#florida state baseball

[sortanonymous]

Forget the run rule. Just end the whole series right now after this 6th inning of Game 1. 15-1! One more game of this may be enough to give Uconn fans radioactive cancer! This is jaw-dropping!

Edit: 24-4 the final. Yikes.

[saddestfans]

From Friday night: Seminole pain!

[useless-anxiety-cucumber]

I currently have TWENTY FUCKING FOUR mosquito bites. Screaming and crying.

[subsidystadium]

Negotiations continue to happen in secret across the country, all without the public seeing or hearing about it

This is not going to shock anyone. Sports owners hate when their plans are released and looked at intensively by anyone. Have you ever tried to read one of them? Try taking a look at the “Potomac Yard Economic and Fiscal Impact Study” from the failed Capitals/Wizards to Alexandria, Virginia proposal. The agreements are nearly impossible to read and understand unless you read these types of…

[bestteee-store]

Sunshine State Grapefruit Baseball Florida Usa T-Shirt

Classic charm, modern comfort with sunshine state grapefruit baseball florida usa T-Shirt, welcome to the Sunshine State, where the warmth of the sun is matched only by the sweetness of our grapefruits and the passion for our beloved pastime, baseball. Yes, we are talking about Florida, USA, a state that is synonymous with endless summers, juicy grapefruits, and of course, the home of some of the most iconic baseball teams in the country. And what better way to show your love for this sunny state and its famous fruit, than with the Florida USA T-Shirt - a symbol of our state's pride and love for the game.

Buy now: Sunshine State Grapefruit Baseball Florida Usa T-Shirt

More Post:

Sunshine State Grapefruit Baseball Florida Usa T-Shirt

Jason Kelce One Of The Most Likeable Nfl Players Of All Time Mug

Visit Store: https://bestteee.com/

[fatehdesigner]

Silly goose on board Cap

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

In the Winter - A "Kissing You" Drabble

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader Warnings: LOL this is so rated E for every single reason. Oral (fem receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, cum play, you name it. Word Count: 2355 Prompt #56: Pulling your love in your lap, them straddling your hips. a/n: I watched Triple Frontier twice in a week and this happened. Happy Winter!

Masterlist | Previous Drabble | Next Drabble

You’d grown up in the cold, but Frankie most certainly had not. 

“How the fuck does anyone live here?” Frankie asks for what you’re pretty sure is the fourth time since you started shoveling out the driveway. Snow was still falling, but you’d lived there long enough to know that shoveling a little at a time was greatly preferable to plowing your way through the higher drifts later. Your dad didn’t believe in snowblowers so shoveling was the only option, and this made it easier. It was a whole deal. 

You stop for a moment, leaning against your shovel as you wipe away a few stray strands of hair from your cheek. “You deal with it,” you shrug, although you’ll be the first to admit that living in Florida for the past few years has made dealing with it a lot harder than it used to be. 

Frankie mirrors you, his weight shifting against his own shovel as he breathes heavily. A giggle escapes you at the sight - Francisco Morales in a bright blue parka, his jeans tucked into an old pair of your father’s boots. A winter hat that replaced his standard baseball cap sits atop his head, and his cheeks are rosy red from a mixture of cold and the exertion of clearing the driveway. 

“I’m starting to regret volunteering for this,” he quips, taking a few steps toward you as he drags the shovel behind him, the metal scraping against the icy pavement. 

“But now Dad loves you,” you tease, maneuvering in his direction with a sway of your hips, “and wasn’t that your goal?” 

His eyebrows raise in disbelief, “how did you…” 

“Isn’t it?” you ask again, popping the “T” in your response as a smile plays at your lips. When your mom learned that you had some time off, she’d insisted that you come home for the holidays, and Frankie had been oddly eager to join you. It didn’t take long for you to realize that Frankie was trying hard to impress your parents, but it wasn’t until you accidentally overhead a conversation in your father’s study that you fully understood why. 

Your boyfriend is close enough now that his breath mingles with your own, fogging in-between your bodies. From where you stand, even through the layers you both wear, you can feel the heat radiating off him. You automatically lean closer, swaying in his direction, but he surprises you by pulling back, resuming the task of clearing snow with a sly smile plastered on his face. 

“What the fuck, Frankie?”

“If my purpose here is to impress your father, then I’d better finish clearing out this driveway,” he states, effortlessly working to clear the remaining snow with renewed determination. “Plus, anyone could see us out here.” 

Arousal pools deep in your belly as you watch him work, and you glance back at the house, where soft light pours out the front window. Frankie’s right, anyone could see you out here, your parents included, but it’s also late. Late enough that the street around you is quiet, and you’re fairly certain your parents have already gone to bed. 

Which is why, when you look back at Frankie, your brain short circuits. He’s grunting as he lifts another load of snow and it causes a flash of heat to course through your veins, and you curse the archaic traditions that have you sleeping in separate bedrooms. Frankie had sheepishly followed orders, bunking downstairs in the guest room while you took your childhood bedroom two stories up. You’d protested, but this trip and their impressions were important to Frankie, which meant they were important to you, but now your ability to refrain from sneaking beneath his sheets is wearing thin. 

And, then, a plan forms in your mind. 

You drop your shovel where it stands, moving with purpose down the driveway. He’s focused enough on his task that he doesn’t hear you, the sound of your footsteps muffled by his hat, and he’s obviously surprised when you grab his arm and drag him back toward the house. His shovel drops with a second loud clang, and you wince, hoping that it doesn’t wake anyone inside the house, but you keep moving, intent on getting him inside as soon as possible. 

“What are you…” he asks, but you drown out his response with your lips on his the second you have him pulled into the garage. With the door closed behind him, he winds his arms around you, still covered hands spanning the width of your back. 

Frankie’s a good kisser, you learned that on your first date, but nothing ever seems to prepare you for the way he devours you. You might be in control, pressing him firmly against the door, but he maintains a near-frantic pace, biting at your lower lip in a well-practiced effort that draws a moan out of you. 

It’s overwhelming, and you’re unsure how he’s been able to notice anything in the moments since you stepped into the garage when you already feel like you’re floating, but he leads you easily toward an old workbench that you recognize faintly from your grandparents’ farm. When he sits, he drags you down against him, urging you to straddle his hips, hands on your thighs as he leads you in grinding your core against him. Your movements are sloppy, desperate for any kind of friction, but then he finds your rhythm and fuck. 

He’s hard against your center, hips rocking ever so slightly up against you even through the layers you both still wear. It’s unclear when you lost your scarf or when he lost his hat, but Frankie’s lips are attached to your neck, worrying into your skin in a way that makes you thankful it’ll still be cold enough for a turtleneck in the morning. You make a feeble attempt to bring him closer by tangling your fingers in his curls, but it isn’t enough. None of it is. You need to be closer. 

“Why the fuck did I wear snow pants?” you whine into the dark as you stand, frantically starting to peel back your layers. Frankie is barely visible in the shadows of the room, but you hear his low laugh, and you swat at him in warning. “Stop laughing and help me out of this thing.” 

“As you wish,” he returns, making quick work of your jacket, pushing it off your shoulders to let it pool on the concrete behind you. You’re already working at your boots while he unzips his own coat, and then his hands are on you again, attempting to unfasten the suspenders on your snow pants. “And here I was thinking the most complicated thing I’d ever have to get you out of was that thing you wore for our anniversary,” he grumbles as his fingers work. 

“Just wait till you see me in a wedding dress,” you tease, and you can tell by the way Frankie stills for just a moment that you haven’t extinguished a fire, you’ve lit one. 

You’re barely aware of what happens next, of the way Frankie lifts you so your back is against the rough surface of the bench. He practically rips your snowpants from your legs, revealing the yoga pants underneath, and he makes quick work of those too. Your skin protests at the onset of the cold room, but he’s quick to distract you by trailing a line of kisses from your neck down your body, hands running up underneath the sweatshirt you’re still wearing to cup your breasts as he drifts lower. 

When he reaches your core, he blows a puff of air against your soaked panties, and you’re faintly aware of the way you’re begging him to do something, anything. He makes you wait instead, tracing your thighs with his tongue as he slowly pulls the remaining fabric down your legs, and only then does he finally give you what you want. 

You struggle to swallow a moan when his tongue traces a path through your center, his fingers already easing their way toward your entrance. He’s methodical, the same way he always is when he eats you out, carefully monitoring every sound you make, every move of your hips.  “Doing so good for me, baby,” he murmurs against you, “but you’ve gotta stay quiet for me.” 

It’s a command that’s easier for him to give than it is for you to follow, especially as your hips rut up against his mouth. It’s harder when he’s buried two fingers kuckle-deep inside you, pumping in and out slowly. Frankie knows how to play you, and when your motions become more evident, he pins your hips down with an arm, preventing you from increasing the pace. Forcing you to take what he gives you. 

“Can you take a third?” he questions, swiping at your walls while he waits for a response. You can barely nod, afraid that if you stop biting your lip you’ll alert half the neighborhood to the fact that your boyfriend is currently eating you out in your parents’ garage. He complies, adding his ring finger just as he resumes his assault on your clit. 

It’s exactly what you need, and within seconds you feel the pressure building. One of your hands finds a grip on his forearm, still pinning you to the bench, and the other holds his head against you as you let the white hot heat consume you. 

He brings you down gently, like a pilot touching a helicopter to the ground, fingers continuing to circle slowly as he crawls up to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue, the kiss sloppy as you immediately start to work at his belt. “Frankie,” you whimper quietly, pushing at his jeans, “get these off.” 

“A little impatient tonight, Querida?” 

Your eyes have finally adjusted to the low light, and you glare at him, watching as he kicks off his jeans and makes quick work of his boxers, his cock springing to life. “I swear to god, Frankie, if you don’t - “ 

He cuts you off with a lengthy kiss, his body crowding you into the wooden surface, his length already rutting against your folds. “If I don’t what?” he asks when he finally allows you both to come up for air. 

“If you don’t fuck me right now you’re sleeping outside.” 

He chooses that moment to slip inside you, cock dragging against your walls as he buries himself to the hilt. You grab at his shoulders, mouth biting at the skin of his chest as you conceal your moan. Frankie’s hips are pressed against yours tightly, waiting for you to adjust to his size, and he gently grinds into you in some effort to speed up the process.

Sloppy kisses are left along your collarbone, but you can easily tell just how hard he is, how much effort it’s taking him not to spill into you then and there, so you encourage him to look at you in the dim light. “You can let go, baby. It’s okay,” you reassure him, fingers pushing unruly curls away from his sweaty forehead. 

He shakes his head. “Want you to come again too.” 

Of course he does. 

“Then fuck me, Morales.” Your statement is more of a command than anything, and it’s one that he heads without hesitation, pulling back before slamming into you with a particularly rough stroke. He repeats the process, immediately lost in the sensation, brows furrowed in concentration as he holds himself back. It’s fast and it’s needy and you’re only faintly aware of the way the old wooden bench is squeaking beneath you, legs hammering against the concrete with every snap of his hips. 

“Come on, baby. Come on,” he urges, breath hot against your skin. You know you’re close, but that he’s closer, and you wrap a leg around his hips in an attempt to push him over the edge. 

“Let go, Frankie,” you whimper again, hardly coherent yourself, but it causes the coil in him to snap. His hips stutter as he fills you, the rough pad of his thumb circling your clit in an attempt to take you with him. It works, and you follow just as he collapses against you. 

His cock is still buried within you when you come back to your senses, his head pressed into the crook of your neck. It’s only when your shoulders start to ache that you encourage him to move. 

“Wait,” he stops, and you watch with curiosity as he slowly pulls away, his cock immediately replaced with his fingers as he drops to his knees at the side of the bench, pulling you toward him. You shudder at the motion as he pushes his spend back into you, swiping his tongue along your slit once, twice, and then a third time that has you aching for more even after two orgasms. His gaze meets yours. “I want to remember what we taste like,” he states, and you have half a mind to spend the rest of the night in this garage if it means he can keep fucking you.

But then the sensor light outside turns on, illuminating you both as the light seeps in through the garage window. There’s a scramble to find your clothes, both of you giggling like teenagers as you pull on pants and coats and jackets somehow faster than you’d ripped them off, giggling the whole while. Your snow pants remain tossed on the garage floor, forgotten as you ease your way toward the door to see who’s triggered the light. 

And there, in the yard, sits a raccoon, staring at you with bright, mischievous eyes. 

Frankie’s behind you a moment later, crowding your space as he looks out over your shoulder. “Do you think he knows?” 

You elbow him lightly, “knows what? That you just fucked me into oblivion in my parents’ garage?” 

“No,” he whispers against your ear, a hand already trailing down beneath your yoga pants again to where he’s still seeping out of you. “Do you think he knows I’m about to do it again?” 

[mydaddywiki]

Mickey Andrews

Physique: Husky Build Height: 5' 10"

Mickey Andrews (born May 20, 1942) is a former American football coach. He is most known for his tenure as the defensive coordinator at Florida State for 26 seasons, from 1984 to 2009, under head coach Bobby Bowden. Andrews also served as the head football coach at Livingston University—now known as the University of West Alabama from 1970 to 1972 and at the University of North Alabama from 1973 to 1976.

At one time, Florida State had the hottest coaching staff under head coach Bobby Bowden. And Andrews #2 behind him. Mmm… Seems like he'd be real fun in bed. Shame I only noticed him after he and Bobby retired.

A native of Daleville, AL, Andrews attended the University of Alabama, Andrews earned second-team All-America honors as a wide receiver and defensive back. Andrews was also on two Alabama national championship teams (1961 and 1964) and played in three New Year's Day bowl games. In college baseball, Andrews was an All-SEC choice. In 1964, he received the Hugo Friedman Award as Alabama's best all-around athlete. Under Andrews, Florida State became the top producer of All-America and National Football League caliber cornerbacks in the nation.

Andrews was married to Diane, who died in 2012 of complications from stomach cancer. The couple had two children: Ronald David, Shannon Nicole and five grandchildren. Andrews still lives in Tallahassee. Since he might be single now, I should maybe take a trip to Tallahassee.

Head Coaching Record Overall: 41–28–3 (college) Tournaments: 2–1 (NAIA D-I playoffs)

Accomplishments and Honors Championships NAIA Division I (1971) GSC (1971)

Awards Broyles Award (1996) GSC Coach of The Year (1971) Second-team All-American (1964)

[moonshynecybin]

if you could typecast the grid as stereotypical americans who would be who? (idk if i'm making any sense) but for example bezz gives very cali stoner energy.

god this one is hard because they are all so stunningly european. truly. american men do not act like that. the jean tightness alone. ummm. okay let’s start with the easy ones

pecco: pecco is from a suburb like three hours from chicago and he tells everyone he’s from chicago. framed bulls jerseys on the wall etc

pedro acosta: someone said baseball player from north carolina and yeah. i can imagine bumping into this guy at cookout. like he’s giving charlotte/macklenberg county. serving gastonia. he went to nc state with my friend thomas and he has strong basketball opinions.

bez: califoniaaaaa you’re right. of the surfer or skater variety… either way he’s in baggy as fuck clothes skulking around outside kicking it whenever he can. eating a sandwich

vale: new jersey. my trashy italian american clown princess

mav: screams boston 2 me

aleix: too european im being real. insane amounts of european. kind of breaking my brain sooo im not assigning him one

enea: gay ass san fran guy with his lil dog. walkin around the castro the dog gets hot. he picks up the dog. gay pride flag in the background. i cheer. he’s drinking espresso that costs fourteen american dollars. that’s like 12.50 euro google is telling me

casey stoner: this bitch is from vermont

luca: right across the river from vale in new york citayyyy… i think he would thrive in an environment where he doesn’t look insane wearing something very elegant and a lil dressier. like you can’t really do that in idk. most of the south or midwest or southwest or— anyways we’re sending him to nyc

jorge martin: i COULD see him hanging out in florida but like slutty florida not trashy florida. just on a beach in miami in the tiniest shorts imaginable with aleix comma also there europeanly. idk

joan mir: LOUSIANA. need to take his pissy ass to the bayou.

jack miller: attended the university of alabama and was perhaps too invested in SEC football culture. i would end this by saying roll tide for comedy but that would make me gag here in real life. anyways

marc and alex. hmmmmmmm. i could see outside austin texas as that seems 2 be hallowed ground for marc lol. alternatively. kentucky. horse boys. this is another hard one i’m open to suggestions here cuz nothin is jumping out at me tbh

franky: seems into mindfulness in a way that is giving seattle. runs a bookstore with REALLY good staff picks. big ass armchairs HUGE used book section that smells good. sitting there petting the store cat in a flannel with the sleeves rolled up. sipping his coffee. works nights at the local bar sometimes. who said that.

brad binder: denver.

[im-yn-suckers]

Hi! I saw your post about Enha with a Latina reader and I was wondering if you could do one with an American reader if possible? Thank you if you do!!

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ bf!enha x american!gf!reader ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙✩warnings; kissing, food, mention of thongs, very minor cursing. not proofread!!✩̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ mia says; oh em gee suys i posted !!american go crazyyy im american yall fr⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊

⁺₊heeseung

he loves going to basketball games with you. and like he WILL buy you tickets to go see the lakers

hes not the biggest fan of rollercoasters but hell go on one w u !!

you wear an "american aesthetic" outfit but its really js mary janes w frilly socks, a skirt n crop top (is pinterest stereotypical guy ??)

⁺₊jay

american gf and american bf>???? he will take you to cinnabon on dates while in seattle and would love going to new york to see the empire state building, going to florida for disney, dc, chicago, cali etc.

one time while in cali, you were eating in n out and you fell in love all over again bc hes just so pretty eating a burger in the car watching the sunrise.

'babe, since we're in chicago, wanna take the cta?? it might be fun'(had to inlcude my home) it WAS NOT. some crackhead got on the bus and started cursing

⁺₊jake

'are you patriotic' 'HELL YES I AM' with a custom made american flag w you on it (like the chaewon one)

'babe, these are thongs' 'THOSE ARE FLIP FLOPS JAKE' 'then whagts a thong??' 'um. what do aussies say?? oh!! bum floss' "THATS A THONG???' yes babe that what it is

will watch baseball games w u ^^ (pt1)

⁺₊sunghoon

listens to lana del ray w u

'jolly ranchers?? never had em" and will get a headache for eating five back to back

'wait targets are real??" yes baby boy, they are

⁺₊sunoo

apparently apple pie is american (??) so hed for sure love it !!

omg babe, please take im to baskin robbins please. and let him get mint choc ice cream

'tipping?? tf, no' he WILL roll his eyes. if you have seent hat one clip where him and jay were shopping somewhere, they bought smth and needed change. jay walked away w/o the change and sunoo waited ToT

⁺₊jungwon

'baby, look at that huge bird!!!' 'the bald eagle??' 'it doesnt look very bald to me :(' 'no wonnie, its called a bald eagle' 'but why, it has feathers??'

so apparently having cookouts is an american thing (?? pt2) and wonnie would have so much fun !!

'baby i want it!!!' 'an american girl doll??" "yea!!'' wonnie :(

⁺₊niki

watches baseball games w u (pt 2) and basketball games (pt 2) w matching jordans and jerseys. hed also buy lakers tickets ^^

will watch the real houswives of dallas bc why not

'are you patriotic' 'HELL YES I AM' with a custom made american flag w you on it part 83 never shuts up abt you bc he loves america (source:weverse)

[lilyflowerstories]

These Violent Delights

Pairings: Jacob Black x Reader, Edward Culled x Reader

Summary: Y/N Swan is just like every other girl and she likes it that way. Normal is fantastic. Normal creates a functioning member of society. Normal is the reason she moved to a small town to live with her police officer father... only to find out that she gets the farthest thing from what she wanted. // Twilight Re-Write.

Warnings for the series: light violence, light angst, light smut

Word Count: 3.5k

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

✿ ✭ ☾ ✿ ✭ ☾ ✿ ✭ ☾ ✿ ✭ ☾ ✿ ✭ ☾ ✿ ✭ ☾ ✿ ✭ ☾ ✿ ✭ ☾ ✿ ✭ ☾ ✿ ✭ ☾ ✿ ✭ ☾ ✿ ✭ ☾ ✿

A police car pulled up in front of you as you waited outside Seattle-Tacoma International. To think, only four months ago you were trying to purchase plane tickets for spring break. Only you wanted to go to New York with the rest of your classmates. The last place you were ever thinking of was Washington. The state, not even D.C. 

And more importantly not Forks, Washington. But you promised your mom that you could handle this. The only thing worse than that small town for the entire year was traveling so much you might as well be homeschooled. When your mom remarried her now husband, Phil, he played baseball for the Phoenix team.

Phil’s good but he wasn’t good enough to be traded around. You thought your whole life would be Arizona. Until Florida called. And your sweet stepfather and lovingly erratic mother packed up everything before suddenly remembering you had school. So moving to Forks had been a you decision but you're not sure how good of a decision that was. 

The car in front of you rolled down its window until you could see your dad. Charlie flashed a smile that you struggled to return. He’s great. You've spent every single summer with him and almost every one of those summers was in Forks.

But two months is a lot different from the entire school year. You knew only a few people that would be going to Forks High School. A pang hit your heart when you thought about your friends again. You guys promised to call but you'd probably fall out of each other’s lives anyway. But you tried to smile once more, putting your suitcases in the back of the police car and pulling on a thick wool sweater over your shirt and overalls. 

As soon as you slid into the passenger seat, it started to rain — a stark reminder that this wasn’t Phoenix. 

You could feel Charlie’s head keep turning to the side to look at you. Like your dad in more ways than one, the start to small talk was awkward for you. The two of you went back and forth in a silent dance until Charlie saved you from speaking about the weather. 

“Your hair has gotten longer.” 

You grabbed a piece of your now shoulder length hair. Two years ago, in the spur of the moment, you had shaved your head to start over. It was the moment after that you decided you would never do that again. Charlie had to suffer the period of you not being able to look at yourself in the mirror. You looked like an egg. It took dedication but your hair was now long and damage free. 

“Yeah, I’ve tried to stop using heat completely. Except the blow dryer.” 

While starting small talk might have been difficult, once Charlie and you were talking no one could get you to stop. The conversation was still going as the car passed the ‘Welcome to Forks’ sign that should have read population: too damn small instead of an actual number — and even when we got out of the car and into the house. Your room wasn’t terribly different from other summers but you noticed drawers and wardrobes that weren’t there before. You guessed when one permanently moves they suddenly need storage for their things. Charlie even cleared more bathroom space. 

That was probably the one thing you hated about this house. One bathroom. Someone should have slapped the architect that ever suggested this… and then slap the builder that followed through anyway. 

You only unpacked the bare essentials for the next week or so. The rest could be slowly unpacked as time went on. Charlie helped for a few hours before doing his shuffle he does whenever he’s uncomfortable. All he could say was okay before leaving the room.

Even though you two can talk for hours, he’s still awkward to his core. You supposed that you should be happy as a teenager that he doesn’t hover. He never has. You used to think it was because being a cop made him busy all the time and he just developed the habit. As the years went on, it became more apparent that it was just his personality. 

A car honk right outside the window caught your attention. You looked through the glass to see an orange pickup truck and some of the only two faces in town that were familiar to you. Your feet carried you out the door before you were even aware until you crashed right into a boy with hair longer than yours, roughly your height, and only a few months younger in age. 

“Woah, Y/N/N, slow down before you hurt yourself. You know you can't be trusted on your own two feet. I'm surprised you're still standing right now or is it just because I'm holding you up.” Jacob said as he gave you a smile. 

“Whatever, dick."

"Whoa, Y/F/N. Language when you're standing right in front of me," Dad interjected but he didn't look that offended.

"Sorry... Hi, Billy.” 

“Hi, Y/N. Glad you’re back and here to stay. Charlie wouldn’t shut up about it since you told him.” 

Your dad rolled his eyes. “Keep talking and I’ll roll that wheelchair right into the middle of the road.” 

“Not before I ram you in the ankles.” 

You and Jacob’s dads abandoned you to play fight in the road. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. 

“I’m glad to see they’re still behaving like that.” 

“Oh, yeah. Days go by and nothing’s different. It's getting worse with old age actually, I'm convinced that's why Mom is always on business trips… So, do you like your present?” 

You turned to face Jacob. “Hmm?” 

He patted the truck just as your dads came back. Your eyes went wide and your lips twitched until they formed a large smile. 

“Are you serious? This is perfect! Dad, you didn’t have to get me a car.” 

Charlie shrugged. “I work late sometimes and thought that your personal autonomy was very important.” 

He’s trying to sound like a parent that actually read the child psychology books. The why he bought me a car didn’t matter. It was the fact that he just did. A truck didn’t exactly fit my aesthetic but something about vintage ones totally did.

"Don't worry, I worked on it myself. Everything's perfect," Jacob said.

"You did this? By yourself now? Jake, what the heck. That's crazy you're doing it on your own now. Why are you so amazing?"

Before anyone could actually answer you, you whipped open the door and sat inside. You remembered this truck very well from playing in it since you and Jake were four. Billy had this thing for at least seventeen years. The first thing you noticed were the new leather seats. They were pink instead of gray. The second thing you noticed was the engine’s sound. Smoother than it had ever sounded before. 

Jacob opened the passenger door, hopping in to show you how the car operated. He was a genius at fixing cars and trucks. You wouldn’t be surprised if he owned his own mechanic shop some day. 

“And that’s it.” He patted the steering wheel. “If anything breaks, let me know.” 

“Thank you! God, I’m so glad I have one recognizable face at school.” 

“You’ve only been missed two summers. Did you already forget I don’t go to Forks?” 

“Right.” 

Jake, like most of the Quileute kids, went to a high school on the reservation in La Push. People weren’t as judgmental when they all shared something common. There they could wear their hair long, tell folklore stories without getting made fun of, or try speaking little words here and there of Quileute so the language doesn’t die with their great grandparents.

All things you would have loved to be part of or just sit on the sidelines and observe. Maybe you should have complained to Charlie until you went there. Now you couldn’t leech off of Jacob and had to actually make friends on your own. Disgusting. 

Your sentiments didn’t change as you got in the truck and headed to school. You were assigned a parking space the moment you transferred. Unlucky you, you were stuck in the front parking lot.

So much for leaving to go get a better lunch than whatever grub they were going to serve at the cafeteria. Charlie worked too much to even think about asking him to get you something. And you couldn’t ask him to cook either. He’s not really shit at it. It's just his taste buds suck. So unless you wanted to text him a specific lunch menu each Sunday, it was Russian Roulette of lunch. That was too much work. Charlie thinks salami and grapes belong on the same piece of Nutella and butter toast. 

When you finally found the parking space, after three circles around, you turned off the engine and found a bunch of eyes greeting you. Lots of them. That’s what being the new kid in a small town gets a person. The eyes stopped staring once you got out of your truck — they needed a face to match the name Bella Swan. 

“Nice ride,” a black boy in a red hoodie said as he nodded at your car. 

“Thanks, just got it.” 

“Cool.” 

You didn’t exchange any other words before you entered the building. You stared at the paper schedule, trying to memorize classrooms and the stupid tiny map in the corner. An arm suddenly tapped your shoulder. 

“You’re Y/F/N Swan, right? Our new girl.” 

You turned to your right to see an Asian boy with a black polo shirt and the most emo haircut you've seen in a while. You took a double take at his outfit and then at the outfits of your peers around you. Suddenly, you were feeling terribly overdressed.

Your thrifted Burberry monogram poncho doubled as a blanket that you would inevitably need because it sat on top of a long sleeved black mini dress. Was it impractical for January in Washington? Probably. But fashion made everything work. At least you had worn snow boots. 

“Yeah. It’s just Y/N by the way.” 

“Just Y/N. Got it. Well, hi, I’m Eric and your eyes and ears of this place. Anything happens and I know about it. If you need a tour guide, shoulder to cry on, or lunch date then I’m your man.” 

Eric made conversation naturally, no small talk in sight. Kind of like Jacob. You chuckled. “I’ll take a rain check on the lunch date but I do need to find room 33C.” 

“Let me lead the way.” 

He started to lead you down the hallway and to a set of stairs. “So, why move to Forks?” 

“I’m not a baseball girl.” 

Eric snapped his fingers. “Perfect tagline for your spread. I’m the editor-in-chief of the paper and you are front page news.” 

“Oh… Just the front page right? I mean I don’t mind the paper but more than two pages and I’ll transfer.” 

“Got it. Spread killed, feature only. And here’s your stop.” 

“Thank you so much.” 

“I’ll be back for whatever other classes you need to find.” 

True to his word, Eric came back and led you to all my morning classes, including the dreaded P.E. You didn’t hate exercise. You just hated whatever wasn’t pilates or a Jane Fonda workout. Besides, you were never good at P.E. anyway. The testament to that was the gym teacher thinking you should do the volleyball exercises with some of the other girls. 

You flinched as the ball came towards you. It didn’t go back over the net. Instead, it hit my calculus desk partner, Mike Newton, in the back of the head. 

“Sorry!” you yelled as you sped away to hide in the locker room until lunch period. 

Mike seemed to forget about it when lunch came. He talked your ear off all the way into the cafeteria. You had forgotten that a small town wouldn’t be like Phoenix. Everyone wanted to talk to the new kid. Whether they were friends or not was yet to be determined. But Mike was a gentleman. He pulled out your seat for you. 

“Thank you.” 

“My pleasure, Madame.” 

Eric laughed. “Mikey, glad you met my girl Y/N.” 

“Oh, your girl?”

“Excuse me, my girl. We even bonded over cars,” The black boy from earlier rubbed your hair in fake affection before pulling the chair out from under Mike. 

“You’re so dead, Tyler!” he yelled as they ran after him. 

The two girls at your table gave a mix of a laugh and a scoff. A girl with a chunky pink headband slid over a juice carton from her tray. 

“Sorry about that. It’s like kindergarten all over again, isn’t it? You’re the shiny new toy. Hi, I’m Jessica by the way.” 

“Oh, almost forgot,” the other girl with glasses picks up a camera. “Smile!” 

The flash blinded me for a moment. “Woah.” 

“Sorry, I need some candids for the spread.” 

“The spread is dead, Angela,” Eric said in an oddly defensive tone. “Don’t bring it up again… I got your back, babe.” 

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped from your throat. Eric left, leaving you, Jessica, and Angela at the table. Angela set her camera down. 

“Great, now what am I supposed to do about filling up the rest of the newspaper? I can’t do another editorial on teen drinking. It’d be the third time.” 

“You could always run a psa on eating disorders,” you tried to offer an option. “Or um… padding on the swim team?” 

The other girls looked at you and for a moment you thought you said something completely wrong but they began laughing. You caught bits of the conversation as you focused on my food: some of the guys bragging about their sizes that seemed totally fake, speedos fitting improperly, and wondering if they only pad for school pictures. 

Going back to the conversation, a glimpse at the window caught your eye before you could speak. Five people walked like this school was a runway. 

“Who are they?” you asked. 

Jessica dropped her fork on her tray, ready to tell you everything. “The Cullens. Dr. and Mrs. Cullen’s foster kids.”

The names were ones you couldn't remember hearing while visiting over the summers. They were either new kids or never came around La Push. One thing you couldn’t deny was that they were all attractive. And the shorter girl had wicked fashion sense. She strutted by like the rest of them in her thin and flowy white maxi skirt with a chunky black sweater and heels entirely too high for you to ever try wearing. You felt almost entranced just looking at them.

“They’re all like together,” Jessica continued. “Rosalie, the blonde one, yeah she’s with the big one, Emmett. Like a thing.”

“Jess, they’re not actually related,” Angela quickly interjected.

“Yeah I know, but it’s still kinda weird that they live together, don’t you think? Anyway, the small dark-haired girl Alice is with Jasper. He’s the one that always looks like he’s in pain. The two blondes are actually siblings, Mrs. Cullen’s niece and nephew or something like that.”

“Dr. Cullen’s like this foster dad matchmaker.”

“Maybe, he’ll adopt me,” Angela said.

You chuckled. If Dr. Cullen was such a matchmaker then you’d have to tell Charlie goodbye.

“What about him?” you motioned to the last guy left. He walked ahead of his foster siblings like he was the leader or something. 

“Edward? Totally hot, supposedly single. No one here seems good enough for him. Don’t waste your time. Like I care, just don’t waste your time.” 

“Trust me, wasn’t planning on it.” 

You knew that Jessica could have a skewed perspective. Maybe something happened between the two of them but Angela seemed to agree with her. This Edward probably was nothing but bad news and trouble.

You dared myself to look at their table again. Your eyes squinted when you saw their trays. Nothing looked touched. When you looked up, all five of them were staring at you. You whipped your head around and didn’t dare look back again until after lunch. 

Thankfully, the classes you had right after lunch didn’t have any of them… until bio class. The teacher, Mr. Donoghue motioned for you to sit at the only empty seat that happened to be next to Edward. You nodded and began moving to the chair. A chill ran down you spine and you shivered as the chill pierced your back. Edward stiffened up at the same time. 

You scowled as he held his hand over his mouth and nose. You had taken a shower, put on nice perfume, lotioned, and wore nice jewelry. There was absolutely no way you smelled. His hand stayed over the lower part of his face the entire class period. Even when he had to hand over material, he pushed them to you with a pencil. The moment the bell rang, Edward was gone. Good riddance. 

Mr. Donoghue signed the last spot in my slip saying you made it to class successfully and now you could give it to the receptionist. You paused in the doorway after seeing someone’s back but it was too late. The receptionist had seen you. 

“Just a moment, dear.” 

The person with the back turned around to reveal a troubled face. He grabbed his coat. “Never mind, I’ll just have to endure it.” 

You rolled your eyes, handed in you slip and went to your truck. Edward was a total douche. Yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that we’d be seeing each other more often than you’d like. Probably more often than he’d like as well. 

Charlie wasn’t finished working when school was over but had enough time for a dinner break. His friend, Waylan, brought takeout from Subway. You didn’t remember Waylan very well. He left for most of the summer each year to visit his kids and grandkids that left Washington. You all moved stuff around on Charlie’s desk to clear space so you could eat. You had a Spicy Italian sub while the two of them ate BLTs. The two of them shared a different sentiment about the Cullens when you asked them. 

Unlike the kids at school, they had nothing but praise. The Cullens weren’t weird but mature and well-rounded teenagers. And Dr. Cullen was the best surgeon they’ve had… and he stayed past one year which is an accomplishment. Certain jobs like doctors and lawyers always come from out of town. Most leave after one or two years, not able to handle the slow pace of this green and gray town. 

Soon, Charlie and Waylan talked in the most stereotypical old man fashion that you had actually checked out of the conversation. Your cellphone rang as you grabbed a potato chip from the small bag that came with your sandwich. 

“That’s Mom, I’m gonna take this.” 

“Tell your mom I said hi, Y/N/N.” 

You nodded as you walked away.  

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The next day at school, Edward wasn’t there. You had planned to confront him and find out what his problem was when he didn’t even know you. You weren't exactly popular back in Phoenix but no one had any issues with you. Never. 

However, his siblings were there. Not that you were going to approach them. Your problem was their brother not them and you weren't trying to make enemies in such a small town. You watched them walk into the building as you leaned against your truck. You turned when something hit your back. 

“Y/N!” 

You laughed as you looked at the Twizzler on the ground. “Seriously, Tyler? How dare you waste good food,” you said as you grabbed your bag and walked over to where the kids you met yesterday were all crowded around what you assumed was Tyler’s van. 

He shrugged. “I would hardly call Twizzlers the peak of fine dining.” 

We all walked inside at the start of a bell ringing. The day had been pleasant without your science partner. And the next day was the same when he didn’t show up again. And the next day until the entire week had gone by without Edward showing his face. 

Your first week of school was lucky. You had missed any torrential rain. But you couldn’t say the same for that Monday. The only thing worse than rain was rain when it was below freezing outside. Your front steps were covered in ice. Your phone rang as you closed the house door.

"Hey, Jake... First week done, somewhat a success. Hey, when is Spring Break for you guys? We should totally start coordinating now if we want to try and leave town."

Despite being careful as you talked, you must have stepped incorrectly because before you knew it, your butt had gone down the last three concrete steps leading away from your door and to your driveway. 

“Woah, woah, Y/N/N. Are you okay?” Charlie asked as he helped you up. 

“Yeah, just fine, Dad. Ice isn’t exactly helpful to the severely uncoordinated.” 

“That’s why I got new tires for you. The old ones were getting pretty bald.” 

“Thank you.” 

You both high-fived before getting into your respective cars and leaving. It felt like you were already used to the routine of Forks when you pulled into your parking spot and found yourself automatically going to Tyler’s van. You sat with Jessica, Angela, Eric, or Mike whenever you had class and swapped snacks with Tyler in between every morning class because your lockers were right next to each other. And the group always walked to lunch together. 

“Salad or Sandwich… Hello? Earth to Y/N?” 

You blinked to see Jess snapping her fingers in front of you. “Sorry.” 

“We wanted to know what you wanted? The lines are backing up so we’re splitting up and tackling stations.” 

“Nice, divide and conquer the cafeteria.” 

“The Vikings got nothing on us.” 

“As long as the only thing we’re conquering and pillaging are those sandwiches.” 

“Absolutely. They might have had great hair but I'm not interested. So, ham and cheese, turkey, or those stupid cucumber ones that no one likes?” 

“Hey, I like them!” 

Jess laughed and walked to her designated line. Mike and you were in charge of gathering everyone’s desserts and soups. Three wanted brownies and three wanted chocolate chip cookies, four wanted tomato soup and two wanted chicken noodle. You all wanted saltine crackers. Every now and then, you looked over your shoulder at what made you stop in you tracks. Edward was back. 

And your biology class was the first class after lunch.  

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| next |

[i-am-church-the-cat]

Logan Sargeant is a silly little guy

@vii-tto idk why but it wouldn't let me tag you. Hopefully you see this. also @spell-of-the-rain i added things if you want to check out 75-87

But here's the list of things i know/want to know about logan sargeant

Favorite Actor is Brad Pitt

Favorite Movie is Wolf of Wall Street

Favorite food is a hamburger

Has a boat and often goes deep sea fishing

Lived in London since he was 15

Lose Yourself by Eminem is his favorite hype up song

Is a Dolphins and Heat fan

Enjoyed “No Man, No Cry” by Jimmy Sax

Drinks iced lattes with oat milk

Pumpkin spice lattes?? Edit 12/16/23: No

Has been to Wimbledon

Knows what cricket is

Has a rescue dog named Coco

Also enjoys hockey Edit 11/1/23: Supports the Florida Panthers NHL team and has gone to at least 1 of their games with his friend Kyle Kirkwood

Does he follow college football?

What does he think of the new Miami head coach? 

If not for motorsport, does he think he would have gone pro in a different sport, and if so which one?

Enjoys listening to 50 Cent (is also a big rap fan in general)

Can he speak any other languages with any degree of familiarity?

Cannot draw

Can make a sandwich (other foods?)

Rates all food from one bite and with weird decimals

Gritty-ed in his f1 car

Makes the Williams photographers look like they take good photos

Does he have an English or a Florida driver’s license? And does he still have US citizenship even though he lives in the UK? What kind of visa is he on?

Top three female athletes? (Serena Williams, Simone Biles, and Megan Rapinoe are all acceptable answers) 

Collects Aussies and Kiwis for friends

Does he like the snow? Prefers the heat but does he like snow?

Does he like Missy Elliot? (Requirement) 

“Basic Halloween Bitch”

Calls people “mate” but in an American accent which will never stop being funny

Eye Crinkles™️

Does not have a set eye color he’s just too mystical for that

Has never been to a concert (presumably too busy with racing)

He can swim, he can drive, but can he ride a bike? Edit 11/15/23: He can indeed ride a bike

American commercial cars or  European ones?

Has an older brother but is like an older brother to Benny’s kid

Likes marshmallows

Does not like black beans

Did not think apple could be chips

Knows how to sail??

Knows how to golf

Can paddle (required for any F1 driver)

Lost the F3 championship in 2020 bc of a DNF in the last race

Can he sing??

Does he drink energy drinks? Red Bull or Monster? 

He and Duracell are passionately making out

Blush is very pretty 

Wears a lot of baseball hats

Somehow beat jet lag (expat king)

Mostly spends his nights in but he has some nights out (presumably very interesting ones)

Has an iPhone with a blue case

He looks very pretty in blue

His eyes are sometimes blue

Blue=fav color?? Edit 11/6/23: favorite color is Ocean blue (credit to @spell-of-the-rain)

Pretty insecure (armchair diagnosed anxiety)

Close with his brother and parents but maybe not his extended family?

Is Florida State his college team?? (Worst thing a man can be is a Florida St fan) Edit 12/16/23: believing that FSU got screwed over this year is acceptable

Did he graduate high school??

Did he ever consider going into NASCAR or did moving to Europe at a young age kind of set in stone his path towards open-wheel racing?

Hair is blond/dirty blond

Does he vote in American elections?? (If he supports RonD I cannot stan)

Burger Sauce™️

Logan Hunter Sargeant, certified Frat Bro, most American man ever

Has seen peaky blinder and presumably stranger things

Knows how to carve a pumpkin but has not celebrated Halloween at home in a bit

Possibly dating some instagram model

Caused $4 million in damages, gets payed $1 million a year, and supposedly brings in $30 million in sponsors

Key phrases: “Locked in”, “Bam/Boom”, “Done and dusted” Additions 11/1/23: "Oh hell yeah", "I think you're a little lost here, Chief". Additions 11/6/23: “Yeh” (gets quieter throughout the word (how it’s one syllable??)), “on the bounce” (credit to @spell-of-the-rain i believe)

Joined the Williams Driver Academy in 2021 

Got stuck in F3 bc he didn’t have the money to move up

Driver for Carlin in 2022

Former teammates include Liam Lawson, Oscar Piastri, Frederick Vesti (Edit 11/6/23: Max Fewtrell possibly?)

DOB: December 31, 2000

5'11

Had a giveaway for gloves he used to win an F4 race on Twitter in 2017 and both Lando Norris and Max Fewtrell replied

Originally his number was 3 but he switched to 2 for F1 (to much fan consternation who thought he had so many better options)

Childhood best friends with Kyle Kirkwood, a current Indycar driver

Logan's older brother Dalton raced in NASCAR until 2018

Did a commercial for Sport23

Does not have cowboy boots as of COTA 2023

Born in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, USA

lived in Switzerland from 14-15(?)

knows the conversion rate for a kilometer

is taller than a tuna fish

Podiumed at the Macau Grand Prix in 2019

Won the CIK-FIA championship when he was 14 Additions as of 11/1/23

Loves waffles but they are not his favorite dessert

Very patriotic (oh hell yeah)

is the first American F1 point scorer in 30 years and the first one to score on home soil since 1989

Went to see the Nets in NYC (but would have preferred to see the Knicks)

has a custom Miami Dolphins jersey with his last name on the back

Claims to know all the lyrics to "Ice Ice Baby" (credit to @formulaaone) (Edited 11/6/23)

Additions as of 11/6/23:

Under the same talent agency as Alex Albon

Has the same manager as George Russell

George Russell was his mentor coming up

Went to a catholic private school (credit to @wenevrknew)

Does not like fish? (Credit to @spell-of-the-rain)

He runs weird (in my opinion as he reminds me of my brother when he was 12 (he ran very strangely))

Karted in Las Vegas when he was a kid

Can he drive a stick shift? (Alex believes he cannot)

Enjoys video games

Refers to his car as “she”

Knew how to attach a visor to his helmet prior to February(? Could’ve been March but before the season) 2023

Additions as of 12/16/23

Broke his arm in a 2014 German Karting Championship when Marcus Armstrong took him out at T1 (credit to @spell-of-the-rain )

Has gotten his head eaten by the Golden Knights mascot

If he could have any superpower, he would like to teleport

Has never flown a drone

Favorite racing movie is Talladega Nights (sad Mater noises)

Does not trust other people to drive him

Would rather sleep in then get up early

Considers himself fairly organized

His mother makes a very good sweet potato casserole

Got his habit of worrying from his mom

“Santa’s Little Helper”

Driving for Williams Racing Formula 1 Team in 2024

Got out qualified by his teammate every race of 2023

[derek-draws-stuff]

More headcannons

Connecticut’s closet is stuffed with hoodies, like, he can barely fit them in there anymore

Massachusetts just has a bunch of hats, bucket hats, beanies, baseball caps. He just has them and has worn them at least once each

Gov definitely has a drawer of just random things that he swears he’ll end up needing one day, like a broken pencil or some random bouncy ball he found on the ground somewhere

New York is literally good at most things art related, drawing? He’s got it down. Painting? Too good at it. He’s got all the skills

If the states play dnd (sometimes they do), they have home brew classes that are just their state’s stereotype (ex. Florida man)

Maryland crab walks in shallow waters at the beach and probably crawls out of the water basically submerged. Just crawling out on his elbows or something

New York is REALLY good with languages, he’s fluent in a lot and is almost fluent in the rest

Connecticut has Lyme disease, this isn’t a debate

West Virginia has two bulldogs; Babydog (who he definitely didn’t steal), and another named Daisy because he couldn’t bear letting Babydog be alone without a friend.

[verdemoun]

Hiii I wanted to ask what you think happens to Micah in the timewarp au cause modern Micah is such an enigma and it's so funny to me. Do you think he's coping well with modern times? Or does he just respawn and immediately tries robbing a mc Donald's or smth. Could def see him doing Florida man throwing an alligator through a Wendy's window type shit or just being the Wendy's employee getting the alligator thrown at him.

Also speaking of Florida man do you have an idea of what state they live in currently in modern au? (I love hearing peoples takes on where in America they think rdr takes place, especially when they're talking about where they'd be in a modern au)

i am so conflicted because like. gang with memories and knowledge of what happens in the future.

arthur wants to kill micah. yes he's been thriving and has a happy life with hosea and bessie and the boys and being a part of isaac's modern life but imagine the guilt he would feel knowing he was dying anyway but if he'd killed micah in 1899 it would've literally saved lives and it might have meant the bureau never went after john in 1911. the absolute arthur 'blames himself for everything that ever happened' morgan would consider himself personally responsible for every life micah took/destroyed post 1899. and arthur has 8 years to plan. 8 years.

but i did let dutch live so why not micah. gotta give rat bastard man a of love

micah respawned in a denny's parking lot to the sight of arthur morgan with a baseball bat. no context. no understanding what's happening. it's late evening. there's street lights and neon signs and who fucking cares they immediately pick up where they left off in 1899 which is beating the living shit out of one another.

cut to them both bloody and bruised in holding cells at the local jail still hurling insults at each other while hosea is just standing there wondering what the actual hell he is meant to do.

said incident immediately landed micah on a list of people not allowed to be sold guns and it is like neutering a feral dog. the first time micah cries in his life is at a walmart being told he isn't able to buy a gun. even if the gang want nothing to do with him like they are getting a phone call sorry to interrupt your evening sir but there's an adult man throwing a tantrum on the floor

the gang are forced to admit it isn't morally correct to a) let micah loose unsupervised in modern era or b) leave him to fend for himself and die. micah ends up living in a trailer park. he embraces redneck culture. he eats so much fast food the servers will call for a welfare check if they haven't seen him in more than three days. he gets a job at a paintball center because damnit if he can't have a gun he will have gun-adjacent. he is the conservative dad-bod southern hick hero of teenage boys everywhere

what's really funny is isaac morgan's best friend (other than jack, obviously) is malachi bell who is a direct descendant of amos bell. because he has known isaac since elementary school: and young isaac did not understand his experiences of being murdered and reawakening in modern era were not universal: kai is fully aware of how the timewarp works ie sometimes he goes with isaac to visit grandpop hosea and there will be a very confused freshly warped outlaw sitting on the couch. the fucking phone call of 'hey remember how my family was super weird around you at the start because you look scarily like your grand uncle who kind of killed my dad and was murdered by my uncle GUESS WHO JUST TURNED UP'

micah is the best terrible uncle a kid could ask for and is honestly super attached to kai even though kai is his polar opposite in every way out of spite. kai goes to micah's trailer for dinner. says he's vegetarian. goes again and micah went through the effort of getting tofu. says he's allergic to soy. inherited all the bell snark and none of the tendency towards evil

micah and arthur in a fistfight at a barbeque while kai and isaac are both just standing there 'i'm sorry about my family'

an underappreciated micah fact is how much he cared about baylock. he would get the exact same level of giddy as the rest of the gang being around horses in modern era. while living in a trailer is not ideal for having a horse he does have a massive black 'looks like he could kill you but is actually a giant cuddle bear' bully-breed dog because as much as he was afraid of dogs (fight me) he is actually more afraid of being alone. his dog eats at the table with him. micah eats mcdonalds while his dog gets lovingly pan-seared steak.

his dog is a kill-shelter rescue named baymax and micah has no idea about disney movies and doesn't understand why people giggle at the name.

to the second point i am not american and have no idea wheeze but i think texas?? texas is where most people seem to think new austin is based on?? in rdr terms they're probably on the northern side of modern day blackwater like there's the bay to the east, mountains to the north and desert to the west. pls if there are any americans what fast food place would micah bell III dedicate his life to and what state should they be in

[skycycleboy]

Already had this idea knowing that Daniel and Logan were into baseball, but seeing Daniel's new commercial kind of reignited a Cooliver baseball AU lol.

I picture them being Florida natives for this AU, considering it has two teams and the in-show connections. One is from Miami and the other is from Tampa Bay. The two had met in high school during baseball camps and some games and summer leagues, having minor crushes on each other, but never talked much.

The two are rookies in the MLB, keep meeting each other, develop a rivalry and secret relationship which heighten when both teams make it to the World Series. Insert your sport rivals romance cliches where you want lol. They have to deal with fraternizing with a rival, and if you want more angst add in the state of Florida.

Have very little intention of writing this, but would love to read it if anybody wants to steal it.