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getitoutofmymindwrites · 9 months ago

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The landing | joel miller x f!reader, 13.2k

Summary: You feel him before you see him. He’s still taking up space in your micro-universe. His sole presence creates ripples through the atmosphere as he walks towards you, softly nudging you to turn your head from your spot to look behind you. Or The one where your orbits finally collide for the final showdown.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, NO SPOILER (read A/N), ANGST, cheater!joel, discussions of infidelity, mention of food consumption, yelling, crying, the briefest mention of smut thoughts, sprinkle of fluff (blink and you'll miss it), as always let me know if I missed anything 👀

A/N: Ok, *deep breath* I know I can't make everyone happy unless I write alternate endings 😅 and I understand that infidelity can be a very triggering concept. I gave them the ending I felt they both deserved, but if you're looking for a story where they are at each other's throats for 13k words, maybe this is not for you and you are more than welcome to kindly move on. I won't spoil the ending in the Warnings, so proceed with caution, you know what the main theme is all about. All I can tell you is that this part of the story is divided into two main scenes because I didn't want to drag it out with one little scene after another. *she says after spilling 13k words🙄sorry about that👀* As always, I would love to read your thoughts on the last part and please keep in mind that writing is almost always self-indulgent.

P.S. I want to thank each and every one of you for the love I received for this mini-series, I never thought it would engage so many people. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. You've all been so kind and sweet to me, so this journey filled my heart with joy! I love you all, take care of yourselves and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! Oh! My asks are always open if you want to know more about their story. I could even write drabbles or one-shots about anything you'd like to know in particular. Ily, bye 😘

P.S. I deliberately left the last two lines without clarification of who says what, I leave that up to you. 🤍

Dividers by @cafekitsune @saradika-graphics @plum98

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FOUR YEARS AFTER THE FALL

Are you still falling?

You’re not sure anymore. Maybe you’re just used to it. Or maybe you just learned how to fly. It certainly feels like everything has slowed down. Sometimes it feels like floating. As if you’re a feather, so lightweight, swirling around aimlessly. But you can never touch the ground. Gravity can’t quite pull you down. Every time you feel like you’re finally landing, a force of nature pulls you back up.

Maybe it is a soft, warm, summer breeze, a memory of Joel.

Maybe it is a whirlwind, a contact from the lawyers.

Maybe it is a snowstorm, sign the papers, please.

Maybe it is the whispering of a gentle wind, the possibilities of what might have been, or the lack of real closure.

But it’s nice here. Even between the earth and the sky.

You never thought you’d enjoy leaving the big city and making a home for yourself on a ranch. But you loved it. You loved the peace and quiet, you loved this new community of people, you loved taking care of the horses, riding them, being around them. And then there was the house. A place you could almost call home. It was beautiful, rustic, warm, inviting, lacking none of the comforts a modern house needs, because you can’t quite get the big city girl out of you. The entire land had a soft, yellow-golden light enveloping every tree and every rock, everywhere your eyes reached, as if the sun shone differently here.

The days are easy. The chores are more than enough to keep you focused, there’s always something to do around here. It feels good to be busy, to keep your mind from dwelling on the past. You welcome the exhaustion of a full day’s work that accompanies your body when night comes.

Evenings are mostly good. You shower the day off, you cook, you chill on the couch with a good book or a film and more often than not, as the time passes and you feel more comfortable sharing the privacy of your home, you have friends over for dinner and drinks.

Nights though, nights are hard. At night, you pray that you are tired to the point of exhaustion so that you can sleep through it peacefully. Sometimes it works, but most of the time, not so much.

Time has intensified and lessened your emotional burden simultaneously.

The sharp pain that feels like thick acid being poured into you mellows in an inexplicable way. It still hurts, the pain oozing out of your every single pore even in a physical way. Only now, it has transformed into a sweet, slow poison conquering every hollow of your body, every vein leading from your heart to the ends of your limbs.

It’s almost a welcoming feeling, this pain, reminding you that you’re still alive, that he was real, that everything that happened was real. Because sometimes, sometimes, when you let yourself relax, when you let your guard down, all of this feels like a dream. Sometimes, you wake up in the middle of the night, confused, reaching with your hand for the other side of the bed and finding it empty. And for a split second you get that feeling. The feeling of how it used to be with him next to you.

Then you remember.

You know why this is happening and who’s responsible for it. This is a mix-up. This is what your treacherous brain does to mess with your resolve. It blends the bad stuff into the good, creating the strangest of concoctions. The clear image of black and white, neatly and perfectly hung in the center of the walls of your mind is now splashed with colorful memories from your life together, like a Pollock painting. You do your best to resist, to bring back scenes from all the vivid recollections of the night your life changed forever but your uncooperative brain pops another memory up, a good fuckin’ memory, like a projector, illuminating those bare imaginary walls with laughter and touches and whispers and scents and warmth. It’s relentless.

This dichotomy creates an uneasiness inside you, you choose to reject and pretend not to notice. Which in turn leads to self-contempt because, as always you can’t lie to yourself. You may lie to others but deep in your core you have to be honest with yourself. That is something you’re owed. To be aware, present in the reality of your life. So, you know, you know, you just sweep things under the carpet as a copy mechanism. You know what you should do.

You should confront him. You should demand answers and then finally say what you need to say to him. Not for him, not for his sake, but for yours. But you can’t. You've lost count of how many times you've picked up the phone and your thumb hovered over his contact to call him but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. And every time you tried to text him, to start a conversation, it felt too awkward. The only acceptable subject of discussion initiated by you was the progress of the divorce papers. You were unable to even remotely insinuate a more meaningful encounter. And he didn’t make any advances either. Not that you gave him any room to try and talk to you, but still, he seemed more settled with that, rather than not.

Maybe that fact itself was your cue to let it all go. He’s probably moved on. You don’t cheat on someone so blatantly and then want them back. Obviously, this whole delaying of the divorce is a power play, like everything else, it seems.

Good, yeah, that’s it. That’s it.

Now, let go. Move on. You solved it. Let go.

But this annoying little voice is scratching the walls of your weary brain, nudging the limits of the carefully made up serenity that’s hanging by a thread.

You should confront him. For your peace of mind, for your equilibrium.

But it’s nice here. Even between the earth and the sky.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

It’s early in the evening and you’re in the garden in front of the house near the porch, on your knees, plucking a few weeds from the ground. The fatigue of the day’s work has begun to take its toll on you, your shoulder is slightly trembling as you rest your weight on one palm to dig around with the other. Sweat covers your torso, rolling down between the valley of your breasts and the hollow between your spine, leaving your t-shirt clinging to your skin, your hair sticking to your forehead, which is lightly covered in a thin layer of dirt at some places as you keep wiping your forearm over the little beads of salty water that concentrate over your brows.

You feel him before you see him. He’s still taking up space in your micro-universe. His sole presence creates ripples through the atmosphere as he walks towards you, softly nudging you to turn your head from your spot to look behind you.

There's an overload of sensations before you shift your body around to confirm what you already know in your bones. You can smell him, taste him, feel him on your suddenly tingling skin, all at the same time.

You turn slowly and your breath hitches on your throat. You just stay in place, frozen, time infinitely stretching as you take him in from where you kneel on the ground. He stops abruptly the second his eyes meet yours and you could swear he’s holding his breath, his face completely unreadable.

He looks.. he looks like your Joel and nothing like him simultaneously. Soft yet imposing. Handsome yet battered. Determined yet lost. His clothing is simpler, dark jeans, green flannel over a black t-shirt and laced boots, as if he just returned from a working site. His curls are longer, framing his handsome face in a ridiculously good way, more white hairs nestle in his beard that is not that trimmed. Neither of you speak quite yet, taking each other in.

Your mind, your bizarre, ridiculous mind is working on figuring out what day it is. Why does it matter? Did you have an appointment? This is unexpected and a long time coming all at once, regardless of the day of the week. What comes next? Do you draw up an astrological map to determine if it's a compatible date for you to meet? Get it together.

Your facial expression must be pretty funny because Joel smiles awkwardly while scratching one side of his bearded cheek; hey, it’s me.

No, shit, you mentally respond, as if you could ever forget him. Furious is the word that best describes you because these are his first words? Hey, it’s me? And that feeling escalates into an explosive retort because you now realize that you had expectations. His first words? Who cares what his first words are? Were you expecting a tearful reunion, masterfully staged and executed like a romantic film? The guy betrayed you in your own house, sorry, his house. Wake the fuck up.

“Did you sign the papers?” you spit as you rise from your spot and he reacts as if you have punched him in the stomach. His face falls; you see a series of micro-expressions pass over his features before he settles on the last one. Has he been hurt? Did you hurt his feelings? Did he also have expectations?

“Uh-”, Joel raises his brows in genuine surprise, things probably not going the way he expected or hoped.

“It’s nice to see you, too.”, he replies with mild mockery.

Your eyes snap shut and you laugh in anger, lowering your chin to your chest and then looking back up at him, your eyes blazing, your brows mimicking his previously surprised expression, “Are you serious right now?” you cross your hands defensively over your chest.

You stare at each other for a good minute, both of you taking a moment to compose yourselves and regain your balance.

You break first, dropping your head back to your chest, looking down at the heel of your shoe scraping the ground beneath you, exhaling audibly.

“Hey,” Joel tries again, after speaking your name tenderly, your name on his lips, his head dipping down and to the side to try and get your attention back to him, his gaze filled with a mixture of warmth, regret and fear, “hi.”

You shake your head from side to side in repentance, what a great start this is, you keep thinking, “Hi.” is all you give him, still not looking at him.

“Hi,” he repeats, “it’s really nice to see you, bab-, shit, sorry.”, he winces, covering his mouth with his palm, embarrassment creeping into his features. You let out a quiet laugh, exhaling through your nose. You don’t comment on the slip of endearment that leaves his mouth, you don’t correct him, accepting privately that you liked it, you missed it, you longed for it.

Joel studies your face, but makes no comment on your silence. “You look...” he pauses for a split second before deciding to continue, “you look really good.” He hesitates, he doesn't want his compliment to come across as a feeble attempt to patronize you, because he really means it. You do look good, all sweaty and muddy and human and real. You are real. If he took a few steps forward, he could actually reach out and touch you, feel your skin under his fingertips, smell your heady scent, perhaps discreetly lick the remnants of your sweat from his thumb after carefully removing the strands of hair sticking on your forehead. But he doesn’t do that. He doesn’t do any of that.

You don’t quite know how to respond to that, any answer crossing your mind seems stupid or cheesy or dismissive. How do you respond to a compliment from the man who made you worship in his altar, only to have your faith ripped out of your heart?

His eyes keep roaming over your face, your figure, memorizing everything he can, like a blind man who has finally found his light, while he fidgets with an envelope in his hand which reminds you-

“Did you sign the papers, Joel?”, is what escapes your lips before you can think twice.

“No.” and now it’s his turn to lower his head, his eyes avoiding your gaze, as he looks down at his feet.

“Joel!”, you exclaim infuriated, rolling your eyes at him, knitting your brows together in a sign of frustration.

“No, no, it’s not like that. I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you want.”, Joel raises a hand in your direction to stop you from what seems to be a fair assumption, his palm up, facing you in an unspoken surrender. “I thought that- me, not signing, was a way of showing you how deeply sorry I am, how much I wanted to fix our marriage, but I understand now,” his voice wavers slightly, “that I need to respect your wishes. It’s the right thing to do. If this is still what you want, I’m gonna sign it.”

You don’t reply to that last part, only pointing out that “You didn’t have to come all this way to tell me that.”

“No, I didn’t.” Joel agrees.

“Then why are you here?” you insist, reluctant to entertain the idea that he has actually come all this way to apologize.

“Because I owe you an explanation.” is his honest and direct answer, sending little jolts of electricity through your nerves.

“Joel..” you sigh in exasperation. Not in warning or frustration, not really, but in something else. A feeling you can’t really put a name to, the closest you can come to describing it is that of a burden, woven deep into your heart, blossoming rapidly with each beat. There are so many things left unsaid; it makes you feel helpless, like you’re drowning. You want the dam you’ve built around your soul over the years to break so everything you've been holding back can finally pour out of you, but there’s just so much of it, of everything, that you’re terrified. Will the overflowing tank of emotions be completely empty? Will there be anything left unsaid? Untouched? What if the remnants left behind keep licking around your wounds, their waves pushing, shaping what’s left of you into something new, unrecognizable?

And what if, the tank will indeed be completely empty? What you’ll be left with, then? Nothing? Just.. empty? Will you remain empty? What, if anything, will take its place? Will you recognize your new self? Will you like yourself? Will you be able to live in harmony with this shell of a person? This you; you know. You hated and pitied and caressed and comforted and forgave and nurtured you into some version of a new you. But this? Everything will be torn apart, the wounds will be freshly opened, accessible to be examined in detail, plucked and bled and bruised in an all-too-familiar way.

Joel’s voice snaps you out of your trance, “No, I do. I owe you more than that, actually, but that’s the least I can do. And I wanna do that while I’m still your husband. I want to explain myself as your husband. Apologize to my wife, as her husband. Then I’m gonna sign anything you want me to.”

“And if I don’t wanna hear what you have to say?”

“Then I’ll just sign the papers and leave you in peace.” Joel confesses in all his honesty.

You just nod, looking down on the ground. You take a deep breath to ground yourself. You can do this. You want to do this. You need to do this.

You walk towards the house and sit down on the steps of the porch, as he looks at you awkwardly, not knowing where to stand. You gesture with a tilt of your head for him to come sit next to you. You can do this. You realize that you didn’t invite him into the house and you feel a bit rude for that, but it's beyond your empathetic capacity to deal with him being here and to let him into the house as well. “I just like it out here, it’s calm and-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, whatever makes you feel comfortable; I know you don’t want me here any longer than I have to be..” he interrupts you as he sits down next to you, his one side pressing against the end of the stairs, where the railing begins. He places the contract between your bodies, on the wooden floor.

It makes you uncomfortable, his statement, you always want people to feel welcome and relaxed around you. You internally chastise yourself for worrying about his feelings instead of yours, but you can’t help it, it’s embedded in your DNA. “It’s OK, Joel, I don’t mind, we can talk.”

Joel nods, but he remains silent. You don’t break the silence, giving him time to collect his thoughts. He chuckles defeated, shaking his head while rubbing his hand over his face.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, you don’t look that mighty to me anymore.” you blurt out before you can stop yourself and you immediately regret it. It didn’t sound so insulting in your head. You only meant to say that he doesn’t intimidate you anymore. Which is sort of a lie and a truth at the same time. You used to find him imposing, even his mere presence had the ability to make your skin crawl, your heart flutter and your words get catch in your dry throat, you were in awe of him. Every time you laid your eyes at him, even when you were straddling his lap or gazing at his profile as he slept beside you, you always felt as if you were looking up. You admired him.

His heart loses several beats to that. He can read between your lines now. He has lost your respect. Your admiration. The time when you looked up to him in awe is long gone.

“You know, my therapist warned me about this.”, he chuckles bitterly.

“Your-” you can’t hide your shocked expression from him as you search his eyes for any sign of him joking around, but you find none. “You’ve been in therapy?”

“Yeah, I-, I spent two years hating myself,” he chuckles deprecatingly, “and then I realized it was time for me to stop being an arrogant prick, so I spent another two doing it all over again with the help of my therapist.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at that and it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen in his entire life. “OK, somebody’s off to a good start. Go on.”

“You mean about the therapy?”

“I mean about you admitting you are an arrogant prick”, you say playfully.

He really laughs now, his eyes crinkle up at the sides. You used to love that. You feel your heart warming up. “You can thank Maria for that.”

“For what?”

“For kicking my ass and pushing me to help myself.” Joel admits. “She’s a good friend.”

“Yeah, she is.” you agree through your laughter, the image of Maria actually kicking Joel’s ass is priceless.

“I missed that sound.” Joel is looking at you softly, as if his gaze could break you.

“Hm.” you simply smile at him, not finding it in you to respond with a snide remark. The time for that feels like it has passed, like it’s irrelevant at this point. All you really want is to have an honest conversation, irony be damned.

You both look at your feet in silent consideration for a minute or two. “I thought you’d be mad at me.” Joel reveals.

You exhale through your nose, the edges of your mouth turning up in a gentle smile. “Four years is a long time to be mad at anyone, Joel. Even you don’t have that kind of power over me.”

“Good. I have enough burden on my shoulders as it is..”, he mumbles and you decide to change the subject.

How do you admit that you are still mad at him but in a different way? How do you describe the deep scar his existence has carved into your soul making it almost unbearable to even exist without him? How do you explain that you’ll always carry him with you, no matter what? How do you instill in him that you still believe in the best version of him, the best version you know he can be, the best version of him you once lived with. Yes, you’re not mad at him for the reasons he thinks you are. You’re mad at him because the way he made you love him is stronger than any hurt he’s ever caused you.

“So, what did your therapist warn you about?”

“She, uh- she tried to prepare me for this.”

“Oh? What did she say?”

“That I should not be prepared.”, he laughs in earnest. “That I should not obsess about what I want to say and just be open and have an honest interaction.”

“I like her, already.” you say with a straight face.

He smiles softly, looking down at his boots, while he rests his elbows on his knees, one palm encircling the other. “Yeah… I had some digging to do; I still do for that matter and will be for a long time it seems.”

“Anything you wanna share?” you reply, raising an eyebrow as if you had no idea why he was here.

“Oh, boy-” he squirms in his seat, already overwhelmed by the turn of the conversation, his chest almost vibrating with anxiety, he can barely swallow, small beads of sweat starting to form around his temples. You reluctantly reach for his forearm, trying to calm him down. “Hey, Joel?”

His whole body stiffens at your touch and he wishes his clothes would evaporate so he could feel your skin against his. He fixes his eyes on your delicate fingers lightly squeezing his tight muscles underneath the fabric. “The worst part has already happened four years ago, so-” you shrug, “just breathe.” Joel keeps his eyes on your hand, his heart rate dropping slightly; you ground him. You retract your arm and keep your hands to yourself in an effort to maintain a respectable distance between you. You shouldn’t have touched him at all.

“I think- I think I understand now.” he begins, still feeling the ghost of your touch on his forearm. “How I made you feel, what your words meant. You always did that, you know. And I found it so fascinating and so exhausting at the same time.”

You look at him, confused. Joel continues, “You always chose your words carefully. You had a reason for every single thing you said. In retrospect, I realized that you were handing me everything on a silver platter, but I was too self-absorbed to see it at the time.”

You nod in agreement, gesturing with your head for him to keep going.

Joel takes a deep breath, holding it inside his lungs for a while. His exhalation is controlled, measured. “Fuck. Okay. It was not just the fact itself. It was not just the cheatin’.”

Your stomach clenches violently at his words. The time has finally come and although you know what happened, you where there, when the words come out of Joel’s mouth it's as if you're pulled back to that threshold all over again. It really happened. You feel your hands sweating. “Go on.”, you pronounce carefully, already anxious your voice is going to betray you. You can do this.

“I don’t want to sound all full of myself-” Joel hesitates.

“You won’t.” you interrupt him with conviction. The truth has never frightened you. You welcome it. It feels like a form of catharsis, it feels like you’re finally being seen. Every nerve in your body is on fire. You’re ready for this, for the truth, if only he gives it to you. Please, set me free.

“I was your everything.” he whispers, almost embarrassed, his eyes not meeting yours. You don’t respond to that, not until he looks at you, although the admission shoots straight through your heart. You stare at the side of his face, almost forcing him to turn to you. He does.

“You were.” Simple. True. Clear as the light of day.

“And I ripped that from you.”

“You did.”

“In the worst possible way.”

“Hmhm.”, you don’t trust the stability of your voice.

“And no matter what I say, I can never take back what I did. I humiliated you, our home, our relationship, everything. I-” his brows furrow in an expression of disgust, “I disrespected myself. I burned everything down. I left nothing for you to hold on to, nothing for me to hope for, nothing.”

His chin trembles and his voice wavers as he continues. “The words to describe how sorry I am have not yet been invented. And even if they had, they still couldn’t take the pain away; what’s done, is done.”

He closes his eyes and rests his head on the railing. “I don’t know what I wish for anymore. That you had never met me, so you could be spared all this pain? But I can’t. I can’t wish that, because I’m so grateful to have met you. I married you, I had you. That is what has comforted me all these years, what has got me through all those sleepless nights.” He looks absolutely devastated, desperate.

It feels genuine, because he’s not directing it at you, he’s not trying to convince you, he’s not trying at all. “I have not thought about my pain or what I want from all this for a long time. All I pray for is-” his glistening eyes are searching frantically on the ground, his brows knitted together in a painful grimace. You rest your head on the palm of your hand, your elbow on your knee. Watching this moment like an outside observer, you realize that he's trying to live up to your standards, reminding you of a child trying to impress his parents, only to fail regardless of the outcome.

“Look, Joel, couples break up, divorce, all over the world, all the time. And I guess, they all thought their partners were their everything until they finally weren’t.”, you rationalize, putting everything that has happened into some kind of perspective. It is not the end of the world. It is the end of your world. He doesn’t have to carry this burden on his shoulders for eternity. All you need from him is to understand, to acknowledge what he's done to you, how broken you’ve been.

But if he acknowledges that, if he truly comprehends the tremendous pain he’s put you through, won’t all that anguish be transferred to him? Isn't it unbearable for a truly repentant man to know that he has deliberately caused so much pain?

“But, you see; I wanted that, I needed to be your everything.”

“It certainly fed your ego..” you grin at him.

“No, no- I craved that- that look on your face when your eyes were on me, like there was nothing else, no one else around you, but me. You drove me to be better, to move forward; I felt I had a purpose. You were my purpose.”

“Well I didn’t do much of a job then, did I?” you smile defeated.

“No, honey, this-” he’s determined to make you understand that it wasn't your fault, even if it is the last thing he is going to do. He licks his lips trying to formulate his thoughts, “-what happened, had nothing to do with you, I- I was just- I got in my head..”

You shake your head dismissively, “It’s a terrible burden to put people on a pedestal and expect them to-”

“But you see, baby, that’s the thing. You didn’t.”Joel dismisses your comment and if a bucket of ice-cold water was thrown over your head you wouldn’t feel so frozen. You search his eyes for meaning, because deep down it stings to hear that you could give more. Is that what he’s saying? You didn’t love him enough? Joel catches on and rushes to explain. “You-” god this is so hard, he’s struggling, can’t he just rip his heart open and let you examine it? “You loved me so much, baby and you never asked for anything in return. You let me be who I was. You accepted me completely. You set me free.” His eyes are blown wide, burning into yours with intensity. You look so lost, how does all this fit in with what he did then?

“Darlin’,” he expands further, “we live in a competitive world. Everyone aims to control each other, from business partners to lovers and spouses; everyone manipulates, everyone tries to tell you where to look, what to do, how to act, how to fuck, how to love. Except for you. You let me be. You put your heart in my hands and you set me free. And I took advantage of that and I am truly sorry. I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know. That’s how fucked up I am.” you look at him dumbfounded.

“I can’t connect the dots; I don’t get it, Joel, I’m sorry, I-” you run your fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp in frustration. What does he mean?

Joel winces mid-sentence because he can’t escape what’s coming. This is his last resort. And he knows it is going to sound cruel and he doesn’t even mean the first part the way you're going to perceive it, but for lack of better words, for lack of the better person he could have been, a person who should have never put you in this position in the first place, here goes.

“She made me feel wanted; you made me feel free.”,

he spits out in a hurry, praying to whatever god is listening, that you won’t even catch it, knowing full well that these may be the last words you'll ever let him speak to you.

You are utterly, completely, perfectly shocked.

Then you feel it for the first time in what feels like ages. That old friend consuming you. Rage. It burns your lungs, twists your guts and pierces your heart like a thousand needles. Everything becomes crystal clear. You’re so infuriated, that your mind goes blank. A million words and nothing at all come to your mind simultaneously.

“Let me- let me rephrase that, because actually it was never even about her, I just-” Joel begins, in a vain attempt to stop the tide from crushing you both.

Your palms become clenched fists in front of your mouth, pressing against it, crushing the velvety skin of the inside of your lips against your teeth until you draw blood, in an effort to control yourself. You inhale sharply, keeping your eyes fixed on the land in front of you, blurred by the tears gathering in your waterline.

“She- what?” are the only words you manage to choke out.

“Baby, it doesn’t matter, it was never about her, she was a means to an end and-” your eyes bulge out of your sockets at the statement, “I know- I know how that sounds- just-” his palms come together in a prayerful gesture, begging you to give him a chance to explain.

“A means to an- what the fuck are you talking about, Joel?” the veins on your forehead swell under your skin, creating a map of the river of wrath flowing aggressively through your body.

“It was never an affair sweetheart, but a transaction; one I initiated. She was only a boost to my ego.”

..she made me feel wanted..

..a boost to my ego..

It's all starting to make sense now, and it's the last thing you expect to be confronted with. You've always imagined either a heated affair, a secret love story, him realizing he had found his soul mate in someone else, or him getting bored with you, finding you too much or too emotional or too unlovable. It turns out that you were accused of the one thing you never were.

“Are you-, oh god,” you can hear your heart pounding in your ears now and it takes every ounce of strength not to vomit, “are you saying that you fucked someone else; you fucked your secretary for fuck’s sake, you fuckin’ cliché of a man, because I wasn’t jealous of you?”. Your throat is so swollen, you try to scream your words at him but they only come out in wrenched whispers.

You stand up abruptly, dizziness causing you to close your eyes tightly as you see a million white dots behind the blackness of your eyelids. Your whole body vibrates with rage. You steady yourself on the railing and then begin to pace back and forth, your hands unable to stay motionless, but moving over your face, through your hair, lowering and squeezing the sides of your waist as you lean slightly forward in a subconscious way to soothe yourself.

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god,” you laugh hysterically now, as angry tears run down your cheeks, as if you've been let in on an inside joke. “It’s my fault, everything is my fault-”

Joel is frozen in place, he’s not sure if he should get up and try to reason with you or stay where he is.. or run for the hills. He’s witnessing the unleashing of a caged animal. His tongue feels heavy and numb in the cavern of his mouth but he dares to speak again, “That’s the exact opposite of what I said, sweetheart,” he tries to explain in vain, “I’m sorry if that’s what I-” but you’re not listening to a single word he utters.

“People kept telling me, urging me on, all my life;” and you slap your palms on the sides of your thighs, looking at his direction, but not really looking, “I should be more controlling, more pushy, more..” your voice begins to fade, muttering to yourself through your teeth. “They warned me, you know, that the lack of pressure in any kind of relationship would be perceived as a lack of interest.”

Don't trust completely; hold something back; men like the illusion of power; show them you need them; make them jealous; be jealous, like a manual to a pre-installed setting.

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“But I didn’t listen. I never listened. Because in what world do we choose a leash over freedom?” You turn to look at him now, addressing him as if you were talking to a third party, an outsider, asking for advise or affirmation.

Maria’s words come back to Joel’s mind, words that he had long forgotten about, finally fitting like missing pieces of a puzzle to the bigger picture.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”

“I was really stupid, was I not? What on earth made me think that this time would be any different, what made me think that you’d be any different? You’re just- you’re just another man-” you spit your vile angrily as your eyes sweep over him. The look in his eyes is devastated, he feels shuttered, reduced to nothing.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid little girl. When the fuck will I learn? When the fuck am I going to accept that I don't really belong? When?”

Joel is staring at you bewildered, he never felt more helpless in his life. A thousand new thoughts and questions form in your head, things you didn’t even begin to imagine would cross your mind.

“Did you use her?” you ask with renewed vigor, a surge of energy running through your body.

Joel’s cheeks burn with humiliation but he has already admitted it once, what will it do to him to say it one more time? “Yes, I never had any feelings f-”

“No,” you interrupt impatiently, you don't care about his feelings right fuckin' now, “that night, did you use her? On purpose?”

Joel looks lost for a second but the cogs in his head finally turn and “NO! No baby, I wasn’t even aware of you coming home earlier than expected, no. Don’t even entertain this idea; it wasn’t intentional, I swear to god.”

Oh. There’s a new question for Joel. Why did you leave your business trip early? He had never thought about it before, solely focused on everything else that had happened, which now made him wonder, “Did you- did you know?”

“What?” you frown, lost in your own thoughts, not following his line of logic.

“Did you know? Is that why you came back early from your trip?”

You’re still a bit too far gone in your head to think clearly and try to prevent the next question from coming, “Of course I didn’t know, Joel, did it look like I did?” is all you say with a bite, annoyed.

“Then why-” Joel insists, pressuring you for an answer, but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“I- fuck- I need a minute.” you declare and start to walk towards the house.

Joel waited on that porch for almost an hour, watching the sun set behind the mountain, afraid to move, barely breathing in case you stormed out and threw him back where he came from as if him standing still would somehow make him part of the landscape; as if he belonged.

And you certainly delivered.

He hears the screen door open, his back still to the house. You are standing behind him, your arms crossed stiffly over your chest, your face tilted down, to avoid his gaze. He could see the red-rimmed and swollen eyes of yours, despite your efforts to hide them.

“I can’t do this-”

“Please,” his whole face contorts in agony, “please, hear me-” you both speak at the same time.

“-tonight.”

“What?” his voice matching the look of confusion on his face.

“Maybe another time, but not tonight.”

“I-” he doesn’t know how to articulate his thoughts without sounding like an idiot. He drove all this way, four hours straight, to finally get things straight. His brain has short-circuited, unable to put a plan into action. Should he check into a hotel or a motel or whatever the fuck is around here in the middle of nowhere? Should he go back to his place? Do you really want to talk again? You sort of said you did. You said maybe. Fuck. What does he do?

But honestly, what did he expect? That this would be over in the course of one evening? Of course he would have to come back. His eyes are fixed on yours like a deer caught in the headlights. “I came all this way-” he mumbles, choking on the last part, already regretting the words that came out of his mouth.

“Well, too bad.” you spit emotionless as you turn and head for the safety of your house, leaving him stunned on the goddamn porch.

Joel returned the next evening, but you weren't there. He made the four hour journey and came back empty-handed. And you weren't there the next evening, or the evening after that. But he kept on driving the miles, hot wheels under the Texas sun. He didn’t check in anywhere near your small town. He went back home and then back to you again.

The last time he found nothing but a closed door, he finally got the message, so the next time he left the house, before he turned on the ignition, he texted you, as a sign of respect for your boundaries.

Is it all right if I come and see you?

Backspacebackspacebackspace

Is it OK if I come and talk?

And the answer was

Not today.

So, every day he texted you. He didn’t mean to be intrusive, he just wanted to remind you that you were never far from his thoughts, that he was always ready and eager to finish what he started.

You denied him for quite some time. You couldn’t bring yourself to face him again. The confessions he made have knocked you off your axis. Just when you finally felt like everything was falling into place, he dropped this bombshell, making you rethink everything you thought you knew and had sorted out in your mind. You just couldn’t wrap your head around what you’d heard coming out of his mouth. How could he think like that? Why couldn’t he just talk to you? You used to talk about everything; what the fuck happened? How did you not see that coming?

You were sure that he would give up, that he would stop bothering to contact you at all. Was it the monster of self-deprecation? Was it a deep disappointment in human beings and their general lack of persistence in trying to nurture and repair a relationship, or at least trying to give it a proper closure? You didn’t give it much thought afraid of the answer you might get. But you kept saying Not today, until one day, for some reason-

Can we talk?

Yes.

Joel’s heart is beating through his chest so rapidly, he has to cough to regain some of his composure. He almost drops his phone, trying to confirm the most convenient time for you before you change your mind.

That was the first Yes after the day you saw him again. You weren’t sure what you wanted to talk about; if you could pick up exactly where you left off. You weren’t even sure you could look him in the eye again, but you had to see this through.

When you hear the sound of his engine and tires on the dirt road, you take a deep breath and walk out of the house to wait for him on the porch.

“Come on in, I’m cooking dinner.” you announce as you open the screen door for him to enter the house.

“Are you sure?”, Joel is taken aback, he thought the inside of your house was strictly off-limits to him. You were also cooking dinner as if he was an old friend visiting you. He couldn’t help but wonder if he should lower his defenses or not but with the way you looked tonight you didn’t give him much of a choice.

You’re wearing a pair of warm cream jeans, paired with a white front tie shirt, the first few buttons left open, giving him a glimpse of your tanned sternum. It almost looks like a man’s shirt, just messily tied up over your soft skin, revealing bits of your stomach. Could it be another man’s shirt?

You are barefoot. The nails of your toes are painted in a fresh glossy black color. Your hair is casually tied up in a messy bun, loose strands falling around your beaming face. Joel has to restrain himself from pushing you against the wall and fucking you on the spot, by clenching and unclenching his fists. His mouth is salivating at the sight of you, excitement building in his groin. It's been so long since he's felt this way, a different kind of hunger is growing in him at a rapid pace, as if something buried deep inside his masculinity has just awakened from hibernation.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you quirk back at him, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, what you’re both doing. “I’m starving. Coming?” you leave him at the entrance and go back into the house.

“You have a beautiful home.”, Joel admits as he takes in his surroundings, thinking that this is going better than he expected. He also can't help but prepare himself for the fact that this might not end the same way.

“Thank you.” you laugh nervously.

“What?”, he catches the note of disbelief in your voice. “I'm serious, the light is just right, it’s open and warm; it actually reminds me of you.” he says matter-of-factly.

“No, no, I know you mean it, it’s just- I guess it’s high praise, coming from you.” you admit. You always admired what he did for a living and how good he was at it and him seeing your place for the first time gave you another reason to feel kind of nervous.

“Oh, come on, none of that now.” he dismisses the compliment, his voice wavering slightly at the praise.

“Well it’s true, you are excellent at what you do, I mean, the house you built is a work of art and that’s a fact.”

“Which one?”, although he knows exactly which one, he presses on.

“The one we used to live in, together.” You can’t call it your house. You cannot. The mere thought of it makes your tongue feel like it’s on fire.

“Oh.”, Joel smiles as he presses his lips together in a thin line, “You mean our house. It was built out of love, that's why. It's the one I'm most proud of.”

“Hm.”, is all you give him. Déjà vu brings back memories out of the closet -pun intended- for both of you.

“Ok, now you really have to tell me. What is it?”, Joel crosses his forearms over his chest. He has to know.

“What do you mean?”, you try to buy some more time, cause you’re not so sure you want to go in there.

“You had the exact same reaction when I mentioned that, four years ago.”

“Ah, that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“It’s just- it always felt like it reflected your personality rather than mine. Or at least ours.”

Joel looks at you perplexed.

“I’m not complaining, I mean, how many people can claim that their husband built them a house the size of a small hotel as a wedding present?” you chuckle while you continue as nonchalantly as you can muster, “I would have lived in a cave with you, Joel, you didn’t have to go to these lengths to house two people. If you want my honest opinion, this was an ego project. I let it slide because it made you happy. And I liked you happy.” Joel looks stunned, his eyes darting back and forth between yours.

“Baby, I- I wanted to make you happy, to give you the best I could-”

“Joel, I’m not judging you. I am not. But you didn’t show me a single blueprint while you were designing the damn thing. You didn’t ask me what I wanted or how I imagined it. Sure, you equipped it with all the best stuff money could buy, but you never asked me what I thought about it. Not really.”, you see the hurt in his eyes and it unsettles you, but now the rabbit is out of the hat. “Again, I’m not judging you and I’m not being ungrateful, all I’m saying is that for some reason you needed your shinny new wife to live in a shinny new castle. It was a prestige thing. Just think about it.”

“Jesus..” Joel mutters, pinching the sides of his forehead with one hand, feeling defeated.

“Hey,” you give him a wry look, “I tried to avoid answering that question for four years. You were the one who insisted.” you defend yourself, clearly amused by his reaction.

“What else do I need to know?”, Joel wonders in a desperate manner.

“Well.. for how long can you keep coming back?” you joke absentmindedly.

“For the rest of my life..” Joel answers a little too quickly, not a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Your heart tightens at his eagerness, forcing you to admit a consideration that you have had more than a few times before. “You know,” you look over at him, lost in thought, almost like reminiscing, “sometimes I wish I had met you before your company took off.” You snap out of your daydream and consciously look at him and he looks pained as if some kind of realization has hit him. You change the subject for the sake of both of you. “Anyway, speaking of which, how is work? I heard you closed that deal, after all.” you grin mischievously.

“Yeah, I did.”, his voice takes on a strange timbre, almost like regret. But you’re not so sure about anything these days, so you let it pass. He puts the envelope with the contract on the counter in the kitchen and sits down in the chair next to the table already set for dinner.

“Good, that’s good. Let me guess, you’re all over it? First in, last out? Is it almost done?” you word vomit to cover your nervousness.

“Uh,” Joel rubs the back of his neck, “I wouldn’t know.” is all he gives you, clearly trying to avoid getting involved in the discussion.

“Um, you don’t know?”, you laugh lightly in confusion. “How is that possible?”, you ask stirring the vegetables in the pan.

“I’m not involved in the project and I have no idea about the status of the construction;” Joel answers your question and continues, revealing, “I quit. Sold my shares and got out.”

“Yeah,” you draw the vowels, still not looking in his direction, “right. Big, mighty Joel Miller left his enterprise-” you laugh mockingly, but you are met with silence. “You’re joking, right?” You turn to look at him, not believing what you have just heard. You feel your blood freeze in your veins.

Joel shakes his head in denial, “I’ve actually left the city and the only reason I haven’t sold every asset in my name is in case you want to claim any of them. They’re all yours if you want ‘em.” Your mouth is slightly agape, as you try to process what has just been delivered to you.

You open your mouth to protest but he beats you to it, by raising his hand to stop you. “I know you don’t want anything from me, but that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want them either. Not without you. Just take them. Burn them for all I care, liquidate them and use the money as you see fit.”, Joel insists, trying to find ways to convince you.

“You can do that yourself, Joel.” is all you say; you don’t give a damn about his money. Joel nods and leaves it at that, he knows better than to talk about money right now.

You’re curious where he lives now, but you’re not sure it’s appropriate to ask, so you don’t. You prepare dinner and make small talk about simple things like your lives over the past four years. Joel asks you about the ranch, the horses, the chores; you ask him about Tommy and Maria, their newborn son, whom you haven't had a chance to meet yet. None of you dare to break the bubble of normality in which you have effortlessly found yourselves.

It feels like coming home after a long day, the way you both fall into a comfortable silence. Joel speaks your name softly, drawing your attention and your gaze back to him. “What are we doing here?”

“We’re eating?” Just a little longer, let me have it just a little longer.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “no, I mean, what are we doing?” he gestures with his fingers between him and you.

You look at him and then at your plate, playing around with your food, lost in thought. How do you acknowledge that? How do you confess that you’re trying to stretch time? How do you admit that you’re scared out of your mind of how it's all going to end? How do you even come to terms with the fact that you’re not sure you want any of this to end? How do you accept how natural it feels to have him back in your life? How do you admit that after four years the pain has never stopped, but the force, the roughness of it has changed into something softer, yet persistent; never quite going away, lingering.

How do you admit that all the good memories are emerging, because that’s what the mind does, that’s how it protects you, that’s how it helps you survive another day, that’s how it tricks you into falling back into a comfortable routine with him. Even if what binds you together now is his betrayal. How do you admit that you’re afraid of what will become of you once you've finished confessing your truths?

Will he cease to exist for you? Will you cease to exist for him? Will he ever bother to contact you again? Do you really want him to? Will you matter to him or will he move on, start again and shake off the last vestiges of your life together?

Or maybe- maybe he has moved on with his life and that's why he's doing all this, putting all this effort into it. Maybe he is preparing a new, clear path for himself and whoever is in his life right now. Is it her? Is it still, her?

You’re spiraling, lost in your thoughts, biting your lower lip anxiously, like a snake eating its own tail. “Baby?” his baritone voice snaps you out of it, he must have called you several times before you heard him, suddenly aware of hot, fat tears streaming down your face, his thumbs gently brushing them from your cheeks.

You let out a shuddering breath; it’s the first time he’s touched you, in so, so long. And here he is again. The familiar, old friend. He’s pounding on your door now, relentless as he is, screaming for you to let him in, lead the way, take charge, take care of you. You can almost feel his maniacal banging, vibrating through your chest, let me in, let me in, let me in.

Let me in, better angry than scared.

Better angry than scared.

Your shoulders slump, your head feels unbearably heavy. The world has stopped moving. The world is moving too fast. You savor his features as he leans further in, his intoxicating scent filling your nostrils, his eyes pleading, the brown of his irises inviting you to let him in. Joel’s face is that of a man still in love as he continues to caress your skin and you let him.

You let him, because you are a weak person.

You let him because you have been deprived of his touch, of any touch really, for far too long.

You let him because you want to have something for yourself, selfishly.

You let him, because for once you just want to take. Take, take, take.

You let him because you just want to be held and touched and loved.

And even though your mind knows that you shouldn’t want all that from him, your heart allows you that little moment.

“Joel, I’m tired.” you begin, your voice breaking as fresh tears run down your face and onto his thumbs. “Tired to my bones. All I want is to be honest with each other. Do you think we can do that? Can we talk like two adults with nothing left to lose? Can we just be truthful to each other? I know there’s too much history between us, too much hurt and resentment but we both have to try and put it all behind us. I can’t go on like this.”

There’s a stillness in him, realization and clarity dawning on him. He thinks he understands now and it shocks him somehow, as a fact, that there are still things to uncover, to revel in, to acknowledge. Every time he thinks he’s reached the end of this journey, a new sun rises over the horizon.

You don’t need the specifics of his action, at least not right now, or not anymore. What you need is closure. True, honest closure. And that can only come from him baring himself to you. “Yeah, yeah, we can do that. We can do anything you want, baby.”, he squeezes his eyes shut, knowing where to begin, but resisting the thought. He leans back in his seat, dropping his hands from your face as he lets out the breath he seems to be holding in and begins.

“Remember that night before your business trip when you came to my office?”

“Uh, yeah? I guess.”, what a strange thing to mention, you think confused. “What about it?”

“You came to me for sex.”, Joel says bluntly, no need to beat around the bush. This is it. This is how he loses you. Once again.

You stare at him and then, for some reason, look down in embarrassment. You’ve fucked him in almost every way you can think of and now the very admission of that fact makes you feel like an exposed nerve. It dawns on you, how far away this era has slipped away. You feel vulnerable as if you’re talking to a total stranger about your most intimate moments. At the same time, you still know exactly how to touch him, how to please him and a light warmth begins to shimmer inside you.

“Well, that’s one way of putting it, but- yeah..”, you admit, still nervously picking at your food with your fork.

Joel sees your apprehension but he presses on. This is what you asked for. “And I refused you.” The look on your face betrays your confusion. Where is he going with this? Only now, he sees more. He can finally see more. The hurt. The disappointment. “What happened next?” is his next question and does he really think that you can remember all these years later? Does he honestly believe that you can recall yourself leaving his office defeated and crying yourself to sleep? “I don’t remember.” you lie, shrugging your shoulders as convincingly as you can muster.

“You said you loved me and then you left.”, Joel reminds you.

“You- you remember all that?”, your eyes are wide and the look on your face vulnerable, Joel wants to pause it all and hold you in his arms.

“I can’t seem to forget anything about you,” he reveals, “believe me, I’ve tried.”

“What’s your point?”

“Why did you do that?”

“Uh.. why did I do what?”, you narrow your eyes in confusion.

His eyes are piercing yours, provoking you to figure it out on your own.

“Loved you?” He shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

Your eyes widen again, in surprise this time, as you finally see what he means.

“Walked away?” You’re fucking shocked to the core, your voice choked, you’re not sure you spoke out loud.

“Why didn’t you insist?”

Your mouth is wide open, you’re speechless, you flatter your eyelids in search of the right words. This is your second encounter and once again he says what you least expect him to say.

“You refused” you remind him now, “and I respected that.”, your hand moves to rest on your chest, palm open, to calm your racing heart.

“I didn’t want you to.”

“You know how that sounds, don’t you?”, you mock with a nervous laugh.

“Oh, please,” Joel is quick to respond, his brows knitted in a dismissive frown, “like you could ever force yourself on me.”

You genuinely are at a loss for words, your gaze unable to stay in one place, your mind running a million miles an hour.

Apparently you both are, because Joel is no better at explaining how he feels. “I wanted you to-”, he stops, his eyes still searching yours for the right words, pleading with you to feel him.

Oh my god. Oh. My. God.

It dawns on you. All at once. You see it all playing out. You know exactly how this conversation is going to go. “-claim you? You wanted me to claim you?”, your voice rises, as does your tone. You feel the presence of your abandoned friend again. You don’t want him here. But he creeps in through your veins, nonetheless. He is not giving up. If the pounding doesn’t work then he’ll poison you, slowly and persistently.

“From who? You were supposed to be mine!”, you exclaim exasperated, immediately correcting yourself “-not that I owned you, you know what-”

“That! That’s what I’m talking about!” Joel points his finger at you, “That’s what I needed. To be yours!”

“But you were! Are we really haggling over semantics? Of course you were mine! I just never wanted you to feel suffocated by me. You were not my possession Joel, you were my partner!”

“I swear to you, I would die a happy man, baby.”

“I- I tried so hard to control myself-” you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes back to your head as you shake it in denial, “-all that hunger inside of me, eating me up-”

“What?” is Joel’s turn to look like a lost puppy. What the fuck is going on here?

“You,” you point a finger at him, “you were my first and last thought every passing day, it wasn’t even healthy anymore, Joel. But- I saw that look in your eyes sometimes, a hunger, one I thought mirrored mine and then it was gone in the blink of an eye and I thought that something was holding you back; I- I was holding you back. I thought- maybe I was undeserving..” you divert your eyes from him, embarrassed at your feeling of inadequacy, “So, I accepted what you gave me if it meant I could have any part of you.”

“Oh, baby..” Joel’s hiding his face in his palms and his heart breaks as he realizes where you both stand. How did the two of you get to this point? How could his judgment be so clouded, how could he be so blind to what was happening under his own roof? How could he be so arrogant as to seek validation, one he didn't even need, from someone else? Someone whose validation he didn't even care about. It didn't matter to him. She didn’t matter to him. How could he not sense the insecurity tantalizing your very core to the point of feeling inadequate? If only you had told him sooner.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you mirror his thoughts with your voice.

“What should I say to you? I couldn’t put it into words, even now I'm not sure I can. It was an all-consuming feeling, an absolute necessity, an overwhelming need that was impossible to handle. I wasn’t mentally or emotionally prepared to deal with it. I loved you with such force that it became an obsession. I couldn’t even entertain the idea that you might not want me back in the same way. I felt helpless, vulnerable. How could I come to terms with this? With the realization that I had fucked someone else just to get a rise out of you or to prove to myself that I didn't need you that much after all?”

Joel’s palms are clenched into fists on his thighs, trying to keep himself from pressing his lips against yours. Feelings and desires that had been buried in his subconscious for too long came back as he tried to make you understand.

“A r- so, you did fuck her on our bed on purpose.”

“You asked me that before, darlin’, I promise you I did not.”

“Then how would you provoke me if you didn’t mean for me to find out?” you look at him incredulously.

“I-” Joel winces, “it wasn’t a conscious thought, I just kept fantasizing about you finding out and burning the house down for me and that single image made me so h-” Joel shuts his mouth abruptly, not the best idea to describe to you how fuckin’ hard he got, fantasizing about you while fucking someone else. You, bursting into the bedroom all raging and furious, turning the whole place upside down reclaiming what was rightfully yours.

Him.

What a sick fuck he was. “I swear to you, no. I’m not that fucked up. It was a gigantic lack of judgment, I was fuckin’ drunk, my mind was a mess at that point. That whole week was-” he’s biting his tongue hard to stop himself while rubbing his forehead with his fingers, “I was just being an idiot.”

“The week I was gone?”

“Yes.”

“What about it?”

“Nothing, ‘snothing.” and he doesn’t elaborate. “Just a bad fuckin’ week.”

The atmosphere suddenly feels suffocating, as if all the words that have spilled out of both your mouths are hovering over your heads like a black cloud. You need some air to clear your mind, so you make your way out of the kitchen without looking back and walk slowly to the porch, sitting on the steps at the bottom of the stairs. You know he will follow. Your bare feet touch the soft soil beneath you and you try to ground yourself through the little patch of earth you call your own. It doesn’t quite work. There’s a beautiful golden glow, a last gift from the parting sun, warming your soul. Everything is going to be all right.

“Strange fantasies we both had.” you say as Joel seats down next to you, the contract once again a barrier between you. “You kept fantasizing about me finding out about your affair-”.

“It wasn’t an affair-” Joel corrects you. “Fine, fine. You imagined that, while I kept fantasizing me holding you so tightly while we fucked that our flesh became one; that’s how deep I needed you inside me, that’s how obsessively I wanted to carry you with me all the time, isn’t that totally fucked up?” you laugh dejectedly.

“I guess we are the same kind of fucked up. If only we could admit it to each other..”

“Did you really feel that I didn’t love you enough?” you whisper, almost too scared to be heard and to get an answer.

“I think we loved each other too much. I think we were both too afraid of losing each other. I think,” Joel pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts and calm his voice, “in our efforts to keep each other we did the exact opposite. More me than you, for sure. I have handled things badly and badly is an understatement.”

“You were always so patient with me. You’d always wait for me to come to you, to take my time. I needed the savage in you, or I thought I did at the time. That desperate thing I felt creeping out of you in stolen glances or bitten lips between your teeth, or when we fucked; no one has ever fucked me like you did. I did see all of you then, you know. And I think you saw all of me. If I made you feel confident or safe enough, you would have talked to me. And if I wasn’t so self-absorbed I would have asked.”

You never thought you’d hear these words from Joel, but all this time of self-reflection has changed him in a way that reminds you of the Joel you fell in love with. The one you could see behind all those layers of self-protection, the one you’d always hoped would emerge for you. And then he goes on, and you wish you knew what was coming so you could protect your heart from being torn to shreds.

“Maybe-” he closes his eyes looking pained, “maybe I was a narcissist. Maybe you gave me all you had and I kept wanting more, maybe I needed every part of you for myself. Maybe I needed you on your knees, on a leash, at my mercy, just to have the illusion of the certainty that you would never leave me. Maybe freedom is for those who can bear it, after all. Hell, maybe I was the one who needed the leash in the end. Maybe you gave me too much credit, my love, when you deemed me worthy of freedom.”

His words are earth-shuttering, obliterating, final. There’s nothing left to be said, at least nothing of substance. Final. The fucking word plays over and over in your head. Final. This is final. You could swear that you have felt every possible kind of pain during these four long years but new depths of agony are being discovered right now. The acid in your stomach makes your throat constrict. You feel petrified.

Joel can sense your distress, his words have been of no comfort to you. Your skin looks pale, covered with a thin layer of cold sweat; you look physically ill. Your forearms rest on your knees and he gently cups your elbow to check in on you. Are you OK? You smile weakly at him, the expression not reaching the corners of your eyes.

“You know I would give anything to take it all back, right?”

Your laughter is more lively now, not with malice or sarcasm, but with a sense of humor.

“Yeah, yeah, I think I do.”, you shake your head in twisted amusement, tilting your head up, to let the last rays of the sun warm your face, maybe bring back some of your lost color. It's getting dark now, the day is coming to an end, the curtains of the last sunlight are almost closed. Your eyes are closed too, your head still tilted back as you laugh to yourself, “You did that backwards, too, you know.”

“What?”

“You have burned everything to the ground, only to realize that you want to get it all back in one piece. I mean it’s- it’s-” you struggle to find the right words but Joel offers one of his own.

“Ridiculous..”

“I was gonna say pointless.. But that’s the thing, Joel. Choosing to be with someone is like faith. You believe because you just know. You don't have to find evidence to prove your choice at every turn, otherwise it’s just exhausting. You choose to trust yourself.”

“Trust me as your partner, you mean, not yourself.”

“Joel, it was never about trusting you..”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand..”

“I’m not sure how to explain it- uh..”, you raise your shoulders and your brows in unison as you shake your head slightly, searching for the words. “Trust is a personal journey. ‘Trust’ doesn't mean ‘trust in you’, I’m not trusting you. No one can be sure of anyone. ‘Trust’ means that I have faith in myself, that even if you hurt me, even if you abandon me, I will not fall apart. And..” you shrug your shoulders, hugging yourself with your hands, “look at me, Joel..”, you finish, suggesting that you’re still here, still standing.

“I am, baby; I am..” Joel replies, taking in the sight of you as if it were the last time he’ll ever have the chance to, utterly compelled by your inner glow.

“I’m not mad at you Joel, not anymore. And I believe you, I really do. But I can’t get that scene out of my head. I just can’t. I can still hear the sounds, I can even recall the way you smelled when you were standing next to me.”

His hands are shaking.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, really.”

“I know.”, his voice is barely audible.

“I think you’ve done enough of that yourself. Maybe it’s time to forgive yourself?”

“Do you?” Do you, really? Do you forgive him after all that has been said? Do all these confessions illuminate the facts from a different perspective? Does it change what he did and what you went through? And if so, does that mean you're letting him go? Are you leaving him behind? Is he leaving you behind? Why is it so hard to let go? Why do you choose the safety of the known, even when it hurts you?

You choose not to answer and instead firmly insist, “You have to forgive yourself, Joel, it’s okay.” Be the better person. If not for him, then for yourself. Let him go.

“I can’t do that.”, Joel is adamant, shaking his head while he rejects your request.

“Yes, you can.” you urge him again. “As I can and do.” Let him go.

Joel never thought he would listen to those words coming out of your mouth. He doesn’t deserve them. He hasn’t earned them. “You forgive me?”, he repeats in utter shock and disbelief.

“Yes.” Loud and clear as daylight.

“I- You can’t- I don’t- I don’t deserve that.” Joel feels like he’s drowning in your so graciously offered Holy Grail, desperately trying to keep his head above the waters of your absolution.

“I can’t be the judge of that, Joel, hell, I can’t be the judge of anyone. The way I see it, you chose your actions and I chose mine. You chose to hurt me and I chose to walk away. We both lost something. Have we not suffered enough, Joel?” you ask him honestly.

“I don’t want to presume, but- isn’t it a great burden to carry on your shoulders when you try to move on? All this anger, all that bitterness?” you search his eyes for an answer but he doesn’t give you one.

You continue, hoping to get through to him. “Your feelings are your burden Joel and it doesn’t matter if I forgive you. That’s why it is you who needs to forgive yourself.”

His eyes still refuse to meet yours, stubbornly glued to the ground. “I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing this for me. We need to move forward, both of us.” is the last thing you say to him, not knowing if he even listened to half of what you just said.

You both fall into a thoughtful silence, but something you said is bugging him. He can’t quite figure it out, so he turns to look at you, to savor you while he still has the chance. He knows that his time is limited.

You’re just sitting there with him, trying to comfort him, you of all people. You seem lighter now, fidgeting absentmindedly with your fingers as if some of your burden has already been lifted. And as his gaze sweeps over you, he sees it again. He sees the white shirt hugging your body and he knows what’s troubling him.

I don’t want to presume, I don’t want to presume, I don’t want to presume.

His heart beats rapidly in his chest, panic rising inside him.

“I’ve been with you for the last four years.”

“Excuse me?” your hands freeze as you turn to face him, clearly confused.

“You said you didn’t want to presume anything and I need to set the record straight. There was and is no other woman in my life except you.”

“Joel,” you blush shyly, “this is none of my business, you are free-”

“No. No. I need you to know this, it’s important to me. I meant everything I said. You have done nothing wrong. My feelings for you have never changed-”

“Joel, please..” you beg him to stop, you can’t have this conversation now, it’s too soon. No, you’re wrong. It’s too late; too soon means there’s a future ahead of you. A future where you both fit in the same universe.

“I don’t want you to think that I came all the way out here just to tie up some loose ends and move on. That is not what this is about.”

“If you expect me to tell you about my personal life..” your what now?

“No, I don’t. And I don’t think I could handle it, anyway. You are a free woman and you deserve the world. Unlike me; I don’t deserve anything and I’ll never be free of you.”

Your chin is now trembling and you bite your lower lip to stop the involuntary muscle contraction. You can’t decipher if it’s from anger for the way things came to be or from deep, excruciating sadness for how Joel feels. For how he makes you feel.

“Free woman, huh?”, you whisper bitterly, looking down at your feet, willing yourself not to cry.

“Yes, free, as you should always have been and I’m sorry I couldn’t see it sooner.”

Joel then picks up the divorce papers from the floor next to him as he’s fishing a pen out of his pocket. He stares at you and then at the blank space where his signature should be, next to yours. He splays his palm over the last page as if to straighten it out, but it almost looks like he’s caressing it. He brings the ball of the pen to the white surface and for a moment his hand lingers over it. He doesn’t dare look at you again, his resolve is not that strong. Finally, finally he signs, filling the empty spot and he hands you the contract. It’s a strange moment, the one before the signature and the one after it.

Everything seems to be the same; it is just a signature.

Everything feels completely different; it is not just a signature.

Your fingertips brush his as you reach out to take it, the touch sending shivers down your spine. Your slightly trembling hands hold the papers gently, not sure you wanna hold on to them or scatter them on the ground. Your thumb swipes softly over his signature.

You feel it, now. You feel the ground beneath your bare feet, the warmth of the earth, the weight of your footing. The falling has stopped. The feather finally rests. You have landed.

Joel moves to stand on his feet, as you keep staring at the drying ink, when you feel something fall from above onto your thumb; but you can’t see anything as it is immediately absorbed by the hungry pores of the paper, slightly smudging his signature. You look up to catch him as he dries his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“Free as a bird, baby, ready to fly over the world.”, Joel smiles at you with a look of reverence and devotion in his eyes.

You picture the floating feather in your head and smile back at him with a serenity he hasn’t seen in a long time.

“I think I just want to walk for a while. One step at a time.”

He nods, his eyes still full of emotion and you watch as he begins to walk slowly towards his truck, when suddenly he turns his body to face you but continues to walk backward in the same direction.

“Hey!” he calls to you with a mischievous smile, raising his chin to you.

“Yeah?” you answer, your voice wavering slightly as you try to hide your smile.

“Can I take you to dinner sometime?” he asks as he reaches for his driver’s door and opens it, waiting for your answer, which never comes because you think he’s joking. But he continues to stare at you, with no expectations, quietly, earnestly, sincerely, with a soft, shy smile on his lips. Oh.

Oh.

“Joel..” is all you breathe out, closing your eyes for a moment before you look at him again, because his name is all that is left in your very being right now. Joel.

He seems lighter, too.

“Maybe, one day..?”

“Yeah.. Maybe, one day..”

previous |

Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre @leggtostandon @sarahhxx03

@zliteraturehoe @msmorningstaarr @gossipgirl-03 @vabeachazn @joeldjarin

@sofiparallel

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tyunniebbang · 3 months ago

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oh so flirty : boyfriend enha

—💌 let's sugar talk !

content: boyfriend headcanons with ot7

no content warnings, all fluff!

little pecks, a soft head pat — heeseung would be a quiet lover. despite being well known for his extremely flirty stage persona, he realises that he likes to show his love with small actions. that way, he knows how to clearly separate enhypen's Lee Heeseung and The Lee Heeseung, himself. he loves it when you look at him knowingly, a silent conversation, telling him you absolutely love his attention. going to work? have a kiss, baby.

"do you want some dinner, love?" — jay would be such a caring lover. mothering you every other minute, you might be convinced that he's mama duck and he just loves his little duckling (you). coming home feels so comfortable, seeing jay nursing his kimchi stew meant for your delicious dinner. he scoops your portion of rice and pats your butt to tell you to hurry up. nothing swells up his heart more to see you so happy while munching down on his food.

a gift, a bouquet of flowers, a peck to welcome you home — jake is an absolute romantic. flirty is his middle name, he never stops to amaze you with his advances. it's awkward, but your cute little romantic would wait for you outside the door everyday, refusing to stay inside. it's like coming home to a puppy with a large wagging tail everyday. his eyes sparkles when he sees your silhouette nearing and calls out your name.

"aye~ i know all about you!"— park sunghoon is really an enigma. he squabbles, fights, teases you till no end. yet somehow that's exactly how he shows his love. when park sunghoon bickers with you, you know ultimately he's right. goodness me, how does he know everything about you? he's down to every detail and knows every strand of hair that makes you perfect, your personality that he loves.

yapper one and two — nothing beats a date at a quaint little cafe, sitting at the corner table with sunoo. chit chatting your woes away, sharing about the crazy things you've seen this past week at your university. maybe you don't notice, but sunoo likes to gaze at you when you go on about your long rant about... something that he forgot. none of that matters when he wants to appreciate your beauty.

fluffy this, fluffy that — everytime jungwon goes out, he has to commit himself to buy one plushie that looks like you. and cue the 30 minute yap about how he thinks you are equally as adorable as a spiky komodo dragon. everything reminds him of you, he misses you so much it's borderline attachment issues. it's probably time to tell jungwon that you don't take up majority of the space on your bed anymore. maybe he needs to find something new to get you.

"what- no, i don't like you!" — niki is a 100% tsundere. at first, you thought he was just an immature little kitten, but his feelings have seemed to slowly develop for you. he's going to explode if he doesn't do something. you wonder, why is this tall threatening emo boy suddenly bringing you coffee milk and a delicious strawberry cake? his pale cheeks turn pink whenever he sees you. does he... like you?

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chelleztjs18 · 1 year ago

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Somewhere In The Multiverse (W.M)

Scarlet Witch x Fem!MultiverseVariantReader! (Avengers AU)

Summary: After Westfield, as The Scarlet Witch, Wanda is in her endless journey to find her boys through the multiverse until one particular universe caught her attention.

Warning: None, I guess this is just something domestic with a sprinkle of angst. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/n: Hello! I'm back! I finally got this fic done after a while. I wrote the parts towards the ending when I'm down, so I couldn't really focus. Please bear with me if some part a little wonky or doesn't make sense. lol. Anyway, happy reading!

Main Masterlist

Five long dreadful years after Vision died and a guilt filled year after everything that happened in Westview, Wanda still desperately searches for her happiness. The longing for the happy life with Vision and her twin sons drew her to the Darkhold.

To Wanda, it’s the only way for her to get them back. Being the fast learner and powerful witch she is, she easily figured out ways to look around in different universes.

Universe after universe, Wanda sees different kinds of happy life her variants have with them. She can hear her son’s laughter. Different scenarios of life she dreamt about exist in another universe until there’s one that intrigues her.

In this one universe, no matter how many times she sees through it, Wanda only sees Billy and Tommy. They live happily just like in the others but she never sees herself nor Vision in it. The more she observes it the more she is drawn to it. Questions popped up in her mind. Do Vision and her exist in that particular universe? With whom do Tommy and Billy live? Who is the person behind their laughter and smile?

Wanda spends more time focusing on it and clues start to show up. She starts to see another figure with her twin sons, you.

Wanda never gets the chance to see your face. Every single time she tries to find out, she can only see the back of you. She doesn’t recognize you, your voice nor from your appearance. All of these surely drags her curiosity up to the surface of her mind.

With all the spells and ritual she learnt from The Darkhold, she decided to pay this universe a visit.

With an ease, Wanda gets into this different life in a different world yet seems to be familiar. She looks around and she figures that she is in the house where her sons live. Wanda instantly feels peaceful. At first it felt weird for her about how much she feels like she is home.

It's really calm and quiet. The house feels warm and cozy in her heart. Just like how she always dreams about even though part of her is wondering where the twins are. All the colors, furniture and decoration around seems like welcoming her home.

Wanda continues wandering around, her sights jumping from one spot to another. She even feels that she is attached to this universe, something that she never feels when she watches the others. Her hands start to touch around the couch, the coffee table and she lands her interest on one black shelf near the televisions. She found some books, a few of them are the ones that she read before. Her fingers keep slowly sliding around the lines of books on the shelves.

Another shelf on the other side really caught her attention. A mix of rows of movies and records on it. Wanda tilts her head curiously as soon as she sees a series of old sitcoms. Including her favorite ones that she used to watch with her parents. The urge she has inside her to pull the movies out and play it but she manages to control it and just looks at them with her glossy green eyes.

Wanda proceeded to look around more. She sees pictures on the walls, other tables and more shelves. A shaky soft gasp escaped her lips. She takes a closer look at the hung frames with mixed pictures of Tommy and Billy.

Wanda sees pictures of Tommy with his baseball team and a picture of him holding a big fish that he caught when he went fishing with you. She continues looking at the next pictures. She sees a picture of Billy winning his archery competition and all other random silly pictures of both of them.

Tears started to slowly fill her eyes. She can feel her hands getting a little shakier. Without hesitation, Wanda gently touches the face of the twins in the picture lovingly. Her lips quivered, a huge wave of emotions suddenly crashed onto her.

All mixed up feelings fill her heart, even Wanda herself doesn’t even know if it was happy tears or sad ones.

She wipes her tears right after she finds a few more pictures. Pictures that have herself from this universe in it with brown hair all smiling together with you in it. She sees you kiss her cheeks in one picture and she hugs you so close in the other. Some pictures have the four of you in it, as a happy family. Slowly bits and pieces of Wanda’s own conclusion start to gather around her mind. A little stack of mail on a table caught her attention.

“Y/n Y/L/N” Wanda mumbles under her breath reading the name on the envelopes. Wanda figures that it’s your name.

All of a sudden, Wanda hears something and it breaks her focus on the pictures. She is aware that someone is coming.

She hears familiar voices and suddenly she hears Billy scream for help. “Tommy, help me!”

“My boys.” she says under her breath at the same time with red wisps showing up wrapping around her hands. Wanda was ready to fight whoever dared to hurt them.

“No. This is why I suggested you pick a violin for the music class, not the Cello. Now, you can barely bring your other school stuff because it’s bigger than you.” Tommy replies with his straight to the point thoughts.

Wanda’s red wisps quickly disappeared and she let out a relieved sigh. A smile curves on her face hearing the conversation but right away turns to a confused frown after she hears your voice.

“Tommy, be nice to your brother and help him please. My hands are full with the groceries.” Wanda notices how gentle you talk to the boys and it draws her smile back. “Okay, okay. I’ll help you.” Tommy agrees in defeat.

Few seconds later, Wanda manages to manipulate the surroundings as soon as you and the twins walk into the house. Neither you or the boys see her there. Wanda hears Tommy’s complaining question. “Who likes to listen to Cello anyways?” The boys take off their shoes in random spots while you walk to the kitchen.

“Mommy does. So do I. You boys have to be supportive of each other, okay.” You answered as you put all the groceries on the kitchen counter. “Okay, Mama.” The twins’ voices overlap each other.

Wanda was surprised when they called you Mama. Are they your kids too? What about Vision? What happened to him? With all those confused and intrigued thoughts she follows them to their room, watching them put all their school stuff back to their shared bedroom but right after that they run back to the kitchen to help you.

It was very difficult for Wanda to hold herself back to not appear in front of the three of you and hug the twins but she didn’t want to scare everybody. She continues watching in silence every move you make.

“Mama, are you going to make chicken paprikash on Mommy’s birthday?” Tommy asks with a cute tone.

“Yes, I will, sweetheart.. We will celebrate it together with her favorite food.” you answer with a soft smile. Wanda has been too busy with the Darkhold and the multiverse and hearing that reminds her that it’s almost her birthday too. Since Pietro died, Wanda never celebrated her birthday anymore, she could care less about it. Surprisingly, what she is seeing from you and the boys drags her curiosity about this whole birthday thing in the next week.

Wanda spends the rest of the day watching you and the boys, thinking that the variant of herself in this universe will come. Wanda is really curious to see her but at the end of the night she starts to wonder why the variant isn’t home yet.

Seeing you put the boys to bed and you get ready to bed after as if you have been doing it by yourself for quiet sometimes makes her think of a temporary conclusion that your Wanda probably is on a mission.

Wanda keeps going back to your universe in the last few days, watching how your days and life go with the twins. The longer Wanda is around you and watches everything, the more she sees that you are very great with the twins. You take very good care of them and it’s undeniable that they love you so much. The boys are very close with you. They make you laugh as much as you make them. It warms Wanda’s heart seeing everything. Sometimes she doesn’t even realize that a smile always curls up on her face whenever she sees you smile and laugh. Wanda’s adoration towards you slowly built up in the last few days.

Sometimes you can feel someone’s watching or even feel like a familiar figure is in the room with the three of you. There are these unexplainable feelings you feel in you. You feel like you are complete again whenever you feel that presence around after all these years. You feel.. less lonely but you shrug the feelings off, thinking it was just probably because you miss your Wanda so much.

Days have passed and today is Wanda’s birthday. Deep down she is excited to see what will you and the boys do today even though part of her knows that it’s all for her variant, not her.

Wanda sees you wake up but she can’t figure out if you look happy or sad. It’s your Wanda’s birthday, why wouldn’t you look happy? Her thought starts to wonder. You sit up but your head hangs low as your hands cover your face for a few seconds as you take a deep breath. “Happy birthday Wanda.” you mumble under your breath. Confused, Wanda’s head tilted a little.

Your hands rub your face and you try to make a smile as soon as you hear running steps coming to your room and Wanda notices everything.

The crease on her forehead fades right away and a smile comes up right after she sees Billy and Tommy come into the room and get on the bed to hug you.

“Ma! Oh great, you are awake!” Tommy exclaimed.

“Oh good morning to both of you, my little monkeys! Of course I’m awake.” You tease them as you hug them back.

“Yeah Tommy. Mama wouldn’t forget Mommy’s birthday today. She already got everything planned, right Mama?” Billy asks.

“Of course! We gonna cook mommy’s favorite dish—”

“Paprikash! It’s our favorite too!” The boys’ voices overlap competing to finish your words. You laugh. “Yes, yes. Paprikash, it’s our favorite.” Wanda accidentally chuckles watching all the sweet conversation that is happening. You quickly look back to where you thought you hear the little chuckles. You could’ve sworn you hear a familiar sound behind you and again, you feel the warm presence. Wanda takes notice of what is going on.

“Oh and the cake! Will you let us help make the cake too?” Tommy questions you and brings your focus back on them.

“Of course buddy. I always let you and your brother make Mommy’s cake. She always likes the cake you two make.” you playfully play with their hair.

“Yes!” Billy and Tommy exclaimed excitedly at the same time and did high fives with each other. “Okay okay, now go take a shower and get ready for the day. I will make breakfast for you. After breakfast, I want you to do your homeworks first before you two go playing. I will let you boys know when it’s time to cook and bake for Mommy’s birthday okay?” You gently tell them and they nod before they both run out of your room.

Meanwhile you, you walk towards where you felt the warm presence earlier. Wanda nervously takes a step back when you get closer. Her brain was sure and remembered what she learnt from the dark hold that you shouldn’t be able to see her or know that she was there after she casted this particular spell. Wanda can’t lie to herself that she feels this little spark and maybe a connection with you. Her heart skips a beat when you stand right in front of her.

“Wands, are you here? I miss you so much.” you whisper softly with a very sad desperate tone. Hearing your sad voice got her thinking that something isn’t right. It led her to pay more attention to little details that she might have missed.

Series of activities you and the boys have been doing and how much fun the three of you have draws Wanda’s urge to show herself to you but she knows it’s not the time just yet. At least not until she sees her variant.

The paprikash and the cake are finally ready and it’s still only the three of you. Wanda is perplexed even more when you and the boys do not even bother to wait and have the dinner together then proceed to the cake.

Her own curiosity is killing her when Billy, Tommy and you sing happy birthday without the variant is even there. You blow the candles together right after.

No video call or call? What’s going on? Perhaps she is on a secret mission that doesn't even allow a simple birthday call?

At the end of the night, you put the boys to bed. Wanda follows you walk to the kitchen to do the dishes.

You look calm at first, doing your chores. The house sounds a lot more quiet when the boys are asleep, soft low volume from the TV makes its way to be heard every now and then. Wanda notices little changes on your facial expressions gradually. She thinks that you look exhausted but as Wanda is turning around to go to check on the boys she hears you start to cry.

She finds you bawling in such sadness. Wanda starts to think that you look broken-hearted. Between sniffling and crying, you mumble but clear enough for her to hear. “I miss you so much, Wanda. I really wish you were here. I wish you never did what you did. Please come back.”

Seeing how hurt you are and how you mumbled in anguish makes Wanda’s heart ache and curious at the same time. What happened? Does it mean her variant isn’t on a mission as Wanda thought she was?

You start to sob as quietly as you can. Standing behind you, she feels the urge to calm you down even though she doesn’t really know you. Her eyes slowly turn glossy. Wanda can’t help it. Unbeknownst to you, she casted a spell and made herself slowly visible.

“Y/n, I–i’m so sorry for whatever happened to your..uh partner.” She said hesitantly yet full of concern for you as she gently touched your shoulder.

Wanda didn’t think it through. What she just did startled you. You gasp loudly and turn around in a split second very very shocked. Your face instantly loses its color as if you just saw a ghost, the ghost of the love of your life.

“Wa–Wanda? Is..Is..Is that you? No. No. That can’t be you. Who are you?!” You rapidly walk back to whichever direction you can just to get away from Wanda. You start to grab whatever you can reach and throw it at her. The twins’ plastic cup, forks, spatula, coffee mug, even a roll or paper towel. Her magic dodges everything right on time before it hits her. Panic and terrified, your instinct leads your hurried steps to your set of knives. You grab them one by one, and throw it at her with the thought of fighting for your life so you can go save the boys.

Once again, the red wisps do its work. It stops each knife at ease and keeps them frozen still mid air. One of the knives was stopped an inch right before her forehead. You see that she doesn’t even flinch. Wanda grabs it and puts it on the kitchen counter gently and then looks at you.

“Who the fuck are you? You are not Wanda.” you demand answers.

“I am Wanda Maximoff. Who–” Wanda answers but you didn’t let her finish.

“No! You are not Wanda! It’s impossible! My wife died five years ago.” you denied her and your voice starts to break. A little gasp breaks through Wanda’s lips after hearing what you just said but confusion takes over the surprised feelings in her.

The little silence of shocks puzzled you and got you thinking about what she wanted. Your instinct reminds you of your sons right away. “The boys.” You mumble and you quickly run. Unfortunately Wanda’s magic freezes you on the spot and you are floating mid air.

“Let me go! What do you want?!” you confronted her.

‘Tommy and Billy are in their room.” Wanda responds calmly. “What did you do to them?! Please don’t hurt them.” you said while you try to escape yourself from the red magic that limits your movements but it was all in vain.

“They are safe and sound asleep. I’m not a monster. I’m not going to hurt you or them. I will put you down and I just need you to tell me who you are and your life here.” Wanda offers you a one way deal.

Deep down you refuse to agree but it’s for the safety of your sons, you know better not to fight her or anything. You agreed in defeat.

Wanda gently lands you on the floor as she floats smoothly closer to you.

“Now tell me about your life here. No trick and no lies please.” she requested in a very soft voice.

You swallow down your fear hardly before you start telling her your life story. “You look like my wife, Wanda. She’s– she is the most amazing woman I have ever met. I was one of the scientists for S.H.I.E.L.D but then they transferred me to work with Tony and Bruce at the Avengers compound. That was where Wanda and I met.” Your eyes get glossy. Wanda notices your sad expression as she pays attention to everything you say but then you chuckle and smile a little talking more about your beloved deceased wife.

“She was a very shy person but once she got comfortable, she would turn into a very funny, caring and talkative person which made me fall for her. She is a great mother to our boys.” you continue as your hand starts to wipe the tears that slowly overfill your eyes.

“What happened to Vision? Where is he now?” Wanda’s forehead puckered as she asked another question.

You turn your head to her and answer the question with another question. “Who is Vision? I don’t know who you are talking about.”

“Vision, he–he was Jarvis and was created during Ultron’s attack on earth 616. Us, Avengers fought him and saved the world back then. Vision became one of us and that’s when Wanda– I–I meant that was when Vision and I got closer but Thanos killed him and uh– we have the boys, Tommy and Billy years after. It’s—It’s—It’s another thing that happened.” Her lips quiver shortly before she exhales a shaky breath while holding her tears back.

What Wanda just said really caught your attention that you shift yourself to face her. “Wait, what? Ultron’s attack? Earth 616? Did you say Jarvis was born? THE Jarvis, as in Tony’s AI? Thanos? Does this mean you are from another universe and the multiverse actually exists?” you start to ramble instant lines of questions.

“Yeah, Ultron. Ultron didn’t invade this universe? What about Thanos? What happened to me–I meant to your wife, Wanda?” Wanda took her turns asking your even more questions.

“Ultron happened here but everything worked out and there was no fight between The Avengers and Ultron in this universe. Jarvis is still Tony’s AI until now.” you explained.

“Tony’s alive? Jarvis still exists here? That’s why I didn’t see Vision here.” Wanda rambles out her thoughts to herself under her breath, connecting the dots.

“No Vision was created and yes, Tony’s still alive. Everybody is still alive, except.. Wanda.” you swallow hard when the memory hits you again, so hard that your heart aches. Sadness shows up in your face again. You feel Wanda’s hand holding you and it’s insanely bizarre that you feel the same comfort that you used to get when your Wanda did it.

“What happened?” Wanda hesitantly asks you with her soft voice.

“Thanos and his army came to attack. The Avengers were at war and fought them. I had a feeling that day, when I saw Wanda fly out of the compound with everybody else that I would never see her again even though she told me that she would come back for me and the boys.” tears start to fill your eyes to the brim slowly.

Wanda doesn’t know what to say when her mind comes up with a conclusion of what happened to your wife but she knows how you feel, she senses a great loss from you. Her heart feels yours aching. Her thumb rubbing the back of your hands and you continue your words.

“I was waiting and waiting and waiting for everybody to come back, for Wanda to come back. The second I saw Natasha and Clint at the door, I knew that—” you pause and swallow the lump in the back of your throat.

“I knew that I had lost her. Natasha told me that Wanda sacrificed herself to defeat Thanos and his army.” with that, you can’t hold your tears back anymore. You break in tears, sobbing your grief out.

Wanda quickly pulls you into her embrace. “Oh, detka. I know how you feel. Grief, loss and death are so hard to accept. Trust me, I know.” you cry even more once you hear Wanda’s voice calling you with the same exact pet names your wife always calls you with.

You asked Wanda more about what happened in her universe and her life. Wanda tells you everything from her childhood, Vision and including what happened at Westview. You both end up talking about everything all night.

Listening to everything that Wanda tells you while seeing her emotions through her eyes touches your heart. Knowing that Wanda lost her parents and twin brother just like your Wanda did brings out all the sympathy you have. It convinces you that this Wanda right in front of you is not a villain. You know your wife would do the same thing that happened in Westview if it happens to her.

“So, you were saying that the Darkhold and Multiverse exist? And you are The Scarlet Witch? There is only one Scarlet Witch in the multiverse and it’s you? This is crazy. I always have a theory that the Multiverse exists. I have been doing research and trying to find it so I can find—”

“Your wife?” Wanda finishes your sentence as if she has the same thoughts as you.

“Yes.” you admit.

“That’s what I was doing. I was so lost and alone. I just want my boys back and live a happy life with them. Then I saw this universe, the boys and you. I–I wanted to see why this universe looked different, no Vision and I didn’t see me either. I meant no harm to you or the boys.” Wanda’s eyes get teary. This time you pull her to a hug to comfort her.

“I understand, Wanda.”

After all the talk at night, the connection between you feels stronger. You agreed to let Wanda come visit to see the boys and you. Wanda humbly accepts even though you requested her not to show up to the boys just yet until you are sure and feel safe around her. All Wanda can do right now is to understand your request and it’s her way to thank you for your thoughtful decision.

Day by day and weeks by weeks, the more you and Wanda spend time together, the stronger the connections between you two. Wanda starts to smile again, so do you.

The hearts know what they want, slowly you and wanda start to fall for each other. You are slowly convinced that it’s time to let Wanda and the boys meet. It melts your heart to see Wanda’s smile when you tell her your decision.

_____

Billy and Tommy sit together waiting for you after you tell them that you need to talk with them. They smile at you right after they see you walk into the living room.

“Mama, we are not in trouble, aren’t we?” Tommy asks anxiously. “No, no you are not, silly. I just have something to tell both of you.” Tommy smiles again in relief after hearing your answer.

“What is it, Ma? Are you okay?” Billy lets out her question with furrowed eyebrows.

“Oh, sweetheart, yes, I’m okay.” you answered in awe while Wanda watched everything discreetly under the invisible spell. Her heart races with excitement and nervous feelings at the same time.

“Well, Tommy, Billy, do you remember the theory that I always talk with you two about the Multiverse?” This time, it’s your turn pitching a question to them. You clear your throat as if it works to shrug off the nervous feelings you are having right now.

“Yeah, the one that you said you are trying to find?” Billy asks.

“Yes, darling. So, well, guess what? Multiverse exists!” You exclaimed excitedly.

“Really?? Wow! That was awesome!” The boys respond with such a thrill. The twins are always interested in what you are working on and sciences. Sometimes you bond with them in the lab and the three of you always have a good time together.

“Wait, so it means there are other variants of me, Tommy and you in the multiverse?” Billy curiously asks you.

You can’t hold back your happy chuckles. “Yes, there are variants of us and also Mommy.”

They both gasp at the same time. “Mommy? Did you see her in the other universe?” Tommy gets closer to you as he asks you.

“Yes, yes I did.” you answered with a smile. Bubbles of joy burst in Wanda’s heart. Warmth spreads in her seeing their positive response.

“Does she look like our mommy, mama? Does–” Billy couldn’t wait her turn to ask you.

“Do you think she knows us, Mama?” Tommy interrupts her twin brother.

“Does she love as much as our Mommy does? Can we see her?” Billy chimed in with more questions. The boys’ voices overlap each other.

“Boys, boys. Okay, okay. Calm down. Wow, you two are very curious, aren’t you?” you giggle. The Maximoff brothers nod their heads rapidly followed by more smiles.

“How about you ask her yourself?” You suggest the idea as you tap their nose gently. Wanda takes it as her cue to show up. Their mouths slightly opened in amazement as soon as they saw Wanda.

“Hello, Billy, Hello Tommy.” Wanda greets them in a shaky voice, as she tries to keep herself together, holding her tears and smiling at the same time. Wanda walks closer to them slowly, trying not to scare them away.

The boys get off the couch and walk quickly to Wanda.

“Whoa, you look like Mommy.” Tommy comments. “I am your mommy, from another universe.” her tears roll down and Wanda quickly wipes it right before she crouches down to their eye level. As hard as you are trying not to cry but this view of Wanda and the boys really gets you. Tears escape the brim of your eyes.

“Can–can we hug you?” Billy shyly asks.

“Of course! Come here.” Wanda cries in happiness and extends her arms welcoming them in her hug. Tommy and Billy hug her hesitant at first but melt into the embrace a few seconds later. Wanda pulled them closer, cherishing every second of it with every piece of her. Tears escaped her eyes as she cried in happiness quietly. She never thought she would ever feel happiness again. Never in her mind since Westfield that she would be able to hug the twins ever again.

Wanda mouthed a thank you to you and seeing how happy, grateful she is, really touches your soul. You could really see the difference compared to how she was the first time you saw her that night. Right now, you could see how she really is, a devoted mom and a gentle loving woman.

The boys pull themselves back a little from the back. “Wow, you look exactly like her.” Billy comments in amazement as his eyes examine Wanda’s resemblance.

“I love both of you as much as your mommy does.” Wanda explains as she wipes her cheeks, a little smile shows up under the wet trails of her tears.

“So, you have your own Tommy and me? Where are they?” Billy asks curiously. You know it’s a hard question for her to answer so you try to stop it by changing the topic. “Billy, Tommy, why don’t you both show mommy–uh I meant uh Wanda the new set of legos you are building. I’m sure she would love to spend time with you two while I’m making dinner for all of us.”

The four of you spend the rest of the evening together. Wanda even helps you to put them to bed. Everything went well. The boys and you bond with her so easily as if there has always been natural connections between all of you, as if she is your wife and the mother of your sons from this universe.

_____

Almost a year after, Wanda still keeps coming back and forth from 616 universe to yours or sometimes she stays some nights there. You and Wanda have been dating for a few months. Everything has been great, the boys and you are getting a lot more comfortable having Wanda around.

Just like Wanda always envisioned before, the three of them often bake together. She gets more involved with the household and all the activities that four of you can do. Showing her around and how everything out there in your universe. There are some adjustments that she has to do but she doesn’t mind it at all.

Sometimes Wanda even goes with you to pick the boys up from school or comes to their theater school play. You and Wanda love each other. It feels like you have known her forever and Wanda finally feels like she’s home, with you and the boys.

Today is your and the boys’ first Christmas morning together with Wanda and it is a big day. You, Billy and Tommy have something planned. A surprise for Wanda.

The four of you are sitting near the fireplace with matching pajamas. You and Wanda smile while watching the boys open their presents. Laughter and joy fill your house.

“Boys, are you ready?” you gave them the cue. They quickly nod and grab a bigger square shape wrapped gift.

“It’s for you, Wanda.” you smile and tell her. Wanda’s cheeks blush and she smiles right away, followed by a little excited chuckles. “Aw, you guys. You don’t have to get me a gift.” she responds.

Wanda opens her gift and smiles. “Aw, did you boys draw this? It’s both of you, mama and…your mommy? Oh all four of you are in front of the fireplace and Christmas tree. This is really cute!” She asks while she looks excited yet confused.

“Yeah, they drew it and I reprint and enlarged it.” you explain while gently rubbing her back. The boys interrupt her thoughts while she is admiring the drawing.

“It’s us with Mama and you.” Tommy and Billy race each other to tell you about the drawing.

Wanda quickly raises her head and looks at the three of you, one by one slowly. “What?” she asks softly, trying to make sure if she heard it right.

“Yeah, it’s four of us just like how we are now.” Tommy added.

“Can we call you Mommy?” Wanda gasps gently as soon as she hears Billy’s question. She is lost at words. Her lips are slightly open, happy tears start to fill up to the brim of her eyes. Before she can even answer, Tommy says another thing.

“Yeah, our Mommy.”

With that the happy tears flow freely. “Yes, I’m always your mommy. You are my boys. Of course you can call me mommy.” Wanda pulls both of them in a tight hug. She closes her eyes, thinking that this is the happiest moment in her life after years of sadness and loneliness.

Little does she know, another surprise is coming. Tommy and Billy slowly get themselves out of Wanda’s warm loving hug and stand up straight, clearing their thoughts as if they are getting ready to do something.

To her surprise, the twins start to sing a song they made specially for her. She is astonished as soon as she hears the words they sing, asking her to move and live with them and with you. The way they call her their mommy in a serenade makes her heart leap. Happiness fills her like sunshine. Wanda can’t stop smiling ear to ear.

As soon as they are done singing, you ask her.

“Wanda, we love you. Will you move here and have a beautiful life with us as one family?” you ask as you look into her eyes and hold both of her hands.

“Yes, mommy! Please! Please! Come live with us and Mama.” Tommy’s and Billy’s thrilled voices overlapped each other as they jumped around in exhilaration.

“That has been my dream since I met all of you here. Yes, of course!” Wanda extends her arms, inviting the three of you into a group hug as a one happy family.

A/n: Welp, that's all for today peeps! I hope you enjoy this piece. Let me know what you think. Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated. Follow me for more and see you in next!

Cheerio!

Taglist: @madamevirgo @musicinourlips @unstable-sapphic-hoe @fanboy7794 @chloe7076 @b0mbdotc0m @trikruismybitch @ichala @californianwhiterabbit @honey-sweet-hiraeth @imfuckinggenius @sxfwap @chaekhan @daenerys713 @stupidsapphicsstuff @pattypavo @savethefbees @frvny @franfineashell @heyyoweveryone @ygtft-chen @yaaskasey @sweeet-likeeee-cinnamonn @paumxmff @dopeyouth @beaniejennie @ineedafinghug @idkwhatimwriting @lucydiibi @mainly-rebloging-fics-i-like @gloriousfoxruins @grxvitye @mcubreakdown101 @aos22 @wandanatstan @paulawand @yeeterthekeeper @femalehomosexual666 @snowdrop1026 @modernmonalisa @nothingisrealanyway @idamaemann @sweeterlust @royalityofmultifandom @playboysaleen @peabrain112 @gwhaley127 @harleyswanda @bodhi-j @darth-rain @cristin-rjd

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff fluff #avengers au #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch fluff #scarlet witch fanfic #wanda maximoff fanfic #elizabeth olsen characters

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gremlinmodetweeker · 3 months ago

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Over and Over and Over Again

So there's this animation meme going around of 'Are we together in every universe?' and I don't have a tablet or anything to dray my animation on, so I figured maybe I should just write it out. This is really more of a drabble, a very very short story, but it's one I've thought of for a while.

I hope you all enjoy!

TW: Just fluff, maybe existentialism?

Wordcount: 1k

Art from This Post

Story Below the Cut

Over and Over and Over Again

The setting sun paints the landscape in golden orange tones in the far distance. Its crimson head only just peaks over the hills in the horizon as the moon begins her faithful ascent to the heavens. The world orbits and tilts all around you, but none of it matters as you lay under an apple tree beside your beloved.

You take his big hand in yours and look up at him.

He’s staring off into the distance, entranced by the beauty of the world around you. He has the slightest smile on his face as he watches the clouds meander through the sky like sheep in a meadow. Soft, puffy white things touched with gold as they graze on the dying light.

You look up above at the tree, its branches winding out and up to touch the sky with spinster’s hands. One leaf breaks away in a gust of pleasant wind to twirl down to the dying grass beneath you both.

The world is finally at peace. You’re safe, and for once, you can confidently say König is safe as well. All those years of waiting for a letter to arrive home, waiting for a strange soldier to show up on your doorstep with your husband's dog tags in their hands, waiting for one single phone call to shatter your world, it was all wasted anxiety. König was safe now, and he always would be. The military was a distant thought now, KorTac a lingering dream, just a simple passing breeze fluttering through the leaves. You could actually relax now, knowing that König would be by your side forevermore.

König’s hand squeezed yours.

“Is everything alright?” you asked.

König hummed, “Everything's perfect.”

You nodded and leaned over to rest your head on his long arm. The world was beginning to frost, but you felt warm and comfortable by his side. The peace and calm was a welcome escape from the fear that had haunted you for years.

“Actually,” you murmured nervously, “there is one thing I’m thinking about.”

König gave you another hum, this time tinged with concern.

“I was just wondering if…”

An albatross pushed another branch into place in her nest. She looked at her mate with sad eyes, “Do you think we’re together in every universe?”

Her mate rolled his eyes and gave out a small squawk.

“No seriously, do you think we’re together in every universe?”

The male groomed his partner and hummed.

The male fox drops the rabbit at his mate’s feet, “I think you’re overthinking again.”

The female drops her chin to her paws. Her tail flicks once, then twice, and she says, “I don’t think so. I don’t think I overthink, actually.”

“Thinking about thinking is a form of overthinking, isn’t it?” the male laughed.

“No!” the female huffs, her fur standing on end as she bristles up.

The anemone hums to the clown fish, “I think you just don’t want to admit I’m right.”

The clown fish swims irritably through the fronds of the great anemone, “I think it’s an important thing to think about. Don’t you?”

The anemone waves idly through the waves, “I don’t think so. I think I'm happy in this universe, and that's what counts to me.”

The squirrel huddles in the knot of the tree, hanging on desperately as the winds whip around it.

“I mean, it’s just…” the squirrel pauses as lightening cracks through the sky, “I don’t know what I’d do without you. So what if…”

“What if?” the tree hums back.

“What if something tears us apart? What if you can’t be there for me again?”

The wolf laughs at his mate and hurries the pups out of the den to play. He lays beside his mate and licks her cheek fondly.

“If you’re asking if anything can take us apart,” the male says, “then the answer is: I don’t think so.”

The female whines, “Are you sure?”

The male chuffs, “I’m sure. You just have to trust me.”

The male penguin shifts the egg from his pouch to the female's, careful as he possibly can be with the fragile life between them.

“But we’ve already spent so much time apart,” his mate worries, “it feels like something is always trying to keep us apart.”

“My time away has ended now,” the male says calmly, “I won’t leave again.”

“But how can you promise?” she asks.

“Because that time is over now,” the seahorse winds his tail with his partner, “we’re together now, and that’s what counts.”

The female snorts, but she holds onto him dearly, “I hope you’re right.”

“When have I been wrong?” the male points out, “I always come back. You always come back. It doesn’t matter how often we’re apart, we always come back to each other. Doesn’t that count for something?”

The shingleback lizard waves her tail back and forth. She wipes her eye free of dust and turns back to her mate.

“Maybe,” she admits, “but I'm not sure.”

“No?” her partner laughs, “well, what would change your mind?”

The female thinks for a moment. She absentmindedly digs a bit into the dirt, then covers it back up again before she turns and admits, “Maybe I’m just scared.”

The ocean laughs as the rain pelts his face.

“Why would you be scared?” he bellows over the raging tempest.

“Because I’m worried we might be kept apart one day,” the rain cries out.

The ocean reaches up to take more of her into him, bring her back into his hold. She readily falls into him, letting herself be taken up in his current once more.

“As long as we are here,” the ocean whispers into his depths, “we’ll always be together.”

A bright flash of light, a blinding epiphany, something truly wonderful whispers to another.

“So, you do think we’d be together in every universe,” one says to the other.

The other takes the one into himself and holds it close, “I promise you that we’ll always be together.”

“Do you truly think so?” the first asks as it peers up at its lover.

“I think so,” König says as he smiles back down at you, “I don’t think anything can keep us apart forever.”

You smile as you reach up to brush his stubbled chin with your fingers.

“I hope you’re right.”

König laughs and pets your hair.

“I’m always right. You just have to trust me.”

Konig Dump

Regular Fanfics

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khazadaimenu · 20 days ago

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I did a sort of a hc post about Fili and Kili mere hours ago and that kinda opened the flood gates within me.

Cause I literally live some of my internal life in that world and have story lines I wanna share. But don't want to bother with a fic.

So I'm just gonna blather on about it here for a bit. Isn't it what this platform is for? i kinda want to talk about this one thing.

Warning: it's a long post and it has mature themes. As well as very specific hcs that develop into an evolved AU from my head. So read at your discretion.

In short: it's about Fili and love

I mentioned a hc in another post that Fili goes from awkward older teen to fully fledged young adult in the space of one season.

That summer, he spends all his time blacksmithing and building walls with other dwarves in a village suffering from frequent orc raids.

We're talking all day every day. And he gets strong.

Like one of those movie scenes, you know, the ones where a character gets thrown into water and reemerges seemingly years later, all grown up and shit. The one from The Last Kingdom lives forever in my head.

So imagine same but with Fili. He's no longer a scrawny kid, but broad and muscly. Cherry on top? He gets a peltful of chest hair. All in one go. Like, there was none to begin with and now it's all just fur.

Imagine him emerging from a swim in a lake after a long hard day of labour. Beads of water glistening, the last rays of the setting sun reflecting on his skin. And it becomes a habit as of late August that year. The change in his physique very apparent by now.

Naturally, all the lads and lasses in the vicinity are enamoured. Giggling. Whispering. And surreptitiously pointing.

Which Fili doesn't mind. In fact, he welcomes it. It's a sort of respite from all the princely duties. He wants to be young and live a little.

Here I have to clarify that personally (I know there's tons of variation here, so no hate, this is just my slutty corner of the universe) I hc Fili as pansexual. He's happy to love and share joy.

I think there's a particular type of pressure that only Fili feels and Kili doesn't. Where he knows he's loved, but Kili is the baby and Fili's the heir. And that's reflected in his relationship with his mother, with Thorin, with everyone. So he needs somewhere to just... be carefree. And that's either hanging out with Kili or... looking for adventure. And he's good at it so it gives him a confidence boost.

And no hearts broken. Cause dwarves only do this kinda stuff before they find their One. Or some dwarves aren't inclined romantically, but still go for it physically. And then there's the ace dwarves who choose their craft only. Either way, infidelity doesn't exist in dwarven culture. You either love someone and forget everyone else exists. Or you know you'll never have a One. Or you're not interested completely.

Fili is actually not sure about love. He's not sure it exists for him. He has long chats with Nori about it, who is 100% sure about his own standing: here just to f*k. But Fili's not so sure.

And when he miraculously gets saved before getting killed by Azog (I'm getting into my OC and AU here, so bear with me) he becomes even more convinced. Cause if he wasn't meant to live, why would Mahal make a One for him in the first place?

So when he falls in love with his human saviour, it all kinda gets too much.

1) The responsibility to his people. To uphold the culture.

2) Is he even capable of love?

3) Kili's in love with an elf. Everyone wants a happy ending for him. But dwarves as a group still hold quite a bit of prejudice. An elf in the royal bloodline? Not so fast!

So Fili has to take the fall. Kili will be alllowed to marry if he and any future heirs forsake their claim to the throne AND Fili provides said heirs as staunch 100% dwarves.

Fili tries to object - he doesn't think he can find a One (while internally wrestling with his existing feelings, denying them, burying them and gaslighting himself into oblivion). But then Dis digs up an old law about those in royal lineages marrying without love just to produce heirs (based on some earlier Tolkien drafts where only the dwarven kings married and nobody else among dwarves). And now Fili is well and truly f*ked stuck between a rock and a hard place.

He can't imagine his life without Kili, so the option where Kili is exiled hurts like hell.

In the meantime, his human leaves. They have their own duty to fulfill. That triggers the revelation in him that they are in fact his One.

Which means, by getting into arranged marriage he will forsake one of the most sacred laws of dwarves - he will betray his One.

The thought is unbearable. He considers briefly ending it all. Not a serious thought, just something that comes out of sheer exhaustion.

Kili remains unaware. Fili can't do this to his brother - he is giddy and talking excitedly about his own future happiness once Fili's wedding goes ahead.

Being an heir sucks sometimes. Sucks majorly.

Fili decides to go ahead with a union Dis chose for him. All the while keeping his feelings hidden from everyone.

He doesn't believe he'll ever see his person of choice ever again. And they're not a dwarf. So is it really a betrayal?..

I'll share what comes next in another post, hopefully. If I have a spurt of inspiration.

#the hobbit #the hobbit headcanons #my personal version of hell for them #the line of durin #fili #fili durin #fíli #fíli durin #kili #kili durin #kíli #kíli durin #fili x oc

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makeitagood0neao3 · 8 months ago

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Weather Me To Nothing (1/4)

Pairing: Dark!Paul Atreides x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3,916

Summary: Reader is the heir to the throne with an impossible choice to make. Torn between protecting her sisters and finding her way in the universe, will she make the right choice?

Warnings: Dark!Paul Atreides. 18+ only! Explicit sexual content. Arranged Marriage. Non con. See tags for more.

A/N: Welcome and enjoy! Comment and kudos are always welcome <3 Crumble like a temple built from future daughters, To wasteland when the oceans recede.

Read Part 2

The chamber is so quiet, the heels of your shoes echo off the walls as you approach the throne. He is sitting on his gold throne, the House Corrino crest behind him. The lion is bright, making you blink hard as it reflects the light simulating daylight. Behind you, the heavy doors that offer complete privacy clang shut, sealing you in. The hall is nearly empty with only his most trusted advisors and Mentats present. A controlled amount of witnesses. As a child, the sight of the Padishah Emperor Shaddam IV would stop you in your tracks until your mother swept you into her arms and carried you to him. As his eldest child, you were a representation of not only the House, but your younger sisters as well. Now an adult, every movement you make it watched, hesitations noted. Should the tempo of your gait falter, it will be documented. You father still fills the room, though not in size. You once imaged him as huge, the size of Baron Vladimir Harkonnen.

Your father has aged. Perhaps only you can see how his shoulders slump in his chair, though you know his physicality is not a representation of his power. Even now, as you pass by scattered members of his court, you can sense their tension, their straight spines and clenched jaws. He doesn’t need to raise his hand to strike anyone down, including you. When your mother died, he made you an example of your sister’s behavior in front of his followers. The last time you were here just mere weeks ago was the most furious you’ve ever seen him, though his wrath didn’t end in physical punishment.

Playing the long game, he knew to keep you waiting on your planet. Day by day with your toes in the warm sand on the shore, night by night kept distracted from your studies and instead obsessing over this moment, waiting for the moment he would call upon you to return. The Emperor is always a step ahead and you’ve always been clumsy.

Impulsive. Insolent. A disgrace.

You keep your gaze low, though your chin level, every click of your heel is a countdown until you are in front of him. You half bow, a sign of respect, though you have none for the man. When you meet his gaze, you ensure a light smile is on your lips, as if happy to see him. He meets you with the same grin, the crows feet around his eyes deepening. You learned as a child that his throne is also a stage. A place where he can play any role he chooses.

The forgiving Emperor. The doting father. The aging fanatic.

“Daughter. Thank you for arriving so quickly. I hate to take you away from your studies.”

“I answer every call from my Emperor and father,” you smile back. Knowing he wants to hear this above all else, you assure him of your loyalty to him and his empire.

“I have been reflecting on your most recent transgressions against this family and I believe I have found a way for you to atone.”

“I ask again, where is the evidence of this transgression?” You challenged lightly.

You still don’t agree that sending an anonymous warning to Duke Leto that his mission on Arrakis was an attack on his family and House was a transgression. Treason against the Emperor, yes. No one in this court had proof it was you, except for your outspoken disagreement before him and his council. It took hours to slip away from your guards and lure the transmissions Mentat away from his post. The message was sent, but it seems too late. He was reported dead before dawn.

He lowers his chin, his angular face pointing at you like a bird of prey, ready to snatch you from the spot with his talons. It takes everything in your to keep your hands still at your sides, to not pick or clench your fingers. Behind you, the sound of the heavy doors open. You don’t take your eyes off of the predator in front of you, though, a coy smile on your lips. Heavy footsteps echo as the visitors approach. Refusing to give into him, you keep your gaze fixed ahead.

“You have been of age for quite some time. As my oldest daughter, I have saved your union for a worthy ally. I have found the most loyal of them to strengthen the empire!” He says this with enthusiasm, deep in his deluded belief. Everything he does is to strengthen his position.

Your smile falters, lips pressed tightly as you clasp your hands together in front of you, hoping to prevent them from shaking. You knew this was coming, one day. Though as the least poised and submissive daughter in his line, you doubted he would risk marrying you off with an ally. Keen on keeping your nose in books and studies on your quiet planet, you have successfully avoided meeting most eligible matches while portraying the attitude of aloof. Most of the wealthy bachelors don’t want to work too hard to woo someone smarter than them. Someone who has everything and is impressed by nothing. You have tried to instill this in your younger sisters to no avail.

His pleased expression is not enough to convince you that this is not a punishment. Atonements in House Corrino are paid in blood. Duke Leto atoned for his House’s success in the empire with his. Your mother paid for it when she died in child labor. Though you share a bloodline with the Emperor, you are subject to the same kind of cruelty.

The footsteps are loud and thunderous before the stop directly behind you, an ominous shadow. You can feel their gaze on your back, but you are too afraid to see who it is. Too afraid of giving your father the satisfaction of your dismay on your face. To your right, a large form invades your space, standing so his shoulder nearly grazes yours.

At least a head taller than you, the brother of the beast, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. He’s lean, made of chiseled muscle built to slaughter his enemies. His pale skin is contrasted by his black armor. His hairless head emphasizes his deep set black eyes. He doesn’t spare you a glance, instead keeping his attention on the Emperor. You turn back to your father, eyes wide as you shake your head. Always ready with a quip, you are truly speechless. This man killed his own father and not known for his brain, but his brutality.

This is the man your father settles you with?

“Feyd-Rautha has come a long way, Y/N.”

“Father-”

“How is the Dune, Feyd?”

“Spice production is higher than ever, thanks to the harvesters you delivered, Emperor.” It comes out in a rasp, mimicking the sound of his uncle’s voice without the depth.

Dune. You hated that fucking planet having spent an entire standard year there as punishment for something you can’t even remember. The moon the locals referred to as The Hand Of God prevented you from communicating with your sisters while there. Completely excommunicated, when the sun set, you were expected to dine with Vladimir and his kin and most nights you did.

On the rare occasion he wasn’t present, he left you alone with Feyd-Rautha. Neither of them kept it secret that they desired you to join the Harkonnen family permanently. Vladimir complimented your intelligence and strategic mind, while assuring you that your figure could carry and birth a healthy army of great nephews for him.

When your sentence was complete, you left with your skin hot and dry, without so much as a glance back. Upon your arrival, you nearly begged your father to never send you back. He gave you his word so long as you understood your place was behind him and his decisions, you were free from Arrakis.

To keep you from further embarrassing him and his legacy, he sent you on the sabbatical you had currently been on. Out of the way, out of sight, out of mind.

“Do you plan on staying on Arrakis or does your uncle’s business require you on Giedi Prime?”

“I will remain on Arrakis to ensure the production of Spice doesn’t stop. My brother has other responsibilities. My priority right now is to find the remaining members of House Atreides.” There’s a layer of humor in his tone. As if he isn’t standing before one of the most terrifying men in the universe. Perhaps he doesn’t believe he is.

Your head snaps to look at him. For being on a desert planet the majority of his life, he words are cold, lifeless. He would kill anyone his uncle told him to and not contemplate any differently. This man took on three of the best Harkonnen slave fighters in a gladiator game recently and left the arena without a scratch.

A marriage to Feyd-Rautha would mean a lifetime of breeding on a planet so hot it could kill you within two hours in the sand without a Stillsuit. The Harkonnen home planet is no better. Time passes slower, a standard year is almost three of that on Arrakis. It’s heavily industrialized, without oceans or forests. A heavy layer of fog covers the planet, blocking out the stars. If there are any visible nearby. Juxtaposed to the quiet sounds of shifting sand on Arrakis, their planet is loud and booming. No. That is not a life you can live.

“Be sure when you find the son, he is not injured. The other houses in the Empire are not pleased with the way they were handled. There has been chatter amongst them. We don’t want to give them more to talk about.”

An Emperor, no matter how powerful, is nothing without followers. Two Houses are nothing against the legions of the known universe.

“What will you do when you find him?” I ask, curious as to what his fate will be if he isn’t going to kill him.

“Prepare him for your wedding ceremony, of course.” This stuns me and at my stillness, Feyd-Rautha turns to face me. You don’t move, unable to comprehend the strategy of this game. “You are to be married to Paul Atreides. Imagine my surprise when we found out he was alive. I was further surprised when he asked for the hand of one of my daughters. A plea for peace and an alliance.”

“What about Irulan?”

“Irulan is the eldest. She is meant for a worthy match. You seemed to enjoy your time on Arrakis. Making allies with the local swine.”

You don’t speak, stunned for the third time in this discussion. How does he, and to what extend, does he know about your involvement with the Fremen? The help you offered was limited, they mostly refused your help, but you did what you could while there. And you were discrete, not even the Baron knew of your treachery.

Feyd narrows his eyes at you, assessing. He’s wondering why you over your sisters. The answer is simple. Your infertility makes you the perfect match for the bloodline that survived an assassination. The Atreides line will not continue if Paul weds you. Is Paul a vengeful man? What will he do to you when he finds out? Perhaps that’s the Emperor’s hope.

The hand of your father’s cruelty.

“You would give a beloved daughter to the son of the man you had murdered?”

“I like to think of it as ‘removed.’”

“It was an assassination. Who’s to say he won’t take revenge on you by killing me?” It’s the perfect solution to the problem you continue to be for him and is enough of a reason to declare war against House Atreides. He’d have the support of the whole universe.

You slump, shoulders no longer pulled back as your spine bends. The weight of your future is too heavy to hold. Your eyes drop to the floor, unable to keep them on your father, your executioner. Perhaps it’s safer with Feyd-Rautha and you can’t believe that’s the corner you've been backed into.

“That is why, dear daughter, you will kill him before he has the chance to.”

Feyd opens a pocket over his chest and pulls out a teardrop shaped vial with a blue liquid inside. It’s small in his palm as he holds it out to me. You stare at it, afraid that touching it will mean you am agreeing to this.

“This came from one of the herbalists. They found the plant deep underground on Arrakis. It’s a very old mixture that will put one into a deep sleep they won’t wake from. You are a humanitarian, so I have ensured it will be painless.” Feyd voice is kind, but you know it’s one of his manipulations. It was likely his uncle who decided on this poison.

“Is this a Bene Gesserit tincture?” You ask your father. His lips curl just slightly at the edges. You shake your head in disbelief. “I can’t kill some-”

“Your interference before is why he is still alive. A loose thread and a threat to this family, to your sisters. Imagine the pain you have caused him, by allowing him to survive.” Your father’s voice from his seat is clear and firm. It is an order you can’t deny, regardless of my convictions.

“And what will I get for this act of loyalty for my Emperor?” I ask him, countering.

He is pleased, his talons curling over the arms of the chair. He pulls himself up and walks half way down the stairs to where we stand. Still keeping the high ground, but seemingly meeting you halfway.

“You get to be free. Free to continue your studies, on whatever planet you wish, and with whomever you wish, or alone.”

It’s too good to be true. He knows being left alone and away from the politics and his bidding is all you desire. You would relinquish your name, title, everything, just for peace. You weigh the options.

If you refuse, you are forced to marry the worst the universe has to offer, forced to stay within the Emperor’s reach as he murders anyone who stands in the way of him and House Atreides. If you agree, it is painless for Paul and only one casualty has to perish. The universe will think it was the Fremen who murdered him and you can live as a widow, tainted by the Atreides heir, alone wherever you choose.

Feyd-Rautha, for once, has read you correctly. You are a humanitarian and knowing you have taken the suffering of your sisters for them, knows you will also save as many people as you can.

You turn to Feyd, palms sweaty with anxiety, and take the vial.

The harsh, unforgiving sun eclipses Dune as the Emperor’s Flagship approaches the planet. You are seated in the haul, a Sardaukar guard on either side of you. Two is light protection, but since you are traveling to a planet with almost the entirety of the Harkonnen army, they are really operating as a formal escort.

Your repeated requests to say goodbye to your sisters were denied. The Emperor commanded you to take immediate leave for Arrakis. Feyd-Rautha nearly drug you from the chamber and to his ship, the rest of his posse stomping closely behind.

You hate to admit it, but for now, Feyd is your biggest protector during this transaction. He sits across from you, his face calm as he watches you like a predator, waiting for the moment to strike. His eyes drop to your chest, where the vial of poison hands around your neck beneath your shawl. It’s cold, the glass hasn’t warmed to the temperature of your skin. You don’t expect it will, either.

Once you arrive, Feyd will escort you to Arrakeen where you will surely dine with the Baron. The day after before dawn, Fed will escort you to meet Paul at a neutral place for the ceremony. Without the chance to say goodbye to your sisters, it’s difficult to imagine seeing them again. Being sent to this desert feels like an exile this time. After you complete the task given to you, you’ll be altered, different. Will your sisters even recognize you after this?

The ship enters the atmosphere and begins descending to the ground. Several Sardaukar ships accompanied by the Harkonnen fleet have landed before you, setting a safety perimeter for the flagship to land. The ship connects with the ground and settles, your guards standing before you. You stand as well, pausing in the middle of the haul as you wait for the door to open. Feyd-Rautha is next to you, preventing the Sardaukar guard from taking his position, invading your space.

“Don’t think I am as foolish as I pretend to be,” if he had eyebrows, they’d be furrowed in his glare.

“I don’t-” Your voice is cut off by his firm hand on your bicep, causing the Sardaukar to place their hands on their swords, though they don’t draw them.

“This arrangement to the Atreides bastard is an insult to my uncle and House Harkonnen. We have done your father’s bidding for generations.”

“Then contact my father for payment.“ Furious he thinks he has the right to place his hands on you, you cannot stop venom that drips in your words.

“You will not leave this planet without me as a husband. I have waited long enough.” He says it with so much confidence. Though unpredictable, he’s never been this aggressive. What makes him think that your guard, the tactical warriors more brutal than Harkonnen’s, won’t remove every one of his extremities if he touches you?

“It’s time you let me go,” you say, though he doesn’t release you. “In more ways than one, it seems.” Your eyes drag from his to the warrior beside you, who appears ready to attack, but is hesitating. If this were anyone else, their swords would have been drawn.

Feyd-Rautha glances at the guard behind you as he leans forward, a fraction closer, before finally dropping your arm. He is testing the boundary line, waiting to be stopped. He turns and leads you out. Before following behind, you glance behind you at your guards, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. It’s a warning to not hesitate again.

The dry and suffocating heat is immediately pressed upon you as you stop into the sun. Doing your best not to flinch at the wind cutting into your skin, you hold your chin level and keep your eyes on him. He is more impulsive than you recall, making him all the more dangerous. He’s approaching a Thropper, hundreds of Harkonnen surrounding the landing zone. They make a show of greeting you, an extension of the Emperor himself.

You call to him when he is halfway up the ramp. He stops and turns, only giving you half his physical attention. You come to a dead stop just before the ramp. Without dropping your smirk, your eyes drop to the step before meeting his. Elegantly, you pull your arm out from beneath your shawl, reaching for him. His eyes drop to your hand as he contemplates.

Though the wealthiest in the Empire, accumulating more wealth than even the Emperor, Harkonnens live in a primitive mindset. Women are not their equal nor worthy of their respect. They are warriors first, the ultimate toxic masculine. You are still a lady, however, and unable to resist knocking him down a peg in front of his warriors.

Still unsure how you will get yourself out of this without murder or marrying anyone, if Feyd-Rautha is right, and you are forced to marry him, you need his men to understand you are not a dog on leash. Their traditions don’t apply to you and you won’t be treated any differently than you currently are.

Finally, he agrees to play this game. Walking down the ramp, he steps off to the side. Once his feet are on the same ground as you, he returns the smirk and offers you his hand. You take it and step onto the ramp. His hand steadies you as you walk up before releasing you once you’re too high. Before your guard can follow, he’s on the ramp again, trailing closely behind you.

His sigh of displeasure is immediate as soon as you find your seat at the front behind the controls. He stands next to you, but you pay him no mind as you buckle yourself in.

“I insist-”

“As do I.” Not even glancing at him as you begin to flip on the overhead switches, starting the motor and engines. You take the aviation headset that rests on the steering handle and put it on. Your actions are enough to silence him, so he sits in the chair beside you, muttering something in Galach you can’t catch from beneath the headset.

The engine reverberates through the floor and sand swirls on either side of the glass when the propellers start. A guard behind you raises the ramp and when it closes, you lift off.

You didn’t think it was possible for this planet to become any more plain, but it has. Mounds of sand surround you in every direction. The spice on the top layer glimmering in the sun, reflecting it’s bright hue back to you. It’s hot even in the Thropper so you slide the shawl off of your shoulders. A fraction of your skin is on display around the thick straps of your dress.

A few hundred meters in front of you, a shimmering object catches your sight. Angling the Thropper toward it, you slow and see it’s a brand new spice harvester. The gears inside the machine tracks are free of rust and the steel casings aren’t discolored from the spice. Your father has spared no expense.

“These are bigger,” Feyd-Rautha’s voice comes through your headset. “We’ve been harvesting one and a half times more a month than ever before. Each comes with an entourage to keep the locals at bay.” His eyes are on you when you turn to look at him, but he’s focused on your shoulder. Fighting the eye roll, you turn back to the window and see two Throppers circling above the harvester, no doubt armed.

You don’t agree with the treatment of the Fremen or the aggression shown to them. This is their planet, their commodity. If anything, your father should be paying them to allow his presence here. It takes a hard people to live here, you can’t imagine ever adjusting to the effects of spice.

Even now, your heart rate speeds up and you attempt to slow your breath. The spice kicked up from the harvester is now filtering through into the Thropper, leaving you to blink hard to focus. Most experience mild hallucinations, but in the year you spent here, it just made you paranoid and unsteady. It heightened sensations and slowed your movements. How can the Harkonnen’s be so unaffected? You regain control over your mental state and continue on.

Landing at the capital, Arrakeen, your guards exit before you. Halfway down the ramp, Feyd-Rautha’s large, pale hand is extended for you to take. You accept, stepping off, and following him as he leads you towards your room. Once there, behind the closed door, you sit in the nearest chair and breathe deep, trying to steady yourself.

Read Part 2

#dark!paul atreides #x reader #dark!paul atreides x reader #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #manipulation #inappropriate use of the voice

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authorforrosie · 1 year ago

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Requested by: @nfrgirl

I hope you enjoy this version for Jennie. I wanted to make this one more romantic and fluffy!❣️

Title: You meet Jennie’s best friend‘s for the first time. [Requested]

Pairing: Jennie x You. [GxG]

Warning: none.

Words: 1155

Jennie Kim has been dating you since almost eight months. You both are obviously in love with each other. You both agreed in the first step of building up a relationship that you didn't wanna meet each other's friends, family's or telling them. Until you both knew that the relationship becomes serious.

After she went on world tour in 2022 for born pink you didn't hesitate to visit her a few times secretly. Not too often because you both want a healthy and balanced relationship.

When born pink tour ended in 2023 you and Jennie met up again in your house. Which she absolutely adored. It always felt like home for her.

On one day in winter 2023 she asked you to meet her best friends which are her three bandmates: Rosé, Lisa, Jisoo. Besides Jung Hoyeon. You agreed immediately after having a healthy conversation about this subject with your girlfriend Jennie.

You met her best friends in a small cozy comfortable relationship. Jennie never left your side unless she needed to go at the lady restroom.

All of you sat on a table on opposite sides. Only Jennie sat next at you and Rosé. You immediately noticed her Australian accent. It reminded you of the cute Kiwi accent of your girlfriend when she speaks in english with you for a very long time time.

Jisoo was a little bit reserved way more listening to the way you speak and sat. She was impressed when she saw you making gestures with your hands while you explained at them about the sun-system and universe in general.

You didn't talk too much through. They realized how shy you are. Especially when one of them asked you questions about your very personal life. You squirmed on your seat. Jennie moved a hand on your thigh to give it a slight comfort squeeze. Which you appreciated very much.

„Baby I will be back in a second I need to use the lady restroom." Announced Jennie with comfort in her voice.

You only nodded with your head not trusting your mouth since you are very shy. You don't know what to say sometimes. When Jennie left for the lady restroom. Her best friends looked at you with a very serious expression on their face's.

„So Y/N tell us what's your intentions with our precious mandu...?" Asked Jisoo with seriousness in her voice.

You took a few seconds to progress her sentence and to think of a good-satisfying answer. It shouldn't be questioned that you are obviously in love with Jennie.

„I am absolutely obviously in love with your best friend Jennie. She isn't only Jennie of blackpink. She is the cute Jennie Kim. A human. I try my hardest to make her feeling happy and loved everyday. I am very sure already that I can imagine a future with her. I will answer you on this question in four months because I think Jennie deserves to know first what I can imagine in a future with her. She is making me fall in love with her every day without even trying." Answered you honestly with seriousness in your voice.

It must've satisfied them because Rosé cried at the love confession that you made about her Jennie Unnie. Lisa wiped her and Rosé's tears with tissues. Jisoo only had a happy expression on her face as well. You was sure that you saw her slightly tears in her brown eyes that she held back.

„Welcome in the family Y/N. You are the perfect match for our mandu. Please don't hurt her through. It would hurt us too." Whispered Rosé with shyness in her voice.

You pinky promised them with you intertwining your little finger with their little finger's. They giggled in that moment because a pinky promise is cute and silly for them. Rosé took them very seriously. Hoyeon didn't hesitate to walked around the table to give you a welcoming hug which you absolutely appreciated. In the moment no one of you realized that Jennie came back from the lady restroom. Until you felt your cute mandu hugging you from behind with her face nuzzling in your face.

„Why are you having tears rolling down your cheeks baby girl...?" Asked Jennie with protection in her voice.

You only took her hand to move it towards your lips. Placing a comforting kiss on her hand. She smiled when she saw you getting shy.

„I will tell you later baby. Let's enjoy our time together now." Answered you with happiness in your voice.

Jennie pouted for a second since she wanted to know what you talked about with each other. She's very curious. Until she saw the way her best friends interacting with you. The atmosphere around each other seem lighter as well than it was way before.

„Y/N look at my magical trick that I taught my co-actor's on snowdrop behind the scenes." Announced Jisoo with excitement in her voice.

You looked with an curious expression on your face the way she showed you the magical trick. You didn't hesitate to ask her if she could teach you the magical trick. Rosé taught you a few Australian slangs and had a conversation about Australia with you. While Lisa showed you pictures about her cat's and started a conversation about Thailand with you.

Hoyeon had a conversation with you about Squid Game and the beauty of life. Until Jennie decided to go home with you. Not without planning another meeting together. This time at your house for a family dinner.

Snow dropped down from the sky Jennie held your hand. You both had a very long conversation about your first meeting with her best friends. She had tears rolling down her cheeks when she realized that they welcomed you as new family member and that they absolutely loved you for her.

„Baby Girl I love you so much. Thank you for making my whole life colorful again." Said Jennie with softness in her voice.

Her brown cat-like eyes lighted up with happy sparkles. You could get lost in her brown eyes all the time. Because you absolutely adored how colorful her brown is.

„I love you too baby." Statement you with happiness in your voice.

Jennie took your hand in her glove covered ones. Snow that dropped down on Jennie's brown hair looked beautiful. You wanted to kiss her so bad. You remain of kissing her in public until you both arrived at your house. Where she will be staying at for two weeks. Kuma already arrived there since Jennie bought him yesterday already at your house.

After changing clothes in front of each other at cute Pyjamas and sharing soft passionate kisses in between. Jennie decided to put on 'Xo, Kitty’ in Netflix. She laid in between your legs with her back resting against your front. You rub her arms in a lovingly way.

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actual-changeling · 1 year ago

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hiiiiii @nightgoodomens i read this post and then immediately started typing and this is the result. either sorry or you're welcome. or both. :)

Crowley's first instinct is to wrench his arm from Aziraphale's grasp, but his hold on him tightens ever so slightly as if sensing his intentions, so he stays put—for now.

Still, anger rises in his chest like a tidal wave, hot and desperate and tainted by nothing lasts forever and i forgive you. They haven't talked about it yet, and he refuses to when the outcome of that argument could very well mean extinction, not just for the two of them but for the world. He built walls in his mind, keeping out shimmering purple eyes and familiar lips, and stopped breathing so he could pretend Aziraphale didn't smell all wrong.

The reason stretching throughout their foundations turns into vines, forcing them apart stone by stone when he meets his gaze.

"How about we come up with a plan where you don't risk destruction, please?"

Crowley's smile is a mask of bitter disappointment; the slant of his mouth is sharp, almost cruel.

"What do you care?"

"Of course I care," Aziraphale shoots back immediately, his fingers digging into his arm forcefully enough that he can practically taste the bruises forming beneath them.

"You were more than happy to deliver me to heaven all tied up and with a bow on my head, Arseangel Aziraphale. You would have had to find someone to scrape my sorry fucking remains off their pristine floors five minutes later."

A tingling numbness spreads up to his shoulder, pins and needles reminding him that this corporation is starting to get tired of being restrained, but Crowley is too focused on the insulted rage distorting the angel's face. He steps closer, forcing him to look up at him, and he takes minute satisfaction in the heavy swallow running down his throat.

"They wouldn't-"

"Oh, they wouldn't, really? They have already done it once, and now they're planning on ending us all. None of them would know mercy if it hit them in their perfect bloody faces."

Uncaring for the increase in his volume, Crowley mockingly raises an eyebrow, challenging him to disagree, to defend heaven like he has done time and time again, to finally let go of him and let him stomp off to his destruction; this time, he is either going to win or go out on his own terms.

When Aziraphale doesn't respond, his lashes fluttering and his mouth opening and closing several times without expelling a single sound or breath, he channels six thousand years of suppressed frustration and angry humiliation and rips his arm out of his grasp.

"There is no 'we', Aziraphale. There is your side, there is earth, and then there's me."

He remembers the hundred times Aziraphale denied knowing him, called him a demon, his adversary, denounced their friendship and arrangement, and ground their partnership to dust under his heels like a dried-out bug on the verge of death.

Friends, we're not friends.

For a moment, Crowley wants to ask if any of it had been real, but he knows it was—that's why it hurts.

That's why he can't let it go.

The pain as the blood in his arm begins to flow unhindered again is nothing compared to the gaping wound scratching itself open in his chest, forcing him to swallow salted iron and sickly sweet love. He has been wearing his shades every single second they spent together after his return, but he takes them off now, biting back a taunting sneer, biting back tears.

Purple meets gold, the summer-sky blue is long gone, and it helps him deliver the last blow without flinching.

"Nothing lasts forever, right? Good luck with your armageddon."

Crowley does not wait to see the hurt spreading across his face and pretends he doesn't hear the punched-out gasp or the beginnings of a sob.

Instead, he slides his glasses back into place and walks away; the universe will finally grant him rest one way or another.

tag list under the cut (tell me if you want to be added/removed)

@ineffabledeathtoallmetatrons @ineffablymanic @violet-prism-creativelycreatively @wraithee @underlined-in-spirit @acheemient @queer4cryptids @aroaceblackhole @six-of-snakes @im-the-son-of-rage-and-lov3 @adverbian @oboextra @demonic-mnemonic @eybefioro

#alex writes good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #good omens ficlet #also hi fells if you uh happen to see this the arseangel is for you

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master-of-the-mystic-arts-inc · 2 months ago

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[ NOTE: This Blog Contains Spoilers For Multiverse Of Madness ]

`` ARE YOU HAPPY, STEPHEN? ``

Testing.. Testing...

Alright, greetings interweb. As you all probably already know, my name is Stephen Strange. (Dr. Strange to all of you, Stephen's just for buds.) I've saved the world countless times, traveled the Multiverse, and have neutralized the all-powerful Scarlet Witch .. not to say I'm bragging, but those are braggable feats. You'd think I'd be free to do as I pleased, however, winning is such a fickle and complicated bag of worms, one that doesn't come without consequences. The Scarlet Witch destroyed the Darkhold across every dimension, but the essence is.. sticky. I did what I had to to defeat someone who threatened the Multiverse, should I have not used the wretched book to do so? Probably. Am I willing to admit that to the ones I'm closest to? ..Not so much. The power of Darkhold is safe, believe me. There would be no one better to keep this gif-curse with.

With that out of the way, I'll be using this odd forum as a journal of sorts, hard to keep track of my thoughts these days. If you stumble upon this blog, use my words as newfound knowledge, but tread lightly.

[ Mod, RP Info, & Character Bio Below Cut !! ]

Mod Notes

Sup! Welcome to yet another pathetic man's blog. I'm Randy, I use he/him pronouns, I'm twenty, and I'm So Normal about Marvel. So So Normal.

RP Info

I've been hooked on the idea of Strange slowly turning evil for quite some time now, but now seems like a great time to bring out the ol' warlock. Completely open to plots, character dynamics, random asks, and rp memes! Crossovers as well as (over 18) ocs may interact, of course :3c. As the man told y'all, Steven has been 'infected' by the Darkhold, since he was the last to technically use it before it was destroyed. You'll see his morals start to spiral downwards, and a villain begin to appear.. I'm so excited guys.

DNI

This blog will contain alcohol, substances, unbased opinions, and nsfw material*, so minors begone! Bigots, proshippers, and other such weirdos are not welcome either, hate will be taunted and giggled at! Drama-makers can look elsewhere, I want none of that!

*NSFW will be put underneath a cut with the tag #[ nsfwrp ]

Tags

#[ the holder's ramblings ] - Stephen's textposts

#[ watchful eyes & chattering voices ] - Strange answering asks

#[ a shattering dimension] - Roleplays, open ones as well as threads

#[ a potential follower ] - Stephen interacting with other blogs

Universes

Untagged - Main Universe; His descent is slow but adamant, journeying to acquaintances to tame his rotting being. He's pleasant to be around, for the most part- as time goes on, this might not be the case.

[ vrs; the time anomaly ] - Made with @/starredshield; Stephen accidentally transported Steve Rogers out of the 40's a year before the events of Infinity War, staring out at eachother's throats, but growing softer as Strange realizes he has deeper feelings. Having to let him go, he goes back to normal life- going through the Darkhold events before finally reconnecting with Rogers in a much worse headspace. [ !! DARKER THEMES WARNING !! ]

A Holder Of Ancient Magic

Name: Stephen Strange

Age: Currently Forty-Six

Gender & Pronouns: Cisman, He/Him

Sexuality: Strange is far too busy with the possible incursion he caused to be worried about labels. (Evil Bisexual </3)

Home Universe: 616 Adjacent (If your character died during End Game, no they didn't /hj)

Relationships: Stephen has a couple of close friendships, one being Wong, the Sorcerer Supreme. He hadn't been the most open about his new-found powers after the events with the Scarlet Witch. He's cut contact with Christine entirely, far too upset about how their relationship ended, how happy she seems with someone else. Him and the Avengers are on good terms, though he tends to keep quiet about the Darkhold.

Current Appearance: Strange looks a bit more disheveled than he did in Multiverse Of Madness, eyes sunken as if he'd been spending far too much time in the Sanctum's library. Occasionally, there seems to be an odd slit in the center of the Doctor's forehead- mentioning will make the line disappear. He looks more akin to Sinister Strange at this point.

#[ the holder's ramblings ]#[ watchful eyes & chattering voices ]#[ a shattering dimension]#[ a potential follower ]#marvel roleplay #mcu roleplay #mcu rp #marvel rp #Spotify

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spinningwebsandtales · 1 year ago

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The Shape Of Your Heart (A 'The Shape Of You' Valentine's Special One-shot)

Michael Myers X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Mentions of a panic attack, past bad experiences on Valentine's Day, steam (somebody get me a fan and turn it on high), mentions of cannibalism (jokingly I promise), shirtless Michael (deserves a warning in itself)

Word Count: 4.2k

(A/N:) Hello and welcome to my own little pit of insanity! It's supposed to be Valentine's Day today but I and my very bestest friend all agree that it needs replaced with second Halloween! So far that has yet to happen, so we take it upon ourselves to celebrate a second spooky season while everyone else drowns in a sea of pink and red. I wanted to do something very Countess-y for the day and this idea came to me while at work and it's just too perfect not to do! This is a special one-shot set in my The Shape of You universe and you shouldn't have to read my fanfiction to read this. But to all of my people who are following my fic please know that I am still working on it and I haven't forgotten! I just got an idea on what to add to the chapter today cause I don't just want to rush to the end it wouldn't be fair to the story and my readers! So keep your eyes open you don't know when the Boogeyman will appear! 😉 So keep it spooky and to all the fellow Michael Myers lovers Happy (second) Halloween!

Valentine’s Day was just another day for you, nothing special and nothing exciting. You’d been on the normal dates that everyone went for this particular day, with whoever you were dating at the time going all out. Flowers, chocolates, expensive restaurants. All the works, anything that would make a normal girl swoon. But none of those things really mattered to you and it didn’t take long for them to grow bored with you and leave you not long after. So you didn’t get excited about the holiday like all your other co-workers do. So today had been stressful trying to avoid all talk of Valentines with everyone, even Julie who gushed about the flowers on her desk to anyone who would listen. You were happy for her and everyone else and it wasn’t that you disliked the holiday, old wounds just ruined it for you. So when it came time to finally leave you rushed out the front door towards your car.

You felt all the pressure and anxiety leave as soon as your car door slammed shut and you turned the key over starting your car with a roar. After giving yourself a few moments to collect yourself (you knew Michael would worry), you put the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot. While the traffic of Haddonfield seemed to be on your side, the radio was a different story. What once had been your friend just yesterday had quickly turned into the enemy. Every love song and ballad that existed in the world seemed to be playing on the local station, so you changed the channel. Just for the other station to treat you just the same. And the next one and the next one, same story same old song and dance. You finally just turned the knob off shutting off the whole radio in an angry huff. So you just enjoyed the silence on the remainder of the ride home.

It wasn’t lost on you when you pulled into your little neighborhood of all the happy couples that lived close to your house leaving their houses hand in hand. Most likely going on dates planned weeks or months in advance. All you truly wanted today was a hot delicious meal with Michael and a sweet night cuddled together on the couch with him as you both watched a movie. Something action packed or even a comedy, just as long as it wasn’t something disgustingly romantic. You’d even order pizza or something, cause now you didn’t feel like cooking anything. Finally pulling into the driveway of your little home, you couldn’t help but feel that you were finally free to act like yourself. While you fumbled for the front door key, you waved at your neighbors before heading inside.

Michael had never celebrated Valentine’s Day in the special ways that everyone talked about. He could remember a few of the parties that would be held at school, with cupcakes smothered in bright pink frosting and covered with heart shaped sprinkles, or cookies cut out in various shapes to convey love and all things sickeningly sweet. Michael could only remember the treats tasting like ash and the little thin cardboard cards a lie. No child wanted to celebrate with someone like him and no one wanted to be his valentine. All he could remember back at home was his sister gushing about her new boyfriend and all they were going to do that night to celebrate. It made him hate everything even worse, especially when he was left home all alone with the babysitter that his parents had conned into watching him.

Then that fateful Halloween night had came around and then Michael knew nothing else of Valentine’s Day or any other holiday that normal people celebrated. No barbecues on the Fourth of July, no more trick-or-treating on Hallows Eve, and no presents sitting under a beautifully decorated tree. He gripped the handle of the chefs knife he held tighter, knuckles turning white as a blinding fury built in his chest until he breathed deeply, calming himself. It was getting close to time for you to come home and he wouldn’t let the past ruin this for him or you. He loved you too much and he knew that you had had some bad experiences linked with Valentine’s Day and now that you both had each other he didn’t want this time of year to remain that way for you or for himself. So he had planned in secret to treat you and surprise you with a Valentine’s Day to remember.

It had been difficult for him to keep everything quiet as he was a little excited to share such a special occasion with you. Though it was far from the normal things couple did on the day, he couldn’t just go out and buy you flowers and chocolates. He knew you didn’t mind but for some reason it bothered him more than it should. You didn’t let such material things judge how much you love him, but he wanted to do everything in his power to make you feel and show you just how special you are to him. So everything had to be perfect. You were the light that saturated his darkness and if he couldn’t convey that with his actions he couldn’t help but feel like a failure. So with a few extra touches Michael finished his work before going up the stairs to change into the clothes that he had laid out after you had left. He didn’t want to greet you at the door in food stained clothes that smelled of his sweat and the seasonings he used. So he made his way up the stairs, trying to hurry himself when he heard your car pull into the driveway.

You turned the knob and stepped inside, but something felt off. Michael always kept the living room lights off so nosy neighbors couldn’t see inside when you finally made it home, but having all the lights off was unusual. And it had become a routine that he was always waiting to give you a welcome home kiss and hug, to make the tension ease away as soon as you got home. But Michael was nowhere to be seen and it made your heart drop before racing in your chest. You couldn’t help but worry that something had happened to him as you searched all the shadows.

“Michael,” you called. When he didn’t answer you felt a lump form in your throat and tears prick at your eyes. It had been a rough day and to not have him here to make everything better seemed to be the last nail in the coffin. You dropped your bag and keys to the floor.

“Michael,” you sobbed, feeling pathetic as you started to panic.

Michael had just finish changing when he heard the mournful sound of your voice. His heart shattered and he started to panic as he raced down to you. The sight of you standing in the dark, still in your work clothes with tears streaming down your cheeks and smearing your makeup, shattered him. He was in front of you in just a few strides before swallowing you into his strong embrace. This was definitely not how he wanted to start your evening together. Kissing at your tear soaked cheeks, Michael gave you as long as you needed to calm down to greet you in the way he wanted to.

“I thought you left and I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry it’s been a rough day and I didn’t want to come home and make you worry.” Michael hushed you softly continuing to dry your tears carefully, smearing your makeup worse in the process. He cursed himself for not being faster, but it had taken him a couple of tries to get dessert just right or he would have been at the door and had the candles on the table lit before you could have walked in. So far his plan was not going perfect like he wanted. But it had yet to explode into terrible just yet. He could and would salvage the situation.

Once your tears had dried and your breathing had calmed, Michael finally was able to get things to start rolling. First he kissed you deeply, like he always did when you finally made it home from work and then he started the shower so it could warm up. He didn’t want the work day to stay on your skin and weigh your shoulders down. With another quick peck he left you to relax for a few moments while he laid out the clothes he wanted to see you in before going back to the kitchen. Making sure the food was staying warm while he heard the shower running, he cleaned up the rest of his mess until he heard the shower stop and the bathroom door open. Your wet feet pattered against the floor as you walked to the bedroom to dress and Michael dried his hands on a dish towel. You took in the sight of the dress draped across the bedspread, Michael could read you like a book as it was one of your favorite more comfortable dresses. It was beautiful without being obnoxious and the black always flattered your frame. You threw the towel in the dirty basket before slipping into the dress and as soon as you got it zipped up halfway, you could hear Michael’s footsteps come up behind you.

His larger hand replaced yours, finishing zipping up the dress before he kissed the back of your neck sweetly. He brushed at your still wet hair while taking little nibbles against your skin. You shivered as you allowed Michael to explore. It was moments like these that you could only feel comfortable with Michael. He never pushed you and took his time. Savoring every second he could from your taste or the little motions and sounds that he elicited from you. When he had his fill of your taste for that moment, he gently brushed your hair before braiding it simply and lead you by the hand to the main attraction of the night. It wasn’t until this moment that you finally realized how Michael was dressed. Wearing his finest pair of dark jeans and a deep red button up shirt tucked in with the leather jacket you had bought for him months ago.

His boots thudding against the carpet as he continued to lead you towards the kitchen that was dark except for the two candles that burned brightly on the table and the small light that was above the sink. You gasped before looking up at the dark haired man that cared for you so deeply, it made you feel like your heart could soar above the Earth. He squeezed your hand a little tighter and kissed your temple before taking you to the table. He pulled out the chair for you, letting you sit down before he pushed you towards the table. You took in the atmosphere of your normally plain kitchen. Michael had dug out the tablecloth that you had bought years ago, draping it across your little table where he had placed your finest dishes for you both to dine on. The candles were from your emergency stash, for storms that would knock the power out. But those were replaceable, letting Michael do the things he needed was too special to worry about some cheap candles that were easily replaced.

While Michael worked you watched him, enraptured at his movements and the broad back that just begged for you to touch. A splash of red on the kitchen floor caught your attention and at first you thought Michael had cut himself. But as your gaze began to trail further towards the table and out of the doorway to the kitchen into the living room did you finally realize that it was a trail of rose petals. You laughed at yourself for not noticing it until now, until another thought overtook that one. Where did he get roses from? Shrugging to yourself, deeming it unimportant, you turned your attention back on the gorgeous backside that Michael Myers owned. Michael turned around and you quickly looked away, trying to act innocent but he had known you were staring, Michael didn’t mind. It wasn’t like he never caught himself staring at you. Carrying two plates he set yours down before taking his seat across from you at the table.

Michael hadn’t known the first thing about cooking until he had came into your life. You had lovingly and patiently taught him several things and now he had taken to it easily. You were a good cook and knew how to cook many things, but with work you hardly felt like making more of the extravagant dishes you knew, so a lot of times you would bring home something from the local restaurants, but with Michael around he made sure to either have something cooked by the time you got home or you both cooked together. But this was a significant occasion where he wanted to branch out and really impress you. The kiss was to greet you, the shower to relax you, and dinner was his chance to wow and woo you. Like you weren’t already head over heels from him. Your jaw dropped at the sight of the steak, cooked perfectly; medium rare, baked potato, and carrots carefully cut into little hearts. You beamed brightly at Michael, making his heart skip a beat before you held up one of the carrots, just in awe of his skills and attention he took with the meal. You grinned slyly before popping the vegetable into your mouth. Savoring the flavors bursting on your tongue and the slight crunch of the carrot.

“Y’know Michael it’s really unfair how good you are with a knife,” you said while stabbing another carrot with your fork.

He just shrugged his shoulders, returning your grin with a mischievous glint in his eye, “I’ve carved up enough stuff to know how to wield a knife.”

“Let’s not talk about your occupation before dinner,” you scoffed teasingly. “This is beef steak right?”

“Whatever you had in the freezer,” he took a big bite of steak, chewing thoughtfully. “Unless,” Michael paused, “you’re hiding a cannibalistic hobby from me.”

“You don’t know how delicious next door neighbors can be when cooked right.”

You both laughed before you grimaced at the thought and tucked into your plate, the instant the steak hit your tongue you let out a moan. Michael looked up a vivid red tinting his cheeks at the sound you just made.

“This is sooo good,” you took another big bite. Every horrible moment that you had experienced today melted away every second. Michael forgot his plate for just a second as he watched you enjoy the food he had painstakingly made for you. Every mistake and cut was worth it as he witnessed the bliss on your face and the laughter you both shared about minor details of each others’ day. After finishing up your whole steak and sides you didn’t think another bite of anything was possible but then Michael cleared away the plates and brought back a huge chocolate cake. Layered with a thick coat of chocolate buttercream and a shiny dark chocolate ganache on top. Wiping a droplet of drool at the sight of the decadent dessert, you suddenly dredged up the mental room in your stomach for a piece of the delicious looking cake. Michael served you once again, cutting a big enough slice it would take you two sittings to get through, but you didn’t mind. Your mouth watered seeing all the beautiful layers and chocolate goodness. But Michael didn’t move away and you suddenly got nervous. Was he feeling ornery? Was something bothering him?

But he only stepped away with no explanation, until he grabbed his chair and dragged it over closer to you. Though he was just sitting across the table from you it felt so far away and he couldn’t take a second longer being that far from you. He wasn’t too hungry for cake at the moment and there was just something about watching you enjoy every bite that had him feeling more full than he had in years. You seemed to curl into yourself at him being so close while you ate. You weren’t a very clean eater, especially when it came to chocolate cake, but he didn’t want you to feel that way around him in anything. Michael took your fork, his eyes leaving yours just for a second to get you a decent bite before bringing the fork up to your lips. Carefully you took the bite before your eyes rolled and sighed loudly at the wonderful flavors hitting your tongue.

“It’s absolutely delicious,” you chewed. “Michael you have to try some.”

His expression intensified pinning you to the back of your chair as he loomed over you. Dark locks of his wavy hair shadowing his dual colored eyes. He tilted your chin up, stroking your cheek with the rough pad of his thumb before capturing your mouth in a heated kiss. He didn’t keep it gentle for long as he forced himself into your hot mouth. The tastes of chocolate hitting his tongue mixed with the unique taste of you. It was his turn to moan as he explored, taking his time and stealing your breath. You clung tightly to his jacket, trying not to slip out of his embrace as the strength melted from your limbs. The chocolate cake was sweet but the motion of Michael against your tongue was even sweeter. Placing his hand on the back of your head and tangling his large fingers in the locks of your hair he pressed you closer as if he couldn’t devour you enough, before he finally pulled away. You gasped for air but still held tightly to him, cake suddenly forgotten. Pupil dilated in the brown of Michael’s one good eye, he sat back down.

“Delicious,” he smirked and you blushed deeply. You were thinking that he wasn’t talking about just the cake.

You both didn’t speak for several moments until you cut the silence by cutting one piece off of the cake and offered it to him. Michael took it, chewing thoughtfully as he watched you cut another piece, his eyes never missing a movement or the fact that your breathing was still rapid from his passionate attentions. It took every sliver of control to keep himself seated while you shared the rest of the cake together.

With stomachs close to busting from the amount of food, this time you took the initiative in the next part of the plan. Michael had thought that both of you could watch a little TV before calling it a night, but if there was something in particular you wanted to do, he wasn’t going to argue. Though he was confused as you lead them both outside through the back door. Shutting off the lights and not turning the outside light on, you opened the door a gentle breeze stirring the hairs that slipped out of your braid when Michael had kissed you. Stepping outside Michael didn’t hesitate and stepped outside with you. You sat down on the top step before patting right beside you. Michael took a seat keeping a tight grip on your hand. It didn’t take long for you to lean your head on his shoulder and Michael wrapped his arms around you, trying to cling to you as tightly as he could, to keep this moment from ever slipping away.

As you sat outside on the step with Michael his arms wrapped around you, you noticed your bald rose bushes you had planted a couple years ago beside the back door. You snorted loudly, stifling a laugh now that you finally solved the mystery where your lovely rose petal trail came from. (Hey Countess here, yes I know February is still winter and rose bushes won’t have flowers on them, but just shhhhh enjoy the story and let me have this! Okay back to the fluff!) He looked at you in confusion but you just shook your head. You didn’t want to embarrass him or make Michael feel bad that he had taken advantage of your beautiful rose bush. Blooms could grow back and it probably helped the plant anyway. You watched the world go by as the stars flickered in the midnight blue colored sky. For once the neighborhood was peaceful and you breathed in deeply. The chill in the air had you shivering a little as you didn’t grab a jacket to go over your sleeveless dress. Michael untangled himself from you to shrug off his leather jacket and drape it over your chilly shoulders. You curled into the warmth, sighing as it cut the chill from reaching you.

“It’s nights like this that really remind you that everything will be okay,” you whispered. “That things in the past don’t matter when the present is involved. I’ve hated Valentine’s Day personally for so long that just hearing that it was just around the corner always made me cringe. But I think you just changed that for me in the span of just one single night.”

Michael lifted you easily from the steps, placing you in his lap where he could hold onto you better. He buried his face in your warm neck, breathing in your calming vanilla scent as he tried to find the words. It was hard to explain how much he adored you and how he felt about every moment that he got to spend with you. He had thought that terrorizing Haddonfield had been his one purpose, to make them pay for the way that they treated him, ever since he was a child and then that fateful night had brought you to him. Now it seemed like the puzzle pieces were fitting right into place and he didn’t want to lose you when everything was finally going so right.

“I didn’t get to experience much of Valentine’s Day and I didn’t really get to experience much of anything normal that others have. Until you. I remember the parties held at school but that’s just barely. I want to have so many more firsts with you,” he kissed your shoulder, “I want to experience life with you.”

You gently brushed your hand against Michael’s rough cheek, relishing the scratch of his stubble when you kissed him on the forehead. “I want to experience life with you too. And eat more chocolate cake.”

He chuckled burying himself deeper into the crook of your neck and shoulder. His warm breath stirring against your skin, tickling and setting your nerves on fire. So you sat there on his lap, just holding onto him tightly while he held you, you both just relishing the silence. The words unspoken, not needing to be vocalized to understand. Time passed by slowly until Michael could feel you starting to get cold and shivering slightly against him. Without effort he stood up, still holding you in his arms and carried you inside. With another small kiss he sent you on your way to change into some comfortable pajamas so you both could enjoy a movie before bed. You didn’t argue but tugged him along wanting him to change into something more comfortable too. Though it pained you to see him get out of that gorgeous shirt that only hugged him in all the right ways. You teased him all the way to the closet where you somehow talked him into forgoing a shirt entirely.

That’s how you found yourself sprawled out on the couch on top of Michael, your legs tangled with his as you traced lazy circles into the skin of his chest. His breath hitching and finding it hard to concentrate on the movie with you touching him so tenderly. He grabbed your hand bringing it up to his mouth where he bestowed sweet kisses to each digit, in turn making you squirm. He grinned triumphantly, enjoying the way that he could turn the tables on you. You had an effect on him and he couldn’t help but feel smug when he could see that he did the same to you. So with one little sentence he finished the night quickly.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he murmured huskily in your ear. You sucked in a quick breath, never believing that anyone saying that sentence to you could hold so much power, but when he did it in that tone, it was like kryptonite.

“Happy Valentine’s Day Michael,” you whispered back, voice failing. He chuckled deeply before switching off the TV and scooping you back up to carry you back to the bedroom. The movie was boring anyway as he closed the bedroom door and all memories of past Valentine’s Day melted away on the taste of sweet kisses that tasted of chocolate cake and hushed giggles that sounded like calming wind chimes in a gentle breeze.

#Michael Myers X Reader #Michael Myers / Reader #Michael Myers #Valentines Day #Michael Myers Imagine #Valentines Imagine #Halloween #Halloween Imagine #Fanfic #Not My Gif #My Writing

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windblume-wishes · 1 month ago

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I’m Breaking Our Silence… Our Story Needs to be Told…

Note: Real names will NOT be used and the name of the school will NOT be mentioned for safety purposes.

I’m going to tell a story about a class, a class quite frankly no English Major should be taking as it’s truly a scam.

People like to throw around the notion that university is a scam, well, in this particular instance it is a scam. We were scammed in the worst way possible, taking a “required” course for our English Degrees that no other school in the country has to take. This class is called “Junior Seminar”, a class of anything but its branded title.

About The Class: Our Experience

It’s a “themed seminar class” (we use this term lightly) for English majors and must be a declared English major, Secondary-Education English major, or English minor.

Now this class was none of that, there was no “theme”- well, other than it being Hell I suppose there would be no other theme. This class was not what we were promised. We were promised a rich experience that would strengthen our comprehensive understanding of English and literary history as well as enriching us with the knowledge necessary for understanding complex literature. We received 12 weeks of rubbish, belittling, insulting, ridicule, and targeted harassment as well as off topic nonsense that would hinder our learning experience completely.

We received word last minute about the sudden change in professors around August 15th-18th due to our assigned professor going on maternity leave (congrats on the baby, Professor A!!) and being assigned a familiar face, Professor V. Now Professor V was actually a very welcome surprise for many of us as we had previous classes with her and we had zero issues, if anything we were happy and beyond excited to see her be our professor yet again. However, that quickly became a nightmare no one was expecting.

The class started off smoothly with a clear syllabus and with a somewhat clear outlook as to what we would do, nothing out of the ordinary, start off with Shakespeare’s The Tempest and move onto other titles like Jazz and Crazy Brave later on. However, we soon realized that this was not what the syllabus, the literal class outline, had at all for the week after we covered The Tempest. We watched a movie called Orlando, and truthfully, we are still baffled as to how that even happened as it was NOT on the syllabus- though, seeing as the professor is the biggest simp for Virginia Woolf this was bound to happen. We spent multiple three hour classes to watch the movie after a heavy political rant or the nonstop talk about how Professor V absolutely adores Virginia Woolf.

How long did we spend on Virginia Woolf? Oh about four weeks. Four painful weeks of utter rubbish.

We went multiple weeks following an entirely new syllabus that we never planned for nor were aware of. We were at Week 7-8 when we started talking about our important 15-20 page paper that is due at the end of week 12. We have every right to be angry, voice our frustration.

“Your paper seems rushed… yeah…” or “That’s not how Virginia Woolf is, I believe something different” mixed with comments about her biased narrative on said author and characters. No, the paper was not rushed, YOU graded it twenty minutes before class was to start and the student had turned it in days prior and put countless hours into the paper/review.

Whenever we would turn things in we would receive strange feedback, sometimes insulting feedback about how it did not fit “her narrative” or her “ideology” solely because of how an individual interpreted a character or a story. I’m partially convinced some of this harsh criticism was racially motivated or biased towards specific individuals and/or groups of students.

We were given multiple “Pop Up” projects where we had to present in front of the class over some random and unrelated topic and create slides, a pamphlet, a zine, or anything. It was ridiculous. We were given random movies to watch because she felt like it, she thought it would fit with the lesson that quite literally did not fit the class or a lesson plan that is intended for an upper division English course.

It’s Week 12, the class has technically finished and we are STILL writing our papers. We are STILL suffering, she made so many last minute changes to how she wants our paper that it’s pissing us off. “Highlight the topic sentence of each paragraph”, “underline the thesis so I don’t get confused”, “italicize this and bold that” it’s no longer MLA… she legit told us to our faces on Thursday during class that is MLA.

I’m an English major and the things she CLAIMS are MLA are NOT MLA. I want to know what the hell she is on because I am about to snap.

The Group Chat

Now, for complete transparency I will add that I did make a class Discord chat, I sent out invites to my classmates who I knew needed a place to vent frustrations, talk things over, or even request help if needed for an assignment. I wanted this space to be one where all of us could unwind and vent without needing to say so verbally. However, that all changed when a student let’s call her M tattled on us and said that there was a chat where people were “saying mean things”. I will be honest, while harsh, these were vents from students and myself. Venting is normal and it’s good for people to do. Especially students with a professor who is not teaching what she is supposed to.

I deleted the chat the second M decided to start acting strange, J said we needed to get the chat taken down, G, K and E agreed too. We all knew something was up as M never shows up to class and suddenly has this intense look of “I will do something to ruin you lot”.

The next week we started class and noticed the professor was angry, M sat across from us in the classroom with this evil smirk on her face that told that she did something and would enjoy what happened next. The professor was furious that we excluded her from the group chat and even said we were frustrated with how the class was going.

“This never would’ve happened if I was a man!” She said loudly.

“It was like… ruining my learning experience…” said another girl who never showed up to class nor joined the group chat. “The professor should have been involved in the chat.”

“If the professor was there wouldn’t that take away from freedom of speech?” Said J.

J stood up to the professor for calling people out for this and for saying a class group chat falls under freedom of speech and expression, legally, it does and is allowed as long as no illegal activity happens such as narcotics and other nastiness.

The professor claimed she went to the department head and turned us in but the second J said she would record everything and call in the department head to be witness to the professor’s outbursts the woman froze and you could tell she was scared. Which lead us to believe that the “telling the department” was a bluff and she never did. If she truly told the department about everything then why was she so scared of a student saying she wants to bring the department in as witness?

“You cant talk to the professor like that!” Said a student, however, J was being very civil and respectful but stern. J was not going to tolerate this woman disrespecting her in front of the entire class because she was angry.

Throughout the evening, M kept glaring at my friends and I on the opposite end of the room with a psychotic look that meant “I am watching you all”. She would get up and walk slowly behind K and G looking at their screens and even flipped me off on her way out of the room.

While we did apologize to the professor, who was very thankful for the apology and even wanted to start over again with us, we still kept a secret chat to vent as a small closed group of four. We weren’t going to let her or anyone else find out.

Shortly after class I received this message in my tumblr inbox directly after the class from who we now believe was from M:

Hello “Blume” or should I say [censored], yes, you were a breeze to find. I remember the zine you made in one class, I remember the cover you drew, I saw you working on editing your business page once by chance in the [censored] Cafe. I hope you enjoyed the show during class, I certainly did. Just know [censored], I will be monitoring you specifically.

It hit me, M was in my other classes from last semester and in the Zine Club I left. We also competed in a writing competition and I won third place while she placed somewhere else behind me. I knew M was the person who disrespected me in the publishing class in the Google Doc. It all made sense. M was angry and wanted to do something to me no matter what the consequences were.

After Halloween, I told the professor about the message and her response to me was “Well you can’t turn it in to the school as it has no name to the sender, just anonymous. You can’t tell the department either. You must remain silent.”

I told my friends and they were speechless, what professor says something like that?!

The next week or so I had a meeting with the professor and talked about the situation again, she HINTED heavily that M knows I told her. Meaning that the professor TOLD M everything.

“Well perhaps that student knows you spoke up and that’s a problem… yeah…”

M knew, I realized that a few classes later when she showed up unbelievably early when the classroom was empty and I was alone. M saw me in the window’s reflection and bursted in angrily. I swear the energy in the room changed and felt suffocating when she entered. M sat across the room from me and glared at me all hunched over as she typed away on her computer. I texted J immediately saying bi needed to leave the room, thankfully J was in the lobby down the hall so I could go there for safety.

I grabbed my coffee and left my bag with my laptop and iPad which are passcode locked in my bag on the floor strategically placed so I would know if it was moved or tampered with. I left with my phone, earbud case, and coffee. I wanted to make it look like I was going to pick something up outside and would be right back. M just glared evilly and kept her eyes on me. It was creepy.

Throughout class M never took her eyes off me, it scared me but I played it cool. I refused to let her scare me. I kept silent, not wanting to say or do anything.

When class finished I told my parents everything, I said I did not feel safe, my dad began to sit in the lobby when I was in class because he did not know what that psycho could do. I never felt more in danger than then.

How Did M Know?

Simple, M and Professor V seem to have this strange bond, it’s almost as if M has her wrapped around her finger. M follows her out to her car and chats, pulls her to the hallway to chat and even plays the innocent sweetheart card to look like the ideal person. Professor V is blind to that and would likely tell M anything if M asked. Professor V would likely let anything slip because she has sort of claimed M as a favourite of sorts, even spending the last class talking with M the most all buddy-buddy as if they get coffee every Saturday morning together.

It would not surprise me if Professor V told M about how she saw the message M sent me and how I am onto her. I would not be surprised in the slightest….

Conclusion…

In the end we will all be talking to the department head when our grades drop, we are done. We went through hell.

This story will continue when we talk to the department head. I will share what happens next. This story is far from over…

- Windblume

#windblume rambles #class drama #college discourse #bad experiences #university

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actuallykiwi · 3 months ago

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The Auction: Part 4

Things are about to get awkward. But don't worry, you know it has a happy ending.

(Slight trigger warning ⚠️ The end of this chapter features some mild violence from a drunk that may be triggering to some. Please be advised if this applies to you, and seek help if needed. Take care of you 💙)

Sheridan Hotel is massive. I've seen the MGM Grand in Vegas before, and though it's not quite as big, it's up there. Addison, Ethan, and I make our way to the grandiose conference hall where Aria Sheridan waits excitedly.

"Ahh, I'm so glad you could make it!" Aria squeezes us in a tight hug and leads us to a table. "Thank you so much for volunteering! I promise you won't regret it~" "Anything for you, Aria. Just tell us where to go." Ethan works up his charm. He's always been attracted to money. She smiles sweetly at him. "Ethan, you'll be standing by the crowd and keeping an eye out for bidders during the auction. You two will stand at this table, sign people in, and hand out the bidding cards as people arrive." Aria guides Addison and I to the other side of the table where several paper-fan-style bidding cards lie in bins. "Sounds easy enough. So tell me what this is for, again?" I ask.

"It's a Celebrity Date Auction! Several of Hollywood's most eligible singles have volunteered to be auctioned for a date! Winners will go on basically the most romantic date ever, all expenses paid. And all proceeds go to my Save the Great Barrier Reef foundation, so it's for a good cause, too!" "Wait, so these celebs have volunteered to go on a date with complete strangers??" I'm a little taken aback. Isn't that dangerous? "Don't worry, everyone who signed up to auction has gone through a background check to be safe, and the dates will be in very public places. While they're technically under contract, if someone feels unsafe, they can opt out as a last resort." Aria explains. "Oh. Good to know," I nod, a bit relieved.

Aria sets us all up with what we need, and soon we're checking in dozens of people and ushering them in front of the stage. I'm impressed, but not really surprised by the sheer amount of people wanting to go on a blind date with a celebrity. I'm maybe more surprised that it's not more crowded. Aria takes the stage and starts introductions, then the auction begins. Most celebrities aren't quite A-listers, but I recognize a majority of their works. So far, every one gets a date, though.

"Next up, you may know him as the director of the Audrey-winning sensation 'Ruin'..." "No. Way." My jaw drops and I turn to Addison, who mirrors me. "Or as number 33 in Starlet Magazine's Sexiest People... Currently a professor at Hollywood University, it is my pleasure to present our next date, Thomas Hunt!"

Hunt stands in the spotlight of the stage, looking none-too thrilled to be there. The bid starts and some cards start flying up. Part of me wishes I could bid, to be honest, but I know it would never happen.

Or... I thought it wouldn't. Then Addison steps out from the table to back of the crowd, and she and Ethan nod at each other from across the room.

Addison's card is the last to fly up.

"Aaaand going once, going twice... SOLD! To our dear friend, Annie!" Aria smiles brightly directly at me. "What!?" Hunt and I both yell in unison. "I didn't know my students could be part of this!! Hold on-" "NOW, let's move on to our next date!" Aria pushes Hunt to the side of the stage where one of the stagehands moves him to make room for the next person. Addison saunters back to me, a triumphant, evil grin on her face. "You're ever so welcome~" "Ads, hang on, I appreciate the gesture but there's no way-" "Uhp-uhp-uhp, we've already won the bid. Ethan and I are splitting the price, and you, my dear, are expensive. So no takebacksies."

"Wait, Ethan was in on this???" "And Aria. And a couple others." I can only gape at her. "We just want you to be happy, Annie. Now, you stay here, I've gotta go pay for your date, and then once the auction is over, you go meet Hunt at your first stop." She begins to walk away. "Addison, please wait-" "It's for charity!" She looks back at me and winks, then I'm alone at the table. I hide my head on its cold surface, which quickly warms up from my burning face.

*******

The auction goes on for another half hour or so. Then I receive a text in a group of two unknown numbers.

"Congratulations on winning a date with -Thomas Hunt-! Please proceed next door to conference room 01B for your first activity! The rest of your itinerary for the evening to follow."

My face still red hot, I rise from my chair with a deep breath. Then I see a flash of blond and I'm suddenly wrapped in a tight hug. "I'm sorry we didn't tell you, but we wanted this to be a surprise. You two are such a good match, and I promise tonight will prove it." "Ads, you don't know that. I guarantee you he's screaming at Aria right now to reopen the bidding." "Mm, probably, but he'll get over it. Especially when he's having such a good time with you. Now go on! And I want to hear all about it!" Addison sends me off with a butt smack before running off to help break down the event. Ethan is of course nowhere to be seen, probably avoiding my wrath.

And now I get to go deal with Hunt's. And as always, my assumption is correct. A security guard stands between Aria and a tomato-red Thomas Hunt in the next room over, where all the other lucky couples wait in a steadily-moving line. "I'm sorry, that's now how this works." Aria's explaining patiently. She sees me approach and shoots me a quick wink. "If it's about money, then I'll pay double what they bid." "Ouch." I cringe as I approach them. Hunt's face turns a different shade of red, but not an angry one. "Anneka... we can't do this. Let me repay it." He shoots to Aria. "Well, we're always taking donations! But you're under contract to see this date through." Hunt's fists are clenched and shaking slightly in frustration. Finally, he sighs in resignation. "...Fine. Then where do we start?" "Join the line behind you, and you'll start with a cute photo shoot! Have fun, you two~" Aria winks at me one more time before she strides away with the security guard who eyes Hunt skeptically.

Silently we join the line, Hunt's jaw working and his eyes acutely avoiding me. "I apologize for this. I had no idea they were planning this, or that you would even be here... What are you doing here anyways? You seem like you would avoid something like this like the plague." "Typically, yes. And do not mistake this for something I want to do. I was asked, and it's not in good taste to deny the Sheridan's. As annoying as some of them are..." He adds under his breath. "That makes more sense." I nod understandingly. "And what about you? You're not as, what's the term, 'boy crazy' as your friend, Addison. So why come to something like this?" "Same boat. I volunteered to help with bidding, and got roped into it, just like you."

He only nods and moves forward with the line. "Well, we're already here... make the most of it?" I offer. Hunt shoots me a glare, but it's not as hostile as normal. When we get to the front of the line, three separate photography booths are set up. We're directed to the one in the middle, where the photographer greets us and points us to a backdrop and a box of props. The backdrop is of a fantasy kingdom with a castle taking up most of the space, complete with a village, dragons, and even a rainbow. The box of props holds crowns, tiaras, robes, wands, and all kinds of cheesy royalty wear.

I can't help but giggle at Hunt's disgusted face. "Come on, at least try to have some fun!" "I am not dressing up." "Stop being such a royal pain and get over here. Do it for charity." Even the photographer snickers at my pun. Hunt rolls his eyes dramatically and gives in. He goes with an oversized fuzzy crown and robe, while I go with an elegant plastic tiara and flowing royal shawl. "So, how do I look?" I pose regally. "Like a queen..." I blink. "...what?" He shakes his head. "Like a queen. Is that not what you're dressed up as?" I flip my hair and grin. "Why, thank you!" He sighs again and the photographer begins to pose us. When they move us closer together, his hand goes begrudgingly on my back, and my hand rests on his chest. For being so stoic and grumpy, his heart is beating awful fast. No doubt mine is, too.

We take a few pictures like that, one serious and one smiling, well, me smiling at least. Then we're told to go "freestyle", so I start having fun with the props; I dramatically pose with a wand, Hamlet pose with a plastic skull, and do my best to get him to join in on the fun. Anything to make him seem at least less uncomfortable, and he definitely wasn't comfortable touching me.

Eventually, I dig through the box and find a dragon puppet and a sword. "Oh perfect! We can slay a dra-OH!" Only, the sword I pull out isn't a sword. It's a bow that was folded and squished down to the bottom of the box, which unfolds and smacks me in the face as I stand back up. The photographer and I are belly laughing as I hold my forehead and stumble back a bit, Hunt catching me. I glimpse him through my squinted eyes, but his head is turned and he's laughing too. The camera flashes.

******

"Those are to be posted nowhere." Hunt warns as we drive to our next destination. I scroll through the pictures of our photoshoot and smile. There's one I am definitely printing, though he will never know that. I'm laughing happily while holding my forehead, and Hunt's head is low and to the side, but you can tell that he's laughing too. His hand is on my back. We look like we're having fun. "Nowhere, Anneka." He repeats. "Understood, professor." I say. But I'm still grinnin' like an idiot.

Hunt parks and we walk to our dinner reservation for the night. Chateau de Rose glows golden amidst the streetlights. Strings and accordion pour from the open windows, roses accent almost every nook and cranny, and everywhere, couples are making heart eyes across their white-clothed table.

Hunt groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I should have recognized the address. I swore I'd never come here again..." "You've been here before?" "A long time ago. I'd rather not talk about it." "Was the food that bad?" I tease, trying to make light of things. "I said I'd rather not talk about it." He gives me his signature glare and we approach the host stand outside.

Our table was outside under a handsome gazebo, but per Hunt's request, we are lead to a dark, secluded corner, near the kitchen. Still romantic, but whatever he's comfortable with.

Hunt is very, very into the menu. The only time he looks up is to tell the waiter what he wants. I have to make conversation, if nothing else to ease the tension and make this less awkward. "So... what does Professor Hunt do for fun?" His eyes slowly rise from the menu to meet mine through his eyelashes. "What are you doing?" "Um... making conversation?" I shrug. "Unnecessary." And he goes back to the menu. I nod and try to act interested in mine, but I find myself just rereading the same item over and over again. I take to picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of my cardigan.

Hunt sighs and his menu lands on the table. "...nothing fun, in the way you're asking. Though from time to time, when mindlessly scrolling through social media, I'll come across a past student's work, and if it interests me enough, I'll critique it." I leave my cardigan alone. "Critique it? Not compliment?" He scoffs. "It takes a lot to get a compliment from me. Very few have had the honor." "Well, those who have must have earned it. Any in particular come to mind?"

And then we're talking. I'm having a full-blown conversation with Thomas Hunt and he's not scowling at me the whole time. He tells me about a past student who created a short film that went on to win several awards and possibly a feature-length film in the future. I tell him about the first film I ever starred in as an extra. He complains about the director of that film and we have mutual comments about the rest of the crew. Everything just flows... smoothly.

I hardly even realize that dessert has come and gone before our plates are being taken and we're thanked for dining there. Then Hunt looks around as if remembering we're in public, and that crease on his forehead is back. Oh my god, I'm even noticing the creases on his forehead. What is wrong with me. He clears his throat and stands. "So, where do we have to go next?" As I stand, he's already marching for the door. I speed-walk to keep up. "Uh, the aquarium. In keeping with Aria's Great Barrier Reef theme." "Then let's go."

******

The aquarium had just closed about half an hour ago, but they're keeping it open after-hours specifically for this event. Oddly enough, there's not many other couples here. It's nice to explore the open aquarium without the crowd. "This is so cool!" I grin as we make our way through the first exhibits and I don't have to peer over someone's shoulder. "It's admittedly interesting." Hunt grumbles. He glances at the fish, but has now taken to gluing his eyes on his watch. That's right, the date's contractually over at midnight. Which leaves us with not much time.

I try not to dwell on it as we go through. Me and my excited self are oohing and ahhing over all the critters. I play with an otter through the glass as it follows my hand. I look back at Hunt and try to get him to join, but he quickly looks away. Eventually, we make our way to the "Underwater Encounter" section. A tunnel leads under a massive tank, giving the feeling of actually being in it. We're alone down here, aside from all the sea creatures swimming around us. It's incredible. Even Hunt's eyes are a little wide as we get a full surrounding view.

I take it all in, smiling. When I look over at Hunt, his gaze is on me. Then he clears his throat and looks away. I can't hide my blush as I awkwardly look away too. "So... what do you think so far?" "The turtles were boring. The jellyfish dreadfully more so. The otters... were cute." He admits, now avoiding my gaze. "Coming from you, that's a rave review." He chuckles. "Well, watching you play with them made it more interesting. Watching you have fun all night tonight has actually been the high-" he stops. Then he shakes his head and turns away. "Never mind."

"It's actually been the what?" I step a bit closer. He glances at me and I can see him blush. He hesitates to speak. "It's... been the highlight of the night. Watching you be so carefree and have fun, regardless of who's watching you. Like you have no insecurities." I actually laugh out loud. His eyes widen. "No insecurities!? Are you kidding? Hunt, I have been a nervous freaking wreck all night. I have fun because I want to! And because it's better than sitting bashfully twiddling my thumbs. Believe me, I care immensely about what others think of me. Especially you." His brow furrows. "Me?" "Well... yeah. But you knew that already." I shrug and turn out toward the glass. No sense being embarrassed about it, I already confessed.

"Oh..." he blushes and stands next to me, hands in his pockets. It's quiet for a moment. "...You don't seem insecure. Sometimes you're the picture of confidence." He says. "Because I am a fantastic actress. Why do you think I went into this business?" I grin. But he's not smiling. In fact, he looks almost angry. "But, you shouldn't be. Whoever made you feel like this doesn't know you at all." My smile turns sad. "And who exactly am I, Hunt? You once called me naive and childish for dreaming so much."

His hands are in fists at his sides. "I was wrong. You dream big, but someone like you deserves to. Even with insecurities, you never give up without a fight. You're brave, intelligent, charming, talented, and-... beautiful."

My eyes are wide as I turn to face him. This time, he doesn't turn away. His eyes are searching mine, and his breathing is slightly heavy from his speech. I realize he's mere inches from me. My voice comes out soft and nervous. "Hunt, I know you probably don't want this, but... indulge me? At least this once." My heart is racing as I lean up on my tiptoes, placing my hands on his chest to balance. He doesn't move.

And in one, sweet moment, I close the gap, and I kiss Thomas Hunt.

I swear there's a spark, and then I feel him lean ever-so-slightly forward. And he's kissing me back. His hands reach up and hold my arms.

And then the moment is over. Hunt snaps back and holds my hands up. "Annie... we can't." He drops my hands and steps away. I nod sadly. "I know." He runs a hand down his face. "Are there any more activities we're required to do?" I check the itinerary. "No, but it's not midnight yet-" "Then let's go get a drink."

*******

To end the night, Hunt takes us to a bar across from campus. Any attempts at conversation are met with him swiftly shutting it down. He is content to drink the night away. I am not, but there isn't much I can do. A trio of frat guys play pool and yell at the TV nearby. Not really a place for quiet conversation anyways.

Fortunately, the awkwardness doesn't last much longer, as the clock strikes midnight and Hunt abruptly stands from his stool. "So, that's it then?" "Yes. I have met my contractual obligations for the night, and we are no longer required to be together." He puts his blazer back on and leaves cash for the tab. "Goodnight, Anneka." And then he scurries out the door.

"...Goodnight." I whisper to his long-gone form.

So, that's it, indeed. Who was I to ever get my hopes up like that? That kiss was the only chance I would ever have, and I don't regret it a single bit. A student and a professor is horrifically frowned upon and probably downright illegal. It never would have actually worked anyways.

Then... why the hell does it hurt so much?

The bartender brings tissues and wine to the corner where I'm sitting. I laugh and thank them, wiping at my face. But then I am met with an overwhelming smell of cheap beer and Axe body spray. "Whatsamatter, baby? Grandpa can't handle all o' you?" One of the frat guys has staggered over to me and is leaning on the bar over my shoulder. The drunken smell is nauseating.

"No, I think it's all of you he can't handle." I smile wearily and lean away. "Aww, he done left ya? You need some company, shweetheart?" He slurs. "Mm, I'll pass, thanks. Wine is company enough right now." I raise my glass to him. He swats it away, spilling it on me, and drapes an arm over my shoulders. "I'm soorrry, baby, I didn't mean-" I shove him off of me and look down at my ruined dress. "I said, I'll pass, thanks."

The drunk staggers back and his face turns into pure rage. "Now you wanna be a b*tch cause I got wine on ya? Think you're high and mighty?" He bellows. I move to retort, but then his fist collides with my cheek. My head slams into the wall behind me, and I see stars as I fall to my knees on the floor.

My ears are ringing loudly. I can hear shouting from someone, the bartender maybe? Then I feel pounding footsteps, and look up to see someone deck the drunk and send him flying across the room. It's blurry, but I think he's out cold. Good riddance.

There's more talking, then I feel hands gently helping me to my feet. It takes a moment to focus, but I realize I'm in Hunt's arms. He feels around my hair, and I wince when he reaches a certain spot on the back of my head. He shines a flashlight in my eyes, but I realize what he's doing.

"Not concussed, just bruised." He sounds relieved. He receives a bag of ice from the bartender and hold it under my eye. Sweet, cold relief. "Are you alright?" He asks gently. "Think so," I manage. "I'm taking her to campus. Make sure that thing gets locked away." Hunt calls to the bartender, a deep scowl directed at the knocked out drunk in the floor.

There's a small clinic on campus, usually open 24 hours. The overnight nurse is never surprised to see a drunk or hungover student stumbling in during the late night hours. Tonight is no different when she sees Hunt helping me walk to one of the beds. He peppers instructions at her, and she closes the curtain and goes to get what he needs. What I need, I guess.

Hunt gently removes the ice pack from my face and moves it to the bump on my head. I yelp at the sudden cold of it and he brushes a thumb across my un-bruised cheek. "I know, I know, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry this happened, Annie..." The nurse returns with another ice pack and some medicine. He doesn't move his hand. "Anything else you need?" "Privacy." He states. The nurse's eyebrows raise, but she leaves us be.

We're both quiet as he applies medicine under my eye. It stings, but in a good way. "You'll definitely bruise for a bit. Bastard must have had a ring on, what with this little gash..." I say nothing as he finishes and applies a bandage. I have nothing to say.

He swallows. "I never should have left you there alone. I had a bad feeling about those guys, but I was too afraid, too-" he stops, like he's searching for words. "I'm sorry. I'm just glad you're alright." "Mostly." He looks up at me. I shrug and smile sadly. I feel a tear slide down my cheek. "I'll be fine. A punch to the face and the heart won't kill me. Time will pass and I'll get over it." Partially a lie. My face will heal. My heart? She's not good at it. "Annie-" he starts. "The only thing I can't figure out is... why did you come back?"

Hunt looks away briefly. Swallows. Then he looks back at me, something different in his expression. He wipes away that tear. "Everyone has his weaknesses."

Then Hunt's arms are wrapped around me, gently cradling my aching head. "You're mine, Annie."

(Disclaimer: The original story, places, names, some dialogue, and all characters except for Annie belong to Pixelberry from their game Hollywood U: RIsing Stars. Thank you for reading!)

#annie sinclair oc #hollywood u #hollywood u: rising stars #hollywood u rewrite #thomas hunt

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