#OR YOU CAN DRIVE ME DOWN TO FLORIDA AND FUCK ME FOR DAYS!!!!!!!

[bedforddanes75]

people dont talk about george daniel and charli xcx's remix of welcome to my island enough

[ma1dita]

buddy system

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 4.2k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where he comes with you to rescue your twin brothers, Pollux and Castor. A weekend 'quest' teaches you a lot about Luke, and about yourself too. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: um i cant apologize for this word count and ive been looking at this for too long so fuck. Anyways do yall think Luke felt bad when he found out Castor died in battle because of his army in this universe? just me?? okay :) also trouble gets a cool magic item that makes an appearance here, kinda works like polyjuice but with smoke

(posted 2/7/24 betad by lovely ellie @lixzey might edit again when i get some sleep)

—

“No. You might be my father, but you’re crazy, man!”

You’re standing in D’s office at the Big House, and what was supposed to be a short talk before the counselors’ meeting has turned into a full-blown argument. It’s hard to focus on anything other than the words leaving your godrent’s mouth.

You’re going to pick up your little brothers.

“Those two statements are both true, kid. You’re old enough to understand that!”

They need your help.

“You’re really letting your 16-year-old daughter drive down to Florida by herself to pick up some kids she’s never met? Won’t even send me with any quest companions, or like, Grover?” you say exasperatedly, before slumping down into a seat.

“Think of it as family bonding! They’re great from what I remember. You all need to get along anyway.”

Whether it was jealousy or the sudden urge to be petty, you impulsively grab your dad’s Diet Coke and chug it, crushing the can with your fist as a tiny act of rebellion. 

Another one appears on the desk and you chuck it over your shoulder. Mr. D sighs as he conjures another one, to which you do the same thing.

“I can do this all day, kid.”

“So can I, and you know if I do, we’ll be sitting here until I’m 40,” you say expectantly, tapping your fingers on the hardwood surface of his desk.

“What do you want?”

The keys to his car are a start, as well as extra pocket money—but there was something, or rather, someone missing to make sure this weekend goes as smoothly as possible.

Your smirk widens at your father, and he wonders when you’ve gotten good at playing his own game.

It’s like looking into a mirror but his worst nightmare manifested as a teenage girl.

—

There are only two things Luke can think about when he hears the sound of your laughter.

The first is that, unlike your angelic singing that could rival the Muses, your laughter takes after the sound of a maniac, an incredulous crescendo that only something curated by Hades in the deepest pits of Tartarus could produce. It was almost madness-inducing, and it went off in his brain like you were a siren (although he means the kind used for weather advisory, he too gets lured in by your laughter each time he hears it like a sailor lost at sea).

Second, as he watches you storm down the lawn of the Big House, your anger brewing something comparable to a Category 5, he raises an eyebrow and thinks, well this ought to be good. Or entertaining at the very least.

“You,” you growl at him, guttural and sharp like the finger you jab into his chest, “we’re going on a quest!”

“Me?” Luke blurts, eyebrows furrowing at you.

A loud groan echoes through the grassy space between the house and the counselors as everyone looks up to see Mr. D dragging his hands down his face at the sheer thought of his daughter causing him more gray hairs. 

“That’s not what we agreed on, kid!” “If you want any of your children to come back to this hellhole in one piece I need backup!” “There’s more of you?”

Both you and your dad glare at Luke now, like he’s interrupting a private conversation.

“Since when do you like asking for help, princess?” 

Mr. D’s arms are crossed over his chest as he speaks to you. Though your height severely differs due to the wooden steps of the Big House, the air is palpable with fear only an Olympian could invoke, reminding the counselors that the man wearing the ugliest Hawaiian shirt known to humankind, is in fact inhuman. You, however, are standing tall in the freshly-cut grass in your combat boots with wrath that could rival Ares’ as you stare your father down like the rest of them wouldn’t get struck into the next lifetime due to your impertinence, as Annabeth loves to call it. She looks up at Luke, with her eyes conveying that she thinks you must be clinically insane, but he knows that already, so he shrugs.

“I’m not asking for it, I’m demanding it. Besides, he’s like my ESA,” you say, then taking Luke by surprise as you grab him by the wrist and drag him off the front lawn. You think you can hear Beckendorf and Clarisse bite back chuckles.

“Someone tell Rodriguez he’s in charge of 11!” you yell into the air, and words of affirmation and good luck are muttered in response.

“Don’t I get a say in this, Trouble?” Luke says playfully, tugging at your arm lightly but unresisting as you sigh and pull him along. Who in their right mind says no to a long weekend away from this place? Monsters and demigods be damned.

“No. Besides, they’re gonna need more luck than we do.”

“Liam, I don’t know why she trusts you, but if my daughter dies, I’ll make sure you’re next!” Mr. D yells out to your retreating figures, and all of the counselors turn to face him realizing that without you, well… that means he actually has to be in charge.

“So what’s the meeting supposed to be about, Annabelle?” Mr. D says, looking at Annabeth only knowing that she’s supposed to be the smart one—and the small girl sighs.

This is gonna be the longest weekend yet.

—

You’re speeding down I-95 with the windows down and the wind brushing through both of your hair. While Luke watches you from the passenger seat with road signs blurring past his periphery, he also notices that it’s the first time in a while that he’s seen you this carefree. Both of you took up counselor positions a few months ago, and your dad appointed you to be in charge of all of them (because why have a counselor for a population of one), so there’s a lot about you that’s grown up in the two years you two have known each other. But what type of demigod gets to enjoy their childhood anyway, right? Luke can only remember bits and pieces of his.

“How do you even know where we’re going? I can barely read the signs,” he asks.

“Cool blessing from my stepmom. Ariadne’s chill. We talk sometimes and she likes that I keep D in check, so now I can never get lost,” you grin toothily, violet eyes flickering to meet his.

“Was it true what your dad said? That you trust me?”

His voice is a bit louder than it should be over the wind tunnel that blocks out the sound of the radio as the air whips in and out of the car.

“Well, I wouldn't say trust,” you drag out, leaning back against your seat with your eyes still on the road, “More like if I got abducted by a harpy, I think you could cut its wings off and give me a fighting chance at living.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t invite Mason to come,” he mumbles, and you smirk, pretending not to hear.

“Who?”

His hands are clenched in his lap as a blush brushes his cheeks, windswept in the rays of the late summer sun.

“Your boyfriend. Wouldn’t he be a better companion?” 

Something about the older son of Apollo always ground his gears. It was even worse that you both would sing Broadway musicals together during his sparring sessions. Your harmonious voices echoing from the amphitheater aside, the repetitive grating feeling in his stomach reminds him not to go see Hamilton if he ever makes it out to the city.

“He’s not…” you huff, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel as you think hard on what to say next, “He’s nothing serious.” You pull the sun visor down as you squint, tilting your head in case he says something else, but you hear nothing. Luke’s staring at your side profile, unable to hide his grin at the new information, biting his cheek.

“Besides, he’s a fucking terrible shot. And you’re supposed to be the best, so I’ve heard. Who else would I want on this trip with me?”

He chuckles at this lightly, your words bolstering his ego.

“So you’ve heard.”

And for a second, the sight of his smile distracts you enough that the car swerves a tiny bit closer to the median. You both ignore it and keep driving.

—

Hypnos increases his hold on your senses as you finally take a break somewhere in North Carolina, taking refuge in a dimly lit corner of a gas station parking lot. The old car reeks of greasy fast food and all the sugar Luke could get his hands on at rest stops (it was really cute to see him indulge in more normal things like sweets instead of swordsmanship), and both of your seats are leaned back, but it’s hard to get comfortable after having your butt in the same seat for several hours.

You readjust yourself again, making the car shake a bit as you turn over to face Luke. 

“What’s wrong?” he mumbles through closed eyes. His head’s banged against the window one too many times, and it was starting to get annoying.

“Sorry. Just can’t sleep. Thinking too hard.”

He sighs, reaching over to toss your pillow into the backseat, and as you sit up, he rips your blanket off of you too.

“Hey!”

You go silent when you watch him make a makeshift bed for you, turning back with tired eyes as he gestures, “Go ahead. I don’t mind.”

“I feel bad, Luke. You’re taller than me and your knees almost hit the dashboard.”

He rubs at his eyes, looking at you impatiently, and you know his body is calling for comfort too.

“I’ve slept in worse conditions, you gotta remember that, Trouble.” The stories Annie used to tell you about the both of them sleeping on the streets pull at your heart, and as you crawl towards the back, you move before you think rationally–tugging on his arm.

“Come on over here.”

“You sure?” “Before I change my mind, yeah.”

You both move around trying to find a place both of you can be comfortable in, first starting with your heads at opposite windows, legs tangling in the middle before he laughs a little too hard at your fumbling and you launch your pillow at his face. Awkwardly, you climb over his legs into his outstretched arms, slotting yourself against his side as he pulls your hair up from getting trapped between his shoulder and your back.

It’s deadly quiet, and Luke thinks if you could move any closer to him, you might hear his heart thundering in his chest.

“You smell like french fries,” you grumble into his sweater, and his laughter shakes you like an earthquake, uprooting the faint traces of sleep in your mind. 

“At least the monsters won’t find us. Gonna be harder when the twins get here. A lot of demigod smell to ward off.”

You don’t answer, and he thinks you may have fallen asleep until he notices your hand playing with the frays of his sweater.

“Trouble?”

“They’re really little,” you mumble, so low that he barely hears the hesitance in your voice.

“The monsters? Yeah, I fucking ho–” “Pollux and Castor. My…half-siblings, with really Greek names, and a mom that depends on me getting them to camp safely…” you trail off before your head jerks up to meet his eyes. It’s colder at night now, your bodies and the tiny throw blanket from your trunk providing ample heat even if his socked feet fight their way out from underneath.

“How old are they, nine?” He feels you nod against his chest before he continues, “I was nine when I left home.”

Your eyes get glassy at the thought of a smaller version of Luke, one who’s not all gangly legs and lean muscle—one much softer and innocent than the boy you lean your weight upon, running away from home to find a place he can belong. 

“I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”

He shrugs, the arm propped against the headrest wrapping around you and resting on your hip, tapping you to continue your previous thought.

“I don’t know how to do this, I guess. I’m ripping them from their home and I—” “You’re not some kind of monster y’know? You put yourself down too much sometimes,” he sighs, and he watches the windows slowly start to fog up, “What don’t you know how to do?”

Ignoring his question, you change the subject hoping to talk about something lighter, and far less revealing to the thoughts inside your head.

“Do you remember all of that? Going to school and chalking up the sidewalks on the way home, hopscotch and ice cream trucks… I don’t want to take them away from that.”

Luke ponders, digging through his brain for anything happy from his childhood, but through the years his memories started to collect dust in the back of his mind.

“I don’t remember much.”

“Gods, I’m sorry…” 

Mason had told you of your habit of putting your foot in your mouth. You dealt in extremes, giving too much or too little, always saying the wrong thing—and it was the reason why things didn’t go further with the son of Apollo. As well as with the daughter of Aphrodite you saw briefly that told you you didn’t know how to love, not if you didn’t know how to share yourself with others (yeah that one hurt a lot).

Sharing. 

That’s what you’re hesitant about.

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago now,” Luke mumbles, a beat of silence passing before he redirects the conversation like you did, “What don’t you know how to do, Trouble?”

“How to share. Be a sibling. Someone likeable, I guess.”

Luke doesn’t mean to laugh at your expense, but he does, and you punch his stomach hard enough he gasps for air.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Everyone likes you.”

“Everyone’s usually scared of me because of D, or hates me because I take dessert privileges and write them up,” you say matter-of-factly, staring out the window above his head at the gentle shine of the moon on his features. It’s a crime for him to look so soft under the low light, and you realize you’re staring when he calls your name.

“No, you don’t get it—you’re the most selfless person I know. You give up sleep to sing to kids before bed, conjure juice boxes so they don’t pass out during training—I’ve seen you carry a kid almost as tall as you across camp because they broke their ankle. You’ve got a lot of love in that twisted heart of yours. I’d know… I mean—I have to share a lot… so I’m basically an expert.”

You blink at him as if seeing him in a new light, and you realize then why you picked him to go on this weekend quest with you. Your heartbeat slows despite the show of vulnerability in front of him, and you understand now that Luke makes you feel safe. Biting your lip to hold back a sigh, you decide to just unload the rest of your thoughts, knowing that you’re in the hands of someone who wants to hold the weight. “I’m just used to being alone, I think. I mean who knows what we're like when we're alone but us, right? What a terrifying thought,” you deflect, and Luke closely watches the slope of your nose, down to the smoothness of your lips, unable to put the right words to how he’s feeling.

 I know you, he thinks, and it's not as all bad as you make it seem.

“We’re never truly alone, y’know. Besides, even if you are, you still have me,” he says nonchalantly, and the warmth on your cheeks could generate enough heat to run the car for miles. Chuckling lightly as your eyes flutter closed, you know you need to rest before morning comes since you’re the only one between the two of you that can drive.

You reckon you’ll teach Luke by the end of the year if he wants to.

“We’re getting pretty terrible at this enemies thing, Castellan,” you jest with nothing hard to back it, and a smile falls onto both of your lips.

“We were never really enemies, Trouble. I just like getting on your nerves.”

Your laughs fall silent, settling into a comfortable silence, until his next words send you off into slumber as you listen.

“I remember my mom singing in the kitchen as she put peanut butter on my sandwiches. She'd act like she left the dishes out for me to wash, but let me lick the knife clean every time and I’d put too much soap and the sink would be filled with bubbles. I don't remember much else but that. Her kitchen. She smelled like…chamomile.”

A wandering hand pulls his free one into yours, holding it until sunrise.

—

You push Pollux and Castor out the door before the sun rises after a short stay at their mother’s house, and as the engine heats up, you and Luke watch them say goodbye to her with the both of you thinking of last words with your own. You ward off the hellhounds biting off at your heels for a few hours like how you deceived the police the day previous, with a purple Zippo lighter in hand (the smoke grants temporary illusions through any space you blow it into, and it smells like grapes---thanks D!). The kids sleep most of the way, none the wiser and heavy with sleep and their emotions of leaving everything they’ve ever known. Your eyes flicker to their sleeping heads in the rearview mirror every so often, ready to take them home.

Hours later, Luke decides to make you stop at a diner to get you a bit of rest, get actual food, and let the twins pee, and your head is bobbing slightly in front of your plate of food once he brings them back from the bathroom.

“You wash your hands?” you say tiredly, both Pollux and Castor shaking wet hands in your face in response, making you giggle before sipping at your coffee. Luke cut you off from Redbull yesterday, saying he was scared for your liver and saying you needed to drink something else for a bit. He bristles at the sight of you drinking more caffeine, and you smile as the mug touches your lips.

“You’re gonna kill yourself one day. At least your dad drinks Diet Coke.”

“Not by choice, though what a way to go!” you joke, and the twins giggle as the both of them gulp down root beer like it’s essential to their being. Luke sighs at the idea of you having two minions under your belt, who you’ll most definitely train to raise hell on Camp Half-Blood now that you’ve taken more of the administrative side of things.

“Is he your boyfriend, sissy?” Pollux, or maybe it’s Castor pipes up, swinging his legs under the table and you smile at the sound of the nickname, noticing the dimple in his cheek. Luke chokes on his burger, coughing until you elbow him.

“He’s more of my ESA,” you remark, and he still doesn’t know what that is, so he raises an eyebrow like your brothers do as they peer up at you from across the table.

“What’s an ESA?” Castor, you realize, who has no dimples, spits out behind munches of a pickle.

“Luke’s my emotional support animal.”

He eats the rest of your fries despite your confidence in that response, grumbling exactly how a resistant dog would.

As you’re paying the bill, a large shadow looms over the sunny disposition of everyone at your table—and then Luke shouts for everyone to cover their eyes. Glass shatters over you, revealing a hellhound the size of a minivan, and it pounces toward the twins, large teeth bared at their throats. Before Luke can pull his sword out, you whistle sharply and the sound whizzes through the air like a bullet as you toss the Zippo lighter at him as he’s pushing the kids to the car. Though he’s reluctant to lose sight of you, he covers them with an illusion, locking the doors despite their cries running headfirst back into battle and towards to you, with your thyrsus and him with his sword, back to back.

“They okay?” you heave, jabbing at the red-eyed canine between the eyes as Luke pulls around to slash it across the neck, coming out of the tussle unscathed as you both watch it keel over at your feet into golden dust minutes later.

“Yeah. Are you?”

Though you originally found it funny, Luke does perform his job well, getting you to calm down as he holds you to his chest until you can breathe normally again.

“Mhm. Just scared me.”

The two of you run out of the destroyed diner and into the warded-off car before the police show up, hand in hand as you escape without detection. As he falls asleep, Castor dreams that you two are Bonnie and Clyde like in an old Western movie he was definitely not old enough to watch.

—

You’re finally back on the Island now, only an hour away from Montauk and Luke is getting restless in the passenger seat. He pulls apples out of his backpack, wiping them off with his shirt as you sing along to a Taylor Swift song playing on the radio.

And maybe someday when we’re older, this is something we’ll laugh about…. Foolish one… you hum, tapping the wheel to fight off your exhaustion.

Pollux and Castor are using their fingers to pretend to hop over obstacles in the smudged windows, babbling about something they did in class last week. The son of Hermes pulls out a pocketknife he nicked from a gas station this morning as he starts to cut the apples into pieces, putting some into a ziploc bag for the boys to share, and you smile at him, wistful at your trip nearing its finish line. If you weren’t enemies before this like he said, it’s crazy to consider him your closest friend.

But he is, isn’t he?

His knuckles nudge yours over the console, pressing an apple slice into your palm.

“You know, Castellan, you’re sweet when you want to be. Shame you and that sister of Annie’s didn’t work out.”

Luke scoffs at the reminder of his ex, slicing another piece off for you to eat. She did say he had wandering eyes…always looking for you. He’s not going to admit that though.

“I just know you like your apples cut. Saw you battling it out with a butter knife last week. Couldn’t help but notice,” he says lowly like it’s normal for people to be that considerate about others, normal for him to care about you like that, a constant push and pull between you two. 

“Hurts my teeth,” you mutter, and Luke chortles like you’ve told him something life-changing. Your hand bumps into his again, feeling nothing but his calloused fingers, and when you look up his cheek protrudes with the last slice.

“Tax,” he winks, and you’re delirious with this feeling that only he can bring you, almost comparable to being high.

The popstar’s voice continues to trill in the background, with my head in my hands, saying “How could I not see the signs?”

You both don’t realize you’ve stopped singing until Pollux pipes up asking for you to play Fireball by Mr. 305 himself.

—

The car finally pulls into the driveway of the forest path and you’re all greeted by the campers holding blazing lanterns. Chiron, your father, and the nymphs are waving as the twins marvel at the fairy lights strung up along the way for a warm welcome.

“You’re alive,” your dad remarks, and this time he doesn’t say it in jest, sounding more relieved.

“I was in good hands,” you affirm, looking up at Luke amongst the noise of your cheering friends and the feeling that comes with calling this place home.

The boys are tucked in at your side, shyly looking at the crowd, Pollux holding your hand while Castor holds onto Luke’s, and Chiron calls your attention.

“I know you didn’t get your official announcement,” he starts, and you laugh at that, remembering the bubbles in the lake.

“Because I pulled a fast one on D.”

“Nonetheless, I would love for you to get recognized for your efforts. Dionysus. Storyteller, Herald of Chaos,” he continues by announcing your name, and then,” Pollux, and Castor– children of the grapevine, the God of Wine!”

The campers are kneeling and you look at Luke, who’s smiling from the ground beside you.

“Take a picture, Trouble, it’ll last longer.”

“My children are home safe. And thank you, Castellan, for being a formidable companion. My deepest appreciation.” Mr. D sounds serious for once, pulling Luke up as he nods in respect.

It’s a crazy feeling to finally feel at home though you’ve been here for two years now. But you remind yourself quickly of why that is when you see Luke carrying Pollux on his shoulders as Castor latches onto his legs.

“You know, your family is a nightmare. You two hellions will fit right in,” he grins.

You can’t help but agree.

—

“I hadn’t told them about you, but they saw you bathing in my eyes. I hadn’t told them about you, but they saw you in my written words. The perfume of love cannot be concealed.” -Nizar Qabbani

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[coff33andb00ks]

where i come from - LS

pairing: logan sargeant x fem!reader (lilli. it's lilli) summary: hitch a ride to the end of the highway where the neons turn to wood word count: 1.2k a.n.: the first of three small fics for my beloved Lilli @maxlarens Happy birthday my darling!! I hope you enjoy this little love letter to you (and to american road trips). inspo: all the road trip songs my family blasted during my childhood, compiled here warnings: it's not a waffle house it's a waffle home, author is in love with american south almost as much as Lilli's in love with Logan

"Logan, you can't be serious."

He laughs, parking the car next to a slightly bent light pole. "What? You want to see America, right?"

You press your lips together, staring at the small, flat building that looks as though it's been in that spot since the 1960s and hasn't been refurbished once. "This is America?"

"One of the best parts," he promises, climbing out. The balmy air of Florida immediately makes the car's cold air disappear and you sigh, unbuckling your seatbelt as he walks around to open the door for you.

"A Waffle House is America?"

"Trust me," he says. "You'll understand."

You do trust him, so you let him take your hand, sweat beading before you've taken two steps across the parking lot. There's a crowd of people near the door and you feel their eyes on you and Logan as you approach, the air thick with humidity and weed and tobacco smoke.

The interior is worse than the exterior. Your sandals slide with each step on the ancient tile floor and you can feel the grease in the restaurant. A bored server is leaning against a booth and hands you and Logan menus as you walk by, telling you to sit wherever. You want to turn around and go sit in the car, but…

Logan looks so fucking happy.

So you sit in a booth with him, ignoring the sticky spot on the bench that catches the material of your shorts. You ignore the faint aroma of tobacco smoke that lingers in the dining area. You ignore the yelling from the kitchen staff and the argument starting up between a couple at the counter.

The food is pure American stereotype. Sweet, greasy, and the portions enormous. But your first bite of the burger has you smiling. Because—

"Oh my god," you practically moan.

Across from you, Logan's grinning.

The server is pure southern charm as soon as she hears your accent, and you relax as you enjoy a meal big enough to last you an entire day. It's not great but it's good, and the atmosphere seems to shift.

He buys you a mug, telling you under his breath about a time his brother stole one because apparently everyone does that. Once outside in the sweltering heat, he pulls you in and kisses the top of your head. "Welcome to America."

The road trip was his idea. It's the best way to see this land he loves so much and because you love him so much you agreed, and after a week with his family you're driving out of the Florida panhandle, the windows down and the music blasting, both of you singing Sweet Home Alabama at the top of your lungs.

He takes an exit off the interstate and you're already lost but he's content, speeding along unmarked country roads, past lush forests and rolling fields. He has to slow to a crawl for tractors, and every time a car passes he waves like the other person is an old friend.

Left or right? at every stop sign. No map, no GPS, just a whim.

A tiny shop – gas station, babe, not a shop – in the middle of nowhere is selling fresh peaches and the woman is so sweet and talkative you want to stay and talk all day. Her great aunt makes those crochet blankets you're admiring and before you know it you've got three draped over your arms.

"Where y'all headed?" she's asking as Logan pays.

He shrugs, smiling that bashful smile that made you fall in love with him. "Nowhere, really."

She gives the vaguest yet most detailed directions to a motel – you're gonna wanna drive thataway til you see the old rusted school bus? Then take a left and keep driving til you pass the turnoff for the highway. It's down on the right. If you get to the stoplight you done went too far – and Logan gives you a look as you bite into a fresh Georgia peach.

You smile.

More rolling fields and woods. Farms and family homes and kids on swings. He gets to the stoplight and you both laugh all the way back to the motel.

It's tiny and has almost zero amenities but it's clean and the window overlooks a small field of wildflowers. You take a shower and when you come out there's a jar with a bunch of wildflowers in it and you smile at him. You've been smiling so much the past couple days that your cheeks ache.

He finds a place to get dinner and you feast on what he says is pretty okay bbq but you think is the best you've ever tasted.

The next day you're better prepared, and you fully enjoy the rambling tour of the countryside, relaxing with each passing mile. Feet on the dash, singing along to Fleetwood Mac and Tom Petty and Creedence Clearwater Revival. Songs that are familiar and songs that he knows every word to and you are still learning.

Lunch is a picnic, thrown together with gas station sandwiches and bags of chips, sitting on one of the blankets you bought yesterday by a river. You want to enjoy the scenery, because it is as beautiful as he always told you it was, but all you can focus on is him.

He looks so happy. You've seen him happy, of course, but lately he's been downtrodden. Anxious. And you sit there, watching him as he talks about maybe making it up into North Carolina by sundown, seeing how relaxed he is.

And you fall a little in love with this spot of the world that heals him.

"You love it here," you say softly after a bit of silence.

Logan nods, looking out to the river where it disappears into the trees. "I do."

"I'm—"

"I love sharing it with you more."

Oh. Oh. Your eyes are burning and it's not fair that he can drop the sweetest lines when you least expect them even though by now you should expect them because he always does and—

"Lilli?"

You blink and he's moved to sit right in front of you. "Logan?"

Why does he look worried? Your mind scrambles, thinking something must be wrong. He feels ill, or he just spotted some venomous snake slithering nearby or—

He shifts and you glance down, seeing the ring sparkling in his hand.

Later you'll remember every word he says. How his hand shakes and his voice wavers while he tells you how much he loves you and how happy you make him. But for now all you hear is the river splashing over rocks and birds twittering and the breeze ruffling the leaves of the oak tree. And all you can see his eyes, shining and bright and beautiful.

There's hot sauce on his fingers and yours are gritty with salt. His lips taste of salt and vinegar and there's an ant crawling on your leg, and he's apologizing for not giving you some grand proposal, but you don't care. You're glad he asked you here.

"I love you," he whispers, forehead resting against yours and you feel the sigh that exhales his worries.

He worried that you'd say no. As if yes wasn't on your lips before he said the words.

"I love you, Logie."

[louis--wifey]

WTTT Incorrect Quotes but it's just things that people in my real life have said

It's so long I'm so sorry 😭😭

~~~~

Illinois, cleaning his shoes: Last time I wore these shoes I got apple butter on them..

Ohio: I remember that song. *singing* Apple butter shoes, boots with the fur.

~~~~

Florida: *yapping*

New York, who forgot his phone in the car: I'm going to get my phone so I can ignore you for a minute.

~~~~

South Carolina: Georgia and I are dressing at Waylon and Willie for Halloween!

North Carolina: I could be Johnny Cash and just lay there in a coffin... *To the tune of Hurt by NIN covered by Johnny Cash. Johnny Cash impression.* I hurt myself, today

~~~~

Washington, helping Nevada with his math homework: Let's break it down

Nevada: I'll break it down *gets off of his chair and starts break dancing*

~~~~

Kansas: That sounded like a car commercial...

Oklahoma: I can write car commercials all day long.

~~~~

Maryland: Nothing says hot like harmonica!

(I have no context for this btw. My professor said it a couple weeks ago and I tuned into the conversation as soon as he said it and I have no idea what was happening before hand)

~~~~

Michigan: Hey, Ohi-

Ohio: And all of the sudden I heard an irritating, grading voice. And it was yours.

~~~~

Illinois: My grandma has chickens, and she's obsessed with chickens.

Minnesota: Tell your grandma to call me.

~~~~

Arizona: If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go lock myself in the cooler.

Utah: Bang on the door if you need anything.

~~~~

Florida: *lands on go to jail in Monopoly* Noooo in jail again!?

Gov: That's something we need to talk about. If you keep driving so fast you're going to end up in jail.

Florida: Oh I thought this was gonna be about me puking in the county jail parking lot...

~~~~

California: What three characters have omniscience?

Florida: Your mom

California: What four characters have omniscience?

~~~~

Colorado: Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

Wisconsin: FOOD TRUCK!

~~~~

Missouri: Guess what my dream car is

Indiana: A Lamborghini

Missouri: No

Indiana: A Kia Soul

~~~~

Washington: New York with the leadership skills!

New York: I just know where I'm going -_-

Washington: Say "I'm New York and I'm a baddie"

~~~~

Texas: Can you count change? *Looks down at the change California gave him* You can!

California: I'm great at counting change, I used to do it for fun when I was little. Because I didn't have any friends.

Texas: Pfff-

~~~~

Oregon: A Monster a day keeps the straightness away.

~~~~

Nevada: You look like a clown.

California: Am I a pretty clown?

~~~~

Gov, to Louisiana and Florida: I would stop whining so much if you two stopped drinking alcohol.

California: Sometimes your whining makes me wish I liked alcohol.

~~~~

Florida: Gov, I'm helping!

Alabama: By... Making it harder?

Florida: Yep!

~~~~

Florida, singing: Everybody was kung fu fighting

New Jersey, to the tune Kung Fu Fighting: Everybody should shut the fuck up

~~~~

Washington's cat: *killing a bug.*

Washington: "Rip in half! Rip in half! Rip in half! When I say "beat" you say "that ass" Beat! *Long pause, points to Oregkn* Fill in for him!

Oregon: *slowly turns around in his spinny chair*

Washington: Aw, come on! You can say donkey instead. Beat!

*silence*

Oregon: No.

Washington: Fine. *dances out of the room* K-I-C-K-Y-O-A-S-S Oh yeeessss!

~~~~

Maryland: *playing a cheap toy recorder on a make-shift stage*

Massachusetts: MORE COWBELL!!

~~~~

California: I just love feeling like a menopausal woman.

~~~~

Oregon, sick: The crystal ladies said if you got sick after the eclipse, it's your ancestors banishing evil from your body.

Idaho: They're praying the gay away

~~~~

South Dakota: Wish me luck in war

Minnesota: You're not going to war, you're asking for a box

South Dakota: It's the same thing, damn it!

~~~~

Alaska: Penny for your thoughts?

Hawaii: I don't have any pennies.

Alaska: I don't have any thoughts!

~~~~

Louisiana: We can bring the baguette to and beat California with it...

Florida: Or Utah.

~~~~

Gov: If you could make any crime legal what would it be?

New York, Florida and Louisiana at the same time: Arson!

Gov: *mortified expression*

~~~~

Iowa, about chicken: Are you a thigh person?

Nebraska: I like legs... ThEy TrIeD tO pUt Me On ThE cOvEr Of VoGuE bUt My LeGs WeRe ToO LONGGGGG!

~~~~

Colorado: I need a stick!

California: I need a boyfriend, your point?

Colorado: ...Not that kind of stick.

~~~~

Oregkn: In high school my favorite past time was kissing boys.

Washington: *turns to California* Is that your favorite past time too?

~~~~

Texas: Why aren't bananas called yellows?

Florida: Because then Gwen Stefani couldn't use it in her song.

Louisiana: She'd just have to spell it different: This shit is yellows! Y-E-L-L-O-W-S!

~~~~

California: He's gay and he committed suicide.

New York: He's you... Don't commit suicide, please.

California: I WILL BECOME A MUSICAL!

New York: NOOO DO NOT BECOME A MUSICAL!

~~~~

North Carolina: I seriously hate you sometimes.

South Carolina Aww I love you too!

~~~~

Vermont: You wanna know the biggest dingus I know?

New Hampshire: You?

~~~~

Wisconsin: You're a yeasty beer

Illinois: You're a zesty beer

Wisconsin: Yeah well, your light in the loafers!

~~~~

Arizona: *says something dumb*

Nevada: Shaking my as- shaking my head.

~~~~

New York: *takes a drink of my pumpkin spice latte* Oh, that's delightful!

California: Look who's a white woman now?!

[later]

California: You basic white woman!

New York: I don't wanna talk about it...

~~~~

Louisiana: *throws a packet of French dressing at Florida, in a French accent* French

Florida: AAAAA IT'S FRENCH!!!

~~~~

Florida: Oh, I thought you were committing arson without me

Gov: If I ever decide to commit arson, I'll call you

~~~~

Florida: Ah yes, my favorite crime, trespassing. I'm joking... it's not my favorite crime

Georgia: What is your favorite crime?

Florida: Arson!

~~~~

Arizona: Finally a good song

New Mexico: Then why do you keep playing bad ones?

~~~~

*Either someone brought up Pedro Pascal*

California: He's the daddiest of daddies.

Texas: Don't say that ever again.

~~~~

Maine: There are more animals on the planet than humans and just think you could have been born a crab, but you were born a human"

Maryland: I wish I was a crab, then I could be crabby all day long

Maine: I'm all ready crabby all day long

Maryland: Yeah but if you were a crab you could crawl around and pinch people *walks away sideways with hands held like pinchers*

~~~~

Alaska: Why are you getting cologne

Hawaii: I want to smell like a masc lesbian.

~~~~

California: I've had morning sickness for the past five years

Florida: Are you pregnant-

~~~~

Washington: You can choose what you eat, whether it's vegetables, meat, or ass.

Nevada: *dying laughing* That threw me off guard.

~~~~

New York: PA, your turn to tell a word that means something bad

Pennsylvania: Would you consider emotional manipulation bad?

New Jersey: Yeah, I mean no, it turns me on

Pennsylvania: I guess my mom will really turn you on then

~~~~

Tennessee: Don't panic but there's a spider on your-

Kentucky: *Proceeds to scream bloody murder*

~~~~

Virginia: *sniffs bread.*

Virginia: "It's sourdough."

~~~~

New York: You know I'm insane, right?

California: I'm aware, but I don't care. It's one of your redeeming qualities.

[batboyblog]

How are you feeling about the election currently?

Insanely close, likely the closest I've ever had an election feel in my life.

I'd rather be Harris than Trump going into this thing, but it's a knife's edge.

we are very much inside the margin of effort here, this election will be decided by which side gets out the vote best. Let me repeat that, this election is so close that a handful of people knocking doors in key states could change everything, EVERYTHING. Today I'm getting in the car and driving an hour to knock on doors some place that'll make a difference.

Where ever you are you can make a difference right now, this weekend, Kamala Harris' webpage has a volunteer hub right here you can make phone calls from there, they'll show you how and get you started, if you're not in a swing state please do that this weekend, and next weekend and on till Election Day.

If you live in (or like me, close to) Arizona, Florida, Georgia, Maine's 2nd District, Michigan, Nebraska's 2nd district, Nevada, North Carolina, Pennsylvania, Texas, or Wisconsin and you're not already knocking doors or signed up to knock doors, what the fuck dude? what the fuck? I'm bring my 80 year old aunt up to knock with me, whats your excuse? better be fucking good. If you never ever do this again in your life, if you HATE IT with all your body and soul, just do it once because these final weeks will decide what the rest of all our lives look like, if Democracy fails in America or not.

So Again, Wherever you are you can make phone calls that'd be helpful, there are important Senate and House races, races fro governor, and state elections and local elections everywhere, everyone is close to an election where them knocking doors can make their local part of the world (or the nation) a better place, and to people in the swing states, get your ass in gear its all on us, anyone with enough free time, travel to to swing state and knock on some doors, this election is so close it'll all come down to who puts in more effort to turn out the vote.

[leclercsredhelmet]

Florida 𓆉 Logan Sargeant

A/N: Hi there! This is a little Logan blurb that popped into mind a few days ago and I decided to post it because it’s Miami GP week. Sorry if it’s short but I hope you enjoy it!

“What a crash, what a rush, fuck me up, Florida”

The summer sun was bright and beamed down. Your skin was hot to the touch but you didn’t mind it; the tan would be immaculate afterwards and it wasn’t like you weren’t used to the sun. Lying on the towel and a book held high above you, the waves crash softly and you let out a peaceful sigh.Droplets of cold water suddenly fall on your face, you scrunch your nose at the temperature.Placing the bookmark on the page you close the book and put it inside your bag. Fingers lower your sunglasses and you look up at Logan who was looking down at you.

Laughing he let a few more droplets of water fall on your face. You giggle, “Lo that’s our drinking water.” “I know I just wanted to get your attention for a bit,” he replies while tickling your nose. Smiling and rolling your eyes you turn around and sit up, Logan crouches down. “Get in the water with me, you’re almost done with the book anyways. Por favor” he pleads. Of course you couldn’t resist when he used your native language, obliging you to stand up.

Grinning Logan grabs your hand and breaks into a sprint forcing you to follow him. As your bare feet come into contact with the sand you can’t help but giggle and follow him. Without breaking contact you wade into the ocean and once deep enough you dive under the cold water, hand in hand you swim a short distance before resurfacing to catch air.

Logan gives you a look full of pure love and adoration, “What?” You ask him as you kick lightly, “Nothing,” he says smiling. “Why are you looking at me like that then?” You counter. He just swims towards you and grabs your waist, “You’re so gorgeous,” he says and you just laugh and your arms find their residence around his neck. You kiss him softly, his lips taste like sea salt. “I missed doing this with you,it’s my favorite thing, ” he said. Happily you hummed, “What about it?” You asked and Logan tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “The sun, my girl, the waves. It’s all I need” he said and you laughed. The two of you swam for a while more before drying off. Packing up your things Logan carried the bags and grabbed your hand swinging it back and forth. You giggled, “Can I drive now Lo?” You asked. Logan smiled, “Of course baby.”

Logan tossed the keys and you caught them, twirling them around your finger you opened the door and climbed in. Turning the ignition you picked the music while Logan tossed the bags in the back and climbed in. With the top down you drive down the streets of Miami as you sing along. Florida by Taylor Swift came on and Logan raised the volume, smiling you both belted out the lyrics. Both you were out on the balcony looking out at the sunset, Logan had his arm around you and your head rested against his shoulder while your fingertips trace lazy patterns up and down his arm.

“Days like these make me want to not return to London,” you say and Logan hums in agreement. “We can come back for winter break and stay longer,” he says before kissing the top of your head. “I like that idea, let’s just stay here for a bit before getting on any more planes” you reply with a laugh. “Please, we need to stay in a single place for more than a week” Logan replies and you both let out a laugh as you continue to watch the sun go down and disappear among the buildings.

Traveling with Logan is something you thoroughly enjoy, but days like this when you can relax before his home race and have some alone time are precious. While neither of you can’t deny you love London, Florida will always be home to you two and any chance you get to come down here doesn’t go to waste.

(all photo credits go to the respective owners)

[pepsiboyy]

HEARTSTRINGS. - p6

p5 ⚜ masterlist ⚜ p7

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader summary: after moving to massachusetts from florida, y/n lives with her half brother, nathan doe, who is part of a small garage band. their sassy guitarist, chris sturniolo, can't help but get on her nerves. but there's something about him. warnings: no pov, cursing, slight angst maybe?, some fluff, use of y/n lol a/n: hi lovelies time for an update!! you guys have been loving this series, so here's a much needed update. let me know what you guys think!!

you allowed your leg to bounce anxiously as you sat at the foot of your bed, eyes glued to the baseboards in front of you.

you couldn't help but think about what had happened earlier today, ben's confession, you turning him down, and overall just how the day went.

their first gig went amazingly, at least you thought so. they always have things to work on.

you buried your face into your hands. you wanted to tell chris what happened, but you didn't want to throw his bandmate under the bus. you felt guilt lace your mind. but you knew what was right.

you reached for your phone and searched for chris's contact, listening to the sound of the dial tone. you swore this had to have been the first time ever he wasn't just in the next room over.

only a few rings and chris picked up. "y/n?"

"hey," you replied, letting out a breath that you didn't even realize you were holding in. a few moments of silence went on before you continued, getting ahold of yourself. "hey, yeah, uhh.. are you busy?"

there was silence before you heard shuffling on the other end. "not at all, did you need me?"

"yeah, like.. can i talk with you about something?" you questioned, nervousness evident in your voice.

chris let out a slight breath. "am i in trouble?"

you chuckled softly. "no, chris. don't worry, you've done nothing. i just... need advice and.. i don't know, i feel like you should know something."

a few moments went by again, before you heard chris on the other line. "okay, yeah. i'll be there soon. wait for me, okay?"

you nodded as you sighed softly. "thank you, chris. nate's asleep, so.."

chris hummed in approval before you exchanged your goodbyes and hung up.

you sighed deeply, burying your face back into your hands. why was this happening? you felt so much guilt, feeling as though you were tearing apart your brother's band, your lover's band, fuck, you were tearing apart your only source of entertainment and reasoning for going outside, really.

after about twenty minutes, chris pulled up out front. you quickly slid out of bed and slipped on some slippers before tip-toeing out of your room and down the stairs to the front door.

chris waited in his car, turning down the music that he had queued up.

as you approached the car, chris quickly got out and offered to open the door for you, before pulling you into a tight embrace and burying his nose into your hair.

"chris-"

"are you okay?" he questioned softly against your hair, worry very clear in his tone.

"i'm okay, really." you gently wrapped your arms around his torso, smiling as you leaned into his shoulder. "let's get in the car."

you guys had driven to a further away gas station, picking out snacks and drinks before driving to a dark and secluded spot.

"is this okay?" chris questioned, making you nod.

"no distractions.. just us."

you both sat in silence for a few seconds before chris gently reached over and took your hand in his. "what's wrong?"

you bit your lip and sighed deeply as you looked at chris. "uhh. you know when you and nathan went off to the restroom before the show?"

chris nodded softly, intertwining your fingers as his eyes remained on yours as you spoke.

you sighed and gently squeezed his hand before you let it go, taking a deep breath.

chris moved his hands to the steering wheel, but his eyes remained on you.

"ben... he confessed to me. he told me he likes me."

chris froze for a moment, his blue eyes fixed on mine before he turned to the dashboard and let out a soft sigh. "when was this?"

you swallowed hard, looking down at your hands. "uhh.. earlier today. i let him down gently, but.. he seemed really hurt by it."

chris bit his lip as his hands clenched the steering wheel. "i knew he had a thing for you, but i didn't think he'd actually..." he trailed off before he turned back to you. "are you okay?"

you nodded softly as you turned back to chris to face him. "yeah, i just.. feel bad. i didn't want to hurt him, and i'm really worried about what this means for us.. and the band, especially."

chris sighed softly as he leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his hair. "this complicates things, doesn't it?" a soft smile formed on his face though, and his expression softened as he turned to you. "i'm sorry you had to deal with that. i wish i could have been there."

you bit your lip as your face turned back to your hands that rested in your lap. you felt your eyes start to burn and well up, taking your lip between your teeth. "i- i didn't know what to do. i didn't want to make things worse."

chris immediately sat up and reached over, taking your hands into his reassuringly. "hey hey, it isn't your fault... we didn't plan on any of this happening," he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, "we will figure this out... together. okay?"

you nodded softly, now facing chris as you smiled weakly at him. "do you think we should tell them? about us?"

chris hesitated, thinking hard before he hummed. "part of me wants to. i hate hiding it. but with ben just confessing... it might make things even more messy. especially for nathan."

you nodded and sighed softly, looking out the window. "i know. i'm just scared of how they'll react."

chris shifted in the driver's seat, moving to lean closer to you and wrap an arm around your shoulders. "we'll take this one step at a time. for now, let's keep it between us until we can figure out a better way to handle this. i don't want to lose you, and i don't want to lose the band either."

you nodded, sighing contently as you leaned into chris's embrace. your arm moved to gently wrap around his waist. "okay. we'll figure it out together."

chris gently placed a kiss to your forehead, a hum leaving him. "always."

"y/n, you mind if we use your phone to connect to the speaker?" nathan asked as everyone set up their instruments.

you always sat between nathan and chris, ben more across from you.

"yeah sure, here." you shifted to plug in your phone to the speaker, which sat in the center of everyone.

"cool, let's run through our setlist for our gig in three days!" nathan announced, a wide smile on his face.

you smiled and took a seat in your lawn chair, playing with your hands in your lap as you glanced at everyone.

rehearsal was going well. after about the third or fourth song, you stood up and rubbed your eyes. "i'm gonna run inside and get a drink. can i get you guys anything?"

"i'll take a dr pepper," nathan called with a giddy smile, clearly excited for his beverage.

"please, for the love of god, a pepsi," chris responded with a smile, sweat dripping down his forehead, causing his bangs to be slightly damp.

you chuckled and nodded, turning to ben, who just looked at you and shrugged. "i'm good," he said.

you nodded and turned on your heel, making your way to the kitchen.

chris went onto his phone, taking a breather.

nathan was messing around with his drumset, making sure everything still sounded good and was in place before running a few warmups.

your phone suddenly dinged through the speaker in the center of the garage.

due to the loud noise, your phone had slid off the speaker and landed, face up on ben's side. the screen had lit up, where a text message showed up.

from: chris🧡 can't wait to see you tonight.

ben's eyes widened, and immediately shot over to chris, who had a small smile on his face, cheeks pink.

"back! dr pepper for you, and pepsi for you!"

you stepped in and handed nathan the dr pepper, and chris the pepsi, and for a moment, your fingers lingered on one another.

ben picked up on this. he picked up on your eyes linking, he picked up on the knowing smile you to show one another, and he picked up on the way you smiled widely at your phone after retrieving it. oh, and he definitely picked up on the way you knowingly sent chris a glance, to which he gave you a cheeky smile.

nathan's pencil tapped against the notebook in his lap as he smiled widely in thought.

everyone had packed up their things, and were ready to get going. it was tradition to sit in a circle after set and work on lyrics, plans, their next rehearsal or whatever the next gig is.

"alright, three days. our next gig. it's going to be a bigger venue." nathan smiled as he wrote down the name of the venue, making chris gasp and smile widely.

"we're performing there?" he questioned excitedly.

ben had his eyes locked on his lap, his fingers toying with a stray string on his jeans.

"ben, aren't you excited too?" nathan questioned, biting his lip to contain his excitement.

ben looked at nathan, his eyes not changing, but he shrugged and smiled half-heartedly. "yeah, sure."

but this seemed to throw nathan for a loop. "dude, ben, what's your problem? you've been like this all fucking day- what's your problem? are you hiding something?"

you and chris exchanged looks, shocked by nathan's sudden outburst.

but this sent ben over the edge.

"why does all this even matter!? this shit is falling apart anyways."

nathan's eyes widened as he stood up. "what!? we've been doing so great and getting so far, what even makes you say that dude!?"

ben stood up as well, his eyes darkening with anger. "why don't you ask y/n? or better yet, chris? they seem to know everything about hiding something!"

everyone sat stunned, but chris quickly stood up. "ben, let's not do this here."

you quickly stood up, being the last to do so, biting your lip. "ben, please-"

"how long have you two been sneaking around? how long have i been the idiot in the fucking dark!?" ben raised his voice.

nathan wore an expression of pure confusion, turning to look between you and chris. "wait, what's going on?"

chris took a few steps towards nathan. "look, nathan, we were going to tell you. we just didn't want to hurt anyone," chris then turned to ben with a sympathetic look, "especially ben."

ben crossed his arms and looked away bitterly. "too late for that."

nathan turned to you, his expression one of hurt. "is this true..? you've been.. hiding this from me?"

you felt your chest rise and fall in a panic. tears welled up in your eyes. "nathan, i'm sorry.. i- we didn't mean for this to happen this way.."

nathan turned to chris, expression now one of betrayal and almost anger. "and you, chris.. my best friend..!?"

chris lowered his voice as he sighed shakily. "i'm sorry... we didn't want to lose the band.. or your trust."

nathan stood in front of us, his expression one of devastation. he looked down at his hands and inhaled sharply, biting his lip as he felt his eyes well up.

everyone stood in silence, their eyes on nathan with a look of guilt.

"everyone," nathan started, taking a shaky breath,

"get out."

p5 ⚜ masterlist ⚜ p7

taglist;; @sturnsxplr-25 @vampiree-555 @wh0resstuff @jetaimevous @sturnioloshacker @nickgetsmewetter @matthewsturniolosgirlfriend101 @chrissgirlsstuff @nsjsnshey @sturniolosarethebest @sofie-1 @sturniololol @larnieboox88 @eliana-4200 @chrisgetsmewet @55sturn @lovesturni0l0s @sarosfilms @sturnclouds @l34n @str4wberryk1ss3s @pepsiluvr0209 @fratbrochrisgf

[munchmemes]

taylor swift lyrics, the tortured poets department edition, part one

fortnight

▸ i was supposed to be sent away but they forgot to come and get me. ▸ i was a functioning alcoholic till nobody noticed my new aesthetic. ▸ no one here's to blame but what about your quiet treason? ▸ for a fortnight there, we were forever. ▸ i took the miracle move-on drug, the effects were temporary. ▸ i love you, it's ruining my life. ▸ thought of calling you but you won't pick up.

the tortured poets department

▸ who uses typewriters anyway? ▸ you're in self-sabotage mode. ▸ we're modern idiots. ▸ you smoked then ate seven bars of chocolate. ▸ i chose this cyclone with you. ▸ sometimes i wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me. ▸ so tell me, who else is gonna know me? ▸ that's the closest i've come to my heart exploding.

my boy only breaks his favorite toys

▸ you should've seen them when they first got me. ▸ i only break my favourite toys. ▸ i should've known it was a matter of time. ▸ we could've played for keeps this time. ▸ i know i'm just repeating myself. put me back on my shelf. ▸ i'll tell you that [you/they] run because [you/they] love me. ▸ i knew too much. ▸ you saw forever so you smashed it up. ▸ once i fix me, you're gonna miss me. ▸ you took me out of my box, stole my tortured heart, left all these broken parts and told me i'm better off but i'm not.

down bad

▸ for a moment, i knew cosmic love. ▸ now i'm down bad, crying at the gym. ▸ everything comes out of teenage petulance. ▸ fuck it if i can't have [you/them]. ▸ i might just die, it would make no difference. ▸ i might just not get up, i might just stay down bad. ▸ fuck it, i was in love.

so long, london

▸ my spine split from carrying us up the hill. ▸ i stopped trying to make you laugh. ▸ how much sad did you think i had in me? ▸ i didn't opt in to be your odd man out. ▸ i'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free. ▸ you say i abandoned the ship but i was going down with it. ▸ my friends said it isn't right to be scared every day of a love affair. ▸ just how low did you think i'd go before i'd self-implode? ▸ you swore that you loved me but where were the clues? ▸ i'm just mad as hell 'cause i loved this place.

but daddy i love him

▸ i just learned these people only raise you to cage you. ▸ i just learned these people try and save you 'cause they hate you. ▸ they slammed the door on my whole world. the one thing i wanted. ▸ you should see your face. ▸ no i'm not coming to my senses. ▸ i know [you/they]'re crazy but [you/they]'re the one i want. ▸ all my plans were laid. ▸ growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all. ▸ i'll tell you something right now, i'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning. ▸ i'll tell you something about my good name, it's mine alone to disgrace. ▸ i don't cater to all these vipers dressed in empath's clothing. ▸ god save the most judgmental creeps who say they want what's best for me. ▸ you ain't gotta pray for me if all you want is gray for me. then it's just white noise and it's just my choice. ▸ scandal does funny things to pride but brings lovers closer. ▸ fuck 'em, it's over. ▸ time, doesn't it give some perspective?

fresh out the slammer

▸ fresh out the slammer, i know who my first call will be to. ▸ handcuffed to the spell i was under, for just one hour of sunshine. ▸ years of labor, locks and ceilings, in the shade of how [they were] feeling. ▸ it's gonna be alright, i did my time. ▸ as i said in my letters, now that i know better, i will never lose my baby again. ▸ my friends tried but i wouldn't hear it, watched me daily disappearing. ▸ ain't no way i'm gonna screw up, now that i know what's at stake here.

florida!!!

▸ you can beat the heat if you beat the charges too. ▸ they said i was a cheat, i guess it must be true. ▸ this city reeks of driving myself crazy. ▸ little did you know, your home's really only a town you're just a guest in. ▸ i'm barricaded in the bathroom with a bottle of wine. ▸ well, me and my ghosts, we had a hell of a time. ▸ yes, i'm haunted but i'm feeling just fine. ▸ all my girls got their lace and their crimes. ▸ i did my best to lay to rest all of the bodies that have ever been on my body. ▸ i've got some regrets, i'll bury them in florida. ▸ tell me i'm despicable, say it's unforgivable. ▸ love left me like this and i don't want to exist.

[visceravalentines]

the driver

it turns out I am chewing on them every moment of every day. I'm sure this fic will permanently satisfy the hunger of course ✨🌷🙃

2.3k words. character study happy ending post-credits type beat where everyone lives and drives off into the sunset together. pre-slash but Randy is so down bad he doesn't know how to cope. nobody do the math on mileage or drive time I made it all up Minnesota isn't even real

They’re about 50 miles over the Missouri border when Benson asks him. 

“You think you could drive, man?” 

Randy looks at him sharply, not sure he heard him right. He must not have heard him right. 

Benson glances over and his eyes are bloodshot beyond belief, the skin beneath them dark and hollow. His crow’s feet have multiplied. “I gotta sleep, Randy, or we’re gonna end up in a ditch.” 

After a beat of careful consideration, Randy nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I could–I can drive.” 

The car lurches to the right as Benson pulls over immediately, puts it in park and slumps in his seat. His head falls back against the headrest and he digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Fuck.” 

Randy watches him with an intent he can feel but can’t parse, hasn’t been able to parse all day and the night before and the day before that. He stopped being scared, really scared, a while ago. Fear still gnaws at the edges of him, jittery and mean like rats in the walls, but it’s not the same.

He’s no longer afraid Benson might kill him. He’s afraid he might decide he doesn’t need him anymore. And those are different things. 

Benson’s big hands drop into his lap. He stares blankly through the windshield at the half-set sun, exhausted.

Randy has the urge to touch him. To clap a hand on his shoulder, give it a little shake. He plays it out in his head. Yeah, man. I’ll drive for a while. Don’t worry about it. Get some rest.

His hands stay clasped between his thighs. 

“Don’t really know where we’re goin’, so I guess you can just pick a direction,” Benson says. “Anywhere but back that way.” He shoots Randy a pointed look, but the point is dull and bleary. 

Randy nods. “North. I got it.” You can trust me. I know that sounds like bullshit, but it’s not.

Benson pours out of the car like his bones are dissolving. He stretches mightily, arches his back and groans loudly, and Randy flinches and doesn’t know why. 

He gets out and the breeze hits his face, smells a little like home and a little bit different. He gazes down the highway, tracks it all the way to where it disappears beyond a sun-washed hill. He’s never been this far north before, never been out of Louisiana except for a family reunion in Florida one time. 

He wonders, for a second, if maybe they could see them all. All fifty states. Benson’s car might not make it that many miles. But it would be something. It would be cool. 

“You sure you’re good?” 

Randy turns, squints into the sun. Benson is lit from behind, face in shadow, but Randy can feel his eyes, the way they probe like fingers at his mouth, his neck. 

“I’m good.” 

Benson taps his fist against the roof of the car. “Super.” 

They trade sides, cross paths in front of the bumper. Randy slides into the seat and it’s still warm from Benson’s body. He feels like he's sitting in his shadow. He's been wearing his shirt for two days now, the smell of stale cigarette smoke working itself into his skin. It's like he's being assimilated, wrapped in a cocoon of brash words and an army green jacket. He presses his spine against the backrest and folds his arms around himself without thinking about it. 

Benson yanks open the door and snaps him out of it. He sits forward and feels under the seat for the lever to slide it up a few inches, touches something sticky, makes a face. Benson’s got longer legs than he does, even though they're about the same height. Benson is big in Randy's mind. Or maybe Randy is small. Does Benson think he's small?

Like he can read his mind, or thinks he can, Benson shoves his seat way back. “Jesus, Randy, you’re allowed to take up space,” he mutters as he pushes the backrest almost horizontal. 

No one’s ever told him that before. Does Benson know no one’s told him that before? 

“Don’t wreck my fucking car.” 

“I won’t.” 

“And don’t get pulled over.” 

“I won’t.” 

Benson nods once like a punctuation mark. “Good boy.” 

Randy exhales heavily. 

He buckles up, hesitates as he sets his hands on the wheel. Ten and two. He slides them together to meet at twelve, where Benson always grips the wheel with half a hand, pointing at things, eyes anywhere but the road, talking with his whole body. Then he slides them back to ten and two, at least for now. One thing at a time.

He signals before he pulls back onto the road even though there’s not another car in sight. He presses the gas gently, like he’s wiping a smudge off someone’s cheek. And just like that, they're back on their way.

Benson’s car is old as shit and runs like it’s doing him a favor. It takes Randy a minute to get used to it, the resistance of the pedals and the way the wheel is about as sensitive as the bottom of a work boot. He’s careful with it, not because it’s old or unreliable, but because it’s his. Because he’s trusting him with it. 

He’s the driver now. 

Benson moves in his periphery, fast and sudden like he does, and without meaning to Randy jerks, jerks the wheel. Benson gives him a look, reaching around for something in the backseat. “Sorry,” Randy mumbles. 

“Just be cool,” Benson says with his jacket in his hands. He balls it up to use as a pillow, shifts around, settles in and shuts his eyes. 

Be cool, Randy repeats to himself. Be cool, be cool. 

“Are you…going to buckle your seatbelt?” he asks. He’s been waiting to ask. Now seems like the last opportune moment. 

Benson opens his eyes and looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “What are you, a fuckin’ cop?” 

Randy feels his face flush. He looks away. “Sorry. Do whatever you want.” 

“You know if you slam on the brakes and I’m layin’ down like this I’m goin’ through the windshield, seatbelt or no.” 

“Do whatever you want,” Randy says again. “I’m just…trying to be safe.” 

Benson grabs the seatbelt, yanks it across his chest, clicks it into place with attitude. “Happy?” 

Randy glances at him and away, almost smiles in spite of himself. Yeah. “Yeah.” For once, he thinks he might really mean it. 

Benson grumbles and closes his eyes. He fidgets for a while, bullies the jacket into a different shape, but soon he falls still and quiet. Randy figures he has nothing left in the tank after the events of the last thirty-six hours, nothing more to give to Randy or anybody else.

He drives like the backseat is full of fine china, nice and easy, until Benson starts to snore. It's a cute snore, kind of nasally and pitched higher than his voice. He slams the door on that thought the moment it arrives, shoos it away and casts a guilty look over at Benson.

He’s never seen him look so at peace. There's a tension missing from his face, a furrow between his brows that Randy only registers in its absence. He wonders if he has nightmares like Randy has nightmares. Probably. Probably worse. But there’s no sign of them now; he’s too wiped out. 

Now that he’s not waving a gun around and yelling, he resembles the old Benson. The guy who greeted him at the start of each shift with a casual wave and nothing to say. The man who moved like he was in a dream, seemed checked out completely until you caught his eye and realized he hadn't missed a second of what was going on around him. Not even the little things. Not even Randy.

As the miles wear on, he wonders which Benson is more real, the quiet one or the loud one. Maybe they’re two sides of the same coin. Maybe everyone has someone else inside of them, raw and bright, harder to swallow. Randy always figured he was the only one slumming around with that particular burden–the monster of his guilt, his anger, feelings too big to unbottle lest they rip him in half–but maybe he was wrong. He's been wrong a lot the last couple days. 

It doesn’t probably matter which is more real because he likes them both:  the Benson who once followed him out the back door under the guise of a smoke break to make sure he was okay after a particularly egregious run-in with Chris, and the Benson who beat the shit out of his own personal boogeyman in the parking lot of an elementary school until his hands bled. Randy understands both of them. Feels a connection to both of them. Knows he can count on both of them when it matters. 

Randy leans back and feels it then, feels it all, the world shrinking behind them, the past pinned to it like a poster on a corkboard, the dying sun to his left and the man on his right and Benson’s fingerprints worn into the leather of the steering wheel. And it's exhilarating, it's amazing. It's freedom and possibility. Hope, even.

And he desperately, deep in his bones, wants to be someone Benson can count on. When it matters or doesn't. He knows he isn’t a fighter or a talker, but he cares. He cares so fucking much sometimes he wants to bite through his own tongue. Maybe that could be worth something. For the first time, sitting in the driver's seat on the run from the law, he thinks maybe that might be enough. He might be enough. 

He has Benson to thank for that, too.

He hasn't felt like this since he was a kid. Maybe ever. Light. Free. The way the highway unfolds in front of him forever makes him feel like maybe he could fly. He kind of wishes it would rain and he can't say why. Only that he wants the air to smell like wet asphalt, like dirt. 

And he wants to thank Benson. He doesn’t think he can, like, he can’t just say it. Thanks for killing all those people. It really opened my eyes. Thanks for scaring me shitless, I needed that. No way. He’s gotta be cool. Find some other way.

He reads the names of towns he’s never heard of on the highway sign. They’ll have to stop somewhere eventually, right? Get a motel room or something. Benson deserves to sleep in a real bed. Randy would love to sleep in a real bed. Probably they’ve got to lay low a little while longer. Probably two states north isn’t far enough. 

Benson drives like a grandma. Randy hasn’t said anything, but he figures they could be at least to the border of Iowa by now if Benson wasn’t so hung up on driving three miles under the speed limit and calling it “flying under the radar,” even as cars peeled by them on all sides. 

But he’s the driver now. 

He realizes this is something he can do. A way to repay him, just a little bit. Randy didn’t get them into this mess, not exactly, but he can get them far, far away from it. Safety, serenity. A place where no one knows their faces. He can find that for Benson. He can take him there. He can make sure he wakes up somewhere better than the shithole behind them.

He eases his foot down on the gas, coaxes the needle on the speedometer up and over 80. The car huffs a protest, but it obeys. 

Good boy, he thinks, and he smiles. 

Benson stirs just after they leave Iowa. It’s still dark out, but the horizon is starting to bleed pink. He sits up slowly, stretches, nearly elbows Randy in the face. “Fuck,” he groans, “what time is it?” 

“Breakfast time, almost,” Randy says. “Just looking for somewhere to stop.” 

Benson blinks around the sleep in his eyes, peers through the window into the dark rushing by. “Where are we?” 

“Wisconsin. Or maybe Minnesota. I’m not…a hundred percent sure.” 

Benson furrows his brow. “Jesus Christ, Randy. You break the fuckin' sound barrier?”

“No,” Randy says calmly. “Everyone speeds on the interstate. You just keep an eye on it, it's fine.”

Benson gives him a long look and for a second, Randy thinks he might be mad. But then he breaks into a grin, chuckles, shakes his head and stretches again. His shirt rides up and in the dark of the dawn Randy can just make out the triangle of hair on his stomach. He bites his cheek. 

“Speed Demon Bradley. Who’d’ve thought.” Benson yanks the backrest up, sits back and looks out with fresh eyes on new scenery. “You got a destination in mind, captain?”

Randy does. Has for the last few hundred miles. “Yeah. I was thinking…maybe Lake Superior?”

“What's so superior about it?”

“I don't know, it's…really big. Like…huge. I just thought…it would probably be pretty. I’d–I’d like to see it.” With you. I'd like you to be there too.

He glances over and Benson is staring at him with an odd look on his face. 

“...what?” Randy says. 

Benson starts nodding, frowning thoughtfully, then reaches over and thumps Randy on the chest. “Then let's go see it.”

The impact echoes through his heart and lungs. “Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah. Randy makin’ decisions.” Benson claps his hands once, loud. “I like it. You wanna go see some big fuckin’ lake? I'm all for it.”

Randy fights a grin and doesn't know why, so he stops, lets it come, feels the stretch of it across his face. “Cool.”

Randy looks over and thinks he’s beautiful. Bloody knuckles, bad attitude, and all. He lets that thought linger for one, two, three seconds before it blows out the window like a wayward receipt.

“Cool.”

Benson rolls down the window and sticks his head out like a dog. The air whipping into the car smells nothing like home. His hair blows back and he squints into the wind, the early sun kissing his cheeks pink. 

“I can take over,” Benson offers over his shoulder. “I’m guessin' you need a break.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Randy squeezes his hands on the wheel at ten and two. “I got it. I'm good.”

And he really means it.

[catlover-multifandom]

(in a free mood again here we gooooo)

Free canon moments I think about a lot

Rin writing “fuck” in the elementary school yard

mecha salmon roe

the mr steal yo mako face (you know the one.)

Steve the cat existing

Haru and nagisa working at wcdonald’s or whatever it’s called in the freeverse

romio mentioning florida

haru makoto asahi and kisumi having a hangout in asahi’s apartment (at least I think it was his, it was in a df episode)

tomadoburiranchinburiranti!

makkou the dog

🎶 tabidachi no asa ni miageru sora ni 🎶

Haru and seijuro being friends

Haru’s mascot obsession (relatable im also obsessed with yuru kyara now)

Rei in the novelization

“Nagisa’s mermaid” video and then it got booed when they accidentally played baby videos of haru and makoto lol

Nagisa’s sister’s sketch friend that isn’t quite her boyfriend

Kaede coming back from the concept art grave in s3

the high of s3 in general because I remember counting down the days for it to come out and oh boyyyyyyy summer 2018 has such a special place in my heart. pure euphoria!!

Rin giving Sousuke a koala shirt

MATCHING FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS

everyone pointing out that Rin has cleavage

“no chips at the pool” **SHOTS FIRED**

Makoto’s mixer nightmare

Rei getting drunk on chocolate

the fact that makoto haru Nagisa and rei would have sleepovers together and haru gets so happy to be with them and he fell asleep early HES SO CUTE

Haru and asahi getting worried thinking makoto would fall for mlm scams in Tokyo

Haru’s profile picture being Iwatobi chan

the squid festival drama cd track and Rei’s puns from s1 that everyone ignored

Haru and Albert’s friendship happening because they just like the same fish and they don’t need words to eat mackerel together

Rin crying over the rat movie

shizuru’s existence in general. he’s so funny and silly and he looks like makoharu had a child

the mackerel body pillow that makoto gave haru for his birthday

continuing off the last one: the team thinking haru turned into a mackerel and nagisa telling makoto he has to kiss him to make him back to normal 💀

the scene in s1e1 where Nagisa kicks the can to scare makoto

Rei being uptight and serious and very professional man™ and then gradually loosening up and being less guarded and being his genuine silly smart self and having fun and you can see how much love he has for everyone as the show goes on… and the love and genuine affection he has for his friends keeps increasing even when you thought his heart was already the biggest it could get. it gets so much bigger. and the fact that he learned to swim and got to nationals for an individual event in 3 years. Rei I love you no one could ever make me dislike you you’re a beautiful butterfly

the general babygirlification of rin matsuoka as the series progresses

free mastering the “character that is a jerk at first but the second they’re forgiven/not a jerk you absolutely love them to pieces” archetype (rin, sousuke, hiyori!)

haru being an old man when it comes to technology: “sorry I haven’t looked at my phone in 2 weeks”

perfect body

haru almost dying like 10 times throughout the series

haru giving makoto his gold medal in that one artwork AAAAAAGGGHHHHWJFJEDJEKS

more of a fandom thing, but the whole makoto train scare back when fs1 came out

in df when ryuji is trying to teach haru and makoto translates it to haruspeak, they show you makoto smiling when haru turns around and half his face is cut off from the screen because he’s shorter than makoto lololol

Haru trying to escape the premises the second he sees kisumi

the scene of haru driving in Tokyo and makoto freaks out the entire time… guys I think they somehow got actual footage of me driving when my mom is in the passenger seat

the reigisa montage before their races at nationals in df. MY HEART

the entire show honestly… if there’s one thing you got from this post, it’s that I will never be free of free (I’m perfectly happy to keep it that way)

[unknownperson246]

Chapter 4 of A Monster

Don’t mind the inbox it was a reminder to myself to write chapter 4

A Monster chapter 4

Words: 1,147

warnings: *angst* *vampire slash* *cussing* *killing* *toxic slash* *drugging* *pregnancy*

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

You wake up from your drug-induced slumber. You feel groggy and everything in sight is blurry. You feel very weak and you suddenly have flashbacks of the night you and Slash fucked. You see Slash watching you as he sits on the chair next to your bed.

“Morning sleepy head, how do you feel?” slash asks you with a smirk.

“What did you drug me with?” you ask, trying to not lose your temper.

“It was a mild sedative. The baby was distressed from how you were freaking out about me killing a useless fucking pussy” Slash says like the maid was a toy he could play with.

You sit on the bed astonished at what your husband just said.

“Do you see me as a piece of useless pussy?” you ask Slash. 

Slash sits there silently watching your mouth move. He ignores everything you have to say.

“Shut up” Slash spits in your face. 

“Just lay down and go to sleep, you're fucking annoying with how much you blab about nonsense. Vampires kill for fun; they see it as a sport okay? It's just in our nature. It's a sport for us” Slash gets his fist ready.

You remain silent and you watch Slash leave your room. You have a plan. You want to run away from Slash. You regret marrying him. You thought he was sweet and gentle but it turns out he is just a verbally abusive bastard. You have all of your things pre-packed inside of your one luggage. You already have it in your car. You had it in the car in case you were going on your honeymoon with Slash. You grab your car keys silently. Slash just assumes that you fell asleep in the bedroom. He is out killing and hunting other humans. You walk out of Slash's mansion taking one last good look at the huge house. You put your key in the ignition and drive away. You drive away for hours. You're now in Florida all the way across California. Slash had already come home and noticed that you were missing. He looked for you everywhere in the house. Instead of being worried he is pissed off. 

“She’s gone,” He says sniffing your remaining scent that was left on your pillow. 

“She took my baby with her.” He says through gritted teeth while inhaling your soft scent. 

He goes to the nursery where the baby’s things are set up. He can still track you down; he knows that you left for Florida. He walks out the door and goes to the airport. Meanwhile, you are in a house that you rented. You take a nap after driving for days. Once you take a nice bath you change into something more comfortable. You change into a black silky nightgown. As soon as you get to the bed you hear footsteps in the house. You are on high alert. You turn around and you see Slash. He rushes to your back and he pulls your arms behind your back.

“Hi Y/N” He purrs in your ear.

“What were you thinking?” He asks you.

“You took my baby with you.” He says holding your arms with one hand while the other reaches for your stomach that started protruding.

“Where were you Slash when I left.” You ask him.

“I was in New Orleans killing other people,” He says smirking.

“We are going home right now,” He says while grabbing your stuff.

“I don’t want to kill please Slash” You beg him.

“You don't have to but I will continue doing whatever I want” He purrs in your ear.

“Slash what did you do to the people?” You ask him.

“I killed them like I said earlier.” He answers your question.

“No. What exactly did you do to them?.” You ask.

“After I killed them I left them in ditches.” He says.

“Did you kill anyone with the name Luna?” You ask him.

“Luna?. What type of name is Luna?” He asks disgustedly.

“I don’t remember. I don’t bother asking names. I’m only there for what I want” He says cruelly laughing.

“What exactly is it that you want?” You ask him with a shaky voice.

“I want you, my baby, a lot of blood and to kill,” He says smirking at you.

You start to cry and sob scared of what is going to happen once you get home.

“Shh. I’m going to take care of you and our son” He smirks.

“Our son?” You ask dumbfounded.

“I can tell it's a boy,” He says. You stare at him like he is a horror movie.

He continues moving his hand across your bulging belly. 

“Please I don't want to go home” You plead with Slash.

“Too bad we have to go now, sweetheart.” He says softly trying not to scare you further.

Suddenly everything in Slash's demeanor changes. His face softens up and his tone quiets down. He is like a whole other person. He feels guilty for what he did to you early. You were in shock that he was aware of it right at the moment. You wanted to run away. You wanted to shrink away from his attention. You wanted to be in a warm bed with a sweet man. Slash starts to apologize for what he did to you. To you, it's a sudden move and you don't trust him fully yet.

“Look I know I was harsh earlier when I said that you should sleep and I know it's something you can't forgive easily. All I want you to know is that I'm sorry for everything that has happened to this point. I won't ever try to hurt you because you are my wife and the mother of my child. So please come with me?.” He asks you. You do not trust him but you want to be with Slash for your son.

“Fine let's go but please let go of me,” You tell Slash gently.

“How many months along are you?” Slash asks you randomly.

“Around 3 months now,” You tell him.

You put your stuff in the car you drove to Florida in. “Slash, how specifically do you know our baby is a boy?” You ask him.

“Once the baby is more developed, vampires can tell the gender” He explains to you.

“That makes no sense at all but I’m too tired to ask a follow-up question. Let's just go home.” You tell Slash in a frustrated tone.

You both arrive back to California in your huge mansion. “So what are we going to do now?” You ask Slash.

“Just focus on yourself and our son,” Slash says.

You wanted to protest but you knew he was right. 

“Slash, please don't go out killing. It's another thing if you're hungry. If you kill for fun it’s just cruel” You beg Slash to stop killing others.

“Sorry darling I will do what I want,” Slash tells you.

You give up on your attempts to convince him to stop killing other people.

[bitchyfoxymama]

Saviors - Sinclair Brothers x F!Reader

Warnings: abuse but not from the Sinclairs, murder, language used against reader, Bo being out of character. Fluff, let me know if I missed anything.

A/n: this is possibly the second longest one-shot I've ever written besides petals and bullets. I hope you all like this one.

...

You, your two friends, well they were technically your boyfriend's friends and said boyfriend had decided that driving from California to Florida to go to Disney world would be cheaper and way more fun than flying. What a dumb idea that was. Your clock read just after midnight and you've made it just forty miles out of Baton Rouge when your back left tire blew on your Volkswagen minibus. 

"Fuck," you moan out as you gently pull to the side of the empty road.

"What? What happened?" The sudden jolt from the blow tire woke everyone including your easily irritated boyfriend, Ben. 

"I think we blew a tire so I pulled over," you say un buckling your seat belt just as you turned the key in the ignition. You open your door, the Louisiana air is sticky and wet. Of all the places to break down it had to be here. 

You stop next to your back left tire and inspect it, a rusted nail sticks out of the tire as it slowly deflates. You begin mumbling swears as you open the back of the minibus searching for the spare you are more the positive you replaced when the front tire blew six months ago. 

"Fucking damnit!" You place both hands in your hair giving a frustrated tug. 

 had already gotten out at this point and was standing next to you, his voice making you jump. 

"I asked you if you had put the spare back in, god do you always have to be so stupid!" He slams his fist against the side of the minibus. 

His anger makes you feel small, if there hadn't been people in the bus he would have punched you instead of the bus. 

"I-I could have sworn I put it in," you say barely above a whisper. 

"Yeah? You thought? Well you didn't and now we're stuck out here in bumfuck Louisiana!" 

"Hey, what's going on?" Rebecca rubs the sleep out of her eyes. 

"Y/n forgot to replace the spare tire and now we're stranded here til morning when another person probably comes down this road." 

You look down ashamed, reaching out to grab the camping gear and flashlight. You head off the road and just want to set up camp and sleep. You've been the only one driving for the last couple of days. 

"Come on let's just set up camp so we can all sleep and hopefully get help in the morning. 0 on, let's find level ground." You don't want to make Ben any madder than he already is. 

Everyone gets out of the van and follows behind you with sleeping bags and backpacks, in case someone stumbled upon the bus and decided to have some sticky fingers. 

Once you're all settled, you finally turn in for bed. Ben, still angry and annoyed, decided to sleep next to Rebecca and her boyfriend, leaving you alone near a tree stump. You let the tears flow freely from your tears. None of you noticed the truck slowly driving past with their lights off or the man that got out and took the spark plugs.

…

When the sun begins to rise you peek your eyes open and see everyone has already begun packing up camp, it seems they forgot to wake you. It's silent. Not the friendly enjoyable silence, no this silence is awkward, as thick as the Louisiana humidity. 

You walk back to the minibus, packing everything up as they all wait for a car as they lean up against the bus. Maxwell, Rebecca's boyfriend, opens the side of the bus to sit half inside and half out. 

You decide to turn the keys in the ignition to at least getting the inside of the bus cool. But to your surprise the ignition does turn over. 

"What the fuck is wrong now," you groan getting back out of the car and popping the hood, "where the fuck are the spark plugs?!" 

You slam the hood shut and walk over towards the trio standing outside the bus. 

"Who took the spark plugs out of the bus?" 

"What are you talking about?" Ben asks giving you an annoyed look. 

"The sparks are missing, did you guys hear anything last night?" You ask again looking around the three of them. 

However just before you can get your answer a truck comes round the bend. It's an old beat up pick up. The driver slows and stops just before you guys. 

"Well howdy there? Whatch y'all doing out here so early in the mornin'?" He's a scrawny man with a cute dog in the bed and you think that makes him all the more attractive too you. 

"Oh well we-" you're cut off by Ben. 

"Well my girlfriend here, she blew a tire and seemed to forget to get a new one. She also says she's missing her sparks but you know how women are with cars," he says roughly slamming his arm over your shoulder, making you flinch. The stranger's eyes flickered to you softening for just a moment before going back to a stoic look and staring at Ben. 

"I see well, I can take you to Ambrose, it's just 12 miles up the road, my brother owns a mechanic shop and he should be able ta help yall with yours problem. Only this is I only got room for two of ya's," he says rubbing his chin. 

"Why doesn't Y/n go? It is her car after all," Rebecca says looking at you. 

"I'll go too right babe? Can't have you going alone," Ben says, squeezing your shoulder painfully, you have to bite your lip from crying out. 

And so you and Ben pile into who you all found out to be Lester Sinclair. He was the youngest of three. 

"So where y'all from anyway? Don't seem like locals round these here parts," 

"Oh well-" 

"Were from California, driving cross country this summer to go and see disney world" 

You stay quiet now and just look down at your lap. You don't feel like getting Ben angry once again.

Lester looks at you from the corner of his eyes. Planning on ways to make your boyfriend shut up and let you speak for once. He had this overwhelming sense to protect you. Don't go thinking that healing black eye and the way you flinch any time that no good asshole would touch you. 

that. But why did yall choose to drive and not fly? Seems like you'd saved some time flying?" 

"Yeah well it seemed fun at the time until this one had to go and get the tire popped" Ben says annoyed. 

"Well shit, I forgot the roads flooded. We may have to go the long way." Lester says stopping in front of the road that leads into Ambrose. 

"Oh that's OK! We can walk from here, that way you don't have to worry about going an extra way," you say, smiling up at him with a genuine smile. He smiles back at you but doesn't miss the scowl on your boyfriend's face.

You wave at Lester after you've both exited the truck, you give jonesy a rub behind her ears and head over to the little step stones that have taken place in the washed out road.

"Come on, the faster we get into town the quicker we can get the shit we need and on the road again," Ben said, grabbing your arm and pulling you hard. He drags you all the way to the mechanics shop. He knocks on the front door. 

"Hello! We were told you were open and could help us!" Ben yells. 

…

Unbeknownst to the two of you, Bo was on the back roads talking with Lester. 

"She needs our help, he doesn't treat her right neither. She's got a healing black eye and every time he touched her she flinches, and you should've seen her, she's finer than frogs' hair split four ways," 

"Hmm, and you say she's got two other with 'er? Well bring them back to Vin and he can take care of them while I go and help our visitors. You grab them sparks and hide them in the house, right?" 

Lester shakes his head headed back into his truck to get Rebecca and her boyfriend. 

…

Back at the shop, Ben was getting impatient and you were bored. 

"I'm gonna go explore, since I'm just a woman and wouldn't know anything about cars right?" 

"You don't have to be such a bitch you know," he huffs. 

"Well you are such an asshole, after this all over and we're in Florida, I'm going to drop you all off and head home, beauce this," you say pointing between yourself and him, "is over. For good this time." 

He back hands you hard enough to draw blood from your lip that his fist made contact with.

"Fuck you Ben!" You screech, "find your own ways to Florida you fuckwad" you walk away up towards the house of wax wanting to clear your mind and maybe have a good cry. 

You are amazed when you make it up the hill to the beautiful building, only realizing as you got to the front that the architecture was made entirely of wax. You gently pushed open the door and stepped inside, giving  yourself your own guided tour of the house. 

Everything was beautiful and the little intimate details intrigued you. 

"These look so life like, the artist must have such magical hands," you say in a hushed voice as though you were in an art museum and let's be honest here you really were. 

Hiding in the shadows, watching you as you gushed on and on about his art work was Vincent Sinlair, the middle son of the Sinclair brothers and the artist behind the house of wax. 

His eye stared at you as though you were a beautiful piece of art that needed to be taken care of and looked after. He silently followed you around like a lost puppy. 

Once you finished admiring the art work and decided enough time had passed and Ben more than likely got the parts needed to get back on the road. You walk towards the exit when the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You peak over your shoulder and you are more than certain you saw a flash of long raven hair. 

…

Back at the mechanic shop just after you had left Bo's voice was heard booming from inside.

"Hold your fuckin' horses, I could hear you banging like all hell!" He opens the door with a scowl on his face, Bo hopes to see you there as well. With the way Lester was talking you up he was excited to see the beauty that was you. But alas you were there, only you annoyed looking boyfriend. 

"Whatchu need?" Bo asks, folding his arms over his chest. 

"My girlfriend's minibus has a popped tire and missing sparks. We need them as soon as you can give them to us. And I can make the pot sweeter," Ben says, pulling out a $100 from his wallet. You see Ben, Rebecca and Maxwell were silver spoon babies, you were lower middle class. 

"Well I'll be damned. As much as I'd like to take you up on your offer, I'll have to check in our basement to see if we have them. Why don't you come with and we can work out the price," Bo says, making room for Ben to come in through the door. Ben walks in further into the shop not paying any attention to where Bo had moved. Rookie mistake. Bo hits him over the head and Ben is out cold. 

When Ben wakes he is secured to an old barber chair under a grate in what he assumed to be the mechanic shop. He's gagged and wiggling trying to escape. He's screaming but nothing comes out. 

…..

When you make it to the mechanic shop, you try the door and are happy to see it's finally open. 

"Hello! Is anyone here? Ben! Where are you, you still here?" You ask out walking around, fingerings all the different products on the walls. 

"Why hello there darlin'" you jump at the sudden voice behind you. You are greeted with quite the sight, a gorgeous man with a trucker hat and mechanic overalls.

"H-hi! I um, I'm looking for the guy I was with, he came here to get a new tire and spark plugs. Have you seen him?" You can feel a blush creeping up your neck. Curse your affinity for getting nervous about gorgeous men talking to you and making you lose all sense of yourself. 

"That one fella with the permanent annoyed look? Yeah, I sent him on up to our house, we didn't have the right type or sparks here so I sent him up there to get help from my twin Vincent. I could take you up there if you want or you could wait here?" He says while taking his hat off and running his hand through his damp hair. It makes him look all the more attractive to you.

You smile at him, "is your brother the one who made the art in the house of wax by chance?" 

"That he is ma'am, that he is. He's our own lil family artist," he says showing off his award winning smirk, now how about we get you on up to your friend? Maybe even get some food in yall too. You must be hungry." Just as the words left his mouth your stomach growled causing you to blush and wrap your arms around your noisy tummy. 

You smile at him. You've smiled more around these two strangers than you ever had in your entire relationship with Ben.

"Of course, please lead the way," you follow after him and to his pick up truck, this one much nicer than the one you previously rode in only hours before. The silence on the drive to the house is silent but peaceful. 

You get a better peak at him as he drives, he's attractive and knows it. His hands are big and veiny. Suddenly you are having thoughts about how they'd feel between-woah there y/n you have a boyfriend. Wait wait no you don't you broke it off with the fuckwad. Yes continue with the thought of his fingers in between your thighs as he moves them in and out of your- 

"Doll?" Bo lays his hand on your shoulder startling you. 

"Yes?" The blood rushes to your cheeks and head almost making you dizzy.

"I said we're here now," he says while fixing his hat and getting out of the truck. 

"Oh." You peep out as you follow him into the house. It's beautiful, it's very homey and definitely has the feel that three grown men live here. 

"I'll get started on some lunch for you" he says walking to the kitchen as you stand awkwardly in the living room. 

There are footsteps heard coming up from what can be assumed is the basement. When the door opens you are met with a beautiful sight, a man appears sporting long black hair, half up in a mini bun. He's wearing a wax made mask. He was beautiful. 

"Wow you are beautiful," you say out loud. 

He head snaps towards you and he then signs 'Thank you' you smile, you took a few ASL classes in high school. 

"Are you the one who made all the beautiful sculptures in the wax museum?" 

'Yes, did you like them?' He signed again.

"I didn't just like them, I loved them! You have such a beautiful talent!" 

'Would you like to see more?' He signs, 'I have just finished one at the workshop I have in the basement of the house of wax,'

"I would love to, but I'm only in town until my minibus is fixed. It would've been a great honor to see it though!" 

Just ask he was about to reply, Bo is calling you both to the dining room table. 

…

The 3 of you are enjoying a wonderful meal when it's interrupted by the front door being slammed open. All three of your heads look towards and see Ben. 

"B-ben!" You stand abruptly. 

"Get the fuck away from them y/n! They are a bunch of freaks!" 

Neither man speaks as they are stiff as a board.

"What do you mean? They've been nothing but nice to me this entire time," you say staying put. 

"That one locked me up in some torture device!" He says pointing to Bo, causing you to look at him, "I think they're the ones behind the missing sparks and blown tire," this causes you to slightly step back. 

"Now darlin' it ain't what you think, ok maybe it is," Bo begins looking at Vincent for help. 

"Get the fuck over here now, so help me. Don't be fucking stupid!" Ben says. 

"What did you say?" You look at him. Without you even realizing, you subconsciously grabbed the knife on the table. You don't even realize what your doing until you hear Bo say "don't go at the throat or head. Vinny needs those intact." 

"I am so sick of you abusing me and belittling me! I am so sick of it!" You scream. 

"You wanna stay with the freaks you crazy bitch? Fine you do that but dont you ever forget who owns you." He says stepping back away from the three of you. "You don't own me, you've never owned me!" You land the first blow in his stomach twisting the blade. You don't stop until Bo is pulling you off of him. Holding you close to his chest as Vincent wipes away the tears that have begun to fall. You're free, you're finally free of the abuse. 

"We'll always protect you doll, always." Bo says as he holds you close and kisses the top of your head. 

[ssuperficialspacecadett]

Escrito en las Estrellas (Written in the Stars)

Chapter Six of the Through the Scope series | Chapter Seven

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4.6K

Chapter Overview: You celebrate your first month working at Brass Knuckles

TW: t*m in the gif (i hate this mf and i dont care who knows)

Notes: okay so this chapter is what started me on my 'through the scope' journey ! i was driving back home to visit family and the phrase "it's written in the stars" just came to me so naturally i had to write an entire Frankie fan fic just so i could birth this one scene (i had no other choice obviously). this chapter was originally twice its length, but i cut it in half so i could make two chapters out of it hehe. i updated the tag list so please let me know if i missed you !! as usual ... my asks are always open & happy reading <3

*no use of y/n & female presenting reader*

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“So you two really haven’t hooked up yet? Not even a small kiss? You’re killing me right now. It’s been a month!” 

You’re on the phone with Robbie this evening to keep you company while you fold laundry. When she says that you have already been in Florida for a month, you feel shocked. Has it really been that long already? You count up the weeks in your head and today, Monday, marks the start of your fourth week here. Four weeks of watching your dad get stronger, four weeks of working at Brass Knuckles, and four weeks of crushing on Frankie. 

“I told you we haven’t done anything, Robbie! But fuck if I don’t want to. The only thing is that I think he’s in a weird place with his girlfriend right now. Or maybe she’s his ex-girlfriend that he’s sort of talking to again? Ugh! I don’t even know!”

You give up on folding, you are doing a terrible job at it anyway, and flop yourself down, stomach first, on your bed. 

“Why don’t you ask Benny about it then? Maybe he can give you some clarity?”

“For someone that’s so smart, you are so dumb.”

“Excuse me?” Her tone is playful, but still laced with warning.

“Look, I can’t just ask Benny about Frankie’s love life. It would be a dead give away that I like him and it just seems like…it just seems like an invasion of privacy.”

“You’re just stalling, you fucking baby. They are your friends right? Benny and Frankie?”

“Well, yeah? I would say so.” You’re not following where she's going.

“Then you should be able to ask them about what’s going on in their lives. That includes their love lives. We ask each other all the time!”

God you hate it when her logic makes sense.

“Okay! Okay. I’ll ask Benny about it at work this week then. Would that make you happy?” 

“No, that would make me content. What would make me happy is if yall finally fuc-”

“Woah!” You cut her off with a laugh. “Don’t you have some studying to do, miss. lawyer?” 

“I resent you for changing the subject right when we were getting somewhere, but yes I do. Call me when you grow a pair and ask?” 

“Trust me, Robbie. You’ll be the first to know.”

You laugh to yourself as you toss your phone on your bed and roll over onto your back. You would be lying to yourself if you said that you wouldn’t be happy if you and Frankie finally hooked up either. Since you have been here, you have gotten a small feeling that he might like you back. First there was him observing you when you two first met while his friends talked around him. Then there was him inviting you out with the guys for fight night. After that was him not shying away when you gave him the note with your number and a heart. Y’all shared a beer together, he dropped everything to help you with your car, and proceeded to spend the majority of the day with you eating and shopping. Did he almost kiss you in your apartment that morning or had you just romanticized his gentlemanliness? There had to be something there right? Right? 

But there was Rochelle. The woman who came before you. The woman who was first in line. While she was bad news according to Benny, you still felt hesitant about stepping on anyone's toes. You wouldn’t want that done to you. And yet you found your mind exploring the possibilities of what y’all could be to each other. Acquaintances? Friends? Something more?

***

It’s Benny’s turn to buy lunch today and he pulls through with Chick-fil-a. The conversation is natural while the two of you eat. Each of you take turns spitballing ideas on how to make the gym stand out more, if they should start selling food during fight night, if you will be a ring girl.

“When pig’s fly, Benjamin Miller. That’s when I’ll be your ring girl.”

The conversation slowly shifts into a more personal one. He talks about how he and the other guys love going to the beach together, but their schedules haven’t allowed it in a while. How all the ladies there can’t get enough of ‘old Brass Knuckles’. You share about how you and Robbie love walking around in downtown Austin, Texas and hunting for the best coffee, or food, or book stores. 

“The beaches back home weren’t really the best.” You confess.

“You should come with us then! Maybe we can all plan somethin’!”

“Yeah.” You say wistfully. “Robbie is coming down in March when her school lets out for spring break. What about then?” 

“Sounds fuckin’ awesome to me!”

Your tongue burns with the question you have about Frankie. It’s Thursday, which unfortunately means, it has taken you most of the week to gain the courage to bring it up. In your defense you had tried earlier, but it just never seemed like the right time. It would be weird to casually bring that topic up at random, but now that friends are being discussed…

“I’ve got a question.”

“I’ve got an answer.” He takes a sip of his drink. “Shoot.”

“I was just wondering how Frankie and Rochelle were doing. I noticed that he has seemed happier lately. Maybe they worked things out?”

He sets his cup down and looks at you quizzically. You get a nervous feeling that he’s onto you.

“Now that you mention it, he does seem happier, doesn’t he? Which isn’t anythin’ to take lightly. Especially for a guy like Fish. But to be completely honest with you, he doesn’t talk about her much around us.”

“Wait really? Y’all don’t talk about who y’all are dating?” Now your nervousness has started to make you sweat. 

“It’s not that at all. It’s just,” He rubs his forehead with his hand. “It’s just different when it’s Rochelle. I told you that she doesn’t belong in his life and I still stand by that. Do you remember when I mentioned that we were a fucked up bunch?”

You nod your head at him.

“Well, it’s not my place to get into all of Fish’s business, but she played a pretty big part in that for him. It took me, the guys, and the strength of whatever higher bein’ is out there to pry him from her grip. He knows we don’t like her much. I think that's why he keeps most of it to himself.”

“Oh.” Now you feel stupid for asking. There is clearly more going in that relationship than you previously thought.

“But, he would have told us if they were officially back together. That I know for a fact.”

You’re content with his answer. At least now you know that you aren’t being a homewrecker. Surely a little more innocent flirting wouldn't hurt. Well it might hurt if he doesn’t see you that way.

“So that’s the only reason you asked?”

You stop, a french fry in hand, and cock your head at your coworker. “What?”

“Don’t play around.” He snatches the fry from you. “What’s the real reason you want to know what’s going on with Fish?”

In this very moment you make an elaborate mental scheme of how to murder Robbie and get away with it when she comes down to visit you. 

“I was just curious.” You shrug.

“God, you’re such a fuckin’ liar!”

“I am not!”

“You got a thing for him, don’t you?!”

“I-I…well I-”

“I knew it! You like Fish!” He looks as happy as a kid on Christmas morning.

“Fine.” You can’t help but laugh at your friend's glee. “I like Frankie. I think he’s great.” 

“Hey, I’m just glad it didn’t turn out to be Pope. That man needs to be humbled every now and then.” 

The two of you burst into a fit of laughter together at the front desk. The people currently working out probably think y’all need to be admitted into the loony bin. It felt nice to finally tell someone here. Granted, Benny is Frankie’s friend, but now he’s yours too.

“Please,” You pant. “Please promise me that you won't say anything to him, Benny.”

“I promise I won’t say anything to him.” A cheeky grin splays across his face.

“I don’t think I like the way you said that.”

“Then don’t think about it. I said that I wouldn’t say anything about it, so I won’t.” He holds up one of his hands. “Scouts honor.” 

You breathe a sigh of relief as he cleans up the remains of lunch and walks over to the trash bin.

“I didn’t say that I wouldn’t do anything about it though!”

He takes off running as his words register in your brain. You stand and yell after him as he vanishes into his office. 

“Benny I’m going to kick your ass!”

The door’s bell must have gone off in the commotion because when you turn around to face the front of the lobby a very bewildered woman is looking directly at you. 

“Oh! Sorry about that! Welcome to Brass Knuckles! How can I help you today?”

***

Operation Catch-A-Fish Chat

Benny: It’s on boys! It’s fuckin’ on!

Will: Damn that was quicker than I thought.

Pope: Did she say something?!

Benny: She told me that she liked him while we were having lunch. Let's get this operation cookin’!

Will: I’ll be damned.

Pope: Told you we wouldn’t be pimping her out, Will.

***

Frankie lays on his back and watches the fan blades spin above him. The room is still stuffy as the hot air inside is only being pushed around. It makes him ache to be in a helicopter again. To feel the bone chilling air right as he climbs into the cockpit before a mission. He never felt cramped when he was in the air. Not like he does now on the ground.

He tries to pick a singular blade and count how many times it can circle the base of the fan in a minute, but he keeps getting distracted. You keep distracting him. He never manages to make it past 15 before you pop into his mind. Your melodic laugh, the way you furrow your eyebrows when you think, how it took you 30 minutes to pick one item off the menu at breakfast. He wonders how you’re spending your Thursday night. Guilt creeps in when he realizes how deeply you consume his thoughts. Although he doesn’t know if that guilt stems from the fact that he’s thinking of you while he lies next to Rochelle in her bed or because he didn’t feel guilty at all until he remembered she was there in the first place. What he does know is that he wouldn’t feel as cramped and lonely as he does right now if you were with him. You could have your limbs wrapped around him as tight as could be and he would still beg you to squeeze harder. 

He turns his attention to the woman laying next to him when she breathes out deeply. She looks so much different in sleep. Her harsh features have softened. Her brows are relaxed and her lips aren’t contorted into a perpetual scowl. She looks, he thinks, kind. As if she is completely incapable of being the person that has wreaked so much havoc and heartache onto his life. She looks like someone who would want to be held as she slept. Someone who would want their lover to pull them in close and whisper sweet nothings in their ear that would be kept secret by the darkness of the night. Unfortunately, that wasn’t who she was. Rochelle never wanted Frankie to be affectionate with her unless she initiated it or when they were going to have sex. Even then she would groan in annoyance when he took too long kissing or going down on her. 

“Just fuck me already.” 

Although he would never admit it, he craved that intimacy. That closeness with his partner. He loved having his hands constantly on the woman he was with. It kept him calm knowing that she was close to him. He noticed that he also had less nightmares on the rare occasions Rochelle would allow him to hold her while they slept. She stirs slightly and rolls over so her back is facing him. 

“God, what the fuck am I even doing here?” He whispers up to the fan blades. 

He hated himself for winding up back in her bed. They haven’t officially gotten back together, but this is how it always started. She would slither back into his life and he would trip over her and fall right into her trap. It made him even angrier than he knew how she worked and he still wound up here. Yet, it’s so easy to slip into a routine you already know no matter how toxic it may be. The ball is still technically in his court. He still hasn’t given her an answer about the status of their relationship. He hasn’t completely sunk beneath the waves yet. He needs to remind himself that history doesn’t equate to longevity. He wants quality over quantity now. 

The dinging of his phone pulls him from his thoughts. It’s a message from Benny in their group chat.

Benny: Sorry for the late message, but I’ve been doing some thinkin’. Since our girl has been here for a month I think we should celebrate. I know she wouldn’t want anything over the top, so maybe The Barrel this Saturday? Y’all down for that?

Pope: It’s about damn time she came out with us. I think I’m free then too.

Will: Benny, I’m literally awake in the next room. You could have just come and told me about your plan. 

Benny: Text is easier. I don’t have to get out of bed this way. 

Will: She definitely deserves more than a few rounds since she has had to deal with you for a month straight. I’m surprised you haven’t scared her off. 

Pope: Same here. I would have run for the hills by now if I were her.

Frankie: Yeah I’m down too. Will and Pope can carpool with me and we can meet y’all after closing time.

Benny: Sounds good! See y’all then!

“Who was that, baby?” A sleep riddled voice asks behind his shoulder.

He feels his body recoil at the pet name. A pet name he once had to beg her to call him. Something to make him believe that what they had was good and sweet. How could something he longed for sound like nails on a chalkboard now?

“Just the guys. Go back to bed, Rochelle.”

Frankie falls asleep wondering if he will get the privilege of sitting next to you at the bar.

***

“I already said that I would come tonight, Benny! You didn’t have to keep asking every hour of the day.”

If you were being honest it was getting on your nerves. He told you last night that you absolutely, without a doubt, had to come to The Barrel on Saturday after work. You knew that you had been pushing it off so you conceded. You just wished Benny would get that through his thick skull. Although, having someone that invested in you is foreign so you put your annoyance out of your mind and focus on the good.

“I know. I know. I just want to make sure everything goes perfect. You told your dad that you wouldn’t be comin’ tonight?”

“Yes! I did everything you asked! I don’t know why you’re so worked up. We are just going across the street to get a drink after work.”

“I just want to make sure.”

“Aww!” You pinch his cheek as he waits with you in the laundry room. “Does Benny have a crush on me?”

“You wish you could get in on all this!” He flexes his left arm and blows a kiss at you with his right.

“Fuck off!” You shove him out of the room. “If you want to go get a drink you better leave me alone so I can put this load in the dryer. Long gone are the days of leaving wet towels to sit overnight at Brass Knuckles.” 

“That’s why I love ya’!” He pokes his head back and kisses your cheek. A lovely juxtaposition to what you just did to him. “I’ll head over there and get us a table. Meet me there after you lock up?”

“If you’re lucky, Miller.”

Shortly after Benny bounds gleefully out of the gym, the washer announces that it’s finished. You hum to yourself as you toss the damp towels into the dryer and press start. It’s all a breeze from there. You collect your things from the desk, turn off the building's lights, and lock the front door. That’s funny you think my bag feels lighter than usual.

The night air is hot, but not uncomfortably so, as you walk across the street to The Barrel. The soft glow from the sign acts as your north star. You can hear how packed it is even before you swing the door open. How are you going to find Benny through all these people? Your eyes survey the room as you make your way through the crowd. A hand shoots up in the back and starts waving frantically at you. As you slip through more people you finally reach the clearing. It was all of them. All of the guys were waiting for you at a quaint table in the back. 

“Happy one month!” They say in unison and raise their glasses.

“Oh my-” 

You’re so starstruck that you can’t speak. They all beam as you make your way to the table and to the only empty chair. The one that sandwiches you right in between Pope and Frankie. 

“Is this seat taken?” 

“It is now.” The man with soft curls responds warmly. 

“Are you surprised?! Did we get you?!” Benny can hardly sit still in his chair.

“Yes,” Your cheeks are going to be sore from smiling in the morning. “Y’all got me good. I can’t believe y’all remembered.” 

“Of course we did, hon.” Will’s voice acts as a beacon of calmness in the bar’s chaos. “The gym was close to burnin' down before you showed up and saved it. Brightened our lives in the process whether you know it or not too.” 

“Will…” Tears threaten to trickle down your face. 

“It was not!” Benny bites back at his brother. “But, I am happy you called about my ad.” 

“Cheers to you, hermosa!” Pope slides a bottle over to you. “Welcome to the group.”

As you raise your glass to clink with all of theirs, you look at each and every one of them. The genuine care they all have for you sprinkles your skin like a light summer shower. The kind of rain where it’s so soft that you don’t even realize you’re soaked to the bone until you reach your destination. It just kinda sneaks up on you. That’s exactly what they did and you couldn’t have been more grateful. 

“Okay I need y’all to indulge me for a few minutes.” It’s somehow already 1:00 in the morning and you’ve lost count of how much you have had to drink. “I’ve been trying to figure out what each of y’all’s individual signs are and I think I finally cracked it.” 

“Like our call signs?” Frankie’s shoulder presses up against yours when he leans into talk. You hope he doesn’t catch the way your breath hitches. 

“You mean y’alls call signs. I still haven’t gotten mine.” 

“You’re always going to be Brass Knuckles to me, Benny.” You offer to the man across from you. “But no, not y’alls call signs, I already know those. I mean your star signs.” 

“Oh, shit! I was hooking up with a girl once that was really into all that mumbo jumbo!” Pope sounds even more excited than you do. “I already know these carbrons don’t know what they are. Google y’all’s birthdays and find out what it is.”

Once each of them confirms that they know, you crack your knuckles and pray that you have guessed correctly. 

“I’ll start with you, Santi.” Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it's because you truly feel like his friend that you use his first name. “I think you’re a libra because you’re charismatic, you’re tactful-”

“You better stop before I fall in love with you.” He taunts.

“And you’re a whore.” The entire table erupts into boisterous laughter. “I didn’t need the stars to tell me that though.” 

Next you move your blurry vision to Will. 

“I think you’re a cancer. You’re someone who cares deeply about the people that are close to you. You always want to know how others are feeling, but ironically, you tend to keep your own emotions locked away. You think you will be a burden if you share them, but you won’t, I promise.” 

“You hired a witch to work for you, Benny.” He brings his drink to his lips, but his eyes stay playfully trained on you. 

“Do me next! Do me!” 

“Alright, Benny. I think you’re a sagittarius. You have an enthusiastic love for life and adventure alike. You always lift the mood of the room when you walk into it. The life of the party if you will.”

“Freaky.” He whispers to himself. 

You turn your attention to the man you have been most excited to talk about. “And last, but certainly not least: Frankie.” You are too drunk to notice the hush that has fallen over the group as you rest your hand on his shoulder. “I think you’re a taurus. You’re very hard working, a loyal and faithful friend, and you love physical affection.” 

 It takes Benny choking on his beer at your last comment to shake you from your trance. You slide your hand off Frankie's shoulder and turn back to the group.

“So…was I right?” Everyone is looking at you with wide eyes and open jaws. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Benny spends the next few minutes drunkenly pleading with you to tell him more about himself and his future.

“I’m not an oracle, you know. I just observe people and their actions and try to figure them out.” 

“Well,” Pope arrives back at the table with the last round of the night. “Tell us what you have observed about Fish.” 

“No, you don’t have to do that.” Frankie says shyly.

The alcohol in your bloodstream has made you more confident. “I want to.”

“Let the woman work, man.” Pope slides him a beer. 

“You tend to be the glue of the friend group. A man with a hard exterior, yet a soft interior. While you'd never say it outloud, you enjoy taking care of people. You find it gratifying and it gives you a sense of purpose.” You have to stop to get your bearings for a second and acknowledge that maybe you shouldn’t have had that last drink. “Maybe that’s because you served or maybe that's just in your nature. I haven’t figured that out yet, but I’m working on it.”

Frankie hides his face with the bill of his hat, but everyone knows he's smiling under there. 

Pope reaches behind you and claps his friend on the back. “Está escrito en las estrellas, hermano.”

As the bartender announces the last call, your group takes that as the cue to head home. Benny is more trashed than anyone realizes so Will says he will take him back home. He wrangles Benny’s keys away from him so he can use his car to drive them both. You were in no state to drive either and were too far gone to feel any embarrassment as the two men left point that out. With Pope grabbing your tote bag and Frankie grabbing your hand, the three of you walk to his truck.

“Come on,” Frankie helps you into the passenger seat while a very annoyed Pope gets into the backseat. “I’ll take you home.” 

You can only mumble out a small ‘mmm’ to him because your body has become heavy with sleep. He takes it upon himself to gently buckle you into your seat. As he leans over to click it into place he gets a whiff of your perfume. It’s more muted now since the day is over, but it’s still just as potent to him as the second you put it on this morning. After he finishes, he hops down and closes the passenger door. 

“He’s so nice to me.” You whisper to Pope in the backseat before you drift off.

“You have no idea. I just hope you remember when you wake up.” 

Frankie climbs into his seat and cranks up the car. Both men opt to listen to the quiet sounds of the tires on the road instead of the radio for fear that it will wake you up. He pulls into your apartment complex and parks as gently as he can. 

“Grab her keys from her bag, would you?” Frankie asks. He keeps his eyes on you while Pope looks. You look just as sweet in sleep as you do awake, he thinks. You really were as lovely as he thought you were. 

“Uhhh, Catfish?” 

“What?” 

“She only has keys for the gym in here. I can’t find her apartment keys.” He hears Pope laugh dryly in the back seat. “I couldn’t have planned something more perfect if I tried.” 

“What are you going on about?”

“The way I see it you have two choices. Choice one is to wake her up and ask her where her keys are.”

“I’m not going to wake her up, Pope. Mirar, solo mírala.”

“Choice two is to let her crash at your place tonight.”

They both look at you, sound asleep and ignorant about the current situation. 

“I don’t know, man.” Frankie looks over his shoulder at his friend. “I don’t want her to wake up and think I kidnapped her or something. Won’t that be scary for her to wake up in a place that she has never been before?”

“It beats the hell out of waking up in the morning outside of her own front door.” 

He knows his friend is right, but he’s still hesitant as to how you will react when you wake up. Reluctantly, he puts his truck in reverse and heads for Pope’s house. 

***

Unlocking his front door while he has you in his arms bridal style proves a lot more difficult than he originally anticipated. Yet, he would do it a million times over if it meant that he got to hold you this close. When he finally gets inside he closes the door with his foot and heads straight for his bedroom. There was no question about it, he was going to sleep on the couch and you were going to get his bed. He walks into his room and leaves the door open so the hallway light can spill inside. Thankfully he didn’t make his bed this morning so the covers were already pulled back enough. He sets you down on the mattress like you were made of glass; one wrong move by him and you would shatter into a million pieces. A small cry escapes you when his body is no longer touching yours. He wants to capture that sound and keep it locked away in his heart. Before he tucks you in, he carefully unties your shoes and sets them down beside the nightstand so you will see them in the morning. He brings the covers up so that they rest just below your chin. Despite his initial hesitation to bring you back home with him, he can’t help but feel that you look perfectly in place in his bed. He kneels down next to you and tucks a rogue strand of hair back behind your ear. You unconsciously lean into his touch, seeking the warmth he provides. His lips find a home on your forehead and he whispers to you before he gets up to leave. 

“Sweet dreams…mi estrella.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

{tag list: @cutesyscreenname @rsquared31 @smol-beb @bitchwitch1981 @avastrasposts @hoeslingz @saltybutteredtoast @javicstories @c-justhere @pimosworld @modernperplexity @beboldbebravethings @mxtokko  @moonliqhtszn @tanzthompson @megcads @myloveistoolittle @casa-boiardi @jitterbugs927 @partyofone3413 @pedrit0-pascalit0 @golden-library @pati-et-vivere @pedro-pedrito-pascalito }

[freshbakedbreadstick]

No. 1 Party Anthem - Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader - Chapter Four

Past!Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader

Carmy Berzatto x F!Platonic!Reader

Richie Jerimovich x F!Platonic!Reader

Summary: Old habits (of fleeing) die hard unless, of course, you're forced to face things rather than running from them.

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of the content. Heavy spoilers. Mentions of death, toxic relationships, grief, angst, strained relationships, minor injuries, arguments/yelling matches, details of anxiety/panic attacks, bad coping mechanisms, mental health issues, running away, Al-Anon, addiction, interventions.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Hi besties ! ! ! ! As promised, here’s the next chapter for you all, earlier than planned as a sorry for taking so long ! Life is getting hectic and I'm currently preparing to move into my dorm for this coming school year, hence why I couldn't update with the last chapter earlier . I transferred to a different university than the one I was originally going to so a lot of things are new to me again, but I'm still excited ! ! ! Anyways, get your happy puppy and kitty pictures to look at after this chapter and i hope you all have a wonderful day and wonderful read <3

EDIT: Changed the name used for an added side character to avoid confusion with the name of a character from the show, sorry to those who are named Amanda as that's the name i used as a replacement (:

Taglist: @marysucks-blog @shinebright2000 @jadeittic

Chapter Three / Masterlist / Chapter Five

Your fingers shook around the steering wheel as you pressed on the accelerator harder, making the engine of your old car rumble louder in your ears. It wasn’t loud enough to drown the loud and rapid heartbeat in your ears though.

Luckily for you, it was green light after green light.

You raced home, expecting to come home to a silent house with nobody there to try and talk you out of your decision. After all, it was a weekday and it was past noon, almost everyone in Chicago was either working or in school.

“Pack then leave, pack then leave, pack then leave…” you mumbled to yourself, eyes darting back and forth as you switched lanes to weave in and out of traffic. You were met with angry yells and annoyed honks as you did so, but it didn’t matter to you. You needed to get home. 

Your stuff was shoved in the back seat, half spilled from both you throwing it inside and your reckless driving. After you had the argument with everyone at The Beef, you stormed inside to silently grab your things from your locker and go. Neither Richie, Carmy, nor Sugar said a word to you as you did so, but Tina was the first to call out your name and try to calm you down. She had definitely heard everything that went down outside, those walls were absolutely not sound proof. 

“What the fuck does Carmy know anyways. He’s the one who refused to come back or even reach out at all when Mikey…  fucking hypocrite,” You mumbled to yourself, eyes narrowing and your hand gripping the steering wheel until your fingers hurt. 

Tina, however, anxiously worked at her station, half glancing over to you and half working on her task in the kitchen. You knew that she was split between wanting to reach out to you and wanting to keep going with her work, but you would never make her or anyone else choose, so you chose for her by ignoring her and leaving. 

She and everyone else are better off without you anyways.  

The tires of your car screeched as you swerved into the empty driveway.

“Fuck yes…” you whispered to yourself, skin sweaty as you shoved yourself out of your car. No cars in the driveway means an empty house. You were in the clear. 

As you approached the front door, house keys already in hand, you mumbled out plans to yourself, “Maybe Florida? It’s probably rainy and humid this time of year but if it means getting away from here, I can deal with it…”

The front door swung open before you could finish unlocking it, making you jump and gasp out as you came face to face with your mom.

“Sweetie? Are you okay? What’s going on? Why do you look ill?” You mom rushed out, eyes wide and confused.

“I'm fine Mom but I have to go.” You rushed out, pushing past her to run to the stairs. Your mom let out an unintelligible string of words as you started running to your room, heart pounding as it seemed like your once “foolproof” plan was starting to unravel. 

“Fucking fuck fuck fuck shit!” You mumbled to yourself, spitting out the words harshly as you barged into your room and began pushing things into the boxes and bags you hadn’t yet unpacked.

In your rush to pack, you didn’t hear your mom’s footsteps getting closer nor did you hear what she was saying. 

"Honey, how about you slow down for a second and take a deep breath?" She said, sounding exasperated as she pushed herself over the threshold and into your room.

"Not now mom," You replied, hissing for a brief second as you cut your finger on a sharp edge of a box before continuing to pack. 

"Seriously, I think you should stop for a second and then we can do whatever it is that you want to do, okay?" 

This made you pause. 

"...what?" You blinked, slowly turning to your Mom. 

She smiled at you, but the corners of her eyes didn't crinkle as she did so. You scanned her body, noticing the way her body language indicated that she was fully open and not at all anxious. 

You opened your mouth briefly, before shutting it and complying with her ask. You breathed in for 4 seconds, held it for 7 seconds, and let it go for 8 seconds. In front of you, your Mom beamed at you, but again you noticed how her eyes never once left yours and how they didn't crinkle at the corners like they usually did. 

"Let me help you pack, okay?" She said, voice calm. 

You watched as she moved forward and grabbed a box already full of your stuff before grabbing a smaller box. You continued to watch and followed her as she went down the hall, down the stairs, and out the front door to your car. 

As she placed the box in the car, you turned and bolted. Your feet thumped loudly as you went back up the stairs and you felt your shirt cling onto your sweaty skin. Something was up, you just knew it, and you needed to find out what it was before it was too late. 

But in this moment, the memory of your conversation at The Beef earlier replayed in your head for the 6th time that hour, and your panic settled in once again. 

With two boxes in hand, you started to leave your room to go to the front door, passing your mom who didn't so much as glance at you. Your eyes followed her frame, noting no change in her calm demeanor. 

It frightened you immensely. 

The pit in your stomach gnawed at you as you placed the boxes in the trunk, making you feel like you were going to throw up and pass out at the same time. When you left Mikey's funeral in a rush, your parents followed you. You had insisted on going in separate cars, convincing them that being alone in your car would help you prepare yourself before you went into the funeral home. But they still followed you in their own car, practically tailgating you as you ran through red lights to get home. 

You let out a shaky breath, remembering the way your mother sobbed and tried convincing you not to leave as you packed your car with the few things you were willing to take. Your father tried reasoning with you, eyes filled with tears and voice shaky but stern as he pleaded you to think your decision through. They tried everything, from promising you a vacation to get your mind off everything to threatening you with involuntary inpatient services. But nothing worked, so all they could do was run down the block, following your car as you took off, determined to seek refuge out West. 

Your mom walked around you, placing more boxes in the car with a loud clunk, taking you out of your thoughts. Your head whipped around to see her organizing your boxes.

"There's a couple more things up in your room but I wasn't sure if you wanted to take them." She said, a small smile appearing on her face as she looked over her shoulder at you.

Your eyebrows creased and your chest heaved, feeling disturbed by her overall calm attitude to this situation. She was not at all acting like the way she did the first time, which felt odd considering that you were planning on doing the same exact thing as you did before. You would even dare say that you felt like she was happy you were leaving. 

"Uhm… okay," and with that you took a couple careful steps back to watch her before turning to go back inside. 

'What the fuck is going on?!' You thought to yourself, taking your bottom lip between your teeth to chew on it as you went up the stairs. 

Sure enough, there were some things left in your room aside from the boxes labeled 'The Beef' that you were certainly not going to take. But before you could decide, the sinking feeling hit you. 

Why was your mom home? She should've been at work at this time. While she did take time off to spend with you when you first came home, she had already returned to work a couple days ago. Why did she not continue to question why you were home? You did leave a message explaining where you were before you left so she knew that and she also knew that you planned to stay at The Beef the whole day, so she would probably be confused as to why you came home early and in a rush. Additionally, she seemed okay with your decision to leave which was nothing like her previous attitude. And why the hell was she so calm?!

Then, it clicked. 

Your throat dried up. 

Someone must have told her and now she is planning something. 

You raced down the stairs, hands clammy as you gripped onto the stair railing to launch yourself forward. The only person you knew that would have her number and would be willing to reach out to her about something like this was Sugar. Your legs buckled as you rushed out front, only to see your Mom calmly waiting for you. 

"Oh honey, don't forget your wallet and charger-" She said, perking up when she saw you. 

"What are you planning?" You blurted out, interrupting her. 

Your mom furrowed her brows and tilted her head, "What do you mean?" 

"Why are you letting me go? You're not screaming or yelling and just letting me do this?"

You mom blinked at you, unmoving. It was eerie to see her not react to what you were saying.

After some silence, your mom spoke up, "You're an adult and I respect every decision you will make, regardless if I agree with it or not." 

Your eyes narrowed. Although this didn't seem very far off when it came to the parenting philosophy they raised you with, something about this still made you feel alarmed. 

"How about we stop for ice cream at that creamery we love before you go?" 

There's the catch. 

You visibly tensed your body, "Okay…" 

Something was going to happen to you once you got there, you just knew it, but you were going to make a plan and get the hell out of there. 

With a smile, your mom walked to the passenger's seat of the car, "Go lock up for me, okay? I have my purse in the car already." 

You nodded slowly, jaw locked as you took small steps to the front door. When you finally sat down in the driver's seat, your mom was humming to herself and messing with her hair in the mirror. 

"You're planning something," you announced again, half mumbling. 

Your mom briefly stopped humming to chuckle and shake her head before continuing, seemingly unphased by the way you accused her. But this nagging feeling would not go away, so you did all you could do in that moment: drive. 

You sat on the bench outside of the small old creamery, leg bouncing rapidly. You've been going there with your parents since you were a kid, something that you also included Mikey, Carmy, Richie, and Natalie in when they could join you. You would sometimes sneak away after school together or go after football games, right before it would close at midnight. And here you were, one last time, before you would go to… Florida. 

The sweet cream of the ice cream cone you had in your hand made you hum as you licked it, the flavor exploding over your tongue. It was delectable, after all you got your favorite flavor.

You were going to miss it. 

You mom walked over to the table you sat on, holding her own cup of butterscotch ice cream, before sitting down to join you. The sun was warm and the sky was a bright blue. The overall happy atmosphere of the day didn't seem to quell whatsoever. 

You eyed her carefully for a second but only saw her indulging in her own ice cream. So you looked away and started to plan your trip to… Florida. 

You decided that first, you would drop your mom off at home and tell her what you wanted to say to dad. Then, you would drive to the nearest gas station and fuel up on both gasoline and snacks, maybe get a slurpee from 7/11, and start driving towards St. Louis. You could sleep in your car for the night at a Walmart and then drive to Atlanta the next day. After that, just head straight to Florida, home free!

Your mom cleared your throat to get your attention, making you whip your head around to face her. 

"Oh sweetie, do you mind if I go next door? We got a new tax guy and his office is just next door. I need to drop off some papers so that he can finish prepping our file." As if like magic, your mom pulled out some stapled papers from her purse. 

"When did we get a new tax guy?" 

"Last month, your father wanted to change from using H&R Block because of all the problems we had with them last year so we found this new guy."

You glanced at her, finding her eating her ice cream and looking at you; not a concern or worry was written on her face. Her story did seem to add up, your parents did complain about their tax people so this didn’t seem suspicious. So you, cautiously, nodded. 

She got up and began to walk down the sidewalk, "You can join me if you would like." 

You pursed your lips and took the risk, "Uh… sure." 

The request seemed simple and innocent enough, making your anxiety ease for a second. She might have not gone to work because she had errands to do and the paperwork she held under her arm seemed legit. And as you walked into the building and headed towards the office at the end of the hall, everything actually seemed okay. Maybe she did respect your decision and just wanted to spend some time with you before you left. 

"Give me a second," Your mom said, pausing. 

You crashed into her back, heart racing again as she stopped. But all she did was hand you the papers and turn to walk over to the trash can. 

"Give me your trash," she said, reaching out for you to give her your dirty napkins. 

Complying, you watched her throw the trash away before walking back to you, nodding for you to walk through the door in front of you. 

Inside was a large, empty office. It was bright with the grayish white walls and unfinished concrete floors projecting the light from the large windows everywhere. It made you squint as you moved blindly forward. 

The door behind you clicked at the same time that you blinked, eyes adjusting. There was a small circle of chairs in front of you, some occupied by a few people while others were empty. A couple people were hanging out by what looked to be a snack table and another person was standing by someone, chatting. But when you came in, they all paused to turn to you. 

This was what she was planning. 

Someone in a cardigan and with a gentle smile began approaching you and beside you your mom began to speak, "Sweetie, this is for the best…" 

But her voice faded from your mind as your heavy breaths and fast heartbeat overwhelmed you. You whipped around, stumbling from the speed in which you did so, and crashed into the chest of a tall person who was blocking the door. 

You heaved a breath. 

Behind you, the person in the cardigan spoke, "Hi, I understand this might be confusing and overwhelming but your mom brought you here because she cares about you and your well being. My name is Amanda and I'm more than happy to answer all your questions." 

"What the fuck is this? Is this an intervention? What am I doing here? Why am I here? Mom, why did you take me here?" You rushed out, feeling the room spin and your body get cold as you quickly glanced around the room. 

In an instant, the calm neutral face your mom had fell into one of concern, with her eyes glossy  and eyebrows pressed together, "This is an Al-Anon meeting sweetheart and it's for the best, okay? Just one meeting and then we can go home, alright?" 

Your legs gave out on you. As you collapsed onto the floor, your vision blurred but you could make out the way your mom screamed and rushed forward to grab you. Amanda looked concerned but concentrated, as if she knew exactly what to do, when she got down onto her knees to help you. You could also feel some heavy hands grab onto your shoulders behind you as your vision faded to black.

When you regained consciousness, you felt the wind gently caress your cheeks as it blew by. It felt nice, not feeling sweaty and flushed. But as you blinked your eyes open, you found yourself leaning on your mom, half laid on a bench, outside a building you had no idea about. 

“Hey honey, are you feeling ok?” Your mom said, instantly hugging you against her body as she noticed you beginning to stir. 

“Yea… yea… I'm fine,” you said, your words coming out slurred as you brought yourself up to sit. 

“How are you feeling?” A voice said, behind you and your mom. 

Everything came rushing back as you recognized this voice as Amanda’s voice. 

You stumbled up, making your mom gasp and jump up from her seat. Amanda placed a hand on your mom’s forearm, gently smiling at her. 

“What do you want from me?!” you yelled, feeling anger seep into your skin as soon as you got up and faced her. 

Amanda looked at you, “We are not here to hurt you, take you away, or anything. Your mom brought you here to give you a safe space to talk about Mikey.”

“I don’t need to talk about SHIT!” You heaved, making your mom look away from her, desperately trying to conceal her own anger. 

“We care about you and we believe that you should try this out, just once. You are free to leave if you don’t want to, okay?” Amanda continued, voice soft. 

It made your blood boil. 

With fists clenched, you glared at your mom, “You did all of this, just to trick me into coming here?”

Your mom continued to look away, refusing to look at you. You seethed. 

“You can’t even look at me or respond to me?” 

Amanda shook her head, “I understand your feeling upset and confused right now, considering how your mom brought you here, but your mom only has the best intentions for you in mind. Please, come inside. You don’t have to share anything with the group or even sit with the group. You can stand in the back with your mom and share whenever you would like.”

With a roll of your eyes, you crossed your arms. 

Softly, your mom said your name, “I never expected myself to be a perfect mom, but was willing to die trying just for you. Both your father and I made a pact to do everything we could in order to make sure you had the best life you could live. As you got older and became your own person, it was hard to watch you make mistakes but we knew when to step in and guide you, and when to step back,” her voice cracked and she cleared her throat before continuing, “And watching you be with Mikey, to be happy, was a joy in the beginning… until we saw the cracks forming in your relationship. We did everything we could to help you but nothing worked. I understand you loved him… but sweetie… his addiction hurt you too.”

“Mikey never hurt me!!” you yelled, not even feeling the tears rushing out, “He never once laid a hand on me! He never brought me around that stuff! He never wanted me to suffer!”

“He was unstable!” your mom sobbed, doubling over as the dam of emotions broke for her.

Amanda gently gripped her arms, holding her up. She stared at you with a pained but apologetic expression.

“I know what it’s like to lose someone to addiction. I lost my father when I was 16. I was such a daddy’s girl growing up, so losing him was bad but discovering why I lost him only hours after I did made it worse,” Amanda said, filling the air with something other than cries and sobs. 

You stifled your cries, making them come out as jagged breaths and rough sniffs that made your throat tighten. But you stood your ground, standing tall as your mom tried so hard not to collapse to the ground. 

“You’re not… you're not coping well. I don’t want to lose you too.” your mom managed to get out between sobs, voice small and watery.

A sob escaped, shaking your body and making you stumble. 

“You’re not going to lose me, I swear. I’m okay. I just… I just need some time.” 

[destieltropecollection]

DESTIEL TROPE COLLECTION 2023 | DAY 8 | Case Fic

I'll Always Come When You Call | @blessyourhondahurley

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,960 Main Tags/Warnings: Established Castiel/Dean Winchester Summary: Cas takes a quick case with Garth that turns out to be not so quick. Dean comes in with the assist.

Blue Like Grace | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Mature Word Count: 3,226 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Season/Series 08, Fake Marriage, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, Winged Castiel (Supernatural), Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Interspecies Romance, Angel Marriage (Supernatural), Repressed Bisexual Dean Winchester Summary: Dean ain’t used to getting to “decorate” things. Decorations are usually shit for other people with normal lives. He’d see it on tv when he was younger, in shows people would put up streamers for their kids’ birthdays or whatever. And also in bars during holidays, those tacky shiny things hung on walls and from ceilings. But Dean’s never done it himself. Which means that Cas, right now, is driving him fucking insane.

Just Say It | @curlynerd

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 7,494 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Canon Fix-It, Case Fic, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Ghosts, Day At The Beach, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Finale doesn't exist, (weakened)Angel!Cas Summary: A string of violent deaths at an otherwise charming B&B was all the excuse Dean needed to drag Cas down to Florida for some fun in the sun. Things had been awkward since Cas came back from the Empty and they could finally be together, but Dean was sure that a romantic getaway was the perfect thing to help Cas get out of the training wheels stage of Angel's-First-Romance and start acting like a real couple. Just as soon as they took care of a vengeful spirit. What could possibly go wrong?

Jupiter's Rings | @notastupidbird

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 7,527 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Fallen Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Solo Hunter Dean Winchester, Hunters For Hire, Monsters are Known, Case Fic, Meet-Weird, POV Dean Winchester Summary: “No, this is perfect! I was just about to put up a notice today.” Dean stops packing up his stuff and rests an elbow on the table. “Yeah? What for?” The man gives a quick look around the diner and then leans in close. “I got an alien in my barn.” - + - In a world where supernatural encounters are a normal part of everyday life, Dean works alone as a hunter-for-hire. After wrapping up a case in rural Missouri, Dean is just about to hit the road again when a man stops him and asks for help dealing with something Dean's never heard of before — an alien. Never one to turn somebody away, Dean takes the case and finds out that he's in way over his head when he discovers just what this "alien" really is — a fallen angel.

This Angel Is Naturally And Artificially Flavored | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7,687 Main Tags/Warnings: Angst and Humor, Explicit Sexual Content, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Undercover as a Couple, Case Fic, Canon Compliant, Autistic Castiel (Supernatural), Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Surprise Ending Summary: “I don’t understand,” Castiel interrupts. “If you don’t require my assistance, then why did she pray for me?” “Dean, if you go there yourself, nothing’s gonna get done,” Charlie says, clearly resuming some type of argument that was taking place before he arrived. “You can just go with me!” is Dean’s response. “It’s a gay club, you’re gay, it’ll totally work!” “Yeah, if what you’re going for is the world’s least convincing lavender marriage!”

Forest Fever | @amaranthhiding

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 8,586 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Universe, Post-Ep 12x10, Monster of the Week, Forests, Monster Hunt, Mystery (a little), Hallucinations, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Humor, First Kiss, Emotional Sex, Angel Grace, Dean POV, Sam POV, Dean/Cas Stab Fest 2022 Summary: After the crushing events of episode 12x10 "Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets", Castiel is low on grace and morale. In an attempt to restore at least one of these two, Sam and Dean take him on a hunt. Things start going wrong when Sam gets injured and Cas seemingly disappears. They get worse when Dean turns from hunter to prey for something feeling far more at home in this dark, rainy forest than he does.

Full Fathom Five Thy Father Lies | @ariasune

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 13,575 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel's True Form, Deep Sea Horror, First Kiss, Season 8 Summary: "Look, Charlie thinks the Men of Letters have something that can help you actually, you know, find this monster.” “Good,” Dean licks at his thumb to get the last of the chicken salt clean. “Cause right now it seems like we’ve got a monster that’s some 20, 000 leagues under the sea…” He stops. “This isn’t some 20, 000 leagues shit is it?” “It’s a submarine, actually.” Fuck, that sounds like a yes.

A Midsummer Night's Dean | @payphoneangel

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 16,949 Main Tags/Warnings: Casefic, friends to lovers, love spells, love confessions, getting together, canon-typical violence, POV Dean Winchester, Summary: When an uncanny string of deaths lead TFW to California, they're pointed in the direction of a kitschy hotel with a reputation for being haunted. Will they discover what’s causing the love-sickness, or will their stay end in (deadly) heartbreak?

Stranded | @malicmalic

Rating: Mature Word Count: 27,980 Main Tags/Warnings: Deserted island, Case fic, Idiots in Love, Fluff and Angst, Crack, Funny situations, Competitions Summary: Prompt: Cas and Dean are hunting and they touch a portkey/ artifact that transports them somewhere warm and sunny/ place full of couples. Artefact also temporarily stops Cas from flying back so they have to muddle through an activity. Snorkeling, abseiling, anything out of the boys comfort zone. Or how Dean and Cas manage to get themselves into some funny and interesting situations while stranded on a deserted island that isn't really deserted at all.

Under My Skin | @whichstiel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 39,596 Main Tags/Warnings: Curses, Fae and Faeries, Fungus, Sex magic, Body horror Summary: Dean and Castiel head to a remote town in the Ozarks to investigate a series of mysterious deaths. In each case, the victim mutilates their own skin, gruesomely clawing at it until death stops their hands. They scramble for answers, trying to solve the case before more victims succumb. In this small town, the only motel room available means that they will be sharing a bed. They've never been more aware of each other, or the potential that lies between them. When they learn that an ancient sex magic ritual is the best way to stop the deaths? Well, somebody has to take one for the team.

Heart Shaped Box | @mittensmorgul

Rating: Mature Word Count: 43,504 Main Tags/Warnings: s15 fix it fic (human Cas, everyone lives), curses, references to past canon/trauma Summary: The bunker is full of dusty old artifacts. Only now that Chuck is out of the picture once and for all, and Cas is fully restored from the empty and in his first days of adjusting to humanity in Dean’s debatable care, does Sam really have a chance to start sorting through it all. The ornate little box he finds feels like the perfect gift for Eileen, but he both wants Cas to feel included and needed, and really wants a strong second opinion on anything in the bunker being safe to give anyone as a gift. Cas declares it a perfectly normal box, until Dean reaches out to give it his own inspection, triggering a spell that will pull them through their own history and open a door to allow them the time and space to settle all the open questions between them. Meanwhile back in the bunker, once the explosion of light resolves, Sam is left with a slightly radioactive looking box and the sinking terror that Dean and Cas had been cursed all because of him. A little trip down memory lane, Supernatural style, ensues.

Lonely Is The Night | @trenchcoatparadigm

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 50,420 Main Tags/Warnings: Prostitution, During Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Monster of the Week, Season/Series 09, First Kiss, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut Summary: “Listen, buddy. You can’t stay.” Five little words that had sent Castiel’s whole world crumbling down around him. What would he do? Where would he go? How would he survive now that he was human? That had been nearly 2 years ago. He did what he needed to get by. Had a roof over his head, just about. Minimal food in his belly, enough to keep him alive at least. And money in his pocket. Dirty, filthy money he earned by offering himself up to people that did unspeakable, sinful things to him. Once an angel of the lord, now left to lurking on street corners, hoping someone would give him the time of day just so he could stay alive. Whispers of disappearances had been rife through 5th street. But when familiar faces start vanishing, Castiel isn’t sure if people were leaving out of fear or something worse. Just when everything seemed its bleakest there was a tiny glimmer of hope, pinging brightly off chrome alloys and glossy black paintwork. The rumbling beast cruising through his neighbourhood, by his corner. He never thought he’d see that car again. The Winchester brothers brought to the city on a new case. A new case that sat a little too close to home.

[stereax]

is there a reason why Carolina is losing all their affiliates???

Other than being assholes to Erik Haula?

Okay, but in all seriousness, there's a short answer and a long one.

The short answer is two words long: Pyotr Kochetkov.

The long answer? Meet me under the cut.

Alright, hi there. So to answer this question fully, we need to talk about the AHL in depth. The AHL, or American Hockey League, is the second-highest league of North American pro hockey, under the NHL. Most people tend to believe it's just "where prospects play before they hit the NHL". This is... only a part of the story.

There are 32 teams in the AHL to match 32 NHL teams. The idea there is that every NHL team would have an AHL affiliate - the most recent expansion, for example, the Coachella Valley Firebirds, is the AHL affiliate for the newest NHL team, the Seattle Kraken. Many of these teams are owned by the same group as owns the NHL team - Harris Blitzer, for example, owns both the New Jersey Devils and the Utica Comets. Others don't - the AHL's Charlotte Checkers, for instance, are owned by Michael Kahn, whereas their NHL affiliate, the Florida Panthers, is owned by Sunrise Sports (aka Vincent Viola).

Why is this important? Well, if you're an NHL team that owns your AHL team, you can let that AHL team leak money. You're turning a good profit on the NHL team, so you don't have to make your AHL team economically viable on its own - you just put it in as a massive tax write-off and go on with your day. Thus, you can put all of your AHL team's resources into developing your AHL players to get ready to play at the NHL level. Of course you sign some vets and such of your own, maybe get a few undrafted guys for the AHL team too, but generally, an NHL-owned AHL team's sole purpose is to develop NHL players. Winning the Calder Cup (the AHL equivalent to the Stanley Cup, not to be confused with the Calder Memorial Trophy given to the best NHL rookie) is just gravy on top.

Contrast this to independently-owned AHL teams, where this is not the case. For these teams, making money is paramount. How do you make money? When you win. Fun fact - the Chicago Wolves, incidentally, used to be televised on main channels partially as a fuck you to Bill Wirtz, who didn't let the Chicago Blackhawks' home games be televised, presumably to drive ticket sales. The Wolves saw that and pounced on the opportunity to make some cash. So if nothing else, love them for sticking it to the Hawks. You can still watch Wolves games on My50, it seems, if you've got that channel, as well as AHL streaming options.

But back to independently-owned AHL teams before I go on my daily anti-Hawks crusade. You want to make money. You do that when you win. When you make the postseason. When you win in the postseason. Independently-owned AHL teams want to win, not necessarily develop for the NHL. So when your NHL team keeps taking your best player away for weeks and then giving him back... you get annoyed.

Now let's play Chicago Wolves Simulator. You are Don Levin and Buddy Meyers, the Wolves' owners. Your goal is to win the Calder Cup or at least come pretty damn close so you can pay the bills. You have a good team - hell, you won the Calder last year! - but your best asset is this star goaltender named Pyotr Kochetkov. When Koochie's in net, you usually win because he bails out your team. When he isn't there to help you win, you kind of don't. Now, Carolina's going through its own issues in net, so they keep calling Koochie up and down. And, as previously mentioned, you kind of suck without Koochie. To be fair, you're not all that great with him, but you suck without him. And you have no control over when he goes up to Carolina, even just to sit on the bench.

You miss the playoffs by one point. One. And your three-year contract with the Canes is up. What do you do?

Waddell Young, GM of the Wolves, says their philosophy and the Canes' fundamentally differed. The Wolves develop and win. Winning develops, to them. The Canes wanted the Wolves to focus solely on development. Not winning. So, when their deal with the Canes was up, the Wolves said "no thanks, we're not going to continue this, we're going independent". This decision makes them the first non-NHL affiliated team in almost 30 years. Now, this isn't to say all independently-owned AHL teams are doomed to fail in partnerships because of divergent philosophies. Look at the Hershey Bears and the Washington Capitals for a prime example of that - the Bears are one of the best teams in the AHL and have won four Calder Cups with the Caps as their affiliates since their affiliation began in 2005. But the Wolves were quite unhappy with the Canes, and so the two split. Also notable is that the Canes have also poisoned the waters with who should be their local AHL affiliate, the Charlotte Checkers, to the point where the Checkers affiliated with the Panthers instead. So... there's that.

So what can the Canes now do with non-roster players? They can affiliate with another AHL team (co-affiliation); one instance of this was when the Seattle Kraken affiliated with the Charlotte Checkers in 21-22 because the Coachella Valley Firebirds weren't yet ready. Supposedly the plan is to get an affiliate for 24-25. But what do they do this year? Especially if they can't find an affiliate to share, which seems more and more likely as the summer drags on? Well, you can't sign players to two-way deals with the Wolves anymore, so you can't really keep veterans around in the AHL to call up if needed. So you... sign nine defensemen to NHL contracts and carry them on the roster at all times. Yep. Don Waddell, Canes GM, has basically stated outright that his roster is probably going to have to carry 22 or 23 players at all times to be sure to have replacements in case of injury. And your prospects? They either go to Europe, where they're basically inaccessible for the whole year, or you loan them to other AHL clubs. Waddell has said plans are in place with several teams to send 2 or 3 players each to several different AHL clubs. For your youngest, they go back to major junior in the CHL and related leagues. Same for your veterans - if you want to keep them, you'll have to sign them one-way (I believe) and then loan them down to scattered AHL teams across the league. Prospects who you could have signed to play in the AHL and develop? You're probably going to have to let them go to free agency (see: Kevin Wall, leading player for Penn State and Carolina draft pick, who just inked a deal with the Milwaukee Admirals, AHL affiliate of the Nashville Predators). And then you can send your worse prospects to your ECHL tea- wait. Oops. They just lost that too. Can't do that either. Well, shit.

And remember, one of the Canes' biggest assets is their system of play (with strong defense) that they execute well. The Wolves needed to teach their players the Canes' system and prepare them so the jump from AHL to NHL wouldn't be that tough. The Canes put their coaches on the Wolves for that purpose (the Wolves have since cleaned house and instated their own). Loaning your players to another AHL team? Why would that team be incentivized to teach your player(s) the system? So now even when you're calling up someone to play for the Canes, you have no idea how well they know the system and no idea how well they can play in it.

This now begs the other question - how will the Wolves fill their roster? Well, they've got options. Generally, an AHL team takes the prospects of its NHL affiliate and then fills the rest of the roster with AHL veteran free agents that the AHL team signs to AHL-only deals. But without an NHL team, it's a smidge more complicated, or perhaps easier. Firstly, other NHL teams can loan their prospects to the Wolves instead of their own AHL teams if they consider the Wolves better at developing them, for instance. The Wolves can now also sign whatever free agent players they find roaming around that could be a good fit for their team - undrafted college players, good ECHL players that can't seem to get called up enough, AHL veterans, players on European teams (especially Russians who might want the chance to get the fuck out of Russia) and so on. These free agent players could see the Wolves as a stable AHL team that can pay solid money (the AHL doesn't have a cap) with a strong chance at contending for the Calder as well as a possible stepping stone to an NHL contract. The Wolves also don't have to worry about these free agents taking ice time away from the Canes' prospects, who would need to be prioritized under an affiliation, which would also be a strong incentive for AHL free agent veterans to sign with them - they'd be able to get a truly fair chance, unlike under an affiliate system where prospects are the priority and free agents are generally playing fewer (and worse) minutes.

And remember - Chicago just drafted Bedard. The city's getting back into hockey and Hawks tickets are expensive. Want to watch some quality hockey on the cheap? Why not come to Wolves games! They're only 18 miles away from the Hawks, too!

Let's now talk about the ECHL and the Norfolk Admirals. Thankfully, this is going to be a lot simpler. The ECHL, unlike the AHL, has only 28 teams. This means 4 NHL teams don't have an ECHL team. In addition, very few, if any, ECHL teams are owned by their NHL affiliates. This further incentivizes them to play for profit (winning the Kelly Cup, the ECHL version of the Stanley Cup) instead of development. On top of this, relatively few ECHL players actually make it to the NHL. ECHL affiliates change fairly frequently, especially due to many of the teams folding because of financial issues (most recently the Brampton Beast, Manchester Monarchs, and Quad City Mallards). So if an ECHL team decides to drop its NHL affiliate, or vice versa, there are four other suitors, all of whom would probably want to pay the ECHL team decent money to be their associate. For the Admirals, it's easy - they see the Canes lose their AHL affiliate and decide they'd rather take the Jets' offer instead, whether it be for the money (Carolina's supposedly notoriously stingy) or for the security. It's just really fucking funny that it happens at the same time Carolina loses their AHL team. Get fucked lol.

TL;DR stan the Wolves for rejecting the system. Canes Suck.