#this is completely inspired by my friends

[vanteguccir]

You Make Loving Fun | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where the sun inside Matt fell in love with the moon inside Y/N; OR, 4 moments between sunshine Matt and grumpy Y/N.

Warning: Mentions of blood and pain.

Requested?: Yes, by anon

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

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Y/N has always been known for her serious expression and sarcastic humor. She had a cynical view of the world and seemed to find fault with almost everything around her. On the other hand, Matt was the complete opposite. His smile was like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day, brightening up any room with his contagious positivity. It was as if he was determined to find the good in everything, no matter how dark it was.

The two were in the same class together at Boston high school, part of the same group of friends, which meant they did a lot of group work together, and it was precisely there where their contrasting personalities often collided. Y/N was meticulous and perfectionist in her work, while Matt preferred to approach topics with a more relaxed and laid-back attitude. This often put them at odds, but it also created an interesting dynamic.

One afternoon, during a school work meeting at the triplets' house, Y/N was particularly grumpy. She had faced a series of setbacks in her home and was on the verge of exploding. Matt, as always, tried to cheer her up with his light humor and unwavering optimism.

"You should relax a little." Matt murmured with a smile as his right hand worked quickly with his computer mouse, putting together the perfect slide for the presentation that would take place the next day, using Nick and Alahna's notes and research. "Not everything has to be so serious all the time."

Y/N rolled her eyes from her spot on the edge of Matt's bed, pushing the notebook that rested on her thighs roughly, feeling frustrated with his persistent attempt to lift her spirits. She knew he was just trying to help, but at that moment, all she wanted was some peace and quiet.

However, something inside her changed when she lifted her gaze to Matt's smiling face, who was still holding the mouse as he watched her from the corner of his eye. In that moment, the girl saw beyond the surface, beyond the facade of constant happiness. She saw the genuine kindness in his eyes, the compassion in his smile. And for the first time, something inside her crumbled, breaking the wall that had held firm for so many years.

A small smile began to form on Y/N's lips, almost imperceptible, but still present. It was a smile that lit up her entire face in a way never seen before and made her eyes shine with an inner light that had long been dormant.

Matt was surprised to see Y/N smiling, abandoning his task instantly and turning his face completely towards her, trying to make sure he was actually seeing that. It was as if he had witnessed something sacred, something few were lucky enough to see - maybe only him. The brunette was speechless, simply admiring the sight before him.

"What?" Y/N asked, noticing the look of shock on Matt's face, her smile fading almost automatically, giving way to her usual frown.

"It's just…" Matt began, struggling to find the right words. "It's the first time I've seen you actually smiling. And it's so pretty."

Y/N felt shy by the compliment but also inexplicably happy. She had never realized how her smile could affect someone so deeply, especially someone like Matt, who radiated joy wherever he went.

"You should smile more-"

"Shut up."

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The night was calm when Matt returned from his hockey practice, but the mood inside the triplets' house was far from peaceful. He walked through his bedroom door with his shoulders hunched and his face pale, showing the anguish that consumed him inside and out.

Y/N, who was sitting on his bed reading a book while she waited for him - a habit created between them, and which his parents and brothers adored - looked up when hearing the door open. Upon seeing Matt, she immediately noticed something was wrong. Her heart sank while witnessing the boy's low stance.

"Matt? Hey, what happened?" She asked, setting the book aside and quickly standing up from her previous seat, walking towards him with a frown decorating her face.

Matt didn't respond right away. Instead, he broke down when his ears finally heard the voice he had waited for so many hours, tears flowing freely down his face. He was shaking, struggling to control his emotions as the weight of his feelings enveloped him like a dense fog.

"Hey pretty boy, breathe." Y/N ordered, pulling him into an awkward but loving hug. "It's okay. Just breathe."

Matt sniffed, trying to regain control of himself. He took a few deep breaths, following her instructions, before finally finding the voice to speak.

"It was at hockey practice." The brunette began, his voice wavering with crying and raw emotions. "One of the guys on the team... he said some horrible things to me about my performance, and I-" A sob interrupted his speech, his blue eyes closing tightly in an attempt to hold in the ugly sounds.

Y/N slowly pulled away, snaking her right hand from his bicep to his head, cupping his cheek gently, looking at his face for the first time that afternoon, her movements stopping suddenly.

The girl felt a wave of anger bubbling up inside her as she saw her boyfriend's face swollen and stained with blood in strategic spots, clearly having been punched by someone else. She clenched her left fist tightly, causing her fingers to take in a pale hue, her eyes flashing with contained fury as her chest tightened with the anguish she felt emanating from Matt's body.

"Who was it?" Y/N's firm and determined voice echoed through the room like thunder as her right hand gently turned his face from side to side, her hard eyes running over his injured skin. "Who said those things to you? No, even better. Who did this to you? I'll finish him off, I swear."

Matt's eyes widened instantly, surprised by her reaction. He knew Y/N could be tough when needed - all the time - but seeing her so determined to protect him left him speechless.

His cheeks took on a reddish hue, disguised by the blood and redness caused by crying, his lips pressed together in an attempt to contain a smile while his heart accelerated involuntarily, a small wince escaping his throat with the movement of his mouth.

"I'm fine, baby-"

"You're not, and after I'm done with whoever did this to you, he won't be fine either." Y/N interrupted him rudely, raising her eyebrows in an act of confrontation, as if she was confronting him to continue the lie.

"It's okay, sunshine. Just let it go. Please?" Matt's warm tongue escaped his lips, wetting them, while his blue eyes seemed to beg her to forget about the guy and focus on himself.

"Alright." The girl let out a loud, angry sigh, rolling her eyes as she stroked his blood-stained cheek gently. "Come on, let's take care of this."

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The restaurant was busy that night, with lively conversation and laughter echoing off the walls. Y/N was sitting at a table next to Matt and his brothers, trying to enjoy the meal despite the crowd around them. However, her already dark mood was about to deepen even further.

As Y/N cut into her steak with an air of concentration, she noticed a man at the next table out of the corner of her eyes. He looked arrogant, a smug smile playing on his lips as he said horrible things about a girl to his table-mates. But it was when he looked in Y/N's direction that she felt a chill run down her spine.

Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Y/N felt a wave of discomfort spread through her. She couldn't explain why, but something about that guy made her nervous, his arrogant and sexist comments causing her body to scream, almost begging for her to do something.

Matt noticed the subtle change in Y/N's expression and followed her gaze to the next table, running his blue eyes over the unknown man's figure. He frowned, confused by the sudden intensity of Y/N's gaze, practically feeling her fury emanating from her body.

"What's wrong, beautiful?" Matt asked in an almost imperceptible whisper, leaning towards her and bringing his mouth closer to her ear, keeping his eyes on the table next to them. "Why don't we like him?"

Y/N blinked, surprised by Matt's direct question. She turned her head towards him slowly, frowning and running her eyes over his curious and playful expression, their noses almost touching with their proximity.

"You're so annoying, do you know that?" The girl asked in a cynical tone, raising her right eyebrow as she assessed him with her eyes.

"But you still love me." Matt replied quickly, as if he already had the answer on the tip of his tongue. A smirk grew on his lips as he draped his right arm over the back of the wooden chair his girlfriend sat on, caressing the skin of her exposed shoulder with his fingertips gently.

"Doesn't make you less annoying."

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N was busy in the kitchen of the large room in her house that she shared with the triplets, preparing a special meal to welcome the boys' parents, Jimmy and Mary Lou, who were about to arrive for a visit in Los Angeles. She was determined to impress them with her cooking skills and make the couple's first day in the bustling city worth it.

While stirring a pan of sauce, Y/N heard footsteps approaching and soon Matt's figure left the small hall that led to their room and entered the kitchen with a beaming smile on his face, his feet taking him closer to his girl almost automatically.

"Hi sunshine, need help?" He asked, stepping forward to grab an apron and approach the stove, his blue eyes darting over all the ingredients laid out as his brain tried to process what she was making.

Y/N looked up at him, her face hardened with concentration as her right hand never stopped moving the spoon.

"No, thank you." The girl responded quickly, shaking her head and returning her gaze to the sauce below her. "I can do this on my own."

Matt frowned, ignoring her answer and rescuing a steak knife from the cutlery drawer, extending his free hand towards the still raw meat, ready to cut it into ideal sizes.

"Matt, I said I can do it myself." Y/N repeated slowly, as if she were speaking to a child, casting a furtive glance at him from the corner of her eye.

"I know you can, petal." The boy murmured softly, putting down the knife and raising his now free hand towards his girl, lightly pressing his warm palm against her still arm, caressing her skin. "But I want to be here with you to help in some way. It doesn't have to be everything or nothing."

Y/N sighed, feeling a little guilty about her own reaction. She didn't want to push Matt away, especially when he was just trying to be caring and helpful.

"Okay... I'm sorry." Her apology escaped in a barely there whisper, her teeth catching her bottom lip in a firm grip.

"What are we having for dinner today?" Chris's loud and excited voice echoed through the living room and kitchen as the boy climbed the stairs that led him from his room, interrupting the moment between the couple, eliciting a laugh from Matt and an eye roll from Y/N.

"None of your business."

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My requests are closed, but my asks are always open ♡

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

~ taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @luvr4miya @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @ksskianshd @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @soso-scarlettolivia @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @lvrsturn @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @strnilolo @bernardsbendystraws @mattsneezing @poetatorturadaa @meg-sturniolo @orangeypepsi @jnkvivi @chrisactualwife @watermelonreid @fratbrochrisgf @elordilover @iammattswife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)

(if you asked to be on the taglist but isn't tagged above, it's because you have set up your account to not be tagged by accounts that don't follow you back/you don't follow)

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #x reader #sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #imagine #oneshot #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader fluff #matt sturniolo x yn #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt x reader #matt au #matt fanfic #matt #grumpy x sunshine #grumpy!reader #sunshine!matt

[sinsirellaxx]

I have a request… this is my first one ever so I apologize if it’s not somthing you’d write but I love your ‘toxic’ reader with the toxic Slytherin boys.

Anyways Would you be able to write somthing that is toxic-ish reader with toxic Slytherin boys- inspired by like a boy by Ciara. Maybe the boys are cheating and the reader gets back at them and treats them how the reader was treated?

Thank you so much! I love your writing smmmm! 🩷🩷🩷🩷

Slytherin boys – what would they do if you got back at them for cheating?

Warning: Toxic relationship

A/N: Thank you so much for your kind words and for sending your very first request to me! 🥹 Hope you'll like it!

Mattheo …

… cheated on you one month into your relationship. Why? He couldn’t wait with intimacy that long. He was just a boy with urges after all.

… had rolled his eyes when you had told him to fuck off, knowing you’d be back soon.

… however, was shocked, when he found you sitting in the girl’s lap, he had cheated on you with in the common room, entangled in a make out session.

… had blinked dumbly at you, when you told him that you just wanted to see if the girl was worth cheating with, shrugging as you claimed to have tasted better.

… throws his phone at the wall, when the sixth call that evening goes straight to your mailbox – you had stood him up. With a huff he’d storm out of his room and straight to yours only to be met by the sight of you between another boy’s legs.

… he angrily stormed out when you just smirked at him with an ‘oopsie’, promising himself to get you back.

Theodore …

… would always roll his eyes at you whenever you got jealous.

… would cheat on you with the girl he told you not to worry about.

… is shocked to find you sucking off his best friend. You wouldn’t go down on your boyfriend but him? Theo has the audacity to be offended.

… takes a few days to himself before he tells you that you are even now and to stop with the madness. You just nod innocently at him, which puts his mind at ease.

… the following weeks he’d occasionally catch you flirt with others, even seeing you with another boy in Hogsmeade.

… he’d be furious with you – completely jealous.

… would want to go through your messages or tell you to stop talking to all those boys. When his demands were met with an annoyed you, rolling your eyes at him he was shook.

Lorenzo …

… would throw hands if you cheated on him. He’d immediately pull the other boy away from you and start punching him.

… would gape at you in pure shock when you pulled him away and told him to stop being a freaking hypocrite.

… couldn’t sleep after that – he’d turn into this possessive boyfriend who wanted to be with you 24/7.

… is shocked when you start ghosting him.

… in complete denial – how could you be so cruel to him, when he was nothing but sweet to you? Minus all the times he cheated, stood you up, controlled you etc. – just minor inconveniences, right?

Draco …

… is shocked that a sweet girl such as you could cheat on him? It does not make any sense to him.

… he’d be devastated and tell you that he wasn’t sure if he could forgive you. Honestly, he is the biggest hypocrite.

… he’d be speechless if you just shrugged your shoulders and told him that you hadn’t forgiven him either – so, you were fine with that. Draco would be surprised that he needed to be forgiven for anything?

Blaise …

… would be heartbroken. Yes, he had treated you like that first but how could his princess hurt his fragile heart like that?

… would drown in self-pity if he caught you in bed with the boy you told him not to worry about.

… would forgive you because he knew deep down that he had deserved that.

… would be trapped in a toxic relationship with you and even if he worked on himself – who knew if you would?

Tom …

… would probably be sent to Azkaban if he found out you cheated on him even if you did it first.

… would be livid with you. Because how dare you?

… would call you names, totally ignoring the fact that he started this whole mess.

… would try to gaslight you into apologizing and try to make you feel like the villain but is shocked to find out that you are stronger than he had thought.

… would be twice as possessive as before and if you refused to be controlled, he’d just try to keep everyone else away.

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys imagine #theodore nott x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #lorenzo berkshire #blaise zabini #lorenzo berkshire x reader #theodore nott imagine #slytherin boys headcanons #slytherin #draco lucius malfoy #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #lorenzo berkshire imagine #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott #theo nott x reader #blaise zabini x reader #tom riddle x reader

[gr7mes]

FALLING BEHIND “everybody’s falling in love but im falling behind.” carl grimes x fem!reader

tags: fluff, kissing, use of y/n, e2l

@p1stach1oss + @gr7mes !! we both did laufey inspired carl fics so check out hers <3

a/n: this is my longest fic ever omg 😭 teehee i love adding him with cold hands🙏 this fic is inspired by falling behind by laufey, the lyrics r in between paragraphs or they’re in italic and bold !! i don’t know how to feel ab this one 😭

you felt like cupid was against you. “he called me pretty y/n. he called me pretty.” enid says, clutching your hand in excitement. you notice how the sunlight hits her face perfectly, no wonder she’s got ron all over her.

and my best friend’s found a new guy

you tried hard. really hard. it was practically impossible for you to get a boyfriend. sure, you had better things to worry about, but it was hard to stop thinking about it when you saw couples everywhere you went.

you were honestly desperate at this point. it was pathetic, really pathetic. but you just couldn’t manage anymore. you wanted to have someone who would let you cry into their chest when you were low, someone who would bend down to tie your shoelaces when they were undone, someone who would love you.

like a normal teenage girl, it was no surprise that you had a crush. of course, to your luck, you didn’t have even a slim chance with him. you were naive, wanting a boyfriend but crushing on the boy who hated your guts. you had fallen in love with carl grimes.

you and the boy weren’t exactly best buddies. when you were younger, he would tease you every chance he got. it’s not so different now. carl had made it his number one priority to make your life a living hell, and oh boy, was he successful.

he was tormenting you, but not in the way he’s trying to. he was all you could think about, and it was irritating. he could be making fun of you, and all you would focus on was his pretty face.

god, his eyes were like the midwinter sky, you could stare at them all day without getting bored. you often found yourself also gazing at his lips. they would be moving but you wouldn’t hear anything. it was hard to focus on things when you were around him.

“y/n? hello.. did you not hear what i just said?” enid says, eyebrows furrowing into confusion. “no, i did- sorry. go on.” you felt bad, you knew she was happy about this. so why couldn’t you just listen and be happy for her?

“whats distracting you so much? you’re really out of it today.” she says. “nothing, it’s not important.” “you sure? seemed pre-“ you watch as she glances behind you, talking instantly coming to a stop. you notice how her face flushes before she grins. you turn around to see ron, mr. prince charming, smiling at her.

“go, we can talk tomorrow.” you say, nodding your head in ron’s direction, a slight smile appearing on your face. “thank you, thank you, thank you! i promise we’ll talk later. you can tell me all about what you were daydreaming about.” enid exclaims, quickly rising to her feet, finishing her sentence as she walks over to the lanky boy.

lovers stroll without a care in sight

you were making your way back to your house, looking down at the ground beneath you. it’s not that you were completely devastated you didn’t have a lover of your own, but you were upset. “wait up loser!” you hear a voice call out from behind you.

your footsteps come to a halt and almost instantly, carl grimes is standing next to you. you felt your heart stop. play it cool y/n. “hi..?” you wanted to smack yourself right there and then. hi?? hi?!! you were so basic. “what’s got you all quiet? you’re usually so loud, you’re kinda scaring me.” he jokes, noticing how your usual smile was turned into a slight frown.

you found it kinda weird how he noticed the little things about you. you’d known each other for years now, and if you were being honest, he probably knew you better than enid did. boy, did it give you butterflies. if only he liked you back. “m’ okay. jus thinking about something. it’s really dumb though.” “everything you say is dumb. what’s up?” there it is. the daily insult.

“like i said, it’s nothing. don’t you have something better to do?” you say, looking him in the eye. “yeah, but i think this is pretty entertaining. now, can you please tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

ooh, this can’t be right

you knew he was probably being sarcastic, but his words still made your heart beat faster. anything carl said made your heart beat faster.

“you really wanna know?” “have i not made it obvious enough?” he says, rolling his eyes playfully. you sigh. “don’t laugh, but it’s like- everybody’s falling in love and i’m falling behind.” “what do you mean?” he was.. interested in what you had to say?

“everyone is getting their perfect fairytale and i’m just there. enid keeps talking about ron, how he calls her pretty and everything. they’re perfect. meanwhile, no one has even had a crush on me. it’s hopeless. i’m only getting older, i’ve never had a shoulder to cry on.”

carl looked at you with sympathy. “you’re really clueless aren’t you?” he asks, chuckling. “huh?” “y/n, who do you think left the comic you really wanted on your doorstep? who do you think got you the heart locket necklace thingy for your birthday? you’ve never thought about why they were just laying there?”

“i dont- i thought it was just enid surprising me or something.” “i dont think enid sneaked out the week before your birthday to make sure you got a good gift.” he said, looking straight into your eyes. “are you saying- that’s impossible.”

“i am in love with you. that’s what i’m saying.” your eyes widened, mouth parting slightly. “but- how? you’ve hated me since we were like- i don’t even know.” “who said i hated you?” okay. what was going on? carl grimes, the boy who’s been tormenting you since you could walk is confessing his feelings to you?

he sighs. “i-i know i’ve been an asshole. and i’m sorry. i’ve just been scared.” “scared..?” you ask, a puzzled look on your face. “terrified. y/n, you’re the most beautiful girl i’ve ever laid eyes on. i don’t- i didn’t know how to express my feelings. so i’ve just been being a pain in the ass. i know you don’t like me, and tha-“

you closed the space between you two, instantly laying your lips onto his. you didn’t know what was happening, but you knew you weren’t going to waste this opportunity.

one of his hands found its way to your back, pulling you closer. you felt the other one rest upon your cheek. the only thing that was surfacing in your mind was how good the sensation of his lips on yours felt. it was purely euphoric.

as soon as you both parted lips, you already missed it. “what does this mean? w-what are we?” you ask, voice quieter than usual. his cold hands reached for yours, a nervous expression on his face.

“i really wanna be yours. only if you’ll let me.” his words rang throughout your head, the words not processing.

“i really want you to be mine, carl grimes.”

“then i’m all yours, sweet girl.”

everybody’s falling in love

#carl grimes #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #the walking dead #carl grimes x fem!reader #twd x reader #twd #carl grimes angst #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes smut #carl grimes oneshot #carl grimes imagine #twd oneshot #twd imagine #the walking dead x reader #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x you

[itneverendshere]

my heart’s been borrowed and yours has been blue

just a lil something, completely self indulgent and inspired by miranda and steven in s2 of sex & the city 😔🥺

warnings: angst😤; a little fluffy; soft!rafe because i personally LOVE him

you did it without thinking.

it felt as if your body had a mind of its own and while your brain yelled at you to stay put and act normal, your heart simply didn’t allow it. your feet pounded against the street pavement, each step echoing the racing of your heart. you didn’t dare to look back, afraid that if you did, you’d crumble under the weight of your memories with him rushing back. the sound of your breath filled your ears, drowning out the chaos of the main street.

rafe.

the name echoed in your mind like some sort of haunted melody. you didn’t expect to see him, not after so many months without a single glimpse of his perfect face. you’d broken up months ago, you were supposed to be over him. and yet, despite all your attempts, his presence still stirred something within you. 

this wasn’t how it was supposed to work out.

you rounded the corner, trying to convince yourself that it was fine. so what if he was back in town? so what if he didn’t call you? so what if you two promised to stay friends and yet…it’s none of your business. you should be thankful.  

but seeing him out of the blue, it was like a sucker punch to the gut, except it felt like it came from a hundred directions at once. maybe you just needed a minute to process all of it. maybe a venti latte and some retail therapy would do the trick.

except they didn’t and hours later, here you are, stuck to your couch wondering how the hell you are supposed to step foot outside knowing there’s a possibility you might run into him again. 

your brain always goes into overdrive when you think of rafe cameron. and now you’re stuck here, overthinking every little thing. should you text him? would that be too desperate? but what if he's thinking the same thing?

and if he isn’t?

there's a sudden knock on your apartment door, the sound cuts through the haze of your mind, jolting you back to reality. you reluctantly peel yourself off the couch and shuffle over to the door, wondering if that amazon package you ordered this morning is here already. 

you glance towards the peephole, debating whether to check who it is or simply ignore it. after a moment of internal deliberation, curiosity wins out, and you approach the door cautiously.

you peer through the peephole, half expecting to see a stranger or maybe the mailman with a package. but to your surprise—it's rafe.

holy fuck.

your breath catches in your throat as you take in his familiar face from up close, a jumble of emotions stirring inside you.

what's he doing here? how did he get your new address? you moved from your parent’s home just a month ago. 

for a beat, you’re frozen. no one taught you how to proceed in these kinds of situations, but you are fairly certain letting an ex-boyfriend, the one you’re still in love with, inside your personal space is a big no-no.  

should you open the door? pretend you’re not home? smash your head against a wall and pray it knocks you out instantly? before you can even begin to form a plan, there's another knock, this time a little more insistent, as if he knows you’re on the other side.

“i can hear you breathing.”

panic sets in. 

summoning whatever fake bravery you have left, you take a deep breath and reluctantly twist the doorknob. with your hands trembling like crazy, you swing the door open, revealing rafe standing there. 

you gulp, feeling like your throat's suddenly decided to go on strike “yeah-uh. hi!”

his hands are clutched behind his back and his eyes take turns between your face and the door. there's a slight furrow in his brow, accentuating the sharp angles of his jawline and the curve of his nice cheekbones. 

“that was a shitty thing you did. running away from me on the street.”

you feel a crazy amount of guilt wash over you. he’s not wrong. running away like that was cowardly, but did he expect you to run into him with open arms?

“i didn’t run?”

his lips, usually set in a determined line, now quiver ever so slightly, “you ran.”

the weight of what you did hangs over you like a dark cloud. could you have acted any more immaturely?

“well, i wasn’t expecting to see you-“ you manage to blurt out, your voice shaky, “and-and, i-“

“it really hurt my feelings.” rafe's finger points accusingly at his chest, and you feel like you’re about to shrink into the floor under the weight of his disappointment.

you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. you can feel your eyes starting to sting with unshed tears and you use every remaining strength inside you not to cry in front of him. you’ve embarrassed yourself enough. 

“i don’t deal very well with ex-boyfriends?”

his expression softens slightly, and he leans his weight against the doorframe, his eyes searching yours.

“hey, sweetheart, this is me.”  his hand moves again and he gently places it on his chest, right over his heart, as if trying to convey the sincerity of his words “rafe.”

but he’s not your rafe anymore.

that’s the one thing you want to tell him. you chew on your lower lip wondering if honesty would do you any good right now. if it would erase all these months, weeks, days, hours, without him. 

a moment of silence stretches between you, and then, after what feels like an eternity, you finally manage to utter a response.

"yeah..."

rafe's gaze remains fixed on you, “i held you while you were sleeping.”

if you weren’t crying before, you are now. it's like a dam has burst inside you. tears stream down your face like a leaky faucet, nothing strong enough to hold them back. they're not the dainty tears you see in movies, but big, ugly cries that leave your mascara streaked and your nose running.

you try to speak, but all that comes out are choked sobs and sniffles. it's embarrassing, really, how out of control you feel. but you can't help it even as your front neighbor comes into view. 

you do quick 180 and bolt back into your apartment, hand pressed against your forehead as if holding it will stop the raging headache you’re about to experience. you don’t have to look back to know rafe’s following you, trailing inside and swiftly closing the door with a soft click.

"i’m sorry," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. "i’m really sorry. i’m so sorry-“

rafe's hands reach out, his palms open as if he's dealing with a wounded animal. 

"hey, it’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle reassurance, "it's okay.”

“i hadn’t seen you in so long,” you confess, your words tumbling out in a rush, “and i missed you and then i did that shit-“

his hand envelops yours, his touch grounding you. "hey, breathe," he urges softly, “it’s okay.”

tears well up in your eyes again, blurring your vision as you struggle to hold back the sobs threatening to escape. "’m sorry," you choke out, voice breaking with each syllable. "i'm so sorry, rafe."

“it wasn’t that shitty, okay?” rafe's expression softens further, the way it does only for you.

“it was! i’m a shitty person.”

his thumb gently brushes away your tears as he shakes his head slowly. "no, you're not.”

“i am! you would’ve never done something that shitty.”

the nagging feeling that you’ve let him down once again is eating you alive.

he raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips. "what do you call showing up here, in your apartment, in the middle of the afternoon and calling you shitty, huh?" he asks, his tone teasing yet affectionate.

you can't help but let out a shaky laugh, “t’s not the same.” 

rafe reaches out, gently cupping your face in his palm as he brushes his thumb gently across your cheek. “yeah, it is.”

without even questioning it, you lean into his touch, closing your eyes as your allow yourself to bask in the warmth of his embrace. for the first time in months.

“i miss you,” you confess, “whenever something happens, i just want to tell you about it.”

“so, tell me.” the tender smile softens the lines on his face, "’m right here.”

you feel a rush of relief, a weight lifting off your chest as if he's just granted you permission to exhale. and yet, tears still well up in your eyes, blurring your vision and spilling over onto your cheeks in hot.

“i have a date.”

a knot forms in the pit of your stomach, tightening with each syllable. your voice quivers with uncertainty, the words tumbling out like stones from a crumbling cliff. you don’t have to look to know your hands are shaking like leaves in a storm. you’re pretty sure if you held them up, they'd look like one of those ridiculous earthquake simulations. 

rafe nods, doing his best to stop the cheeky grin growing on his face, as he shakes his head understandingly, “looking forward to it, are ya?”

but you only sob harder.

"hey, hey- sweetheart. it's alright.” he says gently, his voice soothing you better than any depressing song on your playlist, “just jokin’ around.”

but you can't shake off the feeling of shame, the burning embarrassment of admitting to something you wish you hadn't. of letting someone take you out, someone who isn’t rafe, your rafe. 

"i just... i thought it would help me move on, y’know?" you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

"i get it.” he tries to smile at you again, but it looks sad, and it makes your heart hurt. his hand reaches out to brush away a stray tear from your cheek, “i’m not mad.”

but you are. at you. at him.

the words linger in the back of your mind, gnawing at your insides. you want to scream, to lash out at him for being so understanding, for not fighting for you the way you wish he would.

you push his hands away from your face, your voice cracking. that’s all it seems to do since he walked back into your life ten minutes ago.

"that's it?" you exclaim, "you're just okay with it? with me going on a stupid date with someone else?"

it was like someone had just pulled the rug out from under him, and he didn't know how to stand back up.

rafe’s jaw is set in a firm clench, "i just want you to be happy.”

“but i'm not happy!" you retort, your voice rising in volume as tears continue to stream down your face. "i'm miserable, rafe! and you're just standing there, doing nothing!”

his chest is rising and falling heavily, as if he’s trying to contain himself.

"i'm doing nothing?” he asks so quietly; you take a double take to make sure it’s still him. his eyes flicker with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. it feels like staring into a wildfire, all fierce and untamed. 

you swallow hard, suddenly feeling the weight of your words crashing down on you. the way rafe looks at you, it’s like he sees right through you.

"i’m here, aren't i? i’m listening, okay? i'm trying to understand."

but his words only fuel the fire of your frustration.

"i need you to tell me that you still care. that you don't want me to go on that date because you want me for yourself."

you could see the anger draining out of him, leaving behind this raw, broken man. he slumps forward, shoulders drooping. his eyes go from blazing with intensity to just... empty. like he just flicked off a light switch behind them. 

it’s heartbreaking, honestly, to see him just fizzle out into nothing. 

“’course i want you for myself," he whispers, "but i can't force you to choose me. you left me.”

it’s a devastating sight, really. to see someone you love so deeply, someone who’s always been so strong, just fall apart like that. it’s like watching a building crumble to the ground.

and the worst part is, you know you’re the one who caused it. you’re the reason he’s standing there looking so broken, so lost. and you hate yourself for it, hate that you couldn’t be what he needed, hate that you had to go and ruin everything.

“i left because i didn’t feel good enough,” your voice is hoarse from screaming and crying, “not because i stopped loving you.”

for a moment, the silence between you is deafening, stretching on through time. it’s like neither of you knows what to say. 

and then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, something shifts in his expression, he looks as if you have hit him.

“i never wanted you to feel that way,” he murmurs, stepping closer to you. “i never wanted you to doubt how much you mean to me.”

his words hang in the air, like they’re carrying the weight of all the things you two never said, all the things you wished you could take back. as if he’s putting it all out there, laying his soul bare for you to see, finally showing you everything he’s been keeping bottled up inside.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, the words a solemn oath sworn in the quiet of the night. “’m sorry for not being there when you needed me.”

“i’m sorry too,” you choke out. “i’m sorry for pushing you away.”

and then, without another word, without another moment wasted on regrets and what-ifs, you step forward and wrap your arms around him. it’s like coming home after a long time.

and yeah, you might have a shit ton of things and problems to sort through, but rafe cameron is worth that and more. 

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron au #rafe cameron fluff #rafe angst #rafe cameron angst #rafe x reader #rafe fic #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x kook!reader #obx rafe cameron

[gwennybriggs]

Abracadabra:

Link if you want it:

Or! You can read it here :)

Word count: 1,475

Inspired by a line from a Chappell Roan song that’s been stuck in my head for weeks.

It’s a little spicy, but not too spicy! I’m not super comfortable writing smut, but decided to try it out again since it’s been a few years. Enjoy, cuties!

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

The birds were chirping and the sun was shining bright when you woke up that morning; you knew it was going to be a wonderful day. You rolled out of bed, pulled on your skirt and blouse, and waltzed out the door to make a stop at the coffee shop down the street. It had become your normal Friday routine to stop and grab a hot chocolate for yourself, and a coffee for your favorite coworker, Melissa Schemmenti. In turn, Melissa would bring a danish for you and a muffin for herself. You weren’t exactly sure when or how it happened, but you looked forward to it every week.

It had been a bit of a stressful week with state testing and the kids were over it just as much as the teachers were. Janine convinced Ava to allow her to set up a talent show as a ‘carrot’ for the end of testing week.

“Carrot? What the hell you mean, carrot? Ain’t nobody lookin’ for a vegetable, girl.”

Janine rubbed her temples, “You know, like when you put a carrot in front of a horse to keep them moving. It’s a little motivation to get people through the week.”

“Whatever. You can have a talent show, just make sure Melissa stays off the stage with her horrific impressions. I simply cannot listen to her butcher The Godfather again.”

You prepared all week to share your magic tricks with the school. Jacob caught wind and asked if you would like to join him in his magic act, claiming that your combined expertise would win you more applause. You reluctantly agreed and spent all of Thursday evening with him at Melissa’s house practicing. It wouldn’t have been so bad if the redhead had been there, but she spent the evening with Barbara instead.

You could smell Melissa’s perfume before you even stepped foot in the lounge and it made you smile. During your first year at Abbott you developed the tiniest crush on her, but at this point, you were flat out in love with the woman. You didn’t exactly hide the fact that you liked her that way, but you never said it out loud either. Melissa had told you she was bisexual but leaned more towards men fairly early on in your friendship when you told her you were a lesbian. After sharing a bottle of wine together you asked her what her type was.

“Big burly men with beards who can take care of me or pretty little ladies who with let me take care of them. What about you? So I know what to look out for for ya,” she responded with a chuckle.

You fought yourself not to reply with a simple ‘you’ and gave her a vague description of herself instead. She raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. The two of you shared some casual flirting over time, but you just chalked it up to her treating you like a close friend.

The lounge was already buzzing when you walked in, everyone talking about what their students were doing for their acts or which teachers signed up. You crossed the room to set your things down before walking over to Melissa to exchange goods. She beamed up at you when you placed your hand on her shoulder and her cup on the table in front of her.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all week, thanks doll face,” she sipped her coffee and handed you a raspberry danish.

“Likewise! Thanks, pumpkin.” You winked at her and took your seat across the room with Janine, Gregory and Jacob, completely missing Melissa’s coy smile in response to the nickname.

The bell rang and everyone gathered their belongings to start the day. You and Melissa were the last ones in the room as you moved things in the fridge to fit your lunch. She came up behind you, resting her hand on your hip for balance as she leaned into the fridge with you to move her containers. You froze at the contact and mentally begged yourself not to blush. As she leaned further down, her hand slid over to your ass. Your eyes were glued to her cleavage, beautifully illuminated by the refrigerator light. You quickly turned your head when she caught you staring.

She stood up, her hand still slightly splayed your ass. Your face was beet red. “No need to steal glances hon, all you gotta do is ask,” she clicked her tongue and made her way out the door, swaying her hips dramatically. She knew you were watching.

More than a little flustered, you splashed cold water on your face and left to tend to your students. The hours ticked by and you struggled to focus on anything other than the feeling of Melissa’s hand on your backside. You were looking forward to spending lunch with her and Barbara, but Jacob insisted you practice with him one more time before the talent show. Between bites of pasta you made coins disappear and reappear from behind Jacob’s ear and cheered him on as he mastered revealing the chosen card.

The entire school gathered to watch the staff and students perform at the end of the day. You took a seat next to Melissa, waiting for your turn.

“You got any hidden talents you’re gonna share with us, red?” You poked at her side.

“Nah, can’t share my talents here kid. I wouldn’t be allowed back on school grounds,” she smirked. “Just joshin’, Ava forbade me from doing impressions so I’m stuck in the crowd. I’m excited to see what youse cooked up for your act though, Jacob hasn’t shut up about it.”

“Ha, I’m sure he hasn’t.”

Janine introduced your act and you followed Jacob onto the stage. The two of you played off of each other’s tricks with the crowd ooh-ing and aww-ing. You had always enjoyed tricking people with sleight of hand, but you enjoyed it even more when you were able to fool an entire auditorium. When the four minutes of fame were over you returned to your seat next to Melissa. She nodded her approval and continued to watch the show.

A few minutes later you excused yourself to use to restroom. The bathroom was empty and you did your business quickly. As you opened your stall door you jumped at the sight of Melissa sitting on the counter. You hadn’t even heard her come in.

“Oh Jesus!”

“It’s actually Melissa, but I get that one a lot.” She slid off the counter to stand next to you as you washed your hands.

“Very funny,” you rolled your eyes.

She moved closer, her breasts brushing your arm. “Yeah, but you like it when I’m cheesy like that.”

Your breathing hitched. “I d-do,” you stuttered and melting at the close proximity.

“So, tell me what else you like, gorgeous.” She was nearly straddling your right leg. Her eyes filled with fire as she brought her hand up to your cheek and traced a finger along your jaw line.

You stifled a whimper and bit your lip, unable to speak without making a fool of yourself. She moved even closer, now actually straddling your leg, you could feel the warmth of her. You placed your hands on the counter to keep yourself upright.

“I know you like magic.” She nuzzled her face into your hair and lowered her voice to a whisper, “I’ve got a wand and a rabbit.” She punctuated her sentence with a light nibble to your earlobe. You gasped; a cold chill ran up your spine and you couldn’t hide the shiver. Her hand on your left hip pulled you in between her legs so that her core was pressed firmly against your thigh.

You squeezed your eyes shut, you wanted her to ruin you right then and there, but the school day wasn’t over and the talent show was about to let out.

“Mel, I want this,” you whined and guided her free hand down to your soaked panties, wanting her to feel exactly how bad you wanted, needed, her. “But we can’t do that here, not now at least. Like you said, we wouldn’t be allowed back on a school grounds.”

She lifted your skirt so you could feel her own wetness through her leggings against your bare skin. “My house, eight o’clock.” Melissa kissed you with such fervor that it made you want to go back on your words. “Bring whatever other magic tricks you have up your sleeve, or in your nightstand drawer,” she winked and playfully smacked your ass as she walked away.

You tried desperately to gather your thoughts and some semblance of composure, your mind racing with the image of Melissa playing with her toys- and you. The redhead was going to be the death of you yet.

#abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #jacob hill #ava coleman #janine teagues #magic tricks #red wine supernova

[looneyleyle]

the self-destructive habits of a hopeless romantic ~ j. hughes

synopsis: monetizing one's self-sabotaging habits, surprisingly, has its downfalls. one of them being leaving that one attractive hockey player that is an absolute gentleman who loves you with his whole entire heart.

warnings: self-sabotage, self-deprecation, angsty (but with happy ending)

word count: 3425 words

note: once again unedited but i wanted to get this one out there

???'s pov

time and time again, the world has seen the self destructive habits of humans. well, that makes it seem serious. the world has seen the countless missed opportunities due to a fear of another's reaction. the world has seen the blunders due to saving face. the world has seen the heartbreaks due to miscommunication. time and time again, the world has seen how people sabotage their own lives for the dumbest reasons.

esther graham was no different.

in fact, she capitalized on her ability to put herself into the worst emotional distress possible. every heartbreak produced a great work of literature that would nearly sell out in bookstores all over the northeast. she wasn't a new york times best seller by any means, but she was a small town writer from mont vernon, new hampshire. she made a name for herself during her time at hamilton college in their creative writing program. in her junior year of college, she published her first book, woes of a teenage failure, a novel following what could have been for a young college drop out named sophia. the book was a hit amongst her peers and professors, and by word of mouth, ended up selling 200 copies. the book, as ms. graham remarked, was her own "what-if" story, as she almost dropped out of college the beginning of her sophomore year.

and how do i know so much about ms. graham?

well, because i am ms. esther graham.

and i'm here to tell you all about the biggest blunder of my life.

after my first book, i hit major writing block. i would stare at my computer screen for hours just to delete the only three words that i could come up with. i would sit in coffee shops, pen in hand, ready for inspiration to strike, and yet, nothing. i was nearing the end of my college career, riding on the coattails of my first and only book's success, and couldn't figure out how to continue. my professors taught me plenty of ways to try and combat writer's block, but nothing worked.

until i met ryan. a devilishly handsome man all the way from the cheese state of wisconsin, who was meeting up with some college friends for the annual boston beanpot. we had our meet cute at a nearby pizza joint, in which i sat down and started chatting with him, thinking he was a publisher that i was supposed to meet with. after realizing my blunder when he had absolutely no idea what an anthology was, he asked if i wanted to join him and his friends at the beanpot, as one of their friends had cancelled, leaving them with an extra ticket.

ryan and i dated for four months. we would take turns traveling between my college in new york and his in wisconsin until eventually it became too much, or should i say, too little for him, and he broke it off. in my rage and complete depression from the breakup, i wrote my next hit, until the sun sets, a 142-page anthology of gut-wrenching poems, which was eventually integrated into hamilton college's curriculum for their young adult modern literature class. i was quite proud of that.

after that, i found myself yet again staring at blanks screens and empty notepads.

that is, until chloe. a beautiful new york native whom i had actually met while dating ryan. she was a hostess at a restaurant ryan and i would always go to. she was pursuing her masters in psychology, which gave me fascinating insights and tactics to use in my books. we were never officially together, but we had something for almost three months before she was whisked off by some californian named ella. i never saw her again, which prompted my next book, the ninth floor, a murder mystery following a closeted lesbian couple in 1940's hollywood (it was one of the girlfriends the whole time).

at this point, when i hit a creative block for the third time, i realized that i needed my heart or brain to be in absolute shambles in order to produce my best work. i needed to be at some sort of life crisis, and the easiest way to do so was to love another and let that love be ripped out of your life.

so, i began dating for the sake of my career. it was like i sought out the most manipulative, scummy people in the world who were able to get away with it just because they were attractive. over the course of a year, my first year out of college, i dated a total of three men and one woman, and poured my emotions out into a collection of short stories titled lavender.

and that was when i met jack.

i was in new jersey for a book signing at this little bookstore which, as it turns out, was right by the prudential center. as i left the bookstore, i was nearly run over by an overly excited man-child with a giant bag slung upon his shoulder.

"luke, watch out, you nearly killed that woman!" a voice yelled from where the man came from.

"i'm so sorry about that miss, my brother can get a bit overexcited sometimes." looking at the person talking to me, i found a young, very attractive brunet with the most adorable smile. i straightened myself up instinctively, wanting to appear presentable.

"no worries. if you don't mind me asking, what got him so riled up that he almost trampled me?" the man let out a laugh at my statement.

"of course, we owe you at least that much for your near-death experience. he just got nominated for the calder trophy." he explained, as if those words meant anything to me. seeing my blank stare, he clarified. "a rookie of the year award. we play for the new jersey devils." the boy in question came up and joined us, grinning ear to ear.

"ahhh, i see. i'm not a big hockey watcher, which i know is absolute blasphemy for someone who grew up in new hampshire." his jaw nearly dropped.

"you're from up here and don't like hockey? we have to change that." he exclaimed. in my peripheral vision, i could see his brother trying to hide his laughter at his brother's forwardness.

"ill have to come and watch a game sometime." i mused.

"we have a game coming up next week against the blue jackets. i could maybe snatch you a seat in exchange for your number." he proposed. his brother snorted at that, having to turn around to hide his obvious laughter. the man paid his brother no mind, just looking at me with a big smile on his face.

"trying to bribe me mister?"

"is it working?" i put my hand out and he immediately put his phone in my hand, adding my information into his contacts.

"esther? that's nice, you look like a esther." i quirked an eyebrow at him, but continued on anyways.

"and you? what should i call you?"

"call me yours. or jack, either works." the brother was doubled over on the floor at this point, jack finally acknowledging him by kicking him slightly, making him fall over.

"anyways, ms. esther, we have to get going, but ill see you next week at our game." he put out his hand for me to shake.

"you've got yourself a deal jack."

and just like that, jack and i started talking. his eagerness was cute, he texted me no more than ten minutes after meeting me. we talked every day, mainly on calls, asking each other questions and such to get to know each other.

and sure enough, the next week, i found myself back in new jersey watching the brothers play. i assumed jack was going to be some sort of benchwarmer or something, but that didn't seem to be the case. despite my lack of hockey knowledge, i could tell the boy was good, and he had quite a fan base if the amount of women wearing his jersey meant anything. and i felt severely out of place, simply wearing a grey sweater and jeans, unlike everyone else in the stands, decked out in red.

after that, i found myself going to a couple more hockey games, for no particular reason. jack would try to explain the game over video calls and our occasional coffee meet ups, but i couldn't for the life of me wrap my head around it. why do they all get off the ice every five seconds? and what the hell is offsides?? jack always laughed at my confusion, telling me that i'd get it one day.

we spent a couple months thriving off of video chats and once-in-a-blue-moon hangouts, until i got a job as an editor for a local paper. i was good at editing, always having good grammar and an eye for design, but it wasn't my dream. despite it not being my dream, i needed a stable income, and fast. my mind was devoid of ideas, and it didn't seem like that would change any time soon.

plus, it helped that this stable income happened to be in new york city, putting me a lot closer to a certain someone. and, with me being closer, that certain someone would pop on by a lot more than before. and eventually, chinese takeout dinners turned into staying the night, which turned into coming up for the weekend, which turned into the line of friendship being crossed into something more.

and then, i made the dumbest mistake of my life.

i let him go.

now, i know what you must be thinking. he must have done something wrong, he must have cheated or neglected me or done something so completely unforgivable that i would just throw away the most amazing thing in my life. and i wish i was here to tell you that was the truth.

but it wasn't.

jack was nothing but a gentleman, and i was just a broken girl doing the only thing i knew how to do: leave. i like to tell myself that it was for my career, that i needed to write another book, that i wasn't fulfilled in my job and that i was putting myself first by doing this, but i was perfectly content with my life. i was an editor for a major publishing company, i started writing little happy poems about my mundane life with jack, and wanted nothing more. i had no reason to run away. i just woke up in his bed one day and realized that i wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, and i couldn't accept that. i had gotten so used to leaving people that i assumed that they would leave me if i hadn't done so first, and i couldn't lose the one real thing i ever had.

so naturally, my self-destructive, self-sabotaging self let him go, the exact opposite of what i wanted.

and when i got back to my apartment after writing jack a confusing and half-assed letter, i cried. i cried and cried and cried, and i always wrote about characters crying until they couldn't anymore, but that day, i couldn't find the end to my tears. for hours tears would either slowly leak or violently pour from my eyes, and they never did end, not even when i passed out on my couch from exhaustion.

and after a week, i was expecting to pick myself up and start writing my next best seller, coping with my writing. but i sat there, and my florescent computer screen simply sat there, staring back at me. and when i left my apartment for a change of scenery, the blank pages of my notebook mocked me. i flipped through past works, all of them being little poems about jack, and the waterworks continued, right in the middle of a starbucks.

after a week and four days, i couldn't take it. i had to make things right, i had to at least see him. it always worked in the books, right? someone makes a huge mistake, they break up, they see each other again and realize they're both miserable without each other and then get back together and live happily ever after.

when i knocked on the door to jack's apartment, i was met with an unimpressed looking luke. at the sight of him, the waterworks started up again.

"you're an idiot, you know that?" i nodded furiously at this, sobs wrecking through my body. i couldn't see through the tears in my eyes, but i could tell the luke hadn't moved a muscle.

"he deserved better and you know that." i felt my soul being crushed. "i mean, a letter? seriously esther? and a half-assed one at that. i know damn well you don't have a degree in creative writing for that bullshit."

i opened my mouth to explain, but nothing came up. what would i say, that i was a broken person? cop out. that i did it to everyone? not much better. that i got scared? fucking coward.

"if you think that you deserve to see my brother, then i'll let you in." he told me, moving out of the way, door open wide. i just stood there, staring at him through teary eyes. my brain cheered, finally able to go in, but my feet wouldn't move.

my heart still clenched and ached, and with every thought of moving forward, into that apartment, it hurt more. jack didn't deserve this. after all the nights of him reading my poems about him and praising my work, after all the sweet things he'd say when i was down, after all the little acts of kindness he showed me, after all the love he poured into us, he didn't deserve to be broken by me. hurt people hurt people, the scholars had that right. he didn't deserve to be broken.

and so, i got ready to leave, again.

"i'm sorry." was all i said, turning around with heavy legs and a heavy heart. i heard luke let out a sigh as i walked away, closing the door behind him.

a couple of days went by and i found myself back at their apartment. i knew they wouldn't be there, they had an away game in anaheim the night before, and i knew from my time with jack that they would always spend the night in the city before coming back, especially after a win, a 5-0 win no less.

i stood there in front of their door, a small box in my hands, contemplating. jack didn't deserve this, but a selfish part of me needed this. i placed the box gingerly outside of their door and left the building. if the box was taken by some nosy neighbor, or thrown in the trash by some janitor, then it would be fate. it would be a sign to move on. but, there was a chance that jack and luke would come back to their apartment, and would pick up the box, and jack would recognize my handwriting. and, instead of throwing the box in the trash like any normal self-respecting person receiving a box from their shitty ex, he would take it to his room, and open it up to see my notebook, with a bookmark starting at the pages when i first started seeing him. and he would read the poems and maybe, just maybe, he'd see the note written on the bookmark to meet me at the park near his apartment, and maybe, just maybe, he'd be willing to hear me out.

i went to that park every single day for exactly one month and six days, always arriving by 1 pm, never late. and i would stay there until 4 pm, waiting.

on the 37th day, i was sitting there, editing, funnily enough, a sports column about the recent devils and islanders game. i watched it, absolutely terrible game it was, the islanders beating the devils for the first time in the season. our sports journalist, while passionate and very knowledgeable about seemingly every sport out there, had a knack for writing long, run-on sentences that reflected his rambling nature. as i sat there on the same park bench i had been sitting on for the previous 36 days, a figure stopped in front of me. i finished up the sentence i was working on before looking up.

and while i hate cliches, the wind was absolutely knocked out of my lungs.

"h-hey jack." i started, immediately putting away my work, giving him my full attention.

"hey esther." a shiver ran down my spine from him just saying my name. it had been so long, and while it lost its loving tone, i welcomed it with open arms. jack moved, taking the spot next to me, looking out at the trees in front of us. when it became apparent he wasn't going to say anything, i started the conversation.

"i see you read the notebook."

"i finished it three weeks ago." he replied, voice lacking its usual emotion. tears welled up in my eyes. three weeks.

"oh."

"i came here immediately after finishing it." i felt my eyes bulge out of their sockets at that. he continued, "i went to that bench over there and watched as you fidgeted in your spot, looking frantically at everyone who passed by. i watched the next day as you sat in the pouring rain with no umbrella. i sat over on that bench every day that i was here since reading your notebook."

a silence fell upon us, my mind reeling, trying to figure out what he was trying to say, from his emotionless face to the fact that he came.

"do you know how much it hurt? waking up to empty sheets and some half-assed note with the lamest excuses on earth?" i hadn't really paid mind to the tears rolling down my cheeks until he brought that up, sending me back to that morning, quickly scribbling out some gibberish before leaving the best part of my life behind.

"i was going to wait another month, y'know. to see if you were still gonna come here every day."

"so why didn't you?" i asked, sniffling intensely, trying to calm down my sobs.

"luke said i was absolutely miserable without you. coach told me i wasn't focused. my teammates pointed out that i barely left my apartment. the icing on the cake was when my mom started asking if you would be coming over to the lakehouse this summer. i realized, as pathetic as it seems, that i can't live without you."

my attempts at stopping my crying were thrown out the window at that. i could probably fill the hudson river with the amount of tears i had shed over the past two months.

"how can i make it up to you. please, please let me make it up to you." i begged, fully facing him, my hands angrily playing with the sleeves of my shirt because if i didn't, i would be reaching out to the man in front of me.

"never pull that shit again." he bargained, looking me dead in the eyes for the first time in months. and in that moment, i saw just how bad he was doing. sunken eyes with heavy bags, his skin dull, hair slightly unkempt under his hat.

"never again." i promised, putting out my pinky to him, something he would always do when he promised me to not get hurt in games. he let out a hoarse laugh, looking away from me, and when he looked back, i saw the tears brewing in his eyes. he took my pinky in his and held it there, between us.

"now, i'm not gonna just take you right back after all that. that was really shitty and i need some time to get over that. but, as i've found out, i can't really function without you. so maybe you could start with coming to my games again, and i could take you out for coffee next week."

"sounds perfect."

i accepted my life as an editor for the local newspaper, accepted that i probably wouldn't write another page-turning sell-out book, accepted that i was completely content with whatever happened to me, so long as jack was there with me.

and with that, my self-destructive, soul-crushing, heart-breaking tendencies reached their end.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x oc #new jersey devils #fanfic

[the-marshals-wife]

Strangers Like Me (Orm Marius x Reader)

A/N: I love Orm so, so much, and I've wanted to write for him since my major obsession with the first movie back in 2019. The sequel was everything I could have wanted for his character, and now that he's had the perfect open ending to his cinematic story, I finally let the inspiration run wild. This is the longest fic I've ever posted, and I'm proud to say he was the muse that inspired it.

Description: Orm Marius/Ocean Master x Fem!Reader (human), friends to lovers | Warnings: suggestive themes, steaminess at the end, cataclysmic levels of fluff throughout | Setting: after The Lost Kingdom | Word count: 5.8k

Gif credit: user acecroft

Imagine Orm opening up to you about who he truly is, and wanting to be part of your world

If someone had asked you a few months ago where you liked to be most, you wouldn't have said the boardwalk. Now, it'd become your favorite place in the world. Not for the noisy crowds, overpriced deep-fried foods, or vendors overflowing with cheap beachwear and souvenirs for the tourists. Those things you could have done without. That is, until you met Orm. Ever since that fateful day, everything around you had transformed into something new and exciting. Today was no different.

"I can't believe you've never had a corn dog before," you say.

Orm walks alongside you, well into his second serving. "And I can't believe something this abysmal in appearance can taste so good," he replies before taking another bite.

"Seriously, what have you been eating all this time?" you ask, wiping the mustard from the corner of your mouth with a napkin.

He swallows before answering, "Fish, mostly."

He was completely serious, as usual.

"You really love seafood, don't you?"

"Where I'm from, it's just called food," he counters.

Once again, you found yourself wanting to ask where exactly that place was. The last time you inquired yielded little insight. He gave a vague reply to the tune of "somewhere far away" and quickly changed the subject. For a while, you'd assumed he was originally European or something like that. Yet the more time went on, the more difficult it became to believe in that explanation. There must be a reason he did not want to talk about it, and you knew when he was ready, he would probably tell you. Still, you couldn't help but wonder where he had come from, and why he had not showed up sooner.

"So, what did you think of your first corn dog?" you ask instead.

"It was excellent. And I imagine it will not be my last," he says, tossing the stick into a trashcan as you walk by, "I still don't understand the name though, if it's not made of dog."

"Me either, honestly," you laugh as you toss your trash as well, "I'll have to look it up sometime."

"Speaking of, I listened to the singer you told me about."

"You did? What did you think?!" you exclaim, almost bumping into a passerby in your excitement.

"She is quite good, vocally. But I do think Ms. Parton would have more success exposing her rival publicly," he suggests.

"I know you're not talking about Jolene right now," you burst out laughing, covering your mouth.

"Indeed. This Jolene is a siren. She lures men with her wiles, and then goes unpunished because of her beauty," he explains wholeheartedly, holding his arms behind his back.

"Well that's the point of the song. Dolly is calling her out," you remind, "Plus what about her man? Shouldn't he get some of the blame? Falling for Jolene when he's already in a relationship? I mean come on, he's talking about her in his sleep. That's pretty low."

"Indeed, he misses the treasure that is right in front of him because he too has no honor," he expounds, his expression turning thoughtful, "You're right. Ultimately, they're deserving of each other."

"See! I told you," you chuckle victoriously.

Orm shakes his head, "I could not be tempted by such a woman."

"Oh, I don't know. You heard Dolly. Her beauty is 'beyond compare'."

"That is merely a facade," he dismisses, waving his hand, "Besides, I have seen far more beautiful than her."

You're about to inquire about his remark, but then you realize he's looking over at you. You can only hold his attentive gaze a moment before averting your eyes toward your feet, heart fluttering.

The previous moment still hanging heavy in the air, you walk together quietly for a minute before Orm stops in front of a beachwear vendor.

"Now that is amusing," he declares.

You backup a couple of steps to stand alongside him, "What is?"

He points to a pink tee shirt, the image of a mermaid riding on the back of a smiling dolphin printed on the front. "Dolphins are actually quite aggressive. They do not enjoy having riders on their backs. Sharks are much better mounts."

You stare at him, brow furrowed. "And how do you know that exactly?"

"I, uh, saw it on a television program," he stutters, "about taming sea life."

That was a lie if you'd ever heard one, and a strange one no less.

"Uh-huh," you reply unconvinced, walking away.

In silence, you resume your short walk to the end of the dock, Orm trailing close behind you. Once you reach the end, you lean over and rest your arms on the weathered wood railing, and he stands beside you. A few moments pass as you watch the waves crash upon the shore below and breathe in the salt air. It's not long before you feel his gaze on you once again.

He finally speaks, hesitation thick in his voice, "Something...on your mind?"

You smirk to yourself before looking over at him, "I'm just trying to figure you out."

"What do you mean?" he asks, concern visible in his bright eyes.

"I've never met anyone like you before. So much of what you say is a mystery," you remark.

"That is a fair point," he concedes, "I don't wish to vex you. There's just...so much that I don't know how to say."

You stand up straighter, smiling at him softly.

"I didn't mean it as a bad thing. Everyone has parts of themselves that they hide. Parts they don't want anyone else to see. There's nothing wrong with that," you reply, turning towards the ocean, "You don't like talking about your past, and I respect that. I just don't want you to think you have to hide. It's awful feeling like you don't belong, just for being yourself. I wouldn't want that for you."

"That is kind of you to say. Truly." He mirrors your posture on the railing, moving closer to you as a result. "You don't make me want to hide, Y/N. Quite the opposite, actually. I've learned so many things from you these past few weeks, and I have greatly enjoyed your company."

You look back to him, your heart skipping, "So have I."

His gaze softens. "I've also never met anyone like you before. You find joy and purpose in even the smallest of things. It inspires me how gracefully you view the world. And I've known no one whom I've wanted to share it with more."

Everything else around you melted away as you find yourself becoming just as lost in his eyes as you've been in his words.

Before either of you can move an inch closer, the chime of your cellphone cuts through the thick air between you.

Cursing inwardly, you shoot upright, embarrassed, and retrieve it from your pocket. It's an all-caps text from your sister with many exclamation marks, quickly followed by another. The sister you just now realized you forgot needed picked up.

"Oh no. I have to go," you say, frenzied, "My sister's waiting for me. I have to drive her home from her class, I completely forgot!"

"I understand," he nods, touching your arm assuringly, "Do you want me to accompany you back to the lot?"

"I really appreciate it, but I literally have to run. I'm so sorry, Orm," you say, turning to leave.

You make it only a few steps before you hear him call out.

"Y/N!"

Despite the urgency of your escape, you can't help but turn on your heel expectantly.

"Would you meet me tomorrow? Down on the beach, beneath the pier around sunset?"

A grin spreads across your face. "I'll be there!"

♆

It took everything in you not to grin like an idiot the entire drive to pick up your less-than-amused sister. You weren't ready for the brutal interrogation that would surely come if she saw the look you knew was on your face. After apologizing to her profusely and letting her chew you out, as was her sisterly right, her suspicions were already raised.

"You've never looked this happy for me to yell at you," she said, glaring at you.

"I'm just really enjoying my book! I started the sequel I told you about," you defended, flashing a smile even you knew was pretty fake.

"Enough to forget all about me," she rolled her eyes and punched your arm, "You're not telling me something, I know it."

"I'm dying to know if she's really the lost heir to the throne, I heard the reveal is like halfway through," you add, ignoring her last words.

"Mhm," she grumbled, "Fine don't tell me. I'll figure it out, just wait. You can't hide from me."

"The only thing I need to hide from you is my chocolate bars," you argue in a desperate attempt to throw her off the subject.

"I'll find those too," she snickered confidently.

You laughed it off and went back to biting down hard on your lip. It was the only thing you could do not to spill everything to her as she continued to give you the side-eye. Your body was at the steering wheel, but your mind, and your heart, were back on that boardwalk. The final glare she gave you in her driveway was unmissable, but for now, you'd evaded being found out as you made a getaway back to your own apartment.

That night you'd hardly slept, the moment at the end of the dock replaying in your mind over and over well into the morning. Work only made it worse, the monotony making the perfect backdrop to picture what the coming evening would bring. When your shift ended, you couldn't get out of there fast enough to go home and change.

Now, with sunset fast approaching, you were circling the parking lot trying to find a space, and close to bribing someone to move, when a spot finally opened up.

"Someone loves me," you exhale, hurriedly locking your car as you throw your bag over your shoulder.

The words linger in your thoughts. You can't help but blush at the notion, given your current destination, and who was waiting there.

In some ways it seemed like a lifetime since you met Orm, and in others it felt like only yesterday. The memory of that fateful day comes to the front of your thoughts as you start the long trek to the path that cuts through the dunes.

Unlike your fib from last night, you'd actually been desperate to finish the book your coworker had been pestering you about all summer. With only four chapters left, you'd escaped to the boardwalk one sunny Tuesday afternoon, hoping to find a bench, a fresh lemonade, and far less crowds than the weekend so that you could finally finish in peace.

Just as you'd sucked up the last drop of your drink and reached the last handful of pages, you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. On a bench across the way from you, you saw a man trying to untangle the most knotted pair of earbuds you'd ever seen in your life. You watched him from behind the top of your book, and suppressed a giggle as he became more animated in frustration. He ran a hand through his blond hair and seemed near to giving up on the whole endeavor. Unable to watch him struggle any longer, you tucked your book beneath your arm, tossed your empty cup in the trash, and started to walk over.

"He did this on purpose," he muttered as you approached.

"I can take a crack at them, if you'd like."

In his fierce concentration, he hadn't noticed you approach. He jumped a bit at your greeting, and squinted up at you, confused.

"Hi. Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Would you like some help with those?" you smiled hesitantly, "I just, I couldn't help but notice you were having a hard time with them."

"Well, you are welcome to try," he invited with a sigh, extending them to you, "Although I have seen seaweed less entangled than this."

You took them and sat down beside him, analyzing the knots.

"Earbuds are pretty notorious for getting tangled," you began, pausing to focus a moment, "These, however, look like a sailor used them to practice tying his knots."

"Courtesy of my brother," he said with no small amount of exasperation, "He delights in making things difficult for me."

"As brothers are wont to do."

"Indeed," he conceded.

Untying your own numerous pairs of earbuds over the years had more than prepared you for this moment. You'd made quick work of separating the right and left buds, down to the last few kinks in each.

"You're quite skilled at this," he observed.

"I should probably put it on my resume, huh?" you chuckled as you conquered the final knot.

"I think you might consider it," he laughed as well.

At last, all the tangles were gone.

"There you go," you declared, handing them back, "Good as new."

"Impressive," he remarked, marveling at your handiwork before looking back at you, "Thank you for your assistance."

"You're welcome," you smiled and pointed to the iPod in his lap, "What do you like to listen to, if you don't mind me asking?"

He hesitated, picking it up, "I'm...not actually sure how this device works. Are you familiar with the technology?"

"An iPod?" you laugh, "Yeah, I had one in high school. It's been a while and it wasn't this exact model, but they're all pretty much the same. MP3 players, that is. I had so many songs on mine, I couldn't add any more. Never went anywhere without it. I had to tape it together in senior year because I used it so much."

"Perhaps you could show me how to properly operate it?" he posed, turning towards you more, "My brother sent it to me. He said it contains music inside that I must hear, but I'm at a loss on knowing how to make it play."

You gazed at him bewildered a moment, caught off guard. Never had you met anyone who didn't know how to work an iPod before. But then again, you reminded yourself, not everyone had a chance to own one.

"Sure," you grinned, "I can show you. There's not too much to it, really, once you know the basics."

"Thank you," he replied sincerely, "It's not often that I've met a lady with such kindness, and lightness of fingers."

Heat immediately rushed to your cheeks at his gracious works, and suddenly it was difficult to hold the gaze of his rich blue eyes.

"It's no problem at all," you replied, offering your hand, "I'm Y/N, by the way. Nice to meet you."

"I'm Orm Marius, and the pleasure is mine."

Before you could blink, he'd taken your hand, and instead of shaking it, he kissed your knuckles. If he had lingered, perhaps it would have alarmed you. But he did it so quickly, it was like it was second-nature to him. Practiced or not, your head spun nonetheless, and launching into an urgent, flustered spiel about how to power on the iPod was all you could do to keep yourself held together.

You spent the next half an hour showing him everything from the buttons to the way to change the background image on the menus. Before long, you were talking about all of your favorite songs and artists, simultaneously making lists for each that he would have to listen to. Orm listened eagerly to your recommendations, and soon the conversation turned to any and every subject, from foods to places to dreams. You still remember the feeling of the rest of the world fading away as you talked to him, afternoon turning to evening. And the thrill you felt when he asked if he could see you again.

In the almost four months since, every meeting followed much in the same manner as that first day, with introducing Orm to the many things he'd never experienced before, and hours of conversation on the pier or walking along the beach. You'd stolen away to this area as many times as possible to see him, well over a dozen now. Of course your sister was more suspicious than ever after yesterday, but you still weren't ready to reveal where you'd been spending so many evenings, and who you'd spent them with. There was something exhilarating about you and Orm meeting secretly, and you wanted that feeling to last as long as possible.

He had such wonder about the world, like someone who'd not been in it very long. It was one of his oddest qualities, but his curiosity was endearing to you. Despite knowing so little about his past, you'd come to trust him like few others in your life. Whoever he'd been before, and wherever he was from, it seemed he had no intention on going back. If you were honest with yourself, you didn't want him to. There were so many places you wanted to take him further inland, yet he was still hesitant to go far from from the ocean. You'd never gone beyond a couple of blocks from the boardwalk together, but tonight, with the energy of yesterday's encounter fresh in your mind, you'd planned to breech the topic with him.

Now, the sun is sinking lower in the pale orange sky and your pulse quickens with the threat of being late. With all your reminiscing and daydreaming, you'd lost track of the time. You nearly run across the wooden walkway over the dunes and down the broad stairs. As soon as your feet hit the sand, you remove your sandals. Grasping them in one hand and the strap of your bookbag in the other, you take off into the best sprint you can manage. The pier is still a good distance up the beach, and you want to curse out whoever built the access so far away. You run at an angle towards the water, the wetter ground giving you better traction than the loose sand.

Just within the shadow of the great structure, you finally see Orm up ahead, his back turned. Out of breath, you slow your pace and try to catch some of it back before you reach him. Once he's within ear shot you call out to him.

"I'm sorry I left in such a hurry yesterday," you pant.

He spins on his heel. Relief is written all over his face.

"You came. I was afraid you might not," he sighs, walking up to meet you.

"Of course," you exhale, dropping your shoes and brushing away the hair clinging to your forehead, "Why wouldn't I?"

His expression indicates he had not thought of an answer to that question.

"I don't know," he hesitates, "I didn't mean anything by that. I mean, I wouldn't have blamed you if you hadn't. I did ask you at the last minute."

You can't help but chuckle as he stumbles regretfully all over his words.

"I brought you something," you declare to change the subject, much to his gratitude.

"A gift? For me?"

You can tell by his tone that he is actually baffled. Reaching into your satchel, you retrieve the item. In your outstretched palm, you hold a small snow globe, a miniature skyline of New York City contained inside.

His confused expression leads you to elaborate. "It's called a snow globe," you say, turning it upside down so that the little flakes inside swirl around, "You told me once that you never get to see snow where you're from. Now you can see it whenever you want."

He tentatively takes it, entranced by the miniature flurry.

"That's where I'm from. Well, I grew up there. We moved here when I was sixteen," you add, chuckling, "It's a little bit nicer in person."

Orm looks up at you, visibly touched by the gesture, "It's wonderful. Thank you."

"You're welcome," you smile, "I, hope that I can show you the real thing some day."

"I would like that," he replies with the smallest hint of sadness, pausing to behold it again, "I will treasure this always."

You'd never met anyone who talked like he did. Everything word he spoke was with full conviction. Others might sound pompous or conceited speaking the way he does, but when he said something, you believed he truly meant it.

"I'm glad you like it," you say, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"I do, very much," he says, frowning a bit, "I'm only sorry that I have nothing to give you in return."

"That's alright," you dismiss.

"Will you keep it safe for me while we are by the water? I regret that I have no pockets large enough to carry it."

"Absolutely," you say, putting it securely back inside your bag, "I know that feeling all too well."

When you finish with the zipper and lift your head up, you see Orm offering his arm to you. Surprised, and twice as excited, you take it.

As you cross beneath the pier and set off down the beach together, you suppress the urge to glance up at him. You agonize over what to say next, hoping he would speak first. When he did, it only made your heart beat faster.

"Actually, when I said I had nothing to give you, that was not entirely true," he said, clearing his throat before going on, "As much as I enjoy your educating me in foods and traditions I've never tried, I was hoping this evening we might enjoy a treat of a different kind."

Just up ahead, something on the shore comes into view. Your mind races in anticipation, and moments later, you come upon a blue blanket spread out neatly across the sand. A single white rose lies in the middle.

"Oh Orm," you breathe.

"It's not much, but I thought you would like to watch the sunset with at least some level of comfort," he says, a veil of nervousness in his voice.

"It's perfect," you exclaim.

He releases your arm and picks up the rose, presenting it to you.

"For you."

You feel nearly breathless once more as you take the flower and inhale its sweet fragrance.

"It's beautiful," you sigh, "Thank you."

He smiles timidly at your approval. "Shall we?"

"This is amazing," you say, removing your bag and carefully sitting down on the soft blanket.

He follows suit, and you gently place the rose in your lap as he comes to rest close beside you. The glow of the setting sun warms your skin, but it's nothing compared to the warmth in your chest.

You'd never seen him act like this before. He was normally so calm and collected, but now he was almost pure nerves. You work up the courage to glance over at him. He's staring hard ahead, clenching his jaw and rolling a seashell between his fingers. It's slowly becoming clear that you're not the only one who wanted to say something this evening. Normally, you found the rolling of the waves to be one of most soothing sounds in the world. But at this moment, they were far too loud.

You decide you have to break the excruciating silence.

"I've only watched a true beach sunset alone before."

Your voice brings him out from his trance. "I've also been by myself. I'm glad I have someone to share the splendor with."

"Me too."

He smiles weakly, and fixes his stare back on the horizon.

To your disappointment, the silence returns. Before long, everything is bathed in golden light. The sky transforms into rich oranges and reds before your eyes. The beach is surprisingly deserted apart from the seagulls and sand pipers, making it seem all the more that this moment was tailor-made just for the two of you.

Just when you're about to speak again, Orm at last turns towards you.

"I wish I could show you my world, Y/N. It is a realm of beauty, and strength, and light. You belong in such a place."

You feel your cheeks flush as he continues.

"Where I'm from, you can't see the stars at night. But there is a place with magnificent, glowing lights. A cave, filled with luminescence of every color you can imagine. You would absolutely love it."

"That sounds magical." You hang on his every word as you try to picture it.

"My mother used to take me there when I was a boy. I remember my whole hand disappearing inside hers." He smiled at the memory, but it faded as he spoke once more, "We used to go there seeking solace from my father."

Frowning, he throws the seashell towards the water. The sun begins to dissolve into the ocean, but neither of you take notice.

"Did you not get along?" you ask, hoping it was not too personal to do so.

His gaze falls downward again. "That's one way of putting it. Growing up in his shadow was- challenging. He was severe about many things, and against all of the rest. He expected me to become just like him. Demanded it, more like. Yet he was never up to the task of teaching me how. I wanted nothing more than to please him, but as I look back on it now, I'm not sure that I ever did. I was never worthy enough to be his son."

His words make your chest ache. You reach to gently touch his hand on the blanket.

"You are not an unworthy son," you assert, your feelings coming to the surface, "He was an unworthy father. I don't need to have met him to know that. Because I know you, and you are a good man. The most thoughtful, polite, decent man I've ever met."

He stares at you, emotion all over his face. A wistful look shines in his eyes.

"If only I had known you then," he reflects, "Perhaps I would not have gotten so lost in the tides of his storm."

"I wish I had known you too," you agree, more shyly than you'd expected, "But wouldn't have needed me. You already survived it, all on your own. You're stronger than he ever was."

His expression steels.

"Y/N, there is something I must tell you," he says, his tone turning grave, "It will not be easy for you to hear it, but I can't go on without you knowing what I am. I cannot hide it any longer. You deserve to know the truth."

Your heart starts to race quicker than your thoughts at his startling declaration. "What do you mean?"

Without warning, he casts off his jacket and stands up.

"Orm, what are you talking about?"

"Perhaps, it would be better if I showed you," he says, reaching out his hand to you, "I want you to understand. No more secrets."

For just a moment, you look up into his pleading eyes. Then, as if it had even been a choice, you carefully set the rose aside and take his hand. He helps you to your feet and leads you down past the water's edge. The cool water on your feet sends a shiver up your spine. The foam is lapping at your ankles when he stops just in front of you.

"You see that marker?" he points ahead.

The breeze whips your hair into your sight as you fight to push it away. You have to squint to see the outline of the buoy, the red light on top twinkling faintly in the twilight.

"Yes," you hesitate.

"Keep your eye on it," he directs calmly.

With that one instruction, he retreats further into the water, stopping until it is well above his waist. You cross your arms against the chill of sea spray and wait worriedly. He looks up and down the beach, as if to make sure no one is watching. You are still alone. Before you can call out to him, he dives headlong into the waves.

What follows you can only describe as a thunder beneath the water. It looks as if a missile has been launched from where Orm stood, careening toward the marker. Mere seconds later, a blast like a whale spout shoots above the horizon, and the buoy rocks violently as it is landed upon by the figure that flew up out of the sea.

A gasp escapes from your agape mouth as you witness the silhouette wave at you, and proceed to dive back into the blue.

Three pounding heartbeats later, Orm immerges from the surf and walks toward you, slicking back his dripping hair. His tee shirt clings to his muscular form, and his soaked jeans don't seem to encumber him at all. You're frozen in the sand, staring at him with only one word on your parted lips.

"How..."

"There's no simple way to say it, but you must know. I am from the Kingdom of Atlantis," he confesses, struggling to hold your stare, "I am Prince Orm Marius, son of Queen Atlanna. Although I was once ruler, I made many mistakes during my time on the throne for which I was banished. My penance is served by my exile here on the surface. I deserve my fate, and I gladly uphold it, but it is not something I wanted to keep from you any longer. I'm sorry that I was not honest with you sooner, but I didn't think that I could trust any surface-dweller with my secret. I was...proven wrong."

"You're a real Atlantean?" you manage to get out.

"I am," he nods, apprehension still in his voice, "I was raised to hate the surface and its inhabitants, but much has changed. You, Y/N, have had no small part in that."

Despite your reeling head, it's slowly becoming clear what Orm is saying by this grand unveiling of his true identity. As you struggle to process it, however, your silence compels him to go on.

"If all of this is too much, I understand. It is my burden to bear, and you did not ask to be part of it."

"I-It's not that," you stammer as the shock starts to wear off. You step closer to him. "Not at all. It's just a lot to take in. I need a minute, that's all. I promise."

Hope lights up his eyes.

"Absolutely," he agrees eagerly, "I apologize, I know this reveal was sudden. Please ask any questions that you have. I will withhold nothing from you."

As you finally begin look at him instead of through him, only one question lodged in your throat.

"Why?" you ask through threatening tears, "Why did you tell me all this?"

You knew why, because it was the same reason you wanted to tell him all of your own secrets. The same reason you came back to this beach over and over. The same reason your heart skipped every time you saw his handsome face, and heard him speak your name. You just wanted to hear him say it. For any of this to work, you needed to hear it.

His anxious gaze softens as he weighs his answer.

"I meant every word of what I told you yesterday. When I'm with you, I see a future that I never thought I would deserve. You make me feel like I can be more than I've ever been. And for the first time in my life, I have felt true happiness," he says, finding the words along with his conviction, "I never thought I would belong anywhere but Atlantis, but now, I want to know more about this world and its many gifts. And most of all, I want you to be by my side to show it to me."

"I want that too," you respond, tears threatening.

He gently takes your hand in his. "Even after all that I've done, part of me hoped that I might find some kind of redemption here on the surface. I wasn't sure how, and then I met you," he says tearfully, searching your eyes, "Y/N, you gave me that hope. Your goodness, your charity, your beauty. This realm has much to offer, more than I ever dreamed, but you are what I love most about the surface. From that very first day we spoke, I knew that you were what I was meant to find here."

Your vision blurs as he reaches to gently stroke your cheek.

"All of that to say...I've fallen in love with you, Y/N."

A sob escapes your throat as you look into his eyes and see it.

"I fell for you too. From the first day," you nod, finding your own confidence, "Being Atlantean doesn't change that. I don't care about who you've been or what you've done. I want to be with you. I love you too, Orm."

His composure crumbles along with yours as you embrace. The distance between you vanishes as your lips meet in a desperate kiss. You rest your hands on his chest and melt into his touch. He sighs and deepens the kiss, pulling you close against him. You feel the coolness of this still-dripping clothes soak through to your skin as you become lost in the taste of salt and longing. When you're forced to come up for air, you're both beaming.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he smiles, caressing your face.

"Me too," you giggle, lacing your arms around his neck, "What did you think of your first surface-dweller kiss?"

"Not too bad. I think I'll have to try it again before I decide if I really like it," he smirks.

"Well, if you get me out of this frigid water, I'll see what I can do about that," you tease back.

"Now that I can do," he announces.

You shriek in surprise as he swiftly lifts you from the water and into his arms as if you weighed nothing at all. He chuckles in amusement and carries you bridal style back toward the shore.

"Orm!" you protest, in an obviously half-hearted fashion.

"I have to admit, concealing my Atlantean strength has been considerably more difficult than I anticipated," he reveals, wincing a bit, "I intended to bring a bottle of wine tonight as well, but- the glass here is far weaker than what I'm accustomed to."

You laugh. "Well, it's the thought that counts."

"I'm glad you think so. Because I thought since I'm responsible for us missing the best part of the sunset, that perhaps we could lie under the stars instead?" he suggests, setting you down gently on your feet upon the blanket.

"I would love to," you say, looking up at him, "But aren't you freezing in those clothes?"

"I'm used to it," he shrugs, "I don't think I feel the cold the same as you."

"In that case," you say, pulling him closer into tender kiss, "What do you think about that?"

He grins.

"It was perfect, and I'm certain it will not be my last."

You no longer feel the chill as you cling to him, and he rests his forehead to yours. It didn't matter where the tides of life would take you next. As long as Orm was there to hold you in the waves, you would always be in your favorite place.

#orm marius x reader #orm x reader #ocean master x reader #orm imagine #aquaman and the lost kindgom #patrick wilson #aquaman imagine #orm fanfic #aquaman fanfic #my writing #strangers like me from tarzan is 100% orm-coded and i couldn't resist using it for the title #aquaman

[elonomhblog]

day 1/100 ~ 100 days of productivity

achievements:

: ̗̀➛ watched 'the hate u give' movie for more context for english, and began on my ct2a task

: ̗̀➛ finished all due physics homework and marked it off

: ̗̀➛ celebrated anzac day with some family friends

: ̗̀➛ worked on business hrm presentation, still need to finish bibliography and practice presenting with liza

insights:

: ̗̀➛ it is okay to let things go. you can't be attached because everything is forever changing

notes:

: ̗̀➛ once i get my phone fixed (or a new phone) i can start posting my own pictures again! i completely miss being able to visually share my days.

: ̗̀➛ insights section inspired by @nodalstudies

(images are from pinterest)

#elonomh #elonomhblog #that girl #becoming that girl #student #productivity #student life #chaotic academia #academia #study blog #100dop #100 dop #productivity challenge #studyspo #studyblr #studyinspo #100 days of studying #100 days of productivity #100 days challenge #100 days of self discipline #100 day project

[booksndpoetry]

The Gratitude Series

A Lee Minho Fanfic

Prequel to "A Modern Love Story"

WC : 2.8k words

Pairing : Lee Minho X Fem reader

Genre : Fluff

Triggers/Warnings : Repetitions of two particular words and mentions of brownies; read at your own risk of temptation

A/N : This was inspired by my own conversations with my friends when they told me to stop thanking them. I hope each of you who reads this, gets someone who'll thank you from the bottom of their heart.

m.list

“Some days I adore you a little more than a human being can adore” – Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Vera

To Lee Minho, you were an enigma of sorts. You were like a ball of yarn, threaded with your secrets. And he was the cat, ever curious. Each thread that unravelled, satiated his curiosity, until he wanted more. Until he knew it was never going to be enough. It was more of a depraved hunger than anything, but you didn’t have to know that. 

i. 

Minho had always considered his part-time job as a barista at the local café just as a way to spend his time wisely and earn some money. He did not expect the best people to be the customers, nor did he think the café was particularly interesting. It just…..was.

But that was his opinion before you came into the café. 

The first time he’d seen you, you had ordered a milkshake and sat down at one of the tables, book in hand, the nearly empty café a reflection of your quiet, poised state.

When he’d come to serve your milkshake, you’d stopped reading your book, the original volume of Howl’s Moving Castle he’d observed, as he approached you.

You read his name off his name tag, gifted him, a complete stranger back then, a dazzling smile and said “Thank you.” with the calmest voice he’d ever heard. 

He had been surprised. Not because you’d thanked him, more so because you stopped what you were doing just to acknowledge him and thank him, face to face. 

He hadn’t known what to do. Receiving thanks or compliments had always been awkward for him.

 And so he gave away his embarrassment with the tips of his ears glowing red, muttering something incoherent in reply, and your smile had become a little bit wider. 

Just a little bit, but he’d noticed it. 

That is how he remembers his first encounter with you, with him completely flustered by you and your bright smile. 

ii. 

After you had left the café that day, he had come in extra early to work every day, in hopes of catching you if you were an early riser. But to no avail. 

After two days, he thought himself stupid. He barely knew you. And you would’ve probably forgotten his name, he reasoned with himself. 

Still, his nights were filled with thoughts of you. He thought long and hard about you. 

Did you thank everyone that way? Or was it just him you thanked that way?

He had hoped, foolish as it was, that it was the latter. 

Had you found him attractive and hence given him your attention?

The question wasn’t entirely baseless. Lots of people frequented the café just to flirt with him. But he knew that it wasn’t the case, he would have remembered you if you’d come there before.

Would you come back again? Would he see you again? 

And so, he’d tossed and turned. He couldn’t get his mind off you.  

The two days turned into four weeks and the study group he was in at University, had set up a meeting at the music club. 

When he’d asked Chan, the person who had organized everything, why they hadn’t set up the meeting in the University’s large library, the latter had unashamedly said that the library wouldn’t allow food in and hence the spot was selected. 

Even on the walk to the meeting, Minho rolls his eyes. 

The library would have been much quieter. With no rules to maintain silence, he had no idea how to protect his ears from his group of extremely loud friends.  

He arrives minutes before the meeting. The tiny room was packed and he was already assessing the number of decibels emitted from the inside. 

Taking a breath, he pushes the door open and walks inside. The entire study group had assembled for the first time, and there were a lot more people than he’d expected. 

As soon as he sits down, Chan who had been chatting with someone next to him, turns and greets Minho. Minho nods in acknowledgement, looking away and that’s when he sees you for the second time. 

You sit in a corner of the room, nose deep in a book, just like the first time he’d met you.

Today, you’re decked up in a long winter coat, and a lemon-coloured scarf wrapped around your neck.

Just like the first time, you’re smiling as you read your book.

Just like the first time, you manage to take his breath away.

And just like the first time, he doesn’t know what to think, let alone what to do. 

Despite that, he knows that he might not have a chance to see you again and thus, musters up all his courage and approaches you, which is exactly when Felix decides to announce that he brought brownies for everyone. Minho has to clamp his mouth shut to stop a groan from escaping him. 

Great, he thinks, now he would never ever have a chance with you again and he would die an old cat gentleman.

Even in his head, he thinks it sounds ridiculous. He reminds himself not to hang out too much around Hyunjin. The dramatics were rubbing off on him. 

Shaking his head, he goes back to retake his seat when he notices Felix distributing scrumptious looking brownies (that he knew were delectable) to the large group of people, by himself.

He also notices another box, and maybe it is because he’s gotten so used to serving people, he takes the box up and starts distributing brownies to the other table.

Felix offers him a cheery thanks and Minho just waves him off. 

When he gets to your table, Minho holds his breath. He expects you to have forgotten him, but you lift your head and say,

 “Hey, Minho right? We meet again.” 

and all the practice he’s given himself goes down the drain. Clearing his throat, he pretends he isn’t affected by the fact that you remember his name, and extends a brownie towards you. You look at his outstretched hand and take the brownie, and just as he’d predicted, you look up at him, still smiling, and gift him a:

“Thank you.”

 He’s just as bothered, with the base of his neck going red at the words. However, in a burst of courage, he’s taking a chance with you just to lengthen the conversation. 

“I’m not the one who made them, Felix did.”, he informs you and you tilt your head slightly. 

“I know, I’ll thank him later.”, you reply, “I’m thanking you now.” 

“Why?” he asks. He doesn’t know, why you did it. He wanted to know. 

“Because”, you say, your words slow and deliberate, like you had all the time in the world,

“you could have let him distribute them to everyone, all the thirty five students, all by himself. It wouldn’t have been a big deal. But you chose to help him and give some of us a brownie, when you could’ve eaten yours first. So, thank you.” 

He’s stunned. Both by the sincerity of your words and the honesty you delivered them with. 

For a moment he stands there, absorbing your words. Before he can respond, one of them asks if they can have one more cupcake and he gets to his senses. You smile and wave him off. 

The second time too, he thinks, was just as delightful as the first. 

Maybe Chan chose the right spot after all. 

iii. 

Slowly, Minho eases his way into your life until you’re both latched together, like two sides of the same coin. He makes you milkshakes even when he’s not in the café and you smile and thank him for it, every time. 

He’s grown used to your words of gratitude, but he knows that you don’t throw the words around lightly. So, he makes space in his heart for all your thank yous, and slowly learns how to respond to them too. 

He wonders whether it is because you two aren’t close yet, that perhaps you feel the need to thank him for every little thing. He shrugs it off, feeling like you might stop your adorable habit once you fully get to know him. 

But mostly, he wants you to stop looking at him and smiling at him like he’s the candle burning on your desk at dawn, the only source of light when you need it. Because, he feels like it might never be enough when he falls for you. 

It was so easy to fall in love with you, your entire existence a balm to his soul effortlessly. 

He thinks about it then, when he jogs to get you your water bottle from your bag, placed at the very end of the basketball court you were running in to get your daily laps in. 

Just as he’d predicted, you tell him: 

“Thank you.” 

His chest feels too tight, like he’s been running for an hour, when he’s only been jogging for twenty minutes. 

He wants you to stop. 

He wants you to tell him those words for the rest of his life. 

Minho feels like collapsing in the middle of the basketball court, to hit his head hard enough. Just so he can stop this heady feeling from consuming him whole. 

iv. 

Minho feels himself flying in love with you. Why? Because he sees you are already in love with him too. 

It’s unmistakably your eyes search for him whenever he comes into a room.

It’s in how you always try to say yes to all his plans even though he tells you it’s okay if you feel otherwise.

It’s in the way you smile at him, something only for him to see.

But mostly, he knows it because of your eyes. Your eyes light up at his arrival, and they are transparent pools of your love for him, as clear as daylight.

And that, he learns, makes all the difference. 

v. 

Before you, Minho had a hard time trusting words. 

Why?

Because they were grand and promising at first, but empty if they weren’t followed by true actions. 

Most of the people early in his life only talked and talked, empty words with thoughts of what could’ve been, except they never were. 

But with you, Minho knew they were true to their meaning.

 He’d seen you bear the weight of them when you stayed behind for two hours in class to help a failing classmate.

He’d seen you fulfil them when you stayed up for hours writing something for the highest grade you had ever gotten, even if it was for extra credit.

He sees you stay true to them when you call your mom every single day like you’d promised, and when you call him without fail each time you go to the department store to ask him if he wants something. 

All he sees is you. 

You were an exception to his every agenda, every single time. 

He has no complaints. 

vi. 

One week before the finals, you're holed up in your room, ignoring all his calls, and Minho knows what's up. 

Your Psychology exams are what’s up. 

He drops by to your place and lets himself in, shoes placed in your shoe stand, just the way you do it. Going in, he gives a shout to let you know of his arrival. You holler something back & he takes it that you know.

Wandering to the kitchen, he spots a fruit bowl. Thinking that you could use a snack after all the studying you've done, he takes a few oranges from it and heads to your room. 

The sight of you hunched over your desk, buried in your books, your glasses barely hanging off your nose is what greets him.

 For a moment, all of it ceases to exist except him and his thoughts and you.

 He'd read all about the pinings of writers and poets who'd sworn that their lovers and muses were capable of taking their breath away at any time, even when they might look unflattering to the rest of the world.

 Minho had disagreed. One had to look unpresentable when they were buried in work and gave no thought about maintaining their appearance, right? 

 Wrong.

 He's rendered wrong. 

So, so, wrong. 

Because the sight of you then, bare-faced and bespectacled, puckered lips and furrowed eyebrows elicits an emotion he doesn't know how to name.

It's strong, this little feeling and every time you purse your lips or scrunch your nose, it grows stronger. He doesn't know what to do with the stubborn feeling, but he knows it's there to stay.

You were so engrossed in your reading that it took you a good three minutes to find out Minho was in the room.

After you do though, you abandon your textbook on the study desk and turn your attention to Minho. 

“Oh hey. Need something?” 

He chuckles, running a hand through his silky, wine-red strands as he takes you in fully, eyes subtle but greedy in their perusal of you.

 “I should be the one asking you that, you being buried in work and all.”

He gestures to your growing pile of papers, notes, and books. 

You let a whine in response.

“Don’t remind me of that. I’m taking a break. Seriously, I don’t get why I need to know the names of all the medical records used in the world. How am I supposed to treat other people, when I myself am slowly going insane?” 

You punctuate your rambling by sinking further into your chair until it shakes. 

He doesn’t know how to respond to that. But he does know how to make you feel better, that’s one thing he prides himself in. 

Coming to stand in front of you, he slowly reveals the arm behind his back and flourishes the oranges he’s fetched, like a magician exhibiting a miracle. 

You’re a magician of your own, giving away one of your dizzying smiles that he can see in his head for days on end. 

He slowly sits down on the floor, and starts peeling an orange. You join him and reach for one, but he swats your hand away. You frown, but abandon all thoughts of oranges when you remember your assignment, still very much unfinished. 

You abruptly get up, startling Minho out of his trance. He flinches before glaring at you. You cheekily smile down at him. 

“Sorry Min, I have to get this done before nightfall.” 

“Okay.” He says, even as gets up to shove a piece of fruit in your mouth. 

“Mo, yw don undastan-“ 

“Don’t talk while you’re eating.”

You glare at him, but do as he says.  

Even in your disgruntled state, you manage a quiet “Thank you.” 

You know how Minho left the comfort of his home just to come to cheer you up, even when he’s a homebody. And you’re grateful for it; you would’ve holed up in your room until you disintegrated into bits otherwise. 

He just shakes his head. 

Silence prevails in the room for a while, unless interrupted by the clicks of the keyboard and the quiet chewing as he feeds you slices. 

“You don’t have to say thank you to me all the time, y’know?” Minho begins, leaning beside you on your mahogany desk. 

You absently hum and finish typing the sentence. Only then do you fully process his words. 

“Huh?”

“We’re friends now, or at least I think we are. So, you don’t have to thank me for every little thing. It feels like you’re being formal with me.” 

This is the longest you’ve spoken with me, and it’s because of my thank yous. Isn’t that reason enough for me to tell you those words every time? 

The words are at the tip of your tongue, but you swallow them down. They weren’t for now, this moment. 

You just exhale and give his head a ruffle. He dodges it, and glares at you, reminding you of his cats.

Your mouth curves upwards. 

“What are the words ‘Thank you’ for then?

I don’t think they exist just for a half-hearted appreciation for someone I barely know.

I think they exist so I can try and convey my gratitude to the people close to me. I won’t ever be able to fully convey the feelings in words, but I can try.

So think of each of my thank yous as a two-word love letter sealed with joy for being in my life.

Is that better?” 

You duck your head down, shy after your sudden outburst of emotion.

I won’t ever be able to convey my gratitude fully, but I can try. 

A two-word love letter sealed with joy for being in my life. 

Good god, he believes you’re an angel at that instant.

You were ethereal in every way, whether that be the way you talked, the way you walked or the way you looked at him with thoughtful eyes, like he was the star in each one of your universes.

No ordinary person could be like that, could they?

He’s at a loss for words, like usual. And that doesn’t surprise you. He was a man of a few words anyway. 

Stealing an orange slice, you get back to work. 

This time, Minho thinks, even the word ‘delightful’ doesn’t cover it. He’s sure that no word can encompass even a sliver of your essence, except maybe the words ‘Thank you’. 

And he hopes that now you’ll let him tell you that every single day. 

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

© booksndpoetry 2024. All rights reserved. Please do not plagiarise, translate, repost or steal my works in any way. All idols used in this piece are just inspiration to character. They do not reflect the real people in any way.

#+booksndpoetry #straykidsland #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids #skz imagines #stayblr #skz lee minho #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #lee minho x y/n #skz fluff #fluff #lee know fluff #writing #lee know #friends to lovers #writeblr #and shes done #im kind of proud of how this fic turned out #please give it lots of love

[ollypopwrites]

From Depths Unknown ; Part 3

Part 1 ⚜ Part 2 ⚜ Ao3

Rolan x F!Tav (AFAB, she/her) *Tav is a Storm Sorcerer, but no actual reference to her appearance.

Rating: E

Tags & Warnings: [18+ MDNI] Language, Canon-typical violence (there is a lot discussion of blood and injuries in this chapter), Major Character Death, Sexual Content (mostly just horny thoughts), background Bloodweave.

Chapter Summary:

Not even Moonrise Tower nor the Shadowcursed land had been this hectic. They dodged rains of incredible fire from dragons, psionic blast from nautiloids and falling debris from buildings crashing around them. Fighting their way through an army of cultists, mindflayers and intellectual devourers, her team felt as united as ever. Everyone felt the finality of it.

Notes: I wanted some whump, okay? I promise they will fuck eventually.

“Rolan? Really? I thought he hated your guts.” 

“You haven’t seen him pining from afar?” Shadowheart asked dramatically. 

“Honestly, Tav, he’s a decent bloke,” Wyll said. “A bit rough around the edges —“

“A bit?!” Karlach protested. 

“Alright, quite rough around the edges,” Wyll amended.

“And pompous,” Shadowheart added. 

“Completely up his own ass,” Karlach agreed.

“Alright!” Tav said, “I’ve told you all, nothing happened.” 

Her and Rolan had been camp gossip from the moment they had walked into their suite; Tav had a hangover and a strong need for coffee, while Rolan was stiff with embarrassment at the questioning looks from her companions. He couldn’t stay long, but they had food and tea and coffee, which was the least she could offer him. She remembered most of the night: the crying, yelling and him having to arrange a makeshift bed for her. As it was embarrassing as it was, she felt a little better getting it all off of her chest. The details were fuzzy, but she knew she had come on to him. While nothing untoward had happened, the camp only saw their leader come through the doors looking bedraggled with an equally out of sorts tiefling wizard. Tongues had been sent wagging immediately. 

“But you do fancy him, don’t you?” Karlach asked. 

She took a deep breath. “Can we focus on the task at hand?” 

“Only after you admit you want to shag the grumpy wizard,” Shadowheart teased. 

“Fine, fine!” Tav felt like tearing out her hair. “Yes, yes I like him. Okay. Can we move on now?” 

“Sheesh,” Karlach breathed. “Take him to bed, mate. You need it.”

She didn’t need Karlach to tell her that. She pushed on, ignoring them. Wyll, however, caught up quickly to her. 

“I won’t lie to you, my friend, he hasn’t made the best impression,” he told her. “But he’s truly a good man.” 

“I know that.” 

“So, are you going to come clean about what happened on the roof then?” He was grinning, boyish and mischievous. 

“Not you too, Wyll, please you were my last hope.”

Her only saving grace was that they found their way to an unusual engineer named Redhammer and his submersible, which happened to be the same culprit that had killed one the the priestesses of Umberlee. While she had half agreed to kill or hand him over if she found him, he offered an opportunity to find the hostage Gondians in the Iron Throne. Tav decided to take some inspiration from Astarion, using him to get down to the Iron Throne before she ultimately left his fate up to Umberlee's order. She thought she should have felt guilty, but he had been so casual about killing the priestess and transporting hostages she found herself lacking any real remorse. After the tadpole was out of her head, she thought she may have to reassess her moral compass. 

After saving the Gondians, Duke Ravengaurd himself and their old friend Omeluum she was happy to be alive and not blown to bits at the bottom of the Chionthar. The priestesses of Umberlee had even rewarded them with a beautiful robe in exchange for finding Redhammer. Gale was the only other person it would have been suited for and he was too embarrassed to wear it despite the entire camp teasing him about it. It was a bit risqué, but when Tav slipped it on she felt it cling to her body and the strange fabric was so damn comfortable she felt as if it were a second skin. She quite liked it. 

They made their way to Sorcerer’s Sundries, knowing the next day would be their chance to finish up the infiltration of the Steelwatch Foundry. Tav was sure Gortash would not bring the Steelwatch down on them right away. The last thing he needed was his army of metal titans tearing apart the city to find them, civilians would inevitably get hurt and then they would get angry. Gortash needed a city scared but ready to cling to a tyrant that could keep them safe, not ready to revolt for stepping on their children. They had to move, but she wanted to let him sweat and take time to get ready for their final push. 

The foundry, the hammer, the last Netherstone. Then the brain. There was finally a light at the end of the tunnel. 

Rolan was rarely in the shop these days. His mirror image had taken his position at the counter, helped along by the other specialists and Cal or Lia. Tav made her way upstairs; despite her pride she owed Rolan thanks for the night before and an apology for the teasing her friends had thrown his way in the wake of it. And she wondered if he’d like her new robes. It was silly, and pointless in the face of everything else that was going on but the desire was there, hiding behind her ‘noble’ reasons for disturbing him in the middle of the day. She made her way through the portal which led to the study Rolan was now using as his own office throughout the day. The blood, ash and bodies had all been cleared away — the decadent room was still in process of being redone to Rolan’s standards but it had come a long way since Lorroakan’s death. 

“Rolan?” She called. 

“A minute, please,” he replied from the balcony. 

Tav rolled her eyes, muttering about wizards and their books. She strolled about the room. He seemed to be in the process of organizing tomes, one of the animated suits of armor was picking up a stack piled on the ground and taking it through another portal. She recalled him mentioning a library, and wanting to cultivate his own favorites for the study. It was his, now, after all. 

“Please tell me you didn’t wear that into battle?”

When he had heard Tav’s voice carry through the study, he noted a lack of distinct irritation at being interrupted. Another sign that Tav was becoming worryingly exempt from his usual ‘prick-ish particularities’ as Cal had so kindly put it. He had just seen her that morning and as awkward as breakfast had been amongst her companions, he had to force himself to finish putting books on the shelf before heading down the stairs. He needed to retain some of his dignity, after all, despite his desire to eagerly stop everything he was doing at the sound of her voice. Tav waited for him below, and as usual, he took a mental note of any new injuries she may have acquired.

Robes with pieces of protective gear was what she normally wore. Soft leathers and sturdy cotton robes, with something to protect her vulnerable points. Even out of armor she usually only wore a simple tunic and cloth pants. His surprise to find her at the center of his study in an outfit that was all flesh and skin tight fabric made him stop in his tracks. The light blue ensemble clung to every curve, dipped low between her breasts (that damned pearl dangling at the center of her chest matched well with this new outfit, he noted), and was slit at the legs so all he saw was skin bared up to a concerning height on her thighs. Her worn leather boots stuck out, not quite fitting in with the sleek outfit, but that did nothing to preserve him from staring dumbly. 

His momentary gawking was interrupted when he realized this scrap of fabric was meant to be armor. All the soft spots of her were exposed to cuts and bruises. 

“Please tell me you didn’t wear that into battle?”

“You don’t like it?”

“That’s hardly the point I’m trying to make,” he said quickly. 

“Then what is the point?”

“Don’t be stupid,” he said. “You can’t wear that in a fight. It’s…” 

Ravishing. So easy to slide aside so I could have any part of you I wanted, he thought. 

“Impractical.” He said aloud. 

“And you decide what I wear now?”

“No,” he replied through grit teeth. “Of course not.”

“Well, I like it.” Tav shrugged him off, turning away and walking around to look at his progress in the study. 

The dress was just as tight in the back, he noticed, his mind reeling and his pulse thrumming. “Where did you even get it?”

“It was a gift from the priestesses of Umberlee,” she said. 

“And what, pray tell, did you do to earn it?” 

“Freed some hostages in a prison at the bottom of the Chionthar and found the man who killed one of their order.” She listed casually. “Duke Ravenguard was down there, if you can believe it. And then Archduke Gortash, magnanimous man that he is, tried to blow us up,” her tone dripped with sarcasm, “it’s been quite a day.”

“Your usual heroics, then,” he grit out. 

“Of course,” she grinned, and everything about the smile was a challenge, a tease, and he was certain he never wanted her so badly. “I know you love to hear about my gallantry. Not bad for a girl who started the day with a terrible hangover, I think.”

“Is there a point to your visit?” He asked tersely. 

“Actually, yes,” she finally came up to him. 

Close enough to touch. The fabric looked soft, and shimmery, probably pleasant enough to run his hands over but the exposed space between her breasts seemed particularly ripe for licking. His jaw clenched as he made the Herculean effort to look her in the eyes. The teasing look she had before was gone, something a little more bashful and sweet. It only made it harder to keep his hands to himself. 

“I wanted to say thank you for last night.” She said, “I don’t remember all of it… but I know I was not at my best. Thanks for putting up with me, and sorry my friends are busybodies.” 

Rolan didn’t know what to say. A whirlwind was inside him. Pure want and affection. Irritation at said want and affection. Irritation at himself for not being able to just say what he wanted to. This was all getting entirely out of hand. 

“How is your arm?”

“My….arm?”

“You’re still scarred, from that ring you so foolishly put on when you had no idea what it did,” he snapped. 

“Oh, that,” she deflated. “Fine. Just these marks,” she pushed back the sleeves of the robe to look at them. “Gale thinks it was some kind of connection to the elemental plane.” At his responding silence she shifted awkwardly. “Okay,” she drew out the word, “I’m going to go.” 

“Goodbye.”

He stayed to watch her go, eyes glued to the way the robes clung to her bottom, the shift of the fabric and delicate metalwork over her exposed legs. 

“You can’t wear that,” he blurted out. “Not in battle. You’ll be ripped to shreds.”

And so would the robe itself, which would be a terrible shame in and of itself, the more he thought about it.

“You said that already.” 

“It bears repeating.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Goodbye, Rolan.” 

As she stepped through the portal and he was left alone he groaned, rubbing both hands over his face, as he muttered to himself, “you’re going to kill me you meddlesome, irritating, beautiful woman.” 

While there had been little notice before the Netherbrain broke free and started unleashing terror on the city, Tav had at least warned her allies ahead of time that it could happen any day at any time. With Rolan’s permission, Counselor Florrick had spread the word that the tower was going to be one point of haven in the city. It had protections and wards, and plenty of space. When all hells broke loose, Cal and Lia were holding down the fort while he made his way to High Hall. Thankfully most of the fighting was happening in the upper city, but mind flayers were running rampant, the sky was red with fire, full of errant blasts from nautiloids and dragons. 

He sent civilian healers as he found them to the tower, instructing them to take whoever they could with them. The high hall was crowded, Flaming Fists taking account of all the allies of Tav’s which had gathered. Many of them he recognized, some he had never seen before, but his heart swelled with pride at the gathering of people who were ready to support Tav and her friends. 

When she came through the door with all her camp in tow, smattered in blood, as she always was, he thought she may cry at the showing. There wasn’t much time, but she took a moment to appraise them of her plan. Her entire party would take the main push to the brain, along with the illithid she had with her. There was no time to explain, she only assured them that this person — Orpheus, was on their side. She needed anyone she did not call to her side to focus on protecting the few points of refuge they had managed to secure in the city, and above all to keep as many civilians safe as possible. She was given means to summon her allies as needed.

As Tav made the quick effort to offer thanks to everyone individually, he felt the terror of it being the last time he saw her. This was not the Tav which he’d had drinks with at the Elfsong every night leading up to this battle, laughing with her friends, carefree for just a few hours. This was the woman who had lead four people to victory against a small army of Goblins, who stormed Moonrise towers and lifted the curse over Reithwin. Focused, determined and if she was scared it never once showed on her face. Only the storm dancing behind her eyes, calm before she exploded into action. 

Rolan had to believe the next time he’d see her, she would be relaxed and teasing him about something over a glass of wine. As she approached him last, before heading out to save the city, he bolstered himself to be whatever she and the rest of the people of Baldur’s Gate needed. 

“The tower is ready, you need only call.” He told her swiftly. 

“Thank you.” She nodded. “Rolan, I — “ she bit her lip and clenched her eyes shut. “If I survive this —“

“You will,” he said certainly. 

“If I do,” she repeated, eyes boring into his with earnesty he hardly knew how to deal with, “would you like to join me for a bottle of Arabellan Dry?”

“Are you asking me on a date? Right now?” As if to punctuate his point the ground shook, horrible screeching sounds and the roar of a dragon sounded out. 

“Might be my last chance,” she breathed. 

“It won’t be,” he insisted. If she was going to be bold enough to ask him out for a drink before running off to certain death — he had to rise to the challenge. He grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips. “You’ll come back to me, gloriously and infuriatingly victorious.”

If he said it confidently enough it may just come true. It had worked for him before.

Tav nodded, squeezing his hand in hers. She hesitated, but there was little time for more to be said. She suddenly began to dig under the collar of her armored robes with her free hand. After fidgeting for a moment with something around her neck she held out the chain of the necklace which held her Pearl of Power. 

“Can you hold onto it for me? I don’t want to lose it again.” 

“You may need it,” he was unsure what else to say. 

“Already used it today,” she said, “it’s just sentimental right now. And just — hold onto it. Please.” 

Tav took his hand and placed the necklace into his palm, gently curling his fingers over it. It was such a small trinket, but the implications of her leaving it with him made it feel immeasurably valuable. He thought he would rather die than let it come to any harm. The dramatics of such a train of thought struck him so violently with the realization that he was undoubtedly in love. The terrible timing for such an epiphany was only emphasized by a loud boom on the roof and the shudder of dust and small bits of debris raining down on them.

Tav let go of his hand and with a determination in her eye he knew all too well, led her party out into the midst of terror with no other word. 

There was no time to stop. 

Not even Moonrise nor the Shadowcursed land had been this hectic. They dodged rains of incredible fire from dragons, psionic blast from nautiloids and falling debris from buildings crashing around them. Fighting their way through an army of cultists, mindflayers and intellectual devourers, her team felt as united as ever. Everyone felt the finality of it. She had seen Astarion and Gale share what they thought might possibly be their last kiss. Watching them felt like an intrusion, but the glance she had gotten of desperate softness in their eyes made her more determined than ever. Tav silently vowed that she would come out of this with everyone alive and ready to begin anew. 

When they finally found the  stalk of the Elderbrain it led higher and higher up over the city. She felt the adrenaline spurring her to start to climb, and she didn’t have to look behind her to know they followed. At the top it was an onslaught of psionic forces: the netherbrain, the illithids it commanded, and the tadpoles in their heads revolting at every move they made to fight against them. There were moments that blanked out, as she was stunned or her head hurt so badly she felt she couldn’t see. They were all moving on pure instinct to survive. 

Karlach’s rage was an unstoppable force, Lae’zel cut down anyone in her path with brutal efficiency, and the only thing more intense than the amount of healing magic Shadowheart was expending was the force with which she brought down her mace. Jaheira and Halsin were in charge of summoning reinforcements as needed, controlling the battlefield with Druidic magic while Gale sent off spell after spell with devastating effect. Astarion and Wyll danced around the battlefield; Wyll’s combined magic and skill with the blade making him virtually untouchable while Astarion flitted in and out of visibility, daggers digging into flesh with deadly accuracy. 

And she exploded with magic. 

Her arm hurt, the flowing lines of whatever had touched her when she put on that ring in the tower glowed and raged as she gave everything she had. When she felt she had nothing left, it fed her new power, keeping a steady stream of lightning ready to strike. There was not a lot of time to think on this new development, only time to acknowledge that whatever it did to her, her magic was thriving on it. Her magic felt centered for the first time in her life. Controllable, not just something she was barely wrangling and flinging around blindly. 

The last push to the crown was upon them. The way just needed to be cleared, she called to Halsin over the clamor of it all, tadpole transmitting to the others her plan. In truly rumbling cacophony explosions rained down, almost clearing their path. For a moment she took in the show of power from Ramazith’s Tower, but they had to bolt forward. 

Lae’zel took the lead, attacking an illithid arcanist guarding the portal they needed to get into. Gale was quick behind her, magic missiles firing off in every direction and counterspell quickly cast afterwards. Karlach was keeping the way clear, as more illithid were summoned, hacking at tentacled heads until they rolled off. Tav took off for the portal, only to come face to face with her father. 

No. It was her dream guardian. The Emperor’s trick. 

When she had first seen the man in her dreams she had thought the same thing: he was just similar looking enough to her dear old dad to get her guard down but not so identical it would ring off alarm bells in her mind. Tav’s father was dead, after all, the Emperor had toed the line of familiarity on purpose. The single moment of hesitation was enough for the guardian to blast her with psionic energy, knocking her off of her feet.  An intellect devourer took its chance and leapt onto her. Searing pain spread through her abdomen as claws dug in and tore. It was climbing up her body, ripping skin with every step. Her arm was pinned underneath one of its horrid legs, unable to cast, and she felt the thunderous pulse in her chest, the tingle of electricity in her veins — and then a dagger came down stopping the devourer in its tracks.

Astarion was above her, kicking the thing off of her. With a cry she felt the claws slip loose, blood pouring out of the wounds. The pain slipped away to the back of her mind as she flung forward, hands outstretched  when a chain of lightning erupted at another dream guardian which tried to stop Gale. Astarion helped her to her feet, shoving a meager healing potion at her. It was not enough to close the wounds, but it gave her a rush of new vitality and they ran for the portal

This was it. This was the final task. All they had to do was survive long enough to take out the Netherbrain. 

After setting off the blasts at Halsin’s command, Rolan had launched himself halfway down the stairs, nearly stumbling and stepping on his own tail. There were a handful of Flaming Fists, armed civilians, Cal, Lia and even Aradin guarding the perimeter of the tower; he had to go join them. The store was always chaotic with all the summons wandering around and magical effects but this was a different vein of mayhem. Anyone he could find with healing magic along the way was running around, people were screaming and crying on the floors and any clear surface available. 

It sounded like Elturel. 

Shaking his head of the thought, he pushed through the doors. People were still running, trying to get through the doors of the tower and whatever building still stood to get away from the carnage. The square was full of bodies and blood and rubble. He spotted Cal and Lia, both alive and fighting well. Cal’s swing was strong, Lia’s aim was impeccable — he was able to focus on casting. An illithid floated forward, chasing after a meal of one of the Flaming Fists' brains, Rolan quickly cast color spray, confusing the creature and shortly after one of Lia’s arrows sunk into its elongated head.

Cal got stunned, his head in his hands as he wobbled on his feet, two mindflayers floating towards him. Rolan nearly tripped over his robes to grab his brother by his shirt and pull him back, Cal fell and as soon as he was out of the line of attack Rolan felt the boom of thunder erupt from his hand. The illithids were sent backwards, landing on their back, prone. 

“Cal,” he turned to offer a hand to his brother, “stay steady.” 

“Yeah,” Cal grunted, shaking his head free of the psionic force which had stunned him. “I’m good, I’m alright.” 

“Rolan! Incoming!” 

Lia’s voice called out before she let an arrow loose. His eyes flicked to the sky, a nautiloid was overhead, a beam of some sort beginning to glow with energy. 

“To me! Now!”

Aradin and anyone nearby enough to hear him huddled close, Rolan swiftly casting an orb of invulnerability. He had never cast it before, not successfully, but it was all he could think of to try. A slight red shimmer created a bubble around them, the nautiloid made its attack. A few people were decimated by the blow immediately outside of the orb, even a ravenous illithid in the middle of extracting a brain from a skull had not made it out of the way in time. The spell worked. Rubble flew into the air with the blast, and stopped bluntly at the barrier. 

Thank the Gods. Rolan thought to himself, sweat beading down his temple. 

Lia ducked in and out of the orb to shoot off arrows, clearing the path for some to make their way to the tower or within the confines of Rolan’s temporary protection. He managed to keep the orb up long enough for the blasts to cede after the nautiloid was distracted from attacking the ground by a Githyanki force of dragon riders. 

“There’s more coming!” Aradin yelled. “We should fall back into the tower.”

“The wards can only take so much,” Rolan snapped back. “Get out there and kill something or get out of the way!”

He never understood Zevlor’s well-known ire for the mercenary more as he fled inside. As he had said, more illithids came out of the woodwork. The alien army had not found it necessary to send any armored mind flayers — relying on the freshly transformed tadpoled masses which had been lurking in the city. They had numbers, but most of them were stark naked, and sloppy in the unusual new bodies. Many of them fell quickly, which was his only comfort against the slowly dwindling numbers of his own allies. If they just kept it up, they could maintain the line of defense around the tower. 

“Come on, Tav,” he heard Lia scream as another Flaming Fist fell to an illithid. “Just kill it already!” 

There was no way for Tav to hear them, but he understood the panic. He felt each second that passed since he set off the blasts from the tower as if it were an hour. They could not keep this up forever, and part of him knew that as intense as it was on the ground, up there where the brain hovered in the air it was ten times worse. 

“Tav needs us to hold strong,” he called to his sister. “We owe her that, at least.” 

Lia was too far away for him to be sure but thought he saw her jaw set in the same way Cal’s did when he was concentrating. His brother felled an illithid in one blow, clean and easy at the neck. 

“Can’t believe I’m saying this,” Cal said, “but Rolan is right!”

It truly was the end of the world.

When Tav hit the water, she blacked out for a moment. Her eyes opened and the gasp that wracked her body filled her mouth and lungs with water as she realized too late in her waking that she was in the Chionthar. She floundered to the surface, hacking and coughing. Once she had her breath, she started screaming for her companions.

“Here!” Gale yelled.

He was not too far off from her, hanging onto some floating debris, with an unmoving lump with white hair. She swam over, grabbing onto the debris. 

“Is he alive?” She panicked. 

“Breathing,” Astarion’s voice was weak, “stop screaming.”

“Where’s everyone else?” Tav felt herself succumbing to the confusion. “Karlach! Have you seen anyone? Wyll!”

“I’ve got Shadowheart and Wyll!” She heard Karlach call, a red spot in the distance, tethering two limp bodies as she kept them on their backs. 

Lae’zel, Halsin, Minsc and Jaheira were still unaccounted for. Tav’s eyes scanned the water, dawn hadn’t broken yet, it was still dark and the depths below were impossible to see into. The only real light was provided by the city which was still very much on fire. Just as Tav was about to give into despair, a giant tentacle broke the water, then another, in its grips was an unconscious Lae’zel, and Minsc who was sputtering and cackling like a madman. Finally a third, and Halsin broke the surface. 

“Minsc! Where’s Jaheira?”

“You look upon her!” He called back. 

Wild shape was one hell of a thing. Tav called to the giant octopus whose eye peered into hers as it breached the surface, telling Jaheira to grab Karlach first as she was treading water and trying to keep two people afloat at the same time. Tav watched, only vaguely hearing Astarion and Gale speaking next to her. She needed to see them all safely put upon the dock, she needed to know she had done it. She hadn’t lost anyone. 

“Stop trying to talk to me,” Astarion muttered. “I’m furious with you.”

“My love, I would have made sure you were transported out of harm's way,” Gale attempted to sooth him. 

“And what about you?” Astarion snapped. “What was I supposed to do without you?” 

She was not quite sure what they were talking about. 

“We were losing, Astarion,” Gale pleaded. “The orb may have been—“

“The orb?” Tav heard her neck crack as she swung her head so fast to look at him. She felt dizzy. 

“He very nearly blew himself up, again,” Astarion seethed. “I saw him reach for the dagger.” 

“Gale!” Tav scolded. “I told you — not an option!”

“Tav, please, if all else failed —“

“But it didn’t!” She yelled. 

“No,” he sighed. “No, it did not. So please, can we make it to land and put this to rest.” 

Just as Tav was about to argue with him, she felt a tug at her midsection, and uncomfortable stinging of pain accompanying the grasp. Astarion and Gale were lifted out of the water by tentacles  at the same time she was and they were being slowly carried to the dock. It was supposed to be over once they all made it on dry land. She had given in to the hope that she had finally led her party to their final battle without losing a single member. The victory was supposed to be sweet, and cathartic. 

The moment they caught their breath on the dock, Karlach’s engine started to fail. 

The main floor of the store was cleared of most furniture to make room for cots full of injured people. Amateur and professional healers alike were running around madly, calling for aid from whoever was still standing. To his credit, he had begun to organize as best he could. It was still chaos, but he was managing to take requests, send off whatever volunteer was nearest to assist, and have Cal take on grabbing potions and herbs from the stores as needed. Rolan was no healer, but he could wrap a wound before too much blood was lost as some poor soul waited for someone to be available. He could also bark orders, arrange for Fists to section off high risk patients from those who could survive without immediate attention. 

There were two surgeons he had managed to recruit. Their space was at the very back near the necromancy supplies were, with a temporary shielding wall of stone. It didn’t drown the screams of agony as they operated but it prevented anyone from witnessing an amputation. 

When the heroes of the hour burst through the door of the tower, even amongst the chaos, Rolan knew something was wrong. They looked like hell. Jaheira was bleeding from a deep wound on her head, Shadowheart was limping, and even Minsc who was always quick to get back on his feet looked like he had been thrown from a twenty story building and felt it. A good chunk of the party was missing. Wyll and Karlach were nowhere to be seen. In fact way too many of them were just gone. Astarion, Gale and Lae’zel didn’t follow, and neither did Tav. Halsin was the very last of them in, carrying someone.

“A bed! Now!” The Archdruid’s voice boomed over the chaos

A humming sound rang in his ears, the entire world pinpointed to the form of the woman in Halsin’s arms as he was directed to place her on a free bed by a Fist. 

Rolan let his feet guide him to her side, a numb feeling keeping panic at bay. On the bed was a bloody mess of a woman, who in all appearances looked like Tav but… That surely wasn’t his Tav. That was an empty shell; the skin had no vibrancy, the only truly bright color was the blood leaking out of the deep wound in her stomach. Her eyes, open staring up at the ceiling, were empty. 

Shadowheart placed her hands over Tav and the glow of her healing magic flashed and ebbed away. She tried again, but the magic stuttered out. Shadowheart let out a strangled scream in frustration, pounding glowing hands into Tav's chest and each rush of power was weaker and weaker.

“What are you doing? Heal her,” Rolan demanded. “Fix her!”

“I can’t —“ Shadowheart’s voice cracked. 

“Shadowheart’s magic is spent,” Jaheira’s tone was sharp but even, the voice of a General. “And healing magic won’t work on her now. This is a magic shop — find a resurrection scroll.” 

Resurrection implied she was dead. Logically, yes, he could see that. Tav was dead, nothing more than spent flesh and blood. But this was not supposed to happen, this was beyond everything he knew of her.

She always survives. She always does the impossible. She can't be dead.

“How did this happen?”

“Rolan,” Shadowheart pleaded his name, disregarding the question, “do you have a resurrection scroll?” 

The buzzing in his ears stopped, the cacophony of the tower coming back to him. A solution that he could focus on. He took off in a sprint, jumping over the counter. His hands shook as he opened the safe where they kept the high value scrolls.  

“Rolan, that Florrick lady is here, she brought some — what’s wrong?”

He didn’t hear Lia come up, and didn’t take the time to acknowledge her as he started reading through the stock. “We must have one.”

“Talk to me,” Lia said again getting his attention, “what’s happened?”

An idea jolted him, there were stores and stores of supplies in the study. “Upstairs, in the study, the scroll collection —“ he quickly said, “we need a resurrection scroll.”

“But —“

“Check the vaults, check the study — find me a resurrection scroll!” 

Taking in his frantic tone, Lia ran off without further question. There was no possible way this was how Tav’s story ended. In a numb haze he remembered what little he knew about healing and divine magic; there was a time limit on a basic resurrection spell. At some point a soul was too far gone and True Resurrection would be the only other option. Plain resurrection scrolls were rare enough as it was, but a True Resurrection scroll was near impossible for most people to get ahold of. 

Chain of lightning, hold person, cloud kill — his hands fumbled to work as fast as he read the scrolls. He had no real idea how much time was passing, but each second was too long. There were dozens of scrolls, and he looked at each one. Finding nothing of use he ran around the counter to start up the stairs.

He should have told her at High Hall. He should have just said it. He should have thought to find a scroll ahead of time for this very purpose. What a cosmic joke, for her to have made it this far, only to die at the finish line. She deserved better. He would make sure she got a better ending than this. He nearly ran into Lia jumping the last few steps of the staircase. 

“I found one!” 

She held up the scroll and he snatched it out of her hand, narrowly dodging a healer as he ran to the bed where Shadowheart was praying desperately. 

“Found — the scroll —“ he stammered out, short of breath. 

“Use it, quickly,” Jaheira said. 

His fingers fumbled with the clasp that held it shut, as it unfurled he knew he needed to breathe through the panic in his chest. He could do an incantation, he could read the words off of a scroll as he had a hundred times before. There was not a God he prayed to usually, not one he thought to plead with specifically. Mystra, maybe. But given what he knew of her and her friends, Mystra might not be so inclined to help Tav. 

His willpower would have to be enough; this was not how her story ended, he repeated to himself. She was too good, too resilient, too kind, too forgiving, too infuriatingly wonderful — too loved.  Rolan was not going to let her disappear that easily, he vowed as he spoke the incantation.

The spell took hold, golden light shuddering Tav’s body, and then disappearing. For a terrifyingly long moment, he was unsure if it worked. But her eyes blinked, at first it looked like a twitch, but then they fluttered a few times and the light was back in them. Her limbs jolted like she had been electrocuted and then a truly shocking deep gasp for air had her sitting up on the cot. 

“There you are, Cub,” Jaheira said, a steady hand on her shoulder which emitted the familiar green light of her Druidic magic. “Didn’t think we’d let you get out of cleaning up, did you?”

“Hurts,” she sucked breaths in desperately. 

“Lay down,” Shadowheart said. “We’ll find a healer.”

“Where —?”

Rolan was frozen to the spot. She still looked so close to death. Her head swiveled over to him, eyes confusedly still searching for some sense of what was going on. 

“You.” Was all she said. 

“Yeah, me,” he breathed. “Lay down. You look awful.”

“Rude,” she wheezed but let herself ease onto her back. “I think you look… good…” exhaustion, pain or any combination of whatever her body was going through had her slipping out of consciousness. 

“Tav,” Rolan panicked, kneeling next to her. “Damn you, stay awake,” he grabbed her face in his hands and she gave him a heavy lidded stare. 

“Trying,” she said. 

She was still in rough shape. Halsin and Jahiera dumped the last dregs of their limited healing magic into her, doing just enough to keep her from bleeding out on the bed once more. Shadowheart tipped her head back for a basic healing potion, and it dribbled down the side of her face but it brought some of the vibrancy of her skin.

“She won’t succumb to the wounds, but she needs healing quickly,” Halsin seemed to be talking to himself more than them, as he took off to find someone to help. 

“You can rest now,” Shadowheart assured her softly. “Right, Rolan?” 

He wasn’t so sure. But Shadowheart was a healer, she knew better than him. He swallowed hard, and nodded. “That’s right.”

“Good,” Tav mumbled, “tired.” 

Shadowheart and Rolan watched as she slipped into unconsciousness. Her chest rose and fell, although shallowly. Shadowheart heaved a big breath, recomposing herself. She looked around the room, and then to Rolan.

“I need to rest, then I’ll be able to help,” she seemed to be telling herself rather than him. “I’ll stay here,” she said, “I’ll stay with her and rest.”

“What can I do?” Rolan asked desperately. 

“You are the Master of Ramazith’s tower,” Jahiera cut in. “This is your city, you have a duty to its people now — unless you wish to follow Lorroakan’s example, get to work.” Jaheira looked down at Tav, “we will look after her, as she has looked after us.”

Rolan never felt more like an outsider, and he felt he should watch whatever healer Halsin found. If only to see for himself that she was truly going to be alright. Shadowheart was watching the rise and fall of her chest with intense focus, and it felt wrong that she was the only one of their original group by her side. 

“Rolan, there’s a fire that they can’t put out over in Heapside,” Cal was there, Rolan hadn’t even heard him approach. 

“There’s summoning scrolls, water elementals,” he said distractedly. 

“Go,” Shadowheart looked at him. “We’ve got her.”

“And that is supposed to be a comfort?” He snapped. “She was dead just moments ago under your watch!”

“She didn’t tell us,” Shadowheart said back, a tone of shame in her raised voice. “Everything was happening so fast — she didn’t tell us she was hurt!”

“No one here is to blame,” Jaheira was annoyed, he could tell by the arch of her brow. “She would tell you the same.”

He felt another comment on the tip of his tongue, ready to rage and yell to do something with the gods awful feeling in his chest. He nearly lost her. 

“Rolan,” Cal said, “we have to —“

“Fine! Fine.” 

The city still needed saving, despite the threat being gone. Who knew how much help was needed across the city. Running to everyone's rescue was what she would tell him to do, but still he was afraid to leave her side. He touched her cheek: warm, alive, despite looking worse than she ever had after a fight. 

“She’ll be alright?” He asked, wincing slightly at the desperate crack in his voice. 

Shadowheart nodded, her hand coming to squeeze his, “I promise, I won’t let her slip away again.”

Rolan had no other choice but to trust her.

Thank you for reading!

#rolan x reader #rolan x tav #bg3 fanfiction #rolan fanfic #olly writes

[cupofteainme]

I've been so happy with queer representation in Young Royals. I also have notes. Here are some musings about season three.

We didn't get to see many ripple effects of Wille coming out in the show, but trust me, the world changed the moment he held that speech at the end of season two.

Nils and Stedrica

Nils found the courage to come out to his best friends. We don't know how much he was directly affected by Wilhelm. The common struggle with restrictions and the the graduation seemed to tighten the bond between August, Vincent and Nils. Honesty was a strong thread of the season. Wille's confession inspired students to come forward about iniations, later even August yelled at people to stop arguing and to just be sad about Hillerska closing—to be honest about their feelings.

We can make a mental leap and say that Nils was affected by these events and found his courage to be more honest. He also complimented Wille on his bravery and asked the prince if he regretted coming out and Wille answered with a firm no.

I liked how Nils said that he 'sleeps with guys'. You could see how hard it was for him to tell him friends. In season two Nils uses the word 'gay' about himself to Wille. I like how YR shows how people can use different definitions of themselves in different situations or choose to be unlabeled. I got a feeling that this was a huge first step on Nils' journey to accept that part of himself.

Stella and Fredrika are minor characters so they didn't get much screentime regarding their romance. Them ending up together was motivated by something the show explored in season two with Simon, Marcus and Wilhelm—jealousy. While I enjoyed Rosh being frustrated with her gaydar, Stedrica's arc left me wanting. In season two, Stella told Sara that she hesitates to make a move on Fredrica in fear of losing her beast friend if they break up later and things get awkward.

In season three we weren't shown what made Stella feel like she and Fredrica have a good enough chance to succeed in their relationship to put their friendship on the line. It's a shame. I would have loved to see some character development.

The audience is introduced to the sexual side of Stedrica straight after the white party when emotions ran high, Rosh was there to hit more on Stella and the teens were drinking and partying their hearts out. At the time of Stedrica's hook-up Wilmon were broken up, demonstrating exactly what Stella was afraid of—losing the other person completely. We can say that Wilmon didn't set up an encouraging example for them.

Even though Frederica's face looks blissful with Stella, I'm left wondering, am I supposed to read their kissing as a passing fancy that they can play down as part of their friendship again. ("every girl makes out with her best friend while drunk")

I was hoping for some connection to the main story with their arc. It could have been something with honesty, one remark from Stella to Madison for example: "I can't keep lying to my best friend."

Choosing the foundation

Queer matters were lifted to the table and discussed in the scene where Wille needs to pick his charity. Good for Simon for encouraging Wille to use his platform. I especially loved hearing that Wille knows how his love for Simon is changing the world. Not bad for a sixteen year old who's been out of the closet for five seconds.

Let me say this clearly: Queer people don't have to represent a group they identify with, not even Crown Prince Wilhelm. A young person's identity is rarely so strong yet, that they have the strength to carry the public's negative reactions. We saw how much online hate hurt Simon. He and Wille both have the right to protect their identities and relationship. Simon deserved better help with his social media.

Wille told Simon in season one that he doesn't want to say anything (referring to the sex video). At the end of season two, Wille took it back in his speech, but his attitude didn't change. It was a part Wille wanted to keep as private as he could. Over time, Wille could talk about both his mental health and his queerness more openly and in a way that would affect change. He has time to do so when he grows up.

I thought that the pressure for Wille to use his queer identity for good press would have come from the monarchy. It was mentioned once when Farima talked about new royalists and then dropped altogether.

I don't know why YR wanted to differ from the real Swedish monarchy in this instant and rule out LGBTQIA topics as political, when in real life the Crown Princess has taken a stand for them. (Plot reasons, duh, but it's irritating. I was under the impression that for example the amount of LGBTQIA rights and the discrimination LGBTQIA people face are on the same level in real life Sweden and in the YR universe. When one detail doesn't match, it makes the whole foundation wobbly).

That said, LGBTQIA rights don't exist in a vacuum. Sport and health foundation is a brilliant and super topical place to advance non-discrimination and inclusion in sport. Wille could advance LGBTQIA rights without drawing attention to himself when he's underage, perhaps still figuring out his identity and in his first relationship with a boy.

I can't stress enough how impactful it would be to have a queer Crown Prince (or King!) patronage a sport foundation. We can see that the pictures in the launch event of the foundation are taken with diversity in mind. Even if this is a PR strategy on the Court's part, people far removed from the court are going to work in those charities every day. And what do people think about when they see Wille's name and title associated with the foundation? The answer is not a straight boy playing football.

I hoped that YR would have shown in more concrete way that Wille understood the positive impact his queerness brings to people. We got a moment like that with Simon on the First of May when he was asked to take a picture. He got to feel like a role model. Wille could have had a similar encounter at his birthday or even at Hillerska. I feel like the show very carefully avoided to give Wille any good experiences related to the monarchy.

Is there homophobia at Hillerska?

There is a disconnect in how much hate we see Simon get, how Wille is not allowed to support queer rights versus how casual and obvious being queer is to Hillerska students. We saw girls at Hillerska openly kissing next to August in season two. Nobody batted an eye. The students of Hillerska knew it was Wille in the video and there was gossip but no negative reactions.

Young Royals seemingly treats queerness as a neutral or positive thing—even the biggest bully Vincent is not a homophobe and supports Nils when he comes out. Simon's parents are cool with their son being gay. Wille gets personally no backlash after his speech (or at least we don't see him be affected by it as Simon is).

Season three paints a very gloomy picture in contrast. 1. Simon gets mostly negative comments online. These comments hit to where it hurts, into the intersection of Simon's identities (latino lover) and his aspirations with music (chacing clout). 2. Queen Kristina falls sick straight after her son comes out. 3. Erik took part in homophobic hazings that were a tradition at Hillerska.

We don't get to see instances of this homophobia in the school or in the interactions between students except in s2e4 in 'Wille to the table' scene when the Forest Ridge boys celebrate Wille kissing Felice (and conforming to the heteronormativity). It tells us that being straight is the preferred option.

Young Royals claims that homophobia is in the walls, it lives in traditions and institutions. I partly agree. Homophobia needs also people to survive and everyone at Hillerska was shocked and appalled by the hazings. That made it kinda feel like YR put homophobia on-call for plot reasons.

Where is my big scandal about homophobic monarchy?

The journalist in Sweden might have had a keen interest about the disappearance of their Queen from active duties especially when it coincided with Wilhelm's historical coming out speech. Any accusation about the Queen's homophobia would have been devastating for the Monarchy in a country where support for same sex marriages is over ninety percent. (Go Sweden!)

Media would also have a field day about the hazings and their connection to Erik. It's very recent history. The media would wonder if Erik was a victim and/or the perpetrator. No way there would be radio silence. The burning question would be if the freshly out-of-the-closet Crown Prince suffered from homophobic hazing as well.

In season one, Wilhelm had to give a statement about a video he denied being in. In season three Wille has just come out and it turns out that his school has messed up homophobic traditions, the Queen is unable to perform her duties and it's confirmed that somebody filmed the Crown Prince with another boy and uploaded the video. There is nothing 👀

Queer up!

Wille's character is not only queer for loving Simon but queer in the broader (queer theory) meaning of questioning the prevailing conditions by bringing in new ideas, like in season one: 'What if I just want to be with him and not say anything?'

Wille never had the tools to question his position morally or academicly. At the same time he always knew what he wanted at the emotional level. Simon helped Wille with these questions. They had talks about the monarchy and Wille said he was learning from Simon.

Simon was the catalyst for Wille to find his voice and to figure out what he wants his life to look like. More than that, Simon's character allowed the viewers to look into the life of the rich and powerful through queer theory's lens: questioning, revealing, challenging status quo.

Whatever direction their ways ago after the ending, Wille's and Simon's love will continue to make a difference.

#also gay sex is holy #long post #young royals analysis #young royals #young royals does queerness so well #stedrica #nils young royals

[rosekasa]

adrien is absolutely the kind of friend you can never jokingly ask to buy you stuff. alya will sarcastically say 'you should buy me this €80 shatterproof phone case' and a week later he's like 'here you go :D' marinette will say 'i wish someone would just send me to a fully paid for spa weekend' and she'd check her email at the end of the day and adrien has booked it all for her. everyone tries telling him to stop but he genuinely just loves giving stuff to his friends. but this also means everyone now AGGRESSIVELY reduces the things they joke about wanting. nino will say 'you know i think i want these very affordably priced headphones from ebay', marinette will say 'i could really do with a loving, friendly massage right now'

#this is completely inspired by my friends #ahfjdjsjs #my friend just ordered boba to my house for iftar because i jokingly sent him a tiktok about it #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #♡alizeh talks♡

[skyberia]

on the agency of puppets

#persona 5 #persona 5 royal #akira kurusu #ren amamiya #akechi goro #goro akechi #shuake #akeshu #artists on tumblr #comic #drawings #alt text in image #p5r spoilers #alternatively ''on the agency of a protagonist'' but that doesn't flow as well #special thanks to: mads @twinkle-art for saying something that immediately gave me an enormous hell brainworm that inspired this #and also vada my friend vada who read over my script & then called me gay. and also told me it wasnt completely unintelligible #i cant look at this anymore. i hope it makes sense. i'm going to lie down. i'm passing away

[lucabyte]

i feel like people are sleeping on the occam's razor situation of how buckwild it is to outright accuse a guy of being a clone of your friend even if you DO have a lot of circumstantial evidence. there's other options is what im saying. they could just be like. a guy. that's a sensible deduction. you should explore that deduction. ignore my shirt that reads I <3 RED HERRINGS.

i still think odile has the correct theory on lock but she's smart enough to know it needs like... a real smoking gun to be able to bring it up without sounding insane.

anyway. (mirabelle voice) i know its rude to speculate but has anyone else noticed the grieving? they seem to be grieving. does anyone have any thoughts on the grieving? i have some thoughts on the grieving.

#[isabeau voice] am i insane or does sometimes loop talk like they might have killed their whole family. is that just me? just checking. #nille design highly inspired by @kiwibrain's since its the one that imprinted in my mind. liberties taken since i didnt look @ reference #anyway i have a lot more thoughts on this? i guess ill hide them in the tags...? scroll down i suppose. #isat #in stars and time #isat spoilers #in stars and time spoilers #isat act 6 spoilers #isat loop #isat siffrin #isat bonnie #isat nille #isat fanart #in stars and time fanart #doodlebyte #---------------------------------------------------------------------- #anyway the extra thoughts. are literally just my general thoughts on postcanon. (and thus are the context for all of my postcanon doodles!) #which is i think nille joins the party before loop reappears for a start (either from a period of nonexistence or just wandering around) #and that like. i think the party should be able to integrate loop as a completely new person. because they are! the secrecy isn't great but #They and Siffrin shuffle into different ecological niches in the party (eg. i think sif is more squeamish after it all but loop isnt) #and while it's not *exactly* what Loop wanted they get that beggars can't be choosers. and its pretty good #(i am glossing over how i think loop's reappearence drags both them and siffrin into a massive behavioural backslide and is likely a bit #distressing to watch go down. cycle of argument -> lovebombing -> normalcy -> repeat. etc etc. but since they are no longer literally #stewing in the worst pressure cooker of all time they do resolve it via productive conversation on their own time. its fine) #the party well-meaningly tries to deduce things from loop's vagueries and are able to pin down the DEAD FAMILY vibe pretty quickly. #but eventually the question of their prior identity falls by the wayside because well! they're just their friend loop! (also change belief) #as for how The Truth Come Out... this is what i mean by The Isabeau Torment Nexus(tm). which is that i think... isiloop should almost occur #BEFORE isabeau knows who loop is. he's just genuinely charmed by them eventually and tries to close the open end of the polycule #which FREAKS LOOP THE FUCK OUT because thats just too genuinely sick and wrong. and obviously w emotions high its not a great confrontation #ANYWAY told u i had more thoughts. if i were normal itd be a text post but.

[smolestboop]

Bagginshield-tober / Day 17: Tail + Day 28: Tipsy

#bagginshieldtober #bagginshield #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #my art #the tail prompt was completely by accident inspired by friends when i was streaming the process on a server hdfjskgd #i love drawing beebo's feet hnghhhhh

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

uh. yeah i have no excuse i just couldn't decide between scribblin' up a monster or Home so i fused the two. monster home for No concrete reason!

#splintery wood ribs and uhhhhh Brick Hooves and Wires! #ngl this was slightly inspired by hell pigs? obviously has Deviated from that image but yk #in my mind they have a large living space inside #complete with a lil window hatch for wally to say hi to his friends #so they're still Technically a functioning house! just with legs! and. uh. skin? kinda? #idk! to me the 'skin' isnt actual skin. it feels oily but Isnt #again! In! My! Mind! #my brain will take anything and run with it and oh boy is it sprinting #i could have given home hands. i could have. but i didnt <3 #imagine this freight train of a beast running ya down! i think i'd enjoy it! #scribble salad #i dont know what the 'fur' is. its definitely not fur i think... #maybe it should be wires? tentacles? hay? #eh it doesnt really matter! i doubt ill ever draw this Beast again #monster scribblin is a fun way to cool down And warm up!