#i’m gonna hang this on my fridge with a magnet

[starhvney]

HIII STAR i redrew a little thing for subj3! plus some (kinda) old pieces

reader’s named ‘rea’ or ‘rhea’ in my mind hehe

OMG NICS!!!! SUBJ 3 ART YIPPIE!!!!!

THESE ARE SO GOOD THANK YOUUUU

the way you draw the reader is so cute!!!!!! and i love the way you draw/dress zane too, super cool!!! ahhhhhh!!!!!!

[moonchildreads]

small town

Chapter 26 - The Heart of Rock & Roll

IN THIS CHAPTER: Odd meetings, sudden realizations, and Dottie goes metal [14.1k]

WARNINGS: toxic friendships (not related to the Corroded Coffin boys, they are the best), technically underaged drinking, angst w/comfort, one (1) queer panic moment, author talking shit about Anthrax (the band, not the disease)

A/N: next chapter will start getting more into the mysteries of hawkins so enjoy our final beach episode type of chapter <3 also please let me know if you wanna added to the taglist! HUGE shoutout to my beloved @gutterratt who helped me put together the setlist - i love you always, and i wish i was drinking chocolate milk with you while talking shit about college.

masterlist - prev - next | main playlist - chapter playlist

They say the heart of rock and roll is still beating And from what I’ve seen I believe ‘em

Friday, June 27th - 1986

“Hey rockstar, come on in!”

Eddie Munson was pretty sure he was never going to be a rockstar. He had discussed this recently with his best friends after an intense practice session and all four of them agreed that this had been fun while it lasted, but it wasn’t something they could realistically pursue long term. Jeff was getting ready to leave for college in West Virginia, Gareth was trading in his plaid sleeveless vest for a suit and jazz music sheets, and Donny was much more interested in perfecting his family tiramis�� recipe than to keep shredding his fingers by learning new bass arrangements on a monthly basis. Eddie had had a long time to think about his priorities and hopes for the future, but the proud look on Wayne’s face upon seeing his nephew’s first weekly paycheck stuck to the fridge by an old magnet was enough to cement his decision.

No, Eddie Munson was never going to be a rockstar, but that didn’t mean Corroded Coffin had to hang up their towels just yet. They were still squarely in the middle of Summer when the long awaited muggy and rainy Friday that was poised to be their biggest show to date, if not perhaps the biggest show they’d ever play, finally arrived. All in all, the members of Hawkins’ most misunderstood and badass band felt like they’d gotten their cake and were about to eat it too.

“Nice outfit,” James said, a heavy hand coming to pat Eddie’s back while he closed the door behind him. “Was expecting leather pants to be honest, but this looks great.”

“It’s too hot for leather, sir,” Eddie laughed as he hoisted his bursting backpack up his shoulder. “Maybe next time.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” the older man craned his head towards the stairs. “Honey? Eddie’s here!”

“I know!” came Dottie’s faint voice from the upper floor. “Tell him to come up, I’m not finished yet!”

“She’s already done her makeup three times,” James confided in the younger man. “Maybe you can convince her to stop messing with it.”

“I’ll try my best,” he said, saluting him before climbing up the stairs towards his girlfriend’s bedroom two steps at a time.

Eddie slowly pushed the door open to find Dottie at her desk, still wearing her cotton pajamas with a cute duck print and curlers in her hair while she put the finishing touches on the sickest makeup look he had ever seen on her. As if entranced, he leaned on the door frame while he watched her expertly apply a thick coat of mascara to her eyelashes; she smiled at him through her round vanity mirror and he swore he could feel himself melt against the wood.

“Hey darling,” he said, voice all soft and gooey.

“Hey superstar,” she replied with a flirty tone. “Are you gonna come in so I can give you a kiss before I do my lipstick or nah?”

“If I ever say no to that, shoot me because I’ve been possessed,” he kicked the door shut behind him and hurried to wrap his arms around her middle. “You look gorgeous.”

“This isn’t my final look, I’m not even dressed yet.”

“Dunno, baby, the duckies are pretty metal,” he joked while placing little pecks on her lips. She laughed and swatted at his chest lightly, making the backpack that was perched on his shoulder slide down his arm towards the floor. “Here - I brought you a bunch of shirts, thought you’d like to have options.”

“Thank you! I’ll try them on when I’m done with my makeup.”

“Can I watch while you play dress up?” Eddie wiggled his eyebrows.

“No, perv, my Dad’s downstairs!” Dottie laughed with no malice. “But… you can let me do your makeup now and then you’re free to go get a snack while I take all this stuff out of my hair.”

“Aw, are you gonna make me look pretty, babe?” he batted his eyelashes dramatically.

“No,” she said with a wicked grin. “I’m gonna make you look metal.”

Eddie was dying of anticipation as he sat at the Burke’s kitchen island, distracting himself by eating cheese crackers and talking to James. Dottie was being awfully secretive about her chosen look for the night, and he’d tried to look around her room in search of clues while she was painting his nails with her favorite black lacquer but quickly gave up when she grabbed her eyeliner pencil from her desk. Standing between his legs with her left hand gently placed on the side of his face to keep him still as she worked, he decided to let her do her thing in silence - he’d had too many run-ins with the thick pencil himself and did not want to risk an accident by pulling her focus away from her task.

For a brief moment, Eddie got to enjoy the feeling of his hands on her hips, keeping her close as she swiped the pigment on his waterline, but it was over all too soon for his taste. Once Dottie deemed his makeup perfect, she swiftly pushed him out of the room and locked the door behind him before he couldn’t even think of protesting about it. Defeated, Eddie went downstairs to commiserate with his girlfriend’s father (who was still unaware of the change in the teens’ relationship status) and James kept him busy with genuine interest and a few well placed questions about their plans for the upcoming show.

The young Munson boy was in the middle of listing the songs they’d chosen for the first half of their set when James lifted his eyes from his chopping board and looked at something over Eddie’s shoulder with a very surprised expression on his face. Confused, Eddie turned around and was suddenly met with his usually soft and adorable girlfriend looking like she’d come straight out of one of the magazines he kept hidden underneath his bed.

In the doorway between the kitchen and the living room stood an extremely nervous Dorothy Burke sporting dark eyeliner and deep red lipstick, her wilder than normal curls looking both frizzy and bouncy while she fidgeted as she waited for their opinions. She sparkled with bold silver jewelry that had been borrowed from her friends - a few of Gareth’s smallest rings, Jeff’s studded belt, and Donny’s chain bracelets -, and she was grateful to them for being so willing to help her put together a suitable look for the occasion. Two pieces from her own wardrobe were the only things she felt fully confident about wearing; the black suspender skirt and boots she’d worn for her birthday paired with new fishnets made her feel less strange in her own skin.

It was, however, what she was wearing on the upper part of her body that made Eddie feel like all the air inside his lungs had suddenly rushed out of his body. When he shoved a bunch of his t-shirts into his bag earlier, he hadn’t noticed that particular garment had sneaked into the mix, mainly because it had been a couple of years since he had last worn it. It was a simple top really, a white cotton baseball tee with black short sleeves just like Hellfire’s shirt, but  with his band’s logo printed in black at the front instead. The stylized letters spelling out Corroded Coffin now sat perfectly snug against Dottie’s chest, who was looking more and more apprehensive as silence stretched in the kitchen.

“Woah, honey, you look…,” James began, startled.

“Unreal,” Eddie completed, mouth suddenly dry.

“Shit,” Dottie shook her head. “I knew it, I knew was too much, I- I’ll go change really quick-”

“NO! No, no, are you crazy? This is- wow,” Eddie said, a huge grin spreading on his face. “You look amazing, like a- you look like you’re a Princess of Metal or something. Are you sure you’re not getting on stage with us?”

“I think I’ll leave that to the pros,” she said with a shy smile as her hands fiddled with the bottom of her skirt. “But are you sure this is okay? I have other options-”

“Honey, you look great,” James said, putting down his knife and walking around the counter so he could comfort her with a hug. “It’s just, y’know, different from your usual so we were surprised. But you look very pretty, I promise. You don’t like it?”

“No, I do, it’s just… I don’t know, it feels like I’m a poser,” she looked down at herself. 

“You’re not a poser,” Eddie scoffed. “You know the setlist front to back and you were the one who got us this gig. You’re literally our biggest fan.”

“I thought I was your manager,” Dottie joked. “Also don’t let Lee hear you say that, he’ll get upset and he loves you guys.”

“I can fight him for you, you deserve the top spot,” he said, making her snort. “He’s like 70 and is missing a leg, what’s he gonna do?”

“He’s a war vet! Have some respect for the man!” she gasped.

“I bet you could push him over if you wanted.”

“Eddie!”

“Alright, kids, no fighting veterans in this house, okay?” James said while taking off his apron. “I’ll go get the camera before you two head off - behave while I’m gone, please.”

Once he was back and with a new roll film in place, James motioned for them to pose for his impromptu photoshoot. Eddie was quick to hop back onto his stool, bringing Dottie closer to him with his arms around her waist. With him sitting down and her standing between his legs, their heights finally somewhat matched for once and the eldest Burke snapped photo after photo of the dolled up teens - first with big smiles, another one with their tongues out, a third one with the devil horns up, and the last one slightly out of focus as Eddie planted a big wet noisy kiss on Dottie’s cheek making her squeal as she tried to leap out of his embrace. James’ only comment was to offer copies for Wayne, and Dottie instantly knew by his lack of teasing that there was a potentially very embarrassing conversation in her near future.

“We good to go?” Eddie asked. “Gotta head to Gareth’s first to load the drums.”

“Yeah, I’ll go get your backpack and we can leave. Meet me outside?” she replied, disappearing into the living room.

“Come on, I’ll walk you out,” James said, guiding Eddie towards the front door. It didn’t come as a surprise to the younger man when he lowered his voice for a man to man talk. “You kids drive safe, okay? Call me if you need anything, don’t bother your Uncle while he’s at work.”

“Yes, sir,” Eddie said, uncharacteristically serious. “Donny’s gonna take over for me if I’m too tired to drive back, we have it under control.”

“Okay, good. I trust you, Ed. You go have fun, yeah? Have a great show.”

“Thank you, sir. We’ll be safe, I promise.”

None of them were exactly unaware of the deeper meaning of their conversation, especially since it hadn’t been the first one of its kind they’d ever had. Eddie felt equal parts grateful that James trusted him so much and ashamed that he was actively lying to his face every single time he saw him. He was so used to Wayne knowing that sometimes he forgot no one else did, and while he was on the same page as Dottie and they both agreed that they didn’t want to make things awkward with their friends just yet, he hoped they could tell James sooner rather than later. He’d hate to disappoint the one person who had so warmly opened the doors of his house to him before he even knew who he was and without an ounce of judgment.

Dottie finally joined them at the door and after a few quick goodbyes and loving hugs, the pair got into the van and drove off towards the first stop of their most anticipated adventure of the summer. Take that, Hawkins, Eddie thought. Corroded Coffin was officially a touring band, and he was confident nothing in the world could derail the night ahead of them.

Indianapolis was not too far away from Hawkins, located only around 42 miles to the Southwest of the much smaller town. Corroded Coffin (plus Dottie, who was by then considered as much part of the band as the rest of them) had piled into Eddie’s van with their instruments and amps as they excitedly made their way towards their biggest gig ever. After a short argument that Eddie quickly silenced, Dottie secured her place as his co-pilot due to her knack for map reading, leaving the other three boys to sit in the back with Jeff acting as the official DJ for the ride.

Entering the city felt like a dream come true. As Gareth drummed on the window with his sticks, perfectly in tune to the songs coming out of the van’s speakers, Donny leaned forward to follow Dottie’s map over her shoulder, nervously watching as their destination grew closer and closer to her moving finger. It felt momentous as they saw the bar’s neon sign calling to them like a beacon, all five sets of eyes wide with anticipation as Eddie pulled into the parking lot behind the building. They sat in silence for a few seconds once he cut the engine and the radio was turned off, everyone’s heads reared towards the direction of the bar with elation and perhaps also a little bit of apprehension.

The Hideout was safe, a known place with familiar faces that cheered for them and supported their dreams even if no one else in their godforsaken town did. Here there would be no Dave with cold beers waiting behind the bar, no B.B. and Rudy telling stories, no Shonda’s cheek pinching once they were done, no Lee asking for a Judas Priest song before they packed their gear back into the van. Turning in his seat to look at his fellow band members, Eddie’s mouth split into a contagious grin in an effort to muster some collective courage.

“Well, boys. We made it,” he said, cringing at the sound of his own uncertain voice tone.

“So, what now?” Donny asked. “Do we start unpacking or…”

“Um, I think…,” Dottie said, chewing on her lower lip. “I think I’ll go in and see if Jessie is around? I talked to her last week and she said she would be here. She’ll tell us what to do.”

“I’ll go with you,” Gareth offered, quickly jumping out of his seat.

“Okay, we’ll, uh, we’ll get ready to start unloading then,” Eddie said, motioning for everyone to get out of the van.

“God, I need a fuckin’ smoke,” Donny muttered nervously as Dottie linked arms with Gareth and headed towards the sidewalk.

Moore House was a quaint corner pub a few blocks away from the main IUPUI buildings in Downtown Indianapolis, and even though rain had been announced for later on in the night, the outside tables were beginning to fill up with tired and stressed college aged kids trying to let loose for the weekend. The new semester wasn’t scheduled to start for a few more weeks, but that didn’t mean activities at Indiana and Purdue had been reduced completely to zero; there were summer lessons to be taken for extra credits, early graduations to be celebrated, part-time and student jobs to be worked, and sport camps and clinics to be attended, and Moore House always made sure to offer a safe, fun, cheap destination for visitors and locals alike.

Gareth stared around the pub in wonder, absorbing the atmosphere while Dottie stood on her tiptoes searching for someone. There was a long bar counter in the middle of the room with wooden stools and a cash register at each end, a sizable number of booths and tables with people milling about and enjoying cold beers and various pub foods, and a low stage at the back on the right side of the building. The curly haired boy gazed at the flags and banners that decorated the room: cream and crimson for Indiana University, old gold and black for Purdue, and Hoosier pride everywhere you looked.

“Are we sure this isn’t a sports bar?” Gareth asked, eyes stuck to a table with a group of guys who looked like they would have been best friends with the Hawkins Tigers.

“It’s just a college bar, their campus is like 10 blocks away,” Dottie said, balancing on her toes. “Also there’s like a million bars around here, they need to attract people somehow and school pride always sells. Oh, there she is!”

Jessie the Night Shift Manager was standing right outside the kitchen door talking to another employee, her bold makeup and crimped hair instantly making Gareth’s eyes widen. Dottie grabbed his hand and led him straight to her, a warm smile spreading on Jessie’s lips as soon as she recognized the younger girl approaching her.

“Goddamn, teach! That’s a hell of a look,” Jessie said, pulling Dottie into a one armed hug. She was holding a clipboard on her other hand, a clearly borrowed bright pink scrunchie she hadn’t had the time to use yet secured around her left wrist.

“Wanted to look the part for the show,” Dottie shrugged. “This is Gareth, he’s Corroded Coffin’s drummer.”

“H-hi, how’s it going?” he said, a little bit dazed upon seeing Jessie’s snake tattoo wrapping around her upper arm.

“Hey, nice to meet you, dude!” she replied, putting her hand forward to shake his before she turned back to Dottie. “I know I told you last week over the phone, but congrats on your graduation!”

“You too! Any news about the job thing?”

“I’m still waiting to hear back from the lab but fingers crossed! If I have to spend another summer managing this kitchen, I think I’ll off myself,” Jessie joked. “Where’s the rest of the band?”

“Oh, they’re in the parking lot! Should we start unloading the van now?”

“Hell yeah! We’ve got a great crowd tonight, should be fun. A lot of people touring campus this week,” she said while leading them towards an employee-only backdoor. “You guys can come from the parking lot straight through here, I know your equipment is probably heavy.”

“For sure, thanks-” Dottie was saying before Gareth cut her off.

“Not a problem, I can carry heavy loads,” he grinned.

“Good for you, kid,” Jessie said, an amused smile gracing her lips. “Well, just let me know if you need anything. Come find me when you’re done, teach, I’ll get you set up at a table!”

“Seriously?” Dottie raised an eyebrow at Gareth as soon as they were alone again. “You can carry heavy loads?”

“Don’t,” he groaned. “I panicked. You didn’t say she was hot.”

“Who’s hot?” Donny asked, leaning against Eddie’s van with a cigarette between his lips.

“Jessie, the manager. She’s too old for you anyways,” Dottie said at large before going to help Eddie and Jeff at the back of the van.

“Says who?” Gareth argued.

“She called you kid,” she replied, not even looking at him.

“Shit, man,” Donny laughed. “It’s lost.”

“Ugh, shut up.”

Between all five of them, the members of Corroded Coffin plus Dottie made quick work carrying the heavy equipment inside, their constant back and forth through the backdoor making the bar’s patrons notice the commotion. A live show was always something to look forward to for the college aged students who frequented Moore House, particularly if they had a bottle of beer in their hands. College was a moment where people got to figure themselves out, and there was no greater feeling than discovering a piece of yourself you didn’t know was there before through the rush of a good (and free) show.

Eddie and Gareth began putting the drum kit back together while Jeff and Donny went back to the van to get the last few bits and bobs they’d need for the show; Dottie, on her last task before being dismissed as their roadie for the night, headed towards the bar to grab a few water bottles for her friends as she knew they’d be asking for a drink two songs into their setlist. Corroded Coffin might not have known what it was like to shed blood and tears on a stage, but they certainly could sweat for an entire crowd if necessary.

Because of the jitters currently racing through her body, Dottie did not notice there were two people staring straight at her from the other side of the bar, directly opposite from where she was waiting for Jessie to come back from the kitchen. A boy and a girl about her age were inching closer and closer to her, muttering amongst themselves curiously and trying not to startle her.

“It’s her, I know it is,” the girl said when she was within hearing distance.

“No, it’s not, just look at her,” the boy was saying, and Dottie would have turned towards them if not for the fact that Jessie had finally appeared, a pile of cold water bottles balanced on her forearms.

“Ooookay, here you go,” she said, tilting the pyramid into Dottie’s waiting hands. “If you need more, ask Pearl or Frankie, I’ve caught them up to speed now.”

“Thanks, I will!”

“Oh, also I set up two tables for you guys over there,” Jessie leaned over the countertop to point to two square tables pushed together near the stage. “Just, y’know, tell them not to aim the amps directly to that side or your ears will start bleeding two minutes in.”

“I think I’m immune to it by now, but thank you for worrying about my hearing,” Dottie laughed.

“Holy shit, it is her!”

Nothing could have prepared Dottie for the whiplash of turning around and discovering the gossiping couple were none other than Benji and Tracey, two of her old friends from when she lived back in New York. She was suddenly grateful she had her arms busy, because her first instinct had been to reach out for a hug before her brain caught up to her limbs and she remembered why she didn’t consider these people her friends anymore.

“Dorothy?!” Benji asked, confusion all over his face as his eyes raked over her image.

“H-hey guys, what are you doing here? I- I mean, how are you doing?” Dottie managed to get out, trying to school her expression into what she hoped was a pleasant face.

“I got into Purdue! We’re touring the campus,” Tracey said, proudly. “Oh my god, are you going to Purdue too? Or Indy? Do you live around here?”

“No, no, I’m… I’m here with some friends, we live in a different town. We’re just here for the show.”

“Well, you look like you’re ready for it!” Benji said with a dumbfounded tone. “What happened to your hair? It was so long before, we almost didn’t recognize you!”

I cut it myself with a pair of kiddie scissors at a gas station halfway through Pennsylvania, was what Dottie thought, but she wasn’t about to tell them that, lest they knew how brokenhearted she’d been when she’d left everything she’d ever known behind to move to Hawkins. There was an old wound opening itself in the middle of her chest, and she’d fight tooth and nail before they ever saw her bleed again.

“Just needed a change! You know how it is - new year, new me,” she laughed and the fakeness of the sound went unnoticed by the pair but not to her. “So, you’re both going to Purdue then?”

“Oh, no, just Trace,” Benji waved his hand as he spoke. “I got into UTA. Gonna do Civil Engineering actually, so you can thank your Dad for that one.”

“No way!” Dottie smiled, and this time it felt less fake. “That’s awesome, congrats. And you’re still doing Psych?”

“Yup!” Tracey beamed at the fact she remembered. “I’m so excited! I’m gonna move in with Howie so we’re looking to rent an apartment somewhere around here.”

“Oh, wow, you and Howie? Didn’t see that one coming.”

“No, ew, not like that,” she shuddered. “He’s going to Indy U. We’re just gonna live together, you know, try not to kill each other. Fun stuff.”

“Is- is Howie here too then?” Dottie asked, dread settling at the base of her stomach.

“Yeah, Jeanette and him are trying to find a place to park, they’ll be here in a sec.”

“Jeannie is here?”

“We don’t call her like that anymore,” Benji said, his tone playful but revealing of the fact that he thought it was stupid.

“Where are your friends?” Tracey asked, not aware that Dottie’s knees were flaking on her. “We can all sit together and catch up!”

“I- Sure, it- it’s that table over there,” Dottie managed to get out, pointing to it with a lone finger. “I need to do something first but you guys go sit and I’ll find you later!”

Without waiting for confirmation, Dottie launched into a sprint towards the backdoor, not stopping until she saw the parked van on the other end. She found Donny with half his body shoved inside the back, searching for something on the floor while Jeff peered over his friend’s shoulder on his tiptoes, arms heavy with carefully looped cable cords.

“He always does this!” Donny complained, voice a little muffled.

“We should get him a stick bag for his birthday.”

“He has a brown leather bag, he just never uses it because it doesn’t look cool but if he keeps losing these goddamn sticks and making me find them, I swear-”

“Woah, what’s the rush?” Jeff asked when he spotted Dottie bounding towards them.

“My friends are here,” she wheezed out, dropping the water bottles she was still holding onto the van’s carpeted floor.

“What?”

“My shitty friends from New York,” Dottie explained. “I just ran into them, they want to sit with me and catch up and I think I’m gonna pass out.”

“Okay, okay, come here,” Jeff pulled her into a tight hug. “Who are these people again?”

“Remember when I told you about my best friend Jeannie who kinda stole my boyfriend but not really?”

“That bitch!” Donny said, abandoning the search for Gareth’s second set of drumsticks.

“Yeah, so, her and three more people. Trace and Ben are being super nice to me which is odd as hell because they spent all semester not talking to me before I moved away, and apparently Howie is here too and he’s always been kind of a douchebag but I never cared for him that much and I doubt he cares about me either.”

“I know I’ve said this before but they sound like they suck,” Jeff said.

“They do, yeah,” she rested her head on his shoulder, arms wound around his waist. “What do I do? They already know I’m here, I can’t just disappear and miss the show.”

“Hey, look at it this way,” Donny proposed. “You won’t be able to talk that much when we start the set and as soon as we’re done, we’ll be there for backup.”

“Yeah! You just gotta survive like ten more minutes on your own.”

“That does not make me feel any better.”

“We’re playing Mötley,” Jeff said, looking down at her.

“What? There’s no way Eddie allowed that.”

“Oh, Ed was in no position to argue,” the two boys snickered over her head.

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll find out,” Donny said mysteriously before turning back to the van. “By the way, have you seen Gareth’s extra drumsticks?”

“Yeah, I put them in my door pocket ‘cause they kept rolling around the back,” Dottie said, unlatching herself from Jeff’s front and going to get them. “Here.”

“You hold onto them, he didn’t bring the holder.”

“I told him we were forgetting something!”

Feeling more confident after their pep talk, the trio made their way inside where they exchanged a final group hug. For good luck, Jeff said, and while no one knew if he meant it for the band or Dottie, the question went unasked. He was the first one to walk into the bigger room to take the rest of the cables to their friends setting up on stage while the water bottles changed hands once more, this time settling on Donny’s arms.

“Hey,” he said, before they finally had to face the music. “You’ll be okay. You have us now.”

“I know. Thanks, Don,” she smiled, leaning to kiss his cheek and leaving a bright red print on his skin. “Oh, no, I forgot I had lipstick on!”

“Leave it,” he laughed, walking backwards and pushing the doors open with his shoulder. “It looks badass!”

Dottie felt a little bit like a lamb walking towards the slaughterhouse as she approached her table, now occupied by friends from what felt like a previous lifetime. Tracey and Benji were sitting next to each other, each of them holding a beer bottle and doing what one could only assume was gossiping as they looked around the place and the people mingling around. Next to them sat Jeannie, hand wrapped around a tall cocktail with a practiced air of nonchalance undercut by the tiniest bit of hardness in her stare. Rounding the group was Howie, already wearing an Indiana University shirt and cap he’d probably gotten during his tour earlier on in the day.

“Hey everyone,” Dottie said, smiling at them when she approached.

“Dorothy?” Howie said, getting to his feet to pull her into a hug. “Wow, what happened to your hair?”

“Oh, I just… I chopped it off! Do you like it?”

“Love it!” Tracey was saying but a voice rose above hers, cutting her short.

“You look like you’re wearing a costume,” Jeannie sneered before also getting up and hugging her former friend.

Being friends with Jeannie had never been an easy task for anyone who had been brave enough to try. She could be lovely if she liked you, could even be considered caring on occasion, but she could also tear you apart just as effortlessly with a few well-chosen words. Jeanette Sanders was the undisputed leader of their friend group, and she carried that title with pride, not allowing anyone to challenge her or her authority if they wished to remain in her graces. Tracey, on the other hand, had always been known as the genuinely kind one of the bunch, if a bit of a pushover. Whenever Jeannie lashed out, Tracey was always there to patch up the wounds she left behind in her wrath, never complaining about it but, most importantly, never defying her.

Howie, however, was a different story. In true Golden Retriever fashion, he had been deemed too dumb to be Jeannie’s second in command but too useful to cut by the time they’d entered high school. He had the most money, the biggest house, and as soon as they reached the age to own a license, the only one who had unlimited access to a car thanks to a very generous gift from his wealthy Criminal Attorney father. That is not to say that the only reason they were friends with him was what he could purchase or what he owned; after all, they’d known each other since they were six, but it was a well-known fact that they put up with his consistent silly frat-boy behavior because he just made plans go so much smoother if he was included in them.

What Howie had going on with his dumb rich kid lifestyle, Benji matched with his stereotypical still-in-the-closet theater kid attitude. Benji was smart, calculating and quick-witted, he was unrivaled in the Fine Art of a Comeback, and had secured his place as Jeannie’s right hand man a long time ago by sheer virtue of knowing who everyone was, and most valuably, what everyone wanted. He could be incredibly manipulative and two-faced, but he was also the one who was the most honest with Jeannie, constantly calling her out and keeping her in check whenever he thought she went too far.

Regardless of this, Dottie had to admit that if you had asked her what she thought of them a mere year earlier, she would have never described any of her former friends with such harsh words. Instead, she would have told you that Tracey was loyal to a fault, tender and compassionate with everyone around her, and that Howie was funny in a boyish sort of way, clumsy, hardworking, and entirely too selfless regarding his material possessions. She would have labeled Benji as self-assured and opinionated, never shying away from being in the spotlight and most likely to be destined for stardom, and Jeannie… Jeannie would have simply been called her Best Friend.

“It’s nice to see everyone,” Dottie said, swallowing her pride and sitting at the table, her back turned to the stage. “Are you excited for college? Tracey was telling me you two are moving in together.”

“Oh, yeah!” Howie said, leaning back on his chair. “We haven’t found a good place yet, but I’m hopeful. Do you live around here?”

“No, no, I’m just here for the show,” she shrugged. “I live in a different town, we’re like 30 or 40 minutes away I think.”

“Where do you live?” Jeannie asked.

“It’s called Hawkins, it’s to the Northeast? It’s really small, you probably haven’t heard of it.”

“But it’s here in Indiana?”

“Yeah, still Indiana!”

“At least you’re close to Indianapolis,” she said, like she would have dropped dead if she had to move anywhere that wasn’t a major city.

The sudden feedback of a microphone cut through the noise in the pub, and Jessie, busy stationed at the till, motioned to a coworker to lower the lights and cut off the ambient music. On the stage, the boys cringed at the shrill sound, Donny immediately lowering the volume of an amp at his side. Jeff looked sheepishly at the crowd, one hand on the neck of his guitar, the other resting on top of the mic casually.

“Hi,” he simply said, his easygoing tone making people turn towards them with curiosity. “Our name is Corroded Coffin, we’re from Hawkins, Indiana, and we’d like to play a few songs for you tonight if you guys don’t mind.”

Dottie turned around in her seat, completely ignoring everyone else at the table and feeling all her frayed nerves turn into joyous pride as she saw her friends on stage like they were always meant to be. Jeff stood confidently in the middle, wearing a white Metallica t-shirt he’d cut into a muscle tank, ripped jeans and a plaid red shirt tied at his hips. His chains glinted as he turned to look at his band members and Eddie nodded once, giving him the go ahead so he could start playing the intro to Dio’s The Last in Line.

Even if Dottie knew the setlist front to back and had seen them play each song repeatedly throughout the last few months, she found she was still happily stunned at the talent her friends displayed every time they got to play rockstars for a while. We’re a ship without a storm, cold without the warm, light inside the darkness that it needs, yeah, Jeff sang, and if the silence in the room was anything to go by, Corroded Coffin knew they had everyone’s attention on the palm of their hands.

“Huh,” Benji said, surprised. “Was not expecting that from how they look.”

We’re a laugh without a tear, the hope without the fear, we are coming…

“What were you expecting?” Dottie asked with a knowing smile.

Benji had no time to answer as Jeff strongly yelled the word home, the rest of the band following his lead and diving into the rest of the song with purpose and childlike joy. A couple of excited hollers were heard through the bar as Jeff launched into the second verse with the usual intensity he always performed with; Eddie joined him once he reached the chorus, happy to be the background vocals to his much more operatic-inclined friend.

They took no breaks at the end of the song, launching straight into Iron Maiden’s Flight of Icarus to a similar reception from the crowd, much to their surprise. Dottie sang along without a care in the world, entirely too delighted to care about the people around her when her boyfriend and her best friends in the whole world were finally living their shared dream and gifting everyone one of the best performances they’d ever done. Moore House was no Madison Square Garden, but to Corroded Coffin it might as well have been anyway.

Once they reached the last two songs in the first half of their set, Dottie anxiously leaned forward in her seat knowing this would be Gareth’s make or break moment. Perched behind his drum set, his next task ahead was to ace Metallica’s Motorbreath and Mötorhead’s Overkill back to back, and while he felt more than capable of rising to the occasion, there was still the nagging feeling that something might go wrong at the worst possible moment. He breezed through Motorbreath with ease, having played it several times to great success at The Hideout, but to go straight into Overkill with no time to shake off the tension in his arms had him all strung-out, and he had expressed as much in the van during their trip to Indy.

“Get it, G!” Dottie yelled in an effort to be supportive, and he absolutely heard her in the lull between the two songs, letting out a crazed laugh as he launched into Overkill’s intro.

Eddie wasted no time to jump in and the rest of the boys followed, giving it their all to get the crowd hyped up before they took a small water break. Maybe it was the manifestation of Gareth’s worst fears, maybe it was the fact that he’d gone all out for the last two songs and wore the wood out, or maybe it was simply an unlucky coincidence, but right at the last second, during his last hit, one of his drumsticks fractured into two pieces with a loud crack that made even Howie wince. Donny hurried to Gareth’s side and they shared a quick talk before the drummer stood up and started power walking towards the exit, most likely headed to the van in search of a new pair of drumsticks.

“We’re gonna take a short break, let you guys get a breather and more drinks, take a piss if you need it,” Eddie said into his mic with a cheeky smirk. “We’ll be back in a sec with more songs, thank you for the great vibes so far.”

“This is fun,” Howie said, polishing off the rest of his beer as Jeannie scoffed next to him.

“Where the fuck is he going,” Dottie muttered to herself distractedly as she watched Gareth bolt past her. “G! G! Jesus Christ- Gareth!”

“I’ll be right back-” he was yelling back to her when he saw her bend down and take his extra drumsticks out of the side of her boot. “Oh, thank God!”

For the first time that night, Gareth realized Dottie wasn’t alone at their table and after shooting the strangers a quick hello, he awkwardly turned towards his friend, feeling very much observed by them and not in a particularly welcoming way. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question; she simply pressed the sticks into his hand and mouthed the words “Ask Jeff”. He was about to say something when Jessie the Night Manager appeared suddenly, shoving more water bottles into his arms.

“You’ve got great taste, teach!” she said to Dottie before turning to Gareth. “Band sounds really good!”

“Thanks!” he said, eyes widening and eyebrows disappearing behind the floppy curls on his forehead.

“Better get back on stage, hot stuff, break’s about to end,” Jessie winked and quickly disappeared behind the bar again.

“Wow,” Dottie said, teasing him. “Didn’t think you’d actually start drooling.”

“I’m gonna need you to be quiet while I restart my brain,” he breathed out, entirely too flustered to come up with any defensive statement. “You said you talked to her last week, can I have her number?”

“No. Go up there and keep being charming until she gives it to you herself! You got this,” she pushed him towards the stage; he twisted in her hold and grabbed the back of her head with one hand to plant a wet, noisy kiss to her forehead.

“I love you, thank you for these!” he said, jogging back towards his bandmates.

“Love you too! Don’t break them, that’s your only extra pair!” Dottie yelled after him and he waved the drumsticks over his shoulder to let her know he’d heard her.

“Well,” Jeannie said with a dangerous glint in her eyes and her arms crossed. “Looks like Little Miss Dorothy isn’t so little anymore. Didn’t take you for a groupie.”

“I’m not their groupie,” she frowned. “Those are my friends, I’m just being supportive.”

“Really? How did you meet them?” Tracey asked, curiously.

“We went to school together. I had Political Science and Chemistry with Gareth, we were lab partners for a few months.”

“You’re not dating that guy, are you?” Benji laughed. “He seems nice but it looks like he’s in love with that waitress.”

“Ew, no, he’s my best friend,” Dottie said, a fond smile on her face. “They all, actually.”

“Best friends, huh?” Jeannie said pointedly. “In six months? You moved on fast.”

“Guess I learned that from you,” she shrugged, turning around once more to watch the rest of the show leaving Jeannie to fume in silence.

“Alright, everyone, who’s ready for some more?” Jeff said into the mic, capturing the bar’s attention once more. “You good to go, Gare?”

Instead of answering, Gareth simply launched into an intro Dottie was very familiar with, but she was confident it hadn’t been included in the setlist she’d seen in the van. They were supposed to open the second half of their show with a Megadeth song, she’d heard Donny argue for it, so what did Eddie think he was doing joining his drummer and plucking along to Van Halen’s Hot for Teacher? It was even more surprising when he approached the mic as Jeff took over guitar duties; the eldest member of Corroded Coffin scanned the crowd with a mischievous smirk until his eyes found his girlfriend before he leaned into the mic.

“Oh, man, wait a second,” he began, turning towards Donny and hamming it up for the performance. “What do you think the teacher’s gonna look like this year?”

Dottie let out a loud laugh disconcerting everyone at the table, but when she locked eyes with Eddie and he winked at her, she knew that Gareth had, as she’d suggested, asked Jeff about the uncomfortable situation going on offstage and had been thoroughly briefed on the issue at hand. It was so like them to change their setlist to make her feel better, and yet so unexpected that it left her a little teary. With a simple gesture, something no one else would have noticed except her, they’d managed to remind her that she had their support no matter what happened or how far they were from her.

As the show went on and the boys played a very funky rendition of Whitesnake’s Saints an’ Sinners, one of Gareth’s favorites, Benji and Tracey began getting more into it, cheering along with Dottie, swaying and headbanging in all appropriate places. Howie looked like he was honestly enjoying himself during Helter Skelter, even going so far as to sing along, elated that there was at least one song with lyrics he actually knew in the setlist. The band took a few seconds to let Jeff drink some water before they played Van Halen’s Little Dreamer, showcasing the boy’s best asset: his lovely crooner voice, full of body and emotion.

By the time Corroded Coffin reached their last song, Moore House was packed with the patrons that had been sitting outside when they’d first arrived at the bar. A light irregular shower had forced people to either go home or seek refuge inside, and many had gladly chosen to stay for the rest of the show and were now being treated to a high energy rendition of Quiet Riot’s Cum on Feel the Noize to close out the evening. During the song, there was a moment where Donny and Eddie, who were goofing off with each other, turned to look at Jeff and Gareth who were also playing along to their antics from the other side of the stage.

Miles away from home, in front of a crowd that had only just met them but seemed nonetheless enthusiastic - or at least not disgusted by their presence - the quartet had never felt more at ease when performing. Even if Moore House wasn’t The Hideout, they knew they could get used to it just as easily if given the chance.

“So,” Eddie said, once the applause at the end of the song had quieted down. “Normally that would have been our last song, but today’s a special day for us. You see, Moore House, today’s the very first time we’ve played outside of our hometown. Little Hawkins has had quite the monopoly on us for the last few years,” he joked, making a few people chuckle along with him. “The truth is, we wouldn’t be here without a very special someone in the audience. You might have heard her screaming her ass off like a banshee all night - that was pretty metal of you, princess.”

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving her floating between the tables as Dottie realized Eddie was talking about her. Charmed like a snake, she sat a little bit taller, eyes glued to the tender smile her boyfriend was not so secretly affording her. It didn’t matter if anyone else saw the hearts floating above his head - he was so in love with the short haired girl sitting a few feet away from him that he was willing to bear all the jokes their friends had been making at his expense for the past week every time they practiced the surprise they had planned. Just the look on her face was worth all of it, and so much more. Donny motioned for her to stand up and she did so, one hand wrapped around the back of her chair for support.

“That’s our banshee!” Gareth said, gleefully.

“Actually, that’s our manager,” Jeff chuckled into his mic without missing a beat. “And she’s the one that got us this gig so you’ve been enjoying the show, please give it up for her.”

Jessie finger-whistled loudly from behind the till, leading the amused applause that broke out while Dottie marveled at the audience happily following Jeff’s commands. It was undeniable that Corroded Coffin had always been charming, but seeing how strongly a crowd of college aged strangers reacted to them had her feeling incredibly bittersweet at the fact that their path to glory was being cut short so early by themselves of all people. Maybe she could convince them to see their college adventures as a hiatus rather than a permanent break. Four years would pass by quickly, wouldn’t they?

“To show our gratitude to our most Darling Dottie, our friend and manager, let’s end this on a high note, shall we?” Eddie redirected everyone’s attention back to the stage. “This has been Corroded Coffin, from Hawkins, Indiana, and we have one final question for you, guys-”

No fucking way, Dottie thought when she heard Jeff start playing their surprise song. There’s no way. They’d never do this outside of Gareth’s garage, I must be totally hallucinating-

“Whatever happened to Saturday night?” Eddie sang into the mic, exchanging positions with Jeff and taking the lead singer spot in the middle of the stage. “When you dressed up sharp and you felt alright?”

“Oh, I love this song!” Benji said, in true theater kid fashion.

“You used to love Rocky Horror, didn’t you?” Tracey said, remembering an old theater ticket Dottie used to keep around as a bookmark.

“I still do, yeah,” she breathed out, a dazed smile etched onto her face.

Eddie wasn’t the best singer in Corroded Coffin. He knew this very well and didn’t have any issues admitting to it, especially when what he lacked in the voice department, he knew he more than made up for with his guitar skills. When he’d brought up the idea of closing the show with Hot Patootie/Bless My Soul as a thank you to Dottie, everyone else had quickly agreed that while the gesture was lovely, the song did not fit in with the rest of their planned set. The boys had then begun suggesting different songs they knew she liked, but Eddie had remained undeterred. In the end, the only reason he’d managed to crack them was because he’d arranged the sax break into a new guitar solo that had really excited Donny upon hearing it, and so the rest of the band followed suit in changing their opinion.

“Go, girl!” Benji pushed Dottie towards the stage when the solo started and Eddie kneeled near the edge looking right at her as he played. “He’s waiting for you!”

With red cheeks and embarrassed giggles, Dottie let herself be guided towards the stage by both Benji and Tracey, turning back to look at them dancing with one another when she felt their hands leave her back. Shifting her focus back on Eddie and only Eddie, Dottie let herself imagine a future where they got to do this all the time, and instead of having to play covers of well known bands, Corroded Coffin would be allowed to play their own songs - the ones she knew were written into notebooks stashed in Eddie’s closet and Donny’s old toy chest (now turned into a junk trunk after donating all his action figures to his little sister Giulietta to marry off to her Barbies).

With your arms around your girl you’d try to sing along, it felt pretty good, woo, really had a good time, Eddie belted before he moved away and sang the chorus along with Jeff at this mic, eyes never leaving his girlfriend’s beaming figure at the bottom of the stage. He had never felt so in the zone performing before: he had a cheering audience that consisted of more than five drunks, his girl was dancing and singing along with the crowd, and his best friends were killing it even after Gareth’s little drumstick mishap. At the start of the night Eddie Munson had been sure he would never be a rockstar, but at that moment he couldn’t deny he certainly felt like one already.

“Good night, everyone!” Jeff said while they played themselves out. “You were fuckin’ awesome!”

Most people cheerfully clapped for them before going back to their chosen alcoholic beverages for the night, the speakers sparking back to life with classic rock to mask the chattering and gossiping. Eddie took his guitar off his shoulder and hurried off the stage, wrapping his sweaty arms around Dottie who squealed in delight when he lifted her up and shook her around excitedly.

“Okay, okay, calm down!” she laughed, hands coming to hold onto his shoulders for dear life.

“Thank you, darling, holy shit, thank you,” he said, his voice full of emotion as he squeezed her sides. “That was the best moment of my life, I’m so fucking thankful.”

“You guys were so good! That was your best show ever, I’m so proud of you, babe.”

“Yeah?” he grinned at her, finally moving his face off her neck. “You have no idea how much I wanna kiss the shit out of you right now but the guys are totally gonna notice.”

“We can sneak down to the lake after we drop everyone off,” she whispered, mischief in her eyes.

“Fuck, I’m so in love with you,” he groaned, eyes closed and face tilted towards the ceiling. “I’ll- I’m gonna take my shit back to the van and I’ll be right back or else I’m gonna do something stupid and get us kicked out of the bar.”

“I’ll go get us drinks!” she announced, loud enough so that the rest of the boys could hear her. “Beers for everyone okay?”

“I’ll go with you!” Gareth said, springing up from where he was squatting while he unplugged a pedal. “Leave the kit here, guys, I’ll come get it when my arms aren’t about to fall off.”

He offered his hand to Dottie who happily took it, and together they went to order beers for everyone as a prize for a job well done. Corroded Coffin’s Big Show had been perfect and a celebration was in order, even if their table had been co-opted by a bunch of teens none of them really felt like partying with. Sense of danger lulled by the excitement of the evening and the fact that she was now flanked on both sides by her best friends, Dottie relaxed and finally let her guard down, content on enjoying the festivities and listening to the chatter around her as she often did when hanging out with the boys.

In retrospect, she should have known better. Hawkins had changed her, softened her, made her more trusting, more vulnerable. She was easy prey now, and as much as she tried to hide the gaping hole in her chest every time she looked at her former best friend, Jeannie had always been an expert in sniffing out blood in the water. Dottie really should have known better.

The Corroded Coffin boys might not have been stellar students during their time at Hawkins High, but their social status as the school’s freaks had taught them a very valuable skill: all four of them could spot a lion dressed like a lamb from miles away. Introductions had barely been made before they recognized Jeannie for who she truly was, all fake smiles hiding a look of contempt she just couldn’t - or wouldn’t - mask in its entirety. It was almost laughable how easy it was to pinpoint how important she thought she was, and also just how much it bothered her that none of them seemed to fall at her feet no matter how much she flicked her long hair over her shoulders.

Jeannie sat silently at the table, becoming more and more upset as the minutes ticked by and no one so much as turned to look at her. As Tracey talked to Donny sitting next to her, gushing about the show and his performance, Eddie stretched and then dropped his arm on Dottie’s chair, pulling her closer to him without the rest of the group noticing. She looked up at him for a brief second before she leaned forward with the excuse of grabbing a napkin, letting their thighs touch as she sat back down. They both turned towards Tracey with bashful smiles, and upon hearing her friend praising the lamest band she’d ever heard, Jeannie felt a ball of anger grow and lodge itself in her throat. Time to hunt.

“How would you even know if they’re good or not? You only listen to Hall & Oates, Trace,” she laughed dismissively, finger tracing the rim of her glass with a practiced smug expression.

“You do?” Donny asked Tracey who had suddenly gone mute. “My sisters like them too, I think we have all the albums at home. Do you have a favorite?”

“Um, I don’t know, they’re all good…,” Tracey said, squirming uncomfortably under the sharp sight of her friend.

“Oh, come on, you love H2O,” Dottie said, matter-of-factly. “You used to listen to Maneater constantly.”

“Oh, oh, here she comes, watch out, boy, she’ll chew you up,” Jeff sang softly, making Tracey’s mouth lift up in a thankful smile.

“Show off,” Benji said, but it was clear to everyone he meant it as a harmless joke.

“You guys listen to Hall & Oates?” Howie asked, surprised.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we?” Eddie shrugged. “We all love metal the most, but we’ll listen to almost anything once. How do you think we got this one into our music?”

“Actually, Donny was the one to corrupt me with that Helter Skelter cover, so if you want a teacher, that’s your guy,” Dottie smiled, remembering old conversations with the gentle boy who helped her navigate her first D&D session.

“Why does only he get the credit for corrupting you?” Gareth complained, shoving her lightly.

“Because he lets me borrow all his mixtapes whenever I want them.”

“And I don’t? I’ve offered you my tapes a million times but you never take any.”

“That’s because you’re obsessed with making me listen to Anthrax and I’ve told you like ten times that it’s fucking noise.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Eddie said, raising a hand to stop her. “That’s sacrilegious, princess, you can’t say that.”

“Can’t I have my own opinions?”

“Yes, but if they’re wrong, we’re legally obligated call you out on them,” Jeff said, bottle of beer halfway up to his mouth.

“Et tu, Jeffrey?” Dottie asked, hand to her chest dramatically making Eddie snicker next to her.

“You’re fun,” Benji declared. “I like this new Dorothy.”

“Me too!” Howie agreed.

“New?” Gareth frowned, baffled. “What do you mean new? She’s always been like this.”

It had been a long time since any of the boys had had questions about Dorothy Burke’s past. As months went on and their friendships got stronger, they’d gotten to learn about her extensively and she about them in return. The five of them were a well-oiled machine by then; banter flowed easily, diner and takeout favorites had been memorized to perfection, and comfort was given before it could even be asked.

It was strange for them to think of a moment in their lives before they knew Dottie, because it truly felt like they had known her forever. She’d opened up to them about why she was the way she was sometimes, her past experiences and her fears shaping her into the fiercely loyal yet deeply afraid of being lonely girl they had come to love and appreciate. No one could imagine her being something other than who she had always been - that shy tenderhearted teen looking for connection with a bag full of snacks and a set of borrowed dice - so hearing that Dottie hadn’t always been their Dot was a little shocking, to say the least.

“It’s not that she was very different,” Tracey tried to explain. “It’s just that she used to be more… reserved I guess?”

“She was a loser.”

“Jeanette!” Benji scolded her. “That’s rude!”

“What? You know I’m right!” Jeannie defended herself. “She never wanted to go to any parties or bars, never misbehaved, never drank. I’m surprised she even had a boyfriend while she was such a prude.”

“I- I was just busy-” Dottie muttered, embarrassed in front of her friends and feeling her hidden wounds rip open once more.

“Yeah, busy being a loser! You never wanted to go anywhere with us, the only time we could get you to break a curfew was on Tyler’s birthday.”

“If all that makes her a loser I guess we are losers too, aren’t we boys?” Eddie said, dropping his hand from the back of Dottie’s chair to her shoulder protectively. “I mean, shit, I had to do my senior year three times.”

“I had a panic attack the first time I smoked weed and I’ve never touched that thing since,” Jeff added.

“I still go to church every Sunday morning with my Nonna,” Donny raised his glass as if he was toasting.

“The only party we went to during senior year was the one Dot made us go to, and we had to leave because she got into a fight,” Gareth said, laughing at the memory.

“Actually, Eddie got into a fight,” she clarified, feeling brave with her friends by her side. “I just finished it.”

“Well, you did blackmail the guy, so I think 50% of that fight was on you,” Donny reminded her.

“Fuckin’ Andy, man,” Eddie shook his head. “I had a bruise on my ass for days.”

“She almost broke his nose so I’d say you guys are even now,” Jeff finished, turning to the four people staring at Dottie like she had grown two heads. “You should have seen her, it was awesome.”

“You did all that?” Howie asked, almost with reverence.

“Are they gifting fucking lobotomies in that shitty town of yours or did you suddenly grow a personality so you could lie to get new friends?”

“That’s so mean, Jeane-” Tracey said, but Dottie interrupted her.

“You know what, Jeannie? You’re right. I was a loser,” she said in an even tone, aware that she was bleeding out around a shark. “I’ve always been a loser, and that didn’t change when I moved to Hawkins just because I went to a party once. I’ll always be a loser, I know that, but at least I’m not trying to pretend like I’m cool when I’m actually fucking miserable all the time.”

“Holy shit,” Benji muttered, but no one paid any attention to him.

“Don’t act all high and mighty with me, Dorothy. You may have new friends now that don’t know the real you, but I do. Let’s not lie to ourselves here, you’ll always be that know-it-all nerd who used to hide under my wing for protection.”

“Protection from what?” Dottie scoffed. “I was always Jeannie’s boring little friend from preschool. No one gave a shit about me, you made sure of it.”

“Don’t say that,” Tracey said, frowning.

“Save it, Trace. You were all pretty clear about where you stood when Jeannie started dating Tyler,” she reminded them, and at least Benji and Tracey had the decency to look ashamed. “But thank you, really, because if it hadn’t been for you guys ignoring me, I would have never spent all my lunch periods alone in the library with Mrs. Randall, and I would have definitely never gotten into Michigan without her help.”

“You got into Michigan?” Tracey asked after a beat, eyes shifting over towards where Jeannie was sitting.

“Princess got a full ride and everything,” Eddie said, proudly.

“Well, shit,” Benji said, grinning. “Can’t really say I’m surprised, but congrats! If anyone was going to get in, it was you for sure.”

“You’re such a fake bitch, Benji,” Jeannie turned to him, seething.

“Hey, not my fault your GPA sucked.”

“Okay, guys, come on, we’re losing the plot here,” Howie tried to cool down the room to unsuccessful results.

“You applied to Michigan too?” Dottie asked Jeannie, gears slowly turning in her head.

“Thought it’d be fun,” she shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, I’m going to CSI anyways.”

“Crime Stoppers?” Donny said, confused.

“What?”

“CSI, that’s Crime Stoppers International, right?”

“No, dumbass, Staten Island,” Jeannie said through her teeth, humiliated and furious.

“Isn’t that… sorry, I’m not trying to be mean here but they don’t even ask for your SAT scores to get in there,” Jeff frowned, quickly realizing that had been the wrong thing to mention.

“Once I’m a registered nurse no one will give a shit about my SAT scores. And I get to live with my boyfriend in the city if I go to CSI, so that’s a plus. I’d be stupid to ever leave NYC.”

“You’re still dating Tyler?” Dottie wondered curiously.

“Of course I am. He’s so in love with me it’s actually pathetic.”

“Wow. Does he know you talk about him like that?” she cringed.

“Why do you care?” Jeannie said, smug. “It’s not like he’s still your boyfriend.”

“You’re right, he’s not,” Dottie stood up, brushing Eddie’s shoulder with her hand and feeling very thankful for the path her life had taken. “Excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom.”

As she walked towards the door marked with a “Women” sign, she could hear Benji and Jeannie at each other’s throats, Howie still trying to calm them down to no avail. The heavy metallic door closed behind her back and, for the first time since they’d arrived, Dottie felt like she could breathe normally. She approached the sink furthest away from the entrance and began washing her hands with cold water, staring at the suds disappearing down the drain like she was cleaning up her own blood after a fight.

When she’d joined the Hellfire Club and met Eddie, Gareth, Donny, and Jeff, she knew things would be different. She was still fearful at the time, of course; a lifetime of disappointment doesn’t vanish just because you’ve found a few good friends, but even if she’d realized a long time ago how truly lucky she’d been to find her people in the Middle of Nowhere, Indiana, she’d never actually compared her new friend group to her older one. At least, not until now. Four friends with four clear positions, and her as an addendum. Eddie and Jeannie as the leaders, Gareth and Howie as the class clowns, Donny and Benji as the seconds in command, and Jeff and Tracey as the sensible ones.

And Dottie. Always just Dottie, loser, shy, boring Dottie, attaching herself to a group and tagging along to adventures she hadn’t planned or dreams that had never been her own in the first place. Except… well, that wasn’t the case anymore, was it? She’d gotten them the gig in Indianapolis, that had been her creating the adventure. She’d convinced them to go to that fateful party at Jason’s house, they’d gone to prom as a group because she mentioned she wanted to go, they’d gone swimming in the lake in their undies because she’d agreed to it. And that’s not to mention the countless times they’d gone out for ice cream because she’d suggested it, or the movies they had rented because she wanted to see them.

In return, she’d seen The Exorcist because Gareth had wanted to, she had accepted the job Donny had offered because he wanted to work with her all summer, she’d actually jumped into the lake in her underwear because Jeff had encouraged her to do it. With the boys she wasn’t tagging along. They always made sure of it. She was wearing Eddie’s shirt, Jeff’s belt, Gareth’s rings, Donny’s bracelets. They constantly and consistently included her, not just by inviting her to things, but by actually making the effort to make her feel part of them. And she really was. With them, she had always been, from day one and without having to ask any questions.

“Don’t talk to me, I just want to pee,” a voice broke her train of thought, and Dottie only managed to see Jeannie’s long hair swinging before she went into a stall.

Dottie considered leaving the bathroom, going back to her table and sitting down with her friends, maybe even ordering a basket of fries to share and pretend like nothing had happened, but something inside stopped her. As much as she hated to admit it, there was a part of her that still cared for Jeannie and if this was going to be the last time they’d ever speak, she didn’t want to leave things like this. Jeannie had been her best friend a lifetime ago. It wasn’t right to pretend like that shared history had never existed.

She moved to the side to dry her hands as Jeannie came out of her stall and went to wash up, biding her time until she figured out what she wanted to say. Jeannie was visibly furious, the little vein in her neck straining against her skin as she chewed on the same kind of anger she’d been carrying inside since they were kids. Jeannie used to be so furious all the time. She’d break all the toys in her vicinity, whether they were hers or borrowed, she’d bite and pull on people’s hair, and she had to be constantly put on timeout as a child so the teachers could get her to settle down for a few minutes.

Their pre-school teacher had been at her wits end the day she sat Dottie next to Jeannie, hoping that the much quieter and well-behaved little girl would be able to influence the terror that disrupted every single one of her classes. The two kids had gotten along just fine during drawing time, but when they were let out to the playground for a break, Jeannie pushed Dottie off the slide, making her fall knees first onto the gravel below. Dottie had then cried and cried, her tender knees oozing blood down her legs and staining her white socks, and Jeannie, upon seeing their teacher approach, also began crying uncontrollably.

What happened next surprised everyone, mainly because Jeannie wasn’t used to being kind to other kids, but the tiny five-year-old sat eerily still in the nurse’s office next to a sniffling Dottie, holding her hand while Nurse Olivier cleaned and bandaged the hurt child. Afterwards and unlike herself, Jeannie said she was sorry, and Dottie, much like herself, forgave her because “that’s what friends do”. Jeannie had spent the rest of their lives pushing Dottie and holding her hand afterwards. Why would she do that if she wasn’t utterly terrified her oldest friend would eventually leave her, constantly testing the strength of their friendship much like a child who can’t quite understand their own emotions just yet?

“Sorry, can I ask you something?” Dottie said, looking at her former friend through the mirror. Upon receiving nothing but silence, she continued. “Why nursing?”

“What?”

“It’s just… You wanted to do Civil Engineering. You talked about it with Benji all the time, you wanted to apply to colleges together. You even asked my Dad about it.”

“Yeah, well… I changed my mind,” Jeannie said, bitterly.

“But why?”

“Because Engineering is not a girl’s career.”

“Says who?”

Jeannie didn’t look at Dottie as she closed the tap and shook her hands to get rid of the excess water, the latter moving out of the way to let her access the paper dispenser. Her silver bracelet shook as she dabbed at her hands with the rough material and Dottie was suddenly struck with a memory so old that for a second she thought she had made it up as an eight-year-old.

They’d been waiting to be picked up after a long day of school on a Thursday, which meant that it wasn’t James the one Dottie was waiting for - it was Uncle Johnny, coming to take her to her swimming lessons at the community center near his home while her Dad was stuck working extra hours. Jeannie’s mom arrived earlier than him that day, bringing her daughter a present: a small Tiffany’s bag with two matching bracelets inside to commemorate the day she had finally divorced Jeannie’s dad. Dottie had been much too young to understand the intricacies of adult relationships and how they affected her friend at the time, so she’d only cooed and awed at the gorgeous piece of jewelry while hiding a pang of quiet jealousy at the fact that she would never be able to match anything with her own mom.

Two days later during her monthly Saturday Crafting Afternoon with Aunt Mary Elizabeth, she told her what had happened with an innocence that tugged her Aunt’s heartstrings before she tore her craft bins apart searching for supplies to make her niece feel better. Between small breaks that consisted of chocolate milk, homemade cookies, and endless hugs, the two of them worked on a ton of bead bracelets, one for each member of their little makeshift family. James’ bracelet was a gaudy little thing with the word DADDY spelled with a 4 instead of an A because they had run out of the correct letters and Mary Elizabeth was nothing if not incredibly creative. Dottie was confident that if she decided to snoop through his bedside table’s first drawer, she’d find the plastic accessory still rattling around with the rest of his junk.

“Don’t- don’t fucking do that,” Jeannie said tiredly, finally turning around and facing her. “You always do that and it pisses me off.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t act like you understand anything about my life!”

“I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to,” she said with genuine remorse in her tone. “I just wanted to know why, I didn’t mean to-”

“Didn’t mean to what? To rub in my face that you got into a good school and I didn’t? I’m so fucking sick of you, Dorothy,” Jeannie said in calm anger and Dottie wished she’d just yell at her. “Just when I finally thought I’d gotten rid of you, you show up to embarrass me like you’ve always done. Stop pretending like you’ve ever cared about me or my life, because you haven’t. You’re a goddamn liar and you know it.”

“I’ve never lied to you in my entire life, Jeannie,” Dottie said, trying not to bleed out in her attempt to find peace.

“God, do you ever shut up about how good you are? About how nice you are? You were always the Golden fucking Child, and I’ve always been trash compared to you. Oh, Dorothy is gonna do something great with her life, you should be more like her! She’s so kind, so polite, so goddamn quiet,” she said, voice mocking before it switched back to scathing. “Fuck you.”

“What are you talking about? I’ve never said anything like that to you! Actually, you were the one who was always treating me like trash!”

“Oh, give me a break,” she laughed. “You didn’t need to say it, everyone else did it for you. You were the teacher’s pet who always got away with murder, and I was the stupid fuck-up who was too much like her Dad and couldn’t get into your fancy college. I might be a bitch, but at least I’m honest.”

“Jeannie, are you even listening to what you’re saying?” she argued desperately. “I’ve never thought of you like that, I swear! I literally spent my entire life wanting to be more like you - you had a pretty house, and all the toys you wanted. And you had a mom! Everyone wanted to be your friend, and I never understood why you picked me instead of anyone else-”

“I knew it, I fucking knew it, I always knew you were a jealous bitch-”

“God fucking damnit, I loved you!” Dottie admitted, clenching her fists in frustration. “I loved you so much, and I wanted to be like you because I thought if I was, it would make you love me back! You treated me like shit all the time, and I still loved you. You were my best friend, Jeannie.”

Jeannie might have looked like she had just been slapped but Dottie knew she didn’t understand the meaning behind her words, not when she had only figured them out after they’d tumbled out of her own mouth. Feeling strangely lighter, she watched as her oldest friend’s eyes changed from furious to scared, as if she was that five-year-old holding her hand while Nurse Olivier bandaged her bloody knees again. Dottie understood then that it had never been about her or their friendship, but she’d just served a shark her corpse on a platter and she needed to get some closure before she left the sanctity of the girls’ bathroom or else she’d always wonder what could have been.

“Why did you apply to Michigan?” Dottie asked, eyes full of unshed tears.

“...Because you were there,” Jeannie muttered, defeated. She crossed her arms before she continued. “After you left I asked Mrs. Randall about you and she told me you were early admission. I was just so mad at you, I- I don’t know. I never told anyone else you had already gotten in when I decided to apply.”

“Why did you switch to Nursing? You could have picked literally anything else.”

“Tyler’s pre-med at Cornell. You know how his family is, and I obviously couldn’t get in with him, so this was my only choice.”

Tyler’s family, while perfectly nice, supportive and polite, had always stressed to their sons the importance of getting into the family business. Not all of them were doctors, but everyone who had gone to college in the last three generations had gotten a degree somewhere in the Health field, and most importantly, they had also married a medical professional. Tyler’s dad was a generalist, his mother was a psychiatrist, his uncle was a surgeon who had married his assistant nurse.

They never made Dottie feel like she had to change her career path to be with Tyler while she was dating him, and yet there had always been a silent expectation put upon their son to “get serious” further down the line. Jeannie knew what this meant for her own relationship once they went off to college, so she decided to make two households very happy by trading in her Civil Engineering dreams for a future that included a shiny RN badge and a nuclear family who lived in a friendly cul-de-sac.

“They talk about you sometimes, you know?” Jeannie said, surprising the other girl. “They say you were always nice, ask me if I’ve heard from you. I think Flynn misses you the most.”

“He’s a good guy,” Dottie said, smiling. “You should ask him for advice on college stuff, he helped me out a ton.”

“Yeah. Maybe I will.”

“I, um… I should get back to my friends,” the short haired girl said pointing at the door with her thumb. “We have a long way home, so…”

“Yeah, no, I get it,” she smiled, a little wistful. “That guy with the long hair, uh…”

“Eddie. His name is Eddie.”

“Is he good?”

“He’s the best,” Dottie’s smile grew bigger at the thought of her boyfriend. “They all are.”

“They seem nice,” she said, falling quiet afterwards.

“Goodbye, Jeanette.”

“Goodbye, Dottie.”

Jeannie stayed in the bathroom needing some space to process their final goodbye, surrounded by New York Dottie’s remains while Hawkins Dottie walked back to the table. Eddie, as usual, was the first one to notice his girlfriend’s turbulent expression, instinctively putting out a hand to touch her as soon as she was in range for him to do so. He pulled her into the space between their chairs, fingers splayed against the low of her back protectively.

“You okay?” he muttered quietly, but everyone’s eyes were on them regardless.

“Not really,” her lips curved into a small pout. “Is it okay if we go?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Eddie downed the last of his beer and sprung out of his seat. “We just gotta, uh-”

“We’re on it,” Jeff said, also getting up. “You two go get the van closer to the door so we can load the drums, it’s supposed to start raining soon.”

“I have to talk to Jessie about your payment, she told me-,” Dottie said, but the sound of more chairs shuffling cut her off.

“I’ve got it!” Donny said, putting on his battle vest while heading towards the till.

“I’ll go get my stuff,” Gareth announced, unceremoniously jogging towards the stage to disassemble his drum kit.

“Okay then, uh,” Dottie turned towards her former friends to find them already standing up and heading towards her.

“I’m so sorry,” Tracey said, throwing her arms around her for a comforting hug. Neither of them knew who needed it more. “I’m sorry about everything. It was really lovely to see you again.”

“You’re glowing, girl,” Benji said when it was his turn to get a hug. “Whatever you’re doing, keep it up.”

“Show was great, guys,” Howie said to Eddie and Jeff, giving them both a boyish pat on their shoulders.

“Thanks, man. See you around.”

Dottie wrapped her arms around herself while Eddie led her towards the van, never letting go of her hand while he guided the vehicle closer to the double doors that led to the backside of the building. The smell of an incoming storm filled the air as he lowered his window and lit up a cigarette before turning to her with a knowing look on his face.

“D’you wanna talk about it?” he asked, only the rumble of the van’s motor filling the quiet of the night.

“I… I think I used to have a crush on her,” Dottie said, coming to terms with something that deep down she had always known but had never dared to think about.

“Uh-oh. Should I be worried?” Eddie pouted, succeeding in his goal to make her giggle.

“You’re silly,” she moved closer to him, ready to put their argument behind and Eddie obliged, throwing an arm around her. “The show was so good. I’m so proud of you.”

“Yeah? You liked our surprise?”

“Are you kidding? I loved it. You’re so talented,” she leaned up to kiss him but couldn’t reach his lips, giving him a peck on his jaw instead. “We have to come back, see if we can get you booked again.”

“I love you,” he said, staring down at her completely and truly lovesick. “You’re amazing. Best manager in the fuckin’ world.”

“I love you too, Ed. Thank you.”

“The hell you thanking me for, darling?”

The van’s back doors opened with a loud noise startling them apart as Gareth and Jeff pushed the rest of their equipment onto the carpeted floor, quickly securing it and climbing into the backseat. Donny rushed out of the building with an unlit cigarette in his hand and an envelope in the other, waving it in the air proudly. The first thunder of the night mixed in with their cheers as he got in and Eddie pulled out of the parking lot.

“Hey, guys,” Donny said, watching Jeff count their earnings. “You wanna go to McDonald’s?”

“Oh, fuck yes,” Eddie said, turning the corner and heading towards the Golden Arches glowing in the distance. “We need fries, don’t we, princess?”

“Yes, please,” Dottie agreed. “And milkshakes.”

“Dot, your old friends sucked ass,” Gareth said, tone conversational but still a little upset on her behalf as he leaned over her seat to throw his arms around her shoulders.

“I don’t know. They weren’t always that bad,” she mused, hands coming to hold his forearms crossing over her collarbones. “You guys are much better though.”

“Hell yeah we are!” Donny said, smug.

“Hey, Gare… I think you might wanna look at this,” Jeff said, barely contained mirth staining his serious tone.

On his hand was a napkin with girly writing scribbled with a blue pen on it, right underneath the Moore House logo. It read: hey hot stuff, sorry to disappoint. I would have totally given you my number if you were older, but sadly you’re not. Keep drumming like that and make me regret having morals when your band becomes huge. XO, Jessie.

“Turn back!” Gareth yelled dramatically, pulling at Eddie’s shoulder. “In the name of love, turn back!”

“Sit down, Bono, she’s four years older than you. She’s not interested,” Donny cackled, forcing him back into his seat.

“Yeah, man, she just wanted to let you down gently,” Eddie said, joining in on the teasing.

“That’s my future wife you’re talking about, you assholes,” Gareth said, knowing full well he didn’t have a chance with Jessie the Night Manager but having fun pretending he did.

As the rain kept falling and their good natured ribbing continued while heading to McDonald’s, Dottie quietly basked in the knowledge that she was safe swimming on open waters with her best friends. She swore right there and then that she was willing to die for each and every one of them, because she knew they were much more likely to be on the surfboard next to her, fighting for their lives together instead of being the ones attacking her.

Previous chapter of her life finally closed, she peacefully leaned against her seat as Eddie pulled into the McDonald’s drive thru. NYC Dottie is dead, long live Hawkins Dottie, she thought, unabashedly staring at her boyfriend as he ordered enough fries and milkshakes to last them the whole trip back home.

taglist: @munsonology @kurdtbean @eg-dr3amer3 @oneforthemunny @munsons-queen

@cinemabean

[asher-agere]

HAIII :3. may i get some headcanons for big sibling caregiver! Akito and a older kiddo! Reader (like maybe 8-11 :0?)

Ooooo a much bigger headspace then I usually write about, I can do this! (I’m very much so a baby regressive and don’t know much about kiddo regression, but I can research and try my best! >:3)

Also writing with reader as an active character is a little weird for me, so I’m just gonna write it open ended as if you can fit anyone into the kid regressor spot! This might not make a difference to some but it’s huge to me- Apologizes if it ruins what you wanted (╥﹏╥)

Big Brother Akito + Kid Regressor

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

⋆ Akito would be so happy to get to be a big brother! He’s used to being “Lil bro” which he is not pleased with. So getting to be a big brother for someone is perfect for him! I think he’d honestly look up to Ena (Don’t tell her he said that). He’ll try to think of things Ena did for him that he actually enjoyed and try to do things similar! They mostly fight so he claims to not have many good memories, but honestly he has a lot, and he makes use of them!

⋆ Lot’s of drawing and coloring! Akito grew up in an artistic household, and while he himself has never really been artistic I think a lot of his childhood memories include being encouraged to draw! But he’d never be as judgemental as the household he grew up in. No matter what the drawing looks like, no matter the coloring skill, he’ll always praise his little one! He always makes sure to tell them how beautiful the things they make are and he’ll hang up all their artwork! Usually on the fridge with fun magnets ヽ(°〇°)ﾉ

⋆ When Akito was younger he also did soccer, I think he’d love to play soccer with a little one! He had some colorful nets and a ball (Obviously decorated with stickers, it’s ok if they don’t stay on though!). He’ll set things up in his backyard, or even go to a park if his little one feels up to it! Of course he doesn’t play at his very best so his little one can win sometimes, but he doesn’t just let them win every single time! That’s never any fun. So he balances out the wins!

⋆ Akito loves teaching his little one things! He’ll show off all the dances he’s learned with his group and try teaching the little one how to do things! He also encourages them to come up with their own dances and teach him of course! He complains, it is Akito after all. But he doesn’t complain to much or very seriously, just in a joking way hehe. If he thinks the dance is embarrassing he’ll “punish” the little one with a tickle attack! He’s just trying to get out of it though, don’t let him! Make that man dance!

⋆ Surprisingly Akito actually loves playing dress up! He’s not the best at it (Three jackets… Someone stop him) but he still enjoys it! He especially loves giving hoodies to the little one of course, since he has so many. Try hard enough and you can totally get him in a dress! He will definitely complain though. He also has experience with dying hair because of the yellow streak in his hair, so I totally think he’d buy like, the kids hair dye? The like hair chalk stuff, it literally washes out in 5 minutes

⋆ He loves snack time! Specifically pancakes of course. He’ll get plastic knives (Or just butter knives, something safe) then it’s a challenge! Both him and the little one have to try and cut their own pancakes into the coolest shape! He acts veryyy competitive, insisting his is the best. But then when he sees the little ones creation he’s always so amazed and lets them have the win! Plus of course decorating with toppings. It’s like a whole event!

⋆ Akito can and will measure the little one with objects. One of the 4koma’s states that he is "about 60 fluffy pancakes stacked on top of each other” tall (It hasn’t been translated yet but I’ll still add it. Sanrio event please come soon)

Overall this tells me that Akito will absolutely measure someone with objects. He’s just so silly

⋆ Akito doesn’t even try to push eating healthy. Is it important? Yeah of course. But he definitely won’t be eating that, so why bother making the little one? Carrots are the worst thing ever obviously. Sometimes he tries scolding the little one to eat their vegetables and stuff even though there’s a very clear pile of untouched carrots on his own plate. Being a hypocrite doesn’t always work out to great. Especially against a stubborn little kid

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

Yay Akito! He’s my favorite silly little guy. I use the outfit from Len’s “A Treasure Chest of Fun” card for him and… Very silly guy. He looks so goofy. But I use the hairstyle and hair band from Akito’s “A Thirsting Wanderer” card because… Woah pretty hairstyle

[glorious-spoon]

you say you’re tired and you just wanna close your eyes [9-1-1 |  Buck/Eddie | 1/1]

Rating: Teen Wordcount: 1400 Warnings: Presumed dead; Coma Other tags: Hurt/comfort; Pre-relationship Summary: After the lightning strike, Buck dreams.

ON AO3

The man on the TV is dead. This is the first thing Evan learns about him—before his name, even. He’s a firefighter, and he’s dead.

“Shots rang out this morning, leaving one firefighter dead and two more injured in what appears to be a targeted attack on the LAFD,” the reporter is saying into her mic. Her face is serious, her red hair windblown. She seems familiar, though Evan can’t place her. Behind her, yellow caution tape flutters around the crime scene: haphazardly parked fire engines, the burnt-out husk of a car, a blurred spot on the pavement that is almost certainly blood. Uniformed officers move solemnly through the carnage. “Edmundo Diaz of Station 118 was struck by gunfire while responding to a medical emergency in downtown Los Angeles. He was later pronounced dead at the hospital…”

Her voice seems to fade out, or maybe that’s just the buzzing in Evan’s ears as he stands there frozen in the kitchen, a soapy dish in his hands half-rinsed. On the screen, the live footage has been replaced by a still photo of a man in a blue dress uniform, dark-eyed, handsome. He’s not smiling, but his gaze seems to pierce through Evan like a knife.

Shots fired! Firefighter down! I repeat, firefighter down!

I need you to hang on. We’re so close, I need you to hang on for me.

Please just—

Evan shakes his head, disoriented. His hands are empty and the TV is off, though he doesn’t remember moving.

-

There’s a voicemail on his phone, and he doesn’t know who it’s from. A man’s voice, rough and exhausted, quiet where he’s got his phone pressed to his ear.

“Christopher misses you, you know. He’s in school right now. He didn’t want to go, but he’s already missed two days, and I can’t…” a deep shuddering sigh. “I guess you should know that Bobby made me take some time off. Said I can’t be out in the field when I’m like this. He’s right. I hate it, but he’s right. I can’t focus like this. So you have to wake up, okay? I need my partner back. And Chris—I told him you’d wake up. You’re not gonna make a liar of me, are you?” Silence. Then a soft noise, another shaky breath. “Come on. Please come back to me. Just wake up, I know you can do it.”

“I’m awake,” Evan mumbles, even though his bedroom is empty and he knows he’s talking to no one. “I’m right here.”

The message ends. Evan lowers his phone. His hand aches, like something has been squeezing it hard.

-

There are numbers in his phone that he doesn’t recognize, a stranger’s handwriting on the whiteboard calendar on his fridge. Magnets in the shape of planets.

-

The endless California highway loops out ahead of him as he drives, pavement rumbling beneath the tires of the Jeep. On the radio, Bruce Springsteen sings, You say you’re tired and you just wanna close your eyes and follow your dreams down, and Evan mouths the words along with him, glancing at the passenger seat like someone’s going to be sitting there looking back at him.

The song ends, and the radio announcer says, “We’re all waiting for you, kid. I know you’re going to wake up. I have faith in you. But don’t take too long, because we’re all—”

-

“You’re so loved,” Maddie says. She’s crying, and Evan hates that. Hates that he can’t reach out, that there’s just her voice over the phone. Just her tears a thousand miles distant. “I know you’ve always had a hard time believing that, but you’re so, so loved. And it’s not just me, it’s not just Eddie and Christopher, or Bobby, or Chimney and Hen and—everyone, you’ve touched so many people’s lives, you make the world so much brighter just by being in it. Please, Evan, please—”

He blinks. His eyes are wet, and there’s a ghost of warmth, like someone has just brushed a kiss against his forehead.

But the room is empty. He’s alone.

-

Edmundo “Eddie” Diaz passed away unexpectedly on May 17. A former Army medic, he was awarded the Silver Star for valor in combat. He continued his service in the Los Angeles Fire Department, which he joined in 2018. He was predeceased by his wife, Shannon. He is survived by his parents, Ramon and Helena Diaz; his younger sisters, Adrianna and Sophia, and his son, Christopher…

Evan sets his phone down, feeling vaguely ill. The break room at work is full of people, but he’s sitting alone at a table, and the swirl of laughter and conversation never quite seems to touch him.

Then someone settles onto the bench next to him.

“You saved my life, you know,” the man says in that same raspy, exhausted voice. Evan wants to look at him, but he can’t make his head move. “I don’t think I ever told you that in so many words, but you did. Not just when you pulled me out of there, not just when you broke down my door that night when Chris called you, but in every way since we’ve met. It took me a while to get that, and I was going to tell you, but then you—” A deep, shaky breath. “Just. I don’t know what my life would be without you in it, and I don’t want to find out. Okay? And I’m not telling you anything more than that. We’re not doing deathbed love confessions, here, Buck. You want to hear the rest of it, you’re going to have to wake up.”

“I’m trying,” Buck mumbles.

He lifts his head, but the man is gone.

Like always, Evan is alone.

-

The ocean laps at the shore, and the breeze carries the smell of salt, the sun off the water so bright it’s blinding.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” asks the boy on the bench next to him.

“I’m already a grownup,” Evan says. “What about you?”

“I want to be a firefighter like you and Dad.”

“I’m not a firefighter.”

The boy laughs. “Don’t be silly, Buck.”

He’s older now, childish softness sharpening into the beginnings of adolescence. His expression has turned solemn; his glasses reflect the sunlight, obscuring his eyes. “Dad says you can hear us and it helps to talk to you, but I don’t know what to say. So I’m going to tell you about my science fair project. We’re growing slime mold in petri dishes—remember how you helped me set it up? Dad thinks it’s gross, but I think he’s just jealous because he can’t keep plants alive. Also, I started another sample with Froot Loops, and it likes those way better than the oatmeal. Did you know that slime molds aren’t classified as fungi anymore? I’ve been doing a lot of reading on it. I have a lot to tell you when you wake up.”

-

“Listen, I know you’re having a nice week-long nap here, Buck, but it’s time for you to wake up. Jee-yun misses her favorite babysitter, it’s unbearable. Uncle Buck this, Uncle Buck that—”

“Chimney,” says the woman next to him. Her face blurs in Evan’s vision, a confused impression of glasses and a warm, exasperated smile.

“Yeah, okay. I guess the rest of us really miss you too.”

“He means it, you know,” the woman says. “We all miss you. We love you, and we miss you, and we can’t wait for you to come back home.”

“It’s killing Eddie,” the man adds.

“Chim.”

“What? It’s the truth.” Pressure closes around his fingers, and the man sounds more serious when he speaks this time. “Hey, I mean it, though. I already lost one brother, I can’t lose you too. Okay?”

They’re outside, he thinks. The sunlight is blinding.

Or, no. That isn’t sunlight. Lightning splits the sky. There’s metal beneath his hands. A sudden weightlessness catches him, and he falls, he’s falling, and someone is screaming his name, but it isn’t his name—

-

“Buck, I swear to god,” Eddie Diaz whispers.

But you’re dead, Evan tries to say, except that he’s not sure it’s true. He thinks maybe he’s been the one who’s dead this whole time. His bedroom is empty, and he’s alone because Evan Buckley has always been alone, but right now someone is holding his hand. Warm lips press a kiss to the backs of his knuckles.

“Eddie,” he rasps, and this time it feels different. His throat is raw, and it hurts to speak.

This time it feels real.

Buck opens his eyes.

[ladywaffles]

19 and goosemav+carole please? 🥺🥰

thank you!!! :3

things you said when we were the happiest we ever were

“Get the camera, get the camera!” Carole whacks him in the arm the second they hear Maverick’s footsteps in the hallway.

“I’m going, I’m going!”

“Hurry up!” she hisses.

“It’s not the Queen of England, it’s just Mav!” Goose grouses.

“Just Mav?” Maverick says, letting himself in as always. “And here I was thinking you liked me! I thought we was going steady, Goosey!”

“Maverick!” Carole squeals. She all but throws herself into his arms, never mind the fact that it’s barely been three days since she last saw him, and showers him in kisses. Goose smiles to himself and plucks his Polaroid off of the bedroom dresser.

By the time he makes it back to the kitchen, Maverick is wearing a lovely shade of Covergirl’s coral pink lipstick all over his cheeks.

“Smudge that up a bit, and it’d make a great blush, Mav!” he crows.

“You’re the worst, Goose,” Mav says, reaching over the table to grab a napkin.

“Love you too, dearest,” Goose smiles.

“Now, Maverick,” Carole says, folding her hands neatly on the table. She’s got a bright gleam in her eyes. Goose hands her the paper they got from the doctor’s office yesterday, and she’s positively glowing.

“We’ve got some news for you, something very important,” she says seriously.

Maverick’s face falls. “It’s not bad, is it? You’re not sick? Oh, God, Goose, why didn’t you say sooner!”

“No, I’m not sick, Mav,” Goose answers. “But Carole is… well, she’s got a delicate constitution, you see.”

Maverick looks like Goose just kicked a puppy in front of him and then told him to run it over with the Kawasaki. He’s biting his lip so hard to fight from bursting out with a honk of laughter that he can almost taste the blood.

“Carole? You’re not dying, are you?” Mav takes Carole’s hand and runs his fingers over her knuckles. “Whatever it is, me and Goose are gonna be here for ya, I swear. I’ll be on my best behavior, scout’s honor!”

“You were never a Boy Scout, Maverick Mitchell, you take that back!” Carole giggles and hands Maverick the results from the doctor.

“Goosey took me to see someone yesterday,” she tells him. “Since I wasn’t feeling too good. The results came back fine, but it looks like we’re gonna have a pretty different lifestyle going forward. We’re gonna have to change a lotta things around here, Maverick, and I’m expecting you to be here for all of them.”

Maverick takes a deep sigh before unfolding the paper. Goose holds up his camera, training it on Mav’s face so he doesn’t miss the money shot.

It takes all of five seconds for Mav to process it and look at Carole in shock. The flash goes off, but Maverick doesn’t notice at all.

“You’re—you!” he sputters.

“We’re having a baby!” Goose yells, throwing his arms around Mav’s neck. “I’m gonna be a daddy!”

Carole wraps both of them into a tight hug, and then they’re dancing around the tiny kitchen.

“Wait, wait!” Mav says, holding the paper up so it doesn’t crinkle. “We gotta put this somewhere important.”

He takes the novelty magnet they picked up in Pensacola during flight school and tacks the ultrasound to the middle of the fridge.

“There we go!”

Mav turns back to them with a smile wide enough to split his face. “You’re gonna be parents,” he says. “God, who woulda thought!”

“Don’t think this changes anything, mister!” Carole wags her finger at him. “You’re still gonna be around here just as much as you are now. How else are we gonna manage without our baby’s godfather?”

Goose snaps another picture of Maverick, his mouth hanging open like a bass on a line, and laughs.

send me a pairing and a number!

[gurugirl]

WTF

Im

Never

Recovering

Why can’t I have sweet and dom pop star rich daddy harry fucking me like this? I’m a plus size las. Don’t I deserve this? I can’t think of many smut scenes or pornos I’ve ever read or watched hotter than this. I’m… breathless. But it wasn’t just hot sex. There are some real things going on here. These two are falling in love and they have some issues to work through but this story is glorious.

You are the queen writing such deep characters and interesting plot lines but also give us that yummy yummy yummy yummy smut too.

☠️💦

Ah ha ha ha ha! Why thank you! This is a beautiful compliment and I feel like I should print this out and hang it up on my fridge with a magnet.

Some of y’all really know how to flatter and I’m not gonna complain about it. 💕

Xoxo

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

So I have a singular brain cell and thought this anon was just asking if they could ask me whatever abt the OrangeJuiceVerse (btw YALL pls do) I went back and saw that they were asking me to say whatever bs for that au SO!!!

Here’s a kinda sad thing that got me in Wife Jail with neen last night bc we were talking abt it.

So in chapter 5 of Broken Bottles From Apartment 2, when Stan and Tweek are having their heart to heart, Stan mentions what Rock Bottom meant to him. I’m putting a cut here bc it may get to be a Lot

So, OJV Stan stopped drinking at 25, the week after Kyle’s birthday. He’d been through bouts of excessive drinking before, sure, but always in secret, always hiding the extent of it from Kyle.

Like, Stan would openly have a drink with Ky while they’re hanging out, they’ll get wine drunk together and make out, but Stan, when he gets really bad with the drinking, hides. He doesn’t want Kyle to worry. And Kyle knows SOMETHING is up, and he’s like looking up what could be going on until this one fucking day:

So the boys are hangin out watching a movie, Stan has a beer on the coffee table but he’s also had a few too many pulls from his hidden bottle, and he (this is very unusual for him) doesn’t notice the early warning signs of Kyle starting to not feel so good. Like Ky’s starting to move a little sluggishly and sweating despite complaining about being cold, and NORMALLY Stan’s first instinct is to ask his SBF if he’s checked his blood sugar, because for the most part they can catch a low before it gets to where his monitor is beeping. But Kyle’s not paying attention to his body, and Stan is a lot more drunk than he thought he was.

So Kyle’s like “oh fucking goddamnit” and Stan springs up to make the ever specific KMBS (if you’re not familiar with this au, the KMBS (Kyle Matthew Broflovski Special) is orange juice in a very specific nostalgia inducing T&P cup with EXACTLY seven ice cubes (bc Ky claims to not be superstitious but 7 is the biblical number of perfection and completion) and a sprinkle of salt). The problem is, Stan is super fucking drunk. He pours the juice, cracks the salt, starts dropping the ice in, and then he can’t remember how many go in. And that fucking SCARES HIM. Like he knows the sbf inside and out. He’s supposed to know. And he falls over the kitchen counter SOBBING and Kyle gets up like “oh my God WHAT dude what’s the matter” but Kyle’s dexcom starts beeping at him and he’s still on the verge of a low so he’s gently pulling Stan to the floor with him (bc he cannot safely be standing). They’re on the kitchen floor and Kyle is yanking the fridge open to grab a Gatorade and he hates the red Gatorade but he’s so mad that his monitor is loudly announcing itself and he is trying to stabilize himself and forcing Stan to drink some bc you can’t drink and cry at the same time. “Dude, sweetheart, what is it” and they’re pulled into each other like MAGNETS!! And Stan is so goddamn upset like THIS ENDS HERE!! He wants to always remember how to make Kyle’s *Cartman voice* “nostalgic asshole drink”

So they’re cuddled together on the floor, Moose the cat is climbing between them, Stan is confessing EVERYTHING and Kyle’s feeling so guilty for not knowing, like this is their rock bottom, collectively, bc Kyle will follow Stan even when he goes down. Ky once his blood sugar stops being fucked immediately starts looking at resources and detox facilities. Like by GOD he’s gonna get Stan better. It isn’t until days later that Stan’s over the worst and the real healing can start.

There’s a shattered trust there, because Kyle completely trusted that his partner wouldn’t have a hidden liquor stash, and he’s had panic attacks just thinking about how he didn’t know. But once that trust is rebuilt, it’s SO FUCKING STRONG!!! And Stan was really hesitant about AA, but that first meeting he found out some of the group does a camping retreat in the summer and that helped lmao king shit.

It’s also not hard for Kyle to understand Stan’s mentality with his alcoholism. Like OJV Kyle is a recovered anorexic, and in a way, both are addictions. Both are a slippery slope. He is Stan’s ROCK during the time he’s adjusting to sobriety, like there’s milestone stickers on the wall calendar and every day of no poison in Stan’s system is a celebration! Stan quickly stops craving it and gets really emotional thinking about all the time he wasted over the years, but that’s okay! Because no matter what, he’s still got Kyle, and that’s never changing. Moose eventually stops eyeing the pocket of Stan’s robe (where he hid the bottles) suspiciously.

Their relationship is seriously so much stronger for all of this. Kyle is so proud of Stan every day. The communication is better, the trust is more instinctual than even before, and Stan never again forgets that it’s seven ice cubes.

(OJV Stan’s sobriety is really important to me ok)

Can we have anything you want on OJverse? It's my hyperfixation rn

YES DEAR GOD HOLY SHIT!!! Any and ALL THINGS!!!

OJV is quite literally my favorite of my aus and I have so ridiculously many out there so that’s saying something dude I have ENDLESS lore and I LOVE getting asked things so any questions you have SEND EM MY WAY <3

[glass-dahlia]

CSI:KFC (Part 2)

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader

Word Count: ~26.5k

Warnings: (Please see Part 1)

Masterlist | Part 1

You pace back and forth quietly in the kitchen. You snuck out of the bedroom without waking Ransom and Dodger.

“So… you switched the Morphine and the Toradol… so you gave him 100 milligrams of Morphine but didn’t have the antidote?” You repeat back to Marta.

“Yes. And Harlan came up with the whole plan to get me out of it then he… he-”

“I know, it’s ok. You did it for your family, I understand.”

“So you won’t tell?”

“Of course not, you’re my friend and it’s what Harlan wanted.” You organize the mail Ransom left scattered on the counter as you speak, arranging it into a neat pile to occupy your hands.

“I can’t thank you enough, Y/n, I owe you,” Marta says, clearly relieved.

“You don’t owe me anything, think of this as my thanks to you for all you did for Harlan.”

You hear Marta release a breath she had been holding. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, wrapping up your conversation that had lasted about an hour.

“Bye, Marta.” You hang up the phone and look at the time. Two a.m. 

You head back up to your bedroom and lay back down, pulling the blanket up to your chin. You stare at the wall across from you with your back to Ransom, going over what happened to Marta in your head. As you’re lost in your thoughts, you feel two strong arms wrap around your waist from behind.

“Trouble sleeping?” Ransom asks, sounding tired.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” you put your hands on top of his, crossing your arms over your stomach to do so. “I’m ok now.”

“Alright, night, Y/n,” he replies, voice gravelly slightly as he leans over and kisses your shoulder gently.

“Night Ransom…” you trail off as you feel sleep taking you over once more.

🔍🔪🔎

You stand next to your father as he whistles, waving to show Marta where to park. You walk inside the small ‘security’ shack with him, followed by Marta.

The guy in charge of security, Mr. Proofroc, greets you and shows you all inside.

“Fifty years ago, I worked this estate,” he states, putting a picture of the house on the fridge with a cherry shaped magnet. “You know, security back then was such that you had to make the rounds with a 94 and keep your ears open.” He chuckles as does Blanc. “Now you’ve got all this modern technology. That’s the video there,” he states, showing you all over to three old TVs as well as a VCR, “I saved the tape from that night. Normally, I erase ‘em with a magnetic degausser, but in this case, I thought I’d just save it, you know? For security. Now, uh, that’s a live feed there.” Mr. Proofroc points to one of the TVs and Marta seems to go slightly pale. 

You decide to not mention it, knowing it must have something to do with when she pulled off the road to execute her and Harlan’s plan. You look over to see your father very focused on the task at hand, finding evidence.

“All right, well, can we see the actual tape?” Lieutenant Elliott requests, starting to get slightly impatient. 

“Well, of course you can,” Proofroc says kindly and sincerely, “I recorded it SSLP. There’s eight hours in that tape. 9:00 p.m. to 5:00 a.m.” He hands the tape to Marta and she inserts it into the VCR. She presses play and a second screen turns on, displaying the recording. It’s exactly the quality of video you’d expect from a VCR player. The screen jumps around slightly, all glitchy-like.

“Looks like a Japanese horror movie, are we all gonna die in seven days?” Trooper Wagner comments, making you chuckle softly.

“You think we could scan forward on that?” Blanc leans down to ask Marta.

“How can we scan forward?” Marta asks Mr. Proofroc.

“Oh, yeah, just hold the play button down and press FF until you hear it grind.”

The VCR starts whirring as it scans forward. Everyone focuses on the TV.

“All right, should be coming up now to the time when the party ended,” Wagner states. 

You glance down at Marta and subtly point to the eject button on the VCR. Just before it gets to the party’s end, the VHS tape ejects causing the screen to show static.

“What happened?” Marta asks, feigning confusion.

“Oh, you gotta keep holding it down or else it’ll eject. That thing eats tapes like popcorn,” Proofroc responds. You smirk slightly, proud of yourself for successfully helping Marta.

“You think your guys can digitize this so we could scan it properly?” you overhear your father asking Elliott and Wagner.

“Yeah, I think we can do that,” Wagner affirms.

You grab the tape and slip it into your coat pocket.

“Got it,” you nod to your father.

“Back to the house then,” he says, leading the way. Everyone follows him, you stay at the end and grab one of the fruit magnets on the fridge on your way out. 

Proofroc says he erased the tapes with a magnetic degausser, hopefully this will work the same.

🔍🔪🔎

You all walk through the woods, leading up to the house. As you pass animal statues, Trooper Wagner decides it’s the perfect time to display his nerdy knowledge.

“You know, all these statues that you see around here? They’re all straight out of the series, The Menagerie Tragedy Triology. Pretty cool.”

“Awesome,” Lieutenant Elliott says, clearly not finding it very awesome.

“Yeah,” Wagner says, not comprehending Elliott’s unimpressed tone.

“Benny, it’s beautiful out here, but do you really think someone broke into the house and murdered Harlan? Is that why we’re out here?” Elliott just seems some with everything today, doesn’t he? And since when does anyone call your dad ‘Benny’?

“Oh, it is unlikely, but if they did, there will be traces,” Blanc answers.

You notice Trooper Wagner has fallen back and is walking next to you as Marta continues to lead the way. You glance at him, knowing he has something to say.

“Uh, I can hang onto that,” he says, pointing to the VHS tape you have in your hands. 

“Sure,” you hand it over, carefully slipping the magnet into your pocket so no one will notice. You’re just praying that worked.

Blanc eventually starts humming as you keep walking.

“Hey, Wagner, you got any luck on… Uh, what’s-his-name?” Elliott inquires. 

“Ransom?” Wagner guesses. Your head snaps up as you hear him mention Ransom, but you stay silent.

“Yeah.”

“No. Did get an address though. 10 Kenoak Street.”

Do they really not understand that you literally live with him? You glance at your father and he seems to be thinking the same thing. You both shrug it off and keep walking.

Your father repeats the street name as Marta stops ahead of you. You stop next to her and she gestures to the footprints she must have left when she came back that night. You nod for her to keep walking and she reluctantly does with you following close behind.

Wagner makes a comment about the leaves and mud messing up his boots, drawing your father’s attention to the fact that there’s mud.

“Did it rain the past week?” He asks aloud. He suddenly seems to realize that there could be evidence in the form of prints. “No, stay there!” he demands, “We got footprints here, so, uh… I wanna, um…”

Looking up, Blanc realizes you and Marta are farther ahead and trampling the potential evidence. “Marta! Y/n! Stop-“

“What?” You call back, turning around to him at the end of the path.

“Uh, just stay there you two,” he attempts to instruct you.

“What? I couldn’t hear you-”

“No, stay there- no, no, no!”

“Did you call me?” You ask once you get back to him. He sighs in defeat. Elliott and Wagner continue ahead, carefully avoiding the muddy path and staying on the leaves.

“Wagner, we’re gonna need to call the boys, have ‘em come down here, take a look at all these tracks. Get it taped off,” Elliott instructs, telling you all to stay on one side of the path.

Just then, Harlan’s dogs run through the muddy portion of the path and over to you and Marta. They excitedly wag their tails in greeting and bark happily. Marta pets one as the other sniffs you, smelling Dodger on your clothes. You smile and pet them affectionately.

“Best judge of character is a dog. I’ve found that to be true,” your father states. 

The dogs run off towards the driveway as Linda and Richard get out of their car. 

You check your phone for the time.

“I have to go, I took the Beemer so I need to go get Ransom. I’ll be back,” you wave to Marta and your father as you jog off, carefully avoiding the path this time.

🔍🔪🔎

You pull the Beemer into the driveway to see Ransom our front in his coat and scarf with Dodger in a matching white sweater, running around happily.

Once the car stops completely, Dodger bolts over, sniffing you once you step out. 

He wags his tail, noticing the scent of other dogs.

“I betrayed you, I’m sorry,” you dramatically apologize, leaning down and kissing his head.

“No kiss for me?” Ransom chuckles jokingly.

“Geez, give a girl a minute, will ya?” you walk over to him and hug him, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “You look ready to go already.”

“I am, I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he states happily, still holding you in the hug.

“Wow, for once you’re not late. Shocker,” you tease, earning a laugh from him. 

You take Dodger inside and put him in his cage before heading back out to the Beemer and hopping into the passenger seat as Ransom decided to drive.

You watch out the window as Ransom drives. The music stays on a low volume, not interrupting your thoughts on how to help Marta next. The only thing that does interrupt your thoughts is the light thud of one of Ransom’s feet on the floorboard as he bounces his leg.

“Nervous?” You ask, not quite knowing the cause for this odd behavior.

“No, nothing to be nervous for,” he answers complete truthfully and calmly.

“Right.”

🔍🔪🔎

Ransom parks in front of the house and you give his hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance before you both get out of the car.

The dogs run over to Ransom once he steps out of the car and they start barking at him. You know they just smell Dodger’s scent and go into overprotective mode.

“No! No, no, no! Hey! Hey! Hey! Stop. Stop,” Ransom discourages the dogs, dodging as they jump up at him. 

“Down,” you say firmly but kindly. The dogs stop and go over, sitting at either side of you. You smile and pet their heads.

“Why do they like you so much better?” Random pouts.

“Probably because I don’t smell like Dodger right now,” you gesture to his sweater. It has small holes and tears in it, caused by Dodger and him playing.

He smiles slightly as you walk over to him, wrapping his arm around your waist once you’re close enough for him to do so. He walks towards the house with you. 

Lieutenant Elliott and Trooper Wagner walk out the front door, blocking your path.

“Hugh Drysdale?” Elliott inquires.

“Ransom. Call me Ransom, it’s my middle name,” he responds, taking off his sunglasses with the hand not holding you next to him, “only the help calls me Hugh.”

He keeps walking with you, right past Elliott and Wagner and into the house.

“Okay…” Elliot trails off, slightly baffled by Ransom’s behavior, “Uh, this is uh Trooper Wagner.” Ransom stops walking and lets go of your waist to turn around to them. “I’m Lieutenant Elliott. We just wanna ask a few questions.”

Ransom raises his eyebrows and opens his mouth like he’s about to respond. 

Instead, he just sighs and turns back around, wrapping his arm around your waist once more and continuing inside. He takes you directly to the kitchen. Gotta get some snacks.

Elliott and Wagner turn and quickly follow. 

“Excuse me? Sir? We’re officers of the law!” Wagner states.

“You gonna run me in? I don’t feel like talking,” Ransom calls from the kitchen, “I’m distraught.”

You pinch his arm, causing him to look at you in confusion.

“Try to be nice, will ya?” You whisper to him, not needing him to make a bad first impression with your father. He sighs and walks back out with you behind him.

“Hey, Benny, you wanna ask this guy some questions?” the Lieutenant offers.

Before Blanc can respond, Ransom interjects, “All right, what is this? What’s this arrangement?”

“Mr. Drysdale,” your father begins, Southern drawl as strong as always.

“CSI: KFC?” Ransom asks sarcastically. 

He finds a way to condescendingly eat a cookie as he walks away. Elliott chuckles.

You sigh and walk beside Ransom, entering the sitting room where the rest of the family is waiting.

“Hey, Frannie, how about a glass of cold milk?” Ransom requests, more like orders, as he takes a seat.

You open your mouth to correct him, but Meg beats you to it. 

“Hey, asshole. Not her name, not her job.”

“Hey, Meg. How’s the SJW degree coming?” Ransom asks. Jacob smirks slightly, not looking away from his phone. You sit on the arm of Ransom’s chair and smack the back of his head without anyone else noticing.

“Just behave, Ransom,” you mutter under your breath tensely.

“Trust fund prick,” Meg spits back at him.

“All right, guys,” Joni sighs, having enough of the bickering.

“Hey, everyone,” Alan Stevens greets. He’s the executor of Harlan’s will. “I’m just gonna be in the other room, setting up. Be ready in 10 minutes.” He leaves as quickly as he entered.

Ransom holds up a cookie to you as a peace offering and you sigh and take it from him, knowing he doesn’t really mean any harm to anyone. It’s just pointless bickering. That’s what this family is built on. 

Walt speaks up, “Funny, Ransom, you skipped the funeral, but you’re early for the will reading.”

Everyone looks over to Ransom and he smirks his playboy smirk that won you over back in high school. It still gets you every time.

“Okay, people grieve in different ways. Let’s not...” Joni tries to defend Ransom.

“Yeah, he was sick-“ you attempt to add before getting cut off by Walt.

“You know what? It’s funny you’re here at all. Why are you even bothering? That’s what I’m asking myself.”

The smirk hasn’t left Ransom’s face.

“What’s the supposed to mean?” Richard asks, getting defensive of his son.

“He knows what it’s supposed to mean,” Walt states simply, looking at Ransom.

“Wait… Walt, what?” Linda questions. Everyone looks over at Walt for a response. You just roll your eyes and steal another cookie from Ransom, already about 3000% done with their bullshit for the day. Ransom takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it, making you blush.

“Jacob was in that bathroom the night of the party,” Walt states, pointing in the direction of a bathroom. Jacob visibly tenses and gets uncomfortable.

Joni chuckles, “Oh, that’s where you were all night?”

“What the hell were you doing in the bathroom all night?” Richard asks.

“Nothing,” Jacob says quickly and defensively.

“Swatting Syrian refugees?” Meg offers sarcastically.

“No, I was not,” Jacob says, getting more defensive and uncomfortable by the second.

“Alt-right troll,” Meg snarks.

“Liberal snowflake,” he mutters in response.

“I don’t know what any of that means,” Walt says, shaking his head in confusion.

“It means your son’s a little creep,” Richard tells him.

“Oh!” Walt says like something just clicked, “My son’s a creep?”

“Hey!” You yip at him. No one insults Ransom in front of you.

“Guys! Just…” Joni regains the room’s focus, “Walt, he was in the bathroom.”

“Yeah, he was in the bathroom,” Walt confirms.

“Joylessly masturbating to pictures of dead deer,” Richard inputs sassily.

You notice Ransom cringe at that, a faint smirk still tugging at his (way too perfect) lips. Linda sighs, just wanting to know what Walt was talking about.

“You know what, Richard?” Walt hits his cane against the ground next to the couch, “You wanna go?”

“You bet, skippy, let’s go,” Richard makes a move over to Walt. 

“You wanna go? Come on!”

Meg chuckles and you mutter under your breath to Ransom, “I’d pay good money to see this if they went through with it.” 

Ransom chuckles and leans his head against your side. You drape your arm over the back of the chair and absentmindedly play with his hair.

Walt and Richard just get into a petty sissy fight while everyone shouts at them, trying to break them apart. Donna tried to pull Walt away, though he insists he can handle himself.

“Oh, my God,” you hear Joni mutter not so subtly.

Ransom chuckles, “We gotta do this more often.”

He eats another one of his cookies as you continue to mess with his surprisingly yet not so surprisingly soft hair.

“Hey!” Linda shouts, stopping the ruckus, “Jacob. We know where this is going. You were in the bathroom next to Harlan’s office, where he had the fight with Ransom. Now, you heard something. Spill it.”

“I just heard two things. ‘My will’ and then there was more yelling,” he recalls, a smirk slowly forming, “And then I heard Ransom say, ‘I’m warning you’.”

Walt raises his arms in victory. Linda turns to you and Ransom. Ransom just eats another cookie, watching Jacob, his face unreadable but mildly entertained.

“Ransom… What’s that mean?” Linda asks gently.

“I think it means our father finally came to his senses and cut this little brat out of his will,” Walt declares, getting into Ransom’s face. You lean away slightly, no longer playing with Ransom’s hair to his and your disappointment. “So I guess you’re gonna have to sell the Beemer,” Ransom makes a face of serious concentration, pretending to care about what Walt says, “and give your notice at the country club, and kick whatever fashion drug you’re on.” Ransom raises his eyebrows and cocks his head slightly as if Walt is making a good point. “Because if you think that after all the bridges you’ve burned, after all the shit you said, after everything you put this family through for the last 10 years, that any of us are gonna support you, that any of us are gonna give you, like Dad liked to say, ‘a single red dime’, you’re nuts!” he ends up yelling in Ransom’s face at the end.

Ransom inhaled sharply and rolls his eyes slightly, sarcastically mouthing a ‘wow’. He smiles slightly up at you.

“Son…” Richard starts.

“Father.” Ransom furrows his eyebrows, turning his head towards Richard sassily.

Richard sighs, “Did Harlan tell you he was gonna cut you out of the will?”

Ransom throws his hands up slightly, letting them land back into his lap with a light smack. His smirk returns.

“Yep,” he dismisses, popping the ‘p’.

Walt throws his arms up again, dismissing the topic and popping his lips like Ransom did as if it’s proving his own point.

“Well, then he’s done what none of us were strong enough to do. Maybe this might finally make you grow up.”

Ransom narrows his eyes slightly before looking down at his lap and sighing.

“This might be the best thing that could ever happen to you,” Linda says firmly.

“Thank you. My mother, ladies and gentlemen,” Ransom says bitterly, gesturing towards Linda.

“Look, this is not gonna be easy for you,” Ransom tilts his head, giving Joni the ‘you can't be serious’ look, “but it’ll be good. Nothing good is ever easy.”

“Up your ass, Joni. You’ve had your teeth in this family’s tit for a long time-” Ransom begins, voice firm.

“‘Up your ass’? Oh, very nice,” Meg mocks.

“Matter of fact, eat shit. How’s that?”

“Oh, my God, Ransom,” Joni chimes in.

“Please do not use that word in front of my son!” Donna gasps.

“Eat shit. Eat shit. Eat shit.”

“You entitled prick!” Richard booms.

“I would slap that smug smile right off of your goddamn face!”

“Definitely eat shit. Eat shit. You can all eat shit.”

Everyone continues bickering, you sigh, getting up and heading out to the back porch. 

You find Blanc and Marta already there. Fran walks past you all in a rush.

“Asshole,” she points back to the house.

“‘I’m warning you’” your father repeats, tossing a baseball in his hand. “Ransom said, ‘I’m warning you’.”

“Well, you heard Ransom in there. That’s the kind of thing he says,” Marta volunteered.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t mean any harm. He’s sweet, really” you say, defending your fiancé.

Blanc tosses the baseball for one of the dogs and it runs off, leaving a piece of painted wood behind. 

“What do we have here?” he asks, bending down and picking it up.

Marta looks nervous.

“This looks like a relatively fresh break,” your father states, walking off of the porch. You and Marta follow him. “Yep. Right there… wait a minute. Well, that doesn’t make sense. Where’s that window?” 

You follow his line of eye sight, spotting the same window.

🔍🔪🔎

“How about some more cookies, Hugh?! You want some more cookies?!” Walt shouts in Ransom’s face, shoving the bag in Ransom’s face as well.

“That’s great. That’s great,” Ransom replies, unamused, “and it’s not like it’s the end of the world, Y/n has her books, we’re not broke.”

You smirk slightly, hearing that as you run past the room with your father and Marta. 

Wagner and Elliott are both fixated on the scene in front of them. They force their attention away, deciding to follow your three instead.

🔍🔪🔎

Marta shows you all to a hallway upstairs.

“Show me. But stay off the carpet,” Blanc instructs Marta.

Marta presses herself against the wall, slowly moving to the end of the hallway. 

She grabs hold of the paneling and carefully opens it without touching the carpet, revealing the window.

“It’s the trick window from A Kill For All Seasons,” Wagner says, nerding out once again.

“Trooper, here, will you take this?” your father requests, holding the piece of wood out to Wagner. Blanc gets down onto the ground and takes out a pocket magnifying glass, looking closely at the carpet.

“Hmm… traces of dried mud. I suspect they go the length of the hallway,” Blanc narrates aloud.

“Footprints?” Marta asks, hiding her nerves.

“No, just traces.”

“Yeah, depending on when this thing was last cleaned, this could have been at any time, right?” Elliot speculates.

“No, that would not explain this,” you reply, pointing to a bit of mud left on the windowsill. You bite your lip slightly, realizing that might help them find more evidence against Marta, but they would’ve found it either way. The sleigh in you couldn’t help it.

“Analyze that mud,” your father instructs, “it will match these traces. And you will find similar samples leading up the trellis on the outside of the house. On the night of the party, somebody who did not want to be heard climbing up those steps, went to a great deal of trouble to break into Harlan Thrombey’s rooms.”

“The game is afoot,” you mutter to yourself.

You all walk into the room where the will is to be read. The library. Same place you were all questioned in. Ransom sits in the back, away from everyone since he has been written out of the will. You walk over to the chair next to him, ready to sit.

Ransom hums in disapproval, causing you to tilt your head slightly in confusion. 

He smirks slightly and you catch on. You go over to his chair instead and sit on the arm of the chair like you did earlier in the sitting room.

“Better?” You ask, smiling slightly but trying to hide it.

“Almost,” Ransom wraps an arm around your waist and tugs slightly, pulling you onto his lap instead. He rests his chin on your shoulder, watching boredly as the will reading commences.

“Well, thank you all for getting together like this,” Alan begins, “it isn’t legally necessary, but I thought since you’re all in town and some of you are leaving soon-”

“Excuse me,” your father interrupts him quickly, gaining everyone’s attention. “Uh, I’m sorry, ladies and gentlemen, I would like to gently request that you all stay in town until the investigation is completed.”

Joni looks at him as if she’s been offended in some way.

“Yeah, well, he’s gently requesting, but I’m gonna have to make that an order. No one move until we figure this all out,” Lieutenant Elliot declares.

“What?” Linda asks, slightly shocked.

“Can we ask why? Has something changed?” Joni questions.

“No-,” Blanc states firmly, opening his mouth to continue.

“No, it hasn’t changed? Or no, we can’t ask?” she specifies.

“Mr. Stevens,” Blanc addresses him, ignoring Joni, “you may continue.”

“Right. Well,” Alan picks up where he left off. Everyone looks at each other in shock. Ransom doesn’t seem to care. He just starts playing with the chess board next to the chair, trying to occupy himself.

“The other reason I thought this gathering would be, uh, beneficial is because Harlan altered his will a week before he died,” Linda and Richard turn to look at Ransom as Alan says that. You look up at a bookcase to avoid eye contact. Ransom gets bored of the chess pieces and starts playing with your hair instead. Alan continues, “He sealed it. He asked me not to submit it to the courts for probate until after his death. So, if anyone is confused about anything, we’re all together, we can talk. Although, I don’t imagine any of it is going to be that complicated.”

You look back at everyone in the room. They all seem to be getting antsy. They know what they want and they all expect it. 

Oh, what you wouldn’t give to see their smugness stripped away. To see them realize that they’re not entitled to anything because of their ‘birth rights’ or whatever shit they’d claim it is.

“Uh, Harlan’s assets included…” Alan trails off, looking over the sheets. His assistant points to something on the sheet.

“The house,” she states.

“The house,” he repeats, “which he owned outright.”

Linda reaches over and grabs Richard’s hand, giving it a squeeze. You know she’s always wanted this house. Makes sense though, it is a lovely house. It’s like living on a Clue board.

“60 million.”

“Yes. 60 million in various cash amounts and investments.”

Joni nods. That’s her goal, of course. Without Harlan’s financial support, you don’t know what she’s gonna do. Some small part of you wants her to get at least some of it. At least for Meg. She’s intelligent, witty, and a hard worker. She deserves to go to a nice school for a solid education, you don’t want her to lose that because her mom can’t afford it.

“And of course, the real asset, sole ownership of Blood Like Wine. His publishing company,” Alan adds.

Walt and Donna hold hands. You’re praying deep, deep down that Harlan changed something, anything. Anything to prevent Walt from taking over the publishing company. If Walt takes over, there’s next to no chance that he’ll keep publishing your works. Harlan always kept him in check, but without that, he’ll burn your bridges faster than a knife fight in a phone booth.

You shake your head slightly, your father’s countryisms are getting to you. 

Ransom chuckles lightly at your odd behavior and just continues to mess with your hair, twirling a small strand through his fingers.

“He also wrote up a statement when he was making the changes and he wanted that read first.” Alan grabs another piece of paper and reads aloud, “‘Dearest 

Linda, Walter, and Joni… Some of you may be surprised by the choice I’ve made here. No pleasure was taken in the exclusion. And it’s purpose was not to sow greater discord in the family, quite the opposite. Please accept it with grace and without bitterness, but do accept it, it’s for the best. Dad.’”

Alan’s assistant hands him an envelope. He carefully opens it with a letter opener. You feel Ransom shift his position slightly as he leans forward, suddenly very interested in what’s happening. He gives you a quick peck on the cheek before Alan reads the will.

“Umm… wow. Well, yeah, not too complex at all. This will be quick,” Alan states, looking at the single, one-sided piece of paper. Linda chuckles. “‘I, Harlan Thrombey, being of sound mind and body’ and yada-yada-yada… ‘I hereby direct that all my assets, both liquid and otherwise, I leave in their entirety to Marta Cabrera’” Alan looks up, and everyone turns to look at Marta.

“‘My entire ownership of Blood Like Wine publishing, I leave in its entirety to Marta Cabrera, the copyright of its catalogue likewise I leave in its entirety to Marta Cabrera.’”

Ransom smirks as those words seem to sink in for everyone. He lets go of your hair as you get up, already sensing another argument.

Everyone starts to stand up.

“Uh… no,” Walt states firmly, clearly shocked. “That’s not… no, that can’t be.”

“No,” Linda agrees firmly.

“Can I see that Alan, please?” Alan hands the will to Walt so he can see for himself. You slowly walk over, unable to stop a sly smile that creeps across your lips.

“This can’t be legal!” Linda argues.

“It’s right…” Walt confirms in shock.

You can hear Ransom start to chuckle. Everyone starts to argue that there has to be a mistake and that it’s unfair, causing Ransom to crack up even more. He smacks his thigh as he starts to break down laughing, getting up and leaving the room, still laughing joyously.

You watch him leave and slowly walk over to Marta. She looks panicked. Must be a lot for her to take in. You hug her, still overhearing the family arguing. Now they’re blaming it on his medications.

“Alan, you can take this piece of paper and shove it right up your ass, and get out!” Linda shouts aggressively. “And, you cops, too, out. Out! Right now.”

“Linda,” Richard tries to calm her down. 

Trooper Wagner turns to leave, but Trooper Elliott stops him and they stay put. 

“No, Richard, we need to talk. We need to fight this thing. We’re not going anywhere.” Linda notices Elliott and Wagner haven’t left, “I said get out! We are the Thrombeys God damn it! This is still our house!”

She freezes and everyone slowly turns back to Alan. His assistant points to the paper for him to answer the unspoken question.

“Oh, sorry. ‘Likewise the house at 2 Deerborn Drive and all belongings therein, I leave to Marta Cabrera.’”

“Oh no…” Marta breathes out. You pat her shoulder, not sure of what else to do.

“Oh, you little bitch! You little bitch!” Linda berates her. Richard tried to stop her, but fails completely. “Did you know about this?! Were you in on this from the beginning?”

Your father moves protectively in front of you and Marta to block you from the family. Everyone tried to calm Linda down but it seems to enhance her outrage.

“No, no, no!” she snaps, “I just wanna know. What were you… what were you doing? Were you boinking my father?!”

“’Boinking’?” Meg laughs aloud and you chuckle slightly.

Everyone restarts their shouting.

“I think everybody just needs to cool their jets,” your father suggests, trying to diffuse the situation, but of course failing.

“You had sex with my grandpa, you dirty anchor baby!” Jacob shouts viciously. You scrunch your nose at the rude name. That boy needs some help.

“Now hold your horses!” Your father turns to you and Marta, speaking to Marta, 

“And in the meantime, I’d maybe run.”

Marta starts walking down the hallway, but Walt notices and calls out to her for her to wait. 

Blanc tries to block the doorway to buy Marta some time. You stand with him to help, but you can’t do much and they get past you after a moment. Everyone runs to follow Marta, all throwing questions and comments at her simultaneously. She tried to stay calm through her tears, not understanding what’s happening and needing time to think. Jacob live-streams the whole thing.

You watch from the porch with your father as she climbs into her car, attempting to start it. She rests her forehead against the steering wheel in defeat when her efforts become futile.

Just then you hear the familiar engine rev of yours and Ransom’s Beemer. He honks and waves to her, telling her to hop in the car with him. After a second of hesitation, she quickly runs into the car and shuts the door as Ransom turns the car around, lowering his window.

“I think this could be the best thing to happen to all of you!” He shouts mockingly before driving off.

“Ransom!” You shout after him to no avail. He’s too far away to hear you and the engine is too loud.

“What does he mean by that?” Richard asks as Joni shrugs in defeat, walking back inside with Meg.

“Richard, why didn’t you stop her?” Linda questions in annoyance.

“What am I supposed to do? Grab the bumper with my teeth?”

Your father watches the car drive off thoughtfully. You sigh, “There goes my ride.”

“He’s certainly something, Y/n,” your father comments. By his tone you can tell he clearly doesn’t think highly of Ransom.

“First impressions are always the worst, right?” you smile slightly nervously.

Your father returns a slight smile and chuckles.

“That’s the man I’ve chosen to spend the rest of my life with… and he just left me here without a ride…” you purse your lips. 

The only people left outside are you and your father. 

“We all have struggles,” Blanc reassures you.

“We do… Do you miss her? Do you… ya know… still think about her?”

“Every day. You look a lot like her.”

You smile and look down at your feet, proud to share a resemblance with your mother.

“Go get him.” Your father pats your shoulder.

“He took our car, I can’t really…” you trail off, noticing that Marta left her keys in her unlocked car. You give your father a quick hug before jogging over to the car and hopping in, turning the engine on after a few tries.

You think of all the places they could have gone. Not Marta’s place, Ransom doesn’t know the address. Not your house, Ransom’s family knows the address. Probably somewhere public. It dawns on you. You shift the car into drive and head off in the direction of your favorite restaurant that Ransom and you always go to.

Blanc watches you drive off as he shoves his hands into his coat pockets. He sighs, feeling internally conflicted. 

On one hand, you’re clearly very happy with Ransom. You love him and he very clearly is head over heels for you.

On the other hand, something in the back of his mind keeps itching to look into his suspicions of Ransom.  

🔍🔪🔎

You park next to the Beemer once you get to the restaurant.

Walking in, you spot Ransom and Marta in a booth in the back corner. You head over towards them, luckily avoiding any social interactions with staff along the way. Socializing is definitely not your forte. 

“Y/n?” 

Ransom looks up from his hands folded on the table when Marta speaks.

“Hey.” 

You sit next to Ransom. After a moment he instinctively wraps his arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him. You toss the keys to Marta’s car on the table, letting them slide over to her. She takes them, putting them in her jacket pocket.

“How’re you doing, Marta?” you tilt your head slightly as you ask her, keeping your voice gentle.

“It’s a lot. I don’t know what to think, honestly.”

“That’s ok, you can have all the time you need, don’t listen to any of them. You’re the one in charge now,” you smile slightly. Ransom talks to the waitress as you focus on Marta. Marta nods, looking down. Her face is slightly pale.

“You look like you’re gonna pass out. Have you eaten anything today?” Ransom asks her. She doesn’t respond. “Eat.”

He pushes a plate of food towards her, wrapping his arm around your shoulders once more.

Marta sighs before grabbing a fork.

“This is a nightmare,” she states, eating a forkful of food.

“Mhmm,” Ransom hums in agreement, nodding slightly. “So why?”

Marta shakes her head slightly, looking at her food, “Why?”

“Why?” Ransom repeats as you lean into him more.

Marta takes another forkful of food and glares slightly at Ransom.

“Hey. This is everything.” Marta nods slightly and you look up at Ransom as he speaks. “There’s gotta be a bigger reason why, and you know it.”

“Well, how about it had to do more with you guys than with me?”

Ransom stays quiet, watching Marta for a second as he lets that sink in before replying.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

The waitress comes over, placing an empty bowl on the table. Ransom glances over and notices you doing the same. He pulls you closer to himself to distract you from trying to figure out his plan.

“Did he tell you anything?” Marta inquires.

“Only that I wasn’t getting a cent.”

“That’s because he wanted you to build something from the ground up,” you state.

“Like your mom,” Marta adds in.

“‘To build something from the ground up’. Yeah, my mother built her business from the ground up with a million-dollar loan from my grandfather. My father owns none of it. She made him sign a prenup.” 

Marta slowly continues eating. You place your hand on top of Ransom’s to keep him calm.

“He lives in fear. And I know that’s what my grandfather was trying to protect me from by doing this and I know I shouldn’t say this out loud, but when he told me, I…” he shakes his head slightly and purses his lips, “Jesus. I coulda killed him.”

Marta looks down and you gently run your thumb over the back of his hand in reassurance.

“After I left the party though, I was driving. Nowhere, just in the night, and I had this, um… clarity. Like, from here on out, I was gonna have to fend for myself. And that felt… good.”

Marta nods slightly.

“The old bastard,” Ransom mutters.

Marta sighs.

“Marta, I know three things,” Ransom begins. You hold back from making a sassy comment and teasing him.

“One, I know he didn’t commit suicide.”

You look over to Marta and notice her trying to hide how nervous she is.

“What makes you think that?” she asks calmly.

“I don’t think it. I know it. Because I knew my granddad. Maybe you, Y/n, and I were the only three who knew him so you’re not gonna bullshit me on this because two… I know lying makes you puke. ‘Cause of that mafia game last Fourth of July.”

You shudder slightly at the memory. Ransom clicks his tongue and gently kisses your temple.

“And three, I know you just ate a full plate of baked beans and sausage,” Ransom finishes, his Boston accent coming on strong when he says ‘sausage’.

Marta looks down at her mostly empty plate, looking calm but really pissed off at Ransom. You glance at the empty bowl that’s been sitting at the table and realize Ransom’s plan. He’s actually pretty smart. You have to give him that.

“So,” Ransom moves Marta’s plate of food away and  the empty bowl towards her, “look me in the eye and tell me what happened to my grandfather.”

Marta shakes her head slightly in disbelief, “You asshole,” she whispers.

You glance between them, not sure who to side with. On one hand, what Ransom has forced Marta into is pretty cruel and unfair to her. You know her story and don’t want her to get in trouble for a little mix up.

On the other hand, you’re engaged to Ransom and should probably side with him on basically everything. Though, what fun would that be?

“Marta, tell me everything.”

Marta sighs and hides her face in her hands. You reach over and gently rub her arm.

“Hey, it’s ok. I’m not going to let him do anything stupid, I promise,” you reassure her.

“When have I ever done anything stupid?” Ransom asks, slightly offended.

“How many examples do you want? I keep a list. Alphabetical order,” you pull out your phone, going into your notes to let the countless pages of your list load.

🔍🔪🔎

“Alan, there have got to be options here,” Walt insists.

“No. I don’t know how many times I can repeat the same two pieces of information. If Harlan was of sound mind when he made the changes, and we all confirmed that he was-” Alan tries to justify.

“Would a sound mind do this?” Richard asks, voice raised. “How… sound how?”

“The very action speaks to unsoundness,” Linda declares as if she’s won the argument.

“Not legally. No. You not liking what he did does not speak to testamentary capacity,” Alan retorts calmly.

“What about undue influence?” Jacob asks, looking up from his phone.

“Yeah! Undue influence, how about that, huh?” Walt asks excitedly.

“Did you just google that?” Alan asks doubtfully.

“Look, if Marta was manipulating Dad somehow and if we found out that somehow she was...” Walt trails off.

“If somehow, she had gotten her hooks into him…” Linda adds as Walt speaks, both of them approaching Alan before they’re interrupted by him.

“You need a strong case for that. ‘Your Honor, she endeared herself to him through hard work and good humor.’ That won’t cut the salami.”

“What about the slayer rule?” Joni questions, holding her phone. “I did just google that.”

“The slayer rule obviously doesn’t apply here,” Alan states.

“Well, what the hell is the slayer rule?” Richard asks Joni.

“Well, it’s if someone is convicted of killing the person, they don’t get their inheritance,” Joni replies.

“Not even convicted. Even if they’re held responsible for their death in civil court,” Alan clarifies.

“Like O.J.?” Walt questions.

“Yes, like O.J.” Alan answers. “But Harlan committed suicide.”

The same thought seems to dawn on everyone as they slowly turn to the man in the arm chair beside the crackling fireplace behind them all.

“Detective Blank? You said the investigation is ongoing. You made a point of that. Do you suspect foul play?” Joni inquires.

“Mr. Blanc, if you please,” the detective corrects her pronunciation. “There is much that remains unclear, but yes, I suspect foul play.”

Joni inhales deeply. 

“Marta?” Richard asks quickly.

“I have eliminated no suspects.”

Richard sighs. “You’re full of shit. I don’t trust this guy in the tweed suit. And, Alan, God bless you, you’re useless.”

“Thank you.” Alan gets up from his spot on the couch, relieved to finally be able to leave.

“There’s only one answer to this. She has to renounce the inheritance,” Richard says.

“She knows it’s what she should do. It’s the right thing to do,” Walt reasons.

“That’s exactly what she should do,” Linda agrees.

“It’s the moral thing,” Richard adds as Meg walks away slightly.

“Mom,” Meg waits for Joni to walk over to her before continuing, “If Granddad wanted to give Marta everything, then that’s what he wanted.”

“No,” Joni shakes her head, “This wasn’t him. He loved us. He wanted us taken care of. He wanted you to have an education.”

Meg furrows her eyebrows and shakes her head slightly in disbelief at her mother’s behavior.

“Meg, you think I can pay for your school?” Joni scoffs slightly, her voice shaking as she walks back to the family. Meh watches in disbelief, letting it all sink in.

🔍🔪🔎

You look down at the table. There’s four empty beer bottles, a few empty plates and Ransom is already having another drink. You’re definitely driving home. Marta had told you both everything, though none of it was news to you anymore.

“Huh…” Ransom chuckles softly.

“I know. Just saying it, it sounds insane, but it’s all true. And I think Blanc’s been on to me from the start,” Marta looks at you as she says that, causing Ransom to give a look of confusion. He looks down at you, wondering why that would relate to you.

You avoid eye contact, not wanting to lie directly to Ransom anymore. “He probably has, I just don’t know why he hasn’t said anything. Maybe he’s just waiting until he has enough evidence.”

“I don’t care if I go to jail, but my mom, my sister? We…” she looks over at Ransom.  He is staring down at the table, absentmindedly chewing at the small black straw from his drink as he thinks. “You gonna say something?”

“I always thought I was the only one that could beat him at Go.” Marta looks at Ransom in confusion. “Always thought that meant something.”

“Um, yeah, I know you did,” Marta replies, looking down at the table, not sure what to really say.

“That night at the party, my last conversation with him… my last argument, that’s what he told me about you. That you beat him at Go more than I do, and I thought… what a strange thing to tell me. Think I get it now. Maybe it did mean something.”

Marta stares at Ransom in disbelief as he clears his throat.

“I’m not gonna tell my family shit,” Ransom states, looking at Marta. “You’re not gonna go to jail. That detective is not gonna catch you. And you’re not gonna give up the money.”

You stay silent and look down at your hands in your lap. The thing is, you know “that detective”, he raised you. You know how he thinks and works. He sure as hell is going to catch Marta and figure out what happened. That’s why he was brought in.

“This is what Granddad wanted for you,” Ransom continues, “I mean, think about what he did to go through with this. He wanted this for himself, he wanted this for the family. And he wanted it for you. You’ve come this far. Let me- let us help you go all the way.” Ransom gives your hand a gentle squeeze and you smile slightly at him, nodding slightly to Marta. You want to help her and if anyone can outsmart Benoit Blanc, it sure as hell would be his daughter.

“What’s going on? This isn’t you. You could just turn me in right now and still get your cut of the inheritance. Why?” Marta sees straight through Ransom.

“Because fuck my family.”

You nod slightly. He does make a good point.

“We can help you get away with this, right?” Ransom looks at you as he speaks and you nod. “Right. And then, you’re gonna give me my cut of the inheritance.”

Marta chuckles lightly in disbelief.

“Happy ending. Everybody wins. You, me, Y/n, Harlan,” Ransom states.

“Yeah,” Marta sighs.

“Deal?”

Before she can answer, Marta’s phone buzzes and she picks up. You can tell she’s talking to Meg but you decide to not eavesdrop so you turn to Ransom.

“You really are an asshole sometimes, you know that?”

“Hey, you’re the one that said yes to my proposal~” he teases you with a smirk.

You blush lightly, “That I did. I’ll drive us home, you’re definitely over the limit.”

“Whatever you say, my love,” he kisses your forehead and hands you the keys. 

You lean against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. It sounds faster than normal. You look up at him, but before you can ask him anything, Marta clearly gets hung up on mid-sentence.

“Okay then,” Ransom mutters. “Did Blanc find anything suspicious at the house?”

Marta sighs, hiding her face in her hands again, “Yes, he found mud upstairs. Where I broke in through the window.”

“Shit,” Ransom mutters, barely audible. “Identifiable prints?”

Marta shakes her head, “No.”

“Good. Okay. Good. Hey, you lay low for a couple days, wait for this investigation to blow over, and it will. ‘Cause no matter how good this Blanc guy thinks he is, he’s got nothin’.”

Marta doesn’t respond. She just looks away from you both nervously.

“Hey, relax,” you offer Marta a soft smile and she nods slightly. “It’ll be ok. We’ll see you around, we have to get home.”

Marta nods again and you wave before walking out to the Beemer, leaving Ransom to follow behind.

You get in the car quickly and put the key in the ignition with a very shaky hand.

“Woah, hey, Y/n. Are you sure you’re ok to drive?” Ransom gently grabs your shaking hand in both of his hands. He looks at you softly and you can see the worry in his eyes.

“Even if he has nothing, he’ll find something,” you state simply.

“Darling, what are you talking about?”

“You said that Blanc has nothing, well even if that’s true, which I doubt, he will have something eventually. That’s kind of his whole thing. Solving the unsolvable.”

“Y/n, he’s just another detective, this whole thing will blow over and we’ll all be fine.”

“No, Ransom, he’s not. You don’t know him like I do,” you reluctantly pull your hand away from Ransom, shifting the car into drive and pulling out of the parking lot.

“I don’t think getting questioned by him means you suddenly know him,” Ransom chuckles lightly but falls quiet when you don’t laugh. “Y/n?”

You stop at a red light and take a deep breath.

“Ransom, he’s my father.”

The silence in the car remained for the rest of the drive home. Ransom kept opening his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. 

You pull into the driveway, parking the Beemer in its usual spot. Neither you nor Ransom move from your seats in the car.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I didn’t think it would ever matter. I definitely didn’t expect anything like this to happen,” you don’t look at Ransom as you speak.

He simply nods and gets out of the car, walking into the house, stumbling slightly on the steps. You sigh and follow him at a bit of a distance to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself. He must’ve had too much to drink. Somehow.

You find him in the kitchen, chugging a glass of water. Only to refill the glass and repeat the process.

“Ransom, please just say something,” you beg quietly, but loud enough for him to hear.

“I have a headache,” he states, focusing his attention on the fourth glass of water in less than 5 minutes.

You gently grab his hand, taking the glass of water away from him.

“You know that’s not what I meant. And cool it with the water. You’re gonna get hyponatremia if you keep it up at this pace.”

“I’m thirsty,” he tries to take the glass back, but you keep it out of his reach. 

“Then you’re probably dehydrated. Do you need me to take you to the hospital?”

“No,” he puffs his cheeks slightly and walks off to the stairs.

“Ransom, where are you going?” you put the glass down, following after him. Dodger notices and immediately jumps up from his bed and follows you both.

“To bed. I’m tired.”

“Please just talk to me…”

He sighs and stops walking, allowing you to catch up and move in front of him so he’s facing you. 

“We can talk in the morning,” he states, gripping the railing tightly. His knuckles turn slightly white in an effort to keep himself upright.

“Are you ok…?” you ask, slightly nervously. You’ve seen him drunk and it’s never been like this.

“Mhmm,” he replied simply, stumbling past you and into your bedroom.

The door doesn’t shut completely behind him. You stand on the stairs, trying to keep yourself from crying. Dodger tilts his head and wags his tail slightly in an effort to cheer you up. You smile slightly at how adorable he looks.

That smile disappears in seconds as you hear a thud from the bedroom.

“Ransom?”

You get no response.

You rush up the rest of the stairs, opening your bedroom door to see Ransom passed out on the ground.

“Jesus, Ransom. How fucking drunk are you?” you mutter as you manage to hoist him onto the bed. Luckily he wasn’t far from the bed.

🔍🔪🔎

You wake up alone in the bed and decide to go downstairs to look for Ransom.

You find him lying on the couch, wrapped in one of your cashmere blankets as he watches Netflix.

“Feeling better?” you ask as you walk over, sitting next to his pillow.

“Just tired,” he nods slightly.

“How drunk were you last night?”

“Not very,” he says simply.

“You seemed hella tipsy though.”

“My problem wasn’t with being drunk.”

You decide not to question him anymore, he doesn’t seem thrilled about the subject.

“Anyways, about yesterday…” you trail off, hoping he’ll catch on. He sighs.

“I’m not going to hold that against you, Y/n. I’m sure you had your reasons to not want to tell me that you’re the daughter of a famous detective. I might not know those reasons, but I don’t have to. It’s your right to choose what you tell me and I will always respect your decisions. I trust you. We all have our own secrets.”

“Even you?”

He hesitates slightly, “I suppose so, yeah.”

“Like what? You know mine, do I get to know yours?”

He looks up at you from his position of lying next to you on the couch. You absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair as he watches you, weighing his options.

“Not now, maybe later,” he smiles gently up at you. 

“No rush, we have the rest of our lives. Until death do us part,” you lean down and kiss his forehead.

“Until death do us part,” Ransom repeats, “I always thought that was such a weird thing to have to say.”

You nod in agreement.

He sits up, pulling you into his lap and wrapping the blanket around both of you. 

You blush and smile happily as you snuggle into him, both of you watching Netflix.

🔍🔪🔎

Eventually you find a good pause point in your binge-watching and you make two cups of (coffee/tea/hot drink of your preference). One for you, one for Ransom. 

Just as you’re about to sit down, the doorbell rings, setting off Dodger. He runs to the door barking nonstop. You sigh and hand Ransom both of the cups before going to answer the door.

Marta is there, looking panicked. Dodger immediately perks up and sniffs her, excited to see another person.

“Hey, you ok? Come in,” you lead Marta inside. 

“I got this,” she says, holding out an envelope. Her voice and hand shakes. You take the envelope and sit next to Ransom as you open it. He takes it from you and studies the slip of paper.

“I don’t know… what’s this?” he points to something at the bottom of the paper. 

He rests his chin against his hand, covered by the sleeve of his sweater.

“It’s my medical bag tag. They have my medical bag for some reason,” Marta replies.

“Okay, but this is a photocopy of just the header of a blood toxicology report on Harlan,” Ransom clarifies. “Marta, this is going to show the morphine overdose.”

Marta just shrugs frantically as her breathing gets heavier.

“So I’m screwed?” she reasons.

“Hey, it’ll be ok,” you try to reassure her.

“How do you know all this stuff?” she asks Ransom.

“I was Harlan’s research assistant for a summer when Y/n was studying abroad. But what kind of blackmail scheme is this? I mean, the actual evidence is sitting up the street in the crime lab. There’s no demands, there’s no meeting place,” 

Ransom shakes his head. “What’s the point in sending you this?”

Marta shrugs.

“Maybe we should go to the medical examiner’s office? They could’ve just intended to meet there?” you offer, pointing out the logo on the toxicology report.

“We could try,” Marta agrees.

“We’ll have to take your car, the Beemer only has two seats,” you add.

And off you go.

Marta pulls to a stop in front of the medical examiner’s office. Sirens wail around you. From the front seat, you watch as firefighters putting out the flames of the burning building. 

You sink down in your seat slightly when you notice Lieutenant Elliott talking to your father. Luckily their backs are towards you. You’re just paranoid.

Ransom leans forward from his seat in the back to get a better view of what’s happening.

“Holy shit,” Marta mutters. “This is insane. I mean, who would blow up a whole real building just to blackmail me?”

Ransom checks to make sure no one is behind you before replying, “Marta, this means the blackmailer has the only paper copy of the thing that can prove your guilt. You didn’t get any other instructions? No phone call? No email? Nothing?”

You furrow your eyebrows slightly. It’s not like Ransom to be this helpful to anyone. Well, anyone besides you. You shake it off as just feeling jealous that you’re not the only one he can be nice to.

“No,” Marta sighs. “Well, I haven’t checked my email.”

She quickly pulls out her phone and goes into her unread emails. You lean over to look as does Ransom. 

“There is one,” she declares softly. It only lists an address and time, sent from a nondescript or email address.

“Yeah, that’s it. ‘1209 Columbus Road. 10 a.m.’” Ransom confirms, reading the email.

They both look at the clock, realizing it’s already 9:32 a.m. 

Ransom continues speaking to Marta, “You know what this means, right? If you destroy that copy, you’re totally in the clear.”

You, on the other hand, are too focused on watching Blanc and Elliott. Blanc has been pacing for a few minutes, something he usually does when thinking about a case. Just as he turns back around to pace the other way once more, he looks up, spotting Marta’s car. His eyes lock onto yours and you sink down into our seat further. Your eyes widen nervously.

“Well shit,” you say aloud, knowing this can’t end well.

That gains Marta’s attention and she follows your line of gaze, noticing your father starting to walk towards the car. “Oh no,” she whispers.

Ransom glances over as well, looking back at Marta, “Marta, did you hear me?”

“Yeah,” she breathes out.

“Step on it,” you elbow Marta slightly, knowing you need to leave.

She snaps out of her daze and switches the car into drive, stepping in the gas and quickly maneuvering back onto the road as the tires of her car squeal.

🔍🔪🔎

You get onto a more open road and you hold your head in your hands, contemplating all of your life choices that have led you to this. What went wrong? 

You think to yourself. You shake your head, realizing that’s too long of a list.

“Okay, baby driver,” Ransom glances behind the car.

“Oh god,” Marta whimpers nervously, “You regret helping me yet?”

“I regret not taking the Beemer,” he replies.

“You always regret not taking the Beemer. There are three of us, it has two seats. How would that have worked?” you retort sassily.

“We’re already running from the cops, not having the proper number of seats for passengers would be the least of our worries. At least it'd be faster,” he chuckles slightly.

You glance at the mirror on your side of the car and see three cop cars. You’ve been hearing the sirens for a few minutes.

Your phone buzzes. You glance down to see your father calling. You mute the call, not wanting to explain yourself.

“Go. Go! Go! Are you flooring it!?” Ransom asks, slightly frantic.

“I am literally flooring it!” Marta panics.

Your phone buzzes yet again with another call from your father as the cop cars catch up to you. One car drives at your side and your father leans out the open window slightly, pointing to his phone and trying to get you to pick up. You mute the call.

“This is going well,” Ransom muses sarcastically.

“I’m pulling over,” Marta declares.

“What?” you look at her in a panic.

“If you miss your chance to get this tox report, it's all over,” Ransom reminds her.

“Oh, my God,” Marta groans with tears in her eyes.

Marta suddenly slams the brakes, sending you forward, luckily caught by your seatbelt. You feel Ransom hit the back of your seat slightly. Luckily he had his seatbelt too.

“Hello whiplash” you mumble, rubbing your neck.

“Why- Why are we stopping? Why are you stopping in the middle of the road?” Ransom presses.

Just then Marta floors the glass again, speeding last the now stopped cop cars and quickly turning onto another road.

You glance behind you and see the cars turning and beginning to follow you.

🔍🔪🔎

You get onto a more crowded street, still followed by the cops.

“Hold on,” Marta warms as she quickly turns down an alley, bumping a dumpster with the side of her car.

“Glad we didn’t take the Beemer now?” you ask Ransom.

“A bit,” he nods.

One of the cop cars crashes into the corner of a building as it tries to turn into the alley at the same speed. Marta keeps driving. Another cop car gets stuck on some pallets next to another dumpster as they try to follow you.

You chuckle, slightly excited by the chase. Definitely reminds you of your teenage years.

Marta pulls to a quick stop, lightly hitting a few shopping carts behind a building.

“Oh, my God, I’m just pure adrenaline right now. I feel like I swallowed bees,” Marta pants slightly.

“Why would you know what swallowing bees feels like?” you ask rhetorically.

Marta chuckles slightly. Ransom smiles slightly, though you can’t see from your seat. 

“Okay, so what is it? What’s the address?” Marta looks back at Ransom for an answer.

“1209 Columbus Road,” he recites from memory.

“Okay. I mean, whatever they want, I’ll say yes.”

“Anything,” Ransom nods.

“You know, just to get that report back.” Marta pulls her keys from the ignition.

“Get it back and destroy it,” Ransom adds.

“Destroy it,” Marta repeats. “Holy shit.” She sighs, “Hey, thank you guys. I couldn’t do this without you,” she looks at both you and Ransom earnestly. 

You nod slightly, eyes widening suddenly as he window is firmly knocked on by a cop. Another car has pulled in behind you. 

Lieutenant Elliott exits the car, leisurely going towards Marta’s car. “Get out,” he calls firmly.

You all get out, hands slightly raised. You and Ransom drop your arms, knowing there’s no real formality to this now.

“That was the dumbest car chase of all time,” Elliott states. Marta’s hands remain up. “Put your hands down,” he snaps at her.

Your father strolls over towards yours and Ransom’s side of the car. “I spoke to Wanetta Thrombey, Greatnana,” he informs you all, only looking at you. “Night of the party, she saw someone climbing the trellis to the third floor.”

You glance over at Marta, assuming it was her. You know Greatnana saw her when she came down the trellis.

“Mr. Drysdale,” Lieutenant Elliott calls, “come on.”

“Let’s go,” Trooper Wagner waves for Ransom to go to the cop car.

Ransom hesitated for a second before walking towards Wagner. 

“Pat him down, check him out,” Elliott instructs as Wagner makes sure Ransom doesn’t have any weapons.

“What’s going on?” you ask, turning to Blanc for an answer.

“‘Ransom came back’ she said. I don’t know what he came back to do, but we’ll find out.”

Ransom looks over at you as he leans down to get in the car. He almost looks sorry.

“Did he ask you to drive when he saw me coming?” Blanc asks Marta.

“Yes,” she states simply. Blanc walks away a bit. You look away as she ducks into her car. You know she’s just got to puke now and you definitely don’t want to watch. You catch Ransom’s eyes as you avoid looking at Marta. You tap your foot slightly and sigh.

“Wait!” you call out, jogging over to Wagner.  “Do you think I could come with you? I want to be with Ransom.”

“Yeah, I’ll drive with Marta, you can go with them,” your father pats your shoulder and heads back to Marta’s car. 

Trooper Wagner opens the back door for you, letting you sit next to Ransom. 

Definitely not the usual practice, but there’s no reason to not trust you.

The car pulls away and you mess with your hands in your lap. Ransom leans over and kisses your head, resting his forehead against the side of your head.

This isn’t like him. You know it isn’t. Something is off in this picture and you intend to find it. He never acts defeated.

🔍🔪🔎

Wagner parks the car in the driveway of Harlan’s house. You sigh as they lead Ransom out of the car and into the house, leaving you to follow behind. You walk into the library, ready to see if Ransom has any tricks left up his sleeves to cover for Marta.

🔍🔪🔎

Well he didn’t. He came clean, telling them exactly what Marta had told you two. 

You confirm everything he says, agreeing that Marta had told you as well. Elliott and Wagner release Ransom, taking off his handcuffs. They all leave the room, but you don’t. You begin pacing, just like your father. Something doesn’t add up. 

You begin a list in your head.

What I know:

Marta switched the medicine bottles because she didn’t read the labels

She didn’t call an ambulance

Harlan has her stage her leaving and him being alive so she wouldn’t be caught

Marta wouldn’t hurt a fly on purpose 

Someone thinks Harlan was murdered, hence your father’s presence

Your father doesn’t seem to know why he’s here either

Harlan left everything to Marta, giving almost everyone motive

Ransom, your playboy drama queen fiancé, knew he wasn’t getting a cent of Harlan’s fortune

You stop pacing. You feel the blood drain from your face as something clicks in your mind. You quickly sit down in front of the piano, staring down at the keys as you connect the dots.

Harlan and Ransom loved to argue. Why would Harlan just tell Ransom he doesn’t get his share of the inheritance. It’d burn more knowing that it’s not going to anyone in the family. Harlan must’ve told him everything. If so, he knew that Marta would be getting the fortune. He couldn’t bet on her renouncing it, of course not.

You think back to your time at Harvard. You were writing your first book. You had really wanted to impress your teacher with your thoroughness in your research, so you had checked out many books on law from the library. You came home one night to find Ransom reading one of them and he had asked you about a few things, which you explained. One thing you remember him asking about? The slayer rule.

If Ransom wanted to reverse the changed will, you think, he knows that the slayer rule will nullify Marta’s claim. So if he could just frame Marta… bingo.

You immediately pull out your phone, only to receive a call from your father. You feel your mouth go dry from nerves.

You answer the call with a shaky, “Hello?”

“Y/n I regret to say Marta found Fran, and it’s a long story, but Fran is in the hospital and I figured I should let you know. I called the Lieutenant already. He told me what you and Ransom said,” your father informs you.

“O-oh,” you stutter.

“Is everything ok? You sound more nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, Y/n.”

“No… it’s not ok…”

“Cat got your tongue?”

“I just… I’d need to see the tox report to be sure,” your drop your voice a few levels to be sure no one overhears you, “Dad, I think I’m engaged to a murderer.”

Pt. 3

[sobsicles]

claire's not expecting them to be at the door. she blinks at the sight of four men all huddled on the stoop with flowers and what appears to be bags of food flowing from their arms. jack is peeking above a bouquet, beaming at her.

"who's at the door?!" jody calls from the kitchen, her voice muffled by the sound of grease popping and the clanking of pans and spatulas meeting over and over.

"god," claire calls back, because she likes to think she's funny.

there's a beat of silence, and then jody's sticking her head out the kitchen. the moment she sees them, she breaks out into a grin and saunters over, shoving the spatula in claire's hand as she chatters away.

"what's going on out there?" donna asks as claire escapes back to the kitchen to poke at food jody is apparently willing to burn just because the winchesters decided to show their faces today of all days.

"judgement day," claire says dryly.

donna shares a look with patience. "haven't we dealt with that already a few times?"

"only by association," claire admits, "but i wouldn't put it past them to bring it along with 'em now. the boys are here."

"oh, isn't that nice?" donna chirps, already popping up from her chair. "i didn't know they were stopping by today."

"wonder how sam's doing," patience agrees, wandering out the kitchen right along with donna. claire can hear everyone cracking up and talking in the living room.

trust the winchesters to shake things up just by showing up. can't have one goddamn day, can they? well, that's not true. in their case, as far as claire is concerned, they're shitty for showing up and shitty for not. someone has to knock 'em all down a peg or two, so she might as well be the one.

"what did that chicken ever do to you?" kaia asks teasingly as she sidles into the kitchen and stops by the stove, hip-checking claire out of the way to take over.

"the boys are here," claire informs her.

kaia raises her eyebrows. "like, the boys as in the winchesters, or is this a milkshake pun?"

"i can only be so gay, sweetheart," claire says, shooting her a flat look.

"raise the bar a little. could be gayer. you can always be gayer," kaia teases, reaching out to sneak her hand around claire's hip, her eyes bright with amusement.

"you know what? you're right," claire agrees and immediately tries to cop a feel while kaia laughs and dances out of range.

jack appears in the doorway. "hello," he says, whispering for some reason. "claire, i need your help."

"no," claire says, not even glancing at him. she continues to try and put her hand up kaia's shirt, just to see her laugh.

"can i borrow twenty dollars?" jack asks.

"no. aren't you god?"

"yes, but i don't get paid to be."

"well, sucks for you. borrow money from cas," claire mutters, settling in behind kaia as she focuses on the food on the stove, swatting lazily at claire's roaming hands.

"he'll just borrow money from dean."

"borrow from sam."

"he'll just borrow money from dean."

"borrow from—wait, why does it matter if it's from dean? just borrow from him."

jack huffs. "i can't. i need the money for dean. i have a card, and i read online it's customary to give money with a card. also, will you sign it?"

"you got dean a card?" claire asks, craning her head around to stare at jack skeptically.

"yes."

"don't tell me it's for what i think it is."

"mother's day," jack confirms unironically.

claire wheezes out a laugh. "oh my god."

"there's a pen in the catty on the fridge," kaia says, clearly amused.

"yeah. yeah, this is—yeah." claire chokes on more laughter and stumbles towards the group of pens in the magnet container on the fridge. she waggles her fingers at jack, clearing her throat, lips twitching. "hand it over, beanstalk. you're a fucking genius."

"oh! thank you," jack declares cheerfully, passing over the card. "so, can i borrow twenty dollars?"

"hell no," claire says. she braces the card against the fridge and swallows down a laugh. sam has already signed it. this just gets better and better. happy mother's day, old man, aka the secondary source of my mommy and daddy issues. you're going for gold with this double-whammy, she writes.

"but i need it," jack insists, staring at her with wide eyes.

claire shrugs. "tough break, kid. what, cas doesn't give you an allowance? is it just me, or are dads getting stricter these days?"

"i didn't think about it in advance," jack admits sadly. "i want to do it right for the holiday. it's mother's day, claire."

"i'm well aware. sorry to break it to you, kid, but last I checked, your mom's as dead as mine," claire tells him, her voice flat. he frowns and she forces herself not to feel bad. everything that sucks for him sucked for her first, so her sympathy levels are a little drained. "father's day will roll around eventually, and you've got a long line of those, so wait your turn."

"i've already done something for my mother today," jack says slowly, his eyebrows furrowed. "i visited her in heaven."

claire snorts derisively and passes the card back over. "must be nice."

"it was," jack agrees, completely missing the point. "i really can't borrow twenty dollars? i'll pay you back."

"nah," claire says. "who cares anyway? wait, why is dean the mom?"

"well, castiel is my father."

"ah, so it's about them having the hots for each other, then? really, kid, you coulda just made dean your step-dad."

jack blinks. "they have the...hots for each other? you mean sex. they have sex?"

"you know what?" claire points at him with her free hand. "i'm not gonna burst your bubble on that one. you've got enough issues on your own without wondering if mommy and daddy still have a spark, so I'm gonna leave that alone. i've got five dollars. take it or leave it."

"deal," jack says immediately.

money is exchanged, and jack looks like he's on cloud nine. claire's just stoked to see the expression on dean's face when he gets the card. it's a homemade card and everything, nothing like the two claire, kaia, patience, and alex got for jody and donna.

claire helps kaia finish up the chicken, which promptly gets set aside to wait on the rest of the food in the oven. sam wanders in at some point to drop off the food they brought. dessert, by the looks of it. pies and cakes that go in the fridge. it's kind of them, but claire would shoot herself in the foot before she ever admits it.

she lets kaia tug her into the living room where everyone is already at, rolling her eyes at how cheered everyone seems just because the winchesters happened to grace their doorstep. really, they all suck.

but also—and claire will never admit this, not even to save her own life—it's nice to see 'em again. it's nice that they've come to celebrate the day in jody and donna's name, giving them flowers and such. it's nice that they hang around for a bit and don't bring the world crashing down on everyone for the duration of their stay.

and, well, it's nice to see cas, too.

he perches up next to the couch that claire is squeezed on with alex, donna, kaia, and jack. kaia is practically in her lap, but claire is secretly glad for the excuse. while everyone talks and has conversations across one another, cas focuses entirely on her.

another thing claire will never admit is how reluctantly pleased by that she is. it warms her. stupidly, it turns soft and gooey in her chest that he automatically gives her his undivided attention over everyone else, even jack. but, then again, it's not cas' day, so she doesn't have to look too close to that feeling. it's mother's day, so it's not about him.

when the food is ready, they reconvene in the kitchen, and that's when they crack out the cards and gifts. claire is practically vibrating with laughter before jack has even brought his card out. before that, though, she smiles softly and strokes kaia's thigh under the table as jody and donna read their cards and chuckle at the messages, their gazes warm and their smiles sweet. they look happy. they deserve to be.

"okay, last one," claire announces, grinning at jack. she's starting to think she likes this kid if he's an agent of chaos like this.

and okay, maybe she hates him a little in abstract, but in detail, she finds that she does actually like him. you kinda just wanna put him in your pocket without meaning to, she's learned. there's too much to explore with the whole psuedo sibling thing and parents that aren't parents, as well as parents that are but didn't choose to be, only he did choose one of them, and it wasn't her. it's complicated, but underneath it all, there's a vibrant love there that she can't look directly at. sometimes, she despises that she's included in it; yet, just the same, she's thankful that she is.

"oh hell," dean mutters, swinging his gaze between alex and patience. "one of you...ya know? did we miss something?"

claire snorts.

"what? no," alex replies, grimacing. "i have no idea what claire's talking about. claire, what the hell are you talking about?"

"jack?" claire prompts in a wheeze.

"here you go," jack chirps, holding out the card to dean, beaming. "happy mother's day."

the expression on dean's face is somehow even better than claire imagined. she howls with laughter while sam buries his face in his hands, his shoulders jerking. cas squints at jack, and jody's eyebrows fly up at the same exact time that donna grins.

"is this a joke?" dean sputters.

"no, no, nope," claire chokes out, nearly fucking crying with laughter. "happy mother's day, dean."

"you gotta take it, man," sam agrees, clearing his throat and biting back a smile as he bobs his head dutifully towards the card.

dean fixes sam with a flat look and snatches the card. "you're all so fucking—sam, you signed it?!"

"happy mother's day," sam says, his mouth pinched, visibly trying not to laugh.

"do you like it?" jack asks earnestly. "i made the card, sam signed it first, and claire provided the money."

"i—" dean stares down at the card, then heaves a sigh and looks up at jack. it's clear to him that—out of everyone—jack is clearly taking this very seriously. he offers him a weak smile, then swallows. "yeah, s'great, kid. thank you. sam, you are dead to me. claire, i will be spending this on something you hate. cas, this is somehow your fault."

"yup, sounds like a mother to me," jody declares, holding up her beer with a smile.

"welcome to the club," donna agrees, holding hers up as well. "everyone else annoys the shit out of you, but you love 'em anyway."

dean sighs and clinks his beer to theirs.

[liesoverthec]

OG 911 Character Details from Canon Pt 2

Hi y’all I’m back! I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who reblogged the last details post - I sort of just thought people would like it and it would die, so to see it travel and hopefully reach more writers was so great so thank you again!

Details under the cut since I went a little crazy 😅 and if this is your first time seeing this, the first part, and any future parts, can be found under this tag here!

Quick note before I get to the details - always, ALWAYS take details from dialogue or plot over details from the set or props if they contradict each other. The writers have the ultimate say over what happens on the show/for the characters, so whatever they say goes, even if it goes against something props has already laid down (eg, Chim’s birthday, sorry Libra crew. He’s an Aries or a Pisces). So keep that in mind for the future in case some of these details I have which are from props/set are changed in the future, or if you’ve noticed something yourself!

Also if you have questions, I am MORE than happy to answer them, although if you leave them in the tags on this post I’m probably gonna lose them, so if it’s something you’d genuinely like an answer to, drop it in my inbox! Besides my standard “ask” tags, I’m also tagging asks about canon details with this tag here. Every time I make a big post like this, I’m going to link all the asks I’ve gotten since the last post, but if you’re looking for more info in the mean time, that’s the other spot to look!

Buck has a grill on his patio.

Eddie doesn’t hang Christopher’s art on the fridge - instead it is either hung on the corkboard in Chris’ room to the left of the door, or Eddie puts it in an actual frame and hangs it using a hammer/nails in Christopher’s room. All the Diaz family has on their fridge is a bunch of bendy people magnets. (I absolutely ADORE him putting all this effort into treating Christopher’s art like it’s something you’d buy from a professional artist).

Info on everyone’s ages can be found here. (Little more discussion of Chim’s situation here).

Albert has a bachelor’s degree! I don’t know in what though, except that it’s some field for which is a Master’s is useful.

Athena was in a sorority in college, Delta Sigma Theta. Their website describes them as “ ...a sisterhood comprised primarily of Black, college-educated women ... [that] considers the issues impacting the Black community and boldly confronts the challenges of African Americans and, hence, all Americans ”, which I love for Athena, and feel is very in-character for her at that time in her life!

Chim is an aviators dude. When he wears sunglasses, they’re always aviators.

Athena also wears nothing but aviators.

Bobby wears square aviators.

Eddie, on the other hand, always wears Wayfarers.

Buck either doesn’t really like sunglasses or he constantly forgets he owns them, since we’ve only seen him wear them once in 60 eps, in a move I’m pretty sure was ONLY for dramatic effect.

Hen’s sunglasses change style over the seasons like her regular glasses do, but she tends to like browline sunglasses.

Info on Christopher’s school can be found here!

There are two colors of dispatch polo, and there doesn’t seem to be any rhythm or reason for who wears what. Maroon - Maddie and Linda. Blue - Josh and May. Jamal has actually worn both maroon and blue, so it doesn’t seem to be TOTALLY set in stone although I’ve never seen anyone else switch. Sue is too badass to wear a dispatch shirt.

Both Bobby and Eddie drive 4 door pickups. Bobby’s is navy. Eddie specifically has a black, 2020 GMC Denali 1500 pickup truck (in case you want to specifically look up what the inside of it looks like or what features it has 😂)

Info on the 118’s medical certifications can be found here.

Correction to Eddie’s living situation from last post: no next door neighbors, but instead UPSTAIRS neighbors. (Pointed out by Abigail in this ask). Also since someone else was wondering the notes of the last post - no, there is absolutely no discussion on the show of whether or not Eddie rents the apartment or owns it. But based on the fact that it’s 1) LA and 2) an apartment, my guess would be he rents it.

When Maddie isn’t feeling like herself, she tends to straighten her hair rather than curl it. It seems to be more when she’s uncertain about her place in her own and other people’s lives, rather than just when she’s simply worried - eg it’s straight in 2B, when she’s uncertain if she wants to continue working as a dispatcher/is unsure about her relationship with Chim.

For work, Chim, Eddie and Buck all use black duffel bags with a LAFD patch on the top. Hen uses several different cute bags, and Bobby seems to have a plain black duffel bag.

Watches - Bobby, Athena, Chim, Hen and Buck all wear their watch on their left wrist (but Athena ONLY wears hers for work, she takes it off at home.) Eddie wears his on his right wrist, and Maddie doesn’t wear one.

Chim (and Maddie by default) literally still have the exact same couch as in the pilot. (Which means that Chim has cuddled Tatiana on that couch, AND Albert has had sex on it. TIME TO GET A NEW ONE, BUCKLEY-HANS 😂)

The 118 has five different rigs - the engine (E118), the ladder truck (T118), two ambulances and the captain’s truck. 95% of the time, when the team is chilling in the cab of a rig and chatting (eg the ‘stuck under a live telephone pole’ scene in Jinx), they’re in the engine, not the truck. (Which I personally learned recently are NOT interchangeable terms!)

Athena and Michael got married when Athena was 37.

If you’d like to give Maddie a full name beyond “Maddie”, you should use Madeline. (I know, I know, in 4x04 she says Maddie is the name on her birth certificate, and that you should never use props details if they contradict script details, but I always thought that was a super weird exchange in 4x04 which could be explained by Maddie getting a nickname since she was born when Margaret and Phillip, you know, actually loved their kids and showed it, so of course Buck doesn’t get one, and in 4x04, Maddie was trying to avoid the entire issue of why she got one and Buck didn’t. But! Do what you want, and use Madeline as the full version of Maddie if you’d like, since that’s what’s on the BOLO in 2x13 😂)

Athena’s call sign is 727 L30, but she doesn’t have a specific squad car - the number changes throughout the series.

Chim really likes chewing gum, but he’s the only one out of the entire family!

The station has an Xbox One S, and it’s white.

In the real LAFD, there are stations 1 through 114. To avoid confusion while filming on the streets (I’m assuming), our fictional LAFD never uses the number of a real station. So if you want another station for a fic, and you want something that would be real in OUR universe, use the numbers 115 and above. They’ve gone as high as 221 in our universe.

Battalions - station 118 is in Battalion 7, which is also not a battalion in real Los Angeles. The 118 has interacted w/ Battalion 1, which is a real battalion, but other ‘non-real which makes them more likely for our universe’ battalions include numbers: 3, 8, 13, 16, 19 and above.

S1 Buck knew the term Jedi, but based on context, didn’t understand AT ALL the context provided by Star Wars, so there’s another edge of his pop culture limits for you.

Chim is the most tech-savvy out of everyone, hands down.

Athena has a VERY active Twitter account.

Abuela’s house number is 8902. I don’t have a street name for you unfortunately though. :/

Athena’s favorite flowers are white roses. None of the other women are really flower people.

Michael likes to wear purple.

When they’re at a call, Buck does pretty much all of the stuff with the hammer and the saw. Eddie does all the work needed with the drill.

Harry goes to Meadowbrook Elementary.

Buck lives on the fourth floor of his apartment building, across the hall from Apt. 416. The lovely @lovelessmotel found this listing for what is more or less the apartment. What happened was: the set crew rented this apartment for the one episode at the end of s2 when Buck moved in, and then over the summer before s3 built their own set of it, and changed some things - eg giving him an island, and moving the sink to a second counter against the far wall, you can see the changes here in this amazing gif set by the awesome Austen, but the listing should let you click around a little more upstairs and figure out dimensions better than what the show provides!

When Athena and Hen go out to eat together, it’s always fast food burgers and fries.

Waffles are Athena’s favorite food, and tiramisu is her favorite dessert.

Every takeout we’ve seen Buck eat has always been in a Chinese food takeout container, and we know he likes Thai food the best. EXCEPT! The one time we see him eat takeout with Eddie and Christopher, they have pizza. So take from that what you will......

Eddie has a cell phone and a landline.

Chim is a shameless multiple texter.

Chim and Bobby sleep closest to the door in their respective bedrooms (both right side of the bed if you are standing at the foot, facing the headboard), and Athena and Maddie sleep furthest away from the door (left side).

Some canon last names for other firefighters at the station in case you wanna add more people to a fic - Mitchell, Sanchez, Serrano (woman), Porter, Meyers (woman), Maxwell, Voyta

Hen and Karen really love decorating their house with dark/red wood.

Karen is Mommy and Hen is Mama.

Bobby has a brother, and a grandmother, and that’s literally ALL we know about his family outside of Marcy and the kids.

Evidence points to Eddie being the oldest child in his family.

Karen has multiple brothers (no sisters), but no idea how many - just that one of them is named Trey, and one of them lives in LA and has kids. They might be the same brother and they might not be.

Both Hen and Athena are only children.

Athena has been on the police force for 30 years.

Christopher and Denny are the same age (born in 2011), and Harry is two years older than them.

Michael lives in apartment 308.

The bank in this universe is CalAm.

Hen and Karen have a picture of Denny, May and Harry on their fireplace mantel.

Eddie having a black thumb + a lot of plants in his living room = him buying fake plants bc he likes the aesthetic ™ or someone (cough Carla cough) is taking care of them for him.

The COVID timeline in OG’s universe is fucked up compared to the real world’s, so it shouldn’t be used as a way to measure time! They just throw it in wherever it makes sense for the story they want to tell (eg the vaccines in s4 ep 8), since s3 was both done before COVID hit but also airing while it was happening. It makes absolutely no sense for May to graduate in March nor for Chris to be going to what is specifically labeled summer camp, and the vaccine plotline was INCREDIBLY early, even for real life, so don’t use anything from that as a measure of time. I’ve found except in specific examples, eg the two tsunami episodes, it’s very safe to say every episode covers a week - fall holidays on the show line up with their real life counterparts, indicating about the same amount of time is passing for us and them.

On that note - Jee-Yun was born in late January, early February 2021. (Conceived in Pinned, which was end of March/beginning of April, meaning Maddie was around a month along at May’s graduation in May ➡ 42 weeks + 3 days from then = late Jan/early Feb. Which unfortunately means we most likely won’t see her birthday celebrated on screen. If we assume she was conceived on the date Pinned aired, aka the very sexy hotel scene, then January 21st or 22nd would be Jee’s birthday, depending on if she was born after midnight or not.

Buck has had at least one other Jeep between the one Maddie gave him, and the one he has now, which means that when he needs a new car, he is purposefully choosing Jeeps.

I hope this was all as interesting/enjoyable to you as it was to me! And just to repeat - I love answering questions so pls let me know if you have any at all ❤

🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

Tagging: @buckbuckley

[rookthorne]

@callmekayyyyy your art was perfect and @buckyismybicycle your words are perfect.

PERECT.

“C’mere,” Bucky demands with a come hither motion of his finger, not even looking in their direction. Steve bounds over anyway, and is immediately assaulted with a wooden spoon to the mouth. Steve opens up quickly so he doesn’t get his teeth whacked in and makes a muffled noise as he slurps the sauce off.

This is giving me soft murder husband vibes.

“No, I can’t trust you,” Bucky declares, drawing an indignant squawk from Steve. “You.”

He’s pointing at Sam.

“Me,” Sam repeats, with a cocked eyebrow.

“Taste,” Bucky demands.

why did my mind immediately go to the gutter?

“So, this one needs to be just right!” Bucky exclaims.

“Oh my god, he’s Goldilocks,” Clint gasps from the other side of the kitchen island.

“Jesus Christ, you’re heavy,” Sam grunts.

“You callin’ me fat?” Bucky’s voice is deadpan as it comes over the comms. “S’rude.”

Oh my GOD I CAN HEAR THIS

“The wheels on this bus ain’t goin’ fuckin’ nowhere,” the soldier growls in response before Sam lands them beside.

“Did you seriously just – no, you know what, never mind.”

🤣🤣🤣

Steve doesn’t hear him, too busy staring at Bucky, who’s got a bunch of kids hanging off his metal arm.

Please this visual is KILLING ME I LOVE IT SO MUCH 😭

“I am never going to unsee this shit,” he declares, pointing at the child-like sign. It reminds Steve of finger paintings that kids do, the ones that every parent sticks up on their fridge with a magnet telling any and every guest how proud they are.

Or at least, it would, if the paint wasn’t blood. Still, the message is very clear, given the big arrow at the bottom.

POOR SAM 🤣🤣🤣

Sam recounts the mission to Clint, using his hands to mimic Bucky’s hold on the merc. “... And he just shook him, and actually said the words ‘I’m gonna take a whole lot more than just your fucking lunch money’.”

“Actually, it was to have his organs put extra weight on his lungs, making it harder to breathe,” Bucky corrects from behind Sam, all too gently. It still makes Sam jump. “Also, with added blood flow to your heart, your heart has to pump harder than usual. People always panic when they can’t breathe and their heart races.”

Sam just blinks at Bucky. “And coming face to face with you doesn’t have the same effect?”

Bucky shrugs, like he’s not one of the most terrifying people on the planet. “Dangling for too long is bad for your eyes too. The pressure inside your eye can double when you’re upside down, which can cause vision problems.”

He shrugs on his jacket to leave. “And I don’t sound like that.”

And then he’s gone.

Sam stares after him and Clint cackles. “He’s right, that was a terrible impression.”

“Not the point!”

I CANT OFFER A SINGLE COMMENT BECAUSE ALL OF IT IS SO FUCKING GOOD 🤣🤣🤣

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, because of all the faces he thought he’d see, the horrendously scarred one of Brock Rumlow wasn’t even on his list.

The entire piggy scene and art is perfect, perfect perfect perfect

I literally cannot stop laughing this is fantastic 🤣🤣🤣

“Question me again and find out,” Bucky growls.

I am not ashamed to say that I would question him so quick

5 Times Bucky's "kindergarten teacher" Side Made an Appearance

buckyismybicycle, Call_Me_Kayyyyy (Cheeky9274)

Summary:

"Let me get this straight,” Sam says with a skeptical look. “Hydra made the Winter Soldier an underground kindergarten teacher?”

Or, how Bucky is terrifying even when living out nursery rhymes. Come to read this super not serious fic, stay for the amazing art from Kay.

Notes: let the record show that this is Kay's fault.

⚜️⚜️⚜️

*BOTH* these amazing people are offering items in this years Marvel Trumps Hate auction!

For @buckyismybicycle bid here!

For @callmekayyyyy ( @call-me-kayyyyy ) bid here and here!

[lostinthewiind]

Piss Off Your Parents - Part 4

Ukai Keishin - Haikyuu

Synopsis: freshly turned 18, you want to prove to your parents that you aren’t a child for them to push around anymore. First, get a job at the local corner store. Second, use the store owner’s 26-year-old son with piercings and a cigarette addiction to piss your parents off. Third, accidentally fall in love.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: mentions sexual experiences of reader before she was of age, discussion about sex lives, flirting, touching 

Song → 18 by Anarbor

Previous →Part 3

Next →Part 5

Head resting in your hand and elbow resting on the counter, you huffed, still not used to the heat that accumulated in the store throughout the day and praying for just one customer to walk through the door so you could experience a refreshing blast of evening air. You supposed you could go outside yourself to cool off a little, like Keishin had previously suggested in lieu of sticking your head in one of the fridges, but being the only person at the store currently, you felt a little bad about leaving the building, even if it was just to step out front.

You were still trying your best to put on a good impression for Mrs. Sakanoshita—despite the rough first impression you had made on her son—and you knew the family store was precious, so you decided to suck it up for the remainder of your shift.

Without much to do, since you had completed your chores early, you remained seated at the front counter, bored out of your mind. That was, until your prayers were answered and you heard the front doors slide open.

“Hello!” you greeted happily, ready to welcome a customer. Your radiant excitement faded when you noticed it was just Keishin, however, and went back to slumping on the counter. “Oh, it’s just you.”

“Wow, those rapid mood changes must be why we’ve been so busy lately,” Keishin shot back at you, a cigarette hanging from his mouth like usual. “Will the girl behind the counter smile or frown at you? Maybe it’ll be both. Oh, how exciting!”

“Can it, dye job,” you grumbled.

Keishin feigned hurt, his hand resting over his chest dramatically as he pretended to have been shot. “Words hurt, you know. You’ve hurt me.”

“That doesn’t matter,” you told him, lazily gesturing around the empty store. “What does matter is that we’ve been dead for hours and I’m bored.”

Keishin poked his bottom lip out and faked a pout. “Awh, poor baby. Is getting paid to sit there and do nothing hard work? You must be exhausted. Poor thing.”

“I don’t get paid nearly enough to put up with you.” You reached across the counter to lightly smack his shoulder but he jumped out of the way just in time. “Seriously though, stay and entertain me for a while.”

“If you’re that bored, why don’t you dust the vents or something?”

You laid your head down on the counter and exhaled slowly for effect. “You know I aim to please but that sounds like hell. Can’t you just talk to me for like ten minutes? Tell me about your day or something.”

Keishin threw his head back and groaned loudly. “But I’m too hungry to think about anything other than food right now.”

“I’m hungry too but you don’t see me complaining about it.”

“No, you’re just complaining about everything else.” He leaned against the other side of the counter, his tongue flicking against the tip of his cigarette as he thought. “Actually, I’ve got a better idea.”

You glanced up at him, waiting for him to elaborate. “I doubt it but proceed.”

Done with your constant back talk, which was extremely common between the two of you ever since you had worked out your differences and agreed to the deal he had suggested, he took a drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke directly into your face. “Just shut up and listen, will you?”

You coughed when you accidentally inhaled the second-hand smoke. “If I get cancer and die, I’m haunting you.”

“Go ahead.” He didn’t pay any attention to the words leaving your mouth as he headed into the back room and shut off the store lights. Then, with his own set of keys in hand, he headed back toward the front of the store. “Come on.” He looked back at you expectantly when you didn’t immediately follow.

Confused, you slowly stepped around from the back of the counter. “Where are we going?”

“We’re closing up early and going to get something to eat.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, half of you wondering if this was some sort of employee test to see how responsible you were. “Are we allowed to do that?”

“I am, you aren’t,” Keishin said, beckoning you over to him. “But let’s just keep this between you and I, yeah? What my mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Besides, it’s slow anyway.”

Taking off your white apron and grabbing your things, you reluctantly followed the older man out of the store and watched as he locked up behind the two of you. Anxiously, you shifted your weight from foot to foot. “Are you sure I won’t get in trouble for this?”

“I promise I won’t tell on you,” Keishin assured you as he stuffed the keys back into his pocket and dropped his cigarette bud to the ground before crushing it with his foot. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”

Falling into pace beside Keishin as the two of you set off down the sidewalk, you following his lead, you weren’t sure exactly sure what to say or even if you should say something. Never before had you and Keishin existed outside of the store together and it felt a little awkward. 

“So . . . is this like a date or something?” You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth. What you had meant to come across as a casual inquiry ended up sounding more like a desperate girl clarifying what she meant to the boy she liked. You sounded like a child.

The corners of Keishin’s mouth curled upward and he shrugged. “Call it whatever you want.” He really didn’t seem to care one way or another. “Although, I’d be a horrible boyfriend if I didn’t take you out at least once . . . fake or not.”

You nearly choked on your spit at the use of the word ‘boyfriend’. Even though you had been pretending to date him for the purposes of changing your parents’ ideals for the past few weeks, you were still caught off guard every time Keishin referred to himself as your boyfriend—even though he was usually doing it to mock you. 

“Yeah, just awful,” you agreed halfheartedly. “Where are we going anyway?”

“This little place that I like,” he said, his answer extremely vague until he continued. “Best ramen I’ve ever had.”

After a few more minutes of walking, the two of you arrived at the place Keishin was talking about and he ordered two take-out bowls and paid for them both, insisting that you should try his regular order since you had never been there before. Not wanting to disagree because he was footing the bill, you let him do what he wanted and tailed him out to a picnic table outside like an obedient puppy. 

“It’s much too hot to eat inside,” Keishin reasoned as he plopped down on the opposite side of the picnic table from you. “Plus, it’s nice outside. Might as well enjoy the weather while it lasts, right?”

“Right.” You nodded.

While Keishin dug right into his meal, you sat still, hands in your lap, and watched him. One thing you had quickly come to realize was that Keishin was the perfect specimen for people watching, and not just because he was relatively easy on the eyes. He was an interesting person; for example, how he tucked half-smoked cigarettes behind his ear to smoke later or how he always wore a headband to keep his hair out of his face but vehemently refused to just cut his damn hair. 

Even though you bugged him about cutting his hair all the time, you secretly hoped he would continue to stand his ground and refuse because you wanted to see what he looked like with his hair down. You also wanted to run your hands through his hair—it looked soft and fluffy—but that was besides the point.

“Hey, it’s gonna get cold,” Keishin snapped you out of your thoughts, his mouth half full of ramen as he jabbed his chopsticks in your direction. “Don’t tell me you don’t like ramen. You should have said something before I ordered for both of us.”

Snapping out of your daze, you picked up your chopsticks and shook your head. “No, I like ramen.” You took a bite to prove your point. “Sorry, I was just lost in thought.”

Keishin waited for you to eat a little more before digging for your consensus. “Good, right?”

“Yeah, really good,” you agreed. “I always walk past this place but I’ve never gone inside.”

“I was the same way. It doesn’t really catch your eye, so unless you’re looking for it, it’s easy to miss,” he said. “Then one day my grandpa took me here for my birthday and I’ve been coming ever since.”

You snickered. “Popular date spot then?”

Keishin cocked a brow. “What?”

“I mean, if you come here a lot, I’m sure it’s a go-to for dates,” you continued. “It even comes with a wholesome story about how your grandpa introduced you to it. Ultimate chick magnet.”

Keishin just rolled his eyes at you. “You know, contrary to popular belief, most girls don’t like it when you take them out to eat cheap ramen on a picnic table that’s falling apart.”

You chuckled. “I wasn’t going to say anything about the table, but I’m pretty sure I have at least ten splinters in my ass by now.”

“Yeah, this thing is torture. So eat fast and then we’ll move to the park across the street or something.”

Shoveling the rest of your food into your mouth, you ate fast while Keishin stared you down, every second that passed introducing your butt to a new world of pain. As soon as you were done, Keishin took both of your take-out bowls and tossed them into a nearby trashcan.

“Well, sucks for all those other girls then, because that ramen really is amazing,” you said when Keishin returned, the two of you crossing the street and heading into the park. 

“Told you.” Keishin smiled. “I’m glad you liked it.”

Once in the park, which was empty considering it was dark out and most kids were in bed by then, the two of you picked a nearby bench that wasn’t splintering and took a seat. 

Drawing your knees up to your chest, you wrapped your arms around your legs and sighed. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Yeah, no problem.” He let his head fall back and looked up at the night sky. “Damn, I could really go for an ice cold beer right now.”

“Well, we could start heading back now if you want,” you suggested. “The beers at the store are extra chilly since I didn’t stick my head in the fridges to cool off today, despite how sweltering it was.”

Keishin laughed. “Well, thank you for that,” he drew in a deep breath and relaxed into the bench, deciding whether to get up or not. “Let’s stay here for a while longer though.”

“Okay.”

Silence fell over the two of you as you stared up at the sky and listened to the sounds of Miyagi in the evening. You tried to remember the last time you had gone out like this—just going wherever you wanted and doing whatever you wanted. You couldn’t recall the last time . . . or even if there was a last time.

Tilting your head to look at Keishin, you smiled at the sight of him sitting with his eyes closed, arms crossed behind his head and head lolled back. He looked happy, almost as peaceful as he did when he was sleeping.

“Hey,” you whispered.

Keishin cracked an eye open to look at you. “Hmm?”

“Thanks for tonight.” You breathed in the scent of the night air and a feeling of content washed over you. “As you’ve probably already figured out, I don’t really have any friends. I don’t get to go out like this very often . . . or ever, really.”

“You don’t need to thank me. It’s what boyfriends are for, right?”

You giggled. “Well, considering you’re not my real boyfriend, I think a ‘thank you’ is in order.”

“Well, you’re welcome,” he caved. “Speaking of fake boyfriends, how’s it going with your parents?”

You let out a frustrated moan. “Oh, about as well as expected. When I mentioned I was seeing someone they bombarded me with a million questions, none of which were answered to their satisfaction.”

Keishin cringed. “So I’m that bad, huh?”

You scoffed. “If you think that’s bad, you should have seen their faces when I showed them a photo of you.”

Keishin let out a laugh. “Don’t tell me they weren’t fans of the piercings?”

“Oh, they weren’t fans of anything,” you said. “I think the only positive thing they could say about you was that you had a pulse . . . no offense.”

“Eh, no worries. At least they didn’t call me a burnout . . . then I would have started crying.”

“Hey!” You smacked at his shoulder again, managing to hit your target this time. “I said I was sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t pay for my therapy.”

“Yeah, well, if you need therapy I doubt I’m the biggest reason.”

“You really are so cruel to me. Do your parents know you facilitate abusive relationships?”

You closed your eyes and shook your head. “That insinuates I’ve had past relationships, or any real ones.”

Keishin craned his neck to look at you, eyes wide. “Wait, you’ve never been in a relationship before? Like never?”

“Nope. I don’t even have any friends, so what makes you think anyone wants to date the boring girl with the crazy parents?”

Keishin looked at you like you were some wounded animal he had just found on the side of the road. You could see in his eyes he was slowly coming to terms with just how isolating your life was. You could tell he felt bad, but the last thing you wanted was his sympathy.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” you told him. “I’m not completely pathetic, okay? I still went through my experimental phase like most teenagers do. I just had to be very sneaky about it.”

“Sneaky?”

“You know, back of a car, other people’s houses when their parents were gone. As far as my parents know, I’m untainted . . . a precious, naive virgin. I’m just not very experienced.”

“I can imagine.” Keishin was a little thrown by the direction the conversation had taken, but you were both adults and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little curious, so he just rolled with it. “High school boys aren’t exactly known for being great in bed.”

The two of you let out a shared laugh at that. “You got that right,” you agreed. 

“So, wait, no relationships but you’ve had sex? So you’ve never been with someone you have a genuine connection with?”

You eyed Keishin, perplexed by the sudden sincerity in his words. “You didn’t peg me as someone who cares about that kind of stuff.”

“I mean, I’ve had my fair share of one night stands, sure, but I’m not completely heartless,” he said, the eye contact he was using while he spoke sending a chill down your spine. “It’s completely different when it’s someone you care about. The experience is something everyone should have at least once in their lives.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a genuine connection with anyone before,” you confessed, unsure why you were spilling some of your deepest secrets in public, on a park bench, to a man you had only known for a couple of months. “It’s kind of hard when everyone is held at an arm’s length away.”

Without warning, Keishin shifted closer to you and placed his hand on your face, the pad of his thumb ghosting over your bottom lip. “I . . . I don’t know what to say,” he breathed.

“It’s not sad, not for me at least. You can’t miss something you’ve never had,” you spoke softly, worried you might scare him away if your voice was too loud or if you made any sudden movements. “No best friends, no boyfriends. Just me, my parents, and everyone else.”

Keishin looked like he wanted to say something; in fact, he looked like he wanted to say a lot of things, but despite this, he remained silent. Maybe he was worried about offending you, or maybe he was finally understanding just how different you were from other people. Maybe he didn’t like different. 

“But now there’s you.” You flashed a small smile, hoping to draw him out of whatever mess was going on inside of his head. “I’ve never met someone like you before.”

“Someone like me?” he finally spoke.

You nodded as you placed your hand over the one he was resting on your cheek and held it. “I’m not your responsibility and yet you’re going out of your way to help me. Not to mention I don’t even deserve your help. You are the first truly selflessly kind person I’ve ever met. Thank you.”

“What if I’m not as kind as you think I am?” His hands found their way to your waist and he pulled you into his lap so you were straddling him. “What will you do then?”

“That depends on what you’re planning on doing.”

Hands running up your sides, Keishin dug his finger tips into your skin as you lowered your head toward his, mouths inches apart. “What if I took you home, laid you down, and took care of you like a boyfriend should?” You could feel his hot breath on your face as he spoke. “What if I took advantage of your lack of experience?”

“I would say thank you,” you said, inching closer. Before your lips met, however, you stopped yourself. “But I promised not to fall in love, and I think it would be awfully hard to keep my promise if you did that.” With that, you planted your hands on his shoulders and pushed yourself away from him before he could make a decision he would later regret. 

Standing up, you collected yourself and drew in a deep breath. As soon as you had detached yourself from Keishin, you could see the fog that had been clouding his judgement dissipating as he came back to his senses. 

“I should probably head home now.” You decided, not wanting to ruin the first actual friendship you had by doing something stupid and selfish. 

“Yeah.” Keishin nodded, slowly standing up as well. It was clear he was slightly embarrassed by his actions, but you also noticed the glint in his eyes that gave away the part of him that still wanted to take you home with him. 

Trying to immediately leave what had just happened in the past, you smiled and turned to start heading home, opting to take the longer way so you wouldn’t have to take the same route as Keishin. “Good night, Keishin.”

“Good night, Y/N.” You heard him call after you, but you didn’t look back at him. Instead, you kept walking, hoping the time apart would serve as a reset on your relationship and put things back to how they had been before that night.

A few weeks ago, you would have jumped at the chance Keishin had dangled in front of your face just now. But since then, you had realized he was more important to you than someone you could just throw away with a one night stand. And since there was no way the two of you could actually be together, this was the only option if you didn’t want to lose him.

If only someone had warned you that genuine connections were this complicated. 

[baby-bearie]

the 7 ways he’ll tell you he loves you

(NOT MY GIF ALL CREDIT TO OWNER)

jj maybank x reader

taglist: @snarkystarkey @sunflowermotel @howdyherron @drew-starkey @maraseavey @outerbanqs @yelyahryan @obxwriterfan @avashroom @rewindlr @raekenliar @imsad05 @ceruleanjj @dolanfivsosxox @heyhargrove @lashtonandmalumsbaby @beautyandthebleh @pancahke @outrbank @johnbsflowr @corleigh @poguemacking @maybe-maybanks @katie-avery @5sos-seavey

a/n: this is unedited, so sorry about the mistakes. i saw a lot of trouble going around with plagiarism on wattpad and i did report a lot of books with stolen fics and props to you guys for getting a few actually taken down!! plagiarism and theft of intellectual property is HURTFUL, writers put SO MUCH into their work, and it’s not so you can get some votes on a wattpad page. also, boys using lovely as a nickname is ;alsdjffenve. 

How long is forever supposed to be? Months? Years, decades, lifetimes? Forever was supposed to be you and JJ. 

Forever feels like the 15 minutes that he’s been fighting you for. 

“Y/n, I don’t get why you’re turning this into such a big deal.” 

“Stop doing that. Stop acting like I don’t get to be mad. I do! I am! You know, you always do this JJ.” “I do not.” “You do. I’m sick of it. I’m- I’m sorry, JJ, but I’m done. I don’t wanna do this anymore,” you sniffle. You refuse to cry. Not in front of him. “We’re going in circles, I really think it’s time to, to just call it quits.” You shrug. JJ is silent. You wait, you yourself need to process what just came out of your mouth. 

JJ is on the couch. He leans on his knees with his elbows and his head is hanging low. He nods. Slowly at first, then quicker. 

“Okay,” he sighs, “You’re right. You’re right.” You nod, relieved that he agreed with you. A bigger part of you was upset that he agreed with you. It would’ve been nice if he had put up some kind of a fight. 

“So, uh, I’ll go.” “Yeah.”

You collapsed onto the couch, rubbing a hand over your face. A brightly colored magazine was open on the coffee table in front of you. Cheetah printed bold letters spelled out a headline: 

The 7 Ways He’ll Tell You He Loves You.

Talk about bad timing. You flipped the cover back over it. 

#1: He’ll flat out tell you. 

“You know, you’re one of the dumbest boys I’ve ever met.” “Right back at you.” JJ grinned up at you. “Oh, low blow, dude.” You laughed, tackling him down onto the bed. JJ fell back with a loud oof, the breath knocked out of his stomach. 

“One day, you’ll do that and I won’t get up, you know that? You’re actually going to be the death of me.” “Oh, I hope so. I’m already sick of you.” “This is literally you confessing to my murder.” He laughed, shoving you off him so he could hover over you instead. “They won’t arrest me, I’m too cute.” You gave him a cheesy smile. 

“That you are,” JJ smirked, leaning down to press soft kisses into the skin between your jaw and your neck. You hummed in approval as he pulled away. You fiddled with the necklace which dangled from his neck. “I love you,” he muttered. 

“ ‘Til I murder you?” 

He pecked your lips. “Til you murder me.” 

He couldn’t have fought for you? Put up some sort of argument? This was a stupid battle to pick with yourself. You were the one who instigated the break up.  

Maybe you weren’t expecting him to actually agree with you. You weren’t expecting him to let you end things.

#2: He’ll protect you. 

“Maybank, I swear to god, if you don’t get us down from here right now I will throw your ass off this cliff.” “It’s really not that high up!” “Holy shit!” You yelped and turned to bury your face in JJ’s chest. He instinctively wrapped his arms around you. 

“Hey, you’re okay, alright? You’re okay. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. I got you. It’s okay, I got you.” JJ assured you, laughing a little through his words at how tightly you were clutching his tank top. 

The next couple of weeks hurt like hell. It’s a sad process, trying to leave behind someone you were rooted to so deeply. You’d see him at parties or even just out on the street sometimes. 

His eyes always followed you. When you were dating, you were amazing at being able to tell when JJ was watching you.  A shiver used to run over your spine, and you’d turn and immediately meet his eyes. He’d smirk and raise his hand to salute you. 

God, how you missed that smirk. 

Apparently, after you stopped dating, your body never forgot what it felt like when his eyes were on you. These days, when you turned to look at him his eyes were intense. He held your eyes for a second. One second when you could forget how you cried and how he left without kissing  you goodbye. 

Then he looked away. 

#3: He thinks of you when you’re not with him. 

“Hey, baby, look at this.” JJ threw the door to the Chateau open and marched over to you. His smile was proud, like a child trying to impress his mom. He stuck out his hand and dropped a small square magnet into yours. You flipped it over to see the front. 

It was brown and painted badly to look wooden. There were two u-shaped magnets painted on as well, and it read, ‘I can’t help but be attracted to you’. You read this out loud and JJ grinned, ecstatic with his choice.

 “Where did you get this?” You snorted. “It was at some cheesy gift shop. It made me think of you so I had to buy it.” “It’s perfect. I love it.” You stood to kiss his cheek and slid the magnet onto the fridge. “You’re very welcome.” 

JJ has always been nearly unreadable. He’s scarily good at hiding his thoughts and feelings from everyone around him, often including his best friends. You knew John B at least had some knowledge of JJ’s emotions, but you doubted the rest of the group did. 

You had at least managed to make a couple cracks in the hard walls he had built up around himself. 

#4: He shows you his emotions. 

You gaped in awe at the bruises littering his torso. You had no idea just how bad it was. You had no idea why he never told you. 

“I can’t take him anymore, Y/n, I can’t take it- can’t do it anymore.” JJ sobbed, his arms tightening around you. You guided his head down to your shoulder. 

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, J. C'mere.” You took a deep breath. You would not cry. Not when he needed you to be strong. “Let it out. You’re okay now.” You locked eyes with John B, terrified.

His tears soaked the skin on your shoulder and the first of many that night fell into his hair. 

But since the breakup, from what you saw of him you couldn’t get anything. His face was expressionless every time you made eye contact with him.You had seen him smile at his friends once or twice, but nothing real. JJ was very good at fake smiles. They looked nearly identical to his real ones. But you loved him for long enough to know what a real one should look like. 

#5: He’ll try and make you laugh. 

“Why are you sad, lovely? Stop it, I hate seeing you sad.” JJ pulled you on his chest, brushing hairs out of your face. You shook your head, tucking your face into his chest. 

“Ok. Fine. You leave me no other choice.” JJ sighed loudly. “What do you call Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson when he tells time?” 

He waited a second for an answer that never came. “Dwayne ‘The Clock’ Johnson.” 

You laughed abruptly, but it came out as a sob. You didn’t lift your head. 

“Alright, you want more, fine. What do you call Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson when he won’t shut up? Dwayne ‘The Talk’ Johnson. What do you call Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson when the doorbell is broken? Dwayne ‘The Knock’ Johnson. What do you call Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson when he wears comfortable, breathable footwear? Dwayne ‘The Croc’ Johnson.” 

Your whole body was shaking with uncontrollable laughter now. You were certain that JJ had been practicing those at some point. 

“No more, no more, please,” You finally lifted your head and JJ wiped away a fallen tear with his thumb. You choked on a laugh. “So how long did it take you to come up with those?” 

JJ frowned. “What do you mean, I came up with those like just now!” He laughed.

“Okay, sure, JJ.” “Don’t test me, I have like, 8 more.” 

You think the worst part about this is being lonely. You’re surrounded by comforting friends who try and take you places and get you to have fun but at the end of the night you go home to an empty bed and you wake up in an empty bed.

And every morning without fail, you’ll wake up and reach for him. And every morning without fail, he won’t be there. 

#6: He’ll make romantic gestures. 

“JJ? Where are you?” You sat up, groggily. He wasn’t in bed, that’s for sure. 

“G’morning, lovely,” JJ strolled into your room, carrying a tray. You propped yourself up on the headboard and took it from him. 

“Aw, JJ, what is all this?” “Breakfast.” “You made breakfast?” 

JJ stole a berry off your plate and popped it in his mouth, nodding. He took a seat near your legs. 

JJ can’t cook for shit. 

“Baby, it’s okay, it’s the thought that counts, I thought it was sweet!” “Nah, dude, that was shitty, I’m sorry. That bread tasted like a frying pan.” “The berries were good.” “That’s because all I did to them was wash them.” 

You hit up another party with your friends. They were the best kind of distraction. You pulled up the green bikini strap that was falling down your shoulders. This was his favorite top. 

“Y/l/n!” You heard a voice shout. “Y/n!” 

You turned to see who was shouting your name and smiled at John B. “Hey, Routledge, good to see you!” “Hey, Y/n. Look, I know you guys aren’t on talking terms- “John B, no,” You interrupted, but he kept talking over you. 

“But, please, Y/n, he won’t talk to anybody and we’re all worried about him.” “I really can’t, I don’t think he- “He’s in the van. Driver’s seat. Thank you!” And then he was gone. You huffed. 

You could see the van from here and you could barely make out a figure sitting in the front seat. 

You stood there for a second before you forced yourself to get over it and you made your way around dancing teenagers to the van. 

You pulled open the door and climbed into the passenger seat. He turned to look at you. 

“Hi,” you forced out. This felt uncomfortably unfamiliar. “Hey, Y/n.” 

“How are you?” He asked. He was being formal. He was never formal with you. 

“Fine, I guess. What about you?” 

He said nothing. “Small talk? Is that what we are now? We have to make small talk?” He laughed, exasperated. 

“I know you hate small talk.” 

“What happened to us?” His eyes are wet, and he doesn’t look at you, just stares straight ahead. “I made a mistake.” You said it out loud. You hadn’t forced yourself to admit it yet. That you were wrong for putting him in this position. 

“What?” He turned to look at you. 

“I shouldn’t have broken up with you. I think some part of me thought you wouldn’t actually let me do it. That you would fight to make us work.” You shrugged. Your eyes watered up. 

“Well, I didn’t want to break up with you.” He spoke quickly. 

“What?” Now it was your turn to be confused. 

“Of course I never wanted to leave you, Y/n. I love you.” “But you said I was right. And you left.” “I thought that was what you wanted. I want you happy. If that means I have to get out of the picture, then I’m gone. I left because I thought you wanted me to go.” 

You scoff. “So, all this time we’ve just been playing ourselves.” 

JJ laughs, a wet one. “You know, nobody told me just how fucking useless I was going to be without you.” He finally really looks at you. 

There’s a half smile on his face and his eyes are full of tears. 

You leap into him, and he meets you halfway. He buries his forehead on your shoulder and his hand is holding the back of your head. “I missed you. I missed you so much, lovely.” He cries into your hair. 

#7: He’ll do anything if it means you’re happy. 

[vvettell]

2020 sewis!!!! Although we are spoiled for choice here

waahhh the fic i feel the most protective over tbh even though i'm gonna be insanely late with posting this lmao but the "he always cheered me up and motivated me to continue" dropped and i lost it and had to write a fic over the whole year for it and actually started it in december 2020 and still haven't finished skdjfsdf

although i have to admit that after seb's announcement i was like is it even worth writing a longish fic where lewis drags seb through 2020 when he's leaving 2 years later anyway??

anyway here's a part from their first phone call after the ferrari news goes public

wip asks!!

A postcard with „Greetings from Heppenheim!“ written in the centre of it finds its way into his post box. He grins looking at all the oversaturated pictures of his hometown and his smile turns wistful when he turns the card around and reads the short message in his mother’s handwriting. He hangs it up on the fridge with the last free magnet and decides to call her later.

He turns to walk back into the living room when his eyes catch on the plant Fabian brought with him last week. It’s a frail looking thing and he is not entirely sure he will be able to save it, the bottom leaves that are touching the soil are turning gooey and grey, while some other leaves are starting to turn brown and dry, but he’s certainly going to try. While he likes gardening and plants, he’s neither sure what kind of plant this one is exactly, nor how much light and water it needs, so the plant doesn’t look much better now than it did a week ago. He needs to do some research. There must be some identification keys online somewhere.

For a moment he stands still in the hallway, tapping his index against the doorframe, contemplating if it might be better to get his laptop out of his office for this. He pushes his tongue into his cheek, takes the little potted plant with him, and walks into the living room instead. Sighing deeply, he sinks into the sofa, grabs his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it. The browser was already open from earlier and he deletes his last search and starts again.

He's about to open the first result that isn’t an ad when the screen suddenly changes with an incoming call. Lewis Hamilton.

Sebastian pauses, then moves his thumbs out of the way to look at the screen in its entirety. He keeps staring at the name, a little surprised, a little indecisive. The phone is still ringing and waiting for him to either add it to the ever-growing pile of calls he didn’t pick up in the last 2 weeks or answer it.

Sebastian doesn’t know why it’s that particular call that’s the first one he picks up in days, but before he can think too much about it, he hits the green button.

“Lewis?” Sebastian asks, the corners of his mouth twisting upwards.

“Hey, man,” Lewis says and Sebastian can hear the smile in his voice. The sound immediately brings memories with it, some older, some newer. He didn’t realise how long it’s been since he heard it until now.  “Finally you’re picking up your damn phone.”

“Why?” Sebastian says. “Were you trying to reach me or something?”

“Yeah, you could frigging say that,” Lewis says, somewhere between amused and exasperated.

 “You should have sent me a letter then. I check my post box every day. Sometimes even twice. I got a post card just today.”

“I’m not sending you a damn letter,” Lewis laughs. “Those are more your thing. I’m gonna text you like a normal person.”

Sebastian grins, tilting his head to the left, sinking deeper into the couch and putting his feet on the coffee table.

“Wow,” he says, stretching the word much more than necessary, “you could have just told me you hated my Christmas letters. See if you get any more of them.”

“No,” Lewis says, raising his voice a decibel, more serious, “I don’t hate them. I still have them all in my office, actually. So don’t even think about it.”

Sebastian didn’t know that. In fact, he’s always wondered if Lewis even read them since he never got a reply to any of them. Now, the thought seems silly. He switches the phone from his right hand to his left one.

“Okay. I won’t.” Sebastian quietly, almost adds a promise. He doesn’t know why he stops himself from saying it.

He leans his head back on the couch, looking at his white ceiling and the way the sunlight coming in through the windows hits it, casting shapes of flowers and leaves. He hears Lewis inhale deeply on the other end of the line.

“How are you doing, Lewis?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

“I don’t know, are you?”

Lewis huffs a laugh. “Seriously, Seb. How are you? How are things?”

“Oh, you know,” Sebastian says, crossing one leg over the other. “I got fired and we’re in a pandemic but other than that I’m having the time of my life.”

[jonkentt]

dear captain sam,

Sept 10 ‘21 ~Secret Admirer~ @samwilsonfest

Sam’s sitting at the kitchen island, reading the cartoons from last week’s newspaper. He can never have the current ones cause Cass has to read them first. He’s cutting out a Garfield panel to hide in one of Bucky’s books later when the man himself walks in a drops a piece of folded construction paper on the table.

“What’s this?”

Bucky shrugs his leather jacket off and hangs it by the door.

“Donno, Sam. I don’t snoop other people’s mail.”

“That was one time and it was an accident.”

Bucky smirks and comes over to plant a kiss on Sam’s cheek before opening the kitchen cupboards.

“The note’s for you, Sam. But I’ve been sworn to secrecy about its author. Curry sound good for dinner?”

“Mm, yeah.” Sam unfolds the blue paper and finds a note scrawled in crayon.

daer Captain Sam, I think your really great! thanks four being a hero!

Sam smiles. His insides go all warm and fuzzy. He pictures Bucky being stopped on the sidewalk by a kid, handing this note off knowing it would get to Sam. Brave kid. He smooths the paper out and clips it on the fridge with a magnet. Bucky has started chopping up potatoes at the counter. Sam hugs him from behind and rests his chin on his partner’s shoulder.

“If you see my secret admirer again, tell them I loved the note.”

“Will do,” Bucky promises with a wink.

A week later, Bucky brings Sam a folded piece of pink paper and beams at him.

“Your note-writer was ridiculously happy to hear you loved it. They made you this and I only know it’s amazing because they showed it to me.”

Sam laughs and unfolds it. A crayoned version of himself waves back at him with a huge smile. He’s wearing the Cap suit with the wings flared open behind him.

“I think it’s a great likeness,” Bucky comments. Sam’s crayon head is massive and his goggles are comically big and round to match.

“And look,” Bucky traces over the paper with a vibranium finger. “It’s a bunch of stars in a heart shape. I told them to be really proud of that.”

Sam laughs again. “Yeah, they should!”

Under him is a row of puffy clouds and the same childish scrawl as the first note.

Captain Sam, Your a star! Im gonna fly like you one day and see the stars too.

Sam’s heart swells. That’s going on the fridge forever.

The next week, Sam is standing at their bookshelf when Bucky gets home. He’d already stuck a month’s worth of Garfield comics in Bucky’s copy of Lord of the Rings. Now he’s rubbing his chin, deliberating his next read with his bottom lip stuck out in a thoughtful pout. Bucky can’t resist kissing him.

“God, you’re so cute.”

Sam grins. “I know it.” Bucky gets lost staring fondly into his brown eyes before remembering his task.

“Ah!” He pulls two notes out of his pocket this time. One is yellow construction paper and the other looks torn from a notebook. “Delivery for a Mr. Wilson.”

“Ooo, yes! Do I have time to read these before we leave?”

“Yeah, ‘course babe. Gotta look for my bike gloves anyway.”

Sam opens the letter first. It’s in neater handwriting, maybe a teenager’s.

Mr. Sam Wilson, thanks for being a hero in more ways than one. My kid brother is thrilled to send his drawings to Captain America. I tell him we are so lucky to live in the same town as our hero. Mr. Bucky is really nice about it and he always talks about you like you’re his hero too. Thank you for sharing yourself with the world. Mum used to worry about me a lot after I came out, she worried I would feel alone. Seeing you on the TV helped because now she knows I’ll always have someone like me who I can look up to. She says if you can be a Black and gay Captain America, then I can believe anything is possible for me too.

Sam sniffs and wipes his nose on the back of his hand. He reads the note again then grabs his jacket and finds Bucky sitting on his motorcycle out front.

“Here, read this.”

Bucky gingerly takes the note and Sam can tell when he’s read it cause his eyes well up and his chin quivers.

“Buck, are you crying?”

“No.” He wipes at his eyes. “What’s the other one?” Bucky nods at the yellow paper in Sam’s fist.

“Oh, I forgot to look!”

Sam leans on the bike beside Bucky and unfolds another drawing. Sam’s still in his Cap suit, still has a giant head, and this time Bucky’s in it too. His metal arm is twice as thick as his other one. They’re holding hands and a cluster of blue hearts are floating above them. Sam hears a sniffle and looks at his partner.

“Yeah, okay, I’m definitely crying.”

Sam laughs, kisses a tear from his cheek, and leans into his chest, Bucky’s arms wrapping around him. Sam looks back at the drawing and his heart feels full to bursting. They’ll have to frame this one.

Bonus:

A few weeks later, Bucky startles Sam by dropping a box in his lap. He just laughs when Sam looks up at him.

“I think your admirer got his entire 2nd grade class to write to you.” Sam’s face lights up. “Better start reading now, Cap, if you wanna finish today. I’ll make popcorn.”

[peachiimilquetea]

ALSKSJAK PEACH!!!! CONGRATS ON 50 LOVE!!! ✨💕

Can I please request a short scenario with Kaminari using the gentle hc and “you need a place to stay tonight?” prompt?

ilysm congrats again!!! 💕❤️🍑

"𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲?" + denki kaminari

gentle: how do they provide comfort?

length: 1.2k

contains: gn! reader I think? (pls let me know otherwise), light angst, comfort, mentions of infidelity, fluff, denki being emotionally inept, college!au, sero and kiri have a short role at the end, childhood friends to lovers

a/n: denki is one of those characters with limited screentime so I hope did him justice!

“you need a place to stay?”

the words almost go in one ear and out the other as you process what he’s asking you.

it was a simple question, nothing sinister or backhanded meant by it, and yet it made your heart flutter to think about staying in kaminari’s home.

you definitely needed it, no thanks to your selfish roommate. i’m having someone over she had said, and subsequently kicked you out for the night, leaving you with nothing but a small tote bag full of your essentials and nowhere to go.

and so, without even realizing it you had found yourself on denki’s doorstep. it was almost like a magnetic pull, leading you to your best friend in your time of need.

“i-its no trouble for me, really! you can stay in my room and i’ll stay on the couch. i think sero and kiri are gonna be out at a party tonight and i’ve got a midterm paper to write so..”

you were snapped back into reality at the sound of his voice. he must’ve seen the pensive look on your face and you felt a small smile grace your lips as you watched him ramble and try to explain all the reasons it would be no trouble at all for you to stay.

“as long as its no trouble for you, i could stay over tonight, denki,” he grinned and stepped aside to let you into the apartment.

setting you stuff down you took in the room. he’s the same guy you’ve known since elementary school, hyper, loud, and messy- his living room is evidence of that. his roommates probably added to that to be honest, but he was doing you a favor and you were in no position to judge.

you two agreed that after he was 3/4ths done with his midterm he would come and hang out with you. he worked on the couch, while you rummaged through the boys’ almost barren fridge and attempted to make dinner. geez how have they survived this long?

you managed to scrounge something together and about 2 hours later denki dramatically shut his laptop and exclaimed that college was a scam, signifying he had just barely finished everything he had to do.

“finally i can spend some quality time with my best friend”

you smiled and suggested a movie marathon. he excitedly agreed and began to bring out all the blankets and pillows in the house, claiming that pillow forts are essential to the movie experience.

three movies in and you were practically on top of each other, hands threaded through his hair and his head on your lap. the both of you were engrossed in the true-crime documentary on the TV. the only reason he had let you put it on was due to a lost game of rock paper scissors, but denki seemed to be more invested in what was going on than you were, clinging to you whenever the music signified that something especially sinister was happening.

you checked the time: 1:45am

it was much too late for you to be up, seeing as you had a 10am class tomorrow, but the couch was so warm and you wanted to stay cuddled up with your friend for as long as possible. it felt nice and safe.

but denki, remembering everything when it came to you, knew you had a class and after the movie was over, turned the tv off and began to clean up the mess you two had made. leaving the previous mess for someone else.

he picked up the dishes and went to the kitchen to do them while you picked up snack bags and wrappers that had been strewn around the floor and couch.

“you know,” you heard denki call from the kitchen, “im a little surprised you came to see me for this. i thought you would’ve gone to stay with your boyfriend.”

oh.

him.

you had forgotten you didn’t tell kaminari about the news. your boyfriend broke up with you, claiming it was because you were two different people but you knew he was cheating on you. with your dream of a roommate.

denki could tell something was up tho, so he put the dishes down and came over to where you were curled up on the couch, awaiting your reply.

“we broke up,” you said, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

the whole situation was embarrassing- you didn’t even like the guy all that much- your friends had convinced you to give him a chance because he seemed nice. you had only done it in an effort to get over your crush on kaminari anyways.

but it still stung when you found out, catching the two of them together on your couch. she probably had him over right now and thats why she kicked you out. the irony of the situation is palpable- you dated the boy to put some distance between you and kami but here you were, right back where you started.

you didn't even realize you had been crying until you felt denki wrap you in a loving embrace, hands still wet and soapy, trying his best to comfort you.

“don't cry, ____, the guy looked like he ate mayonnaise straight from the jar anyways. you were doing charity work.”

you snorted at his poor attempt to make you feel better and burying your face into his chest, holding him tighter. he had never been good at comforting people, often just making you cry more as kids, but this time his presence was a great comfort to you.

he was your anchor, the only thing keeping you from floating up and away into your insecurities and doubts about how things were going.

“i'm not that sad about the breakup itself, i just can’t help but feel like the whole thing was my fault,” you sniffled and kaminari pulled back to look you in the eyes.

“bullshit. you are one of the most amazing, funny, caring people i know, and if he had all that and thought that wasn’t enough, he's even dumber than me, and that's saying something.”

his words were simple encouragement, but you felt your face heat up at his admission.

“you really think so?”

“of course i do! i wouldn’t have loved you for so long if-” kaminari stopped himself and quickly let go of your shoulders. his face and ears were slowly turning a boiling hot red as the both of you let his words sink in.

he loved you.

he loved you.

“you dont have to say anything… it’s ok if you don’t feel the same way i- mph”

grabbing him by the collar you kissed him with everything you could muster. his lips were sweet and supple, just like you always imagined them to be, and you felt like a giant weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

kaminari broke the kiss to look at you, eyes filled to the brim with love and relief. he had never felt his heart swell so much, feeling like he would accidentally set off a citywide blackout from excitement.

he was about to say something when sero burst through the door, kirishima coming in right after him.

sero took in the scene in front of him, smile growing as he put the pieces together.

“well, that took you two long enough,” he grinned and you laughed, finally feeling a lot better.