grown out of her other one and the twins need new boots.”

“Fun times.” He grinned.

“Joyous.” She said sarcastically at his chuckle. “Go on. Get going.” She swatted his ass and took a sip of her tea. His arched eyebrow at her butt slap had that mischievous smirk tug her lips.

“A very dangerous game to play kitten.” He growled and devoured her mouth thoroughly.

“Text me your dinner order, I’ll pick something up.” She said changing the subject as her body melted at his touch.

“Mmmm hmmm. Will do lovely lady.” He purred. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

He could tell something was bothering her, more than her usual grief and the shitstorm that Ana had created, the way it had dragged Elias and Dana’s side of the family into the mix. So much going on in that wicked smart brain of hers. He knew she was piecing something together but there was something else she was chewing on. Walking across the street to his mothers he thought about the conversation they were all about to have, the steps he would take, had taken, to protect them all, those measures Sildie had already put in place. They would rally around him, protect him, protect Sildie, the kids, like a family should. It still irritated him that he had to resort to such drastic measures of security and legal restraints but he was out of time, options, and patience.

Sildie and the kids hit the mall, John, their shadow as she like to call him, following their car and staying a respectable distance from them as they shopped, eyes ever watchful. She felt bad for dragging the guy out on a chilly afternoon for them to go shopping, but if this was going to set Gustaf’s mind at ease while he wasn’t here with them she wasn’t going to argue. He was already under enough stress and pressure, he didn’t need anymore. She didn’t think Ana would blatantly harm her or the kids, but there was always the what if, the maybe. Those thoughts that raced through her head a mile a minute. Just look at Elias, she thought bitterly. Not in a million years did she see the connection between him and Ana coming.

Her lawyer brain kicked in as she helped the twins find shoes. How did he fit into it? How did he know her? Was he just a junkie? Was Ana just his supplier? Something more? Had there been a relationship between them? Was Elias part of the syndicate? Was the rest of Dana’s family involved? How far did Ana’s claws dig in? Questions she hoped would be answered when the law finally caught up with her. After that, it wouldn’t take long for Elias to sing, to rat on her to save his own ass.

With a new coat for Lily and new boots for the boys, Brendan included because his toes were already touching leather from the pair she’d bought a few months ago, they stopped in for ice cream. It was their weekly thing, an after shopping treat that had carried over from Dana that she didn’t have the heart to stop, especially when mint chocolate chip was involved and it kept a part of their mother with them.

With groceries in hand they headed back to the car, John helping with the heavier stuff, boys laughing, and a chattering Lily in her arms playing with the zipper on her new coat. As they neared the car the happiness of the afternoon turned to ash and vinegar in her mouth as she looked closer.

“John take the kids to your SUV please.” She said quietly and handed her bags to him. “Brendan, take Lily please and get everyone in the car with John, stay with him ok?” She saw the shock on the teens face, the questions of, who and why echoed there. “I’ll explain later.” Was all she heard herself say as she approached her vehicle slowly.

The windows had been smashed in, seats ripped, red paint covered every surface inside as if a paint can had exploded. The vulgar messages on the doors, the paint splattered and shattered windshield. She felt the panic attack surge up, the nausea and lightheadedness threatening to consume her. “Breathe.” She whispered and sucked in a breath. “Just breathe, the kids are ok, it’s just a car.” A car Gustaf had bought for her, for the kids. He’d bought it to take care of her. Pulling out her phone she took photos of it all and texted them straight to Detective Holmberg, her phone rang a moment later.

“Sildie it’s Leon. I’m on my way. Are the kids somewhere safe?” He said hurriedly. She could hear him moving as he spoke. “Are you safe?”

“Yes they’re with John our security detail, in his car.” She didn’t like how pathetic and shaky her voice sounded. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t touch anything.”

“I haven’t, I just took pictures.” As she was speaking to him she noticed a blonde woman watching her a few cars over. It took her a second to recognize her through the haze of adrenaline and anxiety coursing through her system. “Ana’s here, a few cars down from me.” She snarled, an overwhelming urge to cut a bitch slammed into her so violently the anxiety flipped a one eighty into full on lethal rage.

“Don’t approach her, pretend she’s not there. We maybe able to box her in, I’ll have the parking lot cordoned off.” Which she could hear him relaying that order as he drove. “I’ll be there in two minutes.”

“Ok.” She would not crumble and give Ana the satisfaction, and she would not retaliate. She wanted to though, oh how she wanted some divine retribution right here, right now at her own hand. Everything she’d done to get at Gustaf, to cause him more pain, more grief. Yes, she thought, I’d like to have a knock down drag out with you, you vindictive bitch, she thought as her gaze flicked to Ana and then back at the car.

Calming the rage her thumb hesitated over Gustaf’s number. She knew she had to make the call or he’d be more furious at her for handling it on her own, especially after what went down with Elias. But part of her wanted to spare that sweet soul of his any further pain. She choked back a sob as she knew this would hurt him, cut into him so deeply. Her rage gave way to anxiety once more as she stared at his number. All that peace he’d found these past few weeks was ebbing away. “Together.” She breathed and hit dial, the sick feeling in her stomach growing with every ring.

“Hey lovely lady.” She could hear the joy in his voice and she was about to shatter it.

“Hey handsome.” She breathed, anxiety rising.

“You ok?” He went on full alert, he knew that tone, something had happened.

“I’m fine, so are the kids, the car not so much. Not an accident.” She blurted out quickly and held back the sob.

“Ok, good to know.” His gut threatened to abruptly launch his meal out via his teeth. “Talk to me love.” He said gently at her sudden silence.

“Ana’s here, she vandalized the car and is sitting a few cars from me. I’ve called Leon, and he’s just pulling in.” The lawyer had surfaced to take care of the situation, he could hear it in her voice, but it shook.

“God fucking damn it!” He roared, his temper snapping out. She could hear the chair he was sitting in get pushed back explosively, crashing to the floor. It was the last straw for him, she knew it would be and felt sick for it.

“Gustaf, take a breath, please.” She stayed calm, her voice quavering with the tears that threatened to fall. She was only just holding it together. “Were fine, the kids are in the SUV with John at my request. I’m not in any danger and Leon is here.” She willed her voice to not shake. “He just pulled up.”

“I’m on my way to you.” He seethed, he would fucking murder the bitch.

“You won’t get in they blocked the car park so she has no where to go.” She tried for calm, her voice betrayed her as the anxiety surged forward again.

“The hell I won’t.” He spat and she heard the unmistakable slam of a car door. “I’m on my way.” The line went dead.

She’d never heard him this angry, never had him be so short with her. New Year’s Eve was one thing, confronting Elias another, but this? This was an entirely different level of anger, explosive, reckless, and violent.

“I take it that was Gustaf?” Leon asked coming to stand beside her.

“Yes. He’s on his way and rather angry.” That was the understatement of the century.

“Quite rightly.” Holmberg muttered. “Where is she?” He asked, paying particularly close attention to a spot on the drivers side door as he spoke.

“Your eleven o’clock, four cars down, blue...” She said softly, only flicking her eyes to make sure she had the details correct.

“I see her.” He texted the location to his team and let them handle it. Before Ana could tear her eyes away from Sildie and the mayhem she was gloating over, her car was boxed in and police were hauling her out.

Sildie wasn’t interested in the takedown, or the profanity spewing from Ana’s mouth as they cuffed her. She turned her back on Ana, not giving the woman another moment of recognition. It was difficult not to retaliate, because she wanted to, she wanted to March right over there and lay her out cold for what she’d done to Gustaf. Rarely did Sildie want to get into a physical altercation but she was certainly ready to make an exception in this case.

She peered into the car once more, her focus drawn to the rear view mirror and what was no longer hanging there. “She took it.” Her choked tone had Leon turning sharply.

“Took what?” He asked, but she couldn’t answer him, her voice had ceased working as the grief swallowed her whole. Silent tears tracked down her cheeks and she felt her world bottom out. As they placed Ana in the back seat of the police cruiser she felt familiar arms around her, turning her slowly until she was breathing in that familiar scent.

“Sildie.” Gustaf sighed, the relief that she was ok flooding into him. Eyes searched for John’s car and landed on him a moment later, the respectful nod saying the kids were fine setting his mind at ease.

“Sildie, what did she take?” Leon asked again softly as she buried her face in Gustaf’s chest and wept.

“Something missing?” Gustaf asked flatly looking at Leon with ice cold eyes.

“All she said was she took it.” Leon shrugged.

Gustaf leaned down to peer into the car and his temper went nuclear. “I will fucking murder her.” He snarled, holding Sildie tighter to him. “The charm from her rear view mirror is missing, the one her brother gave her.” He said evenly, barely able to contain the contempt in his voice.

“I’ll need you to check the rest of the vehicle to see if anything else is missing.” Leon’s voice had turned flinty.

“Give us a minute ok?” Gustaf asked, he had to talk Sildie off the ledge of a panic attack and stuff his violent fury back into its box.

“Take your time, it’ll take us a while to process this mess.” Leon said and moved away.

Gustaf stood there, soothing her as best he could when he knew all she’d be able to feel would be the waves of anger rolling off him. “You’re ok love, I’m here.” He murmured. “I’m here.”

“I’m sorry.” She sobbed. “I’m sorry... the car.”

“No, no, you’ve done nothing wrong, look at me.” He said tenderly trying to get his anger under control. “Look at me love.” When she did it crushed him. “I’m the one that should be sorry for dragging her into your life.”

“But the car.” She hiccuped.

“Is just a car. It’s insured. I’m more livid about what she took from it.” His rage banked as he wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs, she needed him to be calm. They were both stressed and him letting the anger gain the upper hand wasn’t the answer. He’d have time to unleash later.

“It’s gone.” She sobbed.

“It is love, I’m so sorry.” This was tearing her apart and cleaving his soul into pieces. That charm wasn’t something he could replace. He couldn’t fix it.

“Oh shit, the kids, they’re still with John...” she said hurriedly swiping the tears from her face, realizing she didn’t have the luxury to fall apart. “And I just left...”

“They’re perfectly fine, look.” He pointed to the SUV and the kids waved back.

“We have to get them home.” She sniffed pulling it together, it was a stupid charm, it wasn’t like someone had died, she berated herself.

“How about you hang here for a little bit and help Leon out while I go and grab a new car seat for Lily? Because we can’t take anything from the car and her seat is trashed.” He said softly.

She let her gaze drift over to the items already being bagged, spare shoes, sweaters, and Brendan’s hockey gear. “Leon? Can you open that bag real quick.” She asked pointing to Brendan’s gear.

“Paint in the bag too.” Leon said sharply.

“And his mask.” Sildie sighed, before another sob broke free.

“I’ll have another made love.” Gustaf said softly.

“It’s not the same.” She sniffed. “You had that made for him, your first gift to him. You have no idea what it means to him.”

“I know it’s not the same love.” He pulled her into a hug while Leon was trying his damnedest to wipe the paint off the teens hockey mask. “I might be able to take it back and get it cleaned and refinished. I’ll figure it out, I’ll fix it. Somehow I’ll fix it.” He kissed her temple and lingered, willing his system to calm down so in turn he could soothe hers. “Are we able to get this stuff back at some point?” He snapped at Holmberg and immediately regretted his tone. It wasn’t Leon’s fault, Gustaf was just on a razor thin edge.

“I’ll get them back to you as soon as I can.” The detective looked at Gustaf, yes, he thought, Leon was pissed too, good.

“Appreciate it.” He kissed Sildie softly. “Go sit with the kids a moment ok? I’ll get Lily a new seat and we can go from there ok?” She just nodded and walked to John’s car. The slump of her shoulders told him this had kicked her hard.

“I knew her brother.” Leon said quietly. “My wife was close friends with Dana. I’m doing everything I can Gustaf, but I have to stay within the confines of the law, so do you. Don’t go doing anything crazy, get a good attorney and take the spiteful bitch down.”

“Do me a favor.” Gustaf said bluntly. “Search Ana’a car real quick for that charm, or her pockets. The rest of this I can replace, that I can’t, and it will destroy Sildie if it stays missing.”

Leon nodded. “Go get Lily a car seat, I’ll look myself right now and call it in for when they process her at the station.”

“Thanks.” He huffed and scrubbed a hand over his face. As he started to walk away he turned. “I’m sorry, for snapping earlier.”

“Not necessary, I’d be a little snappy too considering the circumstances.” Leon said, a tight smile gracing his lips.

“Well regardless, I’m sorry. There was no need for it, you’re only trying to help.” He wasn’t that person anymore, to rage without reason, without sucking it up and apologizing like the man he was trying to be.

“All good.” Leon said, clasping a hand of Gustaf’s shoulder and squeezing it in support.

He knew he could be an insufferable prick when he put his mind to it or the rage swamped him, that wasn’t him anymore. “And that’s what you’re hoping for isn’t it you fucking bitch.” He muttered as he walked to the baby store across the street. “You’re hoping to get me so riled up I’ll snap. Well I’m way past that. Coming after me was one thing, going after Sildie was the biggest mistake you ever made. By the end of this you’re going to wish you’d never fucking met me.” He said with conviction.

She explained it as much as she dared to the boys, the plea in her eyes to Brendan to just go with it so she could explain more when they were away from the twins. His tight nod all she needed to have some measure of relief. She watched Gustaf walk back to his car and fit the new seat. This will destroy him, she thought, all that peace he’d found obliterated in the instant she’d phoned him. Destroying another life, just like she’d destroyed the boys. It was a spiral, she knew it was happening yet she was powerless to stop her thoughts diving so deeply out of control. It was all too much and she’d reached her tolerance level of bullshit.

She hopped out of the car as he approached and went to him.

“Load the kids up and head home, love. Take care of them and let me worry about all this ok?” He said gently, he would be her calm now as he knew she was far from done today. “You ok to drive?” A nod was all she could give him. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I need to get them home before Lily implodes.” She said trying her damndest to pull it together, she had shit to take care of not wallow in self pitty.

“I’ll stay here with Leon until the car’s towed and then go hire one for our vacation. I’ll send John back with you to help with the groceries ok?” He watched her carefully and was concerned.

She nodded and leaned her forehead against his chest, breathed him in, his scent soothing her jagged emotions.

“That’s it love. Breathe a minute. It’ll all be ok, you and me, we’ll fix it.” He murmured and stroked the nape of her neck tenderly.

She let herself just exist for a moment, collect the shred of composure she was clinging to and pulled it together. Drying her eyes she kissed him softly, the grief he felt already echoing in his eyes.

“There’s my girl.” He said softly, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll be home a little later. Do you need me to send mum over, or dad? A sibling? I have plenty to spare.” His attempt at humor got the chuckle from her he was hoping for.

“No, I’ll be ok.” You won’t be, he thought, but nice try.

“I love you Sildie. Together love.” He kissed her tenderly.

“Love you too, not letting her win, it just knocked me a bit.” She sniffed.

“I know, me too, but we’ll knock back harder.” He kissed her brow and looked at her. “Come on, I’ll get Lily bear settled, because I can hear her starting to ramp up for a full on I’m tired and hungry meltdown.”

Gustaf helped her get the kids settled in the car, fielding questions from the twins as vaguely as possible. “Text me when you get home.” He said softly.

“I will.” Her voice was that eerie quiet he didn’t like. It only got like that when she retreated into herself and it killed him to see her like that.

She seemed to be on auto pilot as she drove home, aware enough to drive, but not really caring about what was happening around her. John helped her get the kids inside, the groceries for their trip piled on the counter. With the kids occupied she sat in her office, the process of writing notes about the incident clearing it out of her mind as the words appeared on paper. Gustaf’s text tone interrupted her asking if she’d got home and she swore, she’d forgotten to text him.

We’re home. I’m so sorry I zoned and totally forgot.

It’s ok love. You’re all home safe that’s what matters. I’m headed to hire a car, be home soon. Is John still there?

He left a little while ago but he said they have someone watching the building. He stayed until we were settled.

Ok, that’s good.

I love you.

Love you too lovely lady. I’ll be home soon.

He came home an hour or so later and could hear Sildie reaming someone on the other end of the phone in her office, door shut tightly.

“She’s been in there for nearly an hour.” Brendan said quietly.

“You know who she’s flaying?” He asked carefully and the kid shook his head.

“I haven’t seen her this mad since she yelled at grandma after mum and dad...” He stopped suddenly and shook his head not wanting to voice the rest of the sentence.

“Well she’s super upset about the car so I’m not surprised.” Gustaf said carefully, he wasn’t sure how much he should divulge.

“Why would someone do that?” Brendan asked as he walked with Gustaf to the kitchen out of the twins hearing.

“I don’t know B.” Gustaf sighed, he was beat to hell and he knew he’d have to talk Sildie down before she imploded. “The short version ok, because I’m beat to hell.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to collect his thoughts. “It’s an ex girlfriend, the ex girlfriend, the one that screwed me up. They arrested her and things could get a little messy. Your mum has had to bust ass on making sure you guys are safe and it’s all just a little too much for her today.”

“Is that why we have John and Andrew come with us everywhere?” The kid was a quick study.

“Yes. I promised Sildie I’d keep you all safe too.”

“Oh.” The teen looked a little shocked.

“I love you guys, you’re my family Brendan and there’s absolutely nothing I won’t do to protect you, to make sure you’re safe, that Sildie’s safe.” He said softly as the teen hugged him tight. “Absolutely nothing.” His head came up at the sharp shout from Sildie’s office and he decided he needed to get in there and deal with it. “It’s getting late, you guys eaten yet?”

“Yeah we got something on the way home, there’s some here for you too. We weren’t sure when you’d get home.”

“Thanks. Can you get the twins in a bath or shower, I need to go see if she’s ok. Did the cold groceries get out away?”

“Yeah they’re away.” He said and started to unpack the rest.

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden @nandadb

G O D S A U

Defluxit Cieux (Faded Heavens)

Realm of the tragic gods, their environments reflect their struggles which have overcome many parts of themselves.

Soul for Sale

Arno: God of the arts (also mourning and justice)

In life, she had been the greatest artist: her pieces were in galleries and noble’s homes all over the world for their photo-like realism. Everyone knew her name, knew at least ten of her works. Her art graced every gallery and inspired millions.

But this came at a price.

(Y/n) had sold her soul to the god of the arts in exchange for five years to become the greatest artist history would ever see. There had been a few rules: no cheating death when it came knocking and she could only dedicate herself to art and art alone — she had sold her soul to him so no one else could have her.

She had once painted canvases but, when she died, she had painted the floor under the crushing weight of a chandelier at a venue.

The artist had been confused, to begin with. She wondered and wondered until the world faded to black, worried that she had become lost.

But, she had found herself standing in a stream of wine among the dark mist of the world between the flesh and the world of the spirit. She followed that stream, staining her skin as her feet sloshed through it, until it led her to a grand door.

Upon crossing the threshold, labouring to push the heady door open, she was greeted by slow clapping.

“Here’s the great artist at last.” A man’s voice called out with a smile.

There, seated on a throne, was the god she had sold her soul to. He wore rich clothing in deep blues and the room seemed to have a midnight glow to it. Everything looked like it had been pulled from the Baroque period and (Y/n) adored it.

She hurried over to the throne and fell to her knees at the steps, bowing her head.

“Thank you.” She whispered, voice trembling in awe, “I’ve made my home among history books.”

“And were you satisfied?” He leaned forwards to capture her chin with his fingers, raising her eyes to meet his.

A series of memories flickered through her head like the flashes of cameras she had known so well in life. Canvas tearing, paint splattering, glasses being smashed, statues’ clay faces being smeared and smothered, soft pillows and wet cheeks, hours spent sitting down in the shower.

“I was.” She replied. The god smiled knowingly and released her chin, leaning back then looking down at her.

“You can’t lie to me, (Y/n). I’ve been watching you since we made that deal.”

“All the time?” Her eyes widened. He tossed his head around playfully as he thought.

“Most of the time.” He reached for a glass of red wine which seemed to have appeared from nowhere. “You’ll be taken away for the next hour or so before we begin.”

“Begin what?” She furrowed her brows.

“We had a deal. Deals are only made when there is a benefit for both parties, non?” A french accent slipped past his lips as he regarded her with a sense of melancholy almost.

“I let you slip past my fingers once and now you’ve come back to me, bound yourself to me. I won’t let you leave again. You’ll be satisfied this time, I promise.” He reached out to cup her face, thumb caressing her cheek affectionately.

Her eyes widened slightly as she was pulled to her feet. Statues of marble, cold as snow and soft as cotton, plucked her up by her arms and began carrying her away.

“What do you mean?” She blurted out, confused.

“Welcome home.” He simply smiled. Her dark brows furrowed over her steel blue eyes, even more confused than before.

—————

The Gods were less divine than they wished to seem. They were immortal, powerful, yes. But they were always victim to their own emotions. Fear that she would leave had devoured him, longing for her to return had tortured him and regret for ever letting her go in the first place had haunted him for nearly three decades.

But she was back now and he wouldn’t lose her again.

So, she sat at his feet. Black silk pooled around her, the dark colour a striking contrast against her pale skin. Sterling painted a thin layer around her ankles and wrists, the thinnest and strongest of chains connecting her to him, phasing through whatever object she may try to break them with.

A silver band, encrusted with glittering garnets decorated her ring finger.

In the flesh that came with new life, she had forgotten who she had been in spirit: the goddess of desire and fixation. She had been married to the god of the arts but, being the divinity of desire, nothing was ever enough. She had snuck away from him to lead a life among living mortals, leaving behind everything in search of more. But she hadn’t been able to change her nature of fixation: art. It was her passion.

In flesh as in spirit, she had been willing to do anything to harness the most beautiful art that the world had to give. To begin with, she had collected it. But it wasn’t enough. She began to create her own art, but it wasn’t good enough. She eventually began to pray to the god of the arts, hoping he would bless her with all the skill she needed to be the very best.

This is how he had found her again. For years, he had been grief stricken by the disappearance of his wife, mourning her and longing for her to return. She had left him as so many others had. However, in finding her, he had come up with a new idea: to trick her into binding herself to him so that she would never leave him again.

Everything had gone to plan and the only catch was the five years in which he had to wait for her. But she was here now. And she wouldn’t leave.

Her head fell against his knee and he reached down to stroke her hair affectionately. She hummed and turned her face to him. Her hair had grown a lot since she had died to be with him again: it now fell to her waist in loose curls and she realised that her new desire was him. Her chin became propped on his knee while she looked at him over the thick book on his lap.

The pages were battered and worn: as old as the first play, the first note of a song, the first sign of art.

“I’m tired.” She mumbled against his leg, feeling him smile, even without looking up. She could hear the pages of the book close before he leaned down to pull her onto his lap, her silk skirts pouring over the both of them like black gold.

She rested her head against his shoulder while her hand went up to gently caress the side of his face. He pushed her hair back behind her ear and smiled softly at her as she nuzzled her face against him.

“I want to start writing plays.” She hummed as he lifted her up bridal style and carried her out of the throne room.

“No you don’t.” He chuckled softly, allowing servants to open any doors that stood in his way while his wife leaned against his chest. He knew that if she started writing, she wouldn’t be able to stop and it would consume her. “Why don’t we get you some more paintings?”

She smiled contentedly at the idea of this, “I want ones with flowers and women in pretty satin dresses.” She mused as he sat her down on the bed and delicately slid the dark dress off her body, the midnight silk slipping over her creamy skin, leaving her in deep burgundy lace.

She sat there patiently, picturing what paintings she could add to her vast collection while Arno undressed himself.

(Y/n) was often mistaken for the goddess of art, leaving people to believe Arno was the god of theatre and music. But this misconception was created by art being the fixation goddess’s very fixation. She sat and pondered over how many people still believed it. She felt the mattress dip and turned over to cuddle up to her lover, feeling his large hands splay down her back soothingly, pressing her against his body.

She laid there, in the comfort of their romantically lit room, thinking. She was adorned in rich fabrics and fine jewels every day but she wanted more, needed more, desired more. Yet she also desired nothing more than him at once. It was a complex balance which she was yet to figure out.

“Arno?” She murmured against his chest. He tilted his head down to show that she had his attention. (Y/n) shifted slightly to prop her chin on his chest in order to meet those dark brown eyes. “Why did I leave? All I want is you but all I want is more? Why did I leave you behind?”

He let out a thoughtful sigh as his eyes closed in order to piece his mind together. They had already established that she could recall nothing of her previous life with him, just the life which she spent as a mortal.

“Because you’re difficult to please, chérie; and it’s not your fault. Your desires and fixations are at war — they go perfectly yet clash at the same time. I failed to give you my attention: I neglected you, failed to show my love to you, failed to even give you more than an hour of my time per week. With your desire gone, your fixation took over and you left to chase a life of art.”

He watched her (e/c) orbs fill with tears and her lower lip tremble. “I’m sorry that I left you for all those years. I didn’t know.”

He pushed her hair behind her ear, coaxing her to lay her head against his chest. His fingers glided down her arm to the silver cuffs that were melted onto her immortal skin — no latch nor key could open them.

“Don’t apologise. It’s ok now because I won’t repeat my mistake. And I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

—————

The story varies from here: some say that they continued to live happily, others say that he had put her in a trance so that she wouldn’t leave and some even say he killed her after that moment. Only the gods themselves know.

Open Wounds

Genre: Boxing!AU

Pairing: Yixing x Reader

Summary: You practically lived at the fighter gym, taking your anger and frustration out on the punching bags as a form of personal torture. Because you also hated that place for taking away the person you loved most. But when a new trainee shows up, showing that he’s different from the boxers you’ve met in the past, your wall begins to crumble. But is history doomed to repeat itself?

Netflix Teaser 

Part One I Part Two

**

The sound of skin hitting worn vinyl and the grunts and groans of grown men trying to beat each other up surrounded you. No matter how high you turned the volume up on your headphones, you couldn’t drown out the distractions. You hated this place. You shouldn’t be here. Over and over again, you told yourself to leave and never come back. When you were covered in sweat and your muscles were sore, crying out for relief, the first part was easy enough to do. It was that damn second step that was impossible.

“Now, what did that poor bag do to you?”

Taking one last swing at the punching bag, hard enough to put some momentum in its swing on the rusty chain, you turned around to face the only person who dared approach you while you were attacking the defenseless bag of sand and pulled out your headphones to hear better.

Han, the old man who owned the gym, smiled at you with wrinkled, sun-weathered eyes. He was still wearing those ugly Hawaiian shirts over baggy khaki shorts after all these years. But despite his appearance, he could still move around and jab like any of the middle-weight boxers around here. You’d known him for years - since you were a teenager – which meant he knew exactly what the punching bag had done to you.

Deciding you’d had enough for today, you started unstrapping the Velcro of your gloves, your hands breathing in relief at the release. “Hey, Han.”

“Tough day?” he guessed.

You sighed. “Tough week.” More like a tough life.

In all honesty, it probably wasn’t that rough. You had a roof over your head, heating in the winter, air conditioning in the summer, food, a bed, a job that you thrived in. Really there was only one dark cloud hovering in your otherwise ordinary sky. A blank spot in your life that could never be filled no matter where you searched for a substitute.

“I’m sure things will get better,” Han said encouragingly. “They always do.”

“No, they don’t.” There were too many examples in the history of the world to list of where things did not eventually get better.

Han huffed at you. “If you keep that up, I’ll ban you from my gym.”

You smirked. “You could never ban me, Han. You love me too much.”

He started to grumble out something along the lines of “watch me” but he couldn’t hold on to the façade and soon he was smiling at you. “Are you going to join us tonight for dinner? There’s a new recruit that joined a while back and you know the boys. They have to initiate. He’s very promising, could be the new lightweight champion. Reminds me of-” Han caught himself before he mentioned one of his old students. The one that brought you pain, the one that brought you here over and over again, never letting you go. Coughing to cover his slipup, he went on, “Well, anyway, I’m sure the boys would love it if you tagged along.”

“No, I think I’ll skip on it,” you said non-too-surprisingly. You never joined in, but that didn’t stop Han form offering, hoping one day you would change your mind, like how you used to. “Thank you, though. I’ll see you around.”

Han nodded, understanding completely. You kissed the old man on the cheek before gathering up your things and heading for the showers.

Once cleaned and refreshed, you weaved through the boxers and MMA fighters training for their next big fight before making it to the front entrance. As you pushed on the door to exit, someone called out for you.

“Hey, wait!”

Rolling your eyes, you turned around to what this person wanted. Most of the boys here knew to leave you alone. Only the ones who’d known you for years would stop and talk to you, but they knew better than to try to chat when you were trying to leave.

The man didn’t seem familiar at all as he jogged up to you, careful to avoid a weight that had rolled into his path.

“What?” you snapped. You’d been here too long and you needed to get out, not be chatted up by some brave newcomer who thought it’d be fun to hit on the only female within this testosterone factory.

The man bowed his head sheepishly, his cheeks taking on the slight hue of pink. In his outstretched hand was a worn red glove that had certainly seen better days. You snatched the glove out of his hand, not out of maliciousness, but out of a rush of relief. If you’d lost that glove….

“Thank you,” you said gratefully as you secured the glove back into its normal pocket. “Sorry about… being rude.”

He smiled at you. “It’s okay. Although, I thought exercising was supposed to make people happier?”

“Depends on the environment,” you countered. That was probably a lie. The chance of your body deciding on how much endorphins to release based on where you were exercising seemed slim. But maybe you would be a bit more cheerful if you worked out at one of the bigger chain gyms than this small training facility.

“Understandable,” he nodded, thinking that you were making a joke, based on the smile he was giving you. He held out his hand, “I’m Yixing, by the way.”

You looked down at his hand for a few seconds, not sure of what to do. Yes, you knew the social norm was to take his hand and introduce yourself as well, but you tried to avoid any interactions with the boxers that you weren’t already friends with before….

Sighing, you stuffed your hand in your pocket. “Nice to meet you, Yixing.”

And that was it. No handshake, no giving of your own name. You simply turned on your heels and left the gym, not looking back as you reached your bike, throwing one leg over the seat and slamming your helmet on before taking off down the road, putting as much distance between you and the gym as possible.

**

Yixing stood there, dumbfounded. Had he done or said something wrong?

“Don’t take that too much to heart,” Han sighed as he came up and clapped Yixing on the shoulder from behind. “Poor thing had it rough a few years back. Put a wall up after that. (y/n) only tolerates a few of the guys here and that’s more out of respect since she’s known them for so long.”

Yixing frowned, watching as you peeled out of the parking lot on an old motorcycle. “Did something bad happen to her?”

The distrust and the avoidance of physical contact coupled with her working out in a gym designed for fight training… the picture made Yixing’s stomach churn.

Han seemed to know where his thoughts were headed. “No, nothing like that. She just lost someone close to her.”

A strange relief washed over Yixing before the guilt set in. You’d still lost someone you cared about. How close the two of you must have been….

“Come on,” Han ordered as he slapped Yixing’s shoulder again. “You’ve got more jabs to throw before you can leave. Also, it’s your turn to clean the mats.”

Yixing cringed, but laughed nonetheless. “It’s always my turn to clean the mats.”

“That’s what you get for being the newbie, kid.”

Yixing shook his head. He knew all this work would pay off in the end. Every fighter had to pay their dues before stepping into the ring. And someday, he’d be the king.

**

You clutched the stencil steady as you carefully drew the brush over the slick surface of the gas tank. No air escaped your lungs while you kept yourself still, afraid that even the slightest breath could knock everything off course. The line needed to be perfect or else you’d have to start all over. And get lectured for wasting expensive paint.

As soon as the line was completed, you refilled your lungs with fresh air, sitting up and loosening up your shoulders.

“Nice work, kid,” Don commented as he inspected the paint job over your shoulder. “Line work’s getting better.”

“Thanks,” you smirked proudly. These days, it was the only thing that made you really happy. Putting a brush in your hand and letting the image in your head come to light on the polished metal for the world to see was the best job you could have ever asked for.

You weren’t sure exactly how you ended up in the garage. Art had always been a major part of your life and identity, with faint dreams of entering the institute for your degree. Your brother swore up and down that your works would be displayed in museums one day. Back then you’d laughed at him, called him crazy. And maybe he was.

Even now you still loved to paint and draw on canvas, creating your own worlds with a few simple ingredients. But those works stayed in your apartment, away from the public eye. The images you made on motorcycles and car hoods were the only ones allowed to be seen. You were more comfortable that way. This world of gears and grease was one you knew all too well, even if working here hadn’t been the plan. Being here made a little more sense than being the dressed up featured artist being adored by patrons with large checkbooks, anyway.

Well, the checkbook part sounded nice.

“I think I’m going to finish this one and head home,” you told Don. It was getting late and your hand was beginning to cramp.

“Sounds good,” Don nodded. “And you’re coming in late tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’m going to hit the gym first,” you said, turning around on your stool. You had skipped out on your personal torture yesterday and today, so it was time for a recharge. Plus, tomorrow was Han’s birthday. If you didn’t at least stop by and see him, you’d never hear the end of it.

“Alright, sounds good. Have a goodnight.”

You waved to Don as he walked away. “Good night.”

When you were alone again, you stretched out your hand and got back to the next set of lines to finish out the tank in peace.

 The next morning you went about your normal routine, fixing that too-sugary cup of coffee and yanking on paint splattered clothes before throwing your gym back over your shoulder and heading out the door.

At the gym, Han was already there in his usual spot by the main ring a few hours early, leaning on the ropes from the floor while yelling out punches and jabs at the trainee who was up on the platform working with Jack. You didn’t want to be, but you were actually impressed by the speed of the trainee’s hands. They were nothing but blurs, following Han’s barking orders without hesitation. Mesmerized, you stood a little ways away, arms crossed over your chest as you watched the session.

Han noticed you after a few minutes and brought the training to a halt. “Alright, get some water you two. We’ll pick it back up in fifteen minutes or so.”

The trainee took off his protective gear, revealing his identity to be Yixing from the other day. He must be the one Han was gushing about. His next golden boy.

Pulling a thin rectangular present from your bag, you held it out to Han as you approached him. “Happy birthday, big guy.”

Han smiled broadly as he took the gift. “(y/n), if this is what I think it is, you’re going to make an old man cry.”

“That’s my goal in life,” you teased. To your relief, he didn’t open it right away. You hadn’t expected an audience to be around when you gave the present over. Things like this you preferred to be kept private. Usually, Han spent his mornings watching old fight reels, studying the different methods or just reliving his old glory days in the ring. If he was skipping out on that tradition to train this guy… he must really be something.

“So, how are you doing lately?” Han asked.

You shrugged. “I’m fine. Things are going good at shop. I’ve got a lot of projects going so there’s plenty to keep me occupied.”

“Good, good,” he nodded. “Are you still making time for your own work, though?”

You scoffed, pointing to the gift. “What do you think that is?”

“I know what it is,” Han grumbled. “But you also know what I mean. Your own work deserves attention, too.”

“Look, between here and the shop, home is where my hands get a rest.”

Han raised an eyebrow, no hint of playfulness in his eyes. “Then maybe I should ban you from my gym.”

Your jaw dropped. “Han, are you serious-”

“Is everything okay?”

You sent a death glare towards Yixing that he probably didn’t deserve. It was just instinct. Your connection was being threatened and that put you on edge.

“Everything’s fine,” Han chuckled, showing you that he wasn’t serious after all. You relaxed a bit, but now you really needed to hit something.

“I’m going to go change,” you mumbled. Swiping you gym bag back up from the floor, you headed for the locker room.

When you came back, Han and Jack were gone. The former had most likely retreated to his office to hide from your wrath. Jack probably had some errands to run during his short break and Yixing didn’t seem to be sticking around, leaving the gym mostly empty for you to go about your business. As you wrapped up your hands, however, you learned that you weren’t completely alone after all.

“Need a sparring partner?” Yixing offered, wiggling the punching pads at you when you looked up from your seat on the bench.

You shook your head. “I kind of want to be the one throwing the punches right now.” You weren’t here to just be his target.

“That’s what I meant,” he chuckled. He slipped the sparring equipment over his hands and walked back up to the ring, easily stepping up and through the ropes before stopping in the middle of the platform.

Fine. He wanted to be the punching bag, let him.

Sighing, you stood up to your feet and headed on over, ready for him.

“I won’t go easy on you,” he warned.

“If you did, I’d have to kick your butt,” you taunted. The giggle he let out took you off guard. Then the smile slipped away to make room for a hardened glare and he started barking orders at you in a tone that rivaled Han’s.

“Cross! Jab! Hook!”

Over and over again, he shouted out combinations almost too fast for you to keep up. Every few punches, he’d swing out on his own, making you duck. It didn’t take long for you to be covered in a sheet of sweat, breaths coming out short and raggedy as you fought to keep going. Too soon, though, your arms grew weak. You threw in a few more punches before stepping back, giving in.

“You’re good,” Yixing complimented. He unstrapped the gloves from his hands, tossing them down on the canvas out of the way. “Do you want to get something to eat?”

Well, that didn’t take long. You rolled your eyes. “Just because I work out at this gym doesn’t mean I want to date a boxer, okay?”

Yixing knitted his eyebrows, confused. “I wasn’t asking for a date. I’m hungry and I don’t like eating alone.”

That made you stop and reconsider. Because even though you did it every day, you, too, hated eating alone. It was too quiet. It gave you too much time in your head.

“Okay, then,” you nodded. “I’m going to go change real quick.”

“I’ll meet you at the door.”

You threw him a lazy thumbs up before jogging out of there. Even though your morning workout was cut short, you were slightly thankful for the change up in your routine. Besides, he seemed nice and – boxer or not – you could use a new friend.

Part of you worried if you were being more open to him because he reminded you of- no. They were very different. He didn’t giggle, among other things.

You didn’t bother to shower since you weren’t trying to impress anyone, just slipping back into your knotted up t-shirt and jeans before throwing your bomber on and heading out of the locker room.

Yixing was already at the front door, awaiting patiently for you. He’d somehow managed to change faster than you, now sporting skinny jeans and a matching black shirt. For a very, very brief moment, it’d thrown you off guard. You’d grown used to ignoring anyone in athletic gear, immune to what it was supposed to be showing off. But seeing the new fighter in streetwear was making your head spin. The hardened concentrated look was long gone, softening his features to be more open and inviting. Before you could fight it, the corners of your lips were turning up.

“Ready?” he asked. You nodded and followed him out the front door and to his car.

It was a short drive to the little breakfast dinner, only a few blocks away but you’d never noticed it before. Yixing seemed to be a frequent visitor given the friendly waves from both the wait staff and the cooks visible through the kitchen window.

The first few minutes were spent in silence while the two of you mulled over the menus provided at the table. After the waitress took your orders, you played with the pink sugar packet, flipping it back and forth to occupy your attention. You hadn’t been in a situation like this for a long time so you weren’t sure how to proceed.

“Have you been going to the gym for a long time?” Yixing asked, breaking the silence.

You nodded. “Yeah, since I was a teenager.”

“But you don’t train to fight?” he guessed.

“No, I don’t,” you half laughed. “Fighting was never my thing. That was-” you caught yourself just in time. “No, I would just go to hang out with friends who were more into the boxing thing. I liked the workout better than others, so it just stuck.”

“And you know Han pretty well.”

You snorted. That crazy old man had been a huge part of your life. He was there for you when you were alone and basically gave you a second home to run to. But you didn’t need to voice that out loud. “Yeah. He has a soft spot for me, I guess.”

Yixing smiled crookedly, revealing a dimple in his cheek that just softened his features even more. “He doesn’t seem to hand those out very easily.”

“No, it takes a lot of buttering up,” you agreed. “If you’re training under him and he sees potential in you, you’ll never get that treatment.”

“You seem to speak from experience,” he pointed out.

The waitress arrived then with the large plates of food. You immediately dug in, much hungrier than you realized. Plus, it gave you an excuse not to continue the conversation. The hot-off-the-grill meat tasted savory in your mouth and for a few minutes, you forgot that you were sitting across from someone.

“So, what do you do for a living if you’re not a boxer?” Yixing asked suddenly.

You swallowed the food in your mouth and washed it down with a few sips of water before replying, “I work in a customs shop. I do the detail painting and sketch ups.”

“So you’re an artist?” he dug, excitement flashing in his eyes.

“Uh, yeah, kind of.” Shyness, while not a typical character trait of yours, was making you shrink over your food. Being called an “artist” was making you feel awkward.

Putting his fork down, Yixing folded his arms on the table and leaned forward. “Did you do the work on your motorcycle?”

“Yeah, I did.” Your cheeks were heating up. What was going on? You never reacted like this.

“The line work is really incredible.” Sincerity – not flattery – was more than apparent in his tone. “I noticed it a few times while coming in, but I could never figure out who it belonged to until I saw you drive away on it a few days ago. You have real talent.”

Now you couldn’t even lift your own fork. “Thank you.”

“Did you paint something for Han?”

You cleared your throat, unsure of how to answer. A reply of simply “yes” should have been easy enough. But once buried memories bombarded your inner thoughts.

You’re amazing and someday they’ll put you in the Louvre.

I wish you would stop lying like that.

I’m not! You’ll be this world famous artist and I’ll be the Lightweight Champion across the globe. You can’t paint everywhere I go to fight. We’ll be the greatest team the world has ever seen.

Sure. If that happens, then I’ll paint myself green and dance in the gym.

Deal.

“(y/n)?”

You jumped, pulled from the fuzzy memory. “Sorry?”

“Is everything okay?” Yixing’s face was pinched with worry. Somehow you’d even missed the waitress dropping off the check. He was already signing off the receipt and putting his card away.

“Peachy,” you nodded. Changing the subject, you frowned, “You didn’t have to pay for my meal.”

He waved your protest away. “It’s not a problem. Maybe you can get the next one?”

You knew what he was doing, opening up the conversation of another meal together without outright asking. This wasn’t a date, he said it himself, but it appeared he might want to change that in the near future. And honestly, you weren’t as against it as you thought you might be. Even though he was bring up memories you’d locked away, you found his presence… soothing the hurt rather than multiplying it.

“Sure,” you smiled. “I’ll get the next one.”

Now he was the shy one as he ducked his head. “Good.” Composing himself once again, he stood up. “Let’s go. I have to get back to the gym or else Han will have me on double cleaning duty.”

“That would terrible,” you agreed with a laugh. You weren’t sure the last time you felt this relaxed with a person, this open. It was a scary feeling, but one you were more than willing to further explore.

**

Yxing watched you speed away on your bike, a smile stretch widely across his lips. You’d promised to have dinner with in a few days and he was on cloud nine. This time, he was able to declare it officially a date before you headed off to work.

Each step he took to head back inside the gym was light and cheery, practically skipping as he headed for Han’s office.

“I’m back,” Yixing announced as he stuck his head in, finding Han staring intently at the small TV he used for fight reviews.

“About time,” Han grumbled. He didn’t pause the TV or look away. “If you weren’t out with (y/n), I’d be making you do suicide runs until you threw up for skipping out on training.”

Surprised, Yixing came all the way inside the office. He’d fully expected to get the third degree, declaring to himself that the short meal with you was worth it. You’d intrigued him when he first saw you. No one was willing to explain who you were or why you came to the gym and left without interacting with anyone. Everyone else seemed to just know already, but refused to let him in on it. “Why do you say that?”

Finally pausing the TV, Han sighed. His eyes drifted over to a painting that was leaning up against the large window that gave him access to the open gym space. It was new, something Yixing hadn’t seen before. That must have been your present you’d given him earlier.

The colors were beautiful. Everything blended in with the fake light that gave it a touch of hyperrealism. A fighter’s robe made of shiny green silk laid across a short wooden stool in the corner of a boxing ring. With the folds of the robe, he couldn’t make out the name embroidered on the back, just bits and pieces of the silver letters.

“She’s a good kid,” Han sighed again. “Watched her grow up within these walls. She painted the murals in both of the locker rooms in high school. She was happier back then, livelier. If she wasn’t here with her friends, she was at home with her dad, helping him on his side business fixing up cars, making them beautiful again. She always needed to be creating something. Then she lost that spark.”

Thinking back to the diner, Yixing could see that clearly. You were fighting to hold back something when he complimented you on your work, like you were embarrassed and didn’t want to talk about it. Then your eyes lost focus because what he could only assume was a memory coming back to the surface. Treading carefully, he asked, “What happened?”

Han pointed to the fighter on the small screen. “Him. She lost him.”

Yixing’s eyes widen. Because he knew who that was. And the more he stared at the footage flickering on the TV, the more his heart sunk. Because he knew this fight.

He was there the night that fighter died.

The Difference Between Boys & Girls | o2

summary: Sam & Erin are university students who share a cheap one bedroom apartment above a shitty takeaway restaurant. Due to the limited space, they’ve grown accustomed to sharing just about everything, including the occasional kiss. Despite the amount of time they spend together, their complete comfort in sharing a bed, etc, the pair continues to hold on to the idea that they are completely “platonic.” None of their friends believe this excuse, but as ridiculous as it sounds the unconventional living situation truly does seem to work for them.

Well, it used to anyway..

pairing: Jung Hoseok (Samuel Park)  x Named OC characters: meet the cast.

genre: angst, smut, fluff

chapters: o1| o2| o3| o4| o5| o6| o7| o8| o9| 10| 11| 12| 13| 14

warning: boyfriend!hoseok, jealous!hoseok, friends to lovers trope, college au, angst, sexual themes, slow burn, ambw

a/n: i am a fool. I accidentally deleted my blog so this is me re-uploading EVERYTHING.

With her body wrapped in a dress that stopped just a couple inches below her ass, bare shoulders and a sheer cutout in the front Sam was having a hard time keeping his eyes from travelling along the contours of Erin's body.

Originally she planned on wearing just a pair of jeans and a cute top, thus ensuring that she would attract the least amount of attention when they reached their destination. That all changed when Samuel decided he was going to tag along, she didn't mind all eyes being on her as long as he was by her side.

And of course, the surge of confidence she felt after having caught Sam's eyes widen and his mouth drop open slightly when she stepped out of the bedroom may have had something to do with it also. He had managed to settle his features and avert his gaze once Erin joined him for their obligatory pregame shot in the kitchen, making sure to keep his distance like he was drinking with his baby sister and not some woman he'd leer at in a dim nightclub.

His reaction only made Erin stifled a giggle after she allowed the alcohol to ease down her throat. He could play it cool all he wanted, Erin knew she had ruffled his feathers and that alone was almost enough to make their whole night worth it before it even began.

"Aren't you, like...cold? In that dress?"  Samuel asked, uttering his first full sentence since they'd left the apartment.

Erin only shook her head and made a small noise to demonstrate her disagreeing.

Samuel scoffed and moved closer as they walked in stride, he knew better than to believe her when she was obviously freezing. He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her close to his side, the pad of his thumb drumming lightly against her hip. "Like hell you're not."

The touch burned through the flimsy layer of cloth and Erin was sure her cheeks would be flushed if she had any less melanin in her skin.

She couldn't allow her mind to read too much into his actions, however. As far as she knew Samuel had always been a very hands-on kind of guy. If he liked you, you knew because he'd find any excuse in the book to touch you. But there was also the side of his personality that just radiated affection when he was comfortable, the occasional hand grab, hug, caress usually mean nothing more to him than simply being friendly.

Sammy just liked human contact and sometimes it honestly drove Erin nuts.

"I think we're almost there" Erin commented as she glanced down at her cell phone, rereading the address Kim sent her a few hours earlier. "It should be on the left after this intersection."

"This doesn't really look like a good location for a bar" Sam noted as he glanced around their surroundings.

The streets were considerably empty for a Friday night and the few people they did see shuffling around looked like they were auditioning for part in Rent. Definitely not the young hip crowd either of them had been expecting.

Five minutes, and one wrong turn later they figured out exactly why the area seemed so dead.

The 'fun night out' Erin had been invited to turned out to be a gallery showing for a few unknown local artists. The air of excitement deflated the second Erin and Sam entered the building.

Kim was there at the entrance, craning her head back and forth and when she spotted Erin she beamed, and waved wildly. The second she did a quick scan of Erin's attire and noticed the handsome young man attached to her hip, her smile dulled considerably.

"Unnie! You remember my roommate, Samuel?"

Kim extended a hand, a smile way too broad to be genuine plastered on her lips. "Of course! It's a pleasure to see you again."

She was clearly lying since her nostrils were a bit too flared to be sincere. That didn't stop Sammy from grinning widely and taking her hand, bowing slightly to press his lips lightly to the back of her palm. "The pleasure is all mine."

Erin rolled her eyes gently and quirked her eyebrow in his direction, he winked at her and stood up straight again.

"Right. Well Erin I thought the friend you mentioned bringing along was a girl? Since this is a supposed to be a girl's night out."

And you said we would be going out for a drink, I guess we're both liars huh? Erin thought to herself.

"I know, but she couldn't make it and Sammy decided to volunteer to take her place. He might as well be a girl; you'll hardly notice the difference I promise."

Kim looked skeptical. Like she wanted to push the issue further but decided against it. "Alright he can stay but he has to participate like the rest of us."

"Participate, in what?" Sam asked.

"The post night discussion of course!" Kim answered, with more excitement than necessary as she reached down into her purse and dug out a notebook and pen for each of them. "We're all going to take notes on our favourite pieces and discuss them after the viewing, fun right?"

Erin braved a smile since she was used to Kim's concept of fun. Sam, on the other hand, refused to believe that she was serious as he erupted into a fit of laughter. Erin dug her elbow into his side and gave Kim a look of reassurance, "He has a weird sense of humour, we’re going to love this."

Kim nodded slowly and readjusted the strap of her purse "Okay, if you need anything just find me I'll be around" She began backing away "Oh and the drinks are free if you want one" The petite girl added before turning and disappearing into the shallow crowd.

"Homework, E. Seriously?" Sam began complaining not two seconds after Kim was no longer within earshot.

"What happened to Mr. Positive? The drinks are free that's something, right?"

"It's the only reason I'm still standing here"

"Oh come on, you wouldn't abandon your noona. Especially after you asked to tag along" Erin chuckled as she clipped the pen onto the side of her notebook.

"That's because I thought we would be drinking, not analyzing crappy art"

"Listen, I don't wanna do this anymore than you do. I'm way overdressed and I don't even like art. But at least we're here together and we've already been spotted so it's too early to bail anyway. If you want to continue grumbling I won't stop you but grumble on the way to the bar to get us some drinks."

Sam parted his lips to argue, but the resolve in Erin's eye made him second guess that. They could literally argue all night over this and he wasn't about to upset her when she looked that nice. "You're right," He sighed "You want your usual?"

"Yes please," Erin beamed and leaned upward to peck his cheek before he sauntered away in the direction of the bar with a dopey smile.

Suddenly very aware of the fact that she was standing in the middle of the floor alone, Erin quickly moved towards the nearest display of art. She pulled the pen from her notepad and pretended to be interested in the large canvas splattered with various lines and squiggles. Erin was never very appreciative of art even when she could understand the concept.

"Oh my god, this looks like a goddamn finger painting" She muttered underneath her breath.

A bellow of male laughter tickled Erin's ears from behind and almost made her jump out of her skin. She turned and came face to face with an unfamiliar person. His rounded cheeks made him seem young, much too young to be mixed in with this crowd but once Erin allowed her eyes to drift further down from his face she determined that he was probably in her age bracket. His hair was parted through the middle and pushed away from his face, colored a shade that Erin could only describe as neon tangerine and he wore a smile on his face that made the room seem ten shades brighter. He was tall but only by comparison to Erin, he was still a few inches shorter than Sammy so that brought him right to her eye level.

"Sorry, I didn't realise I was talking out loud," Erin said softly, accompanying her words with a slight bow.

"Don't be, you're not lying" He answered, still trying to stop himself from laughing "I'm Brian by the way."

"Erin"

Brian bit into his lip once his laughter subsided and subtly felt Erin up with his eyes. She pretended not to notice and returned her attention to the painting.

"So I guess art isn't really your thing either?"

"I love it actually, but the use of color and composition here is just lazy and uninspired." Brian commented and took a step closer, he was close enough for Erin to catch the scent of his cologne and a tiny shudder ran down the base of her spine. It was small but significant considering the only man that made her feel that way lately was Sammy. "Look at this area right here" He gestured to the far left side of the canvas "To the untrained eye it would probably look like a deliberate splatter of red paint to represent anguish, but I know that this artist just stepped on a tube and left the mark there."

"Mhm.... wait can you repeat that first thing again," Erin said, quickly putting her pen against the notebook and writing down the gist of what his.

"Are you a journalist?" Brian asked, scratching the back of his neck.

"University student, this is just for my.... study group. How do you know so much about this?"

"Because it's my painting and it only took me about five minutes to finish" Brian grinned and turned to face Erin. He was inches away and the coy smile that spread across his lips when their eyes connected made her chortle. Brian wet his bottom lip with his tongue which inadvertently drew Erin's attention there before the sound of someone clearing their throat behind them broke up the staring contest.

"Uh. The line was long, here's your drink. Who is this?" Sammy asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Erin smiled and took the tumbler of liquid from Samuel "This is Brian, we're making fun of his terrible art. Brian, this is my roommate; Sammy"

Both men nodded toward each other, exchanging a polite handshake before turning their attention back to Erin. Samuel was the first to speak.

"Listen do you really want to stay here all night? The drinks are watered down and I know how much you hate this art crap"

Erin shrugged gently but made a sour face the second she took a sip of her drink, it tasted like cranberry juice mixed with tap water, not vodka.

"Oh gross, let's get out of here before Kim finds me again," She said resting her cup on the nearest flat surface. She was all prepared to sprint out the nearest exit when a hand gently grabbed her upper arm and stopped her in her tracks.

"If you're going to leave can I see your phone before you go?" Brian asked, flirtatious smile still present.

"Why do you need to see my phone?"

"So I can put my number into it"

"Wow, you are subtle!" Erin laughed, taking a second to think of a response. "Ah, what the hell" She sighed and pulled her phone out of her purse, unlocked it and handed it over.

"Oh, what's this? It looks like you're accidentally calling me, that's weird. I guess I'll just have to save your number in my phone as well" Brian mused as his fingers moved over the keypad.

The entire interaction made Sam's lips fall into a flat, disapproving line while Erin giggled like it was the most amusing thing she'd ever seen.

"I hope to see you around sometime, Erin" Brian waved while she and Samuel headed toward the entrance.

"You too"

Instead of going home like Erin thought they would be, she and Samuel ended up at a bar a few blocks down from the warehouse where the gallery viewing was. Kim and all the members of her study group called multiple times but Erin stopped feeling bad about not picking after the first few shots.

Somehow one hour turned into to two and both Sam and Erin were tipsy to say the least they burst out onto the sidewalk, laughing at jokes neither of them were saying out loud.

"Do you know what we should do right now?" Sammy said excitedly, his hands holding onto Erin's shoulders.

"What?"

"Go watch the stars! Like we used to in school... I'm pretty sure there's a park somewhere around here" He muttered to himself but propelled forward anyway, dragging Erin along with him. She allowed him to pull her along as he tried to gain his bearings, she wasn't really ready to go home yet either.

After some trial and error, they managed to find the "park", which was actually just a patch of grass and a small hill but who was complaining?

Sammy motioned for Erin to sit next and she scrunched her nose upward "I don't want my dress to get dirty I'll stand, it's okay."

"Here," He sighed, pulling the jacket he was wearing off his shoulders and laying it down over the grass. "Better princess?"

"Much" Erin grinned as she moved to sit, exhaling a deep breath once she was settled and Sammy's arm found its way behind her. "I can't remember the last time we did this," She said after a beat, glancing up at the illuminated night sky.

"I do. It was the night of my graduation, you rode the bus all the way from Seoul to Daegu just to be there for my ceremony and stayed up with me to watch the stars even though you had a class the next morning." Sammy recalled with fondness in his voice.

"I remember that you begged me for like two hours to sneak out to the beach with you. Then when we actually got there you couldn't stop freaking out about being caught."

"My mother is a very perceptive woman; I still think she noticed me leaving in her sleep!"  Sammy retorted and both of them exploded with laughter.

"You made a promise that night too, do you remember that?"

Sam nodded with a smile but didn't saying anything.

"You're just going to make me repeat it by myself?"

"You look so cute when you say it noona"

Erin rolled her eyes, but cleared her throat anyway "I- state your name-"

"Sang-min 'Samuel' Park!"

"-So solemnly swear to live my life to fullest degree of potential and happiness possible from this moment on, recognising that I am no longer a child, but that doesn't I have to turn into a cynical old man. All agreed say aye." Erin was hardly able to finish talking before she gave into the laughter.

"Aye!" Sammy repeated in a squeaky voice and joined Erin in a chorus of giggles and guffaws.

A moment of comfortable silence passed over them once the laughter died down and Erin sighed again, snuggling closer to Sam and leaning backwards on her elbows. "You think you kept your promise? Are you happy, Sam?"

He frowned for a second and shrugged "I'm alright, I've still got you with me so that's good enough for me." He said softly, reaching forward to brush a stray hair out of Erin's eyes and tuck it behind her ear. The tips of his fingers slowly trailed along her jawline as if he was touching her for the first time. When he cupped her jaw in one hand and pulled her face closer his Erin found herself letting him do so.

They had kissed before, games of spin the bottle at high school parties and a few times after having a couple drinks at home. But those could be explained away by a momentary lapse in judgement and raging underdeveloped hormones. This was a deliberate action and Samuel made sure to move at a slow pace to give Erin enough to time to back out if she wanted to.

She didn't want to.

"You looked so good tonight, noona" Sam whispered against the shell of Erin's ear, the bridge of his nose nuzzled against the hollow of Erins cheek and the warmth of his breath fanned over her skin causing heat to spread all over her body. Her breathing grew shallow and her eyes fluttered shut in anticipation, just as his lips barely brushed against her own a loud blaring noise shattered their fairy tale and made them both jump backwards.

"Oh shit, I think that's my phone. Sorry" Erin fumbled around with the clutch in her hands before pulling out her cell phone and preparing to curse out whoever had the misfortune of calling her at that exact moment.

"Hello?" Erin barked into the receiver.

"I- I'm sorry is this not a good time? Were you sleeping?" Brian’s gentle voice momentarily disarmed Erin's annoyance and she shook her head.

"Oh Brian is that you? No... I'm actually not even home yet, Sammy and I stopped for a drink before going home"

"O-oh okay," Brian replied softly, taking a second to think before speaking again "Well maybe you can text me when you home just so I know you're safe."

"I can do that" Erin answered, trying her best to smile even though she noticed the sudden change in Sam's posture, going from relaxed to rigid the second Erin answered the phone. He stood up after she hung up and held out a hand to help her to her feet. After she was standing he leaned down to pick up his jacket and dusted it off before placing it around Erin's shoulders.

"I should get you home."

Crimson red

Pairing: Rakidric

Summary: Alternate universe where Ivan gets hurt badly during the game against Argentina

Word count: 5202

Warnings: angst, blood, violence (aka someone getting punched in the face), Luka needs a hug

A powerful rush of adrenaline was running down Ivan’s veins. They were winning. Luka just scored a beautiful goal and they were beating Argentina 2-0. He could almost hear the timer ticking closer to the end of the game, closer to their victory, but now wasn’t the time to be lazy and to let their opponents strike back. Also, he was sure they could do better, sure they could fool the Argentinian defense once more.

The team shared his opinion, it seemed, because they kept fighting, harder and harder, while the Argentinian players grew more desperate, but also angrier. The whistle of the referee resonated now and then, sure, but it didn’t do much to calm the hot-heated players.

Putting the game first was hard when Ivan’s instincts screamed at him to keep an eye on Luka, to make sure that he would not be injured. What if he received a bad blow? What if he got injured and couldn’t play for the rest of the competition? He restrained himself from worrying too much, though. Luka was a grown-up man and one of the best midfielders in the world, if not the best. He could take care of himself.

For now, all Ivan needed to think about was the ball at his feet and what he had to do to make it cross the line of their opponent’s net. He was planning his next pass carefully, but fell off balance when another player collided with him. Ivan fell onto the ground, his hands grasping the fresh grass. Once more, the sound of the whistle came to his ear as the referee got closer to scold the Argentinian player who hurt him.

Ivan quickly checked his limbs, but found out that everything was alright. No big injury came from this contact. He was about to get up when suddenly something hit him on the head. Hard. A sharp pain wrecked his skull as he felt something red and warm running down his cheeks.

Before he could process what happened to him, everything went white.

Luka had Ivan’s blood on his hands. He was in a crowded emergency room, where everyone gave him weird looks and all he could think about was the deep red liquid staining his shaking fingers. The black jersey sticking to his back was splattered with red, too.

The same images were running through his mind, again and again, as if he had never left the field. He could clearly see Otamendi striking the ball, aiming for Ivan’s head. And then there was the blood, so much blood. The screams, too, as his team mates shouted at the medical staff to come help Ivan, quickly.

In this chaos, Luka ran, ran until he was kneeling in a puddle of Ivan’s blood. With a quivering hand, he reached for Ivan’s face, hoping to meet his striking green eyes. But they were closed and his eyelids were covered with blood, blood and even more blood. Luka called his name, but Ivan didn’t answer. His skin looked pale, so pale compared to the red streams running down the valleys of his cheeks and forehead.

Before he could try to shake Ivan awake, a member of the medical staff pushed him away. His lack of politesse scared Luka. Was Ivan in such a bad state, for them to hurry so much? Yes, there was blood, gallons of it, on the ground, on his hands, on Ivan’s hair, but that didn’t mean anything, right? In previous games, he had seen Vedran and Domagoj suffering from head injuries only to come back into the pitch a few minutes later. Vedran water polo cap even became some kind of Croatian legend. So Ivan would get up any second now and smile at Luka and tell him everything was alright…

Except he didn’t.

Then, Luka heard it. A doctor saying Ivan had to be taken to a hospital in emergency. At that, Luka panicked and he looked around frantically, looking for any kind of help. He met Suba’s stare and his own fear reflected in them. The fear to lose a team mate on the pitch.

He was about to run in his childhood friend’s arms for comfort when he got distracted. Somewhere from behind him, he heard that Otamendi was getting a yellow card. Only a yellow. Not a red, red like Ivan’s blood, red like the anger building in his chest and blinding him.

Red like the card Luka himself received when he punched Otamendi in the face.

Looking back on it, he had no regrets, even though his conscience insisted that he should feel at least a little bit guilty for falling prey to violence. Sure, he left his team down to ten, but he wouldn’t have been able to keep playing anyway, it could feel it in his bones, in the violent shivers that shook his whole body.

Then it was all a blur, how he had gotten from the pitch to this hospital. He followed the stretcher carrying Ivan, ignoring the medical team who tried to convince him to go back to the bench. He vaguely remembered arguing his way so he could get into the ambulance with Ivan. He recalled his own voice bragging about his celebrity, about his wealth, about how there would be consequences if they didn’t accede to his request.

Usually, he refused to use such low methods, but Ivan was hurt and Luka needed to be by his side, so he would be here, holding his hand, if things turned out wrong, if his boyfriend were to never step out of that ambulance.

Of the ride, all he remembered was his fingers intertwined with Ivan’s lifeless ones and the surge of hope that went through Luka when he saw a pulse on the screen monitoring his heartbeat. He hang onto that line, knowing that he would crash down and never recover if it were to turn flat.

Ivan made it to the hospital but this time, the doctors didn’t let Luka stay with him any longer. There were reassuring hands on his shoulders, firm voices telling him to go to the waiting room while Ivan would undergo surgery.

And so here he was, surrounded by curious people. They recognized him, he was sure. When he arrived there, a screen was showing the last seconds of the game. Argentina had scored a goal, which wasn’t surprising due to their number superiority. However, Croatia had answered back almost immediately and that was a small miracle all by itself. At that thought, a strange bitterness filled Luka’s mouth. Because right now, It wasn’t his team that needed a miracle. Ivan did.

Luka didn’t care about the numbers on the screen anymore, didn’t care about who won 3 to 1. All that mattered was Ivan, Ivan who was fighting for his life in another room while Luka could do nothing but stare at the dried blood on his fingers.

Somewhere in the room, a child started to cry and Luka could feel the angry stare of his mother focused on him, on his red hands. He couldn’t blame her, really. Right now, with his empty stare, there had to be something terrifying about him. More than enough to feed the fears of a small kid, at least.

Maybe that was why no one came to him, why no one tried to snatch an autograph or a picture out of him, even though they knew who he was. Not out of sympathy, but because he looked like a dangerous serial killer at the moment, ready to murder someone. Also, he just punched a guy in the face on national TV. Not the best way to get people to like you.

Luka knew that he was better than that, than this raging anger consuming him. He was a kind man, always ready to help, never prone to violence. Except today. Except when Ivan’s life was on the line. Just knowing there was a possibility that Ivan wouldn’t make it out of surgery…

Luka felt like throwing up and he envisaged rushing to the nearest bathroom to spit his stomach out, but his legs were too wobbly for him to stand. So he just swallowed the bile down and waited in his seat while staring at the white wall in front of him.

He barely responded when Suba joined him in the waiting room. Had it already been this long since the end of the game against Argentina? Luka had no idea. In his mind, time didn’t exist anymore. He was lost and all he could focus on was the reminiscence of Ivan’s face painted in crimson red.

His friend didn’t say anything before engulfing him in a tight, almost painful hug. Luka’s eyes grew wide at the touch. Suddenly, he regretted not going to Suba at the end of the game. This was what he needed, someone reassuring him. A sob came out of his throat and he spilled tears on the goalkeeper’s shoulder. This time, Luka could hear disrespectful people taking pictures of them behind their back. He didn’t care. Not when there was so much more at stake.

“Danijel…”

“I know, Luka, I know. I’m here.”

He didn’t promise him that Ivan would make it out alive and Luka knew he wouldn’t. When their eyes met, he could tell the memories of Hrvoje were haunting his friend more than ever. A wave a guilt crashed on him. Right now, he wasn’t the only one suffering, his friends were certainly worrying too. And yet, they had kept playing until the very last minute of the game, working to make their country proud, when Luka had only shown weakness and selfishness. He felt like the worse human being on the planet and it made him cry even more.

“You’re not alone in this, Luka, I’m here. We need to get you cleaned up. Follow me, please?”

Luka nodded his agreement and Suba took his hand, leading him to the bathroom as if he was a small child, not caring about the blood still covering them. After that, he helped Luka to wash every red spot on his skin. The smaller man watched the water changing to a brownish, dirty color before it disappeared down the drain and that sight made him feel sick, too.

He didn’t make it to a toilet seat and emptied the content of his stomach on the sink, coughing and crying until everything was out while Danijel rubbed his back in a comforting motion. Then he rinsed his mouth once, twice, all the times it took to get rid of the sour taste clinging to his tongue.

Once it was done, he sat at the edge of the sink, shaking once again. Right now, he needed Ivan’s kisses to feel better, needed to see Ivan’s cocky smile and shining eyes to chase all his demon’s away. But Ivan wasn’t there, he was in surgery and maybe he wouldn’t ever come back, maybe Luka would never get to tell him again how much he loved him.

“Luka, look at me. Do you want to talk? It can be about anything.”

No, it couldn’t be about anything, not when Luka’s mind was filled with Ivan, Ivan and Ivan alone.

“They… They took him into surgery… Ivan… He’s hurt and there’s nothing I can do to help him. All I managed was to jeopardize the future of our team in the world cup by acting recklessly, because I’m useless here, I’m sorry I left you all alone on the pitch, but I had to be with him, I had to…”

Before he could break down, Danijel pulled even closer to him. Luka’s chest was heaving and he was struggling to breathe, but the proximity of his friend helped him to fight the panic.

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything, Lukita. You love Ivan. Your place is here, near him, to be there when he’ll wake up. You wouldn’t have been able to focus on the game anyway, we both know that. So stop beating yourself over it.”

“Wait, you mean you knew? For me and Ivan, I mean?”

Suba let out a sad laugh, just as Luka’s mind started to race once more.

“Of course I knew. You two were a bit obvious. Most of the team already found out, including the coach, but we didn’t say anything to respect your privacy. We were waiting for you two to tell us.”

“You were… Fuck, I’m such an idiot!” Luka cried out as another memory crashed onto him, erasing everything else around him.

It was the night before the game against Argentina. A soft wind was blowing outside and the moon was shining brightly. It could have been a peaceful evening, if Luka hadn’t been so worried about the match to come. He was walking around in his hotel room while thinking about strategy, his fists clenched tight. No matter what he did, nothing seemed enough to release the pressure on his shoulders.

However, a breeze of relief fell upon him when Ivan wrapped his arms around his waist from behind him. Luka closed his eyes and let his head rest against his boyfriend’s chest, suddenly more at peace.

“Stop worrying, we’ll have enough time to speak strategy with the coach tomorrow. You should come to bed now.”

“Yes, I guess you’re right.” Luka replied, turning around so he could leave a quick kiss on his lips.

Ivan smiled then grabbed his hand, gently guiding him between the covers. Luka cuddled next to him, glowing with happiness as his boyfriend took him in his arms once more. Ivan kissed him with more passion before changing target as he started sucking on his neck. Luka’s finger gripped the sheets and he had to bite his lower lip to stifle a moan. His lover started to wander lower with the firm intention to go down on him, but Luka stopped him.

“No, Ivan, we can’t do that. Not here.”

“What, afraid I’ll leave you too exhausted to play tomorrow?” Ivan struck back with a cocky smirk.

“It’s not that. The others could hear us. You know quite well how…vocal we can get.”

“We? Usually you’re the one shouting my name.”

Luka blushed a deep red and Ivan chuckled before leaving a gentle kiss on his nose.

“Did I manage to get you all flustered? Not that I’m complaining. You look so cute like that.”

“Stop making fun of me! And yes, maybe I’m the one making noise, but that doesn’t change anything. We can’t do this here.”

This time, Ivan rolled to the other side of the bed, a more serious expression on his face. Luka sensed the change in his behavior and he could tell a strong storm was brewing.

“So that’s how it is? We’re never going to come out?”

“To the rest of the team? Well, maybe one day, once we’re sure it won’t cause trouble. But right now, we can’t take the risk to jeopardize the team’s balance, not before an important game.”

“I wasn’t only talking about the team. It’s just… I wish we didn’t have to hide our love. I wish I could hold your hand when we’re going outside or kiss you when we’re celebrating a goal.”

“Wait, so you’re saying you’d want us to come out… to the whole world?”

Ivan took a deep breath and his eyes avoided Luka’s. His voice shook a little when he answered:

“Yes. That’s what I’d want.”

“Listen, Ivan, I’d like to have this too, but it’s not reasonable. Too many people would judge us and it could get in the way of our careers. Also…”

“Yeah, I already know about it. It was just a stupid idea. Forget about it.”

“Ivan, wait…”

But his boyfriend was already curled up on his own side of the bed, pretending to be asleep when he clearly wasn’t. Luka considered calling him on his bluff, but he feared it would only lead to a fight between them. They were both on edge because of the up-coming game, now was not the time to discuss life-changing decisions. So he settled on hugging Ivan tightly, taking the role of big spoon for once.

Guilt suddenly invaded Luka’s mind as realization dawned upon him. It had been his last moment of intimacy with Ivan and he had ruined it in fear of having their relationship discovered when everyone in the team already knew about it. Maybe Ivan stepped into the pitch while still thinking about their argument, doubting his love for him, maybe he would never wake up, maybe Luka would never be able to tell him just how sorry he was.

“Luka, you’re drifting off again.” Danijel gently told him.

“Yes, sorry… I… It’s just…”

“No need to explain yourself. I know it’s hard. The coach told me he needed to see you, though. Do you think you’re strong enough to do that?”

“I… Yes, yes I am.”

At least, he needed to be. He couldn’t give up on the rest of the team, couldn’t fail them like he had already failed in taking care of Ivan.

“Let’s go then. But don’t forget, I’m here if you need any support.”

Luka nodded weakly, but he still followed Danijel through the hospital’s long corridors. Hhe was thankful his friend was there was there to guide him, because he was so lost he would never have found his way back on his own.

Zlatko Dalic was waiting in another room with the rest of Luka’s team mates. The captain realized that he could have asked somewhere more private to stay earlier, had he not been so confused at the time. All of his friends hugged Luka tightly, whispering words of reassurance in his ear. He was thankful to have them here, thankful not to be alone anymore.

Just a few minutes later, a doctor entered the room, before the coach could talk to Luka. The captain’s heart stopped as he stared at the woman, not knowing what to make out of her expressionless face.

“Is there anything new about Ivan? Is he out of surgery? Is he alright?”

“Please calm down. Your friend made it out alive of the operation. However, I can not tell you when he will wake up.”

Ivan was alive. At first, that was all that mattered to Luka. His boyfriend was out of danger. Luka would be able to kiss him once more, to tell him how sorry he was, to tell him that he was proud to be with him and that no one in this world could change his mind about it.

But still, something in the doctor’s tone felt wrong.

“What do you mean, you don’t know when he will wake up? If it take a few hours, that’s not a problem. I’m not leaving this place without Ivan.”

“It’s not that easy. It could take him only hours to wake up, yes, but it could also take him days, months or even years. You should prepare yourself for that.”

“What, no! It can’t be! Ivan is strong, he’s gonna wake up any moment, I’m sure!” Luka protested, but all he received was a look full of pity.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of him.” Vedran told the doctor, sadness in his voice and she nodded before leaving them.

Luka forced himself to stay strong. He couldn’t freak out, even though every cell in his body told him to do it. He needed to be there for his team, because they were all worried about Ivan too.

“Okay, coach, just tell me what you have to. It’s about what happened during the game, I’m sure. Listen, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have lost my composure, but…”

Dalic put a firm, supporting hand on his shoulder and Luka suddenly felt like crying again.

“No one here is blaming you for what you did, Luka. We all know how much Ivan matter to you. However, we can’t let people believe the captain of our team is prone to violence. Listen, I know it will be hard, but it would be good if you made a public declaration. To apologize for what you did to Otamendi. Not for him, but for you, Luka. I wouldn’t want you to lose more than you already have”

Dalic kept on talking, but Luka wasn’t listening anymore. He had to apologize to Otamendi. Because of the Argentinian player, there was a chance that Ivan would never wake up, but Luka had to apologize to him. Publicly.

Deep down, he knew it would mean being the better man, proving to be wiser. But he couldn’t see it now, not when it felt as if the room was closing on him. So Luka did the first thing that came to his mind. He rushed out of the room, running away from the dark thoughts plaguing him, running away from his team mates.

He didn’t watch where he was going and only stopped once he found himself in an empty storage room. He sat down next to a self and buried his face between his knees. No matter what people expected of him, he couldn’t do it right now. Sure, the press would expect quick reactions from him, but he just couldn’t do it right now. Not when he deemed himself too weak.

At some point, he even told himself that he should have been the injured one, that Ivan would have been better than him at dealing with this. Not that he wished any pain on Ivan, but Luka would easily give his life if it meant his boyfriend would wake up.

By the time someone found him, Luka’s tears had dried on his cheeks and he had no more to spill. He expected Danijel to come to reason him, or maybe the coach himself, so he raised an eyebrow when Mario sat down next to me.

“I can’t believe they sent Mr No Good himself to lecture me on violence.” Luka laughed bitterly.

“Don’t be stupid, I was the first to find you, that’s all. But you should still do what the coach says and go talk to the press. I hate it as much as you do, trust me. And to be honest, that bastard would certainly be in a worse state if I had gotten to him before you. However, I’m sure Ivan wouldn’t want you to get into such a mess, not even for him. You know what he would have wanted.”

Luka stared at the ceiling, but his eyes grew firm with determination.

“Yeah, you’re right. I should do what Ivan would have wanted.”

The press conference left Luka exhausted. It was almost a miracle that he managed to go through it, but when he closed the door, he was filled with a warm feeling of accomplishment. It didn’t take long for him to start worrying again, though.

For the first time since the game, he was allowed to go into Ivan’s room, so he could watch over him. There was an impressive bandage wrapped around his lover’s head but at least it was clean and no blood was leaking out. Luka guessed that was a good thing.

Ivan eyes were still closed, though. Luka gently brushed his knuckles against his face, afraid to hurt him but yearning to see his boyfriend look at him. But Ivan didn’t stir and Luka felt like sobbing again. He restrained himself. He didn’t know if Ivan had any way of hearing him, but if that was the case, he didn’t want him to worry.

“It’s me, Ivan. Luka. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere until you get better.”

No response. Luka was tempted to climb into the bed to cuddle with Ivan the way they did every night, but he feared it would worsen his lover’s injuries. So he settled on sitting next to him while holding his boyfriend’s hand. It felt warm in his and Luka squeezed it tightly, hoping the gesture would be enough to convey all his love.

“Please, don’t leave me, Ivan. You’ll see, everything we’ll be better when you wake up, I promise. So please, come back to me. To us. The whole team’s waiting for you too. Dejan and Sime are so worried they’ve stopped singing Marica. Domo didn’t pour beer on anyone when we won. We can’t function without you, Ivan. I can’t function without you…”

So much for not crying. Luka buried his face in the covers on Ivan’s bed, trying his bed to muffle his sobs. It hurt, so much that his chest felt like exploding. He hoped for a miracle, but Ivan stayed still and Luka started drifting off to sleep and to nightmares filled with blood.

Luka jolted awake when he felt a hand on his head. At first he thought it belonged to a monster belonging to his dreams, ready to crush his skull. Then he realized that the touch was gentle and that the little caresses on his hair felt nice and familiar. His eyes fluttered open and Ivan welcomed him with a happy but tired smile.

“Hello, sleeping beauty. I thought you would never wake up.”

“What… I mean, how… Ivan, you’re…”

“Alive? Of course. You should know it takes more than a simple blow to take me out.”

Luka didn’t think twice. His lips crashed against Ivan’s as he jumped into his arms. His boyfriend winced though, and he immediately let it go.

“Ouch, watch out. I may be tough, but I’m still recovering.”

“Don’t joke about that. I was so worried, Ivan, you have no idea…”

Ivan cupped his face in his hands, all the while looking at him with an adoring look in his eyes.

“Actually, I have an idea. I must have something like a billion messages on my phone about how you declared your undying love to me in front of the cameras just a few hours ago.”

Luka blinked, confused, then he remembered. He saw himself getting in the room filled with journalists waiting for an explanation. He recalled his own lips moving as he apologized for succumbing to violence instead of keeping his calm. However, he didn’t stop here. No, he also explained why he had acted with such spontaneity. Luka faced the whole world without fear as he revealed everything about his love for Ivan and his fear of losing him. Somehow, he had managed not to cry, not until he could go back to Ivan’s side at least.

But now that he was staring straight at Ivan’s green eyes, Luka began to panic. The last day looked like a blur to him, all his actions lead by the painful abyss in his chest. However, Ivan was awake now and he would have to face the consequences of Luka’s declaration to the press, even in his weakened state. Guilt started to plague the small captain. What if Ivan didn’t mean it when he said he wanted to come out? What if Luka exposed him without his consent? Then maybe Ivan would leave him, and he’d had every right to do so, because…

“Hey, Lukita, you alright?”

Luka nodded, but Ivan didn’t buy his lie.

“What is wrong? I know I don’t look my best, but I’m not going anywhere, promise.”

“It’s not that. Are you… Are you mad at me? For what I said during that press conference? Because you need to know I’m sorry, that I was so lost at the time and thought you might never wake up, even though that’s no excuse but…”

“Wow, calm down. I’m not angry at you, Luka, not even one bit. I actually caught a video of it while you were sleeping and you were perfect. This… This is what I’ve wanted since forever. So thank you. Thank you so much.”

“You’re not saying this just so I can feel better?”

“Luka, there’s a pair of rings waiting in my locker right now. I’ve been carrying it everywhere except on the pitch, so unluckily I don’t have them on me right now. Because if I did, I would already be down on one knee.”

“You… You must be kidding. There’s no way you actually planned to…”

“Try me.”

Luka knew that fierce look. It was the one Ivan always wore before fighting against him in a clasico. His boyfriend only looked like that when he was determined to win. This time, Luka kissed him with passion, though he restrained himself to make sure Ivan wouldn’t get hurt.

“Don’t worry, we’ll go fetch those rings together soon enough.”

“I can’t wait. At least when I’ll be your official fiancé, I’ll get to make you moan and scream without having you worrying about the rest of the team finding out.”

“Do you really have to bring that back?”

“What? I love your voice, that’s all.”

The chuckle in Ivan’s words disappeared when he saw that Luka was withdrawing on himself. So he wrapped an arm around his shoulder, drawing him close.

“What’s wrong? Spill it out, you’ll feel better.”

“Don’t you understand? I almost lost you and all I could think about was how much I disappointed you the last time we spent some time alone. I thought it would haunt me forever.”

“Oh, Lukita, you never disappointed me. I’m sorry if I acted a bit harshly, I was on nerves before that game. If everything, I’m the one at fault here for pressuring you and making you worry. So let’s just forget about it, okay? I want my future fiancé to know just how thankful I am to have him.”

“Now someone’s playing the romantic card.”

“No, for real, Luka, don’t you dare feel bad about any of this. You’re making me the happiest man on earth just by staying here with me.”

“If you say so. Now, I should go tell the others that you’re awake and fine.”

Luka was about to leave, but before he could do that, Ivan gripped him by the midriff and threw him on the bed. The smaller man yelped when he found himself in his boyfriend’s arms, with Ivan grinning like a fox.

“I think I’d rather keep you here with me for a little longer. Also, you look tired and I’m sure you need some more sleep.”

“But Ivan, our friends, they’re so worried…”

“Already sent them messages to tell them I was alive and kicking. Now can we please cuddle?”

“Of course, we can. But don’t you dare frighten me like that ever again, you idiot.”

“You sure? Seeing you punching people in the face can be pretty distracting.”

“Ivan!”

“Just kidding. I’ll do my best to stay out of trouble. Now, we need to rest for next game.”

“Like hell the coach and I are letting you play with that injury.”

“Don’t underestimate me. I need to score a goal so I can propose to my future fiancé on the pitch.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“Yeah, but you love it.”

Luka snuggled a bit closer to his chest, until he could hear Ivan’s reassuring heartbeat.

“Okay, maybe, but that’s only because you’re my dork.”

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