#i have so many more to post . buckle up kids
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busy busy busy (but never too busy for you) - dad!tony + stark!reader
wc: 1.5k
pairing: dad!tony + (gn) stark!reader
genre: minor hurt/mostly comfort
warnings: needing to spend time with your parent, crying, emotional comfort, if you have daddy issues this one's gonna hurt lol
summary: after traveling with your dad on business, you find yourself missing spending time with him. Tony can't have that, of course.
song rec: walking the wire - imagine dragons
a/n: first fic finished post top surgery!!!!!!! the next few weeks posts will probs be shorter until I finish chapter 1 of the next multichapter fic lol. Also if I didn't say it recently I love you guys, thank you so much for all your love and support <333 PS if you need more personalized dad!tony.... character.ai works well for that lmao
tags @afidiofobia @lizziebitch33 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @dustyinkpages @inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800 @liberty-barnes @followingthefanfiction @youkissedareaderinthedark @girlfriendwhoseawitch @mrscarolscaramoucheplease
You climb into the car, settling into the plush leather seat as Happy closes the door next to you. You set down your bag and try to get your seatbelt buckled while your dad sits next to you, wrapping up a phone call.
“No, no. I don’t care. I said-” He stops, listening to someone on the other end for a moment. He’s clearly annoyed. He’s had to deal with people simultaneously trying to kiss his ass and tell him what to do all week, and you can tell he’s getting tired of it.
“Throw as many conferences as you want, they’ll all be Stark-less. Throw a whole party, while you’re at it- you know what? No, don’t do that. I might actually show up to that.” He mutters the last part, something that would normally make you laugh. He glances over at you, but you’re still fussing with your seatbelt.
“Alright, how about this. I’ll refer you to Stark Industries CEO, Pepper Potts.” The person on the other end is already objecting, but your dad couldn’t care less at this point. He’s said what he needed to say, and this idiot doesn’t want to listen. He continues to wrap up this disastrous phone call as the car pulls into the street, and starts driving you to the airport.
“She’ll help you get this sorted out.”
He hangs up without saying goodbye, then looks over at you. As soon as he does, he knows something’s wrong. You’re not yourself. You’re staring at the bottom of the seat in front of you instead of out the window, or going on your phone. Usually you can’t wait for him to finish business calls, sometimes texting him in the middle of them - texts he’s always happy to receive. You’ve rescued him from pointless conference calls with those texts more times than he can count. You always have something to tell him or update him on, whether that be the latest social media drama, friend group drama, the show you’re watching on Netflix, or even Avengers memes you find online. You always have something delightful you’re excited to share with him without even having to try, and it lights up his day each time. Except now, with you staring into space.
He hands you the coffee he got you, taking his out of the cardboard holder that had been resting on his lap until now. You look over briefly, accepting the drink.
“Thanks,” you say lightly, but there’s something in your tone that tips him off.
“You okay, kid?”
You pause sipping your drink, wondering how he figured you out so fast. He’s your dad, you suppose. That’s kind of his job. You thought you’d been doing an okay job at masking the hollow sadness that’s been eroding you from the inside out all weekend. It doesn’t happen too often, and you tried everything you could to distract yourself until it stopped working. Until now.
“Is it school? Boys? Girls?” He asks when you don’t answer right away. There’s a note of humor to his voice, but there’s also a sincerity, and you know that even if it was school or boys or girls that he would help you through it. “C’mon, you gotta keep your old man up to date on all the tea. The hot goss.”
You let out a weepy chuckle, tracing the lid of your drink. He’s always the first to know when your Starbucks order changes, and he always knows exactly the perfect drink to get you without even having to ask. It’s a little thing, but it makes you feel even worse. You’ve spent the whole weekend trying to ignore how much you’ve been missing your dad, missing spending one on one time with him that’s not in between meetings or over a late dinner. He works so hard, and he has so much on his plate, but he always makes time for you.
That’s why he started taking you along on business trips like this, because you both hated being away from each other. Usually it’s fine, usually you’re off exploring whatever city you’re in, going shopping, or generally finding somewhat entertaining ways to pass the time that you can tell him about next time you catch up. It’s usually really fun, too. It’s just when it gets busy like this, you think, when he has all these meetings and you have all your stuff that you’re juggling that you start to get like this.
“No, no,” you say softly, rubbing the bottom of your eyes when they start to get misty. “Nothing like that…”
Tony listens intently in the silence that follows, waiting to see if you have more to share with him. The smell of his cologne is paternal and comforting, a familiar reassurance that floats around him and feels like a hug.
“I just miss you, I guess…” you start, speaking your mind before you can even think. Your dad has that effect on you, it’s so easy to share how you feel and what you’re excited for or worried about that it feels automatic sometimes, like it’s impossible not to. Tony feels his heart break as he realizes what a toll all the recent traveling has taken on you, both of you. He pulls you in for a tight hug. You feel the tears you’ve been fighting start to spill, Tony rubs your back reassuringly and it finally feels safe enough to.
He tries not to dwell on the fact that you got to feel like this in the first place, tries not to let that voice tell him he should have noticed how you felt sooner, that he’s a terrible dad, because he knows inside that he’s not. He’s not his father, and he sure as hell won’t make those mistakes. He could let himself worry about how he’s doing with you, let it keep him up at night - hell, it still does some nights, even when he doesn’t want it to. It’s been that way with you since he became your dad. Instead of worrying about that, he does what he does best. He takes action.
“You are such a sweet kid.” He states, pressing a kiss on your forehead when you pull away. He brushes away the tears spilling down your cheeks. “Unfortunately, sometimes being a genius-billionaire-superhero-superdad requires some meetings and boring stuff. But don’t think I forgot about the most important part of that.”
The dad part. He doesn’t even have to say it, you both know that’s where he’s going with this. You nod along, sighing as your breathing starts to slow back down.
“But you’re right. It has gotten to be too much lately.”
He reaches into the small mini fridge sitting between the driver’s and passenger seats, crisply cold and stocked with both your favorite drinks. He grabs a water bottle, opening it and handing it to you.
“How about this? We’ll spend the whole plane ride back watching movies together - or that show you were telling me about, the one with- god, what’s his name…” He tries to remember the name of that actor you’ve been talking about the last few days, and you chuckle, supplying the answer. He snaps his fingers in recognition, repeating it back to you.
“Yes. That’s the one. We’ll watch all those movies, and you brainstorm what we’re going to do this weekend. Dream big, kid. I’ll have Pepper help you organize the whole thing.”
Your eyes widen in excitement, and you hug him tightly again.
“Thanks, dad.” You smile. You really are both long overdue for some quality time together, and Tony knows if he has to attend one more meeting, he’s going to lose his mind. The cave he built his first arc reactor in was more interesting than some of the people he’s spoken to recently.
“I love you, kid.”
He looks at you fondly for a moment, basking in pride at what a wonderful, amazing person you’ve become. It’s not time for him to get all sappy on you with the dad stuff, not quite yet, so before he can, he grabs a fluffy throw blanket and spreads it across you.
“Now, we’ve got a big weekend ahead of us, so get some shut eye. I’ll wake you when we get to the airport.”
Right before you start to doze off, you hear him on the phone with Pepper, filling her in on the plan.
“Alright, so they’ve got about 25 more minutes of Stark business time, then I’m off the grid till monday.” Pepper says something about how they’re not going to like that, and Tony laughs, glancing over at you sleeping peacefully. “They don’t have to.”
#dad!tony + reader#dad!tony x reader#dad!tony stark#tony stark + reader#tony stark x daughter!reader#tony stark x son!reader#tony stark x stark!reader#tony stark#mcu x stark!reader#mcu x reader#mcu#marvel x reader#marvel x stark!reader#marvel#marvel x teen!reader#mcu x teen!reader#gn reader#character ai really be feeding my delusion lol /hj#i'm glad to be back btw#i've really missed this <3333#AND MISSED YALL <333!!!
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Rolan Headcanons: marriage and domesticity
pairing: Rolan x gn!reader
〚 Masterlist | WIP List 〛
I'm sorry if any of this feels reminiscent or repetitive of Gale's marriage and domesticity headcanons, they are very similar men, but I'm trying my best to add variety <3
I've discussed many of these with @viennacherries so I just want to throw her some credit for any of her ideas that have seeped into my brain and bled into this post <33333
-MDNI-
01. Marriage:
I struggled so hard when writing the pining and dating headcanons but now.... buckle in bitches (affectionate)
I want to be married to Rolan so bad dude
Rolan LOVES introducing you to people as his wife/husband/spouse once you're married - he is literally so proud to be married to you
not even because "Wow look at me I'm married to the hero of Baldur's Gate", but just because of who you are as a person and how much he loves you
in the beginning, whenever he hears you refer to him as your husband, his tail swishes happily and he starts purring without realizing it - it's very quiet, but you notice
after a few occurrences, you point it out to him one night because you find it so endearing - he lowkey freaks out he's like WAIT I DO??
If you don't want kids, he's completely fine with it bc he gets to be the cool uncle when Cal and/or Lia have kids
If you do want kids........ well, it's complicated (begging you to wait for my 'conceiving/pregnancy/fatherhood' hc posts because I will go into hella detail)
on one of the last nights of your honeymoon, you make a comment about how much you had been enjoying going to sleep and waking up next to him every day during your trip; making a little joke about how that wouldn't be the case once he returned to his work when you two got home
and even though it was only meant to tease him lightheartedly, and even though you reassured him of such once you saw his face scrunch in concern, it was the only thing he could think about for a while
upon returning from your honeymoon, he'd do his best to be there with you when you laid down for the night - and tries to be around for you more often, generally speaking
it doesn't work super well at first, but he's definitely trying
as per my dating headcanon post, he cooks dinner for you once a tenday as a little at-home date night - and once you're married he'll start doing it more often
after maybe 5 years of marriage he gets to a point where he's finishing his work early every single day, like before sundown, so he can cook for you or take you out to eat, and have enough time to cuddle up and read to you before going to sleep
Everyday Rolan thinks about how much he loves and cherishes you, how much you've sacrificed over the years, and how lucky he is to be your husband
based on how I paced the progression of the relationship in the pining/dating post, I strongly feel that Rolan really blossoms as a person and as a partner only once you've gotten married
Before you guys got married, obviously he was already in love with you, already cherished you, and was already comfortable around you, etc. etc.
but all of that gets so much more amplified once you're married
Fully Comfortable Rolan is such a treasure
after even 6 months of marriage, he's so much more confident in how he touches you and how he talks to you, or the things he does for you
Married Rolan is touchier, he jokes more, he laughs more, he infodumps more! he's unstoppable!
This complete security also means it's easier for him to be vulnerable with you, he's more likely to open up to you about things that trouble him, eventually coming to you about them before you even have a chance to ask him what was wrong
a lot of his "attitude" in the past came from insecurity, so Secure Married Rolan is no longer snarky with strangers (unless they suck), and he no longer feels like he has to prove himself to others
He's calmer, he's more patient, he's more likely to offer help to others
Married Rolan eventually takes on students, or maybe an apprentice or two, and he's so good with them
Married Rolan is Matured Rolan - in the healthiest way (good for him !!!)
02. Domesticity:
Rolan takes such good care of you
Due to how he grew up, he has a lot of domestic skills that would stick with him for life
Having to take care of Cal and Lia for so long, both being much younger than him, he'd know a few level 1 healing spells, he'd know how to cook, he'd know how to mend clothing and get tough stains out of fabric
that night when you return to him after defeating the Absolute, he'd heal you as many times as you'd allow him to, even though he wasn't as skilled as a cleric
there were a few times during the events of the game when you'd come to see him and he'd notice a tear in your clothes - always insisting on sewing it back up for you
and once you're moved in together, he'd mend your clothing without even telling you - you'd just realize the hole in your favorite shirt is all patched up one day
Rolan's a good cook, and he loves to do it for you
and if you cooked for him, he'd 100% do the dishes
but he still wouldn't let you do the dishes when he cooks for you
He's always cleaning up around the tower, often without even realizing it
It's second nature for him to be tidy and whatnot, but it's also because he respects the tower so much - he wants to keep it as pristine as he can
just going around and putting things back in their spots, even something as little as putting a quill back in a drawer
After he becomes the master of the tower, he spends a lot of his free time rearranging furniture and decorations or replacing them altogether to make the tower feel more comfortable for him and his siblings
I also think that seeing all of Lorr*akan's belongings leaves a bad taste in his mouth, so redecorating the tower played a part in helping him move on from the whole situation
And once you moved in with him, he desperately wanted to make sure you felt at home
He didn't see it as you living in his home - it was your home just as much as it was his
He'd encourage you to have your own office and decorate it to your liking, and he'd always ask your opinion on something before buying it for the tower
Rolan never leaves clothes on the floor, he always makes the bed, he cleans up immediately after he's done cooking (honestly he starts cleaning up while in the middle of it, too)
he always makes sure his clothes are free from wrinkles, often running his hands over the clothes he's wearing to make sure nothing's creasing, and he'll do the same to you
Rolan has always been quite responsible with money since things were always tight growing up
he probably has more money than he knows what to do with after being the master of the tower for only a year
He'd save a lot of it in case something were to happen, but he also donates a good portion of it to various causes in the city
he'd be particularly fond of the organizations that care for orphans and help young people receive schooling
#sorry if these suck again#when I start writing dad!rolan i'll stop sucking#baby boy#my writing#my hcs#rolan#bg3#x reader#headcanons#baldurs gate 3#fluff#brain rot#rolan posting
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Fuuta and Mikoto as Character Foils
This amazing post talks about Fuuta's people pleasing tendencies and they mentioned how Mikoto is simillar, but does it in a different way. And I have NOT been able to stop thinking about it so I want to get my thoughts out about how Fuuta and Mikoto are character foils to each other.
Fuuta and Mikoto are pretty much complete opposites. They parallel in that they both desperately crave societal acceptance, but they differ in how they go about it. Mikoto tries to read the room and changes every aspect of himself in order to seem more friendly and amicable to fit in. He does things based on what he SHOULD do because it’s the societally accepted way to do things and he’ll be liked for it.
Fuuta doesn’t because it’s just how he is, his naturally fiery and argumentative temperament makes it hard for people to like him. It’s not that he doesn’t want to fit in but he isn’t willing to change himself the same way Mikoto is. Mikoto is friendly and approachable while Fuuta is the complete opposite.
But here’s the thing, he IS also like Mikoto in that regard because he is seen in MILGRAM actively changing himself in order to believe that he is that idealized self in Bring It On. He tries to be a representative for everyone and confronts Es for hurting Yuno during his t1 VD, despite having to hype himself up before charging up at them.
But still, no matter how hard he tries he can’t be that idealized self. He can’t fit in, because it’s not who he is. He wants to be accepted as himself! He wants friends he can share the same interests and opinions with to feel validated.
Portal Timeline conversation (2023/07/05):
Fuuta: "Oh, well. I guess I can understand a bit now. When you're feeling down, it's nice to have someone to rely on, someone who accepts you."
It's why Mikoto thinks Fuuta’s immature because Fuuta's unable to fit into society and "be an adult" like Mikoto can. Mikoto thinks that once you grow up, you need to buckle down and start conforming or else you'll never get anywhere in life. To him, it's disgraceful to be angry because it's frowned upon, and Fuuta's pretty much in a constant state of rage, which is why Fuuta has such a hard time finding acceptance. Every time they talk, they’re criticizing each other. Their first ever conversation starts with Mikoto lecturing Fuuta about how he can’t and won’t fit in and it (rightfully) ticks him off, especially since Mikoto can. It’s why they’re at each other's throats like every time they interact (which is pretty little). Mikoto even straight up has a line in the earbud collab about how Fuuta will never get any girls.
Fuuta is constantly considered by others as “immature” and “childish” such as Kazui saying that it's okay for Fuuta to be cocky because he's young or how Fuuta is constantly linked to games (typically associated with children). Or the fact that the lyrics from Bring It On: ""Kono yubi tomare" [is] a traditional saying from a traditional kid’s game."
On the flip side, Mikoto is constantly reminding people that he’s a working adult. Not to mention, Mikoto tends to hang around the older prisoners more (the smoker trio) while Fuuta interacts with the younger prisoners the most. (Amane, Haruka, and sometimes Muu)
Mikoto wants to be a cog in the machine and believes that if he works hard enough, he'll be able to make it in the workforce. Fuuta actively criticizes the workforce and how it's useless to work too hard, so he "goes with the flow."
There are so many smaller details too that emphasize their foil. Mikoto smokes, Fuuta hates smoking. Mikoto's voice is high and whiney while Fuuta's is deep and aggressive. Fuuta has an older sister while Mikoto has a younger sister. Both their parents are divorced but Fuuta is missing his mother while Mikoto is missing his father. However, one similarity is that they both SEEM to have good opinions about their moms while having questionable ones with their dads.
Something else I think about a lot is how Fuuta parallels with John. Especially concerning these lines from John when you realize John is pretty much the opposite of Mikoto too:
John might be the person Mikoto wishes he was. Someone who stubbornly stands their ground, someone who tries stand up for themselves and “gives people their just desserts.” Sounds rather familiar to a certain red-head, I must say.
In addition, they share a lot more similarities too, like their connection to the bright colour red, contrasted by Mikoto's light blue. They both have short tempers and jump at Es as a defence mechanism, in contrast to Mikoto having a fawn response and laughing everything off. They both use the first-person pronoun "ore" while Mikoto uses "boku." Both Fuuta and John have a deeper and more aggressive tone in comparison to Mikoto. Fuuta's symbolism as a brave knight protecting the weak and punishing evil parallels John protecting the "weak" (Mikoto) and acting as his saviour from threats. Mikoto couldn't stand up for himself so John did it for him, Fuuta "stood up" for the people hurt by the actions of the people he cancelled.
To add on to that, Mikoto’s name in kanji means “noble” or “revered.” Words that remind you of royalty, or a prince. (Boy princess fr fr) John being his saviour makes him his knight in shining armour. Matching with Fuuta’s knight symbolism!
Mikoto envies these traits in Fuuta yet hates them and purposefully suppresses them within himself because it's not socially acceptable to act like him. Fuuta likely similarity envies people who can fit in, like Mikoto. Perhaps the reason why the two are so irked by the other is that they each embody traits the other admires yet can't have.
But in the end, they both can’t really fit into “normal” society. Mikoto, who claims he can, is suffering to the point of breaking. Fuuta, who tried and finally found an ounce of acceptance and ally ship in his online buddies, ended up getting carried away and causing the death of someone.
I'm really surprised I haven’t really seen this mentioned or discussed very much. Sorry if it’s really obvious, I just wanted to point some stuff out. Anyway man, I love these two a lot and I would love to see more stuff diving into these two in a canon context too.
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I loved you once B.B
Bucky Barnes x Reader
Masterlist
Summary: Loving Bucky Barnes was never easy but breaking your heart seemed to come naturally to him. A love story about your heartbreak,his betrayal and a chance at redemption.
19.1 k words
Content Warning: ANGST, heartbreak, cheating, mature themes, +18 SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (Pussy job, penetrative sex p in v, sad/angry sex? Rough sex mixed with a little pain. It will make sense once you read it) . Fluff, mentions of bad mental health from both Bucky and reader, graphic violence, character's death, mentions of women trafficking as well as assault.
A/N: Wow 19k words. Im sorry this took so long to finish but as you can tell it is super long as I promised. Buckle up y'all, this is sad. Also this is my first time writing a proper cheating fic so if you can/want let me know if you like it or not. You're welcomed to send me an ask with any comments, questions, etc., you have on this 😊
Post dividers by @firefly-graphics and @cafekitsune
Now
"Fuck you," you spat the words.
Tears fell from your eyes as they made their way down your neck, making dark spots in the collar of your red turtleneck. Even when pain was drowning you, beauty never left you. Bucky felt as if he were watching a beautiful Renaissance painting—a tragedy of sorts.
"Is that all? I really don’t have time for this."
He didn’t recognize his own words or the indifference they came out with. He didn’t mean to say them, but it was as if his own body was working on autopilot, and he was only a spectator to the shitshow it was causing. He wanted to stop. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to say so many things, but the only thing he was capable of was hurting you.
"Are you kidding me? That’s all you’re going to say?"
"What else do you want me to say? You know what happened, you saw her with your own eyes. Anything I say is either going to make you angrier or make you cry even more. Let’s just be done with this, you’ll eventually get over it."
The sound of your hand connecting with his face put an end to his sentence. The hit didn’t feel as such, his skin barely processed it as anything more than a simple graze, but once the initial shock wore off, the sting came along. But it didn’t compare to the pain he felt in his heart when his eyes connected with yours once again.
"I always knew you were capable of many things, but not once did I think you would ever be this cruel."
Your eyes drifted to your hands, your right hand playing with the ring you wore in your left. A sigh left your lips, and more tears fell before you finally slid it off your finger, placing it on the table next to you.
A bucket of iced water. Painful, burning, scorching coldness— that’s how Bucky would describe looking at you while silently breaking your engagement. His mind was telling him to get on his knees, beg, and try to fix everything he had broken. But the darkest part of him, the one that had taken over his life was assuring him you were bluffing. You couldn’t leave, you always stayed. You always fought for him, even when he didn’t deserve it.
"What are you doing?" he asked, his eyes rolling with the uninterested façade he had perfected.
"I’m done, I can’t keep doing this anymore." You turned your back, strong and determined steps leading to his apartment door.
Please, fix this.
His trembling hands made their way to your wrist, anything that could mend the cracks in your heart that seeped with pain, the cracks he had caused with his own selfishness. Before his fingers could even graze your skin, your hand quickly swatted away his pathetic effort to stop you.
"God, stop being so goddamed drama—"
"Don’t fucking touch me. Don’t try to contact me ever again, I won’t answer."
"Can you just—"
"If I ever see you again I swear I’ll murder you. I didn’t kill you the first time we met but I swear I’ll do it if you even dare to breath in my direction."
Your words hurt, it seemed as though each one stabbed him right through the chest in a taunting way, a reminder of how much he had screwed up. Bile rose to his throat when you recoiled at his proximity, and the hate in your eyes burned him with such force that he was sure you wouldn't wait until the next time you met.
He deserved it either way.
Bucky's eyes opened just as the car jolted, his heart racing against his chest, his ears buzzing. For a fraction of a second, he's confused, not remembering why he was in the car, but the fogginess of his thoughts was replaced with anxiety when he heard the tracker beeping on Sam's thigh.
"Good, you’re awake. I think we’re almost there." Sam kept his eyes on the road, occasionally glancing down at the device that told him where to go. Judging by his demeanor, his friend didn’t seem as nervous as he did, if at all. It wasn’t like Sam had a reason to, he was the only one who had fucked up.
He looked out at the vehicle, and the passing trees in the darkness of the night numbed his mind while he tried to forget about his dream. No, it wasn’t a dream, it was his worst memory to date. Usually, his nightmares were about the crimes he had committed while being the Winter Soldier, and he could blame them on his consciousness not being there with him. His own body didn’t belong to him, so he couldn’t keep blaming himself for the things HYDRA had forced him to do.
With you, on the other hand, he could not blame anyone else but himself. His mind wasn’t tortured by a secret organization in hopes of ruining his relationship, nor was he forced to hurt the person about whom he cared the most to save thousands of lives. He did it all by himself, and now the nightmares have not only scared him but hurt him all over again.
You started to show up in his dreams more frequently once Sam told him they needed your help. As expected, the super-soldier's first reaction was total and complete refusal. His friend thought it was a childish reaction the former winter soldier was having to avoid the awkwardness of meeting you again, only knowing your relationship had ended on bad terms without hearing the specifics. But the blue-eyed man wasn’t doing it for himself, he was doing it for you. The night you left, you made it clear you didn’t want anything to do with him, or even anything related to him, your resignation from the Avengers Team and subsequent evaporation from the face of the earth was a strong message to leave you alone.
After a few hours of arguing, with both men going back and forth on why they did or didn't need you, Bucky finally agreed to go look for you. Lives were at stake, and no matter how hard he tried to look for a solution that avoided you, there seemed to be none. Before he could ask where to even start looking for you, Sam pulled out a device that seemed familiar to a phone. You had given Sam, and only Sam, a tracker that could find you anywhere in the world and could only be unlocked by a password you had whispered to him
The depth of his tormenting cycle of thoughts didn’t let him register they weren’t on the road anymore until his partner stopped the vehicle. They were surrounded by tall, dense trees, and the crickets and cicadas that hid in the dark made an orchestra that filled the emptiness of the night. Sam grabbed his gear, the sound of a duffle bag being opened broke the rhythm of nature.
"Why are we stopping here?" Bucky asked with a frown. His own duffle was placed across his back, the tinkering of the metal inside it annoying him slightly.
His friend threw an annoyed look at him before rolling his eyes and scrambling through his belongings. "As I said like twenty minutes ago while you were brooding and having your own pity party, this thing shows her inside a building in the middle of the woods. I’d like to take a look around the area before going in blind."
"Oh."
Normally, the super soldier would’ve had a comeback for the annoying yet harmless insults his friend and partner would throw at him, even a snide comment. But this was different, no matter what Sam would say, he could only think of what was about to happen. So he let it slide, submerging himself in his own thoughts while Sam threw the little flying robot he nicknamed "Red Wing" into the air. Once it was hovering above them and Sam made sure to have full control of it, they began a walk that would last about thirty minutes before the device would find any signs of life.
Sam and him were waiting somewhere near the alleged building, Sam's robot scanning the surroundings.The thumping in his chest returned, and his fingers became ice cold.He was so close. Close enough to see you, close enough to talk to you, and perhaps close enough to apologize.
How would you react to seeing him? Would you be happy to see him? Probably not, considering the last thing you said to him was that you would kill him if he ever came near you. He knew he deserved it, but hopefully time changed your murderous resolution. Maybe even forgave him.
Could you ever forgive him?
A slight swat from Sam brought him back from his thoughts, silently letting him know they were ready to go. Bucky could sense it before the place was even visible, the vibrations of the music resonating through the ground. The smell of smoke, alcohol, and humanity reached his nostrils right as they saw the line of cars parked in a plain field next to what resembled a warehouse.
To an untrained eye, it would look like a normal, unsanitary, and probably unsafe rave done by stupid people. But the polarized windows of the cars, the shine coming from the inside of the guards' jackets, and the lot of security cameras installed in the building told another story. Whatever or whoever was in there was dangerous, and as usual, you had gotten yourself in the middle of it.
Bucky wasn’t an idiot. He knew you couldn’t stay away from helping people, no matter how hard you tried. He saw the breadcrumbs, microscopic, little clues that he could recognize as your style. A missing girl suddenly returning to her family, a kidnapped journalist in the middle of war returning to their respective embassy. A child trafficker falling from his hotel room in the twentieth floor. You had always been... effective when it came to missions, sometimes going overboard with your methods, but Tony, Steve, and himself had always guided you towards the good and righteous path that a person with your abilities was supposed to take.
You lost all three of them in the span of a year.
They were lucky that it was relatively easy to get inside, and even luckier that their clothes didn't draw too much attention to them. Sure, they seemed to be wearing more clothes than needed, as most people seemed to enjoy themselves topless and/or pantless, but with the darkness of the room barely being lit by the flashing blue and red lights, no one really noticed them.
Guys, girls, and people he wasn’t sure how to label were grinding against each other. Hands touched him, pulling his jacket, and he had to push them all away, trying to make his way through the sea of people. The inside of the warehouse could pass for a functioning club, with couches, dance floors, and screens accommodating everyone inside.
Bucky wasn’t sure he had ever seen anything like this; the debauchery that people showed shocked his old-fashioned ways. He was sure he had seen several people inside each other, whether it was fingers, tongues, or dicks, no one seemed to mind that everyone else could see them. How had you gotten yourself into the middle of this disguised orgy? What were you even doing here?
Both men made their way to the front of the place, where a private section was installed looking over the dancefloor. Two large guys guarded the stairs that connected the lower and upper levels, allowing mostly attractive girls to ascend. Both men agreed that if you were to be found somewhere, it would undoubtedly be there. They scanned the room, looking for any way they could access the VIP level without having a pair of tits and long legs.
He had never understood scenes in movies where they showed time slowing down. Every time he had been in a fight, whether it was as himself in the forties or as the winter soldier, everything seemed to happen too fast to process. Even the night you left, time had seemed to go at an abnormally fast pace, and by the time he could finally react the way he wanted, it had been too late.
He never understood those scenes until he saw you walking to the protective railing surrounding the edge of the private section. Above the deafening music, the moans, and the music, he could hear your voice talking to someone else.
It was as if he was seeing you for the first time. Your beauty had remained the same your hair, your eyes, and your lips all looked the same, yet his heart started racing just as it did all those years ago. You weren’t dressed like everyone else dancing around him, your black dress with a dangerous deep cleavage was sensuous, but it held a certain level of class that made you stand out from the crowd.
Thump, thump, thump.
Time moved at a slow pace, the slowest he had experienced. He was grateful for it, as it allowed him to appreciate every detail from you. The way your lips came close to the drink you had in your hand, the drumming your fingers did on top of the railing, the glint in your eyes—he knew it meant you were lost in your thoughts.
Bucky had never been more grateful for the way time passed. Until he saw a pair of hands sliding across your waist, fingers gripping your hips so roughly, he was sure they would leave a mark on your skin. A semi-attractive man whispered words in your ear, his beard scruffing against your skin. You smirked, turning around to plaster your lips against his in a kiss that could make a pornstar blush.
He knew you'd moved on; nearly a year had passed since the last time he saw you, and you'd probably found someone to sleep with, but he wasn't ready to watch you become someone else's. His mind was prepared to face your happiness, but his heart wasn’t. And even now, he was sure you were just tagging along with the man, using him for information for whatever mission you had gotten yourself into, yet he felt as if what remained of his heart had been ripped out of his chest.
With strong, rough movements, the man turned you around, pressing your body against the railing. As his hand grabbed your neck, your hips grinded against his, your mouth open as you licked your lips.
The super soldier couldn’t take it anymore, his heart begged him to stop the torture. He wasn’t even sure where Sam was, nor did he care. He cared about you, and he could only think about what he had lost. With the last of his dignity, he began to look away from you and your companion, who had leaned over to your ear once more. Except this time his eyes found Bucky’s, his fingers tightening around your neck.
He knew. Somehow the man knew who he was and, most importantly, who you were.
Your eyes widen slightly, searching through the sea of people dancing downstairs. But it didn't take you long to find those blue eyes you once adored. He was there, looking exactly the same as the night you left him, along with your heart.
"I know who you are." The man whispered in your ear—a threat not so subtly hidden behind every word.
But you couldn’t dwell long on his words because ice-cold eyes looked back at you. Ice cold eyes brought back the pain you thought you left behind, and the rage surfaced once more as you remembered the promises you made him.
Cold metal was pressed against your neck, the edge of it grazing your skin. Bucky’s eyes widened in alarm, and his hands turned into fists, making him look like he cared. Like he actually had a heart.
He barely took two steps in your direction when the wicked smile you wore stopped him. It was sinister. It was deadly. And when you turned to the man to say something, his grip faltered as one word left your lips.
"Good"
Your head connected against the man’s nose, a crack let you know it was most likely broken. You barely heard the man’s yells when bullets made their way to you, a couple of them grazing your skin. The room that was once filled with hips swaying, alcohol, and moans had transformed into a frenzy of screams and people running to get out of the building.
The crowd tried to take Bucky away; their desperate attempts at escaping dragged him away as he fought his way through the sea of people. Seconds passed, and he could hear your grunts as well as more shooting coming from the upper floor, with girls running down the stairs, some of them with splashes of blood staining their clothes.
He didn’t know whose blood it belonged to, and that frightened him.
Sam’s voice pulled him out of his trance. "What the hell happened?"
His friend had managed to make his way to him, both of them still getting pushed around. Bucky offered him a quick glance before resuming his previous task of making his way to the stairs.
"Her cover is blown," was all the explanation Bucky offered, and somehow it was enough. Before any of them could add anything, screams came from the front door, three bulky men were making their way there while carrying very large and dangerous guns. "Take care of them, I’ll go help her," the super soldier said without leaving any room for discussion.
When his fingers finally grabbed the banister of the stairs, Bucky was close to losing his mind. Climbing two steps at a time, he finally found himself a scene that froze him in the spot.
You were there, your black dress ripped in some places, your makeup ruined by mascara running down your cheeks, and blood splashes tainted your flawless skin. Bucky had managed to get there just in time as you twisted a man's arm to an unnatural angle, the crack of his joint popping out of place was followed by his screams. You had managed to kill/knock out everyone except for the guy who had previously had a knife to your throat, and Bucky knew better than to think that was just a mere coincidence.
After the last man fell to the ground, blood sputtering out of his neck, you lifted your gaze towards him. He couldn’t read you as easily as he had once been able to and he hated it. Before, he was sure he knew you better than you knew yourself, more than once already sure of your likes and dislikes before you asked him for an opinion. He had treasured those times in his mind, and the memories were as comforting as they were painful. A constant reminder of what he had lost.
He was right there, right in front of you. The man you fell in love with when you still had a heart. The man who still had a tight grip on it and who would probably always own it. He could keep it for all you cared, your heart was tainted with memories you didn’t wish to keep.
It was the first time both of you were this close, every scream gone as you were absorbed by your own bubble. He looked so familiar that your own body reacted the way it used to whenever you saw him. Your heart stammered in your chest, and even after so long, the butterflies in your stomach appeared for a millisecond. He was the man you had once loved, he was the man with whom you imagined a future together.
Then, you remembered why all your hopes and dreams had been destroyed.
Bucky noticed the hurt flashing through your face, your jaw tightening right before you made your way to him. For a moment, he thought you were about to hug him, your desperation to reach him in your long strides mirroring his as his body begged him to touch you. He wanted to apologize, beg for forgiveness at your feet, and profess the love that he wasn’t able to forget.
Perhaps if his mind hadn't been plagued with all the things he wanted to do, he would’ve noticed your foot rising to give him a solid kick on the chest.
The force and unexpectedness of your attack launched him back to the railing, throwing him over it. His back landed with a loud thud on the floor, fortunate enough for him, everyone else seemed to have dissipated and his fall wasn’t that high up. A second later, you jumped from the banister, landing on top of him with your knife in hand. Your knee found it’s place on his chest, feet pressing his hands flat on the surface. Before Bucky could even muster a word, the blade was pinned against his throat.
"I told you if I ever saw you again, I would fucking kill you."
Then
Steve had changed so much in the years they had spent apart. His friend, who had once been the fragile little Brooklyn boy he would protect with his life, was now a fully grown man with a strength that could crush a person if he wasn’t careful enough. He was also now his protector, not from bullies that would harass him because of his own stubbornness but from a secret organization that wanted to take over the world. That and his own fractured mind.
He had lost control once the man had given him the commands to bring back the deadly assassin they had turned him into. He remembered it all, but it had felt as if he was under water the whole time, falling deeper and deeper the more he tried to fight against it. His own body didn’t belong to him, no matter how hard he tried to control it.
For a year, he had thought it was possible to lead a normal life; his time spent in Romania had given him false hope that he had gotten away from his captors. How foolish he had been, thinking he could ever be far away from his grasps. He wasn’t the man he was before, just a weapon designed to hurt people.
He supposed he was lucky Steve still saw good in him, at least enough to turn against his teammates and friends to help him clear his name. And now, as they drove to one of Steve’s friends' hideouts, he couldn’t help but feel guilty about everything that was going on. If he hadn’t lost control, Steve wouldn't be a wanted criminal. If he wasn’t captured, a shit ton of innocent, good people would still be alive. If his mind had been stronger, he could’ve broken free of HYDRA's mind control.
Maybe it would’ve been better if he had actually died when he fell from that train.
Steve parked outside an abandoned apartment complex, it seemed no one had lived there in years. He threw a questioning eyebrow at Sam, who just shrugged before getting out of the vehicle. Another of Steve’s friends had decided to help him out of loyalty to Steve, not because he particularly liked Bucky or entirely believed in his good side.
All three men walked inside the building, not a sound inside other than their footsteps and heavy breathing. Steve looked around for a couple of seconds before making his way to the second floor, his intuition telling him where to go. He stood in front of a door with a big C plastered on it, his friend's hand hesitating before knocking on the wood.
After the third knock came back without an answer, Steve decided to open the door. He had called a name while crossing the threshold, looking around for any signs of life inside the apartment. Bucky was surprised to find the apartment filled with computers, blueprints, documents, and lots of military-grade equipment. Everything gave away the signs of someone working there, yet there was no one who took ownership over them.
It was too late when Bucky heard you standing behind him, with his feet being swept by your leg and effectively knocking him down. The wooden floor amplified the echo of his fall, catching Steve and Sam’s attention. Your frame landed on top of his, gun aimed directly between his eyes.Bucky's hand reached to grab your ankle in an effort to destabilize you, but the barrel of your weapon was pressed right on his forehead.
"I wouldn’t do it if I were you," you said coolly. "I promise you, I’ll blow your brains out before you can even land a hit."
After your words filled the room, Bucky’s eyes finally took their chance to look at you, actually look at you.
God, you were beautiful.
Maybe it was only your physical beauty that had taken him by surprise, or the fact that you had taken him down so easily with just one leg movement. Or even the fact that you seemed to have no fear towards a man who was being marketed as a "dangerous and armed terrorist." Whatever it was, Bucky couldn’t deny the fact that you were the most beautiful human being he had seen.
After a few explanations from Steve’s part and some begging for help, you released the super soldier from your hold, weapon holstered in your back. Your hand extended to help him get off the floor, and you offered him a charming but wary smile.
You told the three men to make themselves at home and take anything they needed. Bucky had chosen to keep guard, being by himself in the top floor while looking out through a window that hid him from everyone else. He was stewing in his own complicated thoughts when he heard a knock on the wall. You were there, standing a few feet away from him with a shy smile on your face as you extended to him a cup filled with hot coffee.
Thump, thump, thump.
"Sorry about the whole thing holding you hostage," you said as he welcomed the cup.
His fingers accidentally grazed against your own, and it was as if he had touched electricity itself. Heat extended from his hands all through his body, and his ability to think was thrown out of the window. He looked at you, and he couldn’t tell if you felt the same or not, but he could feel how your eyes burned him, with a curiosity behind them that was so easy to read that he was surprised you were the black ops/spy Sam had told him.
"It’s whatever, I would’ve done the same thing if I were you." Bucky answered after a few seconds.
He turned to look through the window again, trying to keep his thoughts in order. You settled down next to him, the warmth of your skin reaching his own. Nothing could be heard other than your breathings, not even the cars outside or the sound of the busy city that hid you. And for the first time in a long time, Bucky felt relaxed with someone he didn’t know from the past.
"I’m James."
He could’ve sworn he heard you smile before you gave him your name.
Now
"What the fuck are you doing here, Barnes?"
The music was still on, as were the blue and red lights that lighted up the darkness in the room. Bucky could feel the breeze of your breath on his face and the smell of expensive whisky and tobacco in every word you said. He wasn’t surprised, the man that you knocked out probably tried to impress you with them.
But behind the traces of blood, alcohol, and gunpowder, he could smell your shampoo. The same peony smell mixed with lavander filled his nostrils, and it brought him back to the many nights you had spent together. Your fingers were drawing circles on the skin of his back, and his nose was buried in your hair.
You, on the other hand, were reminded of the suffering he caused you with every passing second.
"I told you to stay away from me," you muttered.
Your hand pressed the edge of the blade on his skin, and you were sure if you kept going you were going to start drawing out blood, but you couldn’t care less. Bucky Barnes had always been an expert at instilling unwanted emotions in you, and it was difficult to keep those emotions at bay right now.
You felt anger. You felt resentment. You felt pure, long-lasting hatred.
"Maybe I should slit your throat right now, that’ll make you stay away from me permanently."
Your words were intimidating, filled with the same promise you had made him that fateful night. This was his chance, his chance at the apology that had died out in his throat when you closed the door behind him. This was the chance he had chased in his dreams for almost a year.
But he couldn’t say anything.
He loved you. God, he loved you so much. He missed seeing your face other than in the few pictures he kept or in the memories that did no justice. Because even now, as you threatened to kill him, you were a dream come true, just like the first time he saw you.
"Say something!"
"You’re beautiful."
Your grip faltered on the knife, your eyebrows slightly furrowing at his words.
No, he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t come back out of nowhere, say some cheesy, basic compliment, and make the walls of hate you had built crumble. Even if he had only managed to knock down one brick, he didn't deserve it. You knew it, he knew it, and everyone else who knew what happened between you two knew it.
Then why did your heart flutter at his words?
"Hey," Sam said, breaking the silence, your head snapping in his direction."I know he’s an asshole, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t kill my partner."
You look back at Bucky for a few seconds before giving up, throwing your knife to the floor. Sam leaned over, his hand extended to help Bucky get up.Your murderous eyes went from Bucky to Sams, your gaze softening at his friend.
"I told you to only contact me in emergencies," you grumbled.
A hiss left your lips when you touched your arm, one of the bullet wounds was still seeping blood. Bucky thought about telling you something, but this time he listened to the rational part of his brain that told him to shut the fuck up.
"Believe me, if we had a choice, we wouldn’t have come," Sam said.
Your eyes flickered between both men, not convinced about helping them. Well, on helping the blue eyed super soldier. A pathetic excuse for why you couldn’t help them died on your lips once you saw his blue eyes. Please, help us they begged.
You didn’t owe him anything. You shouldn’t help him, but in the back of your head, Steve’s voice rang through. Good ol’ Steve Rogers and his everlasting moral lessons. That's what we have to do, he said.
So you put aside your feelings because helping people mattered more than an idiot who broke your heart.
"What do you want?" You sighed.
"We’re looking into something... odd. A bunch of pregnant women missing, still in their early stages of pregnancy. Most of them show up dead after giving birth, but the babies are nowhere to be found."
You shrug. "They take the kids, so?"
It was cold, you were aware of it. But after the things you had seen, the things you had done, you were aware that people kidnapping woman for their babies wasn’t something out of the ordinary, let alone something that required Captain America to look into it. Things like that were always forgotten, pushed back into a slew of cases alongside more missing women.
"They had traces of the super serum."
Fuck.
You laughed. A joyless, cynical type of laugh. Destiny, of course, had to be a jerk.
"Well, you’re in luck. I think we’re tracking down the same people." Sam raised an eyebrow at you with a simple request for you to elaborate. "A girl showed up dead in México a couple of months ago, she’d been missing for almost a year. Autopsy showed she had a miscarriage before dying, the bleeding killed her. The remains had traces of the serum too."
"Are you saying that—?" Sam couldn’t finish his sentence, the thought sending chills along his spine.
"Yeah."
The air is somber between the three of you. Sure, the flag smashers were a problem when they appeared, as you knew from all the news reports you'd seen.People with ten times the strength of a normal human being were dangerous, especially if they were associated with a terrorist organization.
This was different, though. This was sinister.
Groans coming from the top floor broke the eeriness that surrounded you, making you finally remember why you were here. You tore apart part of the black dress that was once pristine and wrapped it around your arm.
"Look at this guy over there," you said, motioning behind you. "He has intel on this, he’s the one that gets the girls and delivers them."
"Well, let’s take him in and—"
You cut Sam off. "No. Look, you came looking for me because this is my specialty. I know how to handle guys like him, and I sure as hell know he won’t tell us shit if we take him to a precinct and threaten him with some jail time. He’s a big fish. A few phone calls and he’ll be out in no time." They knew you were right, but they didn’t like your arguments. "We do this my way, or you better pray you find them before I do."
Sam looked hesitant. He knew what you were going to do to the man, and his good conscience chastised him for even thinking of letting you torture someone. But the rational part, the part that knew that in this case there wasn’t much of an option, knew that they needed you, and perhaps you also needed them.
"Just, don’t kill him." Sam said before walking away.
Compromise. You could do compromise.
"Fine," you said, rolling your eyes.
After Sam slammed the door shut on his way out, you were reminded of the fact that you weren't alone. Bucky’s eyes were already looking at you, the same apologetic eyes you had seen before you kicked him in the chest.
"Thanks for helping us." He spoke, thinking it was an appropriate way to break the ice, but it only managed to make you scoff.
"Let’s make something clear, I’m not doing this for you." you spat. "I’m doing this because Sam needs my help and so we can save those innocent girls and stop any more from being taken. This doesn’t change anything between us, as soon as this is over, you go back to leaving me the fuck alone, got it?"
Say something. Fight for her. Explain what happened, his mind begged him.
But he couldn’t, because even if it had been almost a year since he last saw you, he was still the same coward who let you walk away without a fight.
So he agreed.
"Yeah."
"Good. I’ll meet you outside."
Then
"Thanks for the coffee." Bucky said before taking a sip.
Droplets of water fell from his forehead, a strand of unruly black hair was hanging on the side of his eyebrows. The towel that hung from his waist, showing his torso all the way down to that sculpted V of his abdomen, made it too difficult to concentrate on the files you were trying to organize.
The man was hotter than the sun.
"No problem." you smiled at him.
You had no idea it would be the best and worst decision you'd ever made when you suggested Bucky stay with you while Steve went to rescue the others.You liked Bucky, and the few days you spent with him while Steve and the others gathered everything they needed so they could go find Zemo had been nice. Sure, he was a man of a few words, but it didn’t bother you. It was weirdly comforting to be able to enjoy someone’s company in silence. And the times he spoke, he did it out of pure curiosity, curiosity about the world, about what had happened while he was in the ice, but mostly about you.
He asked about your cases, how you met Steve, and how you came to partner with some of the most powerful people in the world. He asked about your life, about your childhood in the orphanage, and what made you choose to help people. He asked so many questions, yet he still respected you when you didn’t want to answer some of them. He asked, not to pry, but to get to know you, and in return, when you asked him something, he was as honest as he felt comfortable being.
And that was the problem. No matter how much you tried, you knew your days with Bucky Barnes were numbered. Ever since you were young, you knew that being in this line of work would prevent you from having a normal life. You couldn't have a normal relationship. You weren’t meant to have the love story your favorite movies portraited, the white picket fence and the family of five wasn’t in your future.
Neither was he, maybe in the forties he would’ve came home from war and found himself a pretty girl to marry. But now, after everything he had seen and everything he had unwillingly done, he probably wouldn't want a relationship any time soon. Or maybe not at all.
But after three weeks of being cramped up in the same little apartment, you were getting used to him. You had developed a little routine together that always ended up with a cup of coffee at the end of the day. Sometimes both of you would just sit in silence, taking in each other's company while you sipped on your cups. Other times, just like now, he would sit next to you as you watched whatever movie you had decided to put on.
You had to cut this at the root before it became too hard to let go.
"So, you’re going to Wakanda?"
He sighs. "Yeah. Steve says they have someone that might be able to help with... help with my..."
"I know." You finished for him, suddenly placing your hand on top of his. He tensed at your touch, both of you looking down at your hands before you took away yours, embarrassed at your own lack of control. "Well, if you’re not too busy there, I could go visit you sometimes."
"You would?" he questioned.
"If you want me, too," you shrugged, trying not to reveal your excitement.
He looked at you, his thoughts unreadable through his face. For a moment, you thought he was going to reject your offer, but something changed in his eyes. He smiled, the faintest, littlest hint of a smile you had seen, but it was there.
You made him smile for the first time.
"Yeah. I’d like that."
If someone were to ask Bucky when he first felt he could love you, it would be right now. With the dim light of the TV lighting up your face and a shy smile on your lips as you told him you were willing to travel such a long distance just to see him.
And as you lay next to him, your head against his shoulder, you thought to yourself that maybe you could be selfish for once and allow yourself to enjoy his company a bit more.
Now
There were drops of water leaking out of a pipe, he could hear them from the other side of the room. Everything around him was dark, it seemed the only source of light was on top of him and the woman on the floor pleading for her life.
"Please don’t do this," she begged with a Spanish accent. "I don’t want to die, please."
He wanted to move, he wanted to throw away the gun in his hand, but it was like he was a spectator of his own life. His body was not his, or his breathing. Not even his heartbeat listened to the inner panic attack he was having. Nothing belonged to him.
"Kill her," a distorted voice told him. His eyes glanced at him quickly, and he noticed the man had no face. No one around them had one.
Everything felt like it was in slow motion. His finger moved, pressing the trigger of the gun, but he refused to give up. He had to try, even if his own consciousness was trying to kick him out, sucking him into the pool of darkness he had been resting in for a long time.
But even if he tried for years, he couldn’t win. He was powerless.
Broken.
He could only witness how the other "him" obeyed. The woman's eyes changed from scared to lifeless in less than a second. A splash of crimson staining his combat boots kept his attention. He couldn’t hear what the other people in the room were saying, he didn’t exist anymore, or he didn’t want to. The sound of the water leak was deafening now. Growing louder and louder until it consumed everything around him
He didn’t want to be awake. Not like this.
And as he felt himself disappearing, he hoped this was the last time he came back to the surface. He would rather be surrounded by emptiness.
Yet something interrupted him, pulling him back up.
A woman's voice, so familiar it made his heartbeat change.
"Bucky!"
Bucky's eyes opened wide. His head was spinning, his breathing was rapid, and his heart felt like it was going to burst through his chest. The adrenaline in his system made him dizzy, and he could feel his hands shaking. And he was feeling. A lot. Scared, angry, hopeless. So many emotions constricted his chest, burying him under their weight.
"Bucky," you repeated. His head snapped at you, showing you a pair of wide, terrified eyes.
Your feet almost moved. A pure protective instinct filled you with dread at the fact that you couldn’t help him anymore. Your head and your heart were in conflict. In one hand your heart begged you to go to him, stroke his back as you peppered kisses along his shoulder. Then you would lie back in bed while your hands surrounded his body, your front pressed to his back in a way to say, I’m here, I love you, and everything will be alright.
On the other hand, your brain told you to turn in the other direction. Walk away from the night terrors that plagued his mind and let him suffer in silence. He wasn't your responsibility anymore, and you shouldn't be concerned about helping him with whatever was wrong with him.
Was it possible to hate and care about someone at the same time?
"Nightmares?" you couldn’t help yourself from asking.
His left hand rubbed his eyes, a sigh leaving his lips. "Yeah. Sorry if I woke you up."
"You didn’t."
You sat at the table in front of the couch he was lying on, a steaming cup of lavender tea between your hands. The cling of the spoon clashing against the ceramic filled the uncomfortable silence between you.
"Where’s Sam?" he asked, sitting straight as a couple of droplets of sweat fell down his forehead.
"He has a contact in the city. He left to meet them."
"Oh."
Whatever else he was about to say died on his lips. You noticed he seemed to do that often since meeting again, his eyes speaking the words he would never say. Sometimes you would catch him looking at you, the frown on his forehead deepening with the passing of time. It made you wonder if he would now be open to answering your questions.
"He said you’re going to therapy."
He was taken aback by your question. It probably was the first time you said more than the necessary to him. Also, it was the first time that you showed any sort of interest in his life.
"Uh, yeah. Court mandated."
You hummed, sipping on your tea.
"Does it work?"
You saw the hesitance in his eyes. The way his jaw clenched and his grip on the couch made his knuckles white made you think he was about to change the subject with a witty, bitter, or sarcastic remark, or maybe even just ignore the question at all. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did, by the end of your relationship, he was an expert in it.
Bucky didn’t change much after all, you thought to yourself
But he broke the silence.
"In some ways." he started, his gaze dropping to the floor. "The nightmares don’t come as often anymore, and I don’t feel the need to shoot every asshole that drives a shitty car with a shitty exhaust pipe." You chuckled at his confession, making a slight smirk show on his face. "But she’s too much."
"What do you mean?"
He sighed. "She pisses me off. I hate that she keeps trying to make me feel better by just saying my life is better now and I shouldn’t feel like shit anymore. But it’s not that easy. Just like it’s not easy to follow the stupid set of rules she gave me."
He looked up to see your reaction to his words, expecting to see the same hardened look you’ve given him the past couple of weeks. And it was just that what greeted his eyes, your lips slightly pressed together and your eyes decorated with a slight scowl that only showed up for him.
But behind the tough exterior, he could see your eyes had softened. For a brief second, your eyes showed care and understanding to what he siad before going back to the usual void stare you gave him.
"She sounds like a bad therapist." He shrugged in agreement, he couldn’t say anything against the truth. "She also sounds like a bitch."
He laughed. The type of laugh that caught him off guard and made his lungs run out of air. Granted, your joke might’ve not been as funny as his laugh was giving it credit for, but he had always been fond of your bluntness.
You couldn’t help but laugh with him too.
Laughing with Bucky felt foreign yet so familiar at the same time. It felt like reminiscing on a memory you didn’t remember you had, a bittersweet memory that brought back the same good feeling of the memories you built together
But moments like that couldn’t last forever. Your heart couldn’t afford to remember.
A text message from Sam lit up your screen, saying his contact had useful information. You stood up from the table after texting him back and drank the rest of the cup's contents.
"You should try to get some sleep, we have a long day ahead."
His shoulders dropped slightly.
"Yeah, you’re right. I’ll try to."
With nothing left to say, you walked away, leaving Bucky in the loneliness of the night.
You didn’t go right away to the room you had adopted as your own, though. He heard you going through the kitchen, a dim sound of clinking and pouring reaching him due to his enhanced hearing. He didn't think anything of it; maybe you needed more tea before going to bed.
Your steps brought you back to him before you placed an object on the coffee table right beside him.
A cup of lavender tea.
Then
"It’s kinda late to be outside, huh?"
Bucky jolted at the sound of your voice, your presence taking him by surprise. He was completely sure that when he left a couple of hours ago his house was empty and you hadn’t sent a message of your arrival.
Something had happened? Was someone injured? Were you in trouble?
His questions died on his lips as you cut the space between you and him short, your arms tightly embracing him. Your head found its place in the crook of his neck, his long hair falling on your face. His hands took a second to respond, but they eventually wrapped around your waist, bringing you closer to his chest.
You stayed like that for what felt like ages, just taking in each other's warmth. He missed you, even if he tried to deny it every time his thoughts would wander to you. He tried to convince himself that his reclusion made him miss everyone he considered a friend, and in a world where everyone seemed to want him dead, you were one of the few people he trusted.
He had been staying in Wakanda for nearly six months, and out of those six months, you had visited him at least once every month. The duration of your trip would vary, sometimes you would stay only a few hours, with most of your time spent in his hut while sharing stories of the outside and his progress. Other times, you'd stay for days, with the longest stay being a week and a half. In those cases, he would show you the surroundings, the forest that surrounded the back of his hut or take you on a long walk alongside the river that crossed his home. Sometimes you'd sit outside and stare at the stars, your only company being the animals and the flora.
He also came to hate every time you would leave, feeling like a part of himself was leaving with you.
One of his hands landed on the side of your hips, the other searching for your face.Your grip on him grew tighter once his fingers brushed the skin on your face but you eventually let go, allowing his hand to guide you slightly away from him.
"What happened?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
You didn’t respond, but one look into your eyes, and he knew the answer. Whatever it was, it had affected you to the core, the broken look in your eyes could only be compared to the one he saw every time he looked at his reflection in the mirror.
His forehead rested on yours, both your eyes closing at the contact.
"It’s ok. I got you."
His hand found yours as he guided you toward his bed. It wasn’t until then that he noticed you still had your tactical gear on, dirt and crystals still hiding in some places. He grabbed the buckle of your vest, his eyes asking for permission to get it off. A slight nod gave him the confirmation, beginning the process of somewhat freeing you of the events you had seen. He got rid of his own garments too, leaving you both standing in front of yourselves with only underwear covering you. He dragged you into bed, your frames covered by the light white sheets on his bed.
Not many times had he allowed himself to think of you in a sexual manner, knowing how his body would react in a lustful way. But as he found himself looking at you with barely any clothes on, the desire was left on the back burner of his brain. You needed him. You needed his comfort, and he was more than willing to give it to you.
He would give you anything you asked for.
His hand rested on your face, tracing circles across your cheek, your eyes closed at the soothing action.
"I’m sorry." Your voice trembled. He could see you wanted to say more, but words failed to come out of your mouth
Bucky’s heart ached. He had never seen you in such a vulnerable state, and his mind was going cray at the thought of not being able to do anything to help you.
"It’s ok, sunshine. You don’t have to talk about it."
So you lay there, head against his chest, as he kept you between his arms, with nothing other than the sound of the crickets outside his hut surrounding you. And for the first time in a long time, you felt what being loved felt like.
That night, you kissed him for the first time. You didn’t stop, not even the next morning when he woke you up with breakfast already made and a cup of lavender tea.
Now
"Bring him to the table!" you yelled.
Your hand swept across the surface, knocking over every piece of paper, pencil, and piece of equipment. The vibrations of the heavier objects on the concrete floors matched the beating of your heart.
Bucky dropped Sam on the table. The man had gone unconscious on the ride to the safe house, the bullet wound that oozed liquid crimson was most likely the cause.The same crimson color now stains Bucky's clothes, and his leather gloves were also covered in a thin layer of it.
You brought your knife to slash through his clothes, the sharp metal cutting through them as if they were butter. The hole on his shoulder seemed to have no exit, the bullet was still inside him. You were glad Sam wasn’t conscious for the next hour.
The super soldier hovered over you for the entirety of the time you spent cleaning through the fragments that splintered from the bullet. Everything went relatively well until Sam started waking up, his body contorting in pain as you dug through his wound. Bucky brought him a bottle of vodka while you injected him with some local anesthesia.
Hours later, the wounded man was now resting on the only bed the safehouse had, his breathing bringing great comfort as it meant he was still alive. After half a bottle of vodka and a some painkillers diluted on his IV, you were sure he wouldn’t wake up until tomorrow.
The faucet sprayed cold water onto your palms. Your nails desperately tried to scrape away the traces of blood that still lingered in your skin, leaving red marks all across your knuckles. Dirt and dried blood were trapped underneath your fingernails, and no matter how much you tried to dig it out, it would stay right there.
Bucky’s footsteps brought you out of your trance, the heavy sound of his combat boots felt deafening with each step he took. You tried to tune him out, focusing once again on the sound of water, but it seemed as if Bucky had made it his purpose to be as loud as possible. You held onto the sink so strongly that you were sure it would snap.
A deep rage came from your stomach, spreading all over your body. The anger constricted your chest in such a way that you weren’t sure if somehow you were buried under a collapsed building, its weight invisibly crushing you.
It was his fault. It was all his fault.
You didn’t remember walking outside the bathroom, nor did you remember walking up to him and slapping away the cup of water his hand held.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" you barked at him.
"I—"
"I gave you one task. You had to wait until I gave you the signal so you could come in. Not guns blazing, not punching everyone that comes your way, not drawing everyone's attention to us. Your only fucking job was to wait for the distributor to show up and wait for my goddamn signal."
"What did you want me to do? Just stand there and do nothing?" he argued.
You were taken aback by his response. Part of you expected him to just let you scream at him and give you the same soft eyes he always gave you when you spoke to him.You weren't expecting him to snap back at you or to defend himself.
Maybe if things hadn’t gone sour between you two, you would’ve listened to what he said, and in return, he would’ve listened to you. But the anger was too strong to be subdued.
"I wanted you to follow the fucking plan."
"He was about to torture you!"
Bucky's thoughts returned to the old factory turned whorehouse.The way you had purposefully gotten caught and how they had tied you to an exposed pipe line. He could still hear the sound of the man’s hand smashing against your cheek.
"I can handle myself! I told you guys to stay put until the distributor was there. He knows I’m after him, and this was our only chance to catch him. And now he’s god knows where and Sam got fucking shot."
A heartbeat passed before Bucky came close to your face. His big frame towered over you, and his breathing hit your face.
"You’re fucking delusional if you think I was just going to let anything happen to you."
You scoffed, "Oh, so now you care?"
"I’ve always cared."
You pulled away from him, your eyes rolling at his pathetic words.
"Sure."
Perhaps it was the fact that you had been in danger no longer than a couple of hours ago, or maybe it was the heat of the fight that had left some residues on him. Whatever it was, it made Bucky courageous enough to reach for your arm.
"Look at me."
You swatted him away.
"Don’t fucking touch me."
But this time he wasn't going down without a fight.Not again.
"I know I was an asshole at the end of our relationship, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you anymore."
A bitter laugh came out of you. All of this had to be some sick joke. "When you care about someone, you don’t treat them like that. You didn’t care about me, and you sure as hell didn’t love me."
His hand tried to touch you again, and this time you let him. You were tired. Tired of fighting with him. You closed your eyes as soon as his skin came in contact with yours, his touch consuming all of your senses.
You opened your eyes to find him staring back at you, the blue eyes that once hurt you shining the same way they did the first time you kissed him.
"I did love you," he whispered into your lips. "I still do."
His words burned you like someone had branded you with hot iron in the chest.Even after all this time, he could still hurt you, Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? Why did he have to bring back the past you so fiercely tried to leave behind?
"Don’t." Your lower lip quivered. "Y-you can't just break my heart and then come back into my life and just say you still love me."
"I never stopped loving you."
Those five words were all it took to tear down what little control you had over yourself. A year ago it would've broken you to hear them but now they only brought a deep sense of indignation.
With a quick move, you pulled his hand away from you, your hands pushing against his chest until he hit the wall. You wanted him to hurt. You wanted to carve his heart out of his ribcage and throw it far away, maybe then he would understand what it felt like.
"Where was your love when I needed it, huh? Where was your love when I had no one else? Where was your love when I reached for you every night but you were already gone? Where was your love when I begged you to love me, to be there for me?" Your hands were clutching his jacket, and your vision was blurred by tears."Where the fuck was your love when you brought that girl to your apartment?"
Bucky never saw you like this, not even when he stomped on your heart with his indifference. Under the anger, the hate, and the surface indifference you showed him, he could see how broken you were. He could see how you were constantly struggling to put the pieces of yourself back together that he had torn apart.
He hated himself for extinguishing parts of you.
"I’m sorry."
A lapse of judgment.
That’s what you would tell anyone who asked you why you kissed Bucky that night. You would say that you had been blinded by the pure rage his mere presence would bring you. Or perhaps you would take the easy route and you would say that with everything that happened that night, almost being tortured and Sam getting hurt, you had acted in a primitive instict of searching comfort.
The truth was different. You could lie to yourself and say that you didn’t needed Bucky, not after all the things he had done. You lied to yourself constantly when you told yourself you were over him. You also lied to yourself when you claimed that your one-night stands had fulfilled you in the same way that Bucky had.
You couldn’t feel anything, not ever since you walked out of his apartment. You had tried different people, different cities. You had tried different alcohols and different drugs. You had tried anything that could help you fill the emptiness that had found a permanent home inside you. You felt nothing, not until you saw those cerulean eyes again.
Your kiss was aggressive, your lips smashing against his with strength and your hands finding their place in the back of his head. It took a second for Bucky to kiss you back as he thought his mind was playing tricks with him. But after you pressed yourself against his chest, his body reacted on muscle memory alone, his arms surrounding your waist.
It wasn’t what you expected, though. You thought that the specks of love that remained between you would be enough to bring back whatever it was that you were missing. Instead, you were met with the most intense hatred you've ever felt, mixed with the melancholy of what could've been.
He tasted like the past, but he still hurt like the present.
So you made a decision.If you couldn't bring yourself to love Bucky Barnes anymore, you would hate him with all that remained of your soul. You would hate him until both of you burned in the flames of your agony. You'd despise him until you'd ripped every part that matched the ones he'd so easily broken.
"I hate you," you whispered between kisses. "I fucking hate you."
Your words were daggers to his heart. His chest tightened, and his grip on you faltered for a second before he snapped out of it. This wasn’t about him. If you needed to tell him how much you despised him, he would gladly let you kill him with your words. It was the least you deserved.
"I know," he mumbled against your lips.
He felt your body guiding him through the room until the back of his legs hit against the couch where he would sleep. Your hands pushed against his chest, making him sit on the couch while you straddled his lap.
Clothes flew across the room, and you found yourself tearing his shirt apart in two while he only pulled yours off.You'd worry about that later; right now, nothing was more important than feeling your skin against his.
Your hands traveled over his chest, fingers grazing every part of his abdomen as you trailed down to his zipper. You palmed him over his jeans, his cock already hard, and you felt it twitch against the fabric with every touch you gave him. Groans left Bucky’s lips.
"I hate you," you repeated as a mantra.
He shouldn’t make you feel this way, but as you see his head going back when your hand opened his fly and found it’s place around his cock you felt your own desire pooling in your lower belly and the aching in your core became unbearable.
With swift movements, Bucky got rid of his pants and his underwear while you remained on top of him. With your frame still covered by a black lace bra and your black tactical pants on, he couldn't help but feel exposed when he looked at you.Deciding he didn’t wanted to be the only one naked his hands went to the side of your hips in efforts to get you rid of the fabric but your hand swatted him away.
Beg me, your eyes said.
For a moment, he considered tearing your pants apart the same way you had done with his shirt. However, the seriousness behind your eyes warned him that he might end things too soon if his stubbornness got in the way. So he gave in.
"Please, Sunshine." His hands gripped your waist, his hips grinding against your still-wrapped core, sending shivers down your spine."Please, let me see you."
You relented, unbuttoning your pants and throwing them away with your panties. In what were the longest seconds of Bucky’s life, you unclasped your bra, finally getting rid of the last barrier your body held on to.
You stood there, completely naked, staring at Bucky.He remembered the way your breasts felt when he held them. He remembered how soft your skin was. He remembered that if he bit on the skin of your neck, right where the jugular is, you would clench around him. He remembered. In the lonely nights when he needed some release, he would close his eyes and imagine your lips around his cock as he fisted himself in the solitude of his apartment.
All those memories didn’t compare to watching you in the flesh, with hungry, hateful eyes on him as you walked back to straddle him again.
His cock twitched once your legs fell to his sides, the heat of your body settling on his crotch. You sat on top of him, your wetness welcoming him once you lowered yourself. His length placed itself right between your lips, and a groan left him.
"Fuck."
Your hips began rocking in slow but sharp motions as he felt his cock coated with your slick. Slowly, you built up a rhythm that made both of you moan. His hands landed again on your hips, his fingers pressing on your skin in a way that was certain to leave bruises the next day. Your own hands gripped on Bucky’s biceps for stability, and you squeezed them every time you would feel him brushing against your clit.
You felt amazing on top of him, but that wasn’t what made his heart pound against his chest.
It was your eyes. Your eyes never left him, no matter how much pleasure you were pulling from both of you and how badly you wanted to roll your eyes as the coil inside of you tightened. Your eyes, which once showed him what love could look like, now looked at him with a simmering hatred he could not shake.
His chest tightened at the thought of never seeing them again. The electricity that ran through his body was replaced by a deep sense of hopelessness, and the more he kept his gaze on you, the more it amplified. You must’ve sensed the change in him because your movements stopped.
Broken eyes now stared at you with the ghost of tears in them. The anger that had driven your actions and your thoughts through all this had now subsided, allowing itself to mix with melancholy.
I love you. I’m sorry. I miss you. His eyes said.
I hate you. I’ll never forgive you. I wish I never met you. Yours answered.
And in the middle of the lust that was taking place right on the couch, both of your hearts broke again.
You pulled him back for a kiss that tasted of desperation and sorrow as tears fell from both your eyes. The saltiness of the tears bled into the kiss and mixed with it.Quickly, your hand guided his tip to your entrance. You needed him inside you like a person lost in the desert needs water. You craved him with every cell in your body, and it tore your heart apart.
"So tight." He moaned in your mouth as you sank into him.
The stretch of his length burned as you forced yourself to take him fully. It hurt, and even with your arousal completely covering him, you weren't prepared to take his thick length.You didn’t care though, you hoped it would make you forget your heartbreak. Bucky tried to stop you as he felt you struggling to take him in. His hands held your waist, but you shook your head before you started bouncing on him.
You didn’t want love from him. You didn’t want tenderness or care. You wanted roughness. You wanted strength and aggressiveness until the only thing you could feel was the ache between your legs.
The super soldier gave you what you wanted.
Bucky’s pace was brutal, his cock hitting the sweet spot only he could reach. The sound of his hips colliding with yours filled the room, bouncing off the walls and echoing through the hallway outside.In the back of his mind, Bucky was thankful Sam was knocked out with meds so he could be spared from the obscene orchestra your bodies played.
The pain quickly turned into pleasure. Your walls hugged him tightly, each thrust carried a strength that left you breathless. At some point your legs had given in, the only reason why you kept bouncing was the snap of his hips pushing you. He didn’t let go of you though, instead he pushed you against his chest in an embrace that surrounded you tightly.
Your head rested against his while your hands stayed on his chest. The sadness that mixed with the pleasure numbed everything else except for the bubbling up of your release. It pained you to admit that no one else could make you feel like Bucky, you had tried to find someone who could replicate what his touch could do for you, but no one ever came close.
You hated how much you missed him and how much you needed him.
"I wish you would’ve stayed dead." you panted. The poison behind your words shredded his heart. He knew you were saying it to hurt him, he knew you didn’t mean it, but the conviction behind it felt like a kick in the chest. "I wish we never brought you back."
"Me too." he finally admitted.
Bucky felt your walls constrict around him, and he could tell you were close. He drew you in for one last kiss, the kind that took your breath away. The type of kiss that was a solace in a world of agony. The type of kiss that meant a promise that carried forever.
You tightened around him as you came, and his thrusts slowed down as he rode you through your high. As you closed your eyes, more tears fell from the corners, so he reached out to wipe them away.Once you had recovered a little, his brutal pace came back, this time chasing his own release. You brought your lips to kiss his neck, feathery, soft kisses, and he felt his balls tightening. He was so close.
He tried to pull out so he could fist himself to the end but you didn’t budge, instead whispering in his ear.
"Inside."
He came harder than he had done in the last year. You felt his cock twitching inside as he covered your walls with his cum, the mess between your release and his own dripping out of you. You kept bouncing on top of him, making sure to return the favor by guiding him all the way through the end.
You stood up, the feeling of emptiness making you shudder when his cock left you, and his cum started leaking out of you. You turned to go find something to clean yourself up, but his metal hand stopped you. He guided you back to the couch before he walked towards the bathroom. A few minutes later, he came back with a towel, and he positioned himself right between your legs.
He cleaned you up just like he had done for so many years before.His other hand caressed your thigh as he made sure to wipe everything. And just as he always did for years, once he finished, he kissed your inner thigh, a couple of inches away from your pussy.
Bucky threw the towel to the floor, he would worry about it in the morning.As for right now, the only thing he wanted was to hold you close. So he did. He thanked the couch was big enough to fit you both as you layed together. He pulled the blanket he used to warm himself every night over you, and his arm surrounded your waist, his grip making your back settle against his front. His left hand traced lazy circles over your stomach while the other was used as your pillow.
For a few seconds, both of you allowed yourselves to reminisce in the past. He kissed the top of your head as you snuggled against him like you usually did. And as you felt his warmth behind you and inhaled his scent, everything seemed to be alright once again.
Except they weren’t. Bucky wasn’t the man who made you feel secure anymore, and you weren’t the woman who trusted him with all her heart. Both of them belonged to the past.
"I don’t love you anymore. I will never love you again." you broke the silence.
Bucky held you tighter as his heart broke once again.
"I don’t deserve your love." He whispered. "But I’ll still love you forever."
Then
Loving Bucky Barnes was never easy.
It wasn’t all bad, though. For many years you had been together, three and a half to be exact, where you could imagine a life with. Three years where there was no one you trusted more or preferred to be with.Three years that were the happiest of your life.
Those were a few of the reasons why he had asked you to marry him. And those were also a few of the reasons why you had said yes.
You had told yourself at the beginning that you couldn’t get attached to him for the safety of your heart. It didn’t matter that his touch felt like home or that during the times you spent apart, his eyes would be the only comfort you would find in your dreams. He would bring more heartbreak than love.
Oh, how right you had been.
Unfortunately for you, the heartbreak would come in a way you couldn’t have prevented.
The snap came and took him away from you. One second he was standing next to you, the next he was turning into dust that flew into the wind. The last thing he had said was your name and after that half the population was gone.
The years went by in a blur. Between nights filled with drugs and alcohol and days spent cramped up in your apartment, you were wallowing in the type of sadness that the rest of the population could understand. You kept your ring in your finger, it reminding you that what your memories craved for were real.
Bucky had been real.
With his departure, he had also taken your heart.
After a particularly bad night where you crashed your vehicle into a contention bar, Tony had taken it upon himself to help you, offering you a home close to his secluded one. You took it, not because you wanted to get better but because you wanted solitude. But if life had taught you anything about Tony Stark, it was that he was as stubborn as they come.
Every morning he would bring you breakfast along with a visit from a certain little baby that always wanted to be held by you, and sometimes she would be able to bring a small smile to your face. With time, the little baby turned into a little girl that would ask for a sleepover every once in a while, and you would gladly accept the offer to allow Tony and Pepper a night alone.
Things got better. You visited Steve and Natasha at the compound and even allowed yourself to go in missions of your own, as it turned out not even The Snap could make criminals take a break. You even went to one of Steve’s depressing support group meetings, never returning for the next one.
You couldn’t be strong all the time, though. Some nights, when the pain was so strong that it drowned you and the grief was too powerful to keep at bay, you would find yourself staring at the hundreds of pictures you had taken of him. Most of them were of you together, but there were a few you took when he wasn’t looking. The sunset behind him as he breathed in the clean air of Wakanda, or the small smile on his face as he tasted the food he cooked for you both.Even when he was reading some of the books he kept under his bed and a few wrinkles would show on his forehead as his whole focus remained in the text, he always looked beautiful.
With time, everything felt like a routine. Waking up alone, eating alone, going outside alone. Sleeping alone. Everything seemed to be stable, not good or bad, but just stable. You were sure this was the best you could do, or at least the best it could get.
That is, until a ray of hope appeared.
Time travel was the answer. Taken as a whole, it seemed like something out of a science fiction film, but it made sense.Bring the stones back and along with them everyone that had died. Surprisingly, it had worked, everyone that had been snapped away came back just as they had left. It should have been a moment of joy. It should've.
The thing about hope is that it comes with a price. Natasha and Tony were the price to pay.
Steve left shortly after.
You understood him. You understood why he left everything and everyone behind to go live a life with the woman he had always loved. You would be a liar if you said you wouldn’t have done the same if you were in his position. You understood why he did it but it still hurt to know you weren’t enough of a reason to stay and live a life together.
It seemed like you were on a streak of losing people. Wherever you turned, more people kept leaving your life. Wanda was gone, turned into the madness that grief could bring. Thor left to save other planets that needed him. Bruce... well, you weren’t sure where Bruce was, but he didn’t try to contact you.
Everyone was gone but Sam and Bucky.
Bucky. Your Bucky. The man you had spent the past five years crying for. The man who made you the happiest you'd ever felt.The man who felt like home.
But he wasn't your Bucky any longer.
This Bucky didn’t kiss you with the same tenderness he did so many years ago. Instead, he'd barely move his lips once yours touched his in what you'd call a mediocre peck.He also never initiated a kiss, it was you who always reached out for him.
This Bucky didn’t held you at night. Instead, he'd turn around, his back to you, and even if you reached for him between dreams, he'd guide your hand back to your side of the bed.Some nights, he would even choose to sleep on the floor of the living room when he thought you were asleep. It was as if the thought of touching you seemed appalling to him.
This Bucky never hugged you.
This Bucky never talked to you with love only with annoyance and indifference.
This Bucky never woke you up with breakfast.
This Bucky never tried to sleep with you.
This Bucky never said I love you.
Because this Bucky didn’t love you.
But you held hope, foolishly. Every day you tried to talk to him, show him in every possible way that you were still here with him. Every day you tried to make things better between you, you poured your heart and soul to try to fix what you didn’t even know was broken.
Things got worse a couple of months later.
As it turned out, time had taken a toll on Steve’s body, and one night he went to bed and never woke up. You found it a bit ironic the man out of time had finally run out of time.
His funeral was held on a sunny spring afternoon. People from all over the world showed up to say their final goodbyes to the man who had saved the world so many times. Friends, people he had saved, and heroes paid their respects to him. The first super soldier had finally been put to rest.
After everyone had cleared out, you went back to drop one last token for his departure. It was a picture of the both of you. Steve’s arm hung over your shoulders while both of you held a couple of beers. It had been the first time you had seen Steve outside of work related situations. That was the beginning of your friendship.
As you got back to his tombstone, you saw Bucky standing in front of it. His eyes were void of any expression, and he didn’t seem to be talking to Steve’s grave either. Bucky was just there, staring at the place where his best friend was buried.
He didn’t seem to notice when you stood next to him, nothing in his body gave any signs of acknowledgement. You gave him a couple of minutes before you reached for his hand. You knew that, even if he didn’t show it, he was in great pain. He had lost his last connection to the life he had once lived.
You wanted to be there to help him through his pain.
The contact only lasted a few seconds. Your touch surprised him, as he had jolted once your skin grazed his own. He turned his head to the side to give you a glare that you’ve never seen before. His eyes had been filled with pain, as you guessed, but they also carried hatred and disdain. He must’ve seen your expression, because a second later his eyes changed to a neutral expression.
"What are you doing here?" he muttered.
The shock of his stare lingered in you for a moment, but you quickly returned to yourself, a friendly smile on your face."I came to leave a little parting gift."
He hummed in acknowledgement, not sparing another glance at you as you put the photograph against the headstone, right in between the dozens of flowers that decorated it. Both of you stayed silent after that, the sounds of the birds and the faint rumbling of cars were the only sounds keeping you company. It was peaceful. It was good. Just the two of you enjoying a moment's calmness in silence.
For a few moments, you felt comfortable next to him. The first time in months since he came back. But good moments like that never lasted long.
Without notice, he turned around. Long, desperate strides guided him towards the exit of the graveyard. He wanted to create distance between you and him, find somewhere that was as far away from you as he could be. You felt how you were losing him.
But you fought for him, even when he seemed to not deserve it.
"Bucky." You called for him. He stopped in his tracks, but he didn’t turn around, so you took that as a sign to keep going. "I know you’re hurting right now, I am too, but I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you."
He didn’t answer for a few seconds, and you thought you had made a breakthrough. Maybe this was the time when things went uphill. This was the little push he needed to start healing and perhaps to try to rebuild the bridges that had burned. This was the little thread of hope you'd hung up on.
You were wrong.
"You have no idea how I feel," he said before leaving.
That night you came back to your cabin, and Bucky’s things were gone. The only thing left was a note that rested in the middle of the bed.
I found an apartment in the city. I need space.
You didn’t see him for a couple of months after that. You considered tracking him down but ultimately gave up as he had asked for space. He needed time on his own, and you could give it to him. You would give him anything he asked for.
You kept your word until Strange came to visit you, announcing news about Wanda. She was dead.
You barely remembered tracking down his address or making your way there. It wasn’t until you were facing his door that you realized what you had done. He asked for space but in that moment, you couldn’t give it to him. You needed your Bucky.
Knock, knock, knock.
It was late in the night, and you could hear the TV going on in the living room. He had to be home. After a few minutes without an answer, you knocked again, but the only thing that welcomed you was silence.
"Bucky," you called. Your voice was broken, you tried to fight the tears away, but saying his name broke what little self-control you had left. "Please open the door."
You rested your forehead against the door, finally allowing yourself to feel everything you had been pushing back ever since the fight with Thanos. Pain, grief, loneliness, hatred, sadness, despair. A cocktail of emotions ran through you in an overwhelming way and seemed to want to drown you.
"I know you’re in there." You cried. The tears that ran down your face landed on the floor. "I just— I know I said I could be strong for the both of us, but... I need you."
You knocked on the door again, this time with the side of your fist. The desperate sound of your knocking bounced through the walls of the deserted hallway.
"Please Bucky, please open the door. Wanda is dead." Your own cries stopped you from talking, the hole in your chest seemed to get bigger and bigger with each passing second. "Nat, Tony, Steve, Wanda. All of them are dead, and I—I can’t. I can’t keep losing people. I can’t lose you."
You couldn’t do this alone, not anymore. Your heart couldn’t take it anymore.
"I love you. God, I love you so much. I know you want space, but right now I need your love, Bucky. I need you to love me like you used to. Please love me." You begged.
And you waited. You waited for what seemed like hours, but it probably was just thirty minutes until you accepted he wasn’t coming out.
You left with half a heart that night.
Two weeks later, you came back to his apartment, ready to demand an explanation. Your love for him was strong, but you needed him to talk to you. You were ready to fight for your future. You were ready to fight for your love.
"Bucky!" you yelled as you knocked aggressively. "Bucky, open the fucking door!"
The door didn’t take long to open. It surprised you, your confidence and anger faltered for a second. This was a sign, perhaps it was him being ready to fight for you too. This was him showing you he still loved you.
Except the person who opened the door wasn’t Bucky.
It was a girl. A short brunette that was covered by Bucky’s black T-shirt and nothing more.
"Hi."
You wanted to scream. You wanted to burst into tears. You wanted to burn the world and leave everything behind. You wanted to die. But the only thing you could do was stay there and stare at the girl.
"Umm, Bucky is not here." She said awkwardly, your intense stared made her uncomfortable.
"Do you know where he is?" You questioned her. The words came out rougher than you intended, but as the heartbreak and despair set in, you couldn't care less.
"No. I, um, when I woke up he was already gone." She pulled the hem of the t-shirt down in an effort to convey her nervousness, but it only infuriated you more. "Are you a friend of his?"
You wanted to laugh. God, this couldn’t be happening.
"Yeah, of sorts."
"I can let you in so we can wait for him, but I have to leave in like twenty minutes."
"You can’t call him?" you asked, bitterly. You knew Bucky had gotten a new phone but he never gave you his number.
Her face blushed before she answered. "No, uh. We met last night, and he didn’t give me his number.
"Oh."
You didn’t know what would be worse, if he had seen this girl ever since he left your cabin or the fact that he had a one night stand with a random girl. It didn’t matter, though, Bucky Barnes had crushed your heart.
The girl, whose name was Clara, kept her word, leaving minutes later as she had to go to work. She seemed like a nice girl who had no idea the man she had slept with was engaged. And perhaps in another world you would’ve been nicer to her if your heart hadn’t collapsed in on itself when she opened the door. Maybe she was a little naïve, as she let you stay inside the apartment so you could wait on Bucky. She had also asked you to give him her number, the digits scribbled on a piece of paper.
You broke down the moment she closed the door behind her. You thought of trashing the place, breaking every piece of furniture he owned, and burning all his clothes in a pit in the middle of his living room. You imagined yourself hurling the stupid leather jacket he seemed to be fond of lately.You also thought about settling for burning everything to the crisp, wanting to see the look on his eyes once he saw his apartment consumed by flames.
You didn’t do any of those things, though; instead, you waited. This time, hours actually went by, the once bright morning turned into the darkness of the night, and you never moved from your spot on the couch, not even to turn on the lights.
Bucky came back to his apartment around 11 p.m. When he noticed the apartments' lack of lightning, he felt relieved not to have to deal with the girl he had taken home the night before. By the looks of it, she left a while ago.
He turned on the light before taking of his jacket, placing it on the coat hanger next to the door.As he walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water, he tossed his keys on the counter.He had to change the sheets on his bed and do laundry tomorrow. The glass was half full when a voice behind him spoke.
"You have a nice place here."
The glass dropped from his hands into the kitchen sink. His head snapped quickly towards you, finding you seated in the middle of his couch. He turned off the sink, before making his way toward you. You couldn’t be here, not today of all days.
"How the hell did you get in here?" he barked.
He didn’t mean it like that, not in the way it sounded. He wasn’t angry at you being inside his apartment, he was scared. Scared that you had arrived at the wrong time and seen something you weren’t meant to see.
He finally stood in front of you and saw it. Your nose was slightly puffy and red, like you had been crying for some time. Your shoulders were slumped, defeat washing over your posture. But the thing that hurt the most to see was the pain behind your eyes. It wasn’t the normal type of pain of loss or grief as you had experienced these past months. No, it was something else.
It was the pain of heartbreak and betrayal.
It couldn’t be.
You couldn't have been here when she was still in his house. There was no way, life could not hate him this way. It had to be something else that broke your heart, he had hurt you many times this past couple of months, and today was probably the day it all crashed down. It had to be that.
"Clara let me in."
No.
"Nice girl, she left her number for you."
You knew, you had seen the girl who was apparently named Clara, he didn’t really remember it. Bucky knew he had to do something, anything that could save your relationship. Perhaps if he begged you not to leave him, to let him explain everything that had been going on with him, and if he spent the rest of his days making it up to you, then you would stay. Maybe you could forgive him.
He didn’t do any of that, though. The same thoughtless attitude washed over him like it had done ever since he came back. It was as if his brain forced him to act this way in order to protect his own heart in the long run.
Instead of doing everything he could to fix this, he shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest.
"How long?" you asked. Bucky could see your eyes watering as you tried to keep yourself together. He hated himself. "How long have you been cheating on me?"
His mouth answered without his permission.
"Does it even matter?"
Maybe he was right. Maybe it the answer wouldn’t change the way you were feeling; if anything, it was bound to hurt you more. But a part of you wanted to know the truth, to extinguish the other half of your heart.
You didn’t budge, so Bucky finally answered, not before rolling his eyes. "She’s the only one. I met her yesterday in a bar. "He shrugged. "It just happened."
You knew the answer, yet it still hit you with the force of a thousand bricks. He admitted it. He fucking admitted it and he didn’t even show a single morsel of remorse. There weren't any apologies or begs, no promises, or big romantic and sorrowful speeches. You could feel your own love being smothered, the flames that had once brought so much warmth to your soul were replaced by cold and emptiness.
Bucky Barnes didn’t love you anymore.
Now
Bruises covered your body as well as new injuries that would probably give you more scars. Dirt and blood slid down the drain, exhaustion settling in as your muscles relaxed. The droplets of water fell against your body, washing away everything that had happened today.
You found the intel, you knew every single name of everyone involved with the heinous experiments you were chasing.
You had almost died, one of the guys Bucky and you had cornered, had a bomb attached to his chest. You tried to stop him, your gun pointing at his head, but you were too slow. The explosion shook the entire structure, causing a chain collapse of the floors around you.
Bucky had jumped to protect you, his body acting as a human shield, deflecting some of the impact.His flesh arm had a large metal piece embedded in it, as well as some burns on his back. The explosion had knocked you both out of the air, and the resulting wave had thrown you both across the room.
As you tried to shake away the confusion and the ringing from your ears, you felt his hand find its place along your face and travel to your stomach. As he scanned you, blue eyes looked at you with fogginess but also deep concern.
"You ok?" he had whispered.
You nodded, but your mind was still fuzzy, perhaps you had hit your head, but you couldn’t remember much.
But you remembered the desperation. You remembered everything crumbling apart as you tried to make your way to the exit. You remembered Sam’s voice screaming through your earpieces to get the fuck out of there. You remembered Bucky's hand always keeping you safe, guiding you through the clouds of cement and smoke.
You also remembered how Bucky’s steps faltered before collapsing. Neither of you had noticed he had a second piece of metal scrap buried between his ribs. If he had removed it, his enhanced healing would have taken care of it, but the extenuating movements had caused damage to his lungs, bleeding, and a lack of oxygen, causing him to pass out.
You remembered screaming for Sam’s help, begging him to help you save Bucky. You remembered the tears falling from your eyes as you tried to pull Bucky to safety, begging him not to die, begging him to wake up. You remembered the fire catching up to you, it’s warmth burning your skin. You wanted to kill Bucky, you would be happy if you never seen his face again, dance on top of his grave as you celebrated the end of his existance.
Then why were you fighting so hard to save him?
"Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. You can’t do this to me!"
"Bucky wake the fuck up!"
"Please! I can’t lose you like this!"
Fortunately, Sam came for you, him and all his Captain America glory had saved both of you, his wings protecting all three of you as you carried Bucky outside. You had barely gone a few steps ahead when the building finally set one last explosion, ending with everything on it's way.All three of you landed on the floor with a thud as the shock wave reached you.
You focused your attention on Bucky's wound, which was already healing, but his lack of response worried you.His breathing was barely existent, and his heartbeat was decreasing. You had straddled his lap and began performing CPR on him while asking Sam to go fetch the adrenaline shot you stored in the vehicle. You had punctured Bucky's chest with it, and after a few seconds, he had woken up.
You remembered clinging to him as he tried to sit straight, the desperation finally gone from your body.
The body behind you wrapped his hands along your waist, pulling you out of your memories and spreading the soap he had covered you with. Bucky's fingers traced all the way down your body, removing every trace of stress.
After everything happened, Sam told you to go back to the safehouse while he met with Joaquin to try and start locating people with the intel you had gathered. You thought about fighting him, but one look at Bucky and any fight you had left was done.
A knowing look from Sam told you this wasn’t just to let both of you rest and get cleaned up. It was a second chance. A second chance at the talk you had avoided to had with Bucky ever since that night you slept together.
You drove back to the safehouse, and once you had gotten inside, everything crumbled apart inside of you. As you reached out to Bucky, your tears had fallen, your hand lingering in his fleshy arm, right where his wound was.His hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing the stream of blood that fell from your eyebrow. In the silence of the room, no words were exchanged, but both your hearts understood.
Just for today, you would allow yourselves to comfort each other.
His lips peppered kisses along your shoulder as he cleaned you, his lips sometimes finding your neck or your lips when you would press yourself against him. As you spread the shampoo over his head, your fingers massaged his scalp with the tenderness he had missed, his eyes closing every time you hit the right spot.
After drying yourselves and changing into new clothes, you both layed on the bed, covered over the head with the thin white sheet you had. You faced each other, blue eyes meeting yours. Your fingers found his face as you traced along every crevice and line you hadn’t seen before. Bucky appeared to have aged years in the time you hadn't seen him, but he remained as beautiful as ever.
Your heart ached in your chest, and you couldn’t fight it anymore. You had denied yourself the other feelings that remained inside of you other than hate and betrayal, but today, as death seemed to call for both of you, it was clear you didn’t want Bucky Barnes to die. A part of you hated him so deeply you weren’t sure you would be able to stop, but no matter how strong the hatred was, you were sure a part of you still loved him.
However, that part of you was broken. Battered and bruised to death by his own doing but it was still there. It was locked inside the thousand-foot wall you had built around it to keep it safe. Refusing to ask questions, refusing to talk to him, and refusing to admit the pain you were in. But in doing so you hadn’t given yourself the opportunity to heal. To move on.
So you allowed yourself to feel and to talk. For both your sake and his.
"Why did you do it?" you broke the silence. His breathing faltered as your hand retracted back to your side. "Why did you hurt me like that?"
Bucky struggled to find the right words. You were asking him the same question he had asked himself for many, many nights. He asked himself that question when he wouldn’t reach for you at night. He asked himself that question when he didn’t open the door for you.
He asked himself that question when you walked out of his life.
You deserved the truth. The whole, unapologetic, heartfelt truth. So he gave it to you.
"The first time I came back to myself, after fighting Steve in the helicarrier, I realized the world had moved on without me. My plans, my family, and the people I knew were all left in the past. They all moved on without me, everyone was gone except for Steve. I had a plan, after the war I would go back and find myself a beautiful girl to marry." A sad smile posed on his lips as he reminisced. "I wanted the white picket fence and three kids package. Cookouts with my family and friends while I was still a war hero. But all of that was gone the moment I woke up in a time that wasn’t mine. My dreams were gone."
He paused before reaching for your face, his eyes closing before opening again, tears streaming down his cheeks."Ever since I woke up, I was a man drifting in a time that wasn’t mine, in a life that wasn’t mine. I didn’t have any dreams, or aspirations other than to survive and perhaps discover the truth. Nothing made sense to me, not until I met you." His thumb wiped away the tears you didn’t know they were falling. "You were the very first person, aside from Steve, that was kind to me. You talked to me, listened to what I had to say. You showed me what this new world was about, how to survive in it, and above all, you never doubted my innocence. It wasn’t because you knew me like Steve did, or because he had asked you as a favor. You were my friend, the very first I made when I was lost. And along the way, you turned into more, you were my new dream. I fell in love with you, and suddenly it didn’t matter that I wasn’t supposed to be here, or what it could’ve been because with you, I finally felt like I belonged somewhere."
A sob escaped you, his words burning your heart, branding them with the love you once felt for him. The heartbreak and the pain came once again, but it felt different. It was comforting in a way that scared you, terrified you. You knew he had loved you once, but you had stored those memories far away where they couldn’t hurt you. Because it was easier to tell yourself that Bucky had never actually loved you than to think he had loved you and had still betrayed you.
"But no matter how much time passed or how loved or comfortable I felt, I was still scared. I was terrified. Terrified of the same thing happening again. Every day, I'd tell myself, 'Something is going to happen, something is going to take me away from you, and when I come back, another hundred years will have passed.' And it did happen. When Thanos snapped me away, I came back, and to me only seconds had passed, but for you it was five years. Everything had changed again, even you. There was this sadness that seemed to have nested behind your eyes every time you looked at me. And every time I looked at you, I could see how much you had suffered because of me, it was my fault, and I couldn’t do anything about it."
"It wasn’t your fault." You tried to argue, but his words interrupted you.
"I felt like it was. I felt like I must’ve had some sort of curse that would always take me away from what made me the happiest, and in return, I would hurt everyone around me with it. I had died once again and the world kept going, once again. And I tried really hard to fight those thoughts, but it was as if a cloud of darkness would whisper to me that I didn't belong here anymore.That everything had changed once again, and it would happen again and again and again until I finally died. And I didn't know what to do; it was as if this voice was drowning me, washing away every ounce of happiness I had left inside me until all that remained was anger and resentment."
His voice had broken, as had his ability to hold back the tears.He had buried this for so long, too embarrassed to say them aloud, to admit how he had messed up everything because he was afraid.He wasn’t the man who had sworn to protect you against everything, he was a coward. A coward who had let his own fear hurt you in ways he could never fix.
"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry." Bucky kissed your forehead. "You didn’t deserve any of what I did to you, and I don’t think I could ever forgive myself for doing that. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me, I’m sorry I pushed you away when all you did was trying to help me. I’m sorry I slept with someone else. I'm sorry I messed everything up because the truth is, you have been the best thing that has ever happened to me, past and present, and if I had to go through all of the pain, torture, and heartbreak all over again just to meet you, I would."
You stayed there in silence for minutes. Neither of you dared say anything else that would break the silence. Both your hearts had been through a lot today, from the threats of death to the realizations of love and pain that had been confessed. But amongst the suffering and the torment, both of your hearts began to heal, and the pieces that had been ripped apart came back to where they belonged.
You took his hands into yours, your lips kissing his knuckles. "I don’t know if I could ever forgive you for what you did." Bucky’s eyes closed in ache, he knew it was a possibility, but it still hurt to know there was no hope, but your words stopped him from spiraling. "But I would like to try."
Hope. A tiny silver of hope.
"Do you think there is a chance for us in the future?"
You considered it. Your mind and your heart still pulling towards different directions but none of them letting you decide. Would you be willing to risk your heart once again for Bucky Barnes, or has the damage been too great to be fixed and covered? "I don’t know."
"That’s ok. I'm not going to ask about it again unless you want me to."
He kissed you one last time. His lips still had a subtle taste of smoke and burned, but above it was something overpowering, something both of you felt as he deepened the kiss. You both tasted redemption and forgiveness.
Forever
"Thanks for helping me."
"Don’t thank me, I’m only doing it for the beer."
Bucky and you chuckled at his poor attempt at a joke, your footsteps echoing in the half-empty apartment. A couple of seconds later, your mattress landed with a loud thud in your bedroom, making you happy to be finally done. You threw yourself on the bed, Bucky following you close behind, his heaviness bouncing you off. You turned to your side, resting your head on your hand, and he replicated your pose.
It had been a year and a half since you decided to bring Bucky back into your life, and things had changed dramatically since then.You stopped doing solo missions and moved to New York, where you split your time between assisting Sam and Bucky with their shenanigans and volunteering at the woman's shelter Sam had connected you with.
In the beginning, it was difficult to adapt to a tamer lifestyle than the one you had lived in the past year, but listening to all those women, the things they had been through, showed you that sometimes the thing people need to start healing is to have someone along the way.
Bucky and you had become friends, just as you had been when you first met. It took time to get back to the beginning, but soon you found out how much you needed him as a friend, not a lover or a soulmate but just someone with whom you could talk. And, over the course of the many nights you spent talking, forgiveness found its way into your heart.You didn’t forget the past between both of you, but along the way there was understanding and care.
"How was your date?"
You shrug. "It was ok, not that great to be honest."
During this time you had gone on a couple of dates, even went out with a guy for a couple of months, and since you and Bucky were ‘just friends’ you thought it would be uncomfortable to talk to him about them. But he had developed a habit of surprising you, and as it turned out, he was okay with it. When you asked why he was okay with it, his response surprised you.
"I love you, I’ll always love you. But if you need me as a friend and nothing more, then I’ll be your friend."
Your heart was still reluctant about him, after all, pain is a thing you can hardly forget. That had been the reason why you had tried to find someone else. Someone who could make you laugh as hard as he did, someone who could make you blush with just a cocky smile, someone who could calm you down and make everything better by simply holding you close at night.Someone who could make you happy. But all of them failed, because they weren’t Bucky Barnes.
No one ever compared to Bucky Barnes, because after all the lies, heartbreak, and death surrounding you, he was still the only person who felt like home.
Blue eyes stared at you and all you could feel was your heart racing. He was the man you had once loved and he had betrayed you, but time had mended your heart. The part of you that hated him was gone, and instead the love you felt for him came back, maybe not as strong as it once was but it didn’t matter. Your love was willing to build itself up, your love was willing to let him in one last time.
"Ask me" you uttered. Your voice was so quiet that you thought he wouldn't hear you, but his puzzled expression told you otherwise.
"What?"
Your hand grabbed his, your thumb was drawing circles on his skin.
"Bucky, ask me."
Bucky’s heart stopped. A part of him had always told him that you would never want him back, and he couldn't blame you. He had hurt you in so many ways that he could never forgive himself. He had been sure the best he could have from you was friendship, and he had made his peace with it. Having you as only a friend was better than not having you at all.
But you were giving him an opportunity, and he would be damned if he didn’t take it.
"Would you—" he paused, clearing his throat.The nervousness inside him erased his ability to speak. "Would you like to go out for dinner? As in a date?"
You made it seem as if you were thinking about it, but he didn’t worry about it. He knew your answer already.
"Yeah, I guess I can make time for one date."
You smiled. You gave him your biggest, most genuine smile in a long time.He smiled too.
Loving Bucky Barnes hadn’t been easy. But as you both lay in your beds, his hands caressing your face and new hope brewing between you, your heart told you that this time would be different.
He wasn't the same tormented man from another time you'd fallen in love with, and you weren't the same broken but hopeful girl he'd loved with all his heart.You both had hurt each other, but you had also grown, both of you in your own ways, and yet destiny had brought you back together.
This time, neither of you was scared.
This time, loving him would come as easily as breathing.
If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated! Feel free to message me about it.
Tag list: @wintasssoldier @fallenoutofrose @cjand10 @nouk1998 @smplymrvl @littlemiss-yeehaw @magnificentsvn @kentokaze @gostodosopa @musicgirl44 @rebloggingmyrecs @mbindzus-blog @pampeop @buckystwilight @blackhawkfanatic @miss-i-ship-it @bibliophilewednesday
#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#marvel fanfiction#marvel cinematic universe#avengers fanfiction#avengers fic
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sharing this new fake rumor posted over at zsww fake house. it’s a pretty long one ✌🏼going by the conversations, i think the intent here is to supplement their alleged meet up recently. usual disclaimer, this is not real. treat as fan fiction. there are some unnecessary bits omitted but very minimal. just so it wouldn’t be a full translation.
XZ: Don’t worry, I haven’t downloaded it yet.
XZ: Yeah, I know
XZ: I said it
XZ: Well, then I’ll start here.
XZ: Try to be early
XZ: 🫵🏻 Watch for some time
staff: Don’t worry
It has been arranged, but it is not necessary, but there is a sense of ceremony, so I went to prepare it.
people interpret this as XZ watching WoF! i’m cackling cause he is asking the staff to watch it too when he is not looking. reminds me of that other rumor that WYB does the same. he asks staff to watch and then they will tell him what happened if he is too busy to. and he is saying to wyb to come early, maybe he wants to watch it together!
XZ: Don’t move, just lie down.
WYB: It’s okay
WYB: I fell asleep in the car for a while
XZ: Are your legs sore?
WYB: Not bad
WYB: Why do you look at me like that?
XZ: What do you think?
WYB: ☺️ 😏😏😏
XZ: Virtue
WYB: 😀😀
WYB: It's okay. Look. Okay.
WYB: It’s starting to itch a little bit
XZ: Don’t buckle
as for the “virtue” term i looked it up on baidu and it seems like this is used more on the reason of telling WYB off cause what he is thinking is 😏😏.
the itching is probably the wound he has on his hand that is drying up now. and how xz is so concerned for wyb! AHHHHHHH!
XZ: I told you before that you wouldn’t listen.
XZ: It’s quite obvious on TV that there’s a trap.
WYB: Where did you see it?
XZ: Watch the clips. I want to watch them all. Where can I find the time?
WYB: Oh
WYB: You still have time to rest more, ge
WYB: You must be tired, ge 🥺
(��.)
XZ: Don’t force me into happy moments……
WYB: 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
watching WoF clips! Hahahahahaha! I find it really cute how they support each other
WYB: What are you having for dinner?
XZ: Please hurry up, please
this next part is mostly WYB being clowned by staff and his continued refusal to make vlogs 🤪 and him not approving an increase in budget! here is a bit:
Staff 2: 😂😂😂😂
Staff 3: You don’t need to provide us with a vlog
WYB: That saves money
Staff 4: Then my budget has increased
WYB: Not approved
Staff 4: 😂
XZ: Mr. Wei has spoken. You must listen.
WYB: I’ll give you some for yourselves.
XZ: Are Mr. Wei’s rights limited to this much?
WYB: It’s up to you whether it’s you or not
XZ: 😅
XZ: Do you think I’ve treated you badly?
WYB: Just kidding, didn’t you click on all of them?
mister wei 🥺🥺🥺 why do i have a feeling that XZ’s favorite right now is Wei Ruolai?
XZ: He doesn’t have many opportunities, so use them and cherish them.
Staff 4: Finished. Here.
WYB: Oh, can you finish it?
WYB: Who do you belong to?
XZ: Report to you
WYB: Huh?
XZ: Repay...the real reward📱take it and repay it
WYB: Then I can take it apart and buy it....
XZ: Then buy it yourself
WYB: You buy it for me...what you just said
XZ: I didn’t say
XZ: OK OK OK
XZ: Aren’t they all in your hands? Buy it yourself.
WYB: Don’t worry if I buy a lot at once
XZ: Scared. I’m so scared.
WYB: I bought just one
WYB: ☺️
XZ: 👍🏻
this is confusing me but what i can gather is wyb bought something! what is it? 👀
Isn't it just for us all to hear you whispering, coaxing, and speaking so loudly? Come on, eat, the meal is here, if you don't eat, you'll be full first.
P.S: The boss doesn’t know that he blinks when he’s trying to coax people.
i love this last part cause OP is sort of complaining about the two lovebirds! as usual, having their own world. and idk who the “boss” is that blinks, or maybe he is trying to be cute by slow-blinking? i have a feeling it’s xz tho 😂😂😂😂
-END.
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Read It and Weep- Part 1
Pairing: NFL!Player!Rafe Cameron x Journalist!Reader
Summary: Sports journalist Y/n is covering a pro-NFL football game when she gets knocked down by wide reciever Rafe Cameron. He helps her up and immediately can't seem to take his eyes off of her as they celebrate their win. After, at the post game conference, him and the reader share an interesting conversation and he learns (earns) her name.
Word Count: 3.5k
Warnings: Violence, swearing, I think that's it honestly.
Song: "My Ordinary Life" by The Living Tombstones
A/n: This might be the most excited I've ever seen @tee-swizzle get over a fic I've written. This is some serious hot and cute and angsty shit, buckle up, it's quite a ride. This is part 1 of 10!
I always thought the only time I would enjoy men running around in costumes would be on Broadway.
The sophisticated, planned, calculated moves, the falsetto notes they hit while running around in expensive costumes that took hours and hours to create. Men on Broadway are just a whole other breed- don’t get me wrong, all actors and actresses alike are all impressive beyond belief, it’s a hard field to be a part of. But there’s something so groundbreaking and heartwarming to see men of all backgrounds doing what they love to do.
There’s just an art to it- Broadway- a beauty that a lot of people brush off and denounce as girly or even something that’s remarkably easy. They call theater kids loony (which coming from one, I’d have to agree just a bit), they’re constantly bullied and harassed but not when they make it to the big times. No- then they are set up on this pedestal where they are to be paid hundreds or thousands of dollars to get on stage, to dance and sing their favorite show tunes together where all of a sudden they’re people to look up to, forgetting all about their high school days and all the failed auditions that teared them down. But once they’re on that stage together, creating music and art, they’re a family in a sense. Leaving it all on the stage for the viewer, us, to enjoy.
A brotherhood.
My new stage looks a little bit differently than it did when I was sixteen.
My new stage consists of something similar- men, running around in matching outfits, same bright lights shining on them, sweat pouring down their necks, and they’re still a brotherhood- maybe even more so in a sense. But with this stage, there’s profanities, there's violence and, most of all, there are too many balls in one place at one time.
Pun so intended.
The world of sports is not one that I saw myself getting into at the ripe age of twenty four, let alone football. I’ve always had a bit of a thing against football players but that happens when you grow up in the theater world where you’re constantly pushed around by the ‘higher class’ of the horrible high school hierarchy, being called names, shoved down stairs, having your lunch tossed into your lap. But the job that I was offered through a local journal in my hometown was just perfect for me- I couldn’t not take it. There would be no other job that could've come around that would’ve given me the same freetime and the ability to still have control over my schedule, all while supporting my home team. It gave me a chance to travel, to learn, and to be surrounded by attractive, sweaty men doing their thing.
There’s a bit of a silver lining to it, I guess.
Working as a journalist for a professional football team was not the intended goal when I got my Bachelors degree in Journalism, nor was it the plan for my Masters. I wanted to go into freelancing or maybe dabble a bit in the socioeconomic crisis our country’s suffering from- maybe even write a few articles on how to save the turtles or some shit.
But football?
I spend most of my days on the sidelines, sketching down stats, learning plays and keeping up in the personal lives of our devoted players. I’m like one of those cheerleading girls I used to hate, practically a groupie of the team at this point. Even the coach and the other behind-the-scenes workers are on a first name basis with me at this point.
Sixteen year old me would be disgusted- repulsed.
Current me? Not so disgusted as I’m watching a bunch of tall, bachelor-like men run around the field at top speed, tackling each other as the crowd colored in all different jerseys scream or boo in unison. I can’t fight the proud smile that’s on my lips as I look out at the field, just right there in front of me- I could reach out and just be a part of it. There’s something to home games that just gets your blood pumping in a special way, especially so close to playoffs, so close to glory and a big old fancy ring for our quarterback and team. It’s every team’s goal for the year but every news agency’s eyes are on us, watching us and the players so closely, betting and guessing that we’ll be the one to win everything this year. No pressure, right?
It’s an honor to be traveling with them all, I couldn’t have been paired with a more respectful group of men, even though some of them don’t even know my name or that I exist. They might see my name occasionally at the bottom of an article I’ve written about their triumphs or losses or they know me as the girl that they accidentally mistake for the water girl and who they then apologize profusely to following the mix up.
Sarah the water girl and I look awfully a lot we’ve learned.
There’s not a lot of time left in the game now, less than two minutes in the last quarter and it’s tight, too close for comfort as the men in the front row of the stands scream their asses off, acting like their words will have any weight in the overall game. With how we’re playing right now, the defensive line tuckered out beyond belief, we’re not looking at winning, especially if they hold possession of the ball like they have been. The other team is smart, I’ll give them that, gnawing down at the clock, running down the time so if we did get the ball, we’d barely have the time to do anything remotely impressive. We’re down by 6 and if we’d just get a touchdown we’d be good and we would win, but we just need to get possession of the ball.
I write down the numbers of the players who’ve stuck out to me the most on this team to calm my nerves; number three Cameron offense, number seventeen McHarley defense, number 4 the quarterback- wait.
Why is everyone cheering?
What just happened?
Looking up from my notepad, I watch as our defense runs the ball in the opposite direction that we were going in before, instead towards the opposing team's endzone, indicating that, indeed, there was a turnover of some sort while I wasn’t paying attention. If that’s all it takes, my job just became a whole lot easier.
The play resets, our offensive line and our quarterback stumble onto the field with a bit more pep in their steps compared to their previous run. They’re cheering and high fiving the defense as they pass each other in the middle of the field, bright smiles calming everyone's general anxiety and setting the record straight that we’re still in the game. There’s still a chance.
They set themselves up within seconds and in moments they’re hiking the ball. I watch number three, one of my favorite wide receivers to watch, simply because of his overall spunk and sass for the game, subtly loving when he gets into little fights with people because I can always manage to hear his silly, boyish insults. He tries so hard to act tough, when he's really just the biggest puppy of all time.
I’m so caught up in thinking about him, I completely miss him barreling my way just as the quarterback throws the ball in his direction. Cameron is wide open, no one even close to tackling him and I can hear him whooping as he runs towards the end zone. I grin wildly as he catches the ball, solidifying our win, and before the refs even signal for a TD, the whole crowd erupts in giggles and cheers. I go to clap and cheer for him but before I can, an opposing player is giving him one last shove for good measure and he is tumbling onto the ground, the ref beside me immediately throwing a flag into the air, just as Rafe slides in my direction full force.
Before I can move, he takes me down to the ground. Hard.
I hit the floor with a loud thud, ears ringing as my head slams against the turf and I can hear muffled voices and hands grabbing at me, brain rattling around in my head as I shove my eyes closed as tightly as they can, hands reaching up to cradle my aching skull. I can feel people trying to pry me up onto my feet, to help me up but I’ve barely even processed that I’ve fallen or that my favorite wide receiver is currently laying on both of my legs, trapping me to the ground.
My eyes pop open moments later at the realization and I see cameras around me, mostly pointed at Cameron who’s kneeling in front of me, soft, blue, worried eyes gazing back at me as I struggle to find my voice. He looks at me, waiting for me to speak and, when I don’t, he simply reaches out, placing a firm, protective hand on the side of my head, steading my spinning eyes. I feel my body warming up at his touch, the loud, thrumming music playing in the stadium as an attempt to celebrate is drowned out by his voice filling my ears, his whole body leaning towards me so he can speak directly against the shell of my ear.
“You good?” He yells over the cheering, thumb brushing against my temple, and I realize he’s not even celebrating the fact that he just won the game that’s sending us to playoff games, mapping the road to the Superbowl. I give him a half assed nod and a flushed smile and before I can say anything else, his teammates are pulling him up and into their arms, screaming loudly as boys can, all for the cameras as they pat each other on the helmets, knocking them together every once in a while.
“Yeah, I’m good.” I mutter to myself, pressing my pointer finger and thumb to the bridge of my nose to aid the headaches that’s creeping up the back of my neck, taking deep breaths and praying I don’t have a concussion. From across the field, through the mess of players and confetti, I can see number three looking over at me with kind, worried eyes that seem to want to say more than what he’s already said to me.
His eyes make me nearly forget that it’s my job to interview them.
I guess I’ll ride my headache out and wait till the post game conference.
–
From the time I got knocked down to the time when I stepped foot into the conference room, there were at least twenty-six different people who asked me if I was the one who was ‘tackled’ by Rafe Cameron after he caught the winning touchdown. After the third time, I started to feel a bit sheepish and honestly a bit embarrassed, wondering how long they’re going to string this out and ask me what it was like to be tackled by America’s most loved wide receiver.
It was rough, I hit my head, it hurt- what else do they want from me? Do they want me to say I’m honored that he was so close to me, fangirl over his presence, that he made eye contact with me? Hell, he’s human and so am I. His reaction was purely a moment of humility and humanity shining through.
But I totally did get butterflies.
But, to be honest, he is probably the most wholesome, mama’s boy you’ll ever see.
Dirty blonde, shaggy hair, blue shining eyes, overall toned to a T and he’s all meathead minus all of the misogyny and toxic masculinity. He’s always respectful in interviews, polite to women- it’s obvious he was raised well and anyone with a brain can tell that he’s wildly intelligent from his masters degree in Sports Communication. It’s impressive, his story.
“So, you won the came, Cameron- how does it feel?” An interviewer calls out from the audience beside me, the happy smile on his face only feeding into the fact that he’s definitely a fan, and Rafe smiles handsomely, looking out across the audience with a simple, humble shrug.
“Felt good taking the team to the playoffs. I couldn’t have done it without my quarterback, number 4, Greg Abernathy.” He reaches over to slap Greg on the back and I grin, scribbling down some words on my notepad, a small smile on my face as I listen to the boys commend each other in a bro-mance type love. They’re always very supportive of one another, having a type of relationship where you really don’t see one without hte other. They’re constantly training together, getting dinner together, having literal sleepovers at each other’s apartments (or so I’ve heard). They’re brothers, there’s no better description for the boys. “But I really have to give it up to the nice lady that I tackled, I feel horrible. I’d like to dedicate our win to her today since she obviously was a part of my excitement. You can put that in writing.”
I’m sorry?
Dedicated?
What?
All eyes turn to look at me and I feel my face drain of any color, every hair on my body sticking up as I suddenly feel so small in this room full of my very own coworkers and competitors. I can hear Rafe mutter a quiet ‘shit, she’s here?’ away from the mic and to Greg, who just chuckles and points in my direction, the direction that everyone happens to be looking in. I can see the looks in other journalists' and reporters' eyes, they want to talk to me, they want to shove microphones in my face but based on the ‘deer in headlights’ look I’m giving everyone, I think I’ll be safe from their interrogations. Rafe looks at me and his smile only grows, fingers reaching out to wrap around the mic to pull it closer to his lips as I anticipate what’s to come.
“Hi nice lady that I knocked over, are you okay?” His voice is ten times deeper than it was just moments ago and I can feel my brain melting just at the feeling of him looking back at me, matching my gaze as if he’s just as excited to be speaking to me one on one.
Me.
“I’m okay, just a bit banged up.” I call out, shakily shoving my pen and paper into my bag beside me to give him my undivided attention which, it’s not like he has to fight for it, I’m practically drooling simply because he’s gazing at me, giving me his complete and utter attention as hands raise around the room. The way he’s staring at me, eagerly hanging onto every word I say and I can see it, it’s not like he’s even trying to not seem completely enthralled with my every breath.
“Man, you traumatized the poor girl.” Greg mutters into the mic and the room erupts in laughter and I bite back the laugh that wants to escape me but I don’t dare allow the giggles to leave me when Rafe is just staring me down with a soft look and a gentle smile, something completely opposite of his rowdy behavior and profanities on the field. But after a second, a look of realization passes across his expression and he turns to look at Greg with a worried expression before glancing back at me.
“I did not- you’re not traumatized, right?” He asks me and I laugh, waving him off as I reach up to knock at my own head. What a stupid move, Y/l/n, get it together.
“No, god no. It happens.” I chuckle, brushing off his concerns of injury and he visibly relaxes, head bobbing in a gentle nod as he laughs sheepishly, almost embarrassed that he seemed to care so much in front of a room of random people. “It could’ve been worse. Could’ve been the other team, they wouldn’t have helped me up.”
“So you’re saying his charisma and manners is what saved him from being brutalized all over the internet?” Greg interrupts before Rafe can say anything with a wide eyed, shocked, teasing look.
“For sure.” I grin proudly, already thinking about how excited I’ll be to call my dad after this conference and tell him all about how I got to talk to and compliment one of his favorite players in the NFL. He’s going to shit his pants. He’s been gushing about his stats for the two years that Rafe’s been on the team, every Sunday, blabbering about his stats, his goals, his story- hell I probably know more about him than anyone else in this room right now.
“Well, I appreciate that. My step mom will be happy to hear she did something right.” Rafe blushes warmly, the redness creeping down his neck and under the polo that he wears as another rumble of laughter rolls over the room like a wave and I keep it in the back of my mind to make it known in my article that he’s definitely some sort of mama’s boy through and through. No wonder he’s so respectful.
“Happy to help.” I smile warmly, the room falling awkwardly silent again before the reporters buzz with questions like angry bees, eager to move on from Rafe and I ogling each other oddly from across the room. I can’t fight the butterflies fluttering in my stomach at the conversation we just had; there was no hint of annoyance, only eager questions and concern that I genuinely do appreciate. He didn’t need to follow up with me, he didn’t need to call me out in regards to their win, all that without even knowing I was here.
But he did.
That matters for something, right?
Right?
“Hey, before we move on, I just wanna get your name- what’s your name? Are you one of our journalists?” Rafe asks, quickly grabbing hold of the mic firmly in his fist before Greg can pull it away from him and I nod firmly and proudly.
“My name’s Y/n Y/l/n and, yeah, I’ve worked for you guys for nearly eight months.” I swallow my nerves, now suddenly aware that he knows who I am and can talk to me and look for me in any crowd and just know who I am. Rafe Cameron knows who I am.
It takes a second but I’m slowly realizing that he’s truly just a person and not anything to be afraid of.
Right?
“Oh my god she’s the one who wrote that article about your tweets on twitter like two weeks ago.” Greg gasps and the room turns to me once again, confusion and shock written across all of their faces and, I’ve got to give it to him, I’m shocked that they even read articles about them. I assumed they just filter it out and try not to pay attention to the news headlines with their names in it but, now that I know that they read them, I’ll be more careful when throwing the word ‘handsome’ around in my pieces.
“Guilty as charged.” I breathe a sigh, reaching up to rub at the back of my neck awkwardly and a sort of tension falls over the room as everyone waits for a more in depth answer from me, their eyes (especially Rafe’s) practically begging for why I wrote the article. “I think it’s nice for young viewers, especially young boys, to see someone who’s a better influence than most of the sports players that are in the media.” A nod of agreement falls across the room and Rafe smiles wholesomely, looking at Greg with a happily proud expression written across his face, like he’s made it.
“So I’m a role model, that’s what you are saying?” He asks but there’s no cockiness or arrogance to his voice- no- just pure and utter pride and vulnerability at the thought of doing right by the football world and, in my opinion, he definitely has.
All of the gala’s he’s attended, the hospitals he’s visited to talk to and to comfort young children, the way his smile lights up the locker room- even if they lose- the beaming smile he shows if they do win, and all of the money he’s donated to so many important organizations- my point, and the point of my article was, is that he’s what the NFL should be fronting, not the garbage-like, questionable, geriatric old men who need to retire.
“Exactly what I’m saying.” I smile firmly, not tearing my gaze away from his as he nods, leaning back in his chair and he finally appears content with our conversation because he finally allows Greg to take the mic back, but his eyes do not leave me as the room fills with questions once more.
“Hey, that was sweet and all, but can we talk about football now?”
#rafe#rafe x reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#outerbanks#outerbanks fic#rafe cameron smut#rafe smut#rafe fic#rafe cameron fic#outerbanks series
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hello peoples i’m about to sound real crazy right now but hear me out cus i’ve been thinking this for awhile now while binge watching TBGO and Trollstopia and i need to know your thoughts!! and buckle up folks cus this is gonna be a LONG post
so okay basically, i think that in the shows Guy Diamond has some sort of generational trauma/ daddy issues/ faced parental neglect or however else it can be phrased.
this theory is only show specific and i don’t know if i sound crazy for thinking this AND i know i’ve made a post similarly about this except with Dareth from Ninjago but i actually have some real evidence this time to back up this theory/headcanon
look, this theory started off as kind of a joke at first after watching TBGO episode: “Trolly Tales 3” where Guy is seen telling a bunch of children a story based off of the nursery rhyme about jumping over a candlestick.
the story is seen with Guy as the main character, wanting to pursue a life of entertainment involving jumping over candlesticks. Sky Toronto, whom is Guy’s dad in this story, doesn’t agree with this lifestyle and insists he starts thinking more seriously and be part of the company. Guy rebels and pursues his dream anyway, but in the end it fails after the candlestick drops Guy and becomes a solo act. Guy, now at his lowest, goes back to his dad’s and tells him he’s ready to be serious. Sky responds to the statement that he has seen Guy’s shows and that he doesn’t want Guy calling him dad anymore, but to instead call him his #1 fan. it was a small but sweet twist there at the end where the dad accepts the son in the end.
now i didn’t really give much thought to the story until i saw the way Guy reacted when the kids didn’t like it. now i’ll make it very aware that i very much know Guy is just super dramatic (they even acknowledged that in the scene i’m mentioning rn), BUT as someone who loves to overanalyze cartoon characters and expressions, he kind of looked genuinely hurt. he was also fairly offended when poppy said his story was too dramatic.
mentioning again that i know Guy is just a drama queen but i like to overanalyze stuff like this
now after i noticed these details, i jokingly remarked that it seemed like Guy took the dislike of his story personally, as if that was a semi-true story. like as if something like that did happen to Guy when he was younger and he twisted the story to fit the nursery rhyme. i don’t think that Sky Toronto is his actual dad, there’s too much proof that shows they don’t have any personal connection like that. but i do think that whoever his dad really was did push him the same way Sky did in the story. and that maybe Guy twisted the ending to be happy when in reality it probably didn’t have his dad accepting him and loving him for who he was.
now everything i have been talking about is all just speculation. there’s no real proof that this story isn’t anything more than just a story. BUT!!! by overanalyzing it is what made me realize that Guy being neglected in some way by his dad (or mom if he has one) would make some sense considering his personality.
Guy is very reliant on being the center of attention, he doesn’t like the idea of anyone being better than him and just has some confidence issues in general (at least in TBGO). there are many episodes centering around this. this is even stated in Guy Damond’s wiki.
now, attention seeking is a very common occurrence in people that were neglected as a child. his attention seeking and huge ego are both things that show signs of trauma or neglect as seen below
this is just a slice of what i have in store though because i think that this ties into the way he parents Tiny Diamond in Trollstopia.
Guy and Tiny have a few episodes centered around their relationship, they’re all pretty heartwarming and a little sad (while also being funny because the show’s a comedy). these episodes have a pretty similar moral which is “i’ll love you no matter what” and i feel like there’s a reason they all pretty much have this moral and it’s to show how Guy is growing as a character and parent.
let me just summarize these episodes i am thinking of realll quick for ya
Extra Tootering (s1 ep 12a): Tiny wants to learn how to glitter fart like his dad to impress his friends, Guy tries to teach him how but it doesn’t work. time comes where Tiny is meant to show his friends his trick and ended up faking it so no one could know he couldn’t do it. feeling guilty for his lie, he runs away and Guy finds him and tells him that whether he can glitter or not he and his friends will still love him the way he is.
Dad-urday (s2 ep 1b): Tiny thinks of his dad as his hero and Guy doesn’t wanna do ANYTHING that could ever break that image, so Guy participates in Dad-urday events that he hates just to make Tiny happy, only in the end to find out that Tiny will always view Guy as his hero even if he can’t do all the typical dad things that others can do.
Funder Construction (s7 ep 5a): Guy tells Tiny about how their family has a legacy of building extraordinaryly cool blanket forts and unintentionally pressured Tiny into feeling that he needs to make his own super impressive fort or else he won’t be considered a Diamond, Guy immediately comforted and reassured Tiny that no matter what he accomplishes in life he’ll always be a Diamond because he’s his son and that he’ll love him no matter what.
now let me break down these episodes a bit more to show you how i think it could prove Guy has parental trauma and how it plays into how he parents now.
for Extra Tootering, there’s this specific scene that spoke to me. when Tiny tells his dad that he wants to learn how to glitter like him, Guy tells him that he was also a late tooter and that Tiny should be patient, as it comes with time. but then Tiny starts saying that he’ll just hide his true self away until then. when Guy heard his son say those things, he was tearing up and even freaked out a little literally shouting a dramatic “NOOOOOOOOOOO!” and he immediately decided that he was going to help his son learn to glitter fart despite his earlier statement that Tiny should be patient.
now i know the topic being about farting glitter makes this feel so unserious but that isn’t gonna stop me from overanalyzing it LOL
the main thing i noticed was how upset that Guy was when Tiny started talking about hiding himself from the world. Tiny was wanting to hide himself because he couldn’t glitter like Guy could. Guy didn’t wanna be the cause of his son hiding himself!! any parent would be upset in this situation. but if i consider my past point of that story Guy told back in TBGO, where the dad didn’t want his son to be himself, being a real thing that Guy could’ve gone through, Tiny wanting to hide himself could very much upset Guy!! not just for the basic reasons of wanting your child to be happy but also because he doesn’t want Tiny to go through what he went through.
later on when Guy finally finds his runaway son, this interaction plays out:
(direct quotes from the ep)
Guy: “don’t you see? i love you just the way you are! we all do!”
Tiny: “but you’re my daddy, daddy! you have to say that.”
Guy: “…you’re right, Tiny. i guess because i’m your father, in a way, i do have to say it.”
and the way Guy said that last sentence just felt interesting to me. the pause before he said it, and using the words “i guess” made it feel like he never really got that treatment from his own father ? ofc i could just be grasping at straws there a lil bit but it’s what i’m thinking.
now by the end of the episode Tiny has learned how to glitter and used it to save himself, his dad, and friends from falling to death lol— but what Guy says to Tiny afterwards was very sweet.
(direct quote from ep)
Guy: “TINYYYYY! HAHA! you did it! YOOOOU did it!!! for the record, i’d still love you if you couldn’t, but i’m glad to not be dead.”
i just like how Guy specified that he still would’ve loved Tiny either way. this doesn’t directly lead any points to my theory other than maybe Guy feels the need to make sure Tiny absolutely knows that he’ll love him no matter what. but any parent should feel that way about their child. i just really thought the moment was sweet and worth a mention.
now onto the next episode, Dad-urday, and let me tell you this episode probably spoke to me the MOST when it came to defending my theory.
for the entire episode Guy was stressing over disappointing his son. Tiny thinks of Guy as his hero, and Guy doesn’t want to do anything that could ever shatter that thought and make Tiny think less of him. so he and Tiny participate in a thing called Dad-urday, where all the dads in Trollstopia do a bunch of stereotypical dad things (like grill, play catch, fish, stuff like that). but Guy isn’t good at those things, so he goes to his friends for help and this interaction pursues.
(direct quotes from ep)
Synth: “Tiny’s gonna love dad-urday! he thinks the world of you and what-not!”
Guy: “exactly! Tiny thinks i can do anything! but tomorrow he’ll realize i can’t, and i just don’t want my little boy to lose his hero…”
Guy is seen here putting so much pressure on himself for no reason! he should know that Tiny would love him despite his lack of ‘dad’ skills, but he’s convinced himself that if he isn’t perfect and amazing at everything then his son will think less of him. this is totally rooted in Guy’s confidence issues and probable parental neglect i think.
so Guy forces himself to do typical Dad-urday things (with the help of his friends) to make sure not to disappoint his son. but things go wrong when Guy has to participate in a boating event to which he gets into a dangerous position. at this point Guy’s friends finally told Tiny the truth and Tiny immediately just wants his dad to get out of the danger he’s in leading to this interaction
(direct quotes from the ep)
Tiny: “daddy! your daddy friends already told me everything! you gotta get out of there!”
Guy: “b-but— this isn’t how i wanted this to go, Tiny! you’re my little boy! and i want you to keep on believing i can do anything! so you don’t lose your hero!”
the way that Guy sounded so panicked and upset in this scene really hurt. to me it feels like Guy is desperate to not end up being a bad dad, he wants to be someone his son can look up to and to be the first person he goes to if there’s a problem. i really think this shows that Guy never had a good role model himself, as he doesn’t understand that he doesn’t need to do all the things he’s making himself do in order to achieve this goal.
this mindset even had Guy forget that Tiny already knew he’s not perfect, as Tiny pointed out he already knew he’s not capable of everything and specified about when Guy tried to build his bike and failed, which made Guy finally remember. Tiny then proceeded to list a bunch of other things about his dad that aren’t the most charming, like his bald spot, or his fake calves lmao
anyways the next bit of dialogue here seems pretty meaningful
(direct quotes)
Tiny: “there’s only one reason you’re my hero, daddy…. *BECAUSE* you’re my daddy!”
Guy (tearfully): “…really?”
the fact Guy was crying in this scene just showed how touched he felt that he didn’t actually have to be perfect to be a good dad. and that he already was one. the mere fact that being his dad made Tiny think of him as his hero definitely made him realize he was doing a good job. he needed to hear that after all the pressure he put on himself earlier.
now onto Funder Construction, which is a pretty big one too cus they actually talk about their family in this episode!
this could potentially put a little dent into my theory since Guy is the one who talks about them and he didn’t seem like someone who didn’t like his family. but i might just put it as he didn’t wanna have his child worry about it. i mean Guy is an actor in the show, it wouldn’t be too crazy for him to ignore his feelings for a minute and talk a little kindly about their family’s legacy to inspire Tiny, because Guy did play a fair part in it after all.
now to put it simply this episode hurt my heart so bad 😭 Guy’s parenting in this episode is so good it hurt. Tiny found an interest in making blanket forts, so Guy tells Tiny about how making blanket forts runs in the family and that they’ve all made huge creations out of them. and now Tiny wants to do the same.
Guy supports Tiny throughout the entire thing until Tiny starts rushing it and the fort becomes unstable. by then Guy is begging Tiny to stop but Tiny is consistent on getting it done. then the tower starts wobbling over with them on it and they fall off the side! luckily they were able to hold onto some loose blankets but they still were in a very unsafe position. and even then, still Tiny is consistent about finishing this fort and thus, this interaction pursues:
(direct quotes)
Tiny: “i have to build something the world has never seen before!”
Guy: “BUT WHY?!”
Tiny: “because if i don’t…i’m not a Diamond.”
Guy: “…not a Diamond..?”
and dude. Guy’s face after Tiny said that. that brief moment of just an emotion change felt like Guy was realizing that he unintentionally pressured Tiny into thinking that if he didn’t build this fort he wouldn’t be considered part of the family. this is the exact thing Guy wanted to prevent Tiny from feeling.
so now continuing the scene, tiny is crying at this point:
(direct quotes)
Tiny: “it’s like you said, ‘every Diamond built structures that would stand until the end of time.’ so, if i don’t do that… how can i be one of them?”
Guy: “…Tiny Diamond. young man, you listen to me, and you listen good, because i have something that you need to hear. first of all, the things the Diamonds of the past did took them their entire lifetimes. if they caught one glimpse of what you’ve accomplished as a child..? it would blow the hair right off their heads!”
Tiny: [smiles and sniffs]
Guy: “and second of all, and way way more importantly, none of that matters! i don’t care if you build a thousand skyscrapers, or if you never touch another blanket again, you are always a Diamond. because you.. are my son.”
this scene is so important not just for Tiny but for Guy too. Tiny is learning once again that his dad will truly love him no matter what. and unlike last time with the glitter fart, (which Tiny was able to achieve in the end), in this episode, Tiny’s plan doesn’t work, but now he’s okay with it. because his dad made him feel less pressured and more loved. Guy Diamond truly said some powerful things to his son. this will most likely be a memory that Tiny will remember forever and that’s such a good thing.
coming back to the theory though, Guy had accidentally made his son feel how his family probably made him feel in the past. maybe not about specifically the blanket tower stuff but possibly something similar or just anything in general. pressure to live up to family values can be traumatic if your family makes you feel outcasted for not living up to it the way they want. and considering i think Guy either got disowned or ran away himself, (solely based on the story he told those children in TBGO), it obviously didn’t end very well.
the fact he made Tiny feel that pressure was probably heart breaking to Guy. and he made sure to immediately make sure Tiny knew he had no reason to feel like that. he became so serious so fast to make SURE tiny didn’t feel out of place in their family.
and that just shows Guy’s development not just from the trauma im theorizing but just in general in the show. Guy was never really the most serious character in this show. i mean, he’s a naked sparkly troll who’s main character trait half the time is farting glitter or being super dramatic in comedic ways. but seeing how serious Guy gets when it’s about his son just goes to show how seriously he cares about him. and that’s how you break generational trauma yall, Guy Diamond mastered it.
so um yeah this is pretty much all i have to say about this theory. i just wanted to show how i thought that Guy didn’t have a good childhood but made sure his son had a great one. really sweet stuff for this mostly unserious show. i know this is probably super dumb but i don’t care i just love dumb things. and if you actually read all of this thanks and here’s a cookie 🍪
#guy diamond#tiny diamond#trolls fandom#trolls world tour#trolls band together#trollstopia#trolls the beat goes on#trolls theory#trolls poppy#queen poppy#trolls synth#i am so serious#make fun of me if you have to#i love guy diamond#he’s the best dad#peppy needs to take notes
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rich girl — l.mh
word count | 3.2k
pairing | lee minho (skz) x female reader
warning(s) / includes | food mentions, a lil swearing, reader has icky friends
genre | fluff, angst if you squint, high school au, ???-to-friends/implied lovers au, lino’s a bit of a tsundere
note | i imagined this whole thing as a kdrama scene while writing which is why it’s kinda cliche and dramatic at parts 😭 not proofread but i will when i wake up
summary | of all the places to run into you, lee minho never expected it to be at a convenience store.
a/n | happy new year everyone 💖 i’m so sorry i haven’t posted anything in a bit, had a bit of writer’s block which is why this took months to finish but i’m slowly getting back into the groove!! to everyone who requested in my 1k event, i promise i’ll get to every single one of them so dw!! i hope you enjoy!!
“Thanks for today,” Yang Jeongin murmurs shyly, bowing his head as Minho pockets the money. “I hope I didn’t take up too much of your time.”
Even now, Minho still remembers the look on his friends’ faces when he told them he wanted to try tutoring the younger kids at school. He doesn’t particularly enjoy it, but it’s not the worst way to earn some extra money.
“It’s fine,” he says with a casual shrug. “Lemme know how the test goes and text me anytime if you have more questions.” He doesn’t really mean the latter part—responding to texts outside his self-scheduled working hours is hardly appealing—but it feels customary to say.
Jeongin nods, his arms hanging at his sides as he walks Minho to the front door. “Okay, thanks again. Have a good rest of your night.”
If the older boy had noticed how tense he is, he doesn’t point it out. It’s no secret that Lee Minho has a reputation at school for being intimidating, and while he was surprisingly patient for the entirety of those two hours, Jeongin still finds it hard to shake off that feeling of being scrutinised when his sharp, cat-like eyes constantly feel like they’re probing right into his soul.
“You too. I’ll see you around,” Minho says, hardly bothered by the awkward energy of the empty apartment as he slips on his shoes. He wonders for a brief moment where Jeongin’s parents are, but doesn’t entertain the thought for long because he cares more about going home to his cats. Going to a private school comes with a hefty price tag, so he wouldn’t be surprised if Jeongin’s parents are still at work much like his own. 
The sun has long set by now, draping a blanket of dark indigo over the bustling streets as people rush to get home. Up ahead, Minho sees the glowing sign of a convenience store, and as though being reminded his stomach rumbles, a reminder that he hasn’t eaten since lunch.
He could go for some ramen, and this way he wouldn’t have to cook and do the dishes.
From the stocked shelves, he picks out his dinner—a bowl of Shin Ramyun, a tuna triangle kimbap and a bottle of green tea. Simple, yet so satisfying; his go-to no matter how many times Hyunjin teases him for getting the same thing time and time again.
Hyunjin makes fun of him, he lovingly threatens to shove tissue down his throat. Minho wouldn’t have it any other way.
A fond scoff falls from his lips as he waits for his ramen to cook. His eyes scan the store, flitting from the bored cashier picking at his nails to the girl sitting at the table just several feet away from him. It takes a few seconds for him to realise she’s wearing his school’s uniform, and another few to notice the polished shoes with the dainty gold buckles that look all too familiar.
It’s not just anyone from school—it’s you.
The realisation has him turning on his heel immediately. Surely, his back profile isn’t too recognisable? His heart skips a beat in his chest and only one thought consumes his mind as he hastily straightens his tie and redoes the first button on his shirt—what the hell are you of all people doing in a convenience store?
“You know, most people eat their noodles before they get soggy.”
Minho resists the urge to let a few colourful words slip. He doesn’t think your parents would appreciate learning that the student-guide assigned to their precious daughter was the one who taught her her first swear word.
Huh, that was a little mean. Distantly, Chan’s disapproving voice rings out from the back of his mind.
“Give her a chance, Minho. Just because she’s from a rich family doesn’t mean she’s a spoiled brat. I’ve talked to her a few times, she’s really nice.”
His feet move slowly as he turns to face you, finding your eyes still trained on him as you await his reaction, glossy lips curled up amusedly. He wants to flee, wants to curse the gods for making him run into you at such a time and place. But he’s already made the ramen, it’s too late to leave.
Reluctantly, he grabs his dinner and makes his way over to the table, making sure you’re separated by a seat as he plops himself down on the squeaky bar stool. You don’t seem bothered, the little grin still ever-present on your face before you turn back to your dinner.
Minho watches from the corner of his eyes as you pick up your half-eaten kimbap, dunking the corner into the spicy broth before taking a bite. Maybe he’s a little impressed, he didn’t expect you to know the only correct way to eat kimbap and ramen—at least, the only correct way in his eyes.
“Don’t seem so surprised,” you quip lightly without looking up, “rich people eat ramen too.”
His cheeks grow warm from being caught staring. “Just didn’t expect you to hang around somewhere like this.”
“Are you kidding? I love convenience store food. They didn’t have the stuff here when I was at boarding school, I had to order everything I wanted online.”
“Must’ve taken a long time to get them shipped to you,” he muses. It’s strange, he thought he couldn’t care less about what went on in the fancy boarding school you attended before transferring here, but it’s refreshing hearing you talk about mundane things like bulk-buying instant ramen as though a squirrel stashing food away for the winter.
“Oh, it felt like forever each time! I felt like I was going to die craving all the snacks I couldn’t get there.” For a second there you sounded just like Hyunjin during his dramatic moments, like that time when Minho refused to pay for his ice cream and he acted like he was left to fend for himself in the wilderness.
He finds it oddly endearing.
“That’s not the worst part,” you continue, “the worst part was dealing with thieves in the dorms. I can’t count how many packs of ramen I had stolen from me.”
“Oh, the tragedy!”
You roll your eyes at the exaggerated gasp he lets out, though the action hardly holds any genuine annoyance. “I can’t tell if you’re still being serious.”
A small grunt leaves Minho as he twists open the bottle cap of his bottled tea. “I mean, I’d be pretty pissed if people stole food from me.” The worst Jisung’s done to him is snagging a few gummy bears, and that already feels like a criminal offence in his book.
“I guess that’s the second thing we have in common.”
“What’s the first? Having good taste in convenience store dinner?”
“I knew you were smart, Lee.”
“Oh, fuck off,” he scoffs, yet his the corners of his lips can’t help but quirk up at the devious, teasing grin you flash him.
He’d rather do Hyunjin’s PE laundry for a month than admit it, but you’re kind of cute.
“What’re you doing in this area so late, anyways?”
You offer a smile in thanks as Minho holds the door open and gestures for you to go first. The two of you step out of the store, the frostiness of the winter night penetrating through the layers you’re wearing and settling deep into your bones.
“I was with Hyebin and the others.” He doesn’t miss the way your smile falters, the twinkle in your eyes dimming like a fallen star. He’s never liked the friend group you’ve found yourself in ever since you transferred over to the school. They’ve always given him the impression that they were more interested in your money and brains than anything. “They needed help with their homework.”
“Of course they did,” Minho scoffs.
“It’s fine, I don’t mind.”
“You need to be more careful with this stuff. The teachers aren’t as stupid as you think, just because you’re not the one doing the copying doesn’t mean you won’t get into trouble.”
“Gosh, what’s with the lecture? Why do you care who I hang out with?”
He freezes, pursing his lips together as he thinks of a counter. You’re right, why does he care? Perhaps your earlier conversation in the store changed his admittedly biased perception of you. Or perhaps despite everything he's ever thought about you, he thinks you still deserve better than Hyebin and her goons.
“W-Well, I was assigned to be your guide to the school,” Minho splutters, “sorry for taking my job seriously!” It’s a horrible excuse, so he’s not the slightest bit surprised when you don’t buy it at all.
“That’s funny, because you’ve made it pretty clear from the day we met that you couldn’t care less about a spoiled brat like me!” He hates that he still finds you cute even as you’re fuming and ranting at him. “Everyone at school is exactly like you, always making your own assumptions without even bothering to get to know me! Well, I’m telling you right now that I don’t need you to—”
“Watch out!”
Your foot gets caught on a raised ledge that you hadn’t noticed in your moment of frustration. You trip with a loud shriek, knees scraping painfully against the pavement as you break your fall with your hands. A burning sensation spreads across your face, and you’re utterly mortified that you just embarrassed yourself in front of someone the likes of Lee Minho while you were giving him a piece of your mind.
“Are you okay?” You feel his hand wrap around your arm as he helps you up, refusing to meet his eyes out of sheer embarrassment. “You need to watch where you’re going.”
You tug your arm out of Minho’s grasp with an aggravated huff. “I’m fine!” you snap, but the pained hiss that whistles through your clenched teeth says otherwise as you attempt to stand without his support. Your left ankle throbs with a sharp pain, causing you to lose balance and stumble.
“Seems like you’re not,” he observes without his usual snark as he reaches out to hold you steady again. This time, you don’t shake him off. “You should get that checked out soon, it’s probably a sprained ankle.”
“Great,” you mutter under your breath. Scraped knees and a sprained ankle? You dread the earful you know you’ll be getting from your overprotective parents. Thankfully, your family’s driver is only parked a few blocks away from where you are, so you shouldn’t have to hobble too far—
“—get on.”
“H-Huh?”
Minho rolls his eyes at your dumbfounded expression, his knees bent as he gestures to his back with a tilt of his head, signalling you to climb on. “You said your driver is waiting for you nearby, right?” You nod. “I’ll carry you there.”
“You better not tell your friends that I forced you to do this,” you mutter sulkily.
“Jesus, Y/N. I don’t stoop that low. I’m the one who offered, okay?” At your hesitation, the sharp angles of his face soften ever so slightly. “I swear. I’m not gonna stand here and watch you walk three blocks on a twisted ankle.”
The sincerity in his eyes has knots forming in your stomach out of guilt, embarrassed that you’ve been so harsh on him for his intentions when all he’s done was offer help. Murmuring a thank you, you gingerly wrap your arms around his neck as his arms hook around your thighs. With a soft grunt, he draws to his full height and begins heading down the street.
The proximity between the two of you floods your cheeks with warmth. You’re certain you harbour absolutely zero romantic feelings for Lee Minho, your less-than-enthusiastic guide to the school who cares more about the stray cats lingering outside the gates than ninety percent of the student population—at least, that’s what you tell yourself. You suppose he can be charming, especially when he smiles; it’s a sight you’re hardly privy to seeing, but sometimes you catch a glimpse of his toothy grin when he’s talking to Chan or play-wrestling with the tall kid who’s on the soccer team.
And you suppose he’s pretty charming now too, not an indication of annoyance towards your current predicament as he piggybacks you the rest of the way to your car. A faint jasmine scent greets your senses, and it takes all your willpower to resist leaning in closer. Ugh, of course his shampoo just so happens to be your favourite scent too.
“I’m sorry for snapping at you back there,” you say quietly after a while. “I was frustrated with people at school but took it out on you, which was really unfair of me.”
For a brief moment, Minho doesn’t respond, leading you to believe he’s still upset. It’s understandable, but it leaves you with a sinking pit in your stomach and you’ve never wanted the earth to swallow you whole so badly until now.
“It’s okay.” You perk up a little at his unexpected response. “I get it, really. I’m sorry too, for letting all those stereotypes and assumptions get the best of my judgement. I was a pretty shitty guide, huh?” he jokes with a soft chuckle.
A smile slowly appears on your face at his attempt at lightening the mood. “I’ve seen worse, and in a way you did kinda help me learn my way around campus.”
“By avoiding you like my life depended on it while you searched high and low for me?”
“Questionable execution, successful outcome.”
His head tilts back as he lets out a genuine laugh, the bright sound only increasing the palpitations of your heart. “That’s how I roll. Leaves an impression.”
He certainly has. Never would you have guessed that you’d be seeing this side of Lee Minho tonight, or ever, and you don’t doubt that you’ll be thinking about this moment for the next week even if he goes back to being all ‘bad-boy’ with you tomorrow. It feels like you’re witnessing something you’re not supposed to, and it’s exhilarating.
His gentle voice brings you out of your thoughts. “I was serious about Hyebin. They’re using you, both her and her friends,” he says, spitting the last word out like it’s venomous.
“I know.”
“You know?”
You hum sadly. “My family runs a conglomerate and I’ve attended more of their functions than I can count. I learnt very early on what it looks like when someone’s only being nice to you because they want something.”
Minho nods in understanding, yet your response only begs the next question. “Then why do you still hang out with them? What do they have that you don’t?”
“Nothing, but… who else do I have at school? Almost everyone else is either no different from them, or are too intimidated to approach me even when I’ve done everything I can to prove I’m anything but.”
Something about how you don’t bother hiding the defeat in your voice makes his heart twinge with sympathy. He knows you’re right—hell, he considers himself unbelievably lucky that he managed to find people he genuinely sees as his close friends in a sea of snobbish, self-centred students.
“Hang out with us. Really,” he adds when you fall eerily silent. “I know we’re probably the furthest thing away from the people you’re used to associating yourself with, and I guess we can be a little weird sometimes—” admittedly, maybe a lot weird—“but we’re good people, especially my friends.”
Minho stops himself upon realising he’s already begun rambling, but the quiet giggle that reaches his ears relaxes him a little.
“I like weird.” Despite currently looking ahead, he can still hear the smile in your voice. “Wouldn’t I make things awkward, though? I don’t wanna intrude on anything.”
“Are you kidding? Once you're friends with Chan, he’ll find a way to make you feel comfortable no matter what. Do you like anime, by any chance?”
“Actually, yeah. I do.”
He chuckles, “Then you’ll have no problem getting along with my other friends too.”
“And what about you?” you ask softly. “Are you okay with it?”
“I’m the one who offered, of course I am.”
You’re unsure if you can consider Lee Minho your friend yet—or rather, if he’d want that or not—but one thing’s for certain: his authenticity is both admirable and appreciated. You don’t question his kindness now because he wasn’t afraid to show his genuine indifference in your encounters prior to today.
“Thank you, Minho. I don’t know what else to say other than… thanks, really.”
Spying your family’s car just down the street, he turns to grin at you, eyes curved and smile reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat. “Feel free to also comment on how unfairly handsome and strong I am.”
You respond with a fond roll of your eyes. He’s not wrong, but you don’t need to tell him that either. “Very funny, but yes, thank you for this too. I’m sorry you had to carry me all the way here.”
Now it’s Minho’s turn to roll his eyes. “Stop apologising, Y/N, I wanted to. Hopefully your ankle isn’t too seriously sprained.”
“My parents are going to make such a big fuss if I need a cast.”
He snickers. “Don’t worry, I’ll be the first one to sign it.”
“Oh, fuck off,” you mumble sulkily, though it only makes him laugh harder. It’s beyond him how it’s possible for someone to sound this adorable even while swearing.
Carefully, he lets you down upon reaching the car, still holding you steady by your arms as the door slides open to reveal luxurious leather seats. He helps you into the backseat, offering a shy nod in greeting when your driver looks back to give you a questioning look.
“I’ll explain later,” you tell him before turning back to Minho, “let us give you a ride home.”
“Nah, it’s fine,” he reassures, tucking his hands into his pockets, “I live really close by.”
You narrow your eyes suspiciously. “You better not be lying to me.”
Dramatically, he places a hand over his heart. “I swear.”
“I’m gonna ask Chan first thing when I see him.”
“You do that,” he replies smoothly, “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
Relenting, you nod and return the smile he gives you. “Okay, get home safe. Good night, Minho.”
“Good night.”
Your eyes never leave his as the door shuts between you two. You look back at Minho through the tinted windows, finding him still standing at the same spot as he watches your car take off down the road. Even as you make a left turn, causing him to disappear from your line of sight, you don’t turn back until your driver feigns a cough, a knowing twinkle in his eyes.
“That boy,” he begins, eyes briefly flickering to meet yours in the rear-view mirror, “is he your classmate, Miss L/N?”
You nod.
“You two looked close.” He must’ve seen the look on your face because he lets out a hearty laugh, one you’ve grown accustomed to over all his years of service to your family. “Don’t worry, miss. I won’t tell your parents,” he reassures, “I just wanted to say that he seems to like you a lot.”
“Huh, is that so?” is all you say, yet you can’t fight the smile that appears on your face the second no one’s looking.
༉‧₊˚✧ thank you so much for reading <3 please reblog if you enjoyed my writing, and any form of feedback is greatly appreciated ! support the creators and content you wish to continue seeing <3
#kdiarynet#sol.writings#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#lee minho x reader#lee know x reader#minho x reader#stray kids fluff#skz fluff#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#stray kids scenarios#skz scenarios#lee minho fluff#lee know fluff#lee minho imagines#lee know imagines#minho fluff#minho imagines
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no matter what i do ↠ txt
now playing: 0X1=LOVESONG (I Know I Love You) • TXT
Two years after an end-all argument with Taehyun, you’re forced to spend Christmas weekend together at your mother’s, and his father’s. Once upon a time he meant the world to you. Now that you’re both married with kids, things are getting messy, and a little blurry. The longer you stick around in the home you both grew up in, the more secrets come out… It’s always been messy, it was always blurry. All you want, all you truly yearn for, is to get back on good terms with Taehyun.
word count↠ 33,944
warnings↠ MDNI. 18+. no graphic depictions of sex but it is heavily implied, drug use, teenage drug use, alcohol abuse, angst amongst taehyun and reader, insinuation that someone will s/a reader (briefly, not described), teenage pregnancy (age nineteen), step-cest before they are officially step siblings (growing up together in same house, not step-sibs until they are full adults), infidelity, not so fabulous parents, neglectful mother, biting at some point if you squint, crying, lots of crying, many many sex insinuations (not graphic)… if i missed anything PLEASE tell me.
a/n↠ i put my BACK into this one, i feel pretty proud of this. this may be extremely taboo to some people. this topic is frowned upon by most. if you don’t like it, simply scroll by, thank you. the idea sparked in my head, and i couldn’t let it go. to those of you intrigued, to those of you who end up reading- thank you. 🫶
posted↠ 12/20/23 ~ 12 a.m. est
White crystal snowflakes whirled through the brisk air, the wind nipping at your cheeks as you struggled with the car seat buckle for the third time this week. The toddler you were strapping in had her hand stretched out of the van door, trying to catch a snowflake filled with wonder as to why she couldn’t hold one in her warm mittens.
“No-flake, Mama,” she mumbled to you. “No-flake!”
“The snowflakes are so pretty, just like you, Mina,” you smiled at her, adjusting the straps over her shoulders, hoping to ease your struggle.
Behind you, the front door to your two story home flung open and slammed shut, the scuffle of snow boots plowing down the porch stairs followed. Equally shrill, loud mouthed shouts filled the quiet winter air.
“Boys, don’t jump in the-“
Glancing over your shoulder, it was too late. Your twin boys, Chan and Sunoo, were knee deep in the snowdrifts on top of the gardens that lined along the porch. Dark hair and matching brown eyes grinned maniacally at you.
“You both need to get in the car, we’re gonna be late!”
Mina shoved a mitten in her mouth, biting down on the fabric with her tiny teeth ripping it off of her hand. While you watched Sunoo and Chan trudge through the snow, each one trying to shove the other to the ground as they raced to the van, your two year old threw her mitten to the ground. And then the other one, with a shriek.
“I’m right here,” you soothed, turning back to your daughter with a sigh. “Meens, it’s cold baby,” you crouched to pick the little pink mittens up off the ground, “you have to wear these.”
“No wear,” she frowned, her eyebrows sinking over the eyes she shared with her father. She puffed out her pouty cheeks, becoming the carbon copy of him. Out of all of your kids, Mina looked the most like him.
“Yes, wear,” you said, reaching for one of her hands that both shot up into the air in an instant. Her bottom lip crinkled, and you withheld the groan you ever so wished to release from the depths of your being.
Christmas was supposed to get easier as the kids got older, not harder. All morning you had been arguing over clothes and trying to contain your chaotic twin five year olds to their bedroom just so you could brush their hair. Mina kicked you in the chin on accident while you were putting on her boots amidst an hour-long meltdown because she had barely slept the night before, which usually meant she was getting sick- another glorious thing to deal with while you traveled for the weekend.
Sunoo wanted to put on his pants himself, getting the fabric stuck in the zipper, and Chan insisted on helping him fix it. By the time you were back in their bedroom after Mina nearly knocked you out, the pants were ripped and Sunoo had to change his entire outfit, which meant the boys weren’t matching anymore. Meltdown number two. From the brother of a boy with ripped pants who’s favorite thing was getting to match with his twin.
Mina was set free to roam around the house, clunking around in her boots looking for her father, and you squeezed Sunoo into his outfit from last Christmas Eve, mentally preparing yourself to hear sly comments from your mother all weekend wondering why he wasn’t in the new clothes she bought him, and ‘those pants are way too short, dear, do you need me to go shopping with you?’.
The one thing, the one amazing, thoughtful thing that took some of the weight off of your shoulders was your husband taking care of the youngest of your crew, Wonwoo. A tiny, calm, beautiful six month old surprise you all only found out about ten months ago.
Mina had just turned two, the boys were about to graduate Pre-K, and you had run out of bedrooms. With four months to prepare for a new baby, your husband stepped up, with the help of his friend Kai, and converted half of the basement playroom into a bedroom for the twins, one they could grow into throughout the years. Mina moved into the boy's old room, painted purple by her father, and Wonwoo got his own room right next door to his sister.
You would put up with the boys, “Just because we’re twins means we don’t get our own rooms?!”, argument later. That was a problem for future you. Not the current you fighting with your two year old over mittens, dodging snowballs your five year olds were throwing at one another.
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my fucking god,” you muttered under your breath, knowing your curses couldn’t be heard over the boys shouts or Mina’s wailing. “Boys, in the car now!” One mitten wrestled onto Mina’s right hand. The twins didn’t hear you, or they ignored you. “Boys!” A snowball hit the ground by your feet. Two mittens on, and one seatbelt successfully buckled.
Ready to hoof it through the snow to put a twin on each hip, they were still small enough to do so, the front door shut followed by the jingling of keys as it was locked making both boys freeze in their boots.
Shooting you a look of reassurance before eyeing the boys, your husband, with a baby carrier in one hand and keys in the other, carefully started down the stairs. His smooth black hair that usually hung over his eyes was parted to the side, resting on top of his thin rimmed glasses that he pushed up his nose with his knuckle. A jean jacket not nearly warm enough for this weather hugged his stretch of a frame, hiding a white button up beneath it, the top two buttons undone with nothing under it.
It was a wonder why Wonwoo was such a surprise, your husband’s been a babe since the day you met. Fatherhood didn’t change him the slightest, if anything it made you want him more.
“Soobin,” you said through your teeth, placing your hands on top of your head. “I’m gonna lose my mind.”
Speaking quietly as he came closer, you didn’t need your children hearing your moment of despair. They were all being a nuisance, but it was reasonable. The twins were excited, it was Christmas and they were about to spend the weekend with their family they rarely got to see, and Mina was getting sick. Not only that, Mina was two years old and still learning how to properly express the way she was feeling, still learning what emotions even were. Those words were bound to come out of Soobin at some point.
“You’re doing great,” Soobin said, handing you the carrier with your youngest snoozing away inside, bundled up in a bear onesie with ears on the hood, covered up with a fuzzy blanket to keep him warm and to make sure the seat buckles were on him securely. “Put him in his seat, I got tweedledee and tweedledum.” He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek as you giggled.
Since their father had stepped out of the house both Chan and Sunoo were attentive, one eye on Soobin and one eye on each other. They still made snowballs, but were hesitant to throw them.
Circling around the trunk of the van, taking a peek inside to make sure everyone's bags were there, you watched as Soobin put his hands on his hips, and asked the boys nicely why they weren’t listening to you. The snowballs fell from their gloved fingers and they both shrugged.
“Your mother has been taking care of your sister all morning,” he began, the boys looking up to him with wide eyes. “You know Mina can’t do the things that you can do yet, she still needs a lot of help. I’m so proud of you both for getting dressed on your own and helping each other, but now it’s time to help Mom, okay?”
Setting Wonwoo in his place, making sure everything was properly locked, twice, you tried to not let the twins' attentiveness to their father get you down. It seemed no matter what you did, no matter how you spoke to them, they chose to always, always, listen to Soobin.
Two tiny heads nodded, and two tiny voices spoke at once. “Okay, dad.”
“You’re excited it’s Christmas?” Soobin asked the boys, and they nodded again, faster this time. “Me too! You’re excited to see your cousins?” The boys smiled and nodded, starting to walk toward the car. “Me too, you know we haven’t seen your Uncle Taehyun in forever.”
Your step brother's name made you fumble, bumping the handle of Wonwoo’s carrier, making him stir. “No, no, no.” You whispered, freezing, saying a silent prayer that he wouldn’t wake.
Chan and Sunoo reached Soobin, both boys reaching up for him, tugging on his clothes in some way. “I can't pick you up right now, you decided to play in the snow and now you’re all wet.” Two pouty five year olds gazed up at him, big, round, sappy eyes. Mina may be his twin, but they all shared the same pouty face. You weren’t sure when the twins mastered it. “You made your decision. Now you have to climb over Mina to get in your seats because your brother is asleep.”
“She will kick us!” Chan nearly shouted, looking up to his father in shock. Sunoo’s glance exchanged between Soobin and his brother, anxious to see what he would say, because you all knew for a fact, that Mina wouldn’t hesitate to kick them.
The toddler had calmed her crying to watch her brothers, gnawing on one of the mittens you stuck back on her hands. Her tear stained cheeks perked up when she heard Soobin say her name. Either that, or she was proud that she already had a reputation at the ripe age of two.
“Mina won’t kick you,” you said, sliding the van door shut on Wonwoo’s side, walking around it to stand beside your husband. Gripping the handle of the passenger door, you raise a brow to Soobin and smirk. “We’re gonna be late, Soob. I’m already dreading seeing my family, I’d like to not pile on to the shit my mother has to say about me.”
“You said a bad word!” Sunoo gasped, pointing at you. Chan started to laugh. Soobin sighed.
“You said a bad word,” he said, completely serious.
Your husband was a lot of things. For starters he was stunning, he knew how to dress, he was an incredible caring man, an amazing father, and a beast in the sheets. Underneath all the dreamy qualities you were still in shock you secured nine years ago, he was an insufferably proper prude. Not that you’d ever tell him that to his face, though you’ve hinted at it just to tease him. He was a gentleman, and he was raising the boys to be the same. He’d be damned if his boys ended up like half of the jerks he grew up with or encountered in his lifetime. Your husband didn’t curse, he spoke with intention, and always thought through everything carefully, sometimes too much.
Nine years together, five and a half years married, he hasn’t seemed to completely rub off on you yet. The two of you were utter opposites, anyone with eyes could see that. Anyone who knew you nine years ago could tell you that.
You and Soobin? You… With Soobin.
You, the loud mouthed, hot headed, class skipper who had detention every other week, with straight edged, outstanding GPA, respectable Soobin. Opposites attract, you assumed. Though you’d be lying if you said the beginning of your relationship wasn’t an excuse to escape the life you used to live. You were in love, you created a beautiful family, and you lived a happy life… An hour and a half away from the family you used to know.
Turning your attention down to the twins, you smiled. “I’m sorry I said a bad word. I’m a little frustrated.”
“But, that’s not an excuse,” Soobin raised his brows, looking from you to the boys. Taking a deep breath, choking back a sigh, you nodded.
“No. It’s not,” you grit your teeth. “I shouldn’t have said that word. I’m sorry.”
Soobin smiled at you. “Into the car boys, if Mina kicks you I don’t think I blame her.” He flashed you a wink as you got into your seat. Now that was more your parenting style, though you understood and appreciated Soobins. You were raised differently, you were still unlearning a lot of things, and it got a little easier with each child that came out of you.
Once the boys were in their seats and buckled after Mina did try to kick them as they climbed over her, your family was on the road, forty five minutes later than you originally planned. Between Sunoo’s outfit mishap, and now being late, you mentally prepared yourself to be berated by your mother. With Soobin by your side it’d be a little bit easier to take. Your stepfather always had your back too, telling your mother to back off if she ever started to lay it on too thick. The one who always took the brunt of it though, the one who seemed to make it disappear, was Taehyun.
Since the start, since your two families blended together, he’d stick up for you no matter the consequence. When it came to school, the two of you in the same grade, inseparable since middle school, if the two of you were caught in trouble he’d take full blame. Of course that only worked until high school when you started to get into trouble on your own, but even then Taehyun would step in front of you at home, getting the worst of the punishment.
It’d been two years since you’d last seen Taehyun. Two summers ago at his eldest daughter's tenth birthday party in his backyard, an hour and a half away in the opposite direction of you. You were the halfway point between him and your parents.
You were both thirty, you were both married, you had three year old twins and a newborn Mina, and he had his freshly ten year old daughter and seven year old son.
His wife, Sana, waltzed around the backyard dressed to the nines with a glass of wine in one hand and her cell phone in the other, showing off her assets to anyone who cared to listen. The woman was a year younger than you both. Her hair, black as night, was pin straight down her slender back exposed by the deep purple low cut dress she had chosen to wear. Around her neck was a diamond necklace she would brag about, how grateful she was that her husband worked so hard to buy it for her, along with the gaudy wedding ring sitting on her left finger.
Their daughter, Rosie, a mini Sana, had clearly been dressed by her mother that morning. You can remember how many times Soobin mumbled, “If Mina ever…” angrily to you, offended that his sister-in-law would allow her daughter to dress that way at ten years of age. The second he brought your step brother into the mix, you shut your husband right down.
Taehyun wasn’t seen with Sana the entire party. He was with his boy, Minho, enjoying what seemed like a very expensive day you were certain he dropped every penny for.
Taking care of Mina while Soobin watched over the twins running around the colorful water sprinklers, you were able to catch Taehyun’s ear only momentarily. A conversation that shoved a knife through your heart, even now if you thought about it for too long.
He was tired, Taehyun. Even though you were the one with a sleeping newborn slung over your shoulder in a dark, quiet hallway of his home. You could see it in his eyes that were once full of life beneath his messy dark hair. He wasn’t the man you knew anymore, and the weighted words you threw at each other when you were twenty came back to haunt you. Both of you.
Twenty was when everything changed. Taehyun got Sana pregnant. To which you begged him to not go through with, knowing what type of girl Sana was, even at nineteen years old. It was an accident, he once called it. Until the accident’s tenth birthday, where he nearly spat at your feet and admitted he did it on purpose.
He knocked Sana up on purpose to get away from you, to erase the past you shared, to which you sneered that that’s the very reason you wound up with Soobin. To get away from him, to erase the past you shared. The hurt that drowned his tired eyes was something you’d never be able to unsee.
Your sharp, hushed, venom laced voices were cut off by your husbands calling up to you from the bottom of Taehyun's carpeted stairs. With two hands on the banisters, Soobin had daggers for eyes, directing them only at Taehyun who you didn’t realize almost had you caged to the wall, the two of you entirely too close considering you had a baby across your chest. Soobin’s baby.
The end played out in your mind, regretting everything that had happened the moment you had collected your boys and gotten into the car. After Taehyun handed over two letters addressed to your twins, you hadn’t spoken since that moment.
Soobin’s hand slid over the soft, flowing fabric of your pants, bringing you back to present time. The twins were babbling away to one another in the third row, Mina was humming to herself, and Wonwoo was still sound asleep. Looking over at your husband, you find him glancing at you ever so often with a soft smile on his lips.
“You alright?” he asked. Grabbing his hand, you laced your fingers together and took a breath.
“Yeah,” you said, half convincing. “Just… tired. Between nursing Wonwoo and Mina fighting sleep last night, I just…”
“Right,” Soobin said, focused on the snowy road ahead. You’ve been on the road for about twenty minutes already. “Why don’t you rest until we get there?” Dragging a thumb over the back of his hand, you shrugged. Much like the needs of your children last night, your racing thoughts and pounding heart weren’t exactly going to soothe you to sleep.
Soobin lowered his brows, along with his voice. “What else is bothering you?” Though he could probably take a wild guess. Hesitating, you made your husband chuckle. “It’s going to be fine. When I talked to your mom she said he was excited to see everyone.”
“He was lying,” you whispered.
“You don’t know that,” Soobin said.
“Yes, I do.”
Pulling up to a red light, Soobin let go of your hand and touched the bottom of your chin, turning you so you would look at him. “It’s been two years. You’re thirty-two, and so is he. He’s your brother, surely you guys can use this weekend to make up and end this sibling tiff.”
The light turned green and he grabbed your hand again, his attention on the street and keeping his family safe on the hazardous roads.
Toying with his fingers, you mumbled, “He’s not my brother,” and ignored Soobin’s eyeroll and the way he pulled his hand away from you to grip the steering wheel.
“I’d also love to go this weekend without any of that,” he said, voice low.
With a heavy exhale, you twisted yourself nearly sideways to face him. “Don’t do that.”
He shot you a glare. “Don’t disappear on me.”
“Soobin.”
“I’m serious,” he said. “There’s four kids back there now, baby- Ugh, babe- Love, Jesus Christ.” Your bottom lip escaped between your teeth. Soobin shook his head. “Maybe since you’re fighting he won’t call you that. One less thing to worry about.”
Your relationship with Taehyun was a rocky path that Soobin somehow understood since day one. At the start of your relationship and up until Rosie’s tenth birthday, Soobin had never been too fond of him, knowing that Taehyun was ‘one of the jerk’s’ he didn’t want his sons becoming. At this point in your life, you’re saddened you’d have to agree.
The house you grew up in was nothing short of spectacular. Two stories high with staircases on each end of the house, it was a classically built home that your mother and step father took excellent care of. Half of the outside of the home was grey stone, while the other half, sunken back a bit, was a wash of sky blue. The driveway was grand and stretched up the blue side of the house to two chestnut brown garage doors, and from the paved driveway a sidewalk lined with gardens wound up the lawn to the front door that matched the garage.
Everything was covered in snow, making the house draped in twinkling white Christmas lights appear like it was on the cover of a magazine. From the bay window on the stone side of the house you could see the Christmas tree all lit up, wrapped in silver garland with an ornament on each branch. Every Christmas was the same. Dazzling lights outside, a show stopping display of a tree, and an anxiety attack that one of your kids would break a decoration around each corner of the house. It was like your mother forgot what it was like to have toddlers, they were worse than cats, they touched anything and everything.
Pulling into the shoveled driveway, the snow was still coming down and had worsened on the drive, both you and Soobin peeked behind you at the quiet car as soon as it was in park.
Mina, out. Wonwoo, out. Chan, out. Sunoo, sitting with his hands in his lap, smiling at his parents.
“Hi honey,” you cooed. “Thought you were asleep like everyone else.” Soobin laughed.
“What’s up, bud,” he said. “You’ve been pretty quiet. You didn’t want to talk to mom and dad?”
Sunoo shrugged, his smile still puffing out his cheeks. “I was just watching.” The five year old gestured out the window with one hand before slapping it on top of his other one, gazing out at the snow.
You and Soobin shared a look of adoration. “Just watching,” you both said at the same time with a soft laugh.
“Do you wanna wake up Chan, or do you want Daddy to do it?”
Sunoo glanced at his snoozing brother and his crooked neck, then shrugged again. “Will he be cranky if I wake him up?”
Soobin bit back another laugh. “He’s always cranky,” he mumbled for only you to hear, then said to his son, “Wake him up and tell him he has to help me bring in our things. So do you.”
“Okay, Daddy,” Sunoo said, reaching over as far as he could in his carseat to tap his brother's arm that dangled off the side.
Looking at Soobin, you nodded. “I got the babies. Why don’t you come say hi first, then we can all come back out here for everything else once my mom has hold of Meens?”
“She’s going to pass her off to Jin, you really think she’s going to let Wonwoo stay asleep?” Soobin smirked. He glanced past you out the window and took a breath. “Taehyun’s here, he can hold the baby. He hasn’t met him yet.”
Peeking out the window, the old, black Jeep Wrangler littered with different stickers made your stomach sink to your knees. He’s driven that thing since he got his license. When you met Soobin’s gaze you could tell he was serious.
“Yeah,” you nodded, taking note of Chan in the back of the van who was rubbing his eyes vigorously. “He can hold him.”
Soobin reached across your seat, touching beneath your chin like he once did about an hour ago. “Listen,” he said softly, dragging a thumb over your cheek. “We’re going to have a good weekend. I promise. It’s Wonwoo’s first Christmas,” he dropped his voice to a whisper for a second, “The boys are getting their first bikes,” you both smiled, “And you and Taehyun… You’re going to make things right. It’s time to make things right. To… move on.”
“Don’t make it sound weird,” you muttered. Soobin perked a brow. “No, come on,” you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut. Your husband laughed, then leaned forward to give you a kiss.
Both Sunoo and Chan shrieked, “EWE!”
“I love you, you weirdo,” Soobin smiled. Mina stirred behind you, catching his attention for a second. Grabbing onto his hand you pressed a kiss to his fingers and sighed.
“I love you too, Soob, so much.”
His smile grew. “I know.”
Within minutes your entire crew was up the winding sidewalk, taking your sweet, sweet time because the kids found the lights so interesting. Mina, curled up into your shoulder, could've stared at the twinkling snowflakes hanging from the trees for hours. The twins led you up the couple of steps to the front door, telling both you and Soobin to be careful because it was slippery. Car seat in hand, Soobin saluted them as a thank you, and then insisted that they were the ones to knock on the door. Their faces lit up, their tiny fists going to town on the chestnut wood, the wreath hanging on it shaking like crazy.
A sing-songy voice could be heard on the other side along with another. Your blood pressure was through the roof. Catching a glimpse of Soobin watching the boys with pride helped ease the nerves, at least you’d be here with him, with all of them, your mini me’s you created with his help. Soobin was right, this was going to be a great weekend, you were here together, and that was enough.
The doorknob to the door rattled, and it swung open in a flash, your heart rate skyrocketing for a millisecond until your mother cheered, throwing her arms around your boys.
“Finally!” Fabulous as always, she wore a champagne colored chiffon dress cut off at her knees with flowing sleeves and matching Loubuittons. Diamonds hung around her neck and dripped from her ears and her wrists. Her hair was curled, and her makeup was pristine. Always the picture of perfection.
“Hi Mom,” you smiled, pressing your lips together, firm. With a twin on each leg, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and shot you an award winning grin.
“Hello my dear,” she crooned. “Hi Soobin, Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Joy,” Soobin smiled.
“Come in! Come in! God, it’s freezing out here,” Joy shuffled herself inside with the boys attached to her, making them giggle like crazy. Exchanging a look with Soobin, you both rolled your eyes.
“Rosie and Minho are in here somewhere,” Joy began, detaching the twins from her. Sunoo and Chan lifted their chins and looked around the house, taking it in as if they had never seen it before. “You’ll find them eventually, they’re not good at hiding.”
Your mother laughed toward you as if you’d get her joke. You settled for a sympathy laugh regardless, one she didn’t notice. Mouth agape, she tiptoed to your side, sliding a hand over Mina’s back.
“Think we’re coming down with something,” you said, giving your girl a gentle bounce. “She’s gonna be clingy all weekend.”
Joy pouted her silicone filled lips and held open her arms. “Be clingy right here, darling. Come ‘ere, sweetie.”
Kissing the top of Mina’s head you spoke quietly to her. “Go see your grandma, Meens.” You attempted to take her off your hip, but your girl held on tight.
“Oh, Mina,” Joy sang. “Joy has cookies in the kitchen, do you want some cookies?” Mina picked her head up, her heavy eyes blinking a couple of times before she held up a hand.
“Cookie,” she babbled.
“Cookie?” Chan whined. “Cookies? Joy, you have cookies?”
“Can we have cookies too?” Sunoo asked, looking up at you and Soobin. “I want some cookies too, please.”
Joy waited for the parents to answer, giving you eyes as persuasive as your kids.
“Well,” Soobin said, looking at you. “Can’t say no, you already brought it up. You can each have one cookie.”
Joy held her hands up and Mina nearly jumped into them. Wiggling your daughter out of her winter coat and mittens, Soobin took care of the boys and helped you hang everything up in the closet by the door after Joy hurried off to the kitchen with the kids. Sliding a hand around your back, he kissed your cheek and chuckled to himself.
“What?” Smiling up at him, you wrapped your arms around his back. He nuzzled his nose against yours and took a breath.
“Mm, nothing,” he shrugged. “Just thinking about how those kids are going to be glued to your mom all weekend.” His hands slipped lower over your pants, smoothing over the flowing fabric. “They’re going to forget about us, and we can get lost in this big house, and-” A whine slipped out of the carseat a few feet away from you. Soobin waited with baited breath for the baby to make another noise. You couldn’t help but laugh, burying your face into the collar of his jacket.
“Unfortunately that one can smell if I’ve ventured too far away from him,” you said. Soobin, still smiling, shook his head and kissed you much deeper than he had all day.
“Guess she was going to let him sleep,” Soobin said, untangling himself from you. He started for the carseat, greeting his youngest son with the sweetest voice.
“Yeah, I guess,” you furrowed your brows and glanced down the hall toward the kitchen where commotion was evident. “Here.” Turning to your husband who had Wonwoo out of the seat, tucked in the air in a newborn scrunch, you held out your arms to scoop up your little one. “He’s gonna be hungry soon.”
Adjusting the hood on his head while he was cradled in your arms, Soobin cocked his head to the side. “Give him to Joy, he can have a cookie.”
“Stop,” you laughed, shaking your head. Tapping your baby’s bottom, you turn around to peek down the hall again. “Shall we? Surely someone in there with arms will take him. I’ll help you bring in our stuff.”
“The boys will help me,” Soobin said, following you as you started down the long hall lined with galleries of photos of your family, both immediate and distant. There were plenty of you and Taehyun.
“The boys are five, and we have a lot of stuff,” you said. “They’re going to carry two bags and then they’ll hear Joy say something that sparks their interest and like you said, they’ll forget we’re here.”
The hardwood floor clicked beneath your shoes, echoing up into the high ceilings lined with wooden beams. The beige walls in this place seemed to stretch for miles, and just as you expected, there was some sort of Christmas pizzazz on every square inch. Turning into the kitchen that was toasty warm, you find the entire room was brand new. The last time you were here was shortly before Wonwoo was born, so that means in the past six months this kitchen had had another facelift.
The tile was marble, the counters were marble, and the cabinets were a dark forest green. On the end of the house, the ceiling on the kitchen was slanted and adorned with a massive skylight lined with spotlights shining down into the room.
“Mom, what the hell,” you said a little too loud.
“Bad word!” Sunoo pointed at you.
Joy, at the island counter with Mina sitting on the marble with a cookie in her hand and both boys standing beside her, looked toward you curiously. “What's the matter, honey?”
“This,” you gestured around the kitchen you had to admit was gorgeous. “It’s like the fifth time you’ve redone it.”
Joy frowned. “You don’t sound happy, what is it ugly? What did I miss?” She parroted her head around like she’d find an imperfection somewhere. Mina copied her, glancing around before she spotted you and Soobin and smiled.
“Mama,” she said, waving her cookie toward you.
“Hi Mina,” you nodded, stepping closer to her. “No, Mom, it’s… stunning. Just wish you’d commit to an aesthetic. This shit’s expensive.”
“Bad wooord!” Sunoo and Chan shouted.
“Babe,” Soobin’s tone was flat.
“This shit is very expensive, darling, but my God, it’s gorgeous,” Joy waved a hand around, flicking her diamond bracelet up and down her wrist.
“Joy! Bad word!” Chan pouted, looking up at his grandmother in defeat. Soobin sighed heavily, and you wanted to apologize, but he pulled the boys out of the kitchen before you had the chance to do so.
“We’re going to bring our things inside,” your husband said to you, disappearing with the boys down the hall.
Once he was gone Joy wiggled her brows. “Daddy Soobin still strict as ever, huh?”
“He’s not strict, Mom,” you shook your head. “He’s far from it.”
“Mhm,” she hummed, taking a bite out of a cookie. Mina tried to grab it from her, but she pulled it away. “Sweetie, you’ve got your own, and your military boot camp daddy said only one.”
“One,” Mina smiled, holding up a finger. Joy’s face lit up, making your daughter laugh.
“Good job, Mina,” she cooed. “How’s that baby of yours?” She asked you while she played with Mina.
Looking down at Wonwoo who was gazing up at the skylight, you smiled at him. “He’s perfect.”
“You feeling better about adjusting to four?” Joy snuck a glimpse of you, her eyes written with something you couldn’t quite decipher.
“I am,” you nodded. “Wonwoo’s an angel, so he made it too easy. Makes me feel like we could do five.” Joy thankfully laughed along with your joke.
“Yeah, well, if my husband looked like that I don’t think we’d stop.”
“Mom!” Your eyes went wild as she laughed.
“Come on, I’ve said it since you started dating him, Soobin’s a good one.”
Looking down at your baby again, you smiled. “He is a good one.” The kitchen went quiet for a moment, the only sound coming from Mina as she tried to put a cookie into Joy's mouth, and cheering to herself as she did. Praising her, Joy took a bite of the sugary snack and put it down, meeting your unreadable gaze.
“What’s the matter? You’re pregnant again, aren’t you.”
“Mom!”
“You have that look on your face,” she circled her finger toward you. Mina grabbed onto it and tried to put it in her mouth. “No, honey, you can’t eat my jewelry… What’s going on?”
With a breath, you shrugged and forced the words out of your mouth, attempting to sound as casual as possible. “Taehyun and Sana here?”
Joy lifted a brow. “Taehyun’s here. No Sana.”
“No?” you questioned in surprise. Joy eyed you curiously.
“Sweetie, they’ve been divorced for almost a year,” she said. Placing her palms flat on the marble counter around your daughter to keep her in a safe space, Joy narrowed her eyes. “You’re telling me you didn’t know that?”
Mouth wide open, you scoffed. “Had no idea. How did this not come up this summer?”
Joy shrugged. “I dunno, I figured the two of you had talked, and it’s his business, he didn’t need me spreading it around.”
She had a point.
“When was the last time you spoke to your brother?”
The word made your skin crawl.
“He’s not…” you nearly sneered, but stopped yourself before you opened a can of worms. “We haven’t talked… in a long time.”
Joy dodged a Mina kick, but still swam in her laughter, squeezing her cheeks with glee. “Tell me when that was.”
Swallowing hard, you took a deep breath. “Rosie’s tenth birthday party.”
“What!” Joy shouted, startling Mina. “I’m sorry, honey, c’mere.” She popped your daughter on her hip and scrambled out of the kitchen. “Follow me.”
Doing what you were told, you shifted Wonwoo over your shoulder and followed your mother to the other side of her home down the stretch of another hall. On the way you passed by a full bathroom, an office space and a living room with a TV screen as large as one in a movie theater. You ended up at the bottom of a staircase with your heart at the bottom of your stomach.
“Taehyun!” Joy shouted up the wooden dual level stairs.
“Mom, stop, we’ll talk,” you whispered, but your cries for help went unnoticed.
“Kang Taehyun!”
“Tae-yun,” Mina said, observing her grandmother. “Tae-yun!”
“Great,” you mumbled. What a fantastic word for her to learn and bring home with her.
“I’m coming!” His voice sent chills down your spine. “Hang on!” Even muffled by walls it churned your stomach into knots.
“You’re gonna talk now,” Joy shot you a glare over her shoulder. “It is Christmas goddamnit, I won’t have my kids fighting on Christmas.”
All you could give her was a sigh. From the front of the house you heard the door open and close. Poor boys were only on trip number one.
“Mom, I have to help Soobin with the car-”
Her hand cut you off. “Hush, he’s coming.”
Footsteps sounded upstairs, hurried footsteps, ones you would recognize blindfolded. You spent years listening to and memorizing the footsteps of the people you shared this house with.
“Taehyun!” Joy shouted for the last time.
He appeared at the top of the stairs with a grin, and the wind was knocked out of you. Meeting your eyes first he must’ve read your energy, because he blinked a couple of times and retreated down a single step hesitantly. You wanted to greet him somehow, this was no way for you to see somebody for the first time in two years, standing at the bottom of a staircase speechless.
He looked different. His hair was a little lighter, and you wondered if it was done on purpose or if age was already getting to him. Dressed the same as he usually would be, dark ripped jeans and a band tee that finally fit him properly instead of hanging off of his skinny frame. He hated the gym, there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d been working out… But, then how would he be filling out the sleeves of the tee the way he was if he wasn’t lifting… something.
There was color in his cheeks and life in his big brown eyes. He looked happy. And it tore your heart apart.
“Hi, Baby,” he shot you a big, toothy grin. “Long time, no see.”
“Yeah,” you breathed. “Long time no see.” Taehyun's gaze dropped to the baby in your arms. You swore his smile faltered before he met your eyes once more.
“Care to explain to me why your sister told me the two of you haven’t spoken in two years?” Joy cut the ever so joyous reunion off, and for once you were grateful for her obliviousness. Taehyun tilted his head to the side to think, but you know he knew damn well why the two of you haven’t spoken. It just wasn’t something you could share in front of Joy.
“Uhm, it’s just… Life, I guess,” Taehyun shrugged twice, looking at you for help. Either that or he was mentally crucifying you for opening your mouth.
Joy popped a hip and clicked her tongue. “You’re a shit liar, just like your father,” she said. “Whatever is going on, you two work it out before dinner please.” Stepping away from the stairs, Mina in her arms, she held up a hand and shouted, “No fighting on Christmas!”
You watched her walk away, and the moment she was out of earshot you pointed your attention up to the top of the stairs. Taehyun’s eyes were wide, and his smile was gone. Both of his hands held onto the wooden railing, like he was ready to prop himself up on it and slide down like he’s done before many times. He tried to teach you how to do it a long, long time ago, but you ended up with stitches in your elbow instead.
“You really said something to her?” Taehyun broke the minute of silence that was beginning to suffocate you both. “I was fully prepared for you to walk in here and we just pretend like everything is okay for a couple days for her sake.”
“I can’t do that,” you whispered.
His jaw tightened. “I need you to do that.” He started down the stairs, his chunky sneakers clunking with every rushed step he took. Brushing past you, his scent was familiar. He still wore the same cologne.
“And what if I can’t?” Your voice made him freeze. He turned around halfway.
“Then, I’m gonna take my kids and we’re gonna leave,” he said, then continued down the hall.
“We’re really not gonna talk about this?” you asked. “We’re not even gonna try to fix it?”
He whirled around, swinging his hands at his sides before he crossed them over his chest. His biceps bulged out of his sleeves. “We’re not,” he gritted his teeth. He took two steps closer to you. “We can’t. There is nothing to fix.”
“It’s Christmas.” Your voice was barely a whisper.
Taehyun glanced down to where Wonwoo laid. “Yeah. It’s Christmas. You keep having babies, and I’m divorced. You’re happily married, playing house with your amazing husband, and keep pulling me back under whenever you come around and wanna talk.” You gulped, he watched you do so. “We’re done. We were a long time ago. Now, we act like everything is fucking perfect, or I’m gonna get called into work tonight and break Joys heart.”
Staring each other down, he didn’t walk away until you nodded. Wonwoo stirred on your shoulder, a small sound slipping out of the boy's mouth. Rubbing his back you watched Taehyun disappear around a corner wrapped in silver garland. Resting your cheek on the hood of Wonwoo’s onesie, you soothed him with a gentle hush, bouncing him ever so gently, turning away from the hall.
An empty cry came out of the infant you cradled, one that made you laugh. “I know, lovie,” you breathed. “I feel the same way.”
Your eyes landed on a set of photos on the wall in a sleek black frame. Both photos, top and bottom, were from you and Taehyun’s first day of high school. Joy took your picture before you got on the bus in the morning, and then again when you got home.
In the photo on top you were both dressed nice and your hair was done. Taehyun, as skinny as a rail, was covered in black with a red checkered flannel around his shoulders, and you were in a yellow sundress. You would’ve never worn it if Taehyun didn’t tell you it made you look pretty. Hanging around your bedroom door all morning while you tried to put on a little makeup that Joy had given you, he wouldn’t leave you alone.
At that point, freshman year of high school, your families had been living together for four years. Jin and Joy weren’t married yet, you can still hear the distant jokes they’d make about living in sin.
The bottom photo was hysterical, it honestly made you smile. Standing out front on the sidewalk both you and Taehyun struck funny poses, and on the bus ride home, you’d almost switched outfits. His flannel was tied around your waist, and the two of you tried to switch shoes even though his feet were three sizes bigger than yours. Every piece of jewelry you had put on that morning was given to him, which would mark this as the day that Jin and Joy found out he had pierced his ears himself, without your help, of course.
Neither your mother nor his father, still to this day, ever found out that sometime that July the two of you went full Parent Trap and stabbed needles through his earlobes in the bathroom you shared. Lindsay Lohan really made it seem entirely too easy, it took three tries to get the needle through his skin. Practice makes perfect though, because when you were eighteen you pierced each other's second and third holes in that bathroom at four in the morning after downing half of Joys Svedka. You made sure to fill it up with water before she and Jin came home from their second cruise of the year.
Low and behold, in true Joy fashion, she never found out.
He had three silver studs in each ear today. Two summers ago he had three silver studs in each ear. You wondered if changing the jewelry gave him the same numb feeling it gave you. He used to wear diamonds, and sometimes he’d wear hoops, or chains that hung from each piercing. Either he didn’t care to switch out the earrings now, in which case he could just take the jewelry out and let the holes close, or he cared too much, and couldn’t touch them.
Scoffing under your breath at yourself, you shake your head. Thirty-two years old and you were still wallowing in the halls of your mothers home trying to put the puzzle pieces together to figure out if Taehyun cared about you. “Grow up,” you mumbled, spinning around your heels to find your boys. They’d pull you out of this.
“Hope you aren’t talking to me,” Soobin said with a smile, turning the corner just as you were about to sprint out of the hall.
Startled, you huff a laugh and meet him at his side. “No, not you,” you said. “Myself.” Soobin poked one of Wonwoo’s hands, letting the infant latch onto it, squeezing it with might. Only your husband's eyes flickered up to question you.
“Taehyun said you needed me?”
Your face twisted in confusion. “What?”
Thinning his lips into a line, Soobin bobbed his head. “He insisted on helping bring our stuff inside, and when I refused, politely, he told me that you needed me and sent me this way.”
“He’s a jerk.”
“What?” Soobin tilted his head. “I mean- Yeah, but, what happened? Are you okay?”
The sigh you let out ended with a gravely groan. “I’m fine, Soob. I told Joy we haven’t spoken, and she went… All Joy. He’s mad I told her. Said it’s something we can’t work out, ever. Guess he sent you this way ‘cause he thinks I’ll be emotional about it.”
Soobins sparkling eyes studied your being. “Are you?”
“Do I look like I’m throwing a tantrum?”
He laughed and shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he paused, looking down at his son who was getting more vocal. “I do know you expected things to get back to normal after you saw each other, though. You wanted to talk it out.”
“I did,” you said, averting your gaze to the floor. “As normal as our normal is.”
Soobin rolled his eyes, but not to degrade you. “Yeah, babe, I wanted you guys to work this out.” Snapping your eyes to his, your lips parted in shock. It made him smirk and roll his eyes again. “As much as I… dislike…” he waved his free hand behind him, “Most of this, and what it put you through… He was your best friend. You can’t deny that.”
“You’re my best friend,” you whispered, and Soobin smized before he shook his head.
“That’s sweet,” he smiled. “But, we know that’s not true.”
Wonwoo broke out into a cry, a real one this time. Shifting him to a cradle you bounced him and hummed.
“Hungry,” you whispered to the baby. Soobin took a step closer, closing the empty space between you. “Imma go upstairs to feed him.”
Soobin smoothed a hand over yours. “Give him to me. He can have a bottle for now.” Meeting his gaze, you purse your lips. “Go make sure Taehyun didn’t let Chan and Sunoo in the snow.”
Following you out into the foyer where there were a plethora of bags and suitcases, you helped Soobin with Wonwoo’s diaper bag, a battered blue thing that had ‘C. & S.’ stitched into the material right beneath the zipper. All four of your babies have used this bag, and you intended to follow through with the tradition no matter how many times Jin and Joy tried to gift you a brand new, brand name expensive one. Neither you or your husband have gotten a glimpse of the tree yet, but you could make a huge assumption that there would be one wrapped up for you beneath those glittering branches.
Kids were messy, and baby’s were no better. Between you and Soobin, you’ve both told them that they didn’t need to give you the high end things with marked up prices that would be ruined in a few days. You were doing perfectly fine with what you had. And Wonwoo is the baby of four! Back home you had a house filled to brim with enough to have you settled for a fifth or even a sixth.
“Everything is in here, right?” Slinging the bag over Soobin’s shoulder that didn’t have an infant over it, your voice was quiet. Moving at about a mile a minute, you popped the bag open to double check your husband would have what he needed, and listened to him as he laughed.
“I packed the bag, darling, everything’s there,” he said. Looking up at him, you blinked a couple of times. “I’ll be in the kitchen feeding him, okay?” You bobbed your head, rubbing Wonwoo’s back. “I’ll also be looking for our daughter, she and Joy are very quiet.” Darting his eyes down the hall, a snicker escaped you both before he leaned down to kiss your forehead. “Come find us when you grab the boys.”
A well-oiled, beautifully communicative team. Soobin truly was the greatest. Coming with so many faults and so much baggage, just look at where you are for the weekend, your husband very rarely, and almost never at all, brings you down for it. Trips like these are always a reminder that you struck gold nine years ago when you decided to take him up on that date night.
Ice cream and a movie. The simplest night, yet one you’ll cherish and remember forever. He picked you up in his used white, two door BMW, from the front porch of this very house. Knocking on the door, Jin was the one to answer. Soobin, in blue jeans and a white t-shirt, stepped up and held out his hand to shake your step-fathers. Back then he wore thick rimmed glasses, nothing like the skinny frames he wears now. They sat on the edge of his nose, and his dark bangs that used to hang in front of his face brushed right over the top of them.
He was totally boy next door, entirely pure, and all the more sweet. A gentleman, he paid for it all, he held your hand during the movie, and when he dropped you off, he walked you to the door and kissed your cheek. It wasn’t anything like you were used to, you had never, ever in your life had a date, yet alone one like Soobin. That one Friday night turned into every Friday night, and four kids later here you were.
Tugging the front door open to fetch your boys, Taehyun seemed to be walking in at the same exact time, bumping directly into you as he fumbled with the door. Nose to nose, you didn’t have a second to even see if the twins were covered in snow as they bolted over the threshold past your legs.
“Oh, shit, sorry,” he muttered. His eyes darted away from yours, watching the boys fly down one of the halls, you weren’t sure which.
Still gripping the door handle, digging your fingertips into the gold, you were certain your knuckles were white. Jaw as tight as can be, you sucked in a breath, his cologne surrounding you both comforting and all the more repulsive. Centimeters between you, you wanted nothing more than to release the door and lay your palm out on the side of his face, preferably at a speed that would knock some sense into him. Though you aren’t sure for what.
Taehyun looked down at you, his round lips pursing slightly as he read your expression. A snarky breath of air came out of him as he rolled his eyes. “Give it up,” he said. There was an insatiable itch lying just beneath your skin.
“Yanno, I would, actually,” you began, your eyebrows plummeting. “But, you listened to me.”
A real smirk graced his lips, flashing you his perfectly straight, pearly white teeth. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Sana,” you said. Your entire being filled with glee when his cocky smile fell off his face. “What was it, two years ago? Something like that right?” He rolled his eyes again, his staple. “Someone told me that they were… happy? Was that it? That they were happy, and not exhausting themselves for love? Overworking themselves to get out of their house, to get away from their wife? To get-”
“Oh my god, shut up!” Taehyun groaned, dipping his head forward.
The newfound life in his eyes you caught a glimpse of was very much real. The big, round, chocolatey brown, galaxy filled eyes were back. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed them. They were set perfectly on his face, the buttery olive color of his skin making them pop right above his sculpted nose and cheekbones. His face was slender, and a little small, but his eyes were oceans, filled with wonder. They always have been.
Boys always got the things girls didn’t, like the eyelashes, and Taehyun had plenty to spare. With each blink they fluttered, the chocolate brown turning into a daydream the longer you gazed up at him. His hardened, annoyed expression softened, and you felt yours do the same. His pink lips parted as if to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, his eyes flickered between yours, slowly, like they were trying to drink up this moment, as if it would never happen again.
Thirty-two looked good, the years were clearly kind to him, and you only hoped he was thinking the same. After four kids and five years of sleepless nights, you weren’t feeling your best. Not only that, you were also six months postpartum, wearing clothes that barely hugged your figure so you’d be comfortable. After those four kids, comfort had become a priority.
Taehyun was single now, he had bulked up, and you figured out in these two minutes that he colored his hair lighter on purpose. He looked good. He looked nice. He looked like himself. His entire fit tumbled you back almost twelve years, before Sana, before kids, before everything went to shit. It left you unsettled, but it also wrapped around you with warmth, and safety. Normal, and happy, and comforting, like home should be.
A pout snuck onto your lips, one that Taehyun shifted his gaze toward. “Tae,” you whispered, feeling a lump form in your throat.
“No, no, no, you’re gonna cry,” he shook his head the slightest. “Don’t cry.”
“But I will,” you pressed your lips together tight after the words left you. “Talk to me. Please. Especially now, please.”
A sharp breath shot through him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from yours. “I don’t know if I can handle going there again.” His voice was a whisper.
“We don’t have to,” your eyebrows flipped over, pleading with him. Now he looked away, toward the floor between you. “We can start from two years ago, or we can start over, we can be brand new, we can be…” you gulped, “Brother and sister.”
His shoulders shot back as he stood up straight and plastered the cocky smirk back on his lips. “You really think we can do that?”
Nodding, you tried to smile, but it wouldn’t work. “I do,” you lied to keep him talking. Taehyun shrugged and dropped his smug act that never stood a chance around you, you weren’t even sure why he still tried. “For the sake of our families and our futures, I do.” His eyes melted into yours. The lump lodged in your throat forced a tiny tear out of the corner of your eye. “You were my best friend, Tae.”
“We were codependent and stupid,” he sighed. The words shoved a knife into your gut.
“I don’t disagree,” you said to his surprise. “Codependent and stupid. But, you were my best friend. I miss you.”
Hesitating, Taehyun danced his eyes all around your face, studying you, taking you in. With a breath and a heavy exhale, he nodded, swallowing hard. “I miss you, too.”
“Not lying?”
He shook his head. “Not lying.”
A smile lit up your face. “Joy still has those pictures of us on the wall, the ones from freshman year?”
“The clothes switch?” You both said at the same time and laughed.
“Oh god, they couldn’t take us anywhere,” Taehyun said.
“Menaces, both of us,” you giggled.
Taehyun quirked a brow. “I think I still have those earrings, the ones you had on that day.”
“Now you’re lying, there’s no way you have the-”
“Dangly silver diamonds Joy gave me for our middle school graduation.”
“Dangly silver diamonds Joy gave you for our middle school graduation.”
The both of you screwed your mouths shut and held in a laugh. Taehyun's cheeks turned an endearing shade of pink, and it wasn’t from the open door you were both still standing in. Peeking at the floor like a flustered teenager, he licked his lips and huffed a laugh.
“See,” you said, getting his attention. “We keep talking at the same time, that’s something siblings do, right?”
Taehyun cringed, the physical reaction he had to the words was the same as you.
“That’s…” he began, curling his lip.
“Weird?” you added quietly, and he nodded. “Agreed. I hate it.”
“Friends?” he offered, his voice jumping up at the end, preparing himself for you to hate it. “Is that… less weird?”
“Friends,” you smiled, bouncing your knees once to signify your delight. It was going to have to be something you both worked for, but it was better than nothing. “Thank you.” Reaching between you, you rested your hand on his arm and tried to not express your shock over the muscles that rippled beneath your touch.
Taehyun glanced at your fingers for a moment, then he smiled and gave his full attention back to you. Lifting a hand, he brushed it over your cheek and tucked some of your hair behind your ear, letting his fingers dance over the earrings you chose to wear. Breath hitching in your throat, your grip tensed on his arm, squeezing accidentally. Time slowed, and for a moment you forgot where you were. A screech from the kitchen from one of your kids brought you back, and both of your hands dropped in an instant. Neither of you had anything to say.
“No wonder it’s freezing!” Joy’s voice carried from around the corner where she appeared from. Whipping yourself around, jumping away from Taehyun, you smiled and took a deep breath. “Shut the damn door!” She was kidless with one arm tucked under the other.
“Sorry,” you said in a hurry, bringing yourself closer to her so that Taehyun could follow orders and push the door shut, clicking the lock into place. Joy took her hands to your shoulders and rubbed your arms, flashing you a curious brow. “We brought the house with us, clearly.” Peeking over your shoulder, you meet Taehyun’s eyes, watching you.
Joy looked from Taehyun, to you, then back to Taehyun. “Did we make up?” She forced her serious tone out of the depths of where she locked away all her parenting skills. Both you and Taehyun gave her a nod.
“All good, Mom,” you said. “Can I help you with dinner? Are we getting anything started yet?”
Joy pressed a hand to your cheek, right where Taehyun’s had been. “Jin’s at the store picking up a couple of last minute things, when he gets back we’ll really get started.”
“Oh, yeah, he’s got my kids,” Taehyun snickered, waltzing past the two of you toward the kitchen.
“Does he?!” Joy shouted. “This whole time I thought they were getting into trouble somewhere up there!” She gestured to the floor above her.
Taehyun paused beside her and grabbed her shoulder. “Joy, be honest, you never knew what happened up there.”
“I knew enough, okay?” Defending herself, she held up a hand. “You were two teenagers going through everything at the same exact time, I was not going to get in your way! I was a teenager before, okay? I hated when my mother was in my space. When we moved into this house you both got the second floor for a reason!”
“A+ parenting, Joy,” Taehyun nodded, and you did your best to swallow a giggle.
Joy groaned. “Come on you two, I’ve been up there. I wasn’t a neglectful mother! Taehyun, we helped you move out, I saw the walls and the carpets in both your rooms, and the tile in the bathroom. You were kids, you were stupid, but you had your own space and it made you two closer than ever, and as a mother, I couldn’t ask for more.”
Tiny feet running down the hall stole everyone's attention. Chan and Sunoo, at the speed of light, wearing wicked smiles, were flying toward the other end of the hall. As they passed by the three of you, Sunoo latched onto Taehyun's legs, his short arms just making it around them.
“Whoa!” Taehyun shouted, gripping the little one by the back to make sure he wouldn’t fall, his voice signaling to Chan that his brother had stopped shorthand.
“What the heck are you two doing?” You watched Chan turn around and wrap himself around Taehyun's other leg, his arms just barely reaching his brother's shoulders. The twins laughed maniacally, then gazed up at Taehyun.
“We was racing, Mom!” Chan said, sucking down deep breaths.
“We were racing,” Taehyun corrected.
Sunoo’s smile was so wide it almost hid the tired in his eyes. The only one out of four to not have a car nap. “We raced to Uncle Taehyun! I won!”
Joy planted a hand over heart. “How sweet,” she said, giving you a look.
Chan leapt away from his uncle and crossed his arms over his tucked in button down. Dark brows lowered furiously, your five year old scolded his copy. “We was not, Sunoo!” A little performer, Chan stomped a foot. “You said the hallway!”
“We were not, Chan,” Taehyun corrected him again. He crouched down and wrapped an arm around Sunoo, then motioned for Chan to join him in his other one. “Besides, it doesn't matter who won, right?” Sunoo opened his mouth to object, but Taehyun moved right along. “It’s Christmas, and Santa comes tonight.” The boy's eyes shot open wide, and you and Joy laughed quietly.
“He’s so good with them,” Joy said to you under her breath.
“We can’t be mad at each other when Santa’s coming, can we?!” Taehyun asked, and both boys shook their heads. “Right,” he grinned, the sight making your stomach flip. “Now, I say we go upstairs and look for something to do while we wait for Rosie and Minho to come back and play. Sounds good?”
“Good!” Sunoo and Chan shouted.
“Yanno, it’s uncanny,” Joy said as she took a step backward toward the kitchen. You both watched Taehyun take a twin with each hand and start for the stairs on the opposite end of the house. “They share no relation, but those boys have his damn eyes.” Shooting you a smile like she didn’t just send your stomach plummeting for the floor, she turned around for the kitchen and shouted, “Soobin, I want my grandson! Give him up!”
Arms slung around Soobin’s shoulders where he sat at the kitchen table, you rested your chin on the top of his head, watching Joy rock Wonwoo in her arms. The chiffon fabric that hung from her arms brushed over his face occasionally, making him giggle, and in return, making everyone else giggle. Still swaddled in his teddy bear onesie, Wonwoo stared at his grandmother in awe, his stubby fingers trying to reach for her shiny jewelry.
“I love it when they can’t run away,” Joy cooed, nuzzling her nose on Wonwoo’s. “In a couple months he’ll be on the move, then you won’t be able to do this anymore.”
“Ouch, okay, don’t do that to me,” you said, and Soobin agreed.
“That’s our baby,” Soobin frowned. “Please don’t rush it.”
Joy smiled toward you two, nodding to Mina who was cuddled up on Soobins lap. Her thumb was in her mouth and her eyes were halfway shut. She was completely dead weight, Soobin already tried to move her. She wouldn’t budge.
“Least that one’s still cuddly,” she said. Blowing a raspberry, you glanced down at your daughter. “Your only girl… Consider another.”
Eyes boggling out of your head, you and Soobin both, you laughed and held each other tighter. Soobin had his hand wrapped around one of your wrists.
“Four seems like quite enough, Joy,” Soobin said. Joy raised her eyebrows, shrugged, and cooed down at Wonwoo. “We didn’t even know that one was coming!”
Joy’s attention shot up. “Exactly,” she smized. “It could happen again!”
You and Soobin shared a quick look. “Mm,” you hummed. “I don’t think so.”
“Don’t be so silly,” Joy said to the baby, directed at you. “Anything can happen, anything is possible… Right, Wonwoo?” Your son cooed at his grandmother. “That’s right, sweetie pie.”
Watching your mother cradle the baby and talk about having more kids as if it were nothing but a past time nauseated you. Here, in a kitchen that’s been redone oodles of times, in a house that was oodles of dollars you cannot even begin to comprehend, with a woman who had one daughter with a man she was married to for not even a year.
Dating men on and off throughout your childhood before she met Jin, you encountered a lot of strange and unusual people who somehow, conveniently, always had money. They would spoil your mother and buy her things she didn’t need that she’d give to you. Plenty of them offered her marriage, but she refused for whatever good reason she had in her materialistic mind.
It wasn’t that she was a bad mother, she didn’t neglect you, or brush you off, or set you aside… It was more of the fact that she was rarely present, and if she was present, she wasn’t paying attention.
Most of the men she dealt with were way older than her and typically kidless. If they did have kids, they were old enough to be out of the picture without having to be around to see their father mess around with a gold digger single mother. You really don’t know how she did it, maintaining multiple relationships at once without them figuring each other out. But, everything changed when she met Jin. Taehyun’s father.
Neither of you liked to say it was your fault they ended up together, but ultimately it was your fault that they ended up together. An elementary school incident that had both of your parents meeting in front of the teachers desk at the end of a long winter's day.
Taehyun had been pulling on your pigtails, and you didn’t like it very much, so you took it upon yourself to push him to the floor. When he fell he knocked over one of the toy bins, and stuffed animals poured out on the floor everywhere, and Taehyun saw an opportunity. He picked one up and threw it at you. Thus beginning a stuffy fight with every first grader in the class.
It took two years for them to start dating, it wasn’t official until you were in third grade and you hadn’t spoken to Taehyun in a while because you had girl friends at that point, and boys had cooties, and besides, Taehyun would always be the boy who used to pull your hair.
Joy and Jin kept a lot of things separate for a while, they didn’t let you or Taehyun see them together, interact, or just simply know if they were going out together. It was some well kept secret, one that was hidden out of sight for about a year and half, until the summer of sixth grade when they decided to buy a house and move everybody in together. Taehyun wasn’t happy. At first, neither of you were. You adjusted a lot faster, loving the big, brand new room where you’d have complete interior design control, and long halls, stretchy walls, and echoey ceilings. A touch of Joy's materialism may have rubbed off on you at some point.
The boy who now lived across the hall from you struggled for almost a year. Joy had found her perfect match, because Jin had no idea. Taehyun would spend too much time in his room blasting loud music, and shortly after living together you found out that he knew how to sneak in and out of his bedroom window, shimmying down a tree that hugged the back edge of the house. Eventually you would learn how to do that, too. And it was painful. But, it was entirely too much fun. You figured out quickly how to get friends into your rooms from that tree.
Joy was half right when she told you she didn’t neglect you, but that didn’t mean she was winning Mother Of The Year. When she held your kids and cuddled them, and kissed their noses, and gave them treats, her intentions were genuine. It healed some part of you deep down inside, while it simultaneously crushed your heart into a trillion pieces. They were getting a side of her you didn’t get.
The moment you found out you were pregnant in the upstairs bathroom of this house, not even knowing it was twins, you vowed to be the mother to them you never had. You would give your kids a beautiful life, one where they’d never have to question whether or not their parents loved them.
That’s also part of the reason why you married Soobin. He was a good man, he always has been, and he’s proven that he’s an even better father. Soobin became your peace amongst the chaos, your rock. At home, when it’s just the six of you, you’re calm, level headed, and able to think clearly thanks to your husband's guidance that took years for you to adapt to. When you’re here, at home, back in a life you were hardwired to always live, things got a little blurry.
“Do I hear Jin?” Joy glanced to the arched doorway of the kitchen, narrowing her eyes like it would help her hear better. On the opposite side of the house, away from the garage, one would think it’d be impossible to hear the doors open, but like the footsteps around the house, you were conditioned and your ears were trained to hear that sound from a mile away.
“Yeah, he’s back,” you said. Soobin laced his brows together, looking up at you. He didn’t have ears in this house like you. “I’ll go help him.”
Your husband started to stand up, gracefully sliding your daughter into your arms. “She’s about to knock out, I’ll go help him.” Wrapping your arms around Mina, the two year old buried herself in your chest, her arms clinging to the fabric of your sweater. “Baby girl needs her mom,” Soobin whispered, his lips perking up into a small smile. “I’ll have the boys come down too.”
“He’s so good with them, isn’t he, Soobin?” Joy spoke up. Your husband turned to flash your mother a grin. “Taehyun? So good with kids.”
“Somebody’s got to be the fun guy, right?” Soobin half laughed, then looked at you with his lips completely flat.
“I talked to him,” you said under your breath, and Soobins eyes narrowed. “Before he took the boys upstairs, we spoke.” Peeking behind him finding Joy invested in Wonwoo, Soobin faced you completely and kissed your cheek.
“It’s going to be okay,” he mumbled, though it sounded more like a question.
Nodding fast, you smiled. “It’s gonna be okay.”
With a gentle squeeze to your shoulder, Soobin left the kitchen, leaving you with your mother and your babies. Taking the seat your husband was just in, you adjusted Mina so she was comfy, and kissed the top of her head. Her forehead was warm and her cheeks were rosy.
“Mom, you have any Tylenol…” Your voice faded as you looked up, finding her staring at you with a studious look. She was focused, eyes pointed at you with an intent you couldn’t seem to read. “What now?”
Joy shook her head, dangly earrings bouncing below her ears. “Just thinking.”
“Uh oh,” you said, and she scoffed. “I’m kidding,” you dipped your chin to apologize, “What’re you thinking about?”
Joy teetered her head side to side, glancing about her thirty thousand dollar kitchen. “I dunno, I’m just so happy to have you and Taehyun here, and your families.”
“Doesn’t seem like it,” you started to frown, and a nervousness settled into your chest, much like how it would when you were a kid and your mother put on her serious face. It was just you and her in the kitchen, there wasn’t a stray Taehyun around to save you.
“No, I am, truly,” she said. “When you both said you’d be here I couldn’t wait to have you both under one roof again, for an entire weekend. You’re both adults, you both are so busy, we haven’t gotten to be a family in a long, long time.” Joy copied your frown, averting her gaze to the table in front of her, then to your baby in her arms. “If I think about it for too long… I wonder if we’ve ever… been a family.”
“Mom,” you sang. She looked up to you and shrugged. “We’ve been a family for such a long time, you know that right? Taehyun and I were twelve when we moved here, that’s… that’s like, holy shit, that’s like twenty years.”
“Twenty years of what?” Joy asked, purely genuine. Her eyes begged yours for help. The nervousness in your chest spread to your stomach, filling your entire being with unease.
“What are you getting at, Joy?” you almost snapped.
Your mother’s bottom lip crinkled. “You didn’t know he was divorced, you haven’t spoken in two years, what kind of mother have I been? A mother should know this about her kids.”
“Technically he’s not yours,” you joked, hoping she would laugh. She did not.
“He has been for ten years through the law.”
“Yeah, but even then, we were, what? Twenty-two when you and Jin officially got married?”
Joy pressed her lips together, firm. “What do you have against us being a family?” Her voice was quiet, incredibly hushed that not even the baby’s stirred, but her tone was packed full of venom. Eyes going wide, you sat back in the chair and took a shallow breath. For a minute she stared at you. Then, she shook her head and looked down at Wonwoo who dozed off. “Why didn’t you two speak for so long?”
Rolling your eyes you held Mina closer and sighed. You’ve relived the fight you and Taehyun had at his daughter's tenth birthday party so many times, most times with Soobin when it became unbearable to stay in your head. Neither one of your parents cared, until now it seemed, but that’s how it went. Selective parenting, like she was playing make believe.
“I told him…” You weren’t sure how to begin. It might be a whole lot better if you just ripped off the bandaid. “I told him to divorce her.”
Joy's expression went unchanged. “Why would you… How could you even say those words?”
“Mom, do you remember how he used to be? Sure, he looks fantastic now, but two, three years ago? He was miserable!” Your volume had raised, Mina shifted on your lap.
“They were a family.”
“She was using him for his money, Mom, come on,” you spat back, feeling your veins fill with fire. “You and this preconceived idea of family. We could all see what she was doing to him, I’m shocked she didn’t force five more fuckin’ kids out of him.”
“He loves those kids.”
Your eyes were ready to roll out of your head, the amount of times they’ve spun already. “Of course he does, he’s a great father. He could have a billion of them and he’d love them all the same. That doesn’t mean he was happy with Sana, though.” Joy’s glare had softened at some point. “I was the only one who cared enough to speak up, to help him realize, wake him up! And it made him hate me.”
Joy nodded, pursing her lips. “Is that the only reason?”
“Yes, Joy, it is,” you said, keeping your eyes locked on hers. Not letting her see through the half lie you forced past your lips.
“Okay,” she said. “But, you guys talked it out.”
“Somewhat.”
A small nod was all she could give you before two bodies strolled into the kitchen, all carrying shopping bags.
“We’re back!” An enthusiastic, young, happy voice filled the air. Turning to the commotion, you gave the young boy who looked back at you a huge smile. Dark hair and round brown eyes, Minho was the spitting image of his father. His smile was a bit like his mothers, smaller and poutier, but the rest of him was straight Taehyun.
Dressing like him too, the eight year old wore black ripped jeans and an oversized grey hoodie with a band you used to know on the front. Converse high tops were laced on his feet and a black beanie covered his head. He looked at you from beneath his bangs that almost covered his eyes. He and Taehyun both needed haircuts.
“Hi, Minho,” you said softly.
The boy gave you a small wave. “Hi. Is that Mina?” He pointed to the baby on your lap, and you frowned.
“It is,” you said. “She’s not feeling good.”
“Don’t let her near me,” a shrill, higher pitched voice said from behind the kitchen island. Shifting your eyes over to the twelve year old in wedged chelsea boots, you flashed her your best smile.
“Don’t worry, Rosie,” you breathed. “It’s just a little cold.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she sneered, walking over to Joy, letting you get a glimpse of what she was wearing for the day. You wanted to gasp in disbelief. “Mom’s taking me to New York City when we leave here, I cannot get sick.”
The twelve year old wore an emerald green silk dress that wrapped around her neck and covered her left arm, leaving the right one exposed to the winter air. The dress stopped above her knees. On her legs she wore shimmering black stockings that went into her, you guessed it right, three inch high black boots that lived at her ankle. Silver bracelets jingled on her right wrist, and diamonds were in her ears. She flashed them to you whenever she swung her shoulder length black hair back and forth.
Rosie leaned against Joy, who wrapped her arm around her back, and looked down at Wonwoo. “Who’s baby?”
Joy laughed, but you wanted to scream.
“Your aunt’s, silly,” Joy said to her. “They had another baby, her and Soobin.”
Rosie was unimpressed. “Do you guys ever stop doing it?” She looked at you with her nose turned up. You could’ve choked on air at her words. If Soobin were in the room he’d be throwing a fit. Joy, no surprise, laughed at her granddaughter.
“Is it a boy or a girl?” Minho asked, stepping closer to you curiously. He went from watching Mina, to watching you, to looking for Wonwoo. Giving him your full attention, turning away from the Sana clone at the other end of the table, you smiled.
“A boy, his name is Wonwoo,” you said. Minho shared your smile and nodded, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie.
“Weird name,” Rosie muttered. “Where’s my dad?”
“Upstairs with Chan and Sunoo, your Uncle Soobin just went looking for them,” Joy said. “Why don’t you go find them and tell them we’re starting dinner.” Rosie groaned, tipping her head backward, and strutted off, boots clacking on the floor with every step.
“I don’t wanna cook. Mom doesn’t make me cook,” her voice faded away as she entered the hall.
Shooting your mother a look she didn’t share with you, you said, “She’s… something.”
“She’s adjusting.” Joy’s whisper was a tad harsh, nicking your skin with a bite.
“Did Mina have to take medicine?” Minho asked, the sweet boy thankfully taking your attention. “My dad makes me drink this gross stuff when I have a cold.” The boy climbed into the chair next to you and watched his sleeping cousin.
“She didn’t yet, I wasn’t sure she’d need any, but now I’m thinking that she does. What gross stuff does he make you drink?” Crinkling your nose, you made him giggle.
“It’s orange, and it says it tastes like honey, but I don’t think it does,” Minho made a face and shook his head. “He calls it-”
“Bee Juice,” you said.
“Yeah!” Minho’s face lit up. “How did you know that?”
“We used to drink that when we were sick,” you said, your smile growing as you watched him settle in to listen to your story. “This one time, we were around Rosies’ age, I was really sick, and I refused to take any kind of medicine to help me feel better. Your dad tried to help me, and he was making all these funny jokes about it. There’s bees on the bottle right?” Minho nodded. “He called it Bee Juice, and for some reason that made me take it, and it made it taste good.”
“That’s funny,” Minho said. “Mina needs Bee Juice. I know my dad has some, he brought it with him.”
Your smile faltered. “He did?”
“Yeah, he says he keeps it just in case. Do you want me to tell him Mina needs it?”
“No, Minho, that’s okay,” you said. “I can ask him later.”
“Ask him now,” Joy said, gesturing to the doorway.
The kitchen filled with shouts, laughter and life. Taehyun barreled through the doorway with Sunoo on his back and three shopping bags in his hands. Chan hurried beside him, holding a quarter gallon of milk in his hands.
“We’ve got it,” Sunoo announced to the room, acquiring a round of laughter. “No one worry.”
Soobin trailed behind him, chatting with Jin who had Rosie attached to his side. Both adults had bags in their hands as well, lifting them onto the island Taehyun sat Sunoo on. Deep in conversation, probably something about work, Jin still made a move to hug you tight as best as he could without disturbing Mina, then went back to Soobin, helping him unload some of the plastic bags.
Rosie wandered to the table with her nose now in a cell phone that had a clear hot pink case with a polaroid photo shoved in the back of some celebrity she probably loved. Her glossed lips were pulled into a frown as she tapped away at the screen furiously.
After sliding the milk onto the counter carefully, Chan came to your side and peeked over your arm to check on his sister. “She is asleep?”
“She is,” you said softly. “Were you worried about her?”
Chan nodded. “She will be okay for Santa, right?”
“Santa!?” Rosie roared from her seat.
You shut her down quickly with a glare, not caring if Sana heard about it, then turned to your son. “She’ll be okay, love, I promise.”
“Okay, mom,” Chan said.
“Did you see Minho? Did you say hi?”
Chan looked to his right and smiled something small, feeling shy beside an unfamiliar face. The last time they saw each other Minho was six, and the twins were three. Minho probably remembered them, but your boys were just becoming aware of their own arms at the time, you weren’t sure they’d remember.
“Are you Chan or Sunoo?” Minho asked, looking between the twin in front of him and the twin crawling on top of the counter in front of his own father.
Chan almost gasped and put his hands on his hips. A smirk found your lips. Drama queen incoming. “I am Chan,” the five year old said loud and clear. “That is Sunoo,” he pointed to his brother. “You can tell us a part, my favorite color is blue, and Sunoo’s favorite color is red.”
Minho laughed, looking to you for a second. “You guys look exactly alike.”
“We are twins!” Chan exclaimed, tossing his arms out to the side. “This is my sister Mina, and that is my brother Wonwoo, he is new.”
“That’s my sister, Rose,” Minho nodded to his sister who didn’t bother to look up. “We call her Rosie.”
“Rosie,” Chan whispered as if he was mentally logging her name.
“She’s mean,” Minho admitted, and Chan gasped. You held yours back, waiting for him to say more.
“Why is she mean?” Chan’s eyebrows dropped low.
Minho shrugged. “She just is. Don’t talk to her.”
Leaning toward the two boys, you whispered, “I second that. Don’t talk to her.” Chan smiled, and Minho laughed, seeming surprised. Winking at him, he tried to give one back, the two of you solidifying some sort of alliance in this moment, though your aversion stemmed from your resentment for Sana.
“Minnie!” Taehyun shouted, rounding the kitchen counters to hurry over to his son. Throwing his arms around the boy's shoulders, he squeezed him tight and shook his side to side, pressing kisses to his cheek. His boy laughed, trying to shy away from him, but it was clear that he loved it. “Were you good for your grandpa?”
“Yeah,” Minho said, looking up at Taehyun.
“‘Course you were,” he grinned, then glanced to his daughter. “Rosie?”
“Hm?” She didn’t take her eyes off her phone screen. Taehyun didn’t lose his smile. He didn’t have to for you to see the disappointment within him.
“Were you good for Grandpa Jin?” he asked her.
Rosie glared at her father, holding eye contact for a few seconds. She didn’t say a word, and she didn’t need to. When she focused back down on her phone, Minho, still in Taehyun’s arms, looked at you.
“See? Mean,” he said.
Taehyun clicked his tongue. “Don’t talk about your sister like that. One day she could be all you have.” Your cheeks flushed as he glanced to you. Pressing a kiss to his son's head, he stood up and attended to your son calling his name from the kitchen counter.
“I’m coming! I’m coming!” His silvery hair bounced as he rushed. Gathering Sunoo in his arms he twirled once and set him on the ground. Your five year olds giggle sounded through the kitchen, standing out amongst the other chatter.
Joy had left her seat, and Wonwoo was in Soobin’s arms now, still snoozing. This ambiance was the same as the one from home, that little boy could sleep through it all. Your husband rocked the baby while he bounced his knees, still deep in conversation with Jin. Those two have gotten along since the very first day Soobin showed up at the front door.
Putting away groceries, Joy had acquired Taehyun’s help, who had recruited Sunoo. The little one puttered around and did his absolute best to follow directions. Chan was asking Minho questions, ones you couldn’t make out over the noise, and Rosie was unbothered, tapping away at her phone.
On your lap Mina moved, her rosy cheeks looking up to find you. A soft, “Mama,” escaped her, and you both pouted.
“I’m so sorry, honey,” you whispered, kissing her head gently. “We brought you here when you don’t feel well, that’s so unfair.” Across the kitchen you caught Soobin’s eye, your husband leaning against the counter. When you met his gaze he gave you a sympathetic smile. Pushing your chair back, you let Chan know where you were going as he turned to look at you, and laughed as he climbed into the vacant chair at lightning speed. Minho grabbed the bottom of it and pulled it closer to him, the two chatting away.
“Those two were fast friends,” Soobin said when you reached his side, nodding at your son and his cousin. Jin joined Joy, Taehyun and Sunoo in the unloading of the groceries and the prep for dinner. Looking back at the kids, Minho had his phone out now and was showing Chan something that had him giggling. “Should I go see what they’re looking at?”
“No,” you said a little too fast for Soobin’s liking. Flashing him a soft gaze, you smiled. “They both tell us everything, you know that. Besides, Chan’s a rule follower. I guarantee you he’ll have parental locks on both those kids’ phones by the end of this weekend.”
Soobin chuckled, shaking his head. “Our kids aren’t getting phones till they're thirty.”
“Agreed,” you said. “I find it a little crazy Minho has one at eight.”
Soobin hummed, then said, “I mean it makes sense.”
“How?” you scoffed.
“Their parents are divorced,” he nearly mumbled, shooting you a look.
You squeezed your eyes shut for a second. “Right. Joy was just blaming me for ruining their lives, how could I forget.”
Though your sarcasm was evident, Soobin’s eyes went wild. “What are you talking about?”
“Rosie’s attitude, toward everyone apparently,” you began, scanning the kitchen. “I’m sure somethings going on with Minho, Taehyun may not be as well as I thought he was, and it’s all my fault, all of it. I told her what I said to him.”
Something of a groan came from Soobins chest. “None of it is your fault, don’t let her do that to you.” His hardened, protective glare was coming out. It made you smile. “He made his choice, he did that to his family. And as for Rosie?” He widened his eyes. “Full blame is on Sana. I feel like she’s here.”
“Hang on! I left it upstairs, gimme a minute, I’ll be right back,” Taehyuns voice echoed to his family as he rushed by you and Soobin into the hall.
Watching him fly by, you turned to Soobin and said, “Minho told me Taehyun’s got cough medicine.”
“Oh?” Soobin raised a brow.
“Mhm,” you gritted your teeth and widened your eyes. “I’m gonna go see if Mina can take it, and try to find out why he has it.”
Soobin took a breath, appearing like he wanted to tell you not to do it. “For Mina.”
“Yes, for Mina,” you repeated. Your husband tucked his bottom lip between his teeth and nodded slowly. “Soobin,” your tone was flat.
“I’ll have a drink ready for you when you come back, what do you want?” he asked, expertly switching the subject.
A small smile popped onto your lips, one Soobin returned. “Just a glass of water, please.”
“Of course,” he nodded.
Down the hall and up the stairs you used to run up and down as a teenager, you stared at the stretch of a corridor that had two doors on either side, two bedrooms, and a pushed back bathroom to your right on the other side of the railing. Many, many, many feet across from you was the other staircase that wound down to the first floor near the kitchen. They opened up to the living room where a fireplace and the giant TV lived, right by a little hallway that took you to a sliding glass door and spacious backyard.
The floor was wooden, like the stairs. A deep, chestnut color that matched every door in this place. There wasn’t a single window in the hall, but there was a long one in the bathroom next to the shower, and both bedrooms had three. Your bedroom was to the left. Taehyuns was to the right. Outside of your door sat most of your bags from downstairs, all of them brought up for you. Taking your time toward them in the quiet air, you let your gaze fawn over every mark on the wall, every scuff, every memory that was crammed into every inch of this second floor. It was a lot cleaner now that no one occupied this space.
Jin and Joy’s bedroom was on the first floor, they rarely had a reason to come up here.
The door to the bathroom was cracked open, the tile on the floor lit up by the sun peeking through the window curtain, illuminating the shadows of a past you seemed to be longing for.
Adjusting Mina on your front, you cradled her head and sighed. This little one was a reminder that your life had turned for the better, that the past was in the past, and that it was something you needed to leave behind, though here in this quiet hall it seemed impossible. You used to laugh until your stomach hurt, the sleepless nights up here were endless. Sneaking your friends in through Taehyun’s window, hiding bottles of drinks you shouldn’t have underneath your bed so your parents wouldn’t find them, getting so stupidly under the influence that led to hookups, and more hookups.
You were young, you were stupid, you were having fun. You weren’t knee deep in diapers, playing peek-a-boo, or worried about bills. Life was exciting, and you were as light as a feather, letting life take you where it wanted to, which most times was through the door Taehyun stepped out of now. Startling each other, you gasped, then let out a soft laugh. He had a phone in his hand and a small smile on his face.
“I didn’t even hear you come up here,” he said, taking a step toward you.
“Guess I still know how to be sneaky,” you smirked. He was enamored by it for all of two seconds, then his smile dropped as he cleared his throat. “Wait, no, I didn’t mean-“
“I know,” he nodded, then attempted another smile. It was quiet for a moment before he said, “Strange up here now.”
“Definitely,” you sighed. Taehyun peeked at his phone that vibrated twice, then looked back up at you.
“I, uh, brought up your stuff,” he gestured to your bags, “You have a lot of shit.” You both laughed.
“I have four kids,” you raised your eyebrows. “My shit has a lot of shit.”
Taehyun flashed his grin. You ignored the cartwheel in your stomach. “Congratulations, by the way,” he said. “He’s beautiful. Wonwoo.”
“Thank you,” you smiled, proud. “He was a perfect little surprise.”
“Joy told me,” he said, nodding his head.
Your eyes narrowed. “When?”
“This past summer,” his volume dropped. “We celebrated Rosie’s birthday here.”
Your heart sunk to your knees. Shaking your head, you held back a sigh. “We were here this summer, right before Wonwoo was born, I knew nothing about it.”
Taehyun shrugged. “Yeah, well…”
“You have to go past me to come here,” you said, adjusting Mina on your front once more. “Jin or Joy didn’t even tell us?!”
“I told them not to,” he admitted.
Sucking in a sharp breath, you straighten out your back and tighten your jaw.
“Are you really surprised?” Taehyun asked. “We hadn’t seen each other in forever.” He took two more steps toward you, shoving his phone in his back pocket. “The last time we spoke, you were yelling in my face.”
“I distinctly remember you yelling in my face,” you said just above a whisper, taking a step toward him. The anger you used to feel when this topic came up bubbled to the surface, simmering beneath your skin. “I just wanted to talk to you.”
“You always want to talk to me,” he said. The two of you had a foot of space between you now, and you could tell you shared the rage you were feeling inside. “It took me a while to realize that you don’t know this, but when people break up they don’t do this.”
Jaw clenched, eyes as wide as the moon, you shook your head. “Do what.”
Taehyun tipped his head back and huffed a laugh, looking elsewhere for a second. “This. Talk to each other, stay involved, unless…”
“Unless what?” your voice trembled, a mere whisper.
Darting his tongue out between his lips, he swallowed hard, and muttered, “Unless they still love each other.”
“That bullshit doesn’t apply here,” you said quickly, and quietly. “This is different, we are different.”
Taehyun lowered his chin. “We are fucked up.”
Taking a long, deep breath, you took a step away from him and spun in a slow circle, collecting your thoughts and your composure. “Friends, we said we can be friends.” Facing him, his eyes were solemn.
“Yeah, and be honest with me now that shock of seeing each other is gone,” he said. “You really think we can do that?”
A piece of you needed to make it work. Standing up here in this hallway now with him, coming to the full realization that he used to be the only stable thing in your life, you needed to make it work. He was your best friend, your other half, your partner in crime. Home, he was home.
“I said it downstairs, we can work for it,” you said. “I want you in my life, Taehyun. I need you in my life. We’re… family. I want my kids to know you, I want our kids to grow up together. Life feels right when we’re in a good place, when there isn’t so much space between us.”
“And what happens when that space gets too small?” Taehyun was a rock, eyes locked on yours as you spoke.
“It won’t,” you exhaled heavily, letting your knees give a bit. “We can-”
“It will,” Taehyun cut you off, closing the space between you completely. “It always does. It happened six years ago, it will happen again.” His tone was rough, but it didn’t correlate with the way he was gazing down at you. “Maybe you can pretend that we can try to be friends. But… I got a divorce ‘cause a girl I love helped me realize I was killing myself. And she was the only one who cared. For twenty years… you’re the only one who cared. You still are, and it hurts like hell.”
“Taehyun…”
“I told you I didn’t wanna go here,” he snickered, shaking his head. “Stupid of me to think that we could avoid it.” He stepped away from you, heading towards the staircase behind you. The loss of his warmth in front of you was disappointing. Turning around, cradling your daughter, you stopped him dead in his tracks.
“Bee Juice,” you said. He peered over his shoulder with one hand on the railing.
“What?”
“Bee Juice,” you nodded. “Mina’s sick, I didn’t bring anything with me. Do you think Joy has something?” Taehyuns eyes drew up and down your body, ending on the little one latched to your front.
“Um, I dunno,” he said. “I might? Minho was sick a little while ago when he was with Sana, lemme see if I brought anything with me.” When he walked by you he didn’t bother to look at you. Walking straight into his old bedroom, he left the door ajar. Unsure whether or not it was an invitation to follow him, you took a few timid steps into the doorway and felt every joint in your body tighten at the sight of his walls.
Posters, polaroid pictures and flags covered the dark grey paint, the artwork spilling onto the ceiling as well. His king sized bed was shoved into the far left corner, with what looked like a hundred pillows tossed onto the top. The comforter was still black, and fluffy. Your fingers can feel the softness without having to touch it.
A nightstand that once was messy and littered with life, was clean and housed a stack of three books he’d read religiously throughout the year, every year, and a lamp without a shade. There was a drawer on it that was all banged up, and you wondered if it was still full of things it shouldn’t be full of. Plenty of late nights were spent rummaging through the drawer in the dark, the light of the moon guiding you both through your bad decisions.
The dressers on the opposite wall were the same, and the walk in closet still had mirrors for doors. It was as if the years had been preserved, and this was a time capsule of beautiful mistakes you were sentenced for life to remember.
Taehyun rummaged through a suitcase at the end of his bed. He side eyed you as you walked in the door. You didn’t dare take a step closer to him or offer him help, because low and behold, he found what he was looking for, and more. As he pulled the orange bottle of Dayquil out of his bag, a small, round black bottle, one that photographers used for film, rolled out onto the floor and rattled loud. You both looked at it, then you looked at him before he grew the balls to look up too.
“Taehyun.”
“I don’t take them,” he muttered, looking up with only his eyes. “It’s been years, I swear. Even this,” he held up the bottle of cough medicine, “Nothing.”
Bee Juice was two words you weren’t expecting to hear this weekend. They were two words you hadn’t heard in a long, long time. In fact, the last time you even said them was probably in here in his room, with two other friends who’d join in on figuring out how much of the shit you can drink before you make yourselves sick. It was the type of high you’d never want to experience ever again. Just the thought of it turned your stomach. Taehyun was the only one to stick with it out of the four of you, the rest of you turned to other things, other drugs, or simply drinking, but he’d put that garbage in anything and everything.
Knowing he had the bottle on him made you nervous. Throughout his marriage you knew he wasn’t completely sober, he’d never grown out of that part of his life, he’d use it to cope. With how his marriage began, he was a child having a child, he became incredibly dependent on both bottles that came out of his bag.
“Why do you have it all with you?” you asked softly, hoping he’d talk it out.
Picking the bottle of pills off the floor he tossed them back into his suitcase and rubbed his forehead, his nervous eyes glancing to you a couple of times. “I don’t… I can’t explain it.”
“Try,” you said, taking a step toward him.
“I guess I just… I feel better, knowing it’s here, yanno?” Raking a hand through his hair exposing his forehead, he shrugged. “I don’t take any of it, but it’s here.” He faced you. “I’ve been sober for over a year, since I decided to leave her. I haven’t taken anything, I haven’t had a drink, I haven’t smoked anything.”
“I’m sober too,” you nodded, and watched as relief flooded his being. “It would be… six years.” Taehyun furrowed his brow. “But, it’s two, almost three.”
After a gulp Taehyun asked, “Don’t tell me… After we…”
“Yup,” you popped the ‘p’ and shot him a sarcastic smile. “It was just a… bottle, maybe.” Taehyun shook his head. “And, yanno, the more I think about it, it should really be nine years, but…”
“Six years ago we were getting fucked up at Beomgyu’s,” he said. One of the old friends you shared. He was at Rosie’s tenth birthday two years ago, but you hadn’t seen him since. The other friend was Yeonjun. He’s been off the grid since you were twenty-one. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
He shrugged again. “All of that was my fault.”
Scoffing, you walked further into his bedroom. “Taehyun, it was my choice to do it. You didn’t put the drugs in me.”
“Sometimes I did.”
“Yeah,” you sighed. “‘Cause I told you to.” Approaching his side slowly, you took the bottle from him and retreated a couple steps. “I’m gonna believe you, but only because you look good, Tae.”
“Thanks, Baby,” he whispered with a smirk.
“If Soobin hears you say that he’ll lose his mind,” you warned.
Throwing his hands out to the side, Taehyun audibly expressed his frustration. “That’s been your name since we were fifteen!”
“Yeah, when we started sleeping in the same bed,” you widened your eyes. Holding up the bottle, you thanked him and sulked into the hall, pausing to process… all of that.
You could hear him zipping up the suitcase, putting it back where he’d found it. Walking across the hall, wanting to avoid him when he left his bedroom, you open your door and quickly shut it behind you, propping yourself up against the wood with a breath. Bare, sage green walls glared at you from all angles. In the center of the room underneath one of the three windows was your bed, also king sized, with four different knitted blankets thrown on top joined by matching pillows. The mattress wasn’t nearly as crowded as Taehyun’s.
Two redwood nightstands were on either side of the bed, both empty. The two dressers on the opposite wall were empty as well, except for the picture frames sitting on top. Three photos. One of you, Taehyun, Yeonjun and Beomgyu at a park across town at some ungodly hour of the morning. The second was you and Taehyun, seventeen years old, with your cheeks squeezed together and your eyes crossed with your lips squished all silly. The third was you and your mother when you were just five years old, the same age as your boys. They may have learned to copy Soobins pout, but those boys were all you, and this photo was proof.
Your room was eerie compared to Taehyun’s, his for some reason had life, while yours was completely still and quiet. Laying Mina down on your bed where you used to sleep, you kiss her cheek and kneel down on the floor beside her, putting the Dayquil on the nightstand. Your two year old lifted her head and whined, holding out her arms for you.
“I’m gonna help you, Meens,” you whispered, unscrewing the top of the bottle. The smell smacked you in the face, almost making you gag. Gripping the bottle with one hand, you went to pour a little bit into the lid, but froze as the alarms went off in your brain. “What the hell,” you sighed, turning the bottle around to read it. “I can’t give you this. What am I doing?”
Mina found her thumb, shoving it in her mouth, her eyes fluttering shut.
Bringing the bottle to your nose, your eyes watered, and a chill ran down your spine. For a brief second you’re reminded of what it was like… How it used to be. How you’d walk by your parents totally fried, and they’d have no idea. The euphoria was so intense some nights all you could do was lay on Taehyun’s floor with your head in his lap while he and your friends listened to music you could barely make out.
You can feel his fingers running through your hair as your eyes shut, body vibrating at a frequency unknown to most, leaving you with nothing to do then hold onto him for some sort of stability. If you started to come down, when the rest of them were ready for more, you’d let Taehyun hold beneath your chin, coercing your lips apart to give you more to drink, sometimes from between his own lips.
Enchanted by the scent, lost in the memories, you didn’t even hear the bedroom door creak open.
“Babe?” Soobins voice bounced off the judgey walls. Jumping a mile, you whipped yourself around and fell onto your bottom on the floor. With half a smile on his face, you found your husband standing in the doorway holding up a box of children's Tylenol in his hand.
Catching a glimpse of the Dayquil, he took a breath and shut the door behind him, joining you at your side on the floor, tucking his long legs under him. Capping the bottle, you immediately handed it to him.
“Did you give her any of this?” he asked, making sure you were keeping your eyes on him. His tone wasn’t derogatory, but it was strict.
“No, I was just reading the label,” you said. “She can’t have it.”
Soobins nod was slow, and careful. “You know she can’t have this,” he said. “I realized what you had said after you walked away, that’s why I searched for this.” He gave the box a shake. “Jin found it in the back of their medicine cabinet.”
“Good,” you said, taking the Tylenol from him, getting the box open, taking out the bottle and the syringe it came with. “Little Miss needs it.”
Soobin glanced from the bottle in his hand, then to you. “Did you, uh… You didn’t take any of this did you?” His voice was soft, not the slightest bit accusatory.
“No.” Taking out the appropriate amount of medicine for Mina, you avoided Soobins eyes and tended to your daughter. Maneuvering the little ones thumb out of her mouth, and the syringe into it, she screwed her face up and tried to cry. “Oh, it’s gross, I know.”
Soobin put his elbows on the bed and grabbed Mina’s feet, playing with them to distract her. “She’s going to sleep for forever,” he said, then smiled as his daughter noted his presence in the room. “Hi, sweetie, you’re doing so good.” Calm in seconds, Mina focused on her father and swallowed the medicine, throwing her thumb back in her mouth as soon as she was finished.
“See?” you sneered. “A brat for me, an angel for you.” Thrusting the bottle back in the box, you accidentally tossed it onto Soobins lap. “Our kids hate me.”
“First of all,” Soobin eyed you, laying the box on the bed after he picked it up reluctantly. “She’s sick. She’s going to be a brat, she doesn’t know how to act. Second of all, our kids don’t hate you.” Studying you, you could tell he couldn’t place whether or not your behavior was purely satirical.
“They don’t listen to me,” you whispered. “They listen to you. I’m there to give them what they need, but they look up to you. You can handle them no matter what decibel they’re at. I can’t.”
After a glance to Mina who had dozed off, Soobin reached for one of your hands. “Where is this coming from?”
A shrug of your shoulders wasn’t enough to appease him.
“Talk to me.” His voice dropped a couple octaves. Another shrug.
“I just…” Vaguely gesturing around your room, you weren’t sure how to put it into words. How were you supposed to tell your husband that the ghosts of your past plastered in these walls haunted you to your very core?
What were you supposed to tell him? That a piece of you was still yearning to live the life you thought you were supposed to live? That you loved the boy across the hall, but you were both destined to live confined to the chains your mother loved to call family. That if nine years ago, Taehyun hadn’t dropped a lit match on top of your relationship doused in kerosene, everything would be perfect.
“Listen,” Soobin started softly, as if he read your inner turmoil on your forehead. “I know this is hard. I know it’s a lot. You’re doing a great job, being here, dealing with them all. You and Taehyun, you’re speaking, that’s what we wanted.”
“Soob, we’ve said so much,” you whispered, feeling your eyes well up with tears. “And I feel like it hasn’t been enough.”
“Sweetie, I don’t know if it’ll ever be enough.” Dragging his thumb over the back of your hand, Soobin bit his lip. “You guys have years, upon years, and a history so deep I don’t think you and I will ever share.”
“Don’t say that,” you cried, sniffling, crawling into his arms. Sitting in his lap, he wrapped his arms around your middle and placed his chin on your head. “I’m sorry, Soobin.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he said, still somehow level headed as ever. “I knew exactly what I was getting into when I asked that sleepless, hungover girl out on a date. Walking home with Beomgyu? From…”
“Oh god,” you groaned. “His brother's house.”
“Mm,” Soobin hummed, the memory a happy one for him, clearly. “You were beautiful. I always thought you were. Smudged mascara and all.” He got you to laugh, and for him that was all he needed. “I knew who you were, I knew what you did, I knew who you did, even though everyone else thought it was just Beomgyu.”
You picked your head up, eyebrows as low as they could be. “That is not when you knew.”
Soobin wiped a finger under one of your eyes, fixing the smudged mascara he apparently loved so much. “That is when I knew,” he nodded, letting a finger drag over your lips. “You get this… look in your eye when you see him. Still do.”
“I love you.” His smile grew from your whisper.
“I know,” he crooned. “I love you, too. So much. And so do our kids.” Pausing to nibble his lip like he was, he bobbed his head and whispered, “Work through what you’ve got to work through this weekend, but don’t make me look like an idiot.”
“Again,” you added, sensing he wanted to tack the word on to the end of his lament.
Six years ago, amidst what you called your gap year with Soobin, when the two of you took a break to cool off, to see if this was what you both wanted for yourselves. Soobin wanted to get married. You didn’t feel quite ready yet. Soobin knew where your head was stuck, so he unofficially set you free to sort out your thoughts.
It wasn’t a break up, the two of you didn’t part ways completely, but part of you wishes you had so you could’ve avoided the heartbreak surrounding Soobin when you told him what you ran back to, and where you had been. That winter was fuzzy, one you couldn’t piece together if it weren’t for Soobin’s ingenious memory. A few months later you were engaged, and pregnant, and married a month or so after that. You understood Soobin’s heart and his love for you and your family, but deciding to marry you was one thing he did that you couldn’t understand why.
“I wasn’t even going that far,” Soobin smirked. “But, thanks for letting me know I don’t have to worry about that.”
“You don’t,” you said. “I just want us in a good, decent place where we won’t want to rip each other's heads off. We get under each other's skin too easily.”
Soobin took a deep breath and turned his attention to his sleeping daughter. Her hand had slipped out of her mouth and was laying on her belly, her lips parted with steady breaths.
“K-O,” he joked, kissing your forehead. “Shall we go make sure Wreck It Ralph and Fix It Felix are okay downstairs?”
A smile pricked your lips. “You talkin’ ‘bout our boys, or Joy and Jin?”
Dinner was ready by six. Taehyun’s kids set the table while your twins followed them around carrying the dishes for them, carefully. Joy had no issue handing your five year olds two stacks of her finest, pure white ceramic dishes with the silverware thrown on top.
Once you and Soobin rejoined the chaos, you found Taehyun had beaten you to the kitchen. While the family hustled around the tile, cooking, putting dishes together, pouring drinks, he didn’t spare you glance. He was attentive to his children and his nephews, getting his hands on Wonwoo once to pass him to Jin so Joy could assist Rosie with her cranberry juice in a wine glass. You and Soobin met eyes and held in a laugh. When Sunoo asked if he could have a fancy glass as well, Soobin placed the boy's metallic blue tumbler full of milk in his hands and told him to find his seat at the table.
A long stretch of pine by the windows on the back end of the kitchen, the table was decorated beautifully already, but with the added pizazz of the dishes, candles and steaming food, you had to admit that Joy outdid herself for another year in a row. The warmth from the oven radiated around the room, wrapping your family in a cozy haze, keeping you snug by the frosted glass of the wide paneled windows. The snow hadn’t let up yet, and the kids were giddy.
Jin took his place at the head of the table, Joy beside him and Rosie across from her. Minho hopped into the seat next to his sister, leaving a seat available for you where Sunoo refused to sit. Chan quickly swiped it from you, wanting to spend more time with his cousin, which meant you got to sit on the end, across from Taehyun.
Soobin found himself next to Joy, Sunoo wanting to sit between his father and his uncle. The grown men couldn’t refuse his offer. Noticing who you were across from, Soobin shot you a soft smile and a mere nod of his head. Truthfully, after four kids the two of you didn’t get to sit next to each other anymore anywhere. The highchair at the other end of the table next to you could attest to that. Mina, feeling a bit more up for food now that she’d taken the medicine, was already reaching for the steamed buttery carrots that sat in front of her.
“Good job everybody,” Joy beamed. “Eat, please, eat.”
“Don’t gotta tell me twice!” Minho was smug, diving into one of the bowls nearby. Laughter rolled through the room, and everyone followed suit, filling their plates. It didn’t take long for ample chatter to fill the air, mostly the kids asking questions about Christmas and talking about school or the snow.
“But, I asked for a Playstation,” Minho said between bites, glancing at Chan. “Do you know what that is?” Your big eyed boy watched him in awe, shaking his head. “I’ll show you. I have almost every version, at least of the new ones. Some of them are so old.”
“You don’t have every version, Minnie,” Taehyun chuckled, sitting back in his chair, folding his arms across his broad chest. At the other end of the table Rosie was chatting away with her grandparents, Soobin listening in without presenting his judgment on his face.
“Yes I do, Dad,” Minho’s eyebrows shot into the sky. “Heeseung found me a PS One on eBay! He bought it for me weeks ago, it’s so cool.” Plopping a small scoop of sweet potatoes onto Mina’s plate, you glance at Taehyun who rolled his eyes.
“Oh,” he said, forcing a smile onto his face. “Well, I had no idea.” Chan asked Minho about the Playstation, the two boys were excited and curious. Taehyun drug his glare over toward you and blew a raspberry on his lips. It made Mina giggle.
“Heeseung?” Raising your brow, you smiled when he leaned over to your girl and blew another one, making her laugh even harder.
Taehyun sat back, satisfied his audience was entertained. “Yeah, Heeseung,” he said under his breath. Arms still folded, he shrugged. “Sana’s boyfriend.”
If you had anything in your mouth you would’ve choked, and nearly did on air. “When did that happen?” Dropping your tone to a whisper, you tried your best to keep this conversation between the two of you, unsure of how aware Joy and Jin were of the situation.
“Well, let’s see,” his entire demeanor dropped, a glint of something heavy flashing in his eyes. “They worked together for a few years-”
“Sana worked?”
Taehyun smirked. “Focus please.”
“Sorry,” you breathed a laugh, tending to your daughter who whined for her drink.
“They were working together, they both did that buying shit, yanno?” Taehyun started to talk with his hands, waving one around to piece the story together. You both ignored your boys as they informed him he used a bad word. “He was one of her closest work friends, he would be at our house from time to time to hang out, he came to all the kids birthday parties-”
“Oh my god, the stone faced babe with the nose,” you gasped, placing your chin in your hand.
Taehyun waited for you to finish. You felt your cheeks flush after realizing you had cut him off again.
“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear you say that,” he smiled. “Yes, him.”
“I thought he was gay.” You both spoke at once, breaking into crass laughter that triggered the table to look your way.
Joy, chewing away behind a promising grin, with bright eyes said, “See? I knew you two would be fine.”
Jin, focused on his plate, frowned. “Were we not fine?” Looking down to the other end of the table, you and Taehyun sat up straight like you’d been caught. Taehyun’s father waited for an answer, shifting his gaze between his wife and his family. “What’d I miss?”
Soobin lowered his chin and leaned into Sunoo, whispering something to him about his dinner. The five year old pouted, waving away the meat on his plate. Pressing a kiss to his son's head, Soobin took it off his plate and put it on his own.
“You didn’t miss anything,” Taehyun brushed the matter off, picking up his fork to shovel food into his mouth, hoping that’d get you two out of the hot seat. Your mother snickered, using the cloth napkin that was at every setting to wipe the corners of her mouth.
“You two are funny,” she said. Soobins eyes flickered up toward you, then quickly shot back to his son. Rosie was leaning forward, her elbows on the table, enthralled with what was about to ensue. A drama lover, just like her mother. “My love,” Joy said, turning to her husband. “They weren’t speaking for two years. I had just found out today, when the Choi’s arrived.”
“The Choi’s,” you scoffed, shaking your head. Leave it to her to address your family like you were all foreign visitors. “Mom, we can let it go. It’s not a big deal.”
“The hell it isn’t!?” Joy dropped her fork.
“Bad word!” Chan and Sunoo looked to Soobin for help, but all he could do was shake his head and quiet them down.
“Joy, really,” Taehyun added weight to his words.
“Joy this, Mom that,” she appeared ready to leap out of her chair. “Look at us! All of us here. A family.”
You snuck a glance at Taehyun who had his eyes glued to Joy. He seemed like he was sinking backward into his chair, hoping it would crumble or somehow swallow him whole, anything to get him out of this room.
“This is how it should be. Always.” Joy whipped her head toward the two of you. “You’re both so far away, I’m grateful we were able to spend this weekend together, aren’t you?” Nods of everyone's heads was enough to encourage her to go on. “I miss this, I miss you both being here, running around upstairs. Hearing you laugh, hearing you talk to each other… It feels like it was.”
Jin reached for his wife’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “We feel whole having you all here.” He made it a point to look at each of you. With another glance to Taehyun you watched him roll his eyes.
“To find out about you not talking, not seeing each other… That hurt,” Joy wore the apparent pain on her face. It made you want to laugh. “You were best friends. Every waking moment was spent together, I can’t imagine anything that would break that up.”
Swapping a glance now, Taehyun finally looking at you, you shared a deep breath.
“What would they do together?” Rosie asked, chiming in to take the attention. Joy and Jin laughed.
“Oh, they’d do everything, Rosie,” Jin smiled. “They went everywhere together, they had the same friends. You know the cabinet full of movies we keep underneath the television?” The twelve year old nodded. “It’s theirs, they collected those together and would watch them all the time.”
“We would wake up some mornings and they’d be fast asleep on the couches together,” Joy smiled at Jin, then turned to her granddaughter. “They would spend weekends in the living room with their friends if they were too bored to stay upstairs.”
Jin laughed to himself, shooting a finger in the air. “I can remember getting up for work one morning, and there were four of them knocked out at the kitchen table. Back when we had the booth seat that wrapped around the circular table?”
“Yes!” Joy clapped her hands together, like the memory was near and dear to heart, like it didn’t have you cringing and wishing they’d both shut up. “I still have that picture! They had to be around nineteen,” Joy looked at Rosie, “Our house was clearly the cool house.”
Taehyun forced air through his lips and shook his head, and you’d agree if you weren’t paralyzed in place. Thankfully your boys were occupied between Soobin and Minho, not letting any of these memories sink in.
Our house was clearly the cool house.
You wanted to scream back in her face that her house was the house with little to no supervision, and that was why you and your friends would come here to get shitfaced again and again. Her cool house taught you how to mix drinks before you were of legal age, pummeling you headfirst into blurry years you can hardly put together. Their cool house and their happy memories of you two asleep in the living room after a night of movies you’d hardly watch, the two of them completely unaware that you and Taehyun would be-
“Oh!” Joy exclaimed, knocking you from your spiraling thoughts. Her earrings swung vigorously at her ears as she bounced around, excited.
“Oh!” Mina copied her. The room was buzzing with energy, Taehyun’s kids wound up from listening to these stories, and your children messing with the food on their plates. Soobin and Taehyun were stiff, as were you, pointed gazes beckoning Joy to shut the fuck up.
“Videos!” Joy cheered, slamming her hands onto the wood edge of the table. She looked up and down the table. “We have videos,” she said, pointing to you and Taehyun, “Of you two!” Turning to Jin she gripped his wrist and shook it around. “We’ll do that thing on the TV, connect your phone to it.” Taehyun shot you a look, brows slightly concerned. Joy’s body whirled back around. “How fun to show the kids! Oh, I’ve always wanted to be this kind of family during the holidays.”
Rosie beamed with Joy, smiling wider than you’ve ever seen. She truly was a beautiful little girl underneath her wanna-be old attitude. “They did this on Fuller House at Christmas.”
Joy's hands clapped together once more, her expression falling smug. “Oh my god,” she said, looking straight at you. “We’re gonna be a Full House family.”
Stomach churning, worried about what was in those videos that probably haven’t been looked at… ever, you sat back in your chair as Joy and Rosie fell into a discussion over the difference between Full House and Fuller House. Chan asked Minho about the band on his hoodie, and Soobin listened to Sunoo talk about Fuller House too, the five year old pretending as if he knew what that was.
Watching them all move on, even Taehyun who helped Minho out with the pronunciation of the band he wore, you crossed your arms and gulped. How developed were five year old brains? Were they about to witness footage of you in your early twenties that would permanently alter how they saw their mother? Would there be something within the videos that was supposed to stay hidden, or in the past? What would it do to Soobin, to watch you at your worst, his wife, the mother of his children?
Underneath the table something tapped your ankle. Glancing to Chan, who probably kicked you, you found the boy sitting on his feet, facing his cousin. Something tapped your ankle again, then two feet encased it, pulling it away from you. Shooting a look at Taehyun, he was focused on his son. No one was paying attention, so you took a peek.
It was Taehyun, his legs quickly wrapping around your own, his smile growing as you looked back up at him. His focus was on his son thankfully, he wouldn’t get to watch your eyes bug out of your head.
“They started in the eighties technically,” Taehyun said to the boys, shamelessly rubbing his legs on yours. “Grohl didn’t join until the nineties.”
“Who is Grohl?” Chan asked, eyes narrowed and focused. Taehyun shifted his legs, crossing one over the other, his foot nudging your thigh shamelessly.
“Dave Grohl,” he smiled. “He played the drums for Nirvana. He had long hair down to here,” Taehyun gestured at the length below his shoulders, “And he was so cool.” His foot traveled further up your thigh, you fought away the chill that ran down your spine.
“Wait, he was on your wall upstairs,” Chan said.
“He sure is,” Taehyun nodded. “They all are.”
Chan leaned over the table, little elbows holding him up. “Uncle Taehyun, you're so cool, too. Like Grohl.”
Taehyun flashed his grin, looking at you for a few seconds. “Yeah, I am.”
“On those videos we’ll get to see how cool he really was, right Dad?” Minho was smiling, looking from his cousin to his father, who hadn’t stopped looking at you. His gaze shifted to something of slight concern, both of you knowing what the other was thinking.
Taehyun gave his son a slight shrug. “Maybe we will.” He shot Minho a smile, and when the two cousins started to eat and talk amongst one another, the smile fell and the grip he had around your leg loosened.
“I don’t wanna watch ‘em either,” you mumbled. Taehyun shook his head, a miniscule moment only for you to see before he sighed. And it wasn’t brought up again.
“Cell phones are for big kids.”
Chan wasn’t impressed. Tiny fingers pressing into the marble of the kitchen counter, dangling backward on his heels, the five year old whined and whined. Drying the last dish that Soobin handed to you over his shoulder, he shot a look to his son, one that whipped him into shape.
“You can play with Minho’s for now, okay?” Giving him a smile, you placed the dish in a cabinet and tossed the towel onto the counter by the sink. The little one murmured his agreement, hurrying off to follow the other kids' shouts.
Soobin, after folding the towel you threw, slid his arms around your shoulders from behind, pressing a kiss to your neck, one that sent a chill down your spine. Grabbing onto his hands you peered toward him and smirked.
“Let’s skip the movies,” you whispered in the empty kitchen.
Soobin’s grin widened. “Oh, no, I think I want to see this.” With a groan you spun around in his arms, his hands falling to your waist. Cupping his cheeks, you pouted.
“Trust me, you don’t.”
“Darling, I know,” his tone was soft, gentle. “I already know what to expect. After everything, don’t you think if I had a problem I wouldn’t be standing here?”
Averting your gaze to the floor, you shrugged. “I just don’t know what’s gonna be on them, that’s all. I never really remember them having cameras around.”
Soobin took a finger to your chin, tipping it upward for him to kiss the tip of your nose. “It’s okay. Surely if it was anything too bad Jin or Joy wouldn’t show it. Or, they would’ve said something to you by now.”
“Joy’s been acting weirder than usual,” you said, dragging your thumbs along your husband's cheeks. “She’s always inappropriate, and has no filter, but… I dunno. What if watching this stuff makes her realize her daughter was fucked up almost everyday of her life since, like, high school. What if they caught us doing the dr-”
Feet scurrying in the hall stole your attention, both you and Soobin turning to the doorway in record time.
“Who was that?” You breathed. Soobins grip tightened around your waist. Shooting him a look, a wide eyed, worried look, he returned an unknowing one back. “Shit,” you sighed.
“Bad word,” Soobin whispered. For a few seconds neither of you moved, and then it was all too funny, both of you breaking out into giggles that echoed in the empty air. “Let’s go find some seats, if the little’s didn't take them all. I’ll grab the baby, I’ll meet you there.”
Wonwoo, snug in his carseat, had been snoozing on and off throughout dinner. Soobin tucked his arm beneath the handle and hoisted the carrier up, following you into the living room through an archway that was halfway down the hall toward the opposite staircase.
Inside the glorious room with the giant screen, expensive sound system and cozy grey, velvety couches, the boys had all piled up on the loveseat, the twins on either side of Minho. All three of them had kicked off their shoes, the two pairs of dress shoes flung sporadically amongst Minho’s sneakers. Rosie was in the armchair that matched the other furniture, her legs crossed delicately while she tapped away at her phone screen.
A large couch lay between the loveseat and the chair, a couch you had spent many nights on. Out of all rooms to redecorate and change again and again, you really had hopes that Joy would’ve chosen this one. The deep bluish-grey of the walls that reflected the furniture had your stomach rolling. While warm and cozy to others, this room made your blood run cold.
A square glass coffee table was in the center of the room. A vase of Christmas flowers spilled out on top of it, and books and magazines circled the sparkling vase. Crystalized, glass coasters were strategically placed over the top, with matching glasses at the bar behind the sitting area. You didn’t even need to look, you could tell exactly where each bottle of liquor lived. It never changed. For twenty years, it’s been the same. You did glance toward it as you walked in the room, and Soobin took note.
Jin and Joy stood by the television, mumbling to one another, trying to figure out how to connect their phones to the screen. The point of Joy's heels dug into the plushness of the rug beneath her feet that extended throughout the room, all the way to the bar. On her tush, staring up at her grandparents working, sat Mina. She was barefoot as well, teetering around in her socks. When she caught wind you had walked into the room she whined and started to crawl toward you.
“No walkin’, huh?” Soobin laughed from behind you as you scooped her up into your arms. “Medicine must be wearing off,” you said, kissing her cheek. Weaving around the furniture you chose to sit on the edge of the couch, letting Soobin plop down beside you, setting Wonwoo on the floor next to his feet. The infant had just opened his eyes, blinking a few times at his father.
“Hey, Soobin,” Jin began, turning around. He didn’t look up from his phone. “Think you can help me figure this out? I thought I knew how…”
“Of course,” your husband smiled, on his feet in an instant.
Wonwoo’s face scrunched up like it would before he would cry, and sure enough, he started to cry. Mina expressed her shock on her face, looking at you, then her baby brother. “Baby cry,” she said, pointing toward him. Shifting Mina to the side, you sat her down on the couch cushion she was nearly swallowed up by, then reached forward for Wonwoo.
“Get him, Mama,” Mina said quietly. The two year old was always intrigued when it came to the baby. Curious as ever, her attentive eyes studied you as you carefully placed him in your hands and lifted him out of the carseat, kissing his cheek before cradling him in your arms.
“Shut it up,” Rosie groaned from somewhere in the room you didn’t care to acknowledge, but could feel the heat in Soobin’s eyes as he shot her a glare.
Mina leaned over your arms, holding onto your bicep with all of her might, watching you bounce Wonwoo to calm him down. Her pink cheeks and glassy eyes were full of adoration. “Shhh, baby. Shhh.” Wonwoo sucked in a deep breath, quieting down at the sound of his sister's voice.
“Good job, Meens,” you gasped, smiling at her. “Say it again, tell him he’s okay.”
A wail about to escape the infant was stolen by his sister's caring words. “S’okay, baby. Shhh.” As the crying came to an end, Mina gasped and looked to you for approval.
Putting one of your arms around her, you tucked her into your side and kissed her head. “Best big sister,” you said.
“Boooring,” Rosie sang. Looking over at her, she was looking back at you. Her phone was on her lap, and her chin was in her hand. For a second she appeared as her mother, sharp eyes, pursed lips and pointed cheekbones. Since she was born it was hard to believe Taehyun had a part in her procreation. For years you had a quiet, delusional, but harmless joke that Sana made Rose herself to trap Taehyun with her. Anything to ease the pain from the night you found out about her.
Milliseconds away from opening your mouth, unsure of what to say to the twelve year old you used to blame for ruining your life, her father hustling into the living room took the heat off of you.
“Did I miss it?” Breathless, he glanced about the room. Finding that nothing had even happened yet, he sighed and trudged his way across the carpet.
“Daddy!” Rosie shouted, throwing her arms into the air. Taehyun beamed, a light pouring out of his heart like it was the first time the child had ever said the word. It made you wonder how often she showed him love. This was the first time today you’ve seen her give him any sort of attention.
Taehyun, holding his own arms out, rushed for his daughter and caught her in his arms as she leapt out of the chair and fell into them. She squeezed him tight, pressing her cheek into his chest with her eyes shut. The smile on his face made your heart flutter. Holding his firstborn, his little girl, the one who stole his heart the second she was born… The only one he’d love more than any other girl who walked into his life. It made you smile, truly. When Taehyun was with his kids, he was happy. And whenever you witnessed moments like this, it healed something broken within yourself.
Sure, that little girl he held and sat down on his lap in the oversized armchair wrecked everything between you two twelve years ago. No, he didn’t care that it wrecked everything you and him once shared. But, he was happy. And you’d do anything, give up anything, to see him happy. Even if it meant watching him walk away after you begged him not go through with fathering the spawn of Satan.
“Here we go!” Jin cheered as the television flashed and the scene of two kitchen remodel’s ago popped up on the screen. The boys' necks snapped to the TV, excitement buzzing off of them as they bounced around to get even more comfortable. Chan had an arm wrapped around Minho’s. “Okay everybody! Thanks to my amazing son-in-law,” Soobin smirked and shook his head as he hurried to sit down beside you, Mina getting squished between your bodies, “We get to see some home movies.” The kids erupted in cheers. Well, the boy's couch did. Rosie just nibbled one of her nails.
“Oh, I am SO ready,” Joy shook her shoulders. “I’ll get the lights, everyone has a seat?” Your mother scrambled for a remote on top of the shelf below the television, clicking it toward the ceiling to shut off the lights built into the top of the room. “If we’re lucky maybe we’ll get to see some of you guys as babies!” She gestured to all the kids as she worked her way through the room to sit on the other side of Soobin, Jin joining her soon after with his phone in hand.
The boys whispered quiet things to one another, and Rosie said something to Taehyun. Soobin gave you a sideways smile, slipping an arm around your back, over your shoulders.
And the clips, shuffled throughout the years, began.
~ august 18th, 2010 ~
Windows open in the house, a refreshing summer breeze flowing through the white curtains that hung to the floor, everything was perfect. Absolutely perfect. The sun had set about an hour ago, leaving everything washed in a deep orange haze that would linger for another twenty minutes.
Dressed in soft checkered high waisted shorts with a white cropped tee on top, one that you stole from Taehyun and cut in half, your bare feet slammed on the wood of the second floor as you darted from your bedroom toward the stairs to the kitchen. Laughter flooded the air, coming out of you, straight from your heart. Gripping the railing, you’re seconds away from leaping down to the dual level landing, but skinny arms wrap around your waist, yanking you backward, lifting you in the air. Screeching, you curl your knees into your chest and accept defeat, throwing your head backward onto his shoulder.
“Lemme go!” Your cackles were meaningless, and he wouldn’t listen anyway. Stumbling backward into one of the walls you’re certain his elbow almost went through, he laughed and put you down on your feet, making sure you didn’t fall over. “Gyu is here!”
“I don-care,” Taehyun breathed, whirling you around in his arms to press you against the wall, caging you in with his hands planted on the drywall. His smile was wide, bright, and blurry. “How dare you leave m’like this.” Glancing down between the two of you, you followed his eyes and almost snorted, throwing your head back again, this time against the wall.
Heart pounding in your chest, skin ablaze with warmth, veins pumping, extremely intoxicated (both of you), you throw your arms around his shoulders and grip his neck, clawing with your nails, gently. Taehyun sucked a harsh breath between his teeth and let his forehead fall onto yours, his smile still evident on his glistening lips as your hands traveled down his body, over his t-shirt, slipping within the waistband of his sweats where he was bare, wearing nothing beneath them.
“Slut,” you muttered within the shared air, making both of you laugh.
“Mm, mhm, hang on,” he mumbled, sliding a hand beneath your shirt, purposely dragging his fingers lightly up your side to tickle you before he grabs a handful of one of your breasts, where you were bare, wearing nothing beneath the fabric. His smile fell into a smirk when he watched you gasp. “Slut,” he whispered, tone incredulously harsh.
“Stop, Gyu’s here,” you said within a deep breath, feeling your knees buckle.
Taehyun’s brows plummeted. “You know he don’t care. Once he takes what we got he’ll be on another planet, won’t even be able to tell if you’re on top or if he’s takin’ you from the back-”
“M-my moms here.” Your hushed tone and blushed cheeks had his ego blooming with utmost power, and you knew it too.
“Um,” he chuckled. “Never stopped us before, Baby.”
“You two up there?” Joy’s voice carried up the stairs, making the two of you leap a part, taking your hands back to yourselves. “Beomgyu is here!”
Taehyun looked you up and down, licked his lips and shook his head. “We’ll be right down!”
With a deep breath you glanced down to his sweats, where he was still hard, eager for you. Shooting him a quick wink, he groaned from his chest, letting out a laugh after you whispered, “Slut,” and hurried down the stairs.
Balancing once your feet hit the floor, you reared to the side and almost knocked into a wall full of pictures, but a pair of strong hands caught your shoulders before you went down. Looking up at the boy almost a foot taller than you, his shoulder length, shaggy dark hair made you grin. Skin pale and cheeks rosy, Beomgyu was stunning, and pure boy, from his smile to his lanky, defined build.
“Start without me?” he grumbled, smoothing out your hair. “Where’s the loser?”
“I can hear you!” Taehyun shouted from upstairs, getting a giggle out of you.
Beomgyu shot you a lazy smile and shook his head. “You guys are so stupid.”
“I’m hungry, actu-lly,” you whispered, leaning into him on your tiptoes, throwing your arms around his shoulders to hug him.
Beomgyu laughed, wrapping an arm around your back, pressing his hand into your bare skin. Turning around so he could guide you into the kitchen, from over your shoulder he spots Joy, at the counter messing with a new iPhone, holding it up toward the two of you.
Standing on the top of Beomgyu’s shoes, letting him waltz you around the kitchen, you hear your mother laugh and tip your head backward, noticing she was filming you and Beomgyu.
“Mommy!” you shouted into the air, laughing like crazy.
“Oh, you guys are so cute,” Joy smiled, laughing with you, making sure the camera was catching everything. “Where’s Taehyun? He finally let you two spend some time alone?”
Scrunching your face up in disgust, you stood up straight to face Beomgyu, finding him making the same exact face. Laughter corrupted you, going completely limp in his arms.
Footsteps pounded down the stairs, and Taehyun appeared through the archway, his hair pushed back, his skin alive with what looked like a gleam of sweat. Rushing toward you and Beomgyu, Taehyun grabbed a fistful of his friend's hair and yanked his head back, clamping his teeth on the base of his neck, making the boy yelp. Watching Taehyun as he parted from him, the indentation left on his skin turned your stomach, made you want to drag your tongue over the marks.
“Gyu’s mine, Joy,” Taehyun teased, releasing him. He jabbed a finger into your side, laughing as you shrieked, then approached Joy, putting his face up in the camera. “How do I look? Good, probably.” He winked at the camera and laughed, looking up at Joy who giggled behind the phone.
Adjusting your arms around Beomgyu’s shoulders, you hike your legs up his side and wrap them around his waist, going full koala on his front. He let out a gasp and caught you, his hands gripping the underside of your thighs, fingers digging into your skin as you nuzzled your face into his neck.
“You’re gonna get in trouble,” he whispered to you, still laughing, the camera catching none of his words.
“Um!” You half shouted, taking the attention. “What if Gyu is MINE!”
Meeting Taehyun’s eyes you could see the jealousy that immediately pooled within them. You knew he had to keep his cool in front of Joy, and her camera. Normally you wouldn’t be pulling stunts like this, but you were high. You were high and needy for him, you couldn’t let this opportunity go.
“Uh oh, Taehyun, you’ve got competition,” Joy played right along, fueling the intoxicated fire.
“You have three seconds,” Taehyun said, his hardened glare hitting you right where you wanted it to. “One…” Laying your head on Beomgyu’s shoulder, you hummed and smiled, letting your eyes close.
“Two!”
Beomgyu bounced you in his arms, laughing, trying to get you to move, but you wouldn’t budge.
“What happens on three!” Joy was ecstatic, beaming behind her phone, her eyes darting between all three of you.
“Yeah, what happens on three,” you teased, shooting Taehyun the calmest smile you could possibly conjure.
“Wouldn’t you love to find out,” he gritted his teeth. “Three!”
A scream came out of you as Taehyun darted toward you and Beomgyu, his arms grabbing your waist, pulling you off of your friend. Beomgyu stumbled back, ready to catch you both if you fell over, his laughter bouncing through the air along with your own. Taehyun put you on your feet, spun you around, then crouched down and threw you over his shoulder.
“Tae!” Reaching your arms out to Beomgyu, you kicked your feet and almost kicked him in the face. “Gyu, help me,” you giggled.
Taehyun turned to him and shot him a wicked grin. “Let’s go.” Looking at Joy, and her camera, he winked again. “See ya, Joy.”
“Bye,” Joy smiled. “Good luck, Beomgyu.” The boy gave her his charming smile, and followed you and Taehyun upstairs, out of the sight of the camera, and your mother.
“What happened on three?” Minho inquired, looking out amongst the group as the video ended.
Unbelievable that was the first video to play. You can vaguely recall what had happened before you walked into the kitchen attached to Beomgyu, and you can barely put anything together as to what happened after.
You have no idea what happened on three. Taehyun had no idea what happened on three, you were sure of it. After he ran up the stairs with you hanging over his shoulder like a helpless ragdoll, you’re pretty sure the three of you drank until you passed out in your bed. Waking up, you can remember having an arm thrown over Beomgyu’s bare waist where he laid on his back with his arms over his head, upside down on the covers. Taehyun was the only one laying properly, fully clothed, his legs tangled with your own.
“How old were you guys?” Rosie asked, smiling at her father.
“Nineteen,” Taehyun said quietly, his focus on the TV.
Joy and Jin were swiping through the phone, too occupied to pay attention to anything anyone was saying.
“How did you pick up my mom like that?” Sunoo asked Taehyun, eyes wide. His uncle gave him a soft smile.
“I’m pretty strong,” he shrugged.
“Uncle Beomgyu was cute,” Rosie giggled, nibbling on one of her fingernails. Taehyun simply laughed and shook his head. The twelve year old turned to look at you, and you stiffened beneath her curious gaze. “You guys were dating?”
“No,” you answered fast. A little too fast. “He was one of my best friends, one of… our best friends.” Taehyun got the courage to look at you, both of you sharing the smallest, most innocent look just as Joy clicked play on the next video.
~ june 3rd, 2012 ~
The sun beating down on your bare back was anything but comforting. Standing in your backyard with a crystal champagne glass in your hand on the edge of the commotion, you eyed the guests waltzing about in their dress clothes with a grimace.
Atop the balcony of the porch, pink streamers and pink balloons hung down, keeping the place on theme. Pink plates, pink tablecloths, pink cutlery, pink candy, pink napkins, pink, pink, pink… You were sick of it. All the pink.
Women and men, most you didn’t even know, all paraded around with smiles and witty comments of grace for you and your family and the beautiful home that you have.
Oh, it’s just glorious isn’t it?
Yes, thank you my mother knows how to spend that man's money, that’s for certain.
He hee!
Ha ha!
It meant nothing. This whole event, it meant nothing. It felt like some sort of glorified apology.
We’re so sorry my son knocked up your daughter, here, have a disgustingly expensive baby shower, on us!
Downing the rest of your glass, you placed it on the tray of a waiter who came close to you and took two full ones off of it. Knocking back one of them real quick, you returned it to where it came from and decided to nurse the other.
Messing with one of the thin straps of your dress that dug into your shoulder, a floor length floral thing that Joy picked out for you a couple weeks ago, you groaned and cracked your neck, rubbing the muscle with a sigh. Across the party you spot your mother doting on the guest of honor, Sana, wearing a baby pink strapless gown. Her black hair was pinned up in a bun with a pink ribbon tied around it.
She was glowing, and you hated it.
Her belly was round as ever, almost one month away from popping. It was the only thing on her to change throughout this pregnancy, not that you were keeping track. She kept her slender figure, her smooth skin, her bright eyes, her luxurious hair… It was wretched. Maybe she was just nineteen, and that was it. You couldn’t believe your family, or hers, was allowing any of this to happen.
Jin hovered around her with his camera, making sure he captured every detail about this momentous day, this memorable occasion. His first grandchild, a baby girl that you knew he would love no matter where she came from. He and Joy were either in shock, or they truly were the ditzy idiots they made themselves out to be.
You didn’t think you’d be able to drink enough champagne to make it through.
Pressing your glossed lips to the rim of your glass, you let the drink spill into you, finishing it quick, actively pursuing another. Hurrying into the house, slamming the sliding door shut, the mouth watering smell of food and baked goods hit you, drawing you toward the kitchen. Heels clicking on the floor, you walked as fast as the torture devices could take you until you were kicking them off, picking them up by the strap, letting them dangle between two fingers. Stepping into the doorway of the kitchen, completely new and redone, everything a sparkling shade of blue, you find, like, eleven women standing around talking with their noses in the air. You didn’t know a soul.
Spinning around on your toes, desperate for an escape, you rushed into the living room where some of the guys were hiding out with a couple of random kids. Beelining for the bar in the back of the room, you drop your heels on top of it, push by two guys standing nearby and bring yourself behind it. Grabbing onto the neck of a tequila bottle, you acquire a shot glass from one of the shelves and fill it up to the top. It went down with ease, you were already filling it up for a second when a hand took the bottle from you, letting some of the alcohol spill onto the bartop.
“Alright,” Beomgyu said, holding the tequila hostage, watching you take the second shot. His gaze lingered on your lips, even after you ran your tongue over them. Once you slammed the glass on the counter and audibly expressed your relief with a happy sigh, he narrowed his eyes. “Do you want me to take you somewhere else? You know Jungkook said you could stay at his house while… this happened.”
Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, your lipgloss smearing across the skin, you rolled your eyes. “Your brother doesn’t care that much.”
Beomgyu nodded profusely. “Yes, he does. You know he does.”
“Stupid, it’s stupid,” you muttered, reaching for the bottle he held away from you. “Lemme have it.”
“If you’re gonna get plastered, that’s stupid,” Beomgyu said. “It won’t make him talk to you.”
A guttural laugh escaped you. “You think I want him to talk to me?!”
The boy with long, shaggy hair that framed his face spectacularly softened his eyes. “Let me take you to Jungkook’s, please.” He planted both hands on the bar, leaving the tequila unattended.
Leaning forward, placing your elbows on the counter, you pretended to debate his offer, then snagged the bottle back instead, taking a swig straight from the bottle. Beomgyu sighed, heavily, then circled the bar to stand beside you. He reached up for his own glass and stole the bottle from you, filling both the shot glasses.
“Not gonna let you do it alone,” he said, handing you your little glass. Holding his in the air, you clinked them together and took the shot, smiling with Beomgyu. “Besides… he’s high, anyway.”
Tilting your head side to side, you laughed. “He’s always high.”
Beomgyu refilled the glasses and watched you knock it back. Picking his up, he studied it, then studied you. Big, beautiful brown eyes took you in, swallowed you whole. “I’m sorry,” he said.
You brushed it off with a shrug. “Sorry for what, Gyu.”
He gulped, shaking his head slightly before he took his shot, placing it down with a knock on the bar. “All of this,” he gestured around at all of the pink. Beomgyu never discussed what went on between you and Taehyun. Ever. It was rare. “I just… I’m sorry.”
Taking a deep breath, you wallowed in his sorrow for a moment. “He’s stupid,” you muttered, looking down at the shot glasses, messing with them to keep your hands busy. Feeling a buzz already, you couldn’t stop the words from coming out, or the tears. “Gyu, why did he do this?”
A heavy breath fell from his lips as he lifted a hand to brush away a tear. “I dunno.”
“I mean, she… she came out of nowhere, and then this happens?!” you waved your arms around, Beomgyu nodding along, encouraging you to keep going. “She’s a kid, he’s a kid, we’re… We’re kids. He’s throwing the rest of his life away, doesn’t he know that?! Sana’s a total bitch, what the hell does he see in her anyway!?”
“You got me there,” he said, pouring two more shots, one he took fast.
“I mean, like, do you see it? What’s the appeal? Do you think she’s hot?” Taking your shot you missed the way he totally checked you out.
“He totally downgraded,” he mumbled, pouring two more shots.
“Please,” you snickered, following suit, drinking the alcohol. A hiccup came out of you, one that made Beomgyu laugh. “Sana’s gorgeous and you know it.”
“Yeah, but she’s not you,” he said, perking a brow. You took a step closer to him, laying an arm on his shoulder, hooking it around his neck.
Narrowing your eyes, you smirked. “You just mean he won’t share her.”
Beomgyu’s eyes flickered to your lips, his tongue darting out between his. “I’m gonna miss this.”
“Just ‘cause he and I are done doesn’t mean we have to be,” you whispered, and he shook his head.
“You’re his,” he said. “Always have been, always will be. I don’t wanna get Yeonjun’d, I’ll keep my distance.”
Digging your fingers into his shoulder, you took one last long, good look at him. And he did the same to you. The alcohol held your heart together for the moment, but you knew once it wore off you’d be falling head first into the most debilitating heartbreak you’ve ever felt. No one had a clue what was supposed to happen after this day was over.
“You’re still my friend, Gyu.”
He raised a hand and placed it on top of yours, giving it a decent squeeze. “Always have been, always will be.”
Raising yourself on your tiptoes, you pressed your lips to his cheek and gave him a swift kiss before you stumbled back out to the backyard, making sure to grab the bottle of tequila first. People were still swarming, how long were baby showers supposed to be? Doing your best to stand up straight, you wandered across the patio without being noticed by a soul, and planted yourself in a seat underneath the shade of the balcony.
Twisting the top off of the bottle you took a long swig, falling back against the cushion with a giggle as you swallowed. You watched eagerly as girls who were clearly friends of Sana, dressed in tight dresses and high strappy heels, talked with one another and sipped on their champagne delicately, showing off their accessories and touching up their makeup as they spoke. They took tiny bites of their food and judged others around them with their eyes, you could feel it.
Another drink from the bottle. You were finally at the point where it felt like nothing mattered. Jin was still parading around with his phone, catching footage of people saying kind words to the baby and the mom to be. Overhearing most of it, it made you laugh, acquiring a judgemental glare from one of Sana’s minions. Not one person had a word to say about Taehyun. It was all Sana, Sana, Sana, and baby, baby, baby.
“Stupid,” you mumbled, sinking down on the cushion.
You were so focused on the others you didn’t recognize the body that approached you, snatching the tequila from you, dropping your heels on your lap. Jumping, startled as they hit your thighs, you sprung up and nearly toppled forward.
“Hey!” you shouted, looking up at the blurry figure. His dark hair and black button down made you laugh, loud. “No fucking way.”
“Shut up,” he muttered. “Pull yourself together.”
Gasping, you pressed a hand to your chest. “Pull myself together? Last I heard you were poppin’ molly at your own baby shower.” Taehyun groaned, crouching down to level with you. “Yanno, Gyu said this wouldn’t make you talk to me, who’s gonna tell him that he was wrong?”
“Tell him yourself,” Taehyun nodded to Beomgyu walking along the edge of the patio, Sana’s group of friends shamelessly checking him out. He pretended not to see them. It was laughable.
“GYU!” you shouted, catching his attention. He already knew, he sent you the smallest smile. Sana’s friends glared at you again. “He doesn’t want any of you, don’t even try,” you waved towards them, turning back to Taehyun who had buried his head in his hand.
“Baby, please,” he whispered.
“Baby?” you scoffed. “Your girlfriend over there is the one with the baby, Tae. Did you already forget? I know it happened so fast, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Stop,” he spoke through his teeth, looking up at you with a vengeance. “Please, stop. Don’t make this worse than it already is.”
Catching you off guard, you slid back down in the chair and furrowed your brows. “What are you talking about?”
Taehyun, tired, intoxicated, wobbly on his feet, shook his head and sighed. “I dunno what I’m doing,” he said under his breath.
Lifting a hand, you poked his nose. “Then… you shouldn’t have done it.”
He shot to his feet, glaring down at you. Your body reacted, reaching up for him.
“No,” you whispered. “Come back.”
Taehyun scanned the backyard. “No,” he said, taking one more look at you before joining Sana and her parents where they were sitting with Jin and Joy.
A tear slipped down your cheek, you think. Taehyun smiled, or pretended to smile, while he spoke to her parents. He looked like he was saying nice things to Sana, probably asking her if she was alright, showering her with attention. Attention that used to be yours. It was attention he was allowed to give her in front of these people. That attention was never allowed to be yours. It wasn’t ever meant for you. It will never belong to you. It will never, ever be yours.
You were definitely crying now, alone on the porch in the corner while your family and the guests enjoyed this beautiful day and this beautiful celebration. There was another life coming into the world, a life that was half of the boy you loved, a life he decided to have with someone else. It felt like death. It all felt like hell, a burning, god awful hell.
“Come on,” Beomgyu said to you. Turning toward him, all you could do was reach your arms up for him to take, pulling you to your feet, letting your shoes topple to the floor. “We’re going to my brothers.”
“But, they-”
He brought you into the house. “He told me to take you to my brothers.” Facing you, he wiped away your tears and frowned. “You’re too pretty to cry, stop it.” The hallway you were in was quiet, secluded. Sucking in a deep breath, you gazed at him and pouted.
“You can’t drive, you-”
“Jungkook’s outside,” he breathed.
Nodding, you slowly wrapped your arms around his shoulders and held him close, giving him a real hug, heart to heart. “I love you, Gyu,” you mumbled into his neck.
The boy sighed, and held you tighter. “I love you, too.”
“No way, I was in Mom’s belly!” Rosie almost leapt off of Taehyun’s lap. The entire video came from Jin, he documented the entire day, the entire shower, every gorgeous detail that you now were able to appreciate. A hole in your heart remained, but it was so long ago now that the cut didn’t burn as deep.
Joy shared her excitement with Rosie, and Minho chimed in with some questions, asking who different people were that only his father and grandparents were able to answer.
You thanked the good lord, or whoever was up there, that you were barely in any of the shots. You remembered that day very differently than everyone else. Soobin even whispered to you how insufferable the day must’ve been, and that he was glad you weren’t together yet, or else he would’ve had to put up with that shit. And yes, he said shit.
“You were with Uncle Beomgyu again,” Rosie said to you, twisting on her fathers lap completely.
Glancing at Soobin who focused his eyes on the baby in your arms, you took a breath and looked at your niece. “Yeah, I was.”
Rosie’s face screwed up, confused. “I thought you guys didn’t date.”
“We didn’t,” you shook your head, tone going a bit stern.
The girl grilled you with her eyes. “Sure seems like you did.”
The room fell into a quiet chatter while Joy and Jin searched for another video. Your boys were talking to Minho, asking him questions about his mom that was just in the video, and Rosie whispered things to Taehyun you were dying to hear.
Soobin, as if he could feel your blood beginning to boil, leaned over and kissed your cheek. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” you whispered, avoiding his gaze. “Just wasn’t expecting to have to dodge him either.”
Soobin watched you for a few seconds more, then bobbed his head.
Beomgyu hung around Taehyun more than he hung around with you. He showed up to Taehyun’s kids birthdays, not yours. Beomgyu accepted offers to stay at Taehyun’s for long weekends, or to watch sports games, or to go to concerts, or to just simply hang out in his basement. And Beomgyu reciprocated the invites. You never got a single one.
“Think this hurts more than it should,” you whispered, looking at your husband. Soobin, energy doing a complete one eighty, turned to your parents.
“How many more you guys got?” he asked with persistence. “My baby’s need to get to bed. Wonwoo’s on a schedule.”
Joy shoved Soobin by his shoulder and clicked her tongue. “Strict Soobin, come on.” Soobin smiled. He didn’t mind being the bad guy when it came to you. “Let us just watch one more, and I swear we’ll be done. We’re all having so much fun though, aren’t we?” The boys agreed with her, as did Rosie. Taehyun was silent, and so were you.
“One more,” Soobin said.
~ april 1st, 2009 ~
“Ready!?” Taehyun shouted to the crowd around your kitchen counter, standing in the dark, the only light coming from the candles shoved into the cake in front of you. “Here we go!”
Thirty people, or more, sang Happy Birthday to you in the most obnoxious way possible, led by Taehyun himself. Friends, family from both sides, neighbors… Everyone was gathered to sing to you, to celebrate you. Though the lights were shaped like stars and the song was distorted in your ears, you were having the time of your life. Taehyun to your left, Beomgyu to your right, and Yeonjun hovering behind you, you had everything you could ever need, it made you want to cry. As the singing came to an end, you squeezed your eyes shut and blew out your candles, basking in the cheers that followed.
“She’s eighteen!” Your boys shouted, holding you in some way, jumping up and down with you in their arms.
The lights flickered on and the cake was whisked away. Your vision was truly tunneling, all you could see were the boys in front of you, congratulating you. Taehyun hugged you first, holding you tight. The one day he could without it being considered weird. Yeonjun was next, slipping his arms around your waist, bending you in half as you laughed and clung to his shoulders. Turning to Beomgyu, you reached for his cheeks and gave them a squeeze, getting a laugh out of him. He grabbed your hands and yanked you toward him, hugging you tight, pressing one of his cheeks to your own.
“Happy Birthday,” he whispered to you. “Taehyun says when the party starts.” Pulling away, you stumbled backward and bit your bottom lip. Beomgyu was smug, but he was subtle. His attention immediately shifted when he watched your cheeks turn pink.
“Hey,” Yeonjun said, grabbing your wrist, pulling you out into the hallway. The pretty boy got you alone, his black hair parted in the center, hanging over his forehead almost brushed against your own. “I have something for you, but I can’t give it to you right now.”
Your eyes focused on his lips. His full, plump, beautiful lips you’d always been dying to kiss, only while under the influence. “Okay,” you whispered, blinking up at him mindlessly.
“It’ll make you feel even better than this,” he smirked, placing a hand on the wall above your shoulder. “I promise.”
“Really?” you sighed, falling under his charm. Yeonjun grinned, taking his other hand to your cheek, dragging his fingers over your warm skin.
“Really,” he said, his tone turning sultry. “Taehyun got this for you, right?”
Blinking twice, slowly, you nodded even slower. “Yeah,” you breathed. “Took it hours ago… Dunno what it is, Junie.”
Yeonjun’s expression turned serious. “Oh, no, honey, that’s not too safe is it?”
He began to shake his head, and you followed along. “No,” you whispered.
“No,” he lowered his brows. “It’s not. I can tell you exactly what I got you, it’ll-”
“C’mon, Baby,” Taehyun said, abruptly pulling you away from Yeonjun. The boy tumbled back and shot Taehyun a glare. “We’re outta here. Yeonjun you gotta go.”
Taehyun wrapped an arm around your shoulders, keeping you close under his. With Beomgyu close behind, Taehyun had you in a brisk walk, headed for the front door. “Wait, hold on, Tae,” you said, trying to turn back around.
“No, keep walking,” Taehyun muttered.
“Where the fuck are you guys going?” Yeonjun called after you, throwing his arms out to the side. Taehyun turned toward him for only a moment more.
“Somewhere without you,” he narrowed his eyes. “Till you stop being a shady piece of shit.”
Yeonjun placed his hands on his hips, his gaze shifting between Taehyun and Beomgyu. “You two are the ones being shady pieces of shit, like what even is this?” He gestured toward you. “It’s her party and you’re leaving? And I’m not going with?”
“Why’s he not coming with?” you parroted his words, but Beomgyu shut you up with a glare. “Oh, right.”
Yeonjun clapped his hands together and laughed sarcastically. “Shady shit! You guys suck.” He made it to the front door first. “Happy Birthday,” he said to you, reaching in his pocket, tossing a small bag of powder by your feet. Beomgyu was quick in picking it up and pocketing it, making sure no adult had rounded the corner. By the time the three of you looked back at the door, Yeonjun was gone.
“Did he touch you?” Taehyun asked, his eyes burning into yours. A shake of your head didn’t appease him. “Words, Baby.”
“No,” you said, trying to swallow, but your mouth was suddenly really, really dry. “I need water.” Your voice was hushed.
Taehyun cringed. “Ah, shit, right,” he mumbled, then looked up at Beomgyu. “Jungkook wanna make a pitstop on the way to your house?” Both boys started you for the door once again, your feet almost stumbling over the other.
“Am I supposed to feel more… more dizzy?” you laughed. Beomgyu and Taehyun shared a look, laughing with you.
“We gotta catch up,” Taehyun whispered. You could barely see the boys around you as they spoke, you only heard their voices that were as beautiful and as soothing as a lullaby. “I wanna feel what she’s feeling.”
Beomgyu wrapped an arm around you, helping Taehyun get you out the door. “I wanna feel what she’s feeling while feeling her.”
You managed to swat a hand at his chest. “Gyu,” you sang. The front door shut behind you, and it was just the three of you on the porch. Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, you pulled him toward you and pressed your lips to his, feeling like you had no control over anything you were doing. He kissed you back, it was a rough, wet mess. You were just slipping your tongue between his lips when a hand grabbed your hair and pulled you back.
Stumbling into Taehyun's chest, you giggled and spun around, throwing your arms around his shoulders, letting your lips meet more gentle than they did with Beomgyu’s. Taehyuns kiss was careful, and sweet, and full of feeling, and, and…
“Who was that lady with the white hair?” Minho called out as the video ended on a scene of family lounging around the living room.
“That’s your Great-Aunt Jennie,” Jin said to the boy, smiling at him. “That was my favorite one,” he glanced at his wife, “Full of people I haven’t seen in ages.” Joy placed a hand to his thigh and gave it a squeeze. Great-Aunt Jennie passed away two years ago.
Mina had climbed onto Soobins lap at some point during that last one, where your brain was trailing off elsewhere. Your family was watching scenes of your family, but you were on the front porch, getting in the car with Beomgyu’s older brother, driving to their house to spend two nights in a row there. The three of you missed two days of school that week, of your senior year.
“I think I’m all videoed out,” you said a bit too loud, standing to your feet, heading out into the hallway without a look back. With Wonwoo in your arms you took it upon yourself to head upstairs and put the baby in the bassinet you brought with you after changing and nursing him.
Keeping your mind clear, blocking out every and any thought you were having, you got changed yourself, throwing on one of Soobin’s t-shirts and a pair of flowing sweatpants. You didn’t bother to brush your teeth or take off your makeup, instead you curled up in your bed and tried to not let the thoughts consume you while you waited for Soobin to come up.
Coming here for the weekend was one thing. You were already thrown into a torturous mess of family and remembering things, you didn’t know you’d be forced to relive so many different memories you had suppressed for a multitude of reasons. Laying here in the dark, you’re beginning to think this weekend was meant to happen this way to show you exactly how far you’ve drifted from this life. That Soobin and your kids was where you were meant to be, happy and dramaless, safe and growing in positivity and a pureness your children were not going to get from this house.
It was nauseating, and would give you a migraine if you thought about it for too long. In just one day, after yearning for what used to be, you’ve realized it wasn’t what it was. It’s not the same as it was. Whatever you were longing for would not feel the same as it did when you were eighteen, nineteen, even twenty-one. You were at an entirely different aspect of life now. A healthy one.
“Darling?” Soobin whispered, the door opening slowly, light flooding in from the hallway. Sitting up, you watched him shut the bedroom door quietly so as to not wake the baby, then he walked to your side, catching you as you fell into him. “Are you alright?”
“Next Christmas we stay for a day,” you whispered. “Then, we leave and spend it with the kids. Just the kids.”
Soobin drug his hand in a circle around your back, letting it slip beneath the shirt you wore. “You know, I’m not going to say no.”
Looking up at him, you tried to give him a smile. “Thank you.”
“For?” Soobin quirked a brow.
“For being you,” you whispered. “For believing in me, and sticking by me, and supporting me, and treating me nicely, and… loving the kids.”
Soobin held back a smile, his eyes going slightly wide. “That’s a lot of thank you’s.”
“I mean every word,” you said. “I love you so much. I think I’m… content… not having heavy ties here.”
Your husband sucked in a breath, like relief had struck him suddenly. “Moving on.”
You finally smiled, nodding. “Moving on.”
“Thank god,” Soobin groaned, pushing you backward against the pillows to smother you with kisses. His lips were halfway down your neck until you pushed him off.
“Where’s the kids?” you asked.
A soft smile graced his lips. “Taehyun offered up his bedroom for all of them. He got Mina’s little crib set up in there, and the boys snuggled up in his bed with Minho.”
“Rosie?” You raised your brows.
Soobin chuckled. “She’ll be in a sleeping bag on the floor next to Mina.”
“No way.”
“Yes way,” he said. “Now, may I continue?”
Glancing at the baby’s bassinet that was set up in the corner furthest from you, you turned back to your husband with a smile and hummed. “Continue,” you giggled.
It seemed impossible to sleep, and no, it wasn’t Christmas excitement keeping you up. Soobin, sound asleep beside you, had done his best to tire you out, to relax you enough that you’d want to shut your eyes and snooze, but it wasn’t enough.
After Christmas you were heading back home to be a family of six, unsure of when you’d be coming back here to visit your family, unsure of when you’d ever see Taehyun again. Everything was still unclear between the two of you, whether or not your relationship was in good standing. Those videos gave you a decent idea of where you were headed with your decision on making up.
Slipping out of the covers carefully so you didn’t startle Soobin, you checked on Wonwoo who was also sound asleep, then tiptoed out to the hallway. It was dark, and quiet, the only light coming from the stairs, where the Christmas throw up was. Pushing your hair back out of your face, you took yourself down there, the stairs creaking beneath you as snuck down. Peeking into the front room with the tree and the lights, you find mountains of gifts waiting for your kids under the branches. Gifts upon gifts you didn’t even approve of were patiently awaiting their sticky little fingers to tear them open. Two little green bikes were standing by the windows. Your twins were going to lose their minds.
The rest of the house was silent, everyone was clearly asleep. Sneaking down the hallway into the kitchen, a gasp escapes you when you find Taehyun sitting at the kitchen table in the dark with a glass of water sitting in front of him.
“Jesus, Tae,” you whispered.
“Sorry,” he breathed a laugh. “Didn’t wanna cause any commotion.”
Taking a breath to calm your beating heart, you walk over and take a seat next to him, keeping your focus on the table in front of you. “No, you’re good, I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be up.”
Taehyun bobbed his head and twisted his glass on the wood. “Sober sleep is hard.”
“Yeah,” you sighed. “You wake up feeling a lot better though.”
He laughed. “True.”
Silence fell between you, a suffocating silence, like there was so much more to say yet not enough time to say it. Either that or neither of you had the balls to do so.
“Everything that I’ve said today,” Taehyun began, gulping, “I’m sorry.” He looked to you with only his eyes. You did the same. “It wasn’t appropriate of me to let you hear any of it.”
Shifting your body, you turned to face him, pulling your legs up on the chair. “I needed it.”
He looked at you with wild eyes. “Really?” Copying your stance, he twisted to give you his full attention.
“Yeah,” you shrugged. “We can’t live with all that shit trapped inside of us. That’s what’s made these last twelve years really, really hard. We stopped talking.”
Taehyun rolled his eyes. “I stopped talking.”
“Why did you?” Your voice was a whisper, one that made him recoil with a slight shake of his head. “And don’t say it’s ‘cause of Sana, because I know for a fact that it’s not.”
He stared down at nothing for a few seconds, before a gentle groan came out of him and he gave you a half smile. “Beomgyu.” The name, after those videos, made your stomach turn. In the not fun way.
“What about him?” Your voice was small.
“I don’t even think I need to say it.”
“Taehyun, please.”
He exhaled heavily and squeezed his eyes shut. “You guys… liked each other.”
A breath corrupted your lungs, a lump lodging in your throat as you tore your eyes away from him, looking about the kitchen. Taehyun smiled something of sorrow.
“I was a toy for him to play with,” you mumbled, and he detested immediately.
“That is a lie and you know it,” he said. Meeting his eyes, you felt a tear slip out of one of yours. “You saw those videos, I couldn’t watch anything except for how he looked at you. Shit, Baby, I was there. I could see, I could feel how he felt. And I know how it feels to be loved by you. You loved him too.”
Wiping your hands over your face, letting them sit there for a moment, you sniffled. “Oh, it’s so fucked, Tae.”
“I know,” he whispered. “It’s so fucked.” He went quiet, glancing around the room, watching the snowfall outside. “I don’t blame it for our problems, though. I don’t blame him. He’s still my best friend, he’s still…” You snapped your eyes toward him, begging him to not say the words. A sigh and a head shake was answer enough that he’d keep his mouth shut.
“I had Rosie on purpose,” he decided to tread carefully. “We know this, I… yelled it at you.”
“Sorry for trying to talk you out of it.” Your hushed voice surprised him. “You love her, so much. Both of them. It hurts me that I tried to take that away from you.”
“You didn’t know,” he said, the look in his eye accepting your apology. “We didn’t know we’d be here. We didn’t know Sana would stick with me. No one knew if I’d make it this far, have them with me, have any sort of custody… It’s okay.” He nodded. “You wanted to protect me.”
“That day, at her shower,” you rested your chin on one of your knees, “You wanted to protect me. I remember you telling Gyu to take me to his brothers.”
Taehyun let the memory find him. “I did. He wanted to bring you there anyway, without me telling him to. We both knew you wouldn’t go if I didn’t say something.”
“Where were going with this before?” you asked. “Talking about Rose.”
Taehyun attempted a smile. “I… had her on purpose. Which sounds pretty shitty to say out loud.” The two of you shared a quiet laugh. “But, I got with Sana for more of a reason than to just piss you off.”
“You did piss me off pretty bad,” you giggled, and he rolled his eyes.
“I’m good at that,” he popped his brows once. “I just…” The energy shifted. “There was no life with me,” he whispered, looking at you. “There was no life… with you. You and I, we could never have this.” He gestured around the kitchen.
Raising your brows you sighed. “You and I couldn’t ever afford this.” It made him laugh, thankfully. His hands found his lap, folding together between the sweats he was wearing to bed.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do,” you said, tone as soft as his.
“I had to do something, something that would force us to stop what we were doing, ‘cause there was little to nothing that would stop us.” He huffed a laugh watching you force back a smile. “As much as it hurt… It hurt so bad. I did it for you.”
“That’s ass backwards,” you muttered.
“Totally,” he agreed. “I saw you and Gyu. Saw how you were. I thought, if I did this, you two would get together. Eventually.”
Trying to swallow the lump in your throat away, it seemed it was there to stay. Another tear fell. “And how did that plan work out?”
Your whisper just about punched him in the gut. “I didn’t think any of this would happen.”
Wiping your own tears, you took in a shaky deep breath. “You know, you could’ve just said the words, Taehyun. That’s all I ever wanted, was for you to talk to me. A majority of my life was one big secret, I didn’t need anymore from you.”
He took you in, accepting defeat. “I’m sorry. You deserved better.”
A sarcastic laugh came out amongst the tears. “And you thought that was Gyu?” you whispered, sniffling, and laughing. “He literally told me he wouldn’t do anything because I was yours. Always was, always will be.” Taehyun averted his gaze. “If you weren’t involved, I barely heard from him. To this day, I don’t hear from him.” But, you knew he knew that.
“Do you know how lucky I am to have the man that I do upstairs?” you continued on, Taehyuns eyes eventually finding yours again. “Do you know how unbelievable it is that he’s even with me? I already fucked up with him once, with undeniable, living proof that we’ll have for the rest of our lives, and he married me, Taehyun.” You took a second to wipe your tears. “Where was Beomgyu?”
Getting up out of his chair, he paused you for a moment. “Hang on,” he muttered, leaving the kitchen, then reappearing after a minute or two with envelopes in his hands. “I wasn’t sure when I’d be able to give you these.” He sat beside you and placed the long white letter envelopes on the table. “Was worried you wouldn’t come this weekend.”
Jaw tight, you reached for the envelopes and kept a strong face as you picked them up. Your tears betrayed you, as you read the names on the front of the four letters they fell steadily. Two were dated from the boy's fourth birthday, their names written neatly on the front, as well as the other two, from their fifth birthday this year.
This was how it went. An envelope for each boy with a birthday wish and a hefty amount of cash. Usually these were slipped to you at one of Taehyun’s kids parties, discreetly, like it was hush money and not birthday gifts for your children. Words were never spoken, nor exchanged. The letters were given to you, by Taehyun, and you handed them off to your husband without a second thought.
“Have you ever read them?” he asked, eyeing the envelopes you held.
“No,” you breathed, and he nodded. “Soobin has, though. I might, eventually.”
Nodding again, Taehyun sat quietly, letting you have a minute before he said, “He’s a good man.”
Flickering your eyes up to him you smiled. “He’s a damn good man, Tae.” Holding up the letters, you scoffed. “After this? Taking care of and accepting those boys like they’re his own? I swear… I don’t deserve him.”
“Yes, you do,” he said. “You deserve him and so much more.”
Six years ago, you and Soobin’s gap year, that sounded so superficial at this point, you ran back to the two boys, both Taehyun and Beomgyu. A taste of your old life, one that Soobin was detoxing you from. It scared you, to think you were losing a side of yourself, the only side of yourself you had ever known. You weren’t able to stay at Taehyun’s, and you sure as hell didn’t want to stay back at home, so you settled on living at Beomgyu’s for some time.
Having his own place by then, not too far from Taehyun’s, the three of you lived like you were twenty again, and it was exhilarating, it was freedom, it was familiar. Thinking about it now you cannot believe that you allowed half of it to happen, Taehyun was a married man with two children, but most of that year, those collective months, was a blurred mess. Neither of the boys tried to talk you out of anything with Soobin, in fact, they barely spoke his name. You led… everything.
At this point it seemed that Beomgyu had somewhat gotten over his, ‘you’re always his’, thing, because most mornings you weren’t waking up in the spare room, you were waking up beside him, with tangled limbs and hungover, naked bodies.
You didn’t know you were pregnant until you made up with Soobin. After months of living in hazy chaos, you had an epiphany, much like the one you had a few hours ago after watching the home movies. It wasn’t a life you wanted. It clearly wasn’t a life Beomgyu wanted either.
Living back here at home, days away from moving in with Soobin, into the first tiny home you shared together, you found out you were expecting. Positively gutted, knowing there was no way in hell that Soobin had fathered the child, you were at a loss. You sat on the tiled floor of the bathroom upstairs, alone, for an hour. There was no Taehyun to rush in to save you, to hold you in his arms and tell you everything was going to be okay. You were completely alone, and you had no other choice but to tell Soobin.
Sure, you could’ve taken the other route and gotten yourself out of the shitty predicament, but something in your heart was begging you to tell him. So, you did. And, you hurt him. He didn’t ignore you, he didn’t push you away, he didn’t postpone your move in, he was there for you, and cared for you.
It was one thing you still couldn’t wrap your mind around. How one day he woke up, and decided it was the day to propose, at your bedside in the early morning when you just peeked open your eyes. He spoke words that, still to this day, had the power to bring you to tears. He accepted you, he promised to love and to care for you. He accepted your boys, before either of you even knew there were two. For six years he’s kept his promise. For six years he’s been the best damn father any child could ask for.
“Taehyun, I know we both said things we still mean,” you spoke carefully, keeping his gaze on yours. “You said that you love me, and I… I love you, too.”
He cringed to himself. “I hope you know I don’t mean it in the, I want you to divorce him, way.”
You nearly leapt out of your seat, reaching forward for his hands. “God, no, Tae,” you sighed. “Listen, part of me came here wondering what was left. Of us.” He listened intently, soaking up every word. “You probably thought I was gonna try to… get you back, or something.” He nodded solemnly, a confession he didn’t want to reveal. “And, maybe part of me wanted to find out, but that stuff isn’t important anymore. We’re two entirely different people now. We’re both sober, we’re both on track to live happy, fulfilling lives… We cannot go backward.”
Watching you, wondering if you had anything else to add, he asked, “Will you ever tell them? The boys?”
Your heart sank. “Soobin and I discussed it. When they’re old enough, we’ll tell them. We’ll give them the letters.” Your eyes burned, the tears coming on fast. “Though I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for them to find out that he didn’t want them. I don’t wanna break their hearts. I don’t want them to have to go through the same pain I did, the realization that your father rejected you, acting like you don’t exist.” Taehyun squeezed your hands. You swore a tear slid down his cheek. “How do I do that to them?”
Taking a deep breath, Taehyun gestured to the letters you threw down on the table. “Read them,” he whispered, his eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t place. “Before you tell the boys… read them.”
After a sniffle you nodded, wiping your tears on your shoulder. “I said it earlier, I want my kids to know you.” He drug his fingers over your skin delicately. “Especially the boys, you’re…” a shaky breath shot through you, “You’re the closest thing they have to him.”
It fell quiet once again, the brisk wind and snow outside the only thing to be heard, calming you both. Taehyun gave your hands one last squeeze before he let them go and tucked his back into his lap. “Yanno, Joy was saying some funny stuff.”
“That the boys look like you,” you said quickly, both of you laughing together.
“Yeah,” Taehyun screwed his face up. “It made me think. It made me think some things I shouldn’t think-“
“Tae,” you said gently. “They’re his. Gyu’s their daddy. I promise you.”
He looked at his lap. “Right,” he whispered, lips firmly pressed together.
Ignoring everything that changed about him in this moment, you kept things moving, picking up the letters off the table. “Thank you for these,” you smiled. “And, thank you for being here. For talking to me.”
He flashed you that grin that made your heart skip a beat. “What are friends for, Baby?”
Glittering wrapping paper littered the floor, more being thrown by the minute. Every child was beaming, showing off each gift they unwrapped to whoever's eye they could catch. The twins, absolutely losing their minds over their bikes, Mina, asking Jin to open up her new baby doll, Minho, reading the back of a vinyl record, and Rosie, counting how many new lip glosses she’s opened. The room was happy, full of life.
Soobin sat on a couch with Wonwoo in his arms, the infant holding onto a teething ring for dear life, chewing on it while he watched his family go crazy over their gifts. He shot you a smile each time one of your kids opened something new, a screech sounding off when they recognized it was something they’d been asking for.
“You boys want Daddy and Uncle Taehyun to teach you how to ride them?” you asked, holding up your phone to take photos of the twins trying to sit on their bikes. Taehyun, on the floor next to the tree, handing out gifts whenever a child asked for another, looked up at your husband, eyes full of hope.
“Oh my god, yes!” Chan shouted, jumping up and down on his feet covered by the fuzzy footed pajamas he wore. Sunoo, matching his brother, threw his arms in the air and cheered. Eyeing Soobin carefully, you sighed as you watched him smile and nod at Taehyun.
“Can we go now?” Sunoo pouted, eyes going wide. Taehyun snickered and looked over at you.
“Sun, look outside,” you pointed to the window. All the kids followed, glancing out to the snow that was probably going to have you stuck here for another night. “Don’t think you’ll be able to ride a bike out there.” Soobin shot you a look, his smile sarcastic, already dreading staying here one more time.
The boys moved onto other gifts, taking their time, scoping the scene, helping their sister and asking Minho what he got. Taehyun moved to the couch next to Soobin, a foot of space separating them, the three men falling into conversation with one another, Jin seeming happy to have them both there with him. Observing the organized chaos, you didn’t notice your mother approaching you, sliding her arm around your back where you stood in the archway.
“Merry Christmas, my love,” she smiled, speaking quietly to you. Giving her a quick smile, you focused back on your husband, who was handing Wonwoo over to Taehyun.
“Merry Christmas, Mom,” you whispered. Taehyun gazed down at your son in awe, the first time he’s actually held him this weekend. The first time he was getting to know one of your kids before they learned how to walk. He didn’t get to do this with Mina. He barely got to do it with the twins. Wonwoo smiled up at him after he whispered something to the baby, and when he did, he looked up at you and the look on his face warmed your heart.
“He’s so…” Joy began.
“Good with the kids,” you finished, giving her a look. “I know, Mom.”
She forced a smile onto her lips, looking back at you like she was in pain. Her eyebrows were flipped and her eyes were glistening. “I’m sorry if those videos were a lot,” she said, and you scoffed, brushing it off. “No, I mean it. It’s clear you’re moved on from then, I think I was just so caught up in the past. It’s lonely here without you.”
Sighing, you turned to face her. “Mom, the videos-”
“I don’t need you to try to reassure me,” she actually smiled, rubbing your forearm. “They were a lot for me, too. Seeing that day,” her eyes widened for a second, her voice dropping back down to a whisper, one that sent a chill down your spine, “I was reminded how grateful I am that it wasn’t you.”
“Mom,” you gasped, clamping your jaw shut. Her eyes flickered toward Taehyun quickly, then back to yours without much else to say.
“I hold onto hope that one day you’ll open up to me,” she said. “I’m here for you. I always have been.” With another gentle rub of your arm she scurried off into the room to celebrate with the kids.
Your skin has flushed, you know it has. Frozen where she left you, you can’t comprehend what had just happened, what she had just told you, what she had literally admitted to you. Nausea washed over you, your throat closing, like the ability to breath was stolen from you.
She knew.
Willing yourself to turn toward the room where the commotion continued, but you heard half of it, you took one look at the men on the couch. Soobin and Taehyun, both looking back at you with concern. Soobin’s was protective, but Taehyun’s was straight worry. You didn’t know what to do, you didn’t know how to process. A secret you were planning to keep from her for the rest of your life, one that you and Taehyun were going to take to the grave, she knew about. She left you without any indication as to when she found out, who she found out from, if she figured it out herself, if Jin knew as well… She knew, and you didn’t know how.
Looking at your boys, your beautiful twin boys showing their grandmother their new books they had unwrapped, you felt your heart rate skyrocket as you realized that as she sat there talking with them, she thought they were Taehyun’s children.
You were crying, and you weren’t totally sure you were breathing either. Shaky hands pushed back your hair and wiped your tears. Shaky legs took you away from the celebration, into another room, the living room, where you fell onto a couch and buried your face in your hands, finally letting out a decent sob you’d been suppressing all weekend.
It wasn’t long until a pair of strong arms wrapped around you, cozying up next to you, pulling you into their lap. Smothering yourself in their chest, you grabbed onto them somehow, and cried. There weren’t any words to say. Looking up at your husband, teary eyed, there wasn’t a thing either of you could say, or do, to make this any better.
“I’ll find a way to get us home tonight,” he whispered. “I promise.”
Okay, maybe there was one thing he could say to make this a little bit better. And you knew damn well, better than anyone, that Soobin kept his promises.
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#txt#tomorrow x together#txt fanfic#tubatu#choi yeonjun#choi soobin#kang taehyun#choi beomgyu#hueningkai#tomorrow x together smut#tomorrow x together angst#txt angst#txt smut#txt x reader#txt x you#txt x y/n#taehyun x reader#taehyun x you#taehyun x y/n#soobin x you#soobin x reader#soobin x y/n#beomgyu x reader#beomgyu smut#beomgyu x y/n#beomgyu x you#yeonjun x you#txt christmas#christmas fic#txt christmas fic
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The sparxshipping teasing from Iginio got me wondering.... if we ever did get canon sparxshipping explored, whether in a reboot or new adaptation, how would you like it for it to be done?
I'm gonna try to answer both of these in one post cause they overlap a little, but first of all thank you!
Buckle up fellas I'm bringing discourse.
This is gonna be a bit of an unpopular opinion I think, and it’s that I don’t want sparxshipping to be canon at all.
Feel free to get the pitchforks, but until then imma talk. I have villainships that I think not only add something to the overall plot, they kind of define it too. Reylo for examples, with its themes of redemption, masks and compassion, or Darklina and how important their relationship is to the war and Grisha oppression, or Lotor and Allura with its symbolism of breaking the cycle of abuse, making peace, reclaiming a heritage thought lost and so on.
To put it very briskly: an established Sparxshipping relationship adds nothing to the plot. It would have to be a plot of its own, and while there are tons of fascinating plot threads you could weave back into Domino, Bloom's family and the war before the Fall, it is simply, plainly, and rightfully so not the story Winx Club is telling.
Winx Club, at its core, is about the girls and their friendship. That is the show I love, and that is the show I am invested in. Fanfiction is a separate thing, I’ll get into that later. But canon, commercially produced and globally aired Winx Club is what we are talking about now. And the one defining truth of Winx Club is that it’s about the Winx. Their boyfriends are the side note, the Kens to their Barbies, to cement them as the cool popular teenagers younger kids are supposed to see them as. If Bloom and Valtor had a lasting serious relationship, Valtor would inevitably have to be shoved into that category as well, and that would ruin the entire appeal of him.
To boil it down even more: if sparxshipping were canon, either Winx Club would have to shift away from its intrinsic premise and formula, or Valtor would have to be diminished beyond recognition. So my longstanding opinion has always been: don’t make sparxshipping canon. Just don’t.
What I, personally, would do if I were ever to gain access to the mythical and likely overcrowded writing room at Rainbow SpA, is this:
Tease the fuck out of it.
Lean into their fucked up little hate-obsession. Every time they share the screen they have to be radiating unresolved sexual tension. Their chemistry has to be so off-the-charts it sparks a million fanfics before the season even ends. If there aren’t so many crappy amv's set to angsty Taylor swift songs it brings down the YouTube servers by midnight you have failed. Because canon is bound to certain limits, but fanfiction is NOT. The goal of any show should be to create something that will awaken an inescapable need to build on it, to continue where it left off, or to wonder but-what-if? To make people text incoherent keysmashes to their fandom buddies with shaky hands in the middle of the night and be unable to sleep until they’ve confirmed their buddy has seen it too.
I would want to see Bloom go fully I-have-lost-sight-of-everything-but-revenge until her friends manage to pull her back, I would want them to fight so vehemently the structures around them collapse and they don’t even notice. They should be in situations where they are UNDENIABLY going to die if they fight on and they still do it, they literally CANNOT stop, they don’t care to. To the point that everyone around them is seriously concerned and talking about their terrifying obsession with each other, more or less out in the open. And after a season full of epic fight scenes, high stake conflicts and frankly obscene tension between them, I would want Bloom to kill him.
Straight up.
Give her that moment of calm self assurance, at peace and perfectly in control, while Valtor tries to gaslight-gatekeep-girlboss his way out of this, contrasting the way her support network and genuine, unconditional friendships strengthen her while Valtor, who is always sabotaging everyone around him, is forced to confront his own powerlessness in the face of the power that created him. His manipulation attempts have nothing to latch on to. They have one last exchange where Valtor is visibly furious at her denial of him / his own failure — to really drive home that this is Bloom's triumph — but the last words they exchange are cordial. Maybe a comment at her growth, or a warning about his mothers, or another way to foreshadow future threats — if he couldn’t defeat her, no one should. He ends on a high note, but he does end, and it’s at Bloom's hands. She retakes the corrupted spark into the Flame she is guarding, and that is that.
And then, and this is important. He fucking haunts her for the entire next story arc. The next season, the next two seasons maybe, because she has learned a fuck ton of things from him and it is really, really difficult to move on knowing everything she does, knowing everything he implied or hinted at, or simply knowing so many really, really cruel ways to get her way now, which isn’t who she wants to be, but it would be easy, quick and effective for the greater good, right?
Boom, character conflict for the next season established, lots of potential for future flashbacks or visions, Valtor stays on his high horse of forever-the-juiciest-fucking-villain-of-the-franchise and the story can move on.
The End
Cue three decades of mind-blowing fanfiction. We all say Thank you Rainbow and cry ourselves to sleep thinking about what could have been.
#sparxshipping#asks#the ugly truth is that a perfect piece of media that gives everyone what they want is not a piece of media that inspires a lot of fan works#fandom to me is so much more fun there is that gap. that whole of teased-but-unexplored potential#with enough canon material to sustain it and go of#but even more questions and what ifs and theories and fuck it I’ll do it myself#you feel me?
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*slaps table* hi. This is the post where I talk about, yet again, why Kishi is an idiot when it comes to the implications of his own worldbuilding. Point 1. being that Kishi’s insistence that peacetime is bad for shinobi business is hot garbage and point 2. being the implications of ANBU being Scary even to other shinobi. Because the show makes it clear that ANBU are supposed to be the Scary Ones, the Dark Ones who do messed up stuff. Many fics have already talked about this, but not *too* many I've seen actually explore the implications of what that actually MEANS when put in the context of a society who thinks it's A-okay to give a knives and bombs to literal kids and shoo them off to fight things. Buckle up I’m going to flex my logic center and start talking economics even tho I never studied economics outside casual worldbuilding interest.
Okay to start off with, I’m need to talk about Not Anbu for a hot minute and describe some of the few things we *do* know about Kishi’s “worldbuilding” of the shinobi villages and their history.
1. Literally everyone but Madara the Madman agrees that the villages are a Good Thing that happened, even the missing ninja never breathe a word about wanting to go back to the Warring States Era where everyone was in clans. The implications of this could honestly be it’s own entire rant but I will restrain myself and focus on the topic at hand for now.
2. Konoha and every village barring the trash fire that is pre-Boruto Kiri have a thriving enough economy to be literal *cities* of very decent size and decent quality of life, which the civilians have a major hand in I’m sure, but tellingly the shinobi *make enough income to get by* and seem to do so very easily. I will probably come back to this as I go on.
3. Ninja villages not only have a wide array of mission ranks (which I will also come back to) but they are the ones who set the prices for individual missions, not the employers. This is seen in the infamous Wave mission when the bridge builder fellow lied about the danger of the mission because he *could not afford to pay for a mission above a C-rank*, which I remind you is the second lowest mission ranking in the system.
Alright with those in mind I’m gonna talk about the “peacetime is bad for shinobi” garbage because that does actually relate directly to the worldbuilding implications of ANBU. Just. Just bear with me here and forgive me if this kinda rambles in multiple directions, talking about anything with Kishi makes my braincells run for the hills on a good day.
JUMPING IN WITH THE PEACETIME THING. This is stupid. This is one of the stupidest things to come out of Kishi’s mouth in my opinion barring the existence of the cannibal space aliens. Why? Because despite Kishi’s love of explosions and giant flashy fights shinobi are supposed. To be. STEALTHY. And the vast majority of them now live in villages, which means they need steady income.
Post the unification of the clans into villages, wars actually became too big and messy to be profitable because it’s during peacetime that people have money to spend on hiring ninja. And we see them spend it on incredibly frivolous things when it comes to shinobi. Just look at all the D-ranks we see or are referenced in the shows. Babysitting, pet retrieval, fence painting, carrying shopping bags for civilian ladies, house cleaning, the list goes on. And these pay well enough, are priced high enough by the village, that Might Dai, a single parent, was able to feed, shelter, and clothe both himself and an extremely energetic child while also having time to train himself and his son and walk Gai to and from school. And the price tag for missions only goes up from there. Higher ranked missions pay more according to risk, but peacetime is when people will be able to afford those kinds of missions. *Wartime*, as war is defined in the show post-village creation, are giant, messy affairs where a lot of manpower goes to maintaining front lines and countering enemy action, leaving far *less* manpower and time to take on these kinds of missions, and with the mass destruction of land and resources that these wars cause, people will have less money to throw at having the magic ninja men do things like escort caravans, deal with petty crime, retrieve stolen items, etc. And those examples are just C-rank/B-rank examples. Most wartime missions that we see in the show are actually missions assigned by the village itself, not from an outside client, which means the pay is coming from the Village coffers and not an external source, which can get messy very quickly if they do not have the manpower to take enough missions from outside clients to refill those coffers. Remember that I’m coming back to it later.
Wartime, for village ninja, is loud and messy and ugly. *Peacetime* on the other hand, is the playground of the rich, the powerful, and the *subtle*. Peacetime is when nobles pay top dollar to *flaunt* that they can afford to hire a ninja or three to escort them around in broad daylight regardless of any enemies they’ve made. Peacetime is when nobles have the money to pay for ninja to go in and spy on rivals or steal secrets. Peacetime is when the Daimyo and other elites hire shinobi to escort luxury goods at high risk of theft, to deal with underground human or drug trafficking that is inconveniencing them, or to spy on their neighboring lands for information that will become useful next time they meet up to flex on each other in a “you don’t want to make trouble with me I have and know X”.
More importantly, peacetime is when the *lower* classes can afford to pay for the magic ninja as well. If D-ranks are enough to support a single parent and his child, then C and B ranks are actually going to be the *backbone* of a ninja village’s economy, not the A or S ranks. C and B ranks are going to be the highest pay for the lowest risk, and those will predominantly come from the merchant and working class who have enough spare cash to have someone deal with the wild animals harming their livestock, take out budding trafficking rings and bandit gangs or escort people and goods.
I don’t think I’m emphasizing this one enough. Look at a map of the Elemental Nations, look at the size of those countries. Now we don’t get a lot of info on cities in those countries (because KISHI) but there are bound to be plenty of villages, towns, and cities dotting those countries, and all of them are going to be connected in some way to each other via trade routes and highways. You’re going to have Konoha’s own supply lines and the trade deals they have with their own merchant families bargaining for preferential treatment in exchange for setting up shop in a ninja village on top of all the other merchants from all over the Land of Fire who, during peacetime, have both money and incentive to hire the fire-chucking magic people to ensure *all* of their goods arrive *on time, every time*.
You’re going to have merchants who have supply lines through multiple countries. Glass products from the Land of Wind. Inks, fine paper, and flavored teas from Land of Fire. Fish, oyster, and pearl products from the coast (which is especially high risk in areas near the disaster fire that is Kiri). Each and every country is going to have luxury products or famous higher-quality raw materials (*points at Iwa and their rock obsession, points at every product made out of high quality stone, silver, gold, or iron ore*) that the other countries are all going to want, and consequently you will have merchants that are going to be willing to pay top dollar to ensure those products get where they are meant to go and do so undamaged and in a timely fashion despite bad roads/bad weather/bandits/rogue shinobi hired by a competitor/wild animals/freak acts of the local kami because you forgot to pay tribute to their shrine last week.
The technology of pre-Boruto era is also still stuck in the *horse and wagon* stage, meaning you have caravans of this stuff moving on very strict, long term schedules, which means these are jobs that the village can charge per day or week on the road on top of the base price estimated from the level of risk to the shinobi. You have merchants who are going to give preferential treatment to the village of their home nation if they can, both because you Don’t Insult The Local Fire Breathers/Rock Gougers/Storm Summoners/Etc but also because the villages themselves likely offer discounts for natives of their country, or even contracts that are essentially subscription deals for those who have multiple caravans going out at the same time, multiple times in a year. A “pay this much up front and we will ensure that several shinobi are always on standby to guard one of your caravans” kinda deal. It’s been implied multiple times in the shows that the majority of any shinobi village’s workforce are chuunin and that jounin’s are elite, and C/B-ranks are literally stated in the wiki to be usually given to teams of Chuunin or sometimes two genin teams and their jounin pairing up for a joint operation. Chuunin are going to make their careers on guarding caravans, dealing with bandits, clearing road hazards, etc. If Chuunin are the majority of your workforce, then missions that chuunin can take are going to be, by necessity, the largest cashflow coming into your village.
If a war between two or more countries is happening, all of that gets heavily restricted because of the risk of infiltration, heavily impeded from road destruction and wartime front lines, or straight up *shut down* from lack of money and manpower to take those missions.
Can you see what I’m getting at now when I say Kishi’s peacetime line is stupid.
And here comes another fun aspect of this. Because where the money flows, so does the cultural norms. Now a lot of fics I’ve seen emphasize the child soldier thing and also how D-ranks are very likely a way to acclimate the genin to mission work while also training civilians to see ninja as Friendly Safe Workers who happen to have magic powers and knives. But the thing is, all of that work on acclimating the civilians to view their local shinobi as Safe To Hire is going to go out the window if you remind them too often that these people are literal killers for hire. Merchants are not going to want to hire Infamous Killers because that says to their customers and their potential business partners that they themselves are shady and possibly approve of murder to get their way. Poking at D-ranks briefly, farmers aren’t going to want to hire potentially unhinged murderers to till their fields, and nobody is going to want to hire even the genin to *babysit their kids*.
So.
In order to attract reliable patronage from these low risk, well paying areas, the ninja villages had to *alter their public perception*. Assassination missions, kidnapping missions, extortion missions, all of those over time became short-term gain/long-term loss for the village. So they took them on less and less, and those kinds of missions became increasingly *socially unacceptable* even to the shinobi, because if the village doesn’t approve of it, it’s not a good thing. What assassination/sabotage missions we do see or hear referenced in canon are always, iirc, targeting someone that can the ninja can safely point at and say “this is a bad guy”. High ranking rogue shinobi from other villages or crime lords or despotic warlords being I think the majority (if not the entirety) of the few examples canon gives us. Those are people that, when civilians hear about them being assassinated, the civilians are going to say “good riddance” rather than “oh no!”. And if those missions are the only ones that the common shinobi hear about themselves or take on, then that’s what they are going to associate with those types of missions. A high risk job that is nonetheless seen as Morally Right, even if their moral compass hinges mostly on who is the friend or enemy of their home village.
I could also get into how this has really interesting implications for what the Warring State Era shinobi economics were like and how Hashirama and Madara making Konoha was basically inventing the concept of unionizing but I’m not going to side track to that because finally, FINALLY, we get to the ANBU Are Scary Thing.
Because this. This whole thing about how peacetime is actually where ninja villages make their bread and butter and how the push-pull of being Socially Acceptable for Money turning into Actual Moral Perception is where ANBU’s identity as the Scary Guys comes into play.
Now we don’t know when ANBU was actually founded in Konoha or any other village, but I’m going to ballpark and say it was *after* the First War because of a few key things we know about ANBU.
1. ANBU are Scary.
2. ANBU are known to specifically hunt other ninja (specifically Kiri has a Hunter-nin branch of ANBU but logically every village would have this).
3. ANBU work is extremely psychologically and physically grueling to their members and has a high fatality rate.
4. Whatever ANBU does is considered messed up even by ninja standards. An example that comes to mind is a filler flashback where Gai ends up running into Kakashi on an ANBU mission where Kakashi is basically putting down enemy ninja that are defeated and attempting to surrender and Gai is visibly distressed by this.
The First Shinobi World War likely rocked the Elemental Nations as badly or *worse* than WWI did for the real world, because this was the first time “war” was not defined as two or three noble lords throwing peasants with spears or the occasional ninja at each other or two or three shinobi clans having a protracted blood feud that they could only initiate when they weren’t busy trying to feed their own families. Assuming Konoha has the average number of shinobi clans that can be found in a shinobi village, that means we had somewhere upward of 55 clans from various countries throwing everything they had at each other on open battlefields, destroying large amounts of landscape, and causing shinobi and civilian casualties on a mass scale that even the most fire happy Uchiha could not have achieved on their worst day. This was also after Jinchuuriki became a thing, so this war was the first demonstration of what it’s like to essentially duct tape a nuke to an emotionally volatile child soldier and see what happens when you throw two or more of them into a battlefield.
The economy of the villages and their respective nations would have been in chaos after the war. Entire towns, roads, and bridges are straight up gone, chunks of landscape for miles around have been drastically rewritten, the death toll is high and the missing persons list is even higher and in the wake of this you’re going to have *every* would-be warlord and their grandfather getting uppity and trying to stake a claim on what they can of the wreckage. This includes Rogue Shinobi, likely the first real appearance of Rogue Shinobi in ninja history, at least on this scale. Lots of shinobi are going to be disillusioned from the war, exhausted, more than a few are mentally broken from the traumas, and all the ninja who have no moral compasses and dreams of power are looking at this and deciding “hey, now is a great time to become a warlord”. On top of all this, since most of the wartime missions were assigned by the villages themselves and not an outside client (with *very minimal* cash flow coming from the Daimyo himself since presumably the war was partially his idea, but even the royal coffers are not enough to run a military city the size of Konoha kthanks), the village coffers are likely hanging out somewhere between “Naruto’s childhood allowance” and “I can offer you lint”.
Obviously, these things need to be taken care of pronto, and with the villages scrambling to have the money to rebuild, the Kage in charge are going to be much more willing to take on dirty missions like assassinations, extortion, blackmail, *whatever* just to refill the village coffers. But. The ninja villages still need to keep their social acceptability in order to start getting their C and B ranks back, especially after the war opened everyone’s eyes to how destructive shinobi can really be in large numbers. They cannot afford to be seen killing left and right and the Rogue ninja are a huge stain on their village’s reputation, but openly advertising that “hey, if anyone leaves the village we’ll behead them” really isn’t going to do any favors for keeping the shinobi who are in the same mental space Tsunade was when she got fed up and left Konoha altogether.
And this, I think, is what gave rise to the existence of ANBU. The Kages picking their remaining highly skilled and most loyal followers, putting them in masks so that they cannot be easily identified by civilians, and sent out to quietly complete these high level, socially unacceptable missions. They were sent out to deal with Rogue shinobi and make them disappear without advertising to all the other traumatized village shinobi that their village is “serve or die” rather than the more patriotic “we fight for our home” that they were raised with. They were sent out to perform civilian assassinations, extortion, whatever they were offered in order to shore up the village’s shaky economy of the time and enable the Kage to pay their soldiers.
Then, after the economy stabilized, the ANBU just kinda … never left. Because by then the respective Kage had realized that being able to take on these kinds of missions with high pay and no loss of social acceptability was useful, and in the wake of the First War with everyone being simultaneously paranoid of their neighboring country but also on eggshells to not start another war, the anonymity of ANBU became a convenient way to keep an eye on each other and subtly attempt to sabotage the other when it looked like they were getting too powerful. The next two Great Shinobi Wars only solidified ANBU’s role in the hidden villages for those very same reasons, even though I would argue that they were ultimately a Bad Idea because they put too much power in the hands of the Kage without their village clans being able to hold them responsible, and that’s how we get stuff like Danzo™ and the crimes committed by Danzo™ and the Sandaime against the Uchiha. The existence of ANBU and the ability to “anonymously” jab at each other also just encouraged the animosity between the Great Shinobi Villages, and allowed warmongers (Danzo™) to ensure that an actual peace never fully settled in until the 4th Shinobi War happened.
And the peace post the 4th war, by the way, SHOULD have been a huge boom in the popularity and use of shinobi rather than the detriment that the Boruto manga/anime insists on for like- all the reasons stated in the economics part of this rant as well as the rise of CORPORATIONS that would happily pay a lot for shinobi in a host of different capacities and also people paying for shinobi to pretty please come help rebuild our destroyed homes and farmland with your fancy ninja powers.
It’s also canon that several shinobi retired and went into other professions in the wake of this peace and alliance, such as *acting*, which opens up an entire potential slew of missions geared specifically toward movie producers using their new technologies and their bigger budgets to hire shinobi as stuff like stunt doubles, live special effects artists (need to rehearse but the set isn’t done yet? No problem!! Just hire someone with *genjutsu* to make your actors the ultimate set/stage), *makeup artists* (hey those infiltration skills come in handy in a lot of ways), and more. And that’s just one “modern” profession off the top of my head that would adore having Magic Ninja People available for hire.
I’m sure I’m missing a ton of potential peace time jobs and economic implications because again, I only research this stuff in relation to worldbuilding fictional places. But there we go, I have just gone a 3k rant about ninja economics in order to explain why ANBU are Scary. I hope ya’ll enjoyed.
A side note I couldn’t find a good spot for in the actual rant but another factor in the shinobi villages having to change their behavior and seem Socially Acceptable is because of the rise of civilian-born shinobi in their genin/chuunin ranks. Because there’s no way a civilian family is going to *want* their child to become a murderous psychopath. A competent, magic wielding defender of your merchant uncle’s caravans on the other hand…
Other rants I need to do at some point when my braincells aren’t mush are:
1. My personal HCs on Konoha’s orphanage/foster system (aka Hi, Let Me Give You More Reasons To Hate Sarutobi Hiruzen)
2. Ninja Economics Two: Warring States Boogaloo (Edit: now available here!)
3. Why Cannibal Space Ninjas Are The Stupidest Idea of Multiple Stupid Options
4. Boruto Ninja Cults: What Kishi Could’ve Done Instead of the Garbage We Got
5. Genin Corps (Aka Reasons Kishi Could’ve Given for Why No One Thought Kabuto Was Suspicious But Didn’t. Aka Ninja Economics 3 Babyyyyyy)
#Secret Engima Rambles#SE rants#naruto worldbuilding#ninja economics#boruto#taking red string and thumbnails of logic to Kishi's hot nonsense
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A Sallow Grave - what did go wrong and why
So, a try to delve a bit into the whole quest situation, because for one I love trying to analyse stuff, and Seb has some unearthing of his sallow ass to do. Buckle up.
Spoilers for Sebastian Sallow’s questline, mentions of death, psychological abuse and just general rumblings in no particular order.
Part one of idk how many.
And for a start probably I need to say, that nothing in that questline was okay. And though I do not agree with Sebastian's actions, it’s interesting to see how everything led to this exact outcome, and how he is, undoubtedly, more a result of his upbringing and problematic teenagehood, rather than was inclined or destined to something inherently.
So let's start up with early childhood, shall we?
Little is known about the twins in earlier years, but they were raised in a full family, and their parents were described as passionate academics, passing thirst for knowledge and optimistic, open minded mindset to their children. It’s noted that they would spend days in the cellar, probably often leaving both Sebastian and Anne to themselves, which undoubtedly resulted in a strong bond between the two. Even years later for Sebastian it's never only just “my sister”, he underlines multiple times that Ann is his twin, the other missing half.
However tragic events come to pass, and due incident Mr. and Ms. Sallow are gone, and since it’s noted that usually children with magical ability exhibit it by the age of seven, the twins could’ve been between age 5 to 7, where children undergo most important psychological development. They were left on their own, just the two of them, Sebastian subconsciously later opting the role of a fatherly figure, a protector, probably the elder twin. They also left their home - the place holding happiest memories, for Feldcroft and living with their uncle.
Let us not actually forget that technically, and by Victorian standards no less, both Anne and Sebastian are orphans. Yes, they live with Solomon and he does provide for them, but they are perceived as two different entities altogether. There’s Solomon Sallow, separately, and there are the twins, and although it is never truly stated or hinted whenever wizards had different, more prodigious social structure, Sebastian and Solomon do verbally differentiate between the family. And they’re lucky in a way, because staying with close family is still better than any other sort of a magical orphanage.
The trick is, though, that Solomon as a person, probably was not ready for what he was dealing with, nor has the qualities of a child caretaker. He’s a former Auror: sure, providing safety for two kids, but he’s a battle worn veteran, who gave up the work of his life, plagued by his own wrongdoings [and not having luxury of therapy, let’s be honest], possibly troubled feelings against his brother and most likely PTSD in the form of rage fits. Which is no good thing for a child to be around.
[Enter the fanon territory, following by the post here, I do think there was some sort of sibling rivalry between Solomon and his brother, and I think that he was to a degree enamoured with the twins' mother. It’s really easy to spot in their conversations, that being “his father’s son” is his own trauma projected into a child, whilst Sebastian can’t comprehend why it’s a bad thing. For him father is a happy memory and a role model, this bright inquisitive mind. For Solomon his brother is, probably, an example of passion going too far, of obsession, his own lost opportunities. And he sees Sebastian growing to be just the same, even before Anne is cursed he’d been this way, so I assume there’s something going on there. Besides well asserting dominance in the household, bc somebody didn’t live well though Aedipus complex I guess.]
Being tasked with bringing up two kids isn’t easy even for a full family, let alone a man with issues, so we start at that. And before Hogwarts became an outlet for both Sebastian and Anne, about 5 years passed, where both of them were mostly formed as people.
We can assume from what both Anne and Sebastian tell, the relationship with their uncle has always been tense. And it’s easy to see why except for the above.
In the scene where he destroys a Shivelfig he is the one to get verbally aggressive first, and when blames his own outburst and Anne’s following seizure to be Sebastian’s fault. And something tells me that’s not the first time such an argument arises. [As Anne mentions below]
It’s certainly a gaslighting tactic to justify himself [Seb and his uncle have lots in common haven't they sometimes]. And that “what have you done” rhetoric stays with his uncle for the rest of the narrative, and is ultimately a poor communication method. He also intrudes in their safe moment of connection, overseeing the conversation, not to mention that he intrudes in their personal space with little regard to understand what happens [not even minding MC as a matter of fact].
After a shot argument he practically sends Sebastian, who only arrived, off, perfectly knowing what kind of bond the siblings have. It is a cruel thing to do, no matter how well justified. And acts with utter nerve as if nothing happened, casually dismissing MC in the conversation, getting quickly frustrated if their point of view does not align with his. It’s something many have experienced with a strict [and often unloving] parent. Not to mention he apologises on behalf of his nephew for some reason, not on his own, like sir you were rude.
[an interesting tidbit: he’s not looking at Sebastian. He’s looking straight at Anne, as if to make sure she understands that she shall not hope for the best and accept his better judgement as the only outcome. As Sebastian says “she’s not herself” ever since she stayed with Solomon, and if that isn’t a red flag well idk.]
And if you look at Sebastian [actually two times, second being with the relic], he’s absolutely helpless. His tantrums and his anger is not the first reaction to aggression. It’s fear. He watches hopelessly, brows raised and ashamed, how his uncle turns his achievements, his work into nothingness and he does not respond back immediately. [Which can be another form of response to domestic abuse] Because there’s still a child there, who is listening to what is said to him. And it’s absolutely heartbreaking to see.
#sebastian sallow#hogwarts legacy#anne sallow#solomon sallow#sebastian sallow headcanon#if only these two could speak words through their mouths this whole shit could've been avoided#send uncle to therapy
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tess servopoulos | birthday
MASTERLIST | TAGLIST | KO-FI
words: 2.9k
warnings: 18+. minors dni.
smut with plot. fingering (reader receiving because we all know tess is a giver). hurt/comfort. apocalypse-induced depression, mentions of death, corpses, grief. reese's chocolate is consumed.
request: Can I request something for Tess?! Something domestic with hurt/comfort and I little bit of smut if you are comfortable with it, I just LOVE your writing and I know that you would do an amazing job 🥺.
You hate birthdays. There was a time, of course, when that wasn’t the case; a time when your family got together with gifts and cake and candles and songs, cameras flashing, barbecue smoking, sun setting over your garden so the banners you'd protested against glinted. But there is nothing to celebrate these days, least of all today. There are too many memories, too many ghosts following you wherever you go. Flashes of your first post-outbreak birthday, when your sister had tried so hard to find a cake that she’d been beaten for breaking curfew, and instead of a party you’d wiped blood from her face. Of course, that wasn’t the worst one. Not even close. The year after, she was gone and you were making your way from city to city alone, birthday all but forgotten until you’d arrived at a QZ and saw the date. Ever since, you’ve tried to ignore the passing of time, tried to avoid anything that reminds you of the person you were before all this began. It’s too painful.
Still, it’s impossible not to be swallowed by grief each year. Impossible not to pay attention to that burning emptiness in your chest that was once reserved for good things. Normal things. To top it off, your day was awful. You’re exhausted, nauseous, and debilitated by a pounding headache that came on amongst the heat and smoke of the day. A day spent piling bodies up like they weren’t once people. You’d come across a kid who’d looked just like your late niece, and suddenly you were battling anxiety. You still are, eight hours later. You sit now in your apartment with the lights off, paralysed on the couch because you don’t have the strength to get up and collapse onto your bed. You’re afraid that sleeping will only bring more memories, and you can’t handle any more.
It doesn’t surprise you much when the door opens, and you know without looking that the silhouette at the threshold is Tess. You close your eyes, dread seeping through you. You don’t usually let her see you like this, but since you spend most nights together these days, it's no longer easy to avoid her.
“Hey. Why are you sitting here in the dark?” She flicks on the only lamp in your apartment, standing between the kitchen and the living room. When she sees you, she pauses in her tracks. “Y’okay?”
“Hm-mmm.” It’s the best attempt at a lie you can offer, and it seems to satisfy her for just a moment as she kisses your forehead.
But then she frowns, her touch on your clenched jaw lingering as her scrutiny scorches your face. “Wanna try that again?”
“I’m just tired,” you say. “How’d the job go?” Considering she appears unscathed, you can only assume well. It’s another reason she’s here most nights; easier to sneak into your apartment after curfew than her own a couple blocks down.
“Fine. Good as can be expected.” She shrugs and sits down beside you, still unwilling to look away. After kicking off her shoes, she begins smoothing your hair off your face. Her touch is gentle, which once surprised you but now doesn’t.
Your breath hitches in your throat at the warmth it brings, even now. Instead of chasing all of your feelings away, though, it only intensifies them, and you find a lump building in your throat.
“Hey.” She takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. “Talk to me.”
You can only shake your head, closing your eyes in fear that your tears will leak out otherwise. You know she wouldn’t judge you, but it still makes you feel weak. Tess has always just carried on, never buckling under pain or exhaustion. You… You have more nights like this than you’d care to admit, usually brought on by the corpses you carry day in, day out, and the faces you mistake for others'. You’ve tried to find a different job, but you’re still relatively young and able, and that means you’re stuck in manual labour until your back gives out or you croak.
Tess sighs and pulls you into her chest, placing kisses into your dust-caked hair. “I know. Birthdays suck, right?”
You’re so surprised that the tears are staunched for a moment, and you pull away to glance up at her. “How’d you know?”
“Oh, c’mon. It’s on your ration card.”
Still, the fact she’d taken notice at all… well, for a moment, a flicker of something easier to cope with rushes through you.
“I got you a present,” she said, digging through her shirt pocket — and pulling out a pack of your favourite chocolate, Reese’s. “It may or may not be two years out of date, but it’ll have to do.”
“Tess…” You take the chocolate, relishing in the way the plastic packaging feels against your fingers. You haven’t seen chocolate in a hell of a long time, and the sight of the bright orange and the promise of peanut butter cups inside makes you want to cry. “How the hell did you get this?”
Tess shrugs. “I have my ways.”
You dare not ask what those might be, afraid of what and who she might have paid just to make you happy. Instead, you hug her, breathing in her musky night-air scent as your eyes begin to throb. You’re going to cry, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop it.
“Thank you,” is all you can whisper shakily.
“Happy birthday, baby,” Tess replies, drawing circles at the nape of your neck. “D’you eat tonight?”
Warily, you shake your head. As happy as you are about the chocolate, you’re not sure you have the appetite for anything. Better you save it until you’ll really enjoy it.
“It was a hot day. You need something to keep you going.” She pats your thigh before getting up and searching your cupboards. There isn’t much; you’ve been getting by on shitty rations despite all your work, and Tess is usually the one to stock up on food with whatever she gets from smuggling. “What are you in the mood for?” she asks now. “Spaghetti? Mac ‘n’ cheese? We’ve still got that bread I picked up yesterday, too.”
You don’t know how to tell her that you don’t want any of it. That eating something from a tin, or even a stale loaf of bread, just makes you remember those burgers your dad used to burn on the barbecue, or the cake your sister made special. For one night, you just need to not exist. You need to turn the light off again and forget. But with Tess here, you can’t, and you can’t ask her to leave now. Not during curfew.
“I think maybe I’m just going to get an early night,” you decide on. “Is that okay?”
Tess turns from the cupboards, that same look of concern hardening her features again. She takes a moment before responding. “I hate it when you shut me out, y’know.”
Guilt eats at you, and you run a hand across your face — but you know it isn’t fair. Tess is honest, blunt even sometimes, but she holds her cards close to her chest too. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I don’t know either. I’m just… I’m worried, and I want you to let me in. I mean, is this about me? Do you not… want me here right now? ‘Cos I can leave—”
“You can’t leave, Tess. It’s past curfew,” you snap.
“If you want me to fuckin’ go, I’ll go.” Her voice is suddenly hostile, and it takes a moment for realisation to dawn. She’s reading your behaviour as rejection, coldness.
God, it’s been a long time since you’ve had to think about how your actions impact the people closest to you, mostly because you haven’t let many people near. But Tess wormed her way in, first into your bed and then into your heart, and… shit, she brought you fucking Reese’s. She deserves better than to think this is her problem.
“That’s not what I want,” you say, voice cracking as you realise how true it is. As much as you’d like to sit in the darkness, she makes everything better. Easier. You don’t want her gone. Not ever. “It’s just hard. You know that. Sometimes I feel like I don’t have anything left of me by the end of the day, and today of all days…” You swallow as the first tear falls, knowing it won’t be the last. “I always want you here, but sometimes I don’t know how to be here with you.”
A wrinkle burrowed between her brows, and she stepped closer to you like a deer she was afraid to scare off. “That’s all you had to say. I just need to know what you’re thinking, feeling, y’know?”
“Okay,” you whisper.
She pulls you close again, this time not letting go. Your arms curl around her solid frame as her fingertips move across the length of your spine, up and down. You let your tears fall then, and they dampen Tess’s hair, her shoulder.
“You’re okay,” Tess soothes. “Tell me what I can do to help.”
“Can we turn the light off?”
“Of course.” She moves slowly to the lamp. “Where’d you wanna sit?”
You contemplate and decide to go across your apartment to your bed, climbing under the thin, moth-eaten sheets. The last thing you see is Tess’s kind face before the apartment is bathed in shadows again. She slips into a strip of moonlight to grab your chocolate from the couch and then joins you, her presence warming the cold bed.
“C’mere.” She holds her arm out, and you snuggle into her chest, lacing your legs between hers. With her arms around you, she peels the chocolate wrapper apart and takes out one of the peanut butter cups. “Have to eat chocolate on your birthday. It’s the law.”
You let out a subdued laugh and take the cup if only to please her. “You have the other one.”
“They’re yours. Save it for tomorrow.”
“You have to share chocolate on your birthday,” you deadpan. “It’s the law.”
Tess rolls her eyes but takes out the other cup, nibbling the corner before letting out a groan. “God, I’ve missed these things.”
The sweet, nutty smell reminds you of old memories. Theatres and picnics and long car journeys. “My sister ate so many of these that she threw up once,” you confess, smiling at the thought of her aggressive sweet tooth. “Outside the movie theatre, too, with everyone watching.”
Tess grins. “Yikes.”
“She still got another three packs on the way home.”
Her chuckle vibrates against you, and for a moment, things don’t feel so heavy. You’re able to think fondly of that time, rather than with bitterness and loss. You can think of your sister, miss her, and yet still somehow breathe. You take a ginger bite of chocolate and another wave of emotion hits you, but you stay upright in the force of it. You have Tess to hold onto.
“As good as I remember,” you admit.
Tess only hums, stroking your hair with her free hand.
“I’m sorry,” you continue, looking up at her. She has a fleck of peanut butter on her lips, and you use the pad of your thumb to wipe it away without really thinking about how intimate a gesture it is. “I know I seem cold and distant sometimes. It’s only because I’m trying not to break in front of you. We all have our shit, and you handle yours… so fucking well, Tess. I feel… guilty that I can’t always do the same. Like, if you can be okay, I should be, too.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “That’s the stupidest shit you’ve ever said.”
You snort through another mouthful of chocolate.
“I’m serious,” she insists. “I got why you’d close off on me before, when things were casual. But I’m not casual about this anymore. I need to know when you’re not okay. And for the record, the only reason I seem okay most of the time is because you make me feel okay. More than okay. I was so lost and empty before you. You reminded me how to live.” She wipes the tears from your face as you soak in the tender words.
“Well, shit,” is all you can murmur for a moment.
Another laugh burbles from Tess. “Yeah, shit.”
You shift against her to look at her properly, tracing the outline of her chin with sticky fingers. “I feel the same. Of course I do. You’re home to me now.”
Her smile falls slowly as her eyes glint, showing you all the things both of you are too afraid to say. It only occurs to you then, after twenty years of pain and suffering, that you’re allowed to feel something else. Something good. You want to, even. You lick your lips, putting down the chocolate to trace the outline of Tess’s stomach, right up to the swell of her breasts. Maybe you need the distraction. Maybe you just need to feel something other than fear. Maybe you need to show her just how much she means to you. Either way, your chest flutters and you adjust your legs between hers, moving higher until you feel the apex of her thighs against yours.
She knows what you need instantly and kisses you, roughly and softly, slowly yet hurried. She tastes like chocolate and peanut butter and she is rewriting your tragic little life, your loss and your grief, so that now Reese’s is this, her. So that now the taste isn’t bitter, but sweet.
“Let me take care of you tonight,” she says.
You can only nod, rolling over and arching your back as she begins to place delicate kisses down your neck, across your collarbone. It takes her eons to get to peel up your T-shirt and kiss your stomach, right down to the waistband of your trousers, but you bask in every moment because you know she’s trying to show you, too.
I love you, you want to say. I love you and it’s terrifying, because I could lose you. But you can’t, so you twine your fingers through her hair instead, pulling her back up to you to kiss her again. Feel her again.
“Please,” you plead, desperate for everything she can give. Anything to take you from the darkness.
Tess doesn’t need you to elaborate. She slips her hand under your waistband and presses gently on your clit, causing the heat in your belly to coil like a spring. Your breath hitches in your throat, and she swallows it with another kiss.
“I got you,” she’s whispering as she begins to circle that sensitive spot slowly. She sucks on your jaw, teeth nipping at your lobe as you arch into your pleasure. She draws your wetness up while sinking into your chest and caressing your breasts with her free hand, and you wish you’d had the forethought to take off your clothes. You’re in too deep now, too lost in the bliss to move an inch.
“Tess,” you breathe, hands tangling in the sheets as she slips a finger inside you, using her thumb to keep rolling across your clit. You buck your hips, and her eyes grow bright as she watches.
“Good girl. Take what you need from me.”
“You,” you say. “I need you. So much.” You’re no longer just talking about this, not even when she plunges a second finger into your sex and you gasp roughly. You begin to roll your hips, desperate for more. A tear slips down your cheek, this time not born from sadness, but something else. Something you can’t put a name to. You only know it consumes you in moments like this, when Tess is here, giving you everything, every piece of her.
“You’re so pretty like this,” Tess rasps, tugging your trousers down, down, until she can kiss your thighs. “So fucking perfect.”
You pinch your own nipple as you feel your climax build to bursting, moving faster, harder, against Tess’s fingers as they fill you up. Your walls clench against her when she nips at your skin. “I’m yours,” she’s saying. “I’m yours, baby.”
The words tip you over the edge, and you cry out, legs shaking, as you come hard around her fingers, whimpering her name over and over as you ride out the high. When your hips finally slow, you realise your cheeks are damp with more than just sweat, but you grow limp and lack the energy to wipe away your tears. Tess places a final kiss just above your clit, causing you to spasm again, before she returns to the pillow beside you. Her features are honey-soft, and she uses the back of her hand to dry your tears when she sees them.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” you say softly. “Just…” It’s hard to say, but you force it out because you want to. Because you need her to know. “I’m yours, too, y’know. I…” You can’t, even now.
You don’t have to. Tess cuddles up to you, tracing the shape of your brows and looking at you like you might be the only source of sunlight in this endless night.
“I know,” she says, and you know she does. Know she must see it on your face, too. “I know. It doesn’t need to be said.”
Your lids are heavy, and you let them close as your breathing begins to even out.
“I do, too,” is the last thing you hear before you dose off. A confession, an answer, a lifeline.
Yours.
#tess servopoulos x you#tess fic#tess servopoulos x reader#tess servopoulos#tess x reader#tess servopoulos hbo#tess servopoulos imagine#the last of us hbo#tess servopoulos one shot#tess servopoulos fic#tess one shot#the last of us#the last of us fic#hbo the last of us#the last of us x reader#the last of us series#tlou show#tlou#tlou fic#tlou imagine#tlou hbo#tlou fanfiction#tlou one shot#x reader#x reader imagine#multifandom imagines#multi fandom imagines#multifandom#imagines#fanfiction
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rgrgrgrgrgrg ur turn! what are your infinight headcanons? also, this goes for both the interns AND og infinights if you've got any for 'em!!!!
BUCKLE UP ALRIGHT?? I AM OBSSESED AND MY FAVORITE HOBBIE IS MAKING UP HEADCANONS!!
Gum Gum:
- As mentioned in on my most recent post, Gum Gum has 4c hair and Bart braids it for him
- He doesn't actually like candy because it keeps getting stuck in his molars and it's hard to get it out with his tusks on the way
- He has trouble eating because of said tusks but he manages
- He lets Bart draw on his skin with ink
- He thinks being Afraid is a Bad Thing because kids mocked him for it at the Orchidnage
- He cries trying to do simple math, not because it's frustrating but because he knows it really shouldn't be This hard (I'm projecting so hard right now)
- Nobody admits it but he has the highest alcohol tolerance in the entire team
Bart:
- He has an incredibly wide voice range but his voice is his most natural if a bit Exaggerated at times
- He thinks Mudd is kinda hot but in a "Wow my friend is so pretty frr" kinda way y'know?
- Only brushes back his hair when out and about, at the headquarters and while camping his hair a mess
- Sleeps in briefs and if you're lucky one of Gum Gum's old shirts when in his room
- Likes to throw people off by asking to be carried or letting himself be walked into just to reveal how dense (Heavy) he is
- He has a fish tattooed on his chest as a reference to Captain Marrge (He'll never admit that's why)
- Has to plead and fight Gum Gum every week or two to try and get him to bathe (He doesn't bathe Galindor btw, he just puts him in the bath and leaves)
- He knows how to style people's hairs and really likes doing if. If only Kyborg let him run his fingers through his hair more often
Mudd:
- Puts things high up in shelfs so the others can't reach them
- Has done "Elf on a shelf" to Kyborg exactly 1 time and hated the feeling of Ky's shirt on his hands but it was worth putting him up there
- He has some pretty strange sensory issues (As in they are waaay too specific).
- He doesn't like hugs or kisses or anything like that because the feeling of touch remains on his skin Foever and it drives him mad
- His cape acts like a weighted blanket
- Shares fruit with Gumbo on a regular basis
- His tent in the largest because obviously, and has had to get the whole team out of it multiple times because they keep using it as a hangout spot
- Gossips with Bart about people that look fruity to them (*Cough cough* Spectril and Slique)
- He's a S€x and Romance repulsed aroace and suffers whenever Bart flirts with anyone
- Once he gained the ability to, he started changing the shape of his ears to something smaller and less "cow-like" because he's insecure about it. He switches on and off between liking them and hating them
Kyborg:
- He adores Gum Gum because the kid genuinely thinks he's cool
- Tries not to cry whenever he sees a kid with their parents
- He's afraid to ever have children because what if they loose him too?
- Uses his hatred against Quadron as his only motivation to stay alive
- His friends are his family even if he will never admit it, he lives for them
- He braids his hair like his mom used to braid hers, charms and rings and all.
- He likes it when Bart brushes his hair or braids it, but he's afraid to show that level of attachment.
- He has abandonment issues if we're honest
- Will fight Brink Tussler but also if anything happens to that guy seriously he'll Cry for ages
- Feeds Gumbo worms he finds on the woods while Mudd's not looking
Slique:
- He forgets he's missing fingers and only realizes when he tries to count with them
- Has dropped his tuning sword and regretted it many times
- Gets attached way too easily to anyone who's "nice enough to him", probably because of his need for approval and attention
#tales from the stinky dragon#stinky dragon pod#tftsd#headcanon#this is so long#im sorry#i exploded all over the place#i got too excited#im not checking the spelling on this one
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Spelldon and Friends
My first post focused on Spelldon and breaking down his outfit pieces. This one will focus on him and some other Monster High dolls….including a vampire….more under the cut because I took a lot of photos!!
From Valentine’s Diary: July 2nd
“While attempting to hide in the shadows, I bumped into a student I didn't recognize. He said his name was Spelldon Cauldronello. He had only been at MH a couple of weeks as he had been traveling with his older sister. Meeting him totally made me space out and forget to send a text that was supposed to help Clawd. He asked if I went to MH, and I said I was just visiting, but I would love to go to MH if I can. He said he'd keep me up on the groanings on around school if I wanted, so I gave him my number.”
I kept seeing fanart of Spelldon dropping a book and Valentine and Spelldon reaching for it at the same time that I thought it had happened in the diaries too, and decided to quickly pose them like that.
Valentine is completely and instantly love struck with Spelldon. Spelldon is lightly curious at this dapper looking southern-drawling vampire.
It didn’t take them long to start trying to hold hands. It was a bit tricky, but they managed. They have started to flirt incessantly.
They seemed to like dancing (Valentine has had many dances over the centuries with “young fillies” he had tried to steal love from, but this felt so much different. Spelldon hasn’t danced many slow dances, but meeting Valentine has made him want to start learning).
Still working on hand holding….
Valentine is pretty stealthy (like most vampires), and has surprised Spelldon quite a few times when sneaking in for a surprise kiss on the cheek. Spelldon lightheartedly threatens to give Valentine a potion that make his footsteps as loud as a giant’s.
Spelldon might have used an invisibility potion to finally manage to sneak up on Valentine and surprise him with a kiss on a cheek. Valentine tells Spelldon he doesn’t need to try and surprise him, he would gladly take a kiss from him anytime.
“Who is this?!” Spelldon looks up and Valentine thinks he remembers hearing that voice from the radio…..
Casta has entered the chat.
Casta is still getting used to her younger brother dating an emotion-feeding vampire (especially someone who was as notorious as Valentine -she might be a famous singer, but she knows a fiend who knows a fiend who knows a vampire who has had a run-in with Valentine).
But she’s proud to see her little brother thriving at Monster High She trusts Spelldon, and is happy to see Spelldon’s boyfriend tagging along and helping Spelldon gather and shop for potion supplies, and enjoy being a teenager (instead of always being on the road).
Valentine is still a bit nervous around Casta and all of her star-power (she may have threatened to turn him into a piglet if he hurts her brother. Spelldon said she was kidding and it’s a family joke).
I had forgotten that I had added some detail to my SDCC Valentine to try and make him closer to his film appearance. I had cut his hair (although he need to be dipped in some LA’s Totally Awesome as his hair is very gluey), add some paint to his earrings, glasses (and make them sunglasses with a paint wash) and shoes (I made the buckle into broken hearts and made the broken heart jacket buttons). I also added some extra gold and green embroidery to his lapel and cuff and some extra ribbon around his collar too.
Spelldon and his big sister Casta Fierce. I didn’t realize how much darker green she is until I got her out of storage (I had also painted her nails and boots too when I first got her). She also needs to be de-glued in some LA’s Totally Awesome. They look so good together, eeeeee!!!
Spelldon and his sister again (sans jacket).
Oof! He might have been distracted by his boyfriend off camera.
Spelldon and Casta practicing their witchcraft while she is in town. They are not the best at fortune telling, but their mama would be proud they’re keeping up with their studies.
Casta is the best at reciting magical incantations, while Spelldon is happy to be adding the ingredients.
“The whole bottle should do it….I’m pretty sure.”
“This one has an invisible gas inside. And this one is a part of a rare ‘glow worm’ from a cave Valentine’s family had visited in Transylvania.”
I was going to have the glow in the dark potion also hang from his belt, but it was too much weight and kept falling off.
“You’ve grown quite the collection of ingredients Spelly.”
“Thank you. I miss being on the road with you, …but it’s nice living in one place for a while. I’ve been able to safely practice my magic at Monster High. You’re right, they have a great magic course here. I’ve made new friends….and…someone who is more than a friend….”
Casta and Spelldon promise to keep Fate-timing each other at least once a week.
My G3 Deuce (don’t mind his glasses being off, all the other dolls have been told not to look at him, and visa versa, for this quick photo shoot, and the photographer was only stoned for an hour afterwards) and Spelldon (who used the same body and sculpt).
Spelldon thinks Deuce looks kinda familiar, while Valentine is appalled at the thought that Spelldon might resemble Deuce.
(G3 Deuce’s hair repaint - I missed the gradient G1 Deuce had and G3 Deuce has a much more detail on his snakes in the show…..I don’t care for the paler plastic green his doll comes with).
And finally, a group photo of Spelldon and my other Monster High customs. Welcome to the family Spelldon!
#customsbyaleta#spelldon doll#spelldon cauldronello doll#spelldon#spelldon cauldronello#casta fierce#monster high#mh#monster high doll#custom doll#monster high custom#monster high custom doll#valentine#kieran valentine#valentine x spelldon
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welcome to: rizz's extensive uksies notes, which will discuss differences in characterization, sure, but also more important things like staging, scenic and dance changes, and directorial choices (i do talk about the principal characters at the bottom so i'll forgive you for skipping down there if you wanna). i haven't looked at anyone else's posts since i didn't want them to influence my thoughts, but i'll be whipping out the third-of-the-way-through stage management degree for this shit so buckle up. spoilers/major reveals will be in this post, and this post (among all the others relating to major reveals/moments in this version) will be tagged with #newsies spoilers!!!
lets get into it, starting with the reason this show was able to be as much of an experience as it was: the space.
i think it's very important context to this version of newsies that the troubadour theater, previously, had been housing an immersive peaky blinders (popular tv show) experience. this review gives a pretty good idea of what immersive theater is, and it is... a big feat. it's more of an experience than theater, and that same goal was at the heart of the way newsies is done, too, which worked so well. both are historical fictions and are based on real things that happened, which makes it kind of easier to involve an audience imo and lets them believe what's going on.
the stage is a sort of round thrust-style in the shape of what i'm guessing is a flash/flashbulb in reference to obviously the pics we have of the strike and how "big photos attract readers" (aka the audience in this case :)). as yall know from the photos its got the same tower/skeletal setup as bway...to an extent. for bway, that's tbh all they have, but by losing the proscenium stage and moving into a space with so much more free reign, there didn't have to be one big scenic element, and it didn't have to be the only thing to steal the show. like the "big moment" for bway is when the three towers track forward in once and for all, and there's like....at least three different moments just like that in uksies and they don't even need the towers for any of them! because they didn't rely on one thing, they did so many things, and they did them everywhere. to the walls, to the aisles, to the landings, to the air, this show made sure it used every definition of the word 'space' to its fullest. initially it sounds distracting, but making sure they're all around us and making sure that ensemble characters are able to be on their own without the principals near them really humanizes the ensemble as a group of real kids who fr went on strike. i'll come back to humanizing stuff in a bit, but since we've been talking about the theater space, lemme talk abt these scenic elements because damn...
there was a slide jack used a couple times through a hatch door to escape the delanceys thru (with a little >:) wave) and escape the strikebreakers
there were mini trap doors in the stage where items were stored and revealed, and they kind of looked like the grates that sidewalks have/used to have for like rain to drain into in cities <3
there was a rope jack used to swing through and kick a strikebreaker in the face!
the penthouse actually felt like a home rather than literally just a bare bway balcony lmao, like they had mini portraits sticking to a skeletal roof-like overhang that jack probably built on his own, his art was much more obvious and hung up and personalized.
the cart with all the papers on it actually got to be used in staging in really fun ways- it was both chariot and podium for jack and crutchie mainly but they like rode around in it it was cool
medda has a huge lit-up sign for her theater instead of like. an overhang or whatever it is for bway, which is the upgrade she deserves <3
the children's crusade banner wasn't a projection, it actually dropped as a huge literal banner from one of the line sets and jack stood as a shadow behind it with a fist raised >:)
the tables for king of new york weren't the longer bigger ones from bway, it was like actual restaurant-style table for two's like in 92sies!! and they were on wheels, so they had table-ography– this was also possible due to how much more depth, physically, the stage had, like they wouldn't have had room on a proscenium. davey was pushing les around on a table and the kid was just flying around it was super cute and rly well done
speaking of 92sies, remember at the end of their king of new york when the one newsie grabs the ceiling fan and spins around? yeah, uksies does that with these huge practical lights that fly down from above- newsies get to not only hang off of them and do some acrobatics, but they can spin on them, and they not only go insanely fast, but they also are able to go higher the faster they go. seriously one of the most insane displays i've seen in a staged musical of all things, like it felt like a show and not just a musical.
The abundance of scenic and spatial elements leaves a director/choreograoher (because this guy was both, and it is visceral even in the scenes that he's both and it's perfect) with so many options, and fuckin man, did this guy absolutely use all of them to the fullest. i hadn't realized how like....recycled the blocking had been through bway and also touring, because idt they're allowed to really change it. but guys. we'd been watching the same exact movements for years, and NOW THEY'RE ALL NEW!! everything they do, each location of the stage people move to is all different than we've ever seen as a fandom, which is major, because staging is a storytelling device– since if it wasn't, we wouldn't have it. where people are in a space, where people are in relation to others in a space is also huge. the other main thing again is that it isnt a proscenium stage, so it's much easier not to stage people "in a line". think back to the livesies staging for right before the world will know when jack is telling davey about "if your father had a union". picture where they are on the stage in relation to the cart w all the newsies. its in a fucking line, bro.
this show? abused depth beautifully. the stage pictures were extremely memorable, so choreographed, and set the dynamics for scenes so effortlessly. davey is way downstage when jack's trying to convince him to join the strike, so we can see his exact thought process before the final "i guess...you do, mr. president". (speaking of, ryan kopel is genuinely the first davey to actually make that line a weirdly emotional journey?? like davey takes so long to finally say it, like he's getting over the stakes and letting jack's words sit before finally, yes, agreeing.) or when jack has his pre-seize the day monologue (of which i might make an entire post for for personal reasons and i'll link it here if i do), the three scabs are center stage, arranged in this triangle with their backs to each other and their heads down so jack gets to circle them while addressing the stage at large- it just looks so intentional and frankly very pretty to watch since they're all dancers and their posture is so clean. even something to believe in's scene staging is more dynamic because the towers themselves aren't even in a line- they're angled downstage, so even when jack and kath are high up on a more skinny platform there's still depth and an upstage and downstage they can travel on!! it's so thought through. i'll also make a post about more individual moments, but a lot of people have done that so im making the more important post first lmao.
the staging ofc was very intentional, but the transitions were also...like seriously integral to the narrative. idk if you guys know this or not but transitions can make or fuckin break a moment fr and some directors fucking suck at them LMAO but wow. these? the newsies taking on katherine's platform with the same "mornin' miss" air to their movements and kath saying a small 'thank you' to them before she sits for watch what happens, versus the transition into the bottom line where newsies push pulitzer's platform on with heads and backs bowed down, pushing slower, with more effort, like it looks painful when they push on his platform. newsies lifting medda's footlights and sort of "working at the theater" with their movements mirroring dramatic vaudevillian theatre. it was all so fluid and nearly all of it was done by the newsies and none of it was really...hidden, either, and seeing them literally "work" onstage cemented them as "the working boys of the city" really specifically, and in a very special way. like yeah, the invisible workforce, of course they're doing the transitions. beautiful, a+.
among other added elements were the new orchestrations. newsies has never sounded like this before, even excluding the new music they added. there was more base, guitar, and drums, and the tinny trumpet was much more subdued which felt more...realized and less disney, which is for me always welcomed lol. honestly it made the music sound less disney as a whole. very grounded sound overall- ALSO the sound design was so fucking excellent like you walk into the theater and it's the sounds of the city in 1899 and it's so cool...but! yes! there was new music because guess fucking what: every single dance break was extended. every single one. they all of course had new choreo (finallyfinallyfinallyfinally) but also literal new parts to the dance breaks. each by like 3-5 mins. cemented this as a show more so than only a musical which i fucking adored. in a diff post i'll go through each song (though it might. be after i see it again) and talk about the extensions because just....come on director/choreographer!! yes!!
rounding out this post specifically, im gonna nail down some characters and relationships, since honestly they were very different than we've seen before, but there's merit to all of them for real, and i appreciate a shift from how we're used to interpreting them, and honestly i hope it changes our characterizations as a fandom and adds more depth/possibilities!
starting with the romantic hero of the year, jack kelly.
he is distinctly a romantic hero in this- not in the perceived lovesick/floaty way. he's a very raw version of himself, and he's almost a loose canon (until he's forced not to be via blackmail). he's staged very intimately with others when talking one-on-one, which i know is a usual jack trait, but at michael's jack's core is "come on, look at me." every moment with those he loves is personal to him, is treasured and valued. a baseline example is crutchie, of course, who he says "look at me" to in the prologue after crutchie gets discouraged with himself. they aren't staged outward toward the audience, because jack doesn't let it– he is in line with crutchie, really looking at him, and making sure crutchie's looking back. he does this with the scabs too, except he gets to move around them because of how that trio is staged (my god that scene looks and is so beautiful..fuck).
but i think this is very exemplified with davey, actually, because what i love about michael's jack is that the emotions he wears on his sleeve aren't only ones of love- it's all passion, which includes anger. jack and davey do not get along initially. the exchange of "well if he's the best then what's he want with me" is kind of charged, which is exciting- davey really is just there for his family, he doesn't need eyes on him, and he wants to shut it down....but it's shutting it down via undermining jack, which is made clear by jack's reaction that that isn't something that happens around here. "cause you got a little brother" really feels like an 'i don't need you,' in how it's said, and any back and forth they have through that scene is an interesting animosity... which changes the moment davey and les are in danger, when snyder appears and they run (they run SO MUCH in this show oh my god, they run everywhere across everything and up and down), and once they run to the theater and jack gets them out of that situation and davey is seriously like. 'who the fuck was that guy, we had to go through that bc of you, that wasn't okay', and the way jack explains who snyder was...for the first time, jack doesnt match davey's animosity and instead just explains, in lieu/as an apology, the details on who snyder is and to steer clear of him. and instead of saying "right" as davey normally does, he says "thanks for the advice", with the staging squared and head-on to jack. and it isnt sarcastic, it's just genuine, and from that moment on, davey gets the "look at me" treatment. and jack even holds the back of davey's head during i think seize the day and lets his hand slide down his shoulder to daveys chest and daveys hand is on jack's shoulder and they're staged square and not outward like the moment is just for them.
jack's emotions are more visceral than they've been, he's very hot-blooded and it just makes everything hit more. the fucking seize the day monologue. poc fans we finally won. michael took so much time with it, making sure each line was heard and intentional and the audience was doing that thing they do at more serious straight plays with the little "mmhs" when they agree with something and like. he just made sure it was taken so seriously, same with the something to believe in scene. "what is this.. about, for you?" just the way michael structures jack's word is so smart and emotional. he also has this sort of break in his speaking voice that reminded me of jerjor actually, but it obv is just the way he acts and a choice for jack, this cracking of the self when he's vulnerable with someone at the expense of himself.
lemme say that again. this jack's voice literally has an emotional crack in it when speaking vulnerably at the expense of himself, which is SO FUCKIGN SPECIFIC GOD I LOVE HIM FSKDFJSDJ FUCK. it's genius. he does it with katherine during "i ain't stupid, i know that... girls like you, don't end up with.. guys like me." oh my god the FUCKING NOISE THE AUDIENCE MADE. oh it was heartbreaking, like it was genuinely crushing. made me tear up for sure, for obvious reasons lmao. michael is the jack i've always wanted- a little vain (he admires himself in a hand mirror during carrying the banner<3), absolutely turbulent, and painfully, horribly aware of his own stakes in this all. and black LMAO I WONNNNNN HAHAH I WON!!
speaking on crutchie next because he is the narrative of this production.
the fandom has sort of strayed away from the jack+crutchie team and fallen into this jack+race team, and this production makes damn sure that doesn't happen. it is so jack and crutchie, all the way, to the end of the fucking line. he is with jack, central, through all of act one's staging and major numbers- by jack's side for carrying the banner, with him on the cart when it spins around center and moves around the stage for world will know, he leads the newsies up to the world's door to make way for jack, les, and davey to enter it, he's included in seize the day choreo moments, he cries out for jack to get away ("jackie, run! run!!" im. i am. a mess) at the end of the brawl when he knows he's in a situation he can't get out of.
he also has this hug with jack and race when he returns from the refuge that nearly made me yell out loud LMAO (me and @roideny grabbing hold of each other in the theater and all), and the three of them have a personal spot of the stage together looking over the paper when davey makes his first appearance- crutchie is just staged very intentionally near anyone with leadership, cementing him as a leader and is certainly no longer jack's kid-brother anymore. any infantilization is really worked on getting completely gone in this production, the effort is apparent likely especially bc the actor (matthew duckett!! sweetheart supreme!!) is disabled himself!
another really key thing about this crutchie is how loud he is, in every way he possible could be. his color palette is the most stark right along with jack's, he's wearing overalls which no other newsie has, his speaking voice is almost abrasive- it's not rough, per say, but it's sort of coarse and nasally (he's so new yorker and im in love w it), and very distinct. he's also taller than jack (michael my beloved is 5'9", furthering my jack is 5'9" agenda) and like... most of the other newsies tbh.
this production does not give you a choice but to notice him, does not give you a choice but to look at him, does not allow you to ignore crutchie in any way. it's visually and audibly impossible, and that is spectacularly intentional.
he is also like... sunshiney in a rough-around-the-edges way, in a this-is-all-i-have way. he's so himself, he's abrasive and almost snide in how he talks. very self-aware, but choosing actively to be brighter about it even though you can tell his situation weighs on him. crutchie is genuinely so dynamic in this show and he's amazing to watch, and he is finally, finally, truly shown as equal to the rest of the newsies, and certainly to jack.
this is so specific but the "we have the right to starve, let's just get our papers" line is so decisive of him. like i'm realizing that that line hasn't given him power before, but it does in this show- he can raise a definitive solution to the group without being jack, and i.. don't think anyone else does this, at all, when they're discussing the strike. it's just crutchie who states what he believes they should do. like. that's never been emphasized before thats so fucking cool for him idk
alright davey time woooooo
davey is the king of defensiveness in this and i genuinely fucking love that choice for him. because he is trying to find a 'way out' within the text but also metaphorically within the story before world will know. so like– this production had davey try and contradict every time someone comments on what davey says. he'll start to say "i didn't say-" "that's not what i-" "i didn't mean-" before cutting back into the script's dialogue again, which is SO fascinating. since initially, davey is trying to separate himself from the newsies, so he uses ad-libs like that to break away, but then after world will know, those same ad-libs are used inversely it felt like, like he'd say something in a way that didn't quite fit and he'd try to rephrase so that it did? very interesting to watch.
he also was very nervous to speak in his first appearance when getting his papers, like he was very nervous about speaking in front of wiesel. this davey had sort of trouble finding words in a timely manner, but what he always has are the right ones, which was a good dynamic for he and jack. he does know what to say, and what he says is intentional, he just isn't great at saying it until act two which is so. cool. even in act 2 at the rally he's still finding his footing, and then when he's at pulitzer's office with jack and spot, he's in his own. he's nearly flippant about his words, since he's found his confidence in them through jack uplifting them the whole show. it almost..... like he and jack kind of have a mentor-y relationship? jack really feels like he does show davey the ropes (despite how biting the "well my father taught us [indicating that jack shouldn't lie so easily in front of les] not to lie" is), and davey learns from jack while jack learns from davey.
speaking of les though wow is mans protective as fuck. his arms are always around this kid, he rests his chin on his head really casually and les is so easy with it too like yeah they're brothers asf. and their moments in king of new york are so precious, and they have the center table together at the start of act two.
speaking of act two! can't talk about davey without discussing wwh reprise :). the way he talks to jack in this scene is so confident that jack's "have they busted up your brains or something" feels like it's more about that- davey hasn't spoken against jack since before world will know, and jack isn't used to the dynamic davey is trying to establish. he's so persistent, and urgent, and like... in it. "won the battle, jackie think about it" like this davey wants to win. at every single turn in this show, davey wants what he believes to win. he will speak against anyone, he will try and change his words' meaning ("that's not what i mean-"), and he will persuade whoever just so that he can win. he feels so competitive and it shines in different ways and everything he says really is so argumentative. maybe he's a little quieter, his voice is shyer, but davey isn't shy, and that's made clear. also ryan kopel hugged me at the stage door and i love him and he's so fucking sweet wowowow
ok katherine and we'RE DONE i promise.
staging made absolutely sure to ground her. she was watching a lot of the scenes she wasn't in, like she appeared during world will know in one of the aisles- felt very much like those moments in 92sies when we'd just see denton around takin notes, which i loved. showed her as a very active journalist. she also like... spoke like an american newscaster?? like she had a News voice lowkey? which was a fun choice.
her scene with jack when she's asking him questions is so serious for her and i love it, it really makes sure that she cares about what she's writing and who she's writing for. jack's "we both got a lot riding on you" takes her downstage as her desk gets set up, and we get to see jack's words weigh on her which is fuckin nice as hell.. like she just felt more grounded than she's been. she still got to be bubbly, but she was more aware of the situation than like... kara lindsay's katherine. she knew the stakes for the newsies i feel like, which is why the name reveal was more intense and the STBI pre-scene was... the best i've seen. she was embarrassed at herself for lying to jack- not telling him everything, and when she defends it she knows it's weak and doesn't try to back it up.. i just appreciate it bc that scene normally feels so superficial despite its context and what they're talking about, but kath and jack really did everything they could to save that scene's writing... they reeeeally fuckin tried LMAO. this katherine was more willing to put herself in the action for sure
her back and forth with jack in jacobi's was so fun, and the defining line of their arc through the show was definitely "this is entertaining...so far." because it's fun to flirt, until it isn't, and someone you care about his ruining his name at the city-wide rally, or revealed to be the daughter of the man sending cops to beat kids into submission. whew. they're really good together.
very quickly: THIS PULITZER IS >>>>>. HE IS SO GOOD. I CANT LIE LMAOOO HE'S SO EVIL I HATE HIM!! and MEDDA WAS SO. that's jack's mom. she also really does serve independence, and i love it so much.
anyway thanks for reading this far guys LMAO i now this is so extensive and i didn't even talk about the ensemble fr... but that's for the second viewing. the direction this production underwent took major precedence, since it's so different and so much more fleshed out.
hope this gave a clear picture on the vibe of the show and the principal characters/relationships!! more to come asf!!!
#newsies spoilers#WHEW OK WE DID IT for now#newsies#uksies#newsies uk#west endsies#britsies#analysis#newsies design#fizz freaks#jack kelly#crutchie morris#davey jacobs#katherine pulitzer#medda larkin
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