#and it’s only gonna get worse as the winter goes on

[pandamugger]

i love heated blanket,,,,,

[kariachi]

Ben moves to South Dakota, Kevin and Julie just sit back and wait for the inevitable "dear fucking god it's cold and snowy up here".

They are not disappointed.

They never actually say they told him so, but he does get regular "How's the weather out there" messages.

Kevin gets him a snowblower for his birthday. Doesn't build one because damnit he warned him the weather was gonna be shit, but is a loving friend and buys him one.

[plutoslastwords]

lost and found!

lando norris x daughter!reader

summary: baby norris goes missing in a crowded paddock, her father? not happy.

warnings: none!

w/c: 1.8k

a/n: first post here.. eek! i hope you guys like my little character of baby norris, i'm hoping to write more for her, so if you have any requests, please send them in!!

~~~

A Formula 1 paddock was a busy place. Mechanics were working hard to get the cars in tip-top shape for the day, reporters were rushing around to the latest ‘big story’ with dozens of cameras following and fans were scrambling around to get a glimpse of their idols. All in all, the paddock was chaotic for even the most oriented of us.

The paddock was not the place for a three year old. 

However, in the Melbourne paddock, tiny baby Norris was giggling like mad, toddling around the zoo of the paddock, elated to be back at daddy’s work after a long, boring winter break.

Though he hates to admit it, Lando had not planned your appearance in his life. You were the result of a drunken one night stand, and nine months later you appeared to him after your mother signed away any parental rights. Despite that, you were the light of his life, he couldn’t imagine a world without his gorgeous baby daughter who managed to bring so much joy into any situation, you were his everything.

Unfortunately, at present he was preoccupied with some media duties before the upcoming free practice session, so the responsibility of you had been placed on some Mclaren assistant, Henry, who had looked away for a second too long and the little girl had been lost in the crowd. The assistant was shitting himself, how had he managed to screw up this bad, it was his first day on the job and he had already lost the boss’ kid!! He was so gonna be fired.

Therefore, he felt it wise to not mention to Lando that his three year old was currently waddling around the crazy busy paddock, filled with heavy machinery and people 5 times her size. Instead, Henry grabbed some other intern and began frantically searching. 

It was not an easy task, looking for a pocket sized three year old in a rampacked motorsports paddock. Henry and intern no.2 checked the obvious places first: Lando’s drivers room? No. Oscar’s side of the garage? No. The Williams garage? (You were very fond of Carlos) No. 

You were nowhere, somehow Lando Norris’ three year old daughter had been gifted the power of invisibility and disappeared off of the face of the Earth. Henry was stressing. To make matters worse, he then got a text he had been dreading.

Lando Norris

hey man, just finished the interview, thank you for watching the baby, you think you could drop her back to me?

Henry cursed aloud, kissing goodbye to his job as he knew that he’d have to show up to Lando empty handed. Him and the other intern he’d coerced into coming trudged slowly back to the Mclaren garage, preparing to face the wrath of a very angry dad. 

As soon as Lando saw Henry enter, his face lit up, finally getting to see his precious girl after a few grueling hours of media commitments. However, his smile dropped immediately when he saw Henry’s guilty look, and the lack of a toddler in his tow. He marched forward.

“Where the fuck is she?” He demanded, no kindness in his voice.

“I- uhm- she- I’m sorry! She’s so small, and so quick! And one minute she was right next to me and the next she was gone!” Henry cried, accepting that this was the last time he’d be working in an F1 paddock.

“You lost my daughter?!?” Lando seethed, completely outraged, his darling girl was missing! “You had one job and you lost my daughter?? How immensely careless can one person be!” He shouted, the only thing holding him back from suckerpunching Henry being the fact that he was the last person to see you, and therefore would be most helpful in finding you.

The commotion, however, alerted the attention of some other people including Zak Brown, Mclaren’s CEO, who was making his rounds of the garage, greeting some high profile guests. He walked over, patting Lando on the shoulder in a very Zak-Brown-manner.

“Ah, Lando! Been looking for you! What’s going on here?”

“The dickhead lost my kid!” Lando exclaimed, more than furiously, whilst Harry just stood there silently, having gone deathly pale. Zak’s normally upbeat mood dropped, seeing the distress his driver was in, he couldn’t be having this! Free practice was only a couple hours away!

“Oh goodness, that’s not… optimal… Have you searched for her at all, boy?” he questioned Henry, who nodded and let out a noise that could’ve been interpreted as a whimper of fear.

“W-we went to look for her, we searched everywhere! B-but she wasn’t there…” he stammered, this was just great now both of his bosses were here to fire him. Not even his bosses! They were like his boss’ boss’ boss’ bosses!

“Of course you couldn’t find her! She’s like 2 feet tall, no one would be able to find her in a crowd like that!” Lando scoffed, he didn’t want to let his worry show in front of the whole garage, so instead his emotions were being projected as anger towards a very scared looking Henry. 

“Well, why don’t we all calm down..” Zak intervened, he did not need one of his drivers having a meltdown at T-Minus 2 hours before the first free practice session of the season. “I’m sure she’ll turn up, the kid can barely go 30 minutes without her daddy, she’ll be running back soon enough.”

“Oh god, she’s probably so scared…” moaned Lando, Zak’s words doing nothing to soothe him, only heightening the growing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach.

Noticing Lando’s growing anguish, Zak knew he had to act, quickly sending orders to whoever was in shouting distance to go and search the paddock from the bottom up, and not to return until they had a little curly haired girl in their grasp. 

As well as this, he told Henry to go somewhere else and help the search party, he did not think it smart to have Henry and Lando in close proximity, worried about the British driver’s anger getting the best of him. He did not need a fight breaking out only 2 hours before FP1

The next 45 minutes were possibly the worst of Lando’s life, Sochi 2021 was nothing compared to this. His precious, angel, darling girl was missing and there was nothing he could do about as Zak had forbidden him from leaving the garage, claiming he’d draw too much attention if he went out to join the search. What, like 50 Mclaren staff all searching the paddock wasn’t going to draw enough attention itself?

He sat in his driver's room with his face in his hands, distraught at the idea that his baby girl might be hurt, or worse… He couldn’t let himself think about it, his trainer, Jon, was in the room as well trying to soothe his nerves, but nothing was working, all he wanted was his little girl back in his arms.

Suddenly, the door to his driver’s room swung open, revealing Henry, looking extremely tired out, holding a tiny girl who was looking way too proud of herself.

“Daddy!!” You screeched, grinning widely, thrashing around in Henry’s arms to get to him.

“Oh my baby..” About 50 tonnes of weight lifted from Lando’s shoulders as he rushed over to take you from Henry. “My baby, my baby, my baby..” He chanted, rocking you in his arms, holding you close to his chest, never wanting to let go. “You gave daddy such a fright, angel!” He reprimanded, but there was no malice to his tone whatsoever, he was just glad his baby was back. “Where did you run off to, hm?”

“Lollipop, daddy!” You squealed, and then it clicked for Lando, of course that’s where she went. When the two of you arrived in the paddock this morning there was a man selling large lollipops, almost the size of you, near the entrance. You had immediately been struck by this, begging your daddy to pretty please! buy one for you, but Lando had media duties he had to get to, but promised to get one later (he could never say no to you), but of course that wasn’t acceptable to your little head, so you’d had to run away to go get one. 

Surprisingly, you had managed to get her hands on one, though Lando wasn’t sure how, it wasn’t like you had your own money. It was probably because you were just too cute to resist, with your beaming smile, little curly hair and green eyes just like him, you could woo just about anybody. Even the ever serious Oscar Piastri manages to crack some grins whenever you’re around.

“You can’t be running away though my angel… what if you got hurt, hm? And daddy wasn’t there to kiss it better. That was very naughty of you baby.” He tried to be strict with you, he really did, but one look at your little pouting face was enough to make him melt all over again.

“‘M sorry daddy…” You mumbled, you didn’t like it when your daddy tells you off, your daddy never tells you off! “Just wan’ed lollipop…”

“Oh baby, I know… don’t worry, Daddy isn’t angry anymore, he was just scared, okay? And you gotta promise you’re never gonna do that again, otherwise no more lollipops..”

“I pwomise daddy!!” you were fully capable of speaking normally, but even at age 3, you knew exactly the type of voice to use to get your daddy to forgive you. 

“Good girl, angel..” he cooed, still rocking you in his arms. His moment with his daughter was broken, however, when he realised that Henry was still in the room, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“You found her?” He questions Henry, his tone slightly guarded.

“Y-yeah, she was by the entrance.. Didn’t seem very fazed about the chaos she caused…” Henry tries to joke, to lighten the tension, but Lando’s expression was unreadable.

After a moment, Lando spoke up. “I’m not going to fire you.” an audible sigh of relief could be heard coming from Henry. “But you’re never looking after her again, you hear me?” Henry just nods quickly, too thankful that he hasn’t lost his job to care. “Good. you can go now.” The intern scrambles out the room.

“Daddy loves you so much, darling. Always remember that, okay? So so much..” He whispers to the small girl in his arms, who was now starting to doze off, after the excitement of the lollipop saga. 

He just smiled, pressing a loving kiss to the top of your head, before he laid you down on the sofa in his driver’s room, covering you with a blanket so you could sleep peacefully.

~~~

a/n: hope you enjoyed, send in any requests you have!

[andstillwestand]

I know that Nick's whole personal mission to kill Eddie Winter kinda gets glossed over in the game and Nick's emotions regarding everything he's been through are only lightly touched on, but y'all best believe that Nick and his thoughts/feelings on everything are gonna get MESSY in my fic.

Nick woke up in the fucking garbage and throughout the game we see him be- (what I would refer to as) -passively suicidal and have some very deep-rooted self-esteem issues. He doesn't see himself as a person, he doesn't really stand up for himself- (aside from a snarky comeback here and there) -when other characters treat him like shit, he is CONSTANTLY throwing himself into extremely dangerous situations to help people without any care to whether or not he'll come out of it in one piece, he refers to himself almost exclusively using insults, he asks the PC if his face is really the last one they want to see, etc. etc.

Nick literally sees himself as some shitty knockoff of the "real" Nick Valentine, a pretender, a ghost, and like...that's gotta fuck him up a little---especially given that he thinks the Institute, the people who made him, just tossed him in the trash. He thinks that he's unwanted and about half of the Commonwealth just reinforces that based on the fact that he's a synth, there's no fucking way that this man is well adjusted in the slightest.

Not to mention the fact that he REMEMBERS BEING the original Nick Valentine, he has all these memories and flashes of things that happened to him, but it’s NOT him and he knows that logically, but it’s shown to all sort-of bleed together for him- (we see this in his personal mission when he goes back and forth between calling Jennifer “Nick’s fiancée” and “my fiancée”) -and that’s got to be so confusing and fucked up for him, because he can’t tell where Nick Valentine ends and he begins!

Who is he without the memories of some prewar detective plugged into his brain? How much of his personality is his and how much of it is “stolen?” Would he still be himself without the echos of the original Nick Valentine knocking around in his skull? He doesn’t have the answers to any of these questions and I think that should fuck him up SEVERELY!

I think he should be angry and confused and depressed, and I think he should get to work through all of that—and DAMN IT HE WILL, BUT ITS GONNA GET WORSE BEFORE IT GETS BETTER!

[love-and-war-on-cybertron]

Christmas date with Blurr

Short little thing for the holidays. Tried to get his speed talking to show. Have you guys seen that one RATBAT piece of Blurr and the lady?

Blurr revs his engine while you snuggle closer to the warm metal. It was fucking COLD and you were vastly underprepared for it. You had turned back to get a thicker jacket, but a certain blue speedster was impatient and snatched you up before driving off. Yes, the stars twinkled in the sky as beautiful as the lights strung among the trees and light poles. The snow looking glowly, the distant music cheerful. You were fucking freezing. Teeth chattering, goosebumps, can't feel your hands: freezing.

"I'msorrysweetspark, Ijustwantedtomakesurewegotherebeforetheyshutthelightsoff." He spoke rapid-fire as he tried to apologize, revving his engine again. A benefit of having a racer frame boyfriend was how much heat he put off. Miserable in the summer, but perfect in the winter. Despite the huffiness and annoyance, you were gonna soak it all in. Tucked up as close as possible and held in his arms.

It was hard to fault the bot completely. Needing to stay hidden was already difficult when he looked flashy in his altmode, and his regular mode would draw the worst kind of attention. The city had decorated the park into a winter wonderland that would only be up for one more night. Blurr had mentioned it plenty of times, and revealed that he had been scoping the place to find the right time to go with you. Before lights shut off and when there was no one else. Even with the lack of other humans, he had to keep to the trees, close enough to see and no closer.

"The lights are beautiful, even from a distance," he chatters on, carefully tightening his hold on you, nuzzling the side of your head, "Of course they aren't as beautiful as you."

You push at his helm playfully with a giggle, "Cheesy!"

"But true!" He flashes a grin and revs his engine. Heavy footsteps thudding over the snow in the shadows. Your own little hallmark scene, minus the CEO fiancé and small town with an obsession of Christmas. His faceplates find your cheek and he places an obnoxious kiss. You laugh and wiggle out of his grip and onto the snowy ground. Cold be damned, you were gonna throw a snowball at him. Fingers reaching into the icy white blanket beneath you as he cocked his head, trying to figure out what exactly you were doing. His face was so cute… The perfect target.

Blurr steps back in shock as the snowball hits him right between the optics. His mouth agape, steam rising where it melts.

"Sweetsparkhowcouldyou!?" You cackle and make another snowball, intent on getting him again. But the bot is fast and dashes away and around you, scooping you back into his arms, "Ithoughtyoulovedme!" "I do." You reply, before smashing the snowball into his face. He looks shocked again.

"Ohsweetspark, Ithoughtwehadsomething, Ireallydid." He starts walking and you worry you took it too far. Maybe should have explained snowball fights first.

"I'll forgive you this time." He reaches up to the tree you are being held under, and shakes a branch. You let out a screech as ice goes down your thin jacket. Smacking against his plating, you call him a few choice words. He just nuzzles your cheek with a grin and point out how you started it.

"I though you loved me." you repeat his own pitiful declaration of doubt.

"Oh sweetspark. Of course I do!" He sees the way you shiver and chatter worse than before, "Enough to keep you from freezing to death." He finds his way back to the roadway and transforms around you. Once you are comfortably sat in the passenger seat, he activates his holoavatar and turns up the heat.

"Ooooh much better," You settle back in the seat and sigh happily.

"You'll warm up quicker if you take that wet clothing off." The holo-avatar wiggles his brows and you roll your eyes. Blurr drives on, mindful of the ice and resisting the urge to speed through the streets. Watching out the window as city lights fade into sparse streetlights of the highway.

"Why did you want to take me there so badly?" You ask, chin in your hand, "It was nice but…" You stop talking when you glance at the Holo-avatar. It's gone tense, a sign that Blurr is uncomfortable so you drop it.

Blurr isn't heading towards your place, and turns into a neighborhood not your own. You narrow your eyes, mouth open about to question it. Turning the corner, it looks like you're in Santa's village. Every house decked out in lights and decor. Music, lights, the heater going. The only way to make this better would be a big mug of cocoa. You turn with a squeal and look at his holo-avatar, pointing at the giant nutcrackers standing guard.

"Look at them! Look at how cool those are!" A few more streets down, and you unbuckle to scoot closer to the avatar. Leaning against him as he cruises through the neighborhood, up and down each street. Nice and slow. Practically a glacial pace compared to what he prefers. You smile wide and talk about Christmas memories, different gifts you remember and traditions you wish to do again. After going through the large neighborhood, Blurr finds a place to park, still in view of the sparkling lights. Humming along to the music, you rest your head on the shoulder of the avatar, his arm around you. "I saw some couples." His voice crackles over the music, preferring to speak to you this way, even with the facsimile of a person in the driver seat.

"Couples? Walking around?" You look out the window trying to see what he sees, and why he pointed it out.

"At the park." He starts, "I saw couples at the park and thought maybe… Wellyouoncesaidyouwishedwecoulddocouplethings. AndIsawpeopleholdinghandsandwalkingunderthelights. Kissing under a plant."

"Kissing under a plant…" You think for a moment, eyes lighting up as you realize. Leaning close and putting your arms around the avatars neck, you smile "Mistletoe. You wanted to do couple things with me?"

The avatar nods and he speaks quickly again, "Iwantedtospendtimewithyoudoingsomethingspecial. Youseemtoreallylikethistimeofyear. Ieventriedtryingtobuyyouthatchocolatedrinkyoulovesomuchbut-"

You silence him with a kiss to the holo-avatar. It's weird to kiss it. Him, this way. Like kissing an old tv after turning it off, the buzz of static against your lips. The feel of something there, but knowing it was just a very real projection. His engine growls.

"My last partner complained about this all being 'basic bitch' stuff." You said, snuggling closer, "but I love it. Romantic snowy walks under the lights…. A drive with you is just as good. Actually better. I don't have to be cold."

The speedster smiles back, engine growling, "You'renotupsetwecan'tkissunderaplant?"

You grin, reaching for one of your festive Mistletoe earrings and hold it above your head, "I think I can make it happen."

[enha-roza]

JANUARY 1ST

Hyung line x 8thmember!oc

synopsis : Roza's Boyfriends miss her after she and Sooyoung go on a girls night out.

wc : 1k

It was January first and both girls had been invited to Winter of Aespa’s Birthday party. Roza and Sooyoung had been in their rooms getting ready. It would be the first time the girls would be going out with the boys. Roza was in the middle of deciding what earrings to wear when Heeseung appeared at her door.

“Do you have to go?” Roza almost laughed as he hung onto the door, a pout decorating his face. “Yes, Hee. it's Minjeong’s birthday, it would be rude not to go.” “Okay, but not for long, right. You and Sooyoung don't have to be out long.” “I don't know how long we'll be… but I promise to won't be super late.” As Roza put on her shoes, Sooyoung appeared behind Heeseung. “Unnie, are you ready?” Heeseung upon seeing Sooyoung's short dress immediately went into big brother mode.

“Hold on, you're not wearing that are you?” “Yes I am, why?” He whipped his head over to Roza in disbelief. “Can you believe her? You are not wearing that… it's way too short.” “That's kinda the point, Oppa. I wanted to look nice.” “I get that sweetheart, but isn't it too short? Don't you have longer dresses. I'm just concerned, that's all.” Sooyoung expression softened at his words, noting his genuine concern for her. Roza watched Sooyoung contemplating changing her outfit.

“Fine, but only because I don't want you to worry.” “You'll look just as good in a longer dress I promise.” Sooyoung smiled as she went to change once more. “Didn't think you cared about short dresses.” Roza smirked as she stood up and looked over her makeup in the mirror. Heeseung standing behind her, hands wrapping around her waist. “You're my girlfriend, of course I love you in short dresses. When I look at Sooyoung I see my precious little sister.” Roza smiled at Heeseung's protectiveness.

Suddenly Heeseung was pushed aside as Sunghoon walked into the room, his own hands now replacing where Heeseung’s were. “What the fuck, dude.” “Shut up, I'm having a moment before she goes and I weep because what do you mean our girlfriend is going somewhere without us.” Heeseung stood in the view of the mirror, Roza watched as he protested once more. “See you can't go, it's not fair for you to leave us.” “Oppa, I already told you I'm going. Plus I don't mind one night for us girls.” “But you always have girls' nights here.” “That's different, one night out won't hurt. Plus I will be back before midnight, I promise.”

Sooyoung reappeared in a new longer dress. “Unnie, we gotta go or we're gonna be late.” “Okay, let's go.” Roza grabbed her bag as both girls said goodbye to the members. “Back before midnight.” Jay said. “Yes, dad.. Okay bye.” Sooyoung said as she dragged Roza out the door. “Text us if you need anything!” Jake yelled. “Yes I will, Bye!” and they were gone.

The girls hadn't even arrived at the restaurant when messages from Heeseung started flooding Roza’s phone.

“What's he moaning about now?” Sooyoung joked as they walked through the entrance. “Says he misses me..” Roza smirked as Sooyoung rolled her eyes. “Nothing new.” Soon the girls made their way to the private room for Winter’s birthday. “We're here!” “Thank god, I almost thought you weren't coming.” “Sorry, Heeseung made me change. Apparently my dress was too short.” Sooyoung laughed. "You know he's just being an older brother right.” Giselle jokes. “Yeah, yeah, let's eat I'm hungry.” Roza and Sooyoung sat down and everyone ordered, not long after the food arrived. While both girls were finishing up their food Roza’s phone started buzzing.

“Who missed you now?” Sooyoung jokes. “Jake..” “they really can't go a couple hours without you?” Karina questioned. “Nope and it's even worse in person.” Sooyoung moaned. “I don't wanna even imagine it.” Ningning laughed. “Okay everyone ready to leave?” Winter questioned. “I think so. Let's go.” The six girls stood and grabbed their bags. The girls later arrived at the bar and all sat down at the table ready to have some drinks and gossip.

A few drinks in and the girls were letting loose. Winter and Sooyoung were dancing together while Roza sat with Karina, Giselle and Ningning. “Drinking makes me so sleepy…” Roza said as a yawn left her lips. “Me too, i just wanna sleep.” Ningning smiled as she leaned her head on Roza's shoulder. “why don't you two go back to our dorm, we'll bring Sooyoung and Winter back later?” “I like the sound of that!” Ningning said, standing up. “Okay, we'll see you guys later.” Roza said hugging Karina and Giselle before going to find Winter and Sooyoung to say bye to them.

Roza and Ningning waited outside till Aespa’s manager showed up to take them back to their dorm. While on the drive home, Roza looked over and noticed Ningning had fallen asleep. She decided to pull out her phone, when she got a message from Jay.

Just as she closed her phone the car pulled up to the Aespa dorm. Roza nudged Ningning awake and both girls headed inside. “Come on, let's go to sleep.” Ningning pulled Roza into her room, both girls pulling off their shoes and climbing into Ningning’s bed. Not long after the room was filled with the quiet breaths of both sleeping girls.

Almost an hour and a half later the door opened as the other four girls arrived back from the bar. Roza woke just as Sooyoung poked her head into the bedroom. “sorry did i wake you, Unnie?” “No it's okay, did you have fun?” she watches as Sooyoung nods her head. “I was talking with Karina, she thinks it's best if we just sleep here tonight?” “Yeah, that's probably a good idea, then heading home now.” “Ive already messaged our manger and he knows, you might wanna message the members so they know.” “Okay, I'll do that.” Roza once again watched as Sooyoung left to go sleep in Winter's room. Roza looked over at the clock and noticed it was 10 minutes till midnight, the members would be wondering where the girls were.

And with that Roza fell asleep with a small smile on her face.

a/n : first post of 2025!!

[peachhcs]

mundane moments

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

some mundane moments between samy & will on facetime as she gets ready for a night out

1.5k words

au masterlist

the vibration from samy's phone made the small area of her desk shake underneath her elbows that were propped up in front of her tiny silver mirror, delicate hands applying the last of her mascara. she flipped the device over, a grin spreading across her pink lips seeing her boyfriend's contact flash across the screen. the girl immediately answered, propping her phone up against whatever was in front of her as will's face appeared. 

"hi will, what's up?" samy continued grinning, checking the last of her eyelashes to make sure she didn't miss a spot. her lack of attention caused her to miss the smile spreading across will's own lips and the flush coating his cheeks. 

he was glad gabe wasn't in the room or else he'd start chirping at him for being so grossly in love. 

"hi pretty girl," the blonde said making samy's own cheeks shed a light pink. he never failed to make her blush whenever that nickname left his lips.

"hi will!" hannah exclaimed, popping into frame for a second.

"hey will!!" bailey also yelled from across the room. samy's friends loved saying hi to will whenever he was on facetime. the boy chuckled, "hey guys."

"we're going out. hannah convinced me to head to this frat with her and bails," the brunette rolled her eyes slightly as she eyed hannah a few feet away. the other girl shrugged, "what? you said you wanted to go out more."

"i know, i know. okay, i need your opinion on what bag i should bring," samy pushed herself out of her desk chair and backed up so will could see her entire outfit while grabbing the two different purses from her bed.

she posed a few times with each bag, but the only thing will could focus on was how good she looked. her slightly too short black skirt and plunging v-neck top had the blonde a bit breathless and red. he wasn't even paying attention to her purses anymore.

"he's not even paying attention, hughes. i told you your outfit would distract him," hannah snickered when no response came from will.

that snapped the boy back into reality as he embarrassingly cleared his throat. samy flushed—loving how she had an effect on him even through a screen. "i bet he wasn't even paying attention to the purses. go with the black one, it goes with everything," bailey commented.

"hey, i was...sort of. black is cute," will attempted to defend himself. his weak effort made the girls laugh instead.

"you're so cute. i miss you," samy crawled back into her desk chair, bringing the camera closer to her face. her lips sparked in the light, showing off her sparkly lip-gloss that will's kissed off those lips so many times in the summer.

"i miss you too. wish you were here or i was there," the blonde said, sadness creeping into his voice.

long distance was hard. with their busy schedules, the two hardly saw one another since they started college. practices and games always got in the way and it wasn't like they could just up and leave without some harsh remarks from their coaches. will desperately missed his girl. there wasn't a time when he wasn't thinking about her—and that was saying a lot considering all he's ever thought about was hockey. he missed her especially when she looked as good she did and will wouldn't be there to have his arm securely around her waist so everyone knew she was his.

"i know. feels like it's been ages since i've seen you," samy frowned as well.

it was even worse because they wouldn't even be spending winter break together—or at least not all of it. will just recently got called up to play on the usa world juniors team with gabe, ryan, fowler, drew, and aram. that meant they'd all be spending their holiday in sweden and while will was extremely grateful for the opportunity, he probably wasn't gonna see samy at all unless she flew out with him. that was a big ask that will knew he couldn't make because he knew how much she loved spending the holidays with her family in michigan.

"maybe i'll get some downtime or something. or i'll just sneak off for a weekend," will chuckled, trying to lighten the mood because he hated when samy was sad.

"i know your coach would bench you for the next five games," samy teased a little as she touched up some of her foundation and powder.

"it's worth it if i get to see you," the blonde shrugged. samy rolled her eyes again, but will would seriously drop everything for her if she asked.

"okay, final look. what do you think?" samy held the phone close to her face so her boyfriend could see her entire makeup look. will couldn't help but take a screenshot, admiring her pretty face and pretty lips and wanting to have a picture to stare at for later. 

"you look beautiful," will said making the girl blush again. he prided himself in the fact that he could still make her blush miles away. 

"and the outfit? too much? too little?" she stood back up so will could see her entire outfit again.

he took another screenshot, face reddening into a deep blush. the short skirts were will's kryptonite and he absolutely adored it when samy wore them. he unashamedly checked her out through the screen, getting distracted once more. she looked so hot and while will swore he wasn't the jealous type, there was a pinch in his stomach thinking about all the guys that would look at his girl the way he was looking at her now. especially in a frat.

"you lost him again," hannah laughed seeing will's longing stare through the screen.

"s-sorry. you look incredible," will flushed when he snapped back into reality again.

"you're so adorable. i love you," samy smiled.

"i love you more," will smiled back.

"i'll text you, yeah? talk to you later," the brunette kissed her phone. will did the same back and they said their goodbyes for now. two minutes later, hannah and bailey both got texts from will.

will look out for her tn for me have fun :)

the girls both smiled, already knowing that will was the one.

—

a little habit will picked up was staying up until he knew samy made it back home safely whenever she went out. sometimes they'd call, sometimes they wouldn't, but either way, will had his eyes on her location as the time ticked closer to one in the morning. he told himself it wasn't a controlling thing, but more of a protective thing because he'd never forgive himself if he went to bed and his girl didn't make it home safely. 

will knew he'd definitely feel drowsy when he had to wake up in six hours for practice, but it was all worth it for his girlfriend's safety and well-being. he watched as her little icon finally made it into her dorm building—a wave of relief filling the boy's chest. before he could shut his phone off for the night, it began buzzing in his hand and samy's name came up on the screen. will immediately answered, smiling when he saw her pretty face a second later. 

"hi beautiful. make it home?" will wondered, trying to whisper as best as he could so he didn't wake gabe up. 

"yup. were you stalking my location?" the girl teased some, shutting her door and shuffling towards her desk. 

will never explicitly told her he watched her location when she went out, but samy picked it up fairly quickly when will was always awake when she called late at night. the blonde's face flushed as he shuffled into the bathroom to speak a little more freely without disturbing gabe. 

"maybe. did you have fun?" the boy wondered, leaning against the counter and fighting the sleep creeping into his system. 

"it was fine. frats are frats. would've been more fun if you were with me," the girl giggled as she began taking off her makeup. 

will smiled some. samy always got giggly when she had a few drinks in her. 

"maybe next time i visit you can bring me along," the boy chuckled. 

"obviously. eth and mark already have an itinerary made out when you come and visit," that made both of the teenagers laugh. "how was your night, though? what did you do?" samy shifted the focus to will. he flushed a little. she never failed to ask about him at any given moment. 

"nothing special. hung out with lean and gabe. we didn't feel like going out," will explained briefly. 

"would've been me if hannah didn't drag me out," samy laughed. 

the two sat in comfortable silence as will watched samy get herself ready for bed. it wasn't until another five minutes when the brunette finally crawled into bed, giving a tired smile to will. the boy returned her gentle smile with one of his own as he made his way back into his own bed. 

"i miss you, will. come visit me soon," the girl mumbled, sleep laced in her voice.

"i miss you too, pretty girl. hopefully i'll see you soon," will said a bit sadly. samy only managed another smile before completely falling asleep a moment later. 

the blonde smiled, blowing a soft kiss to the screen and finally shutting his phone off for the night.  

[ashlingiswriting]

do i know you? chapter ten

[ chapter ten — 5.5k words ] [ masterlist ] [ prev chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine ] you don't open the letter. richie jerimovich x reader, past mikey berzatto x reader, slow burn

handcuffs, bus, metal detector, strip search. three pairs of socks, toothbrush, toothpaste. everything stolen by your cellmate as soon as you arrive, except what you’re wearing. entire jail segregated to hell. you claimed by the italians, who were expecting you. instructions are simple: stick to the bottom bunk, keep your mouth shut, and you’ll make it. this is jail, not prison.

nothing and no one can touch you when you’re like this, sunk deep inside yourself. your throat is still hoarse from shouting last night, but that’s incidental, not important. nothing is important.

you don’t want to be here, so you’re not. 

you’re standing on the corner with half a pack in your jacket pocket, and he’s not there—you can’t see him right now, not even in your head—but he’s on his way. the winter sinks cold so deep into you that your forehead starts to hurt. if you stand here much longer, you’re going to get a runny nose. you’re itching for a cigarette. you don’t want to smoke without him. 

a lot of people want your attention.

julie, you’ve got mail. who’s this, your man? is he trying to get you back? put a price on it, maybe you can finally get us something from commissary. 

julie, the feds are not playing around. it looks like there’s charges related to human trafficking coming down the pipeline, and they’re trying to tie you to it. i’m doing my best with your defense, but if you don’t want to cooperate, i can’t guarantee—do you hear me? 

julie, when she comes through, we’re gonna take her back here. if you see a guard coming, just keep your mouth shut and kick the dryer, okay?

a lot of people want your attention, but nobody gets it. you can survive this, put one foot in front of the other, only as long as you can stand partly sheltered by the angle of your apartment building, and listen to the wind rushing past. waiting and safe, as long as he never arrives.

the snitch gets carried out on a stretcher.

the lawyer leaves unsatisfied.

you don’t open the letter.

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.

it’s much worse at night. but still, sometimes, you can sleep.

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lunch here has a queasy familiarity. it feels like barracks or school. you sit at a long table and corresponding bench with the italians, wondering if all this sodium is gonna worsen your perpetual low-grade headache, squeezing peanut butter from its plastic packet directly into your mouth, not bothering with the bread. 

behind you, you pick out the word doctor in somebody else’s conversation. thinking that it might have something to do with you, you turn and glance over your shoulder, just in time to catch a woman saying, too loudly, no i’m fine. you think her words sound a bit slurred. you’re fifty percent sure her name is aja. 

you’re sweating, says her friend, a woman with box braids whose name you’ve never learned.  she sounds exasperated. did you take something? when she gets no answer, her voice gains a note of urgency. hey. did you take something?

aja, leaning hunched forward on the table, mumbles no.

relieved, her friend says, then just eat your lunch.

i don’t...aja blinks. goes to lift one baby carrot to her mouth, looks at it, then stops. is car warning, she explains.

in the back of your brain, something stirs.

by now, you’ve been noticed by the other women at that table, and they’re staring daggers back. they’re almost all black women, just like all the women at yours are almost all white—and your stare is violating rules more important than the law. 

beside you, your cellmate janine has caught on too. she smacks your arm a little harder than she needs to, annoyed that she has to reiterate a fundamental lesson. mind your business. but you can still hear aja muttering out a slow explanation of increasingly jumbled words, and that’s all you care to hear.

it’s like there was a heavy weighted blanket keeping you down and separate from life, and that’s suddenly lifted. you can see and hear. there are words floating to the surface, and next steps, and you’re on the move, standing up. 

every woman sitting at aja’s table is up on their feet in five seconds flat, except for aja and her friend, though the friend gives you a look that could cut glass. you can hear everyone from your table getting up behind you, too. 

what’s your problem? says one of the women standing opposite.

i’m a doctor. you’re not even looking at her, but when she says, sure you are, there’s enough menace in it to stop you in your tracks. then janine has an iron grip on your arm, trying to drag you away. it’s too late. when you said you’re a doctor, you believed it, and with that the world has come into focus with perfect clarity. the rest doesn’t matter.

is she diabetic? you say.

janine hisses in your ear stupid fucking bitch fast and low and you can see a flicker of movement to your right, another woman from your side coming for you, so you wrestle free from janine and dart a few steps forward. as quick and smooth as if you’d planned it, a woman from aja’s side steps behind you, between you and your own table. she’s taller than you by about six inches. she says, yeah, she’s diabetic. 

permission enough. you sit down on the other side of aja. up close, she’s sweating and wearing a concerned expression, like she’s forgotten where she left her phone. you can hear the guards shouting, getting closer. you ignore them.

don’t touch her, the friend snaps.

who’s gonna take her pulse, then? keeping a careful eye on the friend, you reach for aja’s arm. nobody stops you. aja herself looks at you with vague suspicion in her golden brown eyes, but she’s not all there enough to resist. once you get your fingers on her wrist and find her pulse, you don’t bother counting it for a full thirty seconds, that’s how fast her heartbeat is going. 

at this point, the outside world has gotten too loud, too insistent, and you can feel the moment about to break. 

she needs sugar now, you say to the friend. or she’ll end up in a coma.

got it, she says, and then the guards are on you. with shouts and shoves, they break up the gathering, end lunch ten minutes early. with a yank of your shirt, you’re returned to your group. 

what the fuck is wrong with you, janine hisses, but you barely hear her. you’re still thinking on your patient, trying to get a look. you think you see the friend reaching for somebody else’s tray—to get a packet of strawberry jam, maybe—but you can’t be sure.

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it makes no sense. your head throbs. if janine’s threats are even half true, you’re in for more trouble than you know how to handle, and you didn’t know how to handle your troubles before. but somehow, once you’re in the laundry room, it happens. 

you realize that you like it all. the strong smell of detergent, the sun coming in golden through the high windows built too thin for jumpers, the way you have to lean forward and really push against the weight of hundreds of t-shirts in the hamper trolley. even the finicky machine quitting mid-cycle only amuses you, because you know the trick to starting it up again: thump it in the right spot a couple times, hear it rumble back to work. it’s not until one of the guards passes by you that you hear, the fuck are you smiling about? and you realize you were smiling at all. you stop at once.

the thing is: you fucking did it. at dinner, you’ll see aja sitting at that same table, eating and talking clearly. she’ll be fine. you did that. you never thought you’d get this again, but it seems not everything is over. there is still a little life in you, enough to save hers.

not everything is over, and for once you can think about the letter tucked into your bra without it burning you. 

you don’t imagine it contains forgiveness—hope isn’t the same as delusion—but there could still be something in it that you would want to keep. richie could never respect your decision to leave. loyalty is what he’s cared about most, the one value he’s managed to cling onto by the skin of his teeth. but he might at least understand. 

times past, he has understood you far better than you expected, and strangely enough, you’ve understood him too. he might understand you now. stranger things have happened.

you won’t read the letter, of course. but you’ll keep that possibility with you, the one thing you have left to hold.

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.

hey doc, come here. look at this. 

janine is calling to you from across the laundry room, beckoning you towards the back corner where the security cameras don’t quite reach. you hesitate. you’re not stupid. that’s exactly the spot they once made you stand guard, and given how publicly you ignored all orders today, you wouldn’t be surprised if it was janine’s turn to stand watch and your turn to take the beating. it’s been a while since you’ve done that. you’re probably rusty. ah, fuck it.

you leave the bin of stained shirts where it is and walk over, rounding the corner to find two women waiting for you. one you recognize immediately as an enforcer, blonde and tall and glaring ferociously at you. the other, slight and silver-haired, is the leader. 

do you know why you’re here? she says. calm, even pleasant, like a schoolteacher. 

i have a guess, you say.

so the leader explains. she takes her time with it, uses so many words, but the long and short of it is: you have been living an easy life. they have been taking care of you, and you’ve repaid them with nothing but trouble. angie—the massive woman leaning on the far wall, the enforcer—burned herself today in the kitchen, on purpose, badly enough that she got sent to the infirmary. sure enough, there’s a bandage around the enforcer’s left forearm. aja was supposed to also be in the infirmary, unconscious.

why angie and aja would need to be in the infirmary together, with aja unconscious, is obvious. the leader doesn’t need to explain that part. 

interfering is a crime. interfering in someone else’s murder is a crime whose punishment you can’t afford.

i didn’t know, you say. on hearing your thin voice, you realize your mistake. times like these, you’re supposed to keep your mouth shut. matter of fact, almost always, you’re supposed to keep your mouth shut. 

i’ve been told you have a letter on you, the leader says. let me see it.

you say nothing. she motions to the enforcer.

in your second tremendously stupid choice of the day, you fight back. you duck one punch only to get your ears rung by another, square in the left eye. after that, she deals with you easily, with the advantages of height, weight, reach, and the knowledge that this might be her one chance to get you back. she hates you and she fights like it, like she might just kill you and call it an accident. it’s all you can do to keep quiet, not yell for help. 

in under a minute, she’s back to the leader with your letter in her hand, snatched from your bra. the sound of your own heavy breathing is so unsteady, it’s almost as bad as crying. your eye has already begun to swell up. 

we have a problem, the leader says. if you can’t follow the most basic instructions, how can we trust you? and if we can’t trust you, what can we do? 

in the silence, you realize: they have everything now.

you need to prove that we can trust you. you have no idea how you could possibly do that, and then she adds, tell me about what you did for linda.

this time, you think it through before you open your mouth. 

you know what she’s asking about, of course. it’s the only thing you’ve ever done for your boss’s wife directly, and you were told to keep it secret, too. an iud for her daughter-in-law, along with a fake fertility treatment. what a woman would do to convince the people closest to her that she wants children, when she doesn’t. you know what those men are like.

i don’t know what you’re talking about, you finally say. if you have a problem with linda, go settle it with her. 

the enforcer starts forward, but the leader stops her. i’ll give you the night to think about it, she says, as undisturbed as ever. but first, i want you to tell me the list of things we could do if you turn out to not be trustworthy. i need to make sure that you know.

you need to get these women away from you so badly now that it’s almost easy to talk. 

you could kill me. you say that first because you doubt they’d bother with that much effort. or make my life miserable. you could keep that letter. you could talk to your boss and work it so i get stuck in here for a ten-year stretch. 

and other than that?

i don’t know.

we could make it so you never work as a doctor again.

does she know?

her pale green eyes give nothing away, and the longer you stare at her, desperately trying to pierce her pitiless calm, the more you feel you’re only exposing yourself. eventually, you give up. it doesn’t matter if she knows. the carusos know. if they expose you, the best years of your life, spent in hard work and little else, they’ll be gone. the worst years of your life, spent in restless loneliness and little else, they’ll be gone too. if that bomb drops, there’s no point to any of it. a decade of your life, best and worst, all for nothing. every second of every day. everyone you pushed away. 

i’m in jail, you manage to say. i don’t think i’ll get work as a doctor ever again.

i’m just the messenger, the leader says. see you tomorrow.

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that night, you wait for janine to snore, then you bury your face in the pillow and discover that you’re wound too tight to even cry. the pillow smells like old socks. you turn over and stare up at the bunk bed above you instead. 

it’s not a choice, it’s just pure dread. in this place, you have nobody else. if the italians drop you, you’ll be as easily extinguished as the slugs that little boys like to sprinkle with salt, but it’ll take much longer, however long they make your sentence. your lawyer said the feds were trying to pin human trafficking on you. maybe they’ll succeed. it’s life or hell, that’s the point. life or hell isn’t a choice.

you will tell them what they want to know. they will pass it back up the chain to old caruso, who in turn will figure out that alessandra has been fooling him all along with that combination of iud and fake fertility treatment. wronged the family, in his eyes. maybe, given the raid that came not long after, it will be considered a sign that she knew the end was coming and helped it along.

maybe she did snitch. you don’t know. does the truth matter? this man looked at his own wounded son and said, he should be dead. not helping death along was his idea of fatherhood. but he had considered it, you know. this is the man you’re going to deliver your patient to, the man who has you by the throat.

when you first learned about the hippocratic oath, you found it romantic in the only way you could bear: do no harm. not be kind or even do good, not change the world or save the day, and certainly nothing as lushly irrational as love. something possible and real. a solid foundation. first, do no harm. 

alessandra might never know that you’re the one who gave her up.

that’s your patient, you remember a veteran surgeon saying to another resident. you can’t exactly remember what made him say it, some disrespect, but the viciousness of his voice left an impression on you. the unspoken seemed obvious. they’re the patient, you’re the doctor. they let you cut them wide open and put your hands inside them, so you better be prepared to show some fucking respect. surgeons always have a reputation for ego, so maybe it had nothing to do with treating the patient well, maybe it was a pure ego thing. but it felt, and still feels, like a personal claim. you violate your own patient and you might as well be a leafless tree, an unloving father.

you think over the leader’s words, trying to find yourself some loophole. relive each word as best you can while sniffing back snot because you have no tissues. but all you find is that the letter is gone now too, and with that, you tighten your jaw and refuse to let yourself start crying, because this time if you lose it, you’ll be lost.

the laundry room sunlight feels like it fell on your face years ago. that hope is gone. richie would not understand you abandoning your patient, and you wouldn’t want him to. you don’t even want him living in the same country as this fucking place. 

why didn’t you open that letter when you had the chance? if it’s not understanding, it’s probably rage, and you want that.  you would willingly read in excruciating detail just how fucked up it is that you caused his best friend’s death and then wormed your way so deep into his life that you could see him up close fighting the grief like a fish against the hook. you’d take that. if he tells you to go fuck yourself, fair enough. as long as it’s his words. that letter is the last of him, and you want it. 

that letter is the last of him because once you give up alessandra, there’s no coming back. once you give up alessandra, you’re not just a legal liability, not just a burden, but a genuine honest to god piece of shit twice over. you were a piece of shit already, but this?

you only realize you had hope now that you’re losing it. you only know you want to be a doctor once your license is on the line; you only know you were going to go back to him now that the door is receding many more years into the distance. there’s some life left in you, yeah. that’s not a good thing.

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.

when you get up out of bed the next morning to meet your fate, your left eye has swollen up so badly you can barely see out of it. you face the morning, the sudden harsh overheads turning on, with half vision and a desperate, helpless longing to be numb. the numbness doesn’t return, though the leader does. 

she sits next to you at breakfast. there’s no enforcer this time. apparently you’re not enough of a threat.

well? she says.

you should’ve cried last night; maybe then you wouldn’t feel such an intense urge to cry now. stupid. you say nothing. you want to pick at the lumps of rubbery scrambled egg on your tray, but you only stare at them.

this is your chance. she doesn’t say it like a threat. she says it like a friend. you sure you have nothing to tell me?

it’s happening, you can feel it happening, but you can barely process. she thinks your silence is a no. she thinks she’s being denied. and you know you need to tell her what she wants to hear, but the guilt of it is so heavy that your mouth stays closed. you’re terrified of her. of yourself. you know what will happen once you crack and open your mouth and let your patient down: your life will be over. and you have no idea of exactly what will happen if you don’t open your mouth, but your imagination can fill in those blanks a thousand different ways. 

you’re just fucking scared in all directions, and what it amounts to is this: you keep your mouth shut.

after what feels like hours, the leader speaks.

okay, she says. i’ll pass it on. 

she gets up from the table. around you, women are eating and joking and squabbling as usual. it doesn’t feel like you made a decision. it doesn’t feel like the end of anything. it just feels like you’re waiting for the next punch to land.

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days go by and you’re still tensed, waiting for that punch. nothing seems to change, but it’s cold comfort. and there’s no comfort in the moral victory, either—discovering that you have a single principle left doesn’t make you feel any better when all your energy goes into keeping your guard up. every dull hour, every dull meal could be taken away from you at any moment. the afternoon light in the laundry room is still beautiful. somebody should try to hurt you, and soon. if they don’t, you’re just going to lose it.

and then there she is. the enforcer, sitting on your bed, when you come back from the laundry room smelling of bleach from the white shirts. the burn on her arm is still bandaged. in full light, she looks even bigger. dirty blonde hair swept back in a ponytail, grey eyes hateful. 

when she takes out that blue envelope, your chest tightens. you can tell that she enjoys the look on her face, but it doesn’t last long. it’s strange. she tosses the letter with a dismissive gesture, and it lands on the floor between you.

congratulations. she still hates you, that much is clear—but she’s no longer enjoying herself, and that’s vital. that’s a good sign.

yeah? you say.

jack says you pass. 

she shoves past you hard on her way out. it’s all you can do not to snatch up the letter from the ground, to try and look as though you have some kind of control. 

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> dear julie, 

> i don’t know if you remember me, but you dated my best friend mikey a while ago. when i found out you got arrested, i talked to tina about it. she said you helped him till the day he died, and you’re the one who got us narcan.

> that sounds about right to me. i heard negative things about you once, but i never believed them. some things only come around once in a while, like a leap year. (which doesn’t have 365 days, it has 366.) one of those rare things is a friend who’s there when you need them. you have to recognize them when you see them. i think i recognize you now.

> this is just me saying that we haven’t forgotten you. tina says hi, and i’ll come visit, if you’ve got the time to spare. i’m guessing you’re pretty bored in there, and i can honk my horn and take a pie to the face as well as the next guy. 

> yours,

> richie

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.

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yeah, that’s him. 

you know it’s him on the first reread, because you can see all the tightness falling away as he writes, from the cramped propriety and false casualness in the first sentences to the dear clown stupidity of the last. you know it’s him on the second reread, because he’s lying in his own way, trying to fit in with what you wanted, pretending he’s just the friend of your ex, not admitting to knowing you. you’re crying. you’ve waited a long time to cry. that’s incidental. 

it’s only on the fifth reread that you snag on the part about the leap year. it’s the weirdest part, the parentheses. long after you have the letter half-memorized and tucked away in your bra, after dinner and lights out, you’re thinking on it. you fall asleep to the question and wake up the next morning with the answer. 

i’d bet my life that there was a sig p365 in his hand when they found him.

some things only come around once in a while, like a leap year. (which doesn’t have 365 days, it has 366.)

what if it wasn’t you?

no, you’ve been inside for less than two months and you’re already detaching from reality. that’s probably what’s happening here. but you can practically feel the warmth coming off the page, and that’s all that matters. 

your nose is practically fountaining snot, and without kleenex, you just wipe it on your sleeve and read the letter again.

it’s only hours later that you stop obsessing over the letter for long enough to truly realize what has happened. you’re going to be okay. 

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.

.

the days pass quiet now. your swelled eye heals up slowly, until one morning you have full vision again. just as before, all you do is sleep, eat, work, and keep to yourself. nothing has changed. 

nothing has changed on the surface.

.

.

.

you think about alessandra all the time, because of course you do. 

just because old caruso couldn’t get you to flip on her doesn’t mean she’s safe, and yet you think about her the way you think about aja, the way you think about a gap-toothed surgery patient from way back in your residency sometimes. the thing that made you text your bosses begging for news about the carbon monoxide poisoning patients. that’s still in you. 

you know you can’t actually save anyone in a way that lasts—any and all work can be undone in an car-crash instant, and sometimes is—but still. one of your patients has to make it, or else what’s the point?

eventually you stop seeing aja around, but you don’t hear any talk about her getting killed, so you figure: that’s the one. that’s the one you got to save. it makes no sense, you know, but you have this feeling that if you get to save anyone, you only get to save one. so you try to prepare for the news that alessandra is gone. 

but when the news comes of a death in that family, it’s not the one you expected.

you stare at your lawyer, shocked. wait, so old caruso is dead?

suicide, she says matter of factly. hung himself in his cell. 

the fuck? so do we think that… you trail off, mindful of the cameras, even if they’re technically supposed to be turned off for lawyer consultations. you believe he’s dead, but you don’t believe for a second that he actually killed himself. 

your lawyer shrugs. who knows. all that matters is that apparently there’s an informer of some sort that’s turned over a bunch of shit—cellphone records, emails—and they’re willing to give an affidavit that you were threatened. there’s a couple pretty graphic and specific examples. for example, allegedly, after the first surgery you performed in the easystop basement, the oldest of caruso’s sons put his hand in the semi-coagulated blood and—

he’s dead now, you feel obligated to say. it’s whatever. you remember it well, though you wish you didn’t.

she’s admirably noncommittal, your lawyer. it would be nice if it wasn’t so annoying. which one is dead now?

most of them, i guess. the father’s dead, the oldest son is dead, and the youngest son will probably never be the same despite your best efforts. considering those numbers, it’s nothing short of a miracle that jack, the middle son, has apparently decided to spare you. you kept your mouth shut on behalf of his wife, but right now there’s such a tangle of complications and so few actual facts available to you that you can’t begin to guess what’s truly happening behind the scenes. you can only be grateful that you haven’t been hurt worse. 

your lawyer is considering you with shrewd eyes. after a second, she says, if i can get you a plea deal, will you take it? 

i can’t testify, you say automatically.

i know. i think i can get a deal without testimony included.

wait, really? 

she gives you a look, as if to say, catch up, dummy.

how many years? you say.

months, possibly. we’ll see.

you hardly know what to say to that. cool, you say, feebly.

you’ve kept your mouth shut, so they’re taking it easy on you, that’s the bottom line. it feels like a copout to escape the worst punishments on the basis that you were coerced, even if that’s true, because you feel like you probably deserve worse. but fuck, you’ll take mercy from anywhere right now, right and wrong and dignity be damned.

i’ll let you know. your lawyer gets up to go, but just as you’re about to call for the guard, she stops short. oh, one last thing. your landlady finally agreed that you don’t need to pay her rent for the past two months.

lovely.

she threw out all of your belongings that the cops didn’t take.

can’t say i’m surprised. it still hurts, but it’s a hurt dwarfed by the immense relief of an imminent plea deal. i’d sue, but we both know my retainer’s gonna run out too soon for that.

she did forward your mail to me, though. 

my mail? what is it, a dollar fifty off a personal pan pizza?

one postcard from your mom and her boyfriend and his family. one interview request for a doctoral residency program in indiana. 

you don’t know which of those is weirder. the residency applications you mostly did in a period of loneliness and boredom. they were an exercise in desperation daydreaming, not meant to touch real life, and you never even imagined a person reading the papers you submitted. getting a response, a good response, is as strange as a character stepping off a page. and your mom having a boyfriend is no surprise, but a boyfriend with a family? the world’s ended, yeah, but is the world ending?

can you forward those to me? you say.

they’re already in the mail. you should get them within the next two weeks.

when your lawyer leaves, you’re still sitting there. the guard has to call your name twice before you get up.

what a fucking week.

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if you’re gonna get out in months, then…

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you earn seventy-two cents per day working in the laundry. the first time you go to the commissary, you buy a stamp, an envelope, and a blank card. then you smuggle detergent out of the laundry room so you can bribe janine into letting you borrow her pen.

you have richie’s letter memorized, but you read it again anyway. then you stare at the blank white space of the card. 

what is there to say? well, fucking everything, but there isn’t much you can say with the inevitable prison guard reading it all too. that cuts you off from saying most things, and then dignity wants you to shut up about the rest. sorry i thought my life was over and tore you to pieces about it. turns out my life isn’t over, can we be friends again?

thing is, if you write him a letter, he’ll write back, even if it’s to tell you to fuck off. and honestly at this point, you’d give up a lot more than dignity for that. so here fucking goes.

> dear richie,

> thank you for writing. i’m not good company right now and i can’t really write letters, but maybe we can get coffee sometime when i’m out?

> yours,

> julie

the yours gives you away, but you have so little else to offer. and besides, he started it.

it’s disciplined. that’s what you’re trying to tell yourself. it’s disciplined and concise and it gets across exactly as much as he needs to know and jesus fucking christ that short note looks absolutely pitiful in the comparatively vast white space of the card. 

so you make an addition.

> p.s. tear the bottom off for eva.

as best as you can, you draw the horses from memory. arched necks, white and dark patches on their coats, as close to the style of the girl who loved horses as you can. and then one girl with a superhero’s mask and a cape, holding up an apple so the tallest horse can eat it. you don’t draw well, but you don’t have the pen long enough to try a do-over. there’s a small chance you’ll make her smile, and that’s all you want. 

lick envelope, peel stamp, and send.

[ next chapter pending ] [ masterlist ]

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a huge thank you to all readers.

taglist: @garbinge, @narcolini, @drabbles-mc, @beingalive1, @eternallyvenus, @cerial-junkie, @jackierose902109, @shinebright2000, @scorpiolystoned, @fancyvoidtragedy, @justficsandstuff, @fromirkwood, @gills-lounge, @lostfleurs, @spicydonut25— if anyone wants to be added to or removed from the taglist, let me know!

[themculibrary]

Bucky/Clint Road Trip Fics Masterlist

Americana is for Lovers (ao3) - ccbytheseashore M, 8k

Summary: Please tell me you are still alive, read Steve's text.

In Virginia, Bucky replied.

The hell are you doing in Virginia?

Would you believe me if I said trying to find a foam sculpture of Stonehenge?

Tony said to make sure his car comes back in once piece. Please don't shoot each other.

Clint and Bucky set off on an adventure to find an infamous work of Americana history, but find literally everything else (including love) instead.

Aw, Blood, No (ao3) - Reremouse (TheBelfry) M, 19k

Summary: Being turned into a vampire was never part of Clint “Mr. Actual Ray of Human Sunshine (sometimes)” Barton’s life plan. But they say life is what happens while you’re making other plans, and when an Avengers mission to take out a Hydra base goes disastrously wrong, Clint comes out of the fray undead.

Unfortunately for Clint, SHIELD has guidelines to deal with agents who have been turned into vampires: bring them in, or take them out. Fortunately, Bucky is both well-versed in vampires (Hydra—what are you going to do?) and evading SHIELD. Fortunately, Bucky is both well-versed in vampires (Hydra—what are you going to do?) and evading SHIELD.

And sometimes “I’m your hostage. Get moving,” is the way Bucky says “I love you.”

blank passivity (i'm hiding my shit-eating grin) (ao3) - WHYISEVERYNAMETAKEN T, 21k

Summary: Upon being handed a mission that includes a tiny car, a cross-country roadtrip, and also, oh yeah, the Winter Soldier, Clint can honestly say that he's not having a great time. Adding in the fact that Barnes doesn't even want to talk to him has Clint preparing himself for the longest drive of his life.

(Clint is also pretty sure that Captain America hates him, but that's neither here nor there.)

OR

If I had a nickel for every time [Bucky took a picture with a beaver], I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice -Dr. Doofenshmirtz

crying wolf out to the moon (ao3) - shatteredhourglass T, 3k

Summary: Clint decides it's a good idea to drag Bucky on a road trip on the day of the full moon. Bucky's too weak for Clint to deny him anything, even if it is in fact, a goddamn terrible idea.

drive ‘n whine (ao3) - hawksonfire G, 1k

Summary: Bucky’s been stuck in the Tower for too long, so Clint does something about it.

Liminal Spaces (ao3) - thepartyresponsible M, 20k

Summary: “Clint,” Steve says, and it’s that same no-bullshit, do-or-die, I really, really mean it voice he used to trot out in the last few innings of close games in high school. “Bucky’s not gonna fly. He’s not going to drive himself. He can’t— I need you to drive him here.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Clint says, and hangs up.

Runaways (ao3) - madetobeworthy G, 1k

Summary: Sometimes Bucky needs to be gone, and sometimes Clint goes with him. They don't need to speak, just listen to the radio as the car devours the miles ahead of them.

see the stars come out of the sky (ao3) - veryrach M, 11k

Summary: “Arrested, yeah, I remember. How the hell do you have ten grand in cash - no, you know what, don’t tell me, forget I asked,” Clint says resignedly. “So let me get this straight. You want me to drive all the way out to Niagara Falls, pick up what I’m sure is a totally legit random bag of cash from somewhere, use it to bail you out, and drive all the way back.”

In which Bucky helps Clint help Barney. There’s a road trip, slightly inept fumbling of the emotional and physical varieties, and a bit with a dog.

the search for clint (ao3) - pherryt G, 2k

Summary: It’s a long road Bucky’s on, and he can only hope Clint is at the end of it.

The Start of Something (ao3) - kookykoi T, 1k

Summary: Bucky had the bright idea of going on a road trip. Clint had the brighter idea of going with him.

worse than a motel 6 (ao3) - spiralsystem T, 7k

Summary: Nat and Clint are assigned to take down the remaining Hydra bases on the outskirts of civilization, the ones that the others clearly don’t have time for. Oh well, road trip for Clint! Until Nat, Clint, and the one person Clint Really wanted to avoid, run into each other at the shadiest motel Clint has ever seen.

you’re my best friend (ao3) - pherryt G, 9k

Summary: Clint and Bucky need to go on a road trip to get to their next mission which Clint figures is the best way to get to know Bucky even better. It goes better than planned!

[white-poppie]

Healing ★ ft. jjk men (Geto, Gojo, Nanami, Toji)

synopsis: how the jjk men help you heal from your fears and worries

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

The way your heart jumps to your throat at Geto-sama cursing out some damn 'monkey' is almost pitiful. Its cruel, the way he is gritting his teeth, the way his voice booms in the echoing chambers

Suguru's rage, its not even directed at you. But his voice is a bit too loud for your liking. Till it overpowers any other voice in your surroundings and sends your mind into an overdrive.

A numbing buzz echoes in the cortex of your brain and you feel a familiar heat behind your eyes.

It claws at you, your bottom lip trembling in the storm you get caught until a soft warmth holds your shoulders.

You look in front, met by scrunched eyebrows, that furrow in concern, pale lips parted in concern.

"Angel?" the storm says, his breath caught in his lungs. But he's cruel alright? Relentless, but the storm calms. He turns into soft gusts around you. Suguru cups your face in his hands, thumb caressing the apple of your cheeks.

"You okay?" he asks quietly and you nod softly.

"What happened? You zoned for quite a bit there, scared me there, angel."

""s nothing, I just got a little startled when you...spoke a little loudly." you say and his eyes soften, pale lips pressing on your temple.

"Sorry angel, I should've been more careful around you, it's my fault, but you gotta know my anger could never be directed towards you," he murmurs, brushing his hand through your hair.

A storm indeed, but Suguru is your breeze on an autumn afternoon.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

You listen intently to Satoru as you both sit on the dinner table. He goes on about his day, the way he was a pain in the ass for the higher-ups again. You chuckle and take a sip from the glass next to your plate, but your fingers lose their grip on the glass as it falls down, shards scattering on the marbled floor. Your eyes widen and silence crashes down in the living area, your breathing fastens and you don't even dare look back at Gojo.

"I am sorry- I am so sorry, I'll clean it up." You say letting out a rictus laugh as you lean down to haphazardly pick up the glass shards, your hands trembling like having just come from the shower on a winter day.

Bending down you pick up the shards with your bare fingers and Satoru's eyebrows furrow at your behaviour.

"Y/N, sweetheart you are gonna prick yourself with those shards." He says but his words cease to travel the vacuum you have built around yourself.

Gojo kneels to your level and grabs your wrist, feeling your erratic pulse under his fingers, the shiver of your limbs, you look similar to a dog under a firework show and his chest hurts.

"Sweetheart relax, you'll hurt yourself," he says softly, terrified, even more than you possibly. He is so scared of scaring you. He is so scared of making it worse. You take in a sharp breath and nod lightly.

"Let me get the dust-pan and broom this," he whisper softly, leaving you between the constellation of the shards, your thoughts, coiled into an unforgiving a ball, only broken when he walks back, kneeling beside you, gently dusting the pieces into the pan as he looks at you with a smile.

"There, all done," he says and searches into your eyes for a reaction. The faint cinkle in them shouts, 'you are not mad at me?' It’s so obvious from the watery look on your face.

“I am not mad, sweetheart, I could never be mad at you” He affirms and smiles. His hands, move to brush your hair gently, reaffirming it.

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

You hate this. You hate how stupid this scanning ticket-check system makes you feel. It makes you feel like a boomer, a hobo if you might as you struggle with getting the scan done. Its not even then fact you can't operate it. You can easily operate it, but there's people behind you, waiting, groaning all the the while your hands tremble in mortification.

Beep. Denied

Beep. Denied.

Beep. Denied again

It was never ending, the machine kept on denying your effort and you could swear you heard someone in the line behind you groan.

"Here, let me," a voice interjects and you look up at Nanami, his eyes softening at the sight of your flushed face as he gently takes the ticket from you and gets it scanned...oh so it was this way. You feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment, wanting to cry out of anxiety.

You feel Nanami's arm against your lower back as it curls around your waist, walking a few steps ahead with you, his embrace blocking any extraneous factors that trouble you.

"You okay, love?" he inquires softly, his thumb rubbing circles on your spine.

"I feel stuped Ken'" you mumble your voice cracking.

“You are one of the smartest people I know, y/n” he coos slightly, “you just got overwhelmed, even the best of us get overwhelmed sometimes and that’s alright.” He says, caressing your shoulder gently.

“There’s a lot of things you can do that I can’t.”

“Like?”

“Hmmm….like being this effortlessly cute all the time.” He chuckles and kisses your forehead.

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

Toji Fushiguro was one of those men who had not an ounce of gentleness in them. Those hunter eyes of his that never softened at anything. Its not his fault, its just the way he looks. He can't help it.

The thing about Toji is that he snores while sleeping and yet somehow even with those deep snores, his sleep is restless.

So when he grumbles and opens his eyes to your dry sobs, scrunched eyebrows and spasmodic body. He jolts awaken.

The thing with Toji is that he hates his sleep being disturbed, but what he hates even more is seeing you in despair, seeing you suffer like that.

"Y/N, wake up, you are having a nightmare," he says, softly nudging you with his scarred hands. You jolt awake and turn to him, your eyes blurry, your cheeks wet, and your lips parted for an aborted sob.

Toji's heart drops to his stomach at the visual. He sits up straight and his arms instantly come up to pull you to his chest.

"Ssh, what did you dream about baby?" he asks, letting you nuzzle into him and get comfortable as his hands softly caress your back, his warm palm running up and down, heating your cold body.

You sigh against his chest and shake your head, "Just had a dream that you left me..." You say and he sighs, resting his chin on your head

"Such stupid dreams my baby has," he says calmly, his deep voice rumbling in a low purr. "How could I ever leave you?"

© white-poppie 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, or translate without permission. do not claim work or layout as yours.

"Of Vengeance and Ashes” -> BUY NOW!!!! [Synopsis: Read full synopsis HERE ... The year is 1759, London. Shakespeare’s new estate is set on fire by Reverend Francis Gastrell. History repeats itself, 250 years later when Luna Gastrell stands in turmoil due to her ancestry taking a sinister turn. A ploy of vengeance, illusions, betrayals, blooming romance and morally conflicting measures, and the cards lie in favour of none.] I am a 16-year-old author who needs support, I assure you it won't disappoint! It's okay if you don't buy, it would be enough to share the link with someone else who might be interested! I humbly request you support my career as a child author by purchasing my book. This would help me to write more books in future!

Also Check out: L'appel du vide (✔️) (Synopsis: Your husband, Hanma Shuji is dead! With no memories of what transpired two days before his death, you team up with Tachibana Naoto, Chifuyu Matsuno, Ryuguji Ken and Mitsuya Takashi, you go on a journey full of betrayals and twists. Can you find out what really happened to your husband? )

— JUJUTSU KAISEN - Fanfictions

TAGS: @akumicchi, @rintaroubby @nanaseishiro @cleaningfairylevi, @buttercupspotify, @euphoricbi @ynjimenez

﹒ Taglist   (lmk in the comments in case you wanna be added and the link doesn't work!)

[ottpopfic]

He can't do this, and now he's wrecked everything here too, Leo turns on his heel and books it out of the house.

“Leo! Where are you going?!” Piper calls after him as the screen door slams, but it doesn't matter.

He just runs, and keeps running, just mindless sprinting as fast and as far as he can go. He's going to keep going, just like always, until he collapses in a new place with a new start like all the times before. Or he would if he didn't hear Piper call after him

“Leo Stop!”

Its charms speak, magic the only thing able to push past the need to get the fuck out of there. His legs lock mid-stride, momentum overbalancing him as he careens ass over tea kettle into the dead cattails. He still feels the need to run, the need to go, but he can't move his limbs with the spell on him. He ends up just laying on his back, looking up at the gray winter sky and screaming himself raw into the empty air

“Jesus Christ” Piper pants when she finally catches up to him, hands on her knees as she sucks wind “How are you so fast with those short little legs”

“Fuck you” he yells back trying to kick to no avail “Let me go!”

“Are you gonna run if I do?”

“You don't need me here” he continues to yell, but he's sounding more choked then he would ever admit “I'm just making everything worse like always, let me go!”

“Of course I don't need you dumb ass, but I sure as shit want you, get back in the goddamn house”

“You can't make me” he screams like a tantruming child

“Yes I fucking can!” Piper yells back, one hand still on her knee as she continues to try and catch her breath, the other pointing back the way they came “Get Back In The House!”

Leo goes, she can make him after all

“Never run off on me like that again” Piper berates him once they are both back inside, shoving him down onto the couch “you didn't even grab a coat!”

“A coat!?” he shouts hackles raised “That's all you care about?”

“Shut the fuck up” she scolds, finger in his face “Stop being an asshole I know what you're doing”

“What!? What am I doing?”

“You're trying to pick a fight to make me push you away” she reprimands “It's not gonna work dickhead all you are doing is scaring the shit out of me!”

“Exactly” he cries, half needing the fight, half wanting to curl up in a corner and die “I'm just making everything worse, I brought the shit here with me, I need to go!”

“No” Piper cuts him off “No shut up, I'm done doing this we’re watching Moana”

“What?!”

Piper beelines for the remote “SHUT UP WE’RE WATCHING MOANA”

They watch Moana, it's as good as the last three times Leo has seen it, one of the ones Georgie always requests for movie night. At the Way Station they have an old but reliable projector that's been tinkered into near sentience, casting its light on the wall that holds the building's liminal space. It makes Leo a little homesick, too bad he can never go back

They end up with Leo curled up against one arm of the couch with Piper laid out across the rest, her head on Leo’s shoulder and her arms around his waist like she's trying to hold him down. It's nice, to be held, it feels like a long time since he's been held. Even when he and Cal cuddled, alone or during the movie nights, it was always Leo doing the holding. And it felt stiff, awkward. He would get hugs from Georgie and Jo and Emmi, but they never held him, he never let them

“I lied” Piper murmurs eventually into the still

“Hmm?”

“Earlier when I said I didn't need you,” she confesses, eyes on the singing crab “I lied. I do need you”

Leo heaves a huge sigh and rests his head on top of hers, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to hold her back “I need you too Beauty Queen”

They watch Ponyo next, and then Thumbelina, and then somewhere in the middle of The Princess Bride Mr. McClean comes home. Leo gets roped into helping with dinner, it feels good to do something with his hands, he's starting to feel the prickling in his fingers as his creation calls to him asking to be finished. He pointedly ignores the feeling

[thewritersofdeceased]

im really bad at writing these little things before the official story thing ain't I? but recently, it snowed in my state so what better to way to get back into writing the outsiders x reader than small headcanons for them!!

The greaser boys x s/o who loves winter!

DARREL CURTIS

Darry prefers summertime all the way, it's too cold to do roofing in the winter.

But with an S/O who loves winter? He just wants to make sure they're warm.

If they're out in the snow too long, he's already preparing hot chocolate for them.

Of course, he enjoys the facts that Ponyboy and Sodapop enjoy being in the snow with them, but he gets worried about all of them getting sick

will take care of his s/o if they do get sick from the snow

SODAPOP CURTIS

Like Darry, Sodapop prefers the summertime! He doesn't own many jackets

But that doesn't mean he wouldn't play in the snow with his s/o! Sure, he'll get sick but he doesn't care!

He has so much fun with you! especially when it comes to snowball fights or even making snow angels!

after a while, he'd make his s/o come inside, mostly at night since he doesn't trust the SOCs to come around and start a snowball war.

PONYBOY CURTIS

Just like his older brothers, he isn't fond of the snow but he'll deal with it.

His S/O and him probably walk to school together, and it sometimes results with a snowball fight between the two.

He doesn't enjoy sitting on the snow mostly, it's way too damn cold.

And just like Sodapop, he doesn't wear jackets or own many so he always freezes..

JOHNNY CADE

Johnny's used to the colder weather so he doesn't have a problem with the snow

He'll sit with his s/o in the snow and watch them play, it'll just take a bit of time for him to actually play in the snow as well!

He'll definitely freeze a bit and complain, but who can blame him?

He also has never had hot chocolate- so, that's gonna have to be made for him.

DALLAS WINSTON

the biggest complainer in the world.

In other words, he absolutely HATES, no LOATHES, winter.

Winter pisses him off because he gets sick quickly and can't wear his leather jacket without freezing his ass off.

Complains ALL DAY LONG. LITERALLY ALL DAY.

STEVE RANDEL

like Dallas, hates it

He doesn't like the feeling of big poofy jackets, he just wants his vest

it also sucks for when he's working on cars, the ABSOLUTE worse.

makes good chicken soup for if you get sick outside though!

TWO BIT MATTHEWS

THE ONLY ONE WHO DOESN'T HATE THE SNOW!!

Becuase he has a little sister, he's used to going out into the snow with anyone!

Actually bundles up and goes out with you, going from snowball fights to snow angels, to making snowmen!

Two's the best man to ask whenever it's winter, doesn't matter how cold he gets!

[balkanradfem]

So, nobody asked, but I am going to tell you about a weird health(?) thing that I have going on, just because I think it's weird and funny, and not all that concerning but kinda like, interesting.

I've been going on about how I have low blood pressure, and this winter it's been worse than ever; which is curious. Because low blood pressure is usually the worst in summer when it's hot, but here I am, in December, collapsing on the floor and losing my vision every time I stand up, feeling dizzy all day because my blood is just not feeling it. So I'm like, okay, I'm gonna work on this, I'm gonna salt my food double, I'm gonna drink tons of water, so I did all that. And nothing, I'm still collapsing all the time.

But, I've noticed that every time I go outside in the freezing cold, I'm suddenly feeling clear and awake and better. So I got an idea, and I shut off the heating in my room. And this worked! Being in a constantly cold room made sure I breathe in only the cold air and it helped me normalize the blood pressure, finally I was better. I was wearing warm clothing and hiding under covers and blankets to deal with the cold.

Until one day, I was feeling very unwell, uncomfortable and upset, and I couldn't figure out what it was for the whole day, until by the end I realized my problem was that I was overheating. I figured I must have been too warmed up, so I changed into light summer pajama, and instead of my winter cover, I used my summer cover (which is just a light blanket wrapped in a sheet). And I'm lying there like, hmm, this logically isn't right; it's the end of December, temperatures outside are below zero, this room isn't heated, I'm wearing only light clothing and using a light cover, if I go to sleep like this I'm going to catch a cold. But I couldn't stand anything more warm than this so I went to sleep like that, and the next day, I had to go to work, and I was worried that I was gonna be sick.

But I wasn't, and while working I even opened up a window because the unheated room at work was also too warm for me. I came home like what is up with this, this is not my normal winter behaviour! I am usually in two sweaters, with a warm cover, in a heated room, wearing a scarf on top of all that! But every time I would try to wear any warm clothing, or put a warm cover on, I would get upset, uncomfortable, frustrated, restless and dizzy; I could only relax while in the cold.

I also lost the sense to tell the temperature; I can't tell at any point anymore if my body is warm or not, I struggle to tell if the air in the room is warm or cold, I can tell that my toes and fingers are kinda cold but I don't mind it anymore. It's now been several weeks of this and I'm still only able to be in light clothing in a cold room. If I even get into a warm shower I get all uncomfortable and dizzy, my blood pressure is immediately bad. But as long as I am in the cold, my blood pressure seems fine.

Possibly related to this, my neutral body temperature is 35,5 celsius, it used to be 36,6 when I was young but about 10 years ago it defaulted to 35,5, and if it goes any higher I am in a fever. I've not been sick or feverish though, I can't really tell what my temperature is now because I do not own a themometer, I've just been checking my forehead and it's normal. So I have a few theories about what is going on!

1. I'm turning into a vampire. My body craves the cold because my blood is trying to reach the temperature of zero as well.

2. I'm turning into a werewolf. I'm too hot because I'm secretly growing fur all over my body and any kind of clothing or covers will soon be unecessary

3. I've pissed off a witch and she threw a curse at me, saying something like 'you'll not be warm this winter' and now this is where we are

4. Cold never bothered me anyway. I'm developing my new ice powers and temperatures over zero would melt me.

Has anyone else heard of this kind of thing? My friend told me I must be menopausal but I don't get any flashes, I just can't stand any warmth!

[februaryfic]

Honey, You're Familiar: Chapter Five (AO3) (Masterpost) (4194 Words)

A Steve Harrington x meta!Reader slowburn multichapter fic.

Summary: Hanging out with Nancy and Barb, a holiday party, and helping Hopper (against his will). A winter interlude between Seasons 1 and 2.

---

November

Only a few days after the hospital, after everything, Nancy invites you to hang with her and Barb. Why she invited you is still up for debate, but you were grateful that they seemed interested in being friendly with you.

The pair met you at the door and lead you up the stairs, immediately crowding into Nancy’s bedroom. Barb and Nancy immediately took their places sat on Nancy’s bed, looking at home. 

Nancy watches as you carefully close the door behind you and look around, wide eyed. You eventually perch on the foot of the bed, crossing your legs under you.

“I wanted to thank you,” Nancy starts, “for saving Mike, I mean. He told me what you did—” she glances at your shoulder, the bandages still peeking out from underneath your t-shirt, and grabs your hands. “—thank you.”

“Anyone would have done it,” you dismiss, feeling embarrassed from the attention, “I was just the one who was there.”

“I’m just really glad you were. There, I mean,” Nancy says. “I thought you should have come with us, to fight the monster. But you were right, Steve came.”

“He actually helped too, which is even more surprising.” Barb snipes with a grin, nudging Nancy with her foot,”

“I told you, he’s a nice guy! When he wants to be…” Nancy says, clearly trailing off when she remembers the marquee. 

“I’m still going to kill him for that, you know,” Barb says. “I was too busy trying to keep Jonathan from killing him that I never got a punch in.”

“I think Jonathan managed on his own, to be fair,” you joke, falling into the easy rhythm the girls have. “Maybe you should have gone for Tommy or Carol instead.”

“Oh my god, can you imagine Carol’s expression if you punched her in the face.” Nancy says gleefully.

“God them two are the worst. Maybe even worse than Steve.” Barb muses.

“He’s ditched them now, for what it’s worth,” you say, feeling some obligation to defend Steve’s honour. “I think he’ll be way better without them.”

“You think, or you know?” Nancy asks with a sly smile, making you duck your head.

“...I know.” you admit. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it!” Barb says with a giggle. “So, I’m supposed to be dead-” Nancy’s face falls, upset, but Barb continues, “-but what’s Nancy like in the future?”

“Barb, you can’t just say that.” Nancy protests.

“Who made you the time travel police?” Barb scoffs, but still bumps the other girl’s shoulder in comfort. “I’m okay with it, Nance, really. I’ve gotten longer than I did in the other universe, I’m gonna make the most of it!” 

Turning to you, she says: “So, spill- what’s future Nancy like?”

You hem and haw over the question. “I don’t really know if I should say anything about the future…”

“Why not?” Nancy asks.

“Because! If I tell you things, it could change the way you act, influence your behaviour or your feelings! I don’t want to mess anything up too badly.” You say.

“I doubt that-” 

“If I told you that, in the future, Mrs Byers goes on a killing spree and stabs a load of people-”

“Oh my god, does she?” Barb jumps in. 

“No! But that’s my point. It would change how you felt about her in the present.”

“But what if that information would help us?” Nancy asks. 

“Then I would tell you closer to the time. The same way I told everyone about taking the kiddie pool to the middle school.”

“Why do you get to decide when we know? Don’t you think that’s kind of unethical?” Nancy challenges. She really does make an excellent journalist.

Of course, Nancy manages to ask the question you’ve been battling with yourself over for the past 3 months. 

You hang your head. “Maybe. I’ve been asking myself the same question. Ultimately, low intervention is safer. If I don’t change too much, it means my foreknowledge stays accurate for longer, meaning it remains helpful. If I start making too many changes, then maybe I change what happens completely, and we’re all left facing an unknown threat. I don’t want to take that chance.”

“But weren’t we facing unknown threats the first time?” Barb asks, “In your universe?”

“And look how that turned out!” you say, “You died in that universe. There’s other deaths, other traumas that happen in the future that I want to try and prevent too. But I can’t do that if my information isn’t accurate.”

“Meaning that you can’t change too much now.” Nancy finishes your thought. 

“Exactly.” you reply. 

The cheery, pink bedroom falls silent under the weight of your conversation for several moments. 

Barb groans. “Okay! Enough scary future talk! Nancy, what are you getting Steve for his birthday?”

“It’s his birthday soon?” you ask. Very few birthdays were ever confirmed in the series, so this is news to you.

“Yeah, the 20th, next Sunday,” Nancy confirms. “I got him a new jacket I know he’s been wanting, and we’re going to a nice dinner.”

“Gross.” Barb says, clearly just to make Nancy roll her eyes. 

“You should get him flowers.” you suggest.

“Really? But he’s a guy.” Nancy says.

“Exactly! No one ever gets guys flowers, it would be cute,” you say. 

Now, you wouldn’t admit it, even under torture, but there was maybe a teeny tiny, infintesimally small, itsy-bitsy part of you that had a crush on Steve. 

You couldn’t help it, okay? The nice hair and the kind smile, the loyalty and bravery, even the hilariously bitchy side comments he would make. You always had a crush on him in the show, and it had only gotten worse since landing in Hawkins. 

A TV show just couldn’t portray the full truth of a person, and the small glimpses of the real Steve you’ve seen since arriving here were even more enrapturing than the character on the show. You never knew the full warmth of his smile, how it feels to make him laugh, the depths of his emotional intelligence. All hinted at, but now you’ve seen them in person. And you can’t help but want more. 

But he and Nancy were still very much together at this point in the timeline, and despite knowing how it will end, you won’t be a homewrecker. Besides, just because you had a crush on him, that doesn’t mean he would ever have one on you. You’re just not the type of girl who gets crushed on by guys like that. You’re the funny best friend, or the helpful guide, or the shoulder to cry on. But not the romantic interest. Never that. 

So, you trample your feelings beneath your metaphorical boot, and give Nancy what you hope is good advice. You might not be able to ever date him, but you could at least try to make him happy from the sidelines. 

—

If you happen to drive round to Loch Nora in your new car (freshly bought with government hush money) on November 20th, leaving a neatly wrapped box of cookies and a card on Steve’s doorstep, then nobody needed to know. 

—

December

A few days after Christmas, Joyce invites everyone over for a joint holiday/’we survived’ party. In the last month, with Will back in her arms, she had forgiven you for your secrecy, after making you swear that you would continue to use your knowledge to help keep everyone safe.

The Byers’ house is decorated top to bottom in festive paraphernalia. Tinsel surrounds each window, a wicker reindeer on the porch, and a wreath on the door. Warmth pours from every window, fighting against the blue chill of the frost outside, and the sounds of chatter emanate through the walls. 

As soon as you step through the front door you are hit with a wall of noise. The kids were hollering at Will as he fought off a wave of enemies in Space Invaders, his new Atari already hooked up to the TV. Nancy and Steve were cuddled on the couch, while Barb sat close by with a mug of hot cocoa. You laugh as you spot the ‘we survived!’ banner hung over the couch, the only departure from festive cheer. Meanwhile, Joyce was in the kitchen with Jonathan as he frantically tried to save a tray of roast potatoes from burning. 

It felt like a family. 

You tug your muddy boots off and toss them on the growing pile of shoes by the door, heading into the kitchen. 

“Need any help?” you ask, setting down the food you brought from home onto the table. The last time you cooked for the Byers, it was to help them through grief. Now, you get to celebrate with them. 

“Oh, Y/n, sweetie, you didn’t have to bring anything!” Joyce says, sweeping round to grab you in a hug. 

“Didn’t she?” Jonathan asks sardonically, looking down at the smoking pan in his hand. 

You make uneasy eye contact with the boy. Jonathan has been tense with you since finding out that you knew Will was going to be taken, and you don’t blame him. You had befriended them both, smiled and chatted, and did nothing to stop his kid brother from being taken. All for what? The long game? Of course he feels betrayed. He gives you a strained smile. 

“Why don’t you help me with the dessert?” he asks. A peace offering. 

The two of you work in careful silence, eventually chasing Joyce out of the kitchen with two mugs of cocoa once Hopper arrives, encouraging them to chat. 

“Do you ever want to talk about it?” you ask quietly.

He sighs. “Not really.”

“It’s alright if you’re mad at me, y’know.”

“Good. I am.”

“Okay.”

He sighs again, wiping his hands off on a dishcloth and leaning against the counter. “I get why you did it. Alright? And Will’s here, and he’s safe, so it’s fine. It’s fine.”

“But you’re still mad at me.” you say, understanding.

“Yeah. I am.”

“That’s fair.” 

The two of you slip back into quiet, working around each other to prepare the meal for everyone. 

“Hey! Jonathan, why didn’t you tell me Y/n was here?” Will whines, having come through to the kitchen to grab more snacks before dinner. 

“It’s not as if I snuck in here, kiddo.” you laugh, grateful at least one Byers sibling wasn’t pissed at you. 

“Have you seen my new Atari? It has Space Invaders and Pitfall on it!,” he says, grabbing your hand and dragging you through to the living room. The other 3 boys give you big smiles as they spot you.

“Wow, I guess you guys won’t need to ‘borrow’ my quarters at the arcade anymore, seeing as you have games at home, huh?” you tease.

It has the intended affect, all four boys immediately protesting and coming up with reasons why should definitely keep giving them your change. 

—

You eventually extricate yourself from the group of tweens (after a solid 30 minutes of playing through some difficult levels for them) and find yourself at the kitchen table with people your own age. 

“-flickered, and it was probably just because they’re old, but it still freaked me out.” Nancy was saying, the others listening quietly.

You pull up a chair, Barb sliding a mug of cocoa over to you. “We’re talking about how all our heads are messed up now, wanna join?” she asks with a wry, bittersweet smile. 

“She’s probably worse than the rest of us, knowing the future, right?” Jonathan says. They all turn to you.

“I guess? It doesn’t feel real until it’s happening though. Most of the time I’m just stressed, trying to plan for stuff that will happen years from now.”

“So this will keep happening?” Nancy asks, sadly.

“Yeah. I don’t know if it’s better or worse that you know it will repeat,”

Your confirmation quiets the table, each teen reckoning with the dangerous lives they will keep being forced to live. Jonathan screws his eyes shut and ducks his head, as he usually does when trying to hide strong emotions. Nancy leans into Steve’s arms for comfort, and he holds her tightly. Barb, meanwhile, looks at you, assessing your reaction. Your shoulders are slightly hunched and you keep playing with the hem of your sweater. Guilt. 

“I think it’s better. I wouldn’t want to have false hope, you know?” she says.

“I wish we could just be normal again.” Steve says quietly, eliciting a round of nods around the table.

“But would we ever be normal after this anyway?” Nancy responds, “I want to be prepared for when it happens again, I don’t want to let it go.”

Uh oh, this is essentially the argument that breaks them up in the show. Don’t be a homewrecker, don’t be a homewrecker. “I guess the future knowledge works out well then, right?” you say, trying to find a compromise for them, “You know you get to let it go and be normal until at least next fall.”

“You’re not relaxing, though,” Nancy points out. “You keep planning stuff with Chief Hopper, right? I’ve heard you arguing.”

Damn, caught. You sigh, “Sure, but I’m a special case. When you fall into the world of a TV show, then you can be the one who gets to constantly plan and agonise over the future, okay?”

Nancy chuckles at that. 

“I still don’t get it. How can we be a TV show if we’re real?” Steve asks.

You get a truly mischievous thought. You lean over your shoulder and shout into the living room: “Hey boys? Who wants to explain parallel universes to Steve?”

A horde of sci-fi loving pre-pubescents careen into the kitchen, Dustin managing to get to the front, naturally. You can’t help but laugh at the overwhelmed expression on everyone’s face as the kids leap into an explanation, all talking over each other.

—

The (incredibly detailed, exorbitantly long) lecture on the nature of parallel universes is cut short by a kitchen timer going off and Joyce calling everyone for dinner. You, Jonathan, and surprisingly Steve all end up helping, grabbing dishes and laying them out on the table. 

Every household brought something, on top of Joyce’s already large menu, so the table is packed with plates and tureens, all holding something warm and delicious. The atmosphere stays jovial, nearly descending into outright chaos when Lucas accidentally splashes Mike with gravy, almost provoking aggressive retribution. Mike is talked down by Nancy and assigned to washing up duty for his behaviour, quickly followed by Lucas who is assigned to help after immediately laughing and teasing him about it. 

These boys…

Its been too damn long since you’ve had a family dinner, and it’s the palpable fondness in your heart that causes you to volunteer to ‘supervise’ the two. If you end up helping them a little with drying the dishes, nobody needs to know. 

Mike stays exceedingly polite and kind to you the entire night, not letting you help with his chores, offering you cookies. Sure, he’s a good kid, but not this good. Eventually, once the table is cleared, you chase Lucas off into the living room and push Mike into a dining room chair. 

“What is this?” you ask, pulling another chair out so you can sit across from him. 

“W-what do you mean?” he asks. His face is the picture of innocence, but the top of his ears turn red in a blush. Gotcha. 

“Pretty sure Christmas has already passed, Kiddo, so I don’t know why you’re trying so hard to get on the nice list,” you say, eyebrows raised.

He shuffles in his chair awkwardly, kicking his feet and wringing his hands. He goes to say something, then aborts and ducks his head. He tries again, but it just turns into a frustrated sigh. 

“Mike? Are you-”

The breath gets pushed out of you as the boy jumps up from his chair and grabs you in a tight hug.

“Thank you,” he mutters. He’s in an awkward crouch trying to reach you on the chair, so you stand up and turn it into a proper hug.

“For what happened at the…” you trail off, letting him fill in the blanks if he’s comfortable.

“At the school. You got hurt because of me and I’m sorry.” he sounds tearful.

“Mike, that was not your fault, I need you to know that. The only person who’s fault it is, is that asshole agent with the gun.”

He smiles a little at your bad language, which was your intention. Still, his lip trembles. “You still got hurt.”

“Wouldn’t you get hurt to protect your friends?” you ask, “I distinctly recall someone jumping off a quarry to help Dustin.”

“Hey, you weren’t there!”

“I know everything, kiddo, come on.” you tease. “Not that I’m suggesting that you continue to jump off quarries, but… we all do things to protect our friends, right?”

“Right,” he affirms, eyes still shiny, but looking happier. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, now hey—” you pull out of the hug, taking him by the shoulders, “No crying on Christmas.” you order, dropping your face into a faux-serious expression.

“It’s December 27th.” he retorts, giggling a little.

“Still a Christmas party, smartass. That counts as Christmas!” you respond. “Go tidy yourself up, I know you won’t want your friends to know you have feelings or anything like that.”

“Yeah, gross,” he plays along, now with a full smile on his face.  

—

JANUARY

You trail Hopper’s car in your own as you both drive alongside the forest, eventually pulling off into a side road that would keep your cars hidden by the trees. 

“You going to insist on coming every time?” Hopper calls to you as he closes his car door. 

“Sure am!” you call back with a smirk, grabbing your bag from your trunk and catching up to him. 

You both make your way deeper into the forest, boots crunching into frosted leaves and frozen mud. You nestle deeper into your coat, grateful for your layers to fight off the early January chill. The sky is beginning to darken, the setting sun painting the sky a rapidly darkening periwinkle.

Hopper leads you both in a circuitous route through the trees, occasionally doubling back to make a false trail, or snapping areas of brambles to make them look trampled. Maybe he’s right to be so paranoid, though the show never touched on it too much. 

Eventually, you approach the wooden supply box the two of you stock. Hopper pulls out an insulated tupperware of food, while you pull a waterproof, thermal blanket from your bag. 

“Isn’t it your turn for a note?” Hopper asks, noting the absence of one.

You nod, briefly unzipping your coat and pulling the letter out of your inner pocket. “Didn’t want it to get too creased,”

The two of you place your offerings into the box, your note placed carefully on top. The notes have to be carefully written so that they don’t reveal any secrets, in case someone other than El finds them. Still, you try to encode little hints as to where she might be able to find a warm place to stay, in the hopes that the girl doesn’t have to spend too many nights out in the cold. 

The two of you close and secure the box, and continue to your next location, the cabin. Again, Hopper creates false trails and branching paths, but you eventually end up on its doorstep. 

You both enter carefully, watching for any signs of life or habitation. Hopper quietly calls out El’s name, but no one reveals themself. She hasn’t come here yet. 

“You sure you don’t know when?” Hopper asks, as if you haven’t told him the same answer every time he does.

“No, Hop, I still don’t know when she arrives. I don’t even know how. The show just showed you putting food out for her, and then her living here with you, as I’ve said.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the man brushes off your exasperation. 

The two of you take off your layers and get to work, each returning to jobs. You’ve both been renovating the cabin each time you come, with Hopper fixing broken beams and replacing windows, while you hammer in new floorboards and screw together furniture. It’s tedious work, but the once run-down cabin is now well-insulated and something close to homey. 

Right now, Hopper is under the sink, trying to get the water mains to work, while you’re in what will eventually become El’s bedroom. 

You had picked out a warm pink rug to cover the floor, as well as a bedspread with sunny yellow flowers on it. After so many years living in a white, monotonous lab, you wanted to give her colour. 

The furniture was all old, sturdy wood, made back when Hopper’s grandfather owned the place, and you’d spent several visits sanding it down and varnishing it fresh. You had painted little flowers on the bed frame, and it been furnished with a new mattress on it that Hopper had bought during the christmas sales. It looked like a bedroom perfect for any tween girl.

You left the bed sheets folded up in the closet so they wouldn’t get dusty, though you left a blanket out on the mattress in case El arrived to sleep here unexpectedly. 

You had all but forced Hopper to let you in on his plans with El. He was reticent, but eventually showed you where the cabin was and where he had been leaving food. The two of you have been planning (and arguing over) how to help Eleven ever since.

You’ve disagreed on a lot. After a month of constant bickering, you eventually convinced him to let you tell those ‘in the know’ that El was alive, and that she would be back, eventually. He wasn’t happy about this, but you hope that by doing so, you will prevent Mike from trying to fist-fight him once he knows Hop kept El away from him. 

Hopefully. 

You argued about your own involvement too, with you all but demanding to have regular visits with El once she was found. He had tried to convince you to let him handle it alone, for increased security, but you refused to let up. Eventually it was your description of El going stir crazy with only him to talk to that did it, in the hopes that it would make the girl less rebellious and antsy if she had a friend who could visit.

You just hoped she would find her way to you both soon. 

—

February

You finally get the phone call on a drizzly friday morning, the ringing waking you up in an eerie replication of your first day in Hawkins. You pick it up, and hear the six words you’ve been waiting on for months.

“It’s Hopper. It happened. Get here,”

You fake terrible food poisoning and call out of work, narrowly avoiding speeding on your way over to the forest. You hide your car in the trees and begin your trek to the cabin, only just managing to not slam the door open in your excitement, but entering to a standoff. Hopper on one side of the living room, El on the other, each watching the other tensely. 

“El!” you call to her, breaking her focus on staring down Hopper.

“Real?” she asks. She doesn’t seem distressed, but is also clearly a little overwhelmed, twitching her fingers and rocking back and forth on her heels.

“This is real, kiddo. Have you been getting our notes? We’ve been trying to make this place safe for you to live,” you say, approaching her slowly. 

She’s wearing a coat that Hopper had bought for her back in November, and the pair of children’s gloves you had offered her the first night you met, all those months ago. Some of the first things put in the supplies box. She reaches into the pocket of the coat and pulls out a sheaf of battered and crinkled letters, the notes the two of you had been writing her. 

“Safe?” she says, in a mixture of wonder and suspicion. 

You’re close enough to her now that you could touch her shoulder, though you don’t, in case it scares her. You instead place yourself in between Hopper and El, breaking her sightline of him. He means well, but he can be an intimidating figure without intending to be sometimes. 

The girl closes the distance between the two of you with a single step and looks at you awkwardly. You know exactly what she means this time. 

You wrap your arms around her in a hug, and feel her shoulders shake as she begins to cry, decompressing from the past few months she’s had. You let her cry it out for a few minutes, Hopper idling awkwardly behind you both, before leading her over to the sofa.

“How about you get us all something to eat, Hop?” you say, trying set everyone at ease. 

He puts some eggos in the toaster. 

[yeetusthemighty]

So I got a little insane about Ninjago when I stayed up too late one night

[this is copy-pasted from my notes app]

So I was listening to lysergide daydream and then Christmas kids came along and I was reading a Ninjago fic when it happened and and what if they were normal. And ok? And like just were friends. Hanging out. Doing stupid bullshit together. And then like what if that’s what they all want at some level. What if they daydream about going on stupid camping trips and accidentally falling in the lake. What if they daydream about going to their favorite noodle restaurant and challenging each other to see who can eat the most bowls before throwing up?

What if Jay and Nya wish they could go watch a bad movie together and go to a greasy diner after? What if Zane and Pixal want to be able to do the same without getting weird looks everywhere they go? What if Lloyd wants to go to a normal school where he is rewarded for good behavior, and have his only worry be how he is going to finish an essay and science project by Friday? What if Cole wants to be able to go hiking in the woods and camp under the stars for a few nights, just because? What if Kai wants to spend a night out in Ninjago city where he doesn’t have to look down every alleyway he passes?

What if Lloyd finds a postcard in the rubble of a fallen building during the latest attack and longs so desperately that he and his friends could be the people in that photo that he keeps that postcard under his pillow every night after? What if Zane tries to join his friends outside one winter to enjoy the snow but has to lock himself in the basement of the monastery for hours afterward reminding himself of where he is? What if Jay can’t bring himself to go into antique stores because once he went to buy an old radio that his parents would’ve loved but one of the lamps in there looked a little too familiar, so he had to run out without it? What if Nya wants to go back to her favorite meditation spot at a waterfall but she can’t stand the sound of running water anymore because underneath it she can still hear those faint whispers calling her back home? What if Cole dreads when he goes to honor his mom on each Day of the Departed because every time he feels a little bit of himself silp away, and he is afraid that one day the last of him will go too? What if Kai doesn’t fully enjoy using his elemental powers anymore because something is different about them after he watched Aspheera use them to burn Ninjago city to the ground? What if Pixal realized that none of the nindroids shes ever met were able to live normally, so she secretly built another nindroid to give them that chance, but they were destroyed when the spider bombs went off, and that crushed her more than any of the ninja will ever know.

What if. 

What if. 

What if.

What if Zane can’t bring himself to go back to the crossroads because during his lookalike contest he realized that there were no Formlings, no ice fishers? Not even one of those helmets he can instantly recognize? And somehow the lack of anything there is so much worse than seeing them again ever was. Because it gives him a gut punch that leaves him hollow for days after. Because he knows that they know. That the things he did will forever be immortalized in the stories that they tell for generations to come. And that he sees the same hollow fear in Fritz’s eyes too?

Ugh ugh ugh 

Sopping. 

I’m gonna design them to cope.

Timestamp: 2:40AM

Never let me listen to songs at 2:00 in the morning ever again [this will happen again]

Erryck I don’t know if this is comprehensible or not but but like do you understand???

None of them are mentally well but they pretend they don’t care because none of them know how to cope with the loss of their chance at life.

[woso-dreamzzz]

I'm gonna add to the Gremlin hcs for her asthma, based on my own situation which sucked lmao

One day they try to dictate how many puffs of her inhaler she gets, trying to say she's only allowed so many when her doctor upped her dosage after the rough winter months making her asthma worse

It's actually unbelievable how many times this happens, teachers think they know better and are always right 😂😂

Gremlin makes eye contact with teachers as she goes over the puff limit they've given her and then pulls the 'well, I don't think my cousin, the Head Girl (Chook) would be happy that you're harming my education'