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karajaynetoday · 4 months

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nothing's going right, and everything's a mess, and no one likes to be alone | jack hughes

author's note: don't ask me how the university semester timeline in this works. i have simply given reader a three week break in march bc why not. this is fanfiction okay, anything can happen 😂 no one proofread this for me so soz for any typos!

word count: 3.4k words

warnings: none that i can think of? but lmk if i've missed anything. soz if the ending makes you mad LOL i do love a cliffhanger

read part one here

read part two here

(This is a fem reader insert)

More writing here (soz that the masterlist is not up to date lol) | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here

Somehow, the ill feeling of waiting until summer to see Jack again began to fade with each passing day. The itch to text him every time something exciting or infuriating happened to you began to lessen. The thoughts of him when you saw a funny meme he’d like, or your shared favourite foods on special at the grocery store, quietly stopped happening as frequently.

But then there were the things that didn’t stop. The sharp pain in your chest whenever Jack’s smiling face popped up on your social media feed. The butterflies in your stomach whenever your parents brought him up in conversation, fuelled by whatever the latest updates were from their group message thread with Jim and Ellen. The joy that would wash over you when you heard about a Devils win or a Jack Hughes goal, followed almost always by a wave of sadness that you were hearing about it second or third hand, rather than from Jack himself.

You were the one who’d asked for space. You needed time, you’d said. Given the blow up of All-Star weekend, all Jack was doing was respecting your wishes; but a huge part of you not so secretly wished he’d be a bit more disrespectful and reach out. Your mind was a mess of conflicting thoughts, and your heart wasn’t sure which emotion to feel or where to go next.

Since kindergarten, you’d barely gone more than a few days without seeing or communicating with Jack in some way. Now you were nearly a month without a word, and even though you were still mad at how he’d treated you, you were craving a return to the friendship you’d become so accustomed to. Jack knew you better than anyone, could basically read your mind with a single look, and although you had plenty of friends at college and still around in Toronto from high school, none came close to the camaraderie you shared with Jack. He was someone you could talk to for hours, or sit next to in silence for the same amount of time, it didn’t matter. With Jack, you could be utterly and entirely yourself, no complications. Now it felt like you were always pretending. And it was exhausting.

It was about 9pm on a Thursday night when you found yourself pushing through that exhaustion to try and complete yet another university assignment. For motherfucking economics. You couldn’t wait until you’d completed all of your compulsory economics credits because it was the absolute opposite of your cup of tea, when it came to academic subjects. This assignment was your last one, and you weren’t sure whether to cheer or cry at the idea of hitting the submit button on the online portal. Maybe you should’ve bought a confetti cannon to celebrate. Or a box of wine. Or booked yourself a flight somewhere fun, given you had a break from classes soon.

As soon as the thought of a trip crossed your mind, your phone began to buzz with an incoming video call. A video call from… Luke. Luke Hughes.

Your face scrunched in confusion, as you swiped to answer the call, met with Luke’s smiling face and messy curls.

“Hey sunshine! Long time no see. How have you been?” Luke spoke cheerily. Almost too cheerily.

You were immediately suspicious and narrowed your eyes at the youngest Hughes.

Luke was 3 years old when you met for the first time; he could barely remember a life without you in it. Given how inseparable you and Jack were, Luke became your de facto little brother, always tagging along where he could and joining in your adventures. Later on, when he became a teenager, you were the one Luke would come to when he was having issues with his friends, or trying to build up the courage to ask out the cute girl in his math class, or missing his brothers when they moved away. You were his second call after Ellen when he felt homesick at Michigan, and you were his first call when he had fucked up something that he felt his brothers would never let him live down. Emotional support and damage control, with a healthy dose of teasing and laughs thrown in. That was the dynamic between you and Luke. It also meant you could read him to filth when he was lying to you, and your honesty radar was through the roof at this sudden video call.

“I’m fine, Moose. Just trying to wrap up my final assignment before the break without losing my entire mind.” You offered weakly, half-expecting Luke to make a joke about your mind having been lost years ago, but the joke never came.

Instead, you saw the concern flicker across Luke’s face, just for a moment, before he forced a smile.

“How long is your break for? Any plans?”

“Three weeks, and not really. I promised my mother I’d spend a few days helping her with planning for their anniversary party in June, but that probably won’t happen until right before I go back to school.” You chatted absently, hitting save on your essay and standing up from the couch, bringing your phone with you as you moved into the kitchen to make yourself a drink.

You propped the phone up against the vase on your kitchen bench, reaching up into the cabinet to retrieve a glass.

“Well, you should come visit. We’ve got like 5 home games in a row or something ridiculous coming up. It’d be fun!” Luke’s tone was cheerful, but cautious, like he wasn’t sure how you were going to react.

You hummed in response, moving slightly out of view of your phone to get some ice cubes from your freezer and a soda from the fridge.

“Besides, I heard a rumour that you’ve got an airline voucher to use. I’d hate for it to expire or something.”

You could feel your heart starting to beat faster. Luke knew about the voucher. Did that mean Jack had told him about your fight?

“The voucher won’t expire for three years. I’m sure I’ll manage to use it before then.” You deadpanned, stepping back into frame to see Luke rolling his eyes at you.

“Yeah, sure, but will I survive that long without seeing you? Absolutely not. Come on, sugar. Please? Even if it’s just a weekend?” Luke had moved into full begging mode, with puppy dog eyes and everything.

You sighed, fidgeting with the straw in your drink and avoiding his gaze.

“I don’t… we haven’t talked at all, Luke. I don’t know what he’ll do if I just show up there.” You half-whispered, feeling that all-too-familiar wave of sadness coursing through your veins.

“He talked about you tonight at dinner. Says he misses you. But he doesn’t want to push, or not give you the space you wanted. But right now, he’s on the couch watching Gossip Girl, so…” Luke stated matter-of-factly, staring you down with a knowing look on your face.

Gossip Girl was something you’d insisted Jack get into when you were teenagers, as long as he “wanted to be called your official best friend”. And The OC. And Gilmore Girls. And One Tree Hill. And basically any other teen drama series you could think of. Collectively, those shows had thousands of episodes, and you always found yourself settling down to watch them whenever you were missing Jack more than usual. You’d never realised before that he did the same.

“Should… should we tell him I’m coming? I don’t want him to get upset by a bad surprise.”

“Not at all, sugar. Book the flight and send me the details, I’ll sort out the rest.” Luke’s beaming smile made a smile of your own creep onto your face, as you nodded at him and went to retrieve your laptop from the couch to log onto the airline website.

“Now that that’s sorted, I was wondering, what does it mean when a girl asks me what my sun, moon and rising are? Should I be worried? Or is it a good thing?”

–

Two days later, you were done with your semester and on your way to the airport. Luke had suggested you book a one-way flight, “That way, you can go home whenever you like!”, but you were starting to feel like the whole thing was a mistake.

Nonetheless, you pushed through those feelings and boarded your flight. The whole ordeal took less than two hours, and soon enough you found yourself navigating the arrivals area at Newark airport. You spotted Luke’s lanky figure, clad in a Michigan sweatshirt, with his back to you. You couldn’t help but creep up on him and poke his side, cracking up with laughter as Luke jumped at least three feet into the air. He’d always been the easiest to scare, ever since you were kids.

Luke cussed you out, and then pulled you into a bone-crushing hug.

“Missed your face, sugarplum.” Luke murmured, as you pulled away from each other and he rested his hands on your shoulders, studying you.

“Aw, Lukey. I’d say I’d missed yours too, but we really gotta do something about that hair.” You poked your tongue out as the youngest Hughes brother’s jaw dropped in mock offense.

You retrieved your bag from the luggage carousel, and headed out to where Luke had parked. The two of you fell into easy conversation as Luke navigated through the New Jersey streets back to the apartment he shared with Jack.

You managed to bury most of the nerves, but they came bubbling back to the surface when Luke pulled into the parking garage at the bottom of his building.

“Is… um… Is Jack home? Alone?” You managed to squeak out, and Luke looked at you like you were crazy.

Ever since All-Star weekend, you’d been having a recurring nightmare about Jack and the girl from the messages you’d accidentally become privy to. In particular, it was a scenario where you would come home from wherever you’d been out, and opened the apartment door to find them… entangled, on every possible surface you could think of. You felt yourself starting to feel ill as the images from your nightmares started to flash back into your mind.

“He’s alone. Ever since… ever since he came home early from All-Star, he’s been alone. None of the… usual visitors have been over. And he hasn’t been going to theirs, either. Not even when we’re on a roadie.” Luke said carefully, and you could tell he was trying not to upset you.

You could also tell that he was being honest. Because you could always tell when he was lying. But your mind was running a million miles a minute. Jack hadn’t… for a month? Because of his fight with you? You loved Jack, but you also knew (despite wishing that you didn’t know at all) that it had been years since he’d gone that long without intimacy. In fact, it was probably the longest since losing his virginity that Jack hadn’t fulfilled his desires.

Your mind was starting to wander into the gutter, and you pressed your eyes closed to bring yourself back to Earth. All you could do was nod at Luke, before you both hopped out of the car and into the elevator. Luke insisted on carrying your luggage, so you found yourself fidgeting incessantly with your hands as the elevator climbed to the correct floor.

You trailed behind Luke as he strode towards the apartment door and unlocked it, stepping inside and putting your bag down. He looked back and waved you into the apartment, pressing a finger to his lips. You tiptoed across the doorway, and your heart softened at the scene before you.

You could see the back of Jack’s head leaned up against the couch, and an episode of Gilmore Girls playing on the TV mounted on the wall. In fact, it was one of your favourite episodes; where Jess comes back and shows Rory the book he wrote, and calls her out for dropping out of Yale. You smiled ruefully as you thought about the parallels between that episode and your current situation with Jack, as the argument between Jess and Rory played out on the screen.

What do you mean?

You know what I mean! I know you. I know you better than anyone! This isn't you!

…

This isn't you! This! You going out with this jerk, with the Porsche! We made fun of guys like this!

You caught him on a bad night.

This isn't about him! Okay? Screw him! What's going on with you? This isn't you, Rory. You know it isn't. What's going on?

I don't know. I don't know…

“Are we Team Jess or Team Rory this time, Jacky?” Luke called out, making you jump.

“Team Jess all the way, obviously. Where have you bee-” Jack stopped dead in his tracks as he turned to face his brother, and instead saw you in the middle of his living room.

Jack’s face was a revelation. Confusion, at first. Then the briefest flash of hurt and anguish. Then a smile. Then caution and uncertainty, as he slowly stepped towards you.

You let a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, and quickly moved across the room, clumsily throwing your arms around your best friend. You felt Jack freeze momentarily, almost as if he was shocked at your touch, but that soon passed and you felt his hands slide around your waist and squeeze, bringing your bodies as close together as possible.

You nestled your head on Jack’s shoulder, breathing in his scent. His thumbs softly rubbed up and down your side, and you felt him press a soft kiss into your hair. You stayed like that for a minute, or maybe longer, relaxing into the embrace.

The sound of the apartment door slamming shut made you jolt, and you rolled your eyes as you realised that Luke had tried to sneak way unnoticed and failed miserably.

“Hi.” Jack whispered, pulling back from you slightly but keeping his hands locked around you.

“Hi.” You whispered back, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes.

“Is it still shit hair? Or better now it’s longer?” Jack teased, rolling his tongue between his teeth.

“Better. But only slightly.” You teased back, your hands slipping down to the back of his neck comfortably.

The warmth of the surprise arrival was starting to fade. The dread you’d felt over addressing your fight with Jack was starting to set in, fast. The guilt you felt for being the catalyst for over a month for not speaking to your best friend was washing over you. Your heart rate was through the roof, and your palms were beginning to sweat.

Jack sensed your change in mood, and pulled away from you to look you up and down.

“Are you hungry? Do you want to shower? Or take a nap?” He was nervous, too.

“I ate before my flight. And showered this morning. And it’s 11am, so I think I’m good on the nap front. But I do think we should… we should talk. About everything.” You were basically tripping over your words at this point, but Jack’s reassuring nod helped to calm your nerves.

Wordlessly, Jack took your hand and led you over to the couch, gesturing for you to sit. You sat down and faced him, crossing your legs and resting your hands on your knees, still fidgeting with your hoodie sleeves.

“I’m sorry - “ You both said unanimously, a gentle laughter filling the room.

“I’m sorry I needed so much time apart, J. It fucking sucked, and it was my fault, and I just didn’t -” You began to ramble, only stopping when Jack leaned over and squeezed your knee reassuringly.

“You only needed that time because I was an asshole, sugar. It’s on me, really. I had no right to treat you like an occasional friend, or something that I shouldn’t prioritise -” Jack paused as you cringed, remembering the text messages that referred to his time with you as “boring family bullshit”.

“I was thinking with my dick, not with my head, and that’s not fair on anyone.” You shot Jack a weird look, and he looked sheepish in return.

“Quinn… Quinn said that to me. After you told him to tell me about the messages. He’s right, thought. It wasn’t fair.” Jack continued, pausing to take a deep breath.

“This whole… thing, this life -” Jack gestured broadly at the apartment around you, and you glanced around properly for the first time. Framed jerseys of Luke and Jack’s adorned the walls.Various photos of the Hughes family scattered about the place. The fridge, with a gas bill stuck to it, along with a polaroid of you and Jack from last Christmas. And a photo from your senior prom. And a group photo of everyone from last summer at the lake house, Jack’s mouth open in laughter with his arm slung over your bikini-clad shoulders.

“It’s all I thought I ever wanted. And it’s amazing, and I’m so grateful. But it’s worth nothing to me, the money, the girls -” You felt yourself involuntarily cringe again. “The fame, the accolades, it’s worth nothing to me without the people that I love by my side. And if those people don’t know how much I love and appreciate them, because I treat them like shit, then that’s on me. No one else. Me.”

You sat quietly, taking in Jack’s emphatic statement. You weren’t quite sure what to say. So instead, you gently reached over and took Jack’s hand in yours, lacing your fingers through his and squeezing softly, for a moment while you gathered your thoughts.

“I know the life you live, Jack. You don’t have to be sorry for it. Playing hockey was all you ever dreamed of, and I honestly can’t blame you for… enjoying… all the perks it comes with.” You swallowed the wave of nausea that hit you, before continuing.

“I don’t… I don’t know what life looks like without you in it. The last month was such a bizarre experience, and not one that I ever want to repeat, but I also… I need to… Can I be honest?” You spoke softly, glancing up from your hands to meet Jack’s gaze, and he nodded encouragingly at you.

“I wasn’t just upset because you made me feel like I was inconveniencing you, or cock-blocking you -” It was Jack’s turn to cringe. “I think I was upset because I was jealous. Because that will never, ever be me. And I think… I think I want it to be? Maybe? Fuck, I don’t know!” You dropped Jack’s hand and stood up from the couch, and started to pace the room.

“Sugar, please sit down.” Jack pleaded, and you paused, looking back at him on the couch. One look was all you needed, and you narrowed your eyes at the smirk on his dumb face.

“Why are you smirking? I am experiencing emotional distress, you asshole.” You seethed, running your hands through your hair in frustration.

“Tell me more about this jealousy thing. I’m intrigued.” Jack’s tone was light and teasing, and washed over you like sour milk. Your head whipped in his direction and your face must’ve said a thousand words, because Jack’s smirk soon disappeared and he hurriedly stood up and walked over, reaching out to touch you.

“See, this -” You jabbed a finger into Jack’s chest. “This is why I have avoided this conversation for almost my entire life. Because you think it’s hilarious that we could ever go down that path. That we could ever be something more than what we are. Because I’m not good enough,or pretty enough, or just enough and I never will be, and I hate it. I hate it so much.” Your voice cracked on the last few words, and you felt the hot tears start to bubble out of your eyes and stream down your face.

Jack didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. He pulled you into a hug, bringing his hand up to your face and gently brushing away the tears with his thumbs.

“Breathe, sugar. You need to calm down.” Jack said quietly, willing you to calm. That just made you cry harder.

You were about to pull away, when you felt Jack cup your face with both hands, before leaning in to kiss you.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes one shot #new jersey devils #luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #quinn hughes imagine #my writing #nhl fanfiction

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beansandsprouts · 5 months

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Sunshine (Part 2)

Part 1

Summary: Bucky interacts with you here and there and finds himself feeling more connected to you. Driving him to want to see your soulmate mark even more.

Warnings: none

Sorry it took so long! College and work got me dying lmao. Updates will continue to be kinda spaced out. Fingers crossed I can get another one out over the weekend.

Also I am absolutely delighted by how much interest there's been in this! Thank you all sm for reading. Down below with the tags there's a link to a little survey, even if you're already on the tag list please fill it out. It's how I'll be keeping track of the tag list. If you don't fill it out you won't be tagged.

He hadn't been able to sleep that night.

You were right across the hall. Two doors separated you from him. And it drove him crazy knowing that you, his possible soulmate, were so close yet just out of reach.

He had dozed in and out of consciousness through the night, but found himself wide awake when he heard shuffling coming from your room. Super soldier hearing meant he heard you get out of bed and pad to your closet. What were you doing?

He heard your door shut quietly, and you make your way down the hall, and, after a few moments, the ding of the elevator door.

His mind raced, wondering what you could be doing. The next thing he knew he was tugging on a hoodie over his tank top and sweats over his boxers. He padded down the hall to the elevator, the little number above lit up saying the elevator was stopped at the floor right underneath him. The training room.

That made sense. From the way you'd spoken about your time in the military yesterday, you were highly trained and a huge asset, you likely had gotten up this early to train for years. He stood there for a moment, debating on going down as well.

The thought that maybe he'd get to see your soulmate mark was enough to have him going back to his room to get his shoes, water bottle, and towel. He wanted to make sure he looked like he was actually down there to train.

Hey, maybe he'd even get to spar with you, get to see what you were capable of.

The elevator moved only one floor, but it felt like it was taking forever. The doors opened to the small lobby and he pushed open the doors to the training room. You were doing some stretches, warming yourself up, and you looked up when he entered.

"Mornin!"

He mumbled the greeting back, now suddenly extremely nervous and starting to wonder why exactly he thought this would be a good idea.

"Didn't think I'd catch anyone this early." You seemed unbothered, warm smile despite the fact that it was so early you could still see the stars in the dark sky if you looked out the window.

He grunted in response, not being able to find the words to respond. He stood there for a moment, watching you, before walking off to start his own warmup. Which consisted of lifting more weight than you could even dream of getting even an inch over your chest. But it was light work for him.

You continued stretching but subtly watched him. You were a little disappointed he was wearing a hoodie, it did kind of obscure everything. Though you could imagine how good his muscles looked lifting that weight. Your face warmed a bit at the thought and you tried to force yourself to focus on the light burn in your calves as you stretched.

After a bit, you moved to wrap your hands and feet, wanting to practice on one of the dozen punching bags Tony had in there. He'd offhandedly mentioned he had to design a lot of the equipment himself so they could withstand the beating of the two super soldiers living in this place.

You focused on the swaying bag in front of you, vaguely aware of Bucky doing things behind you, but not paying him too much mind. Your mind was on getting out that pent up energy. Working with the Avengers was going to be very different from your previous work, and you knew there'd be a lot less for you to do on the daily. You had a feeling you'd probably be spending a lot of time in here.

You barely registered Bucky saying your name from behind you. When it did you paused your beating on the punching bag and turned to him.

"Whats up?"

"Spar?"

"Huh?"

Bucky gestured to the mat meant for sparring a little ways away. It was a little padding so whoever got dropped on their ass only hurt their pride.

"Oh! Yeah, sure." You grinned, you had to admit the idea was exciting. You were curious to see how you'd fare against one of these two.

The two of you settled into stances on the mat and you gave him a teasing grin, "I'm not gonna go easy on you."

You saw the corner of his mouth twitch with amusement as he raised a brow.

"Oh?"

"I don't have to be as worried about breaking you."

His eyes lit with curiosity, just what exactly were you capable of.

He watched you closely as you circled each other before lunging, swinging his non-metal arm at you. You blocked the hit easily and returned it with a swing of your own, which landed. His head snapped to the side as your fist connected with his jaw.

He took a step back, rubbing where you'd hit him. He hadn't expected you to hit that hard. Hell, Steve was one of the few people who's hits actually made his body ache. You packed some heat he was not expecting.

He squared up again and the two of you traded some blows back and forth before he realized you were barely flinching at the hits he landed. So he decided to turn it up a notch, striking harder than he had before. You reciprocated that.

As the two of you sparred, his eyes narrowed, and Bucky's focus turned to seeing how far he could push you. His blows struck hard, one particular hit to your abdomen forced the air from your lungs, and you stepped back gasping.

He pushed forward, though, and despite the lack of air, you fended him off well. To anyone watching, it would seem like a friendly sparring match had turned malicious. However, both yours and Bucky's eyes were lit with delight at the fact that you'd found an equal opponent.

You finally decided to end the session with a swift attack to knock him to the ground and taking the opportunity to pin him, his arm twisted behind his back.

"I surrender." He chuckled. You released him quickly and offered a hand to help him up, which he took.

"Youre...tougher than I expected."

You tilted your head, "Did Tony not tell you?"

"Tell me what?" He asked.

"I'm also a weird military experiment. Except they aimed more for stealth than brute strength with me, still gave me that enhanced strength though." You explained as you used your towel to dab the sweat from your neck.

"You haven't been particularly stealthy."

You laughed, "Haven't been trying. Tell you what, turn off the light and see if you can find me in the dark."

Bucky's eyes scanned you curiously before walking over and flicking off the lights. When he turned back, he tried to peer through the darkness to find you. He even tried to listen for your breathing and heartbeat, but the room was dead silent.

It was unnerving as he stepped further into the room as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He slowly turned in a circle, hoping to spot you.

He thought he'd spotted you in a corner of the room until he felt a kick to the back of his knees, knocking him down. Suddenly, there was a hand gently resting around his throat and two fingertips pressed against his head in a mock figure of a gun.

"Surprise." You giggled and released him and went over to turn on the lights as Bucky stood up in a daze.

"How?" He demanded.

"My special serum gave me the ability to slow my heart and breath rate to the point where it's imperceptible, even to you. And I can move lightly so you can't even hear me walk. I can see in the dark, and all other senses are enhanced. Plus, the whole strength and pain tolerance thing. Literally, you just stealthy."

Bucky stared at you as you explained. He slowly realized you weren't really an equal. In fact, you were probably "better" than him in a sense. You had the ability to be completely imperceptible, even to him. You'd just proven you could have killed him easily, and he wouldn't have even seen it coming. It half scared him, and half had his heart racing with attraction.

"You ok?" You asked. He'd been staring at you silently for a good few seconds.

"I've just never met someone who could take me down like that."

"We're good though right?" Your expression had changed to one of nervousness.

"Why wouldn't we be?"

"Some men have a tendency to feel threatened or emasculated."

He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him.

"Don't gotta worry about that here."

"Good." You smiled softly at him before it turned into a mischievous grin, "Wanna see who can squat the most weight?"

His mouth quirked up in a half smile as he followed you. The next two hours consisted of you challenging him to see who could handle more. Endurance wise, you did better. However, in terms of raw strength, he did better than you.

Bucky found himself feeling amused, you were so different from him and Steve. They had a tendency to be a bit more reserved. Quieter. But you were bubbly and all over the place, all smiles and energy. It was strange knowing that you'd come from the military.

After a while, the two of you headed upstairs to eat breakfast. By then, most of the others were already awake and were surprised to see Bucky willingly hanging out with you.

It was amusing in a sense. You were like a living ray of sunshine, and Bucky was like a living storm cloud. Polar opposites. However right about now Bucky didn't seem to be as "rainy" as he usually was. The look on his face was more relaxed, and he nodded attentively as you spoke. He was genuinely interested in whatever you were saying.

The second you excused yourself for a shower, the teasing began.

"Seems Bucky has taken an interest in our new teammate." Natasha said slyly.

Bucky shot her a glare and busied himself with a cup of coffee.

"Can you blame him? She's a cute little thing." Sam chuckled.

"I heard she's a great warrior. That makes her even more attractive." Thor said from his seat.

Bucky gritted his teeth and sat down on the couch by Steve with his cup of coffee. He didn't want to tell them exactly why he was so interested. He knew if he did they'd want to get involved and it would just ruin everything.

So for now, he'd deal with the teasing and hope it wouldn't be long until he found out if it was his name marked on your arm.

He stared down into his mug, ignoring the joking going on around him. He barely knew you, and yet he was practically praying that you were his soulmate. That the name he had on his arm was written in your writing. That the name on your arm was his written in his messy chicken scratch.

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

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#bucky barnes x reader #dean winchester #bucky x reader #bucky barnes

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lihhelsing · 8 months

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Part 4 - Catfish Steddie

Author's Note: This part turned out to be bigger than I expected, so I also decided to take this to AO3. I'll update when I have the link, but I'll keep posting over here too, and doing the tag list at the end. Thanks for reading! Look out for two more parts after this one!

Now on Ao3

It's not that Steve didn't care that someone was using his face to catfish people. He knew, from how little Eddie wanted to discuss it, how it affected him. How it messed with his self-image and his ability to trust others.

Steve could feel it in the way Eddie always seemed to be ready to bolt from him. He offered something real and then pulled back again. It was a slow back and forth that Steve didn't mind, because he knew what he wanted.

Eddie. He wanted Eddie.

He felt the way he retracted every time Steve complimented him, hiding behind jokes or self-deprecating comments. Steve tried to reassure him, and he felt like he was winning.

But when Eddie called the catfish number, that he still had on his phone under Steve's name for some reason, it was like every inch they had walked towards each other had disappeared. Eddie retracted again, as if he was certain he was reading the situation right when he possibly couldn't be.

"I don't understand," Eddie says at first and Steve tries reaching out for him, seeing the exact moment Eddie flinches away.

It hurts more than he can admit.

"Eddie, let's talk about this," Steve says, but he can see it in Eddie's eyes, how he just wants to run out of there.

"Why do you have two phones?"

"It's not my phone," Steve says calmly. Eddie's not calm.

"It's in your house. Your couch!" his voice comes out a little strangled, and he jumps from the couch, the other phone still gripped hard in his hand.

"Can I see it?" Steve raches his hand, but Eddie shakes his head. "Please. It's not mine, I swear."

But Steve can see how his words go through Eddie and doesn't really make an impression. It's just words, especially if he doesn't try to see how crazy it would be. Why would Steve invite Eddie over to his place and not hide the phone better?

Why would Steve be so careless about the whole thing?

"Eddie, I swear. This phone is not mine. I have no idea what's-"

"I have to go," Eddie says, his hands are shaking and Steve wants to hold him and make him listen but Eddie is not in the mood to listen and Steve can't force him so he just nods, lets the fight leave his body and Eddie hurriedly gets his things and leaves.

Before closing the door, he drops the phone on the table and doesn't look back.

Steve thinks his heart could explode from how fucked up he feels right now.

It's not really surprising, but Steve doesn't sleep at all. He tries a couple of password combinations and when he gets to Chrissy's birthday, the phone unlocks in his hands.

Steve is scared as he scrolls through it.

Robin always seemed nice, even if they weren't all that close. Sometimes Steve even thought they were friends. He didn't have much experience with those and most of his friends were kids that he used to babysit when he was in high school, but he thought he and Robin could've been friends, somehow.

Maybe he was wrong.

But when Steve pulls on one of the only apps he sees on the phone, he feels…

He doesn't know how he feels as he looks at a profile with his picture and name on it. There are a bunch of chats in there and he sees himself flirting with lots of girls - and guys.

He doesn't remember mentioning to Robin he's bisexual, but she must've picked up on it for some reason. Steve doesn't mind, he feels comfortable with his sexuality but he doesn't feel comfortable with a bunch of people thinking they are talking to him when in reality…

It's not surprising that he doesn't get much sleep, really.

Steve is in his room when he hears the front door unlocking. It's still before nine and Robin doesn't usually come home that early on the weekends. She likes to spend the day with her girlfriend Chrissy and Steve gets it.

He listens carefully as she walks inside, doesn't even stop to take off her boots, so Steve hears the click, click, click as she moves through their tiny apartment. He hears rustling sounds and then.

"Shit," Robin's voice is low, muffled by the closed door. Steve thought a lot about how to do this and yet he feels sick to his stomach. "Where the fuck did I put it?"

He gets up and slowly makes his way to the door, opening it a little.

"Robin?" he asks. Her head snaps in his direction and she looks panicked.

"Steve? What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep. Is everything ok? You look-"

"Yeah, yeah! Everything's great," Robin forces out a smile. "I just forgot something Chrissy really needed and you know her, she gets really mad at me and I need to fix it, otherwise she will hate me forever and I-"

"I don't know."

Robin frowns. "What?"

"I don't know her. You never… Introduced us."

Steve doesn't know what he's saying, but neither does Robin. She looks frazzled, on the verge of a breakdown. Steve can't say he's not enjoying it, though.

"Well, we should. You know, do something, the three of us!" Robin is talking frantically now, her voice taking on a high-pitched tone that shows Steve how desperate she is. "Anyway, we can decide on that later! Don't worry about me, just go back to sleep! I'll be super quiet!"

She finished her sentence whispering and smiling at Steve, but he doesn't buy it. Her smile is completely fake and her hair is a mess, sticking up to all sides.

"Ok," he says, playing along. He moves to close the door and Robin isn't even looking at him anymore. She's kneeling on the ground and looking under the couch. "Oh, Robin?"

She almost hits her head as she looks up at him.

"Did you happen to be looking for this phone?"

Steve holds it out for her and she squints her eyes, processing, and then all the color gets drained from her face.

Steve can't say he hates it.

Robin fidgets nervously with her hands as she and Steve sit side by side on the couch. The phone is almost burning a hole through their table and Robin hasn't tried anything too crazy like grabbing it and running away.

Maybe even someone like her can tell when she lost a battle.

"So… Care to explain?"

Steve tries to keep his tone neutral but from the way she flinches, he knows he failed. Robin takes a deep breath, then another.

"I'm sorry," she says, not looking at him. Steve raises a brow.

"For what? Catshing people? Using my picture and my name without permission? Lying to my face?" He sounds so angry he barely recognizes his own voice. Steve is not a guy to get really angry, he's good at taking a punch, but this feels… Too much.

Robin shakes her head. "All of the above?"

The worst of it is that Steve wants to laugh. Robin looks outright miserable and his entire chest feels heavy when he remembers how Eddie looked at him, but this is too crazy for him not to laugh.

"I'm really sorry Steve, I didn't mean-"

"Can you just… Not? Just tell me. Why? Why me?" He says sharply and has to pinch his hand to try and get himself in check. He already knows there's nothing Robin can say that will make this ok to him.

It's not only that she lied to him. She used him to lie to other people. She hurt other people. But she made Steve think he was doing something wrong. She watched Steve try and try and try knowing she would never let him in because she couldn't stand the guilt.

Robin sighs dramatically.

"It started as a joke, I swear. When you first moved in, I kept telling Chrissy how you looked like a hot model from a magazine. How I had never seen a guy so good looking in my life and mind you I don't like guys. But you're… You know, objectively attractive."

"Uh… Thanks?"

"Chrissy found that super funny. She said you must've been one of those guys who were always hooking up with girls and I agreed. Like, it took me six months to gather the courage to ask Chrissy out and I still wasn't sure she was going to say yes, and then Chrissy was saying how you probably didn't have this problem because anyone would say yes to you."

Steve frowns at her. Robin has a tendency of rambling and talking really fast and Steve feels he's not following.

"So it was a prank?"

"I mean… Yes! At first. Chrissy and I wanted to see what it was like to be you on Tinder. You know, how many people we would match with, so we just swiped right non-stop. On the next day, there were thousands of messages for you."

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and he sees a faint dust of pink on Robin's cheeks. She's embarrassed.

"Chrissy laughed and moved on, but I kept thinking about it and I started talking to people there because why not? It was kind of addictive, being someone else. I know it's wrong and honestly I have no interest in anyone other than Chrissy, but it was fun to like, make up this whole persona and just see what people would do. I was curious about life as Steve Harrington. It must be easier than trying to flirt as, you know, me."

"And Chrissy doesn't know?"

Robin shakes her head. "She thinks I dropped the whole thing, but I couldn't. So I got a new phone, I deleted everything from my phone and I just kept going. I wanted to know how long it would take people to want a date. I started analyzing data, and I thought it would be a good study subject. But it's like I said… I only have eyes for Chrissy. I don't even like men. It was just… A test, I guess."

Steve exhales. He has to be honest, this is way more complicated than he thought it would be. It still doesn't make it ok, and it still confuses the hell out of him.

"Robin, this is fucked up."

"I know ok? But there's just this… Adrenaline thrill. Of creating a personality for you, talking to people and seeing how they act, how they flirt with someone that looks like you. I never experienced any of that because I'm awkward and weird and I like girls. I told one of my professors I was doing it and he said it was fascinating. I couldn't just drop it. He wouldn't let me drop it. He kept saying how I had a chance of a lifetime with it and I just… How the fuck do I say no to that?"

Steve knows it still doesn't make it ok, but he's starting to feel sorry for Robin, so he tries to hold on to the anger. It's easier that way than if he tried to understand her. But there's still this one thing that doesn't make sense.

"But how the hell did that evolve into you setting up a date with Eddie? And that's why you kept telling me to not go out with him isn't it?"

And that… That felt awful. He liked Eddie. He had liked him from the start and because Robin fucked up he had felt a little unsure about asking him out. When she finally speaks, she's not looking at Steve.

"I didn't set up a date with him. I knew I could never do that because there was no way I could keep up the farce if I started doing it. But I should've been more careful. One of the pictures I set up on your profile had the coffee shop in the background. It didn't take a genius to make the connection, but I never thought he was just going to show up like that!"

"Well, that does sound like Eddie," Steve pointed out and he was assaulted with mixed feelings. An ache spreading on his chest as he thought he might never see Eddie again. Because of Robin.

"I panicked when I started getting weird messages from him saying like 'surprise' and 'stop messing around' and I didn't get it. I sent a bunch of question marks and Eddie never got back to me. I figured it out after you told me what had happened and, well, you know what happened next."

After that, Steve stays silent for a long time. Robin keeps fidgeting with her hands as if she's waiting for a death sentence of something.

Steve feels… So many things. He's mad at her, of course he is. But the frustration right now feels so much bigger. Even if Robin thinks it's easier being like him, Steve is tired of all that comes with it.

And Eddie was the first person in a long time that saw Steve in a different way. Sure, he might've started talking to not-Steve for his looks, but right now Eddie knew him. And Steve wasn't ready to let that go. He had no idea how to fix it and his head was pounding with lack of sleep and Robin was… Talking. Always fucking talking.

"Robin!" he said, his voice going up an octave and making her shut her mouth. He got up from the couch and pressed the heels of his hand on his eyes. "I'm just… Please delete the whole thing. I don't care what you're going to tell your professor, but I'm not your little experiment. I just wanted to be your roommate. Maybe even your friend.But right now I just… Just leave me alone, please."

Steve walks to his room without looking back and he only hears when Robin leaves the apartment, a couple of minutes later. Previous | Next

#steve harrington #Eddie Munson #Coffee Shop AU #AU #Alternate Universe #Stranger Things #Fanfic #Stranger Things fanfic #Steddie #Steddie Fanfic #Catfish AU #Steddie ficlet

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hwaslayer · 15 days

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favorite things | pmylm drabble (jyh)

⇢ favorite things - drabble one // ft. the pmylm couple

summary: yunho's been having a rough time adjusting to the 'real world' and gets upset when he can't have the person he needs the most right away.

words: 2.8k

warnings: cussing/mature language, jealousy/insecurities, yuyu is upset and doesn't really know how to control his feelings rn cause he is just a tired boy 😭, a small lil fight, the awkward silent treatment, yuyu and yeo talk thru his feelings for a bit, kissing/making out, sorry if i missed anything i quickly whipped the rest of this in bed lol

a/n: whipped this baby up because i just felt the need to and i missed my babies!! (+ this lil IG inspo hehe) more drabbles to come 🫶🏼 love you in slow motion update this weekend annnnd i’m gonna have to push back the fallen angel hwa fic cause im all over the place 🥹 but we’ll do better!! lol stay tuned!!

Yunho has entered the real world and he is exhausted. When his mom used to joke about living and working in this so-called real world, he used to think it was just a thing to keep him on his toes, shake him up a little bit.

Nope, that shit was all real.

And he hates it.

He hates it because it's the one thing that brings another fight to the table for your relationship. Ultimately, Yunho knows all he has to do is adjust and he'll be fine in the long run. Both of you will be fine in the long run.

But today, that feels like a stretch and he is short of patience. Unusually short of patience than usual. He knows you don't mean any harm but for some odd reason, today he feels like the world is going to swallow him alive and everything is triggering.

The first thing is the fact that he has to stay a bit later than usual to finish up a project he had been working on. He was hoping to rush home and spend some time with you before you were off to practice for the evening, spending 2-3 hours with your friends and the group.

That didn't happen.

So, when he gets home and you've already texted him saying you've left with a sad, crying face, he's bummed. He gets himself comfortable anyway, heating up a cup of ramen since he's not too hungry. Maybe he'll get some food with you when you're out— it's one of his favorite things to do.

Now, the second thing that makes him a little more irked is the fact that 2-3 hours go by and you haven't texted. He knows practice can run long, but it's also a little unusual for you to not keep him updated. You finally do a bit past 8pm with a quick:

you: hi baby, sorry! practice was a bit busy, i was caught up during breaks. i'll be home soon then i'll come over after i shower, okay? wait for me (: we should go on a food run! hehe

yunho: sounds good, love. i'll be here.

It closes to 9pm and Yunho isn't hungry anymore. The cup of ramen will do since there seems to be a dim chance of getting food with you, especially when you tell him you'll be over in a quick second but you’re still nowhere to be found. Yunho charges to the door anyway and is hoping to greet you when he swings the door open. Instead, he's greeted with you laughing and giggling with Hyunjin downstairs in the lot as he hands you a bag of to-go food.

Let's set the record straight— Yunho loves your friends. He knows he can trust them, and he knows they're all genuinely good people. He's always been happy you had a good group of people around you.

It's just today, he really, really missed you. After a long ass day. And he knows you [and Hyunjin] mean no harm in your actions, but he can't help but feel a tad bit insecure [and slightly jealous] that you aren't rushing over to see him after not being with him all day. He knows he can blame this on the fact that he's exhausted and a little short on patience. God knows he really did try to keep it cool and brush it off.

He couldn't help it.

Yunho shuts the door again, leaving it unlocked for whenever you feel ready to come upstairs and hang out with him. He sits on his computer chair, irritated, and throws on a game to distract himself momentarily. Maybe it'll help ease whatever he's feeling,

But, nope.

It doesn't.

Because when you walk in, you're still yelling out to Hyunjin and whoever before you shut the door, place the food on the counter and walk into his room. You throw your arms around him from behind and Yunho lets out a small, audible sigh. That was already alarming enough for you, but you still dip your head to the side and try to grab his attention.

"Hi." You place a quick, chaste quick to his cheek, but Yunho doesn't move.

"Hey."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Is all he says plainly. "I was just waiting for you."

"I know, but Hyunjin stopped by to give us food—"

"I thought we were gonna grab food together?"

"Oh." You frown because it completely slipped your mind, or else, you would've left the food at your own apartment to save it for tomorrow instead. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't think he was gonna swing by with food. We all left each other earlier without any plans of—"

"It's okay." He taps your arms as a signal for you to let go of him. "You should go eat."

"We can share, there's more than enough—"

"All good." It's petty of Yunho, he knows. For him, it's the fact that you told him you wanted to go on a food run after practice. Another small, but meaningful thing you two did often. He doesn't blame Hyunjin for anything at all, no. There was no way of preventing that, and who the fuck was he to make you reject food from a friend?

He just wished he could take you to get food. Watch you order your favorites and do your happy dance in his passenger's seat. It's another one of his favorite things.

"Yunho." You slowly step aside and sit on his bed, your appetite all of a sudden gone from how distant your boyfriend is being. "I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset."

"It's fine."

"Is it really? Because something feels off and I wanna know what I did so I can fix it."

"It's nothing, Y/N." You almost flinch at the way he calls you your name instead of his cute endearing nicknames. It throws you off guard so much that you resort to a flimsy, broken:

"Okay." It's barely above a whisper. You stand to head back out to the kitchen, quietly eating a bit of Hyunjin's extra to-go thai food before setting some aside in a tupperware for Yunho and placing it in the fridge. The rest of the night goes.. like that.

In silence. With weird tension.

You hate it.

You wish you could just fix whatever you did wrong, or that Yunho would tell you no matter how 'silly' it may sound. He's always been so good with communicating, even during small disagreements, you weren't sure why he was avoiding it this time around.

You quietly get ready for bed, brushing your teeth and flossing before changing out of your sweats and hoodie to Yunho's shirt. You pad into the room, slipping yourself deep under the sheets and pull up some vlogs on Youtube that you need to catch up on.

"Tired?" Yunho asks from his computer chair, still playing his game.

"Mhm." You look at him, hoping he'd come over to kiss you, cuddle you. Shut off the computer and lay next to you, show you any kind of affection. He doesn't budge, though. You feel your bottom lip trembling, your heart slowly cracking in various places. You have to take a breath to prevent yourself from crying, and Yunho can feel it. He can feel your gaze on him, he can tell you're seconds away from crying. So, Yunho stands and shuts off his computer. But, he starts to head out to the living room and you're on the verge of breaking down. His way of avoiding the issue and getting more upset was to shut down. Deflect.

This wasn't like Yunho at all so you knew something was wrong; something was that bothersome to him.

"Baby." You call for him softly, and he just looks at you. You can tell he's conflicted between keeping this up and dropping it entirely, but it doesn't seem to be enough. It's not enough for him to drop it because his expression doesn't change. He still seems cold, distant. Tired. Unlike the Yunho you're so, so used to seeing and having.

"I'm just tired. Go to sleep."

"Where are you going?"

"The living room."

"Let me come with you."

"Y/N. Please go to sleep. I told you nothing was wrong." You watch the way his jaw slightly ticks before brushing you off completely and leaving the room, shutting the door behind him. A loud sigh escapes his lips as he treads to the couch and plops onto it, leaning his head back onto the edge. He shuts his eyes, giving himself some time to sort through his feelings because what the fuck, Jeong Yunho?

He knows this is much needed, though. He needed to step away for a second to regroup. He doesn't want to unintentionally hurt you by saying or doing things that he doesn't mean. He's tired, and he's acting like a fucking baby because he just wanted you at so many points today— yet, the universe just didn't let him have you. That wasn't your fault.

None of this was your fault.

He needed to do better. Just because he was exhausted, didn't mean he had to act this way towards you.

"Yo." Yeosang walks through the door, dropping his duffle bag to the floor as he steps out of his shoes. "You good?" He furrows his brows at the sight of Yunho just resting his head back with his eyes shut close.

"Mhm."

"Where's Y/N?"

"In the room." Odd, Yeosang thinks. It's not like you two to be separated like this. It's pretty obvious Yunho is bothered by something and that you've probably gotten into a small fight over it. Yeosang isn't one to meddle much, especially when it's not his business to. But, he is concerned seeing his roommate like this. It's probably one of the rare times he ever sees Yunho upset.

"You sure everything's okay? I'm not really used to seeing you sitting out in the living room in silence like this." Yunho lets out a tiny chuckle that's barely audible, but he finally turns to Yeosang and purses his lips.

"I guess. Just exhausted lately."

"I bet. You've been working your ass off." Yeosang looks into the fridge before stepping away with a cold water bottle and heading towards Yunho. "Y/N put some food in there for you, by the way."

"Did she?"

"Yeah. It has a little sticky note on top." Of course you did, why wouldn’t you? You always thought about Yunho no matter what.

"Fuck."

"What?"'

"I've been such a dick to her tonight."

"What'd you do?"

"It's so stupid." Yunho begins to explain how his day has just been all over the place— from work, to staying late and not being able to see you before practice, no updates until 3+ hours after practice, looking forward to a food run that didn't end up happening because of Hyunjin. All Yeosang can do is laugh a bit and shake his head.

"Dude, we all have bad days. It's inevitable. You're still adjusting so don't be so hard on yourself. It's hard going from a routine you were so used to, especially with Y/N. Then, having to switch it up and play tetris with your time. It's not easy. But also, I'm sure Y/N has been feeling the same way. She's just doing what she can to support you first and foremost. She'd never hurt you intentionally, and I know she'd always choose you in the end." Yunho's head drops as he leans onto his knees and sighs again.

"Fuck, you're right. I don't know why today was so difficult. I guess it all piled on for me and I didn't know how to sort through it."

"All good. Shit happens." Yeosang shrugs. "Anyway. I'm gonna head to bed. You should probably do the same. I know she's probably waiting for you."

"Thanks." Yeo gives him a little dap before he's off to get comfy and end his day. Yunho stays on the couch for a few more minutes before he brushes his teeth and washes up for bed. He stands in the bathroom for a few more seconds before gaining the courage to finally talk to you about everything that's been going on today. When he walks in, you're still bundled under the sheets, but your phone is against the wall and a video is playing. He can hear you sniffling through the video though, and he knows you've been crying.

God dammit, Yunho.

"Baby?" You hear Yunho softly call your name as he slips into bed and wraps his arms around you.

"Mhm?" You respond, still facing away from him.

"Can we talk?" You sigh and exit the video, locking your phone before turning towards Yunho and setting your phone onto the table.

"Don't force yourself if you aren't ready to."

"I am, and I'm sorry." He looks at you with those puppy dog eyes and it instantly feels like you have your loving, incredibly sweet and attentive boyfriend back.

"What happened?"

"I don't really know. To be honest, I don't have that great of an explanation. I was just tired and I was really looking forward to seeing you before practice. I couldn't see you then because of work, so I was even more excited to see you after practice and to go on our run together. But, you came later and the whole thing with Hyunjin—" He pauses and shakes his head. "It was so stupid and childish of me. I didn't need to act that way, and I'm so sorry I was such a dick to you over that." You cup his cheek and caress the surface with your thumb.

"You should've just told me, babe."

"It's so dumb, though?" He furrows his brows, mainly at himself.

"Nothing is dumb. Whatever hurts you, hurts me. We're in this together, remember? We're on the same team. I just need you to communicate and be honest, like you always tell me. Okay? I'll do anything to fix it and make it better. I'm your safe space like you are mine."

"I know." He leans into your touch before placing a soft kiss to your palm. "I'll do better."

"We have our bad days and that's okay. It won't make me love you any less. Tell me if you need space or if you need anything from me. I want you to be happy and comfortable."

"I know."

"Okay. And I'm sorry about the food run. I promise I'll keep my end of it next time."

"Wasn't your fault, baby. Nothing could have prevented that." You give him a tiny, toothless smile before kissing the tip of his nose.

"Are we okay?" He nods.

"I'm so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” He repeats before leaning in to peck you on the lips. He holds the kiss before parting and looking you in the eye, brushing the hair away from your face. He dips in for another kiss— this time, it's deeper. More passionate. His hand comes down to the small of your back as he presses against you, slipping his tongue in to fight for dominance against yours. The kiss is so full of love and neediness, but there's no push or pressure to make anything out of it.

So, Yunho continues to kiss you. Pushing up against you ever so slightly while parting from your lips to leave a trail across your jaw.

Your chin.

Your neck.

Back up to your lips.

He loves the way you softly sigh in content, listening to him repeatedly whisper 'I love you' against your lips. Into your neck. Across your jaw. He loves the way you gently bite onto his bottom lip as a way of asking for more. He loves the way your fingers tug on the ends of his hair, the way you press your lips against his cheek, forehead, nose. The way you caress his cheeks and never let him go.

It's amongst the many on his list of favorite things.

He continues to coo you and praise you in between kisses throughout the night, smiling while hearing your giggles and smothering you with more kisses until you find yourself getting sleepy. He holds you close and sings a soft lullaby, playing with your hair as you drift off to sleep with the cutest smile on your face. He can’t help but admire you, fighting the exhaustion that’s been hitting him all week for a little longer. He fights it until he can’t anymore but fuck it, it’s all worth it.

Because sitting at the very top of his favorites list is you.

⇢ permanent taglist: @asjkdk @bintificreads @interweab @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs

#yunho fanfic #yunho series #jeong yunho series #jeong yunho fanfic #ateez series #ateez x reader #ateez #yunho #jeong yunho #yunho x reader #jeong yunho x reader #ateez imagines #kpop imagines #yunho fluff #jeong yunho fluff #hwaslayer: project make you love me

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festivalsofmargot · 1 year

Text

Pretty Thoughts {Sebastian Sallow x GN!Reader}

Introduction: Sebastian is down bad for you, my dear reader. But a lot of overthinking on your part makes you blind to it. So, his only option is to keep chasing after you. Takes place after MC meets Anne and before Seb’s final mission. Your Hogwarts house is up to you.

Word Count: ~2700

Warnings: Kissing, Teen Angst

Author’s Note: This is an (un)official Part 2 to Pining in Potions Class. I like writing one shots that could go together if you’d like, but you definitely don’t need to read any other stories to know what’s going on. I love the idea of a clingy Sebastian. Teens finding their first love can feel amazing but they also don’t know how to act. All they know is they want to be with that person at all times.

Songs (if interested):

Kill the Director - The Wombats

Whatever You Like - Single Version - Anya Marina Cover

Wallpaper - Matt Watson

How Long - TALK

You had found Sebastian around you a lot more lately, not that you minded. You enjoyed it, actually. But at the same time, it kept you on edge. Though you hadn’t known the Slytherin for long, this behavior seemed very out of the ordinary for him. When you were first getting to know him, he would be brief and to the point with you, then he was off. He was always prioritizing practicing new spells in the undercroft or going over every book he could get his hands on from the restricted section.

At first, you thought maybe he had a falling out with Ominis, but then you saw them walking into the dining hall seemingly fine with each other. And then, you made yourself paranoid it had something to do with Anne’s health. But to your relief, he updated you on something funny she wrote in her latest letter to him.

Your early conversations mainly consisted of discussing the things he had found in Salazar Slytherin’s spell book, but that was only a small portion of the time these days. More often than not, the two of you weren’t saying anything at all. He was just there with you. Whether it be studying, laying in the grass and basking in the sun, or sitting with you at breakfast going over some last minute homework.

He was getting dangerously close to you lately too. He might not have thought anything of it. But you on the other hand? Your mind went reeling. Every time you were together, he would do something simple that made your stomach dance with butterflies. He’d brush your fingers with his, lay his head on your lap while you laid in the grass, and touch his shoulder against yours whenever you sat together in the dining hall.

It was your final class of the day, and you were barely paying attention, your mind thinking back on those light touches you and Sebastian shared. Looking up from your notes to sneak a glance at him, you found he was already staring back at you. The both of you quickly averted your eyes.

With Professor Hecat’s dismissal, all the students made their way out of the classroom. Sebastian caught up to your side.

“Have to cancel our library session. I need to meet with Ominis. Can I still try to see you later?” He looked at you with hopeful eyes, as if he needed you to confirm he could, in fact, see you later.

“O-Of course, Sebastian. I’ll probably be in the library for the rest of the night if you need me.”

He gave you a small smile and nod of his head. He took a few steps backwards to leave, keeping his eyes on you a moment longer, then he turned and went on his way.

Rubbing at your eyes, you were relieved to be nearly done with all of your homework. It was the weekend now, you didn’t need to worry about finishing it all that night, but Sebastian hadn’t come to see you yet. So you stayed a bit longer than anticipated. It was getting late and everyone was gone except for you and Madam Scribner at her desk at the library entrance.

You’d feel bad if Sebastian showed up and you weren’t there to at least tell him you were done and heading to bed. But if you were too tired, you were too tired. Sebastian wouldn’t be crushed if he turned up and you were gone... right?

You shook the thought from your head and rubbed at your blushing cheeks with the back of your hand. Sebastian doesn’t feel that way about you, he needs to focus on helping his sister. If he wants anything more, he’ll tell you. But then you began thinking about all his small touches again, pulling yourself back into the fantasy.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you knew you needed a distraction. You decided to get up from your table and explore the shelves for another book. Nothing education related, there had to be something in this humungous library that was just meant for enjoyment. Some fictional story to take your mind off of everything.

Aha! You believed you found just the book. You couldn’t quite tell from the cover, but the title was “My Beloved”. That sounded like a romance novel, right? Plucking the book from the shelf and running your hands across its bindings, you made your way back to your table. Not wanting to sit thanks to the lingering nerves, you opened up the book to a random page and read it over to see if your prediction on the content was correct.

You found it was a romance that took place in a small village. Before you knew it, you were engrossed in the story, picturing yourself and Sebastian as the main characters who were in love. You slowly placed both of your hands on the table, leaning on them as you kept reading, forgetting you could sit back down. It’d really come to this, you were so head over heels for him you were picturing the two of you in a romance novel. A dreamy sigh escaped your lips.

“What are you reading?” Sebastian asked, coming up to your side. Your attention snapped to him. He chuckled at your startled expression and very red complexion. “Uh oh, catch you reading something interesting, did I?”

"Um...”, You started, but couldn’t think of anything to say. Your mind was still recovering from the romantic scenarios you were just picturing the two of you in.

Shaking your head and avoiding his gaze, Sebastian took this to mean you were upset with him. His heart sank. “I’m sorry it took me so long. Ominis and I decided to try a new spell and it took us forever to figure out. I was so focused on getting it right, I lost track of time. You’re not leaving soon, are you?”

You gave a small wave of your hand, dismissing his apology. “It’s alright, Sebastian. I got caught up here and... well, lost track of time myself.” You slid the book away from him, slowly closing it, hoping you didn’t look suspicious.

But, of course, Sebastian thought you looked suspicious. He raised a questioning brow at you and glanced at the book.

“What?” You asked innocently, turning away from him and looking down at the romance novel, firing off ideas in your head of how you’d put it away without him figuring out what it was.

“That book you got there. Why are you acting so secretive? Did I catch you reading something interesting after all?” Sebastian got closer, leaning one hand on the table next to the book and peering at it over your shoulder. His chest pressing up against your back. There he went again, giving you the slightest touch and driving you mad. The scent of his cologne filled your nostrils, intoxicating you. In that moment, you were tempted to yank him close and bury your face in his neck.

He turned his head to look at you for an answer, but you couldn’t get yourself to look back. He was so close, his lips were so close. You could make out his freckles out of the corner of your eye, feel his breath against your skin. Did he know what kind of effect he had on you? Was he teasing you? Your lips were moving to speak but no words would come out.

He gave you a playful nudge with his shoulder, prodding you to answer him. “Come on, it can’t be that bad, can it?”

And it wasn’t that bad, at most he would tease you for reading a romance novel. What was holding you back at this point was how nervous Sebastian was making you. As if you weren’t tense enough, he took it a step further and placed both of his hands on either side of you on the table, trapping you in. He rested his chin on your shoulder, taking another peek at the book.

“I never realized how much taller I am than you.” He chuckled, chest humming against your back. Keeping you in place, his callused hands grabbed yours to remove them from covering the title of the book. He held your hands in his while he read it over, then he gave a quiet, amused hum.

You turned in his arms and he lifted his head off your shoulder to meet your gaze. He smiled at you, but it faded when he saw your face.

“What’s wrong?”

Finally facing him, even with how close he was, your desire took over your reason. And, just for a moment, you allowed yourself to be selfish. “You make me nervous, Sebastian.” You told him in a low tone.

He didn’t think you looked nervous at all. Something was written on your features but he certainly wouldn’t call it ‘nervous’. Your eyes were dark and you licked at your lips. It was brief but it caught his eye, seeing a quick glimpse of your tongue made his head race with all sorts of thoughts.

You too glanced at his lips, not caring if it was obvious what was on your mind.

Seeing your eyes shamelessly stare at his mouth, he froze. He was afraid if he made one wrong move, you’d run. He had wanted to kiss you for a while now, and right then it looked like you wanted to kiss him too.

Then you did, and his heart went rapid. He had been convinced you could feel it when your hands moved up along his chest until one snaked around his shoulders and the other rested on his neck. His hands left their place on the table to grab your waist, pulling you closer, holding you in place. His warmth enveloped you.

You pulled away to kiss at Sebastian’s neck and his knees went weak. You kissed around the area you pictured he sprayed his cologne. You took an inhale and breathed out, “I always loved this scent on you.” You kissed at the area one more time, sending a pleasant tickling sensation up the back of his neck. His fingers dug deeper into your waist.

You go back to kissing his lips, which were softer than you had imagined. The way he earnestly moved his mouth against yours ignited sparks in your chest. You had wanted him so badly, and you finally had him there in your arms, on the tip of your tongue, for the taking. One of your hands moved to his hair and you reveled in the feeling of his locks between your fingers.

But the abrupt sound of heels walking along a marble floor slowed your kiss to a halt. Madam Scribner. The two of you were so swept up in the moment you completely forgot other people existed (faculty that Sebastian does not have a good reputation with included).

The two of you left each other’s embrace just as Scribner came into view. Sebastian, hair slightly askew, gave a cough and acted like he was looking over some important papers which were actually your homework pages for a class he didn’t have. All the while, you had managed to open up the romance novel, nodding your head as if you were learning some new herbology methods.

Madam Scribner eyed the two of you while she put away a few books. “Getting late, best finish up before curfew.” And then she was gone, returning to her desk.

You and Sebastian looked at each other, cheeks flushed, and grinning from ear to ear. You bit at your lip and he rubbed the back of his neck. Clearing your throat, you started gathering up your homework and books.

Sebastian watched with an ache to pull you back in and keep kissing you senseless.

“I-I’m sorry I did that. That was selfish of me.” You stammered, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“What do you mean?” He asked, returning to your side, thinking through anything he could have done to make you feel this way. You had helped him through so much, if anything he thought he was the selfish one. You came in as a new fifth year with seemingly endless catching up to do and you had to learn how to wield ancient magic on top of that. Yet, he was unabashed in asking for your help countless times, anything to steal you away for himself.

“Well I-I know how busy you are with your research for Anne and I’d hate to be the one who slowed you down just because I-.” You went quiet, unable to finish the sentence, fingers fumbling to organize the papers in your hands.

“Just because you... what?” He urged on.

“Merlin, Sebastian. Do I need to spell it out for you?” You exhaled, leaving to go put away the books you borrowed, him following close in pursuit.

“Please do.”

“As I said,” You sighed. “You make me... nervous.”

“In a good way or bad way?”

Putting the last of the books away, you turned to face him again. “Good, I suppose.” You confessed, barely above a whisper, unable to meet his gaze.

He tried to bite back the giddy smile forming on his lips. “I make you nervous in a good way.” He repeated back, almost sounding proud.

You nodded your head, looking down at your twiddling thumbs, listening out if he would say how he felt about you.

Sebastian glanced over to Madam Scribner, who made it not so subtle she was keeping an eye on the two of you. “We should start heading to our rooms now, I suppose. Curfew and all.”

Your heart dropped, he didn’t say a thing about reciprocating your feelings. Not even a simple “I feel the same.” He must have only been swept up in the moment, enjoying the attention. Perhaps teenage hormones could make kissing enticing no matter who you were with? Embarrassment filled your every limb and you wanted to run and hide. You gathered your things to go.

“Um, yes. You’re right. We should be going.”

“I’ll walk you.”

“No, that’s alright. At this point, I’m asleep on my feet and you must be exhausted too. I’ll just floo and go straight to bed.”

Your rejection took him aback. “Oh. Well, alright then. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“Maybe. I’ve got some assignments outside of the castle, might not have time.”

“Well, let me come along to help.” He offered eagerly.

“Don’t worry yourself, just send me an owl if something comes up for Anne. Sleep well, Sebastian.”

Before he could say anything more, you sped off to the library floo, and then you were gone. He was baffled at your sudden shift, everything was going so well. The two of you kissed and you had confirmed you felt the same as he did. He couldn’t believe he could make someone like you nervous. Hearing you say how you felt about him made him so happy he could burst. But then you were rushing to leave, rejecting his offer to help again. He didn’t think he said anything wrong, he barely said anything at all. Yet off you went, like you couldn’t get away fast enough.

He groaned in frustration as he made his way to his room. He had managed to kiss you and he still felt as distant as ever from you. He had never had the courage to outright tell you how he felt, so he would constantly toe the line with his touches. The brushing fingers, laying his head on your lap, sitting as close as he could to you in the dining hall, and now a kiss, all of which you seemed to welcome.

Sebastian laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, going back and forth in his head what your actions tonight meant. You had waited in the library for him all that time, you initiated the kiss, said you liked - no - loved his cologne, told him he made you nervous in a good way, and then you wanted nothing more to do with him. He replayed the whole night and he couldn’t pin down where he went wrong.

He’d have to find you first thing in the morning, before you could leave.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow angst

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redrose10 · 4 months

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Here’s just a little bit of fluff to get you through the weekend and the final piece to the story!

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word count: 1,734

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

Tag list: @gimeow @kam9404 @viankiss @baechugff @gaby-93 @kayleefriedchicken @igot7fairlyoddparents @jalexad @drrookie

You were walking around the mall for what seemed like the hundredth time. Today was Yoongi’s birthday and you still hadn’t gotten him anything. Normally you were so on top of things like this, but you were stumped. What do you buy a billionaire who can already buy himself anything he wants? Just last week he bought a $35,000 Rolex just because he said the blue reminded him of your eyes. It was sweet, but like seriously?

You thought about jewelry, but you already knew his friends would get him new pieces since it was the easy way out. You stopped to look at the suits thinking maybe you’d get him a new one, but then you remembered how he’s the type of person that designers pay to wear their clothes resulting in him already having closets full of high end fashion. Jimin had already told you about the very expensive bottle of whiskey he had gotten him so that was out of the question.

You did purchase a brand new lingerie set though. It was mostly a purchase for you, but you knew that once he saw you in the lavender colored one piece that was more ribbon than actual fabric he’d end up loving it more than you.

You decided to do one more lap around the mall before you were going to give up and just put a big bow on top of your head and call it a day. Out of the corner of your eye something caught your attention. Smiling to yourself you knew it would be the perfect gift for your husband and you entered the store to make your purchase.

Once back at home Yoongi was nowhere to be seen, but you did find a note.

“Y/N, get dressed and meet me in the lobby at 6pm. Love Yoongi. PS, I know you bought some kind of lingerie so make sure you wear that too.”

You chuckled at how well he knew you, but you were confused as to whether it was his birthday or yours and why you were being given a surprise. You didn’t have long to get ready so you took a quick shower and put on some makeup in a hurry. You picked out a simple black dress that showed the slightest hint of the lavender lingerie you had on underneath. Yoongi would appreciate the tease. Grabbing the gift bag you headed down to the lobby just in time.

Yoongi was already waiting. “You look beautiful.”, he smiled before giving you a kiss. He then helped you into the back of a vehicle that quickly sped off to its destination.

“Where are we going?”, you asked after he didn’t give any explanation. “You’ll see.”, was all he said in return warning a suspicious glare from you.

The car pulled up to a luxurious looking building. Yoongi helped you out and walked you inside to the elevators where you realized you were in an apartment building. After going up several floors and walking down a long hallway he stopped infront of an ornate door and entered in the code.

You were confused to say the least. After your shoes and jackets were removed he finally gave you an explanation.

“I want to start fresh. That old penthouse has a lot of bad memories and I think it’s time we started creating new ones in a new place. So we’ll be moving here. It’s pretty empty right now, but you can furnish and decorate it however you want. I want it to feel like your home too. I really hope you like it. I can always buy a new one if you don’t, but these places sell fast so I didn’t have much time to really think.”

You smiled at the slight blush creeping up on his cheeks as he tried to gauge your reaction.

“I like that idea Yoongi. A new start sounds nice.”

He took your hand and led you out of the entrance way and into the main living area. It was slightly larger than your current residence and had an incredible view of the city. You were taking in the views when something in the corner of the room caught your eye and you couldn’t believe you hadn’t noticed it until now.

A grand piano surrounded by blue hydrangeas greeted you. Yoongi pulled you over to the bench sitting you down next to him. He handed you over a mug of warm milk causing you to chuckle, “Yoongi this is all so nice, but I think you forgot that it’s your birthday, not mine.”

“You’re right, it is my birthday and I decided to get myself a little present.”

You rested your head on his shoulder with your hands around his biceps feeling the muscle flex as his fingers began playing the keys. It was a beautiful melody that almost lulled you to sleep.

“I didn’t know you could play the piano.”

He smiled, “Well I am pretty good with my fingers.” You let out a dramatic sigh before resting your head back against his shoulder. You enjoyed listening to the melody for a while until Yoongi completely shocked you and started signing. Not talking, not rapping, but singing. The beautiful lyrics combined with his deep velvety voice making your eyes go wide in surprise.

As always you light me up You are still like a fragrant flower  Believe in me now Hold me again So I can feel you Give me an embrace

Without you, I can’t breathe Without you, I’m nothing

I still can’t believe it All of this seems like a dream Don’t try to disappear

Is it true Is it true You You You’re so beautiful, that I’m scared Untrue Untrue You You You

Will you stay by my side Will you promise me If I touch (you), you’ll fly away and break  I’m scared scared scared of that

You looked at him in awe as he continued on. You never would have imagined that he could write something as beautifully as this.

When you say that you love me I walk among the skies Say that it’s forever  just one more time When you say that you love me I only need you to say that one thing That nothing will change  just one more time

You are like the entire world to me Yeah, even if I want to fly, I don’t have any wings but your hands become my wings I want to try forgetting the things that are dark and lonelyTogether with you. Even though these wings sprouted from pain They’re wings that face the light Even if it’s hard and it hurts If I can fly, I’m going to fly Can you hold my hand So that I won’t be afraid anymore? Because if you and I are together I can smile

The melody faded to nothing and Yoongi looked over at you with a shy smile.

“Soooo what do you think?”, he asked. You sniffled not even realizing that you had began crying, “I mean I’m pretty sure I asked for a rap song, but I guess this will do.”

You both chuckled before you wrapped your arms back around him, “It was really beautiful Yoongi. I love it and I love you.” You sat there for a moment taking in the moment. The warmth coming from his body thanks to his nervousness created a comforting feeling. You took in the scent of his new cologne. Something you two picked out together a couple weeks ago. Woodsy with a hint of sweetness and a subtle floral note. You fell in love with it as soon as you smelled it, but wanted to make sure he also liked it. It smelled refreshing and like a new beginning and you thought it was perfect.

After digging around in his pocket he pulled out a small black box holding it up for you to see. He flipped open the lid exposing a beautiful diamond ring. It was much smaller than your original ring, but knowing Yoongi you’re sure it was just as expensive if not more.

“I know you didn’t really like the old ring because of how extravagant it was so I picked out something new that I think you’ll like better and since we’re starting over I thought a new ring would be fitting any ways.”

“ I do love it. It’s more me.”, you chuckled.

“I’m sorry that it took me so long to realize that I loved you. You’re a strong beautiful woman who deserved the world and I’m going to do my best to give it to you. I promise. Y/N will you continue to stay married to me?”

You bit your lip failing to hide your smile, “I guess that sounds alright.”

He playfully rolled his eyes while slipping the ring on your finger and requesting a kiss that you happily obliged.

“Ooh wait I still have to give you your gift. It is YOUR birthday after all.”, you giggled before jumping up and running to grab the item from the entry way where it was left.

When you returned you handed him the gift bag smiling to yourself as you were excited for him to open it.

“I thought my gift was that lavender lace I see peaking out of your dress.”, he smirked.

“That’s for later. Open this one now.”

He pulled out the tissue paper before looking into the bag and doubling over with laughter.

“Seriously Y/N? Where did you find this?”, he asked pulling out the small stuffed animal in the form of a sheep. The personalized name tag reading as Petunia.

“I saw it at a children’s store in the mall and thought of you. You know since you are an aspiring sheep farmer and all.”

He hugged the stuffed animal close to his chest before leaning over and giving you a kiss, “Thank you. I love it.”

He stared down at the sheep for a moment before looking over at you wiggling his eyebrows, “You know Y/N, Petunia could also be a good name for a baby girl.”

Standing up and adjusting yourself to be straddling his lap you began leaving kiss after kiss along his jaw and neck.

“So is that a yes?”, he chuckled.

“It’s a maybe, but in the mean time I definitely wouldn’t mind getting some practice first.”

#bts #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #cinnamon&vanilla #min yoongi #yoongi fic #yoongi x y/n #bts x reader #bts fanfic #yoongi au #yoongi fluff #bts fluff #yoongi #bts fic

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emersonfreepress · 2 months

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help i'm alive

So! Long time, no see. 2023 was a whole goddamn lot lol

I don't have a demo update to share yet, but that's because I had to scrap nearly everything I managed to write during a very, very, very bad stint of writer's block last year. I hadn't even realized it had been a block like that until I went over my work so far last month and realized it was bad -- like, trust me; a slog to read that didn't even sound like me. It's been extremely frustrating but I've finally broken free of that and it's been easy and actually fun to write again for the first time in actual years. I just hate giving updates that have no actual news in them. And I really had nothing to share other than: I deleted thousands of words and feel so much better now 😅

Anyway, little about my demo plans have changed: I'm still putting out the Chapter 3 demos in Choicescript/on Dashingdon and then will be going dark to move things over to Twine. Where I am in the process right now is... feeling like 35% done with the overhauled version of this chapter and 50% done for the next demo update.

As far as asks, I'm... not really sure what to do?? I believe I've read them all (I love you guys), but so much time has passed since getting most of them that I'm not sure if it's, like... still pertinent??? To go back and answer them?? I suppose some of them like character asks could be, but all the nice messages of support -- that feels weird since I've practically ghosted this blog since August! Idk. Y'all tell me what to do with 'em and I'll do it. Maybe I should make a poll.

Uh... that's really all there is to say regarding the game! I've added some personal stuff after the cut, but if you're done here: Thanks for reading and sticking around. It means the world, for real.

So what has occupied my time all this time? Doctor, therapy, money, and friends. And improv! But especially the first two. There was a lot of non-writing related stuff fucking up my ability to focus and write, so hopefully with my mind and body both feeling a lot better, I can get back to being present and active with the game. I didn't realize how physically unwell I was until last year and it's been like... life-long issues I've been treating. It turns out it's not normal to feel exhausted enough to sleep at any given time, at all times, for your whole life! wow!!

I also uninstalled Tumblr from my phone back in February, so you could say I'm sort of generally focused on offline life. (And what an interesting coincidence that my writer's block dissipated shortly after that...) I also just moved!! The last two weekends have been so expensive and stressful -_- But I can't even compare the old place to the new. We're basically paying the same price for idek how much more space. The cats are so happy; which means the house humans get to be happy.

My schedule is finally freed up from constant medical shit (there was a 3-month stretch this winter with multiple doctor appointments literally every fucking week 🙃🙃🙃). My mental health is doing a lot better -- literally incomparably better compared to where I was this time last year. There's live comedy now (which I dabble in, to be clear lol), but I've finally found myself able to like... balance it all. The physical and creative energy that goes into it all, anyway. The lovely thing about improv is that you kinda just show up and do your thing -- it doesn't cut into my writing time so much as it costs energy. Unless I end up in this comedy debate show thing next month, which I am very excited to give up writing time for

So like... Life is life-ing and I'm just vibing. Or something? I'll be around.

Thank you all again so much for your interest, support, patience, and readership <3

#oh and if anyone knows where i can stream mob wives uncensored without paying any extra money i'd love you forever lol #that is unimportant- unless y'all find it important that i have access to all of my most influential pieces of media at all times IJSAYING!#jk jk ofc <3 thank you for reading #conspiracy in emerson #if cie #progress #cie ch 3

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its-time-to-write · 7 months

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just a short little Thanksgiving blurb for all my American girlies 🥰🦃

ours

You force yourself back to the present, where your twelve year-old cousin is updating you on the latest middle school drama.

“…and that’s why boys named Max are a red flag, but dogs named Max are not,” she concludes.

You giggle and nod appropriately, taking a sip from your drink. The house is filled with the entire family this Thanksgiving and while it’s pleasantly crowded, it still feels like a part of you is missing.

Your phone is securely in your bag, a tactic to try to keep yourself from replaying highlights from the England match from the previous weekend. Every other WAG got to go support their man, but you were stuck in America with pre-Thanksgiving work. Thanksgiving has only been going on for twenty minutes, and you’re ready to call it and go home.

International dating is hard.

Your mom can tell, so she’s been giving you tasks to do all day. She must’ve told your grandma or maybe she’s just incredibly observant, because she’s picked up the mantle as well and neither of them give you enough time to be alone with your thoughts.

It’s nice of them, except now the family’s here and everyone’s asking about your boyfriend. They don’t care that he’s a footballer (in the best way) and they’re all excited for you, but you wish he were here.

Maybe you can sneak upstairs and call him.

You do some quick math and realize he should be asleep so you sigh and ask your cousin if she wants to come with you to steal macaroni and cheese.

She smiles and says, “Yes, duh.”

“It’s going to be tricky,” you warn. “My mom and your mom are going to be on the lookout.”

“I bet Grandpa will sneak us some,” she reminds you. Oh yes, Grandpa would do anything for his granddaughters.

You grab her hand and weave through aunts and uncles, brothers and sisters, cousins and a few other relatives. You’re pretty sure this is the biggest Thanksgiving you’ve ever had.

You and your cousin successfully get your hands on two bowls of mac and cheese, and slip away to an unoccupied corner to eat it.

You’re smiling and not thinking about Jamie at all. This is your favorite cousin, the one who’s eleven years younger than you, but you two have been doing dumb shit together since she could talk.

You’re almost done when someone slides into your space, pressing their arm against yours. Your cousin’s eyes widen as she looks at you and you turn, expecting to see an aunt or god-forbid one of your snitch brothers.

Instead, you’re met with blue eyes and a familiar smile.

You choke on your last bite of food as you launch yourself into Jamie’s arms.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, refusing to let go of him. “You have a match this weekend.”

He shrugs, still smiling. “Ah, you know, gotta be culturally sensitive with my American girlfriend, babe. Milestones and all that.”

You raise an eyebrow. There’s no way Roy let him go with that excuse.

“Or I might have injured meself at the match last week and am out of training for two weeks,” Jamie says.

“You’re hurt?” you exclaim. “Why didn’t you call me? Should you have been on a plane? What happened?”

You’ve inadvertently tightened your grip around Jamie’s neck, so he reaches up to remove your hands, still keeping them in his. He lifts them up to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

“I’m fine. Just my ankle. But I figured, who not come surprise ya?”

“Does my mom know you’re here?”

Jamie’s grin turns cocky. “Called your mum and dad three days ago. I’m staying in their guest room, ain’t I? Got in this morning before you lot showed up.”

Your cousin has been watching this scene a little open-mouthed the whole time. “I wish my boyfriend would do that for me,” she murmurs.

Your head snaps over to her. “Your what,” you say to her and she holds her hands up defensively.

“Oh look it’s your English boyfriend who flew all the way to America for Thanksgiving, why don’t you kiss him some more?” she deflects, and Jamie shoots her a wink and tilts your face up for a kiss so your cousin can get away.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” you tell him. “Oh my gosh, we’re going to have the BEST time. Get ready to have your mind blown, little British boy.”

“Anything for you, Miss America,” he teases. “Just don’t make me try those mushroom things I saw, looked fucking awful, that.”

You pull a shocked face. “Oh but it’s tradition. Everyone has to suffer through my uncle Darren’s gross stuffed mushrooms at least once. And since you’re new here…” you trail off.

Jamie grimaces while you giggle and run a hand through his hair. God, you can’t believe he’s here and while you aren’t thrilled he’s injured, maybe it’s not such a bad thing.

“C’mon,” you say, tugging him to the kitchen. “I want to go yell at mom and dad for not telling me you were coming.”

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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from-the-clouds · 1 year

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texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. iii

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter | gif credit

chapter summary: Somehow, you realize you've accidentally ended up spending almost every weekend for the last month and a half with either one, or all of the Millers. pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 8.7k chapter warnings: some angst, alcohol consumption, marijuana use, suggestive thoughts (but no smut), referenced parental neglect, implied age gap. reader has daddy issues (shocker!) & a fear of intimacy. a/n: this chapter is so disgustingly sweet it might give you a cavity. truly. but its also a little self-indulgent because joel is in my dream blunt rotation :/ please be patient with updates because i have a career/social life/apartment, and am a perfectionist! i promise i will always (try) to make the wait worth your while. Also, here's a link to the song Joel plays on guitar, since it's not on Spotify so I couldn't add it to the playlist.

-April 19, 2003-

“Well, that was awkward.”

Obviously, Joel thinks to himself as Sarah turns to watch the retreating form of her teacher, while Joel stares straight ahead at the crowd in front of him. At first, he had thought she was just being polite. It was the right thing to do, to say hello to a parent and a student if you see them outside of class. But…they were seeing each other at a bar. And she’d asked him to dance.

We just got here, maybe later? Joel can’t even remember what he had said, something along those lines. It wasn’t a flat-out refusal, but he had been acutely aware of Sarah’s eyes boring into the back of his head from where she sat beside him, and he sort of blacked out, couldn’t recall what had caused her to get the hint, to walk away.

Joel grunts an affirmation to Sarah, and drums his fingers against the tabletop. There’s a dance floor full of people in front of him, all under various levels of intoxication, all of them dancing.

“Do you believe me now?” Sarah asks.

“I never said I didn’t believe you.”

How he had allowed Tommy and Sarah to talk him into coming here tonight, he’s not sure. Probably, it had something to do with how much he loved them both. How he would, ultimately, do whatever they asked if he knew it’d make that happy. But still, honky-tonking is the last thing he wants to be doing at the end of a long week.

There was pretty much only one decent bar in town, so he wasn’t exactly shocked he had run into someone he knew. Everyone came here – to dance, to drink, to eat, or to drown their sorrows. To see their friends, or even to find someone to take home for the night. And over the years, as a frequent customer, Joel had used this place to do all those things.

Tonight was special though, a little more family friendly. It was swing night. It happened once a month, and Joel had always made a point to take Sarah a couple times a year. When he was young, his mother had taught him and Tommy to dance, and he felt it was only appropriate to pass the skill along, even if it was almost obsolete. He hoped Sarah would be able to do the same someday, if she ever had children of her own.

“Will you dance with me, at least?” Sarah asks.

“Of course I will,” Joel answers.. “But let’s wait for Tommy, he’s ordering our drinks.”

“You mean your drinks.”

“No, you got a Shirley Temple.”

Sarah narrows her eyes. It’s the same expression that Joel has only seen her use recently, and he actually prefers it less to the eye roll. This time, he’s glad it hasn’t come with a question from her, because when it does, it’s always a little more frightening. “Come on, you know that’s not the same.”

Before Joel can respond, he’s cut off by Tommy’s voice.

“Look who I found.”

This is what he and Sarah have been waiting on, and Joel turns to sees Tommy with all three of their drinks in hand. Over his shoulder, there’s a woman who looks vaguely familiar, wearing daisy dukes and a plaid shirt. After a second, he realizes it’s you.

Most of the time when Joel sees you – from across the street, of course – you’re in a power suit, a pencil skirt. Sometimes, it’s more casual – athletic clothes. There was also that black silk robe he can’t seem to shake from his memory. But this is so…different. It’s clear you’re trying to blend in with the crowd, but you don’t. Not because you’re not pulling it off – you definitely are, effortlessly – he’s just pretty sure if he walks into any room you’re in, his eyes will always be drawn in your direction.

Joel doesn’t see, but rather feels – Sarah recognize that you’re in front of her, because when she does, she’s tapping him on the arm before he can utter a greeting. “Dad, can I get out and say hi?”

He’s standing to let her out just as you step closer to the table, and you come chest to chest. “Hey,” he says.

“Hi, Joel,” you say, a soft smile on your face. Your eyes remain locked on his just a moment too long, before Sarah is wrapping you up in a hug, and you’re focused on her when she draws back. “How are you?” you ask.

Joel doesn’t hear Sarah’s response, because his brother is pressing a drink into his hand - a Jack and Coke, same as what you and Tommy are drinking.

“Sit down, please!” Tommy encourages.

“Are you sure?” you ask. “This looks like a family thing, I don’t want to-”

“Please!” Sarah exclaims.

“What she said,” Tommy seconds Sarah’s sentiments.

For a second, you seem to contemplate the offer, and then you accept the invitation, sliding into the booth across from where Sarah has settled back next to her father. Joel makes eye contact with his brother, sitting next to you. Tommy’s eyebrows are raised suggestively, and there’s a playful smirk on his face when he tilts his head in your direction. Joel gives him nothing, already irritated by his brother’s goading.

“Is that a Shirley Temple?” you point to Sarah’s drink. When she nods, you continue. “I haven’t had one of those in forever,” you say.

“Want a sip?”

“Sure,” Sarah slides the glass across to you, and you sip from the straw, pondering. “I should’ve gotten one of those instead. They were my favorite growing up.”

“Can I have a sip of yours?”

“No,” you and Joel say at the same time.

“You’re not gonna like it,” he adds.

“You always say that, but how can you know?”

Joel sighs. “Okay, fine. Try mine.”

Sarah seems pleased to get what she wants. When the bitterness of the whiskey registers, the triumphant expression leaves her face completely.

“Told you,” he says. Sarah grimaces, accepting defeat, and returns to her beverage.

Tommy leans forward, urging Joel to start making conversation as if this is a date and it’s his responsibility. But before he can think of anything, Sarah pipes up.

“Guess what?” she asks you.

“What?”

“My teacher’s here.”

“Yeah?” you ask. Joel takes a long pull off his drink, hoping it’ll loosen him up a little.

“Yeah, she tried to hit on my dad.”

Joel feels the cocktail of whiskey and soda get caught in his throat.

“Oh….” you sound intrigued, and you lean forward. He wonders if this is the dynamic between you and Sarah when he’s not around. Like you’re two friends, engaging in some harmless gossip. “Really?” Your gaze flickers between him and Sarah.

Sarah bobs her head once. “She has a thing for him. I can tell.”

“What makes you think that?” his brother joins in, moving closer to Sarah, crowding you between himself and the wall and putting his elbows on the table. Joel feels a flash of envy when you shift your attention towards Tommy.

“She just asked him to dance.” Sarah looks over her shoulder, nods her head towards the woman in the corner of the bar who’s probably already focused on his table anyways. Joel already knows what you’re seeing. Miss Davis is pretty, bubbly, outgoing. Probably about your age, if he had to guess, though it’s hard to say how old you are. He imagines he has ten years on you, give or take a few. And for all intents and purposes, Sarah’s teacher is the type of woman he should be interested in.

“She’s pretty,” you say it like you’re appeasing Sarah, but you’re looking directly at Joel. He’s not sure why you kind of frighten him a little. You’re sweet, he knows, even if you’ve tried to tell him otherwise. But there’s something else there, enigmatic and alluring, that continues to draw him in.

Tommy chimes in. “So are you gonna dance with her, Joel?”

“Uncle Tommy,” Sarah says dramatically. Her face drops for a second, though, her shoulders slumping as she angles herself towards him, lowers her voice. “I mean, if you want to, that’s fine, I guess. But I….I don’t know.”

Joel is taken aback by how long this conversation has gone on with absolutely no input from himself. Not to mention how honest Sarah is being. She doesn’t usually have much to say about his choice in women – he can usually just tell what she thinks. For her to express something so directly makes him realize how serious she is. But at the moment, he can’t find words to assure her everything will be fine.

It must be his lack of response that causes you to lean across the table and speak to Sarah. “You know, that’s valid,” there’s a tenderness to your tone. It dawns on him that you’re trying to comfort her. “It is kind of a conflict of interest.”

“Right?” Sarah perks up, just slightly, you’ve given her some support. “It’s one of those things you said you had going on at work the other day an….an ethical…”

“An ethical dilemma?” you finish her thought.

“Ethical dilemma! That’s it.” Sarah turns back towards Joel. “I think it's an ethical dilemma.”

For just a split second, he wonders why he’s been letting his already-precocious child hang out regularly with a lawyer. He’s accidentally creating a monster. But thankfully, Joel is finally able to find his voice. “There is no ethical dilemma, because I wouldn’t ever consider it.”

That seems to placate Sarah, and hopefully everyone will decide to drop it. Joel catches your eyes, and there’s something akin to wistfulness there, chin propped on your hand, before you blink once and focus back on Tommy, who's asking you a question. “So, are you here alone?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Not at all,” Tommy smirks, not dropping his eye contact with you. “...It’s just surprising, is all.”

Joel stiffens.

“Oh, well…” you smile a little. “I’m just trying to get to know the town a little better. Trying to engage in the community, I guess. But…I’m not sure if I am doing that great of a job fitting in.”

“You are,” Joel interjects, and maybe it’s a little forward, but he’d rather say it before Tommy does. “That’s a nice flannel.”

“Thanks,” You look down at your oversized plaid shirt – the sleeves rolled up to the elbows – that hangs open over a tight white tank top. Joel can see a sliver of the black lace bra you’re wearing that pokes out above the low neckline. He wonders what it might feel like to press his face there, to feel your fingers carding through his hair, but does not allow himself to entertain the idea for very long. Not the time. “I actually had to go and buy it because I didn’t own any plaid. And by the looks of it,” You gesture towards the dance floor. “I need to invest in some cowboy boots, too.”

“One thing at a time, right?” he asks, and you agree.

“So what are you all doing here? Family outing?”

“We actually had to drag this one kicking and screaming out the door,” Tommy points to Joel.

“You did not,” Joel defends himself.

‘We kinda did,” Sarah says. “Do you know how to dance?”

You shake your head no, look at the people twirling and dipping and dancing in pairs. “Not like that.”

“It’s really easy! I can teach you. My dad taught me.”

“Cute.” Joel looks towards Sarah, and catches you staring instead. Your eyes flit back immediately to his daughters. “But I’m not sure I’ll be any good.”

“You’ll be fine,” Sarah says like it’s already settled. Joel knows he’s spoiled her, that she ultimately gets what she wants. He worries sometimes that others won’t find her quite as endearing.

“Sarah,” he warns. “You’re making it sound like she doesn’t have a choice.”

You hide a smile behind the rim of your glass. “It’s okay. You can teach me. Might as well learn, if I’m trying to fit in.”

Sarah seems satisfied.

“Joel tells me you grew up in New York City.” Tommy says it, and Joel notices you raise your eyebrows at the implication. He’s talked to Tommy about you. And now you know. He’s pissed at himself for doing it, but at the time he’d been drunk, a little more chatty and vulnerable than usual, and had mentioned you more than once. Too much to be a coincidence. The issue was, Joel had never expected you would talk to Tommy again. If he’d known you would, he wouldn’t have said anything. He doesn’t want to imagine the damage he had done when it was just the two of you, alone at the bar. But even now, he’s completely at his brother’s mercy.

“Yep,” you nod.

“You don’t have much of an accent,” Tommy remarks.

“Not everyone has them.”

“That’s fair.”

“I did, uh, go to a boarding school in a different state, though, so I wasn’t around it too much.”

“Boarding school?” Sarah turns to Joel.

“Basically you live at school,” you answer her question. ”Kind of like college, but earlier. I started going when I was nine.”

Sarah frowns. “Wouldn’t you miss your family?”

“Yes, and I did.”

“So why would you go?”

“Well…” you trail off, shift your weight. “It wasn’t up to me. My dad worked a lot, so it made sense.”

“What’d he do for a living?” Asks Tommy.

“He’s a criminal defense attorney....owns his own firm and it does pretty well, so…” you shrug. “He was very busy.”

“And that’s why you’re a lawyer? To work for your dad?”

“At one point, that was the plan, yes."

“What happened?”

The question appears to make you uncomfortable, you cross your legs and glance down at the table. “Uhm….pass.” Joel sees your face go blank for a split second before you look up with an easy smile. It’s like the desolate look you’d been wearing was never there, and you point to your drink. “I’ll need a few more of these if you want that story.”

“Might as well order another round,” Tommy flags down a waitress.

You have one more drink, but you don’t really touch it as the four of you continue to talk. Joel has two more, and Tommy has three, because he’s Tommy, and also not driving. Both you and Joel also have to vehemently refuse his request to do a round of tequila shots.

After a while, Sarah gets bored, then insists on teaching you to dance. You agree, but seem awfully reluctant. Joel wants to pull you aside and let you know that you don’t have to entertain everything Sarah offers, but once you’ve stood up, and he watches her arm link through yours as you both walk to the dance floor, he can’t bring himself to intervene.

He’s never seen Sarah be so taken with someone before, and he’s filled with a vague sense of regret. He always thought that she was content with just him and Tommy. Maybe she has always needed more. It’s partially his responsibility, Joel thinks – what could he have done to stop her mother from leaving? Even if he could’ve stopped it, they would’ve been a miserable couple…which might have been more damaging to Sarah than her mother not being around at all.

Once you’re long gone, Joel can sense what Tommy is thinking before he even opens his mouth.

“Shut it,” Joel says before he can even hear his brother's ribbing.

“I wasn’t even gonna say anything about that!” Tommy raises his hands, but Joel knows he’s lying.

“We should go over there,” Joel says. He trusts you, but in a bar full of drunk people isn’t interested in being far away from Sarah for too long. Both he and Tommy abandon their booth to mosey their way towards the dance floor.

Sarah has taken you into a back corner, far away from the band playing, where the crowd has thinned a little. There’s room for him and Tommy to lean up against the wall and watch you both.

Both your hands are clasped with Sarah’s, and she’s teaching you the counts, the steps, while you study the way that your feet move.

Joel has a feeling that if it weren’t for his daughter, you wouldn’t have hung out with his family for so long. It’s just like the hike, and as usual, he feels more like a third wheel than anything else. You’re right that you do look a little out of place here. Maybe you don’t belong, but he likes it. You’re wearing a pair of beat up hi-tops, which are a sharp contrast to Sarah’s baby blue cowboy boots that are covered in rhinestone butterflies. He’d gotten them for her for Christmas that past year, and she only wore them during special occasions like this.

Joel is doing the best he can not to think about the way your legs look in those fucking daisy dukes. All on display, and he wonders what it might feel like to drag his tongue up the soft skin of your inner thigh, feel you quiver and whimper as he works his mouth closer to– Enough. He’s disgusted with himself for thinking about you like that right now.

“Dad, look!” Sarah says, and it seems you’re catching on all right, but none of it looks graceful. Sarah’s trying to lead – which she has never done – so she falters often, and also can’t quite reach all the way above your head when she tries to spin you around. “Oh no, look at his face!” Sarah points. You turn his direction, and Joel realizes he has to neutralize the grimace that has crept onto his visage. “We definitely aren’t doing good.”

“I’ll get the hang of it,” you turn back to Sarah, assure her. “You’re a good teacher.” You’re being nice. Too nice, humoring her and laughing it off, even if she’s making a fool of you both. But you don’t seem to mind, because it’s making her happy.

All of the sudden, the toe of Sarah’s boot catches on the scuffed wood floor and she lurches forward. Joel immediately pushes himself off the wall as though he could close the space and catch her before she faceplants, but he can’t, and he can already see a vision of himself sitting in the emergency room at 2 a.m waiting, while Sarah holds an ice pack on her nose. But you reach out before the image is fully realized, arms wrapping around her shoulders. “Careful!” You warn. And even though you shuffle forward with the weight of her, you keep her from falling. Once she realizes she’s safe, Sarah giggles and throws her head back, her eyes catching your own.

He’s not sure what makes him do it. It could be the liquor, the way you look, the unspoken pressure from Tommy. Or maybe he’s just been wanting an excuse to be closer to you. Most importantly, at this rate, he feels like Sarah is going to hurt herself and also you in the process. Regardless of what the reason is, Joel decides to step in. He walks onto the dance floor.

“Alright,” Joel says once he’s gotten closer, looking at Sarah. “I can’t watch this anymore.”

“What?”

He halts in front of his daughter, jerks his hand. “Move. I’m takin’ over.”

Sarah rolls her eyes, but smiles a little, and drops her hands from your shoulders. Joel offers you his hand. “You mind?”

You look between Joel and Sarah, and she gives you an encouraging nod. “He taught me, he does know what he’s doing.”

“Well okay,” you take Joel’s hand. “You better not embarrass me,” and then you actually fucking wink at him. Already overwhelmed by the delicate weight of your hand in his palm, it almost sends him over the edge. He’s lucky he’s in public, with his family, because he doesn’t think he’d behave himself otherwise.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Joel answers. “Besides, I don’t think anything could be worse than what I was just watching.”

You giggle, and step forward when he tugs you just closer to dance, taking you fully in his arms. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sarah dragging Tommy onto the dance floor. Everyone is taken care of.

You’re smart. And because of it, you’re a fast learner. Even people who can’t really dance can usually figure this out, himself included. But in Joel’s opinion, it’s always been less about getting the steps right, and more about who’s keeping him company.

And you’re great company.

Eager, willing, gentle…soft. He’s embarrassed at how long it’s been since he’s been this close to an adult woman, and normally he might be a little nervous, but instead, he just feels…comfortable.

But Joel is a selfish man. He always wants more. Wants the band to play a slower song, so then he’d have an excuse to pull you closer. Wind an arm around your waist, whisper things in your ear that no one else could hear, and feel your breath hitch when they register. But this isn’t really the dance for that, and the rest of his family is just steps away. He’ll have to compromise – which he doesn’t like.

“I’m going to dip you,” Joel says, matter-of-factly.

“No you’re not.”

“I am,” he insists. “It’s essential.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“Look,” he tilts his head to Tommy and Sarah, and the latter is laughing as she pitches all her weight backwards into his arms. He nearly drops to one knee to catch her, she’s still so petit, but their form is actually pretty good. And they aren’t the only people in the room doing it.

“Okay,” you say, and give him a warm smile for a split second before becoming stone-faced. “But if you drop me-”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Joel drawls.

He puts his arms around your waist, one of them catching the middle of your back, the other on a patch of exposed skin on your hip – your tank top has ridden up slightly with all the movement. You dig your fingers into his biceps, cling to him like he had hoped you would.

And even when he draws you back up, eyes locked with your own, your grip remains the same. You stay close.

“My turn,” Tommy interjects, and Joel can’t help the dirty look he gives him over your shoulder. He’s playing the annoying little brother, doing everything he can to piss him off. His brother wants to see Joel break, but he’s not going to give him the satisfaction.

Plus, Joel is happy to dance with Sarah, which is the whole reason they came here in the first place. She’s so excited to be there, and he wonders if there will ever be a time when she’s too grown up for things like this. He hopes not.

He ignores the sound of Tommy’s laugh mingled with your own. You were not laughing that much with him, and that causes a pang of jealousy. Joel doesn’t like acknowledging it, but he’s always resented Tommy for his ability to be the charismatic one, the charming one, the happy-go-lucky one. Even when they were kids. That’s what it’s like to be the oldest sibling. Never as fun, always more practical, more serious, the voice of reason. Always in service to their siblings, all in the name of love.

Eventually, you and Sarah are back dancing together, and since you’ve had some practice separately, it’s not as sloppy as before. It allows Joel and Tommy to return to their post against the wall, just out of earshot.

Joel feels his brother’s eyes on him as he watches you and Sarah. “Dude,” he finally gives in, looks over at Tommy. “Just ask her out already.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Tommy-”

“You’re into her.”

“Maybe,” Joel says, because he knows it’s pointless to lie. “But she’s got a boyfriend.”

Tommy elbows him. “So what?”

“I know you’re alright bein’ a homewrecker but I-”

“It makes sense Joel. She’s fuckin’ smart, and funny, and pretty. And Sarah fucking loves her-”

In any other situation, he would’ve acted weeks ago. But he’s starting to understand why he’s dragging his feet. Tommy’s right. Sarah adores you. Joel will fuck something up, it’s inevitable. And when you decide you never want to speak to him again, Sarah will lose you too. He’s already let her down enough.

“I should’ve never fuckin’ told you–”

“Take her to drinks, to the movies, dinner, show up at her house with a bottle of wine, hell, something. If you don’t ask her out already, then I will.”

Joel punches his brother on the shoulder. It’s not enough to incite an actual fight, but it’s definitely not playful. “Ow!” Tommy grips at his arm. “What?” When Joel doesn’t answer right away, he rolls his eyes.

“Speaking from experience, I’m surprised you haven’t already,” he raises an eyebrow.

“Once, Joel. That was one time. Will I never hear the end of it?”

“No,” Joel says. “And I see what you were doing tonight, too. Don’t think you’re slick.” he hopes to change the subject, and it seems to be working.

Tommy sets them back on track. “Well, I was just trying to get you to wake the fuck up and see what’s in front of you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What happens when Sarah grows up? Goes to school, leaves the house? Then, what are you gonna do? You’re just gonna be alone?”

“You are treadin’ on some mighty thin ice, Tommy,'' Joel hisses. ““You barely know this woman-”

“I’d like a family, too, Joel. When that happens I won’t be able to keep you company anymore. You might want someone else. And maybe it’s not her, fine. But there should be someone.”

For as much as he hates to admit it, Joel knows Tommy is right.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-April 25, 2003-

It’s six at night. and you’re already in your pajamas.

A couple years ago, you would’ve thought that was pretty sad. These days, it’s only a little sad. You prefer things this way. That’s the perk of being an adult living alone. If you want to put on pajamas before the sun sets on a Friday night, you can. If you want to get stoned on the back porch of the house you bought yourself, you can. If you want all those things to happen while you watch the sunset and listen to yacht rock, you can. And you’re going to.

You’re toying with the new digital camera your brother bought for you. Vincent likes to argue with you, but he always feels guilty after a conversation gone wrong. Rather than use his words, however, he just buys you gifts. You had apologized over the phone a few days ago…this was his way of doing the same. The shutter clicks as you snap a photo of your backyard, and you look at it in the viewfinder before discarding the camera on your coffee table.

Martini is on the porch with you, doing that thing where he stands just out of reach but chirps at you until you pet him. When you reach out, he moves away. He’s not great at accepting what he wants. Maybe it’s why he’s sort of the perfect cat for you – you’re the same.

You light your bowl, and you’re mid-inhale when you hear someone call your name.

“Hey!”

At this point, you’d recognize Joel Miller’s voice anywhere. You don’t want to admit it’s because you’ve tried to commit it to memory, daydreamed about how it might sound for his smooth lilt to read you a book until you fall asleep, or listen to him take a phone call in the other room.

Realizing it’s him, you inhale sharply, forgetting what you’re in the middle of and taking a much bigger hit than you had intended. You begin choking violently on the smoke while simultaneously scrambling to hide your piece and the related paraphernalia sitting out, and manage to do so just in time for him to round the corner.

You scramble to hide your bowl under the pillow of the outdoor couch you sit on, just in time for Joel to appear at the screen door.

“Hey,” you say, covering your mouth. Your throat burns, and you cough again. Stay cool, stay calm. Everything is good. “What are you doing here?”

“Sorry, I tried your front door and you weren’t answering, so I thought I’d see if you were back here.” It’s hard to see him from here, through the door, and he’s backlit by the sun that’s shimmering behind his dark hair, catching it in a golden halo.

You rise to open the door, and when you do, he continues. “I’m here to pick up Sarah’s soccer jersey.”

Right. Of course he was. She had left it a few days before, and you had assumed she’d come get it before her game on Saturday but it didn’t dawn on you until now that she ever had.

“I would’ve sent her, but she’s at a sleepover tonight.”

“Oh yeah,” you nod, standing in place. You’re trying so desperately to act normal, words evade you.

Joel squints at you, a slight smirk on his face. “I didn’t catch you off guard or anything, did I?’

“No, no, not at all,” you lie. “Come on in.”

Joel steps over the tiny dish of cat food you’ve left on your back step for the stray you feed, and into the screened-in porch. Now that he’s under the dim light, you get a better look at him. A loose-fitting flannel hangs open over a worn green t-shirt that barely meets the top of his jeans. His hair is damp, like he’s just showered, and he smells clean. In any other situation, you’d want to climb him like a tree, and he’s not even trying. But right now, you’re just doing your best impression of a sober human that is definitely not doing anything illegal. The truth is, you should’ve made him wait outside.

“This is nice,” Joel says, looking around. And you really wish he wasn’t because you notice that you left the clear plastic baggie containing your weed out on the couch. It sort of blends in with the green floral pattern, so you hope for the best, because there’s no way for you to sneakily grab it without drawing his attention. “I didn't know this was back here.”

“The last owners added it on,” you say, because that was the type of thing the realtor had said to you about the features of this house. And you supposed a carpenter or contractor would probably be interested in it. It was a good distraction.

“I can tell. Looks new,” he looks up towards the wooden beams that span the ceiling. The top of the porch is still covered, so during the few times it’s rained, you always sit outside to listen.

“I’ve got her jersey in the kitchen,” you tell him. “Wait here.”

It doesn’t take long for you to pick out the bright blue athletic gear from your pile of dry cleaning. It stands out against all your neutral-colored pantsuits. Joel has his back to you when you return, one of his hands clenched into a fist.

“Here,” you say, and he turns.

“You had it dry cleaned? You didn’t have to do that.”

“I kind of wasn’t sure if it was safe to run through the machine,” you explain. “But now that I’m thinking about it….it wouldn’t make sense to give a bunch of 11-year-olds dry clean only jerseys.”

“It wouldn’t. But it’s probably more convenient than scrubbing the grass stains out yourself.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Unfortunately. But again…thank you.”

“Of course.”

This is where Joel should leave, walk across the street, and go home. And he does, well, at least, he starts to. He steps away, reaches for the handle to your back door, and then pauses. “You know,” he says, glancing over his shoulder. “The Watsons were tellin’ me the other day you’ve been complaining about a family of skunks living under your house?”

You freeze, recalling the lie you’d come up with on a whim when your sixty-year-old neighbors had started asking too many questions.

“Well, it does smell a little over here.”

“Uh-huh,” you give him nothing.

“Something like that….you should really call animal control. Get rid of the problem,” Joel’s facing you now, eyebrow raised.

“If I call animal control…they’ll just kill them,” you answer. “And I don’t want that. So…I think I’ll just have to live with it.”

“That’s fair,” Joel says. “But you know, Sarah’s over here all the time, and I’ve never heard her mention it.”

At this point you know he’s just fucking with you. But years of remaining stone-faced through business negotiations and family dinners has prepared you for this, so even if you’re a little stoned, you’re not going to let him win.

“Yeah, it sounds like a coincidence. But they’re never around when she’s here,” you say, in your own defense. “Ever,” you add for emphasis.

“I guess that’s good.”

You both stare at each other for a second, and your blood buzzes slightly because even though this is just a playful standoff, you’ve never made such intense eye contact with him. It feels electric. After what feels like an eternity, Joel lifts his hand from his hip, and you see what he’d been holding in his fist, now pinched between his thumb and forefinger. He raises an eyebrow.

When you see the plastic baggie dangling in front of your face, you purse your lips. “Alright, you got me,” you lift up your hands, but snatch the bag from him.

“And here I thought you were such a good girl.”

You don’t even want to acknowledge the full body chill that runs down your spine at the sound of those two words, coming from him. Snatching the bag back from him, he gives you a cheeky smile. “If you give me a hit, I won’t tell anyone.”

Your jaw drops, and you look up at him. “Oh, you’re trouble.”

“I’m not the one lyin’ to my neighbors.”

“And I’m not the one snooping through my neighbors' things.”

“It was right out in the open.”

Joel doesn’t seem bothered at all. But it’s Texas, so you can never be sure. “Okay, fine,” you say. “If you want….I could roll us a joint. Unless you have other plans.”

“The alternative is a house to myself for the evening and some chores, so…yeah. Whatever you’d like.”

“Great.”

Joel follows you to sit on the couch. As you settle on opposite ends, he speaks up. “So you think you could explain to me why my daughter keeps tellin’ me she wants to be a lawyer?”

You snicker. “Believe me, Joel. I’ve tried to talk her out of it already.”

He chuckles. “It’s okay. Probably a more lucrative career than what I’m doing. She’s really taken a liking to you, you know that? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her warm up to anyone so quick.”

“Well, I’m the first adult she knows that’s not an authority figure.”

“I’m sure there’s more to it than that.”

“I remember being that age,” you look down at your work. “It’s nice to have someone older to relate to, who you can talk to without being afraid of getting a lecture.”

“She probably needs it,” Joel says. “She told me you talk about girl stuff. I’m not so great at that.”

“I don’t know,” Your tongue darts out to wet the edge of the paper and finish rolling the joint. You put it between your lips, and rummage through the drawer of the coffee table to find your lighter, gesture between the both of you. “This is about ninety percent of how I spent my time with my friends at her age…and so far you’re doing alright.”

“Now you’ve got me worried about what’s going on at that sleepover.”

“Okay, well, I was maybe a little older. And with her? You’ve got nothing to worry about,” you shake your head.

He rubs the back of his neck, and his eyes glow with the reflection of your lighter as it’s flicked on. “I don’t know.”

“She’s fine, Joel,” you say, bringing the lighter closer and shielding the flame from the calm breeze of the evening. “She’s great. Really.”

“She is,” he agrees. You inhale, let the smoke settle in your lungs for a moment, before exhaling. You take your time, feeling warm from the weed and the feeling of Joel’s eyes on you, and he accepts the joint when you pass it over.

“I really didn’t really expect this from you,” he exhales, studying your handiwork before taking another puff. “You’re pretty buttoned up.”

“This is hardly rebellious.” Instinctually, you like the idea that he thinks you’re buttoned up. Deep down, however, you don’t actually want him to.

He looks so dreamy, the smoke curling though his eyelashes, tracing along his defined jaw, and then up, up, where it settles and shifts under the porch light, before disappearing completely.

Martini, who has been in hiding, hops up on the couch, and Joel reaches out, your cat nuzzling its face into his palm. “Didn’t know you had a cat,” he mumbles. And then, like some sort of magic, the cat plops down on Joel’s lap.

“I do…but…” you say out loud, then trail off because you’re in such shock. You glance up at Joel, who looks confused. “I’m sorry, I’ve just never seen him do this.”

He passes the joint back to you. “Do what?”

You take a final puff, and then put it out in an ashtray. It’s only about half smoked, but you can get into it later if either of you wants to. Plus, you’re more interested in what’s unfolding in front of you. “I kinda want a picture of this.”

“What?”

“I’ve had him for five years and he’s never sat on my lap like that,” you say, and you can’t keep the resentment from dripping into your tone. “What makes you so special? I’m a little jealous.”

“Of me? Or the cat?”

Something honey-thick drips down your spine at his words. You can’t conjure a witty response, opting instead for: “Shut up.”

You snap a couple photos while Joel’s still laughing, one hand on his chest, the other on Martini’s back, and then put the camera down, and lean against the back of the couch, curling your feet underneath you.

“You’ve got a nice view of the sunset,” Joel says softly.

There’s a distant fear you might never get to see him like this again, and you want to take him in fully before you drag your eyes to see what he’s looking at. Your backyard slopes down into a small patch of woods, the sky opening even wider to let in the aureate light.

“I know,” you agree. “It’s why I spend so much time back here.” The high continues to settle over you, strokes your shoulders, tugs at the corners of your lips.

“Surprised you like things that are so peaceful…being from the city and all…”

“The city is peaceful,” you say, thinking of the leaves swirling from the trees in the fall, and the snowflakes falling onto your family's porch in the winter, melting on the tip of your nose as you lean over the balcony to see the glittering lights below, car horns and engines and sirens piercing the darkness, white noise. “In its own way.”

“You miss it?”

“Everyday,” you say.

“What do you miss the most?”

“Uhm…probably the bagels,” you lie. Well it’s true. But it’s not what you miss the most. You think of your brother, flopping onto your bed on a Saturday night – a rare weekend when you visit home – and you’re trying to read A Tree Grows In Brooklyn for school but he’s begging to take you around the corner to get a milkshake. It’s the image of him you’ve so desperately tried to cling to and the recollections you share with him have only gotten more and more unpleasant as time goes on. “The bagels here suck.”

“Really?” Joel seems amused by that.

“And uh…I don’t know. It’s part of me. I have a lot of friends there, a lot of good memories,” you smile to yourself, lean forward towards him. “I had this apartment before I graduated, right? It had the best view of this little Italian restaurant, and I’d sit and watch people through the windows, eating and talking. I was supposed to be studying, but…it was great. I loved it.”

“What’re you doing here, then?” Joel asks, and you look back at the sunset. Here you are, waxing poetic and you’re sure he can hear it in your voice. “You runnin’ from something?” You look over to find he’s staring at you. Like he knows you aren’t being honest, and he’s asking you to stop lying.

So you do the only thing you can think of, which is to ask him a question in response. “What makes you think I am?”

Joel considers this for a moment. “I don’t know. I grew up in Austin. All my friends are here, my family. If I ever moved someplace else….it’d have to be for a good reason. And even if I did, I’d be lonely.”

You stare down at the floor. “Maybe I am.” Lonely? Or running from something? The answer is both, you know, but you’re not going to clarify. “My family. Things are pretty fucked. I thought distance would help, and it does, a little. But….that shit still follows you anyways. They’re always with you, no matter what.”

Joel nods.

“But… I have a life here. When I lived downtown, I definitely did. I don’t mind the quiet, and….I have friends.”

Joel looks at you. “You got a boyfriend, don’t you?”

Why would he think that-oh. You had tried to forget it, the morning he’d caught you still wrapped up in your robe – not the fluffy fleece one you liked the most, but the one you specifically only wore when you had guys over, cause they loved that shit.

“Oh, right,” you say. “Bradley. Yeah, uh. He’s…he’s….not my boyfriend. But…” you shake your head. “It’s a little complicated.”

“I’m sure it ain’t that hard to explain.”

“I mean…” you avoid his eyes. “He’s kind of an asshole, but we’re not really commited to each other in a meaningful way. Plus, he’s not around that much which is kind of perfect…for me.”

“Really?”

“Less to worry about,” you answer, purse your lips. “But…I don’t know. I sorta wish he got my heart rate up a little more.”

“He’s not your type?”

“I don’t really have a type,” you shake your head. “I like what I like.”

Joel rasps. “I feel the same,” and he’s made sure your eyes are on him when he says it.

You swallow, nod, smooth your hair back. “Anyways. Why’re you asking me all this?”

Joel doesn’t seem to find an answer right away. You narrow your eyes at him, studying his face, looking for something that will give him away. It’s a trick you’ve learned…silence…a bit of skepticism. It makes people uncomfortable. And Joel shifts his weight, squirming beneath your gaze. Until something in his face shifts, and he smiles….just a little.

“So that’s where Sarah learned that.”

“Learned what?”

“That look you’re giving me.”

“What look?”

“Like you can see right through me.”

“Can I?” You narrow your eyes further.

“You’re tryin’ to.”

He’d done a good enough job of avoiding your question, and you’re not gonna ask him again, and instead opt for a different one. “So what about you, then?” you poke his knee with your foot.

“Oh, I’m not answerin’’ that.”

“What? I just told you, that’s not fair.”

Joel runs a hand along his jaw, ponders. “Most women don’t want to be with a man who already has a kid so…things on that front are not always easy.”

“I have a hard time believing that. I mean, don’t you have an upcoming date with Sarah’s teacher or something?” you tease.

“That’s not happening,” he assures you. “But….I work so much these days I don’t have the capacity for much. So I get what you mean, sometimes it’s easy to not get emotionally involved but…I’ve never really been great at that.”

“You’re a relationship guy?”

“I mean, Tommy has been pestering me about this lately. Says at this rate, once Sarah’s grown, I’ll end up old and alone. Annoys me to hell, but he’s right. I wouldn’t mind…some kind of companionship. Someone to tell you you’ve done alright at the end of the day.”

“You sound awfully romantic,” you at him blink slowly.

“I can be, when I want to.” Joel rolls his eyes. “But right now…I think I’m just stoned.”

That makes you giggle. So he’s just being honest. “I didn’t really see much great come from settling down when I grew up, so I’ve always been a bit of a pessimist when it comes to love. What you’re saying….it’s a nicer way to think of things.”

You rarely connected with the men you dated. You chose to date douchebags, to date cheaters. It was better that way, to know up front what you were getting yourself into. The best ones didn’t ask for much, just the odd fuck here and there for a couple months, and you’d step away when things were no longer fun, if they evewere to begin with.

Actually getting married, settling down, didn’t feel like a real possibility for you. So you’d never allowed yourself to indulge in what seemed like a fantasy. Some women aren’t meant to be a part of a family. Your father had told you once – during one of few times he’d attempted to comfort you after your mother didn’t call on your birthday – as if it excused his own neglect.

“Yeah, and it hasn’t all been bad. I mean, I’ve had a couple good girlfriends over the years. They were sweet, fun. I enjoyed the time I spent with them, they just…never made it through the real litmus test.”

“Sarah?”

He nods.

“It would be hard, I imagine. For her. Accepting someone new into her life.”

“Yeah.”

“You really care about her,” you say. “About how she feels. It’s nice.”

“I’m doin’ my best.”

The way he talks about Sarah makes you nauseated. It’s something pure, and you can’t help but feel bitterly nostalgic.

“I wish my dad would have been like you.”

It slips out, and you immediately regret it. It’s been too long since you’ve gotten stoned with someone else, and you’ve forgotten your filter. And even though you’ve already divulged more to him about you than you normally would, this feels like too much all of the sudden.

This isn’t something you can backpedal, and before you know it, Joel is leaning towards you. There’s concern written in his features, he wants to comfort, and you thank God for what happens next, or it all would’ve been too much.

His shift in weight causes Martini to jump off his lap and sprint to the door of the porch. He stares at you and then meows.

Even though Joel isn’t touching you, you have to tear yourself away from the hold he’s got you in. ““I gotta let him in, or he’ll get annoyed.”

You move to open the door, and the cat slips inside.

“Is that a guitar in there?” Joel asks, catching a sliver of the gleaming body in the dim light.

“Yeah.”

“You play?” He questions, and you come to sit back on the couch.

“Not anymore. It’s more of a decoration. How about you?”

“A little.”

“A little?”

“A lot.” Joel smiles, looks at the ground like not sure why he’s telling you this. “I actually uh, used to want to be a singer.”

“What?” you ask. “You’re kidding.”

“No,” Joel shakes his head.

“Joel, what?” you put a hand on his arm and lean forward, then look at the guitar.

“Why not?”

“I was…young when I had Sarah. And I had to do something that could actually help us get by.”

“Okay well, you have to play me something, then,” you rise to step inside and retrieve it off the wall.

“No, no-”

“Come on, please?” you ask. “Don’t be a tease.”

Joel just stares as you bring the guitar out to him.

“Although this might be out of tune…” you strum once, and wince at the tinny sound it makes. “Definitely it is.”

“Here,” Joel takes it from you. “I can do it.”

It takes him a moment, but he’s plucking the strings in a way that feels so instinctual, purposeful, you can already tell he knows what he’s doing. Once he’s finished, he strums a few chords, and everything is magically in tune.

“Alright,” you prompt, when he hesitates. “What are you gonna play me?”

“You know any Neil Young?”

“Of course,” you answer.

Joel nods once, looks down at the guitar, and starts playing. You’d recognize the opening chords to anywhere, but he somehow makes them sound even moodier, and bittersweet.

Come a little bit closer, hear what I have to say…

He can sing. You’re taken aback. You’re not sure what you expected, but it’s definitely better than that. Deeper, raspier, and now you have new information about him that’s going to bounce around your brain when you’re bored during meetings at work, while you’re lying in bed at night, trying to sleep.

Because I’m still in love with you, I want to see you dance again…

You shift your weight, sling your arm over the back of the couch, and rest your chin on your hand. Suddenly, you’re feeling a little tired. He’s all-but putting you to sleep and, somehow, that feels like the highest compliment you can give. It could be because you’re stoned, but you feel warm all over. You close your eyes, just listen, until he’s finished.

Even after he’s finished, you keep your eyes closed, settling. Until you feel something graze against the back of your hand. Joel’s. He’s matching your own pose, facing you, but reaching out…

“That was nice,” you say, earnestly. You’re good.”

Joel smiles bashfully, tugs your hand from beneath your chin and pinches your index finger between two of his own. Your nails are painted a glittery purple, and Joel studies them. Sarah had painted them earlier this week when she’d hung out after school, and had picked out the color.

“So are you,” he shifts closer.

He’s not quite close enough to kiss you himself. But it’s enough…he’s just giving you the chance to lean in, to close the gap. The proximity makes you dizzy, and you’re a little overwhelmed. It’s too much. It’d be too much. You can’t. You’re afraid of what he might do to you.

“We should be good, then,” Gazing at him from under your lashes, you pull back just enough. It’s not a rejection, and you can tell he doesn’t see it that way either. There’s a mutual understanding, you’re on the same page, but you aren’t quite sure what it is. The warmth of Joel’s hand leaves yours, and a part of you is filled with regret.

And then, like it never happened, the two of you spend another hour talking. He’s engaged, intuitive, thoughtful, funny. By the time he excuses himself, long after the sun has fully dipped below the horizon, you feel like he’s an old friend. An old friend you want…badly, but, you know him on a level you hadn’t before.

“Gotta be up tomorrow for a soccer game, otherwise I’d stick around,” Joel says as you’re guiding him to the front door.

“It’s alright,” you say. “You’re welcome to do this anytime.”

“You sure?” he tilts his head, leaning against the doorframe on his way out. “You might regret offerin’ that….”

“I won’t.”

part iv

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httpknjoon · 8 months

Text

(re)starting over again | kth; 11

plot | Your four-year relationship with Taehyung was going well and strong. Until he was involved in a car accident, resulting to him losing some memories. By some, it means everything that happened five years ago. Things he remember? His friends, his bakeshop, and his ex girlfriend from the past. With that, you tried to keep up, restarting over again.

words | 2.8k

genres | fluff, angst, amnesia au

pairing | taehyung x reader

warning/s | -

note | AAAAND WE'RE BACK! it's been a month since the last update! consider this as a new season for mc and tae :)) u might find this chapter a little fast-paced or not idk.. let me know ur thoughts! enjoy reading <;3 ps. sorry for the errors!

main masterlist | series masterlist

A couple of years passed, two to be exact, and a lot of things happened. The bakery became more crowded. It was renovated and had a larger space instead of moving the entire bakery to another place. They began hiring extra help, usually part-time working students who used to be customers in the shop too.

Also, turns out that Jimin has a kid. Taehyung met Jihoon just a week after his best friend learned about his existence. Jihoon is a carbon copy of his dad, Taehyung thought. His eyes disappear when he smiles. Now, they have a little baker running around the kitchen usually on weekends.

Aside from those changes, Taehyung now lives in a studio apartment just a five-minute walk away from the bakery. He moved in just weeks after you left. The said apartment is not that big, just enough for him to rest in after work. Jimin commented that he treats that place like a hotel since Taehyung didn’t really personalize it to make the ambiance like a home. The whole place was plain, not even considered minimalist. Just plain. The walls were untouched. It was off-white when Taehyung came and it remains the same now. He didn’t really bother to invest anything in the place.

The house you two bought and lived in is still being taken care of. By him. Taehyung cleans up there once a week, just in case you reach out to visit home again and maybe talk about what to do with it. And when he feels like it, which is almost rare, he sleeps on the couch in the living room. He never really entered the guest room, which became your bedroom after the accident, except the time he got home after Jisoo and Namjoon’s wedding. That room was spotless, just like how you left it. The only things you left that night were on your vanity table; your house keys, the vintage pearl ring he bought you back in the flea market, and a folded paper.

The letter says, “Feel at home, this house is yours too. Paint the walls with the colors you like, buy new furniture, and fill the frames with new memories. Just please don’t sell it. I’ll try to reach out as soon as I can. For now, live the last years you missed.”

He never painted the walls with another color as he found the shade of blue that spreads around the house perfect. He never bought any furniture and still kept the same ones you had. He thought it fit the theme of the house and his preference. And yes, the picture frames show the same photos they originally had. It felt home that way for him. But he chose to move to the apartment because he always felt like he was missing something. The house is cozy and comfortable. But whenever he tries to lie on supposedly his bed, it feels empty. Once, he tried playing jazz music around the house, but it just got lonelier so he turned it off and just continued cleaning.

But he did try to keep up and look back at the things he forgot through his friends and the things he found at the house. Jimin, Namjoon, and sometimes Jisoo were patient with his questions. Jisoo, your best friend, was understandably distant from him at first after you went away. But she adds details to the stories Namjoon tells and later, became amiable with him. Jimin’s mom still looks after him and brings him food when she visits the city. There were a few times she mentioned Taehyung’s mother but he didn’t really care about her. So he ignores it.

“You know, you’re a handsome man. Don’t you have any lady?”

One of their common customer, a man in his seventies once asked him. It was not the first time someone asked him such a thing. He always shakes his head with a smile as an answer. It would lead later with an offer to meet someone they know. Taehyung would shyly and kindly decline these offers, saying he really doesn’t feel like dating for now. It’s true. The idea of him dating someone else felt wrong. It was like his own body rejected the idea as he felt uneasy with that thought.

“So, it’s that time of the year.”

Taehyung was pulling his third pan of cheesecake out of the hot oven with his oven gloves when he heard Ava, their longtime part-time staff, say that. She sounded amused but not surprised. He looked up and saw her leaning on the door frame with her arms crossed. She had a smug smile on her face.

“I swear, you should just declare this particular day as Cheesecake and Banana Bread Day just to make it official,” she added, teasing.

Taehyung looked at her, unimpressed, “It’s selling. In fact, my cheesecakes are one of our best sellers here… What are you doing here anyway? Go back to the front.”

He scolds her, she just rolled her eyes, unbothered. Ava was one of the students who knew Taehyung even before his accident. She went from being a loyal customer to a reliable staff of the shop. She has been enjoying the pastries in the shop ever since she was twelve and now, sixteen, she also enjoys getting into small banters with her older bosses. She is usually candid, and not shy to share her thoughts. Taehyung sees her as a little sister most time.

Given that she began working here after you left, Ava doesn’t really have an idea why Taehyung bakes a few batches of cheesecake and banana loaves on this specific date. She doesn’t know you and that you are celebrating your birthday today. Taehyung learned about that fact after his phone notified him weeks after you went. Since then, he has baked your favorites on your special day.

It’s the third time now. It’s probably a slim chance but he hoped to see you around the bakeshop, enjoying pastries. But so far, he hasn’t seen you around. In fact, he hadn’t even heard from you ever since that night. He thought he saw you a year ago in the subway when he came to Incheon to go sightseeing, but he lost you before he could take a second glance. He didn’t know where you moved since he respects your space but he wondered if you really moved that far. He wonders about you every now and then.

Jisoo posted a short clip in her Instagram Stories months ago. It’s just a clip of a long trail and he swore he heard you in the background noise of that clip, telling your best friend how tired you are from hiking. Then, the clip ended.

“Not because it’s best selling you would make a ton of it. It’s something about demand and supply– I don’t know,” she conceded, breaking Taehyung’s train of thought. “Anyway, I’m here because someone called on the phone, asking for you.”

Taehyung’s heart stopped for a second. His hopes almost blasted out of his soul but he tried to stay calm before asking Ava, “Who is it?”

“I don’t know. But it’s a woman. They said they want to specifically talk to you.” she replied, unaware that the man in front of him was holding his breath. She continued, “They are actually waiting on call right now.”

Taehyung almost sprinted to the front desk of the shop. Still in his mint green oven gloves, he reached for the telephone. His heart is beating fast while his gut is twisting tight. He paused when he realized he had nothing to say. He doesn’t know what to say if it’s you. Are you going to talk about the house? Should he greet you with Happy Birthday first and offer you your favorite cheesecake? Maybe you won’t like– Stop.

Taehyung took a deep breath before exhaling. He spoke, “Hello, this is Kim Taehyung, co-owner of The Sweet Spot. How can I help you?”

“Oh, hi.”

His heart dropped. Okay, relax. He told himself. It’s not you.

There were nights when Taehyung would find himself awake. And tonight is one of those nights. He just lay on his bed, staring at the blank ceiling. He always had trouble falling asleep, maybe a side effect of his accident. He doesn’t know anymore. But he knows that it makes his head go crazy with random thoughts when times like this happen. And now, he thought of something.

That’s when he picked up his phone and keys, along with his coat. He drove away from his apartment.

The bell above the door rang when he entered the convenience store to pick up a few beers and chips. His cold hands stayed in his coat’s pockets as he looked around the store, waiting for the clerk to scan his stuff. Just when the worker was about to say the prince, the bell clung again.

“No, wait. I’m just really hungry. Wait for me… Yes, I have money here.”

Everything went quiet and suddenly all that he could hear was that voice. Your voice. He’s sure of that. He looked back and saw a woman’s back going into one of the aisles. His heart raced once again. You’re here?

“Dude, you okay?” the tired clerk asked, looking at him with heavy bags under his eyes.

Taehyung looked at him, and broke out of his headspace, “Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry.”

He pulled out his cash and paid. He can still hear your voice like you were talking with someone on your phone.

“Do you want anything– Oh, the honey-butter chips I want ran out of stock.”

Taehyung looked at the chips in his hand. He looked at the clerk who also looked at him like they understood each other without saying anything. Taehyung placed the chip back on the counter.

“Just give this to the girl,” he whispered before turning his back.

He didn’t look back. A cool blow of wind brushed on his face when he walked out the door. For a second, he inhaled and exhaled again to calm his nerves. He got in his car, putting the pack of beer on the other seat. As he started the car, his eyes landed on the side mirror.

Yes, it’s you. Definitely.

You just walked out of the same store, still on your phone, as you walked away grinning with your honey butter chips. You walked on the other end of the pathwalk. Taehyung pursed his lips and drove away.

His lips remained sealed but his head was exploding with questions. That was the closest he had seen you since the night you said goodbye. How are you? Why are you in the city? Did you live around here? It can’t be. Jisoo told him you left the hospital you used to work at.

Instead of driving back to his apartment, Taehyung ended up parking in front of your deserted house. He had his beer with him as he turned the key on the doorknob. He stepped into the said home feeling colder even though he still hadn’t removed his coat. He placed the drink on the center table in the living room and plugged in the TV for background noise. He put on a random show, which happens to be FRIENDS.

Opening a can, he sat on the couch, pulling a couple of books he left under the same table. Photo albums and scrapbooks. You never told him such things exist in here, he just found them after cleaning around the house. It was personalized by you and him. He could tell by the design and handwritten captions.

Almost everything was documented through photos and other knick knacks like receipts from a movie you two saw together. Browsing through the pages of it, it felt like looking at other people’s relationships even though he was in the photos himself. In one of the photos, he saw himself with a camera. He didn’t even know he had one. He tried searching around the house for it but he never found it.

You had more solo portraits in the said books than him. He figured out why. Maybe he really loved capturing you as his subject. You looked the same in every picture: happy and in love. Most of your pictures were candid, taken without you knowing. Then, a handwritten date by him will be seen below it. Each photo was adorable. Some are just random ones. You were brushing your teeth or showing off your colorful scrubs (which was written in the caption: BOUGHT HER YELLOW DUCKIES SCRUBS I THINK SHE LIKES IT).

Taehyung spend his sleepless nights like this, looking back at what he missed. He read through articles before that the possibility of getting his memories back is a hit or miss. So he learned to just go on and maybe accept how things became. He tries to move forward at the same time he tries to look back. It’s quite confusing sometimes.

IT’S HER… I’M SURE

That was the caption in one photo of you dating just weeks after you two moved into this house. In the picture, your back was turned as you sat in front of your vanity table. You can be seen fixing your hair while looking at your reflection. Taehyung’s eyebrow raised with the caption. He wondered what it meant. He turned the page to the next one but was greeted with nothing but a blank page. Turns out, that was the most recent one.

“The main branch of their restaurant is somewhere in Incheon. I’ll send you the address after the call.”

Taehyung listened to Jimin through a loudspeaker call. His hair is still damp from a shower. Standing in front of the mirror, he compares two coats that would suit the rest of his outfit. He felt the need to look presentable tonight.

“You will meet the owner herself, Ashley. She said you can just introduce yourself to the host and he’ll lead you to your table… Ava kept the samples in the shop. She said she put them in different Tupperware so you can spot it right away.” Jimin instructed.

“Okay, okay.”

He heard his best friend sigh on the other line, “I’m sorry for the short notice, Tae. I totally forgot Jihoon will be staying with me tonight.”

Tonight, Taehyung will be meeting a special client. It’s the one who called a couple of weeks ago, during your birthday. it‘s a big restaurant that is planning to put the bakeshop’s products on their menu for dessert. Specifically, the cakes. The head chef was the one who brought up their product to the owner, whom he will meet now. Jimin initially agreed to meet the said client but his co-parenting schedule had some shifts. Just an hour ago, Taehyung learned he’d be the one meeting the client. It’s not like he had plans anyway. So, he immediately prepared himself.

After picking the clothes, Taehyung blow-dried and brushed his hair. His best friend sent the main address minutes later and so he left his apartment. He first drove by the shop, which closed a little earlier today. A lot of cakes were made for sample. It includes Jimin’s Carrot Cake, his own cheesecake, and six other more. Taehyung left with a brown bag of the samples.

His fingers tapped with the beat of the song playing on the radio as he drove his way to the restaurant. It was a peaceful night on the road.

This will be the first time Taehyung will be going back to Incheon since that time he went sightseeing. He stayed there for just three days before, it was days after his phone notified him about your supposedly fifth anniversary. His emotions were all over the place because of the aftermath and the demanding work in the bakeshop around that time. So he asked Jimin for a very short break. He still hasn’t got a car then so he took the subway throughout the whole time. It was during his last day there when he saw a glimpse of you in the crowded subways of that city. He remembered you were in your scrubs, your hair was cleanly kept in a low bun, and you were walking opposite of his direction. Then, he blinked. You were gone in the crowded place.

“Good evening, sir.”

Almost forty minutes later, Taehyung arrived at the restaurant, Starry Night. He was greeted by the host as he entered the elegant place. It has a great ambiance, romantic. It is a fine-dining restaurant and seems like a perfect spot for dinner dates.

He said his name when he was asked. And while the man looked down at his guest list, Taehyung’s eyes traveled around the place. And not even a minute in, his eyes stopped at someone who he felt had been staring at him.

His eyes widened at the sight. A stunning woman, clad in a black dress, stares back at him with surprise. His mouth ran dry, he had to gulp. Now, he’s sure. He’s sure.

It’s you.

taglist rules

RESTARTING OVER AGAIN TAGLIST [🔧🔨 ]

@iamkookiesforyou @aianloveseven @hoodalmighty @taebangtanbabe @kthsmoon @nooojaaam @hiimnothing @hiqhkey @annenakamura @taebangtanbabe @shin-ie @prlan @zzztaegizz @starlight-night0 @teddybeartaetae @http-fayeradise @kiwuki @tannies-luv @fuckthinking @betysotelo18 @honsoolgloss @aurorathi @paulaaa97 @satisfied18

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @ficluvr613 @misshale21

#bts angst #bts x reader #bts series #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #taehyung au #taehyung series #bts amnesia #taehyung amnesia #bts established relationship au #taehyung established relationship #restarting over again kth

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dayvoidkyoto · 2 years

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stop fucking harassing Kwesi James.

i'm seeing way too many Try Guys fans commenting shit on his social media claiming that he knew about Ned and Alexandria because of the concert video, and that that makes him "just as bad as them".

no, it fucking doesn't.

let's say he knew. we don't know what he did with that information. everyone's assuming he hid it from Ariel. you don't fucking know that. he could have told her the second he knew and then have been told to stay quiet or act normal by Ariel because she didn't want the public to know before official statements could be made. none of us know what was happening behind the scenes.

the fact is, if he had gone public with it, the same people calling him a snake and an awful friend would have turned around and complained that he was "talking about things that didn't concern him" or "airing out other people's dirty laundry", and they fucking know it.

the Try Guys, their spouses, and at least part of the crew unfollowed Ned the second the statement went up. many of them unfollowed Alexandria as well. y'know who no one unfollowed? Kwesi. in fact, some people are saying the official account followed him for the first time after the statement--although i'll say to take that one with a grain of salt, as i don't know for sure that he wasn't followed in the first place. either way, no one unfollowed him (UPDATE 10/01/22: Ariel herself unfollowed Alex today. she didn’t unfollow Kwesi.). y'know why? maybe it's because she and everyone else can acknowledge that he didn't do anything wrong. you know, the actual people involved in the situation? whose opinion matters way more than the parasocial relationshipping fans on the internet that many of you are simply bandwagoning alongside with zero critical thinking skills.

i can't stress this one enough: the Try Guys had known since labor day weekend (9/5/22). this is an objective fact, they confirmed it themselves in their "what happened." video, which was posted on 10/4/22. no one is going after them, calling them snakes, or harrassing them. the crew had to have known for at least two weeks this is an objective fact. the first video Ned was cut out of was the Chocolate Eclair video, which went up exactly two weeks before the affair was confirmed (confirmed on 9/28/22, the video was uploaded 9/14/22). there's almost no way they found out, had a meeting, decided to cut him out, and then edited him out of it all in the hours of that Wednesday before they uploaded. that means they most likely knew beforehand. but, they could have done it all in a day. that still means they'd have known for two weeks. no one is saying shit to them (UPDATE 10/02/22: Rachel was apparently at the Harry Styles concert with them. her Instagram comment sections? full of love and support. not a "snake" or a "she knew" in sight). hmmmmm, i wonder why.

i'll close this out here with something many of you aren't going to want to hear: this unnecessary vilification of Kwesi is at least partially rooted in racism. you can't handle having to blame Ned alone for his actions, so you would rather harrass a Black man for no real reason to than acknowledge that your Favorite White Guy™ fucked up.

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ollypopwrites · 2 months

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From Depths Unknown; Part 2

Part 1 here ; You can also read on 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, drinking, sexual content (male masturbation, dom/sub undertones, switch dynamics, choking is briefly mentioned), slow burn, slightly enemies to lovers but not quite, background Bloodweave, the use of ‘idiot’ as a term of endearment, domestic violence and past child abuse, jealousy.

Series Summary:

Rolan couldn’t figure out what he did wrong. He thought he had been better, had held his tongue when a particularly harsh remark inevitably wanted to make it out, he had called her a friend, given her party free reign of the tower. But Tav seemed distant.

Notes: We are getting a little spicy! I love these two, we should have another update soon-ish. Maybe not this weekend, but soon.

Baldur’s Gate was busy.

After so long in the Underdark and then the Shadowcursed lands, Tav felt strangely crowded by the amount of people in the streets. And her mental list of tasks was getting longer by the minute. There was so much to do, and time was not on their side given the regular psionic earthquakes shaking the city. As she got them all settled in a room at the Elfsong (discounted thanks to a nasty murder in the room just next door) she wanted one night to get her wits about her.

Most everyone went their separate ways for the night: Shadowheart teamed up with Lae’zel to go speak with Voss, Halsin felt the need to shut himself up in the room, Jaheira had Harper business to attend to, while Wyll and Karlach went searching some old haunts for any friends that may still have been in the city. Gale and Astarion accompanied Tav downstairs to the pub, where they all delightfully wanted to share some quality drinks rather than the beggar's choices they had been drinking on the road. A familiar voice rang out amongst the crowd, singing a jaunty tune that had some nearby patrons singing along.

“That’s Alfira!” Tav said excitedly.

The bard had her audience’s gleeful attention, and nearby Tav spotted Lakrissa watching on. Her eyes flitted around the room, hoping to find another familiar face. The tieflings had set off for Baldur’s Gate shortly after the battle, ready to finally get to their destination now that the road was clear. The party had only crossed paths with them again just before entering Rivington. Rolan, Cal, Lia, Alfira and Lakrissa had joined them for a night of drinking to celebrate.

It was no party as they had after the Grove, but it was a much needed night of relief after the constant threat of the curse. Tav found herself wandering over to talk to him as often as she could. He was like a new person: excitement palpable at the prospect of finally making it to Ramazith’s Tower. She’d never seen him smile so much, and while she would never call him giddy — he was as close as Rolan could possibly be to such a state.

The next night the tieflings left, and with them the rosy glow of victory dissipated. The tadpole crew had been attacked by Githyanki and had to run to their Dream Guardians aid. only to find out that the mysterious entity in the prism was in fact a mindflayer called The Emperor.

The idea that the one thing saving her was the very creature which she was actively trying not to change into felt poetic somehow. Fucked up to be sure, but poetic.

Tav’s eyes danced along the crowd, looking for horns and flashes of red skin. Her excitement spiked, “look! It’s Cal and Lia.”

Astarion groaned, “here we go.”

“What?”

“The tieflings are a charming group but everytime we cross them they need saving,” he said. “We really don’t have time for more heroics, darling, we got them to the city. Let them fend for themselves.”

“They’re friends, Astarion,” Gale scolded lightly.

“Needy friends.”

“I know all about those,” she gave him a pointed look.

Astarion made a show of pouting, and batting his eyelashes which made Gale chuckle slightly into his cup. Their resident vampire couldn’t quite blush, but she saw his lips twitch in a sweet smile as he looked at Gale.

“I’m going to say hello,” Tav said promptly, standing and grabbing her glass. “You two stay here and canoodle or whatever it is you get up to.”

“Canoodle,” Astarion gagged the word. “You’re rubbing off on her now, Wizard.”

“Expanding one’s vocabulary is nothing to scoff at!”

“Having one walking encyclopedia is more than enough,” Astarion blithely retorted, “two would be intolerable.”

Tav was already making her way across the room as the two started bickering, her presence forgotten quickly as they started in on what she had to believe was their own special form of foreplay. As she came up, Lakrissa spotted her with a happy wave and she plopped down on the seat next to Cal.

“It’s you!” He said happily. “When did you get here?”

“Just got into the city today. We crashed Gortash’s coronation and then nabbed the suite upstairs.”

“Do you ever stop?” Lia asked aghast. “Less than a week ago you were infiltrating Moonrise.”

“I wish I could stop,” Tav took a long drink. “It’s one thing after the other.”

“Being a hero is a full time job then?” Lia smirked.

“More than full time,” Tav said. “And the pay is shit.”

Lia laughed, “in that case, I’ll buy you a drink.”

As Lia stood to head to the bar, Tav turned to Cal. “You lot made it in okay? No trouble?”

“Smoothest part of the journey. We got here just before they closed off the gate,” he said. “Lia’s already got work, and we’ve got a shoddy little place around here.”

“I’m so glad to hear it,” Tav touched his shoulder. “Rolan must be so happy.”

At the mention of his brother, Cal’s smile fell for a moment, but he quickly said, “he’s been working hard.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.” She smiled, “is he staying with you?”

“No, he stays at the tower,” Cal said. “We… we haven’t seen much of him since we arrived.”

“Oh,” Tav said dumbly. Something felt off.

“He writes though, just today he sent us some of his earnings,” Cal said. “We go to the shop to see him, but he makes us leave. Doesn’t want anyone to think he’s mucking about.”

Tav’s frown deepened. “I’ve got to head to Sorcerer's Sundries, maybe I can get him to come out for a drink.”

“We’d like that,” Cal smiled.

The first time he can remember his father hitting his mother was because she took the blame for a broken glass. Rolan hadn’t meant to, he was toying with the weave, practicing from a book he was borrowing and the spell went wrong. It shattered the glass into a million shards.

He and his mother had looked at each other for split moment before she grabbed the biggest pieces and put them in the sink. When his father stormed in, she apologized, showing a bloody hand from the glass. Her apology hadn’t mattered, nor had tears or begging. They never did. After she died there was no one else to take the blame or the beatings. Rolan had always been tall, taller than all of his friends, but he was lanky and awkward. His hands were never comfortable in the shape of a fist, his arm never created the momentum to do any damage. He tried; every time his father’s fist made contact all Rolan felt was hot fury, his arms flailing and seeming to slide off of his target. It wasn’t until the hot fury turned into a witchbolt that he ever felt on even ground with his father. Rolan had left the house leaving him in as bad of shape as he always left his son, for once.

He never went back into that house after that night.

The bruises currently on his face felt nostalgic in a way that turned his stomach. Lorroakan and his father were similar in a sense that everything and nothing turned their moods, but his new master had the unfortunate upper hand of also having magic at his disposal. He had worked too hard to get where he was to up and leave the apprenticeship. Too much suffering, too much sacrifice; there would be no running to Cal and Lia’s doorstep as in his youth. He had to stick it out until he was in a position to claim something better.

His mind had justified the beatings as a test, perhaps on keeping the mind focused even under threat. If he let the inkling that he had been duped linger too long he felt a shame and rage that was unbearable. So he put his head down, he worked hard, he took the beatings and he learned. Not from Lorrokan, but from other tellers around the shop. From the books Tolna suggested with her whispers becoming more conspiratorial and her eyes sympathetic. He hadn’t been to see Cal and Lia in days.

He knew how they would react. His plan was to wait until the bruising went down and then face them again. Rolan’s position at the front was never boring, there was no way Sorcerer’s Sundries could ever be boring, he was convinced. It was incredibly busy, people coming in for protections against the threat of the cult that was at the doorstep of the city. He didn’t think twice when an armored group of four walked through the doors, just continued making sure the stock requisition forms were correct.

“Rolan!”

That voice. For a moment he forgot that he had been beaten to a pulp the night before, too distracted by excitement when he looked up and saw her. Gale, Astarion and the Archdruid fell behind as Tav bound up to the front desk.

“Tav,” he greeted, unable to keep the warmth out of his voice. “What are you doing here?”

Her smile fell a bit and her eyes flicked over his face. “Rolan, you - you look a little… worse for wear.” She frowned, “what happened to your face?”

“Nothing for you to worry about,” The stinging of the cut on his lip splitting with his forced smile made him aware of how badly he looked again. And Tav looked unconvinced.

“Hardly a place to learn, working behind a desk,” Halsin commented.

“This is my… apprenticeship.” He shrugged. “It has not been what I expected. Master Lorroakan is a… difficult man.”

There was a crackle of static, the light shining from behind Tav’s eyes. He saw her take a deep breath, and place an easy smile on her face. Saving him his dignity, he’d presume.

“He’s consumed by this pursuit of the Nightsong. I haven’t learnt a thing, and I fear it will stay that way.”

“A lucky escape,” Gale chimed in, “given Lorroakan’s reputation. He’d have little of value to teach you.”

Rolan smiled in thanks. “But never mind that. What can I do for you?”

Tav looked like she wanted to say something, even opened her mouth to start but she hesitated. Finally, she said, “funny you mention it, we actually have information about the Nightsong.”

Rolan leveled her with a serious look. A pit forming in his stomach. “Be very sure before you make a visit to Lorroakan,” he warned, “he’s got a beastly temper.” At her raised eyebrow at the comment, he quickly added, “but if you really do know something, he’ll want to see you. Head upstairs, you can find the way into his tower up there.”

“We will,” she nodded.

“Before we speak with your… beastly master,” Gale chimed in, “might you direct us in the direction of where we can find tomes of a rare nature?”

“Tolna handles tomes,” he said, “just around this pillar.”

“Wonderful, thank you,” Gale said, then leaned in, “if you want a real teacher, the Elfsong is our home for the duration of our stay.” He winked before he walked away, ushering Astarion and Halsin away with him.

“Rolan,” Tav said.

“Don’t,” he said, a bit more brusquely than he wanted to. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“Has that ever stopped me before?”

“I mean it,” his temper flared, he closed his eyes, breathed deeply and then, “your party will be waiting for you.”

“Come by tonight,” she said quickly. “We don’t have to talk about it, but I owe you a bottle of Arabellan Dry.”

She walked away then. He tried not to let his gaze follow her, but it did anyway, interrupted by a customer coming up to the desk. And then another. Incapable of controlling the desire to look at her, he turned to Tolna’a corner of the shop. Tav was looking at him, a darker look than he had seen before. She looked away quickly when she was caught, speaking with Tolna until they decided to make their way up the stairs.

If Lorroakan laid a finger on her, Rolan was not sure he could contain himself. She could handle herself, she had her friends by her side even if she couldn't, but he would never forgive himself if she came down those steps with a single mark from his bastard master.

He wasn’t sure how long they were up there, speaking to his master. But when they came down she was storming towards the entrance, not looking back, with her party following as they always did. At the very least she looked unharmed, if not furious. He opened his mouth to call after her, but someone came up to the counter and he had to keep himself from chasing after her.

After his shift, he withstood the usual line of questions watching Lorroakan closer than ever. The man seemed unharmed, a little angrier than usual, but so distracted he waved Rolan off after one sharp smack across his face. It was not too late, and the walk to the Elfsong was not terribly long.

Rolan made it to the door of the inn, people were gathered outside speaking, the doors open and letting the sounds of revelry spill into the street. There was no initial sight of anyone he knew from his spot on the threshold of the door. The idea of pretending everything was fine made his stomach churn, in fact, he was not sure he was capable of it.

Every negative emotion he ever harbored only ever warped into an anger he was still learning to temper. He was angry and ashamed and the pub was too loud so he turned around. Cowardly of him, he knew, but he couldn’t bring himself to face her or know if she had confronted Lorroakan on his behalf. Ever since she had come back from Moonrise separate from the freed prisoners, an uncomfortable parallel had drawn itself in his mind.

Seeing her bruised and bloody always reminded him of his mother bearing wounds and blame that were meant for him.

When Rolan didn’t show up at the Elfsong, it had stung. She tried not to take it personally, she tried not to think too much on it, but there she was alone with an unopened bottle of his favorite wine. She was sat dejectedly around the unused pipe the room came with, sitting on some of the pillows that littered the floor.

“Well, no point in letting it go to waste,” Astarion sighed, feigning actual sympathy for her situation as he sat with her, “may as well crack it open.”

She tugged it closer to her protectively. “I owe him this bottle, I’ll bring it to him when we go back.”

Astarion gave her a look that not even the tadpole needed to decipher: it screamed ‘you can’t be serious.’ She felt her face heat up, and looked away.

“If I knew you liked your sweethearts a little mean I would have gone about my seduction much differently,” he finally teased.

“And you think you were what? Sweet?”

“Not sweet,” he conceded, “more… sultry.”

“Well it seemed to work on Gale,” she muttered.

Astarion leveled her with a half-hearted glare. “I thought you weren’t interested. I could always ask him if he’s up for a third.”

“No, thank you,” she shuddered dramatically. “That’s too much ego for me.”

“Afraid you couldn’t keep up, darling?”

“I’m afraid I won’t fit into the bed,” she scoffed, “it’s remarkable enough that the pair of your giant heads fit into one room.”

Astarion chuckled a little. “It’s not just our heads that are big, my dear.”

Tav launched a pillow at him, and his true laugh, high pitched and unrehearsed echoed making her smile. “I suppose we ought to tell Dame Aylin about Lorroakan.”

Astarion hummed. “I do want to see her rip him in half, but we just settled in for the night. Perhaps in the morning.”

“The morning sounds good,” Tav nodded, trying to hide her disappointment.

When she had discovered Lorroakans goals for Aylin, Tav found an opportunity present itself. While he had his own head up his ass, and was a cruel bastard, she could feel his power even by just standing in the room. She had more than enough reasons to blast him out of the window; he wanted to imprison Aylin, he had been rather rude to Gale, and then there was the state of Rolan’s face.

Gods, she could have sent a fireball in his face for that alone.

But he was powerful. And having Dame Aylin at their side to rid the world of his wretched smirking face would probably be a good idea. And Tav supposed it would mean a lot to Aylin to take down another megalomaniac that wanted to use her for immortality. After hundreds of years of imprisonment she could offer her new ally that.

“He’s very proud,” Astarion said suddenly.

“Lorroakan? Proud is putting it lightly.”

“Rolan,” Astarion emphasized.

“Oh.”

“When we found you by the lake I thought he might hit you,” Astarion was not looking at her, but his tone had a rare tinge of sincerity.

“Oh, no, Astarion, no,” Tav said immediately. “He was angry, but he had just saved me. Pulled me out of the lake and I — I said some unkind things.”

“I’m only saying,” Astarion seemed to bolster every genuine fiber of his being to say, “you ought not sit around sullenly for a man who is only ever angry at you for helping him. There’s plenty of people whose eye you’ve caught, you hardly have to settle for someone who can’t be bothered to show up.”

It hurt to hear, but there may have been a tinge of truth to it. Still, Astarion had not been there by the lake when he shared his last bottle with her. She’d seen something in him that night, something that plagued her thoughts when the rest of camp went quiet and she was alone. It was some unknown depth she had yet to reach, and desperately wanted to.

She shook her head. “You still can’t have this bottle. I’m a woman of my word.”

“Spoilsport,” he pouted.

The moment passed, and they went about the night without mentioning Rolan. Except when Gale came to sit with them and inquired after him to which Astarion elbowed him hard enough to make the Wizard wheeze. For the rest of the night it was business as usual with her friends and as she fell asleep she found herself wondering if Astarion was right to be warning her off of these feelings that had bloomed.

An ungodly crash shook the building, raining down glass upon the patrons and stopped only by some quick thinking on Tonlu’s behalf. Shortly after Tav and her crew came storming through the door and without even a passing glance they ran up the stairs towards the top of the tower.

“Hey! What are you —“

When none of them were stopped by his exclamation, he jumped over the desk to follow them up. As he followed them into their portal of choice, Lorroakan stood confronting an incredibly tall otherworldly looking winged woman.

Tav stood a decent distance behind, her arms folded over her chest and her stance sturdy. He had rarely seen her in action, and the one time he had it was a dark chaotic whirl when she saved him from the Shadow Curse. Gale stood at her side, even his demeanor in the face of confrontation had changed from its normal welcoming smile to a stern focus. Karlach was bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement, and the Archdruid stood still but there was something about his demeanor which resembled a creature about to pounce. In all honesty, they were terrifying.

“What are you so scared of magus? Not the Nightsong, surely, she’s nothing but a relic to be purchased and pursued.” The winged woman seethed.

Rolan was brought out of his awe at Tav and her companions. He stared at the winged woman. “My gods, the Nightsong is a person?”

“Boy! At the ready,” Lorroakan commanded, “once I’ve taken control of the aasimar she must go directly into the caging runes.”

Everything in him rejected the idea. He felt Tav’s eyes on him, leaving him bolstered by righteousness “No, Master Lorroakan,” he said firmly, “I would never have assisted you if I knew you planned such horrors.” He would not be cowed by the rage that slipped onto Lorroakan’s face. “You lied to get the Nightsong here. Made us all believe she was nothing but a relic.” He turned to Tav, “I have seen what true leadership can accomplish — “ and finally to his master, “but never under your tutelage.”

“Watch your tongue, you child,” Lorroakan hissed, “I could make it such that no wizard in the realm will touch you.”

“If they’re all like you, I think that sounds like an excellent bargain,” Rolan shot back.

This pleased the aasimar, who rallied a truly hateful laugh, “face us, charlatan! We who detest you so.”

Then it was a blur of violence.

Rolan kept his focus on Lorroakan as did the Nightsong. Tav and her friends kept the myrmidon’s he had summoned at bay after making quick work of his assistant. Tav was a storm of magic, untamed and rawly powerful. She moved in perfect tandem with her companions, they knew how to leave room for attacks, when to parry and duck.

Rolan had to focus. Keeping Lorroakan from blocking or containing the Nightsong was no easy feat. He threw counter spell after counter spell, surprising himself every time his will overpowered his former master’s. The fire myrmidon sent a blaze of fire toward him — not enough to truly hurt him but it broke his focus. With a yell, he saw Tav fly to get in position and then call down a chain of lightning which stuttered the movements of the myrmidon and rained down on its allies. Even Lorroakan was hit.

Finding an opening, Rolan deployed an onslaught of magic missiles which hit him in instant succession. Lorroakan fell to his knees in a daze. Behind them, he saw Gale finish off one of the myrmidon’s and Karlach made quick work of another. The Archdruid had taken the shape of a bear, claws shredding the armor of the third. Tav very nearly pushed him out of the way as another hail of fire fell on them, the smell of burning hair and flesh filling the room. She gave an angry yell, thunder boomed and the construct of fire hit the wall before turning to ash.

Just as he was going to ask if she was okay, Lorroakan howled. They watched as the Nightsong lifted the famed master of Razamith’s Tower and snapped his spine in half over her armored knee.

It was cathartic, and quite the relief when she tossed him onto the floor as if he were nothing.

He watched as she left, wordlessly, in a haze of feathers and silver light.

“Lorroakan is dead,” he said, in disbelief. “The Bastard is dead.”

“Are you alright?” Tav asked.

“I am, now that the bastard is in bits,” he smiled a little. “Lorrokan was a cruel and vicious man. By day, I’d tend the shop. By night, he’d fire the most nonsensical questions at me. And for every one I’d answered wrong he’d beat me.”

Flashes of the nights spent in the tower flickered by, Lorrokan’s pale skin in his memories sometimes replaced by red skin and eyes that matched his own. He looked away from Tav’s intent stare.

“I could have killed him with my own two hands,” he breathed, “but I kept thinking it was all a test. It had to be.” At her patient gaze, her friends, maybe their friends, standing by just as understanding he found himself unfurling. “I thought it was the price to pay to become a true wizard. I realize now he was just a sick, sick man.”

“I’m sorry, Rolan,” Tav said. “You were so looking forward to your apprenticeship.”

“I see things clearly now,” he shook his head, “if I wish to master the weave, I must do it myself.” She didn’t look convinced. “Thankfully I have everything I need, right here.”

“More than everything,” Gale said. “You’ll make a fine wizard, Rolan.”

“Thank you.”

“You should go to Lia and Cal. They’re worried sick, mate.” Karlach piped up.

“I’ll move them in right away,” he assured her. “Lorroakan refused to let them stay here. They are gonna love the tower.”

“I’m sure they will,” Tav smiled, but it was weak and somewhat forced.

She was singed by the fire myrmidon. A few of her hairs were singed, she had ash on her face and an angry burn just below her chin. Tav had looked worse, he knew, but again he understood the gravity of what she had done for him. Even inadvertently.

Instead of anger, he felt deep gratitude and finally the means to pay her back.

“I wouldn’t have all this — the tower, my family — if it weren’t for you.” At once Tav’s face shifted to something softer, the storm in her eyes quelled. “What can I do to thank you?”

“You don’t have to thank me,” she assured him.

Before he could respond, Gale cleared his throat. “Certainly, Tav’s generosity is to be commended but,” he said, “we could make use in the way of supplies and… access to some of the rarer tomes.”

Tav winced slightly. “Supplies would be helpful,” she admitted. “And Gale has tunnel vision about a book that’s hidden in the tower.”

“I’d be happy to assist,” he nodded his head. “I’ve yet to journey into the vaults, we can figure them out together.”

“An excellent idea,” Gale nodded with a slight bow. “Perhaps we may also employ Astarion’s assistance, he’s the pilfering sort.”

“He may have stolen some material components when we were here last,” Tav seemed mortified but Karlach was cackling behind her.

“You can have whatever you like,” Rolan said quickly. “Leave only the scrolls and tomes.”

“Thank you,” she breathed in relief. “We’ll — erm — let you settle in.”

“Before you go, know this,” Rolan quickly gathered his courage, “Ramazith’s tower and its master, are now your friends. And when the time comes, we will stand with you as allies.”

“Enjoy your new digs!” Karlach called as they turned to leave.

“We will be back soon,” Gale assured him.

Tav had nothing else to say to him as she left.

It was a bit awkward as Tav, Gale, Astarion and Rolan ventured into the vaults.

Rolan and Gale were getting along swimmingly, volleying knowledge and theories off of each other. Astarion hung back with Tav, unlocking doors as needed, but lingering behind the two wizards gushing over the hidden collection of Ramazith’s. The tiefling was rather charming, she found, when he was matched in wit and interest. Perhaps it was Gale’s own warm nature that brought it out of him, but regardless, Tav found herself watching the two of them interact so easily with an uncomfortable prickle under her skin.

She’d never been so annoyed at Gale before, not even when he nearly blew them all up in the name of forgiveness for his ex. He also thought he would be saving the world, but even so — the fact he even considered it worth mentioning had made her want to smack him. Now she just wished he’d shut up.

“I think one wizard is more than enough,” Astarion said blithely. “You needn’t bring this one back to our rooms.”

“He has a big fancy tower now,” Tav replied. “Our suite at the Elfsong looks like a hovel in comparison.”

“Do you think they’d even notice if we left?”

“Probably not.”

Astarion sighed dramatically. Tav felt his eyes slinking toward her. “Shall we take off without them?”

“That sounds like a terrible idea. I’m in.”

It was a terrible idea and they had quite a few burns to show for it. They had stumbled upon an armory, full to the brim with enchanted armors and weapons. Of course, the room had vaulted a fireball at them at Astarion’s initial failure to pick a magical lock. But a column of alabaster had saved them from being incinerated, only the immeasurable heat had gotten them. Tav was, as Gale had so diplomatically put it at the start of their journey, not studied in magic. She just was magic, always had been.

Her knowledge of the arcane only went so far beyond what she felt. She knew spells, knew the names of them, but she mostly just went with her gut at what to throw around and found its name later. When faced with a room full of enchanted objects, she only could pick them up to see what they did. Some of it came with tags that had details of the magical abilities they held, but at some point Lorroakan had taken to hoarding rather than cataloging.

Tav slipped on a ring, basic in appearance, a simple gold band with writing engraved around its circumference and felt herself thrust into a state of unbeing. She could see Astarion, but around him was a whirl of chaos. Energies of different colors collided and roared, in a cacophony that felt somehow familiar but overwhelming. Her hand reached out and a trail of lightning wrapped around her arm. She knew the tingling zap of it well, the rumble of thunder taking the place of her heart beat and the soft spray of rain. But it became too much, the sear of the lightning overtaking her and she wrenched the ring off.

“Tav where the hells did you go?” Astarion asked.

“Did I go somewhere?”

“You disappeared!” He said. “Is that a ring of invisibility?”

“Definitely not,” Tav said, quickly taking off her vambraces where her skin still tingled.

“Oh, my,” Astarion looked down at her arm. “Have you always had that?”

Her forearm was covered in white divuts that spidered out and glowed slightly. As if lightning lived there in her arms. It didn’t hurt, but it felt as if the remnants of a touch were electrically charged. Her and Astarion were still enraptured by the marks when the door flew open.

“There you two are,” Gale said. “By Mystra’s eyelids, you can’t go wandering off in a highly guarded wizard’s tower!”

“By who’s eyelids, darling?”

Even without knowing all the details of their relationship, Tav could see the coldness in Astarion’s eyes and the flood of tension that took over the room. Gale looked as if he had fallen into a frozen lake. Something was transpiring between her friends and she felt as if she was not supposed to see it.

“Look what we found!” Tav said to Rolan who stood back with arms folded and looking unamused. “An armory!”

“Is that so?”

She bounded up to him, if only to get away from the unspoken conversation happening between Gale and Astarion.

“What happened to your arm?”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

Rolan leveled her with a look.

“I put on this ring, and Astarion said I disappeared — “ Rolan’s eye actually twitched, so she barreled on before he could yell, “but I could see him it was just like I don’t know, everything around was just energy. And something reached out to grab my hand and it felt like my magic, like my own magic was holding my hand!” She was excited despite the unusual state of her arm. “And when I took it off I had this.”

He grabbed her arm, fingers running over the divots and inspecting it. Turning it over, his nails dragged along the sensitive flesh of the inside and dragged over her palm. A pleasurable shudder rippled down her spine.

“Did that hurt?”

“Uh,” she felt her brain zap, “no.”

It felt very good.

“They’re fading.”

Now that she looked at it, the glow was siphoning away very slowly. “Huh.”

Rolan brought her arm closer for him to inspect. His hands were incredibly warm. As he asked her questions about what she saw, she found herself answering almost dazedly. It was only after he seemed to have asked all the questions he could and was simply holding her arm in quiet contemplation that she realized he was rubbing his thumb along her skin.

“Rolan,” she said quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Can I have my arm back?”

He dropped it as if it flooded him with an electric shock. “You seem fine. Please refrain from playing with magical artifacts you have no idea how to properly use.”

“That’s no fun.”

His eye twitched again.

“Erm,” she said, “did you find Karsus’ book?”

Rolan’s eyes slid over her shoulder, back where Astarion and Gale were. He motioned for her to follow him, and around the same pillar of stone which had saved her and Astarion, he led her out of the room.

“We found the book.”

“Oh, good,” she said. “Gale says it’s integral for figuring out how to deal with the Elder Brain.”

“Yes,” Rolan said quietly. “What do you know of Karsus?”

“Only what Gale has told me,” she replied. “Fall of netheril, tried to become a god, - just the juicy stuff.”

“Then you know how it ended last time someone played with that kind of power.”

“I do.”

“Gale is an immensely talented and knowledgeable wizard,” Rolan prefaced.

“Got a crush, do you?”

The tone of her voice was a little more pointed than she liked. An ugly thing inside of her scratching at her chest at his praise of Gale. Which was unreasonable. Gale was everything he said; Gale was one of her best friends. There was no reason for her to be acting this way.

Rolan frowned. “I’m not trying to argue with you nor insult him, I’m only letting you know there was something about the way he talked about the crown, and the book. Please, keep an eye on him.”

Tav remembered how Gale had reacted to first seeing the crown, and then to the way he had near badgered her about finding the book. He had to correct himself when he talked about what the crown would do for him — the quick addition of for us that he added as an afterthought.

Tav nodded.

“I don’t mean to intrude,” he said. “You’ve helped my family a hundred times over. I owe it to you to do the same.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” She corrected. She hated how transactional it sounded.

“Are you angry with me?” He asked, an edge to his voice that she knew spelled trouble.

“Angry? No.”

Yes. No? She wasn’t sure. She almost wanted to pick a fight. It seemed to be the only time he ever gave her any mind. She didn’t know arcane history, couldn’t gush over magical theory with him — and he had never shown up for that bottle of wine. He only paid attention to her when he was upset with her. She wanted to needle at him, to make herself the focus of that blazing amber gaze even if he was snarling at her.

Astarion was walking out of the room, jolting them out of the staring contest they were having. “Send him back when you’re done with him,” Astarion waved at Rolan. “He wants to identify some of those objects.”

He walked off, an air of finality about his path. Something had happened. Her role of leadership reared its head, if there was dissent amongst the camp it was her job to temper it.

“You have to go,” he said.

“Duty calls.” She sighed. “Thank you for the warning. We will drop by again, I’m sure.”

Rolan only nodded in reply and she set off.

Only in crowds would she thaw. He’d been making his way to the Eflsong with Lia and Cal, under the guise of watching Alfira perform or to see Lakrissa. The team of heroes often joined them, sometimes looking worse for wear but never bringing whatever challenges they were facing with them. Tav talked when everyone was around, talked to him and was friendly enough. But they never had a moment alone.

Even if they did he was not sure what he would say. Being the new owner of Ramazith’s was a full time endeavor; if he wasn’t experimenting he was busy trying to manage the shop. More and more people were turning up for protective measures against the string of events which threatened the city. Cal and Lia helped, happy to have a place to live and a job. It was becoming a rather fluid family business.

But when the day slowed down or at night when laid in bed in Lorroakan’s reclaimed room, his mind drifted always to her. If he saw her at the bar that night he had committed to memory what she wore, any new cuts and bruises, and how the old ones were healing. His hand would drift under his trousers, gently massaging his length as it swelled with interest at the thought of her.

Every peak of cleavage where that damned pearl pendant dangled so teasingly where he wanted to kiss was seared into his mind. Each glance at her leaning over the bar to speak with Alan and order a round of drinks for everyone had him begging to grab at the swell of her bottom. Her eyes when she had stared Lorroakan down before she erupted in a flurry of magic. The calm before the storm of her wrath. How they would soften for her friends, and even him when she glanced over.

Rolan would stroke himself to different imaginings of her. His gallant hero riding him, hands on his chest and glorious as she chased her pleasure. Or beneath him, soft and pliant for once, only for him. Teasing but humbled as he was a benevolent but stern authority, until she finally allowed him to experience the bliss of her submission. To let him take care of her for once.

He could even be the submissive, he thought despite never having considered it before, imagining cooing praise as he gave her whatever she wanted. Gods, he knew she would take him apart in ways he could never recreate with anyone else. He would trust her to hold her hand around his throat, to lovingly claw at his skin, to whisper words of adoration in contrast to the way she had control of his very breath in her grip.He would spill over into his own hand with visions of her eyes crinkling at the corners with a smile. She was, so far unwittingly, boring her way into his mind the same way the illithids had done to her.

But that very tadpole had kept her very busy. The trouble in Baldur’s Gate only grew more intense. Everyone had seen less of her crew as the days went on, only Alfira or Lakrissa getting glimpses of them racing to and fro at the inn day in and out. Everything was coming to a catalyst, he could feel it in the air. It was bad enough that his family had viewed Baldur’s Gate as a haven only to find it on the verge of chaos, now the very object of his desires was at the very center of it all. Storybooks often spoke about the plight of heroes, rarely did they touch upon the abject misery of the ones who loved them.

Watching them destroy their bodies, minds and hearts to be brave enough to save the day. Unable to do anything but offer mere pittances. And Tav wouldn’t even allow him to do that.

In the midst of his musings on her one night as they closed the shop, a violent earthquake shook the city. They were more common these days but this one felt different, it lasted longer, the tremor nearly knocked potion bottles off the wall and the whole city seemed to freeze moments after it passed.

“Do you think it’s them?” Cal had asked, breaking the terrified silence.

“It always is.”

They had gone to the Elfsong after the shop was locked up. All agreeing that their friends might need them, even if just to buy them a drink. When he arrived, the place was packed. Voices loud as people theorized and panicked over drinks, not even Alfira’s songs could carry over the din.

Their heroes were nowhere to be seen.

They found Lakrissa, who was attempting to be a one woman crowd for Alfira. “Have they returned? Do they know what’s going on?”

Lakrissa looked grim. “We saw the Archdruid carrying someone small — maybe a halfling or a gnome or something — up the stairs. They looked bad.”

Rolan felt his stomach plummet through the wood floor.

“Tav came down to grab wine, Alfira said she was heading up to the roof when she came down to perform.”

Rolan was turning for the stairs before Lakrissa finished the sentence. Something was off. He passed by the suite which he knew her party was in, voices were low but they were in there. He saw the open hatch and climbed up with a grunt.

The roof was not lit up, but the city lights allowed for a low glow that partially blotted out the stars. The crescent moon above was not much helpful but it was out clear as day. He spotted a figure, alone, slumped over at the far end of the roof. Even in the dark he knew it was her.

He approached only to be met with her calling, in slurred together words, “‘ready told you, Karlach. I don’ wanna watch you arm wrestle Minsc.”

“They should sell tickets to that,” he said in response. “You’d all be rich.”

She turned around sharply. “S’ you.”

“It’s me,” he replied. “May I join you?”

“M’pissed, and miserable,” she slurred. “Not good,” she belched, “company.”

It was oddly charming, despite her drooping eyes and the way she dryly licked her lips after. He was so used to her being a force of unflappable willpower and leadership, seeing her just be a person who gets piss drunk to drown her sorrows was novel. Rolan sat next to her, amongst a small nest of pillows and blankets Alfira and Lakrissa had put up there when they first got to the city. Tav looked out at the water.

“I wanna go swimming.”

“I think the Chionthar is only slightly safer than a cursed lake,” he replied. “Best stay on land.”

“No fun.”

Despite her attempts at lightning the mood everything felt off. She leaned her chin on the stone wall that she sat in front of. The bottle in her hand precariously tipped.

“I felt that quake earlier, your doing?”

“killed a Bhaalspawn.” She said plainly. “Stole a netherstone. Brain is getting restless.”

If anyone else had strung those words together it would have been utter nonsense.

“Thats good, isn’t it? You ought to be celebrating.”

“No,” she shook her head slowly. “No celebrating.”

“What happened?”

“Bhaalspawn bitch took Yenna,” she sniffed.

The little girl they had picked up in Rivington. Rolan had yet to meet her, but she had been their newest addition. Rolan recalled being horrified that they allowed a child in their camp, given their circumstances. He thought it might not be a good idea to bring that up, just then.

“Is she alright?”

“Physically? Sure.”

It was quiet again. He heard her breathing pick up, a wet swallow.

“They made her eat her fucking cat.” She spat, voice cracking. “She’s ten years old. Lost her mother, and all she had was Grub. They took her from right under my nose. Killed the damn cat and made her eat it.”

When he looked over he saw tears, his heart stuttering. Half unsure what to do in the face of such a horrifying thing to imagine and half desperate to hold her.

“Everywhere I go,” she said distractedly, “there’s just blood and horror.” She pulled a long drink of wine from the bottle. “And everyone’s fucking lost it in this city. Gale wants to become a God, and we all know it’s just to get back at Mystra — they ought to call her the bitch queen — and just two days ago I had to talk Astarion out of the right of ascension — 2000 people he was going to sacrifice!” She was ranting, hiccups and sobs breaking through every once in a while. “Karlach’s given up. Shadowheart’s parents — we looked for them and she fought so hard and they’re just gone. Lae’zel wants me to make a deal with a devil, and poor Wyll,” she sniffled. “His dad — he — and Mizora that cunt! We have to find his dad.” She had her head in her hands. “There’s still one more netherstone, we have to get the hammer, then there’s the brain.”

“You need to breathe,” he reached out.

“I’m not meant to do this!” She yelled suddenly. “I’m not — I’m supposed to take over my mum and dad’s stupid pub, I’m supposed to be at home, with my little sister and my mother.”

“Tav,” he tried to interrupt.”

“Instead I’m here, and I’ve got this thing in my head and they want time to lead them — and I don’t know why! I’m nothing — no one — I don’t know what to do —“

“Sweetheart, stop,” he pleaded, reaching out to her. “You’re alright.”

“I’m not,” she choked. “I can’t, Rolan. I can’t do this.”

“You can,” he said firmly. He grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him, “you’re going to sleep this off, and tomorrow you will infuriate me by accomplishing the impossible — as you always do.”

She was at least calming down, breathing coming easier even if fresh warm tears spilled out of her eyes onto his hands. His thumb gently wiped them away, careful of his nails.

“You didn’t see what I saw out there in the cursed lands, or even in the tower. You may be an idiot but you’re a capable idiot. If anyone can save the city, it’s you and your freak show of friends.”

She smiled, a soft laugh nothing more than a breath escaping her lips. Rolan had a sinking feeling he was in over his head, with the way she still looked so lovely to him; face puffy, drunk and still covered in gore he thought she was the most beautiful person in the world. His thumb gently rubbed the skin of her cheek, and she closed her eyes, seeming to have rid herself of all the tears she could and now seeming calmer.

They sat like that for a while. She breathed and came back to herself, he contemplated how awful he had been to her before. Tav was larger than life, but even she was only flesh and blood. The weight on her shoulders was more than he could even imagine. He’d never been more sure about his decision to offer his help when the time came, anything to lighten her load.

For a moment he thought she might have passed out until she spoke.

“Are you going to kiss me?”

Rolan felt struck by lightning by the change of subject. “You — do you want me to kiss you?”

Tav opened her eyes, albeit somewhat blearily she smiled mischievously. “Don’t be dumb,” she said, “you know I do.”

“I do not know that,” he said defensively.

“Well now you do,” she leaned forward, her hands still curled into his robes. Her eyes slid shut again and Rolan tilted his head and leaned in, unable to resist the magnetic force that she seemed to emanate as their lips came closer.

Her breath smelt so strongly of wine, he suddenly outstretched his arms to keep her at a safe distance. “You’re drunk,” he scolded. Whether it was her or himself he was scolding, was unclear.

“Yes.” She nodded and then seemed to get dizzy from the motion

“We should get you to bed.”

“Oh?”

“Stop it,” he tried not to laugh, but it didn’t work. “You’re going to bed to sleep.”

“That isn’t fun.”

“I’m not fun,” he reminded her. “I’m a prick with a stick up my arse, as my sister so kindly put it.”

“Sorry, Rolan,” Tav said seriously, “wasn’t paying attention. Whose prick is going in whose arse? Because m’not equipped — I guess we could buy one but at this hour?“

“Bed!” Rolan said immediately.

“No,” she whined, “I’m sleeping up here.”

“You are not.”

“I am,” she said, draining the last of her bottle only to have it yanked away from her. “You can’t carry me down the ladder.”

It was said petulantly, with a singsong voice and a cackle of laughter afterwards, but she was right. Rolan grabbed at the pillows and blankets Alfira had snuck up and threw together a makeshift bed. He shoved at her shoulder until she laid back and she sighed happily, turning onto her side.

“I like when we get along.” She said in a quiet voice.

“Me too.”

After a while he laid on the ground. His feet faced her head and there was a safe amount of distance, in case anyone found them. He didn’t need her friends getting the wrong idea if they found them, he was already sure Astarion wanted to kill him.

He felt something pulling at one of his horns and his eyes slid open. Tav was over him, trying to lift his head.

“What are you doing?”

“Pillow,” she said plainly. “Head up.”

He allowed her to place one under his head, and then rested back. When she laid back down, her fingers brushed against him. Barely noticeable, only The back of her knuckles pressed against his. He curled one finger around hers and she did the same. As he looked down, even in the darkness her arms still had marks from whatever had happened when she put on that ring in the tower.

After a few days with no other side effects, they had all assumed it had been some kind of magic attachment that hadn’t taken full hold. The lines were thin, barely there, but he considered what it could have been. After all the work that had to be done at the shop, it had slipped his mind to research it. At least now he had something to do to keep his mind off of her running to infiltrate the new archduke’s home and murder him.

“Why didn’t you come?” Her voice interrupted his thoughts.

“What do you mean?”

“Gale wanted to teach you,” she mumbled, “and I… have that bottle for you.”

Things had happened so fast, getting Cal and Lia settled, being thrust into owning not just a massive home but a very popular magical goods shop had made him forget that night entirely. He had made it all the way to the door of the Elfsong, skin still stinging from Lorroakan’s ‘training’ just the hour before.

“I got as far as the front door,” he said, “and turned around.”

“Why?”

“I was… overwhelmed.”

“Oh.”

He said nothing in response and after a few moments he heard her start to snore. With a sigh he settled in and closed his eyes. The stone roof was a poor substitute for his new large, exceedingly comfortable bed in the tower. Leaving her side seemed far from worth it to sleep in his own bed, even if she did snore.

Thank you so much for reading!

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

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