#and i listen to race when i want to run through nature with my friends and scream from car windows and embrace the awful humanity of it all

[hella1975]

I finally started listening to Alex G! I just listened to the album Trick all the way through, so far Change is the most devastating one but we'll see how all the songs sink in over time!

REMEMBER WHEN YOU TOOK TOO MUCH???? I DIDNT MIND BEING YOUR CRUTCH I LOVED YOU THEN IT'S NOT THE SAME I DONT LIKE HOW THINGS CHANGE I DONT LIKE HOW THINGS CHANGE I DONT LIKE HOW THINGS CHANGE I DONT LIKE HOW THINGS CHANGE I DONT-

[k-atsukibakugou]

tw: sfw, childhood best friends, mutual pining, w/c: 0.6k notes: uh I was slapped in the face with this scene so here u go; I wuv domestic bakugou, idc how bad this is it was haunting me

the tips of bakugou's hair droop ever so slightly at the moisture in the air, the blond growing darker in the steam. he adjusts himself in the bathtub, getting as comfortable as he can in the empty porcelain tub in front of your shower, the discomfort of the hardness against him the last thing on his mind as he listened to you talk, unconcerned by discomfort, or the steam settling on him, the feeling of his clothes sticking in the humidity. you're animated, he can see even that through the steam, the way your hands wave about wildly, one at your face as you scrubbed it, the other gesturing passionately behind the glass.

you swipe the condensation from the frosted glass in front of your eyes, "you know?!"

you’re incredulous, your brows down in a scowl as you gossip about someone he probably doesn’t even know the name of. he hums his agreement, content listening to you rant and rave all about the most recent news in your life, and watching your blurred silhouette.

“okay, close your eyes, im gonna get my towel.” your voice is light, not a trace of apprehension, this habit like second nature to you now. bakugou obeys, grunting when you’re safe to climb out of the shower.

he can feel you near him, the heat and steam radiating off of your skin, the clean scent of your soap entering his nostrils, clouding his head more than the steam. you're close enough to brush your wet skin against his, the softness of your towel fluttering against his forearm when you wrap it around yourself.

“hey, are you home this weekend? the old lady keeps asking about you.” he doesn’t care he interrupts your story of the latest episode you watched. hearing your lips part and close, his ears prick, waiting for your gentle hum to reach his ears.

“depends, what are you going to make me for dinner?” you sit down at the edge of the bathtub, reaching to poke his face, one cherry red eye cracking open, then the other. he’s met with your smiling face, a strike of adoration hitting him in the heart at your pretty features, as damp as his from the steam, a droplet running down the side of your throat to the top of your towel tucked into itself at your chest.

“whatever you want me to make.” his voice is softer than he wants it to be, his adam’s apple nervously bobbing in his throat, his mouth dryer than it had ever been with you this close, he’s had you closer; pulled into tight hugs when you were 5, closer again at 9 when you wrestled with him in the mud, his heart starting to race at 15 when his parents made him shuffle ‘closer, katsuki, you guys are friends,’ when you graduated lower secondary school together. every moment since then turning out like this, his eyes darting back and forth between yours, the air shifting the longer you stared at each other, his chest about to touch yours when you respond, your breath fanning over his cheeks at your proximity, “yeah, i’ll be there.”

he deludes himself for a moment, thinking you sound as nervous as he does, thinking your pupils dilate ever-so-slightly the longer you stare at each other, thinking maybe your lips pucker when your gaze falls, when you lean a touch closer, years of tension about to break between you both.

"i'll get out of your way." you clear your throat and stand back up, water still dripping from your body, katsuki jumping back like he was electrocuted by your sudden movement, muttering an agreement, a foreign anxiety settling in his stomach even as he sheds his shirt; sparing one last glance before you latch the door, katsuki catches your wide eyes once more and wonders if they mirror the adoration in his.

[mint-yooxgi]

Dreamer - Yandere!Vampire!Yeosang

Yandere AU & Vampire AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue

Pairing: Yeosang X Implied Chubby!Fem!Reader

Words: 1,771

Warnings: Hunter/Prey dynamics, Invasion of dreams mentioned multiple times, Possessive and sexual thoughts, violence and blood mentioned. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: It's been a while... sorry for the delay in posting things, like I said, life has been crazy! I hope you all enjoy this one, something short and sweet for you all. Dedicating this one to @anyamaris hehehe... As always, Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

The Sixteenth and Final of The Feral Drabbles

The loud chiming of the clock tower rings through my ears, nearly drowning out all other sounds. Golden light filters in through the widows, filling the stone walls with the last rays of the setting sun. If I listen closely, I can still make out the faint sounds of your heavy breaths. You cannot escape me, Starling. No matter where you hide, no matter how far you run, I will always find you.

I don’t know how many times I have told you how futile it is to try and get away from me, but you never seen to want to listen. I’m starting to think you rather enjoy the chase. Something about the imminent danger I pose simply gets your blood thrumming with excitement. I can just tell.

Of course, I could end this all in an instant. I could appear beside you at any given moment. My speed and tracking abilities are unmatched, especially when I have what I want in my sights. Yet, where would the fun be in that? I love listening to your heart race because of me. I love knowing I can make your scent spike suddenly with the slightest of sounds. You can sense me getting closer, can’t you? You know that I always get what I want, and what I want is you.

You smell amazing… Have I said that already? That pungent aroma of fear, permeated with the slightest thrill of excitement. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. After all, I know you better than you know yourself. In time, I’ll show you just how perfect I am for you, just as I know how perfect you are for me.

For months I’ve been studying you. The shadows have always been my friends, but when it comes to you, I am the shadows. All those dark and lonely nights I watched you, longing to be beside you, and finally be able to hold you in my arms. I longed to be able to brush my fingertips over your face, tracing loving patterns into your skin that only I can see. I wish to be there for you, and I so badly want you to be there for me.

Your soul called to me. The scent of your blood intoxicates me. Your laugh enchants me, and your smile sets my long dead heart aflutter. Just the sight of you has brought me back to life in ways I never thought possible, and I will cling to that essence of vitality for as long as we both shall live.

There is no me if there is no you.

Now, if only you could see that.

I’ll admit, knocking you out and bringing you to an unknown location was probably not the best way to properly introduce myself. In my defence though, I did overhear you talking to that one friend of yours about certain particular fantasies you’ve always had. You’ll have to excuse me for jumping the gun. I got too excited, and besides, it’s not like you don’t know me.

For months I’ve been appearing in your dreams. It started out small, just in passing at first. A glance of my face here. A hint of my voice there. You seemed to be reacting positively to me, too! I noticed a few times you seemed to be looking forward to my slight visits. Sometimes, you’d even go so far as to continue searching for me in your mind when I passed by. A fact of which made me happy beyond doubt.

Then came the nightmares.

You’re prone to them, aren’t you? The darkest recesses of your mind which you hide away in the light come creeping out of the shadows to torture you while in your most vulnerable state. They’re relentless, and unforgiving. A hindrance to your livelihood which dulls your shine, and petrifies your strength.

You can see why I couldn’t have that. I vowed to keep you safe, and that will always include keeping you safe from yourself.

Which is why I had to step in. I couldn’t leave you to suffer all alone. Not only could I prove to you how valuable I could be to you in your dreams, but it let me interact with you. Even on a subconscious level, I could tell it was going to benefit me greatly. I could talk to you, protect you, keep you interested…

And interested you were! I can still recall the way your eyes felt raking over my full visage for the first time. I could tell that you liked me, and that only made me know stepping into your subconscious mind was the right thing to do. 

We were finally making progress! You could see me for who I was, and I could finally see you without hiding myself away. I could interact with you on a more personal level, even within a dream. 

Everything I said, everything I did, was real. There’s no question about it. I would never deceive you like that, anyways. You deserve my truth, for it will soon become yours as well.

Those nightmares, though recurring, also let me understand you better. Those monsters stalking your dreams will never be able to hurt you again. I made sure of it. I showed them what a true beast looked like. Though, I will say, feeling their blood drip from my hands after rendering them limb from limb is immensely more satisfying in real life than within any dream your mind can conjure. I only wish I could have inflicted more damage on them while they were still alive…

They didn’t suffer enough. Not after what they all did to you. Nobody hurts you, cheats you, lies to you and gets away with it. No one.

I’ll tear them all to shreds. I’ll rip their pathetic flesh from their bones and feed their mangled corpses to the sea. Hell is a blessing compared to what I have prepared for anyone that crosses you. After all, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you…

Oh, look at me… getting so caught up in my thoughts of you again that I nearly missed the sound of you changing your hiding place. It’s adorable how you think you can get away from me. As if you really want to. Why else would you have ran up the clocktower rather than out into the streets the first chance you got?

What will I get once I finally catch my prize? I’ll finally be able to properly feel your skin beneath my touch. Will you hold onto me as tightly as I’ll be holding onto you? Will you whisper my name so sweetly, granting me a long since desired wish? Or maybe, just maybe…a kiss? 

Oh, how I’ve longed to feel your lips pressed against my own, My Sweet Starling. Ever since that one fateful night, that glorious dream we shared, I’ve been longing to know what you taste like in real life. You’ve already let me touch you once before, now all there’s left to do is make your whole body shake in ecstasy in real life.

I know it was simply a dream, but fuck- I can still hear the way you cried out for me. The way your thighs wrapped around my head as I worshipped you between your legs… as I buried myself deep inside of you… I want to feel it again. This time, I want it to be real.

I want to hear those sinful lips of yours crying out my name. I want to hear you gasp as I sink my fangs into your flesh, and drink my fill of you. I want to feel your nails cutting into my back and pulling me closer because you cannot get enough of me. You already know that I can never get enough of you, and I will always prove that my love for you is true.

Oh, Starling… you’re going to make me moan if you keep smelling like that…

Delectable. Sinful.

…Mine.

Already I can feel my mouth salivating at the thought of catching you. My fangs are nearly pricking my lips. Starling, I don’t know if I can hold myself back for much longer…

I can hear your heart racing nearly in time with mine.

Tell me… are you as excited as I am right now? There’s something about the thrill of the chase, isn’t there? Knowing that I’m hunting you, wanting to catch you and finally make you mine. I swore to you that I meant you no harm, and that fact will always hold true. I will never hurt you. You are mine, and I am yours. That’s how it should be. That’s how it shall always be.

See! I knew you wouldn’t be able to deny me! We’re meant to be!

Look at you trying to be quiet after purposely giving away your location. It’s extremely endearing, you know. Try to hide all you want, but you can never escape the inevitable.

You may be able to lie to yourself, My Glorious Starling, but you cannot lie to me. Like I said before, I know you better than you know yourself. I can smell the excitement pouring off of you. You want me to catch you. I knew you wouldn’t be able to forget all that I’ve done for you in your dreams so easily. After all, my actions have always been, and will always be, as real as I am.

Come out, come out, wherever you are.

The longer I let this go on, the more excited you seem to get. Just listen to your heart racing for me! It’s getting louder with each step, and this time, there’s nowhere you can run. This will be the last place you can ever hide from me. Or rather, should I say, the last place I’ll let you hide from me.

From now on, you’re mine.

Fuck- I haven’t felt this excited in centuries. Do you realize how special you are? My blood feels like it’s lighting a fire within my veins, and my hands are shaking. Do you see the effect you have on me?

And, oh, when I finally get my hands on you…

There will be no part of you untouched - unloved - by me. I plan to spend however long it takes worshipping you and showing you just how loved you are by me. Mentally, physically, spiritually… Nothing is too much for you. You deserve nothing but my best, and my best is what you’ve always deserved. Nothing less.

Tick tock, My Glorious Starling… Your time is up.

[d-targaryenshoe]

Guitar Strings of Joy - Harry Styles

Word Count: 1702

Summary: Big moments, yet small ones are rather special to share with the people who support you through it all aren't they?

You stood backstage, your fingers running across the familiar strings of your guitar.

The hum of the crowd vibrated through the floor beneath your feet, and you could hear the murmur of excitement building as the lights dimmed in the arena.

It was one of those nights—one of those moments—that made your heart race, even after years of touring with Harry.

As one of his guitarists, you had played in some of the biggest venues worldwide, but tonight was different.

Tonight, you weren't just his guitarist, you were also his girlfriend and the soon-to-be mother of your first child.

A flutter of nervous excitement mingled with your anticipation.

In just a few minutes, your secret would no longer be yours.

Harry had insisted on making this night special, and you had agreed. You'd been planning it for weeks, keeping your little secret close.

The gender reveal of your baby would happen right here, on stage, in front of thousands of fans.

And it would be you who would announce it with the iconic guitar solo of Harry's song, 'Adore You'.

The thought made your stomach flip with both nerves and excitement.

Harry's voice came through the speakers as he greeted the crowd, his tone warm and familiar, like a friend welcoming everyone into his home.

He had that effect on people, a natural ease that made even the largest of crowds feel intimate.

"Hey, everybody! How are we feeling tonight?" Harry's voice boomed through the arena, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

You could almost see him in your mind, smiling that boyish grin that had captured hearts all over the world.

You listened as Harry went through the opening set, your fingers moving instinctively over your guitar strings, getting in sync with the rhythm of the band.

You had played these songs a hundred times, but tonight there was an added weight to every note.

Then, it was time.

The moment you had both been waiting for.

Harry paused after finishing the previous song, letting the last note fade into the electric buzz of the crowd.

He looked over at you, his eyes sparkling with something that made your heart skip.

There was a pause, the kind that stretched just long enough to build anticipation.

“So, before we go on,” Harry began, his voice suddenly quieter, more intimate, “I want to share something special with you all. Tonight isn’t just another concert for us. It’s also a really special night for me and someone you all know pretty well.”

The crowd murmured in curiosity, a wave of whispers rippling through the sea of people.

You felt your pulse quicken. You knew this was it.

Harry's eyes met yours again, and for a second, it was just the two of you.

You smiled, trying to steady your breathing.

“For those of you who don’t know, the amazing guitarist who’s been up here with me every night is also the love of my life, y/n.” Harry's words sent a surge of applause and cheers through the crowd.

You felt your cheeks flush, both from the warmth of the spotlight and the love that emanated from the audience.

“And we’ve got a little surprise for you all tonight,” Harry continued, his voice tinged with excitement. “You see, y/n and I are expecting a baby!”

The cheers grew louder, and you felt a wave of emotion wash over you.

The audience’s energy was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile even wider.

Harry waited for the noise to die down before speaking again. “Now, we thought long and hard about how we wanted to reveal the gender of our baby, and we decided there was no better place to do it than right here, with all of you."

"So, during the next song, when y/n plays the guitar solo, you’re going to see some fireworks. And when you do, the color of those fireworks will tell you if we’re having a boy or a girl.”

The crowd erupted again, this time with a mixture of excitement and anticipation.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

This was it.

You nodded at Harry, who gave you a reassuring smile, and then he turned back to the crowd.

“This is ‘Adore You,’” Harry announced, and the familiar notes began to fill the arena.

Your fingers moved over the strings, finding the melody with ease.

The song had always been special to you and Harry.

It was one of the first songs you had worked on together, back when your relationship was still new, still fragile.

Now, it felt like a full-circle moment, standing here with him, about to share the biggest news of your lives with thousands of people.

As the song built towards the solo, your nerves returned, but so did a deep sense of calm.

This was your moment.

You closed your eyes for a brief second, grounding yourself, and then you stepped forward, into the spotlight.

The world seemed to hold its breath as you played the opening notes of the solo.

The sound of your guitar echoed through the arena, each note carrying with it the weight of the moment.

The crowd fell silent, waiting, watching.

And then, as the solo reached its peak, the arena exploded in a dazzling display of color.

Fireworks shot into the sky, bursting into a shower of brilliant blue.

The crowd gasped in unison, and then the cheers began, louder than ever before.

You felt a wave of emotion crash over you, tears springing to your eyes as you played the final notes of the solo.

A boy.

You were having a boy.

Harry was beside you in an instant, his arms wrapping around you as the crowd continued to cheer.

You could feel him shaking, overwhelmed with emotion, just as you were.

You held onto each other, sharing the moment, as the blue fireworks continued to light up the sky above you.

Harry took the microphone again, his voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” he said, his words directed both to the audience and to you. “We can’t wait to meet our little fella, and we’re so grateful to have you all here with us tonight to share this moment.”

The crowd roared in response, and you felt another wave of tears threaten to spill over.

You glanced at Harry, who was looking at you with a mixture of love and awe.

It was a look you would never tire of.

As the final notes of "Adore You" faded into the night, Harry turned back to the audience.

“I think we’re going to need to play one more song after that,” he said with a laugh, and the crowd cheered in agreement.

But before you started the next song, Harry leaned in close to you, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“I love you,” he said, his eyes shining.

You smiled, your heart full. “I love you too,” you replied, and in that moment, everything else faded away.

It was just you, standing on stage, under a sky filled with blue fireworks, ready to welcome the next chapter of your lives together.

Harry turned back to the microphone, and the band launched into the next song, the energy in the arena electric.

You picked up the melody, your fingers moving effortlessly over the strings, but your mind was still on what had just happened.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Harry's face when the fireworks had exploded in blue.

The pure, unfiltered joy, mixed with a touch of disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was all real.

As you played through the set, you found yourself sneaking glances at Harry, catching his eye whenever you could.

Each time, he would smile at you, that same look of love and awe in his eyes.

It was a look that told you everything you needed to know about your future.

You were going to be just fine.

More than fine—you were going to be a family.

The rest of the concert flew by in a blur of music and lights.

The crowd was more alive than ever, feeding off the energy of the night.

When the final notes of the last song echoed through the arena, the applause was deafening.

Harry and you stood side by side, looking out at the sea of faces, each one filled with love and joy.

It was a moment neither of you would ever forget.

As the band left the stage, Harry grabbed your hand, pulling you close.

“We did it,” he whispered in your ear, his voice filled with pride.

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for the man beside you. “We did,” you agreed. “And now, we get to do the next part.”

Harry grinned, his hand resting on your belly. “I can’t wait.”

Backstage, the rest of the band and crew congratulated you, the air filled with hugs and laughter.

Everyone was buzzing with excitement, still riding the high of the reveal.

You couldn’t stop smiling, your heart full to bursting.

Later that night, after the arena had emptied and the crew had packed up, Harry and you found yourselves alone in your dressing room.

The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving behind a warm, contented glow.

Harry sat down on the couch, pulling you down beside him.

“I still can’t believe it,” Harry said, his voice soft as he rested his hand on your belly. “A boy.”

You leaned into him, your head resting on his shoulder. “I know,” you said, your voice equally soft. “It feels like a dream.”

Harry kissed the top of your head, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your stomach. “It’s a dream I never want to wake up from,” he whispered.

You sat like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other, the excitement of the night giving way to a peaceful calm.

The future stretched out before you, bright and full of possibilities.

And as you sat there, in the quiet of the night, you knew that no matter what came next, you would face it together, as a family.

And that was all you needed.

[sunafc]

accidentally in love - 17, single

taglist: @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @gigiiiiislife @phoenix-eclipses @needtoloveoutloud @azharyy @dearneverland @sleepystrwbrryy @oliwiasworlds @iluv-ace @rrosiitas @staygoldsquatchling02 @p4ndawrites @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @loveliepa @nnnyxie @iluvaquaphor @juliluvhz @kodzuken-hoe @luvvmae @sunset-venuz

if u want to be added to the taglist just let me know in the comments ! !

Right now you are going to the college library, Oikawa offered to help you study for your linguistics exam. He’s right beside you and your fingers brush against each other’s as you walk. This is nice, you think. Over the past few weeks you and Oikawa had spent a lot of time together. It felt natural to be part of each other’s lives. You wanted to introduce him to your friends, as you had just met his own.

Oikawa tugs at your hand, ‘Are you listening to me?’

‘Sorry,’ you look down at your hands, interlaced together, ‘What did you say?’

He smiles softly at you, ‘Do you want to grab dinner together, later?’

Oikawa doesn’t let go of your hand and you come to realize you enjoy that. His skin is really soft. He tugs at you again, noticing you’re getting lost in your thoughts once more.

‘Sure,’ you nod smiling back at him.

He holds the door to the library open for you and then follows you in. You spend a few minutes looking for the books you need before finding a free table.

You chose to study in the library because you knew if you studied at home you would get somehow distracted, though it seems the library isn’t really helping you. You’re finding it very difficult to concentrate when Oikawa is sitting next to you and his thigh presses against yours under the table. You keep reading the same sentence over and over again but the words have no meaning. You can’t stop thinking about how the last couple weeks have felt like dating, rumors even started going around campus about you two. But you don’t need a boyfriend, that’s what you settled on. You let out a deep sigh and read that sentence once more.

Once you’re done reading the chapter Oikawa lends you some flash cards, ‘I made these when I took this exam, I thought maybe they could help you.’

‘Thanks,’ you smile.

He pats your head ‘You seem a little out of it,’ his fingers run through your hair, ‘Are you alright?’

You open your mouth to reply, already thinking of the usual answer Just tired, but you stop when you notice two girls making their way towards your table. Oikawa’s hand in your hair drops to your thigh as he turns to them.

‘Hey,’ one of the girls says, fidgeting with her hands. Oh, you already have a feeling of what is about to happen and the air around you starts feeling really cold.

‘Are you single, Oikawa?’ She finally asks.

He nervously looks at you and you’re not sure how to read his face. He looks back at the girl. Your stomach is in a knot, he is single, you two are not dating. She’s really pretty, too. You don’t want to be there when he answers her, you quickly gather your things under the confused gaze of Oikawa.

His grip on your thigh tightens ‘Y/n?’

You move his hand, ‘Sorry I–’ you get up, ‘I need to go,’ you walk towards the exit without even thinking about making up some excuse. Your heart is racing, your hands are tingling, it’s hard to swallow and you’re feeling anxious, worried, sad... is this jealousy? This is all my fault, you want to be mad at Oikawa but this was really all your doing. You did exactly what you told him not to do so, really, you can only be mad at yourself. You shake your head as your vision starts to get blurry because of the tears forming in the corner of your eyes.

notes:

well well well, if these aren't the consequences of y/n's own actions... ops

anyways!

things will get better next chapter.. maybe😋

for the people who asked to be added to the taglist but don't see their names: tumblr won't let me tag u for some reason so i'm sorry abt that 🙁

previous - masterlist - next

[alittlebitofsainz]

a place in this world - ch1

a dream come true. you, a race engineer in formula one, having built your way up through the ranks. sure, the 2020 season hadn’t exactly gone the way that everyone had expected, but this was your chance, your moment to prove to the world of racing what you and your driver, carlos, were made of. but carlos isn’t staying at mclaren forever, and eventually, you’ll have a decision to make…

pairing: carlos sainz x f! reader. slow burn colleagues to friends to lovers (please, from my own experience, don’t follow this pipeline)

info: reader lives in the uk due to working at mclaren, and is somewhat implied to be british. it is also implied that they listen to bbc radio 2 and support leicester city football club. this may or may not be because these things are true of me and I wasn’t planning on publishing this, sorry!

warnings: cursing, a lil’ bit of angst, very infrequent use of y/n, one (1) google translated spanish sentence, a dry british writing style xoxo a/n: hello! welcome to a little passion project I never thought I’d share with the internet. this will eventually become a sort of ‘choose your own adventure’ type series, where you can make decisions about your career that can eventually lead you to different teams and drivers. will be posting a masterlist soon with more info so bare with me! any feedback / comments are always welcome

Masterlist | chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4

Chapter One: … Ready for It?

it had started out like any other wednesday. except it hadn’t, not really. the nature of your job meant that there was no ‘any other wednesday’. most wednesdays meant that you were jetting off to some new country, your wide eyed face in the window seat, reflecting back off the pane of glass separating you from the dancing lights of some exciting new city, 5,000 feet below. race engineer to mclaren-renault formula one driver number 55, carlos sainz, wasn’t exactly what you had listed as what you wanted to be when you grew up, but you were far from disappointed that that’s what your linkedin profile now read, a metaphorical middle finger to everyone who’d said you’d never amount to anything in motorsports.

but by all accounts it had been a relatively uneventful wednesday in your life, in fact even more so than usual compared to the early morning check ins at Stansted airport that you’d grown accustomed to. this week was silverstone, your home race, if race engineers could call it that, and that meant no early mornings, no check ins, no flights, no decanting your liquids into tiny bottles and zipping them into a plastic bag to take through security. this wednesday was a stop at sainsburys to fill up the tank of your vw polo with petrol, and an 80 mile drive west towards silverstone circuit. the most exciting part of your morning was getting stuck in half an hour of traffic on the m25; you didn’t even need the dulcet tones of Richie Anderson on radio 2 to tell you there’d be traffic at Potters Bar. as a native southerner, you could just feel it in your bones.

still, only fifteen minutes late to track wasn’t too bad, considering your lengthy journey, and you were by far the last member of the team to arrive. you would’ve been even less late, but for the fact that you’d sat for the best part of five minutes in your car, engine off, staring at the notification on your phone. there were so many questions running around in your head, first and foremost of which was why on earth did dan from engineering have your number? but the second question, which was possibly the more important one, was why did carlos ask him for it? he said that it ‘might be useful to contact each other.’ if the current expression on your face could be summed up in a noise, it would be a very confused and very emphatic ‘huh?’.

sure, you and carlos interacted a lot during race weekends, that much was a given. you were forever catching up to discuss data, strategies, the car setup, the sandwich options at the hospitality, why the leicester city football team would beat real madrid in a fist fight. so okay, your conversations weren’t allstrictly work related, and you could’t deny that the two of you got on well and seemed to really understand each other, but that was all part of being a driver and race engineer duo; you had to be on the same wavelength. it was non-negotiable. but swapping phone numbers? you couldn’t imagine why the two of you would need to text or call each outside of work hours, and you had work phones for that. which led you to your third and fourth questions: number three, why did you suddenly feel so nervous and giddy with excitement when you re-read his message for the seventh time? (question three point five was why did you re-read his message seven times?) and number four, what the hell were you supposed to message back in reply?

you typed in a thumbs up emoji and then immediately deleted it. how fucking old were you, 65? what next, start talking to him about the cold war? no, you had to keep it fun and casual, not too overfamiliar but not too weirdly distant and cold. god, why was this so difficult? you felt like a schoolgirl with a teenage crush, constantly typing various replies and deleting them again, letter by letter. eventually you settled on a cool, calm and collected response, typing it out and shoving your phone into your pocket before you had time to overanalyse what you’d just sent. quickly gathering up your stuff from the boot of your car, you spammed the lock button on your car keys, just in case the first five times didn’t stick, and trotted off towards the entrance to the paddock.

as it was approaching the hour mark since he’d sent his text, carlos had been starting to worry that he’d overstepped an unwritten boundary. why had he even asked dan from engineering for her number in the first place? it just felt like something that he should have. lando had will’s number, he’d already asked him that. but once he’d sent the message he realised that he couldn’t really come up with an excuse as to why he’d needed it, why he couldn’t have waited until he’d seen her this weekend and ask for her number from herself. like a normal person. deep down he knew why, though he was in some sort of state of denial about it, and it was the same reason that he hadn’t asked for her number two weeks ago in Hungary, or at the previous race in Austria, or when he’d first met her at the start of the season. 

he breathed a sigh of relief when her reply came through, 57 minutes after he’d sent his message. well, the first one that is. the second message came two minutes after the first; god, he couldn’t believe he’d been stupid enough to forget to include who he was at the end of the text the first time around.

but it didn’t matter now, because she’d replied, and her words on the screen made him smile to himself, her voice in his head as he read them through three, now four times over. his fingers hovered over the keypad, contemplating a reply. he checked the time - it wouldn’t be long until she arrived at track anyway and they could chat in person, so he closed the messages app on his phone and tucked it away in his pocket, deciding against committing any words to the everlasting aether which was the iPhone messages app.

it was nearing the end of a lengthy strategy department meeting when your phone went off, a few pair of eyes glancing your way as you apologised profusely, eyes scanning over the text before sheepishly putting your phone on do not disturb and placing it back on the table face down. shit, this meeting wouldn’t be finished for another ten minutes at least, and by that time all the bacon and brie toasties would be gone (everyone knew they were the best lunch option). worse still, you hated the fact that you had to leave carlos hanging; pausing the strategy meeting to send off a quick text was equivalent to a cardinal sin, even if it was to carlos sainz. your eyes were flicking increasingly often down to the time on your laptop, the seconds crawling by as the time approached one o’clock. it felt like whichever godlike entity governed the laws of time was toying with you; surely it wasn’t possible for time to move this slowly? the head of strategy wrapped the meeting at 13:04, and you were out of your seat like a rocket.

amy, one of the strategists, fell into step beside you as you paced it down the corridor.

“you’ve heard about the brie and bacon being back on?” she asked; you only had to reply with a grin to give her the answer that she needed. she eyed you up, as much as anyone power walking down a busy corridor could whilst still maintaining maximum straight line speed.

“everyone from strategy and engineering has been in meetings. so who’s your source?” came her second question. you picked up your pace, under the guise of trying to get to the canteen quicker.

she had a habit of taking just enough time to respond to carlos’ messages to keep him guessing whether she actually would respond at all. it wasn’t entirely her fault, carlos realised; she’d apologised for earlier, explaining that she was busy driving. of course she was, how could he be such an idiot? maybe a part of him was hoping that she’d been acting coy, teasing him by waiting, purposefully trying to keep him on the edge of his seat.

carlos saw her enter the canteen, watched with a small, self satisfied smirk as her face fell, the rattan shelf where the brie and bacon toasties had been, now depressingly empty. he left it just long enough so that she was forced to consider which disappointing option to go for instead, before finally calling her over.

“Y/N!” carlos called, watching as her head whipped round, and he had to stifle a laugh at her confusion. he waved her over.

“sorry, I was stuck in a meeting.” she sighed, her voice slightly breathless. had she ran here? he fought back the urge to tease her about it, shaking his head slightly.

“don’t worry about it.” he replied, gesturing to the seat beside him as he spoke. her eyes lit up when her gaze fell on the plate on the table, in just the way he’d pictured in his head. god, he’d never get over the way the simple things pleased her, and he didn’t mean that in a bad way. over the past couple of months that he’d known her, carlos had learned that the little things really mattered, in a way that was almost rare in this environment. she looked upon a brie and bacon sandwich like it was the sun that shined, and if she’d have looked up at carlos in that moment, she’d have seen that he was looking at her in the exact same way.

“is that for me?”

“no.” carlos replied, deadpan. she shot him a look, her face screwed up in a pout that he’d grown more accustomed to the more he teased her like this. eventually he let out a soft chuckle, as a way to say I’m only joking, of course it’s for you, and she sat down in the seat next to him with a playful scowl, which only caused him to laugh more.

“thanks, carlos. you’re the best.” she told him through a mouthful of brie, bacon and toasted bread.

“I know.” he replied, a cheeky grin dancing across his face. “it was the last one as well.”

“amy’s gonna be pissed.” she giggled, glancing over her shoulder to watch as her colleague was forced to settle for regular ham and cheese.

a podium finish to p13. was it worse to fail because of your own shortcomings or because of something that was out of your control? if you’d asked carlos sainz right now, he would think about it for a moment, and then tell you to vete a la mierda.*

his phone screen lighting up in the darkness was the only thing that brought his attention to how dark it had become in his hotel room. christ, how long had he been sat there, staring at the wall, trying to process how frustrated and angry and upset he was? he’d put his phone on silent, tired of all the commiseratory messages that had been coming through, but apparently his bedtime reminder didn’t obey the laws of do not disturb. sighing, he unlocked the device, and quickly scanned down the many notifications he had been ignoring for the past few hours. one stood out above all the rest, because of course it did. he felt guilt clutch him as he noticed the message from well over an hour ago. from her.not only guilty at the fact that he’d not seen her message, but for some reason guilty for perceiving that he’d let her down at her home race. it was stupid, he knew, to feel that way - it wasn’t his fault that his tyre had blown out with just a few laps to go, but he knew how excited she’d been for her first ever british gp, and it had all ended in disappointment. his fingers hovered over the keyboard at the bottom of his phone for a moment, a million different emotions whizzing round in his head, bouncing off the sides like a demented pinball machine. no wonder he had a headache. he drew in a sharp breath before typing out his reply.

*I’m hoping this means somewhat akin to ‘fuck off’

you’d almost forgotten that you’d sent carlos sainz a message of commiseration, which was shocking considering how long you’d been deliberating over it only a mere hour ago. you were back in your own bed in your hometown, seeing no need to stick around seeing as there would be no celebrations this weekend, and carlos had disappeared as soon as the team debrief had ended, making it very clear that he wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. which made it all the more surprising when you leaned over to your bedside table, bleary eyes blinking back sleep as your vision adjusted to the pitch black of your room, to pick up the phone which had woken you from your sleep.

your eyes blinked again against the harsh light of the phone, taking a moment to focus on the big bold numbers on your lockscreen. 01:03? who was texting you at this time? eyebrows knitted together in an increasingly deep frown, you scanned carlos’ message. as was becoming customary, you read it several times over, this time to check whether you’d read it right. why would he want to ring you, at this time of night as well? your mind started to reach for wild possibilities - was he in trouble? hurt? worse?

before he changed his mind, carlos hit the telephone symbol next to her contact details.

“Carlos, are you okay?” her voice came through almost immediately, sounding equal parts panicked yet somehow sleepy. shit, not only had he caused her to worry, he’d probably just woken her up in the middle of the night as well. what kind of dickhead rings a colleague that he’s only known for a few months at 1am? he cleared his throat.

“fuck, sorry, I woke you up.”

“don’t worry about it, I was awake.” she replied. a blatant lie, but carlos appreciated the attempt to make him feel better. 

“can I help you with something?” she continued, still sounding concerned. he shook his head even though she couldn’t see.

“yes, no. fuck, I don’t know.” he growled at himself for being so confused, so confusing, for not even really knowing why he’d called her. was he going insane, or did he just hear a soft sigh on the other end of the line? he squeezed his eyes shut, collecting himself to try again, but she beat him to it. 

“I’m sorry about today, carlos, it must be tough to deal with.”

sometimes it felt like she knew him better than he knew himself. he dragged a hand down his face.

“yeah, I’m- it’s not great.” he stumbled over his words slightly, his voice catching in his throat. usually he’d be reluctant to show this vulnerability, embarrassed even, but something about the late hour combined with how oh-so-soft her voice was… it made him forget his pride for just that moment. 

“I can’t stop thinking about it.” he admitted, feeling a ramble coming on but equally feeling powerless to stop it. “I know that it was a problem with the tyre, I know that it wasn’t my fault, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating. and then there’s always a part of me that wonders whether there was anything that I could’ve done. like, maybe if I’d driven less aggressively or something, or changed the way I braked around a certain corner. I still feel like I’ve let myself down, let the team down, let you dow-“

“you didn’t let me down, carlos.” her abrupt reply broke him from his monologue, stopping him in his tracks and allowing him to fill his lungs with air, not realising how out of breath he was becoming with his run-on sentences.

“what?” came his soft reply. he’d heard perfectly clearly what she’d said the first time. but a part of him needed to hear it again.

“you didn’t let me down, carlos.” she repeated, with the same clarity, the same sincerity, the same low tone that he’d never heard from her before that made her sound so wise beyond her years.

“you didn’t let anyone down. this wasn’t your fault. I know it doesn’t make it any less frustrating or easier to deal with - there’s nothing I can say that will change that. but please, please don’t blame yourself for any part of it.”

there was silence on both ends for a moment, before carlos let out a long sigh.

“I- yeah, I guess you’re right.” there was something still on his mind, something that one am carlosknew that one pm carlos would never want to talk about, least of all burden his race engineer with it. but that was all the more reason to say it now.

“I just feel so much pressure to perform, now that I have the ferrari contract.” his voice dropped even lower as he spoke, as if whispering it quietly enough could make it not be true. “I feel like I have to earn my place there, you know?”

“carlos, you were P-fucking-3.” 

something about the way she stressed the syllables made carlos chuckle despite himself, and from the way she let out a small giggle on the other end of the phone, he guessed that that had been her intention all along. 

“anyone can see that you’ve earned that seat at ferrari. you’ve proved that time and time again already. this isn’t about anyone else, this is about you, and what you believe you deserve. the only person you need to convince is yourself.”

carlos chuckled again, feeling some sort of playful nature already coming back to him. maybe he’d finally figured out why he wanted to call her in the middle of the night, maybe it was even the reason he wanted her number in the first place. maybe it was because he knew that no matter how crappy he was feeling, talking to her always seemed to turn the day around. she always seemed to make him smile.

“very inspirational.” he replied, his tone almost teasing over her ‘believing in yourself’ speech. the corners of his lips curved upwards as he could practically hear her rolling her eyes on the other end.

“this is what I get for trying to be nice.” she muttered, but her tone was light, reciprocating the teasing. carlos smiled, his first genuine smile in several hours. probably since the last time he’d seen her.

“thank you, really. talking to you it… it always puts me in a better mood.” carlos confessed, glad that this was a phone call so she couldn’t see the way his cheeks lit up a soft shade of pink.

“anytime, carlos.” 

when they eventually hung up the call, carlos felt lighter than he had in weeks, like she’d melted all his problems away with her soft voice and warm heart. he slept easy that night. meanwhile, she was now wide awake.

you groaned when the sound of your phone pinging dragged you from your admittedly tumultuous sleep. it had been difficult to drift off again after that call with carlos, a million thoughts buzzing around your brain like a swarm of bees on cocaine. you felt bad for carlos, sure, but that wasn’t enough to keep you awake on its own. there was another feeling there; if you were to flip through an oxford english dictionary until you found a word that summed it up you might settle for ‘intrigued’. 

you were intrigued that carlos that had decided to ring you of all people last night; surely he had family, or at the very least close friends, that he would rather turn to? but you were also intrigued by your own reaction - why were you feeling so warm and fuzzy that carlos had chosen you, the knowledge that when he was feeling low you were the one he wanted to hear on the other end of the line creating some sort of feeling in your heart, like someone was squeezing it not-quite-too tightly?

it was these questions, and an incessant amount of bin lorries driving past at 5am, that kept you from falling back asleep, and were the reason that you were grumbling now, as you reached over to pick up your phone. the grumbling ceased the moment you read the message and saw who it was from, replaced by a softly murmured ‘oh’, and that strange feeling in your chest again.

as always feedback and comments are welcomed with massive appreciation and open arms! a second part is written and will be out soonish! much love, Katie x

[theblue6ook]

The Young Years PT 2

Summary: This is a prequel to "Shit Interview" in the "Out of My League" series. Read about Bruce and Y/N in their troubled tweens. What about their past makes them work so well together? You'll find out. (Hint: they've both been through major struggles.)

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

a/n: There's some alcoholism, guns, and daddy issues in this. You've been warned. [Eventual slow burn with Bruce]

Daddy Issues [B(14) Y/N(12)]

The cold pricked at her face, and snow seeped into her old rain boots. Her hands gripped the flannel with all her might and pulled. No dice. She tried again and pulled... nothing. Sighing, she turned toward the house and saw her brother's eyes peeking out the front window. No, I can’t leave him out here. This time, she stepped into the garage and grabbed a sled.

“Come on, Dad,” she said as she approached him. “Let’s get you onto the sled just- ugh- Come on, old man, help me help you.” Her father, in his drunken state, pulled himself out of the snow and onto the sled. Slowly, they made their way towards the house. 

She had sweat dripping down her back, but with minimal help from her father, they made it through the front door and onto the rug by the stairs. He passed out immediately.

“Listen, boys,” she sighed and turned to her brothers, “I have to go to the shop, but I wrapped some sandwiches and put them in the fridge for dinner. Eat and sleep, you hear me… and don’t wake up Dad. He’ll probably sleep there until tomorrow.”

“But you just got off your shift at Dorthie’s Flowers,” her brother Eric looked up at her. 

“I know, but Dad needs our help right now, so I have to double up.”

Both of her brothers looked at each other, unsure. Y/N gave them each a hug and stepped past her father and out the door.

She trudged through the snow to her dad's mechanic shop just down the block. After her mom ran out on them, her father was in a tough place, to say the least. So his good friend Ronnie took it upon himself to manage the shop. Ronnie was somewhat of an irresponsible uncle to Y/N. He cared a lot about her father, a lot, so, naturally, he cared about his kids, but when it came to advice, Ronnie wasn’t exactly the best influence.

They slowly worked in silence on a Purple Honda Odyssey. Ronnie was changing the tires as Y/N worked on the oil change. The silence felt good. Y/N needed to get away from everything for a bit. Working on cars did that for her.

“How’s your dad been?” he asked, breaking the silence. “Are you guys still having trouble with the bills?”

She sighed, “If he could come back to work, we’d have double the money, and maybe we wouldn’t have problems with bills.”

“Listen, kid, your dad has been through it, and he’s lucky to have you,” he seemed unsure, rubbing his chin. “You know there are other ways to make money quick.”

“Yeah, right, I’m already working two jobs,” she looked over at him. He looked like he knew something she didn’t. “Like what, Ronnie?”

“Nah. You’re too young for this conversation.”

“Like what,” she repeated. “Do you want us to starve?”

He was silent for a while and then eventually said, “You know, I know you’re good at working on cars, but how are you at driving them?”

“I’m twelve."

“Your dad hasn’t put you behind the wheel even once?” The look she gave him confirmed what he was thinking.

“You know how I always say when you know how cars purr on the inside, you drive them better on the outside.”

“Where is this going? Does this have a point?”

“You ever heard of drag racing?”

-

He claimed he didn’t mean to kill them. Then, why would you pull the trigger? He claims prison has shown him a different light. Well then, I can put you in the ground. 

Bruce sits silently, watching his parents' murderer spew nonsense. He was on the run for a month before he was caught when Bruce was eight. Alfred had hoped that would be the end of it little did he know, Bruce would be the end of it. He was ready to end it officially, and he didn’t care what would happen to him after. Rachel sat next to him, trying to offer support, and Alfred sat on the other side.

I could do it. I could do it right now. I could shoot him. He felt the cold metal against his hipbone, stuffed into the waist of his pants. A gun he had found after cracking his father's safe. In a way, it was poetic he would die at the hand of his father's own weapon. How this asshole got off with a life sentence, plus a possibility of parole, he would never know. Doesn’t matter now though. He sat and waited for a good moment. He sat and waited… and waited… and waited…

The trial was ending in no time, and the gun felt heavier and heavier. He started to sweat; he started to panic. He has to do this. He has to. Alfred noticed his panic and went to pat Bruce’s leg in reassurance, but the motion made the gun slip further down, barely holding onto the top of his pants… when Alfred felt it. Bruce knew he felt it, and there was a sole-sucking silence between them. 

Alfred looked at him, panicked and disappointed from the corner of his eye. He held Bruce’s arm by the bicep hard and started breathing heavily. As people started to filter out of the courtroom, Bruce remained silent, staring forward, and Alfred nodded towards Rachel in a goodbye as he pulled Bruce up and out of the courthouse. He had him by the bicep all the way to the car. 

He shoved Bruce passed multiple reporters and newscasters, and straight into the back of the Rolls Royce. Bruce noticed when he sat down that the weight was gone. Alfred stepped into the front of the tinted car, leaning back into the driver's seat.

“Where did my-”

“Sometimes I think you forget I was a part of the Royal Marines.” Alfred easily slipped the magazine out of the gun. He huffed, “You don’t- You don’t ever touch a gun. Do you understand me? Where did you even get this?”

“That asshole deserves it!”

“WHERE DID YOU GET THIS?”

“IT WAS DAD’S,” he called out.

Alfred sighed, pulling away from the crowd of people, “You really think this is what your father would have wanted? You going to prison for the rest of your life? To kill someone?”

“You wouldn’t understand. You weren’t there-”

“I’ve seen death! It is nothing to think about when you’re fourteen years old. It’s something no one should ever think about.”

“It’s all I think about! Do you think this has been easy for me? They were actually considering offering him parole! It wasn’t an accident. He meant to kill them, and I’ll prove it to you.”

“I think you need a break. I think you need to get away from all of this. Let’s take time off; let’s go somewhere.”

Bruce knew where he needed to go, but he definitely wouldn’t be taking time off.

[lily-fics-11]

Je Vous Aime (Robin Buckley, Stranger Things)

Je Vous Aime//Robin Buckley, Stranger Things

I haven't written about my pookie Robin in so long so I had to fix that

You say goodbye to Robin after school and put on your headphones. You walk out to the bike rack together every day. Before you play the music on your Walkman you hear Robin whisper “Je vous aime.”

“What does that mean?” you question, wondering why she was speaking to you in what you think is French. She knows you don’t speak it, that you have always taken Spanish. 

Robin’s freckled cheeks flush instantaneously. “I thought you were listening to music.”

“Not yet. Was that French? What does ‘je voo em’ mean?” You interrogate her, trying to get to the bottom of this strange interaction.

She breaks eye contact to stare down at her converse. “It means… see you later. So uh, see you later, I gotta go.” She doesn't even look back at you before leaving on her bike, she just takes off.

Robin always looks at you, her stone blue eyes staring deeply into yours. The only time she doesn’t is when she lies. “I can stay late, my parents won’t mind. I finished that essay too, so I can hang out tonight. Steve is probably running late, I can stay for another few minutes.”

Back home you pour over your homework without making much progress. 

Why would Robin say something to you that she knew you couldn’t understand?

When she didn’t think you could hear her? 

Why the hell would she lie about it? 

Did you upset her? 

Is she sad? Mad? 

Clearly you had done something wrong. Robin is far from confrontational and avoids problems until they go away. Even though conflict between you two is rare, you are tired of her dealing with it this way. She isn’t going to just let things go this time, it’s not fair to either of you. 

You check the time and the library closes in a half hour. If you ride your bike fast enough you will have enough time to get there and find a French dictionary to borrow. 

Upon arriving at the library you are tired, sweating, and red in the face from racing there against the clock. You ask the librarian where to find what you need, quickly locate, and check it out.

You can’t wait until you get home to figure this out, so you sit in the grass outside the library and start searching through the book.

The first word was definitely “je”. Flipping through the dictionary you find out that it means “I”. I what? I want you to leave me alone?

“Voo” came after “je”. Unfortunately, you discover that “voo” itself is not, in fact, a word. It isn’t spelled the way it sounds, so you move on to words that have “vo” at the beginning. The word that sticks out is “vous”, for which the English translation is “you”. 

There is the ABBA song called Voulez-Vous, which is “do you want”, if you aren’t mistaken. You must be on the right track then. “I” and “you”. I hate you?

Turns out that “to hate” is “détester”, and not the word she said. That’s a relief, but you are still desperate for an answer. But “em” isn’t even a word and neither is “im”. 

You don’t actually know how vowels are pronounced in French. How they are pronounced in English is different from Spanish, so French is probably the same way. Pronunciation basics is naturally the next section you look at. You discover that different vowel combinations were definitely the right direction to go in. “Ai” could kind of sound like the “e” in “em”. So “aim” or “aime” is probably the right word.

You can’t believe your eyes when you read the translation of “aime”. 

Love?

Love.

I love you? Your friendship with Robin could certainly be categorized as very close, but not in an “I love you” way. 

You would never say it to her, that’s for sure. 

Not because you don’t love her, but because you don’t love her like a friend. 

You are in love with Robin. 

You would without a doubt say it back if she were to say it directly to you, even if you meant it in a different way. 

Why wouldn’t she just say it? Is she worried you don’t feel the same way? Now that you are actually thinking about it you do have a tendency to distance yourself at times, and avoid physical affection when it comes to Robin. In your defense you only do it to avoid letting yourself live an impossible fantasy. 

Robin Buckley is a girl. 

Robin Buckley doesn’t love you the way that you love her. 

However, to anyone with a single notion of your same sex attraction, your feelings for Robin would be crystal clear, like her pretty blue eyes. Your eyes can find her in the most crowded room and from just about any distance. And once you spot her? You can’t bear to look away. Why would you pass up an opportunity to admire such a physically and mentally appealing girl?

You would drop just about anything for Robin. If she calls, you are there. Family dinner, studying, the best book or movie, doesn’t matter. Robin is always a top priority. As long as you are in a good place to give her your best you will absolutely give it to her. 

You wear her favorite color whenever you can, you seek it out when you go shopping. If she mentions a book or movie you completely engross yourself in it until you can discuss it with her at great length. You even spend extra time studying Spanish so that you can carry conversations with her. Robin is extraordinary, she speaks English, French, Spanish, and Italian. 

There is no obvious reason why she would do this, and you have no intention of waiting for an answer to this unshakeable question. 

You shove the book into the woven basket on your bike and take off at a steady pace in the direction of Robin’s house. You don’t want to look like a mess when you get there. You can feel frustration building up inside you. Why does she have to be so avoidant, why can’t she just say what she is feeling? 

You knock on the door and Robin is the one to answer it. She looks excited to see you until she realizes how upset you are. 

“Is everything ok? Is something wrong? Did I do something?” Robin panics and then groans “fuck, I did do something, didn’t I,” when your expression doesn’t soften. 

“Well yeah, you kind of did,” you sigh with a twinge of guilt, realizing how much you are stressing her out.

Robin starts fidgeting with the chunky silver rings on her fingers. “I’m not always the best at, you know, the social cues, so I’m so sorry to ask this because it makes me feel like a jerk, but what did I do?”

Robin Buckley really can’t read a room, can she. Remembering this only creates more remorse for acting on your emotions instead of taking your time to find the best approach. 

“What you said after school today,” you explain. “‘Je vous aime’.”

“I hate to ask another stupid question,” Robin says while making deep eye contact before looking away and asking "but what’s wrong with ‘see you later’?”

“Robin, have you forgotten how well I know you? I can tell when you are lying. I went to the library and found a French dictionary, so I know what you actually said. ‘I love you’? Why wouldn’t you just say it? We are friends, aren’t we? Have I made you uncomfortable or upset? I’m sorry if I have made you feel that way. But if I did, why wouldn’t you come to me about it? You deserve to feel heard.”

“We are friends.” Robin mumbles. 

You run a hand through your hair in exasperation. “Then what the hell is going on?”

“I just didn’t want to make things weird.” She bites her chapped lips. 

“Rob, we are friends, I want you to feel safe to talk to me. I would never judge you.” 

Robin sits down on the ground like she is trying to get away from you, without actually going anywhere. “That’s the thing. You wouldn’t judge a friend who says I love you. But you might not feel the same way when someone means it as more than friendly. Especially when you are both girls. It’s not fair of me to lie to you and I really should be honest so you can just kick me out of your life for being the weird girl that’s in love with her friend. So je vous aime, I love you. Like in love with you. And you never have to speak to me again if you don’t….”

You had sat down next to Robin while she was talking and now you cut her off. “You are so oblivious, and to be quite honest, I'm offended.”

“Fuck!” Robin groans before covering her face with her hands. “I know you probably think it’s gross, and you hate me, and…”

You pull her hands away from her face. They had been covering her sad puppy dog expression. “Shhhhhh Robin,” you try to soothe her before putting an arm around her shoulders. “It’s not gross. It’s the opposite of gross. You are like gold, you know. Precious, but dense. I’ve always been in love with you. I try not to make it obvious but I still feel like it is.”

“Y-you?” She stutters, her voice sounding afraid, though her eyes are starry and filled with wonder. “In love with me?”

“Je vous aime, Robin.”

[crownedtargaryen]

Robb x Reader Oneshot

A/N: I will admit this is for my dearest friend @valeskafics but also for me, I gotta indulge in Robb too fr… also I’m listening to Whatta Man - Salt En’ Papa, En Vogue while writing this… also maybe captain save a hoe…

ALL NOTES ARE APPRECIATED (SHARES, LIKES, COMMENTS)

NSFW 18+

CW: possessive Robb WOOF, semi public sex, he literally spits in ur mouth, breeding or something lol tehe 🤭

Pronouns: She/Her

spacer from @firefly-graphics

I never saw Robb Stark, my husband, as the jealous type. He was always focused on his wars and battles, his honor, and such. I found no interest in those desires, all I wished was he found a desire for me. We hadn't made love yet, and he had refused a bedding ceremony in want for it to come naturally. I know he loves me or at least loved me once. I felt alone, he worked hard on everything but when it came to us it felt halfway.

I stare blankly out the window of our carriage, sighing heavily. I feel Robb's eyes on me and I turn, a smile coming to him as he holds eye contact with me.

"Something ailing you, My Love?" He asks sweetly, making me frown slightly. I watch his brows furrow, scooting closer to me. "What's wrong?" I feel his hand stroke over my hair, scanning me for a solution to my problems.

"I feel lonesome," I murmur, feeling his figure stiffen. "I feel you don't love me, Robb." I look at him, my gaze softening with sadness. He's apologetic, I can feel it. He cups my face and sighs softly, admiring my features.

"I wish I'd known sooner," he says, swallowing hard and exhaling heavily. "I love you, more than anything in this world. You're the best gift the gods have given me, and I am forever grateful for it." He places his forehead on mine, leaning in to kiss me but is stopped by the carriage slowing to a still. I grumble in unison with my lover, and we both grin like idiots. Quickly, I shuffle to my feet.

"Race you!" I scramble out as I rush through the door and up the stairs of King's Landing. I hear him swear at me playfully and run after me.

I turn to look at him, not paying attention as I run into someone, stumbling backward, an arm grabbing around my waist. My gaze snaps to a handsome man, with brown scruffy hair and a button nose. His eyes are blown wide with shock, his rough dirtied tan skin absorbing the light around us. I feel my face grow hot as he chuckles.

"Woah there pretty lady, wouldn't want ya' fallin' down these steps," the stranger teases. I push him away and smile gratefully, slightly awkward.

"I appreciate the help, I could've-" I start, being interrupted by a stern hand on my shoulder. Before I can react, I'm tugged back and Robb is in front of me with a blade to the man's throat. They stare at each other, neither afraid of the other.

"Keep your hands off my wife," Robb growls under his breath, almost animalistic. I go to reassure him but he pushes closer to the man. "She's mine, you dare even look at her I'll splatter your blood all over these stairs." I can feel him snapping at him, the action scaring me.

"You've got a pretty thing with ya', but why you throwin' a fit over someone doin' somethin' you shoulda been helping her with," he snaps back my heart racing. I feel Robb's anger grow and flourish into pure rage and jealousy. I grab him as he goes to slit his throat, the blade missing by an inch. Robb turns around and glares at me, but sees my worried face and sighs.

"Let's go. Now." My husband grabs my hand, returns his sword to his holster, and storms up the stairs, glaring at anyone who looks at me.

After being passive-aggressively settled into a room by those in power, Robb grabs me and shoves me onto the bed, walking over and towering over my body.

“You keep your eyes on me,” he demands, glaring down at me. I stare at him, completely wide eye. He seems to start becoming breathless and feverish with a growing blush on his cheeks. "You're mine. All mine. If I have to put a baby in that pretty belly of yours to make sure you remember that, I will." I was shocked, but I loved it. Despite his harsh manner, he still looked to me for consent, and I nodded slowly. He took the gesture quickly, grabbing my dress and tearing it off of me without shame. I hear the fabric rip as my body is aggressively revealed to my husband.

I hear his breath hitch as he stares at my chest, mesmerized. He reaches a semi-shaky hand to my breasts and squeezes one. He stares at me as if I'm his prey, eyes wild with lust. Slowly, he uncovers my lower region and sighs longingly when my cunt is revealed to him. I thought he might just lose himself there, so much love mixed with lust corrupting his gaze. Before I can react, he's on his knees in front of me, mouth on my cunt as he moans against my folds, tongue trailing my clit as if he's done this countless times. I whimper, thighs clenching his face, my hypersensitive body being overwhelmed by the sensation.

I hear his clothing shuffle and then clatter onto the floor, swiftly grabbing at my thighs and groaning in pleasure. He looks up at me, his desiring gaze driving me closer to my edge. With a pop, he moves off my now swollen clit, pushing one finger after the next inside and moving up to my face. I look up at him pitifully, my mouth open and whimpers escaping me as my thighs twitch with needy shuffles.

Robb smiles, grabbing my jaw with his free hand, and spitting in my mouth. "Swallow it," he demands, and I do as he says weakly, trembling beneath him. "Such a good girl for me... You want my cubs inside that body of yours so bad, don't you." His hand moves from my jaw and down to my stomach. I feel his pointer and index trail the middle of my stomach as I squirm under him. "I want to hear you beg for it, (Y/N). Beg."

Part of me feels weirdly humiliated, but I do it nonetheless. I've wanted his cock for ages, I'm not giving this up now. "Please, Please Robb," I start, panting weakly beneath him and he hastens the pace of his fingers, making my back arch. "I need you, fuck me, Robb. Please, I'll do anything." He seems satisfied by my statement, flipping me over onto a doggy-style position.

I expect him to rush to fuck me, but instead, he grabs me with haste and smacks my thigh with a newfound roughness. I quiver, yelping as he lets out a satisfied growl. "Letting all those men look at you. You love the attention, don't you, Princess," he smacks my ass once more, tingling pain in my skin. I grip the sheets, shaking slightly. "I'm going to let the whole kingdom know what's mine." Quickly he grabs me, turning me to face him as he commands me to wrap my legs around him. I do so, watching as he takes me to an open balcony in our bedroom, something he had specifically requested for our chambers. Now I knew why. We looked over the city of people, some spotting us on the balcony in such a ludicrous act, but it'd take a lot of focus to realize what was happening and who it was. He leans me against the railing after ensuring it's sturdy, pushing inside me without warning. He stills, waiting for me to grow comfortable, then pushing in and out of my cunt, slow at first.

Robb buries his head into my shoulder, biting the nape of my neck and growling under his breath, quickening his pace. I moan, shamelessly. Surely the people who saw us knew now, the loud noises that escape me echo through the air as I tug his hair. He loves it. I pull his head to my lips, kissing him passionately as he squeezes my thighs, slipping his hand down and abusing my clit.

"Robb... We might get in trouble," I pant out, moaning pitifully against his lips. I feel him grin like an idiot, replying after a giddy few seconds.

"Good," he whispers, pulling my hair back and making me moan toward the gods. May they forgive me for this action, but it feels so good. "Let them know who's my breeding slut, my sweet Princess. No one can touch you, no one can make you feel this good." He moves his kisses and bites down my chest, speaking into my skin with a deepened tone.

His thrusts become sloppy, and his words send me over the edge. I scream his name, definitely catching the eyes of the citizens below as I shake and hold onto his hair. The tug mixed with the noises is enough for him and he groans my name for all the gods to hear, stilling inside of me and making a mess of my cunt.

He holds my head close, stroking my hair with soft groans and pants. He whispers a phrase that makes me melt. "I love you. I love you so much." He kisses the side of my head, pulling out slowly and carrying me to the door where the guards stand, peeking out.

"Fetch a servant to run a bath," He demands, closing the door and dressing me in his tunic, dressing in loose clothes. I look at him lovingly, a glowing grin on his face. He looks at me, his eyes full of love. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" He whispers, kissing my forehead. I shake my head no, his muscles relaxing as he scoops me up and takes me to the bath. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Robb sat comfortably in the warm water as I cuddle up to his chest on his lap, running my fingertips over his muscles gently. He's washing me off, a rag running over my skin with such care.

"Robb?" I whine, looking up at him. He looks at me and wraps his arms around my figure, tilting his head like a curious dog. "Are you sure you love me?" I felt fearful asking, but I knew he'd be honest toward me. He does not hesitate for a moment, immediately answering.

"I love you more than anyone or anything in this life, as I had said before. I'll say it a million times again until you believe me. You're my blessed wife, I will never let any harm come to you or our marriage. I swear it, by the old gods and the new." He looks serious, his expression unwavering. I pause, surprised by his effortless affection, he didn't even have to think about it. I hug him tight, resting my head over his heart. It's a slow and relaxed rhythm, his hand rubbing over my bare back. "I'd lay my body upon my blade before I let you hurt. Do you hear me? No one will dare touch you, not while I'm standing." He lifts my head, staring into my eyes. I stare back, my heart racing with love.

"I hear you. I'll never let anyone hurt you either. I cannot do much, but I wish to try. With everything I have," I move up, kissing him lovingly. He returns with haste, gripping my sides and groaning softly. Slowly, he pulls back, much earlier than I'd like.

"You'd better quit being so perfect or I'll be fucking you again," he teases, making me flush and gently hit him on the side. His laugh warms my soul. "Hey! What happened to wishing me no harm?"

"Think of it as a repayment for my ass," I whisper, Robb grinning ear to ear. "Now let's finish up, I wish to rest."

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Run, Human, RUN part 12

Warnings: violence, starvation/emaciated, blood and severe injury, captivity, near-extinct human race

She wondered why he was so eager to learn about her, why he so desperately wanted knowledge. But then again, Tyleet's interest in human ways could be totally innocent, after all he was a naturally curious creature.

Alexa rarely got to see her fellow humans over the next four days. Part of it was probably due to the language barrier between her and Tyleet. Every time she'd ask to see them, he'd give her a quizzical look and change the subject. But she didn't think too much of it, and occasionally the message got through and Tyleet would allow her to visit Violet and the others.

It was kind of funny, how child-like Tyleet was around her. Eager for knowledge, easily excited. It was so vastly different from his attitude when he addressed other bat-people like himself. He was always tall and strong and full of authority with them, giving orders and being a leader. It was odd how quickly he could change based on the circumstances.

The days began to feel more natural as time went on, a routine falling in place. At noon every day Tyleet would come and Alexa would spend a few hours with him giving lessons on how to speak right. And he was a shockingly fast learner, especially considering that English was one of the hardest languages to learn. But it was fun for Alexa, and she enjoyed the distraction from constantly worrying about the other humans.

She had found it amusing at first how intrigued and obsessively curious Tyleet was about human nature and mannerisms, but eventually she started noticing a pattern with his questions that made her vaguely uneasy.

It was strange, he seemed to be wanting to know specific human terms in particular for certain actions, like 'kneel', 'down', 'listen', and more, insisting on learning more related terms in that area alone for several days in a row. But when Tyleet started finally speaking better sentences, Alexa realized she might have made a mistake in agreeing to teach him.

"Surrender, get down?" Tyleet growled during their latest session. An order. He was trying to learn human orders. It hadn't occurred to Alexa until now to wonder what he planned to do with this information, especially since he wanted to learn direct commands more than any other dialogue.

"Y-Yes," Alexa stammered with sudden wariness.

Tyleet's mouth twitched into a brief frown at her hesitancy. "At ease?"

Alexa nodded quickly, squashing her sudden fear and forcing her expression to remain carefully neutral. Tyleet fortunately seemed to buy it, and didn't pry.

They finished up with the training session, and Alexa went to her room to go to bed early, thinking over Tyleet's words. She couldn't figure it out. Why would Tyleet want to speak fluent human commands? Maybe to better keep Violet and the other in line? Yeah, that made more sense...

The night was long and restless, and Alexa woke up tired, but still to the smell of fresh, mouth-watering breakfast. Tyleet always took great care to make sure she was well taken care of. She rolled out of bed and padded out to meet him, and as expected, he was already waiting with a massive plate of food.

Tyleet smiled warmly at Alexa when she arrived, before turning to leave like he always did to let her eat undisturbed. But Alexa cleared her throat awkwardly before he could take off, making him pause.

"Tyleet, is it all right if I see my friends again today?" She asked, pointing to her eyes, then at the door to indicate leaving.

Tyleet hesitated, wings twitching thoughtfully, before he nodded. "Yes. Alexa see friends later." He spread his leathery wings with a snap and gracefully tipped off the takeoff platform, effortlessly gliding away.

Alexa sighed shakily. That went better than she expected. She hungrily wolfed down her breakfast, eager to get going. Once she was satisfied, she took up pacing mindlessly while she waited for Tyleet to return.

And Tyleet arrived in a gust of wind, taking Alexa to the ground like promised and leading her to the giant buildings the humans were being kept in.

When she arrived, the humans looked far different than she remembered. They all looked healthier, well-fed, and many of them no longer wore shackles on their ankles. Some were even chatting idly with the bat-creatures holding them prisoner, thought the bat-people looked utterly baffled at all the chittering.

"I need to go. Don't lost," Tyleet said as he nudged Alexa with a wing.

"Don't get lost," Alexa corrected with a chuckle.

"Don't get lost," Tyleet parroted with a grateful smile. He beat his wings and flew away, leaving Alexa to mingle with her friends. Alexa quickly located Violet and approached her, and Violet narrowed her eyes distrustful when she approached the table she and a few others were seated at.

"If it isn't alpha's favorite pet," Violet spat dryly. "Come to rub your betrayal in our faces?"

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @togzy

@lavenderhousesposts

[thedisasterracers]

Any headcanons on the recolors and sakura?

Oooooohhhhhh I dooooo.

Citrusella: • A witty, confident, hyperactive, and most importantly rebellious but means well. She has the energy to stand up and fight back if it means her friends are ok. (She is the type to bite someone’s face, she’s that chaotic.)

•Loves 2000’s scene, punk, and emo music and fashion. Her inspo is Avril Lavigne. She does her best to recreate her style to the best of her abilities.

•She hates on Swizz cuz he told her emo music is not a genre. She somehow never let that go? Another would be how him and jubi take up space in the couch. (She wants to watch domo shorts in the living room.)

•Her and the recolors have a band, their called ‘Sugary breakout’ She’s the lead vocalist, and electric guitar player.

•She uses a lot of hairspray on the daily! Sometimes she even uses her sisters when she runs out of hers. She sometimes spends her sisters money on clip-on extensions.

•She dislikes how jubileena embarrasses her like showing her friends photos of her “fashionable experimental” phase. She gets back at her by playing her guitar loudly in the garage.

• She’s prone to be too touchy with her best friends, at times she needs someone to tell her to stop cuz she misses the signs.

Torvald: • The chillest gal around town. Who doesn’t need to say much to get her point across.

•She’s seen as the big sister to Sticky and Sakura for her chill attitude but Minty sees her as her little sister cuz she’s the original.

•R&B enjoyer with the style of Aaliyah. Mainly sticks to the 90’s, sometimes wear 90’s street wear if she has the time.

•She is considered the most honest racer, if someone were to tell her that they have a problem, she would give her full honest opinion even if it’s hurts.

•She’s a listener at best.

•Her catchphrase is, “Just be Mellow, my yellow’s.”

• Torvald enjoys doing comedy and does it as her side job whenever she’s not racing.

Nougetsia: • She’s quite a meek and timid racer, who can invent unique gadgets for the karts that can make the game even more fun and interesting for the gamers out there.

• Number 1# Bunny lover.

• Make-up expert when it comes to basic designs to the more complex. She has ALL of the foundations if you need it.

• Nouget love croquette especially if its pink, she’s a Beabadoobe gal. She loves alt rock and pop.

• She adores nature like her sister but knows it’s not always sunshine’s and rainbows. Sometimes she gets concern for her Adora’s sanity but it’s all jokes in the end.

• She is willing to do risky things just for fun. Like Hot wiring king candy’s kart and go crazy by staying up and going to parties with her friends.

• Nougetsia is a science enjoyer and at times can be a HUGE GEEK for specific topics.

Sticky: • The kindest racer you’ll ever meet. However can outsmart you in a race if you are fooled.

• She is the nerd of the mint sisters. And some would say the straight man of the sisters.

• Her favorite genre of music is lofi and indie. She enjoys wearing tumblr fashion, mainly the nerdy one. She’s inspired by Hemlock Springs along with being a nerd about books and movies.

•She loves watching movies in the meantime and is one of those friends who would give you trivia and facts about the movie when you’re watching it with her. (Just don’t ask any further questions.)

• Sticky loves reading books. Most of times she would go on the internet and buy books. (or steal, she gets it from Citrus) She loves studying about butterflies because she loves the patterns they have, her bow even resembling a butterfly. To show her love of them.

• Sticks loves creating poetry that would express her feelings about what she’s going through, or about others.

• She’s an all around a kind, somewhat sarcastic, intelligent, and patient racer. Who would break a few rules here and there if she can get away with it.

Sakura: • The starry-eyed friendly girlie who’s a bit tomboyish. She’s always finding new ways to be amazed by the world around her.

• She’s the optimistic sister of the Mint sisters. She can also be known as the one with swords.

• Has a fondness of early 2000’s mainly the poppy and cool stuff behind it. She loves wearing Mori Kei fashion, while listening to Hikaru Utada. Though she only wears it when she feels comfortable when being alone.

• Sakura loves making weapons, upgrading her own swords, or just practice in the woods. She even does parkour to cut down any candy cane branches to make firewood.

• She makes her own bow in order to let video game characters and some gamers not confuse her with Candlehead. Since they have similar features, but are very different in tone and style. Even when others don’t see it; she would just ignore them and mumble something in Japanese so they wouldn’t understand.

• In her time off she would sing by herself. She’s would do this when she’s alone and sometimes be comfortable enough to sing around someone she likes.

• She LOVES the outdoors so much that HATES being inside. Not to the point that she’s a stray cat but more like someone wants to do something outside and can’t waste time being inside. She would even stay outside in the rain just to have fun.

Ok that is all I can offer.

[cloudninetonine]

The Hero of Nature was the youngest of the group, both in terms of timeline and physicality and bore similar attributes to his Hero Link counterpart in more ways than one. You knew, ignoring the fact the Gerudo man was a Ganon, Wild would have loved to meet the man and cause their feral chaos together like the destined soulmates they were. A piece of home in a way, you clung to him quite quickly also, pulled into his wacky shenanigans and his fun little messes that had the group groaning in distaste.

"You're insane." Like now, certainly, something that would have had your favourite brooding monarch throwing a fit even a child would wince at. "Seriously, Nat, this is fucking crazy."

The bear's head raised at your whisper and you both ducked down a little more.

The redhead looked at you, confused. "You've never wanted to ride a bear before? Not even once?"

"Of course, I've wanted to." You snapped like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "But you know what I also want? To keep my guts inside me rather than splattered on the floor."

Hours spent listening to the wonderful voice of David Attenborough had instilled both a fear and a fascination with the Earth and its inhabitants, while bears did indeed look friend shaped a small 'fun fact' from the broadcaster about how a bear's claws, teeth, running speed, size ect, etc. Was enough to deter you from getting even the slightest bit close to then- even now was pushing your "I don't want to die this way." Boundaries miles away, the boundary line was a dot in the distance, a star in the sky, an atom to a microscope-

You yelped when the man threw you over his shoulder, huffing out air at the impact as he leapt over the log you had found refuge behind and raced towards the beast, laughing at its guttural growls and roar.

"Nat, Nat, NAT!" 

Screams were drowned out but the sounds of the bear as the man hopped onto the great creature, bucking feverously to rid you of its back and make you its next meal for your very rude disturbance.

Oh, but Nature certainly wasn't going to let that happen, dropping you onto his lap and digging his hands into its fur. He certainly was pleased with himself, laughing like a madman as you were both thrown about, a dizzy spell hitting you fast as the mammal continued to try and throw you both off, groaning in distaste.

A minute or two passed, a headache forming as your brain slammed against your skull violently at each jump and turn, eyes straining to see the forest in front of you as you made a last ditch effort to stop this 'fight'.

You leaned over to gently massage the bear's ears in pure desperation.

And slowly but surely, the bear began to real, the buck reducing to shaking and the shaking reducing to stillness as the creature panted to catch its breath in the middle of the dense woodland. You were rigid, from both pure fear and pure adrenaline running through your veins, icy cold while Nature laughed something impressive, patting the giant creature between the ears.

"That was amazing!" He praised, gently nudging you. "I haven't seen a bear relax so fast, how did you- (Name)?"

The Gerudo man poked you quizzically, your body bopping to the side before falling off the creature, petrified.

"Oh no."

The man's stomach dropped as he thought about Tide's reaction, hopping off and letting the beast step back, still panting as he shook you wildly, calling your name in a frantic voice.

Oh, he was dead. Dead for sure. The old man had already grown protective, a parent claim over you from those days of your fever while he nursed you back to health. You were delirious of course, muttering something or other that had the elder man soft with empathy as he patted your hair and wiped away the sweat.

"I think they should come with us."

And despite the argument that transpired with a few not wanting such a decision, Tide stood firm and that was that- you were part of the group.

A great decision really, no one else was crazy enough to join his escapades.

"Nat…" Your voice was but a whisper, the man perking up in relief. "I need…to ask you something…."

The man leaned closer, concern still written over his face as he nodded for you to continue, holding your hand gently.

"Why the fuck is the bear licking my hair."

[topgunruinedme]

Daggers Daycare||o.7

Note: And I’m back! I admit this was getting a little too long so I had to cut this down into three seperate chapters. But here’s is your long (a whole year my god) awaited feast. You guys know the drill by now.

Synopsis: Maverick finds himself in a situation he cant explain. The daggers are unavailable, and he finds himself in need of help from his old crew. Of cause this wasn't the reunion they expected.

“Did you kidnap an orphanage Mav?”

Warning: age regression (they get turned into children), slight whump mostly fluff, slight swearing, homophobia and 5 idiots with no knowledge on kids caring for some.

Word Count: 5.1k

Read on Ao3

He frowned slightly, leaning heavily on the half filled cart. The metal on the side of the handle dug into his hand from the tight grip as he slumped in exhaustion. His shoulders brushing his ears as he curled slightly in an attempt to hide from the world, ducking his head to avoid anyones gaze. The feeling of being watched put him on edge, hair on the back of his neck standing at attention as he tried to focus on the aisle he was entering. 

God he wished he had changed before he had left Mav’s. Not only did he look out of place with the mass order he was collecting but he looked out of place in full Navy uniform. 

He felt ill-put without Wolf’s running commentary, his confident arora, the protection he had silently offered. He hadn’t realized how much safer he had felt with his comrade watching his back. How in the short time that they had been together, his body had warmed, his chest had rumbled in laughter and for once his smiles hadn’t felt forced. 

He shifted uncomfortably. His body shivered as it was overtaken by a chill, the sudden warmth chased away by the rabid breeze of the Iceman. The blizzard wrapped around him, freezing his fingers, his toes, his lips… and his heart. Joints stiff and by a sharp pin like pain traveling through his body when he tried to move, it almost felt like an unpleasant case of pins and needles. His skin felt cold, icey. His chest felt barren, empty of the love he had been offered so freely.  

He rubbed his hands together absently in an attempt to warm himself, to give himself something of comfort. He hadn't realized how much he had grown to struggle with people, events, places. Now without the buffer it was all hitting him at once. He knew that he had always gotten sweaty palms, a racing heart anytime he was in public, at conferences, in meetings. His voice almost failed, stalling as he conducted speeches, clearing his throat before giving feedback to a pupil.

He had pushed through it. Ignoring the voice in the back of his head screaming ‘what if’ at him. What if he stumbled, if he misspoke, what if he slipped, if he dropped something. Was his voice too high or too low? Were they all judging him? 

Perhaps if he had listened to them he wouldn't have lost Sarah, his friends, he wouldn't be running himself to the ground. Desperately trying to find a way to keep his body moving, giving it a purpose. Because if he didn't, he wasn't sure what he had to live for. No friends. No family. No kids. No wife. When he burnt in…no one would grief. No one. 

He had thought it was normal, that it was all normal. The way his mind screamed, the faked smiles. People say all smiles in politics are fake, so why was his always fake? Inside and outside the office. Why was it more natural for him to grab for, then something genuine. Something that he couldn't even remember how it looked on his face. 

The way his heart raced in big events, eyes tracking everything nervously trying to will people away from talking to him. The constant anxiety of saying the wrong thing. The way he wanted to claw at his skin when he stood in front of the possum as he gave another young aviator a medal, a promotion. 

He moved through it. Pushed it away. Suffered, sweating through his uniform plastering a smile on his face that haunted him as he walked through the halls of his building. Ignoring it in hopes that if he didn't acknowledge it, it would go away. 

He fought the urge to cringe, to cower as the hair on his arms, his neck, rose. Alarm building anytime he spotted anyone near him, closer than he felt comfortable with them being. His hands trembling every so slightly as he abused his check, teeth clenching down on the soft flesh of his cheek. Blood filled his mouth causing his stomach to churn as he swallowed. 

Eyes aching as he blinked, forcing himself not to doze as he tried to comprehend the ridiculous amount of jars in front of him. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he got a good night's sleep. He was always too busy, being woken by calls, staying up late with documents, cleaning up Mavericks messes had dragging him out of bed at odd hours a few times. He couldn't remember a night where he had simply relaxed, slept in, gone to bed early. He couldn't remember a night where he wasn’t weighed down with exhaustion and still forced his body to stay awake, vision blurring and doubling as he tried to read the never ending documents. 

He had learnt early on in his career that if he didn't stop, his body couldn't give out. 

He stared at the different brands in confusion, eyebrows lifting in alarm at the sheer amount. Nails tapping against the trolly handle nervously, mind still whirling as he felt himself speeding full speed ahead towards a breakdown. Something that had only occurred in the privacy of his own home, his body strumming from the backlash of adrenaline and emotional overload. 

He swallowed thickly. Regretting his choice to send Wolf off to put the car seats he had ordered into the man’s van. Surely he was due back soon. He scratched at his skin, ignoring the slight pin prick of pain as his nails dug into his skin. Flesh gave way to the sharp nails digging into his skin as he drew blood. He hoped the man would be quick. He had left almost half an hour ago leaving him to drift through the aisle aimlessly as he added things to his list. 

They needed a doctor. They had to get a full check up on the kids, allergy tests (you never know what allergies they had grown out of), they needed to find out about any medical condition (that may not be listed on Navy official documents). People could be sneaky; he knows that Ron had avoided adding his history of childhood asthma to his medical history. But more importantly they needed an accurate age. 

They would need to keep a careful eye out for any triggers they may have, no one wants to accidentally trigger the kids if any of them has developed any undiagnosed Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. 

They would need to organize the rest of the bigger furniture, beds, toys, potties, it could all be ordered online for now. They would all have to be made and the rooms needed to be designed.  

They needed clothes, the kids couldn't stay in overgrown shirts forever. 

He had sent the man off in hopes he could gather a moment of peace, now he wants to know if it had been a good idea. He knew the man had been restless, benign, annoying and complaining was Wold’s way of dealing with stress, he had always done it, he did it in the academy and he did it after Goose’s death. It was just the way he coped and he certainly had the right to be stressed now that they had semi-custody of 7 children.

His mind began to whirl, he had been alone for far too long forcing himself to take on placement after placement and meeting after meeting until he had no choice but to continue. His body didn't know what to do with the sudden time off, it was bound tightly with tension that he knew would give him a headache but more importantly with the sudden shock of being reintroduced to the other flyboys it had done a hit on his body. Without the stimulation of work or the quiet reassurance Wolf offered with his constant chatter his mind started to panic. Becoming paranoid, anxiety jumped into the control seat as he swallowed thickly, briefly squeezing his eyes shut as he felt his heart rate skyrocket, feeling the pulsing of his heart in his ears as he blinked, hands tightening until he could see the whites of his knuckles. Without the stimulation Wolf had been providing through his playful whining and teasing, he couldn't focus. He wasn't even sure if he was taking in what was on the shelf. Eyes glancing over the labeled as he becomes more concerned. 

Why were there so many? He didn't understand. It was just food, wasn't it? There were packets of baby food, snacks, cans of formula. What the hell was he meant to choose? He forced himself to release the death grip on the trolley and reached out towards the shelf his hand hovered over the jar of applesauce, that was something kids ate, right?

He didn't like the way Jake looked. The way the boy's clothes flooded him far more than the others, how small his wrists were, how his face caved in slightly, the haunted look under the dark circles under his eyes. He looked vastly underweight and honestly it made him nervous. How close was the boy to collapsing, to fainting, how close was he until his body just stopped. What long term effects would it have on the boy’s health?

Bob, he looks…young. He was small, really small. It shouldn't surprise him, he knew that Bob was the youngest on the team and yet somehow it had. It had startled him looking down at the tiny kid amongst his teammates. 

The other kids looked like they would fit their weight range, assuming that they were around the 3-4 year mark. But Bob and Jake…  

He hesitated. He wasn't sure if he needed to take them to a dietitian or not. Perhaps he should, just to be safe. Ensure he was feeding them correctly, they both needed to put on weight. 

Bradley might be on the cusp of three, he faintly remembered the little boy's cake smeared cake from the party all those years ago, it would have been only 2 weeks after Nick's death. It was a photo that lived religiously in Maverick’s locker. Natasha, Mickey and Javy might be in the same age group. Jake was too sickly looking to correctly determine his age, he was afraid the boy was malnourished. Reuben looked like he was on the older side, placing the boy in the 4th year group. However, Bob could easily be between early 2 years or 3. The boy was tiny, absently he wondered if he had been a prem baby. Being premature would explain his smaller stature, but it wouldn't explain why the boy hasn't grown. He should have had a grown spirt by now. He wasn't an expert in children but he knew being that small was not normal. 

He worried his lip between his teeth as he took the container of applesauce off the shelf, adding it to the cart as he looked over the squeezie packet food - it would be a food idea to have snacks on them the kids could easily eat if they needed to move locations. The small yogurt packets of mashed food would be perfect and nutritious. Maybe it was something Jake and Bob could eat easily, he definitely wanted to make sure the kids had something to munch on wheil they changed locations to keep them at ease. He didn't want to compromise their smooth transition because someone got upset or fussy because they hadn't eaten. He wondered idly if they had eaten tonight yet. Surely slider would make sure they ate, they may not have been around much but they remembered what Bradley had been like wanting to eat every three seconds, he had of course been a growing teenager then but surely it still applied to children. Perhaps he should give wood a call….

He shook his head pursing his lips as he glanced back at the packet food before nodding to himself as he added a few extra packets to the cart with the boys in mind. Making sure to grab flavors he knew the boys were partial to from the brief spam texts Mav had sent him earlier in the year when he was ecstatic about his new kids. He wanted to ensure he had something the boys could eat, even if they were the only ones who did.

“Ice?”

He jumped slightly, spinning around to face the boogie, his spine pressed up against the handle of the trolley as his body tensed. Placing himself on guard, hands clenching around the handle bar by his hips. His heart jumped into his throat. Shit, he hadn't realized he had fallen so far into his head, he hadn't realized his guard had faltered, the boogie slid within his sights. Locked on target, right on his nose, tone ringing in his ears as his hand flexed mentally readying himself to turn the stick and fire.

He took a shaky breath as a familiar face came into a few in his panic-induced hazed vision, Wolf was giving him a worried look, lips pulled back with a downward tilt, his brows furrowed in stress hands twitching by his side. An empty cart was resting beside the man's right hip as he stepped away hand placed in front of him keeping a good space between them, he recognized the move from ‘86 when they used to bring Maverick out of his attacks. It was oddly soothing to see the familiar movement. 

He frowned slightly at the man, something dull pulled at his chest, when had he gotten back? 

Wolf tilted his head ever so slightly, eyeing him down, taking in his tense posture with a careful consideration; his lips tugging tighter in disapproval as he turned his attention from him to the shelf that he had been staring at with a confused look, “Baby food?”

He rolled his shoulders, his muscles protesting under the strain, back tingling as it tugged sharply under the tight ligaments putting a pressure on his chest as it tightened. He glanced over the man's shoulder carefully tracking the empty space behind Wolf ensuring no one snuck up on them and initiated a fire fight by sliding into a weapons envelope. He swallowed, forcing his muscles to unclench, shifting away from the trolley; hands flexing by his side as he turned back towards the shelf keeping his back covered tilting himself just enough to protect them and watch their backs at the same time. 

His shoes squeak on the tile floor and he cringes, ducking his head slightly, the collar of his uniform brushing against the lobe of his ear. The fabric scratched against his skin as the long tone in his ears grew louder the squeak quickly transforming into a shriek-

We have four on our tail. 

The lights above him flickered overhead briefly. 

That makes six of them!

His chest aches and he resisted the urge to rubbish chest with his knuckles to feel anything other than the clenching feeling. 

I’m engaged with five. I’m in deep shit. 

Something moved behind him. 

Engage!

“Ice?”

Maverick, get your butt down here!

He's going to leave him. The stick molded in his hand, the creak of his gloves around the handle made bile rise in his throat. He could feel sweet blooming on his neck from the heat of the cockpit. 

Engage!

His head squeezed as the helmet dug into his skin, the harness on his chest tugging him further back into the seat as the G-force landed on him pinning him back trapping him. 

Goddammit. Mavericks disengaging. 

Mav…come back. Don’t leave me here. 

Engage!

Please don't leave me here. Wolfie! Wood! They had just been behind them hadn’t they? They’d help him right, he likes them enough that he was sure that they would come to his rescue while Maverick left him out to dry. 

I can't get him off my tail!

He could feel the rock of the jet as the mistle collided, eyes shutting as the cockpit rolled behind his eyelids, his own panicked expression meeting him in the reflection as he tried to operate the smoking machine that threatened to dive from the sky as they took damage to their wing. 

I’m hit. We're hit in the right engine. 

“Ice. Come back to me buddy”. 

You! You are still dangerous. 

Maverick. His hair slicked back in messy updo from his helmet, bright green eyes wide in excitement and adrenaline as he grinned widely looking around at the celebration. The same eyes that poured into him with that same intensity that the man offered his jet when he brushed his hand against it and called it sweetheart when no one was looking, how he looked at Nick when the man was tugging Slider closer by his lapel all those years ago, how he stared up at him in the locker room arrogance flooding from him as he stood up to the challenge. I am dangerous, Ice-Man. The intensity of the fire that burned within the man that he loved as Maverick gave him a sly smile and clasped his hand. 

You can be my wingman anytime. 

The sound of crying broke through the clouds dragging him down to the present as he ejected without a parachute, body jerking through the sky in a freefall strap just out of reach, unable to pull it to activate the chute. Body falling further and further, the ground growing closer as he- 

He cleared his throat trying desert to blink away the tears in his eyes and the way his shoulders curled to shield himself from others trying to forget the burning stare of his friend whose heavy gaze felt like acid burning through his cheek. 

“Malnourishment” he muttered mentally shaking his head to try to shake off the cloudiness as his panic attempted to retake its hold on him, anxiety prickling at his skin. How much had Wolf seen, did he notice? He bit his tongue trying to ignore the way the man's hand had dropped where he stood stiffly, automatically stepping closer to him and shielding him from anyone who stepped into the aisle, his calculating gaze traveling from him to the space behind him again and again and again. 

He didn't have time for this. He couldn't break, not now. He had so much to do. He just needed to work more, yes, he just needed to work more until he passed out. If he kept going and didn't stop then he wouldn't burn out. He had meetings that he was already despising that he had pushed back, paperwork with approaching deadlines, a speech at an upcoming gala that he was meant to attend that he had to get someone else to deliver. He had to get the kids, he had to get them somewhere safe, a room, where they can be kids without them having to worry about them finding anything absolutely not kid-friendly most likely left behind by the man himself or one of his one night stands, not that he really considered Penny as that anyway.

He needed to get them health checks, organize therapy because these kids who weren't already in it, certainly would now. He had to figure out what mental space they were in; were they really kids or adults trapped in kid bodies? Which was worse? Aviators the size of children wanting to get back in a jet or children who didn't understand what was happening and possibly had no recollection of anything in the last few years since the detachment that brought them all together. He had to figure out how to inform the Navy that his best soldiers were now children, children who finger painted, who smeared pasta sauce across their clothes and who cried in the middle of the night when they wanted affection. 

His career - flying until he was forced out of the air, working behind a desk rubbing elbows, spending hours upon hours of work for another star on his shoulder - had been demoted to watching children. A babysitter, as if he didn't already get hazard pay for dealing with Maverick. 

He would need to call the daggers out sick, and he needed to figure out what the hell to tell Beau while dodging the man's own verbal argument on why Maverick shouldn't even be there to begin with. He had no idea who he would explain to the man that his aviators were not going to make the Monday hop. Ideally he amused the idea of inviting the two men over - because of course he was going to use Solomon as a barrier without shame - for dinner and order in a nice merlot. 

He dragged his attention back to the food ignorant of him, yogurts right. He gave the shelf a semi-distressed look at the sheer quantity of flavors to offer, honesty what even was rainbow vanilla. Was it rainbow or vanilla flavored? He knew that he would need to buy them in bulk so he needed to figure out what flavors would most likely be the widely acceptable one, vanilla? Custard - ? Was that even a yogurt flavor? (No. he was 92% sure the answer was no). He would have to be sure to keep a large stock of whatever snacks and foods teh kids like and to grab some bins and lids at some point to put in the backs of the cars to fill with snacks and drinks, knowing that one of these idiots will forget and will get a very cranky kid on their hands when it came to sack time.

Maybe he should get strawberry, mango, blueberry or raspberry- wait no, he faintly remember reading somewhere a few years ago when he babysit Bradley all those years ago for the first time that it was becoming increasingly common in the last 15 years for kids to be allergic to berries. Although that had been almost 23 years ago, who knows if the chances fluctuated, he refused to take that chance. It was safer to stay away from them until the allergy test was cleared. That and the fact he didn't want to sit in an emergency room for 6 hours with a distressed kid. Call him selfish. The percentage was low but not improbable. So he refused to take the risk until he was 100% that there would be no cross contamination - because everyone knows how messy and germ contagious toddlers were - and that no one was at risk. 

He needed to get their files ASAP, and he needed an updated allergen test to make sure there were no outgrown childhood allergies or recorded food aversions. Knowing his luck they would find a kid that was a fussier eater then Bradley. Highly unlikely but unfortunately the rates were 7 at the moment leaving them at an unfortunate 17% chance. 

He needed to get the others into some sort of cooking lessons because he was not having them feed these kids pre cooked nuggets from the freezer somewhere that looked lie it died to freezer burn five years ago or to allow their diet to become fully dependent on mac-N-cheese (because no matter how good Chipper claimed it was in the academy there was no way he was willingly committing the kids to that fate). 

He would make sure that all the kids had something they wanted to eat. Even if he had to learn how to make it himself because he'd be damned if any of them went without food. His throat clicked at the reminder of the blond boy wedged back in the corner behind his protective friend, collar bone sticking out, face hallowed, staring at them with his almost skeleton looking hands. Starved. The kid had been starved. 

Who does that to a kid? Was it due to the lack of money, the lack of caring? Was it neglect or something much more harmful? He could see the all too familiar image of a little blond curled up trembling in the dark staring at the locked door in dread as they wrapped their arms around their legs begging it to open while wishing it stayed shut. He could see little baby Jake laying on his side curling up as tightly as  he could to preserve heat as his little stomach rumbled in hunger. 

Wolf shifted behind him, footsteps exaggerated to keep from startling him as the man rested a hand on his shoulder tugging him back away from the shelf. Removing him from his post. Wolf hummed slightly, accepting the answer without protest as he gently led him away, nudging him to the side with his hip; placing his body between the self and him, leaving him stranded in the middle of the aisle watching as Wolf grabbed a few packets of each flavor, dumping them into his cart. “We can come back and get more Ice. Come on” he urges softly as he leads him out of the aisle, away from his own mind.

He could feel it building. The way his nails dug into his skin, picking at the skin around his nails and yet he couldn't feel the pain even when the skin ripped. How his skin almost vibrated with electricity as the lights above them made him squint a pulsing beginning to build behind his right eye leaving him irritated, each brush of his collars against his neck with each swayed step made him grit his teeth. 

He felt like his chest was tightening, squeezing his inside like a cobra. His hands shook slightly as he let Wolf talk to him, blabbering off about something. He wasn't retaining anything the man was saying, each word going through one ear to the other, he gritted his teeth trying to push past the building pressure hardly making it a few steps down the aisle when Wolf pulled them to a stop. He wasn't even sure what they were talking about, was he supposed to reply? The man turned to face him as he reached out purposely delaying his movements to give him the opportunity to avoid the embrace as he tugged him into his warm broad chest. The man's hand coming up to the nap of his neck thumb soothingly stroking the skin nails scratching lightly almost making him melt into him as he tugged him forward gently to lean his forehead on his shoulder. 

“God, what happened to you when we were gone, Ice?” Wolf sounded wounded, like he was mourning. Like he was in pain. Because of him. He was hurting Wolf, yet he couldn't force himself to let go, he could be greedy. Even if only for a moment, he could be greedy and steal what he could from the man. 

He buried his face into the man's chest to avoid looking at him, his hand trembled slightly as he his fingers wrapped into the fabric of his shirt gripping onto it tightly. His fingers turned white with urgency as he held on tightly, trying to tether himself to the moment. To save himself from his own mind that had run him rampant since his family left. 

The warmth of Wolf body heat washed over him, the sharp sandalwood was welcome when it hit his nose. The slight scent of ocean waves that he knew belonged to Wood lingered, silently he wondered what the hell was happening between the two men. 

“I’m here Tom,” Wolf muttered softly, “I'm here”. 

His breath shuttered in effort to keep his tears back, he had missed this, so much. He had missed all of them, the simple hugs that meant so much to him. The only affection he had received after his neglectful childhood. He had gone from nanny to nanny, he had not been allowed to ask for affection, not then. 

But his family, Wolf, Wood, Slider, Mav…Goose. They had all offered it up freely, hidden in rooms where they wouldn't be judged for the ‘unmanly action’. Where they let him just soak it in, to become lax in their arms and just hang on for dear life. He hadn't realized how touch deprived he had made himself in his fear, his attempt to save himself. 

Wolf pulled away slightly with a small smile, not a mocking one or a joking one like he normally did around them. But a sincere one. “Are you ok?” he asked, his hand pressed against his lower back in a stable connection, joining them. 

He swallowed heavily, his chest pounding as it slowly slowed his breathing, his silent panic forcing him to press his lips closed in an attempt to keep quiet. This was not the time nor place, he couldn't do this here. 

Wolf’s brows furrowed in concern, he looked older, weighed down. “Tom?”.

“Yeah” he choked out, his mouth dry as he blinked as his eyes stung, “Yeah Rick, I'm good. I'm good”.

Wolf didn't look convinced, his eyes pinched and he pulled away from Ice letting his arms fall uselessly. He stepped back to retrieve his trolley carefully staying in Ice’s vision, his hand reaching out to tap Ice’s hand as he leaned against the trolley in front of him, “Come on Ice, were almost done” he flashed him a smile, “We got through Layton, we lived through the 80’s with Maverick. We can do some baby shopping”. 

A huff of amusement left Ice lips as he gave him a small weak smile, “Yeah” he agreed, straightening up and clearing his throat. He took a deep breath. They could do this. 

“Where to next?” Wolf offered, providing him with a distraction, a way to temporarily throw this behind him. 

“Prams,” he replied, grateful for the distraction. His eyes scanned the banners hanging from the ceilings in an attempt to locate the area. His lips quivered into a half smile, gaze dropping down to Wolf who was casually keeping his muscles relaxed but walked beside him as they made their way to the end of the aisle, eyes scanning over their environment. 

“Hey” he attempted, his voice wavering slightly as a warm sensation bloomed in his chest soothing over old wounds as he gave the man a small smile. 

Wolf turned, raising an eyebrow with an easy smile as he walked backward tilting his head “Yeah Ice?”

His eyes traveled over the man, god it had been so long since he had seen any of them, he had missed so much, 

“Thanks”. 

“Hey.” Wolf's expressions softened, his hand coming up between them as he reached out clasping his hand tugging them to a stop, “That’s what friends are for”. The man's lips twitched “Beside, who's going to help me get Wood to admit that he has a massive man crush on Chipper?” 

He laughed, shaking his head, smiling widely as he relaxed, feeling safe. Warm and utterly safe for the first time in years he felt the weight on his chest lift and he took a deep breath. 

[redflagsandbanners]

#Ronancetober _ Day 3

"This happened then. You -"

"Robin -"

"I mean, listen -"

"Robin, I swear -"

"You're not so different from a wet cat -"

"I will murder you, Buckley, this is it for - Stop laughing, for the love of God!"

Robin bends in half, clutching at her stomach, and it is so very awful of her to be mocking her best friend where she is dripping a little pool of water on the bathroom tiles. Something about the car dying in the middle of the stupid road, something about missing first period, something about getting caught in the storm and something about -

"This is not funny!"

"You kept walking, why did you keep walking?!"

"Shut up. Shut up, shut up, Buckley, my god -"

She tries to swallow down the giggles, she tries to focus on pity and stop laughing at the sight of Nancy Wheeler scowling at the mirror over the sinks while standing defeated. Hair dripping, jacket thrown on the counter (also dripping), sweater clinging on her torso like a foot towel in front of a bathtub, pants and boots squeaking with each shift of her.

"You're gonna get sick, man".

"Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do?"

"Want me to call Steve come get you home to change?"

"As if he'll let me sit on his car like this".

"If he wants to live another day, he shall do so".

Nancy stills, meeting Robin's eyes through the mirror. Sighs a deep, depressed sound, and runs a hand through the wet curls of her hair. Her hand comes back just as wet and by now, she is starting to shudder, rough chills snapping through her spine.

"I'm gonna get sick, man", Nancy repeats and Robin chuckles, going to lean on the counter next to her.

Something bright is glimmering in the deep blue eyes. Nancy glares at the lazy smirk.

"What, what, what is it?"

"I may have a solution".

Dread. This is what Nancy feels when her best friend smirks like this. Her heart is pounding by now and she cannot - she cannot take her eyes away from the glimmer in Robin's eyes. The next shudder has nothing to do with the cold and she - she thinks of Pennhurst, suddenly. Of bad ideas. Of them sticking together through them.

"What?"

"So tonight was supposed to be the very first football game of the semester but it is raining so, naturally, it got canceled -"

"Nope".

"- meaning my band uniform -"

"No, no. I'll be fine".

"- it ain't gonna be used by anyone today".

"I'm alright, really".

"You're already sniffing, Wheeler".

She groans, an even deeper sound, letting her head hang and letting her soul leave her body, so only a casket of useless bones is left behind.

"Fuck me", she mumbles and Robin chuckles again, the smirk spreading into an excited grin.

"Do I bring it over?"

"If I see you carrying the hat, I will kill you".

"Yes, ma'am", Robin bounces off of the counter and goddamn races out of the bathroom to her locker.

Nancy hangs her head again. Closes her eyes and fights to keep from shuddering even more. Everything needs to go; sweater and undershirt and underwear, pants and socks and boots. A towel is needed. A cup of tea with an obnoxious amount of honey, is needed too. She keeps sniffing and she keeps feels a scratch at the back of her throat and goddamn, goddamn -

The bathroom door slams open. And, suddenly, Robin looks incredibly nervous. Folded green and white clothes are held close to her chest; white shoes held by two fingers. A gym towel is on the girl's shoulder.

Nancy could kiss her right now.

"Listen, calling Steve is probably a better idea anyway. I mean there isn't a lot for you in this school to get you warm right now. You probably need a warm shower or something - "

"Robin. These are enough. Thank you".

"Sure. Sure thing. Here, the towel is clean and everything. Do you want me to go? I can find you a plastic bag for the wet clothes -"

"No, I'll only take a minute. Hold on, we'll go together".

"Sure, sure..." - Robin is fidgety. Why is she fidgety? - "...I'll be right here".

From the stall, Nancy can hear her pacing across the length of the room. It is not like this is the first time they exchange clothes for Robin to be this nervous, but Nancy guesses the uniform is another territory.

It doesn't feel much different than the rest of Robin's clothes. The green pants are incredibly soft against her legs and they're long. She has practiced the way of folding them over around her ankles. Socks and shoes slightly bigger than her own. Shirt brushing thick over her chest, big enough to hide the fact she won't be wearing a bra for the rest of the day.

It smells like cotton and like Robin. It takes her a moment to get the buttons lined up. It takes her another moment to slip the jacket over without messing the decorating pins and chains hanging from the pockets. She sighs in relief as it hangs from her shoulders, buggy and warm and so so comforting. Her fingertips curl around the edges of the sleeves, tugging it in loose fists and, god, it feels like sleeping in Robin's bed.

"Nance, you good in there?"

She has closed her eyes. She has nuzzled her face in the soft collar, breathing in the girl's scent.

Her voice is hoarse. "Yeah. I'm coming out".

On the other side of the door, Robin snorts a laughing sound. "Been waiting for that for a while", she teases and, despite not being able to see her, Nancy rolls her eyes with a smirk of her own.

Robin leans against the wall in front of the stalls, and, even when the girl's motionless weight is supported by the bricks, at the sight of Nancy stepping out of the stall has her stumbling.

Knees wavering and jaw dropping open and cheeks flushing bright red and a strangled sound escaping her throat. At the reaction, Nancy lifts both eyebrows.

"You good?"

"No".

Nancy smirks. "Some drool on the side of her mouth, Buckley".

"I'm... Listen. Listen, Wheeler, you - you know you're a gorgeous being of a girl. You know it and this - you look even better in my... I mean -"

Nancy's eyebrows are up to her hairline by now. She is blushing just as much but - but refuses to look away from Robin pressing further against the wall. Clearly affected by what she is seeing. Clearly nervous about it. Clearly unable to hide the emotions from her face.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Nance, I'll - I'll go. I'll go, I don't want you to feel, like, uncomfortable or - or - or, like -"

"Hey, no..." - Nancy frowns and comes closer to press a hand on Robin's arm. The girl jolts at the touch, wide eyes snapping down to find Nancy's own.

"You'd never make me feel uncomfortable".

Robin gulps but doesn't nod. At finding her so overwhelmed, both wonder and fear in her gaze, Nancy feels her chest both tight and loosen.

She jumps forward, wrapping her best friend in the tightest of hugs. Immediately, both arms fly around her too, embracing her right back, and when standing this close, Nancy feels the relief leaking through the girl's shoulders and chasing away the fear.

Against her skin, the uniform rubs comfortingly stiff. Warm. Nancy shudders, heart pounding so fast she is sure Robin can feel it.

On Robin's denim jacket, Nancy whispers, "You like me".

Both arms tighten when Robin starts to tremble.

"You're my best friend".

"But you... you like like me".

"I'm - I'm - Nance, I - "

Nancy presses harder against her shoulder, closes her eyes tight as her heart threatens to jump out of her mouth. "Can I kiss you?"

"Nancy, I - I'm - I don't want this to just be - be, like, just a moment. I don't..." - when Nancy pulls back to look up at her, Robin's breaths catch at her throat - "...I want this to - to be a full thing".

Nancy cannot stop looking at her lips. "Really?"

"I - I - I mean..."

"I want that too. The full thing. Everything. I want it too, Robin".

"You - Really?"

Nancy smiles up at her. Robin exhales a long, overwhelmed blow of air, some tension slacking out of her.

"So... can I kiss you?"

"You can kiss me".

Robin sucks in another breath, nervously licks her lips, and the sight is enough to have Nancy's knees ducking in longing.

When Robin reaches over, smoothing out the collar of the green jacket, her hand is trembling and another blush is raising to her cheeks. Fingers curl softly around the edge of the stiff fabric, tugging Nancy just a bit closer.

They both gulp.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Stranger in a new land

Day 7 for @manweweek

Freeform

Characters: Vampire! Manwë, Námo, Irmo

Time of story 19th Century London, England

Themes: Meet cute | Soft | Fluff | Vampire! AU

Warnings: Irmo nearly gets into an accident (blink and you might miss it)

Word count: 900+ words

Summary: Manwë makes new acquaintances moving to a new city in a new country

This is also available on AO3

London was a hive of activity, even while it was caught in the grips of a chilly autumn. Manwë walked about this bustling city, amazed by the sheer throng of people hurrying past him like a fast-moving river flowing around a boulder: businessmen in their fine suits, mothers and nannies with children firmly in hand, ladies in splendid dresses and thick cloaks and elaborate hats promenading with their suitors and chaperones. The sound of people talking and laughing, along with the din the many carriages and horses plying London's streets created, added to the chaotic cacophony filling the air. Manwë stayed out of other people's way, watching, listening, and discreetly observing. He was a stranger here, having only just arrived in the country after he had acquired a home beyond the outskirts of the city for himself.

“Good evening.” He smiled and doffed his hat respectfully at a young lady who dared to look at him appreciatively. She giggled and looked away before turning to whisper something to a friend who walked out of the nearby shop, her bags full of yarn and thread and lace and bright new ribbons. Manwë continued walking, having little interest in looking over his shoulder. The ladies were beautiful, to be sure, but neither of them caught his eye. Not in that way.

And I could not make myself known to them even if I desired to, he lamented, for I could not risk having the true nature of who I am being discovered.

Manwë was a vampire. He was turned by another while he lay at death’s door. It was what he wanted—to be spared the call of the angel of death—and it was granted to him willingly as an act of gratitude. He never truly regretted his choice, save for those fleeting moments when he came across friends talking and laughing or when he came across companions lost in love. Until now, he did not allow himself the joys of such things, for his companions would age while he remained unblemished, and mortals feared what he and others like him stood for.

We are death and sin made flesh. We are all that they think is unnatural and wrong. Manwë closed his eyes to the cold wind that swept through his silver hair, breathing in the scents of new apples, freshly baked bread and cake, and hot, roasted chestnuts that drifted with it. If he had been mortal, Manwë thought with a smile, his stomach would have rumbled fiercely.

“Irmo! Irmo, get back here!” Manwë's delight in what greeted his senses disappeared when a young man cried—exasperated—as he chased his brother around onlookers who quickly moved out of his way. “Irmo Lórien Fëanturi! Stop running this instant!”

“No!” Irmo returned gleefully, evading his older brother’s repeated attempts to catch him. He ran and ran, running as fast as his little legs could take him, flashing cheeky, dimpled grins at anyone who passed him by, and hooting with wild joy. It was all a game to him, and he enjoyed it immensely. He did not stop, not even when others tried to reach out in their vain attempts to catch him on behalf of his much-put-upon brother. Manwë had also seen the little boy racing toward him. He made haste to swoop down and scoop the child into his arms before he could run around him and onto the path of an oncoming carriage.

“And who do you belong to, young master?” Manwë said, dipping gracefully to his knees and smiling at the little boy who struggled in his grasp.

“He belongs to me. Well, our family, that is.” Námo reached them, nearly out of breath from the merry chase Irmo subjected him to. “Thank you, truly, for stopping him before he hurt himself. And my humblest apologies, sir, for him getting in your way.”

“It was no trouble. No trouble at all.” Manwë straightened himself after Irmo was placed into his brother’s care. Then he introduced himself. “I am Lord Amân Mānawenūz, of Taniquetil. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

The name he gave was an old one, and it had once belonged to a distant uncle of little consequence. No one had heard of that name since that uncle perished nearly six hundred years ago, and Manwë only made use of it on those rare occasions when he had to introduce himself.

"Námo Fëanturi,” Námo said, extending his hand. When Manwë stood there and looked at it, puzzled, he let it fall to his side. He must not know our ways, he thought to himself. “And this bundle of never-ending delight is my brother, Irmo.”

Irmo squirmed in his older brother’s other arm, but he rewarded the one who saved him with another cheeky grin. Manwë could not help but smile at them both.

“I am pleased I was able to be of assistance to you," he said.

“We were heading toward that teahouse over there to meet our sister," returned Námo. "You are more than welcome to join us, if you like, Lord Mānawenūz.”

Manwë wanted to do nothing more than refuse the invitation. He opened his mouth to speak, to politely say no. Then he stopped himself from doing so. What he was offered was an invitation to have tea with people he would never see again, not an invitation to dine with a lover. No harm would come out of accepting such a request, so long as he was careful not to give too much of himself away. And, he told himself, what better way to learn about this new city than by talking to those who actually lived within it? He took a moment to decide before saying, “Yes. I would be honored to join you and your family."

Little did he know how much his life would change after that day.

[runnerk]

Hello @crazyspookies ! I was your ZR Secret Santa! I want to tell you that you were my PERFECT match - Stam/5tam is my *favorite* pairing. And I know it wasn't a requirement to put in every single thing you asked for, but I tried to include everyone on your list: Sam, Five, Steve, Simon, Janine, Amelia, and a Radio Cabel cameo.

This story is a Christmas Tree Farm AU. Title, "In the Bleak Midwinter" from the Christmas song of the same name. Sam has inherited the Yao family tree farm business. It's December 23d, closing day, and one last VERY PARTICULAR customer comes in demanding a tree. But when the closed sign goes up, the Christmas spirit (spirits?) take over and the lines of friendship get a little blurry.

Will post on AO3 eventually, but I wanted it to be here, for you, first. 🤶 Enjoy. Merry Everything.

Story under the cut. AU so no spoilers. Hints at NSFW material.

Thank you @notforconsumption and @delucadarling !

“If I were a wise man, I would do my part. But what can I give him? Give him my heart.” Quote from "In The Bleak Midwinter"

In The Bleak Midwinter

Five threw a log into the pot bellied wood stove and willed its hot breath to defrost her toes. She slammed the door closed and sighed as the wood popped and groaned. 

The smell of burning wood.

It used to be one of her favorite smells. 

It turned her stomach a little now. Since that one day - The Day - the day everything changed. . 

She shivered despite the warmth wafting her way. 

The door to the little shack flew open and Sam walked in, brushing snow from his hair, stark white falling from jet black. Sam grinned.

“Thanks for covering for me, Five. My alarm didn’t go off and-” Five cut him off with a shake of her head and a loud cough 

“Janine knows about your car trouble.” She winked. Sam nodded his appreciation.

Sam never asked for this life. Heir to a Christmas Tree Farm. He expected his parents to grow old and die safe in their beds, hearts gently coming to a natural stop. He would also be old and would sell the farm to the highest bidder as he went on with whatever life he had chosen for himself.

But fate had other plans. 

And now here he was, barely 30, owner of Abel Christmas Tree Farm. Even after all these years, he still had no idea how to run a business. Which is why he used the majority of any inheritance money (there wasn’t much) to hire Janine DeLuca as the farm manager. She was organized and..well…a little mean, if he was honest. She knew how to get things done. 

“It’s okay, Sam.” Five continued, reassuring him. “It’s December 23rd. It will be a quiet day except for a few frazzled last minute tree getters.” 

“It will be nice to close this place up and not have to think about it for a few months.” Sam sighed and made his way behind the register tucked away a corner of the little cabin. 

“You still coming over to my place for Christmas? My parents are looking forward to seeing you.” Five grew up next door to the tree farm and spent most of her childhood chasing Sam through the trees. In the spring, racing between the saplings. The Yaos shouting reminders to watch their steps. Summers lying in the shade of the taller trees. Reading. Listening to music. Always in each other’s company. Then the fall would come and the cheerful holiday paths would be temporarily lined with skeletons, ghosts, and zombies. Haunted trails brought in money when finances were at their tightest. As soon as they were old enough, Five took on the job of acting as a zombie hunter. Sam would ride on the hay wagon and narrate stories. It was Five’s favorite time of year. As soon as the last zombie head was taken down, the farm once again became a magical winter wonderland. 

Five and Sam had been the best of friends for as long as she could remember. 

“Yeah, I think I will. It’s just…” He stopped. Thought. “I’ll be there.”

Five smiled. “You’d better. I’m making that cornbread stuffing you like. And I think Steve is stopping by with some shortcake.”

As if on cue, Steve threw open the door and entered with a bang. 

“Happy closing day!” He stomped the snow off his boots. 

“Close the door.” A voice came from a dark back corner. “We aren’t paying to heat the outside.”

“Merry Christmas, Janine.”

“Same to you, Mr. Sissay. Again, I ask you to please close the door.”

Steve turned to Five and raised his eyebrows before flicking the door and letting it slam closed. 

“At least she said please.” He shrugged. He made his way to where Sam was tangled in receipt paper in an attempt to replace the spool in the register. “Merry Christmas, Sam.”

Sam looked like he was overheating. 

“Uh, yeah. Same to you, Steve.” 

Five turned away to organize the few ornaments they had left in the small sales section of the cabin. Truth be told, the little cabin was one of her favorite places in the world. It was the size of a garden shed, but there was a wall of sparkling ornaments for sale, a wood stove along the back wall to keep warm despite the lack of insulation, and in the front corner sat the register, a little stool, and an electric kettle for hot chocolate. The most recent addition was a janky folding card table in the darkest back corner, which Janine called her “office.” 

It wasn’t much. But it felt like home. 

“Where is Simon?” Janine muttered from her corner. Sam and Five often referred to her as Scrooge, but never to her face. 

“He’s outside. I passed him on the way in.” Steve answered, continuing to look at Sam. “He’s just getting one last smoke in before he’s officially on the clock.” 

Janine sighed, irritation evident. 

A few minutes of silence passed. Five continued straightening ornaments, Janine shuffled paper. Steve had finally grabbed the roll of receipt paper from Sam and swiftly placed it in the machine. 

“You can tell me I’m your hero. It’s okay.” Steve chuckled. Sam just looked at him with his mouth open. It was rare for him to be at a loss for words, but Steve somehow managed to tie his tongue with a single glance. 

There used to be a team of people working at Abel Tree Farm. They stayed for a few years after…well, AFTER…but each year a few more would find reasons not to return. And the year before Janine was hired, Sam had to let any remaining staff members go. There was no money to pay for help. 

Janine saved the farm within the year. She agreed to hire a few new people, but there wasn’t much interest in tree farm work. Sam was able to find two interested parties. One guy, Steve, was a pyrotechnician who spent summers working at a local amusement park in charge of their fireworks shows. The other, Simon, was a personal trainer at a local gym with a flexible schedule. And flexible…everything.

Janine hired them because their schedules were flexible.

Sam approved the hiring because he liked how they both looked like burly lumberjacks. 

Simon burst through the door moments later, smelling of cigarettes and pine. 

“Little things!” He sang, obnoxiously loud. Five watched Janine’s head fall into her hands. “Like that happy noise. As a brand new day is dawning on this lovely Christmas morning!” He barreled through the little shack over to Five and cradled her neck in his strong arm. He dug his knuckles into the crown of her head as she struggled to get away. 

“I didn’t know ABBA had a Christmas song.” She joked.

“ABBA has a song for everything.” He replied, and flexed his bicep, keeping her in place. “Little things,” Simon continued singing. “Like your naughty eyes. You’d consider bringing me a breakfast tray, but there’s a price.” He let Five go and she kicked him in the shin. He winked at her. “Go on. Guess the price for bringing me a breakfast tray.”

“Stop being gross, Simon.” Five scolded, but she couldn’t contain her laughter. 

“Mr. Lauchlan, this is a professional environment. If you can’t behave-”

“Aw, don’t be jealous Jenny. Come on, it’s almost Christmas.” He walked over to her with such long strides Five could swear it only took him two steps to cross the entire floor. “You know everyone has been calling you Scrooge?” 

“Simon!” Sam yelled, a blush bursting across his cheeks. 

“I do not care about how others feel about me. I wasn’t brought here to be popular. I was brought here to run a tree farm.”

Janine sounded stern enough, but Five noticed that Simon had begun rubbing her shoulders and she wasn’t shaking him off. In fact, she seemed to sink a bit lower in her chair and…was she relaxing? 

That was new. 

A Christmas miracle, almost. 

Seems Sam wasn’t the only one who liked his lumberjacky-ness.

The rest of the morning went by in a lazy haze. Between small talk about holiday plans and organizing the store for closing, a peaceful calmness filled the shack. 

Five sighed.

She was going to miss this.

There was something so unbelievably comforting about these people. 

It was just-

“I need a tree.”

Nobody heard the door open, but a cold breeze wafted in with the most striking woman Five had ever seen. The room froze.

“This is a tree farm, is it not?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Simon spoke first, tripping over his own feet to get to her and take her hand. He grasped it and shook it wildly. “I can help you find something thick and sprucy.”

The woman’s face twisted in disgust and she took her own hand back. She shook it as if it were contaminated.

“A standard thickness will do. I need one that is tall and has all of its branches perfectly balanced.”

“One well-balanced tree coming right up.” Simon was at the door and gestured her out first. 

“Simon.” Janine called after him. “Behave."

Simon smiled and winked.

“There is no chance of him behaving, is there?” Sam asked. Steve laughed.

“Not the slightest.” 

They were back in minutes. 

“Amy, I’m sorry! You can’t call a tree ‘perfectly erect’ and not expect a comment!”

“The name is Amelia and as a customer I have a reasonable expectation of professionalism no matter what words I choose to use.” 

“Our apologies, Ms…”

“Spens.”

“Apologies, Ms. Spens. Our other associate, Mr. Sissay, will bring you the finest tree we have. AND he’ll be quick about it.”

“On it.” Steve disappeared outside as both Janine and Amelia glared at Simon, who, for his part, looked completely unashamed. 

“Would anyone like cocoa?” Sam asked.

“Yes, please.” Five grinned. Of course Sam would know how to break the tension.

“I’ll take some, Sammy.”

“Oh no you won’t, Mr. Lauchlan.” Janine said. “I would like to see you out back.”

Five and Sam gasped. Out back was the wood storage shed. It was cold and dark and had a potent woodsy smell. Five had once compared it to the feeling of being buried six feet under in a pine box and since then…nobody wanted to go out back.

But Simon looked oddly intrigued.

“Have I been a bad boy, Jenny?” Janine’s cheeks flushed and she shook her head.

“Actually, yes. And I need to speak with you urgently.”

Five thought they left a little eagerly, but it was really none of her business.

“Anything for you, Amelia?” Sam pushed the button for the electric kettle and started setting out mugs.

“From an electric kettle? And is that…powdered mix?” She shuddered. “I’ll pass.”

“Please have a seat near the fire while you wait. I’m sure Steve will be back momentarily.”

“He does seem quite strong. Those biceps are certainly impressive.”

An awkward silence filled the room until the kettle began to boil. Sam poured two mugs of hot chocolate for himself and Five and offered Amelia a cup one final time.

“Absolutely not.” She shook her head. “Horrifying.”

Five took a sip, slurping loudly. 

Sam immediately looked away. Five never slurped anything in her life. He knew if he looked over he’d see a devilish look in her eye and she would only double down on trying to annoy their only customer of the day. 

Amelia was browsing their selection of ornaments. 

“Some of these are quite beautiful.” She picked up a miniature snow globe hanging on a string. Five smiled.

“Oh, that’s a great one. It was handmade by-”

“This is the ugliest snowglobe I have ever seen.” Amelia squinted as she examined it. “I mean, really. As I was saying, some of these are beautiful, but this is not one of them.”

Five looked over at Sam, who was still facing the wall. She knew even without seeing his face that he was holding back laughter. Five, on the other hand, was not feeling overly playful with this terrible woman. 

“Listen, I don’t know who you think you are-”

“Here you go, ma’am. The perfect tree. It’s almost 200 centimeters tall, blue spruce. She’s an absolute stunner.” Steve announced from the doorway.

“Do you commonly equate women with trees?” Amelia asked. Steve didn’t miss a beat. He leaned on the counter, making sure his arm muscles rippled under his flannel shirt, which was at least two sizes too small. 

“No, ma’am.” Steve said. He seemed to be remembering that Simon was currently out back for his attempt at innuendo. “I rotate pronouns with trees so all sexes are represented equally through the…whole forest. Out of respect. For nature.”

Five winced.

“Hmm. Very well then.” Amelia walked over to Sam and leaned on the counter, gently bumping Steve with her backside.

“How much do I owe you?”

“Uh - no charge. Because of the - uh - trouble.” Five watched Sam die a little inside. 

It was definitely a weird day.

“I guess this place isn’t as bad as I assumed it was. Happy Christmas, workers.” Then, to Steve, “You’ll be tying this to the roof of my car?” It was a question but also - not. 

“It’s my pleasure, ma’am.” Steve grinned and followed her out.

Five and Sam stood frozen for a solid minute before Sam finally burst with laughter. 

“What the hell was that?” 

“That woman was a real piece of work. We need to hang up a picture with her face and never let her back in here again.”

“Aw, come on, Five. At least she didn’t take any of Simon’s nonsense.”

“Yeah, but she insulted the ornament that the children’s hospital made.” 

Sam made his way across the little shack and folded Five into a hug. 

“She couldn’t have known that. But I’m sorry she didn’t let you explain.”

“And she insulted your hot chocolate.”

“Well that was definitely out of line. You’re right. We should ban her.” Five giggled into Sam’s shoulder.

“See? I told you. She was terrible.” Five felt Sam start to let go but pulled him closer. “How are you Sam? Honestly?”

Sam paused and Five felt him tense up in the hug. He took a long breath, considering his answer carefully.

“I’m…okay. It’s been a long time but…some days are lonelier than others. Christmas still stings quite a bit. Which is inconvenient, you know? Since I pretty much sell Christmas.”

When silence and sadness fill the space between words, it’s hard not to fill it. Five fought the urge to say something encouraging like, “It will get better” or “Your parents are so proud of you for carrying on” because truly there was no way to know either of those things. She wasn’t in the business of making empty promises. Not to anyone, but especially not to Sam. Never to Sam. 

“Which is why you shouldn’t have to wake up alone on Christmas. Why don’t you-”

Sam pulled back to look at her. 

“Wha-”

“Oh! Am I interrupting?” Five and Sam both jumped. Neither one had heard Steve come back in. 

“Nope. No. Not at all. Just - normal friendly conversation.” Sam stammered. Five laughed.

“You’re fine, Steve. Hey, listen. I’m not the owner of this place or anything, but I’m thinking that was probably our last customer. She was the only person all day looking for a tree and it’s getting late. What do we say to closing an hour early?”

“Also not in charge but I say that’s a great idea.”

“As the person who IS in charge, I’m calling it.” Sam walked to the small, frost covered window in the front and flipped the open sign. “Closed for the season.” He sighed.

“So I’m no longer an employee here until next season, right?” Steve asked.

“Right.” 

“Then I can’t be fired, right?”

“Ummm, right.” There was a hint of a question in Sam’s voice. 

“And, since we’re closed…” He pulled a flask from his pocket. “This isn’t drinking on the job, right?”

Sam shrugged. “I suppose it isn’t.”

“But only if you share.” 

“Five, darling. I wouldn’t ever whip out whiskey and not offer it to a lady.”

“I’ll warm up more water for hot cocoa. Whiskey would be great in cocoa.” Sam added more water to the kettle and clicked it on. Five chuckled. She knew Sam wasn’t a fan of straight alcohol. Five on the other hand-

“I’ll take it straight from the flask.” She waited patiently for Steve to finish swallowing and grabbed it from his hand. 

She took a long pull and the whiskey burned her throat on the way down. She felt the warm liquid sit in her belly and run through her veins. It was a feeling not much different than getting a hug from Sam. 

She couldn’t remember exactly when she met Sam. Somehow it seemed like they had been together since the day they were born. The best of friends. There was never a question. Except lately something was changing. Something felt …more. She took another swig and handed it back to Steve.

He seemed to sense that she had been thinking about other things and gave her a questioning look. She smiled to reassure him that she was okay.

“Do you still have that little radio?” He asked. Sam, still behind the counter, reached down and pulled out a tiny radio. He turned it on and static blared through the shack. He adjusted the signal until he heard a voice break through.

“Today, Cit-i-zens, everyone here at Radio Cabel will be sharing our favorite holiday traditions!” Phil Cheeseman’s voice blared from the speakers. “You start, Zoe.”

“I like to start the day by making a nice breakfast and eating it in front of Christmas specials with my cats.” Zoe paused. “Later in the day I go see family and it’s busy and crazy, so I like having the time to myself to prepare for all of that.”

“That sounds kind of lonely.”

“It’s actually not. I like a balance of quiet and loud.”

“Not us.” Jack cut in. “Since Eugene and I have been together, we started a new tradition of blasting Christmas music and dancing in front of the tree while we open gifts.”

“No,” corrected Eugene. “Jack blasts music in front of the tree and dances. I try to get in as much coffee as I can to keep up with him all day.” Eugene let out a gentle laugh. 

“And you love it.” Jack chuckled. “This next song is one of my favorites to annoy Gene with.”

The water was boiling and Sam mixed another cup of hot chocolate before joining Five and Steve in the middle of the cabin.

“You didn’t drink it all, did you?”

Steve winked and poured a large quantity of alcohol into his mug. Sam raised his glass as if to say ‘cheers’ and took a large gulp. He coughed and sputtered a bit but managed to play it cool. 

“Yum.” He managed to squeak out. Steve laughed.

“Don’t worry. If we finish this, I have one or two backup flasks in my coat pocket.”

“Of course you do.” 

The next song came on the radio. Over the intro, Phil gently spoke of how this song sparked memories of his childhood traditions.

Five found herself wrapping her arms around Sam, who responded in kind. They began some kind of involuntary swaying that she supposed could have been dancing. 

Another set of strong arms wrapped around them. 

The song ended with the three of them huddled together. They each took another drink - Five and Steve from the flask and Sam from his mug - and sat on the ground. 

Sam leaned toward the merchandise for sale and pulled over a few tree skirts and some bags of cotton, sprinkled with glitter to look like snow. They wiggled around, arranging the items to make pillows and blankets. They cuddled together for warmth. 

“Come on, loves. Tell me. Are you really best friends or is there something else happening here?”

“Yes.” Five said, while Sam stammered something incomprehensible next to her. The drink had loosened Five’s tongue and she continued without thinking. “We were always friends but since his parents died and his sister skipped out on him, I guess I want to be his family now. But not in a gross way. In a way that, like, I just want to be there for him all the time. I want to be the person who…” She trailed off, realizing that Sam had now propped himself up on an elbow and was staring at her. “Well…it’s true.”

“What happened?” Steve asked. Five, apparently a chatterbox when drunk, opened her mouth to answer. Sam never spoke about The Day. But he took a deep breath and launched into it. 

“It … it’s going to be sad.” Sam warned. Nobody spoke. He shrugged and continued. “It was Christmas Eve. Everyone was home - my parents, my sister, and me. I had moved out into my little apartment down the road and my sister lived on her University campus. But as it was Christmas - this was the first time since the summer we were all under one roof. We had a fire going in the fireplace that morning, feeling festive and whatnot, and for just a few minutes - that was all it took - everyone was distracted. I don’t know where they were. I was upstairs in my room, wrapping some last minute presents when the fire alarm started blaring. I tried running downstairs but there was already so much smoke. The house - that damn house - we only had one working alarm. It was something my dad always said we needed to fix. But we never got to it. So anyway, by the time the smoke set off the alarm, it was already a pretty big fire. I don’t know what happened, but my parents never made it out of the house. Maybe they went to go get our dog? I don’t know. Maybe the downstairs just filled with smoke too fast? It doesn’t matter. The doctors tried explaining some theories but honestly I didn’t care enough to listen. What did it matter how it happened? My sister and I both made it out by jumping out the second floor windows. There were big trees around the house. Both of us could climb down. We got outside and it was just - the whole house. Flames out of every window. I don’t know. I can’t quite remember much. But I made two phone calls that morning. One to the fire department. The other…” His voice trailed off.

“Was me.” Five finished, quietly. “You called me. I ran over from my house as fast as I could. It was…awful.”

“Where is your sister now?” Steve asked cautiously.

“She didn’t stick around. Right after the funeral she took off with her boyfriend - his family is rich - and finished her schooling in some tropical location. I don’t even know where she is. She didn’t leave an address. She just said she wanted no part in the tree farm business and just - left.”

The room was quiet save for everyone taking a few gulps of their drink. 

“I’m so sorry, Sam. I really had no idea.” Steve said eventually.

“Yeah. I don’t like to talk about it. I can’t bring them back. But it is why…it’s why I don’t go out to the tree field much. I like to stay in here. If I go too far back, to the last row of trees, I can see the foundation of the old house. They tore it down, but…they left that part.”

“Yikes. I’ve seen that before. I just figured it was torn down to make room for the tree farm.”

“Nope. Just the shattered remains of my old life.” Five patted his shoulder. “Anyway, it’s okay. I mean, no. Not okay. My therapist keeps reminding me that I don’t have to say it’s okay. Because it’s not. It’s just…thank you. Thanks for your…uh…concern. And stuff. I’m dealing with it.”

Steve leaned over and took Sam’s face in his hands. 

“You’re doing really well, love. This is a great business you’ve got here. Everyone who comes here feels welcome and has a great time. Well, everyone except for Amelia.” They laughed. Despite his laughter, Sam squirmed a bit. 

“Your face is..uh…close.” Sam licked his lips and winced, suddenly realizing how suggestive that was.

“You’re adorable.” Steve said and kissed him gently. Five raised her eyebrows.

“Well, that wasn’t on my list of things I thought I’d see today.”

“Oh, darling. You should always expect the unexpected. Especially when Christmas magic is in the air.”

“And whiskey is in the glass.” Five raised the flask and took another swig. 

Sam remained still and silent as Steve backed up to give him space. 

“Thank you.” He whispered.

Five laughed, but Steve just whispered,

“You’re welcome.”

The radio played another slow song, long gentle lyrics about bleak midwinters and moaning wind. “Snow had fallen, snow on snow on snow.” Caught up in the music, in the warmth, in the closeness, a shirt was discarded. Hands grasping. Not quite sure what belonged to who. Lips on lips on lips. Skin on skin on skin.

If anyone had approached the little tree farm shack that night, they would have had a hard time seeing through the windows, steamed with heat and want. Three bodies silhouetted in the light of the wood stove. Friends and passion and love.

It was close to midnight by the time Steve left. The drink long gone, a few hours of sleep, the fire snuffed. And then it was Sam and Five, closing the door to the shop. Closing the door on the season. Closing the door on the only closeness he still felt to his parents. 

Five kissed Sam long and deep, knowing there was no returning to “just friends.” 

“Don’t go home.”

“Where - what?”

“Don’t go home. Ever. Forget your little apartment. I want you with me.” She held him close but pitched her head back to look him in the eye. “Stay with me.”

“Five, you’re all caught up in the - whatever…”

“Christmas magic.” Five grinned. “Yes. But also, no. Sam - I have loved you for a long time. I’m your family. I’m your love. Stay with me.”

Sam was quiet, contemplative. 

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. But…I’m not giving up my apartment yet. Just in case.”

“You won’t need it.”

“It’s just…it’s hard to believe things can be permanent. Awful things can happen, Five. I don’t want anything to happen but I know -”

“We’re going to be great, Sam.”

“How do you know?”

Five stopped and thought. How could she possibly know? She didn’t. Of course she didn’t. Just like she didn’t know that Sam would be okay or that his parents would be proud. But this didn’t feel like a lie.

“Sam, I don’t know. I have no idea if things will work. And I could be ruining the best friendship in the world. But here’s what I do know. I don’t want to spend another minute without you. You are my whole heart. I have loved you for as long as I can remember. We’ve wasted so many years treading so carefully. Without great risk, there can’t be great rewards. And Sam…a lifetime with you would be the greatest reward I could ever imagine. It’s worth the risk.”

Sam stared at her, mouth gaping. 

“Okay.”

“Okay? I gave you all that and you’re giving me okay?”

Sam chuckled.

“I love you. So much. And I owe Steve my whole life for getting us over this friendship hump.”

“Wow. Poetic. And don’t get me started on how much Simon would love the use of the word hump.”

“Let’s go home.” Sam said. “To your place. I’ll move my toothbrush in tomorrow and it will be home.”

With that, Sam and Five started down a long, winding path. Winters are a lot less bleak with someone you love by your side.