#even my grandad noticed it

[certifiedbi]

Can't lie the pedroscar quadlock interview was kinda a hard watch because the interviewer asked Oscar wayyyyy more questions than Pedro

[pseudowho]

"So, you go against the hairs...that's right...and then with the hairs..."

"...is-- is this right?"

"Mmm. Now, clean your blade..."

You pretended to tidy the bedroom, sneaking glances up to Kento, and Yuuji, stood shirtless at the bathroom sink. Both had thickly lathered faces, and sharp razors, examining their faces in the mirror with absolute precision.

Sshhhhick. Swshswshswsh. Shhhhick-ck-ck. Swshswshswsh.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Peach fuzz.

"...and so anyway, I said to Fushiguro, shadows are great but sometimes you gotta just hit a guy..."

Kento listened, quiet, his mind always calculating several threads while mentoring Yuuji; yet, he was distracted. The old school corridor bathed in orange evening light, setting Yuuji's hair aflame, to coral in rocks. With Yuuji's nattering profile illuminated, the edges of his cheeks blurred from their usual sharp relief.

Fuzzy.

"...like, Kugisaki gets it, but she's like, just a bit feral and..."

Kento wondered if Yuuji had noticed. Kento recalled he only noticed, when his grandfather brushed his jaw with one clawed-over old hand, softly mocking Kento's furry scowl in lilting Danish. Kento's eyes lowered to the floor, counting his own steps and thinking in one, two, three and thoughtful on four, five, six.

"...Gojo's great but it's hard to learn from a guy who's that far out of my league, y'know? So--"

"Itadori-kun."

Kento had stopped, straightening his glasses, looking out onto suburban skyline. Yuuji stopped with him, inquisitive. A train rattled through, distant, splitting through the sunset. Kento looked back to Yuuji.

"It's important to look tidy, at work. Professional."

Yuuji raised his eyebrows, elbows rounded as he held his arms out, looking down at himself. He shot Kento a bashful smile, rubbing the back of his head.

Fuzzy peach.

"...ah-- yeah...guess I've always been a bit scruffy, huh? My grandad used to tell me I'd never get a job with hair like this."

Kento hummed. He stepped forwards, and raised one long-fingered, broad hand to gently grasp Yuuji's jaw, tilting it back and forth in the amber glow. Yuuji's bottom lip drew up, his eyes wide in surprise.

"...Nanamin?"

"Has anyone taught you how to shave, Yuuji?"

Yuuji blushed, his eyes flicking away from Kento in a mortified little scowl, his jaw still clasped. Kento released him, clearing his throat and checking his watch.

"I think we're finished up, here. Do you have any evening plans, Itadori-kun?"

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"If you need to go over an area again, get more shaving foam-- not that much-- and repeat the steps..."

"...this is...tricky..."

"With regular practice, you can improve any skill, Itadori-kun. Unless you'd like a beard, which still needs management, you'll be shaving every few days, or more."

"...you always...look so tidy..." swshswshswsh.

"It takes effort." Shhhick. Swsh.

"Yeah right. I bet you wake up like that. Tie and all."

A deep, rumbling laugh. Yuuji's foamy, surprised face, looking so boyish.

You slid past the bathroom. You pulled your phone out, surreptitiously clicking a photo. Kento and Yuuji, leaning over the sink while Kento steadfastly instructed him, became your new phone background, and stayed as such for a full year.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Took a lot of portions to send him to bed with a full tummy."

Kento chuckled at you, his hair mussed and soft. Legs crossed in bed, with a book on his lap, he read to the sound of soft snores in the guest bedroom next door. The lamplight, low and warm, illuminated Kento's face in the gloom.

Stubbly.

You reached a hand out, brushing across his jaw, feeling its sandpaper rasp across your fingers.

"I think you were so busy teaching Yuuji," you whispered, scratching Kento's chin as he crumpled his lower lip up, "that you missed some patches yourself. C'mere."

You stood, walking to the bathroom and sitting on the counter, grabbing a razor and shaving foam. Kento's eyes twinkled at you, feigning annoyance. He walked to you at the sink, looking straight into the bones of you. He grasped your thighs, pushing them apart before settling between them, chuckling again as you lathered his face.

Shhhhick. Swshswshswsh. Shhhick-ck-ck. Swshswshswsh.

You felt a growing pressure between your legs as you focused on shaving Kento's jaw. Kento fidgeted, pyjamas tight and tenting. You bit your lip, smirking.

"...Mr.Nanami. I am trying to concentrate."

"Mmm, so am I, but it's...hard."

"Yes. I can feel that."

Another deep rumble of a laugh. Kento grasped your thighs tighter, pressing forwards into you. You gasped, taking the razor from his face as Kento nuzzled shaving foam into your giggling neck.

"Don't stop." He whispered, a crooked smile on his lathered face. "Concentrate, please, Mrs.Nanami."

[98752-blog]

You normally kept to yourself, a little cold, a little aloof - polite but definitely standoffish.

Soap takes that as incentive to pick at you, tease you anyway he can - he was bordering unprofessional, but hey, he got Lt. to open up didn't he? You shoot back just as much, a little more sharp but he can see your shell breaking.

one day, he notices you seem a little more tired, a little more drained, you're in the hallway, murmuring quietly into your phone. He can't make out what exactly is being said, but he decides to go up to you once he sees you've hung up.

"Look as though yer boyfrien' jus broke up w'ye," he grinned, cute and boyish

You say nothing, your chest is shaking and your breathing is shallow. You're afraid if you speak, you'll just crumble.

Your lack of words stuns him, and you shock him even more when you just walk by him to head back to your room. He trails after you, not much in mind, though deep in the recesses of his mind, he is worried.

When you go to shut the door in his face he can't hold back his comment:

"Team's walkin' on eggshells cus' a ye"

You shoot him a nasty glare, and all the words he wanted to say die in his throat. There are thin tear tracks down your face, he pushes forward, "Hen, i didnae mean,"

papers shift underneath his feet and he looks down in surprise, there are letters and trinkets strewn about your floor, pictures and so so many letters.

"What's all this?"

"Get out Soap." You find an empty spot in the mess and he has reason to believe you've sat there more than once.

"Worried abou' ye." You just shake your head, hands finding the letters closest to you. He carefully steps over the mementos, and scoots until he's standing next to you, before plopping down gracelessly.

"Lookin' like yer friend really did break up with ye." He said quietly, taking everything in.

"Johnny, can you just go, please." Your voice breaks midsentence and he whips his head around and sees you now, fat tears down your cheeks. Without thinking his hands reach out and he pulls you into his arms, cradling your head against his chest.

"Ach, I- Hen, listen, I'm an eejit, a big smelly eejit - I'm sorry, really, I am - don' cry, please." He whispered, heart clenching as you trembled in his arms. When you settle, he shifts to reach for a letter - there are so many he doesn't have to move far. It's from your mother, apologizing for how she had reacted to you moving across the world.

He remains silent and stationary, before reaching behind him and grabbing a blanket to wrap around you, tucking the ends behind him.

"Sometimes I wish I wasn't here." He jolts and squeezes you, "I ken bonnie, it's ay tough life ta hae any relationship."

"I don't have a boyfriend Soap. I mean missing all these big things back home... losing my childhood dog, missing my grandmas funeral, not being with my grandad while he was hospitalized."

You sniffle and it sounds like a gunshot to him, his heart beating too fast, "I'm not there to support my family, I'm not there for them when I should be."

"Ye can take a leave." He says, voice low and soothing. You scoff, wet and rough, "What then? Try my best to put everything back together just to leave and go save the world again?"

"Their world is falling apart and mine is going with it. Theirs is the one I'm supposed to be saving - I can't - because I'm not there for them when I should be."

His arms were tight around you, "I ken bonnie, it's hard... hard to be away from the people you love."

"I wouldn't come back." You whispered hoarsely. the words hanging in the air like a dirty secret.

The door creaked open and his head shot up, "Bloody hell," Ghost stands in the doorway, his figure nearly blocking out the light. His eyes dart from Johnny's to your small figure, bundled and cradled gently. He lingers for a beat more before he trudges in, leaning down to pick up all the letters and trinkets off the floor. He sits in your chair with a heavy sigh, eyes scanning over everything in his hands.

A heavy question sits in the air: Do you want out?

"Sergeant." The Manchurian accent rumbled in the space, you lifted your head up, eyes bloodshot.

"Sir."

"My office, 0600 tomorrow."

"Sir." Ghost looks at you impassively, before directing his attention to the notes in his hands.

The words blurred together,

what you've missed

what you're going to do when you visit

when are you available

would you ever come back

Your best friend got married, a wedding invitation sits unopened, the date months past - a mission in Russia, he recalls vaguely.

An invitation to a family gathering, new relatives to meet, new babies to play with, faces to see, places to go

missed

missed

missed

missedmissedmissed

Ghost couldn't relate, a shadow of who he used to be, a dead man walking.

But he feels a small ache; a bittersweet longing, he may not have people who cared for him anymore

but you certainly do.

And he can spur the smallest bit of humanity in him to feel some regret for you, knowing that despite him not having anyone, he wasn't being left behind in their lives - unlike you.

for: @waves-against-a-cliff thank you, for speaking sense

for:@rememberwren can't write heartache like you do, but damn trying - projecting in the meantime

[coff33andb00ks]

37 With Oscar Piastri? 🫶

37: not realizing they’re holding hands till someone points it out I got this twice so i'm combining them k thx 🥹

also this is really for @maxlarens bc she helped me craft something similar to this idea

Oscar's...different. Not in a bad way, just...different. He's not loud or obnoxious like the other guys in your classes at uni, he just comes in, takes his seat, and then...

Well honestly you don't know. Since, you know, you're paying attention to the professor. But you assume he's paying attention as well.

He's just quiet. Or so you thought.

"Your grandma sounds nice," you say, truly smiling as he finishes telling you about the treats his grandmother sent from back home.

He grins, blushing a little. Maybe from embarrassment, maybe from the drinks. "Yeah... She's strong too, you know."

"Is she?" you ask.

"She's got the heart of a lion."

"Oh wo--"

"And a lifetime ban from the zoo."

Your jaw drops and you let out a giggle while he grins again. "Stop, that was terrible," you insist, taking a sip of your drink. But you're still giggling a little.

His face creases and you realize that the weirdly quiet guy from maths isn't weird.

So naturally he needs you to become his friend. Right? Right. Probably not but you take up the task anyway, happily dragging him along to parties and clubs on weekends. He goes along with it, longsuffering and looking miserable, but always ends up cracking jokes that have even your most judgmental friends liking him.

Oscar's like that, you realize, watching him cringe over the house music playing. He pretends not to care but he does. He cares more than you, sometimes. Especially about people he loves, like that American guy that follows him around like a lost puppy, and the super posh guy that you and your friend joke is actually a serial killer

His friends and your friends become a group. Neither from either side have anything in common other than attending the same university. None seem to really like the others really but put up with them because Oscar makes it worth it.

You've all been studying for exams, gathering in the posh guy's off campus flat because it's the biggest and has the best furniture and the best food, and you're in the kitchen fixing coffee when Oscar finds you. There's chatter in the dining room, your friends arguing over a minute detail in some show you haven't watched yet.

"Are they getting rowdy?" you ask, taking down another mug - they all match, George is third year and all his dishes match - and pour him some coffee.

"No more than usual." Oscar murmurs a thank you, leaning against the counter as the arguing turns into laughter.

"You hate that I've dragged you into this hysteria don't you?" you murmur.

"What?"

You smile against the rim of your mug. You like the way he says what, all exaggerated and so very Australian. What does that even mean? You have no idea. You just know you like it. "They're a bit..."

"Loud?" Oscar asks, his face dead serious as absolute silence comes from the dining room.

"You," you mutter, lightly shoving at his shoulder before leaning against him, dropping your hand.

"They're alright," he promises. "They keep George and Logan bonkers."

You laugh, because your friends do love tormenting his friends. And vice versa. "Come on, let's try to get them to focus on work."

Back in the dining room you're working your way through the problem that you've been struggling with when you notice Logan keeps giving you weird looks after he comes back from the toilet. You ignore him because, well, it's Logan, and he tends to always give people weird looks.

There's rustling and whispering around you and then George looks up from his laptop and you freeze, suddenly feeling everyone's eyes on you and Oscar.

"What's all this then?" George asks.

"You sound just like my grandad," your friend groans before turning to you. "When did this story arc happen?"

"Yeah, I thought you two were still stuck on ew that's my friend," Logan chimed in.

"What?" This from Oscar.

George points a pen at you both. "That."

And then you feel it. Your hand in Oscar's - his thumb tapping yours, the calluses from his love of the gym, warm and comforting and—

"Well?" your friend demands.

You know you should drop his hand. That's my friend, my quiet black cat that I adopted and drag around to keep the weirdos away only I'm the weirdo and he can't keep me away. You look down at your clasped hands.

There's a freckle next to his thumbnail and all you can think is how fucking endearing that is.

"Just because no guy wants to hold your hand doesn't mean I should suffer," you find yourself saying.

Next to you, Oscar throws his head back and laughs.

[thewritingofamadwoman]

That’s My Girl

Another attempt at writing Roy Kent. Inspired by the amazingly sweet @onceuponaoneshotfanfic

Pairing: Roy Kent x Fem!Reader (established relationship)

Warnings: Tons of fluff, more of Roy Kent’s potty mouth, a secret relationship and Jamie Tartt being the reader and Roy’s unofficial child.

Enjoy!!

The second the words “no curfew tonight” came out of Ted Lasso’s mouth, you just knew the evening was going to be a fun one. Both you and Roy had agreed on the way to Amsterdam that you’d both spend the last night together, sightseeing and then staying in bed for hours while everyone else was none the wiser.

As the team’s co-pr manager, it was imperative that you tagged along on the trip for business reasons; Rebecca also told you if you didn’t come along and enjoy yourself she’d purposely make your life hell. So here you are, on the charter bus with the rest of your friends. You looked down at your phone, the time reading 5pm. Roy suggested meeting up at around 9pm, when everyone else was surely going to be in their rooms. It was the perfect plan…which meant it probably wasn’t going to happen.

You looked over at Roy, who gave you a sly wink before getting up and roaring at Jamie Tartt.

“Not for you Tartt!”

Your beloved got up and grabbed Jamie’s bag, tossing it to Will before storming outside. Jamie, depressed that he’d be spending the rest of his time in Amsterdam training, got up from his seat reluctantly. Before heading out, he stretched and looked back, noticing you seated in the back. As if having a moment of clarity, his brain immediately came up with what he thought was an ingenious plan. He called your name and once you looked up at him, he put his plan into action.

“Hey love, do you have any plans right now?” He smiled, everyone else on the bus discussing their potential curfew free plans.

“Not really, I was gonna head back to my room and nap for a bit I guess. Why?”

Jamie’s smile widened.

“Nahhh a gorgeous girl like you alone in a hotel room? Not happening. Come on, hang out with me and grandad for a bit.”

You laughed, and so did some of the players listening in.

“Fuck it, why not?” You said, and the bus is filled with loud cheers once more as you made your way towards Jamie, who took your hand and pulled you out of the bus with him. The first thing you saw was Roy’s back to the bus as he stretched his legs.

“Took you fucking long enou-what are you doing here?” Roy asked, his face full of genuine surprise. You shrugged and pointed to Jamie who smiled like the cat who caught the canary.

“This stunner was going to go back to the hotel alone and take a nap. In one of the worlds’ most beautiful cities. I couldn’t let that happen. And who better to keep her company than us fine, young gentleman. Well, some of us more young than others, isn’t that right grandad?”

Roy gave Jamie a deadpan expression and growled lowly. You shook your head and chuckled.

“I hope that’s alright? You don’t mind do you, Roy?” You gave the poor man one of your sweetest smiles, one that Roy had fallen in love with over the course of the last few months. Roy sighed and eventually nodded, the thoughts of the night he had planned for the two of you going down the drain. Jamie cheered and punched Roy’s shoulder, jogging backwards with his hands in the air.

“Come on Roy! Lighten up! Here, I’ll run ahead while you two trail behind me. Can’t have gorgeous here run in those heels. Fantastic heels by the way,” Jamie said as he ran his gaze from your heels to your face, winking as he reached your eyes. The striker was doing his absolute best to get Roy to react to him flirting with you. He knew the coach had feelings for you, it was painstakingly obvious. But he doubted the man would ever make a move. So his “genius plan” was to spend the evening turning on the signature Tartt charm as much as he could until Roy had no choice but to confess his love for you. The perfect plan, Jamie thought to himself.

You blushed at the compliment and laughed , shocked that he was flirting so boldly with you in front of your boyfriend. Not that he knew you two were an item, but still. Roy, on the other hand, was glaring so hard at Jamie that it was a surprise the young man hadn’t combusted into flame. Jamie gave you both a very cheeky smile, turned around, and began to run.

“Come on, grandad! Keep up!”

Roy growled and you laughed once more, causing the older man to look at you.

“And what are you laughing at?” Roy grumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets as you two began to walk, keeping Jamie in your sights as he ran up ahead.

“At how easy it is for Jamie Tartt to get you riled up. He’s only being silly, don’t let it bother you,” you smiled, reaching over and placing a hand on Roy’s arm.

“And besides, we did want to sightsee, and now we get to do that earlier than planned,” you added, looking around at the beautiful city around you. Roy scoffed and looked back at you.

“Yeah, I wanted us to sightsee without Jamie Fucking Tartt running around like a child we need to keep on a leash.” You giggled and Roy’s lip ticked upwards, the sound of your laugh being one of his favorite things.

“I don’t know babe, this might be a glimpse into our future,” you teased sweetly, looking at Roy playfully. Once again, Roy snorted and turned to look at you.

“Please, our children will be way more behaved than that twat.”

“Oh, so you’ve thought about our future children hmm?” Your heart soared at the thought of Roy seeing a future with you. Roy looked at you dumbfounded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Of course. Why the fuck wouldn’t I?”

Your heart melted, and you were about to reply when Jamie suddenly appeared from behind the both of you, squeezing himself in between you and wrapping an arm around each of your shoulders.

“Look at you two, looking all chummy. And look at this magnificent city! Have either of you seen the tulip gardens? Or the windmills? We’re actually coming up to the world famous Skinny Bridge, just up ahead. Did you know that it’s one of the most romantic places in the world? Legend says that a kiss between lovers while on this bridge ensures that they will be in love forever. Isn’t that LOVELY, Roy?”

Jamie had pulled you both close to him, and thus each other as he continued to spit fact after fact about the romantic connotations of the bridge. Roy looked murderous, annoyed at Jamie’s incessant chatter. Roy had originally planned to take you to the bridge later that night to share that very same fact. He was a romantic at heart, and you were one of the very few people to know that about the mysterious Roy Kent. He was also a man with a VERY short fuse.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” he growled, and the striker stepped forward from between the two of you and turned around, running in place while he faced you.

“I think it’s lovely, Jamie,” you said, trying to defuse any tension and placate the young man. Jamie beamed at you.

“I thought you would. I bet even someone as tough and grumpy as Roy believes in true love, don’t you Coach?” Jamie began his jumping jacks while looking at Roy, who only grunted in response. The Mancunian then pulled out his phone and handed it to Roy.

“Come on Coach, take a few pictures of the two of us and I’ll take a few of you two as well!” He said enthusiastically as he grabbed your hand and pulled you along with him towards the bridge. After a few photos with you, Jamie suggested he take a few photos of you alone on the bridge. You agreed, posing and laughing, causing both men to smile as they watched you. Roy even let out a laugh as you posed dramatically on the railing of the bridge. As you continued to look out onto the water, Jamie nudged Roy.

“Look at her, mate. She’s fucking stunning. Do you think she’s seeing anyone? I mean, any man would be a fool not to snatch her up and never let her go. I mean, look at her,” Jamie nodded towards you as you were being approached by another young couple who asked you to take their photo. Roy watched as you smiled politely and took a few pictures of the couple, watching you light up as they loved the pictures and thanked you. Jamie watched Roy’s expression, seeing how the man let down his guard as he looked at you. Jamie nudged him again.

“Go on mate, don’t let someone else come along and steal her away. Don’t let another man have the opportunity to stare at that bum. I mean LOOK at that ass-“ Jamie was cut off from his sweet-turned-idiotic ramble by Roy advancing on him.

“Watch your fucking mouth, Tartt,” but before Roy’s fist could collide with his face, Jamie called your name, catching your attention.

“Would you like some pictures with Coach Kent? I’m sure he’d love to take some with you!”

Jamie watched as Roy glared at him before walking over to you to stand next to you almost begrudgingly.

“What, don’t want to take a picture with me?” You teased him and he gave you a look.

“Don’t start, you know that’s not true.”

“Come on now guys, you’re on a romantic bridge. How about you pretend to, you know, be in love or something. Like a couple. Pose couple-y. Go on.”

You and Roy looked at one another, before you decided to just play along. You stood close to Roy and placed a hand on his chest, stepping closer than you usually would when you weren’t alone together. As if running on autopilot, the second you stood close to him, Roy’s arm snaked around your waist. Jamie whistled and Roy glared even harder than before. You could tell Jamie was starting to get to him.

“Just take the photo please, Jamie.” You pleaded with a small smile. You had a sneaking suspicion that Jamie knew what he was doing but didn’t want to think of that yet, choosing to focus on the smell of Roy’s cologne and the feel of his warmth against you. After a few pictures, Jamie decided to start up on his training again and began skipping forward.

After a few more stops at historic landmarks and a few more ridiculous flirtatious comments and innuendos from Jamie, you paused for a moment of respite by a chip shop. Jamie went in to use the bathroom when you turned to Roy, who was fuming.

“I’m going to fucking kill him. If he talks about windmills ONE more time, I’m going to throw him over the fucking bridge!” You giggled at his anger and tried to soothe him, placing a hand on one of Roy’s arms.

“I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m pretty sure Jamie is either on to us or really wants to play match maker,” you admitted and Roy grunted.

“Yeah I know, he’s a smooth as a bull in a china shop. Phoebe would have been more subtle than him,” You let out a laugh and nodded and Roy continued. “I have half a mind to give in and tell him. But watching him think he’s failing at getting us together truly gives my soul the peace it needs.”

You laughed harder and Jamie finally made his way back with an order of chips in one hand and a tulip in the other. He walked up to you and handed you both.

“Crisp chips and a flower for the lovely lady. Coach maybe you should take notes, this is how you treat a beautiful woman,” Jamie preened and you could see Roy’s resolve begin crumble. Jamie was going to leave Amsterdam with a black eye if he didn’t stop pushing Roy’s buttons. You decided you had enough and made your move.

“I don’t think Roy needs any tips on how to treat a woman, Jamie. He makes sure I’m nice and satisfied at least twice every morning before even heading off to work. Now, if you’re done teasing him: yes we’re together, no, no one knows except for you and we’d like to keep it that way please, and thank you for the chips. Shall we continue?”

You didn’t wait for Jamie or Roy to reply before stepping forward and making your way down the cobblestone street, popping a warm chip into your mouth and twirling the tulip in your hand. Roy’s eyes followed you, full of pride and love, impressed at how you handled the situation. Jamie, however, looked like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing before finding words.

“You fucking cunts, you’ve been together this entire time?? For how long?? I’ve been trying to get you to admit you like her for HOURS!”

Roy gave a smug, satisfied smile.

“Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but today marks six months. And I had fucking dinner plans tonight but you and your fucking windmills ruined it.”

Jamie was still gaping, staring back and forth between your retreating figure and Roy’s smug face.

“Six fucking months?! Roy Kent, you absolute legend. She’s wonderful, I’m happy for you Coach.”

Roy smiled and for a split second, he could see himself becoming closer friends with the team striker.

“Oi!”

Your voice brought both Jamie and Roy’s attention back to you.

“Are you two coming or not? I was promised windmills and I want to see windmills!”

You smiled at your boys, one hand holding your flower and chips and the other hand on your hip as you waited for them to come to you.

“That’s your girl, mate.” Jamie teased as he looked at the taller man. Roy smirked, a genuine smile before nodding his head.

“That’s my girl.”

And with that, both men caught up with you. You passed the chips to Jamie before hooking your arm with Roy’s, the three of you making your way to wherever the windmill hunt took you.

[magiccath]

A very Noble Christmas

tenth doctor x GN!reader

Summary: In which Donna is really fed up with her love-sick best friends and calls in Wilf for backup

A/N: if you're looking for a Christmas song to go with this I suggest "Christmas Tree Farm" by Taylor Swift and a steaming cup of cocoa. Happy holidays! xx

“It’s so frustrating, Grandad,” Donna groaned, sandwiching her mobile phone between her shoulder and cheek so she could use both hands to fold laundry. 

“They’re not even subtle about it! They’re so thick they can’t even tell the other one has feelings for them.” she folded a shirt in one swift movement, placing it with the others in her laundry basket. She truly loved her best friends, but this was getting ridiculous. Having to deal with your level of obliviousness every day was starting to frustrate her.

“Have you done anything about it, darling?” Wilfred asked. Donna could hear a slight breeze over the phone. He was probably sitting outside, looking up at the stars. 

“That’s the thing,” she groaned, “I've done all kinds of things to push them together.” She finished folding her things and closed the dryer with her hip. She repositioned her phone to hold it with one hand and the basket in the other. 

“None of it has worked. Not even in the slightest,” she continued as she made her way through the winding halls of the TARDIS back to her room.

“Have you tried a romantic candlelight dinner?” he suggested. 

“That was one of the first things I tried. I made a reservation at a fancy Italian place so they could eat pasta and look into each other’s eyes lovingly.” 

“And?” 

“Aliens blew it up on the way over.” Donna rolled her eyes, even if Wilf couldn’t see it.

“It’s like I’m living in a horrible slow-burn rom-com,” she grumbled in exasperation. “I’ve done everything, Grandad. I don’t know how to get their thick heads to see it.” 

“Perhaps it’s time for my expertise…” Wilf whispered, deep in thought. 

“Huh?” Donna asked, frowning. 

“Christmas is next week. Bring them over for dinner, I can handle the rest.” Donna could hear the mischievous smile in his voice. Before she could respond or protest he had hung up. She pulled her phone away from her face slowly, staring at the blank screen before letting out a small laugh. 

She shook her head, there was no point in telling Grandad “no”. Plus, she really wanted to see you two together and her efforts hadn’t done much.  

Christmas might be a week away for Wilf, but Donna could just ask the Doctor to take you there now. There were some benefits of living in a time machine. Decidedly, she made her way out to the TARDIS control room. 

The Doctor was hunched over the console, fiddling with some buttons and switches. You were a little farther down the console, leaning against it. Your hands gestured wildly as you talked excitedly to him. The Doctor snuck small glances at you every now and then, a subtle smile taking over his face. It still baffled Donna that you failed to notice this, he was hardly incognito about it. The poor guy practically had heart eyes bursting out of his head.

“Can we go back to my place?” Donna asked, moving further into the room. “Grandad has invited us for Christmas dinner.” 

“You hate Christmas,” you pointed out with a frown. The Doctor nodded in agreement, both of you confused. Normally, you had to coerce Donna into Christmas dinner. 

“I like Grandad,” Donna shrugged casually. She hadn’t really thought about her distaste for Christmas when Wilf made the plans. She had figured that her biggest hurdle would be convincing the two of you to celebrate Christmas a week early, even if you both loved Wilf dearly. But, then again, the Doctor had no concept of when Christmas actually was. Hopefully, you wouldn’t see past her thinly veiled lie. 

You exchanged a suspicious look with the Doctor, determining whether you should trust her. Donna was known to get you all into trouble, even if she meant well. Silently deciding there was no harm in a Christmas dinner, the Doctor agreed. He’d been meaning to check up on the old man anyway.

“Alright,” he drawled, moving to flick some switches on the console. You watched him move about, your eyes following him as he rushed around the room. 

Donna really hoped that Wilf’s plan worked, she wasn’t sure she could handle another minute of this. It was like perpetually third-wheeling but so much worse.

The Doctor landed the ship with his usual flourish, turning to look at you with a wide smile, “The Noble residence, Christmas day,” he said dramatically.

He held his hand out for you and you took it without pause. Donna sighed before following behind you as the Doctor led the way out into the snow. 

The streets were dusted with a coating of stark white powder, a few boot tracks the only indicator that anyone was around. The snow was still falling, a gentle and soft flurry floating down to the ground. You smiled brightly and started to spin around in the falling snow, catching stray flakes on your outstretched tongue. 

Donna noticed the Doctor was watching you with an equally excited smile plastered on his face. He had a certain kind of smile that he only ever wore when looking at you. The best way Donna could describe it was lovesick, and it was starting to get pathetic. 

“Let’s go in before I freeze,” Donna urged, tilting her head in the direction of the door. 

The Doctor nodded, his brow suddenly furrowing. He moved closer to you, tugging the neck of your coat so it wrapped around you tighter. 

“Don’t want you to catch frostbite,” he whispered, adjusting your scarf as well. He stopped for a moment to look at you, your face flushed from the cold. A small smile tugged on your lips and he felt his hearts skip a few beats.

“We should go in,” the Doctor finally said, pulling back from you. His hand rested gently on the small of your back reassuringly, guiding you towards Donna’s house.

Wilf greeted you all at the door, a childish grin plastered on his face. A pair of reindeer antlers perched on this head, the small bells attached jingling quietly when he moved. He pulled each of you into an excited hug, squeezing tightly. 

“How have things been, Wilf?” the Doctor asked, instantly following him through the foyer. 

You hung back with Donna for a moment, putting your coats on the hangers and shaking out the small flecks of snow that had stuck to you. You slipped your boots off before padding down the hall after Wilf and the Doctor.

In the dining room, the table was set with nice plates and Sylvia was busy setting numerous steaming dishes on the table. You smiled and sat down in front of a bowl of potatoes, inhaling their scent with a small but satisfied smile. You loved Sylvia’s Christmas dinners and couldn’t wait to eat this one. The Doctor took a seat next to you, still deep in his conversation with Wilf.

Slowly, the rest of the food came out while the traditional Christmas crackers were opened. Wilf wasted no time perching the paper crown atop his antlers with a big, silly smile. On the other hand, Sylvia deemed them childish, and Donna didn’t want to mess up her hair. Still, you and the Doctor put your crowns on proudly. Once you had placed the brightly colored paper on your head you turned to the Doctor for approval.

“It’s a bit lopsided,” the Doctor commented, gently shifting the crown on top of your head. You felt a flush creep across your face at the contact, but the Doctor didn’t seem to notice. 

“Much better,” he grinned, leaning back to admire his work.

Donna cast a wide-eyed and frustrated glance over at Wilf with an exasperated sigh. Surely he could see how ridiculous this was. Wilf nodded in acknowledgment but didn’t do much else to ease her frustrations.

Dinner went by in a blur of smiles, laughter, and lingering touches between you and the Doctor. His hand would brush against yours slightly and hang there for a moment. You could even swear that the Doctor’s fingers brushed against the back of your hand in a comforting motion.

At one point, you even used your napkin to wipe a bit of sauce off of the Doctor. Donna practically got up and left the table at that. It was as if you were already a lovey-dovey couple!

Once more she looked over at her grandad, wide-eyed and aggravated. How could the two of you not realize?!

“Are you seeing this?” she whispered to him, gesturing aggressively over at the two of you. Somehow, you remained blissfully unaware of Donna’s angry whispers.

Donna could feel herself going more and more insane as the minutes crept by, and the two of you continued your usual longing glances. She looked over at Wilf numerous times for assistance or even reassurance, but he just nodded knowingly. As much as she loved her grandad, she was starting to lose faith in his matchmaking abilities. Perhaps it was a dauntless task after all. 

When dinner was through, you and the Doctor helped clean up the dishes on the table. You stacked the dirty plates and bowls, all the while happily whispering and laughing to each other.

You carried the stack to the kitchen with the intent to help with dishes before Sylvia yelled at you to get out. The last time the two of you had done the dishes there were soapy bubbles everywhere and only a fraction of the dishes actually got done. She learned her lesson long ago to not trust the pair of you with important tasks. 

As you sulked out of the kitchen and into the hallway, the Doctor paused slightly. 

“What’s up?” you asked, noticing that something had caught his eye.

His eyes drifted up to the ceiling, and you followed his gaze. There was a small bough of mistletoe tied with a brilliant red bow hanging above your heads. 

“Huh, I wonder why they put that up,” you questioned. Considering there were no couples in the house it felt a little silly. Still, you felt a thrill rush through you at the implications of the small herb.

“I believe the tradition is to kiss…?” The Doctor asked bashfully, a blush creeping across his cheeks. He could be quite bad at remembering Earth traditions, but he was fairly certain about this one. Honestly, he really just wanted an excuse to kiss you.

“I do think that is proper,” you flushed, averting your gaze. You would never admit it, but you wanted an excuse to kiss him too.

The holiday music drifted in from the other room, the soft and familiar tunes filling the silence between you. The twinkle lights in the hall cast a soft glow over the Doctor, making his handsome features more prominent. As far as mistletoe kisses go, it truly was the perfect setting.

The Doctor moved closer to you slowly, his lips hoving over yours while still giving you space to pull away. Gently, he pressed his mouth to yours lovingly. The kiss was short and sweet, over far before you wanted it to be. 

“That was-” you gasped, your fingers drifting up to your lips subconsciously. 

The Doctor looked at you worriedly, suddenly concerned he had done the wrong thing. Maybe he should have asked your permission before kissing you. Waves of anxiety crashed over him, his woes written all over his face.  

You took in his pained expression and furrowed brows and shook your head quickly, cradling his hand in yours softly. You smiled brightly, halting his worried thoughts. 

“Amazing,” you finished with a grin. The Doctor smiled back at you, a twinkle in his eye. It all felt like a Hallmark movie. The sort of scene that could only ever occur if it had been masterminded. It was almost better not knowing that it had been.

With a sly smile, you grabbed his tie to pull him in for another kiss, this one longer than the last. His hands wrapped around you, pulling you closer to him. You could have stayed there forever if it hadn’t been for Donna’s sudden appearance. 

“Bloody finally!” she cried out. 

You turned around in shock, the Doctor’s hands still resting firmly on your waist.

“Wha-?” you gasped, slightly embarrassed to be caught in the act. “What are you yelling about?” 

“I’ve been waiting forever for you two idiots to kiss!”

You and the Doctor turned a deep shade of scarlet and instantly avoided your friend’s gaze. The Doctor’s hands slipped away from you and you took a small step back from him. You stared at the floor, flustered. Next to you, the Doctor fiddled anxiously. 

Donna rolled her eyes in exasperation, of course, the two of you were still going to deny your feelings for each other. 

“I give up,” she groaned, throwing her hands in the air before stomping off in frustration.

You turned to the Doctor with a knowing smile before the two of you burst into bouts of hearty laughter. His hands naturally made their way back to your waist, pulling you into him. 

“How much longer do you think it will take her to find out we’re dating?” He whispered into your ear with a grin.

[ghettogirly]

Hi, I hope you are doing well. I was thinking Armando x Reader. Where Reader and Armando are with Mike and Marcus driving on the road and Reader decided to do a prank where she places a fart bag that releases the stinch under Marcus seat. Reader is pranking everyone and it pops open and Mike was going crazy, Marcus was making faces and Armando was turning red and saying curse words in Spanish and English and is holding his nose. Reader was dying laughing and at the end told them it was a prank. Marcus and Mike look stunned while Armando was devastated.

𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐀 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐖!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐗 𝐀𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐘𝐀𝐇 (𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐂)

-> synopsis: where aaliyah decides to prank the team with a little fart spray… not a great idea.

-> format: drabble.

-> theme: comedy.

-> warning: mature language, use of the n word.

-> authors note: thank you for requesting this, it was so fun to write!!

💿 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐏 - 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈 𝐁

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The cool summer breeze of Miami flowed through the crack of the window that was open in the front , as the car drove along the highway. Marcus and Mike was in the front talking, while Armando and Aaliyah was in the back.

Moving around in her seat, she looked out the window. The palm trees that were decorated down the highway danced to the slow blow of the wind, waving the team goodbye as they headed down to Atlanta, Georgia for a team getaway. Armando had his head back with his eyes closed, trying to get some rest in before having to greet the rest of the team. His tan skin glistened as the sun illuminated on him, giving him more of a caramel complexion.

Analysing him even more, he had a freshly trimmed cut and his beard was noticeably groomed. His physique was outlined by the tight white shirt he had on accompanied by some washed blue jeans. The two grandads in the front were arguing about the radio, Marcus wanting it on, Mike wanting it off.

The subtle contrast of the tranquility and chaos made Aaliyah’s heart warm. This was her family.

Glancing over at the navigation system in front of her, she wondered how long they have left. 20 minutes. Rummaging through her bag, she looked for something to keep her accompanied during the last quarter of the journey. Her eyes landed on something.

Fart spray??

A smirk creeped up on the girls face as she subtly looked around the car. Armando was still resting, Mike and Marcus had finally stopped arguing. This was her perfect chance.

Shaking up the little container, she pushed her slim hands down the corner of Marcus’s seat that was right in front of her, pressing down on the little pump.

An aroma of a foul stench quickly filled up the car, first being noticed by Mike who shot daggers into Marcus’s soul. “Now i know, you did NOT just shit yourself in my brand new car Marcus!!”

“Nigga, fuck you and your motherfucking car! I didn’t do shit!!”

“So what is that smell?!”

Psh. Psh. Another pump.

Quickly hiding the spray back into her bag that was on top of her lap, Aaliyah sat back into her seat. Moving her 3c curls out her face, she quickly covered her nose with her baby blue top that she had on. “What the fuck is that smell?!”

Looking back at Aaliyah with a pained expression on his face, Marcus whispered, “Mike shat in his diaper..” Which resulted in a slap of Mike who heard the smaller guy. “It’s your fault that the car is smelling this!!”

The three started shouting backwards and forwards, trying to figure out the root of where the stench is coming from. Awaking from his slumber, the latino male sits up. “¡¿Quién coño huele así?!” Armando swore before quickly covering his nose with his hands.

“It was probably Armando farting in his sleep, Mike control your son!!!!” Marcus shouted, turning around and pointing at Armando while shaking his head. In disbelief to the accusations, Armando points his fingers back and starts pleading his case. “¿De qué coño me acusas? Apuesto a que fuiste tú.”

“Talk English Spanish boy!!!! We aren’t in viva la Mexico!” Marcus shouted back.

“He has a point though, maybe you’re accusing everyone because you know you did it!!” Mike shouted back.

“Oh so now you motherfuckers ganging up on me? Father/son attack?”

“Nigga-“

The arguing continued, unbeknownst to Aaliyah, Armando, Mike and Marcus, they pulled up to the little cabin where the getaway was held. Too involved in their argument of who done it, they didn’t realise they had an audience who was watching the chaos unfold. Marcus was shouting at both Mike and Armando, who were shouting back at him. The brown skinned girl was sitting there, her shirt still covering her nose as she pleaded for someone to open a window, falling on deaf ears. “Maldita sea, ni siquiera puedo descansar en paz cerca de ustedes.”

“We haven’t done shit!”

Looking around, Aaliyah noticed that they arrived at the location. “Guys, we are here!!”

“Gracias Dios, necesito salir de este coche.”

Everyone quickly opened the car doors, gasping for air as they all stared at each other. “Why you looking at me like that for?” Marcus exclaimed, mugging Mike. “This was YOUR fault motherfucker, why else??”

And then… the arguing continued.

Aaliyah now sick of the constant bickering between the two grandads pulled her bag out the car. “Guys, it was a prank! See?” Waving the small component of the spray which contained the foul stench, smiling at the two.

“I know this girl is not smiling in my face thinking shit is funny..?” The taller male spoke looking towards Marcus. “I think she is.”

“Tienes diez segundos para correr, mamá.” The latin male whispered, staring straight through the woman’s soul. His chocolate coloured eyes, now slowly turning into black orbs.

Oh shit.

Running into the house, Aaliyah pushed past the couple who stood infront of the door. Swiftly after, Armando, Mike and Marcus ran after her.

“You’re done for!!” The three all shout in unison.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🌸] 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

“¡¿Quién coño huele así?!” : Who the fuck is smelling like that?

“¿De qué coño me acusas? Apuesto a que fuiste tú” : Why the fuck are you accusing me for? I bet it was you.

“ Maldita sea, ni siquiera puedo descansar en paz cerca de ustedes. “ Fucking hell, i can’t even rest peacefully around you guys.

“Gracias Dios, necesito salir de este coche.”: Thank you God, i need to get out of this car.

“Tienes diez segundos para correr, mamá.” : You got ten seconds to run, mama.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🌸] 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @dyttomori @shurisgf @milliumizoomi @tyneshaaa @armandosbabymama @wizewhispers @amplifiedmoan @thedarkworldofhananerea @deadpool15 @5tarlan7 @sarcasticbitchsblog @believeinthefireflies95 @yeahnohoneybye

[sukaaxo]

tamlin ‘watched feyre waste away’ theory

i see a lot of ppl claiming tamlin just watched feyre waste away and never noticed it. but when rhys mentioned feyre looked skinny, tamlin looked confused. so honestly im on the side of he couldn’t actually see it.

i had a car accident a few years. it was me, my sister and my parents. i ended up bed bound for a few months bcz of a broken hip. i lost A LOT of weight bcz of this. no one in my immediate family (the ones that were in the car accident) noticed that i had and i didn’t notice that they had. my grandad came over after a month or two and he commented on how skinny i looked to which we all looked confused bcz i couldn’t tell and neither could they. turns out we had all lost over 5 stone between us and and we COULDNT SEE IT bcz we spent so much time together.

the same thing happened when i was with my ex bf. we both had severe depression during covid and lived together. neither of us noticed each others decline bcz we were wrapped up in our own and it took me visiting my parents when the lockdown lifted for someone to notice how badly we had fallen.

another less personal example is when u go to the gym. u rarely notice progress until u show side by side comparison pics of ur before and after. u don’t notice slow progressive changes when ur seeing it as it happens.

my point being that being within an enclosed space with someone and both of u declining makes it harder to notice these things. especially people within close relationships. the only reason other people noticed in MAF is bcz they didn’t spend time with feyre constantly (rhys, guards, villagers) or didn’t go through similar trauma with her (ianthe, lucien). but tamlin , who went through the same, if not MORE torture underneath amarantha, was suffering just as badly and was in close proximity with her often would have struggled to notice. feyre even mentions at some points that tamlins hair lost some of its shine and his muscle some of its definition. he also looked tired and stressed all the time. yet she never tried to help him

so many ppl were suffering and im so tired of ppl only ever caring about feyre’s or believing shes this little victim who’s been abused and ignored by so so many and not someone who was also ignoring everyone else’s feelings and problems to highlight hers. she DID go through stuff but so did everyone else and no one was helping anyone. everyone in the series has been through abuse and torture and no one shifted blame the way feyre did.

[aheathen-conceivably]

Twilight was beckoning over the horizon, battling with the sun as it sunk below the mountains. Its rays cast the final streaks of light through the sky, sending all the colors of the desert into one final blaze. Antoine rarely stayed at Abraham’s ranch this late, at least not when Zelda hadn’t taken Violette up the hill to meet him in the afternoon. But tonight Abe had besieged him with coffee and cigarettes in an uncharacteristic display of emotion; so Antoine remained, sitting with him as the first stars began to appear in the sky. 

The fire was crackling in front of them and Abe seemed antsy, as though he was waiting for the comfort of night before he began speaking. Antoine knew better than to ask what the matter was, or even to be the first to speak, because when he got that way someone else’s attempts to draw the words out only made him bury them deeper inside. So he kept dragging on his cigarette, watching the fire dance as the air grew colder and the sky rapidly fell to the inevitable pull of darkness.

But as the final blue of daylight began to give way to a bruised purple above them, Abe threw his cigarette into the fire and brought his hand to a handle of wood near him that Antoine hadn’t noticed before. His fingers trailed on its tip aimlessly as he kept staring into the fire, “I told you my granddad came out here to herd cattle, didn’t I?” Antoine nodded his head in agreement, a gesture that wasn’t really needed for Abe to continue in a gruff voice, “Well he didn’t. Not really. That came after. He came out here to outrun the patrols after he escaped Alabama.”

Antoine kept his cigarette on his lips. He didn’t have to ask for details to know precisely what Abe meant, or the sort of pain he must have felt in saying any of this. He thought of Silver, and how distrustful she was of anyone. Only horse who ever knew my granddaddy, and he always kept her nearby. 

Abe’s finger ran along the wooden handle next to him and a low note escaped it. Antoine immediately recognized it as a B flat, and then realized that Abe’s hand was nervously moving up and down the handle of a guitar, “This was his. Then my Poppa’s. Only Poppa wasn’t content to stay out here. He got some idea in his head that he was meant to be a blues musician. Word after the war was it was better for us up there, so he moved me out to Chicago chasin’ some dream and false promises when I was just a boy.”

Now the words seemed to come more easily, like a song once it started or the faint dissonance echoing from the strings of a rarely played guitar that had the whole story locked inside its cavernous body. “He never gave up. Not when Momma left him. Not when I married Mabel and moved back out here with Grandad. Not ‘til the riots of ‘19 when he was just on the streets, walking alone back from a gig when the crowd found him, riled up on some horrid hatred and set on violence no matter who crossed their path…”

He stopped in his tracks and moved his hand from the guitar to wipe a lone tear from his eye. The faint sounds that had been coming from his hands on the strings settled into the loud silence of a desert twilight, filling in the ending to the story that Antoine didn’t need to hear to know.

Abe seemed to purposefully pull himself back into the moment, redirecting his attention to the guitar beside him. Then he brought it onto his lap and spoke looking directly at it, as though it had a life and a mind of its own, “You know, all his life he had some hair-brained idea that I would be able to play like him; but truth is I’m no better now than when he himself tried to teach me. And if he couldn’t, nobody can.”

He stretched out his hand, offering Antoine the old but clearly well looked after guitar, “I know I haven’t been able to pay you what your work is worth, and you’re always going on about your piano back in New Orleans, so I thought this might bring you some joy. More joy than it ever brought anybody else, maybe.”

Antoine looked down at the extended instrument frightfully, because he knew it wasn’t just some guitar. It was just as alive as his piano had been, because someone had poured their very soul into it. Abandoning it had been like leaving part of himself behind, the part that had been ripped to shreds and then reassembled by the movement of the keys. He yearned for it every day of his life here, no matter how happy he was.

But the soul in the guitar before him wasn’t his memory, or his pain. It belonged to another man, one who had been parted from it in violence and hatred. “I…I couldn’t, Abe. It’s yours. It’s your father’s, your family’s. Surely it belongs with you.”

Abraham stretched his hand out further, the emotion coming back to him for a minute as his voice went raw and he dared to lock eyes with Antoine, “I insist, chap. I want somebody to play it again. Give it life, make it sing. The way he would’a wanted.”

Abe inched the guitar closer to Antoine, and he moved his arms to accept the burdened gift. Because how could he say no to that? He had seen himself in Abe since the day they met, in his humor and the incessant guard he refused to let down. They spent nearly every day together, mostly talking about horses or work, somehow never with the need to show any other side of themselves. Now here he was, without armor or pretense, asking for nothing but to see some semblance of his father’s memory find life and joy again.

As Antoine settled the guitar in his lap, Abe left his hand on its neck for a moment. Then he let it fall away, moving the strings along with him as though it were saying goodbye. With his palm wrapped around them, every echoed sound moved up Antoine’s arm into his soul, as though it were speaking directly to him.

[allbark-no-bite]

who are you mad at.

topper thornton x reader (wc: 3.4k)

summary: Topper doesn’t appreciate John B’s friendship with his girlfriend. sometimes all it takes is a blowjob and a little bit of forgiveness

warnings: 18+ smut, blow jobs, mentions of blood, over possessive boyfriend

author’s note: not me actually writing something with plot lol. i cannot believe all of the support i got on my last post, thank you all! i’m know that this isn’t Rafe lol, but i hope you’ll all give it a shot!

————————————————————————

As a little girl, I could never understand why the sheriff and the judge always drank coffee on my grandads front porch. It took me a few years to realize that it was probably for the same reason that the judge's grandson was always so sweet on me.

Politics in a small town like Kildare run deep on family ties and favors. It's all about who's blood is running through who and who's bed you wake up in when the sun comes up. As my best friend Sarah has often laughed about, it's all about how you know or who you'll blow.

Speaking of which, Topper's zipping up the fly on his jeans, fingers fumbling as he misses the hole for the button and has to try again. His cheeks are noticeably flushed, blue eyes distracted as he fidgets with his shaggy but nevertheless, neat crop of hair. No one would expect anything less of Figure Eight's golden boy.

I can't help but smile, biting my lip in an effort to conceal it from where I'm knelt on the floor. He's stupidly pretty. Blue eyes, straight nose, chin that dimples when he smiles.

He must feel my gaze on him because he catches my eye as he's buckling his belt and looks back at me. "What?" he laughs, breaking out into a bashful smile that matches my own.

"I don't know," I say, still smiling, and accept the hand he offers to pull me to my feet.

I don't remember when exactly Topper and I stopped being friends and started actually dating. It all happened so naturally that I don't know if we ever really distinguished between the two. One day we were just friends hanging out, getting drunk at the Boneyard, and then the next week he's kissing me at a party for everyone to see, like it wasn't a big deal that my best friend was kissing me. In some ways I guess it wasn't. It had never occurred to me that I would date anyone else. Sure Topper had dated Sarah for a while, but even that was short lived, and he had always been very upfront with me about it.

"Just you, I guess," I propose, grinning wider as he circles his arms around my waist, pulling me into him.

He's dressed up nicer than usual this evening for the Carrera's anniversary party in a billowy blue and white button up and khakis. The light colors pale in comparison to his bronzed skin, a likely permanent feature that the Carolina sun has given him.

"Really?" he hums, pecking my lips as my head tilts back to look up at him. My lips purse pliantly in response. Topper brushes aside the hair from my shoulder and hums, immediately pleased with the amount of exposed skin that he is rewarded with. The tank top that I'm wearing gives him the opportunity to ghost his lips along my shoulder until he settles on placing a kiss to the crevice of my neck.

My fingers curl into the brunette roots at the base of his neck at the attention. "It's not often I get you to myself."

With Topper's mom being the overbearing mother that she was, and the pressure that came with being the Judge's grandson, it was hard to get him out of their sights. However, if either bothered him, he never confessed such qualms to me. Such reasons are also why I think he was more privy to the political concept of our relationship than I was.

I remember being sixteen when a neighbor called the cops on one of Kelce's parties well after midnight. Of course no one knew this until Shoupe and a couple of his deputies showed up, sirens blaring. Most definitely a little buzzed and close to sobbing in the backseat of Shoupe's patrol car, I couldn't understand why Topper was so calm at the time. He just kept repeating, 'Don't worry about it, baby' and 'It'll all be fine'. At the time I hadn't noticed we were the only ones not in handcuffs. I thought for sure I was going to spent the night in jail and then my parents were going to kill me the next morning. He obviously knew something I didn't because twenty minutes later the patrol car was pulling into my driveway, Judge Thornton waiting on the porch with my grandad to take Topper home. The three of them shook hands and not a word was uttered about the incident again.

Topper dips his head to capture my mouth again, his teeth catching on the pout of my bottom lip.

Pressed to the front of my body, I feel his dick twitch in interest. I'm half compelled to drop to my knees and suck him off a second time just for the hell of it. The only problem is that he's got lipstick smeared on his mouth and his shirt is wrinkled and he's going to be late.

"Topper—" I begin.

"I know—I know—I know," he stresses, leaning down to kiss behind my ear again and then my cheek. "I'm going, I'm going."

Just when he pulls back and I go to step away, he grabs my face again, drawing my mouth back for another kiss.

"Topper—"

"I love you," he mumbles quickly after what is probably his hundredth kiss. "Okay. I'm going. I'll see you in a minute."

I watch him slip out the back door of the pool house we'd escaped to momentarily. I look over at the clock. What was supposed to be a quick five minute make out had turned into nearly half an hour. Thankfully, no one had been sent to look for us — namely my friends. Besides Kie and Sarah, the boys were off treasure hunting with Big John.

With all of the craziness going on in the past week, I was glad for the occasion to celebrate and enjoy the party. The evening air is cool and people are chattering excitedly, laughing and enjoying drinks. I spot Kie with her parents as I move throughout the crowd and she waves me over with a smile. Once I’m close enough, she latches onto my arm.

“We’ve got to get out of here. Big John was kidnapped, the boys are running off to South America to save him, and my parents won’t let me out of their sight,” she whispers through gritted teeth.

“Shit,” I whisper.

“Yeah, shit,” Kie stresses.

“Okay, okay. Don’t worry, I’m on it.” Turning to her dad with the brightest smile I can muster, I link arms with Kie. Thankfully, I fit in the with standard of friends Kid’s dad wants her to have, and he seems to be thankful I hang around.

“Hey, Mr. Carrera. I’m just going to steal Kie away for a moment. I promise we’ll be right back!”

He blinks, as if thinking about it for a moment before nodding. “Okay, just stay out of trouble you two.”

“We will!” I take off, dragging her with me as soon as the words leave his mouth. We haul it through throngs of tipsy guests, dodging anyone who might think to stop us.

“Wait!” Kie yelps snagging my arm before we reach the dock. Out of breath, I skid to a stop beside her.

“What—”

“Oh God,” she breathes.

Heart racing with adrenaline, I take another step towards the dock, dragging her along with me. “Kie, whatever it is, we have to go—”

“It’s John B. He’s talking to Topper.”

Straight ahead of us, I can make out John B’s wild head of hair and dingy yellow shirt. Him being the taller of the two, I glimpse the familiar white of Topper’s shirt just in front of him. Their voices are escalating by the moment, and I can make out the sound of Topper saying, “I want to know why you’re looking for my fucking girlfriend—”

“Oh God,” I repeat this time.

“(y/n), you need to go,” Kie stresses.

I take off before she even finishes her sentence, not even excusing myself as I dash past unsuspecting guests. People have started to stare and a sizable crowd has formed around them.

“— just because she’s your girlfriend doesn’t mean she can’t have friends without you.”

Topper scoffs. “Oh I see. This is about your little treasure hunting bullshit. So you think you can just run around with my girlfriend, do whatever the hell you want with her without me knowing?”

John B shoves him backwards, hard. “That’s not true!”

“John B, stop!” I shout, shoving my way to the front of the crowd as Topper catches himself. But it’s too late, John B is already grabbing the front of Topper’s shirt and yanking him to his feet.

The thing is, it’s not that Topper can’t defend himself, he’s more than capable of holding his own. It’s that he won’t. He won’t ruin his reputation in front of half the town. All he does is sneer, breathing hard as his blue eyes glint with hate. Topper had never liked my friends, only tolerated them for my sake — up until now.

“You think I don’t know?” Topper jeers. “All you’ve ever wanted is to get with (y/n).”

That’s all it takes for John B to swing. I scream as Topper stumbles backwards to the ground. Chaos erupts around us. I see Mr. Carrera hoist Topper to his feet, and my heart clenches at the sight. Blood is leaking from his nose and a dark rouge colored ring has already begun to form around his eye. When I move forward to help him, John B grabs my arm.

“We have to go. Now.”

My feet planted into the ground, I glance down at his split knuckles, and then back at Topper. Who do I choose? My best friend or my boyfriend?

Voice strained, I turn to John B. “I can’t just leave—”

“HELLO!! Now or never, guys!” JJ is on the dock with Kiara, and Sarah. Pope and Cleo are already in the boat.

“Go!” John B urges, shoving me in front of him. With one last look over my shoulder at Topper’s bloody face, I take off running down the dock with John B behind me.

—

I know he's mad before he even yanks the passenger side door open and drags me by my elbow to the car. Although his scowl and matching black eye are pretty heavy indicators, it's the stalk from the drivers side and around the front of the Jeep that tips me off.

"Get in the car, (y/n)," he barks without so much as a second glance at me.

John B and Pope glance at each other apprehensively. JJ and Kiara share similar looks.

With the passenger side door now open and Topper waiting for me to march myself over there, I hesitantly stand my ground. Anxiously, I swallow back the swell in my throat. "Go home, Top."

He throws his hands up in exasperation and shakes his head. "This—this is fucking ridiculous. Get in the car, (y/n)."

When I don't make a move either way, Cleo speaks up. "Leave her alone, man. She ain't gotta go nowhere wit' you." Her thick accent rings out loud and clear, but Topper pretends as though he doesn't hear her.

Having enough of our back and forth game, Topper strides over and grabs a firm hold of my elbow, intending to move me himself. Although I take a reflexive step backwards, I don't fight him off. At the same time, John B steps forward, ready to give Topper a black eye to match the other.

"John B, no," I immediately blurt out, twisting as best I can in Topper's grasp. "It's fine. It's fine." Sighing I turn back to Topper. "Okay," I relent. "Let's go."

We drive in silence for a while, waiting for the other to speak. I'm half hoping he won't and we'll make the entirety of the trip without uttering a word. Across the seat, we make eye contact and I scowl at him for the split second our eyes meet. Then I turn away and cross my arms with an air of defiance.

When I glance sideways at him, his jaw is clenched, eyes fixed on the road. I know him well enough to know that he's weighing out his options on what to say, determining what kind of conversation we're going to have.

He opens his mouth, starting to say something, then closes it and drags a hand over his jaw. "How many times did I call you?"

I shrug. "I don't know—"

"God dammit, (y/n). How many times did I call you!??" He slams his hand down on the console this time.

"I DON'T KNOW, TOPPER."

I do. Twenty-seven. He called twenty-seven times in addition to the missed texts and multiple question marks. I don't admit that though because it's easier to scream back at him than to admit that I was purposely avoiding his calls.

"You have got to stop hanging around with the wrong people. Start making better decisions." He's lowered his voice to a more appropriate volume now.

I glance over at him, a narrowed look on my face. "Who are you mad at, Topper?" I question. "Because I don't think it's me."

In the drivers seat, he continues to stare ahead at the road. "It's always fucking John B, isn't it. You always have to go to his rescue."

I set my jaw, knowing where his mind is and where this is going. "I didn't sleep with him, Topper."

Topper scoffs as if to make light of the situation. "Oh, for sure. You really expect me to believe that?"

"It's not like that. He's my friend."

We pull into his driveway, and Topper finally turns to me after parking the car. "Yeah? Well I'm your friend too, (y/n). You ever fucking think about that? Why do you think you're not sitting in jail right now with the rest of your so called friends?" He jabs a finger into his chest. "Me. Because I care about you!"

My back pressed up against the passenger side door, all I can do is blink in surprise. I'm not used to Topper yelling at me, and I'm not so sure I like it. I'd never thought about it that way before and guilt begins to creep into the pit of my stomach. My eyes suddenly sting and my nose burns with the threat of tears.

"I'm sorry," I whisper barley audible, my voice cracking.

Topper falls back heavily into his seat and sighs, running a hand over his face. Without a word, he gathers his keys from the truck's ignition and steps out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Teary eyed, I watch him take the steps up the porch and pace up and down the length of it while repeatedly running a frustrated hand through his hair. I get out of his truck and walk up the steps after a few minutes. Confident that he's done yelling but unsure of where we stand at the moment, I stop just short of him.

Hands in his pockets, Topper runs his gaze over me from head to toe after coming to a stop in front of me before he emits another heavy sigh and curls his hand around my jaw, forcing me to look upwards at him. "Answer me when I call you, alright?"

Nodding, I swallow under the weight of his hand as his fingers travel down to my throat. His blue eyes are focused and yet lack their usual jubilance. I nearly whine in relief when he leans down to kiss me.

He tastes fresh, like he always does, a mix between peppermint gum and mint toothpaste. The taste resonates within me a type of unspoken forgiveness that I sense is being granted as his other hand presses my body into his. I can feel the rigid outline of his cock through the thin fabric of his shorts, and it sends my heart racing in anticipation.

The thing about Topper is that he's always been able to read me impossibly well, and so when he disconnects our mouths by using the leverage of his hand on my throat to hold me back, he chuckles airily. "Feel me? That's what you do to me, you little tease."

I paw at him, grabbing at the waistband of his shorts to pull his body closer. Topper is nearly a foot taller than me, and I have to crane my neck to look up at him.

"I'm sorry, Top."

He hums, the thumb of his hand moving to tug at the swollen pout of my bottom lip. "Are you? He's only giving me a hard time now, not even allowing me to answer before his thumb slips into my mouth, pressing down on my tongue. "Going to be good for me then?"

The weight of his thumb is so soothingly familiar that I forget to respond in favor of suckling around the digit.

"Baby." He's quick to remind me, drawing his thumb from my mouth and swiping it wetly across my cheek to grip my jaw again.

My flushed cheeks forced into a pout, I nod as much as his hold on me will allow. "Mhm."

Topper glances over his shoulder, briefly surveying the closed blinds of the windows looking out on to the front porch, and then back to me.

"Alright, on your knees, pretty girl."

He doesn't have to ask twice. He's undoing his belt with one experienced hand and gathering a fist full of my hair at the back of my head with the other. Once removed from the confines of his boxers, his cock bobs at the freedom.

If there's one thing myself and multiple other girls in the Outer Banks can attest to, it's that sucking off Topper Thornton is a pleasure. I'd heard the rumors whispered around school even before we started dating. It was weird at the time, having to hear that kind of thing about my best friend, but once we started dating, I understood where they were coming from. With some guys, blowing them is an outright chore, but not Topper. He knows exactly what he's working with and how to use it.

Once again, he's heavy in my mouth. This time in a pleasurably aching way. His tip nudges the back of my throat, and I have to remind myself to relax and breathe through my nose as tears spring to my eyes. He swipes away a stray tear before it can fall.

"There you go, baby. Good."

He doesn't buck up into my throat, forcing me to gag and sputter as I try to accommodate his length — at least not this time. Topper just fists my hair and rocks slowly back and forth, eyes rolling as my throat clenches around him. My nose nearly digs into his pelvis by the time he's satisfied that his cock is nestled as far as it can get into the heat of my throat.

With the makeshift ponytail, Topper pulls almost all of the way out of my mouth before guiding himself back in. Each time the mushroomed tip kisses the back of my throat, he pulls his cock out of my mouth again. All it takes is a few good strokes before he's spilling into my mouth, moaning while I struggle to take him all. He pulls out when he's finished.

"Swallow," he instructs, tilting my jaw back so that I have but one option. Not that I would argue with him anyhow. I'm used to how he tastes, salty and strangely satisfying, His hot release slides down my throat. At first I would have wrinkled my nose at the thought of such a thing, but strangely, I've become accustomed to the taste. It's uniquely Topper, as odd as that sounds.

He helps me to my feet and plants another slow kiss to my swollen lips. I keen at the attention, my brain feeling sluggish and wishing he would just wrap his large hand around my throat again.

"I love you," he finally murmurs, pressing a find kiss to my forehead; a stark contrast to his manhandling moments before.

"Love you too."

Around us, the porch goes dark for a split second and I bolt into Topper's arms before the lights flicker back on. This repeats a few more times; long enough for us to realize that his dad is likely on the other side of the front door.

Topper groans. "Shit."

"Shit."

[lulublack90]

Prompt 16 - Flirt

@wolfstarmicrofic February 16, word count 445

Previous part First part

Remus was glad it was Saturday. That way, he didn’t have to rush. His bed had a ridiculous amount of chocolate—even for Remus— on it. 

“Sirius, wow!—I mean, thank you.” Remus pulled him in for a hug. He relished in the way Sirius’s creamy skin tinged pink. 

He lifted a finger and stroked Sirius’s pink cheek with a featherlight touch. Sirius shivered and blushed deeper. “Like strawberries and cream,” Remus whispered, barely aware he’d said it aloud. He was completely enraptured by the sight before him. It was only when Sirius wriggled uncomfortably in his arms that he snapped out of his trance. “Sorry,” He said as he quickly released Sirius from his arms.

“No, it’s fine.” Sirius blurted out in a rush. “It was just the way you were looking at me was making things happen, and well, yeah.” He finished with a nervous laugh.

“Are you trying to flirt with me, Sirius?” Remus had to chew his lips to stop himself from laughing at how wide Sirius’s eyes went. 

“C’mon, let’s make a start on this pile of chocolate.” He gently took Sirius’s hand and led him towards his bed. He hadn’t wanted to embarrass Sirius, but his own awkwardness made him blurt stuff out without thinking. 

They spent the next few hours sampling a bit from everything Sirius had bought. Remus felt bad for not getting Sirius anything after all the trouble he’d gone to to treat Remus. He wanted to give Sirius something, but he wasn’t sure what. 

He noticed his favourite grandad jumper lying on his trunk. An idea hit him. He moved away from Sirius, leaning over the end of the bed and gathered the wool garment in his hands. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Sirius,” He suddenly felt very shy and hoped Sirius didn’t think it was a lame gift. 

Sirius looked up at him, mouth agape. He snatched it from Remus’s hands and hurriedly wrenched it over his head. He wrapped his arms around himself and inhaled the soft material.

“It smells like you,” He mumbled into the sleeves. 

“Sorry, I can get you a clean one. It’s just that’s my favourite one.” He felt a bit embarrassed. He’d only worn it once. He hadn’t thought it would be that bad.

Sirius wrapped himself tighter into the jumper.

“No, it’s mine now.—I love it.— Thank you, Remus.” He smiled shyly up at him. “You’re not getting this back, you know.” He added, holding it even tighter.

Remus looked at Sirius and thought how adorable he looked in the oversized jumper. He was drowning in it, but all Remus could think was he’s mine.  

“Yeah, I know.”    

Next part

[gadriezmannsgirl]

can i request a story where gavi comes home and finds his gf the reader crying in the dark? thanks 😊

A bit short but cute enough, I hope this is at your expectations 😊 i had a bit of trouble coming up with something for this so here you go.

Homesick -P.G

Summary: It's one of those days where you are homesick

Have you ever had one of those days where everything's going good, you are fine but still can't help but feel kinda weird? Like... You can't help but feel down, want to cry and just overall feel sad? Better said, a mixed feeling of homesick and lost?

That's what's totally happening to you after looking at a picture your uncle had sent of your late grandad. You had done a bit of clean up, you also did homework and finished in four hours, then you just made a snack and put on Friends with all the lights turned off, the only thing lighting up your face was the TV

You started thinking of your extended family who was away, of your abuela's food, your grandad's jokes you wouldn't hear again and the smallest things you could possibly remember, that much you don't know when you turned off the TV and just stared at it and then you felt yourself cry.

You keep on crying lightly, you were in your own world not even noticing Pablo had came home from training and straight towards you when he saw you crying your eyes out

"Mi vida, why are you crying?" He asked you worried as your eyes snapped to him, sniffling you dried your tears

"Everything's good, amorcito. I'm fine, don't worry. What about training? How was it? I saw Coldplay had been there, you must have been all over the moon"

"And now I'm all over the underground if you don't exactly tell me what happened to you, hermosa. I'm always worrying" He shook his head

"Just feeling a bit down today, I dunno" You shrugged your shoulders "Today's my grandad's fourth year of passing and I miss my family"

"We can always invite your mom and your brothers, include your dogs in the mix"

"I'd love that but I don't mean my close family, Pabs. I don't mean them" You shook your head "I mean my extended fam; my grandma, my tio, mis primos, everything and everyone. I'm missing my little town and my weather. I wanna be there with them for a few days during this time we all get a bit blue, but it'll be impossible"

"You're homesick, mi nena?" He asked pushing your hair behind as you lightly nod "What about we can go there?"

"We can't, mi vida. I have Uni and you have matches to attend"

"Not for much, season is ending we can go a few days, you can visit them, go to your grandad's, take him some flowers" Pablo pushed a stray of your hair behind your ear "walk around your town, anything you want" You look at him still teary eyed

"Would you do that for me?"

"I would do anything for you, Y/N" He smiled as you finally cracked a laugh and the longing feeling started to go away

"Then you gotta tell me when do you have your day offs, so we can plan it"

"Of course, mi vida. You had me scared being alone crying in the dark" You laughed

"I was watching Friends but... I suddenly didn't wanted to anymore"

He hummed letting you know he was trying to come up with something

"How about Flips with milk?" You nod excited feeling him kiss your lips and get up towards the kitchen "And some kisses to cheer you up too?" He asked as you roll your eyes from his smirk, but still nodded and smiled

"You know it!"

°°° °°° °°° °°°

This wasn't proofread, so I'm sorry if there was some misspelled words, I'll look it up thorugh it tomorrow and edit it tho!

Taglist: @gaviypedrisbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld

[ode-to-fury]

Was that Gale’s Grandad?

Summary: This line has been stuck in my head for months so here is whatever this is. Karlach pov. Based on my Tav but again it’s fairly vague so

Karlach watched with interest as the old man gestured at Gale, then at Tav, then into the air. She watched Gale heave a deep sigh, and Tav’s frown become deeper and deeper as the old guy talked. He had a damned good beard, if you asked Karlach. Obviously the news he had wasn’t the best, but… another day for the likes of them, huh?

She watched as Gale said something with a certain look on his face, a look Karlach thought she didn’t like. Seemed Tav didn’t quite like it either, cause soon she was frowning even harder, and obviously getting annoyed.

Gramps chose then to say his goodbyes and whoosh off into the afternoon.

Tav turned to Gale, frowning at him. An impressive frown, when it came to it. And Gale… Karlach winced when he said something with a determined expression on his face, gesturing decisively in front of him, and Tav threw up her hands.

Not great with women, was he?

Tav stalked off, straight toward the fire, and Karlach walked over too, not above a bit of gossip. Bonus points if she could find out the details before Shadowheart did.

“So…” she said, walking up to Tav’s side.

“Was that Gale’s grandad?”

Tav fixed her with a Look. She was damned good at those, too. Had the jaw for it, sort of square and hard. Karlach smiled, and pretended not to notice. It was a damned good Look, but you couldn’t beat the ones she’d seen in Avernus, unfortunately.

“Not exactly,” Tav grated out, somehow managing it between clenched teeth.

“That was Elminster Aumar,” she continued. “Come to tell Gale he needs to sacrifice himself for Mystra’s forgiveness.”

Karlach blinked.

“Wait. What?”

“You heard me,” Tav ran a hand through her hair, making the brown shimmer golden where it caught the light.

“Detonate the orb, kill this Absolute, Mystra deigns to forgive him.”

She spat into the fire, a thick gob that made Karlach proud, and a little sick.

Sacrifice himself for Mystra… gods, the poor man. He could be a bit of a twat sometimes, but she didn’t think exploding was a fair punishment for that. Being asked something like that by someone he trusted, someone he’d loved… if anyone could relate, Karlach could.

“Poor Gale…” she said, aware of Tav’s fists clenching in the corner of her eye, a muscle ticking in her jaw.

Karlach put a hand on her shoulder, grinning.

“I bet he could do with some cheering up. Oh! Oh! Tell him I haven’t read a book since secondary school and watch his face melt off!”

Karlach flashed an even bigger smile at Tav, but the other girl just frowned deeper, her lips a hard line.

“Go tell him yourself,” she said, and there was a deep sadness behind the bite in her voice. “I want nothing to do with him. Ever. Fair warning, though, he’s being insufferable about it.”

Karlach opened her mouth to respond, but at the glint in the younger girl’s eyes thought better of it. Instead, she let go of her shoulder, squared her own, and walked over to Gale with a practiced grin on her features.

He started slightly as she reached him where he was reading in front of his tent. Staring glumly at a page was a better description, though, since his eyes weren’t even moving across the page.

His eyes met hers, and the first thing she saw there was fear, before he mastered himself enough to smile.

“Karlach!” Deceptively cheery. Alright, she could do that. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

She stared for a second. Shit. Hadn’t thought this far ahead, had she?

“Help,” she blurted, then, when he raised an eyebrow expectantly, realised that wasn’t much better than no answer.

“Help… with… a book!” She said, smiling more out of appreciation for her quick thinking than anything else.

“I was wondering if you had one for me to read, since I haven’t picked one up since secondary school.” She shrugged.

“Figured it was time I picked up the old… ink… I suppose.”

Smooth, Karlach. Really smooth.

He stared at her for a moment, eyes wide.

“You haven’t…” he grimaced. “Please tell me that was an ill timed joke.”

She shrugged as innocently as she could manage.

“Wish I could, soldier.”

He sighed, fingers moving up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Weave help us all. Hold on a moment.”

He tried to stifle the groan as he got up to go through the books he had. The same way Tav did when she had to get up quickly. Karlach shook her head at the two of them.

Idiots.

As he was looking, she wondered what would be the best way to approach the topic, then settled on direct. The way she did everything in life.

“…So,” she started innocently, “You really thinking about going through with it, are you?”

He stilled, crouched over a pile of books.

“Ah,” he said, sitting back on his haunches. More athletic than she’d given him credit for, if she was being honest.

“I see. Tav put you up to this, did she?” He stood up from his knees with another stifled groan, and frowned up at her.

“Well, you can tell her I don’t need, nor do I want, any help making this decision.”

“Actually, she told me not to come over here. Said you might get…” she paused, trying to find the right word. “Touchy.”

“I’m not touchy!” He snapped at her.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, popped a hip, and he took a breath before continuing.

“I’m merely… irritated,” he said, sounding as much, “by the fact that everyone else seems to think they know what is best. That she seems to think she knows what is best.”

He jerked his head in the direction of the fire, then turned away from Karlach, toward the entrance to his tent.

“Why don’t you explain it to me, then?” She asked gently, stopping him in his tracks.

“I’m your friend, Gale. If you really believe this is the best thing to do, then I want to hear about it! Why do you care so much about Mystra’s forgiveness?”

“Because… because magic is- it’s who I am!” He threw his hands in the air as he spun to face her again.

“My goddess gave me an order. Mystra gave me an order, and it is not my place to defy her.”

He took another deep breath, and his dark eyes seemed to look far away from their little camp in the mountains.

“I made a mistake, Karlach. I made a terrible, terrible mistake, and if my death is what it takes to make it right, then by the Weave I will do everything in my power to see it come to pass. If my death is all it takes to overthrow this Absolute then I have a moral duty to see it through.”

And he stood there, wrapped in self-righteousness and holy purpose with a lethal bomb in his chest, almost convincing himself that this suicide mission was really what he wanted, and Karlach couldn’t help but feel the biggest surge of pity for him. For both of them, if she was honest.

“Ugh,” she said, putting a hand on her hip as she studied him. “Wizards.”

He blinked, shut up for a moment. For once.

“Sorry?” He asked.

She sighed.

“Gale… look, as someone who knows what it feels like to have a bomb in their chest… you have so much to live for. And now that the orb isn’t a problem any more, you can live for it. So why would you throw it all away, just like that, on the whim of a goddess?”

He grinned at her, a sad little smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Pity, since he was better looking when he was smiling.

“Huh,” a self deprecating little laugh. “Until a few weeks ago I was a hermit living in his tower with no one but his cat for company. What do I have to live for?”

And as if the gods willed it to happen, at that moment a bark of Shadowheart’s laughter reached them from the fire, and Karlach looked over to see her standing next to Tav, grinning. Tav was trying to hold back a smile of her own, trying, and failing miserably to hide the dimples in her cheeks, the twinkle in those grey eyes of hers.

Karlach watched them for a second, thanking whatever gods were up there for giving her friends like the two of them, especially now.

She turned back to Gale, and he was staring over at the fire with half a grin on his face, his eyes filled longing, with so much adoration she wanted to puke almost. Fuck, he was an idiot. Both of them were idiots. Fuck.

“Oh, I dunno,” she said, unable to stop a knowing little smile from forming on her lips. “I can think of at least one thing that might be worth living for.”

He started, his eyes leaving the fire, and a blush creeping over his bearded cheeks as he looked down at the ground, avoided her eyes. It was actually sort of adorable.

“You know,” she said softly, gently, “if I could find someone to look at the way you were just looking at her, I think I’d find every reason imaginable to stay alive.”

“Come now, Karlach,” he shook his head, like she was a child who hadn’t quite figured out how the world worked yet. She saw his eyes drawn almost involuntarily back toward the fire.

“What type of man would I be to choose one woman over the fate of the entire world? Or, if Mystra is correct, the fate of all Nine Realms?”

Karlach had never been one to mince her words. Or hide her feelings. Or be shy about the important stuff. Especially now.

“The type of man who’s in love, Gale.”

Another bark of laughter reached them from the fire, and this time it was Tav’s. This time her head tilted back as she laughed at something Shadowheart had said, and the light from the fire and the setting sun caught her just right, and she looked like a golden statue of herself, her eyes screwed up with laughter. It was such a truthful, open moment that Karlach found herself grinning along.

When her eyes opened, they met Gale’s across the fire, and she frowned immediately and looked away.

But not before Karlach saw the same longing she’d seen in Gale’s eyes. Not before she saw the hurt.

“The type of man who’s loved back,” she said quietly.

Gale didn’t reply, and she didn’t expect him to, but maybe she’d given him something to think about. Maybe she’d given the two of them a chance to be happy, at least for a little while. That was more than most people ever got. More than Karlach had thought she’d ever get.

That was worth something.

“‘Sides,” she continued more jovially, “She’s probably going to end up being the one that saves all of us anyway, I’d bet. Now I know she probably already told you this, but I’ll say it again. We’re going to find a different way.”

And with that she started toward the fire, because she had a bomb in her chest, too, and she’d be damned if she wasted even a second of her new life worrying about it. She’d be damned if she wasted even a second being sad about it, instead of living, instead of feeling, instead of hoping.

She supposed it was up to Gale to want the same.

“Karlach!” He called after her when she’d taken a few steps. She stopped, turned back to him, already grinning at the fragile hope in his eyes.

“Do you… you truly believe she… returns my feelings?” He asked her.

“I think you’re an idiot if you don’t, soldier.”

Ugh. Wizards.

[snakeunderyourboot]

Finished reading “Under the Whispering Door” by TJ Klune and I need to scream about it, so beware spoilers ESPECIALLY under the cut

okay, so I have read 2 other TJ Klune books - The House in Cerulean Sea and In the Lives of Puppets, and while the first was an easy and happy read, the second is my top 5 books EASILY. I love In the Lives of Puppets, I love the world-building, characters, narration, ending, every little thing that is there - I love it.

So I was looking into some other TJ Klune books and I was considering reading Under the Whispering Door before and the only thing stopping me was the premise. You see, when you read the short description of the book, the first impression you will get is that this book is about asshole character that died but then brought back to life and now has 7 days to become a better person while living in the tea shop with this strange guy. And you will think how now this asshole character would try to change his life in 7 days, but also will fall in love with this strange guy and its going to be very sad, because they cant be together and then something will happen and they will get a chance to live happily ever after. Also the asshole guy will change himself completely in just 7 days. The premise is sort of interesting, but also seems so unoriginal and predictable, that I pulled off reading it for a long time.

BUT I was going on a stressful trip and I needed some nice cute book, to better my mood and I knew that TJ Klune books are always very funny and have a good moments, so I decided fuck it. Even if plot was going to be predictable at least there are going to be cool characters and it would do a fine job of keeping me company during this trip.

LET ME TELL YA HOW WRONG I WAS

Not about the characters, they are amazing and I love all of them, but about the plot. The premise is totally lying, because the book does start with a main character death and he stays DEAD. The whole deal with “7 days to live” comes only in a second half of the book and I was so shocked when it happened, because I completely forgot about it.

In fact, we spend huge deal of first chapters just getting to know Wallace(main character) and how the death works(really cool concept by the way, love it). The other characters are also great and I loved each and every of them. From Hugo who is such a patient and nice and encouraging, but at the same time so troubled and hurt, but he cant afford himself to break because other depend on them; to Mei who is actually pretty funny and a deep character, who experienced a lot and it shaped how she behaves, but she still chooses to be better; to Nelson, who is the best old man ever, the guy made me laugh so many times and cry, like Nelson is such a cool grandad(I didnt met my grandad, he passed when I was little, so I got attached to Nelson so quickly); to Apollo who is the best boy ever, the best dog; and to every other small character that appeared in the book. TJ Klune always has great characters, but my god in this book they are all amazing.

Wallace was also interesting character, that I grew to love with every chapter. His change from asshole to an actually nice guy felt a little bit rushed? Honestly, I noticed in TJ Klune’s books, characters who start as assholes but then changed to a nice guys, always have a good start and good finish but a little meh middle? Like Wallace was presented as such a big jerk and by even a middle of the book he become a completely different character which threw me off a little. On the other hand, considering that he died and then put into an unknown situation for who knows how long, maybe it is understandable why he changed so much. Still, I would prefer if he stayed a little bit as a jerk, just a little. A nice amount. Still, I liked him and his progression.

Remember what I said about Nelson making me laugh? This book is so funny, I laughed so much. Genuinely, the jokes are almost always hitting right in the center, especially the running ones. People who read the book - Walce truly does have a legs for it;))

The only thing that I a little bit disappointed about was the ending AND HERE IS HUGE SPOILERS DONT READ IT IF YOU HAVENT READ THE BOOK GIVE IT A CHANCE PLEASE GO RIGHT NOW AND READ DO NOT LOOK FOR MORE EVEN IF SOMETHING THAT I SAID BEFORE INTERESTED YOU EVEN A LITTLE GO AND READ IT I PROMISE YOU ITS REALLY GOOD

okay okay here the ending

I knew that Wallace wasn’t going to really go, even if book truly tried so hard to make me feel like that(and did a very good job with it, BUT I JUST KNEW he is going to be alright) and I thought that by the end he is going to remain a ghost but will now be allowed to stay in Tea Shop.And it sort of happened, expect he was also resurrected and made into a ferryman. Which felt too good to be true. I think I would prefer if he stayed dead but was allowed to stay in Tea Shop and they still had a relationship with Hugo even without touching and kissinf. I dont know, I feel like it could have been interesting and not as nice as the actual ending is. For all the talk in this book how life is unfair and we need to deal with it and try to get the best if it, the ending kind of undermines it. Maybe thats just aroace talking in me._.

Also can I talk how amazingly Wallce and Hugo fot for each other? Hugo who always put everyone first and then himself, who never allows himself to have something good, sometimes that he truly wants and Wallace who always took everything for himself and never thought about anyone. And how with Wallace, Hugo allowed himself to care and fight and ask for nice things for himself and he still cares about people, but now he cares about himself too. And how with Hugo, Wallace learn to care about other people and putting their needs first and how it culminated into him basically sacrificing himself for the good of others, because he truly learned how to love. They are such a good fit together, perfectly combining their strengths and weaknesses, like damn, my poor babies

TL;DR this book is amazing, olease read it, I love it so much

[canirove]

Rice, Rice, baby | Chapter 26

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

“Do you want a bit more?”

“I'm full, mum.” 

“You are eating for two, Olivia.”

“I know. But I'm seriously full, I can't eat anything else.”

“Not even some chocolate?” my dad smirks.

“Not even that, no” I say, caressing my bump.

“What about some rice?” Alex asks.

“Nothing” I reply, trying to give him my most murderous look without anyone noticing. 

The day our parents found out I was pregnant, they decided that every weekened we would get together to have lunch and start behaving like the big family we were going to be (at least according to them). And every single time, I've wanted to kill Alex at least once, all because he always makes some joke or comment that they don't get but that I know is a dig towards Declan. 

“Oh, you won't believe who I saw the other day” my dad says, changing the topic of conversation. “Matthew!”

“Our Matthew?” Alex's dad asks.

“They very same” my dad says. “We had a little catch up and he told me he's also gonna be a grandad!”

“Oh, that's nice.”

“And it's a girl! I think we've found our boy’s future wife” he chuckles.

“He may not like women. You know that's a possibility, right?” I say.

“He will, Liv. He is gonna be his father's son” Alex grins, making me take deep breaths to not punch him in front of everyone. He's so lucky he'll have time to run away since getting up will take me my time…

“Did he tell you if they've already picked a name?” my mum asks, taking my hand on hers under the table and giving it a little squeeze. She hasn't told me anything, but I know she's noticed how tense things are between Alex and I. 

“Elizabeth. It is a lovely name, isn't it, darling?”

“It is, yes” I nod.

“Have you decided on one?” 

“No” I say.

“Yes” Alex replies.

“Yes?” his mum says.

“He's gonna be called Alexander like me.”

“I beg your pardon?” I say, raising my voice. 

“It is a lovely name, don't you think? I think it will fit him.”

I'm killing him. I swear to God I'm going to kill him.

“Darling, where are you going?” my dad asks me when all I do is get up from my chair.

“Out.”

“Out? Where?”

“For a walk. I need some fresh air, it stinks in here” I say, my eyes focused on Alex and the stupid grin on his face. 

“I don't smell anything.”

“Pregnant women smell things you normally wouldn't. It's normal” my mum explains.

“Exactly. Now if you'll excuse me.”

“But you can't go alone, darling. Why don't you take Alex with you?”

“No!” I yell. “I want to be alone!”

“Darling…”

“Alone!” I yell again, storming out of the room.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Liv, hey. Is everything ok?”

“I'm going to kill Alex.”

“What did he do now?” Declan says over facetime.

“Be the biggest piece of shit ever, that's what he did.”

“That's not new. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Ok” he chuckles. “Where are you?”

“Out. I needed to leave the house. You?”

“At my parents. We all had lunch together.”

“I'm sure your reunion has been more pleasant than mine” I sigh.

“It was surprisingly good, yeah.”

“Surprisingly? What do you mean?” 

“I told them about you, Liv.”

“What?” 

“Yeah” he smiles. He… He did it. He finally did it. Holy shit.

“And?”

“And they all are looking forward to meeting you. Especially my brothers since they already knew you existed.”

“They… what?”

“I was with them at Wembley when we left together, remember? I had to explain to them where I had gone.”

“Oh, yes…” That game and that day feels like it happened in a different lifetime.

“After that they kept asking me about you, I also told them some things, asked them for advice… Brothers things” he shrugs. “I'm sure you've also talked about me with Kennedy and Olga.”

“Just a tiny bit, yeah” I chuckle. 

“Why don't you come over now?”

“Now?”

“Yes, now. You don't seem to be in the mood to go back to your house, and I don't want to go visit my son in jail because his mother has killed someone” he teases me.

“Ha ha ha” I say, rolling my eyes. 

“You know it could happen” he smirks.

“I…” No, Olivia. This is not the moment to get turned on by his smile. Not now. Focus. “Declan, are you sure about this? Like… I'm gonna be meeting your family.”

“I know.”

“That's… huge.”

“I know. But you are the mother of my son, Liv. And even if you weren't, you are the girl I would want them to meet.” Has he just said what I think he said? That I… Me… What? “I'll call a car to go pick you up, send me your location.”

“I… ok” I reply.

I'm going to meet Declan's family. His parents. His brothers. Bloody hell.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Liv!”

“Oh, hi!”

“How is my cousin?” Declan's littlest nephew says, hugging me and resting his head on my bump. 

“He's very well” I smile. “Happy his dad won today.”

“I'm very happy too” he smiles back. “Are you coming home with us?”

“Not today, I'm sorry.”

“Why?” he pouts.

“Because uncle Dec has a surprise for her” Jordan says while joining us and winking at me.

“A surprise? What surprise?”

“It's a secret, we can't tell her.”

“But I want to know!” he protests.

“I'll tell you later, I promise. Did you enjoy the game?” Jordan asks me. 

“I did. It was nice to finally have an easy one.”

“It definitely was, yes” he smiles. “Anyway, let's go. Say goodbye to auntie Liv.”

“Bye, auntie Liv. And bye, cousin” Declan's nephew says, kissing my belly and making me laugh.

I still can't believe this is happening. That meeting Declan's family went the way it did, that they all welcomed me with open arms and basically treated me as one of them since the moment they met me. 

His parents were the loveliest, his mum asking me many questions about how my pregnancy had been so far but not being too pushy or making me feel uncomfortable. His brothers also asked some questions, but they mostly focused on teasing Declan since they already knew some things about me. Their wives offered to help with everything I may need but without making it overwhelming, and his nephews… His nephews were the cutest, talking to the bump and calling him their cousin, telling him about all the games they would play together and about all the toys they would be saving for him. 

“Liv, why are you crying?” Declan asks me once we are in the car after leaving his parents’ house. 

“Your family.”

“What about them? I thought it had gone really well, that you have liked them.”

“And I did. I liked them very much. Very very much” I sob.

“Aww, Liv” he says, hugging me while I just cry.

“They are the best.”

“I may be a bit biased here, but… yeah. They are the best.”

And now here I am, at the Emirates, waiting for him after watching the game with Georgina. I'm not ready to sit with them somewhere public just yet and risk someone seeing me and putting two and two together. His ex has been posting very shady things on social media, her fans not being the kindest towards Declan, and we don't need to add more fuel to the fire.

“There you are” he says, walking towards me with the biggest smile on his face. And yes, you guessed it… making my knees feel like jelly. Being pregnant and everything that has happened between us hasn't changed the effect his smile has on me. 

“Hello, man of the match” I smile back.

“It's a nice award, isn't it?” 

“It actually isn't the prettiest.”

“Liv!” Declan laughs.

“But what matters is what it means.”

“Ok” he laughs again. “I was thinking about giving it to you. Maybe you could put it in your room.”

“And how exactly would I explain that to my father?” I ask, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah… true. I guess I'll have to add it to my large collection.”

“So humble, Declan Rice” I laugh.

“The most humble one” he smirks. “Should we get going?”

“Yes, of course. I'm looking forward to this surprise you have for me.”

“What? How do you know about that?”

“Jordan” I shrug.

“He… Urgh” he groans. “He didn't tell you anything, did he? Like details.”

“Nope. Just that you had a surprise for me.”

“Well, that's something. Shall we?”

“Let's go” I smile. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Wait here and turn around” Declan says, stopping outside one of the rooms in his house.

“What? Why?”

“This is where the surprise is.”

“And I need to turn around because…”

“Because you will definitely try to look at what's inside.”

“I would never do such a thing” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Of course not, Liv” he chuckles. “C'mon, turn around.”

“But…”

“Please” he pouts.

“Ok, fine. But only because I can't stand that face.”

“What's wrong with it?” Declan laughs. 

“There is nothing wrong with it” I say, already giving him my back. I don't want him to see that I'm blushing. And why? Because when he pouts the first thought that crosses my mind is how badly I want to bite his lower lip before kissing him. 

“Then what is it?”

“Declan, are you going in to give me my surprise or not?”

“Yes, of course. Of course” he says, opening the room's door. “Liv…”

“What.”

“Don't turn around.”

“I wasn't.”

“I saw you.”

“I wasn't, Declan.” But I was. I definitely was turning around. What could he be keeping in that room?

“Liv, did you close the door downstairs?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Because there is a cat on the stairs.”

“What?” I say, quickly moving towards them, the door's room being closed behind me. He tricked me. He tricked me so I would not turn around and ruin the surprise. “Not funny, Declan!”

“But it worked!” I hear him say from inside the room. “You can come in now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Liv. C'mon.”

“Ok” I say, taking a deep breath. Why am I nervous? “Declan” I gasp when I walk in.

“Surprise” he smiles, standing in the middle of the room. “What do you think?”

“I… I…” I mumble, looking around. A nursery. He had turned one of the rooms in his house into a nursery for the baby.

“It looks a bit boring because I didn't want to paint it or choose a wallpaper without asking you first, but I thought I could start by bringing here the basic things, like his cot, the changing station, a chair to feed him, some toys my nephews gave… Liv” he gasps when I run towards him and hug him as if my life depended on it. “Liv, what…”

“I love it.”

“You… you do?”

“I do. Thank you, Declan” I say, looking up at him.

“You're welcome” he smiles, putting a lock of hair behind my ear, his hand moving to my cheek and caressing it. “You're very welcome.”

And then, as I smell his perfume surrounding me, it all begins again. I start getting lost in his eyes for the millionth time, my heart is beating like crazy against my chest, and my skin is burning where his fingers are touching me, sending goosebumps all over my body. Everything I've ever felt for him still is there, and it is as strong as it was. 

Because I love him. It is stupid to keep denying it, to blame my hormones for what I've been feeling. I love Declan, and I don't think I will ever be able to stop loving him. 

“Liv” he whispers as he moves closer, his nose brushing against mine. “Liv, I…”

Kiss me. For God's sake, Declan. Just kiss me. 

“Do you want a tour of the room?”

“What?” I choke, the feeling of his hand leaving my face and his body not being so close to mine anymore being more painful than a slap. 

“The room. There are some details I want to show you. Like this” he says, taking a couple of steps back and completely letting go of me. What the hell did just happen? Was it even real? Did I dream it? Are my hormones making me go crazy? “This was mine” he smiles, playing with the mobile hanging on the cot. “My mother kept it for when I had my own kids. I apparently was obsessed with it and could look at it for hours.”

“Oh, that's… That's cute.”

“And this blanket” Declan says, moving to the chair next to the window. “It also used to be mine. My grandma made it for me and they took me home from the hospital on it. The little man will probably not need it because he will be born in the summer, but… Liv. Liv, hey, are you ok?”

“I'm fine.”

“Are you sure?” he says, taking a step closer and making me take one back. I can't go through all that again. Through all those feelings. I can't.

“I'm fine, Declan. Just a bit overwhelmed because I didn't expect all this.”

“Oh, I see. But have you liked it?”

“I've loved it, I already told you” I say, forcing myself to smile.

“Great” he says, also smiling. “I was really nervous, you know? I didn't know if you would agree with him having his own room here.”

“Why not? You are his dad, aren't you?”

“I am. But things are so complicated with your family and Alex that… I don't know” he shrugs.

“Dec… Declan” I say, forgetting about what I had just done and told myself and walking towards him, taking his hand and putting it on my bump. “You are his dad, and no one and nothing will ever change that.”

“Liv…”

“Ever, Declan. And he agrees.”

“He does, yes” he chuckles, our baby moving as if knowing what we were talking about. As if knowing we needed him right now.

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter One: A New Friend, A New Enemy

The Pariahs That Saved The World (Masterlist)

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: mentions of death, canon descriptions (vecna's curse)

[A/N: Thank you to everyone who seems really excited about this! I am going to try and post for this one weekly, just so I have enough time between uni and work to write new chapters :) This one is a little long, but I needed to set up Reader's character a little more so enjoy!]

The Introduction <-

A New Friend, A New Enemy

“Y/n!”

You slip off your headphones and greet your grandmother with a smile, laughing when she squeezed you tight. It had been almost 8 months since you watched her wave her hand of farewell in the rear view mirror. You had missed her the most, you think. Her warm hugs, her calming perfume, the way she cared for you.

“Come on, I’ve made us some lunch.” She hurries you inside and you laugh again.

“I need to grab the rest of my things, first.” You shake your head in amusement, escaping her clutches and darting back to the taxi, thanking the man for pulling out your luggage.

Just as you hitch your duffel bag over your shoulder, your eyes catch something familiar a few houses down. A worn out and beaten Chevrolet sat abandoned outside of its former resident’s house, a white piece of paper resembling a ticket you had seen when the mechanics would return your property if not claimed. You could just make out the ‘for sale’ sign driven into the mud, your heart wrenching. You had hoped your return would be free from unwanted memories. That obviously didn’t exist in Hawkins.

“So, tell me everything. How’s Stanford?” Gran rushes through with excitement just as your feet are barely inside the door. “Oh, we are so proud of you, honey. Our little star, a Stanford journalist!”

“Gran, you know it’s only my first year, I haven’t even managed to write anything let alone publish it.” You say, following her with your bags. She was leading you up to the guest room. Well, technically, it was your room. You had never really accepted that.

“Oh, did you notice the Hargroves house is for sale?” She whispers out like an unspeakable secret, and you dump your bags on the floor.

“Yeah, I saw.” You try to remain emotionless, rolling your shoulder until the usual ache faded. You were used to it now, the muscles flaring up every now and then.

“Apparently- now, you didn’t hear it from me…” She starts to lean in and you suppress a smile. Your grandmother, the gossiper. “Apparently, the husband just took off.”

“What?” You suddenly gain interest, frowning.

“Oh, yeah. The end of last summer.” She nods knowingly. “Must have been hard for them after their son died. It was a tragedy. And that poor girl… Andrea down the road told me she and the mother were forced to move into the trailer park down by Kerley. Not fit for a child, if you ask me.”

“They obviously couldn’t afford anywhere else.” You say, mostly to yourself, and Gran simply hums in agreement.

“Oh, which reminds me, Melanie, the one with the bird nest hair, she…”

She begins rambling once again about the neighbourhood, obviously pleased to have her granddaughter back so she can share the gossip. You listened intently, nodding when you needed to, offering your own remarks when prompted. You loved your Gran. The thought of her being alone in this house affected you more than you realise.

The real reason you were back wasn’t because you had missed Hawkins. In fact, you were set on your Spring Break exploring Stanford and all it had to offer. But about two months ago, your grandad was omitted to the hospital and a week later, he was no longer with you. Your Gran had shared how his health had been deteriorating for a while now, that they had expected it sooner or later. So, in the end, it wasn’t a surprise. It didn’t make it any less sad.

“Should I be expecting guests for dinner?” She asks and you blink, frowning.

“Guests?”

“Your friends.” She reiterates, already busying her hands by pulling out your already folded clothes from your suitcase and refolding them how she liked it. “I assume everyone will be anxious to see you. It’s been eight months, hasn’t it?”

“Uh…” You purse your lips, shrugging. “I don’t know, I thought it could just be the two of us tonight.”

Gran gently places down a sweater and eyes you suspiciously. “So, you’ll be seeing them tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” You give off the first vague answer in your head, fiddling with the sleeves of your jacket and sitting down on the plush bedding behind you.

“Hm.” She sounds, sliding shut the first drawer before she silently walks around the bed and sits beside you. “You won’t be seeing them, will you?”

It wasn’t a question. You lift your eyes to meet hers and sigh.

“We aren’t as close as we were before, Gran. It’s… complicated.” You decide and she takes your hand in hers.

“You’ve known them since you were just a little sprout.” She ruffles your hair and you cringe, laughing and batting her hand away. “I’m sure whatever happened can’t be so complicated that you can’t… I don’t know, catch up over coffee? Or whatever you kids are doing these days.”

“I wish it was like that.” You say, and you meant it. After a moment, she seems to understand that you didn’t want to continue this particular conversation and she stands, brushing her outfit back into simple perfection.

“Well, sandwiches, anyone?” She offers and you grin, nodding.

The day before you left for Stanford, you were contemplating whether or not it was the right choice. Gran was right, you have known them since you were a kid. But last summer changed all of that. You weren’t sure you could see their faces ever again.

So, rather than try and find them, you decided to spend the next day unpacking. You’d be here for a month so it made sense to have everything neat and tidy. It was just until the funeral, and then you’d be back at college and studying away any memory of Hawkins being your home. Because it wasn’t. Not anymore.

You can hear the distant ring of the phone echoing up the stairs, continuing to pull out your books. You might as well be caught up with your classes if you were going to spend all your time inside.

“Y/n!” Gran calls up and you push away from the desk to lean over the banister.

“Yeah?” You ask as she stares up at you, the phone in her left hand while the right covered the receiver.

“It’s your friend.” She says with a small smile and your face drops into a frown. “She says it’s urgent.”

“Uh…” You shake your head. Who would be calling you? “Yeah, I’ll be down in a sec.”

Gran nods and relays the information, setting the phone on the side table and disappearing back into the kitchen.

Your footsteps were wary as you descend the staircase, eyes set on the white object beside one of your grandmother’s vases. There was a hauntingly familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through your body, one you hadn’t felt in a long time. Once you reach the table, you shift your focus to the photo frame. It was small, a collected memory from a few years ago now. You were stood there smiling, the camera capturing you in pleasant surprise when a brunette girl behind you had jumped onto your back. It made your eyes sting, and you knew you had to make the decision to answer the call.

Hesitantly picking up the phone, you hold it to your ear and close your eyes.

“Hello?”

“Y/n?” Nancy’s voice blares through and your eyes snap back open.

Barrels of apologies and excuses spewed from her lips and you stand in silent shock, clutching the receiver a little too tight. She could only be calling for one reason. You had known it before you had even answered the phone.

Something was happening in Hawkins. Again. And if Nancy was calling for help, then she truly needed it.

And you’d never let her down.

“Have we met before?” You ask, studying the girl stood next to you.

The walls of the archive were surprisingly bright, shining an iridescent hue on her dark blonde locks. Her blue eyes were blinking back at you, pink lips stuck in a soft pucker of indecision. She was pretty. Really pretty. And at the same time she looked effortlessly cool, a jacket you wished you own. Something about her felt familiar to you, drawing you in.

Then a pang of guilt hits you and you force your concentration on waiting for her answer.

Robin felt weak. Who were you? It was taking everything in her to open her mouth and speak which, as literally everyone knew, was incredibly unlike her.

“I don’t think so.” Robin finally breathes out. There was softness in the way you spoke to her too, calming her nerves. Those strange waves of anxiety were being taken with the tide like you were her lighthouse in the stormy sea of her mind.

“Oh.” You scrunch your face with a smile. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

She was surprised to see you put out your hand but she willingly shakes it anyway, smiling back.

When you pull away, Robin seems a little more comfortable, coming closer to peer down at your old project folder, reading along with Nancy. You tried not to stare, busying your eyes with your own work in Nancy’s hands.

“Anything… juicy over there?” Robin asks Nancy and the girl throws her a tight lipped smile.

“Nothing new yet.” She responds and you notice the strain in her voice. She adopted it any time she was struggling to enjoy somebody’s presence.

“Victor seemed like a normal guy. Dead family, missing eyes, took a plea deal, sent to Pennhurst. Blah, blah, blah, blah.” Robin utters as she skims over the page below, slowly raising her head to look at Nancy. “What are we looking for exactly?”

Nancy doesn’t respond and continues flicking through the pages, making Robin’s eyes widen.

“Nance?” She tries again and you frown.

“She’s focused.” You offer, smiling. “She zones in so much that she zones out sometimes.”

“Right.” She nods slowly, still staring at her. “Um, so are we, uh… looking for any mentions of dark wizards or alternate dimensions? Things in that vein?”

You remember something and open your mouth to speak before Nancy interrupts with a huff.

“I don’t know, okay?” She sighs loudly, leaning against the desk and meeting Robin’s eyes. “It’s starting to seem like this was just a big waste of time. And you’re obviously bored so why don’t you just call Steve? I’m sure he’ll come pick you up. And I mean, I’m not really in danger here, so…”

With that, she walks away from the table and grabs another folder you had brought, furiously flipping through as she travels down a different staircase to the filing room. Your eyebrows raise.

“Woah.” You simply say, noticing Robin’s frown. “She’s, uh… hell, I don’t even know. Nance gets ultra focused when she thinks she has a lead on something and, well… she doesn’t like to get it wrong. Which is understandable.”

“So, she acts like this with other people?” She asks and you tighten your lips.

“Um…”

“Okay, that’s a no.” Robin groans, dragging her hands down her face. “I’m trying, I really am, I just struggle with whatever the hell bonding is meant to be, I mean me and Steve literally only bonded because we were both getting tortured and thought we would die. Which, no, not an ideal way to start a friendship but you know what, it’s better than whatever the hell this is.”

“You were at Starcourt?” You frown and she looks back at you, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up-”

“No, no, it’s okay.” She waves her hands, “I, um… no one really mentions it anymore. Unless it’s the news and they’re pretending like it was a-”

“Fire, yeah. I heard.” You say, staring at the stairs Nancy descended. “How did all of this start?”

“Excuse me?” She blinks and you turn your attention back to her.

“This… Vecna, was it? How did it start?” You repeat, shaking your head. “Nancy could only tell me so much over the phone so I’m a little behind.”

“A girl was found dead in the trailer park.” Robin relays, gulping. “Chrissy Cunningham? She’s a cheerleader. Was. They found her with all her bones snapped and her eyes were… gone. They think Eddie Munson did it-”

“Eddie?” You gasp, and Robin looks surprised. “No, Eddie wouldn’t do that-”

“We know. Trust me.” She says hurriedly, “He told us everything that happened. Apparently she was floating in the air and her bones were snapping- it’s a really gruesome story but the same thing, like, just happened to Fred and we need to figure out who this Vecna is before someone else gets hurt.”

“Okay.” You breathe and she raises her brow.

��Okay? I just unloaded a dump of hell onto you, and it’s okay?” She sounded intrigued and you shrug.

“The last few years have been… weird. To the point where weird sounds normal now.” You say, a soft frown on your features.

Robin wasn’t entirely sure where you fit into all of this. Sure, you had information they needed, you’ve been a part of their group for some time, you made sense. What she was struggling to understand is why you were here now. And why you weren’t here before.

“How’d you meet everyone?” You ask before she can. Any thought she had of questioning your arrival was cleverly misplaced. For the moment.

“I worked with Steve at Scoops Ahoy last year.” Robin nods and you frown.

“But I never…” You start before your eyes widen, mouth curling into a smile. “Oh my god, yes! I do remember you!”

“You do?” Robin tries to comb back through her memories.

“Yeah, Max dragged me there maybe… a week after it opened? She was telling me about Steve’s little sailor outfit and of course, I didn’t believe her, so she had to show me proof.” You giggle to yourself, meeting her eyes. “I remember you were taking a break outside, Max introduced us. Well, kind of. She never got to my name before Steve arrived with that stupid frown on his face.”

“I don’t remember that.” She frowns and you bite your lip, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets. “Sorry, I don’t mean that in like, a mean girl way. I mean, my memory is apparently broken because I’m very sure I would have remembered you. Not in a weird way, either, like- I just think you make an impression on people- a good one. Not a bad one.”

“It’s okay.” You laugh and she shakes her head enough to make her bangs sway in her embarrassment. “I looked a lot different then. And I was, like, super shy. I was probably hiding my face or something.”

“Hold on.” She blinks with a smirk. “You’re the girl? Like, the girl?”

“Am I meant to know what that means?” You squint your eyes.

Robin simply laughs to herself until she clocks your confusion. “No, I… Max did bring someone in for, like, one of our first ever shifts together. I remember because when they left, Steve looked like some kicked puppy and I couldn’t work with him and that stupid frown so I made him tell me what was bothering him. Apparently, the girl that left was the girl he couldn’t get in high school and it ‘haunts’ him. It’s so stupid.”

You go quiet and her eyes widen.

“Oh god.” She covers her mouth. “Did I talk too much again? God, I’m sorry- I literally can’t control my mouth.”

“No, you’re right.” You say, shaking your head. “Steve… he and I don’t really get along. Opposite ends of the high school popularity pool until I won this debate contest and suddenly everyone wanted to be my friend. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, but suddenly I was on Steve’s radar and, well, you know the rest.”

“You can do better.” She simply nods and you raise your eyebrow at her remark. “What? Oh, he’s amazing now. Like, a genuine gentleman kind of guy, but King Steve? Whew, that boy needed a leash or something.”

“You guys are pretty close, huh?” You ask and she smiles.

“Yeah, he’s my best…” She begins before her face drops. Oh.

“What?” You ask when she starts walking away.

“I know why!” She exclaims before turning her heel and marching down those steps to Nancy, finding her sorting through the filing cabinet.

If Nancy heard her, she didn’t acknowledge it. Robin felt so stupid. It had been a while since she’d been a part of ‘girl world’ or, more specifically, ‘girl-code world’. The thought of there being any tension hadn’t even crossed her mind before.

“You do know that Steve and I are, like, totally not a thing, right?” Robin asks breathlessly, leaning against the wooden banister.

“What?” Nancy frowns, shaking her head and turning to look over her shoulder.

“So I figure that you and Jonathan are still going strong ‘cause you guys are going to college together, and you’re like one of those unstoppable power couples, but I… I just… I wanted to make sure that you knew that Steve and I are just friends. Like, platonic with a capital P.”

Nancy’s response in underwhelming at best, a tight lipped smile and Robin almost groans in frustration. She can hear your sneakers steadily descend the stairs and she turns back.

“Just in case that’s adding any tension between us.” She expresses to Nancy and you frown at the interaction.

“It wasn’t.” Nancy replies and Robin sighs.

“Uh…” You start to say, both pairs of eyes immediately looking at you. “Sorry to, um, interrupt. I have stuff I need to do…”

“Right.” Nancy blinks apologetically, looking back at the folder in her hands. “I’m so sorry, I really thought I was going to find something. I… I didn’t want to drag you into this, really, it’s just-”

“Hawkins.” You finish her sentence, stepping off the final stair and leaning against the banister. “Yeah, I know.”

“Holy shit.” Robin gasps, suddenly grabbing the folder out of Nancy’s hands despite her silent protest. “Is that from The Weekly Watcher?”

She points to a specific part of one of the tabs and you move to peer over her shoulder, nodding.

“Don’t they write about, like, Bigfoot and UFOs?” Nancy scoffs, already dismissing the idea.

“First of all, UFOs are absolutely real. Bigfoot I’m still on the fence about.” She comments and you hum agreement. “But may I remind you we are looking for information on dark wizards? If someone’s gonna write about that, it’s gonna be these weirdos.”

“She’s not wrong.” You add and Nancy’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Yeah, there’s a whole article about Victor Creel. He claimed that a vengeful demon killed his family. Obviously I only added a reference for context, I never actually believed it. You know, before…”

You vaguely gesture the space around you and Robin flips the page over.

“According to several insiders, Victor believed his house was haunted by an ancient demon.” Robin read aloud, and you could feel the goosebumps prickle along your skin. “Victor allegedly hired a priest to exorcise the demon from his home- pretty novel for the 50s, Exorcistwasn’t even out yet.”

“Keep- keep going.” Nancy insisted and Robin frowns.

“That’s all that’s here.” She says and Nancy looks at you.

“He claimed that the exorcism failed.” You recall, staring at the cut out photo of the Creel Family. “He said it angered the demon. It murdered his family, removing their eyes.”

“Did it say why he wasn’t killed?” Robin questions.

“Victor believed he was spared as a punishment.” You say with a twist in your stomach. His whole family died. He was all alone.

“Yeah, that’s pretty convenient for Victor.” Nancy mumbles and Robin frowns.

“Yeah, or super inconvenient.” She challenges, her eyes looking at yours for support. You simply nod, feeling sick. “Victor was declared legally insane by the court, right? Well, what if this is why? I mean, it sounds pretty insane, it just didn’t go public because-”

“The plea bargain.” Nancy jumps in, and you can see her trying to slot all the pieces together, “The records were sealed.”

“What if a demon did invade Victor’s home.” Robin glances between you both. “It’s just, this demon wasn’t any old demon.”

“It was Vecna.” Nancy finishes, and you immediately start shaking your head.

“Okay, you guys got everything you need?” You quickly rush out, sorting the folder around so it would shut. “Actually, you know what, you guys can just keep that, I need to-”

“You’re leaving?” Nancy frowns, following you as you jog back up the stairs and to where you had dumped your bag before. Robin hurriedly grabbed your folder and followed suit.

“Yeah, I told you, I have stuff to do.” You mutter an excuse, slipping your bag over your shoulder.

“But what about-”

“No, Nance.” You suddenly say, much stricter than you intended it to be. You pause your steps, taking a deep breath to look her in the eye. “I hate that there’s something new terrorising Hawkins. And I’m sorry you have to deal with it. I am. But that’s your choice. I can’t do this again.”

Robin stood there, clutching your folder to her chest. Nancy was struggling with her words, and you didn’t look like you were going to stick around long enough to hear them.

“We need you.” Robin blurts and you look at her, frowning. “I’m sorry, but we do. You know more about this case than any of us, you dedicated, what, a whole month? Maybe more? To learn about the Creel House, about the murders. You have information we can’t possible find because Hawkins doesn’t like to keep around its records of murder, and- and Nancy said you were great at this detective stuff which basically means you know what we need to do next.”

Rather than respond, you start weighing your options. The best decision you ever made was leaving all of this behind. Stanford had everything you wanted; hope. Anytime you decided to help them, it was always your life you were risking. That they were risking. Why would this time be any different?

“I really hope you win this.” You finally say, offering half a smile before you push through those doors and don’t look back, disappearing into the darkening shadows outside.

“Damn it.” Nancy curses, resting a hand on her hip and the other on a table.

“What happened between you guys?” Robin asks into the silence and Nancy looks up.

“What do you-”

“I don’t want a vague answer.” She says, still clutching onto the folder pressed against her chest. “She looked terrified. Which, yeah, it makes a lot of sense under normal circumstances. But this was more like PTSD kind of terrified. What the hell happened last year that no one’s telling me?”

The silence left Robin in the dark, Nancy’s features pouring over in restrained emotion.

By the time you had dug out your keys with trembling hands, you could feel the prickling of tears threaten to spill at any moment. They had no right to ask that of you. Especially not Nancy. She was there last year, she knows why you left. And yet again, none of them were listening to you.

You sat in your grandad’s old armchair for about an hour, a book resting on your lap but it remained untouched. It would just be another distraction, another reason to pretend like nothing was wrong. To stop yourself from remembering, feeling.

It’s why you went to Stanford, really. You didn’t care about journalism like you used to. But the work load was almost unbearable, which meant that every waking moment would need to be dedicated to studying. If you didn’t occupy your mind, you’d have to relive last year.

“Hi, sweetie.” Gran says as she enters the room, a shopping bag in one hand. You hadn’t even heard her key in the door. “Did you see your friends?”

“Yeah.” You clear your throat, setting aside the book and leaning forward.

“What did you kids get up to?” She asks before quickly disappearing into the kitchen to set down her groceries. When she returns, you have your head in your hands.

You can feel her fingers gently pry away your hands as she takes the chair opposite you, smiling like she already knew what was going through your head. Looking at her, the way her eyes were glazing over, you felt so selfish. You had left to escape everything that happened last year, and you had left her for months to deal with it all alone. Here you were, wallowing in self pity because your friends hadn’t been there for you when you needed them, and it turns out you’re doing the exact same thing to her.

“I’m so sorry.” You say, wiping away the tear that trickles down your cheek. “I should have stayed with you and Grandad.”

“What?” She frowns lightly, shaking her head. “Darling, no. All we ever wanted for you was to get out into the world, find something that made you happy.”

“But I’m not happy.” You express, catching a sob that threatened to escape. “I just wanted to get away, get out of Hawkins. I wasn’t even thinking about it, I- I just couldn’t…”

Her hand suddenly finds your own, squeezing it tight.

“It’s okay.” She says and you lift your head up. She continued smiling, but it was much sadder now. “No one can expect you to move on from what happened last year as quick as that.”

“And what if I never move on?”

“It’s not about moving on.” She smiles. “It’s about acceptance. It’s about holding onto the memory because you cherish it, not because you are haunted by it.”

The clock in the distance could be heard counting the seconds as you sit there in silence. She was right, as per usual. You weren’t letting yourself feel. You should be embracing the fact that you still had her. Even with all Hawkins has been through, you still had her.

Your heart pangs with panic. She was still here.

“I should be getting to bed-”

“Come with me.” You offer suddenly and she raises her eyebrows.

“To Stanford?” She says as if it were absurd.

“I’m serious. Let’s move away, start fresh. We’ll find somewhere new, Gran. Please.” You beg and she offers a smile, capturing your hand by placing another on top.

“Hawkins is my home. It always has been. I was born here, I met the love of my life here. I watched my little one grow up and, when he had little ones of their own, I watched them grow up too. This is where my family is. I… I can’t leave.”

“No, don’t worry, I’ll get it.” You say, smiling. “You should get some rest.”

Your heart wrenches. If only she knew what you did. About what really happens in Hawkins, what lurks there in the dark. She can’t stay here, not when you know it isn’t safe. Not when she’s all you have left.

Three knocks echo out from the front door, and Gran shifts in her seat, quickly glancing at the clock. Who would be here at this hour?

“Thank you.” She stands with you, squeezing your hand as she dropped it. “Try and get some rest.”

You wait until she’s heading up the stairs and out of earshot before you rush to the door, gently brushing aside the small curtain and frowning at the silhouette. It wasn’t who you had expected.

The door is open barely four inches before she starts talking at you, ring-donned hands clasped together.

“Look, I know we’ve literally just met. And I probably- no, I definitely don’t have the right to ask you to stay with us, but we’re basically alone right now. Half of us are in California, we don’t have any connections in the sheriff’s department anymore. Everyone who would know what to do is gone, and you’re kinda the only person left who can help us. I get so much happened to you last year and I- I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but if there’s even a tiny part of you that wants to do this, then please listen to it. Please.”

Robin didn’t know what she was expecting when she left the school. Her feet had taken her further than her mind was planning, but she knew she had to find you. Max was in trouble, and they were all way in over their heads to not have help. Nancy refused to bother you any further, and she understood, she really did, but this wasn’t a normal circumstance. This was bigger than all of them, bigger than everyone.

“Robin?” You say, brows scrunched together in surprise. She thins her lips.

“Sorry to just blurt that all out, but I didn’t know if you were just gonna slam the door on me- or maybe I’d forget what I wanted to say.” She explained, feeling the embarrassment creeping up her cheeks. She didn’t want to say the wrong thing to you. “Max is in trouble.”

“What?” You sobered at the thought, leaning closer to her. Then, in a moment of split decision, you glance back up the stairs before stepping outside and closing the door behind you. “What happened?”

“We found a connection between all the victims.” Robin tries to explain, and you noticed how expressive she was with her hands. “Basically, Max has the same symptoms as the rest of them, and she’s, like, 100% sure she’s next of Vecna’s kill list.”

“Is she okay?” You ask, and Robin can see the desperation behind your eyes.

“Yeah. Shaken up, but she’s fine. For now.” She clears her throat, a pleading look as she stares at you. “We need to find Vecna as fast as we possibly can before he can get to her. I… I know about what happened last year. About your dad.”

You seem taken aback by her knowledge, eyes darting down to your shoes.

“I don’t blame you for wanting to leave all of this behind.” She sympathises, and she let herself be much calmer than she felt. “But I’m asking you if you’ll help us.”

Your heart was aching as you wipe your sweaty palms against your jeans, barely even feeling the cold rush of wind hitting your bare arms. You had meant what you said earlier; you couldn’t do this again. It took everything in you to move out of Hawkins, go to college and live a life the person you loved the most couldn’t do anymore.

But you were currently stood in front of a door. And behind that door, was the last person you had left, and she wasn’t planning on leaving her home any time soon. As it turned out, fleeing wasn’t an option for everyone else.

“I’ll do it.”

Robin blinks, studying you for any ounce of uncertainty. You looked deadly serious.

Maybe, just maybe, with you by their side, they were taking down Vecna after all.

taglist: @kryztalglear @officerrrfriendly @a-simpfortessa-lesbriean @spacedoutdaydreamer @em16cor @endurexxsurvive

[if you see your name highlighted in pink, it means that tumblr wouldn't let me tag you! i am trying to figure out the reasons behind this but it could be as simple as visibility settings so please check that <3]