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setsugekka · 1 year

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『atarashī 』 ; 01

❝ birthday blues ❞ | mlist ｡

student!hongjoong x fem!reader, husband!yeosang x fem!reader — drama, dark romance, mystery, heavy sexual content [4,4k wc] ch cws: unprotected car sex, marital argument, general drama and angst because things suck.

"Happy birthday!"

The sound of bottles popping, your friends, family and colleagues cheering for you in celebration of another milestone—not as pleasant as some of the others, you've got to admit.

What's so happy about it?

Lackluster marriage, uninspiring job, nothing in particular that gives you reason to wake up bright eyed and ready for the day ahead of you each morning. Still, you force a smile; thank everyone for coming out and take a sip of champagne as pressed into your hands by your adoring and well-meaning husband.

"At least try to pretend you're having fun," he says, a murmur kept between the two of you only. "I've got to catch a flight soon, let's have a good end to the evening before I do."

You look up from the floor and towards Yeosang—suit pressed to perfection and long, wavy hair that you remember once upon a time really liking on him—it's not that you don't like it now, it's just that you have a hard time finding joy in much of anything nowadays.

"I am, I'm happy," you lie with a smile, and knowing perfectly well that he knows as much. Your husband won't argue with you on the fact, though. Maybe a few years ago, but not now. "I love you, thank you for putting this together."

"How does it feel to be thirty?" he asks with a glass pressed to his lips, the both of you standing off to the side and gazing out towards the crowd of people—all there for you.

Horrible, terrifying, boring, uneventful. Nothing. All at once, though you don't particularly want to answer with even one of them, so, you don't.

"The same." Not a lie, not really.

"Shall we go celebrate it then? Make it a little bit more special?" Yeosang's lips curl upwards, something mischievous. Birthmark on full display, you're happy that he didn't cover it up tonight—a small gift from him to you.

And you know precisely what he is intending by that. You want to shrug, but it's not the best answer to such a proposition.

Down the stairs and towards the car park the two of you go.

It's late enough in the evening that the garage is largely empty—a rented out office space used for your birthday party and long after hours for the majority of the employees that might otherwise be traversing the grounds. You're thankful for that, with the fog that has now collected upon the windows of your husband's luxury vehicle.

Yeosang's fingers are tightly planted into the flesh of your hips, mouths frequently finding one another in sloppy, poorly-attempted kisses as you grind your hips down against his lap in the backseat of his car. Certainly time better spent than upstairs, easier to forget about all of the things that you hate to acknowledge about this evening—about your life.

"Will you miss me?" he asks in a groan, pulling you down harder against him as best as he can. "I'm going to miss you."

You kiss him again, more intent behind this one than the others, because you will. Yeosang is often gone, it's been like this for years, and while you've mostly become accustomed to sleeping alone in your marital bed, there still lies within it a pang of displeasure that you've long since given up on voicing—having learned years prior that doing so will get you nowhere as far as his time spent home with you.

"Of course I will, I always do."

As if aroused by that fact alone, Yeosang's earnest grip firms even more, drags you along his length faster and with a goal in mind as his lips travel down from yours and instead go to work nipping and sucking small, light marks into the flesh of your neck just below. An airy moan escapes you, whispering to him that you're close, not to stop, that you love him; and Yeosang demands for you to come for him upon feeling the fact that you're reaching the precipice of doing so.

When you do, it's with fingers woven into his long, dark hair and his quiet chant against your skin that comes out as nothing but praise. Yeosang comes shortly thereafter—deep inside of you and with a contented sigh following.

Leaning back ever so slightly, you press a chaste kiss to his lips, and he smiles as a result of it.

"You're going to have to go back inside with quite a parting gift from me," he says, coyly referring to the mess left between your legs.

You frown. "You aren't coming back upstairs with me to say goodbye?"

"I just said goodbye," he answers. You can parse through it well enough a hint of contention despite his attempt in concealing it. Like he's anticipating a fight coming.

Lips straightening thin, you sigh and begin removing yourself from his lap—readjusting your undergarments and skirt in preparation for your walk of shame back up to the party. You don't want this to turn into a fight, not that it would be the first time in relation to situations such as this one.

Yeosang must notice the change in your demeanor in spite of your attempt to conceal it, because he lets out a similarly exasperated sigh; like it's a competition to see which one of you can be more disgruntled by the outcome of this particular happening.

"Don't be like that," he says. "Come on, do you really want to ruin tonight? On your birthday?"

On your birthday, as if that's meant to be some sort of bargaining chip from him to you. As if it's his party, his night, and you're harshing his good time.

"I didn't say anything, if you have to go then you have to go."

"Yeah, I do, so why are you acting like this? Do we have to do this every single time?"

You look back at him from over your shoulder, hand gripping the handle of the door and more than ready to escape the confines of his car now. Suffocating inside of it.

"I've long since given up trying to fight with you about this stuff. About having you around more, about you being more present. I've very much come to terms with the fact that you will come and go as you please, and that I have no other option than to shut up and deal with it."

"And I'm sure you hate the nice apartment, the nice car, the extra funding for the theater and ample, unchecked spending money that comes as a result of my lack of presence."

A couple of beats of silence pass between the two of you after that, you sigh first, then open the door and kick your feet out in order to begin your exit.

"It's not about the money, Yeosang. Not everything is about the money."

You watch him chuckle under his breath, as if the whole thing is exhaustingly comical to him. It probably is, because you've had this very same conversation so many times before. You're finding just as little joy in it as he is, and can't help but wonder if he has even considered as much.

Tucking himself back inside of his pants and tending to the buckle, he glances over at you.

"If you want me around more then we can move into one of the old storage rooms of the theater, clear out some space among the scrap wood and fabrics. Wouldn't that be nice?"

The sarcasm in his voice goes none appreciated by you, and as you stare it him quietly for a few moments’ time, you make peace with the fact that this conversation, like all others—is going nowhere useful.

"Have a good trip."

The car door shuts with an unintentional, but resoundingly loud bang.

You hope for a quiet re-entry, that no one has noticed you're gone or makes any assumptions about why that is. From behind the large door leading inside, you take a deep breath; center yourself so that you can put on a good enough mask, so that no one has to ask what's wrong.

It's been so long that you've been going back and forth with Yeosang about this, part of you is shocked that you even still have the capacity to feel about it at all.

The door pulls open, and with one step inside, your best friend is found awaiting your presence—perched steadfast right beside the opening and with two drinks in hand.

"Welcome back."

There's a particular look of knowing on Seonghwa's face as he says it—which makes sense, all things considered—and you take the glass from him that he gently extends towards you. A large sip follows in the silence that hangs between you, gazing out at the party while it carries on without you.

You can feel the reluctance wafting off of him from beside you, but with it comes the need to address the elephant in the room. There's no escaping this conversation, much like so many others.

"Yeosang left?"

"Flight to catch."

"Ah," he replies, simple enough. Takes a sip to cut the tension a little bit. "Well, it's the beginning of the school year, that's something to look forward to, isn't it?"

You hum, a nod accompanying it. "I've still got some loose ends to tie up before we start letting students into the theater, there's a leaky pipe backstage that I'm going to have to deal with before it becomes a much larger issue, but beyond that I'm mostly ready to have the place crawling with the usual artistic types. They're nice, sort of a joy to have around with how bright-eyed they are in comparison to me."

A chuckle carries from you at the tail end of the sentence, Seonghwa smiles at it, understands that it's part of the mask.

"Have you ever thought of giving the place up? Moving out of the city with Yeosang somewhere and just...settling down? I can't imagine you need the place all that much considering the hefty inheritance you were left."

You shrug, lifeless.

"We spent a lot of it on the wedding, another lot of it on the apartment—besides, it's the only thing I've really got left from my family. Hard to let go of such an heirloom, ya know? Besides, it keeps me busy when Yeosang is gone."

"Which is most of the time."

"Yeah."

Seonghwa kicks back the remaining liquid in his glass, you follow suit. He nudges towards the balcony as a silent request for him to follow you and you do so without so much as a question. The air is more brisk but clearer up here—far better than the outdoors of a stuffy parking garage.

You watch him take out a cigarette, playfully grimace at the sight of it as he lights it, but he only goes as far as to flash you a look that says don't bother with the dramatics.

"Is this just how it's going to be forever then?" Seonghwa asks plainly, curt. Like now that you're outside he's able to speak freely on the matter in a way that he couldn't before. "Your husband is always gone, you spend all your time tending to a bunch of uni students and a century year old theater hall? That's everything?"

You find yourself wondering much of the same.

He takes a drag of his cigarette before starting up again. "I know you gave up a lot to be with this guy, and I know you love him, but is this what you wanted? Can you live the rest of your life like this?"

"Hwa," you groan, a hand in the air to swat away the smoke that travels towards you, though that's far from the thing that irritates you the most about this interaction. "It's not like that. It's tough now but Yeosang's on track to retire early, and it'll all be worth it then."

"Yeah, if you two make it to then."

That makes you reel, a look of slight disgust towards him for so much as suggesting such a thing, and while Seonghwa tends to be steadfast in his approach, even he is willing to resign himself to perhaps going too far with this one.

"Look, all I'm saying is that this is far from the first time we've had nights like this. I know you want to be happy, but wanting to be happy and actually being happy are two vastly different things, and I worry about how long you're willing to stick it out through the misery in hopes that there's a light at the end of the tunnel. I mean, you already resent him for being absent so much."

That is true.

A strong exhale escapes you and you motion towards your friend for him to give you something. He understands it well enough—hands you his cigarette which you quickly drag from and give right back—make a face of regret at the taste and smell.

"What do you suggest then?" you ask, though not actually expecting to receive anything of merit in doing so. "Divorce my husband, move out of the city, take a two hour commute there and back everyday just so that I can clean up scraps left by the thespian kids?"

"You should tell them to clean up after themselves for one, they're all adults," Seonghwa says seriously. "But no, I'm not suggesting that. I know you won't, though people certainly do have a funny way of creating excitement in their lives where complacency otherwise resides and it is not often felt without its fair share of problems alongside."

"There isn't really any excitement to create," you insist lazily, motioning towards the door to head back inside once and for all. "But who knows, maybe this year one of the classes will do something especially fun, like West Side Story. I like West Side Story."

"Alright everyone, gather 'round!"

The voice comes through loud and somewhat shrill from somewhere in the crowd of people that you can't quite place. It's difficult to pinpoint who, exactly, says what over the murmur of sounds from a large grouping of students as they look at their new surroundings and talk amongst themselves about all of the hopes they anticipate to have play out within these walls over the next however many years that they partake in their programs.

From aspiring actors, to writers, to costume designers—a plethora of students that wish to watch their dreams come alive before them and among their peers with similar goals—for some it might be their first year embarking on such a journey, and for others, somewhere between the middle and end.

Aurelia Hall; renowned amongst many for the years upon years of stunning architecture and plethora of talents that have come and gone from these numerous hallways and stage setups. A reputation to produce only the best—that studying at the Akademiya far from the goal, and rather—it is the ability to be blessed by Aurelia in doing so that has so many hopefuls shuffling in their applications to attend the school.

There is no magic here; though the way in which people speak of it might have one thinking otherwise. If you study at Aurelia, success is sure to find you. Words that you've heard spoken between students over so many years that you've found yourself mouthing along in silence to them.

A gentle laugh to yourself, where is your success then?

So you stand with arms crossed at the very back end of the main theater as everyone says their introductions and puts on something of a performance in doing so. It comes naturally to most, you can imagine; a small pleasure coming from the fact that the group of students appears to be smaller this year despite a mixture of all levels as it always is. First years and fourth years all mingling on the first day as if it's the schoolyard playground.

You smile ever so slightly, until you feel the presence of another body coming up just behind.

"Can I speak to you for a moment?"

One of the professors from some class, you've hardly been able to keep track despite the year after year that you meet them and pretend to remember from the last. Hardly your fault, that's what you tell yourself at least, on account of the fact that this is very likely to be the last time that you speak to this person until the year after this one.

The staff make themselves seldom known within the halls—their craft largely gifted to the students under their care within the walls of the Akademiya, then the underlings are released unto the care of you—something to that effect. A student body comprised of adults who need little to no supervision of any kind and are happy to keep to their own; discussing ideas and sketching out plans in small bubbles of similar minds.

You're not often needed past the first week, once everyone figures out where the smaller theater rooms and the bathrooms are located.

Following the staff member out into the hallway and closing the door behind for just a bit more privacy, your eyes rake over the man as he thumbs through a file, landing on a page and pushing it in front of you for you to glance over yourself.

"There's a fourth year student who will be joining us, though it's his first year at the Akademiya. He's a transfer from elsewhere, and really—"

"This is more like his sixth year," you say, finishing the sentence for him. He nods, knowingly. "Why hasn't he graduated?"

"Difficult to say, I haven't had much time with him, obviously, as the year has only just started. He seems bright from what I can gather in such a short amount of time, but I get the inkling of a feeling that he is largely uninspired, burnt out, having a hard time getting the final pieces together. The transcripts from his last school say that he didn't even bother turning anything in for his final project, and in fact, he disappeared without a trace for weeks until he finally put in a formal request to transfer."

Fascinating, but bizarre. Your eyebrows pull together, a strangeness collecting on your face.

"I'm surprised the Akademiya even accepted him with a track record like that, unlike the governing body."

"His portfolio is good, really impressive, so I assume that's why," the man says with a sigh and a shrug. "I guess it's up to us to drag the last little bit we can from the guy and get him out of here and into the world."

"Us? I'm no teacher, I don't know the first thing about guiding anyone."

Head cocking to the side and gifting you a half-smile, the man closes the file and nods towards the door once again.

"You're in charge when they're here, and I'm in charge when they're with me. You come from a long line of artists, if you hadn't then you wouldn't be running this place. Surely you've picked up something about the arts in your time?"

Yes, though not something you're all that eager to revisit if not necessarily required of you.

The man pulls ahead, opens the door to the theater and saunters inside. You follow him along the way over perfectly steamed red carpet and past numerous students who are none too interested in the fact that either of you are accompanying them within their creative spaces. Up the wooden steps to the side of the stage and then past the navy blue curtain, despite the darkness and the faint scent of moisture that you're certainly going to have to continue to tend to as a result of that damned leaky pipe, you're faced with the sight of one man, by himself, with hands busy at work.

You and the professor stand in place in silence as you look upon the student; messy brown hair and even while sitting on the floor with legs crossed, you can tell he's not especially tall. There's a dress form in front of him, though it's well out of reach as he works with busy hands and a pile of fabric in his lap that keeps all of his attention—none spared for either of you.

"Costuming?" you ask the man beside you in a lean, eyes still fixed onto the sight ahead of you. It feels stupid speaking of him as if he's not within earshot, then compounded by the way his head finally does turn towards where you stand with narrow, questioning eyes.

Your colleague nods, but the person ahead answers aloud for him. "Yes. Costuming."

"Sorry," you say, nearly fumbling even just the single word in response to him. "I—didn't want to interrupt you."

He sighs then, tosses his head back as if reluctantly resigned to having to engage in this whole thing at all. Sets his work aside and crawls to his feet to make his way towards the two of you.

The two of you meet eyes, and it lingers a bit longer than it might normally. Something strange, something intriguing about this student in particular—fascinating.

Extending a hand for pleasantries, he introduces himself. "Kim Hongjoong. Seventh year costuming student, but who's counting?"

"It's six according to your file." The man beside you begins thumbing through again, as if looking for what it is that he missed the first few times.

The student—Hongjoong—smiles. "Did a year at a school off in Hong Kong, bombed out so spectacularly that we agreed to not bother even adding it onto the transcript, so aside from the memories, it's as if I never existed there at all."

You can't help but find yourself stunned at the nonchalance in which he speaks on such things. Schools like these—schools like the Akademiya—are nothing to be scoffed at or played with, entry to them is extremely limited and some people go their whole lives dreaming for a shot at just one; this guy has flown through at least three, and with nothing to show for it, at that.

A feeling of judgment washes over you, catching yourself looking down your nose at him for being such a magnificent failure. It's not who you want to be, and you make an effort to correct the thoughts before they fester any longer in your mind.

The two of you shake hands—soft skin and you can't help but take notice of the single pinky painted black—a statement piece, something to be noticed.

"I take it you're going to be trouble then," you say plainly, wanting it to come off as something of a joke but meaning it just as much as well. Hongjoong huffs out a quiet laugh at the mere mention of it, as if asinine to even assume as much.

"The only person I've ever been trouble for is myself. If you're afraid I'm going to tear this place up or cause any of my peers any kind of harm, then I can put your mind at ease that that's never been the reasoning behind my removals—be it self-imposed or by the administration board."

"Then what is the reason, if you don't mind me asking?" the man besides you pipes up, having given up on the paperwork in hand.

Hongjoong sighs, slips his hands into torn up jean pockets and rocks back onto his heels once or twice before finally resigning himself to simply answering the question as laid out before him. You're curious as well, though you might not have had the gall to ask it so brazenly as your colleague has.

"Suppose I'm my own worst enemy," Hongjoong says, a lazy shrug accompanying the words. "I'm not a psychologist, but a psychologist would probably say that I have self-destructive tendencies."

"Have you ever seen a psychologist?" you ask then, interest piqued by his willingness to self-diagnose in such a shameless way.

"Now that you're not allowed to ask," he says with a playful tone. Uncaring of the question or its privacy to him, but rather using it as a way to chide you effortlessly.

You back down immediately, and your colleague steps up in your stead.

A grin forms on Hongjoong's lips meanwhile.

"Well, back at the Akademiya, I'll be more than happy to do what it takes to finally get you graduated and out onto the next step of your career. File says you're twenty-five, so I can't imagine you're thrilled to be spending your time around a bunch of barely-twenties, either."

"I tend to keep to myself regardless of the age, so it's unimportant to me."

The answer makes you want to roll your eyes, you stifle the desire out of respect.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to contact me. You have my phone number as well as my email, and for when you're here—"

There's a beat of silence that comes between the three of you, your eyes glancing to the side to meet the man speaking, and then once more falling towards Hongjoong as he stands in front.

"You'll be answering to the groundskeeper, she'll try to accommodate you to the best of her abilities."

Hongjoong's eyebrow perks upwards, seemingly intrigued by that. "Do you act?"

Not what you expected, and it takes you back just a bit, hands flying up in a visual display of putting a stop to the assumption. "No, no! Nothing like that. I've inherited the place from my great grandparents after their passing."

"But you're familiar with the arts."

Persistent, isn't he?

The answer is yes, though it's something you've long since learned to put aside for much more practical engagements and a husband none too keen.

"I'm...familiar, yes." Whatever that means.

Hongjoong doesn't reply further, though his eyes linger on you a bit longer than you'd like for them to. A discomfort in how forward he is, not at all what you might have anticipated when first laying your sights upon him.

"Perfect then," the man beside you says. "We'll be on our way, and I'll see you tomorrow at the Akademiya."

"Yup," Hongjoong says, though you can't help but catch the hint of something hidden within the tone of his voice. You can't put your finger on it, though even after you turn your back to him, you know his gaze remains on your form.

"See you around."

a/n: weeee excited to have this one started! reminder that if you wish to discuss the story with me, the ask box is the best way to do it! another reminder that this story is going to get ugly and dive into some stuff that a lot of people are going to get squicked out about. those things have been clearly warned. until next time, cheers! xo

#hongjoong smut #yeosang smut #ateez smut #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x y/n #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong scenarios #hongjoong fanfic #yeosang x reader #yeosang x y/n #yeosang x you #yeosang imagines #yeosang scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #yeosang fanfic

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vktrsnclr · 11 months

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MISCHIEF'S CURSE (R13)

plot: the greatest betrayal Loki will ever do to you.

pairing: loki x f/m reader

word count: 600+

"I just... Don't see myself getting committed to someone." Loki's brow is crumpled in confusion as he walks off.

Your feel an ache down your throat as you try to hold your tears. You try to chase Loki on the hills, just minutes after confessing.

You've been friends with him since the dawn of times, you've given him comfort at times when he's vulnerable, you stood by him at moments when he's filled with joy, his comrade when battling, his defender when he's in the wrong. You're surely more than friends but definitely less than lovers.

A sudden change in your relationship started when you were teenagers. Or atleast for you. You started noticing his features, his lashes that almost raises up to his brow when he's looking up, the sweat that drops out of his neck when you're training, you even memorized his body language and the way he acts when he's excited, upset, sad or angry. He gave you mixed signals, light touches and platonic kisses.

That night after the battle in Vanaheim, you told yourself that you'll finally confessing your feelings, which you did.

Loki wanted you to have someone better. He still thinks of him as a monster, a vile and cruel Prince that everyone hates even though you always remind him that he's not.

"You won't be happy with me. We both know that and I'm quite sure that if you see me for who I am, you'd be terrified and and you'd leave eventually!"

"The only time I felt genuinely happy was when I'm with you! I wanna see you for who you think you are, Loki! I fucking dare you!" You exclaimed and a tear rolled on your cheek. An uncomfortable moment of silence echoed through the vast snowy hill.

"It's not worth it y/n, I'm incapable of love. You have to understand." He stops and then turns to you

"Then... Th-that time when you said you need me..... What does that mean?" Your voice pitches in pain.

"That doesn't mean a thing! You're a necessity, sure! but friendship is the only thing I can give you!" he exclaims.

"But I do care for you... deeply. You don't have to hate me because of this y/n." His voice dissipates and holds your hand firmly as an attempt to comfort you.

You know it would never be the same, he wouldn't treat you the same way again and might even avoid you. You know you can't handle the weight of it so you decided to run away and hide.

It went on for years in different realms, in an attempt to distract yourself but still, you lie awake at night, a part of you expects him to search for you and for once, be there when you're vulnerable. The most horrifying fact is that he never did. You mostly lived those years miserably alone.

One day, you decided to show up in Asgard after years of longing. Who knows? Maybe he looked for you and you're just too far to reach?

You walked onto the bridge up to the palace, people seem to be gathered for what it seems to be an asgardian wedding. Curious, you decided to sneak in, hoping to catch a glimpse of the ceremony. To your surprise, you discovered that the groom was none other than Loki himself, saying his vows to his bride.

You heart dropped, as though a sword was plunged in it. You felt betrayed. All you can think of is that time when he said that he doesn't see himself getting committed to someone but seeing him now, utterly captivated by her. She's living the life you've always wanted. All of the things you wished he could've done to you.

You can't help but think that maybe he meant that he doesn't see himself getting in a relationship with you, maybe there's something lacking but you just can't think of anything. You gave him everything. All those times you spent alone, hoping to be found might have felt like a waste of time and energy.

After he kissed the bride, your eyes met his. His inner brows curled upwards. The face he only makes when he feels worried or sorry. You nodded as the crowd clap their hands.

"I understand." You mouthed.

This is a bit trashy, my mind's been occupied by college admissions lately but lemme know what you think.

#Spotify #marvel #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #loki god of mischief #loki x y/n #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #mcu #sad stories #taylor swift #right where you left me #evermore #folklore

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avatarmerida · 1 year

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Pleeeeeeeeease do a one shot with THAT crew art...

You know the one I'm talking about...

(I'm God's miracle)

I do know it. It controls my every thought.

I haven’t seen anyone do it with evil!Hunter (insp @soldrawss) so here’s my attempt at combining the two. In my take of this version, Hunter is aware he is a grimwalker the whole time and basically has to do the Emperor’s bidding to justify existing (nothing new there) but he is aware that Belos is a liar and evil and he also believes he is these things because why wouldn’t he be? In case it’s not clear, this would be after ASIAS in a AU where Hunter keeps trying to recruit Willow to the coven as an excuse to talk to her. It’s less angst and more Megamind (who fully believes he is angsty so) ok bye

---

“Well well well,” came a familiar voice from behind her. “If it isn’t my favorite plant witch.”

“Hello to you too,” Willow asked, unfazed by his “dramatic reveal” as she was so sure he had intended it to be. She did not look up from her comfortable spot on the ground where she sat, gathering soil into her little pail. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Golden Guard? Did you follow me up here or were you just waiting menacingly in the shadows for me to show up?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss the business of the Emperor’s Coven with a civilian,” he said, giving her a non answer. “If you’d truly like to know why I’m here I suppose I could entrust that information to a new recruit.”

“Hmm pass,” she said, staying focused on her task with her back to her but feeling his eyes on her. He wouldn’t ask what she was doing, he would either pretend he already knew or ignore it all together.

“Do you need any help?” He asked, uncharacteristically small. Hmm,that was new. He was clearly hoping she’d have a more elaborate response and the prepared retort he had up his sleeve wouldn’t make sense, not that digging in the dirt made any more sense.

“No, I’m almost done,” she said, shoveling the last bit of soil into her pail. It was excellent soil, a shimmering dark turquoise that helped plants be more lively and vibrant. It was well worth the distance Willow had to travel to obtain it and collecting it was relaxing. It was quiet out here, an abandoned building made it seem off-putting to other people but Willow welcomed the calm atmosphere. There was hardly anything out here to capture the attention of the Emperor’s Coven.

But that seemed to be the case wherever she found herself lately.

“Ya know it’s dangerous to be out here by yourself,” he said, kicking at the ground not expecting her attention to linger elsewhere.

“Well I’m not here by myself now am I?” She asked with a smirk he could hear. Months ago she would be terrified to find herself alone with him, especially knowing what she knew now about the Emperor’s Coven. He did not deny it when she confronted him about what the Coven and the Emperor were really like. He was not ashamed, he claimed, rather he was content with his place and what that meant. He was delighted with the rumors depicting him as ruthless and cruel (and this was mostly from the mouths of her friends) but somehow her experiences with him differed.

He loved a crowd, a perfect chance to act boastful and righteous and flaunt his status. But when it was just them his insincerity did not seem very sincere. She suspected he never spent enough time with anyone for them to see beyond his little character, but she had seen enough repeat performances to pick up the inconsistencies. By now she could tell when his words were empty, when he was leaning into this character that he was forced to method act. But she could sense he didn’t know who to be around her, and she felt that was some of his best work.

“Ya know, the Emperor’s Coven has tons of dirt,” he tried to say casually, feeling things had been silent for too long.

“What?”

“Uh, well that’s why you’re here right?” He sputtered.

“Oh so your business can stay a secret but mine can’t?” She said as she stood up and turned to face him. She could’ve sworn he stood straighter when she did.

“The Emperor makes it a point to know everyone’s business,” he said in a low, cool voice as though he himself was the Emperor. He tried so hard to intimidate her but she somehow always remained composed, as though she was merely humoring him. She wiped her hands on her dark green skirt, the access dirt blending in nicely and shook her head at him.

“Well then ask him what I’m up to,” she shrugged walking past him, purposely brushing past his shoulder as she did. She heard him chuckle deep in his throat, as though she had said just the right thing.

“I’m not so sure he’d be pleased with you trespassing, little plant witch.” the Golden Guard said with a cocky smile. He has stopped wearing his mask around Willow, maybe because it was easier to see or maybe because he thought she could be swayed by a pretty face. She’d have to ask him one of these days.

“Pssh ‘trespassing?’” Willow laughed, flipping her braid over her shoulder. “There’s nothing to trespass out here, it’s totally abandoned!”

“Exactly,” he said, following slowly behind her. “There’s a reason for that; it’s condemned. Strictly off limits.Dangerous.”

“Aww so did you stalk me all the way here because it’s dangerous and you wanted to make sure I was safe before you kidnapped me again?”

“Pssh, what?” Hunter could never place her tone, how it was both sweet and sour, how it asked a question that seemed to already hold the answer. It was like an argument that he wasn’t sure how to win. “Of course not. W-why would I care about what happens to a foolish half-a-witch like you? If you’re foolish enough to come here, you deserve to learn the consequences first hand.”

“Hmm, I could say the same thing about you,” Willow sighed, looking over her shoulder at him. “But which half-a-witch is more foolish? The one who came here or the one who followed her here because he wanted an excuse to talk to her?”

“It’s business!” Hunter insisted, picking up his pace as his voice got higher. “My job is to enforce the rules and will of the Emperor and the signs on the perimeter clearly state-.”

“So are you gonna arrest me?” She asked, quickly turning on her heel causing him to nearly bump into her.

“I-I could.” He stuttered, his eyes unable to decide where to look.

“Hmm, well you can’t join the Emperor’s Coven with a criminal record so... okay, go ahead.” She set her pail down and placed her arms out as though she was ready to be escorted to prison.

He was taken back. Very rarely did his banter get a response let alone ones so calm and silly. But she always managed to call his bluff and he couldn’t tell if she was wearing him down or winning him over. Either way, what a fine addition to the coven she’d be..

But she was right, and Hunter could hardly back down from what he said without contradicting his whole deal and risking losing the advantage he thought he had. This girl wasn’t scared of him or intimidated by him, heck she wasn’t even annoyed by him. His usual tricks didn’t work on her and as much as he wanted them to, it was somewhat refreshing. But either he had followed her here and hadn't stopped her or he was waiting for her and didn’t speak up right away. He barely understood why he mentioned the trespassing, the Emperor didn’t care about this area he would find the time wasted unless Hunter had actually caught a wild witch.

He was working on it.

“So um yeah I uh-.” But before he could verbally dig his own grave, the ground began to shake. A large crack formed between him and Willow and they both kept back to avoid falling in. The crack quickly sped up and reached the remains of the building, causing it to fall forward, heading towards the pair. They quickly jumped out of the way as the rest of the buildings followed like dominos.

As the walls came crumbling down around them, Hunter went to teleport away dodging the debris as he located the way out. As he looked out of the corner of his eye to see which way the plant girl was going, his heart or the equal equivalent sank when he saw her laying on the ground. A large collection of bricks had fallen on her foot and Hunter watched her remove them as a look of pain overtook her face.

She was so focused on her current situation that she didn’t see another pile was headed her way. By the time Willow did notice it was almost too late and all she had time to do was close her eyes and brace for impact.

But she was not met with the impact she had been expecting.

The next thing she knew, she was in a blur of light. Settings came in and out of focus, the constant, jagged movement made her dizzy but it was somehow sort of mesmerizing. She looked up and saw her savior, serious and sorrowful looking ahead at his destination and not being distracted by the wide eyed girl who clung poetically to his chest.

He darted from point to point, the ground growing more unstable by the second. His focus and grip never wavered as Willow took the opportunity to memorize his features. They seemed to compliment him in every sense, they made the transition from stern to soft so seamlessly. His edges were sharp, his jawline so defined it seemed to direct her to his eyes like an arrowhead. Willow had never seen this in his eyes before; it was less certain than the way they held anger but it was softer than the fear they had known.

She wanted to see them closer, but she felt the look would vanish if she entered his sight.

When Hunter felt they had traveled a safe distance, he stopped and hid behind a wall, making sure no other threats had followed them. Willow watched in wonder as he panted, his eyes desperately scanning their surroundings to make sure there would be no more surprise demolishment. He brought her closer, as though shielding her from unseen doom as Willow’s head fell instinctively on his shoulder as she listened to the sound of him breathing.

“Are you okay?” She whispered, close enough that she could see a fresh wound above his eye, another for his never ending collection.

“We should be safe here,” he said, more to assure himself than her, not quite answering her question. Something about him saying ‘we’ and not ‘I’ or ‘you’ made her heart spin.

“Hunter?”

“Yeah?”

“You can put me down now.” Willow said, feeling as though Hunter had forgotten she occupied his arms. He held her like she was nothing and everything at the same time. Like he didn’t want to risk dropping her. Like she was precious to him. Like he wanted her close. A boy with no good in his heart as he so adamantly claimed to be could never hold someone like this. She wondered if his kindness was hidden from him or by him. She wondered if it felt familiar or forced, because it felt nice to be close to.

“Oh, right.” He said as though it was really no inconvenience and had simply slipped his mind. He suddenly became conscious of how tight his grip on her was as he gently placed her back on her feet. It felt unnatural to do something so gently, but something about her made unnatural things happen easily. As her feet touched the ground, a sharp pain shot up her body and she winced as she shifted her weight. Hunter instinctively crouched down back to her side for her to lean on him to take pressure off the leg “Sorry about that.”

“‘Sorry?’” She repeated, the shock distracting from her pain, She gave a small laugh. “D-did you just apologize to me?”

“Uh, I mean I-.”

“Were you... worried about me?”

“What? No!” Hunter’s face turned bright crimson, in embarrassment, in anger, infatuated.

“You were!” Willow exclaimed victoriously, as she summoned a large flower to sit on, as Hunter was desperate to pull away. “You were worried you might hurt me!”

“No! I meant sorry for...”

“Oh my Titan, you can’t even think of a fake reason!” Willow accused in delight, adjusting her dress as she made herself more comfortable. “It’s true!”

“Shut up!” He spat, contorting his mouth into a twisted frown. “I-I didn’t even mean to say it!”

“Exactly!” Willow said, pointing her finger at him, small yellow flowers bursting around her to emphasize her point. “You didn’t even mean to! You did it without thinking! Deep down inside of you, there is good!”

“Shut up!” He said again, but this time the embarrassment in his voice outweighed the anger. He tried to walk away from her but his pace was not a quick as it could be, he had no destination in mind.

“You did follow me to make sure I was safe,” Willow said smugly, hoopping off her her seat to skip beside him as tried to avoid her direct gaze. “You care about me.”

“No I don’t!” He insisted, hastening his pace.

“Really? Then why am I over here where’s it safe? Would’ve been easier to have just left me, ya know. Let me ‘learn the consequences first hand’ and all that, right?”

“I was looking out for myself and you were in my way,” Hunter lied quickly. “You just got lucky, but it wasn’t on purpose!”

“You had plenty of chances to put me down,” she pointed out with a bright smile, summoning a vine to carry her to adjust to his speed. Her knee high sock had gotten torn and she could tell her leg was slightly bruised and scratched, but she could worry about that later. “And I’m pretty sure you told me to ‘hold on.’ Now why would you say that to someone whose safety you didn’t care about?”

“I owed you one,” he grumbled, pausing for a moment to try and figure out where they were.

“Would someone truly evil care about his debt to a mere half-a-witch?” Willow stopped behind him, removing her hair from her braids to redo them. She knew he wouldn’t leave with a question like that in the air. He stopped too.

He did not have a response, but he wished he did. He could not blame it on a code of honor because he knew that she believed that he believed he did not have one.

“You care about me.” She stated sweetly. It was not a question.

“So what if I do?” He asked softly, trying to appear as though it was no concern of his, whether or not it was the truth. “The amount someone like me can care about someone doesn’t add up to much. I wouldn’t let it go to your head.”

“So what if I do?” Willow said back, mocking his solemn tone as she twisted her hair back into a braid. “Maybe I care about you too.”

“Another foolish decision on your part,” said Hunter, regaining the steady control in his voice as he summoned his staff, knowing he couldn’t risk staying with her longer. “But I know better than trying to tell you what to think. You’ve made it clear that my opinion is of no value to you.”

“It has value,” she said slowly, disliking the braid she had made and undoing it, giving up on the endeavor. “It values me, so it’s not composed entirely of bad taste.”

“I’ve been very upfront about-,” he said loudly as he turned around to face her, not realizing how close she was standing to him. The vine she summoned for support elevated her slightly so she was at his eye level, her hair free and forming small curls around her face in a way he had never seen before. Their faces were mere inches apart but she did not flinch or pull away but he swore she held her breath. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “-about your value to me.”

“For the Coven, right?” She said gently as though she had to remind him. “It’s just that, I feel like during our meetings lately, you’ve been trying more to change my feelings about you, and less about the Coven.”

“The coven and I are essentially the same.”

“To you, maybe, but I have no interest in the coven,” said Willow, allowing her vine to set her down as she tried to apply gently pressure on her leg. “So how is it that I spend so much time with the coven head?”

He turned his gaze to the ground and did not answer.

“I highly doubt you pursue all candidates this thoroughly, I highly doubt you have the time,” continued Willow. “With all the time you’ve spent chasing me you could’ve found about ten more qualified recruits. Can you honestly say I’m worth ten scouts?”

“You’re easily worth 100.”

“How?” She asked, honestly perplexed. “Because I have potential? So what? Plenty of people do. You said the coven is no place for emotions, well that’s where my power comes from. Recruiting me would remove the thing that made you want me in the first place. You’re smart, surely you’ve realized that.”

“It's because you’re stubborn, “ he said, looking up at her like he believed he was invisible to her. “You aren’t swayed by fancy words and status and it’s not because you don’t see their worth. Your approval is guarded, it’s selective, and rare things tend to be valuable things.” His voice did not ooze its usual smugness, he said it like he was reciting a poem to her. His voice held something back as though he could not bring himself to say too blunt a compliment. He removed his worn glove and reached out to brush a loose strand of hair behind. He could not place the reason for the gesture.

Willow let out a small gasp, half lost in the complement half breathless from the cold touch of his hand lingering against her cheek. He turned around to walk away, hoping it looked convincing that he could get very far this time.

“So if I had liked you when we first met, you wouldn’t value my opinion?” She called after him.

“If you had liked me when we first met you wouldn’t have really known me.” He called back.

“Does that mean you’ve changed?”

He stopped for a moment and thought about what that implied. She liked him now? Is that what that meant? How? He hadn’t changed as far as he was concerned, but he had never been someone else’s concern before. He didn’t know what that was supposed to mean. He vanished into a flash of gold before appearing in front of her again, no other destination in mind.

“What’s to stop me from kidnapping you?” His voice was cold and demanding, the way it was always supposed to be. “You’re weak, you’re hurt, you’re helpless! I could take you to the castle and throw you in a cell! I could bring you before the Emperor and frame you for any number or crimes! I could-! Er... I could...”

“That’s what you could do, but what will you do?” Willow winced, the pain in her leg growing. “I think if that’s what you wanted to do you would’ve done it by now. But you haven’t. Because you’re worried about my comfort and you’re thinking about what’s best for me. You’re stalling because you don’t know what you want to do. I feel like true evil doesn’t hesitate.”

He inhaled sharply, cursing himself for hesitating to respond to her. He should be long gone by now, or at least be pretending he was in control of the situation. But he had saved her with no ulterior motive in mind, and the reason that did come to mind was impossible. He didn’t like her seeing him like this, but why did he care what she thought?

“I see how you fight,” said Willow gently, reading his thoughts. “You antagonize and trap and dodge, but you rarely strike. You love to talk and it’s like you’re trying to distract from the fact that your blows are never fatal. You refuse to attack unless it’s totally necessary. Doesn’t seem very bloodthirsty to me.”

“It’s called strategy,” he said. “It’s smart to preserve energy, it’s efficient. That way you don’t end up hurt and in your enemy’s clutches.” He gestured to her current state as though it proved his point. But Willow only smiled. She did not consider him an enemy but did enjoy her time in his clutches.

“So you know I wouldn’t have left you there either,” she said and he just groaned at how she was able to see more than what was supposed to be there. Everyone else accepted he was no good and scary, why couldn’t she? Wasn’t he supposed to want her to?

“Well. since you value loyalty, let’s see you try and join another coven now after the Emperor’s Coven saved your life,” he scoffed as though that had been his plan all along and he hadn’t just thought of it.

But she could see there was no true flair to his actions or ulterior motive lurking in his words, he was simply not used to going against orders in a way that he could not justify. It would have been fitting for his persona not to save her, it would have been tactical to lure her into an agreement before doing so and taking advantage of her position. So why hadn’t he? Why would he risk his life and have nothing to show for it?

“Thank you Hunter.” She said softly. She was the only one who said his name like that. His name was not freely given, but she had managed to weasel it out of him. She hadn’t had to try very hard.

“When you join the coven you won’t be able to address me so informally.” he said, putting his glove back on.

“I think that’s one reason you’ve become less insistent that I do.”

“You have many?”

“I think you’re scared,” said Willow. “I think you’ve been doing what you’re told and are trying to convince yourself that it’s what you want to be doing but it’s not. But you’re scared because you know what Belos is capable of doing if he ever found out. I think you feel trapped and alone so you don’t listen to the part of you that wants something different because you don’t believe you’re allowed to. Because you know that’s what Belos believes.”

“So you think about me often, do you?” He said, hearing what he wanted to hear or at least trying to make it seem like he did.

“Or maybe you’re just impossible,” sighed Willow, seeing she wouldn’t make any ground in that subject matter today, standing up as much as she could.

“Grimwalkers are supposed to be impossible,” Hunter pointed out. “We’re taboo, an unforgivable sin, we’re damned from the moment we open our eyes. We can be nothing but ruthless...”

She rolled her eyes, as he continued his classic “born to be bad” speech. She should’ve known it was only a matter of time before he needed to prolong his presence with a monologue.

“Yeah, okay.” she chuckled, believing him less and less every time. The speech was more to assure him than her at this point.

“It’s true!” He insisted, the tips of his ears turning red. “I am heartless! And cold! I-I haven’t even asked you if you’re okay besides I don’t care! Because I-.”

“Because you’re checking my vitals like you think I can’t tell,” Willow finished, noting that while he did not say anything he eyed her injury to ensure it was leveled properly to reduce the pain. He was no healing expert, but he had suffered enough on the job injuries to know a few tricks. “You’d leave any other recruit out here to fend for themselves, so why am I any different?”

He looked up at the sky, it was getting late. He was tired and hungry and he knew Willow was meant to home before dark. He would think of something clever to say another day.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” said Hunter quietly as he swiftly went to scoop her up again. Consciously picking her up allowed Hunter to overthink it. He cautiously placed his arms around her back and under her knees and held her close and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, locking her fingers together to keep her close. If not for what he would later label his momentary lapse in judgment, he would never have the opportunity to be so close to her without seeing fury in her eyes. Now, they held a calm flourishing field of green, they held pleasantly surprised gratitude and maybe... admiration.

He didn’t teleport unless it was necessary, certain the sharp movements would aggravate her injury and flying was no better. So he held her in his arms and walked back to the path, traveling in silence as Willow tried to make sense of the moment.

But it was all in his head. Because at the end of the day, he knew what he was.

He knew he was the latest and therefore the greatest and maybe the last in a long line of disappointments. He was born heartless, his emotions were nothing more than a clever manipulation to imply there was variety beyond disgust and anger. He was told what he was and what he was meant for and he was oh so good at doing exactly what he was told.

He would outlive the others. He would see the plan through. He would not be distracted. He had never had an issue sticking to these mantras until he found himself risking everything to keep a silly plant witch around. He dared to think he could keep her around if he could convince her of the benefits. But why did he want to keep her around any way he could? How was he supposed to explain the twinge in his chest when he became overly aware of how close she was to him, resting safe in his arms?

No one had ever looked at him this way. Her eyes weren’t sizing him up or predicting his next move or scanning him for signs of weakness. Her eyes graced him because she was glad he was there. His eyes weren’t reverting to her every so often because he was monitoring her for a surprise attack or suspected her disloyalty or because he thought she was impressed by him. He wanted to see her face because it made him feel safe, it sent a shot through him that envied fear and lighting.

“Is the whole ‘you care about me’ theory completely off the table?” she asked once their surroundings became familiar again.

“Grimwalkers can’t feel love,” he said casually, as though it was a common fact and not something so devastating. It was a rare truly serious moment so Willow did not cheekily mention the fact that she had not said the word “love” as he set her back on the ground, her house not far from here.

“Well, that doesn’t make you a monster,” said Willow. “Plenty of people don’t fall in love or feel attraction, but that doesn’t mean that-.”

“No, I mean...” Hunter loved correcting people, but his evidence against her claim came with a personal toll that he hoped she wouldn’t ask him to clarify and act as though it was something he didn’t mind about himself. “...I mean, we cannot feel love and we cannot be loved. We can feel fondness, I suppose, and gratitude but no more than is required to know the value of something. But our skin is thick, an armor, meant to deflect any type of affection that threatens to weigh us down. How can a creature without a heart ever feel-.”

Willow interrupted his latest monologue by grabbing the sides of his face and pulling him down to her to place a strong but gentle kiss square on his lips. Despite her warmth, he was frozen. Sweaty, shivering, stunned. Her lips curled into a smile and Hunter’s thoughts were consumed with why. Was she delighted in the action alone or was it all done for his reaction? Had she frozen time or has they been in this moment forever? Was she just trying to shut him up? He’d ramble on forever if this was the punishment. But his chest felt like he had drank of water from the boiling sea, fizzling and burning and bubbling and the warmth spread to the rest of his body and numbed him like her touch contained venom.

He was melting from the inside out and somehow it was painless. His eyes widened in shock at the source, blissfully unaware of the ailment (or maybe she just showed no visible signs?) as she held him in place. It was as though then their lips touched, the world around them became more colorful. Willow had her eyes closed, perhaps because she already knew how colorful the world was. She was the brightest thing in it, after all. Had that always been the case?

His chest was on fire as she pulled back to look at him again, her hands lingered on the sides of his face which was now entirely red. He felt dizzy and dopey and turned around, had this been a trap she had planned for him the whole time?

“What have you done?!” He demanded angrily with a rage Willow had not seen in him before. She couldn’t help but feel that he wasn’t speaking only to her. “D-Did you just curse me? My existence is already a curse! Why would you want to add onto it? Why would you-?”

“I didn’t curse you, I kissed you,” said Willow simply as though the two were often confused for each other, her voice carried an airy giggle. “It’s a way to show affection. It’s a gesture of thanks and... love.”

“Is that what this is?” He screamed, referring to the waves of fireworks in his chest that she could not see but somehow understood. “You gave me the ability to love?!”

“Well, I don’t think I gave it to you, but I think that maybe you-.”

“Well, take it back!” Hunter demanded, pulling her close to him by her shoulders and joining their lips as she had done in a swift motion. Unlike the way his hands had flailed behind him when she initiated the contact, she got over her surprise very quickly and leaned into it, reaching up to put her arms around his neck to return the pressure and keep him steady.

It felt just as scary as the first time but somehow easier. She was smiling again and while Hunter had no idea what he was doing, he was pretty sure he wasn’t doing it wrong. As he relaxed and allowed his eyes to fall closed, he could still see the dazzling display of colors as he tried to inhale the faint smell of wildflowers in her hair . Relaxation did not come naturally to him so he was quickly brought out of the moment as he suddenly remembered how he had gotten back into whatever this was and pulled away. Willow followed him as though she wasn't ready to part and when he looked at her, he saw her face decorated in a kindred flush as though she had just done battle. Another trap! Surely staying too long in the “kiss” allowed her to send the curse back to him because he felt so compelled to brush her hair out of her face again and that must be why.

“Curses aren’t really a plant magic thing,” Willow whispered, her hands still clinging to his chest. He wondered if her leg was still bothering her. He wondered why he even cared. “Just so you know.”

“Well, then it’s a reaction to one of your flowers or pollen or something,” he said. “I’m just having an allergy attack.”

“Or maybe you were raised by a liar,” said Willow. “Who convinced you that you were immune rather than neglected because he allowed no examples of any form of love.”

“Maybe...” Hunter began, dwelling over her words. He stepped back as his eyes widened when he found a solution that pleased him. “Maybe... I am the Titan’s miracle.”

“Oh geez,” Willow groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose as Hunter’s ego increased and he began to pace, drafting a speech of what this could mean. “Well I’m getting out of here before you make me regret this. But… see you tomorrow?

He stopped. Something about the nonchalant way she said the words tickled his ear like there was something more buried in the words. He had just been thinking about how much her magic had improved in mere weeks, thinking about how powerful she would be if given months. He thought about how her power could benefit the coven. He thought about her often. He thought about her outside of her use to the greater good, he thought about her smile, her laugh, the way she placed her hand beneath her chin when she said something snarky, the soft peridot color of her eyes and how they shined beneath her glasses when she rolled them at him and the way she-.

The way she was the only one who made him feel this way. A way that wasn’t worthless or vindictive. A way he wasn’t supposed to feel.

“Do you intend on needing rescuing again?” Hunter inquired, looking at her over his shoulder his throat suddenly feeling tight like the question he really wanted to ask was stuck and struggling to be known. This tight dizzy feeling that he felt whenever she was around, this growing need to be beside her, did she feel this way about him?

In response, she sent a detailed yellow flower with long dramatic petals littered with pale red stripes. She sent in on a long strong stem so it reached his eye level taking in every detail. It was a remarkably unique flower and did seem particularly special at first but as he brought it closer he saw just how intricate its details were, the small patterns within the petals invisible to the casual onlooker. The scent was sweet but subtle, a pleasure you had to be close to in order to experience. He could tell this was not a flower found in nature, this was of her own design.

The flower’s vine wrapped itself around his wrist like a corsage, twirling around his pinky link it was sealing a promise. She had made her way safely into her house by now and they had an unspoken agreement that this space was off limits. But he knew their paths would cross again. He could use returning her pail of dirt as an excuse to see her. He could say her injury was a liability of the coven and he was obligated by the Emperor to monitor her.

Or maybe he didn’t need to explain himself, he was the Titan’s miracle after all.

#huntlow #huntlow fanfiction #willow park #evil!hunter #toh #the owl house #winter toh #megamind vibes but you have to read it like megamind #hunter toh

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the-doomed-witch · 2 years

Text

She was Sunshine, I was Midnight Rain

✦ wanda maximoff x fem!reader | college AU ✦

Summary : Wherever you go, the anxiety follows. The only way you feel safe is when you’re alone with Wanda, but she loves partying a little too much. (Read warnings)

Word Count : 3.4k

Author’s Note : hi! my first fic on here. i’m kinda nervous 😬 any opinions / reblogs / etc are welcome 🖤 my gif btw!

Warnings : 18+ MINORS DNI. anxiety attacks, smut, dom!wanda, fingering, face riding, slight teasing, homophobia, angst + fluff if you squint. Also Wanda comforting reader <3.

YOU ARE NOT PERMITTED TO REPOST OR COPY MY WORK

— ✦ —

You held your hand up, placing it in front of Wanda’s. Her hands were a tad bit bigger than yours, but mostly they were warm. “Detka, your hands are so cold, I’m a little concerned.” she said, as she intertwined her fingers with yours.

“Um yeah Wands, it’s probably because of Professor Fury’s class, I’m kinda scared of his constantly unpredictable and upgraded techniques.” You try your best to chuckle it off but the brunette wouldn’t let go of your hand. Instead, she took both of them in hers and kept them in her lap. “Tell me what’s wrong.” she asks, with a firm stare towards you.

You don’t know what reply could count as adequate, so you just lie. “It’s nothing, in all likelihood it could be the air conditioner, I don’t know Wanda.” She knows you’re lying. You know that too. Thus, she takes a deep breath and places her hands on your cheeks. It feels so safe all alone with her, you close your eyes and wait for her to lean in.

She comes forward, bringing your lips together. Her left hand goes from your cheek to your jaw, the right one on your nape. She pulls you even closer, and moves her hand from your jaw to your waist, allowing you space to place your hands on her comfortably. So you do. She kisses you as passionately as always, like she couldn’t dare to live without you. And you would let her in, so enthusiastically, it seemed magical for a moment right there. You were living in magic as of then.

Both of you break the proximity of your lips to catch up. It’s so enchanting, and so gleeful, you start laughing with tears in your eyes. Wanda is flabbergasted for a second, but she knows her way of loving you too well to judge it, so she joins you. You tumble down on the bed with the pain in your stomach due to laughing, and pull down your girlfriend with you.

“We need to get ready for your favourite class Y/N.” she warns you jokingly. Of course the first class was Professor Fury’s. College was a few blocks away, and you barely had 20 minutes to prepare yourself mentally.

— ✦ —

As soon as both of you set foot on the campus, you knew what was next. Steve Rogers and his infamous homophobia. “Look at those girlies go! Will they kiss each other? Sounds terrifying to me!” he derided loudly from where he was standing along with the other jocks. It isn’t easy for you to not pay attention to his shit behaviour, but Wanda knows how to shut him up. So she grabs your hand, walks towards Steve, and says, “Hey Rogers, you might wanna see this!” Without further ado, she grabs your chin and kisses you intensely right there. It didn’t make sense; you were enjoying it, while your anxiety was eating up pieces of you.

When both of you let go, Steve commented yet again, “Ew, how do you even do that?”

“No one is stopping you from kissing guys Rogers, if that’s what you mean.” Wanda snapped right back at him, enough for the crowd to listen. The whole campus, including the security guard, started laughing at Steve. His face was burning with shame.

“Where did you get all those guts from Maximoff?” Natasha asked, as soon as you were in the corridor. People had probably found the gossip for the day, and it made you anxious to be the crux of it.

“Just a little bit of how much I love Y/N.” You simply blushed, too stressed out to form a reply. Wanda understood you immediately and tried to excuse the both of you, but Nat called both of you again, for a reminder. “You both are coming to Stark’s party tonight right? Don’t tell me you aren’t, or I’m gonna throw tantrums around.” There it was, what you’ve been avoiding all morning.

“Of course we are coming, Nat. On all voluntary levels, we want to see you get drunk and run off with Maria again!”

“Shut UP!”

Giggling at Nat’s red face, you and Wanda walk away. You just wanted to get this done with.

— ✦ —

The rest of the day at college was the same, and a little weird. People were looking at you, and Steve Rogers didn’t annoy you at all. Smooth as silk, the classes ended by the afternoon.

Wanda dropped you off at the bookstore where you worked, and went back home for a little refreshment. She told you, “I’ll be back in half an hour Y/N, back me up till then.” It was the easiest task ever, you loved annoying your boss anyways.

The day was as simple as ever, there was nothing new to worry about except the Stark party. It physically hurts your stomach to even think of being surrounded by the number of people there. And Wanda would probably talk to all of them. It was frightening.

By the evening, you came up with a hundred different excuses to not go to the party, but none of them were going to convince Wanda. She knew you too well. There seemed to be literally no escape.

— ✦ —

“Malyshk, are you ready? It’s been almost an hour. Do you need my help?”

“I’m coming just-” and all that Wanda heard was a zipper being zipped up, followed by a shriek. She came running inside the room and started chuckling. Between bursts of laughter, she managed to say, “Caught your side boob in the zipper again, didn’t you? Let me help you out.”

You raise your left arm up so she can pull the zip down. When she did, you had a little bruise on your side. Without thinking twice, Wanda kisses it softly. Being under the pain of the bruise all the while, you didn’t notice how gorgeous Wanda actually looked in her wine coloured dress, her brunette hair all curled setting down on her shoulders. Her dress barely reached her knees, so you could see the tattoo on her outer thigh.

With a wide smirk, Wanda gives you a little bite and if you hadn’t controlled yourself, you would’ve moaned out loud enough to let your neighbours listen. She laid you down on the bed and put her hand inside your dress to massage the breast. She did it like an expert, you felt too aroused considering it hadn’t even been a minute.

“Darling, please…” was all that you could say with tightly closed eyes.

She zipped your dress back up again, and grabbed you by the waist. She looks at you and asks you innocently, “Yes detka?”

It wasn’t fair of her to tease you this way. So you continued with her game, even though you needed her so badly. “We are going to be late for the party. Again.”

— ✦ —

It isn’t your first Stark party, but even looking around seems like a scary thought to you. You’ve been here thrice in the past two weeks. But there are so many people around, it is probably half of the town. Wanda holds your chilled hand and walks inside beside you, with an air of confidence while you barely manage to crack a smile.

“Y/N! Wanda! You’re here, finally! Look at you, so gorgeous.” Natasha escapes from a larger chunk of a crowd when she notices you. With her comes Maria Hill. You could call them girlfriends, but they keep on saying it’s nothing official. The entire college knows otherwise.

You let Wanda do all the talking, signaling her to reply by tightening your grip on her hand. “Hey Nat. Hello Maria. And please, y’all look stunning. How long have you guys been here for?”

“We came here immediately after leaving college.”

“What?! So you’re telling me you’ve been partying for almost half the day already?”

“Uh, pretty much yeah. There was a before-party party.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” You let out a little laugh, looking at Wanda’s shocked and confused expression.

Nat takes notice of you and says, “Look at this beauty! You’ve been all quiet Y/N. Is everything alright?” Your hand which was held by Wanda started trembling. You felt so not ready to be at yet another party with people you don’t know, or even talk to anyone. “Yea-yeah Nat, everything is alright.”

Maria suddenly recalls something she had been meaning to tell, and pats Wanda’s shoulder lightly. “Wanda! Do you know that Rogers isn’t showing up here tonight? Tony told me that Rogers had errands to run. Me and Nat just couldn’t stop laughing. You just silenced his homophobic ass.”

When you’re done talking with a few more people, Wanda takes you to a corner of the room and asks, “Lyubov, you’re getting extremely anxious again. Do you need something?” You don’t know what to say, your hands are shivering and you’re holding on to Wanda for dear life. “Wands, it’s okay. I just want to get this done with. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure Y/N?”

“Yes, love.”

She gives you a quick kiss on the corner of your lips and places a reassuring hand on your back. You give her a smile, and she walks around the room fulfilling formalities. You find yourself a comfortable spot on the couch to stress about.

On your phone, you seem to find nothing interesting. All social media is filled with pictures of the party you’re at. No fanfictions to read. You cannot listen to music because the one that’s being played is too loud. So you decide to have a look around in the Settings because it was the only possible option to make you seem busy.

— ✦ —

Almost two hours passed, and you had already figured out that Wanda might be dancing around somewhere on the dance floor. She was quite the party person, there was no denying in that. And you definitely didn’t enjoy parties. Against your will, you decide to get up and search for Wanda.

On the few metres’ long walk to the dance floor, about thirteen different people asked you to join them for a drink, or a dance. Some of them were too crazy to even ask, they just tugged at your arm. However, you managed to reach your girlfriend.

“Y/N! You’re here! Come on in, we love this song don’t we?” She calls you. You don’t even recognise the song, there are too many people. The lights are so dim, colours fluctuating so bright, music too loud. You could easily fall down crying in this moment, so you walk away to look for Tony.

After deep breathing for several minutes, you find the host. He’s passing sarcastic comments around with Peter Parker, it was kind of foreseen anyways. “Hey Tony,” you greet him, “You’ve hosted a wonderful party once more.”

“Why, thank you Y/N. Did you have something?”

“No I haven’t yet, I just need a quiet place to relax myself, I’ve been kinda tired from all the… partying.” you lied.

“Alright I’m gonna lead you to a quieter space.”

In the room, you filled yourself a glass of water and sat down. You needed Wanda but she was too busy having fun. You didn’t want to spoil her mood, especially when college research tires her out every day. You can’t go home leaving Wanda right here.

It feels like being a red brick in a group of pebbles. So easily falling apart, but so hard to break through.

— ✦ —

[ Wanda’s POV ]

I don’t seem to remember anything. A couple of minutes ago, Y/N was standing in front of me, now I cannot find her. Did she go back to our apartment, because I left her alone? No, I don’t remember anything! The car keys are with me, how did she even go? Oh my God, I hope she didn’t walk all the way back. I only wish she could get mad at me for once, why does she like punishing herself this way?

Maybe she informed Natasha before leaving, I could ask her.

“Hey Nat, have you seen Y/N?” I asked her.

“I don’t know, I last saw her with Stark about an hour ago. She is missing?”

“Uh no no, she told me she would be back in a while so yeah. Nothing serious.” I made it up so the party didn’t get bummed out. Y/N wouldn’t like all the attention diverted towards her for the second time today.

Alright so, Stark. He might be with Pepper, because I saw Peter leave for the night. I just hope he’s not with Jarvis. Anyone but Jarvis.

Luckily enough, Tony was with Pepper. So I approached them and asked, “Hey Tony, any chance you might have seen Y/N?” To my surprise, he told me how she had approached him for an undisturbed place. He guided me to the room where Y/N would be, and I thanked him.

Turning the door handle gently, I went inside. The room was kind of, like, super huge. On taking a glance around, I saw Y/N sitting on the bed, a blanket wrapped around her. Her mascara was ruined. Oh my God.

— ✦ —

[ Narrator's POV ]

Wanda was too astounded by the look on your face to say anything.

The moment was too sensitive, too broken for either of you to say something. She felt like a burden on you, you felt like a burden on her.

She tried to say something, “Y/N… you- I’m so sorry-”

“Hey, Wands, it’s alright. Come here. I missed you.” You open the blanket for her to join you. She takes off her boots and climbs on the bed, wrapping you up in her embrace.

“Talk to me, detka.”

“There’s nothing to talk about honey. I guess I'm just not the type of person you could have fun with.”

“Shush! You’re the person I would spend forever with. What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry Wanda, I know you love parties. I know you love being around people and loud music and party lights and drinks. I know you love dancing around and I know you love doing all of that all throughout the night. I am so sorry I am ruining your party, I know you get stressed out because of college and need to feel a little fresh. I’m sorry I cannot be like that. You can feel free to leave me all you want.”

“Hey, not a single word about me leaving you. Or you leaving me. You don’t have to be sorry for being who you are, malyshk. Yes, I love parties but not at the cost of you. I’d rather not have a party for years than make you cry all alone every time I go to one.”

“Oh my goodness, no! I feel like I’m being so toxic about this. I don’t want you to cut off everyone else for me, or stop having fun because of me. Gosh, I can’t-”

She softly places a finger on your mouth, motioning for you to pause your overthinking. “You are not being toxic, it’s okay to feel this way. Anyone in your shoes would feel uncomfortable and insecure, I understand you completely. Don’t apologise, dear. I love you so much Y/N/N.”

You smile wide at her, and reply, “I love you too Wands. So so much.” Thanks to an occasional idea that you got, you shift your position to sit in front of her, straddling her lap. Holding her face between both your hands, you bring your lips together. The kiss wasn’t heated, but it wasn’t soft either. Just the perfect bit of each. You push her against the headboard and intensify yourself by seeking access. She permits you, and your tongues meet. She tastes a bit like alcohol, but mostly her own sweetness, and you’re so here for it. Her hand goes for your lower back, and the other in your hair.

When a small distance is created between the two of you, she pushes you down on the bed so she could be on your top. Once both of you had caught up on your breaths, she kissed you again and again all over your face, making you shut your eyes and grin. With each kiss that she planted, she muttered a little “I love you” and it fluttered the butterflies in your stomach. It was kind of difficult, but you began grinding against Wanda, but she stopped her kisses and held you in place. “Baby, let’s not mess up Stark’s bed. I’m gonna take you home, can you be a little patient for me?” Reluctantly, you nod. She was right.

Both of you get up, and rearrange your clothes. She helps you adjust your makeup, and does her own too. Ten minutes later, you’re both in the car, the only thought of Wanda touching you at home keeping you from going crazy.

— ✦ —

As soon as you enter the house, Wanda holds your waist and whispers in your ear, “My pretty baby,” then kisses your cheek, “Such a pretty baby. I love you.” You are practically breathless. You know she’s teasing you by showering love in all the different ways except the one you desperately need right now.

“This lavender dress, it’s too beautiful. What a shame the zip hurt my baby. Should I tear it?”

“No…” you whisper.

“Well then, if you say no, then it’s a no. We only have one way left, and it’s the zip.”

You know she’s being annoying on purpose. And it’s getting on your nerves. She takes her time to lower the zip, so carefully that the exact moment you step inside the bedroom, the zip reaches the bottommost point. She takes off your dress and puts it aside. “Relax yourself, lyubov.” You sit on the edge of the bed waiting for her. She got rid of her own dress and walked towards you. Placing a finger on your chin, she lifts your head up and asks you, “Pretty baby, what do you want?”

You had enough. So you decided to play her game yet again. “I want what you want to give me.”

“And what do I want to give you?”

“Three fingers.” Her eyes widen at your sudden bold response. Your own did too. “Alright, if that’s what you want.”

You rest your head on the pillow and pull her by the neck, “Fuck me, Wanda.”

“I’d be a fool not to.” was all that she said before taking off the rest of your clothes. Gently, she pushes two fingers inside your heat. “You’re drenching, and all for me detka.” Pushing a third digit in, she repeats, “All for me.”

It felt too much. You hadn’t thought it through but you were thankful you didn’t, because she started hitting all the spots that elicited raw screams out of you. She knew how to make you feel good like the back of her hand. Echoes of Wanda’s name filled the apartment, you could barely control your volume. And Wanda was enjoying all of it.

Her free hand reaches your chest, softly encouraging your moans. “Y/N, you look so fucking beautiful.” You were getting all worked up, so she started focusing on stimulating your clit.

Not so long after, you try warning her between pants and moans, “Wanda, I-”

“Yes, my pretty baby, make a mess for me, look at me when you do.”

You manage to stare at her when you come. She rides you through it, and looks into your eyes fondly. Once you calm down from your high, she takes out her fingers and cleans them up with her tongue. The sight itself is magnificent, but she adds a whole different effect by humming. It makes you want to fuck her all night long. You smile at her, as Wanda moves away strands of hair from your face.

“I love it when you call me that” you tell her.

“Call you what? Pretty baby?”

“No. Your pretty baby.”

She blushes, and kisses you hard. “Yes, you’re my pretty baby. You’ve been such a good pretty baby.”

“Does that mean I deserve a treat?” You say, and stick your tongue out. Wanda’s face goes insanely red, she’s too flushed to even say something. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“If you want me to shut up, you need to sit on my face.”

“Okay but don’t talk to me like that.”

“I will, because I’m gonna get a treat.”

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda smut #wanda x fem!reader #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch x y/n #mcu wanda #100 notes !!!!! thank you ❤️

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laurenairay · 1 year

Note

Happy early birthday!!!! Could I request #10 with your choice of Mikko, JT, or Andrei?

- @comphy-and-cozy

As discussed C, we changed this one to prompt 6 – I hope you like it!! It did run away with me a little but here we go anyway.

“Would it be weird if I kissed you?”

Words: 1.2k

There were some things that were just undeniable. The sky was blue. Grass was green. Geese were terrifying. Andrei Svechnikov was the most beautiful man you’d ever met.

Since moving to Raleigh for your first job after college, you’d somehow fallen in with a crowd of girls who knew a lot of the younger Hurricanes players, and somehow you’d developed a wonderful friendship with Andrei. Sure, it mostly consisted of sending each other cute dogs photos, easy recipes, late night commentary on shitty reality tv, and stupid memes on low days, but it was a friendship you treasured. And you knew it meant just as much to him, to have that lifeline outside of the team to ground him.

It just made life that little bit harder knowing exactly how attracted you were to him, knowing that all you were to him was a friend. But, you knew first and foremost that you would never want to do anything to damage your growing friendship, so if that meant pushing your feelings down and locking them away, so be it.

Damn him for being so beautiful though, inside and out.

The evening was like any other evening – you had joined your friends at Seth’s house for a ‘casual’ gathering, which ended up with around 30 people drinking and dancing, music pounding in a way that you could only hope wouldn’t get him any noise complaints from neighbours.

Not that you were too concerned with anything outside of the way Andrei was essentially cornering you outside on the deck though, having guided you outside after getting the two of you fresh drinks.

“Much better. Too much noise inside,” Andrei said happily, leaning against the railing with a smile.

“The fresh air is very welcome, thanks,” you mused, taking a sip of your drink.

“Easier to talk to you without people trying to take your attention too,” he grinned.

His cheeky smile almost distracted you from the fact that it was definitely the other way round, people always wanting to talk to him. Almost.

“Pretty sure you’re the popular one here, Svech,” you laughed, shaking your head.

“All eyes were on you,” he said simply, “I don’t care if I’m selfish for not wanting you to notice.”

Okay what the hell?

What was going on with him?

“Is everything okay?” you asked, frowning.

“Yes? Better now that we’re alone, yes?” Andrei nodded, looking just as confused as you felt.

“Well, yeah, you know I like hanging out with you but…”

You trailed off at the hurt look on Andrei’s face, even more confused than before.

“Just hanging out?” he said, brows furrowed.

Okay seriously, what the hell?

Because with what he was implying…no, there’s no way.

“I think you need to tell me what you’re talking about because I don’t want to get our wires crossed here,” you said firmly.

“Wires crossed?”

“Confuse things. Not be on the same page. Not understand the situation the same,” you clarified.

You bit your lip briefly as Andrei nodded at your explanation.

But still he didn’t speak.

“Please, Svech, I can’t read your mind,” you prompted.

And you really didn’t want to get your hopes up even though his words were full of nothing but hope, feeding into your stupid daydreams in a way that you’d never imagined would be happening in real life.

“Andrei,” he said quietly.

“What?”

“Please call me Andrei. Not Svech. Everyone calls me Svech…but you’re special,” he said.

You made a soft pleading sound, needing him to keep talking, needing him to tell you one way or another before your traitorous heart ran away with itself. Andrei took a deep breath, seeming to steel himself, before he moved to look at you properly, blocking your view of anyone else, keeping all your attention on him.

“You’re special to me. And I don’t think you know how much? The boys were saying…”

Oh fuck.

His teammates talked about you? About the two of you?

“…that I haven’t been clear enough, and I didn’t realise. These parties, these gatherings, all the nights out – they wouldn’t be the same for me if you weren’t there.”

“Why? Why wouldn’t they?” you managed to say.

Your head felt like it was spinning, definitely not from the two drinks you’d had but purely because of this man in front of you stealing your breath away with every word.

And Andrei just smiled. “Because you are the only person who makes my heart go crazy. All I want to do is make you smile and hear your laugh and I hate the thought of you flirting with anyone else. So this is me, trying to flirt with you, trying to tell you how I feel.”

Holy shit. Of all the things you thought would happen tonight, this was the last of it. He…liked you? Really liked you? As much as you liked him?

“Tell me. Tell me exactly how you feel,” you said firmly.

Andrei laughed softly, sounding a little relieved if anything, but he nodded.

“I like you, so much. And I’m hoping you like me too? Because otherwise I might have to leave and not come back out of embarrassment,” he said, voice full of hope.

As if you could feel any other way for him.

Hearing those honest and genuine words from him filled you with so much happiness, making you almost giddy with relief that this thing between you wasn’t one-sided after all, and you found yourself smiling widely without being able to stop yourself. Time for you to be brave too.

“I do like you, Svech. Andrei. I just didn’t think you liked me, so I never said anything,” you said softly.

“We wasted so much time,” he said sadly, almost with a whine, making you laugh.

“Well we can make up for that time, no?” you mused.

He nodded, eyes flashing with something that made your heart beat a little faster, before he took a final sip of his drink. Andrei put the bottle down on a nearby table, before stepping towards you. You bit your bottom lip as he took your drink and put it down too, watching in a silent joy as he rested one of his hands on your waist, the touch warm even through your dress.

“Would it be weird if I kissed you?” Andrei murmured.

“It would be weirder if you didn’t after all of that,” you replied, just as softly.

Andrei’s mouth crooked in a smile, dimple in full display, before he raised a hand to cup your face gently. You didn’t mention that you noticed it was trembling slightly, knowing yours weren’t much better, the build up of everything hitting you like a train. How was this real life? How was this not a dream? You certainly weren’t going to complain, especially not as he leant his head down to yours. As he pressed his lips to your lips in a soft kiss, you found yourself clinging to his shirt, oblivious to his teammates watching from inside, even more oblivious to money exchanging hands. The world outside of Andrei and his sweet embrace melted away, and for just a moment you lost yourself in him, just as you’d always imagined.

#my writing #birthday prompt list #andrei svechnikov blurb #andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov fanfic

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blackjackkent · 4 months

Text

Well. Hector feels fucking awful now, but you know what will make him feel better? Beating the hell out of the area boss.

"Wait. Elevated gyroscopes. Triple-set quadropecs. No... it can't be..."

Karlach got this conversation because it was an autotrigger as we got close to the door; normally this annoys me a smidge but it kind of makes sense here since Hector is still super rattled by the events of the previous post.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"I hear it through the floor. Powerful. Indestructible. The ultimate Watcher - the Titan."

"The Watcher tightens what? Whatever it be, Minsc will knock it loose!"

I love Minsc. XD

"It shames me to admit this, but you must face this beast of Gondian folly alone. I would be crushed in an instant. When it raises its shields, strike it with every scrap of magic and might you possess... and pray to Gond that it does not fire upon you. Good luck, my friend."

...uh oh.

-----

There are three things in the next room, all labeled "Hellfire Watcher." I'm not sure if these are what Toobin was talking about.

The room is also lined with a great deal of the same pulsating flesh material that marked the oubliette at Moonrise.

In the back of the room is a large steel sphere that I suspect is our target, as its lined with both mechanical cabling and fleshy nerve lines, and is connected to something labeled "Neural Switchboard". I'm guessing this is the control mechanism for all of the Watchers in the city.

Quite scared of this fight but there's no way out but through. XD

Aaaaaand as soon as the fight started, the platform in the center of the area lifted up and revealed...

Selune's moonlit ass, THREE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-NINE HP? Fuck me, you know what, I give up, let the Absolute have me.

Kidding, of course. (Mostly.)

Combat log number whatever the hell:

My opening strategy was the brute force that Team Juggernaut is very good at, and our team are such forces of nature at this point that we got the titan below half health before it was able to get a shot off.

I also opened with putting having Jaheira toss both Freedom of Movement and Shield of Faith on Hector before going owlbear, since the most scary thing about the Watchers is not actually their damage but their crowd control and Hector is the squishiest of the group.

At this point the fight's Exciting Gimmicks kicked in:

OK, that all seems... fine. O.O;

Investigating the various status effects, we learn that Hellfire Curse has given everyone disadvantage on STR/DEX/CON saves, and Defensive Protocol: Bulwark makes the Titan "Unyielding" (ignores attacks under 15 damage) and gives it access to "Repair Matrix" (a self-heal), "Repelling Protocol" (a damaging knockback), and "Hellfire Missiles", which it just used, which is an AOE attack that does...

...ahem...

96-576 DAMAGE.

OK, let's get everyone out of that fucking red circle RIGHT NOW. The bright side here is that while bulwarked it doesn't seem to take opportunity attacks, meaning we can all scatter like the terrified rabbits that we are.

I had Jaheira summon a dryad to get some more bodies on the field and it was IMMEDIATELY, like literally instantly, completely obliterated by one of the Hellfire Watchers. So that's a fourth level spell slot wasted.

Interestingly, the hellfire missiles never actually went off; I had Hector do a full round of attacks on it with the intention of booking it after he was out of actions/bonus actions - but it just stopped and came out of Bulwark during his last hit. I'm actually not at all clear what happened here, even looking at the combat log; it seems like Hector might have staggered it, but also maybe it just dropped it after taking a certain amount of damage? Unclear.

Regardless, it meant that Minsc was able to finish it off before it could make another attack! Jaheira (whose background is Soldier! I hadn't realized!) got an inspiration for this:

This is hardly the first one we've destroyed so I'm not sure why she only got this now. :P

It didn't explode when it died, either, which was a nice change.

It's carrying, for some reason, a legendary level bow which looks dope as shit:

That's actually fucking wild. This one goes to Jaheira.

The fight unfortunately did not stop being scary at this point because there were still three Steel Watchers on the field. But we're starting to get fairly practiced at dealing with them and are also bolstered by the fact that these are probably the last ones we'll have to fight, thank the gods. Tossed Jaheira into owlbear form and let her smack the shit out of one of them which was very satisfying.

In the end, I managed to time it out so all three were in detonation phase at the same time and went off one right after the other. Let's fucking goooooooo!

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #ok that didn't go NEARLY as badly as i thought it would #^_^

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kassiekole22 · 1 year

Text

A Sign From Above

Description: You attend Josh's funeral to try to find some closure after witnessing his death. While alone with his casket, you decide to confess your love for him. And to your surprise, you learn that the feeling is mutual in a very special way. Warnings: Angst, Pining, Mention Of Character Death. Word Count: 1.6k A/N: This fic is inspired by the song Lifetime by Three Days Grace. While listening to this song, I want you to close your eyes and imagine being completely in love with someone. So in love that you would do anything for them. But you are afraid to confess your feelings to them because you don't want to lose what you already have. But one day, a fatal accident happens and takes them away completely. What you could have someday had is now gone and will never come back. This is what this fic is about. If you love someone, let them know. Because you never know what the future holds for the both of you. MasterList: 🖤 Josh's Angels: @lorebite, @yellowroses-world, @house-of-kolchek, @koexchange, @yesitsloulou, @mistmoose, @jasonexo, @mornandil, @fortune-fool02, and @raven-the-cryptid. (If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments! 🖤)

》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《

The weather was a lot warmer in California compared to the harsh winters in the mountains in Alberta. Even then, it was as if the season had stopped there as well since that day. It hadn't snowed, only rained. Much like my eyes. It was as if the sky was grieving with me. I never expected that my next visit to America would be for this. Hell, nothing like this happening had ever crossed my mind.

We stood all gathered around the dark reddish-brown coffin as the priest said a prayer. The only sounds heard, aside from his saddened voice, was the soft breeze brushing through the branches of trees and the broken sobs of the people around me, blending in with the sounds of my own. The air felt thick and the energy was dark, depressing, exactly what you would expect at a funeral. But this felt different. This felt as if my whole world was falling down, as if my chest was collapsing and taking my weak heart with it, as if my future no longer meant anything to me...

The others watched me every now and then. Chris and Sam mostly. They were the ones who were most aware of my feelings for Josh. I knew they were only concerned for my well-being but I hated when people seen me cry or stared at me at all. My eyes wandered the crowd until they met with another pair of familiar faces: Mr. And Mrs. Washington. Mrs. Washington was completely broken down in tears while Mr. Washington held her close to him, clearly struggling to keep it together himself. My heart broke for them. I couldn't even begin to imagine the pain of losing your two daughters and then losing your son a year after.

The funeral carried out and everybody stepped away from the coffin, allowing the Washingtons one final moment with their son and instead of going over to our parked cars to group up with my friends, like we had planned, I went and leaned against a tree that was away form the others, closing my eyes and trying to pretend I wasn't there. I was trying to pretend that I was with him again, watching as many movies as we could fit into one night. But those happy thoughts were only drowned out by the disturbing sounds of his screams in agony when Hannah crushed his skull.

I was unfortunate enough to be there and see it. And now the sight, sounds and regret will be engraved in my mind for the rest of my life to haunt me like a twisted revenant of my ever so terrifying past. I hated myself for freezing in fear and not doing anything even though deep down I know that if I did, my family would most likely be spending today the same way the Washingtons were.

I opened my eyes again as I felt the way too familiar feeling of tears pricking the backs of them like tiny needles, asking for release. I swallowed thickly, not wanting to cry again. I didn't know how I hadnt cried all my tears our since all I did for the last week was cry. I looked back over to his coffin and took notice that he was now left alone. I hesitated for a moment before heaving a deep sigh and heading in the direction that a part of me so badly didn't want to be near again. But I needed to do this. I needed the closure.

I approached the side of his coffin and stared down at it in silence, watching the pretty bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums and purple hyacinth set on top of it's lid. It reminded me of him. The chrysanthemums reminded me of pure joy and happiness, completely full of life like he once was. But the hyacinths reminded me of something more sorrowful. At first glance, all I could notice was the bright and lively chrysanthemums. But though the hyacinths were overpowered by the brightness of the chrysanthemums at first sight, I could still them hidden within the bouquet, almost seemly purposely hidden. The longer I looked at the bouquet, the more I realized that it was him. Happiness hiding the sorrow. I should have known that behind every person standing in the sun, there's a shadow.

"Josh..." I whispered his name and it felt as if a hand had wrapped around my heart and attempted to squeeze any last bit of joy out of it. "I-I'm so sorry..."

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you... From yourself or your fate..." I felt the tears finally begin to fall as I whispered my apologies. "I'm sorry I was too much of a pussy to tell you how I felt..."

I stopped for a moment, thinking back to that moment in the shed. All of those things he said to me, Mike and Chris echoed through my mind. I knew he didn't mean those words. But it still haunted me.

"All of those things you said to Chris that day, you should have been saying it to me. I'm an idiot for not telling you how I feel. Maybe if I did, it would have changed things and you'd still be here. I was stupid and now I have to live with the consequences; the consequences of not being yours and the consequences of losing you... The consequences of never telling you that I love you..." I heaved another sigh while trying so desperately hard to keep it together even though I was failing my battle for strength. "Maybe in another life, I'll get that chance again. Or maybe not. But the only way I'll survive is if I hang on to that little bit of hope, no matter how hard it may be..."

I stepped a bit closer and placed a soft kiss to the tips of my fingers before placing them on the dark mahogany wood before me. I closed my eyes, allowing my finger tips to linger on the cold surface and suddenly, the dark energy around me melted into something peaceful. It was like a warm embrace from a close friend had covered me like a fuzzy blanket after hours of being out in the cold. I opened my eyes to see a butterfly gracefully fluttering towards me. Subconsciously, I reached my hand out and to my surprise, the butterfly gently landed in my palm. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves to stop my hand from shaking. And that's when an old memory began to play in my mind...

》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《

"Whatcha lookin' at?" I jumped at the sound of Josh's voice, breaking me from my thoughts. I spun around and heaved a sigh of relief, feeling glad that it was him and not some psycho.

"Just looking at those two butterflies." I said as I turned back around and pointed to the two little butterflies, fluttering around in the distance.

"You mean to tell me, you've been watching those butterflies this whole time?" He said with an amused chuckle while the corners of his lips turned up into a smile as he approached my side. I rolled my eyes playfully while trying to repress a smile of my own.

"What? They're so peaceful to watch. Look at them, fluttering around without a care in the world." I sighed as I watched the pair in the sky. "Watching them makes me feel at peace with everything. Some say that seeing butterflies means that somebody is sending you a sign from heaven. So, seeing them makes me feel like everything will be ok, y'know?"

Josh let out another quiet chuckle beside me as he shook his head and I turned to give him a cold glare. "What?"

"Ah, nothing." He continued to laugh and I shoved his shoulder. "No, it's cute. Really."

"Suuuure." I rolled my eyes while sighing. Though he didn't say anything, I knew what he was thinking. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was dumb. But even if a belief that seemed as childish as butterflies sent from heaven is what gave me comfort during hard times, I was going to hang onto it no matter what.

"Come on. Let's get back to the lodge before the others think we're dead." He giggled while placing his hand on my shoulder lightly.

"Yeah." I muttered softly, taking one last glance at the two butterflies before turning around and following Josh back to the lodge.

》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《

"He knows!" I gasped quietly when I came to from my memory. It had to be a sign from him. It was too much of a coincidence. It had to be him letting me know that he knew that I loved him. Maybe even saying that he loved me too? That's what I wanted to believe. I watched the butterfly in my hand, studying the subtle movements of it's beautiful wings while another set of tears fell down my cheeks.

The butterfly stayed with me for a few minutes longer before fluttering away into the sky. I watched while it parted from my hand and flew gracefully in the distance as the clouds broke apart and the sun finally began to shine. My heart began to feel full again as I imagined him in heaven with Hannah and Beth, watching over me and finally being free of the demons that locked him in the darkness when he was alive. Realizing this helped to restore my faith in the afterlife and knowing that I'd someday be reunited with him on the other side finally made my mind feel at ease and for the first in a while, I genuinely smiled...

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#until dawn #josh washington #josh washington x reader #KassieUntilDawnFanFics

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anonymous-astronaut · 2 years

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The mercs on a undercover mission on a rave? (Can be either a legalized one or a illegal one or both on what would happen…

Ought to be interesting! Keep in mind I have never been to a rave, but I’ll do my best.

Scout

Throws himself into the mosh pit with zero hesitation, and is very adamant that doing so is 100% necessary for the mission. It takes all of two seconds for him to get trampled and disappear from sight. I mean he’s built like a hat stand, my man gets absolutely demolished and has to crawl back out. He says that he’s fine though, and will continue to dance at a safer distance, probably with a bit of a limp. By the end he’s convinced that the experience automatically make him ten times cooler, but he just has a black eye. Probably wore a Tom Jones t-shirt no matter who was performing.

Soldier

For the first time ever, Soldier’s surroundings are louder and more chaotic than he is. He can scream all he wants and no one will even notice him, which is a very new experience. I think it would actually manage to throw him off a little. He’s not afraid to throw hands if someone gets in the way, but the sheer amount of people that have no interest in giving him the time of day shuts him down pretty fast. He actually feels a little out numbered for once, and ends up just kinda shouldering through the crowd to do whatever he needs to do so he can leave.

Pyro

As long as it’s clear that everyone is having a good time, Pyro is down to party. They love the performance even if it’s bad, music and lights fascinate them either way and they get distracted instantly. Hopefully someone went with them, mostly to keep them from trying to add their own fire effects but also because no mission will completed if they go alone. Pyro steers clear of the mosh pit, but they have no hesitations about dancing. If the crowd gets too crazy however, they might get kind of overwhelmed and stop having fun. Hopefully all goes well.

Demo

This atmosphere brings out the… irresponsible side of him. He takes the opportunity to get absolutely plastered, and will party as hard as he possibly can under the guise of “fitting in with the crowd”. He fits in a little too well, because no one can find him and he completely forgets why he’s there in the first place. He probably has a good time, but he can’t remember any of it the next day so I hope he wasn’t gathering intel. All he knows is that his head hurts, and whatever he ingested last night did terrible things to his liver.

Heavy

Unamused, unenthused, and very tired. Heavy just stands like an irritated brick wall looming over the partiers until he’s allowed to leave. He has zero appreciation for a party like this, and he mostly watches the ravers with quiet distaste for as long as he needs to be present. He will raise his voice if he needs people to move, and move they will because he can be terrifying. He has a terrible time, and can’t wait to go home and read.

Engie

Probably made his own noise-canceling headphones to bring. As long has he has some kind of ear protection, he won’t be completely miserable, but he still doesn’t exactly love it. He’s kinda short, so he hates crowds and ends up getting pushed around a bit. Don’t get me wrong, Engie knows how to party, this is just out of his comfort zone. He doesn’t really get the music that’s playing, but he thinks the lights are okay. Would way rather it was a tailgate shindig instead though.

Medic

Crams earplugs in as far as they’ll go and is ready to go. Probably straight up wears his doctor uniform to the race. He’s definitely not used to this many people in one place, but he has faced more chaos than this and honestly he can work with it. Medic can hold his own if he starts getting pushed around, and he feeds off other peoples excitement so easily he finds himself having a good time. He loves the adrenaline of being in a crazy crowd like this, but keep an eye on him because he might get a little too carried away and try to steal an organ from someone in the confusion.

Sniper

Someone needs to rescue this man, he’s like a mouse in a elevator with twenty-five jungle cats. Sniper is trying to physically shrink in on himself so he can just disappear. He secretly suspects that everyone here is also undercover, because that’s the only possible reason he can think of for someone to willfully subject themselves to this. He tries to stay in the back, but he’s so tall that he feels like he’s in the way no matter what. That’s the opposite of where he what’s to be. It’s all too loud, too bright, too crowded. He would like to leave as soon as possible please and thank you.

Spy

He definitely looks done on events like this and has no desire to be there, but he takes his job very seriously and won’t let his personal preferences get in the way. So, he simply views the scene as he would like a battlefield, navigating the chaos the same way he would in a fight. To him, a job is a job and he has been in far stickier situations. He does his best to fit in and still keep his dignity, trying to stay out of the way. But, if he is put on the spot (like if refusing to do so would put the mission at risk), he will… dance. Anyone on the team who witnesses it will never ever let him live it down.

#tf2 #tf2 sniper #tf2 medic #tf2 pyro #tf2 spy #tf2 heavy #tf2 demoman #tf2 soldier #tf2 scout #tf2 headcanons

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therese-lokidottir · 8 months

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The Avengers: Earth Mightiest Heroes & X-Men Evolution series watch

Starting of with EMH Episode 1

Iron Man Is Born written by Brandon Auman

So the series starts with Tony Stark already established as Iron Man. The story doesn't get delve into Tony's backstory only that he was weapons developer but no longer is and now is Iron Man fights crime. Giants robots have been attacking majors cities and they are revealed to be made by Hydra using Stark tech. During Iron Man battle with one of the giant robots Nick Fury SHIELD intervene and try to convince Tony Stark to stop being Iron Man and go back to developing weapons. It's reveal they have use tech that Tony has previously sold to them to make "Mandroids" This almost starts a fight because Tony because upset that shield is appropriating his tech this way and he makes a point how Hydra is using the exact same tech SHIELD is Fury lets Tony walk because this means there's been a leak and that takes priority.

Last part of the episode focuses on SHIELD taken in the Hydra agents from the robot fight into custody into one of the super prison. It turns out is was a setup as Hydra member Grim Reaper attempts to breakout Hydra Baron Stucker. He pretty terrifying sucks the life out someone presumably killing them. Strucker and Grim nearly escapes but are stopped and taken back in to prison by Nick Fury.

So this episode is a lot of set-up with Tony Stark as a character, SHIELD and the overarching Hydra. Tony here is clearly heavily modeled after RDJ from, both in attitude and appearance. What interesting is this version it's SHIELD directly that does want Tony being Iron Man as they feel he is more of use to them if he continued building weapons. It's clear Fury feels it should be SHIELD facing the growing threats of monsters, super villains and other threats and not super heroes.

Nick Fury: We need Tony Stark more than some armored vigilante. You can't do this alone. You're only one man!

Tony: One of me is more than enough.

The fight scenes and storyboards are all really well done. It is mostly action based for this episode But it still does a pretty good job as setting up the characters. Tony very quickly establishing as his arrogant but well intentioned self. His conflict that he is clearly going to have with Fury. Pepper and Rhodey friendship and concern for Tony. It all good stuff.

Also say it here and now that stupid theme song is going to stuck in my head for the next month.

Next with X-Men Evolution episode 1

Strategy X Written by Bob Forward, Avi Arad and Rick Ungar

At a high school football game we're interduce to high school students Scott Summers and Jean Grey. Scot sees delinquent Toad pick pocketing people in the crowd and when he catches up to him Toad he is about to be beat up by some of the football players. Scott tries to intervene and get the players to let Toad go but there's a scuffle and Scott's glasses get knocked off and his eye beams ended up hitting a propane tank and causing explosion. Police come in to investigate but Xavier is able to use is powers to compel them from looking to into it. Next day Storm and Xavier pick up a new student at the train station. Toad has a meeting with the school principal has she's pieced together that Scott and wants Toad to recruit Scott and find Xavier Institute. Xavier interduces the new student to Scott and Jean. It's Nightcrawler, they show him around the mansion and give him a hologram watch so he can blend in and go to the local school. Later that day Toad reveals to Scott that he's a mutant and that he figured out that so is Scott and suggest getting to know each other better. Scott tells Xavier about Toad, Xavier says he just found about toad through Cerebro and that that maybe that Toad could also join them.

Later that night Toad has found the mansion there ends up being a confrontation, Toad and Night Crawler fight a bit end up in the danger room end up setting it off and almost get killed. They get out fine, Wolverine shows up scares off toad, Xaviar decides he's not suited to be a X-men right now. Toad gets chewed out by the principal and for failing to recruit and Scott and also apparently Xaviar erased Toad memories of where the mansion was so he can't find it again. The principal is revealed to be Mistique and that the one person who she's talking orders from is Magento.

This show is already aggressively as 00's as I remember

So contrast to EMH Evolution is far less action focused and more about setting up the premise introducing the characters and their powers. It establishes that Wolverine is already part of the group and considers the place. But out of all the characters Scott probably get the strongest characterization in the first episode as he shown to be a do gooder and someone who is against bullying even when the target is a less the virtuous person. Kurt is really cute in this as his perky personality is on full display. They do a good job at making all the characters likeable and I'm ready to watch more.

The animation in this series is nice. It's very good with character expressions and it's good at angles and framing shots to look interesting. The action scene is okay, it's more there to show off what each character can do then it is to be a dynamic.

So as far as the first episode of both goes I'd say there both and enjoyable and easy watch I would recommend

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electrosuite · 2 years

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howdy al! i wanted to request a brother!steve harrington.

kinda like a part 2 to the fic where eddie comes back after four years. but i wanted it to be right after y/n gives birth and she's in the hospital and some of the kids come to see, accompanied by steve and robin.

steve is y/n's big brother (by a year) and convinces her to move back in after she’d been unofficially living with eddie. he offers so he can help her raise his niece and she agrees

warnings: mentions of pregnancy & birth

word count: 1.5k

masterlist

Six hours had passed since you gave birth to your daughter Rose. And she looked just like Eddie, the father and love of your life.

This was what you were most nervous about after finding out you were pregnant the day of his funeral. Giving birth and raising your daughter without him. Having to go through it mostly alone terrified you.

But you were incredibly thankful for Wayne Munson, Eddie’s uncle. He let you stay living with him when you wanted to and told you that he would be happy to help with anything you needed during the day before he went to work.

Before Eddie died, you’d been staying with him more than you were home. Sleeping next to him with his arm around you most nights made you feel more at home than you ever had, and before you knew it, that was gone.

Rose had the same curly dark brown hair as her dad, and a lot of it. Really the only feature that she had of yours were your eyes.

And for six hours, you were completely alone in your hospital room. The only company you’d had was Rose, who had been in your arms for the last twenty minutes. That was, at least, until a small crowd of your closest friends burst through the door.

Steve, your older brother, Robin, one of his best friends, Dustin, his other best friend, and Lucas, who was everyone’s friend.

You looked over and smiled at the sight of them, Dustin holding a group of balloons with the word ‘Congratulations’ written across them.

“Hi, guys,” you greeted quietly, trying not to upset your daughter. They all rushed over to see the baby, all of them grinning at the sight of her.

“What’s her name?” Lucas asked.

“Well, I wanted to name her something to honor Eddie. Guns N’ Roses was his favorite band so I went with Rose. It’s a common enough name that I doubt anyone would know the meaning, but I always will.”

After a few seconds of silence, Robin asked a question that stunned you and Steve.

“Can I hold her?”

You both looked at her with expressions of confusion.

“Really? I thought you didn’t like babies,” you responded.

She shrugged. “I have exceptions.”

“Okay. I’d love to have my arms free for a minute.”

You handed Rose over to her gently, reminding her to support the head. Once she had her situated, she walked over to the pull out couch a few feet from the bed, all of her attention now on your child.

Steve pulled the recliner over so he could sit next to you, Dustin and Lucas walking over next to Robin.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, clasping his hands in his lap and crossing his left leg over his right.

You and Steve had always been extremely close, much more than any other siblings that you knew. Your parents were gone a lot, your dad on business trips and your mom tagging along because she didn’t trust him.

So there were a lot of spans of time, ranging between two days and two weeks, that you were either home alone together taking care of each other or at your grandparents’ houses. Those times allowed you to form an unbreakable bond. And even though you didn’t see each other every day anymore, you talked on the phone a lot when you were apart.

“Exhausted. And I’m still pretty swollen and my back hurts, but other than that, peachy.” He smirked, chuckling to himself. “I just wish he was here.”

He instantly knew you were talking about Eddie.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you when my water broke. I know you would’ve liked to be here.”

He shrugged. “I’m here now.”

“Steve,” said Robin, who walked up behind him. “Wanna hold your neice?”

He nodded enthusiastically, straightening up in the chair but keeping his legs crossed.

She slowly handed the baby over and you could see instant joy in his eyes. They lit up like a Christmas tree and you could tell he was getting emotional.

“You okay?” you asked.

He nodded. “I just didn’t expect to be an uncle so soon.”

“Trust me, I didn’t either.”

Steve looked at Robin again. “Why don’t you take them to get something to eat, I need to talk to Y/N about something.”

She nodded, glancing at Dustin and Lucas. “Let’s go get food.”

They nodded, following her out of the room and to the cafeteria.

“What’s up?” you asked, loosely crossing your arms.

“You should move back in.”

You raised your eyebrows and scoffed, remembering how much your parents disapproved of you dating Eddie, much less having his child. They told you that if you went through with it, they would only do the bare minimum of helping you raise the baby.

“Yeah, as if Mom and Dad would let me.”

“I already talked to them. They said you could.”

“They said that?”

He nodded. “They just said that they wouldn’t help that much.”

“Wow. I’m surprised they agreed to that. The last thing they said to me was that they spent years hearing two babies crying through the night and they weren’t gonna do it again.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised too. But that’s what I’m here for. I want to help.”

Your eyebrows contorted into an expression saying ‘Really?’

“Have you ever even held a baby before today?”

“No, but neither have you.”

You sighed. “No, I’m not gonna ask you to help me. She’s my kid, I can do it.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

“Still.”

“Y/N, you’re all alone. Without Mom and Dad, you’re doing this by yourself.”

“Eddie’s uncle said he can help during the day.”

“Okay, well what happens when night comes? You’re not gonna get any sleep doing this alone.” You sighed again. “The whole reason I’m asking you to move back in is so I can help. I’ve told you your whole life that I’m here to help. So let me help. You’d do the same for me.”

You were silent for a moment, thinking about it.

“Okay. Okay, fine.”

He smirked and nodded. “Great.”

“You do know you’re gonna have to change diapers, right?”

“Yep, I know. But it’ll be worth it.”

Rose wrapped her left hand around Steve’s pointer finger and you swear he could’ve melted on the spot at how tiny she was.

“I love you,” you said, a genuine smile on your face.

“I love you, too.”

Going home the next day, you were ambushed at the door, your mom demanding to see the baby. She gushed over her for a few minutes but stood firm about not helping.

Teaching Steve to change a diaper was like teaching a germaphobe to touch dirt. He was trying his absolute best to keep his hands clean, but you kept telling him he could just wash them afterwards.

She loved yanking on his hair. She’d reach up when he least suspected it, grab a handful of it, then pull, seemingly as hard as she could. And when he’d say ‘Ow’ or groan from the pain, she only laughed.

Once she was able to hold her head up, he’d wear the baby sling that you got for your baby shower on his chest and put her in it with her facing away from him so he could keep her close while he was watching her.

When you got home from work one day, he was standing in the kitchen doing dishes with her strapped to his chest, bouncing and dancing to the music that was playing — specifically Head Over Heels by Tears For Fears.

When he splashed a tiny amount of suds onto her nose, she laughed loudly.

You chuckled, walking into the kitchen and leaning down against the island onto your elbows.

“What are you laughing at?” he asked, turning to look at you for a moment.

“Just how much of a damn dork you are.”

“She’s having a great time.”

“I can see that.” She wiped the suds off of her nose and reached up without looking, smearing them on his cheek.

That night, as you and Steve gathered around for Jeopardy!, Rose crawled over to sit beside him on the couch. His arm was laid across the back of the couch, leaving a perfect baby-sized opening. You were more than glad that she loved him, and you knew they’d be close as she grew up.

“Hey,” you said, getting his attention.

“Hm?” he looked over at you, crunching on his snack of popcorn.

“Do you remember that day in that RV when you were talking to Nancy about having six kids?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re gonna make a great dad.”

He looked down at his niece leaning against his side.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

He nodded. “Thank you. Right back at you. Not about you being a dad. You’re a great mom.

“I got it,” you chuckled. “Thank you.”

Within a few minutes, you and Rose had dozed off, Steve answering the game show’s questions to himself.

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bloodboonfic · 1 year

Text

untethered scene from fanfic of fanfic

Ahem. So I may have written a quick scene that I then discarded from my potential fanfiction of fanfiction due to plot reasons. ie. I wrote this while procrastinating and when I finished I realized that it doesn’t even remotely fit into my plot at all. As in is completely impossible due to plot stuff and just doesn’t fit. If I wanted to work this scene into a story I would basically have to make a whole other AU of Bloodboon just to make this scene work. The writing is thus rather imperfect and in what I like to refer to as my first draft style, which has imperfections of course but also is very stylistically different from my final draft. However, it makes me tear up so I’m sharing it with the two of you. Fair warning not sure how OOC it is and I am sure the formatting turned out wonky through the submit. Have a good time zone.

The background info of this scene is very sparse especially because it just really exists on its own. But I do know that in this Technoblade is out of it(he’s lost some blood plus hypothermia. The Overworld is cold) thus the inconsistent thinking and through an unfortunate set of circumstances(ie I’m not sure how) Technoblade ends up prisoner to the Antarctic Empire very shortly after Philza escapes the Nether. The only thing I know about Philza during the time that this scene takes place is Philza is 1. very happy to see his kids and be home and is 2. downright furious with the Technoblade situation.

There were several ways this could go. All of them unpleasant. He could be nicely executed. Cleanly and swiftly, die alone in front of crowd. He could be executed not so nicely. Painfully, by way of spectacle. Drawn and quartered, skinned alive, burnt alive. For all its supposed swiftness he was terrified of drowning. They wouldn’t even have to weigh him down; he didn’t know how to swim.

One of the even more unfavorable options was being tortured to death. Slowly have the life spun out of him before they dragged out his still breathing remains and chained him to a pillar till he went from mostly dead to all the way dead to make a point or pushed his body through a portal and let his own people find his body wasting away so swiftly that no potion would do anything.

One option that made him sick with worry was the one where he was tossed into a hole and forgotten, given enough food and water to survive, but before long he would go mad with loneliness. It wouldn’t take him long. His soul already ached from long starvation. And the fifth “option”.

The first two were within the realm of likely and so was the fourth. The third option was blissfully unlikely. He doubted the Emperor would sign off on such a thing. Philza held too much power and favor to need to make such a statement. The first two options, while horrible, would end quickly– even if it was the second option, he could only lose so much blood. And he had been staring at Death from a distance for some time. It would be welcome to feel Her embrace. So he feared the fourth option the most. That would hurt the most and well within the realm of possibility. It depended on how much Philza didn’t want to kill him.

It was the fifth “option” he wanted and hoped for and it was the one he walked himself through in his head. Do unto others as they have done to you right? It would be awful and humiliating and it made his stomach turn in revulsion, but he already had nothing. By the law of Nether Kings he was no longer king and he had no one there whom a single part of Technoblade belonged to, there had not been a single person from the Nether since he was six that his heart had called home. There was only one thing he had left. His fragile tenuous precious relationship with Philza that had been made with bargains, sorrys, and guilty smiles.

And that was what the fifth option hung on. The fifth option meant he would have no power, no say in his life except what Philza gave him. In a sense that was okay. He wouldn’t hold a weapon again except in secret. He would have to kneel and agree to being Philza’s pet. His ambition would never again be fully sated. He wouldn’t ever be free again or have a scrap of honor. He would have to learn to shrug off the stares of Philza’s people. He would have to trust Philza more than he was comfortable with, but Philza already had long since held more power over Technoblade than anyone ever had. Technoblade loved Philza and all it would take was the right set of words from him and Technoblade would be broken. A quick few words and that was all it would take; Technoblade would be on his knees begging for mercy, pleading for a scrap of approval, and even daring to ask for forgiveness, even if Technoblade would never know he was forgiven. It wasn’t the biggest stretch in the world to hand over his personhood to Philza when he already held so much of Technoblade’s heart and soul. There were other things though in this world.

Just because Philza would take his rights as a person didn’t mean Philza wouldn’t lend it back when he could. Philza would be kind about it. Technoblade would have his own small space. Philza had more books than the whole of the Nether did. He would let Technoblade read them all. As many as he wanted. It might take his whole lifetime to read through them all. He would learn how to swim in water. He knew Philza would teach him if he asked. He wasn’t sure what his room would be like, but it would be close to Philza’s. Maybe another walk-in closet, maybe if he was lucky a room- it was possible, the castle was larger than the bastion.

There would be a balcony somewhere, probably Philza’s room and he would fill it with plants and there would only be just enough room for Philza to land and take off. He would grow food just for the wonder of it and to prove to himself that he could, but there would be flowers too. During summer the Emperor would have flowers in his hair because Technoblade was the one who grew them and put them in the Emperor’s hair. He knew Philza would wear them. He knew Philza would wear them because it would make Technoblade happy and it would probably make Philza happy in turn. He would grow flowers of as many colors as he could. If he could, he would grow green ones for Philza. He would grow yellow ones and he would place them in his own hair to remember that he was still himself.

Philza would ask him to preen his wings even though his sons were around to do it. He could see Philza’s hair grow out and his own hair would be just fine because humans didn’t care about hair the same way piglins did. The two of them would still spar in secret and once Wilbur stopped hating him Philza would trust Technoblade and Wilbur to spar together. Technoblade couldn’t bring himself to harm Philza; he didn’t know how he could bring himself to harm any of Philza’s sons.

Technoblade would bring books instead of paperwork when they traveled outside the castle to an ocean cliffside and Technoblade would read and stare up at the blue sky. The Overworld wind was cold and strong as Philza wheeled high overhead, and for a few moments his friend would be nothing more than another avian trying to touch the sun rather than Emperor. When it would get to be too much and too awful Philza would sit with him underneath a green weeping willow tree until it didn’t hurt so much anymore. His heart wouldn’t ever grasp at rotting mushroom stalks again.

There were better dreams to dream, but this world was easy to conjure and familiar. He had already danced the part of master and conqueror, it was a relatively simple matter of switching the parts. It wouldn’t be easy by any means. He would have to swallow his pride and place so many parts of himself to rest, but Phil would be right there within arm’s reach and eventually after a long time Phil’s sons would stop hating him and they would figure out that Technoblade genuinely loved their father and would kill and die for him and by extension them too. One day they would be friends. In this way Tehcnoblade would have more than the Person-Who-Existed-Before-Philza could have imagined.

It was different being willing to kill and die for someone rather than something. In the end the Nether crown held nothing but empty promises, no one in the Nether would mourn him. Technoblade wouldn’t be torn in two trying to satisfy his own selfish wishes and his duty to his people. One day he would wake up and realize he wasn’t who he was before because that ache in his chest would be gone, his shoulders wouldn’t feel so heavy, it would be okay to cry, and it would be easy to smile underneath the Overworld sun. It would come with a high price, but it would be okay and some days it would even be worth it and when it wasn’t worth it Phil would be there and free and Technoblade would remember how much it had hurt Phil to be stuck in a cage and how little it was hurting Technoblade by comparison. If only one of them could be free it was better for it to be Philza and just as Technoblade had done for Phil, Phil would do his best to make it so that Technoblade could be happy or at least as content as he could be. And he would be content along with being happy, because of all the desires of his heart Technoblade would have the one impossible desire that he otherwise would have never gotten to have. Philza, free underneath the sun and yet still right there and still Technoblade’s friend. It wasn’t the best world to imagine, but it was easy to conjure, almost soothing, and familiar in the way the sunrise was to the sunset. He wouldn’t have to be lonely ever again or wonder when he was finally going to die alone. He would never have to leave Phil’s side.

His imagination willfully ignored that it wasn’t an option because most human kingdoms, including the Antarctic Empire, didn’t have such things as bloodboons.

Submitted by Analyst(hopeful)

#submissions #fanfic #unsure how to tag :p #this is awesome!#hope you don't mind I (Pink) added some paragraph breaks for easier reading #didn't mess with it past that tho promise #thanks for sharing <3 #we're both very excited for your finished work #hhhhhhh that last sentence has got me feelin FEELINGS

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acti-veg · 1 year

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(a vent - if that's okay to submit here. if you don't have the energy for it I totally understand!)

I've been looking for a place to live for the next few months, until my partner and I can move in together, and I found somewhere that's... pretty much perfect! location wise there isn't a thing I don't love about it, except... it's *right* next to a cow farm. when I saw the cows in the field while walking down the lane to the address, my stomach just... plummetted. I'm sadly very used to seeing cows and sheep in fields in my area, but being next to a whole industrial farmhouse where I know exactly what happens inside... might end up giving me nightmares.

I don't want to be a person that flinches and withdraws when I encounter these things. but I truly, deeply hate living in a world (and a country, darn cursed UK) where animal agriculture is so utterly inescapable, and seems to crowd every single fridge, grocery store and forest-turned-field. I hate not being able to travel any amount of distance before getting slapped with it again - and I know I shouldn't ultimately *want* to escape it. I want to be able to look it in the eye for what it really is, and do what is in my power in this life to challenge it.

I'm not quite in an activism-ready state of mind yet, though. so naturally I feel very powerless, and the idea of living next to something like that and not being able to do anything about it is just... exhausting, and terrifying. I'm going to feel it out and see if I can tolerate this kind of proximity, if at least for a short period of time. but there's a big wave of hopelessness that comes with knowing I'll never truly be able to live 'far away' enough from the nightmares of animal agriculture that I could at least stop thinking about it for a while.

I'm mostly sharing this with the hopes that someone might be able to relate. I could really do with breaking out of the grim isolation of it all. I'm thinking about reading the Vystopia book to work through the feelings a bit. if anyone else has any insight or thoughts, I'd really appreciate them.

thank you for reading!

I think this may end up having a bigger impact on your wellbeing than you might realise, mostly in terms of your mental health but there is also pollution and noise to consider. I would strongly consider looking at other options, even if they offer less, because I just don't think this is something you'll be able to learn to live with.

In terms of living as a vegan in an anti-animal world, that is a difficulty we all share, and there is nothing I can say to make that burden any lighter for you. You will not find a vegan who does not feel this to some extent. Personally, I've found that activism does help channel that frustration and anger into something positive, and I've also found that spending time with animals who aren't farmed - whether it's a rescue centre, sanctuary etc. can be enormously uplifting. It helps remind us who we're fighting for, and helps reframe your veganism in a positive way.

My advice would be to just generally try to experience and learn about animals in a positive way - read books about their intelligence, how they live in nature, make art, write, read positive books about animals. I think as vegans sometimes we can fall into the trap of only really thinking about animals in terms of their oppression, and as important as that is to recognise and learn about, if that is all you are engagaging with then you will burn out very quickly. I'd recommend checking out this talk on that topic - it's about activism but I think it applies to veganism more generally.

I hope you find a way to work through this anon, again it's something we all go through so you're very much not alone. Engage with animals positively, engage with other vegans and become involved in the community - whatever you can do to celebrate your veganism, rather than just experiencing it as a burden, which is a trap that is all too easy to fall into.

#ask #vegan #vegan problems #mental health

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as-frightened-as-you · 11 months

Text

some personal stuff I just needed to vent out. tw death and suicide.

I'm trying so hard to pretend that I'm okay, but the truth is no I'm not. I'm frantically cleaning the house, then I just lose a day doing I have no idea what, then I'm working for fourteen hours straight, then I'm cleaning the house again because it feels impossible to stop. I sleep at night, kind of. For fifteen hours or for five, no in-between. Yeah, not healthy.

My father died two months ago. We weren't close for a long fucking time; he had a drinking problem, and I cannot for a life of me keep up social connections when I'm not living with a person under the same roof. I don't think we even talked since my birthday, and that was fucking September.

I know he loved me, I don't have a problem with that. We were really close when I was little. Then my little brother grew up a bit, and I became a teenager, and I don't think he actually knew what to do with a depressed teenage girl. It was easier for him to get closer to my brother. I'm pretty sure I forgave him for that. Both of them. I get why that happened. (It does still feel unfair though)

And then his health went south, and then he was drinking, and drinking, and drinking. At first it was to keep the pain away, or that's what he said. Then it just became a thing. He was already drunk at one pm and he was still drunk in the evening and that was going on for weeks without him getting sober.

He did drink before, but not that much and not that often. Sometimes he was just really talkative, sometimes he became angry. I don't remember much of that from my childhood; I only know that I'm terrified of drunk people. I had a panic attack once when I heard some drunk students outside my place; I was behind a locked door, and still I was having a panic attack, just because they were there, and I was alone and scared. I almost had a breakdown when at some concert a guy on stage tried to be cool and poured some champagne on the crowd and I couldn't get rid of the smell of alcohol on my skin, I could still smell it days after the concert. I can't fully trust people if I see them drinking, even if it's one bottle of beer and I've known that person for years, I just can't fully trust them again if I once saw them drinking. Sometimes I think that maybe my father did something not good when I was a child and my memory just buried it. Because there has to be a reason for this phobia, right? I'm not sure if I want to know. I'll never know now, I guess.

When he started to drink all the time, he was mostly depressed and sometimes angry. He said we didn't love him and respect him. He said to me once that one day I might come home from school and find his body hanging from the chandelier. I wasn't in a good place myself then; I just thought "well, we'll see who will be the first one to hang". It was like seven years ago. I can still hear his voice saying that in my head.

He wasn't someone who would go to therapy; he just kept drinking. I went to university, I finished it, I came back home, and he kept drinking. Mom left him. He lived alone for a year.

He died of cirrhosis. We didn't even know until a week later when one of his friends called my mom and said that he hadn't heard from dad for a while. We were just in time to get him a proper burial — a couple of days later he would be buried as an unclaimed body. He died in his house, he managed to call an ambulance, he had all the documents and his phone on him — nobody just bothered to call us, or his sisters, or anyone at all.

It made me so angry. It still does, but then I was just angry, nothing else — at the police, at the guys at the morgue, at those funeral agents, and, more than anything, at him. The fact that it was alcohol of all things that killed him. He had a lot of health issues, he had a chronic illness that was trying to kill him since his twenties, he was suicidal — and he died of a fucking cirrhosis. I wasn't even grieving at that point, I was just so so angry.

The thing is, he drank so much that at some point I had to admit that the Dad I loved and admired so much as a child is already gone. We used to talk for hours about everything, he used to take me fishing and skiing and swimming and whatnot, he used to be there for me, and at some point all of that was gone. Alcohol killed it. Killed him long before killing his body. I really thought I had accepted it and mourned it. I really thought I was kinda okay with his death since we didn't even properly talk for years.

I really am not even close to being okay.

I live at his place now — or rather at the place that was his for this last year and that was my childhood home. I was going through his things these past few days. I'm a fucking mess.

It's not a place of an alcoholic — it's not in ruins or anything. It's a place of a very lonely and very depressed person who had nothing but the past to hold onto. The photos from my parents' wedding are there, and little handmade presents that my brother and I made for him when we were little.

And it's not that I feel guilty for losing connection with him — he was drinking hard during this year and he wasn't going to do anything about it. We tried to get him to get some help, he never did. It's just... so sad. He was brilliant, he was so loving and loved. And I can't help but think about how he felt during this year. And how he felt before he died.

I was so angry at the funeral. I thought — maybe he was so drunk he didn't see that coming. Maybe he was so drunk he didn't notice his skin turning yellow until it was too late.

But the thing is, he wasn't drunk. He was going to paint the wall, the paint and brushes were still there when we came. There was a cup of coffee he made for himself, and a pot of porridge. It's not something a drunk person would do.

A part of me was so relieved it wasn't a suicide — it would haunt me for the rest of my life, I would probably bury myself in guilt for not doing anything after he told he was thinking of killing himself. What could I do, I was a fucking teenager with a self-harm problem, but still. I was relieved he didn't actually kill himself. But I can't help but think — maybe he didn't call for help before it was too late because he didn't want to. Maybe it was a conscious choice. Maybe he wasn't ready to kill himself directly, but he accepted death when it came to him.

I don't think this thought makes me feel better. It really doesn't, actually. But I guess I'll never know what happened that day — I'm not even sure I want to know.

A part of me was hoping to find something in his things — a note or something like that. Probably not a diary, he never had one, but something. An old letter to the future. Anything, really.

All I got was lots and lots of sigarettes, some mild sedatives and anti-stress pills, and all those things from the past all around the place. He didn't really change anything here since mom left. Maybe he was hoping she would come back. She never did. It was getting to the point when he almost punched her.

I have no idea why I'm writing all this. I guess I just needed to vent it out, and it's somehow easier to write it in English rather than in my native language. Also I have a problem talking to friends about such things, and my mom seems to try not to think about him at all. Can't blame her, really.

If you're still here for some reason, thank you for reading all this. It's really not the content that was supposed to be in this blog. Sorry.

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flaringfoxsoul03 · 1 year

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Hello I was wondering if I could get a twst romantic matchup? I’d also love if you could put me in a twst dorm however you don’t have to!

I’m bisexual with she/her pronouns.

For personality I’m creative, introverted, and individualistic and structured. Though I’m introverted, around my friends/comfortable places I can be quite talkative, humorous and outgoing. However I definitely treasure my alone time the most.

As for hobbies escaping to new worlds while reading books/comics, watching movies, and playing rpg video games. My favorite genres are fantasy and sci-fi, though I do love a good classic from time to time. Apart from that, I love working out.

My interests on the other hand are art/tech focused. I’m currently in art school working with mostly digital mediums, though I sometimes work with traditional. I love my practice and everything from interaction/game design to visual effects and web design. Sometimes I’ll bring out the graphite and ink. Once I get started on an idea there’s no stopping me.

Random Likes: coffee, chai tea, dark chocolate, rock/blues/jazz/soundtrack music, cafe art shows, arcades, comic book stores, purple, thai/Indian/Chinese food, roller blading to classic rock, quality alone time

Random Dislikes: people i am unfamiliar with and have to make small talk with, the biting cold, rain, non fiction, staying too close to reality and not being allowed to daydream/imagine/roam freely in my thoughts, too much physical touch, overly crowded areas

Thank You!

Hell yeah I could put you into a dorm! I don’t see why not, your form default however will be like Ace and Deuce; normal human features only. Other than owning some magic (no special move will be mentioned), I’ll place you into a dorm like that. Ramshackle will be out of the picture for obvious reasons. And with that, let’s get to the match~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I match you with…

Idia Shroud!

——————————

Look, you literally gave me this match on a silver platter. Better yet, might as well be in the Ignihyde because not only will you be more likely to run into the recluse, you get to practice on your special talents most and improve your styles! Plus, earning a secret admirer from afar isn’t so bad, especially if it’s your dorm’s House Warden!

It was painful trying to meet Idia for the first time in person. The man’s so shy! He’s absolutely terrified of any type of public speaking and can’t get what needs his physical appearance this time when he can send Ortho or his tablet. But he bumps into to you being too focused on his whirling thoughts and oh boy, both of you are a mess. Yet, it’s a beautiful mess, he scatters your papers of art which causes a colorful explosion. In the midst of the chaos, you both make eye contact. Out of every romance manga Idia’s ever read, he’s bushing to match your hues on your cheeks! You whisper quietly as to not draw more attention than necessary to ask him if he’s okay, he can only nod his head as he’s too stunned and terrified of his voice to speak. You look around, lighting up brighter than any screen could illuminate, your eyes sparking with a flavorful idea as you whip out a small note pad and pull a pen tucked behind your ear as you jot your little mental creation down as to not forget it. Idia is truly and utterly lost, but he doesn’t hate that he accidentally made a fool of himself in front of you. He notices his dorm’s crest on your blazer and keeps a mental note of your facial features for later cross referencing to find you in his systems. This would not be the last ‘accidental’ meet up with your House Warden as you quickly explain your haste and gather up the papers as he aided along side out of automatic reflexes. Ortho came to scold him for being late but only saw his older brother on his knees looking utterly and completely out of this world

Is beyond ecstatic when he ‘bumps’ into you again, but still far too nervous to talk to you about any real conversation. His saving grace is that you show him the mobile game you’re playing that happens to be a very exciting RPG that got fully released at the beginning of the year. You had heard in passing that your House Warden was a gamer to the core, so you thought of the flames for hair boy who had helped you break your Artist’s Block. It must be him, so you thought you’d indulge him and the dam broke so wide, you thought you accidentally opened the gamer’s encyclopedia for the game! He stopped midway to apologize for rambling, but then you asked him what a certain term meant as you couldn’t help but notice he abbreviated something. This was the start of your paths intertwining indefinitely as time could tell

Respects your level of intelligence in your areas of expertise while you respect his own mad skills in the technology department. He even helped animate your art to life for little short videos, which turned into a contest of who was blushing more with all the videos you two ended up making together

Definitely appreciates that you’re more of an introvert, he would probably set you on fire with his hair more often than not if you were more extroverted. He likes that he doesn’t always have to spend all his time with you because he’s also just too exhausted by socializing sometimes and he needs a break from everyone. Not that he doesn’t love you or anything, he’s just unable to be around anyone because his social battery is immensely drained compared to everyone else

I think one surprise I think you could have Idia be truly caught off guard is jazz music. More specifically, him liking jazz music in the end after you first introduced it to him in one of your playlists. Sure he hears something similar to when he’s with Azul Ashengrotto when he meets with him for club activities in the Monstro Lounge when it’s devoid of people, but not the way you’ve shown him. He may accidentally info dump you on how jazz came to be in Twisted Wonderland, but I have a feeling you’d appreciate him telling you a little history lesson about it anyways

===================

And the follow ups are:

Azul Ashengrotto

And

Vil Schoenheit

===================

And that’s all folks! Sorry it took so long! I had Writer’s Block!

~Fox

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland idia shroud #twisted wonderland idia #twst #twst idia #twisted wonderland matchups #idia shroud #idia #shroud #twst idia shroud #twisted wonderland azul #twisted wonderland azul ashengrotto #twst wonderland #twst azul #twst azul ashengrotto #azul #ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto

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dreamy625 · 2 years

Text

This rockstar life - 3.4 Therapy couch? Blanket?

Words: 2735

Content: Some discussion of mental health issues but no heavy angst. The occasional swearword.

-----------------------------

Steve hears the front door slam and Alice comes pelting down the stairs.

“Look look look! We’re in ‘Hello!’. Brian’s party.”

“Hmm, is that going in or coming out? Because we look pretty messed up.”

“We look like… dissolute artists! I think it’s going in? You were up all night trying to write that… thing, remember, and then we couldn’t get a cab, and it rained. Karla helped me fix my make-up in the loo. Okay, it’s not the best picture ever, but I’m still gonna frame it!”

Still peering intently at the page, she wanders into the kitchen. Ten seconds later, she is back again. “Oh god! This means people are going to know about us!”

“People already know about us?”

“People we know, know, but PEOPLE… in the world.”

“Only people who read ‘Hello!’.”

“Which is EVERYBODY!”

“Well, look, it doesn’t say your name, it just says ‘and companion’. And you’re sort of blurry. You could be anyone. It’s fine. No one will care. I don’t think I’m the kind of famous where paparazzi hide in my bins.”

“Are your fans going to hate me?”

“No! What for?”

“For stealing their man.”

“Seriously?”

“I’ve seen some of your fans, they’re terrifying. Their nails alone…”

He pulls her into a hug “Don’t be silly. No one’s going to hate you. And if anyone says anything, you can just say you’re my assistant or something.”

“I could be your bodyguard!”

“What are you gonna do, half-pint, bite their ankles?!”

She swats at him, “I’ll… stab them with my eyeliner.”

“Scary.”

—----------------------------------------

Although I was fairly horrified the first few times we were papped, it’s actually more surprising to me now that it doesn’t happen all that often. I was worried, at the start, that I was signing up for a life of camera flashes and being mobbed by fans and not being able to go to Sainsburys* without ending up in the Daily Mail*. But it turns out that, unless you’re Brian May or someone like that, the British media in general isn’t so interested in guitarists. The music press is, but they don’t have the money to follow you around just on the off chance that you’ll do something scandalous. And as for crazed fans, that seems to be a context thing - at an event, especially if the whole band’s together, there’ll be crowds wanting pictures and autographs - but just Steve hanging out doing ordinary-people things in London rarely gets recognised. He’s also got some sort of Clark Kent thing going on where in jeans and trainers and hair in a ponytail he’s essentially invisible, but fluff out the hair, put on a leather jacket, boots, and shades, and there’s a rockstar! You can literally see him assume the persona, grow a couple of inches taller, and suddenly everyone notices him. And thank gods he is able to turn it on and off like that, because otherwise I think he’d go crazy, he’s so shy. And it allows us to have little pockets of normal life away from the Def Leppard circus, without which I think I’d go crazy.

It is in pursuit of one of those pockets of normality that today, when the sun came out and you could almost believe it was summer, I proposed a trip to the park. Steve spends so much time shuttling back and forth to Dublin and Holland, and when he is here he mostly sleeps or lurks down in the music room playing what sounds to me like the same eight bars over and over again, that I feel we’ve barely seen each other in daylight for weeks. He doesn’t, I’ve checked, actually burst into flames when exposed to sunlight, but you wouldn’t know it from the amount of grumbling when I drag him from the stygian gloom of the basement and make him get dressed and brush his hair. The prospect of a picnic perks him up though and, once we’ve filled a bag with a random assortment of goodies from the fridge (all hail the amazing Debbie who saves us from literally starving to death), he becomes positively cheerful as we cross the bridge to Battersea Park, swinging our clasped hands and swivelling his head to take in the sky, the river, the cars, the people, as if he’d forgotten they existed.

Battersea is basically your standard London park - bandstand, sports pitches, boating lake for careless tourists to fall in, eight million pigeons (conservative estimate). It’s always busy but we locals know that once you get off the designated paths you can find less-populated corners where you can even imagine you’re in actual countryside. After wriggling through a few hedges we found ourselves a sheltered spot to sit with a view of the lake in the distance, just us, an industrious squirrel, and the occasional dog-walker and their hound.

“I told my counsellor about us today. Should have done it ages ago really, but now photos of us are turning up in magazines I really had to. And apart from anything else, she needed to know where to send the bills to!”

“So how did it go?”

“Okay really. She was less cross than I expected.”

“Why would she be cross? Are you not allowed to have a boyfriend?”

“Well, not telling her before, and that you’re… um… maybe not the stable good influence she might have hoped for.”

Steve looks slightly sheepish. “What did you tell her about me?”

“Pretty much everything. There’s no point lying to her, she always finds out. She started to look a bit sceptical when I said who you were, but I showed her a photo so she does believe you’re real now. Though she had no idea who Def Leppard are!”

He pouts and pretends to be offended.

“She promised to buy a record though, so you might get a new fan. Or not. She looks more like the Duran Duran type to me.” I realise I’ve dissected the sandwich I was holding so I drop the bits back into the box and wipe my hands on a serviette. “Anyway, she was worried that I’d got myself involved with someone so ‘troubled’...” I do air quotes and Steve grimaces, “but I said I didn’t think I’d get on with someone normal. And then we had to have a discussion about why I don’t see myself as normal…”

“Because you’re weird?” interjects Steve, and I poke my tongue out at him.

“Then she segued back into being concerned that the relationship would be too much of an emotional drain on me and would derail my recovery.”

“Oh,” he looks sad, “it’s not is it?”

I think for a second. “I don’t think so? I mean, I’m better than I was in the hospital, aren’t I? What does ‘recovery’ even mean anyway? And I don’t think I’ve picked up any of your bad habits.”

“Mmm, I think you smoke more?”

“Maybe? More than in the hospital certainly, because I was a good girl and didn’t break the rules, unlike some people!”

Steve smirks, but then his face turns serious again, “You will tell me though? If… being with me is making you unhappy, or making your stuff worse?”

“I would, but it’s not. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He’s dipped his head down bashfully, but I reach out and tilt his chin back up so I can give him a little kiss.

“So, have you told yours, good old Eddie?”

Steve swallows the last mouthful of his beer and turns around to lie on the blanket with his head on my crossed legs. “Yeah… mostly… I left a few things out.”

“Like what?”

He lights a cigarette, inhales, and then passes it up to me. “Like that we met at the hospital. As that’s not allowed. And as he’s from there, I didn’t know if he’d be able to go and look at your records or something, and that would be weird.”

“Hopefully not, they’re supposed to be confidential. But he works there, so I guess maybe he could? I don’t really know what the rules are.” I pass the cigarette back. “So how did it go?”

“Dunno. He said ‘hmm’ a lot and wrote a million notes. He never gives an opinion on anything, just says ‘and how did that make you feel?’ over and over.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

“Annoyed.” He blows out a big cloud of smoke. “And… emotionally stunted. I can only ever manage ‘happy’, ‘sad’, or… ‘scared’.”

“Well that covers pretty much all the bases. I can give you some synonyms if you like? Make some use of that English degree. How about ecstatic? Melancholy? Petrified?”

Steve smiles and takes a last drag on the cigarette before stubbing it out in the grass. “Useful for crosswords I guess.” He settles back and closes his eyes.

I reach down and brush a wayward tendril of hair off his face. “And… how do you feel? About… us?”

“Um… all of the above.”

“Melancholy? Petrified?”

“Petrified that I’ll screw it up like I do everything else.”

“Aww, no, you couldn’t.”

“Heh, you would be amazed at how good I am at fucking up.”

“I think I could forgive you almost anything. Is that bad? Are we codependent?”

“Probably. I’ll ask Eddie.”

“But that’s not carte blanche to go off and… kick puppies or whatever!”

“I could never.” There’s a pause while he swats away some buzzing creature that keeps hovering around his ear. “Actually…”

“Oh no!”

“No puppies. I swear!” He’s twisting the ring on his little finger round and round, a sure sign that he’s grappling with something that makes him anxious. “Just, he, Eddie, wants you to come to my next appointment. He wants to know what your,” he puts on some vaguely European accent that I assume is an impersonation of his therapist, “expectations of my recovery are.”

“Am I supposed to have some?”

“Apparently. He thinks I’ve stalled, and wants to know what you, as my,” he grimaces, “life partner, feel about that.”

“I feel… like it’s up to you, but I support you whatever. Will that do?”

“Aww.” Briefly he looks up at me with a tender expression before flicking his gaze back to the distant skyline. “He’ll still want to talk to you though.”

“Also, ‘life partner’?”

“I know, sorry. He just talks like that. So will you come?”

“Am I going to get in trouble for not making you go to AA meetings?”

“Course not. Responsibility for self and all that. He talks like a textbook, but I think he’s an okay guy underneath all that.”

“Then yeah, I’ll come, if it helps.”

“Thank you.” He reaches his hand up and squeezes my knee, closing his eyes once again.

“What am I supposed to say?”

“Anything you like.”

“Mwah ha ha!”

“True stuff! You can’t make things up.”

“Spoilsport.”

Steve just grins lazily.

Gazing down at that sweet face, he looks so peaceful. Today is a good day. But although it’s true what I said, he is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I am, by my standards, quite astonishingly happy, I do worry quite a lot. About him mostly, but also about us as a couple. I’m not expecting him to come back one day from therapy magically fixed. I want him to be safe, and of course to be happy, and if stopping drinking would do that I would be all for it, and do whatever I could to help him. But I suspect that’s not the answer, definitely not the whole answer anyway. So if he can’t, well, that doesn’t change how I feel about him and I’m never going to give him a ’stop or I’ll leave’ ultimatum. I know he’s not the way he is on purpose. He didn’t choose it. None of us choose to be miserable and fucked up. So I just work on the basis that he’s doing the best he can - even if he’s a total mess, that’s the best he can do in that moment. But I am scared, about how bad it could get, and whether I could cope. I guess we’ll find out when, if, it happens. It’s not like I can unlove him afterall.

“Think you’re stuck with me.”

I realise I’ve said that part out loud but, although his eyelids flutter, there’s no response. He’s asleep, still with one arm wrapped round my leg, like a little kid hugging a teddy bear.

—----------------------------------------

The session with Dr Eddie, when we manage to fit it in around Steve’s band commitments, my work hours, and the psychotherapist’s appointments with more demanding patients, is stressful, awkward, and ultimately disheartening. I have to talk about how Steve’s behaviour affects me, but as if he’s not right there in the room, chewing through a whole handful of fingernails because he’s not allowed to smoke. It’s horrible. I’m doing it to help him, and trying to be honest because I know they can’t help you if you lie to them, but I have to say things that I know must be painful to hear, and I feel like I’m betraying the person I love most in the world. Kind of like that therapy they do in rehab where they get your nearest and dearest to tell you over and over what a terrible human being you are and how you’re ruining everyone else’s lives. I’m not sure how anyone even imagines that is going to work on people who already think they’re worthless failures. It’s been threatening rain all afternoon and the room has darkened to an appropriate gloom by the time I finish answering his questions.

And then I’m not sure what it’s all been for, because the therapist’s conclusion is that Steve has probably come as far as he’s going to with this approach and would now benefit from seeing someone with a different specialism (he says ‘mood disorders’, but I’m not really sure what that covers). And also that we should consider couples’ counselling, sorry, not couples’ counselling, ‘counselling as a couple’ (apparently there’s a distinction, but either sounds horrifying tbh). Steve tries to keep his face neutral but I can tell he feels let down, betrayed even. The doctor tries to frame it as a positive outcome, one step completed on the road to… it’s not really clear what the ultimate destination is. Maybe that’s the problem. We both shake his hand as we leave, good old British social etiquette even in times of emotional upheaval.

“Remember I’m always here if you need me.”

Steve just nods. I feel numb, as if my brain has been wrung out leaving just a slow-blinking empty sign. Neither of us speaks on the way out, before falling into a tight, wordless hug on the steps outside.

“Do you think he’s watching?”

“Probably. Scribbling away in his little book.”

We peel apart and both simultaneously reach into our pockets for cigarettes.

“Pub?” asks Steve, and, noticing my raised eyebrow, “Yeah, ironic.”

Without further discussion, we head for the nearest hostelry, only breaking our grip on one another’s hands so Steve can light a second cigarette from the stub of the first.

“You alright?”

Steve replies with a smoky sigh, “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry… about… all that. I wasn’t… I hope I didn’t… I hated doing that.”

He squeezes my hand. “Don’t worry about it. Nothing I didn’t know already. It was sweet of you to come.”

“But… did I do it wrong? Was it because of what I said…?

“No. That’s all me.” He gives a hollow laugh, “This is not the first time I’ve been fired by my therapist. I’m incurable… a… lost cause.”

“But no you’re not. You heard him, he thinks you’ve made real progress. You just need a different kind of help now. Someone with different expertise.”

“But he’s the only one I’ve had who isn’t a total arsehole.”

“Yeah. Not-an-arsehole seems to be quite a rare quality in a therapist. You’d think they’d put it in their adverts!” My attempt at humour raises just a polite twitch of Steve’s lips. “He can’t be the ONLY one though, right?”

“Right.” replies Steve flatly, chaining a third cigarette.

Just then the clouds finally release fat, splatty raindrops onto the streets and we make a run for the bright doorway of The Three Tuns.

(May 1990)

—----------------------------------------

*Sainsburys - UK supermarket chain

*Daily Mail - trashy tabloid ‘newspaper’

#Steve Clark #steve clark fanfic #steve clark fanfiction #def leppard fanfic #def leppard fanfiction #This rockstar life fic

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