#also if I was some paint did it splatter on a promising grown man!! what the fuck!!

[mmemirrorball]

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

[5ugarand5pice]

Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve

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

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

pairing: driver! reader x f1 grid

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The 2017 British Grand Prix.

Oh, God. If only you knew.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uhuh.” you wince.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s there?” you roll your eyes.

“Chickens.”

“Chickens who?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pretty much.” he laughs. “You?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” your jaw drops. “Formula 1?”

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

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

“Yes. It is.” he chuckles.

“Wait, who’s leaving?” you pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck no.”

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

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

[9w1ft]

lord you made me feel importunt..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

some other small points are..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

so yeah, this is my thought.

[siriannatan]

Charms od Accidents chapter 2

I re read chapter 1and went 'I should put Pix and Sausage in this au', so I did

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53291311/chapters/141388864

Pix was not doing great if anyone asked. He was absolutely not lonely. Last break up didn't still weigh heavy on his shoulders. His work was going great. He was absolutely never tempted to strangle anyone. His family trying to pressure him into a marriage absolutely had nothing to do with his foul mood. Nothing. At. All.

He just needed a break. Couple days off to run some errands in peace. To go to bed earlier and wake up later. Maybe he could go out for drinks… alone. It could still be fun. He could meet someone new, no?

Yes. He just needed to unwind. Which is why, after getting some time off work, totally not being let out earlier by his boss. Not at all. He just went to a park. To sit and enjoy nature for a bit before he went out to eat. He could treat himself every once in a while. Even if he'd be self-conscious of being out somewhere even remotely nice alone. But he could do it. He was a grown ass man. He could handle some awkwardness. Not like anyone would be paying him much attention anyway.

But first the park and enjoying nature. If he could only enjoy nature in peace. Almost since he got there and found a free bench he could feel someone staring at him. He had thought of finding whoever that might be and giving them a piece of his mind. But decided not to. If they had nothing better than staring at a lone barely not middle-aged business man then so be it. So he just tried to relax.

Until someone approached and Pix regretted not just leaving. The handsome, tall tan man with a wild mane of chocolate brown hair and pretty eyes and smile was clearly not a human. It was just Pix’s luck that an Other Worlder would approach him. Of course no one but an Other Worlder would have tattoos that shifted colors as they moved.

“Umm, sorry, it's probably rude to ask but would you be willing to pose for me for a painting? I promise it's just a normal painting, no magic involved,” the man asked, waving his arms around. Sunflowers tattooed there shimmering a whole rainbow.

Pix just blinked at him. He? Posing for a picture? Now that was rich. He didn't really know what to say. “Buy me dinner first,” he joked before he could stop himself.

Before he could even clarify the guy was agreeing. “Of course, it's no problem,” he nodded enthusiastically. Pic felt bad for him.

“I was just kidding,” Pix sighed. “Why would you even want to paint someone like me if you don't have any ulterior motives?” He asked as the man's smile dropped slightly. What a shame. First time he talked to Other Worlder and not to mention a really handsome one, even if it was rather dangerous to think so, and he had to disappoint him. What a shame.

“I don't really know, I just got the urge to paint you,” he shrugged. “And I really don't mind treating you to dinner if you agree,” he grinned, clearly not put off by Pix's gruff demeanor.

Pix sighed again and looked at the guy a bit closer. He looked to be around Pix's age but with his kind you could never be sure. Really well built and handsome. Dressed in denim overalls splattered with pain and a plain beige shirt with like all of its three buttons undone and already struggling sleeves rolled up. And the pant legs of his overalls were rolled up too. Showing miss matched socks. And his converse were also covered in paint.

With one more sigh Pix decided he didn't really have much too loose. “Fine, but dinner first and no muse paintings,” he agreed. The enthusiastic nod he got in return was almost worth possibly losing his soul.

“Ummm, should I change first? I'd rather take you somewhere nice if I'm taking away your time, we don't have to do it all now actually, but…” man rambled.

“Calm down. How about tomorrow? We can meet here and have brunch instead of dinner?” Pix offered. “I have some time off work anyway so you're not really wasting it,” he shrugged just then realizing he never changed out of his suit. He must have looked so weird.

“That sounds great, I'm Sausage, please don't laugh, I have o idea why you humans think my name is funny. You don't have to give me your name if you're uncomfortable with that.” Pix had a feeling the guy was a talker.

“Should be fine if I only give you part of it, no?” Sausage nodded enthusiastically. “Just call me Pix then,” Pix returned the introduction. Not like he'd be seeing Sausage after tomorrow. “I'll see you here at ten then?” He added and they separated. No need to exchange numbers for a one time thing, right?

When waiting for Sausage, Pix thought himself dumb. Why did he dress up for this thing? Like. He put on his best casual clothes. And he wasn't even fully confident the guy would show up. Other Worlders were known to be fickle like that. At worst he'd sit there a bit and go have brunch after that. No big deal. At least he had an excuse to leave his apartment.

“Sorry I'm late,” Pix was genuinely shocked when Sausage showed up. Five minutes late, yes, but he did. “I really hope you didn't wait for too long,” he added with a pretty mile as Pix collected his jaw off the park pathway.

And here he thought he was overdressed. But Sausage seemed to put even more effort in with a baby blue polo shirt with darker blue checker pattern and jean under the knee shorts and freaking loafers. Pix and his nice summery button up didn't compare.

“No, it wasn't that long,” Pix shook his head. Focusing on the tattoos to remind himself who he was really dealing with. Getting involved beyond what he was already doing was dangerous. “Shall we go?” He offered to break the awkwardness.

Sausage took him to a seriously nice brunch place. And refused to let him pay for anything. “You're doing me a favor so please pick whatever you like,” he grinned as Pix pouted over the menu. It seriously was feeling like a date.

So Pix ordered some nice pancakes with all his favorite additions so it was quite the order, Sausage got waffles. And a dark coffee. Sausage got some sweet coffee concoction. And then they both had some brownies and ice cream for dessert. Pretty nice brunch if anyone asked.

And then they went to Sausage’s place for the painting process. Was Pix a bit freaked out to go to an Other Worlders home? Yes, but he trusted this one about enough to not be too scared.

“I apologize if it's messy,” Sausage said at the very entrance.

It was certainly cluttered. With little knick-knacks everywhere. Like little pots with succulents and cacti. Framed pictures mostly of just Sausage. Some mugs that looked like they were just left there after someone finished their coffee and no one bothered to collect and return where they belong. Those quickly started to float away as Sausage muttered something. Magic, Pix thought with a shudder. What kind of Other Worlder did he stumble upon?

“I hope I'm not rude but… if I could as wha…” Pix started.

“A sorcerer, though I got a bit bored studying magical tomes and picked up some crafty hobbies,” Sausage explained with no issue.

Pix nodded. So not too different from a human, he told himself to calm his nerves.

He followed Sausage to his art room where an easel and a seat, small comfy looking chaise, were waiting. It was getting real.

“Get as comfy as you need, this can take some time,” Sausage chuckled nervously.

Pix nodded, glad he wasn't the only one stressed, and lay on the couch, supporting his back with pillows. “I think I'm ready,” he said once he was as comfy as he could be considering the situation.

Sausage nodded. “Feel free to have a nap, I promise you're safe here,” he said and focused on the canvas.

At first he observed the sorcerer work. But eventually he got tired and fell asleep.

He vaguely remembered dreaming about sunflowers when he was shook awake. “Hmm? Yes?” Pic yawned looking about the room, slowly remembering where he was and why.

“It's been a couple hours, I thought you might want something to drink or a snack?” Sausage offered with a sheepish smile. Pix's half awake smile thought it was adorable.

Pix welcomed a break and snacks with open arms. Sadly in just a few more hours Sausage was done with enough of the painting to not have to take up any more of Pix's time.

As disappointed as he was to not see him again, unless their paths crossed by accident, Pix went home. Sausage even paid for a taxi to take him home. Well, at least one day of his time off was nice.

The next morning, as he was getting dressed Pix froze. Why was there a red eye on his hip? He never got any tattoos. Ever. His thoughts instantly went to the pretty sorcerer. Could it be an Other Worlder mark? Was he now bound to Sausage. “I have to find him now,” Pix whined but deep inside felt giddy to see him again.

He got dressed and, forgetting breakfast and morning coffee, went to the park. Chances of Sausage being there were slim to none but Pix knew A way to his apartment from there. Well, more precisely from the brunch place.

There were no pretty Sorcerer's with artsy hobbies there so Pix went to his apartment. He was pretty proud he didn't get lost. And that he remembered which floor and door Sausage was.

With a beating heart Pix rang the doorbell. He really hoped he was right and that Sausage was, unknowingly, behind the mark.

“Pix?” Sausage was shocked but it wasn't what Pix's mind focused on. No, it focused on messy, fresh out of bed hair and white, definitely too tight white tank top and too short for his health shorts the sorcerer was wearing. “Wha…”

“We need to talk,” Pix said, dragging his mind out the gutter. He could drool over Sausage's physique later. After they talked.

“Come on in,” Sausage nodded and yawned as he stepped back to let Pix in. Pix marched in and as soon as the door was closed turned around lifted his shirt.

“Was this you? It wasn't there when I went to bed,” he asked sternly, forcing his eyes to stay on the sorcerer's face.

Sausage paled at first and then blushed like mad. “Oh my… I'm so sorry Pix, I didn't mean to… I have no clue when I would even,” he rambled off in that cute way of his while leading Pix to a couch, as coffee made itself judging by aroma filling the place.

Then Sausage called someone and Pix listened, more amused than worried for some reason, as he slipped his coffee. “Gem please tell me they came up with a way to remove a mark in the last… Yes I did, can you… I don't care what fWhip did, I have a crisis here… What?... If you can't help then… GEM!!??... She disconnected on me,” Sausage stared at his phone in disbelief.

“Care to explain what's going on?” Pix asked, setting his mug away. He decided the shock woke Sausage enough for explanation to be requested.

“Well, at some point yesterday, I have no clue how, I was never interested in it, I marked you as mine… I'm really so so so very sorry, and I promise to take responsibility if we can't undo it…” Sausage apologized more than explained as he knelt next to Pix and rested his head on Pix's lap.

“Okay but what does this mark mean exactly?” Pix pushed for some actual explanation. “I know very little about your things,” he added as Sausage whined out another apology.

“It's meant to tell others of my kind you're mine, under my protection and care and all that. I thought they only happen if you get… you know… physically close. Like really close…” Sausage finally said something with some sense. “I guess the closest equivalent from your world would be marriage…” he added, a bit quieter.

Pix froze. Married? He was not ready for that. Not in the slightest. “And there's no way to undo it?”

“As far as I know? No. I asked a friend if she knows a way, but she said she doesn't and she's coming anyway but likely more to laugh at me than to help,” as Sausage rambled, Pix struggled with the urge to play with his hair.

“So if we can't get rid of it… what does that mean? I can just go on living like normal, no?” Pix tried to calm Sausage down a little.

Or hoped to. It seemed to not work out as Sausage suddenly moved to sit next to Pix and took both of his hands into his. “Technically but I promise to take responsibility for my lack of self control. It'd probably mean you'd have to move in here, but I think it's the safest thing anyway, there are people who would hurt you to get to me… but I promise to protect you. If you'd rather you can just laze about here, do anything you'd like… I… I'll take care of you.”

Pix's head was spinning. So it really was like marriage? And Sausage was asking him to move in? “Isn't it all a bit sudden?”

“I can free up a room for you if you'd rather have your own space?” Sausage instantly jumped to answer.

Pix was about to poke more when the doorbell rang just for the door to open on its own.

“Hypocrites,” ginger haired woman in a purple sundress practically sung as she walked in. Her green eyes instantly fell onto Pix. “Aren't you two just adorable, couldn't you have been more like this brother?” She looked at a man who didn't look too different from her. Ginger, pale, dressed in a suit with sunglasses on and a cyan haired man holding his arm.

“Can't you just leave them be?” He asked with a groan.

“You two had a lot to say about me and Pearl, so no. I plan to laugh at you two for as long as possible,” sh declared. “Welcome to the family,” she grinned as both Sausage and the man, fWhip?, groaned.

[queermania]

im already a swiftie but i love this conversation. i love seeing your thoughts on what you do and don't like. what are some of your favorite lyrics?

oh this is a fun question!! where to even start!! well, i think like a lot of people, the entirety of would've could've should've hit a little too close to home but i don't really have any feelings about the girlhood line that makes everyone else crazy. the ones that fucked me up were:

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

and

I can't let this go, I fight with you in my sleep The wound won't close, I keep on waiting for a sign I regret you all the time

like genuinely seriously from the bottom of my heart, i regret you all the time was (and still is!) like a brick to the face.

okay you know what? i've decided that doing it this way would take forever and ever. so i've decided to put taylor swift on shuffle and give you the first lyric i think of for each song that comes up. that's a pretty good way to find out what stands out to me lol. (and bonus! it'll be like a fun little "name that song!" game you can play in your head lol)

here we go:

forever going with the flow, but you're friction

at least i did one thing right

all of my enemies started out friends

i didn't know you were keeping count

i miss you too much to be mad anymore

just a flesh wound, here's your rifle

i think about jumping, off of very tall somethings, just to see you come running

i'd tell you i miss you but i don't know how, i've never heard silence quite this loud

i think that's enough! also, delicate was the last song to come up but i don't know how to explain that "isn't it? isn't it? isn't it?" is my favorite lyric a;lsf;ads

[eliott-emma]

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

Forward notes

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

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

My First Thoughts

This song is gay as hell.

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

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

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

Song Lyrics Analysis

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Touching me is sinned? GAY.

People whispered about our love? GAY.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[shallyne]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[songwritingswift]

What's your favourite lyric from Midnights?

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

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

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

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

Thank you so much for your ask!

[asteracaea]

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

hi anon thanks for the question ^_^

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[tiny-katara]

ANA STOP POSTING THESE WHEN IM ASLEEP HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET THE FIRST LIKE AND REBLOG IN THESE CONDITIONS 😭😭😭

anyway since i am here i did make a mini meta on this song and azula and i can share some thoughts for fun 👀

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

this is literally so ozai and azula. there is a lot of pressure on azula to do everything with flawless perfection because she knows it reflects on her father. her mistakes are the paint that splatter on him, much like how taylor swift felt in her relationship with j*hn (fuck that guy). azula is shamed for her mistakes, but she is also a vessel ozai can use to excuse his. it doesn't matter that she's young, that she's his child. if it would get him what he wanted, ozai would throw her away and cleanse himself bc he's an asshole.

"And the God's honest truth is that the pain was heaven / And now that I'm grown, I'm scared of ghosts / Memories feel like weapons / And now that I know, I wish you'd left me wondering"

this delves a bit into a headcanon area but this gives me the vibe of a grown and redeemed azula. she knows better now, but she can't escape it. she was in pain but that was wonderful because she thought she was ruling the world with her father, they were bonding together. now that she's older she can see all the lies and manipulation and she can't go back to a time without it. she's trapped forever with the ghosts of her past, the mistakes, and the knowledge that she was never more than a piece in his chess game. it would have been easier if she had never known the little fragments of his "love: at all.

"But, Lord, you made me feel important / And then you tried to erase us"

ozai made azula feel valuable and special. he pit her against zuko, placing her as his golden child and zuko as his scapegoat, when in reality they both meant very little to him. in the end, ozai does try to erase her, leaving her with a now worthless title while he takes to burning his kingdom down for glory.

THEN OFC ANA'S EDIT SHOWCASES EVERYTHING SO BEAUTIFULLY

but may i just leave you with the line that rips the very life from your body for half a second, a line that showcases one thing azula never truly got.

"Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first"

her childhood.

girl help i can’t stop making atla edits to midnights

[cogentranting]

It’s time for

Favorite Lyrics from every Midnights Song

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

High Infidelity  put on your records and regret me

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

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

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

[drivemysoul]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[natandwandaseries]

Yelena

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

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

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

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

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

[gustafsnightangel]

Shattered Lives Ch 39 Pt 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not if you don’t want to be.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fun times.” He grinned.

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

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

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

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

“Love you too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t touch anything.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey handsome.” She breathed, anxiety rising.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But the car.” She hiccuped.

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

“It’s gone.” She sobbed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ok, that’s good.

I love you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.” The teen looked a little shocked.

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

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

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

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

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

[kiatheinsomniac]

G O D S A U

Defluxit Cieux (Faded Heavens)

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

Soul for Sale

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

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

But this came at a price.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Begin what?” She furrowed her brows.

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

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

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

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

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

—————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—————

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

[marshmallow-phd]

Open Wounds

Genre: Boxing!AU

Pairing: Yixing x Reader

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

Netflix Teaser 

Part One I Part Two

**

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

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

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

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

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

“Tough day?” he guessed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, wait!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, the checkbook part sounded nice.

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

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

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

“Alright, sounds good. Have a goodnight.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is everything okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t go easy on you,” he warned.

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

“Cross! Jab! Hook!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll meet you at the door.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you know Han pretty well.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you paint something for Han?”

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

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

I wish you would stop lying like that.

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

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

Deal.

“(y/n)?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was there the night that fighter died.