#fucking sad monster man getting called 'uncle' by his favorite child
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this is probably gonna be less cohesive than the silly shit i usually post but i cannot stop thinking about it! as always highly, highly self indulgent.
So over the course of the last few months? Years maybe? Human time is ridiculous, frankly. But for however long it's been, it's obvious that they've developed some sort of function in their dysfunctional little group. Corinthian wouldn't say family, because they're not. Not him or Gadling, at least. And frankly Desire is closer in the bloodline, but they're all still tiptoeing around that point.
Well the rest of them are tiptoeing. Corinthian has made several very loud, very clear threats to indicate exactly where he stands on that front. It's one of the few things he and Dream readily and wholeheartedly agree on, actually.
Not the point.
The point is that whatever the hell it is they have, it's something. And it's...good, actually. Caring for things is something Corinthian knows he doesn't do well; it's either not at all or far, far, too much. To a point where it's usually better to shove it back down into the 'not at all' category. But the Walkers have wormed their way under his skin and burrowed too deep into whatever sort of heart he may have for him to deny that he keeps them there.
Sure, he's technically supposed to be doing the work of a Nightmare, pushing other humans to confront their (outrageously well founded, it turns out) fears of dentistry or some shit. But instead, he spends most of his time pushing the Walkers to overcome their fears of other things.
"Why the hell wouldn't you get that scholarship, Rosebud? I've seen the stuff you've written, and what you end up writing in the Library, and it's better than anything those other hacks would submit. Their prose is fucking awful."
"Jed, so help me God, if you spend one more day moping about that boy who looks like a damn toe, I'm gonna make him disappear so you might finally forgot about him!"
He figures he's all right, since Dream hasn't shooed him back out of the Waking World yet. Though there was a close call when he finally figured out about the whole "stabbing the immortal" thing. Apparently having explicit consent still wasn't enough to stab a guy? Ridiculous.
Gadling still lets him, of course. It's their thing.
It's also the only reason he continues to put up with the amount of stupid shit Gadling always feels compelled to talk about. Definitely the only reason.
"Stop making that face at me," he says without turning his head back towards the bar, instead watching Jed hurry to the back to get his bookbag out of Gadling's apartment. With a fucking key, mind you, because they're finally locking the damn door.
"Not sure what face you mean," Gadling lies, and sure enough, when Corinthian finally turns back, he's smirking at him. That annoying expression that says Gadling knows more than he should. Or, at least, that he thinks he does, and is wrong, which is more likely. Really.
Corinthian clicks his tongue, annoyed, and takes another sip of his beer. "You know, I think I remember you being less annoying when we met."
Gadling laughs outright at that. "Oh, really? Because that isn't how you acted."
"Didn't say how much less annoying."
Still chuckling, Gadling leans across the bar and kisses his cheek, because he's a pathetic sap. And Corinthian lets him, but only because why shouldn't he accept the attention of his hot bartender?
"I think it's sweet, is all," Gadling says when he leans back, of course after he's out of easy biting range.
Corinthian would roll his eyes if he had any. "What? Telling the kid to get his shit? Rose is gonna be here to pick him up any minute now."
Gadling is smirking at him again. "So?"
"So?" he repeats, scowling across the bar. "They're meeting that Lyta woman for dinner, and if Jed waits for Rose to get here to get his bag, she's gonna get distracted talking to you about some school shit, and then they're gonna go sprinting out of here late."
The way Gadling's expression softens does not make him any happier to be having this conversation.
"I know, Cor," he says, eyes crinkling in the corners, crows feet he's had since the fucking Middle Ages creasing the skin.
"Then why the hell are you--" the bell chiming over The New Inn's door cuts him off, and sure enough, Rose walks in, checking her watch as she goes. "Hey Rosebud," he calls, grateful for something else to talk about. Or at least someone else to talk to.
"Oh, hey! Is Jed ready?" she asks, looking around the pub.
As if summoned, her little brother -- who has gained several inches in height and will probably need new pants again, Corinthian realizes -- comes barrelling down the stairs and into the main room. "I'm here! I'm ready!"
Rose relaxes, smiling at him, but she turns towards the bar regardless. "Oh, by the way, Professor! I wanted to ask you about that--"
"Rose, come on! I'm hungry!" Jed protests, pushing her towards the door.
"Ugh, fine! I'll email you, Professor!" she says waving at them both.
Despite all his previous urgency for dinner, it's Jed who turns around at the last minute and rushes back to the bar.
Corinthian raises an eyebrow. "You forget something kid?" he asks, only to find two gangly arms hooked around his waist in lieu of an answer, squeezing briefly but tightly.
Before he has a chance to figure out why the hell he's getting hugged, much less move to ask (or return it?), Jed is already rushing back out after Rose, calling over his shoulder, "Bye Uncle Cor!"
And just like that, they're out the door, bell jingling behind them, the chime of it ringing in his ears longer than he's ever heard it ring before. Corinthian doesn't even realize he's been staring, dumbfounded, at the spot where they'd last been until there's a warm hand on his forearm, seeping through his jacket and up to his elbow, drawing his attention.
Gadling's expression is soft again, but he can't find it in himself to be irritated by it. There's no room. Not when something else has started bubbling in his chest, effervescent and sharp and too hard to make sense of for him to try right now.
Gadling doesn't say anything, but when he leans across the bar again, Corinthian dips closer, feels lips against his forehead and warm, warm, warm.
He'll pick it all apart later, he knows. Tear at the nuance until there's nothing but shreds and doubt left behind. And further down, tucked away and rarely looked at, he suspects the Walkers will unknowingly bandage all those little shreds back together until there's nothing left to do but accept the way they've rebuilt their world and built all of them (him?) into it.
Whatever the hell it is they have is something good. And maybe even better than that.
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#I JUST DON'T THINK HE WOULD KNOW HOW TO DEAL OKAY?#fucking sad monster man getting called 'uncle' by his favorite child#he's going to use hob's credit card to overcompensate for his feelings#yes they live in a little apartment but maybe jed WANTS a basketball hoop?#hobrinthian#hob gadling#rose walker#the corinthian#jed walker#the sandman#fanfic#long post#again i'm so sorry for the length of these things
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Diary of a Horror Buff 8.26.22
Ok so I did some car shopping and we've definetly clarified a few things so thats good so lets relax and watch a bunch of short films because we cool cool like that.
Whistle and I'll Come To You (2010) dir. Andy de Emmony
Ok so this is probable one of my favorite adaptations so far. If you haven't ever whistle and I'll come to you then your in for a treat.
Also Please Read this Great adaptation if you want a taste.
the basic story is that a man goes to investigate some ruins and finds a strange whistle, he in jest blows in it but soon he is haunted
BY A SPECTER WHO COMES TO HARINGUE YOU FOR YOUR cRiMeS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1
This version is a modern adaptation which is honestly kinda refreshing. In this one an old pensioner checks his catatonic wife into a nursing home and spend some time at a seaside hotel that they had previous spent time in in there youth. He finds a curious ring in the sand and the story plays out roughly the same with nightly visits by a mysterious specter.
I loved this because it touched a bit close to home. I have been a caretaker for both my mother and grandmother and caretaker horror if it can called that calls apon a very poignant level of emotion that goes into that dynamic.
Watching somebody you love slowly die before they ever truly stop breathing is the real horror. Being Trapped in a failing body and mind is the real horror. why should we care about life after death when we have to live with death during life.
Ok so thinking of this movie made me sad again so lets watch somebody saw there head off of something.
Midnight Story (2017) dir. Jinanavin Veerapatra, Chaloempong Balpala
Ok so I kinda love how her mother like look at all these scary pictures of you being scared by monsters under the bed lol.
oh god did that get fucked up real quickly.
so we go from a third person perspective to a first as the little girl creeps down the stairs. Her parents are fighting and that fighting becomes violent. The parents morph into hidious creatures and began fighting again until they see there daughter and start chasing her.
this is an absolutely amazingly shot film and it is terrifrying and fucked up thank you for that.
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Woman Who Stole Fingers (2010) dir. Saori Shiroki
CW: Body Horror, stealing peoples joints
ok so this is a animated short film about a women who steals a little boys fingers and toes and as you can imagine kinda fucks up his life cause he kinda needs those to balance and grab things.
I'm not really sure what this movie is about child abuse??? but it is definetly bizarre and uncanny.
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Be Your Own Dentist dir. Jon Sims
Oh god I think I might be sick.
CW: Teeth gore.
Ok so this is a 7 minute meditation track were Katya, the only high-class russian whore, teaches us how to pull out our own teeth with a surgical grade titanium pair of pliers.
It makes me gag it makes me choke and as someone who has had very bad teeth in my life hits way way way to close to home.
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100.000 Acres of Pine dir. Jennifer Alice Wright
so as a PNW Bitch you know I love a good spooky forest vibe.
In this one a ranger goes farther in the woods while struggling to understand the mysterious death of her brother.
Shenanigans, (eldritch forest locations), ensue.
I of course love everything about this, the PNW Forest Aestetic, The Sap Blood, the music, the Casette Tapes. This is everything I love in movies and they are serving it.
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Uncle Josh's Nightmare (1900) dir. Edwin S. Porter
OK I mean I kind had to look at that name.
So this is a pretty straightforward. Uncle Josh wakes up one night and Mephistopheles, (are favorite stock character), shows up to hang out. Uncle Josh aint much for wise guys so he trys to give old splitfoot here a pugilist potion. Mephi didn't care much for that so he pulls some Melies Jump Cuts to fuck with him and then reappears everything???
Honestly its not anything we haven't seen before to be honest. But not to be a bitch but its not like Edwin S. Porter has shown a large amount of originality in these shorts.
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Uncle Josh in a Spooky Hotel (1900) dir. Edwin S. Porter
This time its a sequel and this time it involves some ghosts and some slapstick. the more i watch these the more I'm convinced that Porter had a Gay Ass crush on George Melies and this was his way of getting his attention.
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The Pit and the Pendulum (1913) dir. Alice Guy-Blaché
Ok so another poe adaptation.
so the original story is pretty simple some dude gets inquistitioned and is casually tortured by the spanish catholic church by a giant axe blade on a pendulum that swings back and forth and gets ever slightly lower and lower. Oh and by the way this is told in first person.
but no serious its pretty fucked up.
also this was hard to get into because it has a really fucking famous clasically piece playing over it which is a little weird cause this is a horror movie and this shit is very clearly Waltz of Flowers which is such a fucking bizarre choice like out of all the classical music out there your gonna play some shit called a waltz of flowers.
anyway in this one some dudes fight over some chick and one of them is a doctor or a monk or something. to be honest I have no Idea.
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Sredni Vashtar by Saki (1940) dir. David Bradley
ok so I was not famalier with this story which is a literally ironic giving the font of knowledge that I have been with these things. So Saki was basically a british dude and here is the synopsis from wikipedia.
"Conradin, a sickly 10-year old boy, lives in the care of his despised, overbearing and controlling cousin Mrs De Ropp. He relies on his vivid imagination not only to keep him strong enough to survive, but also to serve as his escape from the real world. Rebelling against Mrs De Ropp's oppressive care, Conradin secretly keeps two animals in an unused garden shed: a hen, which he adores, and a polecat-ferret, which he fears and keeps locked in a hutch. Gradually, Conradin begins to venerate the ferret as a god, naming it Sredni Vashtar. He worships it weekly, bringing offerings of flowers and berries, and stolen nutmeg for special occasions."
So yeah this is the story of a sad lonely boy who worships a ferret. honestly based.
David Bradley is a rather unknown figure to me but apparently he also directed THEY SAVED HITLERS BRAIN, which we all know is a wonderful and not problamatic film.
This was honestly a lovely little gothic story and I'm glad that old crone was a lovely sacrifice.
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Porky and Slyvester in Claws for Alarm (1954) dir. Chuck Jones
so this is a much later looney toon short. We've seen early porky pig and honestly the production is so much higher. we have full voice acting, its in color and while for me very little ever truly manages to match the whimsy of the fleischer shorts this one is alright.
Basically Porky and Slyvester find a mysterious hotel but instead of some spooky japes these ghosts are here for blood. like they little ar trying to hang, shoot, slit there throats. Like these ghosts don't fuck around there serving H.H.Holmes realness.
Also porky pig is kinda an asshole for no reason in this short. Slyvester keeps literally saving his life and hes like what are you a Schizo, (which is totes not chill just saying.)
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The Alphabet (1969) dir. David Lynch
Ok so it turns out that David Lynch has actually made quite a few fucked up short films goody for me.
Do I understand anything about this absolutely not but am I glad that it exists of course.
OK Whores thats everything that I have for today. thanks for watching with me.
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A Chronicle of the Life of Sirius Black, as told by Regulus Black
TEN TIMES Regulus didn’t matter and the one time he realized he’d mattered all along / TEN TIMES Regulus was jealous of Sirius and the one time he realized that Sirius’ happiness was his happiness
1. Sirius being in Gryffindor [Without Me - Halsey]
The day Sirius is sorted into Gryffindor, Regulus is at home, a scared little ten-year-old alone with their hateful parents for the first time ever. Sirius sends him a letter every day, always kind, always joyful, and it helps, it does. But Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor. He’s the first Black in centuries not to be in Slytherin, and he’s proud of it. Almost offensively so. And Regulus tries. He does. He tries to be brave, he tries to follow his brother’s example. But there he is, the huge, frumpy Hat on his head, and even as he pleads, Let me be with my brother. Please. He’s the only thing that makes me happy. Please, please, please, let me be with Sirius, the Hat shouts, “Slytherin!” and something in Regulus’ chest breaks as the Hat grins and Sirius’ eyes cut with betrayal. Regulus swallows down the feeling, settling beside Severus Snape (a boy Sirius hates) at the Slytherin table and trying not to cry. The day Regulus is sorted is, he knows, the last day Sirius really loves him.
2. Sirius having non-pureblood and real friends [Hurts Like Hell - Madison Beer]
Sirius doesn’t really look at Regulus anymore. Not the same way, anyway. Besides, he has friends to keep him company now. Friends who have all sorts of blood and these mischiveious glints in their eyes and so much fucking love for Sirius it makes Regulus sick. And Regulus has friends too, sure - friends like Lucius Malfoy and Mulciber and Bellatrix and Crouch. Slimy, disgusting scumbags who he knows will end up killers. But Regulus isn’t an idiot, and he knows that any kid who travels alone in this school doesn’t survive. So he lets them serve as his shield, because Severus only wants Lily and Sirius doesn’t want Regulus, not anymore, so if he doesn’t want to be alone he better shape the fuck up. But Sirius thinks Regulus likes these people, Sirius thinks Regulus believes in blood purity, Sirius thinks Regulus is just like every other dark wizard they’ve ever met and Regulus doesn’t know what you’re supposed to do when the only person you’ve ever loved thinks you’re a killer and hates you for it.
3. Sirius having the courage to stand up to their parents [You should be sad - Halsey]
When Sirius finally does come back home with him, there’s this fire in his eyes that wasn’t there before. He doesn’t just ignore their parents anymore. He speaks up, speaks loud, and boldly goes on and on about the greatness of Gryffindor and that half-blood friend of his, Remus Lupin. He defends werewolves and slanders Death Eaters and he even calls their mother a bitch. To her face. And they punish him, oh, do they punish him. Crucio! after Crucio!, but Sirius does not budge. He keeps talking back, he keeps being himself, he keeps cursing out their ideas and challenging every little thing they say, and Regulus can hear him screaming from the basement at night, where they lock him up without food. And Regulus brings some food down every night he can manage, taking in the sight of his beautiful, beloved brother battered and bruised and angry, and Siris will always smile at him. But then he looks at Regulus for support during one of his fights with their parents and Regulus can only look down at his lap, his words caught in his throat. And just like that, Sirius is a different person. And this Sirius has a heart that doesn’t know Regulus’ name. But Regulus’ still knows Sirius. Always, always Sirius.
4. Sirius kissing boys (half-blood werewolf ones at that) [Little Miss Perfect - Annapantsu cover]
And then, in fourth year, Regulus sees Sirius kiss a boy. Not just any boy, either - Remus Lupin, that half-blood werewolf that’s supposed to be a secret. And they’re smiling and laughing and, oh Merlin, they’re holding hands. And then Sirius touches Remus’ face and kisses him again, the two of them grinning into each other’s mouths as Regulus stares, unable to stop. Because he wants to kiss boys. He wants to kiss James Potter and his infuriating smirk. He wants to kiss Severus Snape and his stupid frown. He wants to kiss Peter Pettigrew and his crooked grin. He wants to kiss Amir Levis and his perfect smile. He wants to kiss boys, boys, boys, but no. Because he’s not brave, he’s not a Gryffindor, he’s not Sirius, so he can’t kiss boys. And so instead he stares. And he stares, and he stares, and he stares until Sirius sees him and storms over, asking him if he has a problem and shoving him back until Regulus is running down the hall, trying not to cry until he’s alone, because Sirius hates him, hates him, hates him because he thinks Regulus hates him, and for the first time in his life Regulus can’t even deny it.
5. Sirius wearing dresses [Alyssa Greene - from “The Prom”]
One day in fifth year, Sirius shows up to their Potions class in a skirt. He stands there in the doorway, a hand on his cocked hip and the other hanging down as he smirks and cuts his eyes around the room. Regulus can’t breathe, and neither, it seems, can anyone else, as the entire room basks in silence. Finally James pipes up, “Lookin’ good, Sirius,” and Sirius grins, ducking his head to the ground in embarrassed happiness as he makes his way over to Remus, tucking himself into his side with a smile and a kiss. And Regulus looks down at his stupid tight pants and imagines they were a lace dress instead and everything inside of him calms. He glances at Sirius the whole lesson, desperate to talk to him, but as he catches Sirius’ eyes, the truth you’re beautiful, Siri gets caught in his throat and instead outpours his snarky hurt, “Nice skirt, Black,” and Sirius’ eyes go squinty with his own hurt and Regulus finally learns what wanting to die truly feels like. But he can’t take it back, and Sirius is already stalking away, his head high, and so Regulus shoves the pain down where he shoves everything else and he hates and he hates and he hates all of it, but mostly himself.
6. Sirius running away to James’ house [Fake - Lauv, Conan Gray]
And then Sirius leaves him. It’s Regulus’ fucking birthday and he’s only fif-fucking-teen and his favorite person in the world is leaving him. And Regulus is begging, pleading, screaming, as he tears at Sirius’ clothes and grasps desperately for his hands, crying, “Please, please, please, don’t leave me here alone, don’t let me go, don’t leave, stay here, stay here with me, let me be with you Sirius -” and then Sirius is whirling around and grasping Regulus by the neck, tugging him in and searching his eyes, his own cold, and Regulus can’t breathe. Sirius leans in, blood and tears making his skin grimy to the touch, and he whispers, “Come with me.” And Regulus hates himself, hates himself, hates himself, because he says, “Yes,” and then shoves Sirius out the front door and locks it tight, cowering before their wrathful parents as his mother raises her wand and whispers, “Crucio.” And Regulus screams, screams until he can’t even hear it anymore, screams until all of his breath has left him, but Sirius doesn’t come. Because Sirius is brave, and Sirius has left, and Sirius doesn’t love Regulus anymore.
7. Sirius having someone who loves him just as fiercely as Sirius loves them [Take Me to Church - Hozier]
Regulus doesn’t believe in love, okay, because love is absolute shit. The only person Regulus has ever loved is Sirius, and Sirius fucking hates him right down to his bones and so Regulus thinks that maybe love is just bullshit some sunshine mother made up for her child to believe in, if sunshine mothers even exist that is, because Regulus only knows his monster of one. But Sirius does believe in love. Regulus knows this, because Regulus Black is not a blind idiot and Sirius Potter loves Remus Lupin. But Regulus knows better than to assume he’ll be invited to their wedding. He knows what Sirius thinks of him. He knows Sirius hates him, no matter how bright Regulus’ own heart burns for him. But Regulus gets a little something in the mail anyway - not an invitation, of course not, but a letter, written by one Remus Lupin, asking if Regulus would pretty please make just the tiniest bit of time to come and see them on the big day, only five minutes if that’s all he can spare, because Sirius will want him to be there even if he’s a stubborn git who refuses to say it. (Remus’ words, not his.) And Regulus burns it, burns it like his shattered heart and hopes that the memory of it burns too soon, but Regulus is not one to deny simple truths, and the most simple truth of all is that all Regulus can be bothered to care about anymore is whether his brother is happy, and so he goes. It’s only for a moment - he doesn’t even make himself seen. But he stands outside the tent populated by the countless friends and family Sirius has made in the same time Regulus has lost his only one, and he watches as his brother dances with his werewolf husband. Watches as they press their foreheads together, as they smile, as they share a kiss. As they spin and twirl and sway, as their friends join them. Regulus watches, and Remus looks up and sees him and smiles, and Regulus apparates away with a heart that is no longer burning, but bleeding.
8. Sirius having a blank wrist [World Burn - from “Mean Girls”]
Regulus doesn’t make it fully back in the door after the wedding before his bitch of a mother is shoving him up against the wall as his father grabs his other wrist and tugs it out so hard he feels his shoulder snap out of his socket for a moment. Regulus finally manages to take in his surroundings, a house full of hateful cousins and bigoted aunts and uncles and they all have snakes and skulls on their arms and Regulus looks down at his blank wrist and back up at the slimy smirking man slithering towards him with the evil eyes and he cries, “No. No. No no no no no no no no -” and when the man’s wand stabs his arm he screams louder than he ever has before but nobody fucking hears him because he is Regulus Black and he is all alone and he is a Death Eater. And he flees, apparates as soon as they’re off him to Sirius’, but there’s a wand pressed against his throat there too. And Sirius is shoving him back, pushing him towards the open window as he places himself carefully in front of his new husband, sleepy and still somehow smiling kindly at Regulus even as he sees the Mark on his arm, and Regulus bursts into tears. “I’m sorry,” he pledges. “I’m sorry, Siri, they didn’t give me a choice, they made me, Siri, I -” But his brother doesn’t understand and his brother hates him and his brother spits, “You had a fucking choice, Regulus. You always had a choice. All you had to do was come the fuck with me.” Regulus can’t breathe. “I love you,” he cries, but Sirius just shakes his head. “You have no idea what love is,” he says, and casts a quick Stupefy, shoving Regulus out the window for good measure. And Regulus lies there, staring up at the sky and listening to the peaceful silence of his brother’s home, the home he shares with someone who loves him, loves him far better than Regulus ever could, and he sets his jaw and pulls down his sleeve and apparates himself back to the Dark Lord. Because they may be Death Eaters but at least they fucking want him.
9. Sirius volunteering to fight instead of being forced [This Is Why We Can’t have Nice Things - Taylor Swift]
Regulus lives like a ghost. He might as well be dead. But nothing ever seems to kill him. Instead he drifts along, killing innocent Muggles, torturing witches for information, and obsessively reading every article about the Order and Sirius he can find. He’s just about ready to wither away when he finds out about the Horcruxes. And he’s resigned himself to death at his brother’s wand when he’s suddenly filled with a burning, untameable fire - Sirius got to choose to fight. Sirius gets to choose his battles. Sirius got to choose his side. And for the longest time, Regulus resented him for that. Because why should he get all the choices just for being the fucking Gryffindor? Except, Regulus realizes now, a Mark may have damned his reputation, but it hasn’t damned him, not yet. But he will be damned if he doesn’t get it the fuck together and take control of his miserable life. So Regulus decides to take his wand to that cave and find that fucker of a necklace. Regulus decides to find the rest of those fuckers and destroy them all too. Regulus decides to be brave. Regulus decides to be a fucking Gryffindor, because fuck the huge, frumpy Hat. It doesn’t know jack shit about Regulus Lupin. It doesn’t know anything about him at all.
10. Sirius having a child [lovely - Billie Eilish, Khalid]
One by one, Regulus finds the Horcruxes. One by one, he destroys them. He knows he’ll die for it, but for now no one suspects him and he’s finally found his purpose in life. Sirius may not love him anymore, Sirius may hate him now, but at least he’ll be safe. At least he’ll be happy. Because Merlin, oh Merlin, Regulus will stare down Voldemort himself if it means his brother survives this war. And then, he hears the news - Sirius and Remus have had a child. Three, actually - Newt, Hermione, and Luna Lupin. All adopted from casualties of the war. And of course there’s three of them, Regulus thinks - Sirius always said he wanted a house full of laughing children. That never changed, even after he fell in love with Remus. He still wanted loads of children. And when Regulus finds out, he hates him. Hates him because those children will never know Regulus as their uncle, because his brother, their father, hates him. Hates him because he was a child in a war who could never just fucking be a Gryffindor when he needed to, who could only ever say he loved Sirius more than himself, more than life, more than anything, and never act on it. And Regulus will never have children - he’d wanted to, he’s always wanted to, but no one had ever loved him enough to stay. And then he’d signed his death warrant with a Mark and a Horcrux, and he knew no child would ever be brought into the world under his name. But at least, at least, he swears - he solemnly swears, making an Unbreakable Vow - his nieces and nephew will be safe. They will grow up with both of their fathers. They will grow up with their cousins and aunts and uncles. They will grow up in a world without war. There will only be one cost, he thinks, one price that they will not know about - as he stabs the last Horcrux through the heart with his last Basilisk fang, he knows, deep in his bones, that they will lose only him in this war. And that’s never really been much of loss, has it?
1. Sirius lives a long, happy life surrounded by the people he loves, people who love him right back [Anyone - Camila Cabello]
(NOTE: Some of Regulus’ dialogue here is lyrics from the aforementioned song.)
And then, the final battle is upon them. Flashing lights and flying spells, and Regulus sees Sirius across the battlefield. His breath catches in his throat, and he’s about to go to him when he sees Voldemort, standing on a precipice and vulnerable. He lays eyes on his brother for what he knows will be the last time, and he whispers, “I love you.” Then, he makes his way up the battlefield’s taunting hills to his death with a newfound resolve. Taking in a deep breath, he raises his wand with a steady hand and whispers, “Avada -” Voldemort doesn’t let him finish, whirling around like a shot and shouting, “Sectumsempra!” Regulus feels his chest ripping open, feels himself stumbling backwards, and lets his gasp of pain answer Voldemort’s sick smile, “Avada Kedavra…” His smile fading, Voldemort falls with Regulus with the force of the curse. But where he falls and shatters on unforgiving rock, Regulus falls into warm arms. Looking up at the tear-streaked face of his brother, he smiles, his eyes sparkling as he comes back to life. “Siri?” He asks, raising his shaking hand to Sirius’ cheek. Sirius’ eyes are wide with panic as he scans Regulus’ body desperately, muttering useless spells over and over as Regulus just smiles at him. “Are you proud of me, Siri?” Sirius looks down at him finally, whispering back, “I’m always proud of you, Reggie. You’re you.” Regulus grins. Sirius has gone back to muttering desperate spells, but Regulus can feel himself fading. He knows his time is up. So he whispers, “Siri. Siri. Siri, look at me, please.” Sirius looks down at him, eyes still frantic. “What, Reggie?” Regulus keeps smiling. “If you ever move on without me,” he starts, remembering the lyrics to that song he heard so long ago. Sirius’ eyes widen with the realization and he starts shaking his head frantically, turning back to Regulus’ gaping wounds, “No. No, you are not dying. I can save you. I’m going to save you. Reggie, you can’t -” Regulus shushes him, gently dragging Sirius’ face back to him. Looking into his brother’s eyes, he smiles and smiles and smiles. “If you ever move on without me,” he rasps again. “I need to make sure you know -” Sirius sucks in a breath. “Reggie -” “You are the only one I’ve ever loved,” Regulus confesses, and Sirius sobs. “Reggie…” “Looking back on my life, you’re the only good I’ve ever done.” Sirius shakes his head, grasping Regulus’ hand. “No. No, you’ve done so much good -” “Yeah, you,” Regulus interrupts. “If it’s not you, it’s not anyone.” Siriu’s face collapses. “Regulus…” “I love you,” Regulus murmurs. “I love you, I want you to know that. Your happiness is my happiness. I love you. I died for you. I lived for you.” Sirius shakes his head, leaning down to press his forehead to Regulus’. “I love you too,” he rasps. “I love you too. I never stopped.” Regulus smiles. He can feel his life leaving him. “Smile for me,” he asks, grasping Sirius’ hair almost painfully. “Smile for me, please, Sirius.” Sirius smiles. “Thank you…” “Reggie. Reggie. No, Reggie, no -” There is a white light. Regulus looks up. He smiles. He closes his eyes, and he walks into the light. Finally, Regulus Lupin breathes.
Regulus Black’s hand falls from Sirius Lupin’s cheek. The sun rises.
#sirius and regulus#sirius black#regulus black#marauders#wolfstar#angst#music#love#sorry not sorry#please don't kill me#harry potter#forgotten heroes#oh for merlin's sake just let them be happy sorry no <3
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4x12 - Old Souls
Wynonna Earp's over. I'll do pretty much anything to get another season, but shows (not that I think that this show could ever get to that point. id still love WE even if it turned into whatever Grey's Anatomy's doing rn) shouldn't overstay their welcome. If this is the end, than it was a damn fine ending!
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The cute.
I've been watching Martina sing since I was 11 years old, and it still puts a smile on my face. Rachel was iconic as always, and I'm gonna miss the most recent addition to the Earp family. I can just imagine the chaos of her, her not really but kind of boyfriend, and Randy Nedley on a tiny boat in the middle of nowhere. Poor Nedley. Let's hope Chrissy remains the only one of his many daughter figures to catch mono.
Speaking of mononucleosis- that's such an awful transition that i'm keeping it, I believe that Wayhaught has officially christened the entire homestead. Bedroom, The Stairs, kitchen floor, barn- short of just going to pound town (i'm not getting any better with sex references tonight. am i) in a patch of grass outside, they've got everything covered. Or nothing covered if you know what i mean. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge. Am I getting better now?
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The random.
Nedley walking Nicole down the isle, Wynonna walking Waverly down the isle, Doc being Waverly's best man, and Wynonna being Nicole's best friend (no she will not take a secondary title. best friend will go on her tombstone)- sigh, i'm so gay. i can't really explain what that has to do with these circumstances, but i am and this makes me happy. Rachel and Nedley (and Billy was there somewhere right?) being the only people in attendance made this the perfect pandemic wedding even though there wasn't actually a pandemic in Earp land. I was the living embodiment of the pleading face emoji when they panned over the chairs. Doll's chair hurt me. like deeply. like i'm still suffering. there aren't words. fuck, i miss him.
On a lighter note, Waverly said fuck (like eight times)!!! She technically said it already, but chainsmoking-angelic possession doesn't count, right?
I'm glad that Jeremy has this new thing with Damon, but I kinda wish things had worked out with him and Robin. He officiated a wedding, got promoted, and got a handsome date in one afternoon, so I can't be too sad about his adorable self.
Charlotte Sullivan, the jilted dress shop owner/witch, played one of the earliest (in my knowledge at least. this show was my brother's thing not mine) representation of a bi woman in Canadian media. I don't know too much about her Rookie Blue character, but if you can have tolerated the will-they-wont-they, end of the world romance of the main character's kinda mediocre relationships for a couple more seasons, I'm sure you'll find out! By the nature of Canada having 16.87 actors in total, I tend to see a lot of overlap, and I have to infodump about that somewhere. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
The Earping callbacks! Wynonna's truck, her motorcycle, the bullet proof vest, Nedley and Nicole's father-daughter thing, Waverly never saying the f-word (and subverting that), i'm all in, even Rachel always being stuck with juice while the adults are drinking- perfect! We had a little bit of the usual supernatural insanity, but this episode was wall to wall fanservice, and it was perfectly in-character fanservice. That's the way to go! It didn't feel forced or awkward and the edited mailbox will make me tear up on rewatch
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The relationship. (aka i wanna talk about wyndoc and had no outline when i started this thing)
The Wyndoc goodbye was beautiful. I'm not into the whole you need one person to complete you kinda thing, but the implication that it didn't have to be romantic (implying that Wynonna's person was Waverly) was great. I felt that the scene worked perfectly, and might have been fine leaving it there if there was another season clearly on the horizon. With the fact that this was the series finale (i sighed so hard typing that. my poor lungs), I'm glad that they got their own happy ending.
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The analysis.
Nicole's and Wynonna's as individual characters mirror each other in so many ways, but I'm just gonna wax poetic about one: their relationship with the GRT. Wynonna was hurt by the town, badly. She grew up with a steady stream of shitty adults and a few who told her to shake the demons out of her head and embraced the tough love mantra. It made a lot of sense that she left as an adult. Waverly was most likely the only reason she didn't skip town before that.
Nicole had a negative integer of adult role models in her life, with the murdered aunt and uncle and the whatever-the-fuck her parents were trying to be. Sure, a little trip to the Ghost River Triangle left her with trauma that she spent a lifetime repressing, but what's a little surviving a massacre under the six year old girl bridge. Am I right?
In their early lives, these characters had nothing but negative experiences in the aptly named town of Purgatory. Wynonna was drawn back into town by Curtis' letter just in time for her 27th birthday, and Nedley applied for Nicole to start working as a cop. Neither of them directly chose to come back to the Ghost River Triangle, but both of them did have the final say.
Wynonna decided pretty early on that she was going to stay no matter what. She already abandoned her sister once. How could she do it again with all of these monsters lurking in the shadows. As time went on, her circle of people expanded, but Waverly has always been the person that fight through hell and high water for. Even when fighting wasn't necessary, when it hurt her much more than it helped anything, she did it anyways because it was the only thing she could do to protect her sister. Wynonna thought it was the only thing she could do at all. This entire season, she's been fighting a war with herself, and her leaving, Waverly telling her that it was okay to leave, was the first time that took a break, took a breath since she arrived in Purgatory on her 27th birthday. Her child and the man she loves are out in the world, but she will be back with them at her side. Maybe after a quick road trip, maybe after a few years, but she will be back.
Nicole spent a majority of season 1 and 2 feeling like an outsider. Season 3 came with the realization that these people were her family and the Ghost River Triangle was her home. Early season 4 kinda shat all over that, oops. The rest of this season has been her finding her footing again. Nicole was a wandering soul, but she voluntarily staked herself to the land, vowing to protect it and the people within its borders for the rest of her life without the ability to leave, and she doesn't regret it. Her wife, her family, her people are all in this one not-so-sleepy Canadian town.
Nicole found her place, after a lifetime of searching, and Wynonna left, temporarily, after a lifetime of feeling trapped. They might seem like opposites, but both women call the same place home.
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Originally, I watched this show was to cope with the ending of Agents of SHIELD (which I kind of used to cope with the ending of Killjoys, which featured Emily Andras as a writer in season 1 and has near identical humor, found family, and a healthy serving of gay and wow this is turning into a bit of advertisement isn't it), but it wormed its way into my heart. I've never quite seen a show like this. Never seemed interested in a western, even a sci-fi western. Never saw the gay couple reach OTP status both in fandom and canon. I've never seen so many fan conventions dedicated to just one show. I usually stay for just one character (and Wynonna has become one of my all time favorite characters), but I find myself connecting with so many of the beautiful people being brought to life on my screen. Wynonna, Waverly, Nicole, Rachel, Dolls, Jeremy, Doc, Nedley and so many other hilarious and heartbreaking characters make this show, and every single human who played a part in this self-proclaimed shitshow deserves a round of applause and a swig of whiskey.
The end.
#wynonna earp#wynonna earp spoilers#wynonna earp season 4 spoilers#wearp meta#wyn#waverly earp#nicole haught#doc holliday#rachel valdez#jeremy chetri#randy nedley#my thoughts#i'll add screen caps in the morning#goodbye my beautiful fuck ups#guess i have to combine my emily andras and michelle lovretta obsessions into watching lost girl#im sad tonight#satisfied with this ending#but still damn sad
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Top 3 Supernatural Episodes Per Season
Warning: Spoilers below the cut. I am SUPER biased. Take everything I say with a HEALTHY grain of salt.
Season 1: omg they look like INFANTS
1. “Home” 1x09. This episode is amaaaaaaaaaaaaazing AND it’s super important to the mytharch AND we get Winchester family drama. One of those early instances of “Wow we need to give Jensen Ackles an emmy like yesterday”. Mary turns up and foreshadows like??? so much??
2. “Scarecrow” 1x11. Super creepy, major “The Lottery” vibes, fuck I just. I love it.
3. “Hell House” 1x17. Close call between this one and “Something Wicked” but in the end, Harry and Ed and all the hilarity that ensues just. *chef’s kiss*
Honorable Mentions: “Something Wicked”
Season 2: ugh so many good episodes season 2 is SO good
1. “The Usual Suspects” 2x07. SAM GETS TO BE SO SNARKY IN THIS EPISODE AND I LOOOOVE IT. Also Diana is a bamf.
2. “Croatoan” 1x09. UGH YASSSSSSS. Close call between this and “In My Time Of Dying”, though
3. “What is And What Should Never Be” 2x20. Look man, I don’t know what to tell you. I’m cheap as all get out. Dean angst? Gimme gimme. Also it has WYNONNA EARP IN IT.
Honorable Mentions: “In My Time of Dying”, “Nightshifter”
Season 3: half of these episodes suck, the other half are perfect heeeelllppp
1. “Bad Day At Black Rock” 3x03. This episode it just hilarious from start to finish. Also, Bela vs. Dean.
2. “Mystery Spot” 3x11. A double whammy of HILARIOUS and OH FUCK THIS IS DEPRESSING.
3. “Jus In Bello” 3x12. It was real hard to decide between this and Ghostfacers but ultimately, Nancy Fitzgerald (aka Ella Lopez) and Victor Henrikson are the actual best and deserve all the love ever.
Honorable Mentions: “Ghostfacers”, “The Kids Are Alright”
Season 4: Somehow there is only one episode that is not stunningly amazing??
1: “On the Head of A Pin” 4x16. Cas becomes a main character and it is AMAZING and oh my god give Jensen ALL the emmys oh and ALSO we finally learn exactly what Sam and Ruby’s “extracurricular activities” entail. Feels like a movie. We get the reveal that the angels are working to break the seals. Anna is also amazing. Why is this episode so beautiful. I’m fucking crying and so is Dean. I could gush for hours.
2. “It’s a Terrible Life” 4x17. This episode is just a fucking delight. (Am I giving it such a high score on the basis of The Kink’s “Well Respected Man” alone? Maybe. Honestly I SHOULD be putting Rapture here but oh well. I’m biased.)
3. “Monster Movie” 4x05. It was hard to decide between this “In the Beginning” “Lazarus Rising” “The Rapture” and “Lucifer Rising” (which all deserve all the praise ever) but ugh ugh ugh this episode is ALSO perfect AND I love it a bajillion. It’s in black and white and the guest actress is SO pretty and also I think I’ve already gone into detail about how the MoTW is a Lucifer Parallel. Also Dean says he’s been rehymenated so TRANS!DEAN RIGHTS!
Honorable Mentions: “In The Beginning” “Lazarus Rising” “Lucifer Rising” “The Rapture”
Season 5: You want to be sad? You also want to watch really good TV? SEASON FIVE IS WHERE IT’S AT!
1. “Two Minutes To Midnight” 5x21. I know, I know. I should be putting “Swan Song” here but look,, I am easily bought with the promise of Julian Richings as Death.
2. “Free To Be You And Me” 5x03. Funny Destiel buddy cop film, Sam gets to be filtered through the eyes of an audience-stand-in in universe, also contains Castiel’s ICONIC line “but today you’re MY little bitch”.
3. “Dark Side of The Moon” 5x16. Narrowly beats out “My Bloody Valentine”, “Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid”, and “The Song Remains The Same”. I am trash for any pieces of Sam and Dean’s childhoods and also this episode gives me SO MUCH material for beating up John with a baseball bat.
Honorable Mentions: “Swan Song” “My Bloody Valentine” “Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid” “The Song Remains The Same” “The End”
Season 6: We Don’t Talk About Season Six.
1. “The Man Who Would Be King” 6x20. Cas. Destiel. Ow.
2. “Mommy Dearest” 6x19. Eve! Sam Smith! idk, I just really like it.
3. “Appointment In Samarra” 6x11. As I said, I am easily bought with Julian Richings. Tessa the Reaper!!! Sam stop trying to murder your father.
Honorable Mentions: “You Can’t Handle The Truth” “My Heart Will Go On” “Weekend At Bobby’s”
Season 7: Terrible reputation given the fact that it has SO many great episodes. Sera Gamble? You’re mean.
1. “Slash Fiction” 7x06. Why is this episode so hilarious???? Robbie Thompson starting out with a BANG!
2. “Plucky Pennywhistle’s Magical Menagerie” 7x14. In the total goop of “thick. black. ooze.” of this season, 7x14 is a light in the darkness. Every inkling of joy, of spark, of color, of childishness, all of it, poured out into this one episode, wherein Sam totally loses his cool and I love it. Sam looks so pretty at the end. Dean is simultaneously an actual child and an actual Dad and I love it.
3. “Out With The Old” 7x16. I love me some levis, man, don’t know what to tell you. It’s just so fun!!
Honorable Mentions: All of Robbie’s episodes, “Hello, Cruel World” “Repo Man” “Reading Is Fundamental” “How To Win Friends And Influence Monsters”
(The ONLY reason I’m not including TBAI is bc @mad-as-a-box-of-frogs is slowly converting me to hating Megstiel enough to not watch Destiel episodes)
Season 8: That one season where we admitted that Crowley’s a DICK.
1. “Hunteri Heroici” 8x08. CAAAAS!!! Also the only episode where anyone watching actually gives a shit about the Sam x Amelia flashbacks.
2. “LARP And The Real Girl” 8x11. Super fun! CHARLIE RETURNS. Dean is a FUCKING NERD. Sam gets flirted with :) Real close tie between this one and Pac-Man Fever
3. “The Great Escapist” 8x20. Edlund really gave it his all for this last episode. Cas kicks SO much ass. Sam needs to be protected at ALL costs. Kevin ALSO kicks SO much ass. The actor who plays Sweet Pea on Riverdale is here??? Wow.
Honorable Mentions: “Pac-Man Fever” “As Time Goes By” “Everyone Hates Hitler” “Trial And Error”
(See note on The Born-Again Identity for why Goodbye Stranger is not on this list. Again, blame @mad-as-a-box-of-frogs )
Season 9: Sam is mad at Dean for not letting him go
1. “First Born” 9x11. No, I will not elaborate. Tim Omundson speaks for himself. There is nothing wrong with this entire episode and if you try to tell me there is I can and will gut you like a fish.
2. “Heaven Can’t Wait” 9x06. DESTIELLLLLLLLLLLL.
3. “Do You Believe In Miracles?” 9x23. Wow it’s the first Season Finale to make it to my top 3!! Metatron gets what’s coming, DEAN BECOMES A FUCKING DEMON.
Honorable Mentions: “Bad Boys” “Mother’s Little Helper” “Alex Annie Alexis Ann” “Meta Fiction”
Season 10: Dean is mad at Sam for not letting him go
1. “The Executioner’s Song” 10x14. See my comments on “First Born”.
2. “Angel Heart” 10x20. BRING YOUR DAUGHTER TO WORK DAY. DESTIEL. JIMMY X AMELIA. COOL UNCLE SAMMY. DEAN IS A NERD. DEAN IS CLAIRE’S DAD NOW SORRY NO TAKE BACKS. (also, “blue eyes crying” is just ugh ugh ugh)
3. “The Werther Project” 10x18. SAMWITCH RISE!!!!!!!!!!!
Honorable Mentions: “Hibbing 911″ “The Prisoner” “The Things We Left Behind”
Season 11: Ahh, yes. You. Lucifer. Get fucked.
1. “Don’t Call Me Shurley” 11x20. *slow clap* Robbie Thompson, you have served your country well.
2. “Red Meat” 11x17. This is gonna sound strange, but this episode is sorta my comfort food?? I’ve watched it literally so many times. I love it. So much.
3. “The Chitters” 11x19. Nancy Won wrote three episodes for SPN, all in season 11, they are all stellar. Chitters is GAY. She also wrote “Don’t You Forget About Me” and “Thin Lizzie” I’m putting them here so as not to crowd up the Honorable Mentions.
Honorable Mentions: “The Vessel” “Devil In the Details” “We Happy Few” “Baby” “Form And Void” “Into the Mystic” honestly just watch every non-bucklemming episode they are pretty much all amazing.
Season 12: I WILL DEFEND MARY WITH MY LIFE DON’T @ ME
1. “The Future” 12x19. DESTIEL. I would die for Kelly. Fetus!Jack. GOODBYE DAGON!! THE MIXTAPE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
2. “Who We Are” 12x22. JUST KILL ME WHY DON’T YOU, BOBO?! WE ALL KNOW YOU WANT TO.
3. “Stuck In the Middle (With You)” 12x12. Destiel love confession!!!!!! Drowley!! Mary will fight everyone willingly!! SAM GETS THE ORANGE JACKET
Honorable Mentions: Every. Single. Non-BL. Episode. Watch. Them. Now.
Season 13: JAAAAAAAACK!!!!!!!!!!!
1. “Advanced Thanatology” 13x05. *inhales deeply* AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Also, Steppenwolf.
2. “Beat the Devil” 13x21. DICK JOKES GALORE. Also, we must protect Sam at all costs. Gabena is perfect. Samwitch is also perfect. Sabriel is also good. Lucifer can go fuck himself.
3. “Breakdown” 13x11. It physically pains me not to put “Funeralia” here but alas, I must not show Steve Yockey too much favoritism. Anyways. DONNA!!! DOUG!! CREEPY!!! SAM’S HEART IS WORTH SO MUCH MONEY!! GIVE SAMMY A HUG!!
Honorable Mentions: “The Scorpion And The Frog” “Funeralia” “The Thing” “The Bad Place” “The Big Empty” “Lost And Found”
Season 14:
1. “Moriah” 14x20. Proof that Supernatural will go down in history as ALMIGHTY. GOD IS THE ULTIMATE VILLAIN.
2. “Peace of Mind” 14x15. I still haven’t recovered. Jared must have had literally all the fun in the world.
3. “Mint Condition” 14x04. Yay!! Very fun!!! (I wanted to put Optimism here, but again, I can’t show Yockey so much favoritism. It’s not my fault! he’s too good!!)
Honorable Mentions: “Optimism” “Ouroboros” “Unhuman Nature” “Byzantium” “Damaged Goods”
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Full of Surprises
A/N: This is a prequel to Surprises. I had this idea right after writing that one. Plus another idea for some one shots. those are a secret. But I am obsessed with writing about Tony having a daughter.
Summary: A month after CA:CW, You finally had enough of feeling so sick, you decide to take a test. (I suck at summaries!!)
Word count: 2335
Pairings: None, just some fluff and Clint... well being Clint. Stark!Reader, Tony Stark, Clint, Peter Parker. Implied Steve x Stark!Reader
Warnings: None but some fluff!
You sat silently in the bathroom of the compound. Your dad in his lab with Peter, working on something new. Your mom in there with them, while you snuck away to pee on a stick. A small white plastic stick that changed your life for maybe the best or worst.
You weren’t an Avenger anymore or an Agent of SHIELD. Ever since the Accords and briefly fighting by Steve’s side at the airport, you’ve been a normal citizen, just trying to make a living.
Clint had called you saying he needed your help. Try to talk to your dad about the Accords and fighting Steve and Bucky at the airport. To see if you could reason with him. Instead you talked to your dad and ended up sitting out.
Feeling extremely sick to your stomach and pale, Tony made you relax and imagined this situation made you stressed and so sick. He didn’t like seeing you forced to pick sides. Between the man who helped give you life and the man who made your life better and worth living.
You sighed heavily and looked down at the stick. A pink positive. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to scream and cry with happiness or sadness. You were a single mother now. Steve had gone rogue and you had no idea where he was. Your only hope was telling your parents, which you were, or calling Clint to have a breakdown since he’s the only one who has kids, besides Scott. Your knew Clint better. As well as the only person to even get ahold of. You didn’t want to hear your parents bicker about this right now.
You grabbed your phone from your back pocket and went to dial Clint’s number. You skip over your favorites list which had Steve at the top one followed by Tony and your mom. It broke your heart to call Clint first. You should be telling Steve! He has every right to know.
You dialed the number and held the phone to your ear. You paced the bathroom waiting for an answer. Stopping in front of the mirror, you noticed you were a mess. Pale and sweaty, your hair in a messy bun that fell loose around your face. The look of a pregnant woman, not a sick woman.
“Hello?” A husky male voice called from the other end of the phone. “Y/N? What’s up? Everything ok?”
You inhaled a sharp breath. “Y-Yeah…” You exhaled a shaky breath. “Clint, I need help. I-I’m pregnant and need… help figuring this out. I know your on house arrest and I can come to you.”
Clint was silent for a moment. “Who’s the father?”
You let out a shaky breath that was supposed to be a laugh. “Clint, it’s Steve’s. You know this. Everyone will know it. Anyway… I haven’t told my parents… Clint… what do I do…? I can’t just call Steve. He won’t answer. For all I know he changed numbers. Uses a burner phone.” You covered your mouth and finally cried since finding out you were pregnant.
“Hey there Y/N. Come over and you can talk to Laura and I. We will make sure your taken care of. Laura could take you to the doctor and help you tell your parents. You know I will help you however I can.” Clint tried hard to soothe you. Knowing you were more upset with not sharing this with Steve. “Calm down and head to my house Y/N. We’ll make sure your taken care of.”
You nodded and wiped your eyes. “Ok Clint. I’ll be there soon.” You quickly hung up and wiped your eyes. You wrapped up the test and hid it in your pocket. To show your parents later.
You left the compound, telling your mom you’ll be back later. Ignoring your dads plea to help with the suit he was making for you. He was always trying to keep your mind busy and his as well.
You finally pulled into Clint’s farmhouse and was instantly greeted with the kids running to see you. Picking them up and hugging them tight, you made your way into the house and saw Laura first. The kids chanting ‘Aunt Y/N! Aunt Y/N!’ over and over again.
“Clint gave me a run down. Wanna have a girl talk first? Or later? He said your kinda shaken by this.” She motioned for you to have a seat at the table.
“Yeah just a little shaken.” You sat down and placed your hands in your lap. “I’m more upset I can’t tell the father.” You never knew if Laura knew about you and Steve. Or if Clint told her.
“Why can’t you?” Laura leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. You looked at her and opened your mouth to speak but she managed to cut you off. “Oh wait… Clint explained it briefly. Steve and you… can’t get ahold of him. Have you tried to call him just to try?”
You shook your head. You pulled your phone from your pocket. “I… can try him and Nat… I could call or text them.” You unlocked your phone, biting your lip at your background. It was you and Steve, smiling big, you kissing his cheek and his blue eyes staring into the camera.
You clicked on your contacts and found Steve’s number with ease. You dialed his number and put it on speaker. Laura walked around and stood behind you, rubbing your back. The phone just rang and rang and rang. Until the voicemail kicked in. You sighed and ended the call quickly. You quickly found Nat’s number and tried to call her. Nothing. Same as with Steve.
“Well you have Clint and I. Along with your mom and dad as well as Pepper. You aren’t fully alone and have extra hands to help with the baby.” Laura smiled.
Clint walked in a wiped his greasy hands off on a dirty old rag. “Well hello sunshine.” He smiled. “It’s nice to be out of the compound and around nature. Also,” He tosses some postcards on the table. “From Nat for the kids. Talks about where they’ve been and such. Even asks about you.” He smiled at you. “Steve might not answer but he knows it’s you calling and such. Keep that in mind.”
You pick up the post cards and read the back. “Clint… one of these is addressed to me… why are you getting mail for me…?”
“Well I wrote Nat about where you staying and she just sent them here. She misses you a lot. That Civil War broken everyone up.” Clint sat across from you.
“It wasn’t the small Civil War that broke the Avengers up the rest of the way… my dad kinda told me what happened. And I regret not staying to fight with Steve. I could be with him right now.” You looked at the post cards.
“And what? Travel and do missions with a baby? You wouldn’t be able to stay in one spot Y/N! This was a better choice! You have a place to stay and call home and people to help you.” Clint leaned back in his chair. “You have like five possible babysitters! I am an amazing one at that! I will take that little bundle off of your hands whenever you need alone time. The kids would love it and our little one as well!”
Laura smiled. “Look how about we take you to the doctor and try to get you in today. I can take you to the small clinic I go too. Then get some food and talk about how to tell your parents.”
You look between Clint and his wife. “I feel like if you and Nat never kidnapped me for that mission, this wouldn’t be happening.” You smiled softly.
“Ah! The infamous Y/N Stark smile! That smile lights up rooms and changes moods! This baby is lucky to have you as it’s mother.” Clint stopped and sighed. “And will soon regret having Tony as it’s grandfather.”
You reached over and slapped Clint’s arm. “Now stop that! It’s bad enough going to try to explain to the baby who their dad is. I would never deny them that like I was for over 20 years of my life.”
“Oh your mom was a booty call for Tony??” Clint wiggles his eyebrows.
“More like a stress relief and angry fuck. They hate the sight of each other. My mom because… she had feelings for my dad but he wasn’t mature enough for a baby or a relationship… my dad cause she kept me a secret for over 20 years and kept me right under his nose the whole time. I can’t put my child through that. They’ll know their dad was the first Avenger, a hero… that he was Captain America.” You ran a hand over your flat belly. Expecting the little bean to hear you.
“And their mom has a thing for old men four times her age.” Clint laughed softly. Laura glared and slapped the back of his head. “Ouch! Fine sorry. Steve is an amazing man with manners.”
“Come on Y/N. Let’s get going. See how far along you are.” Laura grabbed her bag and kisses Clint gently. “Keep an eye on ALL of the kids please. I will make sure to let you know about her.”
“I mean you guys are my only choice for godparents besides Peter.” You shrug and smile. “Nat was going to be the godmother along with Bucky but their god knows where.”
Clint pouted. “Were there any other choices?”
You smiled and batted your eyes. “All the Avengers were a good choice. Cause you know, letting my child be around homicidal killers, secret agents, a god and a green monster is perfectly normal.”
“And your rich billionaire father.” Clint added. “Tony will be happy. Along with your mom. Just shocked at first. Good luck at the appointment.”
As the day went on, you discovered you were well over 8 weeks along, just not showing yet. Very blessed that you didn’t stick and fight at the airport. You would never forgive yourself if you got yourself and the baby hurt.
You and Laura went to lunch and had an amazing idea on how to tell your parents. You called Peter and told him to have a camera ready when you got back. It was a surprise for everyone. And made him promise not to speak a word to your parents till you got back.
You went into a baby store and picked out a couple of onesies. One for your mom and dad, calling them grandparents. Another for Peter, as a slight laugh, calling him an uncle. You knew Nat would have gotten a kick out of this, Sam as well. You tried your hardest to forget the lingering pain and bought the onesies.
You pulled back up to the compound and made your way back to Tony’s lab. You held the two bags behind your back and waltz in.
“Ah! There you are!” Tony smiled. “I was beginning to think you ditched us to find Steve and them. Whatcha got there?” He pointed to the bags behind your back.
You look over at Peter, who tried to play it cool and act like he was busy on his phone when he wasn’t. “I have a um… small surprise for you and mom. As well as Peter.” You smile and set the bags on the table. Sliding one to your parents and the other in Peter’s direction. “Go ahead and open them.” You nodded to them.
Tony eyed the bag and then you. He reached his hand into the bag and pulled out a onesies. “Sweetie,” He started off. Not noticing the picture that fell on the floor. “This won’t fit me.” He smiled and laughed. “Is this like a prank you young kids are doing?” He looked over at Peter.
“Dad, I am like 25… and no. Give it more thought. How long have you been awake…?” You eyed him carefully.
“Uh… what’s today…?” He smiled innocently.
Your mom noticed the picture on the ground and picked it up. Looking it over, she realized what it was. She gasped and smacked Tony’s arm hard, earning a yell and a death glare from him. “Tony!! This isn’t a prank!! This is a sonogram!” She looked up at you. She shoved the picture into his hands. “She’s pregnant you idiot!”
Tony looked at the sonogram then you then at the sonogram again. His eyes twice the size they normal are. “W-What?!? Oh no way!! At a time like this! Are you sure you can handle this?!?” He eyed you carefully. “This why you’ve been running to the bathroom all the time?”
You nod and sigh. “Dad, I’m just glad you were able to talk some sense into me during that fight. And that I felt sick enough to back down.” You cross your arms.
Peter smiled and opened his bag. See the ‘World’s Best Uncle’ onesie in it. “Awh! Congrats Ms. Stark! Who’s the father…?” He asked quietly. Wondering if anyone knew the answer.
“He never caught on did he…?” You asked. Tony shook his head. “Well listen here little spider, you saw who’s side I was on right?” Peter nodded. “Ok… well the man with the shield was all mine.” You smirked and waited for him to catch on.
He looked at you then Tony. “Ooooohhhh!” It finally sank in. “But how is that gonna work now. He isn’t here.”
Tony pulled Peter away and covered his mouth. “Yeah let’s NOT bring that up and we’ll get the rest figured out.” Tony smiled at you. “There’s… one bump in the road but we’ll get past that.”
You had felt alone for a month know, with Steve gone and god knows where in the world. But after finding out about this baby, you didn’t feel fully alone anymore.
#marvel#steve rogers#tony stark#peter parker#steve rogers x reader#captain america x reader#captain america one shot#one shot
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Into the Abyss (and back into you)
ao3 link
Chapter 1: First Day
Pairings: A LOT
Warnings: none atm
Summary: After being rescued, child soldier survivor Bucky Barnes tries his hardest to have a normal, ordinary high school life despite the terrors that still haunt him. One day, he receives an email that he thought would never come -- the private investigator he had hired found his mother. He has to make a plan and act quick if he doesn't want to lose her again.
Sam Wilson, aspiring therapist, loves his family and his friends. After his best friend Bucky cuts off communication from their friend group, his sister goes missing. A hashtag, a social media movement, a nationwide search. But there's no trace of her. After finishing high school, Bucky contacts him once more, telling him that he knows where to find his sister.
With the help of his friends, they all travel throughout the United States to find Sam's sister and Bucky's mother. And perhaps love in the way, too.
A/N: DONT FORGET TO LIKE COMMENT AND SUBSCRIBE
Steve♢ is online
Erik ( ಠ ಠ) is online
Bucky ( ˘-___-) is online
Sammy is online
Steve ♢: first day of school o(*^▽^*)o
Steve ♢: you guys excited?
Erik ( ಠ ಠ): of course
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): i cant wait to finally step into that hellhole we call school
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): and die.
Bucky ( ˘-__-): ^
Sammy: facts
Steve ♢: you guys…
Steve ♢: we only have this year together!
Steve ♢: we gotta enjoy it!
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): oh ill enjoy it alright
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): im always happy whenever i get home from school u know
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): its a good change from the crippling depression i feel whenever i step into those shitty gates of hell
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): did i also mention i get diabetes type fuck-school whenever i enter school
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): its life-threatening steve
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): i could die
Sammy: tick tock then bitch
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): shut up sam
Steve ♢: come ooooon
Steve ♢: you'll be ok! You have me, Sam and Bucky!
Steve ♢: i honestly think this year will be great!
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): yeah
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): i hope so too
Sammy: Alright Steve we'll see you at school
Sammy: I’m about to start driving now
Steve ♢: ok, see you guys!
Bucky ( ˘-___-): Oh hey btw
Bucky ( ˘-___-): Don't forget to eat
Bucky ( ˘-___-): You always skip breakfast...
Bucky ( ˘-___-): At least drink orange juice
Bucky ( ˘-___-): That should help a bit
Steve ♢: yep!
Steve ♢: i won’t forget (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ
Bucky ( ˘-___-): Good!
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): gay
Bucky ( ˘-___-): I meant that in the most heterosexual way possible
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): when do you ever
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): remember that time you pulled down Steve’s pants while we were at the pool high af
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): because i do
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): and his ass...
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): it haunts me
Steve ♢: i tend to have that effect on people.
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): i haven’t been able to sleep since then Steve
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): you monster
Bucky ( ˘-___-): Erik hurry up we’re already waiting outside
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): dont you fucking try to change the subject
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): remember that time you pole danced and strip teased when you were drunk out of your mind
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): because i do
Steve ♢: but that happened last month
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): and yet it feels like an eternity
Bucky ( ˘-___-): Why can’t you guys forget the embarrassing shit I do for like once in your lives.
Sammy: cuz it was fucking hilarious thats why LMFAO I think I still have those polaroid pics somewhere
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): n cuz that’s what friends do
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): and apparently for you friendship is also traumatizing me with steves bare ass and your slutty pole dancing
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): i’ve had night terrors ever since
Steve ♢: lol
Bucky ( ˘-___-): Erik. hurry up. before I go in there. and beat you. in the face and ass.
Bucky ( ˘-___-): We’re already late.
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): aw
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): come on you know that my hair takes long
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): shit i should be a model for l'oreal
Sammy: we’re leaving
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): okokokok im going out
Steve ♢: lol be careful
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): we will try
Bucky ( ˘-___-): See you Steve!
Steve ♢: byeee
Steve ♢ is offline
Bucky ( ˘-___-) is offline
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ) is offline
Sammy is offline
“About time,” Bucky says as he reclines in his seat and pulls down his beanie with a huff, almost fully covering his eyebrows. Sam looks at the backseat through the rearview mirror as Erik lazily opens the door and sits on the middle of the backseat with a groan, his black hoodie still pulled up and hiding half his face.
“Sorry.” Erik says, sounding annoyed and not sorry at all. Both boys can hear the loud trap music coming from one bud of his gold earphones while the other hangs low down his neck. He leans back and closes his eyes, already looking drained of energy before the day even starts. “There was a problem.”
Sam starts his car while keeping both of his hands on the steering wheel, “What happened?” he asks.
“Is Valentina okay?” Bucky also asks, peeking at him over his shoulder.
Erik rolls his eyes at him. “The goddamn cat is fine.” He sighs and sinks further into his seat. “Nah. Do y'all remember my cousin?” Erik taps Bucky’s shoulder to make him fully turn around, as though he wants him to see the pain in his eyes as he speaks. “The one in Wakanda? Annoying, quiet, and thinks he’s better than everybody else?”
Bucky wrinkles his nose in confusion and looks to the side as he tries to remember, but comes up empty. He shrugs.
“Ah,” Sam says, nodding. “Yes, I remember you fondly telling us about him.”
“Well,” Erik says, putting extra emphasis on the word by rolling his eyes once again. “He moved here. Has been at my house all summer. And I have to share my room with him.”
Bucky nods in silent understanding and Sam keeps driving in silence, expecting Erik to continue talking about how his life is full of struggles. But instead Erik sits there with his arms crossed, his eyebrows knitted together and his lips forming a pout like a child. Bucky would call him cute, but starting his morning with a black eye isn’t on his to-do list.
“And um,” Bucky starts, uncertainty in his voice. “That's it?”
“That is it.” Erik scoffs, sliding further into his seat. “I don't want to share my room with him. Shit, I don't want to share it with anyone! Both him and my little cousin, Shuri, are here. They are filthy fucking rich, I don’t get why they gotta live with us.”
Bucky frowns and nods, trying to understand his unique situation. Sam instead feels the need to nervously scratch the back of his neck, but he doesn't want to let go of the steering wheel thanks to his road anxiety preventing him from even looking away. They know that Erik’s mom has been in a… feud of sorts with Erik’s paternal uncle. Erik wasn’t too specific of course, but they remember it made him upset enough to cry. And while they know he’s a soft guy under all the tough facade he puts on – he can’t say he doesn’t cry when watching the pet adoption commercials (“they are all alone, and sad, and the music doesn’t help, you assholes! Stop laughing!”) or that he doesn’t sing his heart out to the opening of his favorite anime – they also know that Erik loves his father, and he loves his mother, but one of them is gone and he has been too overprotective over the only one left. Erik’s hatred for his uncle has not stopped growing since that fight with his mom.
Remembering this, both boys feel an ache in their chest for their friend, wanting nothing more but to make him smile again.
Bucky is not much of a touchy person, so when he stretches to place his hand on Erik’s knee and shakes it in silent comfort, it doesn’t go overlooked. Erik smiles at him, and when he looks to the side of Bucky he sees Sam looking at him intensely.
“What?” He spats out on impulse under the sharp scrutiny.
Sam blinks once, twice, and finally he speaks. “You’re a better person than that old man is, you know.” He slowly says in that therapeutic, soothing voice of his, causing Erik to pause. “You’re a better person than your cousin, who didn’t stand up for you or your dad. You're kind, and you care so much. You— you're not afraid to fight for what's right. You’re way better than them, Erik, don’t you forget that, okay?”
Looking at him with wide eyes, Erik then slowly smiles, thankful for his best friend’s words. It might not fix it all, but it helps, even if just a little bit. He will be caught dead before he ever admits that, though, so instead he says ‘that’s kinda gay’ and laughs when Sam tells him to get the hell out of his car.
“We're here anyways!” He yells out, laughter still present in his voice.
Sam frantically locks his car and rushes to catch up with Erik and Bucky as both argue excitedly about an anime episode that streamed the night before. “Can one of y’all speak English, please?” He pushes them apart to be in the middle of them. “Or Patwah? Me kno ou to speak dat at least.”
Erik playfully elbows him and answers him with that smugness his teachers hate. “Amabini anokudlala oko umdlalo, uyazi,” he answers back, which makes Sam smile brightly and whisper ‘alright, okay, alright’ while elbowing him back.
Bucky, though, smiles and just watches their friendly bickering, finally feeling at home. He missed this feeling. He missed them both so much.
Somehow, they're already in front of their lockers, all three of them stopping together in order starting from Bucky to Sam to Erik. In fact, that’s how they met in middle school. They happened to have been assigned lockers right next to each other when school first started; Erik arrived first and mistook his locker for Sam’s, and when Sam got there Erik wouldn’t let him get close to it. They almost got into a fistfight until they both saw Bucky trying to open the locker they were both fighting for.
Of course, after all three of them were sent to the principal's office, they’ve been best friends ever since.
Erik starts to fumble with his lock, reciting the combination under his breath like he always does with important things he has to remember, until he hears Bucky whisper to Sam to turn around and look.
“Okoye! Koko!” The voice of some girl catches their attention. They turn their eyes to the row of lockers in front of them to see Okoye ‘Koko’ Milaje turn to her girlfriend just in time to catch her as she throws herself at her. Her girlfriend, Nakia, excitedly throws her arms around her middle, burying her face in her girlfriend’s chest. She says something that only Okoye can hear because she laughs brightly, leans down, and presses a kiss to her forehead.
Sam smiles at Bucky, who smiles back at him and says “girls” as though that explains everything and turns to focus on opening his locker. From the corner of his eye he quickly realizes that only two people stop to stare at the couple, and only one looks like they’re disgusted… though they don’t do anything about it, instead opting to turn away from them. Good, Sam thinks. He doesn't have the time for that bullshit so early in the morning. He turns to mention it to Erik, and his friend’s expression is not the annoyed one he expected for witnessing the kiss since he says to hate ‘corny romantic bullshit’ (which is a lie, because he once caught him intensely watching a telenovela in the middle of history class) but instead his expression is just one of...pain.
Sam frowns, confused. Pain...?
“So that’s why he’s here…” Erik whispers, looking away from them.
Bucky peeks over his shoulder and turns to Erik while Sam orderly puts his belongings inside his locker, who is still looking at Erik from the corner of his eye. “Who?” Bucky asks.
“Huh?” Erik stops harshly throwing his books inside his locker to look at him askew. He comes back to himself soon enough though, and he quickly closes his eyes, shaking his head with a sigh. “No, nothing. I was just talking to myself.”
Both Bucky and Sam look at each other, and suddenly, they feel the need to ask him about it again because the troubled look on their friend’s face bothers them, but the ring of the school bell interrupts before either of them can say anything.
“Well, gotta go.” Erik sighs irritably, slamming his locker door closed. “See y’all later – ah, wait. Both of you have art first period, right? With, uh, Ms. Minako?” He asks.
Sam nods. “Yeah, why?”
“Okay, so, my cousin.” Erik says, adding an eyeroll for extra measure. “He’s coming to our school.” Sam and Bucky both raise their eyebrows in surprise, and Erik nods. “Yeah, he’s gonna come to school here, sadly. For some fucking reason. Anyways, he’s probably going to be late since his dumb ass didn’t wake up on time ‘cuz he was busy moping around and I wasn't going to wait for him. He’s in the same class as y’all, I believe, so if y'all could, you know, show him around… or whatever… I’d be… uh,” he coughs into his fist. “I, uh, I’d appreciate it. Seriously.” His voice turns quieter and softer as he finishes, eyes cast away. He leans from one side to another on his heels like he always does when he’s impatient or nervous.
Bucky raises an eyebrow and decides to tease him. “Hold up,” he quickly leans over him, causing Erik to step back. “You’re asking us for a favor?”
“And does that mean you actually care about your cousin?” Sam asks, wrapping his arm around Erik’s shoulder to join in on teasing him too.
Of course, it’s a trick question. Both Bucky and Sam already know that Erik cares a lot about his family (except for his uncle) and that includes his so called ‘frigid ass cousin’, despite… current events. Erik is simply not an openly affectionate person and he would never admit that he’s not the ‘cold-hearted ass bitch’ he claims to be. He would rather dump all of his anime-inspired clothing than admit to having any sort of normal human feelings whatsoever.
“Fuck off!” He yells, pushing Sam off him as Sam laughs at his little tantrum, and Erik is suddenly thankful that his brown skin masks the heat rising to his cheeks. “Just – will you do it or not?!”
“Sure,” Bucky smiles. “He’s uh, quiet—”
“Full of himself—” Sam adds.
“Aaaand he’s annoying. Not hard to spot.” Erik scoffs.
Sam laughs and waves him goodbye. “Okay, you should go before you’re late.”
The smaller teen nods and turns around to head to his class, the sound of his boot heels echoing in the empty halls. While they walk towards their art class, Sam wonders what kind of person Erik’s cousin is and if he's as much of a jerk as Erik makes him out to be. Is he just as grumpy as Erik? Just as smart? Does he also say what’s on his mind without a filter? Does he smile? Is he just as direct? Does he care as deeply, but doesn’t show it? Is he just as soft when he wants to be?
… And is he straight?
“Good morning, Sam! Hello, James!” Ms. Minako welcomes them as they enter her room. “You guys are late.” She’s sitting on the same table as the rest of the students there, with a bunch of different colorful objects laid on it.
“Good morning, ma’am.” Sam greets her, Bucky greeting her too with a wave of his own as they make their way to the farthest seats at the other end of the table. Sam sets his backpack to his right with a pleased hum, while his best friend sits to his left and he takes comfort in the fact that nobody will sit by his right side. There’s plenty of other empty seats around so maybe he’ll have some peace of mind this year (last year he had the misfortune of being seated next to Tony fucking Stark). Besides, it’s not like anyone would decide to sit next to Bucky either, because last year the girl that did so ended up being his designated art partner… and let’s just say… not that many people can handle Bucky’s emotional outbursts. So, it’s a win-win that he gets to be with his best friend. Bucky can be a little weird, he won’t lie. But he knows his friend, he knows who he is, he knows his life and he knows what really happened during those years (news media be damned), so he's more than happy to deal with this so called 'trouble kid’ of the school. They don't know him like he does.
Ms. Minako checks them off the attendance list with a smile and counts the class again. It seems there’s students missing, judging from her confused face and her nervous pencil tapping. “Well, I guess most of you are here. Only two students are absent—”
As if on cue there’s a knock on the door, suddenly halting all talk.
“Oh! Must be the new student!” Ms. Minako declares cheerfully. Sam twists anxiously in his seat, leaning over to see who it is. Is it him…? “Open the door for him, please.”
One of the students next to her stands up and opens the door, returning to her seat quietly. From his spot, Sam can see him stride in.
The first thing he notices is his hair, his short fro perfectly shaped and adorning his face like a crown. His clothes look like they are from a quality brand -- elegant, but simple. Sam’s eyes go back up to his face and he finds warm brown eyes staring right back at him. He jumps slightly in his seat and feels his face warm up at getting caught staring, but Erik’s cousin doesn’t seem to mind because he smiles instead, winking at Sam with a tilt of his head.
Sam swiftly turns his eyes to his lap, repeating in his mind ‘STARE AT THE TABLE STARE AT THE TABLE STARE AT THE TABLE’ as he fidgets with a strand of his shirt. This definitely wasn’t on his to-do list either.
He winked at me?!
“Yo,” Bucky whispers to him. “Was it just me or did he wink at me?”
Sam blinks. “I thought he winked at me,” he whispers back.
“... Maybe at both of us? Probably you, though. I’m a mess.” He sighs, laying his head down on the table.
Sam snickers, playfully dragging Bucky’s long wavy hair to cover his face. “You wouldn’t look a mess if you used a damn brush, you lightskin 2-b Rapunzel.”
Bucky flips him off.
From across their seats he hears a couple of girls commenting on the new student’s appearance, one in particular making colorful comments in Spanish to her twin. Sam can recognize her voice without looking. Her name’s Chal, and her sister’s name is Ime. They all hang out together occasionally since their mom is good friends with his mom. They usually play video games when good ones come out and sometimes decide to have some impromptu language classes – the twins teach him Spanish, and Sam tries to teach them Patois, and they more or less manage to learn a couple of words since they use most of their learning time laughing hysterically at each other’s accents instead.
“El diablo,” Chal whispers to Ime. “Papasito… que guapo, no?”
Handsome. Sam hates that he understood that. Seems like those Spanish classes they gave him paid off.
Ime laughs and nods, saying something else to her sister’s ear. Chal giggles in response, patting Ime’s puffy hair bun until her sister pushes her hands away with a smile. Suddenly, Sam wishes he had a close relationship like that with his own sister, but he shakes the thought off as soon as the teacher speaks. Let’s not start the day with a gloomy thought.
“Hi!” Ms. Minako says. “You’re T.… challa... Uda… koh…?”
“T’Challa Udaku.” T'Challa smiles. “It’s okay. Just T’Challa is fine.”
“T’Challa?” Ms. Minako tries again, with a concentrated face.
T'Challa smiles again, and nods. “That’s right.”
Chal elbows her sister, whispering loud enough for Sam to hear. “Suena Africano, no? O quizás del caribe?”
“Africano, me parece.” Ime whispers back.
“Nah, es caribeño.” Chal shakes her head.
“Africano.”
“Caribeño, coño.”
“You have a slight accent.” Ms. Minako asks T'Challa, interested. “Where are you from?”
“I am from Wakanda.” He answers.
A tiny ‘fuck!’ is heard from Chal, but only Ime and Sam seem to notice. He tries not to laugh as Ime elbows her sister in the stomach. These girls.
“New to the country or the town?”
“Both.” T'Challa laughs. “It’s a lovely town.”
If only you knew, Sam thinks, you wouldn’t be saying that. But he shakes the thought off, again, trying not to be negative… again. It’s hard to not to be a pessimist. But enough is enough. He wants to be a therapist when he grows up, goddamn it, so he needs to get it together.
“Well, T'Challa, welcome to the country! Come on, choose a seat. Let’s start the class!” Ms. Minako gestures towards all the empty seats as she checks him off the attendance sheet. T'Challa turns over where a group of loud white boys are seated together, but his eyes pass right over them. He looks at the seat next to Ime and Chal (the latter batting her eyelashes dramatically, making T'Challa smile) and considers it, until he looks over at the end of the table where Sam is.
There’s one empty seat right next to his.
He looks decided then, walking past everyone and stopping right next to Sam with a click of his heels. Not quite believing what’s happening, Sam can only stare at his own hands and ask to whichever god is listening to make T'Challa sit somewhere else. Next to Bucky, even. He’ll do anything. Hell, he’ll stop eating his gran’s mac and cheese! But please, god, don’t let him sit next to him. T'Challa’s too… too…
“Is this seat taken?” T'Challa’s soft voice comes from his right, and Sam makes the mistake of turning his head towards him.
… Too pretty.
T'Challa’s eyes shine like the sun, his hand resting on the table. Sam’s breath hitches as dark brown eyes lock on his. His face is a little too close for his comfort, so Sam scoots back. T’Challa tilts his head to one side in confusion, waiting for him to answer but Sam can only focus on those lovely brown eyes of his, not even caring that the silence is getting a little bit too awkward, but he just doesn’t know what to say because T'Challa’s way too close and—
Bucky elbows him in the ribs, bringing him back to earth.
“Are you feeling alright?” T'Challa’s face turns to one of worry, somehow inching even closer to Sam. “You look—”
“I’m okay!” He blurts out, laughing nervously. He looks at Bucky from the corner of his eye and sees the bastard stifling a smile. Fucker.
T'Challa’s eyes widen in surprise, waiting for him to continue. “I’m—um, the seat isn’t taken, so…” Sam's eyes slide down to the empty chair while fake coughing and pressing his lips into a thin line, trying to play it cool. Oh my god this is too embarrassing why am I acting like this.
“Alright, thank you.” T'Challa’s face lights up and Sam can’t help but smile as well, despite how nervous he feels. T'Challa drops his bag to his side and sits down gracefully on the chair with a smile. “Nice to meet you,” he says with a radiant smile, while offering his hand to him like a proper gentleman.
Sam’s brain has the decency to remember to dry his anxiously-damp hand on his jeans before he shakes T’Challa’s with an equally anxious smile. It’s kind of odd, it almost feels like they’re finishing a business meeting. Why yes, sir, I’m glad we’ve come to the mutual agreement that I’m awkward as hell, let’s shake on it. But it could be a Wakandan thing, who knows. T'Challa has a strong grip on his hand as soon as they touch, and he shakes Sam’s hand with confidence, taking Sam by surprise as the strong shake dips him forward. He has no time to be embarrassed because T'Challa smiles at him and the guy giggles as though stumbling into someone else’s personal space is charming. He lets go of Sam and instead rests his face on his hand, two fingers up to support the crown of his head.
“What’s your name?” T'Challa asks, eyes filled with curiosity.
And it’s at this moment when there’s another knock on the door, catching everyone’s attention.
“Oh!” The teacher exclaims. “Must be the other missing student.” This time it’s her who stands up to open the door, blocking the view of Sam’s eyes to see who it is.
“You’re a bit late, mister.” She reprimands the student. “But it’s the first day, so I’ll let it slide this time, alright?”
“I appreciate it.” Says a deep, and… quite attractive masculine voice.
Ms. Minako stands to the side and shows him the way. “Come on in!”
As soon as the student enters the room he can see exactly who it is. M’Baku walks into the classroom with that confidence Sam is so jealous of, looking as handsome as ever. His dark brown skin glows despite the unflattering light of the classroom, as though M’Baku is the exception to little things like physics. His clothes, of course, always carry a Wakandan theme, showing off the beautiful African patterns and combination of colors.
Sam looks over to the twins and finds Chal fanning herself while looking at M’Baku, who suddenly has a distasteful look on his face when his eyes fall on the only acceptable empty seats in the room. The one next to Bucky, and the one next to the twins. His eyes soon fall on T’Challa, and he falters. He recovers quickly though and walks around the table to sit down right across from him – next to Bucky’s seat.
Sam’s eyes go back to T’Challa, who seems to be… frozen in place while looking at M’Baku. He gets it though. One time, he got to seat behind him in math class and every time the teacher called M’Baku’s name to mark him present, he would stand up and give Sam a great first row view of that—
“So, uh,” Bucky’s voice brings him back to earth. He turns his head towards him and sees him talking to M’Baku, who can’t look less interested. “Guess we’re art partners now, huh?”
M’Baku finally looks at him with a neutral look on his face and says, “I am lactose intolerant.”
Bucky freezes.
Sam completely loses it. He can’t help but laugh out loud, making a spectacle even though he tries his damn best to keep it in. Naturally, he attracts some of his classmates’ eyes, but he just can’t stop. He’s trying so hard, but Jesus. The look on Bucky’s face, he keeps remembering it and can’t help but laugh again.
“Mhm, keep on laughing, man. Just let it all out, you dick.” Bucky tell him as he claps Sam on the back, which only makes it worse.
Ms. Minako finally looks over at him, looking confused and quite annoyed at the noise. “Excuse me, Sam? Are you alright?”
“Yeah, Sam, are you alright?” Bucky repeats, faking the worrying tone in his voice as he scoots closer to Sam to look him right in the eye.
“Y-Yes, miss, I’m— I’m fine,” Sam tries to tell her while desperately trying to ignore Bucky’s stupid face. “Thank you. Sorry about—” and he laughs again.
“Do you need to go to the nurse, Sam?” she asks, sounding annoyed.
“Yeah, Sam, do you need to go to the nurse?” Bucky repeats again with that dumb look on his face and it makes it harder for Sam to stop laughing.
“No! N-No, I’m alright. I’m so sorry, miss, please uh, please carry on.” He coughs and bites his lip, mustering all his energy into having a poker face. It doesn’t work, it just makes him look weird with his bulging eyes, tight lips and puffy cheeks… but the teacher is satisfied enough with it to let it go.
“So, uh,” Sam turns to Bucky, a smile threatening to slip past his lips but still desperately trying to look neutral. “Wanna change seats?”
Bucky licks his lips, also trying not to smile, and nods. “Yeah, that’s— yeah, let’s change seats, man.”
Once they’re at their new seats, Bucky turns to T’Challa. “Soooo, guess we’re—”
“I’m also lactose intolerant.” He tells him with a mastered poker face.
Sam lays his head down and covers his head with his arms to tone down his loud laughter, shaking and softly smacking the table with his first a couple times. Bucky can’t hold it in either, leaning forward on the table and shaking his head as he laughs with Sam. M’Baku joins in with a loud and deep ‘HAH!’ and nothing else. T’Challa smiles ever so slightly, and the sight almost makes Bucky stop, feeling charmed by his smile and the soft crinkles at the corner of his eyes. He couldn’t quite get a look at him at first, but now he understands why Sam froze when T’Challa talked to him.
Sam coughs, and looks towards T’Challa, trying to frown in order to cancel out the dumb smile on his face. “Hey man, um, do you— uh, do you… wanna change seats?” He fake coughs into his fist, and Bucky feel his lips twitch. “Or, uh, or something?” Sam bites his lip again, praying to any god that is listening to make him stop laughing.
“I don’t see why not.” T’Challa calmly answers, picking up his stuff and changing his seat with Sam.
Once they’re finally seated, Sam speaks. “Don’t worry, Buck, I got you man. I, uh, you know, I take them lactaid tablets—”
Bucky whizzes out a small laugh, and nods. “Oh yeah?”
“Yes, sir,” Sam nods as well, patting him on the back. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. So, you ain’t gotta worry about that.”
“Thanks, Sam,” Bucky says, smiling at him. “I know I can always count on you.”
“Nuh-uh, uh!” Sam shakes his finger on his face. “Only as long as I got my lactaid tablets,” he adds, and after a second of dead silence they both laugh loud and hard, Sam leaning on Bucky and Bucky flinching for half a second but relaxing quickly enough against Sam’s warmth.
Sam looks up at him from his shoulder. “Stop making me laugh, man, fuck. My face hurts.”
Bucky shrugs, Sam’s head moving with it. “That’s karma, asshole.”
Sam shakes his head, and closes his eyes, smiling softly. “I hate you.”
Bucky snorts. “And I hate you too, sweetheart.” Sam smacks him for that, whispering ‘gross!’ to which Bucky replies ‘but you like it!’ to which the teacher replies ‘both of you boys better shut up unless you want to be sent to the principal’s office’.
Half way through the class, their phones both vibrate at the same time, and they instantly look at each other. After making sure the teacher isn’t looking at them, they look down to check who texted them from under the table.
Steve♢ is online
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ) is online
Bucky ( ˘-___-) is online
Sammy is online
Steve ♢: hey hey hey
Steve ♢: Erik told me about his cousin!
Steve ♢: is he cool?
Sammy: …….maybe
Steve ♢: ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ i’ll get his number then!
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): steve
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): steve im begging you here
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): please dont fuck my cousin
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): p l e a s e
Steve ♢: you know, i wasn’t thinking about that
Steve ♢: but now that you mention it…
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): steve
Sammy: oh btw Erik your middle school crush is in our class
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): my middle school what now
Bucky ( ˘-___-): M’Baku. or did you forget about him already?
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): fuck off bucks
Steve ♢: wait what
Bucky ( ˘-___-): Erik had like… the biggest crush on him back in middle school
Sammy: it was kinda cute tbh he would like… talk to him about this anime he really liked. which he got m’baku to watch somehow someway
Bucky ( ˘-___-): And there was this couple in the show. Real romantic shit you know? Erik would say how M’Baku is so much like the romantic interest of the hero
Sammy: and also how Erik was so much like the hero himself
Bucky ( ˘-___-): M’Baku never got the hint though. But it was cute to watch. A bit pathetic, sure, but cute!
Sammy: and of course a funny story to tell every person he dates lmao
Steve ♢: aww Erik you sweet thing you!
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): this
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): is the worst day of my life
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): ever
Bucky ( ˘-___-): Hey do you remember that stupid song?
Sammy: which one
Sammy: “M’baku and Erik sitting under a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G watching A-N-I-M-E”
Sammy: is it that one
Bucky ( ˘-___-): yeah! cute isn't he?
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): IM BLOCKING YOU
Steve ♢: lol erik that’s so cute
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): IM BLOCKING BOTH OF YOU
Steve ♢: cute cute cute
Sammy: cute lol
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ) is offline
Steve ♢: omg
Sammy: HE ACTUALLY LEFT LMFAOOOO
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ) is online
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): i forgot to say something :)
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): FUCK YOU ALL
Bucky ( ˘-___-): Damn that’s hot
Steve ♢: i didn't know Erik was this adorable
Sammy: he aight i guess
Erik ( ಠ ಠ ) is offline
This year is going to be fun.
#stucky#winterfalcon#t'challa x m'baku#t'chucky#erik killmonger x m'baku#nakia x okoye#sam Wilson x t'challa#black panther#black panther fanfiction#marvel#marvel cinematic universe#captain america#my writing#my writings#my fics#yeah.
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Tied Together | 02
The last thing you needed when you had a demanding daughter and job was a divorce made difficult by your husband. Luckily for you, Min Yoongi—Seoul’s top divorce lawyer—stepped in to save the day. Well, more or less.
▸ PAIRING: Min Yoongi x Reader
▸ RATING & GENRE: PG-15 ; Angst, Fluff, Divorce Lawyer AU, Marriage AU
▸ WORD COUNT: 10,079 words
▸ A/N: Aaaah okay so I definitely enjoyed writing this part more. I hope you like the read and, if there are any questions/thoughts, feel free to message me! Disclaimer again that I have zero proper knowledge about law!!
▸ WARNING: Brief drunken cheating scene.
Part One | Part Two
Yoongi carefully made his way up. He was definitely in over his head. What the hell was he doing? He always made sure to steer clear of the messy, intimate parts of a divorce, yet here he was volunteering to fix pieces of it. He barely knew the little girl, had only spoken to her briefly once or twice and she had regarded him with such cool, calculating eyes that he felt threatened.
Knocking lightly on the door, he waited to see if she would respond. As expected though, none came. He creaked the door open slowly and peeked inside, “Mia, it’s Yoongi.” She still granted him no reply, even when he stepped in and found her bundled up with a blanket over her head. He observed how the cloth seemed to tremble and wondered again—what the hell was he doing? “Hey, can I talk to you?”
“Don’t want to,” she mumbled, still hidden from sight where she was a mound of cloth on the bed.
“Look, your mom—” he paused, taking a deep breath “—she’s been through a lot. I haven’t known her for long but I know that she’s been struggling plenty with everything that has been going on.”
“Don’t wanna hear it,” Mia said, voice muffled through the layers.
Yoongi bit on his bottom lip. This was probably an indication that he should’ve stopped, should’ve never stepped foot in the room in the first place. But his conscience had been pulling on the strings of his mind, urging him to pay attention. “She loves you a lot, Mia,” he added softly, “she didn’t want you to be hurt from all this so I’m sure it was hard for her to tell you.”
The fortress broke open with a whip of the blanket, revealing a red-faced ten-year-old that somehow still managed to scare Yoongi shitless. He backed away slightly and coughed awkwardly, trying to maintain his composure. He couldn’t believe he was feeling this disconcerted due to a child.
“But she should’ve told me!” she snarled, “that’s why I’m mad at mommy.”
“Well, um—your mommy was going to tell you but she was scared, yeah, she didn’t want you to be mad at her. That’s maybe why she held off on telling you.”
Mia narrowed his eyes at him, gaze almost piercing even in the dim lighting of the room. Her lips curled sourly as her glance darted away from him. He almost breathed a sigh of relief. She sighed quietly, “That makes sense.”
This kid really was petrifying, it’s no wonder even Namjoon always spoke so highly of her. “Yes, so I hope you’ll forgive your, uh, mommy. She’s really… sad.”
“I know,” she pouted, “but I’m still mad.”
Well, Yoongi didn’t have a solution to that. He did his best.
“Are you her boyfriend?” she asked curiously, tilting her head. Her eyes were suddenly bright with life, with assessment. He wanted to pee his pants.
“Uh, no,” he gulped, “I’m her lawyer, the one helping her deal with the divorce.”
Mia seemed to mull over this for a few seconds before shrugging, “I think you’d suit her better than my dad ever did.”
Holy shit. This was definitely way out of his comfort zone. Time to leave. “Uh—”
“But okay,” she huffed, “I understand. But I’m just going to stay in my room and make her think I’m still mad for a little while. That’s what she gets for keeping this from me.”
Fucking terrifying. This kid was a devil trapped into a child’s body and Yoongi was dead scared in that moment that he was going to be possessed too. There was a wiseness to her words, a mature cadence to her voice that made her seem older than she actually was. Like everyone has been telling him, Mia was a clever one.
Still, he couldn’t help but crack a smile at her. “You’re an evil little thing.”
“I take after the best,” she grinned right back, a malicious sparkle in her eyes.
“Alright, get some sleep and please talk to your mom in the morning okay?”
“Okay,” she nodded, tucking herself underneath the blankets.
Yoongi felt something aligning with pride blossom in his chest. He did a good thing, the right thing. He made his way to the door for an escape, but not before hearing a quiet “thank you” to which he simpered at on his own.
When the man returned after spending an excruciating number of minutes upstairs, you nearly leapt off your seat. “What did she say?” you asked, eyes pleading.
“Everything’s fine,” he assured you, choosing not to let you in on the secret Mia had disclosed to her plans, “she’s getting some sleep now but she should speak to you tomorrow.”
You let out a sigh of relief—this was the first bit of good news and, despite it not being the most significant, it was enough to assuage some of your worry. “Thank you, Yoongi. I really can’t thank you enough.”
“It’s no problem,” he said then adding, “maybe I should work for family therapy, I seem to be pretty good at this.”
His joke had you giggling lightly. “Not too late for a change in profession, Min.”
He smirked, “I’ll consider it. I should get going though, it’s late and I think we all need the rest tonight. Give me a call whenever you have time again and I’ll squeeze you into my schedule.”
“Will do,” you nodded, “thank you again. Let me know yeah when you get back?” He seemed surprised by the request, the reaction obvious in the slight widening of his eyes. You blushed slightly, unsure why you were so embarrassed by your demand, “Just so I know you’re safe.”
Yoongi’s lips twitched but he nodded nevertheless. “I’ll do that. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Yoongi.”
The following morning found you obsessively preparing a breakfast good enough to suit kings and queens. You had cooked up all of Mia’s favorites, an unconscious effort to hopefully conciliate with your daughter. Mia tended to be stubborn, has been known to hold grudges against those who wronged her, and you could only hope that you weren’t one of them.
When she came down, your body’s first instinct was to tense nervously. “Morning, Mia,” you greeted, hoping your voice wasn’t shaking as much as your insides were.
“Morning, Mom,” she yawned, “what’s for breakfast?”
“You can take your pick,” you said, finishing up the last of the pancakes and setting it along with the rest of the feast on the table.
Your eyes met and you found what you could only call devious glee. “You really didn’t have to do all this,” she huffed, but sat down and began to eat without complaints. You were thankful that she was at least speaking to you and exhaled the heaviness in your heart. “And,” she started again, mouth full of eggs, “I’m sorry for screaming at you last night. That’s not polite of me.”
You nearly wept, you really did raise her well enough. “It’s alright, and I’m sorry too for not telling you.”
“Your lawyer explained it to me and made me understand,” she nodded proudly, “I like him. He’s smart.”
Oh, that was new. You bit back a smile. “Yeah? You like Yoongi?”
“Yep,” she said, “maybe once you divorce dad you can date him instead.”
“Mia!”
Your company held an annual summer gala—a fancy shindig to reward some employees and invite the press, inducing good marketing while also allowing time for clients to mingle. It was a good opportunity to do some PR and get to know more companies in the industry. Of course, being one of the heads of the conglomerate, you had the chance to invite some of your closest peers and acquaintances.
Namjoon had been on the list ever since you could get your hands on it along with a few other tight friends whom you treasured dearly. However, this year, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to invite Yoongi as well. He had become a friend, after all, and he was also Namjoon’s friend so that would be another excuse to add him to the guest list.
Set in a large ballroom in a hotel downtown, the event was magnificently planned. You had spent the last two months stressing over the tiniest details, driving your own secretary to the brink of her sanity. But all your hard work and tears paid off when you saw the splendid venue. Guests were drifting across the floors, plates of scrumptious dinners in hand from the buffet catered only from the best restaurants. The hall seemed to light up brilliantly, shimmering with the hypnotic white light.
“You did good,” Namjoon nudged your shoulder with his own, a dimpled grin on his face. “I think you’ve outdone yourself.”
“That’s what you say every year,” you laughed, “but thank you, I’m glad you appreciate my taste in decor.”
“You know I got you, babe,” Namjoon winked.
You crinkled your nose at him, “Well, thank you also for making time to come. I know your days have been jam packed and I’m glad to see a familiar face.”
“Uncle Namjoon!” Mia chirped, running on her little legs, her glittery blue dress swaying around her legs. She launched herself around Namjoon’s ridiculously long limbs and he was quick to crouch down to embrace her in a tight hug. “I missed you,” she gushed.
“Missed you too, little monster,” he flicked her nose playfully. Ever since he heard you use the apt nickname, he couldn’t help but pick it up. “Have you been behaving for mommy?”
“Mhm!” she nodded.
“And classes?”
She held up a finger, “Number one!”
Namjoon beamed, “That’s my girl. Here, a present, don’t give it to your mom okay.” He held out an envelope and she practically glowed at the sight.
“Namjoon!” you chided but it was too late, Mia was already squealing, thanking him and running off knowing full well that you would take it out of her hands to return it to the man. Namjoon didn’t look the least bit shameful over his actions and instead said that she deserved it. “I can’t believe you’re bribing my child into liking you.”
“Babe, you and I both know bribery isn’t needed for that. I’m naturally charming,” Namjoon huffed.
“That’s a moot point.” This time it was another voice that had you and Namjoon turning away from the stage.
Wow. Yoongi had cleaned up for the event and you were somewhat pleased—no, scratch that—you were very pleased with the result. His bangs were slightly parted, revealing a hint of his forehead and his dangerous eyebrows. He donned a classic black suit ornamented with weaves of patterns that reflected light every time he shifted. Layering the jacket over a crisp white shirt tucked into black slacks, he also had slipped on a bowtie that worked very well with him. His ears—holy shit—he had piercings and had slipped on very small hoops. They worked very, very well with him.
You kicked away the sudden heat bubbling in your stomach and spreading all through your body. Licking your lips, you tried to hide the desire warming up your cheeks behind your flute of champagne.
He nodded in greeting to you, “Thanks for inviting me.”
“It’s my pleasure,” you brightened in return, “thank you for coming, it’s a good chance to finally come out of that office of yours. God knows Heechul can’t stand the smell anymore.”
At that, Yoongi scowled with a roll of his eyes. “Heechul can put up with it considering he’s spilled coffee on my shirt this week. Twice.”
You laughed, “I think you’ve scared him into oblivion. You should lighten up on him.”
“He definitely seems to have taken a liking towards you,” he nodded thoughtfully. Then he looked around, seeming to look for something or someone. “Where’s Mia? Thought she’d be around you.”
You waved it off then picked up a glass of wine from a waiter walking past and offered it to him. The last time you invited Yoongi over, he had refused a drink, calling champagne a disgrace to the alcoholic beverages category, but had reluctantly accepted when you insisted on wine instead. He thanked you and waited for your response. “Most of my colleagues are familiar with her so she tends to be here and there, burn off all that energy before the gala is done.”
He smirked, toasting his glass, “Smart.”
Namjoon eyed your interaction with great interest, tilting his own glass to let the fizzy liquid flow down his throat. “Didn’t know you two were that close.”
“Yoongi is around the house from time to time when we can’t meet in either of our offices. Mia sees him a lot too, seems to like him now,” you grinned.
“Mia? Liking someone other than me? Unheard of,” Namjoon gasped dramatically.
“She’s widening her horizons,” you noted proudly. The event planner made her way over to you, whispered something about someone uninvited causing a ruckus outside. There were always event crashers, usually drunk, usually manageable so it was surprising for her to come up to you. Judging by the look of discomfort on her face, you decided it would be best for you to handle it personally. “If you excuse me, gentlemen, I have to tend to another matter. But please, enjoy the food and beverages, I’ll see you both later.”
You followed the woman down a hallway outside of the ballroom and into another room where you could hear screaming from the other side. The last thing you expected when you went through the doors was for Sungjae to be standing in the room. Security was there attempting to hold him down, but it was clear that, in his inebriated state, he wasn’t having any of it.
“Sungjae.” The name slipped out almost instinctively. He looked up, halting his efforts in the battle in the process.
“Baby,” he grinned, a cloud of impairment glazing over his eyes.
“It’s fine,” you gestured for the men to stop and turned to the event planner. “I’ll take care of it from here, please ensure everything else goes undisturbed.” She looked a bit hesitant at your order, but nodded and signaled for the men to follow her out, leaving you alone with the man who was then staring at you.
It really was heartbreaking to see him in this state. His hair was disheveled, suit crinkled, a dark bottle in hand that he lifted to take another swig of. Gritting your teeth, you snatched the beverage from his hand and glared, “That is enough, Sungjae.”
“I haven’t finished that,” he growled, fire igniting in his irises.
“Enough, you’re being disrespectful to me and the company right now.”
“That’s right,” he drawled sarcastically, “you missed an invite, didn’t you?”
Every year, Sungjae has been invited as your date to the gala. Everyone’s grown accustomed to seeing him there, so acclimated to it that you had received plenty of inquisition about his whereabouts that night. You looked at him with concern, “You haven’t been home in nearly a month, Sungjae. I just assumed you wouldn’t be coming.”
“Seem to do a lot of that, don’t you? Assume,” he spat out mockingly.
“Sungjae, please. Look I’ll get someone to take you home, okay? We can talk about this—”
“How’re the divorce papers?” he smirked instead, plopping down on an empty couch and patting the spot next to him.
You ignored his invite and instead sighed, aggravated. “They’re going. You know you won’t win anything from this, right? You’re just wasting your time.”
“Trust me, baby,” he said with a curl of his lips, “I have all the time in the world. You’re the one who brought this on, why should I make it easy for you?”
What happened to him? You didn’t understand how much a man could change in a span of a few months with only one trigger to set it off. It was as if all hell that had been trapped inside him had broken loose the second he was released from his job. A part of you felt some form of culpability. Maybe you hadn’t been aware of all of his struggles, of his troubled thoughts. Maybe if you had been more curious and less caught up in everything that was you, you would’ve noticed and prevented all of this.
It took two to tango. You weren’t completely blameless in the downward spiral of your relationship either. Somewhere along the way, you had somehow lost that passion you once believed you had for him—and in turn lost all your faith in him.
“Sungjae, please, let’s just get this settled quickly. For both our sakes and Mia’s.”
“Don’t bring her into this,” he growled, “you know well that you would be given full custody of her. You dare bring her into this? You’re taking her away from me!”
“I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t deem it necessary! Don’t even try to deny it. This wouldn’t have happened in the first place if you didn’t start it.”
Sungjae sneered, “You think the entire fucking world spins around you, that you’re playing the martyr in this case. But we both know better than that.”
“I’m not trying to antagonize you in any way. I just want the best for her,” you snapped, “that’s what you should want to. You’re her father.”
“That’s exactly why I don’t want her to grow up without a father.”
You laughed in disbelief, “You think this is fatherhood? Your absence being so frequent that Mia doesn’t even ask anymore. Do you think it’s easy for me? Do you really think I’m happy to see our daughter not give a single flying fuck that her father isn’t around anymore?”
Something flashed in his eyes, something you hoped to be fear and remorse, but you couldn’t quite tell. The flicker disappeared as quickly as it had materialized. Before he could retort, the door opened and Yoongi stepped in. God, no. This wasn’t good. You could feel the fear creeping into your voice when he made his way over to the two of you. “Yoongi—”
“Really?” Sungjae directed this towards you instead, laughing bitterly, “Divorce isn’t even settled and you’ve already replaced me?”
“Jesus Christ,” you snarled at him, “he’s my fucking lawyer for God’s sake, Sungjae.”
Sungjae disregarded your words completely, instead standing to size up Yoongi. It was the stance he had taken even in college whenever he felt particularly threatened by another presence. It was familiar and it was childish. The man was wobbling with his buzzing mind, but he didn’t seem to care as he stumbled over to your friend.
“I think that’s enough,” Yoongi muttered then glanced towards you, his gaze briefly scanning over you to ensure that you were unharmed. “I hope you don’t mind my interruption. Namjoon was getting worried and I went to check on you. This wasn’t what I was expecting.”
“It’s fine,” you pressed your lips together. You weren’t pleased that Yoongi had shown up, but it was mainly due to the fact that your husband was behaving like a toddler throwing a tantrum.
“Sir, if you could kindly follow me out, we can settle this carefully. You don’t want to make your case worse for you,” Yoongi advised calmly, reaching for the man only for him to bat his hand away.
Sungjae jeered, his eyes turning as it to ridicule Yoongi’s attempt, “Piss off. Are you threatening me?”
“I am not, but I am her lawyer and I won’t hesitate to take this into court should it escalate.”
Your husband glared at you instead, pointing his finger accusingly at you. “Can’t fuckin’ believe you’re already doing this,” he barked.
“Sungjae, Christ, it’s not like that,” you muttered, “can you stop being a child for two seconds? Listen to him. I don’t want things to be worse for you. What would the judge say? Do you think they would even want to give you time to see Mia if this gets brought into the settlement?”
His eyes turned manic then, as if fear was fluttering through his system at breakneck speed. He swallowed, backing away from the two of you, mouth opening and closing with no words tumbling out. The sheer disbelief imprinted on the creases on his face was agonizing. As much as you did not like his intrusion to your event at the moment, you also wanted to reassure him that it was going to be okay, that they were going to be settle this quietly.
“Please, Sungjae, just listen to him,” you whispered.
“I can’t believe you, you’re a fucking—”
“Sir,” Yoongi interjected, moving to stand in front of you, “please follow me outside.”
“And you—you fuck right off! You have no right to get involved. This is between me and her.”
Yoongi’s lips tightened again. “Sir, I have to get involved. She’s my client—” pause “—and a friend. if you don’t listen to me, I will include harassment in the courtroom and you certainly do not need that on top of everything else. I suggest you take your leave now because there are already plenty of witnesses on the scene who saw you enter, witnesses that can easily testify on our behalf. You don’t need this to worsen.”
Sungjae’s eyes darted between the two of you. You begged him with your gaze. Please, just go. Don’t make this situation more awful than it already is. His predicament and inner dilemma was palpable in the way his eyes darted quickly between the two of you. He seemed to have come to a decision when he stalked off towards the door, shoving them open with a shout, “Whatever, see you in court.”
It was then that your knees began to give out but Yoongi was quick enough to catch you, arms wrapping around you to support your body and help you to a seat. All the adrenaline had dissipated from your body, leaving nothing but exhaustion and ache in your being. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do, what in the world—
“Breathe,” Yoongi bent down and looked up at you. “Breathe, it’s okay. He’s gone. It’ll be fine. I promise I won’t include this if you don’t want to.” His hands enveloped yours, thumbs running over the skin comfortingly. The action did little to actually alleviate your swelling apprehensiveness, but you appreciated the thought nonetheless.
“N-no, don’t,” you cleared your throat, breath hiccuping in your throat,“I don’t want to rub salt in his wounds. It’ll become messier for us too if we keep adding things.”
“Alright,” he agreed.
Namjoon burst through the doors then, hurrying over to your side and scanning you for any injuries. “Are you okay? I heard the last of it but security wouldn’t let me in—”
“I’m okay,” you swallowed weakly, “thank you.”
Mia was close behind him and quickly jumped on your lap, slinking her arms around your neck. She was whimpering softly and you apologized over and over to her, placing kisses over her hair to soothe her.
“I’m good, baby,” you smiled at her when she pulled away, “don’t worry. Uncle Yoongi helped me.”
“I heard Uncle Yoongi inside,” she nodded then turned to Yoongi with gratefulness oozing out of her. “Thank you for taking care of mommy.”
Yoongi offered a small smile in return. “Of course, Mia.”
After that, the rest of the event went by relatively uninterrupted. You had your speech, had to hear Namjoon clap and hoot from the crowd. Cleaning up with the rest of the team and thanking them for their hard work, you finished up the last of your duties for the night. You were beyond drained at that point, the activities of the night sucking the last drop of energy from your body.
“Did you drive?” Namjoon asked, tilting his head. “You don’t seem to be in any state of handling any vehicle at this point.”
“Wow, thanks,” you sighed. It was true, you looked worse for weary, blinking away sleep from your eyes as Mia held onto your hand.
“Yoongi, you brought your car, right? Why don’t you drive her back?”
Yoongi opened his mouth as if to argue, but Namjoon gave him a look that shut him up. He turned to you, “I can drive you both back and someone can pick up your car tomorrow.”
“No, it’s really fine. I can still drive.”
“I insist,” he supplied again, “it’ll be fine. I have enough room in the car for the two of you and I don’t have work tomorrow so I can deliver you both home safe and sound.”
You still looked dubious, but Yoongi insisted again that it was perfectly fine. Thus, you ended up caving, nestling into the comfortable passenger seat of Yoongi’s car. Mia was strapped in the back, bouncing and squealing about how cool everything looked. The ride was pleasant and the silence was constantly covered by Mia’s enthusiastic chatters about the people she met tonight. She seemed much more at ease with Yoongi, including him into the conversations and asking him for his own thoughts.
By the time the lot of you reached your home, she was fast asleep in the backseat, her voice having disappeared from the quietness just moments ago. While you collected your belongings, Yoongi volunteered to carry her upstairs despite your protests. He only waved you off, carefully picking the little girl up and bringing her to her bedroom and tucking her in. Thankfully, she was a heavy sleeper and was still out cold when Yoongi closed her door.
You were pouring yourself a glass of wine when the man returned to the dining room. “Care for a glass?”
“I think I’ve had my share tonight,” he laughed lightly.
“Oh, come on, it’s not everyday you get to sit back and relax like this. You wouldn’t make me finish this on my own, would you?” you wiggled the bottle before him.
Yoongi shook his head, amused, “Alright. Just one, then I’m heading back.”
Of course, it never ended with just one—not when the two of you were getting down to the nitty gritty of your relationship with Sungjae. Curiosity had gotten the best of the man and a question quickly slipped out of his lips about what happened between the two of you before he could contemplate it further.
You hummed thoughtfully, body warm and buzzing. “Hmm, I mean, I really was in love with him once,” you confessed, “we had a blast in college, never one without the other. When he proposed, I guess it was just… expected. He was expected to do it, I was expected to say yes. It seemed logical. But guess we should’ve waited a bit longer. Work took off for me but didn’t for him. I went to work and he went drinking. Love lost, I suppose.”
“I’m sorry, it must’ve been hard,” Yoongi rambled again. You could begin to hear his words stringing together, slurring over each other.
“I got used to it after a while,” you sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder tiredly. The two of you were nestled on the couch in the living room after the dining room proved to be too chilly for your liking. “It was hard at first, but the worst part I guess is being so tolerant and familiar with it. Who knew that I would be so… fine with him gone? Hell, a part of me even felt relieved at times.”
Yoongi remained quiet at that, breathing out and taking another sip of his drink.
“I’m sorry,” you jerked away, “that must sound terrible.”
“It’s reasonable. You had a reason to be,” Yoongi promised, “I think… you’ve done enough on your end, it’s time for him to make a change.”
“It just gets lonely, you know, it’s nice having someone to rely on again. You’re very dependable, you know that?” you giggled, poking his arm.
He snorted, “Thanks, good to know I’m doing my job right.”
“What about you? Any love stories? Any exes to look out for?”
Yoongi laughed quietly at that, “No, my current affections only lie in my workplace.”
“Including Heechul?”
“Including Heechul,” he smirked, “I haven’t dated in so long. I think I’ve lost my touch for it.”
You peered at him curiously, “Why not? I don’t think you would have any trouble getting anyone you had an eye on.” When he turned to you with an expression of sheer disbelief, you added in a wink. “Come on, Yoongi, it’s not like you don’t know you’re attractive.”
His response was only to take another gulp of his wine and look away, circling the rim of his grass with the pad of his finger quietly.
“Yoongi!” you chastised.
“What?” he chuckled, brilliant, bright eyes flying up to meet yours.
“You’re so—ugh,” you broke off, scoffing.
He laughed, louder this time, with a tip of his head. The pretty column of his throat exposed itself, almost tantalizingly drawing you in to the smooth skin. “I’m ugh? I don’t think that’s a very good sign.”
“Oh God, you have to know you’re like really good-looking.”
His milky skin seemed to tinge the color of corals, a sweet dusting across his cheeks. “Ah, thank you. I’m glad you think so.” His latter sentence seemed more of a question rather than a statement. He inhaled deeply, breathing out through his nose, “I think… being a divorce lawyer just keeps reaffirming that love isn’t for me, that marriage isn’t for me.”
“Feeds into your cynicism?” you smirked.
He matched your expression with a nod, “Can’t help it. When you see relationships fail on a daily basis and are supporting the cause, it’s hard to have faith in the impossible, you know?”
“It doesn’t have to be impossible,” you shrugged, “it differs between couples. I’ve seen some last a lifetime, some a month or so.”
“It’s not like I’m drawing anyone in anytime soon,” he snorted, “so I don’t really think too much of having no relationship.”
You bumped shoulders with him and grinned, “If you weren’t so intimidating the first time I met you, I might’ve actually liked you.”
“You don’t like me now?” he teased playfully.
“I might just like you more now,” you scrunched up your nose cutely at him, “you’re really cool but also super, like, humble? How do you even do that?”
“You’re flattering me too much, I have a feeling you’re going to be asking me for a discount for my employment soon.”
You gasped, smacking his shoulder, “How dare you accuse me of such a thing?” Cue a momentary pause before you looked up hopefully at him. “But did it work?”
He snorted, “Fat chance.”
“A girl can hope,” you sighed. You lolled your head back, groaning as you cracked your neck. The event had been more taxing than you initially imagined, you could feel the aching throbbing on the back of your neck. Yoongi’s eyes seemed to follow your movements, his gaze searing heat into your skin where it was exposed. You still had on the dress you had prepared for the gala earlier, an elegant, off-shoulder satin piece that draped over your figure nicely.
“You’re beautiful.”
The words that fell from his lips tipped over the balance of the atmosphere. Your breath hitched in your throat as you whipped around to look at him only for Yoongi to veer his body away from you, his throat moving with a swallow.
“Sorry, that didn’t seem appropriate.”
“I, um, no—I mean, it’s fine, thank you,” you stammered yourself, biting your lip as you felt heat creeping up your cheeks. That had been truly sudden. You weren’t sure how to react to it. “I mean, it’s flattering to know that you think I’m… pretty.”
“You are,” he murmured softly, glance flicking up to scan your eyes.
You giggled, a nervous twinge in your voice, “I hope you’re not just saying that to return the compliment.”
“‘Course not,” Yoongi grunted defensively, “I genuinely think you’re beautiful. You’re a very stunning, perspicacious woman and I hope no one’s told you otherwise.”
“Uh, no, no one’s told me otherwise. I think. Not to my face at least,” you mused, humored.
The two of you sat in silence for a second, for a heavy beat in the air, before you decided to spin your body. Yoongi met you halfway, touching his lips to yours. Your heart lurched in your chest, threatening to burst as you were taken aback by his boldness. However, it didn’t take you long to melt into the kiss. His lips were gentle, careful, moving against yours very cautiously.
Your hand reached up to curl around his neck, tugging on the strands of hair behind him. He breathed against your lips, tongue darting out to lick at your lips. You instinctively granted him access, opening your mouth and allowing his tongue to slip inside. The muscle stroked your insides, pressing up against yours, wet and hot. His arm slid around your waist, tugging you closer and, before you realized, your legs were thrown on either side of his body. Your arms drifted around his neck, pulling him closer and you pressed into him. His own limbs encased you, folding your body into his. Your beings practically molded together, two hearts beating rhythmically together in the silence of the room.
His hands stroked your cheek, fingers cool against the heat of your skin. You didn’t know how long you sat there just kissing—lips connected and twisting in synchrony. Your heart felt as if it was soaring and grounded at the same time, all the pent-up emotion that had mounted over the days, all your bottled up frustrations all began to dissolve into the sweetness of the brush of his lips against yours.
Neither of you seemed to be conscious of what happened next, but the two of you ended up tangled together on that couch, wrapped around each other, hearts still beating as one.
You were in the kitchen the next morning, absentmindedly preparing breakfast. Your body moved on autopilot, too distracted to really focus on the task at hand. Having woken up before Yoongi, you had quickly leapt away from him, contrition chipping away at your conscience. You had slowly pulled yourself away from him, allowing him to nestle into the couch comfortably. With a heavy heart, you had left him there to get ready for your day, bringing you to this point in time.
The thud outside the dining room had you rushing there in case it was Mia, but instead you found Yoongi wincing as he attempted to carry his shoes out the door. God, this was going to be painful. “You know,” you cleared your throat, drawing his attention. He whirled around like deer caught in headlights, eyes wide and lips parted. “You can stay for breakfast, I’m making something warm.”
“I’m good,” he stiffened, straightening instantly, “I have work.”
You bit back the urge to remind him that he had told you the exact opposite just the previous night. “It’s coffee and toast,” you offered again, hoping it would persuade him.
Yoongi flinched, nibbling his lip warily. Your name rolled off his tongue bitterly, like a piece of regret he was trying to rid himself of. “We really shouldn’t.”
It hurt, it did. Your offer had been one for a friend, a comrade whom you trusted and relied on. But it would also be a lie if you were completely innocent in your suggestion. A part of you wanted him to stay so the two of you could work it out and hopefully smooth things down to leave no awkwardness behind.
“It’s breakfast, Yoongi,” you pressed again, your voice surrendering more of your anger than you wanted. “I’m not proposing to you.”
That seemed to strike another chord with him and he startled a little. He gulped, looking everywhere but you. “Look, I think we should just draw the line here. I’m a divorce lawyer, I don’t quite do romance. None of us are cut out for it and I’d rather not have you get your hopes up on a hopeless feat.”
Your voice was quiet then as you contemplated your next reply. “It doesn’t mean you can’t try,” you whispered, “not every marriage nor love is doomed to fail.”
“All the marriages I’ve seen had been, I can only judge based on experience,” he said almost apologetically, a look of sympathy bordering on pity engraved into his eyes. When you provided him with only quietness, he continued, “I’m just trying to keep things clean here. This is work and work alone. I don’t think loose ends is a good idea.”
Your heart stuttered as you looked up at him in surprise, both hurt and shock flashing in your gaze. “Loose ends?”
“This is for the best,” he maintained and you weren’t sure whether he was trying to convince you or himself. His tone was almost patronizing, insulting. “I’ll see you in the office and court, okay?” With those last words, he slipped on his shoes and was out the door, leaving the hallway cold and unwelcoming.
The month of your divorce was spent in a flurry of court schedules and piling workload. It was exhausting to enter the courtroom and spend hours arguing to wipe your hands clean of Sungjae. He seemed quieter in the courtroom, less aggressive. It looked as if he had given up hope of attaining everything he wanted. It was an easy win for you and Yoongi—well, you mainly. You had gotten everything you requested in your documents. The judge had closed the case quickly, determining that it was clear who would be granted full custody of Mia.
Although expected, you were still flooded with relief at the results.
As everyone filed out of the courtroom, you felt your legs wobble and weaken, plopping you down on a chair in the hallway as you thanked the lords for giving everyone strength to make it through that painful debacle.
While you had obviously known that this would be you cutting ties with Sungjae, it didn’t make it any less hurtful to know that you’ve finally cleared yourself of the man who had given you the best and worst of memories over the past few years, some of the most significant in your life. It was terrifying to know that he would be gone, that it was official what you once had has ended.
Looking up at the shadow cast over your feet, you found Yoongi looking at you with a softness in his eyes. Softness you didn’t want to see from him. Your throat was still raw with the emotion that had overwhelmed you the last few hours.
He said your name and you got on your feet, interrupting him with a polite smile. “Thank you.”
Yoongi blinked, looking somewhat unsettled. Perhaps he had been expecting something else.
“I’m glad it’s over,” you nodded slowly, “no loose ends right?” Your smile was admittedly crooked, as if you were biting back sentiments threatening to spill into your expression. This was it after all. The end. “I’ll send the rest of the payment by Monday,” you reassured him.
He looked conflicted for a second, his eyes searching yours cautiously. His lips parted for a brief second and your heart dropped. No, no. Please don’t— he clamped it shut. Instead, he bobbed his head in agreement and held out his hand. You shook it firmly. He said, “Thank you for your cooperation thus far.”
“No, thank you.”
After that, the rollercoaster of your life seemed to stabilize. Your days ran smoothly, an endless cycle of the same routines. Your mind was occupied solely by your assignments at work, the never-ending stack that your secretary seemed to delight in adding to, and Mia who came by to play every once in a while. She entertained herself for a while, jumping from cubicle to cubicle and getting her hands on anything and everything.
But the worst times were the periods of boredom she suffered through, prompting you to suffer through them as well. She would swing her legs wildly on the office chair in front of your desk, big eyes peering up at you. “When’s Uncle Yoongi coming back?”
You sighed, “He’s not coming back, baby. It was only for work and it’s finished.”
She pouted petulantly, mumbling, “I thought you guys were at least friends.”
Your heart throbbed dully at the thought. “I thought so too.”
And you figured that was all the twists your life had in store for you, that the rest of your days would pass by insipidly with the exception of days Mia seemed to surprise you with something she’s done or instances you would flail to reach deadlines. It wasn’t until a knock on your door, two months after the hurricane had slanted your life on its axes, seemed to collapse all your expectations.
Your first instinct was to freeze as you looked at the man who stood before you, surprise would be an understatement. “Sungjae? What’re you doing here?”
“Uh, can I come in?” he shifted almost anxiously. He looked neat with a neat white shirt, dark trousers over his legs and his face shaved clean of any stubble. His hair was no longer a horrid mess but had been cropped short to show off his dashing looks. For a second, you were thrown back to college, how good he had looked at the time. But even then, your heart was beating a different rhythm compared to those days. Love lost.
You wanted to tell him no, to send him away.
“I-I just want to talk,” he stuttered in addition, “you’re free to say no, but I was hoping we could… talk.”
That was how you ended up seated in a coffee shop just blocks away from your home. You still weren’t quite sure of his intentions and thought it best to take things away from your household, somewhere public, in case anything went south. The both of you sat in silence, you staring at him in confusion, him fidgeting in his seat.
“I want to start by apologizing,” he blurted out, his words had you tensing almost instantly. “I know I’ve messed things up between us, for us, for the family. I know I won’t get a second chance with you, but I—I don’t want you to remember me that way, as selfish as that sounds.”
You were too stunned to respond so you remained quiet, encouraging him to push forward.
“I’m slowly getting myself back on my feet, got myself a job,” he laughed shortly, “something small. I’m working my way back up, trying to get back on that position. It’s going to be a long ride but I’m enjoying it so far, feeling the normal again, you know.”
“Sungjae,” you began quietly, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I’m not asking for you back if that’s what you’re scared of,” he added swiftly, eyes bulging in fear. “I just—we have history and the last thing I want is for you to remember me as is this asshole who fucked up our marriage, fucked up our family. I—” he paused “—I wanted to thank you mainly. I’m glad you asked for the divorce and went through with it. It was like a slap of reality, it cleared some things up for me. I’m still going to therapy, and I’m trying to patch things up. I know things still aren’t the same, and they never will be, but I’m just hoping to fix some of the damage I’ve done.”
You felt for him, you really did. A large part of you believed that he would do it, that he would get by, and you were relieved. Though a small piece of you was still skeptic of him and the meaning of his arrival, you chose to set that aside and gave him the benefit of the doubt.
“I’m glad,” you said earnestly, “I’m glad you are, Sungjae. It’s good to hear that you’re doing better and that you’re making the effort.”
He seemed mildly appeased by your words, offering a shaky smile. “Thank you, really. I appreciate your thoughts.”
“But that’s not the only thing, is it?” you asked. You’ve known him long enough to recognize his ticks and tells. His incessant shifting and moving eyes gave him away.
Guilt painted over his features as he nervously began again, “I know this is a lot to ask, but… I was wondering if you would give me a chance to start anew with Mia.”
That had you clenching your fist, fingernails digging into your palm, as you narrowed your eyes at him.
“I-I know I don’t deserve it—”
“You don’t.”
He faltered slightly and you almost felt guilty. “I’m still her father.”
“You lost that right a while ago.”
Sungjae swallowed, gaze falling to his hands. “I’m aware of that and I’m sorry, but I hope you’ll give me the chance to rectify that. One chance. It doesn’t have to be now or today, but… someday.”
Your first instinct was to reject his request and leave, drop everything right then. Sungjae, if he really has changed, would let the matter go as well—either that or the old Sungjae would’ve returned to persist until he got what he wanted. But your compassion kicked in. This was Sungjae baring himself to you, exposing his struggle and success since the last time you’ve seen him. The change was evident in his appearance, the penitence dripping in his voice.
“Check back in in a month and I’ll decide then.”
His eyes brightened with hope and your chest ached. “Thank you, thank you,” he whispered over and over, bowing from where he sat, “I promise I’ll do my best. I won’t let you down.”
You really hoped so too.
On the other side of town, Yoongi was sulking and snapping at Heechul. Again. He had been in this perpetual state of undeniable, cyclic annoyance towards everything around him. His secretary seemed to be the butt of all of his channeled rage. Heechul’s threatened to quit several times, but HR had managed to make him stay with the pledge that Yoongi’s mood wasn’t going to be permanent.
But jokes on him, Yoongi was always bitter. He was just more so as of late.
“She’s been working more you know,” Namjoon said, sipping his coffee casually as if he hadn’t just raised the taboo topic Yoongi had been attempting to avoid for so long.
The elder man gritted his teeth, focusing instead on picking on the pastry in front of him. “What she does has nothing to do with me.”
Namjoon snorted in disbelief. “Is that why you’ve been checking your phone every two minutes?” So Yoongi’s never been an avid phone user, but he has been obsessively refreshing his phone these past few… weeks. He was expecting important emails, that’s what he told himself at least. “And,” Namjoon continued as if he wasn’t annoying enough as was, “is that why you knew exactly who I was talking about?”
Yoongi scowled, biting down on his muffin angrily, “Look, I don’t need you on my ass about it.”
“You’re making it difficult when it doesn’t have to be,” the younger sighed, “you like her, why can’t you just admit that? Christ, hyung, it’s not like i’m asking you to drop on one knee and sweep her away to the Bahamas on a honeymoon. I’m just asking you to give things a try.” His words was a moment of déjà vu for Yoongi who had heard the exact same words from your mouth months ago. “I know your occupation makes you a skeptic of the entire romance thing, and so did your parents.”
He flinched, hating himself for reacting to it. His parents weren’t particularly a touchy subject, but he couldn’t deny that they played a part in his distrust towards marriages and relationships in general. Some section of his mind held onto those memories, to the failed love his parents had experienced, and expected him to do the same. He was aware of that, he just didn’t like to admit it.
Instead of responding directly to him, Yoongi said, voice low, “Do you know that the number of marriages reached its lowest point since 1974 last year?” Namjoon quirked an eyebrow. “Fell below three-hundred thousand. And you can guess why.”
“That’s a stupid argument,” Namjoon muttered, “and did you know that the divorce rate has been declining since it peaked in 2003?” Yoongi opened his mouth. “Yeah, dropped 1.7% last year too, down by 1,800. Amazing, isn’t it?” Namjoon laughed, that familiar look of self-satisfaction dancing in his eyes. “If you’re going to play dirty with numbers then you can bet your ass I’m going to use it against you.”
Yoongi wanted to hit him.
“I’m not asking you to jump for it, not asking you to drop everything you’ve believed in for her. That’s absolutely senseless and I know you’re better than that. I also know you enough that you never back away from a challenge, so what are you scared of, Yoongi?”
This was the worst.
If there was anything worse than dealing with incompetent employees, it would be dealing with a dozen screaming children running around your house while doing your best to be a good host to said children’s parents. It was bad enough that you were running the party on your own, with a little bit of help from your secretary who had a soft spot for your daughter, but couple it with mothers who didn’t know when to keep their mouths shut just made it ten times worse.
The divorce topic was hovering over the entire room, a question on why it happened. But none of them dared to bring it up on such a joyous occasion except one. You weren’t sure whose mother it was but you sure weren’t inviting her to any future engagements.
“I heard you recently got divorced,” she had started with a look of feigned sympathy, “I’m sorry to hear. Must be hard to be a single mom.”
You had laughed it off, told her it was fine. You were okay with it. Until—
“I can introduce you to a few men I know.”
Holy shit. You bolted out of there so fast with an excuse to replenish drinks out in the lawn where the kids were gathered. As the kids busied themselves with games hosted by the MC you had hired for the day—also known as your lovely secretary’s boyfriend, you went over to the door when the bell had rung. You were ushering a few of the kids who had disconnected from the group to check if it was the clown (it wasn’t) back inside, shouting at them to stay away from the vases. You huffed, tired, as you swung open the door.
Your entire body became paralyzed at the sight. You really didn’t think anything would surprise you more than Sungjae’s arrival, but once again life proved you wrong. Yoongi stood there, a bouquet of flowers in one hand, and a very, very big wrapped package in the other.
You couldn’t form a coherent response, so he took initiative, offering a small smile. “I remember reading in your files that your daughter’s birthday was today. I was hoping you’d be home and that—” a scream sounded somewhere in the distance, there was too much distracting ringing in your ear for you to acknowledge it “—that, uh, you’d celebrate here. Guess I was right, huh?” He awkwardly laughed.
You tightened your jaw. “What are you doing here, Yoongi-ssi?”
He flinched at the formality, looking almost guilt-ridden for a second. “Please don’t call me that. I think we’re past formalities.”
“It was just business, remember?” You knew you were being difficult, but it had been months. What made him think that he had any right to show his face here when—
“Uncle Yoongi!” The shriek reached the door before your daughter did, barreling past you to throw her arms around his legs. “You’re here!” Then her eyes found the blue box. “And you brought me a present?”
You tugged on Mia’s arms, but she was tireless as she whined and clung onto him. “Mia, enough. Go back inside, you have your friends.” A quick glance down the front hallway let you know that the mothers had grown curious at the sudden appearance of a handsome man at the door, their whispers carrying down the column.
“Invite him in, Mom!” Mia squealed. “Invite him to the party!”
“Mia—”
“Please, please,” she begged over and over.
You huffed, giving her a stern look, “I’m sure he’s busy.”
Mia scoffed as if the thought itself was absurd. “It’s my birthday,” she said, her words explaining everything, “he can’t be busy for my birthday.”
Yoongi, above her, choked on a laugh and nodded. His lips were still stretched wide in a thrilled smile as he ruffled her hair. “I cleared out my day today to celebrate with you.”
Hurt passed through your gaze as you gulped the guilt clogging your throat. Mia was still tugging on your dress, urging you to invite him. What choice did you have? Your hands were tied. Begrudgingly, you opened the door wider to let him in. Mia tugged him into the house, showing him the spread they had and all the games planned out for the day. Yoongi seemed content with following her around, but you still noted the glances he threw your way. Knowing he was in your home made you feel even more nervous. You kept yourself engaged with the most infinitesimal of tasks, picking on small things to make sure that things were perfect.
Meanwhile, Yoongi was beginning to dread this entire situation. Mia was still holding onto him and, as much as he loved her and was there for her, he also wanted to speak to you. It was wrong of him to use Mia to his advantage but beggars can’t be choosers. He was fine with Mia pulling him all over the place—that was, until he spotted Sungjae. The man was tucked into a corner, smiling as he looked over the kids, looked over Mia.
Yoongi knew he had no right to be possessive over the little girl, the little girl that was half of you and half of Sungjae, but his irritation still brewed hot and angry inside of him. He excused himself away from Mia, letting her return to her friends, before stalking over to Sungjae. “You know that the—”
“I know,” Sungjae smiled, completely ignorant of Yoongi’s annoyance, or choosing to ignore it, “but she invited me.” What the fuck? Something identical to fear took over his vexation, a gnawing feeling in his heart that told him to run, run, run. What if—what if you had taken him back? You both had a past, one that went far and deep beyond Yoongi’s reach. But he tamped down his questions for now, figuring that he would go to you for those answers instead.
But the man opened his mouth again. “She’s a keeper,” he hummed, a twinkle in his eye, “so you better get a hold of her fast if you don’t want to use her.” Yoongi thought that this man might just want to go with him right then and there. He was being purposely cryptic, something Yoongi didn’t appreciate.
He had other things to focus on, more important things.
You were still moving swiftly around the house to get everything in order. It wasn’t until you were in the kitchen that Yoongi trapped you. He had been attempting to catch you a few times, but his efforts were fruitless when you kept evading him.
Avoiding his eyes, you started, “Mia needs to—”
“She’s good,” he curtly intervened, “she’s playing with her friends.”
“I need to make sure—”
“Food is all stocked, the parents can feed themselves.”
You were growing incensed by his interruptions. “Yoongi.”
“We need to talk.”
Goddammit. You huffed, rolling your eyes, “There’s nothing to talk about. Plus, it’s been months. We could’ve done this talk months ago.”
Yoongi sighed, “I know. I’m sorry.”
“I have other things to do, Yoongi.”
“Please,” he pleaded again. It was a mistake to look at him then because his stare was brimming with desperation, one that made you cave.
Biting your tongue, you snapped, “Two minutes.”
“I don’t like mixing business with pleasure,” he began. This was not off to a good start. “You were my client. I had to maintain my professionalism, it wouldn’t have been right. Kissing you—” he paused, connecting his thoughts “—kissing you and staying with you that late had crossed too many boundaries we had when we were still working together, when you were still married.”
You stiffened. He had a point and that bugged you.
“It wasn’t fair to either of us, nor Sungjae. But I’ve been thinking about it these past few weeks,” he softly spoke, “and I guess we both fucked up a little.”
A gasp from the door (“he said a bad word”) drew your attention away from Yoongi’s face and to the menace that was peeking into the kitchen. “Mia!” you scolded, blushing, “stop eavesdropping!” Then she darted away and you could hear the resounding footsteps.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, “forgot there are kids around. But, uh, my point is. I did mess up, I should’ve came clean but I was—I guess I was still trying to piece my feelings together. I haven’t been in a relationship in so long, you have to know that. This is—this is like brand new territory for me, my affections towards you.” You looked up then, meeting his eyes. “I didn’t want to think about the possibility of having something beyond platonic emotions towards you, that there might be something more.”
“It—it just doesn’t sit well with me that you took this long to figure this out. I know you’re sorry about it, I’m sorry too. It wasn’t right for me to pressure you into it and I apologize. But why now? Why didn’t you speak up then?”
Yoongi swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. He took a deep breath and continued, “At that point, I was scared that it was also you just seeking company. You were alone after having been with Sungjae for so long, you were going through a divorce. People don't recover that fast and I didn't want you to jump the gun in case you changed your mind. Yes, I was scared, but I also wanted to play safe to make sure that you were sure about it."
Dammit. You took your words back. This was the worst. “I hate it when you make sense,” you muttered, “I hate that you can reason everything you do.” A huff escaped your lips, one that disclosed your displeasure, but also your defeat. “But, you’re right,” you breathed, “the timing had been wrong. I might not have been in my right mind then to make those decisions and you were the smarter of the two of us to understand that. So I guess thank you too for being careful with me. I was still attached, it wasn't fair. So I think I should also be asking for your forgiveness.”
Yoongi seemed to bloom with your words, something akin to hope gleaming in his eyes. “You know my answer to that already.”
You pinched your lips, suppressing the sudden urge to grin, “It would still be nice to hear it.”
He laughed, leaning his face closer to yours, bumping your noses together. “I forgive you, will you forgive me?”
“You know my answer to that,” you teased.
Yoongi growled, brushing his lips over yours ever so lightly. “You’re trouble.”
Somewhere in the close distance, you could hear Mia’s voice. “I think they’re kissing! They’re finally together!”
You groaned, tossing your head back in a thump against your wall. “Mia, stop it!” Yoongi only chuckled, amused as per usual. This would be a reoccurring experience.
Then a question: “Do I get to call him dad number two yet?”
“MIA!”
#bts#yoongi#bangtan bookclub#bts scenarios#bts angst#bts fluff#yoongi scenarios#yoongi angst#yoongi fluff#i scheduled this because now im off to finals week HAHHA rip#it's not my best characterization of yoongi honestly#HES BETTER THAN THIS#but let's get this over with and make better dynamics next time :D
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the sixth one: Tom Made Me 1/29/17
My father, Tom, was a complicated man. Colorful, some might say. He stood about six feet, four inches tall and had the kindest eyes. They were hazel, small and a little bit beady, but kind. He was thin all over expect for a prominent beer belly which often reminded me of what a pregnant man would look like. He terrified me. When my mother left, or he kicked her out, that story always varied depending which of the two you asked, he was granted full custody of me. Thus began the ballad of Tom and Kym.
He was praised my entire life for stepping up to the plate and raising me when my mother was otherwise unable to. Something that back in those days was not too common. Usually the father leaves. Not mine. Mine stayed. I’m not sure if that was a good thing.
Tom made me a tomboy. I always suspected Tom wished I were a boy, maybe more athletic, or maybe just normal, I was none of those things, and I still am not. He always wanted me to play basketball. My grandparents got me a basketball hoop for one of my preteen birthdays. We would spend a lot of nights practicing. I was terrible. I couldn’t run very fast, couldn’t steal the ball to save my life, and to top it off, I really could care less. One summer he made me do ten layups before I went to bed each night. If I missed one, I’d have to start over. Each night would result in me complaining with “I don’t want to play basketball!” Which he would always follow with a stern “You’re tall, you have a knack”. I didn’t. In his defense I did develop a pretty mean layup and I’m pretty certain I could still pull a good one off now. After his passing, I look back on nights like those, when he took an interest in me and I wish I were more grateful at the time. These were some of the good memories that weren’t painted over with abuse, alcohol or things I was too young to really comprehend. Nights like these are the bright spots in an otherwise shady childhood.
Tom made me self-sufficient. My first flat tire happened to be in our driveway when I was sixteen. I went inside to tell him. He looked up from his scotch and TV, as he often did, and said, “I don’t know why you’re in here, you have a driver’s manual, don’t you?” I marched outside and I changed that tire. Before you think he’s a total monster, he did come out and check the tire and gave me a few pointers on how to do it more quickly and efficiently the next time. Years later, when I got a flat, I changed it with no problem and no help from AAA on the 405 freeway, in high heels. Something I definitely called my father to brag about, but really with just the intention to get the validation I always sought after from him as a kid. No dice. He always expected me to be self sufficient, so things like this, things I was supposed to be able to do, came with very little validation. Between you and me, it broke my heart every time.
Tom made me cool. Freshmen year of college my dorm’s RA contacted everyone’s parents to ask them to send their kids care packages for Christmas our first year away from home. All the kids on my floor had moms, therefore they all got cookies and candy and whatever a mom puts in a care package. They all got loving notes filled with excitement of their child’s return home for the holidays. Mine was the smallest and by far the blandest. Tom didn’t even wrap it in Christmas paper. No card. Just written on the brown paper bag that he taped around my gift in a black sharpie: “Kym- Love Dad”. I was sad at first but that quickly passed as I was used to getting different things than my peers due to a lack of having a mom. I laugh out loud thinking of this now. I could have had a single dad that didn’t try at all, but he always tried. Since his passing I wish more and more I had told him how much that meant to me. I opened my small paper bag present to find The Beatles “1” CD. It had just been released and most people didn’t even know it existed yet. Everyone on my floor dropped their cookies and cards and gathered around in complete jealousy. I was cool. I had the cool dad who taught me about cool music. I still have that CD and I play it on my archaic CD player while thinking of that night every single time, and I feel cool.
Tom made me love the Broncos. We’re from Denver, a place where 99.9% of the population bleeds orange and blue. I see John Elway on TV and I’m hardwired to cry. I went to so many games with Tom. I remember sitting in the living room with Tom, my aunt and uncle with their kids watching the Broncos beat the Packers in the Super Bowl of 1997. That day will go down as one of my favorites and one of the days that wasn’t sprinkled with chaos.
For Christmas Tom almost always gave me a Broncos jersey. I’d open it up and it was always so big I could wear it as a dress. I’d give him a funny look, he’d respond casually with “That’s Champ Bailey”. I would blankly look at him with “I know, but they make women’s jerseys now Dad”. His reply was always “nah, women don’t like football, you’re an anomaly”. Hey, I never said he wasn’t misogynistic.
One season when I was working at a sports bar in Hollywood I got a package from him in the mail. Inside were mustard yellow and black striped football socks. Enclosed was a note on a Post-it written in a black sharpie “The Broncos are going to wear these on Monday night for the game. Wear them to work. They’re ugly-Love Dad”.
When I was back visiting him in the days before he died he told me that the weirdest part about dying is that he wasn’t going to get to see how things were going to turn out. He was watching pre-season and he had no idea how the Broncos were going to do that year, and he never would. One of the biggest arguments he and I had was that win or lose he wanted a good game. Not me, I always wanted to blow the opposing team out of the water. A complete fucking blow out made me so happy. As I sat there looking at my deteriorating father, both of us with a cigarette in one hand and a scotch in the other, I told him I would dedicate each game to him in the upcoming season. That year, not only did the Broncos go to the Super Bowl and win, but I actually got to go to the Super Bowl. That was the first time I felt close to him after he had passed. Since then, I have become an even bigger fan than before, if that is even possible.
Tom made me feel ashamed. This isn’t really the sort of shame you are thinking, though there was quite a bit of that sprinkled throughout my childhood, I’ll save that type of shame for another day. This type of shame came from Tom wishing I were more popular, I think. He never came right out and said it but I had an inkling that it disappointed him. I didn’t get his popularity gene. I got my mom’s weirdo gene. They rarely go hand in hand during one’s high school years. I was however a cheerleader. A total oxymoron. A nerdy cheerleader involved in theater.
When it came time to take my freshmen year cheerleading team photos my dad, like the other moms, tagged along. We did our team photo and then our individuals. On its own the individual photos were a total nightmare as at the time I only stood five foot six inches tall (not tall to me as I’m now pushing six feet) and was all legs. In fact the cool kids used to yell, “Kym’s riding a chicken!” when I passed them in the halls. My hands and feet were huge-they can best be described as how a puppy has gigantic paws until he grows into the gargantuan Doberman he’s supposed to one day be. I had cheaply dyed blonde hair, more orangey and brassy, that was stringy and halfway curled despite my hard work with that damned curling iron. I still have no idea how to work those things. I was completely flat chested, I mean literally and completely. I wasn’t even qualified to wear a training bra and I probably weighed about 85lbs. To top it off, I was missing the better part of my front teeth at the time. See? Total nightmare. I have those photos buried in a locked trunk somewhere. No power on this earth will ever get me to show them to anyone.
I awkwardly got through the individual photos pretty unscathed, as my teammates had little to no interest in me. Next were the buddy photos. The girls quickly started plotting who would take pictures with who, while I silently sat there horrified that they wouldn’t ask me. It was elementary school gym class all over again. If you don’t get that reference, you were probably popular, congratulations. Tom watched the whole thing. I can only now as an adult imagine how embarrassed he was to have the nerdy daughter. You’re probably thinking he wasn’t embarrassed, he loved you, trust me, I knew Tom better than anyone, and he was embarrassed. I finally got the courage to ask our team captain Brit if she would take a buddy photo with me. Brit was one of the most popular girls in our grade and although we definitely didn’t hang out with the same crowd she was always kind to me. She was beautiful and athletic. She had long brown hair, with brown eyes and a perfect smile. She said yes. I could tell it was out of pity and obligation, but I didn’t care, “I’ll take it!” I said to myself.
On the way home that day Tom and I were quiet for most of the ride. Tom broke the silence with a tone that was a shade too insensitive, “So you don’t have any friends on the squad, do you?” I have no idea how I responded to that question. I mean I wish I had said, “No shit, Tom, but thanks for pointing it out and rubbing it in.” Instead I felt the deep shame that I might have let him down. I wanted him to be proud of me. I wish I was more popular, more cool or whatever quality he definitely had in his youth. I didn’t. That killed me.
Tom made me face reality. The year following the Columbine massacre my high school had their students wear nametags at all times. I grew up in Littleton, Colorado and attended a rival school just 10 minutes away from Columbine. The school told us these nametags were a tool to protect us. We were told that it would help the staff identify us if someone wasn’t supposed to be at the school. Our parents were told something entirely different. The principal had a separate assembly for the parents where he explained that after the Columbine shooting it was very difficult to identify the bodies. Since my school had received so many death threats following that shooting they wanted to make sure, in the event we experienced the same tragedy, that the parents of my high school wouldn’t have to go through the same excruciating wait as the Columbine parents did. They were also instructed to keep this from their children, as the principal didn’t want to incite fear and panic among the students. In keeping with his honest form of parenting, he told me everything. I’m grateful for that honesty looking back now. He treated me like an adult that deserved a straight answer. At the time, in keeping with my tough daughter form, I acted as if this didn’t completely terrify me. It did, but I didn’t want Tom to think I wasn’t strong or capable of hearing the truths he so often exposed me to. That night I wrote out a little will on a small piece of notebook paper with a purple pen and kept it in my back pocket for the remainder of my high school career. Don’t think that’s too sad, it mostly consisted of who I wanted to distribute my elaborate Buffy the Vampire Slayer collection to, and how I loved my parents, my grandparents and my dog. That wasn’t the first, nor the last time he gave me the harsh truth about reality. It never made me angry or wished he was a normal protective dad, it made me feel capable and loved. Which writing that out now sounds so fucked up. I wish I had asked him why he chose to go that route. Now, I will never know.
Tom made me invisible. I always wondered why he married my mother? Were they ever in love? I have pictures to prove they once were. I did witnessed it in elementary school on Halloween nights. My mom would come over and the three of us would get me ready to trick-or-treat. They didn’t fight on those nights for some reason. I will always remember the image of them, one Halloween, linked arm and arm in front of me holding an umbrella due to the crazy, unexpected blizzard. The streets and sidewalks were covered in snow and we could barely see in front of us. I was a witch that year. My mother painted my face green and Tom made sure I had plenty of layers under my black cloak. They topped the costume off with a stringy long black wig with a tall pointy witch hat. I was marching behind them when I looked up and saw them linked together. They looked in love. It was what I imagined having normal, happy parents would have been like. Even just for a little bit. That image was ruined when they dumped the snow on the umbrella behind them straight on to my witch hat. I guess I was an after-thought, even then.
Tom made me grow up too fast. He never shielded me from who my mother was. My mother was beautiful. She always had a way about her that drew men and even women in. She was funny and charismatic. She stood about five feet and eight inches tall, dyed bleach blonde hair, big round green eyes with a perfect nose. She was athletic and slender. I could tell why my dad fell for her. However, when she would climb into a bottle, which was most of my youth, she changed. Struggling with alcoholism and bipolar disorder she was unpredictable and quite often scary. He never kept me from her. He always said, “I don’t want Kym to not know her mother” to people who asked why he still let me see her. She had a lot of dark days and I was along for the ride in a lot of them.
Tom would drop me off at whatever random living situation my mother had herself in every other weekend without so much as walking me to the door to make sure it was safe. She once told me that when he did that it confused her. One weekend she was supposed to pick me up from his house and take me to our family farm. She told me she started the day off with her usual 2 cups of wine, yes cups (think big gulp, her words, not mine) and proceeded to the car. She was later woken up by a confused Tom knocking on her window asking her where the hell she had been. She didn’t even make it out of the parking lot. Her response was “wow, I must have passed out”. One thing I always admired about my mother, she never was dishonest about her alcoholism and quite funny about it to boot. She said he accepted this answer followed by an “I’ll pick Kym up on Sunday night.” Then he left a 7 year old me standing outside of her car holding my tiny suitcase. She later told me that she thought, “that’s fine but I’m definitely going back inside to drink some more”, we went inside and she did.
One of the grimmer memories from that era was when she lived with a man named Scott. Scott was a much scarier man than any boyfriend she had had to that point. He drank too much and was abusive towards my mother and referred to me as “Buggard”. Funny enough, I never hated that guy, I respected that he was who he was and seemed to own it, no matter how fucked up. Tom would drop me off there without so much as a peek inside. It was terrifying. I didn’t find out until years later that he had known what was going on in there. I guess one Sunday my Papa (P-pa, Tom’s dad), picked me up. I climbed in the car and was quiet for several miles until I broke the silence with a shy “I never want to go back there again”. When asked why, I told P-pa that my mom and Scott had sex and would make me watch. My grandparents pleaded with Tom to fight for sole custody. He never did. I confronted him about this in my adult life as I thought I had never told anyone this was happening because I assumed that if I had, someone would have done something about it. I now know that the court would have brought up more questions on his parenting side too and I might have been taken away. I’m glad he didn’t. It was scary and it sucked but I came out the other side. As a result of a lot of these memories I can handle almost anything thrown my way. Glass half-full, right?
Tom made me feel loved. When my mother was mostly out of the picture he did everything he could to make me feel like I was having a normal childhood. He signed me up for soccer, ballet classes, and anything that a normal kid who had two parents would get to do. I was lucky.
Tom put me in girl scouts at an early age, I was in the same troop throughout my time in the scouts. We were really tight, us twelve girls. Following the tradition of playing Mr. Mom, Tom involved himself fully becoming close with the rest of the girls’ moms. I never questioned where my mother was, in these moments Tom was enough. We’d go on camping trips as a troop and Tom would come along. He was the only male and blended better than I think any dad in that situation would have. It was cool. During these camping trips, Tom would play a game with the girls in my troop and me. We would line up behind a long, fallen down log in the middle of the mountains, each one of us with a few watermelons and Tom would stand about 6 feet away from the log and we’d spit seeds at him. Whoever got the most won. We never kept track, we just laughed as he danced around dodging each seed. I’m so grateful for these silly memories.
Later our troop leader wasn’t able to keep up with the commitment, and neither could any of the other moms. Our tight knit troop was on the verge of breaking up. Tom stepped forward and volunteered to lead. The Girl Scout Association said that men weren’t allowed to lead the girl scouts. He was heartbroken. This was the one thing he couldn’t change, cover up or save me from despite a lack of a mom figure. Luckily one of the girls’ mom said she’d do it on paper but Tom would be the actual leader. We were elated.
Last year, when going through his things after his passing, I found a letter of acknowledgement and certificate of gratitude from the Girl Scout Association thanking him for being one of the only dads to take an interest in their daughter’s troop.
He didn’t have to do those things. He didn’t have to be involved. He could have just sent me off to the scout meetings and been apathetic like the rest of the other fathers were. He could have paid the dues, bought the uniform, and returned to his scotch and TV, as he often did, but he didn’t. He was there in a way I don’t think most girls can say their fathers were. I’d give anything to thank him for that now, absolutely anything.
Tom made me stick up for myself. The house I grew up in laid directly center of a cul-de-sac in the middle of Littleton, Colorado. The house was pretty big for just Tom and me. When my parents bought it there was hope of a long marriage and many kids to go along with it. I guess life doesn’t always turn out the way you want it to. The house was bright yellow with brown trimming. Sounds awful, I know, but it really did look nice. There were three bedrooms and three bathrooms. I got two bedrooms and my own bathroom. I was spoiled. The back yard was huge. I had a tetherball quart, a basketball hoop, a garden and a shed. The house was beautiful. The cul-de-sac was filled with other kids, mostly all boys. I was the oldest and usually in charge.
As we all got a little older and I became more of a girl the boys started having less interest in playing hide and seek with me, and more interest in picking on me or playing pranks. You’d think it was a crush, but considering my description of myself from earlier, it’s highly unlikely. One summer afternoon I was hanging out in my front lawn minding my own business when I was pegged with several water balloons. The ambush was calculated and mean. I couldn’t get to my front door fast enough. Those boys were relentless. I ran inside crying, explaining to Tom the whole story, probably a shade too dramatic I might add. Again, Tom did what he often did, he looked up from his scotch and TV and said, “I don’t know what you’re doing in here, you have a hose don’t you?” I did have a hose. I went around the back put one of those spray gun attachments to it and cranked that sucker up. I pulled the hose around the front yard and had an ambush of my own. Those idiot boys were sitting in one of their yards basking in the glory of the ambush they had just won and were not expecting my retaliation. It was glorious.
I hated Tom a lot of the time for making me “figure it out” or “handle it on my own” but looking back on that day and how good it felt to enact revenge on my own, I’m happy he did. He was hard on me so I would be hard on myself and in turn I can handle just about anything this life throws at me.
No matter how complicated our relationship was, and the time we took apart from each other, he is still one of my favorite people. Which is a complicated feeling. A feeling that has brought me guilt and shame. He was a bully, he was charismatic and he was terrifying. I never felt quite normal or at ease alone with him. A relationship between parent and child is always somewhat complicated. I guess we were no different. I miss him though. A lot of my best and worst qualities came from Tom. They are often the same. I usually get asked if I’m from the east coast because of my directness and lack of beating around the bush. You never have to guess how I feel about you. I’m charismatic and people tend to gravitate towards me. Something that actually both of my parents possessed. I’m very opinionated and I am willing to get into a fight over my beliefs. When I put my mind to something I rarely back down. I’m stubborn. There is so much more that Tom gave me. A sense of humor. An open mind. A love for scotch. A love for the Broncos. A love for life. I’d like to think I have kind eyes too. Though it was a difficult life it made me the woman I am today. I’m proud of her. In Tom’s passing I got the validation I always sought, he was proud of her too.
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As a 21 year old often does, I live with a good friend of mine in our ( first 😄🎉) apartment. Box dinners are definitely a thing and we've accepted that's how life goes- for now, until we become rich and famous. (Slowly) I have to say, I never thought I'd smell Red Barron's French style pizza again, but believe me, that's a smell I could never forget. I was fed those often as a kid, and I could never really get away from the vision of my mom holding a, very large, knife to her throat after serving me one while screaming at me, (whilst I was very comfortable on my dad's recliner, watching "Hey Arnold", which side, side note- I often follow this up with a "how rude to interrupt my show!", but people don't take humor very well under these topics- but whatever), "DO YOU WANT YOUR PIZZA CUT?" I was around 6 years old- I am a little girl that wasn't allowed to go outside often, or have visitors, or.. visit. My dad didn't want me to go to church, and I couldn't eat sugar. They allowed me to eat one candy bar on Halloween, and we threw the rest away: THINK OF THE CHOCOLATE, YOU MONSTERS 😢 So 2001 rolls around and they buy me the ps2 the second it drops- That and Girls Gone Wild commercials are my favorite things at this time. I was born in (Place A), of (State A) and then moved to (Place Bumfuck), of (State of Bumfucks) to this lady that looked like the world danced around her (it really just shit on her) and a dude who was so old I think I saw Jesus in his highschool yearbook. Btw, His brother looks like the green river killer, and was born around the same time, living only two states away from each other. They're both creeps- my uncle would physically and verbally hit on my mom, even infront of his own wife- uh, fucked dude. NEXT! A little more about my family: My dad's parents were both born in the 1800s. Late af 1800s, but still. I don't really know much about them, just that my grandma had some possibly genetic heart problem that caused her heart to "explode" (their words) whilst they were doing open heart surgery. His dad had a heart attack, My dad had 4 different heart surgeries. (Exciting, huh?) Other than that, I have his service flag- but no records of his service. He was a strange guy from my observations, but my mom said he was ladies man. He went from broke af and living in a basement to being a college professor and at some point played for a pro baseball team. My mom is from a liter of 22+ children, We shall call my mom's parents Mr. And Mrs. G, very similar to the characters from a really awesome tv show- Shameless.. I hope that's not infringing or anything, it's just very relatable in some cases, Mr. G was a construction worker that moved his family randomly from state to state, he enjoyed drinking heavily, and probably left a slew of children with different women along the way, Mrs. G, well I'm not quite sure what she did, but my mom and her sibilings figured out her mom had a kid on average every 11 months. I never met her, she passed away almost 20 years before I came along, but they tell me she lit up the room. She also enjoyed drinking heavily- infact, she could take down any dude at the bar I've heard lol. My mom and her siblings were mostly on their own, their parents were often passed out or fighting. The cops were over more often than not and Mr. G was very abusive to his wife and the 9 ish kids they kept. There was only one kid he wouldn't hit, the youngest son. His other son was gay and he hated it, and another was in the military. Unfortunately, his squad was blown up infront of him during combat and ultimately he took his own life after dealing with ptsd and violent flashbacks that lead to my mom getting a severe skull fracture when she was younger. My mom had stories of her siblings slicing her with knives, countless stories of breaking her head open, and even more on her drunken father almost killing them. .. and tons of other life experiences I just can't comprehend. When my mom was 14, she had two best friends who were twins. Before a fun holiday, they were planning a class party so my mom was going to head over to their house that day. On the way home, my mom changed her mind and went home instead. By the time she got home, there was a story on the news of two twin girls aged 14 walking into their house after getting off the bus from school and immediately getting shot and killed by their father- who just shot their mom, and then turned gun on himself. My mom had a brother who thought his girlfriend was cheating on him, so when she was in the garage, he beat her with a hammer and killed himself. My mom had a friend who got shot by stray bullets fired at a ceremony they were attending. My mom was the smartest one of the bunch, I think. One sister ate dirt pies all day, and stole my mom's identity when I was young, and then stood on the opposite side of the street as our house and just stared. Unfortunately, the drugs caught up with her, a vein (or something) in her neck burst, even though they controlled it, she still didn't make it. Unfortunately though, she still had a really big heart and I think that got her in trouble. My mom dated a guy when she was 18 who ended up raping her and she had my sister because of it. She and my sister were best friends and my grandma loved to take care of her while my mom was on college (she was the first and only to graduate). My grandma passed away shortly after, leaving my mom to raise her two youngest siblings and my sister, while trying to go to med school- already dirt poor. She quickly gave up on becoming a doctor which she had always dreamed of. She's never said she regrets any of it, she definitely doesn't regret raising her siblings and my sister - but I think she wonders what it would be like. Which honestly saddens me to think my mom didn't live up to her own dreams. I often try to get her to go back to school because she is a gifted, beautiful soul that could do alot, but I think over time all the people that didn't believe in her or controlled or abused her rotted her brain in a sense. That's why life scares me sometimes. My dad didn't allow my mom to talk to her family often, or really do anything of her own. When I was born she stayed at home, she cleaned the house, literally all ducking day I have no idea how she did it, but she'd have on her makeup and her heels and her pencil skirts, and she's just be vacuuming the life out of every nook and cranny she could find. She cooked for us, and it was awesome. She smoked exactly 3 cigarettes a day, and I looked forward to them. Morning, lunch, and night. I think I'll always enjoy the smell of a cigarette in the crisp State A air. (Or really any air, for that matter) She went to the casino sometimes and also came home really drunk. She would force me to dance on her toes with her to "Genie in a Bottle" by Christina Aquilara, but she'd always try to sing it and her breath was terrible. One night, I disinctly remember her blowing up my air balloons with me, and she kept popping them in my face. It scared me and now they always scare me. My parents got in a argument one time at the top of the stairs, my dad pushed her down and then sat on top of her. She was screaming at me to call 911 but I didn't have the phone. My grandpa got cancer when I was in the 2nd grade, my mom wanted to take me out to see him (i had only met him a once at a casino) but my dad refused and while my mom was out of state visiting him my dad went to the hospital and his brother dropped my off at these strangers house with a trash bag of clothes while he stayed at my house and slept in my bed lol. They fed me too many aprocots and I got sick AF dude, in a Walmart bathroom. I'm telling you, I hate hundreds of these things while we played neopets. Turns out later they got arrested for cooking meth. My dad kicked my mom out for two weeks, she slept in a little old sad Nova with no windows (bc students threw rocks at his car to break them out) Or air conditioning (reminder she also doesn't have a job or money). She took me to a fair with money my dad gave, and there they got in an argument- basically from the fair my mom and I got a ride to the airport, where we flew to the State of Bumfucks, Or SOB for short, without any clothes or any money.. and here I am. I am 7 now, I'm sleeping in an airport, and I had to leave my dog behind. But whatever man. The air is different and by now I've gained atleast 100 pounds. I get laughed at and made fun of every day at my new school, the food tastes like shit so I don't eat until I get home, my mom doesn't have a job so we don't have much food at home, I have headaches everyday, and it kinda is just whatever because in the apartment complex I have tons of friends and we have all the fun in the world together. We have no parental supervision, so we fuck some shit up: our favorite game is GTA bc we love to pick up hookers, have sex with them, and then kill them after so we can get out money back. Also the flying car cheat code. I hung out with the bros and we saw dead stuff and explored. We raced cars and blew up frogs with firecrackers. I had a crush on this boy who always told me I was fat and ugly and constantly picked on me. Years later, he actually retracted that statement and said I was probably the coolest person he knew- and I was hot af. I didn't want to date him after 3rd grade, but that was cool to hear. Dr. Pepper came into my life around this time, and I am thankful, but I gained hella weight, and my mom smoked upwards to 7 packs a day. LITERALLY. Several times the teacher took my back pack and put it outside because it smelled so bad, kids were getting sick from it. OOH yes Ms. teacher, thanks for telling me infront of the whole class. At some point I'll stop telling pointless stories, I just want you to get a sniff of what I'm stepping in, ya dig? I remmeber eating Hot Pockets for Thanksgiving because my dad wouldn't send money to my mom for child support because he didn't want her to spend it. I tried to start a successful car wash with my friends to get some money... We made 5 bucks- but didn't wash a single car. I remember being so mad at my dad once I called him 9 times and told him he was being a douche. I worry that played apart of his decisions later on. After almodt two years, we went back to get some stuff from our old house. We had to sell most of our belongings, I don't have any toys, vcrs, any tapes, just a few of the items we could pick up and take back- and My dog, and our two cats: Rosie, Yang, and Sally (who on the way to SOB, decided to live with another family across the street from my uncle: Cute/weird side story, my uncles partner had died a year before, and visited my uncle in a dream saying, "I'm sorry I left you, but I can't be without you. You will join me soon and we will be together again." A week later he was diagnosed with throat cancer. He was a professional pool player, a pro bowler, the best cook in the world, knew every answer to Jeopardy, had a boa in his house, and helped me build my first and only snowman and showed me how to make snow ice cream. He bottled jack Daniels in coke bottles and glued them back up so he could carry it in with him when he got chemo at the hospital. The cancer was actually treated, but he still passed away in his sleep, I know they're happy together again.) My grandpa died around Christmas, my parents got an offical divorce, and a few days after that- which happened to be a few days before my mom's birthday, there was a message on our answering machine. It was my sister, who we moved here to love close to, but still hadn't seen yet. She called to say, "Its over, it's done. He died last night." My dad had told them he didn't want to suffer anymore, so they "put him to sleep" I heard. That night, was a weird night. I was laying down, with my mom and my dog and we felt tear drops land on us, but neither of us was crying. He had alot of money and still to this day do I find random bits he stashed away for me, as if he knew people would be grabbing at it in every direction. After, we got kicked out of the apartment for having a dog. We found our own cheap little place, and made it our own. At some point, my mom, who was once a drug and alcohol abuse counselor, turned to heavy drinking herself. So at this point I should probably introduce what I'll be talking about, And that is: I'm 21 years old, and I feel like I'm floating through every day, like everything is foggy and dim- I spent my 21 birthday at both jobs and never really celebrated it- even though in a huge milestone type of person. I'm trying to figure out when I became so depressed and alien in my own skin, and what I can do to revise that because I feel like it's taken over parts of my personality and my caged butterfly self is ready to fly.~ And I'm going to start by hashing up what my loved ones have lived through and in turn what I've lived through.. There's a lot of different reasons as to why, mostly, I've just wanted to be heard- just for once. This is my way of standing up to hiding myself because of being put down and ridiculed so often for, honestly, everything I can remember. But I don't want to make this sappy and sad all the time, Feel free to laugh with me as I tell my story, and I hope you share yours as we continue to grow into our butterflies. Honestly it might be awkward and rough, but that's my first for now. :)
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