#of course there are different degrees of drunk driving and car accidents

[anon-18372882]

when my older brother was a teenager, he got into a car accident with a drunk driver. my brother was unscathed. DRIVE CAREFULLY!

I am BEGGING younger drivers. drive carefully. give yourself room. for fuck's sake use your turn signals and don't fucking weave thru traffic. this is not a video game, this is real life and if you get into an accident, you could get killed or kill someone else VERY easily

[gojos-sidepiece-69]

Tokyo Tech Training- Chapter 2

Your eyes snapped open and you met eyes with your lover from last night. Fuck. Did that actually happen? It shouldn’t have. Damn it. No, god, no. I got drunk and had an insane fever dream, that’s it. Your brain worked in overdrive trying to rationalize your decisions from last night. Intense waves of shame and guilt washed over you when you realized that you were, indeed, practically sober.

You woke up with no headache. Your hips, however, were a different story altogether. “Morning, sunshine,” your dimpled teacher said intoxicatingly. It was too early for his bullshit. “Please, Gojo. Not now. I’m going to go home and pretend this didn’t happen, okay? Great.” His grin widened as he pointed out, “Oh, so we’re on name-to-name basis now? I thought I was still your Sensei.”

You ignored him and firmly got up only to catch a glance of yourself in a full body mirror. You saw purple peeking out at you from under Gojo’s shirt. You pulled it down slightly and felt at your raw, sore love bites. “Sorry about those, I always like it a bit rough,” Gojo explained, still shamelessly man-spreading in his bed. “I could tell,” you deadpanned. You lifted up the hem of your shirt to inspect the degree of damage he had done to your hips, and it was bad. You could barely even walk straight. You were planning on a pleasant walk-of-shame home, but seeing the state of your condition, that was now out of question. As if he read your mind, he said “I’ll give you a ride back.”

You got a sneak peak into the Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer’s morning routine, which included putting on his dumb blindfold and dark navy uniform. He handed you your clothes from the previous night, taking extra care to comment about how he was upset he didn’t get to see you in your “cute little lacy bra.” Everyone had left earlier that morning, knowing from previous experience not to wake Gojo in the morning. In addition, they didn’t want to take their chances while their airhead of a teacher took the steering wheel, blasting trap music way too damn early. You, however, had the treat of experiencing this first-hand. “All aboard!” He said childishly as you stepped into his black BMW. He immediately turned the volume of his music all the way up, humming to Pick it Up by Famous Dex.

You closed your eyes, and muttered a silent prayer that you wouldn’t die in a freak accident on the way home. With your luck, Gojo would crash straight through a KFC Drive-Thru and laugh about it.

You were shaken out of this scary afterthought when you realized that Gojo was driving 65 MPH in a 35 zone. “What the hell? Slow down!” You yelled, but your driver only looked at you and laughed. “You didn’t have a problem with me going fast last night.” You gritted your teeth. Of course he was going to make your drive home as sarcastic and filled with as many horrible sex jokes as possible. The worst part was that you, at the back of your mind, were fighting back a small laugh. But you weren’t about to confirm that he was funny. So you slowly exhaled through your nose, until your breath hitched at the back of your throat.

Gojo’s hand had snuck past the gear and onto your knee. Keeping his (inexplicably blindfolded) eyes on the road, it slowly snaked up to your thigh and rested there. He could feel you tense up and smiled to himself. He loved the effect that even just his hands had on women. The sensation gave you flashbacks of the night before. He touched a bruise on your inner thigh that he had licked and sucked so tenderly last night, and you shuddered. He drew small circles, but didn’t go any further.

The tires screeched to a halt right outside Tokyo Tech, and you clambered out of his car as fast as you could. You left in such a rush that you dropped your “cute, lacy bra” on the passenger-side floor. You didn’t even notice. Luckily it was Sunday, and you wouldn’t have to worry about seeing your teacher until tomorrow. “Have a great day!” He yelled after you, and you flipped him off classily without so much as a backwards glance for your superior. As soon as you got to your dorm, you dramatically collapsed onto the mattress.

You were so tired from fooling around the entire day yesterday that you slept through Sunday in its entirety. You arose early Monday morning and groaned when you remembered that it was going to be your first Field Training day. And you were absolutely correct in thinking that you were most definitely not ready.

“Each of you will be assigned a Jujutsu Sorcerer to shadow for your field practice today. Watch how they exorcise curses, take mental notes, and follow each of their directions carefully. Megumi and Nobara, you’ll be going with Nanami. Yuji and Y/n, you’re stuck with me,” Gojo said, keeping eye contact with you for an uncomfortably long amount of time. You thought to yourself, I might as well just start calling it blindfold-contact, if I can’t see his gorgeous eyes. I mean, eyes. Gojo whistled and led you and Yuji back to his black car. Yuji ran like the track-star he was, yelling “SHOTGUN!” so loudly that you didn’t care to argue.

He threw the door open and leaped into the passenger seat, while Gojo took the wheel and you occupied the backseat. Yuji took the liberty of connecting to the aux, this time blasting Tetris by Derek King. Once again, it was way too early in the morning to be listening to songs about ass. But this issue did not seem to exist for the Tokyo Tech’s favorite resident ass men, Yuji and Gojo. Or as you liked to call them, Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumb-ass.

Not even a comfortable minute into the drive, Yuji energetically bent over and picked up your forgotten bra. “Ooh, looks like Gojo Sensei is getting some! Who’s the unlucky girl?” Yuji joked around. “Oh, Gojo. GOJO,” the pink-haired puppy-boy fake moaned like an animal in pain while poking fun at his teacher. Your sensei, ever the enabler of horrible jokes, chuckled along. He glanced up into the rear view mirror and made eye contact with you, breaking it as soon as he swerved into the wrong lane. “At least tell me what she looked like!” Yuji practically bursted at the seams. Gojo sighed and offered a single comment to his student that was enough to temporarily stave off his curiosity and shut him up. “She had a great ass.”

You heard a genuinely amazed “Wow!” from your fellow first-year as blush once again danced onto your cheeks. You broke the car’s mounting tension by piping up and asking, “So where are we actually going?” Gojo explained that their Field Practice entailed an actual mission to retrieve one of Sukuna’s fingers. What the hell? You thought to yourself. You had barely one day of instruction and you were being thrown into the deep end already? Jesus Christ. But somewhere deep inside your mind, you knew that Gojo cared for his students and would never let any of them get hurt.

Rudely interrupting your thoughts for the millionth time, Gojo interjected, “But we’re stopping by the bakery first. I need my morning fix.” Your stomach grumbled at the thought of food just as you remembered you hadn’t eaten yet today. With one shitty parallel-parking job, you had arrived right outside the Ichiban Pan bakery. The three of you filed into the bakery, the bell on the door ringing as the sweet aromas supplied you with some much-needed serotonin. You walked up to the counter, and immediately noticed how beautiful the cashier was. She had long, dark hair and a figure that anyone would drool over.

To your surprise, she said, “Gojo...back here already? I knew you hadn’t had enough of me yet,” as she eyed him lustfully. “Of course I had to come back for seconds. Your goods were just so...soft and sweet,” he smiled coyly as he leaned onto the counter and shamelessly flirted back. The woman reached over and toyed with Gojo’s blindfold as his smile grew. She said, “So, when are we going to have some more fun?” He answered, “Always so eager, huh? Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn soon.” You couldn’t tell if your face was heating up with annoyance at the thought of Gojo delaying the mission to flirt with one of his girls, or at the fact that you felt...jealous. Jealous that you weren’t the only one he had eyes for, and envious that this girl was older and maybe even more attractive than you. She made you feel plain in more ways than one, and your mind started to wander.

Did Gojo touch her like how he touched me? How many girls has he had before? How many is he with right now? Damn it. You shook off the bothersome thought. Maybe it was your innate competitiveness as a Jujutsu Sorcerer, but you knew you had to get him back. Fair and square. You told yourself it wasn’t because you wanted more from him, but it was because you wanted to make him feel jealous in the exact same way. Whatever it was, whenever the time would come, you were going to leave him frustrated.

Three delicious dangos and thirty minutes later, you found yourself at the site of the curse: a closed off mall. While you were now right outside of the car, you could feel the cursed energy radiating out from its epicenter. “There’s one unregistered first-grade curse that you need to extract Sukuna’s finger from. And I’m going to osbserve,” Gojo said while he sat on the hood of his car. “You’re going to what? I’ve barely had ANY training,” you sputtered angrily, but Yuji was already pulling your arm and dragging you towards the curse. Well, you thought to yourself. Might as well prove yourself a worthy comrade to Yuji and a promising student for...he didn’t matter right now. The two of you sprinted forward as Gojo lowered a dark veil over the area, blackening the sky.

Yuji shoved the front doors open and leapt inside, and you jumped in after him. The lights were broken and flickering, casting an eerie glow over the abandoned mall. The escalators were still running, but you could hear distant crashing sounds. “This way!” Yuji yelled, as the two of you sprinted up the escalator to the second floor. The crashing increased in volume, and it was clearly coming from a destroyed souvenir shop ahead.

You laid eyes on the grotesque curse, which resembled a deformed, melting, red plastic mannequin that was at least twice your height. Its arms immediately extended and shot out at you, but you dodged out of the way. You hadn’t learned any techniques yet, so it seemed like you and Yuji would be teaming up and harnessing your raw cursed energy to deliver blows to the mannequin. The curse opened its mouth to reveal jagged teeth that caged in one of Sukuna’s fingers. “There it is!” you shouted. But in an instant, both you and Yuji were caught off guard and knocked to your feet by the mannequin’s extended arms.

They grew spikes that jutted out and beat into your sides. You yelped and coughed in pain, starting to see blood pool out from under your uniform. You gritted your teeth and tried your best to deliver blows to sever the curse’s arms, but it was useless. Yuji, too, seemed trapped in between the sharp spikes. After ten minutes of intense stabbing pains and useless struggle against this first-grade curse, Yuji piped up. “I think I’m going to have to let Sukuna take over and destroy this curse.” Your eyes widened. You had only heard stories of the demon king, and they were all horrific. But it was between that and death, and you both made the split-second decision. “Do it,” you nodded.

You watched from your position as Yuji let Sukuna take over his body. Black tattoos etched their way across his toned body, which was exposed to you after he carelessly tore his tightening shirt off. His smile grew wide and you heard a malicious laugh. “Fool,” Sukuna said directly to the curse, before ripping its right arm off with brute force. “You think you’re any match for me?” Before its arm could regenerate, Sukuna tore off its other one and freed you before tossing you aside like a corpse while informing you that you were “in his way.” You hit your head against the front window of the store and groaned. You watched the mannequin open it’s mouth and shoot out it’s razor-sharp dagger teeth at Sukuna, but he just grabbed onto the curse’s head and tore it right off with ease.

He reached two fingers into the curse’s mouth and extracted the finger, examining it with a slight grin before swallowing it. “Feels so good,” he murmured while throwing his head back and laughing loudly. A wave of confusion washed over you. If the job was done, why hadn’t Yuji switched back yet? What was going on? You shivered and backed up slightly as Sukuna turned his head to look down at you.

“You know,” he drew out a breath as he kneeled down and picked up a scrap of cloth from Yuji’s torn shirt. “I haven’t taken over a vessel in ages. And that means I haven’t had a woman in a very,” he stepped closer to you, “Very long time.” You looked up at him from the ground, taking in his mouthwatering physique. This curse made you forget about logic for a minute and revert to primal instinct. The first thought that ran through your brain was running your tongue over his abs. However, a second later, you had an even better idea. Why not let Sukuna have his way with me? That would show Gojo. I want him to hear me moaning while he’s still sitting in his stupid BMW, blood rushing to his dick as he thinks about me getting fucked stupid by the undisputed king of curses. That thought alone was enough to push you to answer, “And what do you want me to do about that?”

“You’re going to do as I say. Let me fuck you until you can’t remember your own first name.” Your heat throbbed at that, and Sukuna wasted no time binding your hands together tightly with the scrap of cloth. This was really happening. You were about to get destroyed by the legendary Sukuna in the shattered storefront of a souvenir shop. In the dark. Without any semblance of a warning, Sukuna ripped your uniform top right off of your body, leaving behind only scraps of fabric. You shivered at the sensation of being exposed to the cold. You looked up at him wearing only your plain black bra and uniform skirt, and his eyelids lowered. “Fucking slut,” he said, as he ripped off your bra with the same fervor. He smiled hungrily as your nipples perked from the chills, and groped at your breasts with both hands.

He admired how they fit perfectly within his calloused hands, and how he could feel your heartbeat rapidly soar. With fear. Humans really are useless creatures, aren’t they? He thought before he demanded, “Open your mouth.” You complied, and he slid two long digits all the way inside. You felt one hit the back of your throat and you moaned onto his fingers as they slid back out. He rubbed his fingers back onto your breasts, coating them with the wetness of your own saliva. You moaned loudly with pleasure, positive that your pathetic Sensei could hear you from outside.

“That’s good.” Sukuna approved of your moaning. The thought of him making you arch your back, screaming and crying for him pushed him on further. His hands aggressively found your skirt, tearing it easier than paper. He looked down at your soaked panties and felt the urge to make you feel small and embarrassed. “You’ve gone and made a mess of yourself. I’ll just have to get rid of them,” you saw Sukuna’s tongue move around in his mouth as he forcefully tugged off your panties. His hunger got the best of him, and he bent down to let his tongue take one long lap along your dripping cunt. “Fuck,” he breathed as you threw your head back, hitting against the wall. “I haven’t tasted a woman in so long,” he said, before bending back down and slipping his tongue into your slit.

His strong arms kept your shaking legs pried wide open for him, sharp nails tightly gripping into your thighs, and you could only groan louder. He continued to drink at your slippery juices until you screamed and came into his mouth. He licked his lips as he pushed your thighs back together and lifted himself up. “I’m not even close to finished with you yet,” he growled, sensing you getting slightly tired.

He lifted you up and threw you onto your stomach. You propped yourself up shakily using your elbows while he pushed your head down with one of his hands. You arched your back for him, granting him an easier entrance. Kneeling behind you, he teased his dripping tip at your folds while squeezing at your ass. The buildup was almost too much for you to take, so you began to whine “Suku-,” but before you could finish, he entered you roughly. Sukuna mercilessly railed into your pussy from behind, one hand simultaneously gripping your hair and pushing your head down, while the other dug crescent-shaped nail marks into your hips.

His pace was so fast that you could only scream and curse and whine his name, but he only laughed and threw his head back. “Sl-slower,” you begged, tears spilling down your face, but Sukuna maintained his speed. Your useless request only prompted him to move his hand from your hair to your throat, gripping you tightly. “Don’t ask me that again,” he growled, still thrusting.

You could feel his thrusts become more loose and sporadic, and finally he pulled out and groaned deeply while spilling his cum all over your thighs. You panted and stood up slowly, but you held back a shocked scream. You watched in horror as Gojo Satoru stood before you, blindfolded eyes trailing over the white, creamy liquid dripping down your thighs. You instinctively covered your breasts and cunt, managing a weak, “how long were you watching?” Gojo took a step forward. “Well, I decide to assess the situation for myself when I heard you screaming for mercy, so I came in at about the time...” he mimed checking a fake watch, “a 1000-year-old curse started pounding you from behind.”

You blushed, heart racing from the exposure and accidental voyeurism. You hadn’t expected him to actually come see you for himself. However, your eyes took a quick trip to see a growing bulge in your Sensei’s pants. You smiled to yourself as you thought, mission accomplished.

🌹

[what-the--curtains]

In a Week

Part 1/4 - A storm blows into town

(Frankie “catfish” Morales x f!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: a drive down to a friends wedding gets complicated when you fail to head a warning.

Authors notes: Hello! Another fic cause it keeps snowing here and I’m SICK OF IT but wouldn’t mind it if I was stuck with Frankie💕. Anyways hope you enjoy as always comments are welcome but be nice!

TW: mentions of dead sibling (war related), swearing, mentions of a toxic relationship (based off of personal experience)

Tagged list: @agingerindenial

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~There was nothing worse than a February wedding, well at least one that took place in the frigid northern temperatures you were currently residing in. So you were eternally grateful that your best friend Stella had chosen to have hers down in sunny south Carolina where she had just accepted her first permanent hospital position. She was marrying her first love, a fact you’d usually cringe at but, they were extremely cute together. Stella had met Genevieve through her brothers Will and Benny, well more specifically Will, who had drunkenly run his head through a window one night. This incident resulted in two things, first a nickname that would stick with Will for the rest of his life and a late night call to Stella asking her to come down to the hospital to pick him up. The boys had put Stella down as their emergency contact in an effort to keep their antics hidden from their parents who they knew would only worry. The nurse patching up her idiot brother was none other than Genevieve who was working through her university's clinical course, and the rest? Well, the rest was history

You’d met Genevieve, as well as Will and Benny, sporadically throughout the 8 years you had roomed with Stella, first during your undergraduate degree at Boston University and then again at Stanford while attending medical school. You’d choses Stella as a roommate without much thought, but after just a few weeks together you were inseparable up until the day that you were assigned to your residency. You were slightly jealous when you found out that she would be spending the next four years in the warm embrace of Carolina (and Gen) while you would be living alone throughout the freezing Chicago winters. The pagne of jealousy didn’t last long though, Chicago med was your first choice after all. So here you were, in the last year of residency and in the middle of a brutal -20 degree winter, preparing to drive the 13 hours down to watch Stella get married. You’d considered flying but you knew how fickle airplanes could be in the winter and the last thing you wanted was a delayed flight because a door had frozen shut. Your friends had tried to convince you that driving down alone was far too dangerous a venture and none were more concerned than Santiago Garcia.

You’d known Santiago your whole life. Him being your brother's best friend resulted in him spending a lot of, some may argue too much, time at your house throughout both your childhoods. Your brother, Parker, was 8 years your senior, an age gap that often resulted in an argument over which one of you was the accident. An argument which usually ended with an agreement that in all likelihood you both were. Every summer from before you were born to the time they left for the military the two boys were a constant presence in your life. Hell, even after he left you’d watched him grow as he passed through your household over Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks. One thing was for sure, if Parker was there Satiago Garcia wasn't far behind. He was also there the day you received the news that your brother had gone MIA and he was by your side at the funeral, as you watched the commanding officer hand your mother the flag your brother had died for. After the funeral, life continued to move on around you as did everyone else. You always found it funny how quickly you were supposed to recover from loss, apparently a week was long enough to get over it. At least according to the university and your employers who had started calling with empty condolences that quickly led to the real reason they were calling. Always wanting to know when you’d be coming back. After your brother's passing, Santiago took over his role of big brother to you. He read over your med school applications, scared off potential boyfriends and got all the embarrassing video footage of you at your graduations. He was a permanent fixture in your life, one you hoped you’d never lose. Even now as he continued to blow up your phone in an attempt to sway you from driving up alone, you were thankful for him. Over the past 5 days he sent you lengthy lectures in the form of voice messages and a slew of articles detailing the statistics of winter related accidents. His name pops up on your screen as does a picture you’d taken one night after he'd passed out drunk and you’d stuffed cheetos up his nostrils, an act he has yet to forgive you for. You contemplate ignoring the call, but knowing you were about to go radio silent for the next 8 hours you decide to pick it up.

"Hey Santi what’s up?" you ask, as you half heartedly spread cream cheese onto a poorly toasted bagel.

"Have I ever told you how much I value your friendship?” Even over the phone you could hear the layers of charm he was currently plastering on.

"What do you want?" you say, tossing the knife into the sink.

"Hey! Who says..." he starts, but you don't let him finish.

"Santi I've known you long enough to know your ‘please I need something’ tone by heart" you laugh.

"Okay well I still value you, but ya I absolutely need a favour" Santiago admits.

"Shoot." you say taking a bite of the bagel.

"I need you to pick up a friend of mine, his flight got cancelled. He's in Chicago at the moment, can you drive him down to the wedding?"

"Ughhh are you kidding me Santi? I’m just about to leave" you say through a half chewed mouthful.

"Please! He’s a great guy, Gen wants him at the wedding, he was in basic with us, so a frequent visitor to the hospital. He's usually pretty quiet so you won’t have to spend that much time making small talk, which I know you hate." He pleaded. For anyone else a last minute change like this would have gotten a laugh, and nothing more, but this was Garcia, and you knew he’d do anything for you, so you’d do this for him.

“Fine” you begrudgingly agree “text me his number, I'm heading out in 40 minutes so he'll have to wait at the airport for a bit" you say, finishing your breakfast.

"You’re a godsend! Seriously, what would I do without you?" He chuckles.

"Nothing good i'm sure, besides I figure I probably owe you like, 1000 favours after you

know....'' the phone goes quiet. Five years later and it still stung like it was yesterday, for you both. He was your family, but he was Santiago’s best friend, you knew the loss was equally as devastating for him. You also knew he'd been having a particularly hard time recently, after what he termed a mission gone wrong a few years back. Every time you'd ask about it he’d shut you down harshly refusing to share any details with you.

"You don’t owe me anything. We're family. Thank you for driving him. I owe you a drink at the wedding!" He responds, back to his chipper self. If it wasn’t for the silence he may just have convinced you that he really was doing fine. You toss the phone on the counter and rub your temples mentally rearranging your entire itinerary for the day. You'd already rifled through the gym bag that was constraining way more clothes than you’d need for the week. Everything you needed was there from bathing suits to your wedding outfit to the special lingerie you’d packed in case you ran into an old flame. If by in case you meant, for when you ran into him. You don’t know how but he’d gotten invited to the wedding reception. Stella hated the guy, so it must have been through Genevieve who likely would have felt bad excluding him, even if he was only a friend of a friend.

You’d met Jonathan in your undergrad and you had been together throughout various points in your life, though never in any official sense. He’d made that evidently clear to you at any opportunity he got. He kept you on a short leash, a retainer if you will. Only coming to you between relationships with women that he deemed worthy enough to be his girlfriends. You knew it was toxic, and your friends constant reminders of how unhealthy it was didn’t fall on deaf ears. The way he would use you and lose you always ended with you being an unstable and emotional wreck, only solidifying his claims of you being crazy. You hated it, the way he made you feel so small, but he held this strange power over you. A power not even you could explain. His redeeming qualities could only be found in the bedroom, he was the best you’d ever had, so you forgave his shitty personality. Always gravitating back towards him, restarting the cycle. You knew what it meant to do the same activity over and over expecting different results, but this was different. At least that's what you told yourself, as you’d traced your hands over the lingeries lace that morning, knowing it was bought for a man who would never appreciate it.

Brushing all thought of him aside for the time being you grab the duffle off the floor and sling it over your shoulder. Walking out into the cold February air you watch as your breath transforms into a small cloud in front. Your chest hurts and nose hairs freeze as you inhale, tossing your bag into the back seat before leaning into the car and starting it up. The engine sputters for a moment before breaking out into a loud rumble, maybe it was a good thing someone else would be in the car with you after all. You jog back inside to your townhouse and grab the cooler where you’d stored the snacks and sandwiches you’d prepared for the road, now realizing it likely wouldn’t be enough to feed two people. Tossing on your winter jacket you lock the door behind you and slide your sunglasses down over your eyes shielding them from the afternoon sun as you make your way into your car.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You pull up to the departure gate still cursing at the idiot who had almost smashed into you while they were going the wrong way down a one way street. You hated driving in the city and you couldn’t wait to get out on the open road, even if it was going to be with a total stranger. You find yourself second guessing your decision to drive down state with someone you’d never met. In all reality, even if Santi was vouching for him, he could be a serial killer, plenty of people had nice things to say about Ted Bundy before he got caught.

You shake off the nervous feeling taking over your body, deciding to put your faith in your friends judgment, at least for now. Worse comes to worse you had a pocket knife stowed within reach. As long as he didn’t complain about any playlists or podcasts and understood your need for complete silence from time to time, you’d get on just fine. Besides it was only a 13 hour drive, and you could put up with anything for 13 hours.

You open up your phone and pull up the conversation you and Santiago had been having, scrolling up until you see the contact he’d sent you which read “ Catfish”. You click on it hoping to get the guys real name as a result but no luck, you should have asked Garcia for more information about this “Catfish” guy. You click on the number opting to call, not wanting to waste time wondering if he’d gotten the text you’d sent. The phone rings a few times before you hear someone pick up.

"Catfish?" you say, less confident in yourself than you had been dialing.

"In the flesh, who's this?" the deep voice responds.

"Your ride, Santiago’s friend" you offer, hoping that this wasn't some elaborate prank.

"Oh shit ya, Pope told me you’d be later than you said. I'm still downstairs" he says.

"Of course he did the little shit" you mutter, causing Catfish to laugh "Im outside now, departures second floor"

“I'll be out in a second" he says, hanging up the phone before you can say anything else.

You plug your phone back into the aux setting it back to the playlist you’d made last night during another bout of insomnia. You're checking your email to see if anything came up from the hospital when a tap at the window causes you to jump. As you look over you see the man who must be “Catfish” gently tapping on the glass. You unlock the door, popping the trunk as you slide out the driver's seat.

“You can put your bags back here. Fuck!" you exclaim when you trunk won’t open, likely having frozen shut again.

"Here" he says dropping his bag on the salted pavement and heaving up on the trunk freeing it from its icy constraints with a relative ease causing him to smile down at you.

"I loosened it" you say defensively, as he tosses his bag in the back still grinning when he

slams the trunk shut.

"Fransico Morales, though most people just call me Frankie" he says as you sit back down in the driver seat rubbing your hands together to warm them and applying some chapstick.

"Y/N, nice to meet you Frankie, seat warmers are here, use as your leisure. There are snacks in the back, but no touching the phone.” you rattle off.

“Aye aye captain” he responds, saluting you.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Santiago was right, Frankie was quiet. He offered you little in conversation or any noise at all really. You’d only heard him laugh maybe twice, once while listening to a podcast episode and then again when Britney Spears made her appearance on your soundtrack. "What? She’s America's sweetheart" you say trying to sound offended, but smiling when you notice his lopsided grin. You’d attempted to open up a dialogue with him a few times, but his one worded responses told you all you needed to know, so you stopped forcing it. It wasn’t a hostile environment, it was more of a comfortable silence one that you usually only found in people you had known for years. The silence gave you an opportunity to study the man’s features, glancing away from the road every now and then to slowly piece together his profile. You had pegged him as attractive the second his face had appeared in your passenger window, but it wasn't until now that the details that made him so could be seen; relatively tall, tanned skin, soft curls, deep brown eyes. Glancing over again you notice a concerned look spread across his face.

"What?" you ask, nervous that you’d creeped him out with your excessive, and not so subtle staring.

"Storms coming our way" he says, nodding up at the darkening sky.

"We’re not supposed to get snow for another week, I checked” you reassure.

"Things change" he says

" Sky’s clear, so we don’t stop for another 3 hours" you say, definitively.

" Your funeral, well mine as well I guess" he chuckles, earning him an icy glare from you.

“It's nothing, trust me” you affirm, confident in your ability to read a weather app.

" No one likes a know-it-all" he mutters still grinning.

"Could you help me with something" you ask smiling sweetly

"Sure" he responds, eager to help.

"Pull up the map and show me when I asked for your opinion"

"Eyes on the road” he says, causing your grip to tighten around the wheel.

Well crow wasn’t your favourite food to eat, but here you were eating it. Turns out Frankie was right. A storm was heading your way and it hit hard and fast. You’d managed to make it to a hotel off the freeway just as it came into full effect. What had started as a very pleasant road trip had quickly soured when you refused to apologize for not heading his warning. This paired with the 6 hours you had already driven had left you both irritable so much so that Frankie was now refusing to be any use in respect to figuring out what your next move was going to be.

"Hi" you say to the equally tired looking receptionist. Apparently, every other person travelling through Illinois had also missed the memo about the storm and were now all stuck at the same hotel.

"Hi, so sorry for the wait" she says, forcing a smile in a way that you recognized from your retail days.

"No need to apologize! What are the odds you have any rooms available?" you ask rubbing your eyes in an attempt to keep them open.

"Let me check, we have one... suite left on the... fourth floor” she says after a few moments of typing away into the computer.

"Perfect we’ll take it." you say, tapping your credit card to the machine. You walk back over to Frankie who was sitting with the bags and hand him a room key. He exhales deeply, not looking up from his phone as he takes it from you.

"There was only one room left so we’ll have to share" you say.

"Fine," he says, standing up, grabbing his bag and heading over to the elevator not bothering to wait for you. You watch as the elevator doors open and close behind him. Sure maybe it was your fault that you were stuck in this situation, but that was pretty rude. You push your way into the room after struggling with the key for a moment. Frankie must have been eager to get to sleep, or at least eager to not converse with you as he’d wasted no time in unpacking his bag and getting ready for bed. Your eyes move from the clothes on the floor, to the suit hung up in the closet, to the closed bathroom door. You hear the toilet flush and watch the door open as you drop your bag down onto the living room floor, grabbing the toiletries out of your bag's side pocket. You were far too tired to wrestle down to your pyjamas so you opted to stay in the leggings and sports bra you’d been wearing all day. Yes it was gross, but you couldn't be bothered to change at this point. Your eyes follow Frankie as he exits the bathroom in a green cotton t-shirt and a pair of plaid boxer shorts. You continue to watch as he plugs his phone in and shifts beneath the covers. Guess you were on the floor then. The couch was far too small, and you really weren't trying to break your neck sleeping on its arm rest.

"Pass me a pillow" you huff, as you grab a glass from the nightstand, turning back around to fill it up with water from the sink.

Why?" he asks, watching you take a sip from the overfilled cup.

"So I can sleep on the floor." you state, as if it was obvious.

“No, I’ll do that, you can have the bed" he says shifting up and pushing the blankets off himself. He hadn’t realized you were so averse to sharing a bed with him, but you had just met so he guessed it was fair enough.

"I’m not the one with the bad back old man" you state, the words sounding a lot harsher than you’d intended, but you were younger and thus more likely to recover.

"Fair point, but you’re not sleeping on the floor. Santi wouldn’t allow it. We can put up a pillow barrier between us if that would make you feel more comfortable" he offers, any hostility you had felt from him earlier now turned to tenderness. In all honesty, you hadn’t realized that sharing the bed was an option.

"I need two to sleep with so no point in making a barrier" you say, begrudgingly placing the glass back down on the nightstand "Shift" you say, fanning your hand.

"No" he says looking you dead in the eye "I got here first" he’s grinning slightly, further indicating he’d gotten over his anger from earlier. You could have just walked around to the other side, but for some unknown reason you don’t. Instead, you swing your leg over him pushing yourself up onto the bed, straddling him for the briefest moment before rolling over to the other side.

"Couldn’t have just walked around?" he chuckles

"Couldn’t have just shifted over?" you parrot back, moving onto your back, closing your eyes and dozing off.

[han-shinsuke]

ɢᴏᴀᴅ ɴᴏ.4 🥀𝐾𝑢𝑟𝑜𝑜 𝑇𝑒𝑡𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑜𝑢🥀

I remember approaching him that summer, with a letter in hand and a stem of daffodil. They had a great game against Karasuno. They lost but still, it was a great game. Kuroo asked for a moment to be alone. That’s when I made my move. I have written a letter for him. A very long one. You see, I’m not good at making people stay. But, I am honest and brave. Unfortunately, those weren’t enough for him to stay. He’s seeking for unusual. Something I don’t possess. Something he can never find in me.

That moment happened almost a decade ago and time, as if on purpose, doesn’t lessen the pain, the happiness, and sense of accomplishment I had felt when I let him go. I was his first love but I am not his greatest one. He had dreams. He had goals. And he wasn’t my top priority back then. We were young. We needed guidance. I can never abandon my family and my responsibilities.

Now, I could tell that Kuroo is an accomplished man. He’s got everything. All of his dreams came true. But one thing is missing, a wife and children. That's why we are here. To help him plan his new beginning. Alisa had told me that Kuroo has a fiancée and currently on a business trip abroad.

I have established an event planning business and surprisingly, according to Alisa, we are Kuroo’s choice. It has been months since I started working full-time on his dream wedding. He hasn’t changed at all. He is still meticulous.

“How’s your dad, Y/N?”

We are currently slow dancing when he asks question. Let me defense myself, this is just a friendly dance. Forced by our common friends back in high school. It’s his party, organized by Kenma and Lev before his wedding this coming weekend.

“He’s good. My family is doing good.” I am not blaming my father for what happened between me and Kuroo but it is the eldest child’s duty to take responsibility when the head of the family can no longer fulfill the job. My father got involved in a car accident. He lost a foot, suffered from depression and that forced me to take part-time jobs while attending high school. After I graduated, instead of pursuing a college degree which was clearly not possible that time, I applied for different jobs to support my family. Three years later, I got an invitation from a nearby University. They offered me a full scholarship program that I gladly accepted.

“I heard that someone has donated a prosthetic leg for him. Maybe I should send him an invitation for my wedding?”

“Alisa told you ha? Why would you invite him?”

Kuroo has been mentioning all sort of things about weddings for three straight hours and it started making me feel sad about myself and my love for him that never fades.

“I was close with your father, Y/N.”

“You WERE close before.”

“Yeah, that was before.”

We didn’t noticed that the song we were dancing along with had finished. Thanks to Morisuke and Bokuto they pulled us apart and handed us a mug of beer. I must control my alcohol intake tonight or else I would end up speed driving on the street. I emptied at least three mugs and I am confident that I’m not drunk. I have high alcohol tolerance!

“Alisa, have you seen my things?” My brows are furrowed when I started looking for my bag and folders. Alisa just shrugged her shoulders and continued drinking with our drunk friends.

“I think I put them inside Kuroo’s bedroom.” Lev said, yawning.

“Hah?!” I smacked him on the face and he just laughed at me.

“Go get it, Y/N, Kuroo is not there.”

I jogged towards Kuroo’s house and went straight inside his dimly lit room. I found my bag and folders laying on his bed and immediately picked my things.

Before I could spin on my heels, a figure of a man appears from the darkened corner of the room.

“Sorry for intrusion, Lev’s fault.” I hugged my things closer to my body and looked straight at Kuroo.

“Do you still love me?” All of the sudden, Kuroo asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

I am honest and brave.

“Yes.”

“I see.”

“Excuse me, Kuroo. I need to go home.”

“Could you give this to your dad?” Kuroo handed me a copy of the invitation and squeezed my hand.

I smiled at him, “I will.”

Kuroo held my gaze for a moment. He sighed. The light from the ceiling flickered. I think I catch a glimpse of a portrait of a woman there before the door closes.

It must be his fiancée. How sweet of him.

When I returned home, my father was waiting for me on the front porch. I gave him a high five.

“Dad, Kuroo is inviting you to his wedding this weekend, would you like to attend?” I asked. Looking for the cream colored envelope inside my bag. I place it in his palm when I found it.

“Of course! You’ll be there, too, right?”

“Yeah. I’m one of the bridesmaids.” I laughed.

𝐷𝑎𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑑𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔

“Dad!” They are here again! The employees from the nearby flower shop. Bringing baskets of daffodils for my father. If I’m not mistaken, someone have been sending daffodils every last saturday of the month for five years straight now! Whoever is doing this, is undoubtedly an angel! These flowers contributes to my father’s immediate recovery!

“Oh! These are pretty!” My father descended from the stairs, walking straight to the delivery team to sign the receipt. He was dressed in suit and I was dressed in yellow dress like the color of the daffodils.

“Where’s mom, Aria, and Dale?”

“They go shopping.”

“It’s too early for them to go shopping, Dad.”

My father walks up to me, dragging me outside our house after the delivery team finished placing all the baskets in the living room.

“Get going, Y/N, we’ll be late!”

“You seemed excited, Dad! It’s just Kuroo’s wedding!”

𝑊𝑒𝑑𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑉𝑒𝑛𝑢𝑒 ( 𝑆𝑡. 𝐴𝑛𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑃𝑎𝑑𝑢𝑎 𝐶ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑐ℎ )

He’s been looking for the right one until she came in his life. She's the torch that lights up his dark paths. Leading him towards the brightest one. Where he doesn’t need to be alone. All these years and after everything he went through, finally, Kuroo had found the one.

His peace in a world full of chaos.

My event team are all busy. Alisa helps aligning the children in the center aisle of the church. I left my father with Lev and Kenma and assisted the other guests. The bride’s car is parked near the entrance. I wonder why she is still staying inside the car.

“Come on, Y/N!” Alisa dragged me back on the line. Joining my father at the very end of the queue.

“What about the bride, Alisa?” I asked in panic.

“She has different tradition, Y/N. Let her be. She’ll come out after us.

“Stand straight, my child.” Dad said. Smiling widely.

I smiled back. Lev handed my father a walking cane who struggles standing on his prosthetic. Dad taps his arm, laughing.

The queue starts as the music plays.

[ the one by kodaline ]

🥀 Y/N LETTER ALMOST TEN YEARS AGO🥀

𝒦𝓊𝓇ℴℴ,

𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑏𝑎𝑑 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑚𝑒. 𝐼 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑒 𝑑𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑚. 𝐼 𝑟𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑜 𝑓𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑠𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒, 𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑜𝑡! 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑. 𝐼 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑟. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡. 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑜𝑛 𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡. 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑚 𝑗𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑠, 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑠𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑡! 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑟𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒. 𝐿𝑜𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑟𝑢𝑒𝑙 𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓. 𝑌𝑜𝑢, 𝐾𝑢𝑟𝑜𝑜, 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛, 𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠. 𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑦𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑣𝑖𝑒𝑤, 𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝐵𝐸𝐴𝑈𝑇𝑌 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒. 𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑠 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑏𝑦 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑛 𝐸𝑋𝑇𝑅𝐴. 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑦 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑖𝑡. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝐾𝑢𝑟𝑜𝑜. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡.

𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦. 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛.

𝑀𝑎𝑦 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ��𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝐾𝑢𝑟𝑜𝑜.

𝐺𝑜 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑎 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒.

𝑀𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟.

—ᴛʜᴇ ᴇxᴛʀᴀ

•end of the letter•

I really wished it was me. The one you’re looking for. But an extra should remain an extra. We were just made to spice things up. That’s all.

The line is about to end. Three more people and it will be our turn to walk down the aisle. The bride is still in her car. I’m nervous. I don’t think I can make it. Kuroo’s happy face is telling me to run for him and take him away and make him mine again.

But, that’s so cruel and inhumane.

“Be brave. Dad is here.” I bursted into tears when my father said those. He grips my hand tightly as we walk hand in hand. Tears streaming from my eyes down to my cheeks.

The guests probably thinks I’m out of my mind. Who am I to cry? I am not the bride for Christ’s sake!

“Dad? What are you doing?” I wiped my tears away and tried reaching my father's hand when he approached Kuroo.

He pulled two small envelopes from the inside pocket of his suit and gave one to Kuroo.

Dad opened the one he was holding and started crying when he showed me what was written on the paper.

𝐼'𝑚 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑛. It said.

“No! No! Don’t say that, Dad. You were never a burden.” I’m holding my hand on my chest as I cried loudly. Why would my father think that? He was never a cargo or a responsibility. He is my dad.

He pulled another paper that said, 𝒀𝑬𝑺.

That’s when the guests started clapping their hands. I looked at them one by one. They are all smiling and crying like me.

From where I am standing, My mom, my sister, Aria and brother, Dale, came out from the bride's car. All dressed.

Aria ran towards us, handing Kuroo a flower crown made of daffodils.

Now, it’s his turn to show what's inside the envelope that my father had given him awhile ago.

“SIR, CAN I MARRY YOUR DAUGHTER?” Kuroo read, tears forming from the corners of his eyes.

“Wait! Are all of these pranks?!” I cried, stepping back. They laughed. Kuroo pulled me close to him. Putting the flower crown on my head. Kissing my eyes like he’s been dying to do all of these.

“These are real, Y/N.” Kuroo leads me towards the altar. Grinning. My parents stood beside me. Both shedding tears.

“He’s the daffodils sender, Y/N.” Dad said.

“And he’s the one sponsored your college scholarship.” Mom added.

I gasped. Bursting into tears again.

“You bewitched me from the very start, Y/N. After all these years, it was always you I keep looking for. You are my beginning. My middle. And my end. You are my cycle of life.”

— E N D —

[parkers-gal]

cups

boomerang pt. iii

wc: 2k

warnings: very detailed anxiety attack

There’s two faucets, each with a cup under, catching the liquids. There’s one that flows consistently, one she drinks out of on the daily. The other comes out in drips, in which she sips from the cup rarely. Now, the rare cup is overflowing, so much that she can’t drink all of it. She’s drunk on it now, and she’s not sure where the end or the start is anymore. The other cup has stopped flowing all together. The once consistent flow that kept her thriving and hydrated was now barren and dry.

One would complain about how different the two beverages taste, one being bitter and sour and tart, the other sweet and honeyed and enjoyable. But not her. Maybe the whole point of having both is to keep them balanced. Maybe that’s where the fault line is, where the recurring problem always starts from. Maybe nobody is ever supposed to have too much of one beverage; perhaps it needs to be even, balanced, steady. One thing’s for sure, you’re always supposed to have both; never neither.

Y/N’s in a pickle. Out of the two of them, she wasn’t the actor. But now, pretending is her main task; something she must do everyday just to survive to the next. It starts at her friends house, the place she’d ran off to when things went crumbling down. To any outsider, the split wasn’t as drastic as others, though the pair didn’t exactly end on great terms, one would expect both to hold no grudges or remain satisfied. When they said the game of love was a battlefield, nobody ever told them it would be war.

She’s sitting on the floor in the middle of the living room. Despite the name, the room is anything but alive. It’s dead and cold and dull and unwelcoming. The welcome mat outside could even be considered click-bait, in Y/N’s opinion. But nobody had ever cared about Y/N’s opinions. Or her feelings. Or her thoughts or struggles or ideas or wishes. Because she’s the nurturer, the person other people turn to when they want to show insights of their lives. Y/N had never gotten the opportunity to do the same.

At one point, though, she thought she had found the person she could do that to. But of course, things went crashing down, the foundation crumbling and cracking until piles of rubble and concrete were left, dust wafting through the air and making her lungs burn.

Three weeks have passed, and by the middle of the fourth week, Harrison had told her about his accident with the car. She wanted to be there – as the person who sat with him in the ambulance, or the person who was driving the car – she wasn’t sure, but she knew she wanted to be there. She almost drove to the hospital; the keys were in her hand and the door was opened, but she had ultimately decided that he didn’t want her like he used to.

The heart does a lot to a human. Love is like blood, the source of living and anyone’s lifeline; you need it to survive, the heart needs it. That’s why the heart pumps it 24/7, flushes it through the body and asks the lungs for continuous support in doing so. Y/N used to be breathing heavily, panting as the love ran through her veins and pumped her heart, filling her soul and her skeleton. Now, she was lying on the floor in an empty void, bleeding out the love that once kept her alive. It’s ironic, how the thing you need is also the thing that gets you killed.

“Get up,” Aisha nudges Y/N with her foot. “get off the floor for once.”

Groaning, Y/N sat up, head rush flooding her skull as she rolled her eyes. “What?” she whined.

“Let’s go out tonight.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely yes,” Aisha cuts her short, standing up and reaching for Y/N’s hands to help her stand too. “You said you would; I’ve already promised the gang we’d be there.”

“Fine,” she grumbles, standing up and patting her thighs for any stray hairs or dirt.

“Go shower,” Aisha nudges her in the direction of the bathroom. “We can get ready on time for once.”

Y/N laughs with a nod, walking towards her room. Once her back is turned, the smile drops from her face and her hands cover her face as she rubs. Hopefully, makeup would cover up the luggage her eyes carry under them.

**

She’s wearing heels and an off-the-shoulder-top dress that’s shorter than anything she owns. Aisha called it “clubbing material,” when she bought it, so she knew this would suffice for the night and satisfy her friends’ requirements.

“Y/N?!” Aisha calls from the kitchen. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” she yells back. “Let me just grab my purse!”

Opening a drawer to grab her jewelry, she wears a necklace before grabbing her purse. She halts all of a sudden, practically tripping her own self as she looks at the handbag her fingers are encased around.

“Y/-!” Aisha walks through the door, two shot glasses in her hands, but she too stops and takes notice of what Y/N is doing. “Are you… okay?”

Y/N shakes her head wildly, dropping all thoughts as she gives Aisha a smile, reaching for one of the glasses as she leads the way out of the room.

**

Club hours extend on weekends. Friday’s run all through Saturdays, so the club is pretty wild when they arrive. There’s five of them, each wearing something equally sexy and stunning and powerful. Y/N wishes she could feel all of those things, but she pretends, for now. It’ll do.

“This way!” Jennie calls, grabbing Y/N’s hand as they move to a particular section of the dance floor, some of them already getting into the groove with the beat. Y/N laughs before moving her hips, joining them.

She dances for about fifteen minutes before a certain figure catches her attention. It’s not who she thinks it is, thankfully, but he is wearing a familiar hoodie, one she’s certain she had worn a copy of. The memories flood back quickly, and she stops her movements suddenly, trying to catch her breath.

“You good?” Aisha asks, a hand on the small of her back. Y/N nods, telling her something about needing a glass of water, and Aisha nods, coming with her. Hands linked, they make their way through the crowd of sweaty twenty-something-year-old’s before settling on two stools at the bar counter.

“What’ll it be this time, ladies?” Ciara, the barista, asks.

“Just a bit of h-two-oh,” Aisha says with a laugh, going on about some new store opening down the street. Ciara happily chats back, and Y/N is thankful for the free moment to distract her brain. Before she knows it, she’s sipping out of a glass cup and another figure sits in the vacant seat next to her. The girl – who’s wearing something Y/N would love to buy – is chatting with the fellow she saw earlier. Her perfume is so strong that Y/N can smell it from her spot, and the scent is so familiar that she recognizes it immediately.

Upon the realization, she stands up from the stool hastily, setting the glass on the counter before going back onto the dance floor – a different type of distraction. She doesn’t last long, though, because someone is changing the song for Karaoke Hour, and the runner up is some girl – and the song she’s chosen sends Y/N into a furry of more memories and nostalgia.

Her breaths get short, eyes unable to focus on one particular item, and she’s reaching her hands out for nothing in particular, reaching out because she’s been abandoned for so long.

“Are you alright?” Daniella asks, lightly holding her left arm, one that Y/N had accidentally swung into her stomach.

“What’s happening?” Aisha asks, coming over to the group, abandoning her spot at the bar.

“Y/N,” Daniella tries again.

There’s tears trickling down her face, mascara smudging in the most cliche way. Her breathing has picked up so much she’s practically hyperventilating now, and her heart is beating faster than a 365 GTB Ferrari. Sweat builds on her palms and her underarms, and she nearly trips while stumbling backwards, her heels sabotaging her ankles’ strength.

“Let’s take her out of here,” Aisha shouts over the music, and the four of them attempt to bring her outside of the club. The majority of Y/N’s weight is on the girls around her, and she’s internally grateful they’re not as oblivious as former friends.

They sit her down on a bench, one of them wrapping a jacket around her shoulders as Aisha talks softly to her, sending two of the girls inside to get another glass of water. Y/N gulps half the cup down on her first go, and her breathing calms down after ten minutes.

After five minutes of sitting on the bench in the calmest degree she could manage, Aisha tells the three of them to get the rest of their stuff and pay the tab while she calls for a taxi cab, and Y/N feels guilty for ruining their girls night out.

“We can talk when we get home- if you want, of course,” Aisha assures her.

When Y/N’s certain they’re alone, she rambles. “It was just- so much, the lights and t-the songs and my p-purse and the perfume and ja-jackets-”

“I know, baby, I know,” Aisha coos at her, pulling her into a hug before the rest of the girls come out, and they file into a cab, scents of alcohol lingering on them.

***

When Y/N wakes the next morning, there’s seven missed calls in her notification center. Four are from the girls (about last night), two from a colleague at work, and another from Harry. Unplugging her phone, she clicks on his number, the phone dialing.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice is raspy through the phone, and Y/N has a feeling she just woke him up.

“Hey,” she breathes into the phone. “You called?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “Aisha told me about last night; ‘was just checking in.”

“Oh,” Y/N sighs. “Yeah.. I’m okay,” she whispers.

Harry hums in response, and a few beats pass before he speaks again. “Did you hear he punched me?”

“What?” Y/N laughs. “Yeah right-”

“No really. I had to go to the hospital to make sure my jaw wasn’t fractured.”

“Wow.”

“I know- what a fuckin’ twat.”

It’s Y/N’s turn to hum, and Harry just laughs, rubbing his jaw from the remaining aches.

“Are things… bad?” Y/N whispers again, afraid somebody might shame her for being curious, for being worried.

“Worse than they’ve ever been,” Harry says back quietly. “I know you were Tom’s, but everything is different over here. It’s like this piece of our lives is just gone, and everyone has to work around it now.”

Y/N sighs and looks down, phone still to her ear as she thinks about his words. “Yeah,” she whispers before wiping at her face. “I get it.”

“I don’t know if you do, though.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Do you honestly think you’re meant to be apart?”

“Harry,” Y/N says sternly with another sigh. “I just- we’ve talked about this already. I’m tired of being the one that doesn’t matter.”

“But you matter to me,” he says back. “And Harrison and Sam and Tuwaine and Paddy and-”

“But who’s the base of it all?” Harry doesn’t reply, so she asks again. “Why’re you a group?”

“Because of him,” Harry admits. “No, yeah, I know, I get it,” he sighs too. “I just.. miss my home.”

“It was home to you but hell to me.”

“I know. And I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel guilty about doing what’s best for yourself.”

“Don’t be,” Y/N rubs at her face. “It’s whatever.”

“Will I ever see you again?”

Y/N looks to the window, glancing at the rays of light and the green leaves, and she ponders the thought.

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.”

[punkpoemprose]

I Hate You (And I Hate That I Don’t Really Hate You)- A Kristanna Oneshot

Universe: Modern AU Length: 3432 Rating: M (Mature, because there’s some sexy bits)

Notes: Happy Unbirthday @thesvenqueen! Sorry it took me a while to post yours. I’ve been rewriting and deleting and rewriting it all day. Enemies to lovers man, it’s just got to be perfect, you know? Hope you like it!

Her distaste for Kristoff Bjorgman had started early, when she was just five years old. He was the boy next door, with messy blonde hair and spirited brown eyes who was always playing outside, earning freckles on his nose from the sun. She’d despised him more than anything because he could do all the things she couldn’t.

She’d ask her parents, “Mama, Papa! Can I go ride my bike down the street?”

And in return they’d given her hundreds of reasons why it wasn’t an option. She was too small, it was too dangerous, what if she fell and hurt herself and they didn’t see? What if one of the other kids was mean to her?

No, they always said, better for her to take her little bike with its training wheels up and down the same short stretch of hallway in the house where they could keep an eye on her, or up and down the driveway for a few short minutes when her father could tear himself away from work long enough to watch her. And in the meantime, Kristoff would ride by the front bay windows, like he was taunting her.

He was three years older, he was a boy, and he wasn’t their son. Those were always her parent’s reasons when she saw him doing something she wasn’t allowed to do, and after a while she started hating him for those same reasons. He was older than her so he was able to do things that she wanted to do without having to have training wheels of any sort. He was a boy so he was allowed to get messy and do the things she and her sister could not in their nicely pressed little dresses. He was the neighbor’s son and that meant that all his rules were different than hers.

It was unfair, how he’d wave to her through the window with a smile on his face, telling her to join him like she had a choice, and walking away disappointed when she didn’t come out. She wanted to play in mud puddles and pretend to sword fight with sticks. She wanted to catch bugs and ride her bike down the road. She wanted to leave the house. She wanted to play like the other kids did.

She didn’t hate him so much on the days where Elsa felt well enough to play, the days where they’d play with their dolls in the front window and wave to the other children as they walked by. Those days his smiles and waves seemed a little kinder, almost like he meant he wanted to meet her.

She did meet him when they went to school. He was in Elsa’s grade, not that Elsa went to school very often. Anna hadn’t understood then, just a little thing herself. She didn’t know that being nervous could keep someone from living a life, for her being nervous was something that she just got over. Being angry though, being so angry she couldn’t think of anything else, was something she could understand.

She understood it when she would see him through the classroom window, playing on the playground with the other kids, and heading inside when it was her turn to go out with her class. They were polite enough to her, her classmates, but they didn’t pick her for kickball. They treated her like a china doll, not to be played with, but to be looked at in her little pretty dresses and perfectly shined Maryjane’s. She’d longed for clothes like Kristoff wore, jeans worn at the knee, t-shirts from the discount store with dinosaurs on them that were meant for playing in, that were meant to get dirty.

She’d see him get on the school bus at the end of the day when her parents would send a car to get her. Other kids would be talking to him and they’d laugh. She always felt like he was laughing at her.

When Anna had turned twelve, she’d been allowed a little garden in the backyard to grow flowers and strawberries. It was ladylike enough work to please the housekeeper and governess their parents had hired for her and Elsa when Anna had turned six. Gerda was a kind woman, but a strict one, with very specific thoughts about what Anna should do with her life. Those thoughts included a preparation and boarding school, but her mother hadn’t wanted to separate her daughters.

She’d go out to weed and neaten and harvest every evening in the summer months, and when school rolled around, she’d tended to it after finishing her homework. It was the dirtiest work she’d ever been allowed and she’d been so proud of it. Everything was meticulously neat, the opposite of the way she liked to keep her room, and she’d done such a good job of it that the house staff and even her parents had noticed and gave her a few quick words of admiration. It had meant everything to her.

One day when she returned home from school and finished her homework, she’d had her heart crushed to see the whole thing destroyed. Apparently, the neighbor boy had gotten a dog and he’d gotten out without them noticing and had dug up all her hard work. She’d cried over crushed plants, holding broken little flowers in her hands and blaming him, blaming Kristoff for what had happened. Afterall, she thought, if he’d just been better at training his dog, if he’d just kept track of him, she’d still have her garden. It had been her only comfort as Elsa had been locked in her room most days and her parents had been increasingly preoccupied with doctors, trying to figure out what had happened to her that she’d just stopped speaking.

He’d come over to apologize, but she’d made someone else answer the door. She hadn’t thought that she could accept his apology without telling him that she hated him and never wanted to see him again, and she knew that if she had been that rude, her parents really would have had her sent off to a boarding school to learn manners befitting a young lady.

So she kept on hating him, but she’d been quiet about it. The grounds staff had seeded over her destroyed safe place, grass growing where her flowers had to “beautify” the place that she’d once loved, and it was all his fault.

Her parents died in a car crash when she was fifteen. It had been bad weather, they’d slid off the road and hit a tree. She hated Kristoff for it.

Not because he caused the rain or because he told them to go out driving because he hadn’t. He had had nothing to do with the death of her parents, but he’d come to the funeral with his parents. He’d come through the receiving line where Elsa had stood shaking at her side, Anna’s broken sister and legal guardian at the tender age of eighteen and fresh out of a mental health counseling program that had only succeeded in making her functional, not the sister that Anna remembered from their childhood years.

He’d shaken their hands solemnly, eighteen himself and barely a man even in a legal sense. She still saw that little boy of eight in his face, in his eyes when he’d touched her. She’d hated how he still had his parents. How he still had someone who loved him while she and Elsa were all alone in the world.

He went off to college that fall, and Anna hated him for being able to leave while she was stuck in a too-dark too-quiet house with Elsa trying to manage the family business and go to school online and spend more and more time away from her and in her psychologist’s office.

She hated him for leaving. They hadn’t been friends. She’d hated him since she knew how to hate someone, but there was a comfort in seeing him through the window, a comfort in seeing him walk through the halls in school, and it was gone.

She was twenty-one when she saw him again.

Of course he’d come home, she’d seen him summers and on holidays walking into his parent’s house and down the street like he’d never left, but she’d tried her best to not pay him any attention. She hated him, and it should have been easy, but she’d really needed to put the effort in after he left to pretend that she didn’t care whenever he came home.

More accurately, she was twenty-one when she saw him in any context other than him visiting home. She’d been a senior in college, just finishing up her degree, and out at a bar with friends celebrating. She’d seen him, two beers in, and all the hate and pain and fear from an entire childhood spent hating him welled back up in her, but his hair was tousled just right and he was watching hockey on his phone and she was willing to pretend for a moment that it wasn’t him. Because of course she knew that he lived in the town she’d gone to college in. It had been an accident. She’d picked the school then heard through the grapevine that he lived near it and she’d just had the good fortune to not run into him in nearly four years.

But that was a lie and she knew it. Because she’d gotten into every school she’d applied to and she’d accepted the offer after she heard he lived there, and she’d looked for him in every shop, in the movie theater, at the gas station ever since. She’d told herself that it was because she hated him and she wanted to tell him as much, but that wasn’t why she crossed the bar and sat next to him, daring him to look at her, to see her, with her thoughts as she finished beer number three.

She hadn’t been drunk when she’d kissed him in the back corner of the bar. Not really anyway, at least she was sober enough to blame it on the beer. She kissed him with her mouth open, with something slow and soulful playing over the speakers as he swayed with her to the rhythm. She didn’t know the song, but he’d been humming it and she’d asked him to dance.

Waking up in his bed had been an accident. At least she told herself as much when the morning light found them both fully clothed in his bed with a dog, the dog that had destroyed her garden, at her feet. She’d slipped out while he was pretending to sleep, and she hated him for it. She hated him for not holding her tight and telling her not to go.

She’d patted the dog, Sven, on the head on her way out though.

The second and third times she’d wound up there, staying the night in his arms and waking up fully clothed, were mistakes too. Because she hated him, and she wouldn’t seek out a man she hated at the bars, she wouldn’t ask him where he worked so she could accidentally pass by wearing her Wonderbra under a tight shirt, so it had to be an accident.

It was an accident now too, with his mouth on hers, totally sober, pulling him toward his bedroom.  It had to be an accident, because she couldn’t put want and hate in the same room in her head and stay sane unless it was a mistake. She knew, she’d known for over a week, that she didn’t hate him anymore, but she was having a hard time letting go of it.

As she tried to pull him towards his bedroom, her motion was halted by his large hands scooping her off the floor. It felt all to natural for her to wrap her legs around his waist and let him carry her to his bed. Her fingers fisted into his hair as she resumed kissing him.

A groan in appreciation came from the back of his throat and his hands squeezed her bottom as he knocked the door open and then closed behind them.

She cursed when he dropped her to his mattress and immediately descended to kiss down her neck. Her fingers were already fumbling against his belt, tugging his shirt out of the waistband. She hoped that he’d unbutton it himself, because if not she thought she might just tear it off him.

He’d grown so much since they were young. His jaw had taken the set of a man and his beard scratched against her skin as he mouthed across her skin to the place where her dress’s top gave the slightest peek into her cleavage.

When his hand went for the zipper on the back of her dress, she leaned up into his kiss, giving him access and encouraging his mouth to dip down as far as her could under the fabric to kiss the tops of her breasts.

They’d been on a date. An honest date, because he’d said “we have to stop meeting this way” at a bar, and she’d understood it as “I need to stop bringing you home drunk because I want to do things to you I can only do sober.”

The dress was thrown to the floor quickly, along with his shirt and her bra and then her panties.

It wasn’t long before he was asking her, begging her, to let him go down on her.

She writhed under his attentions, his tongue first, and then his tongue and his lips, and then his tongue and his lips and his fingers curled in her just right. His beard had certainly helped the matter, and she wished she had been able to get a better look at him when he was between her legs, treating her so reverently, pulling the pleasure from her in waves. It had been over before it started. In fact it had been over twice within minutes. She thought that maybe he’d want to try for a third, but she’d pulled him up for air, feeling shaky legged and overstimulated.

His fingers in her had been so much better than her own, her own experimentations had been nothing compared to his abilities. She almost wanted to ask if he was experienced, but somehow she knew that the answer would be no, that this, all of this, had been just for her.

He’d licked her from his fingers, he’d kissed her open mouthed, letting her taste herself on his lips. It was as debauched as it was gentle.

In the aftermath he’d covered her with his bedspread, turned the lights out, and curled around her tightly. He hadn’t asked her to reciprocate, he hadn’t said anything. He’d just kissed her and held her for what felt like forever and no time at all until the mood shifted from heated to simply warm.

He’d kissed the crown of her head, and then down to her neck and shoulder, he’d pulled her in close, and then when he seemed content himself, he spoke.

“You hated me. I could always see it in your eyes. You hated me so much.”

It wasn’t accusatory. It was spoken like a fact, and she nodded to confirm it.

His fingers carded through her hair gently and she cuddled into his side. She couldn’t change the past, but she realized that she was starting to remember a hundred little things she’d made herself forget.

Kristoff at age eight slipping a paper airplane through her mail slot, and the pair of them playing, Anna tossing the paper plane out the window and him catching it, walking it back to her mail slot and repeating the process over and over until it started to rain. Kristoff at age fifteen leaving a potted peace lily for her as an apology for her garden, a lily she’d mourned the death of her freshman year of college when it had lived out the last of its longevity on her windowsill. Kristoff at eighteen holding her hand a little longer than necessary at her parent’s funeral, bringing her a glass of water and a slice of lemon cake at the wake, inviting her to his grad party. She thought about Christmas cards from his family every year, and how she’d watch him from the window, hand delivering them through her mail slot. She thought about the way he always looked for her in the windows and how his smiles and waves really had never been teasing or mean, but honest and hopeful.

“I had to make myself hate you,” she whispered into the stillness of the dark room, “Because it hurt too much to know that we could never be friends.”

His lips found her bare shoulder and pressed down gently, like it was natural, like they did this every night before they fell asleep.

“Because of your parents?” he asked quietly, pulling her back into him in a gesture she read as protective. She wondered how long he’d known she was unhappy, how hard he’d tried to do what he could. She wondered what might have changed if she’d just gone to his graduation party years before, whether finally being free to see him would have made her happy. She couldn’t quite imagine a whirlwind summer romance. She’d been too young for romance, but she could imagine him in that crap truck of his bringing her for ice cream or down to the lakeshore or them not going anywhere at all, watching crap movies in his living room. She could imagine a summer where she’d made him her friend, and then months of letters and texts and emails. She could imagine a few years of friendship, him coming to her graduation, him helping her pick colleges, him realizing that he was falling in love with her, and her picking her college because he’d be there to love her.

She nodded. “It wasn’t really their fault I don’t think… or at least I don’t think they meant to keep me indoors so much. It was just Elsa was sick, and then she had the mental health problems, and they had the business and her to think about all the time… it was just easier for them to keep me safe if I were inside and proper and… I think they would have been different if the situation was.”

His beard scratched against her skin, reminding her of the way his mouth had felt elsewhere. She only felt a little bad thinking about how he’d made her see stars now that they were having a serious conversation.  

“I can understand why you must have disliked me so much. Even though I was adopted I always had family, I didn’t have much for friends, but I had a few and I had Sven… and I can see how you probably wanted that.”

“I did… I do… A lot’s changed since we were kids, but not that. Elsa’s family now. She did her best for me those three years, she’s gotten better now. We talk a lot.”

He hummed, like he already knew. She wondered if he’d been checking in on them. His parents had always been good neighbors to them, especially after her parents passing, so she imagined that his mother had been able to update him on how they were doing.

“And I have some friends now, at school… and… I just I guess I’m realizing that it’s not too late.”

“Too late for what?”

She took a deep breath, taking in the way it felt easy to breathe for the first time in a very long time. She hadn’t realized how much baggage she’d been carrying around until she’d seen him that first night in the bar.

“I don’t think it’s too late for us to be friends.”

He chuckled and pressed his lips to her neck again, his body warm and solid against her back.

“I don’t mean to be crass Anna… but I think we might be a little more than friends already.”

“Lucky thing,” she said, blushing as she pressed her rear into him a little closer, feeling the press of his cock against her, “Because I think I want to get a little friendlier with you… it’s only fair after all.”

A growl of appreciation had her letting out an easy and warm laugh.

She felt light and warm, and for the first time since she could remember, she felt like everything was alright.

[benjisley]

(  wolfgang novogratz , cis man , he/him )  i think i just saw BENJAMIN ‘BENJI’ ISLEY down by the shore. i know the TWENTY TWO year old MECHANIC / MUSICIAN has been in oceanview point for TWENTY TWO YEARS , but they’re family nonetheless. i’ve noticed they’re pretty PROTECTIVE, but it’s rumored they’re a little IMPULSIVE. guess it makes sense after all they’re a ARIES. they always remind me of THIS YEAR - THE MOUNTAIN GOATS and WOVEN BRACELETS, GREASE STAINED JEANS, AND IMPROMPTU LATE NIGHT DRIVES. ( kenna , 21 , cst , she/her. )

hiii !!! im kenna and i’m super excited to be here!! bear with me if this intro is a little messy.... i’ve had this character in the works for a while but i’ve never actually played him before!! on that note, here’s his pinterest board if you’re interested in things like that haha.

( tws: car accident, death of a parent, drunk driving)

basics

full name: benjamin gray isley

nicknames: benji, ben, benny, anything u wanna call him honestly

age: twenty two

date of birth: april 16th, 1998

height: 6′3″

gender: cis man

sexuality: bisexual

mother: delilah isley née cooper (41)

father: levi isley, deceased

siblings: madeleine isley (11), oliver isley (14), theodora isley (18)

background

benji’s parents were fresh out of high school when he was born, the pregnancy came as a shock to everyone but his parents handled it surprisingly well. while delilah studied for her nursing degree, levi got a job at her father’s auto repair shop. within a year, the family of three were living on their own (with a lot of support from their families, of course). and next thing they knew, the family of three had turned into a family of six. and while trying to keep up with the schedules of four different kids proved to be difficult at times, they wouldn’t have it any other way.

it was no secret to anyone that benji idolized his father - he was the one who introduced him to his love for music, who taught him how to play guitar, who encouraged him when he expressed an interest in music as a career. he could spend hours talking to his father about anything. so, when his father was killed by a drunk driver when he was seventeen, it hit him pretty hard. he managed to hold it together for a few hours after he found out but that night, after everyone else in the house had gone to sleep, he took off in his car. he just felt an overwhelming need to get away, from that house, from that town, from everything. he didn’t say a word to his mother before he left and didn’t answer any of her countless calls or texts during the time he was away. the error in this decision didn’t quite hit him until he returned home the next afternoon to his mother hugging him in tears (leading him to break down in tears himself, apologizing profusely). it’s not a memory he enjoys looking back on, it just reminds him of how much of a selfish asshole he was then.

benji had big plans for himself his senior year. he was going to move out to los angeles, start a band, and make it big! he was going to be a rockstar! he would show everyone that he could make it, he would make his parents proud someday. these dreams were quickly discarded after his father’s death, once he realized that his mother was suddenly left alone with three minors to care for. she never asked him to stay and in fact, tried to convince him not to when he told her his intentions to do so. nothing she said convinced him and so... he stayed. he got certified as a mechanic after graduation and went to work at his grandpa’s auto repair shop (the same one his father worked at before his death).

he still has a passion for music and an interest in maybe someday turning it into an actual career - he knows it’s a bit of a longshot though. he’s happy enough just playing for his friends and family now. is sort of thinking of starting a band here in oceanview but is not entirely sure yet....

headcanons

has a box full of woven friendship bracelets that his little sister has made for him over the years... is always wearing at least one. thinks they’re pretty cool. likes to give them out to his friends too and he will judge them if they don’t wear it. like, you think you’re too cool for a friendship bracelet? no you’re not put it on right now

tries his hardest to be the rational and responsible one in his friend group.... tries to talk his friends out of doing dumb shit but usually ends up doing it with them in the end.... he’ll say it’s just to make sure they don’t die but he actually enjoys it. 

very much the type to put other people’s needs before his own. he’s allergic to doing things for himself and needs to be pushed to actually do so. isn’t very open about his feelings :// tends to keep things bottled up. and it honestly has a lot to do with him being embarrassed about the way he acted when his dad died. 

honestly really likes cooking!!! is usually the one cooking dinner at home (especially if his mom is working a late shift at the hospital), has a list of recipes to try out, and usually tries something new at least once a week.

really likes puns.... dad joke extraordinaire. will laugh at his own jokes even if no one else thought it was funny.

loves to go stargazing, especially with other people. he likes to flex his knowledge lol. is definitely known as the ‘cool guy who knows a lot about stars’ among some of his siblings’s friends. 

wanted connections

i will make an actual somewhat detailed list later but for now... honestly down for anything!!! best friends/childhood friends, neighbors, exes, family friends, etc. anything and everything!!

[gobydana]

Have You Ever Cared?

Hi! Could I request a batfam x batsis reader fic where she’s not a vigilante and everyone thinks of her as a spoiled trust fund kid and say some pretty mean stuff to her during an argument causing her to storm out. She’s killed and nobody really does much. So when she is resurrected she stays off the grid and leads a simple life until the batfam finds he and confront her where she reveals how hurt she is.

Batsister was a lot of things, biological daughter of billionaire Bruce Wayne, Gotham’s party child, twenty-some year old with no real path in life, living off her father. Or well that is what one would think if they read the tabolids or even talked to her family. As one of the only family members not in the superhero business. The gossip columns loved to feature her. Who she was out with, where she was partying, what car did she wreck. Her family loved to get on her case. Why didn’t she go to college or do something besides chilling at home. Why waste the money on drinking, being the party persona Bruce took on for many years. 

Tonight was one of those nights, only it seemed worse. Maybe it was due to the non-stop shit she got or maybe just today she didn’t want to deal with it. Either way it didn’t seem to stop and just kept coming. 

“They said you were drunk and saw you driving.” Bruce about yelled as he pushed the car away. 

“I wasn’t drinking.” She hollered back. 

“Really? Then do you just suck at driving? Can’t find the line?” Damain added in. 

“C’mon sister, we can’t have two family dissapointments. Just drunk driving?” Jason said from a top the stairs. That got him the bird. 

“When are you going to grow up.” 

“Father can’t get you out of trouble all the time.”

“What if you cause someone else’s injury? Did you ever think about that?

“Stop being the billboard for trust-fund child. Like c’mon can you actually use that brain in your head.” 

“I can’t believe we are related. Are you sure you are Bruce’s kid.”

“Enough!” Bruce yelled among the insults shooting out. “I am very disappointed in you.” He said with the most even, cold tone he could. 

With that batsister left towards the door not wanting to hear anything more. She couldn’t take it anymore. They of course wouldn’t listen to her but take the word of the press. It’s not like any of them were around enough to even get to know her. That’s why she knew they wouldn’t know where to find her. 

She went to the graveyard. It was her safe place, minus certain times of the year her family really didn’t come here. She walked towards the only two people  she hadn’t manage to disappoint in life: Thomas and Martha Wayne. She sunk down in defeated and started talking to the tombstones. Having the feeling at least someone would listen to her. 

“Your son hates me again. Family wouldn’t even listen to. Thought I was drinking and driving all cause of some Instagram videos taken of me not driving in a straight line. You want to know why I couldn’t drive? I was crying again. Had the stupid police radio on and heard bat down. Didn’t know which was got hurt, but judging by the sling on Jason’s arm going to guess it was him. They don’t know what it’s like. Finding out the same time the public does when one of them gets hurt. Every time I am home I see a new bruise, stitches, broken bones. Don’t they care that one day I might come home and find them gone? Hell doubt anyone would even tell me if they died. I probably would find out from the press.”

“Got into that university for a degree in chemistry biology. Think I might just pack and leave. Would they even care? They give me shit cause doing nothing, but they don’t know what goes on in my life. If they did, they would know I was applying. That the press’s opinion of me hurt my last chance. Been trying so hard. I am going to pretend you are proud of me though. So at least one or two Waynes would be.” 

She brushed the tears off her face. The thing she would never let her family see. Stay strong until she was alone. She was a Wayne and they were strong. But times like this she couldn’t be. After a few hours she knew she had to go. The rain was starting to come down and the moon was already hanging high in the sky. Grabbing her backpack, she walked towards the road. Starting tomorrow she was finding her own place and living a  new life. Maybe move to Metropolis. 

The dark night, slick roads, and her black clothes made her hard to spot. It didn’t help she was walking from the graveyard to the main road. That might be why the driver didn’t see her. The tears in her face cloudy her vision so that she didn’t see the car until it was too late. The last thing she registered was red blinding pain as the car made contact with her body at 45 mph. A driver who didn’t even care enough to stop but instead drove away. 

From the shadows though stood someone who did see. Someone who recognized her and knew of her family, Both as civilians and with capes. Someone who wanted to get back at Bruce and see him suffer. So Talia stepped out of the dark and picked up the bleeding girl. Batsis had died upon impact, but that didn’t mean she had to stay dead. Her father had a way to fix that. 

Green and pain was the next thing she remembered. It was almost glowing green as every injury she just suffered came flowing back. Her yells and pleas for it to stop echoes in the dark cave. Finally she found her way out towards the end of the pool where Talia and a guard were waiting. She explained everything to her and what happened. 

The first thing she asked was about her family. They might have been mad at her, but truly they would mourn her at least? But when Talia showed her newspapers and camera that she hacked into the manor, it surprised her. No mention of her death or the accident. Her family was acting as if nothing happened. Just carrying on like normal. When each of her siblings died and her father, she cried for days. Often feeling like she couldn’t get up each day. 

Everyday she found herself checking on her family with the same results. Talia saw the girls spirit died a little each day. After a few weeks she handed the girl a wad of cash and some new clothes. Gave her a chance that once she wanted more than anything. A do over, living a life not as a Wayne but as herself. She took that chance and left the compound to another world. It wasn’t long before she found a job and a place. Settling into life away from the family who didn’t care. 

It would be months before someone found her backpack. Bruce went to the cemetery to visit his parents' grave. On the way out he saw the backpack hidden in the bushes. At first he thought it was a normal one until he saw the W.E pin that she always had on hers. Closer look saw blood that was long ago dried up. The weather got to the backpack, no doubt being there for some months. He thought she had left mad at them, to another city. But maybe it was something else. He took the bag to examine further. 

Back at the cave, he emptied the contents. He was surprised at what he found. A college acceptance letter to pretious program, volunteer shirts from an orphanage the next town over, notebook and pencil, and her wallet. So much of it surprised him so much he didn’t know about his own daughter. Soon he found himself lost in thought he didn’t hear Talia come in at first. She knew he would be at the graves today and made sure he would find the backpack. 

“She died you know.” She said with hands up as he stood up with a batarang in hand. “A hit and run. Her killer just drove off without a care in the world.”

He sank down into the chair with a sad realization coming over him. She hadn’t been avoiding them, she had been dead. The rest of his kids were coming down the stairs at that moment for patrol. Every single one stopped in their tracks as what she said echoed in the cave. Not one knowing. 

“DId you?” He started with her only to cut him off. 

“Yes. SHe is alive again and if you truly cared about her, you would stay away from her. What family doesn’t know that one of them is dead. Prioritizing cape life over your own blood?  She died alone thinking you all hate her.”

With that she left. Bruce couldn’t say anything but waived the rest of them off to patrol. While they were gone he went up to what was once her room. Some place he hardly walked into since she was a child. He could still remember when she was younger and wanted it decorated pink. A pink glitter canopy hung over her bed. She was so happy to help him put it up. THat room no longer existed. Some time between now and then she painted it a different color. 

On the dresser was pictures of all of them. She was younger in 

most of them. Thinking back it had been a while since he had done anything with her. Between Gotham and the league, something was always pulling him away. Different college applications clouted her desk along with an old text book of his. Looks like she was teaching herself different science items. A police radio sat on the bed side table with a wrinkled sheet. On the sheet had all the code names the police used for the different bats. She must have been listening at night. Further discovery of wrinkled up tissue told him more than he ever knew. 

Through out the next week, they all found parts of her around the manor that surprised them. Jason found the book he recommend she read before his death as Robin laying on her bookshelf. It was worn out and no doubt been read a  few thousand times. Damian discovered that she had a sword hint half painted. It was going to be a gift for him. Dick found the old letters he use to write her when he first left the manor and started on his own. It appeared he was the one who stopped writing. Tim found his old camera and pictures in her room. Duke saw she wrote down his parent’s birthdays as a reminder for herself what days might be hard for him. 

It was Bruce who went looking. Everyone else thought maybe the best thing was to let her move on. Him though, he just couldn’t give up. She was his daughter, an only child he got to raise up. He had baby pictures of her and more growing up until the pictures stopped. He couldn’t give up on her. He might have found the man who hit her and threw him in jail with a lot of bruises, but none of that could make up all he forgot. 

He remembered as a child she was fascinated with France. Claimed she was going to live in southern France one day. So on a hutch, he went there. A few weeks later he saw her. It was in a small village near a university. She was working at a café. He sat across the road and watched her. The whole time, she looked genuinely happy. Something that didn’t happen in Gotham. 

That night he followed her home towards a small flat where she lived with a cat. She turned around when he came through the window, just starring at her. 

“Wonder if you were ever going to come. Was it better without worrying about a press nightmare living at home.” She asked. 

“I didn’t know you died.”

With that she threw up her hands. Of all he could say, that is what he said. SHe exploded. 

“I died and saw you all move on. You didn’t even know? What thought I just up and left. Didn’t even care to find out where? Did I ever matter to you? Because it sure as hell didn’t feel like it. I was second string to everything. Sorry missed you birthday, had to go save the world. I wanted a Christmas morning with my family? Too bad Joker broke out. I seem like I am hungover? Nope been up all night crying because the police reported one of you asses were massively hurt. Seven I wanted to go trick o treating but nope went to a fellow soliciaties party because the bat was too busy to take his child out. The damn league saw you more then me. I debated often just joining the rogues because then maybe you would pay attention to me. Nope just caused you problems that you couldn’t ignore. Put the Wayne name in the spotlight and you started paying attention to me. 

“I didn’t know.” 

“Is that all you can say? LIke I know you weren’t a man of many words but c’mon. How hard is it to say you are proud of me? To ask about my day just once in awhile instead of scolding me? Well guess what, I am proud of me. I am starting my degree of chemistry biology while working at the cafe. I made friends here who are friends with me not because of my family but because of me. No more wondering if I am good enough for you or good enough to be a Wayne. I am good enough for me. So there’s the door, don’t let it hit you on your way out. 

That night Bruce grabbed sleep at hotel and video chat with the family. Each one of her brothers ashamed that she thought she wasn’t good enough. For the next year, they came separate and slowly got her to be at least friendly with them. No doubt they could never undo the damage done but they tried to be a family. Bruce thought has the longest road. 

For the longest time he could never get the picture of her as a little girl asking for story before patrol. But over time he slowly saw her for the brilliant young woman she had become. He started talking time off from Batman to see her. Wanting to not waste more time. He almost lost her for good due to his own stupidity. Seven years later when she graduated with her doctorate, he made sure to be there with the family front row. He had missed so many memorable moments he wasn’t going to miss that one. 

Over time she also started to forgive them. The sadness and loneliness that had made a permanent place in heart had finally left.  She finally heard her father say that he was proud of her. That was something she never thought would happen. Also as a promise to her, he never came as Batman. Only as her father, Bruce Wayne. The family started to inform her more of when they got hurt instead  of her finding out herself. ANd some days when she came home to two of her brothers crashing on her couch bickering, she couldn’t be happier. 

Tagging: @the-shadow-of-atlantis @superwhoteen @speedypan 

[safiya-hensen]

safyia presley hensen - 01/12/1994

tw: depression, anxiety, car accident

faceclaim: naomi scott

name: safiya presley hensen

age: 26

occupation(s): wedding planner (non complete degree in business)

label: resident sweetheart

tattoos: 2 - a rose on her right side ribcage, butterflies on her left bicep above her elbow 

piercings - left ear: two stacked helixes, lobe and upper lobe, tragus. right ear: one helix, lobe and upper lobe, and a daith piercing. nose: small diamond stud on her left side (right side when you face her) she has her belly button pierced as well.

family: Everly Hensen, mother. Adam Foley, step-father. Helen Bell, aunt. Jameson Bell, grandfather.

The Rundown: Safiya has a very happy, charming, flirty and bubbly personality that she tends to lean into to hide the nasty anxieties that flood her mind in the day to day. From her hearing loss diagnosis to the nightmares of a car accident that nearly took the life she took for granted away from her, her mind can be a war zone. But, hidden behind flirtatious glances, great jokes and personable appearances lies an insecure and reserved person who believes she’s unworthy of love she used to have, of finding the happy ending so many of her clients receive when she does her job correctly. 

The Bio

beginnings - Safiya was born in Chennai, India to a family of 7. Her biological parents weren’t able to afford another child and therefore got her to an adoption agency. From there she was sent to an United States based agency, in hopes that her chances of being adopted was greater. It took about a year before Everly found her. The woman jumped across the pond and quickly gathered the young girl from the world she knew. Thankfully, Safiya remembers nothing of her life in India, the only reminder being her first name. She was grateful that Everly had kept a piece of her heritage for her to hold on to, even if she didn’t know much else. 

childhood - From the day of her arrival to the states and the Hensen household, Safiya grew up as a normal kid. She grew up with her adoptive mother, guidance from her aunt and her grandfather being a strong father figure for her. The presence of these adults served as role models in her life. They guided her through life and encouraged her hobbies from volleyball and singing, to fashion design and piano. They were just happy to have the light in their life that they did. All through high school, Safiya strove in her academics, played on a successful volleyball team and had joined the school choir. She was organized and made sure that she had time to balance everything in her life, her friends, her family, her boyfriends, hobbies and homework. Time seemed to fly by rapidly, and soon, Safiya was attending college as a business major. She was so excited about the idea of creating a business and being a business owner, she’d just not settled down with a product. She’d figured that maybe she would pick just one, versus the many types of services and products she’d dreamt up. College served her well, creating a bubbly, fun and outgoing person who had a wild streak when the moment was right. She was charismatic, yet kind and was always looking out for her friends surrounding her. 

a bump in the road - Though, her plans faltered a little when Safiya realized she was having trouble hearing some of her professors in lectures. She would then go to the Health and Wellness services on campus, only to be directed to an ENT. There, they diagnosed her with sensorineural hearing loss, meaning there was a part of her inner ear that wasn’t working correctly, and was irreversible. Unfortunately, Safiya found that over the course of the semester it began to worsen. Finally, she began to really struggle and started the process of figuring out how she could acquire hearing aids. She knows that it will gradually get worse, eventually leading to complete loss of hearing. She’s terrified for that world, and it’s coming sooner than she knows. Because of that, she has a rather difficult time coming to terms with the idea that people will treat her much differently, so she keeps her mouth shut about the topic most times than not. 

the downspiral - It was her diagnosis that began the harsh beginnings of her battle with depression. While her mother knew what was happening, she did everything she could to support the daughter she had taken in. However, she felt completely helpless. There was nothing that could fix the problem, and she was horrified of having to go into the world one day, not being able to hear it. She spent weeks trying to get out of bed, leading to academic probation from her school. Everly was worried and wasn’t sure what to do with her. She’d broken up with her boyfriend, and shut most of her friends out in fear of rejection. This led to Safiya shutting herself into her room and truly ignoring her studies despite how excited she’d been to earn her degree. Eventually, she withdrew from the semester in an attempt to maybe save her GPA when she returned in the next semester. Unfortunately, she never returned. 

the accident - Over the summer, Safiya tried her best to get back into her life, and picked up a gig working at a local boutique in order to give her some assemblance of a schedule. Driving home one night after a shift, she’d been struck head on by a drunk driver who’d crossed over the median. This changed everything for Safiya. It had been a week of near consciousness and some dismal looking predictions from doctors. Coming out of the accident with a broken arm, broken leg and a severe head injury, it was a large surprise that she’d managed to recover as quickly as she had. This had left her with a few scars that remind her of where she has come from. They encourage her to get up and move past the simple struggles, as she knows she’s been through far, far worse. It was months of recovery and pushing past the claims of a lesser quality of life for her. Yet, something in Safiya said ‘no, you’re getting through this, dead or alive.’

regrowth - After the accident, she knew she didn’t want to go back to school. She wasn’t wasting any more time at a desk in order to prove her successes to a large university. Over the course of her recovery, her mother’s boyfriend had proposed, and Saf watched her aunt help her mother plan her marriage to her step-father. Sitting as an audience member, she somewhat shadowed over her in an attempt to see if wedding planning was a good fit for her. Low and behold it was. She ended up becoming her Aunt Helen’s intern for a summer, before taking on a wedding of her own. Eventually she was hired and working with her aunt for a good two years and found that she loved it. She loved romance, the beauty of seeing a couple come together, and knowing that she was helping bind them in an everlasting moment, and a memory they could look fondly on. And maybe it was this career that led her to her greatest fear: being alone. 

love and life - Safiya had definitely had her share of relationships, and she was so happy in some of them. However, upon the diagnosis of her hearing, and what the outcome may result, she was terrified to let people in again. Friends, that was something different - but a partner? One who she’d live with and be so intimate with? She couldn’t imagine, never being able to hear her partner’s voice ever again, or making their life so much more difficult because of her disability. So, she thought she was better off. Yet, that doesn’t mean she isn’t a hopeless romantic, and doesn’t want love. She just knows that it’s not in the cards for her, or so she seems to believe. 

a new page - Maybe that’s why when Adam and Everly sold everything to their name and jetted off to Germany that she left Helen’s business, and started her own in the suburbs of Chicago, away from what she knew. To start over, and maybe be the person she was before everything hit the fan. She’s trying to be the same person, but when she looks in the mirror, she can’t help but see the ugly scars that remained from the accident, the mental scars from beating herself up over a diagnosis she couldn’t predict, and a life she had made up in her mind, even though she’d not even lived it yet. Chicago was going to be her reset in a way, if she wanted to or not. So now, 2 years into owning Ever After Events, she’s finally in a better place - or so she hopes.

[jbcnks]

BASICS.

Name: Jameson “Jamie” Banks

Gender / Pronouns: Cis male  / he, him

Species: Human

Age: Thirty-four (34)

Occupation: Consulting detective for Blackrock PD

Personality: Determined, fair, enthusiastic, bossy, stubborn, abrasive

HISTORY. tw. racism, death of a family member, grieving, murder, i guess technically cannibalism.

You are born one bright spring morning. Your mother always tells you that when she brought you home, all the flowers had bloomed in her garden, welcoming you into the world. Brian is born two years later, on a fall evening. Your parents leave you with your aunt while your mother gives birth to your little brother -- you don’t actually remember this part, but your parents tell you that you were thrilled to see him. 

Winthrop, Washington is as small as small towns get. People there don’t always treat your family with kindness, and you learn that you are different from a very young age. You are nine when someone smashes the windows to your parents’ restaurant, and when the sheriffs get there, you overhear them telling your parents there’s nothing they can do. When you get back home, you tuck Brian into his bed first before climbing into yours, though neither of you get much sleep that night.

Brian is a much better student than you are. You do okay, but it’s clear from the very beginning that you’re more physically gifted. Baseball is big in Winthrop, and playing for your high school’s team is one way for you to blend in. Everything seems fine, until one day, your brother comes back home with an broken arm and a bruise on his cheek. 

Your initial plans to go to the city for college is put on hold for the next two years, until your brother graduates. It doesn’t feel good to leave him behind despite what your parents tell you, and only when your brother turns eighteen and manages to snatch up a scholarship at UW, you move out to the city with him, jumping into an associate’s degree program for criminal justice. 

There are good and bad parts of Seattle. You’ve never been a big fan of rain or cold weather. You do like a good cup of coffee, and the dating scene isn’t half bad. Once you join the police academy, you think the worst thing about Seattle is the crime rate. Four years later, you’ve fully established yourself as a real police officer in the Seattle Police Department and Brian goes into social work. And you naively tell everyone you meet that the worst thing about Seattle is the rent.

The real worst thing about this city, you learn a few years later, is that it never stops, even for a moment. You can’t stop long enough to grieve, you can’t even stop long enough to breathe. Brian dies when he is only twenty-eight years old. 

How do you tell your parents that your brother’s been murdered? That he’d been walking down the street at night and he was just trying to help someone -- always trying to help -- and that the robber had a gun on him? How do you tell them -- 

-- they said they can’t do anything about it right now. I’m so sorry. No, I’m okay, I’ll -- I’ll be okay. Mom, is dad -- Mom, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

Winthrop feels the same when you come back for Brian’s funeral. Quiet, peaceful. You hate it there. You speak at the funeral. You don’t remember a word that you say. 

You don’t fully understand it yourself, but you kiss your parents goodbye and go back to Seattle a week later. It feels like a betrayal at first, putting on your uniform for people who didn’t seem to care much for Brian. But you can almost hear him telling you to keep pushing because now there’s something he has to change. And Brian had always wanted that -- to change this horrible, poisoned world no matter how many times Jameson had told him it was an impossible dream. 

You cry when you become a detective. They think you’re happy, but you’ve never been so fucking sad. 

( Grief comes to you in waves, in dreams. You never let it fester for too long because you know it will swallow you up if you stop running. ) 

The problem with running that fast is that you don’t exactly know when to stop, or how. Your eagerness impresses your captain for awhile, until he realizes that you have a chronic inability to forgo cases that have hit a dead end. You’re like a pitbull, Banks, he tells you, you don’t know how to let go. It makes you laugh because you don’t realize that he’s not complimenting you. So sure, you’re a bit of a thorn on your captain’s side, but they can’t do much about you anyway because you work hard and your clearance rate is off the charts. 

You’re driving to Winthrop to be with your parents for your brother’s birthday when you see something on the side of the road. Thing of legends, of myths, of nightmares and you see the wolf holding someone by their neck. When you stop your car and walk out with a gun in hand, you swear you see the wolf turning into a person before running away into the woods. You chase after them - whatever thing that was - but you’re too slow and eventually, you make your way back to the body, and call for backup. 

You realize you sound like your head isn’t screwed on right, and you recall those are the exact words your captain uses when you first tell him about what you’ve seen, and that they can’t rule this as an accident. You now also realize that you probably should have kept your mouth closed, because the next thing you know, they’ve assigned you to some missing persons case and are sending you to some bumfuck nowhere town called Blackrock.  

As soon as you land in Blackrock, you go straight into the filing cabinet and read through every single case, open and closed. You still hate your captain for sending you to Blackrock, but you’re beginning to realize that there’s much, much more to this town than any of you had thought. 

HEADCANONS.

Jamie has several tattoos, though none of them are visible with clothes on. The most meaningful one is for his brother -- his initials over his heart, fairly small. The rest are here and there, beginning with a regretful stick-and-poke he got from a friend in his 20s. 

His brother Brian was probably the nicest person Jameson knew and he had such a soft spot for all the kids he worked with as a social worker. Brian would tell Jamie quite a bit about many of the kids and their home life that it really did open up his eyes about the system and its frequent failures. 

After Brian’s death, Jameson threw himself into his work and for a little while, didn’t see his parents as much. But now, he tries to call them as much as he can, and always tries to make it back home for the holidays. 

He has a black lab named Kyoto that traveled with him to Blackrock. Kyoto is a lady and when she was a puppy, they’d tried to train her to be a search & rescue dog but she failed her tests and he ended up adopting her. 

He really doesn’t want to be in Blackrock. So he will probably complain about Blackrock here and there.

Technically, he’s only supposed to be working on Addison’s case, but he’s realized that there’s a lot of suspicious shit going on in Blackrock. Addison’s case is still a priority, but he’s definitely also looking into the other open cases, and some closed ones that don’t seem to make sense to him. 

So yes, he does not get much sleep.

Jamie doesn’t really drink and doesn’t smoke at all! If he drinks, he’s either really stressed or on a rare day off. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

First arrest: He hasn’t been in Blackrock long, but he thinks there’s not enough being done around the town.  [ This person ] was the first arrest he’s made since coming to Blackrock. 

Thorn on his side: [ This person ] isn’t necessarily his priority, but they do seem to keep getting into trouble and to make things worse, they seem to do it right in front of him. 

Person of interest: But of course, his main focus is on the missing persons (aka Addision) case, and [ this person ] seems to be involved one way or another. Or perhaps it’s someone who knew Addison, or someone who might have had motivation to hurt her. 

New friend(s): People he’s instantly clicked with, or perhaps he’s become friendly with. He frequents Ugly Mug Cafe, and when there’s a game on, Last Drop Bar. He’s really not that scary -- only when he thinks that you’re hiding something. 

Old friend: Jamie has known [ this person ] when he was younger/when he working in Seattle, and by pure chance, they’ve both ended up in Blackrock. 

One night stand: When he first got to Blackrock, he may have gotten drunk one night out of frustration and took [ this person ] back home. He thinks they’re nice, but the thing is, he’s not actually looking to pursue anything -- mostly because he knows he has to focus on his work. 

Sports buddy: He still likes baseball. Someone please play catch with him and Kyoto or at least watch the game with him when he’s off duty. 

[electronicgrowth]

Guardian Angel: Chapter 2

Leah receives lots of bad news. 

Warnings: death, car accidents, mentions of injuries, mentions of surgery

WC: 1837

When I was sixteen my dad died. He was driving home from work late one night and a drunk driver hit him. I was at a sleepover when it happened. After a night of sugary drinks and disgusting junk food we passed out around two in the morning. We couldn’t have been sleeping for more than an hour, when I was shook awake by Charlie. 

“You gotta come with me kiddo,” he said. In a sleepy haze I collected my things and followed him. He wouldn’t tell me what happened, but I knew something was wrong. 

Finally, when he got me home and sat me down at the kitchen bar. I saw Ransom in my periphery, standing at the edge of the kitchen, leaning up against a wall.

“Dad was in an accident, Leah,” Charlie said tears were threatening to spill out of his large, green eyes, “He— he didn’t make it.” 

I can’t describe the feeling of hearing a loved one has died. But it feels like everything is in a free fall. Like you know the impact has to be coming, the pain has to be coming, but it’s not here yet. I was shocked. And the shock stayed with me for a few moments. Then came the tears. And the screaming. 

“It’s so unfair. Everyone else got two parents. Now I don’t have any. My mom didn’t want me. And my daddy left me! I don’t have anyone now!” I screamed and hit Charlie with all the force my sixteen year old body could muster. Ransom came up behind me and grabbed me. He spun me around and held my face. 

His blue eyes were red and watery. He had also been crying. He just pulled me in and held me. I sobbed into his chest. He kissed my forehead and whispered, “I’ve got you Bunny Rabbit. I’ve got you.”

The weird thing about grief is how you can think about something completely unrelated in the midst of your breakdown. I remember being struck by how different Ransom’s hug felt, compared to all the other hugs he had given me. When I was a kid he hugged me all the time. But this was different. He had gotten stronger, more muscular. He looked like a man. He felt like how I imagined a man would feel like. How I had always hoped Ransom would feel when he hugged. 

Eventually, I calmed down enough to shower and climb into my bed. It was near six in the morning, when I finally fell asleep. Ransom slept on my floor that night. 

The funeral came and went in a blur. I was struck by how silly the funeral and visitation are. It felt performative. Why were Charlie, Ethan, and I forced to host all these people? Why did we have to pay for it? It wasn’t what I wanted to do, but social convention dictated that we do it. 

Ransom was like glue through the whole process. He helped us plan, made sure we were eating and showering. He was a pallbearer at the funeral. And he cemented himself in between Charlie and I during the service. Him being there was enough to comfort Charlie. But half way through the service my grief was threatening to bring me to my knees. Ransom wrapped his arm around me and pulled me closer. He kissed my forehead to comfort me. He just held me close to him for the remainder of the ceremony. 

Dad’s job as a public defender didn’t leave much money for us to work with. We sold the house we had grown up in and any furniture we could find it in us to part with.

Charlie had a place with Ransom in New York. And Ethan was already out in California at college. So, that left me effectively homeless. The judge ruled that I would be under Charlie’s guardianship until I turned eighteen, or went to college. So, I moved to New York. 

I hated it there. It was so loud and I missed Boston with ever fiber of my being. I also refused to go to school. My dad’s death left me with a lot of anxiety that manifested in strange ways. One of which, was anxiety with large crowds and unfamiliar situations. 

I couldn’t imagine having to ride a crowded bus or subway to school. Just to sit in a class of people I didn’t know. Charlie and I compromised. I would go to therapy, and he would let me do an online high school instead. I never had any of the boyfriends I had dreamed of having. I only ever met one boy I was interested in. He was a member of study group. I really liked him. His name was Brandon. 

We would meet at the coffee shop and do our homework together. One day Ransom came early to get me, and caught us kissing. He flipped out, like I had never seen before. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He yelled, grabbing Brandon by his collar.

“Ransom, calm down we were just kissing,” I said, while I tried to pry Ransom’s hands off Brandon. 

“You listen to me you little snot nosed punk, if I see with 100 feet of this girl again I will fucking end you. You got me?” Ransom threatened. Poor Brandon nodded, and fearfully gathered his school supplies and raced out of the coffee shop. 

“What the hell Ransom?” I screeched. 

“Get your shit, I’m taking you home,” he said. When I didn’t move, he grabbed my books and notes and threw them into my backpack. He hauled me and my schoolwork out of the coffee shop. 

“Ransom, I’m serious. What was that about?” I question. 

“What?” He snarled, “You want to lose your virginity to that nobody?”

“What if I did? It wouldn’t be any of your business, Ransom,” I countered. 

“Everything you do is my business Bunny Rabbit,” he said. 

“You can’t protect me or control me forever Ransom. I’m going to grow up, and there’s nothing you can do about it,” I said brushing past him. We returned to our apartment, ignoring each other completely.

Of course, I was angry at Ransom, but if I was being honest with myself I was quite happy at the reaction that Brandon initiated in Ransom. Was he jealous? No, he couldn’t be jealous. He was twenty-six, I was sixteen. He slept with models, Brandon had been my first kiss. Even if he wasn’t strictly jealous, Ransom’s reaction bolstered my ego. 

Eventually, the anxiety started to subside with the help of medication and therapy. I started doing yoga and meditating as well. Charlie was working crazy hours, but seemed to be handling the stress very well. Often, that left me with Ransom. He wasn’t into working a real job. And he didn’t have to since Harlan was footing his bills. He was working on his own writing. He confided in me that he always dreamed of following in his grandfather’s footsteps and becoming a writer. He made me promise to never tell anyone, not even Charlie. Ransom’s writing was amazing. He let me read excerpts and give notes on what I liked, or didn’t like. This arrangement was just temporary though. I was chomping at the bit to get back to Boston and go to college. 

After getting my high school diploma, I opted to go to Boston College. The campus felt magical to me. All old buildings, and a library out of the movies. I was excited to pursue a degree in Literature. I wanted to work in publishing in some capacity, so I minored in business to strengthen my options. I flourished in college. Made friends, got decent grades. Kissed a few more boys, maybe did a little more than that. Well, did a lot more than that. 

But life loves to throw curve balls. When I was twenty, Charlie died. The doctor said he had a mild heart arrhythmia that he never knew about. The cocaine forced him into heart failure. Again Ransom stuck to me like glue. Comforted me when Ethan didn’t. Helped me arrange everything. What surprised me the most was that Harlan came to the funeral. He had a hug for both me and Ransom. 

After that Ransom moved home to Massachusetts too. He said New York was what Charlie wanted. There was nothing left there for him anymore. 

I decided to take an extended leave from school. But really I spent my days in bed barely moving. Ransom quickly discovered that I wasn’t taking care of myself and forced me to move in with him until I was doing better. He made me shower and eat. And at least get out of bed, even if I was just moving to the living room. He let me pick our takeout every night and all our shows. He even let me watch shows he absolutely hated, with barely a breath of complaint. 

He even started to apply pressure for me to go back to school. He insisted that I keep living with him while I got my degree. I worked my ass off but managed to graduate just one semester late. Ethan couldn’t be bothered to fly in to watch me walk, he was too busy out in San Francisco with his job. But there was Ransom, just like when I was little. With a big bouquet of flowers and the proudest smile. 

I wasn’t fielding off job offers after graduation. 

“I could talk to my grandfather, you know. He’s always liked you, I’m sure he knows of something at Blood Like Wine that would be a good fit for you,” Ransom told me.

“I appreciate the offer Ran, but I want to make it on my own,” I responded. Eventually, I got an unpaid internship at a small publishing company. It was mostly, getting coffee and stuff like that. I also worked a part time job as a receptionist to pay my bills. 

I loved being on my own and being independent. Ransom bought his house near his grandfather around that time. I hoped that meant he was spending more time with Harlan. Hopefully, thinking about writing again. 

One night I was driving home from my job. I started to round a corner, but as I pumped the brakes the car wasn’t slowing. I began to panic. I floored the brake, still nothing. My car careened off the road; I had attempted the turn, even without the aid of my brakes. My car rolled with a sickening crunch about three and a half times. Along with the crunches was a symphony of glass breaking. I screamed the whole time. The car stopped upside down. Leaving me dangling by my seatbelt. I managed to reach to the passenger side where my purse was. I struggled to stay coherent through the pain that had settled on my left side. I found my phone and dialed 911 before I passed out. 

[yung-tamale]

How to Pass Your Drivers Exam (and What You Probably Won’t Learn in School)

You’ve finally gotten your drivers permit. Congratulations! 

You are now one step closer to getting your drivers license, which is an important milestone which most people strive to achieve. 

However, there are some things you can do in order to possibly pass your exam, and get that drivers license. 

Here are some tips/tricks which really helped me:

Practice as much as possible. In your driveway. On your street. Practice in an empty parking lot. Since you have your permit, you cannot practice alone, especially if you’re on the road.

Make sure the person who is in the passenger seat while you are practicing has good driving experience. This person should make you feel safe and at ease, because you should feel calm and good when you drive. 

Take any constructive criticism. People want to see you pass, and most of the times, they’re doing it for your own good. If the person in the passenger seat (so like, a parent/guardian) starts yelling at you and makes you feel bad, and they say mean things, ignore the mean things and try your best. Prove everybody wrong. 

Actually go the speed limit. Yeah, it’s cool to live dangerously, but you can jam out and be a law abiding person (ha). It’s lame, but it’s a good habit to have. Don’t mind if the people around you are going 90 MPH on the interstate; they’ll get pulled over and get a ticket one day for speeding. 

It is scary, but practice driving on the interstate. At 9 AM. At 12 PM. Choose high traffic times, and be careful. Learn how to merge onto the interstate, and how to exit. I don’t like driving on the interstate, but you need to know how to drive with a lot of cars around you, especially if you live in an area that has bad traffic (or drivers!). 

Also, try driving at night time. Very early in the morning. As the run rises. Wear sunglasses, if needed, but don’t wear these during your exam. 

Go to different areas to drive. Rural areas with hills and curves on the roads. Small towns (I am from a small town). Suburban areas with narrow roads. Medium sized towns. Big towns, wherever. You will need to know how to drive anywhere. 

You don’t have to be a road genius when it comes to instructions. Use a GPS, and try to memorize the ways to get to certain places. And please, know your home address. 

Parallel parking. The three point turn. Practice these things too. Different states have different requirements, but most states will ask you to do one or two of these things. Practice driving your car in reverse, in a straight line. Practice driving, and then suddenly braking the car, to practice in case if there was an emergency. Also, knowing how to do a two point turn helps. 

Try to keep your car clean and in good condition. This means no dirty windows, having decent tires, and making sure that you check your oil every once in awhile, and ect. I like to keep an air freshener in mine. Trust me, having a clean car is better than a junky one. It will also make a better impression on your test evaluator whenever you go get your license. 

Your mirrors are there for a reason. Adjust them if you have to, and same goes for your seat. When you take the test, it is a good idea to definetely glance at them.

If you’re like me, and get anxiety, try putting on some music that you like while you drive. Of course, you can’t have the radio on during your real drivers exam, but it is a good thing to have whenever you are learning to drive. Have fun, but remember that you cannot always be blaring your music, especially if there are cop cars or ambulances that need to get by.  

Read. The. Book. No, I don’t mean skipping the book the day you go. I mean actually sitting down, and reading every page of the drivers manual. You can get a physical copy at most DMVs, or download one online. Make sure it’s up to date. The book has information on driving laws, and most come with the meanings of all the road signs. Which brings me to ...

The road signs, you gotta know them. All of them. OK, maybe not all of them, but the majority of them. I remember on my first attempt, they made me make a small quiz on 12 road signs (in my state, I believe you had to get at least half of them right to pass). This was AFTER I took the test for my permit. These never go away. 

Insurance! Is lame, but you need insurance. It is not “hip” to not have insurance. No, you need this. Some states will jail or fine you (or both) for not having it if you are caught.The money you or your parents or whoever that’s paying the insurance is more important than your Starbucks drink, a new phone, or some other stuff. This is something you have to pay every month, and something that could save your ass one day. Use it. You will need a paper or a card stating that you have insurance to use as a proof of insurance whenever you go get your license. 

NO BRAINER: DO NOT TEXT AND DRIVE. I REPEAT, DO NOT TEXT AND DRIVE. Your Snapchat or Instagram or a text or what the fuck ever can wait until later. You can reply to those messages later, but you can’t go back and undo a car accident or fatal death. This especially goes during the exam. 

Also, PUT ON YOUR SEAT BELT. I HAVE KNOWN PEOPLE WHO HAVE DIED BECAUSE THEY DIDN’T HAVE A SEAT BELT ON. You know how in movies, people go flying? Yeah, that is what could happen. This also goes for any passengers. 

NO DRUNK OR DRUG DRIVING. Know your laws in your state about this. And in the name of all that does not suck, call a damn Uber or your mom or friend or whoever if you get drunk or high and cannot drive. Hell, sleep over. You might get in trouble, but at least you are still alive. 

If you get stopped by the cops while you have your permit and you are doing some bad stuff, they will probably give you a ticket. This could mean you would have to wait several months or even a year to get your license. 

You must own the title of your car. The people at the DMV need to see it. Don’t have it? Great, people will think you have a stolen car. You cannot forget this!

Check out the reviews of the DMV that you plan on going to. Honestly, don’t go to one that has terrible reviews. Read the reviews (on Google or whatever), and go to whichever one is closest to you that has the best reviews (at least 3/5 or 4/5). Ask people that you know if they’ve been there before, and listen to them. 

Whenever you do go to the DMV, pick a good day. A rainy day with 30 degree weather and high winds is probably not a good day to go get your license. Check the weather ahead of time, but know how to drive in all weather conditions.

Don’t go to the DMV at 8 AM, unless you can help it. Noon is also a bad idea, because most DMVs go on a lunch break and you have to wait for another hour or two. Clear your schedule, and get out of school or work if needed. 

When you go to the DMV, wear something comfortable. If you know how to drive in heels, that is amazing. Though it is best not to show up with those. Make sure the outfit is cozy and uniquely you. If you want, you can do your hair or makeup. They will take your picture, and this picture will follow you forever, so you probably want to look good. But don’t worry, almost everybody that I know ended up having a dank ass picture on their license. I think it’s something about the lighting in most DMVs.

When you get in the car with your test examiner, they will want you to do things like put on your left turn signal, your right signal, and honk the horn. Your windows need to roll down. Sometimes, they will quiz you on every button that’s on the inside of your car, such as the hazard lights button. You can’t expect to pass your exam if you don’t how how your car works. 

Be humble. Don’t act like a dick. Be confident, but don’t be a douchebag. Mind your manners, say “please” and “thank you” and all that.The examiner wants to know how well you and drive, and what you’ve learned. They don’t need to see you bragging about how good you are. Apologize if you make mistakes. Remember: they’re human too, and had to go through the same thing you’re going through. 

Seriously, be nice to the examiner. All the times I went to do the test, I got the same person to be my examiner. He recognized me from before, and at first, he was kind of an ass, but I seriously think one of the reasons he passed me was because I stayed calm and tried to be optimistic.

Nevertheless, there are test examiners that are DICKS. Avoid these if possible (remember what I said about checking out the reviews). Again, prove them wrong. Don’t feel bad if they trick you into doing something you weren’t supposed to do. Just know that they will live a life knowing that they mercilessly tricked people into fucking up on their drivers exams. 

Want to feel better? Guess what? You will not be the worst person they’ve ever gotten. As long as you don’t crash the car, dive into a ditch, or take the examiner out of the city speed limits, you are probably not doing bad, and a lot better than most people. You are instantly better than a lot of the self-entitled assholes out there on the roads. 

Don’t worry if you don’t pass the first time. It is. Not. The. End of. The World. You will have more chances. A drivers license does not prove your worth. Hell, in some places, you can even get by without one. But honestly, you should try as much as possible.

Most states let you try the test again about 2 more times after the first time if you don't pass. I believe that after the 3rd time, you have to pay, and in other states, possibly take a driving class.

Don’t be in a rush to go back if you fail. Give it time, and practice some more. You must be in a good state of mind, and know that you are beautiful and capable of anything. You can do it. 

Those are all of the things I can think of right now, but please feel free to add more/make corrections. 

Disclaimer: I have actually passed my drivers exam and gotten my license. It took me two years and three tries to get mine. 

[escapvst]

hey friends !! my name is cas ( she/her) & i live in cst !! i was here like .4 secs ago, but i kinda got overwhelmed with classes, so now i am here again bc i missed it too much !!  

( i edited jude a bit, so he’s just a little bit different ) 

—— wait, that’s not NOAH CENTINEO ! it’s JUDE COSTA who identifies as CISMALE. a TWENTY-ONE year old JUNIOR and a SOCIAL CHAIRof OMEGA ALPHA PI. jude is CHARISMATIC, IMPETUOUS and studying MARKETING. will he even have time to do anything else?

background info

jude was born in santa barbara, ca on october 21, 1997. he is an only child & had a fairly normal childhood with his parents owning a successful marketing company.

the deal when jude graduated high school was that he could choose the college, but his father would pick the degree. business just seemed like the most optimal route, since the costas have plans of their only son taking over the business.

if you knew jude his freshman year, then you knew the rumors. he spent the majority of his first year out partying, sleeping around, and causing trouble. in fact, many considered jude the reveler of omega alpha pi.

many wondered why he had joined ΩΑΠ instead of BΩP, but he had been specifically recruited for his athleticism and skill in lacrosse. ( in fact, he was scouted by luama u & given a rather large scholarship to attend for that lax lyfe )

sophomore year only brought more troubles & one night jude was caught trying to vandalize a statue on campus. the dean offered a warning: one more mistake & jude could kiss lacrosse, greek life, and his scholarships goodbye.

however, the punishment, at the time, seemed much worse. forced to volunteer at the campus’ radio station every tuesday & thursday seemed just about as interesting as watching paint dry.

yet, over the rest of his spring semester, he grew fond of the station & was even able to began playing his own picks and occasionally talk on air. now, he regularly helps out & can be found there most days when he doesn’t have practice or classes.

the jude costa that you may know now isn’t the one you’ve heard rumors of. yes, he did tp the whole science building. no, he didn’t hook up with that one philosophy professor. and, yes, he just might’ve been the reigning beer pong champ for three semesters in a row. but now he seems somewhat different. could it all be just a sham or front ? 

fun facts / interesting info

business is just about the last thing that jude would like to major in. if he could have it his way, he would major in philosophy or peace studies.

jude has a fondness for music. you’ll often see him with ear buds in while walking around in between classes. he firmly believes vinyl is the best way to listen, though. his favorite genre is alternative and folk, but he’ll usually play rap around his frat bros.

where he can be found: the radio station, luama aquarium, starlight lua & the mokes.

although he was considered trouble in all aspects for the first two years, jude is a pretty likable guy. in fact, he can make friends with just about anyone these days. yet, he can also come off pretty cock and self-assured. he knows he good looking, smooth talking, and a sports star. he’s not afraid to show off a little. 

jude has a temper that he just can’t seem to calm down once provoked. it takes a lot to get him to a point of no return, but many usually know not to push his buttons from past stories and personal experiences.

he’s the captain of the lacrosse team ! which means he is serious about the sport & wants his teammates to be too. you won’t see him out partying before a game.

the escapist ( his URL ): jude seems to relate to this label ( even if no one else sees it ) because that’s exactly what he would like to do — escape. often lost in his own thoughts, he dreams of what it would be like to do what he wants. maybe he could travel the globe. maybe he could find his vocation instead of taking over his parents’ business. maybe he could even quit lacrosse. yet, everything that he wants to give up defines him. without all of this...he would be nothing.

wanted connections

an old flame: someone that jude was never really serious about. they dated around for a few months ( maybe longer ) & maybe he led them on just a little too much. in fact, there’s some discrepancy on the reason for them even breaking up...but now jude has been labeled a cheater. TAKEN: SUMMER

the confidant: ( must be from ΩΑΠ ) this is a person that has been there for jude ever since rush week. hell, they even might share a room in the frat house together. regardless, this person knows him like no one else...and maybe they’re a little confused what happened between sophomore year and now. TAKEN: NOAH

the secret fling: they act as if they hate each other, but of course it’s all an act. behind the scenes, the two just can’t seem to keep their hands off each other. truth be told, telling people about their nights together would mean affirming every stereotype. so, they keep it under wraps for now. TAKEN: CLEO 

fwb: this could be multiple people because lbr, jude is a hoe & lives for sex and flings. maybe they met on tinder, at a party, through a class...but now they’re on his list for booty calls ( which he makes pretty frequently ) TAKEN: CAMRYN, CHARLIE & WREN

radio friends: they met at the station and had to put up with all of jude’s attitude. at first, they probably thought he was a prick. now, he’s grown on them. in fact, one would even say they get along. yet, they come from two different backgrounds...and it seems that a friendship outside of the station would be completely impossible. 

enemies: maybe they’re on the same sports team, maybe they’re rivals within their major, maybe a frat friendship that just turned wrong. either way, this person knows how to push jude’s buttons ( and vise versa ).

the one he brings home to mom: so maybe he might’ve said they were together one time. in all honesty, he just did it because it would get his parents off his back about finding a nice girl. and they were the best option because, well, they were friends anyways .now every time his parents visit they have to pretend to be madly in love. TAKEN: ROSIE

the bad influence: back in freshman and sophomore year, these two did everything together. in fact, they were the ones usually egging each other on to go to extremes. whenever they were around, trouble was sure to follow. now, it seems like they’re not even the same people anymore. TAKEN: JAKE 

( TW: DRUNK DRIVING, CAR ACCIDENT, HIT & RUN  ) the incident: it wasn’t supposed to happen. it was a mistake. in fact, jude isn’t even sure how exactly he got into his car. all he remembers is the accident and him driving away. no one was hurt...or at least he thinks so. maybe he went to your muse, maybe your muse was in the car. idk but that’s his secret tho. TAKEN: FAYE

i know i was here before, so if you guys want to keep any of the plots we had just let me know ?? buT I AM DOWN FOR ANYTHING with ANYONE !! also you can check this tag for inspo. anywhoo, i am so excited to plot with you all so like this & i’ll come to you

[cowboycountrycriminal-defense]

What is meant by DUI?

DUI stands for Driving Under Influence. A DUI charge can be issued when an individual is operating a motor vehicle with a blood-alcohol level of .08 or higher. According to the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, roughly one out of every ten drivers has some degree of alcohol in their system when involved in car crashes.

Of those drivers with alcohol in their system at the time of the crash, 88% were over the legal limit of .08. Whether you are driving while impaired or driving under the influence of any substance, DUI is a crime no matter what the situation is.

DUI charges are handled differently in every state, with some states preferring a test of one's blood alcohol (BAC) level. With the vast difference in DUI laws between states, it is important to check the legal limit of your state as well as the penalties for driving under the influence.

A DUI can result in significant fines, jail time, and a violation of your driving record. Some employers will even consider dismissing you from your job after a first offense, even if it was just a one-time accident and not an ongoing problem.

Factors to consider before appointing a DUI lawyer

With the rise of DUI (driving under the influence) cases, there has been a corresponding increase in DUI lawyers in Casper WY. These lawyers also known as DUI attorneys, play an essential role in the legal process by protecting the rights of those who have been charged with drunk driving. However, the truth is that not all of these lawyers are created equal. If you've been charged with drunk driving, it's important to know what you're looking for in a lawyer so that you can find the right fit for your case.

Here are some factors to consider before appointing a DUI lawyer:

The lawyer’s reputation – You must choose someone who has a good reputation for dealing with DUI cases successfully. An experienced DUI attorney will be able to offer you advice about your case and how it will be presented in court.

The cost – Of course, all lawyers need to make a living, so expect that there will be a fee involved when hiring them for their services. However, some lawyers may be willing to take payment in installments rather than all at once. You should also ask if they accept credit cards or even offer payment plans in their contracts.

The amount of time they have been working as an attorney – You should find out how long the attorney you are considering has been practicing law before hiring them. The longer they have been practicing law and the more cases they have won, the better chance you have of winning your case!

A lawyer will be certified by the state bar association. To be certified, the lawyer must go through rigorous training and pass a set of tests set by the bar association. Certified lawyers are qualified to practice law in their respective states.

Cowboy Country Criminal Defense 123 South Beech Street, Casper, WY 82601 (307) 333-7884

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[andthereweresparks]

INTRODUCING; MADELINE WICKER

Age: 27

Gender: CIS Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Occupation: Owner of Doggy Divine

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse, emotional abuse, drug abuse, alcoholism, drunk driving, and death (all about her parents, not her).

Biography:

From her earliest memory, Madeline’s parents were toxic. They were either arguing, sometimes to the extent that they would become violent, or they were deeply in love. There was no inbetween. No stability. Her father was abusive towards her mother, physically and emotionally. He cheated on her constantly. And her mother was constantly trying to catch him in it. It seemed for no good reason that Maddie could figure out, because he’d just leave and then return when he wanted their attention again. Madeline was anxious from a young age, her father struggled with drug addiction and alcoholism. He moved in and out of their home on a whim.

When she was 5, her father came home from his dealer’s place with a puppy for Madeline on Christmas Eve. Being that she was often sat in front of the tv while her parents were busy with one another, it was no surprise that she named the golden retriever mix Scooby, despite the dog being a girl. It was her favorite show and her new companion really was just as loyal. Scooby waited for Madeline to come home everyday from school. She’d sit with her head in the little girl’s lap when her parents fought. And never left her side when the cops showed up when the neighbors had once again had enough. When her father slammed the door as a young Madeline begged for him to stay, the dog would nuzzle her as she cried. Scooby was always there to comfort Madeline, even when her mother was inconsolable for days and her father wasn’t around.

Her mother wasn’t a bad person. She had simply fallen into the trap of loving someone that didn’t know how to be loved or to love. During her early years, they did visit Wakefield, where she had family on both sides. But as she got older and things got more complicated with her parents, she was majorly cut off from her family in the town until she was 12. At this time, her father died in a car accident, where he was drunk driving and took someone from the other car with him as well. Her mother seemed to fall apart, but it was an odd sense of relief Maddie experienced and then never told anyone about. Her father was gone for good. But there was a lot of guilt in knowing he’d caused the death of someone else’s family and friend and she’d think about it every day for the rest of her life.

After her father’s passing, Madeline’s life got a bit easier, especially when her mother began to heal. Without her father coming and going, leaving destruction in his wake, the young girl excelled in school, even skipping eighth grade and taking college courses during her high school years. Scooby was still the most important thing in her life, but she did make friends more easily than she had. Going from being mostly isolated from her peers, because of fear of bringing them home, she had a few close friends. That was, until her mother found another man to create her life around. Another man that eventually showed his true colors and was little more than a different shade of her own father. Even within the chaos of her home, Madeline continued to do well in school. 

When her mother had first begun to date again, Madeline made it clear what she thought of any man that made it past the front door. And she was the same way about everyone in her life, even if it wasn’t always out loud. She had judgements, both good and bad, about the things people did and the things they said. Maddie had seen what a bad relationship was, and she usually could tell when two people weren’t good for each other, though, judgements can always be clouded.

When she was 16, Scooby got ill. It happened quickly and Madeline was crushed when her loyal companion passed. No other dog would ever replace her, but she’d instilled a love and trust in animals that couldn’t be broken. Still, the blonde had no interest in becoming a vet, she was bad at science. After she graduated from her hometown of Philadelphia at 17, she went to college a year early in Charleston for a Bachelor’s degree in Nonprofit Management. She wanted to run a shelter for dogs. During this time, she dated a friend she’d made freshmen week of school. They dated for 2 years and he was great. That was, until he cheated on her. He begged for forgiveness, but Madeline shut him out completely, terrified of turning into her mother. Having no self respect. Instead, she threw herself into school and volunteered at local shelters to see how they were run. Occasionally hooking up to get out her energy. Then, when she graduated, she planned on moving to Charleston permanently to help the strays in that area, but living costs were too much for her to afford outside of college. That’s how she made her way to Wakefield, where she’s been since she was 21. She saw an opening in the community for a shelter and dove head first into it, while working other jobs to support herself until Doggy Divine was opened, a tribute to Scooby that finally felt like a worth payment for all her dog had gotten her though.

She now has a 3 bedroom home with a decent yard where she lives with Genevieve, the first dog to ever go through Doggy Devine, and Lady, along with her two cats, several fish, and leopard gecko. However, she often collects strays, sometimes even of the human sort.

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Put An End To Dui By Using Alcohol Consumption Recognition Lessons

Managing alcohol intake can be challenging at special events, and also throughout the next evening out; nonetheless, drinking and also driving is thought about one of the largest killers in today's society. Drinking and also driving is not just deadly to the drunk driver, however it additionally influences other innocent drivers that get on the roadway too. Alcohol awareness classes can avoid your following DUI, as well as there are numerous different kinds of courses that are made to be able to provide info pertaining to alcohol intake amount, as well as the price of which alcohol is cleaned from the body. Those that do not have any added time to take courses will be happy to listen to that on the internet courses are now readily available concerning this topic. There are numerous advantages in taking on-line courses in regards to alcohol awareness.

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