macabremads

[macabremads]

god i love talking about suckin and fuckin my favourite fictional guy with my friends in my phone.

[macabremads]

*sweating, whole body shaking while I stare at a google doc* would he fucking say that????

[macabremads]

[macabremads]

Are reader and Dieter gonna work things out or is it gonna be ending with them separated? :)

The plan is reconciliation! (: but, I may end up doing two separate endings as I see a split between those that want a happy ending and those that want a sad ending. Still up in the air hehe

[macabremads]

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader (no use of y/n) rating: mature, mdni 18+ word count: 1.8k summary: Dieter had grown accustomed to your unwavering forgiveness, even when it seemed as though the world was on your shoulders. But, what happens when you decide to take a step back? Or, Dieter Bravo experiences a wide realization of the consequences of his own actions, to the point where redemption seems utterly elusive. warnings/tags: angst, hurt/no comfort, implied drug use, alcohol use, unhealthy relationship dynamics, angst again, too much angst, implied recovery period from substances. A/N: this is part one out of a three part series! please do let me know if you enjoy it as this is my first fic after years (and years) of being hiatused on this account. love ya all xx

His fingers gently pulled at the once-soft sheets under his fingers, a soft hum leaving his parted lips as he looked out past the haze of his dark room, lit only by a cheap candle he had picked up at an old antique store. Probably, that hunk of wax was nearly one hundred years old, but he had decided that keeping his nice, musky-smelling ones was more important to him.

The rain outside the window hit the glass in gentle and rough rounds. The sky couldn't make up its mind on whether it wanted to drizzle or downpour, but it didn't make much of a difference to Dieter; he wasn't planning on going outside either way. Truthfully, he couldn't really remember the last time he had gone outside or left the house unless opening the door to collect his food deliveries counted as a 'breath of fresh air.' He knew it didn't, yet he considered most things these days to be a win.

Grunting, he looked down at his phone. "Monday, October 2nd" rang out on the screen in bright letters, making him squint as he stared down at his phone. No new notifications. Yeah, he hadn't truly expected there to be. He hadn't realized, whether or not that's because he had a goal of staying coked out most days, that your name was the one that always hung around his phone. Whether it was stupid videos of cute animals or random texts asking him about where he was, what he was doing, or if he was enjoying filming. He hadn't really noticed how much he had longed for another compilation of kittens falling over to music that wasn't appropriate given the context of the video, but he knew that his own demise fell at his own hands, and that regardless of what he wanted or thought, there was little opportunity for him to make right his wrongs.

The shitty bottle of cider popped off his lips with a loud 'pop.' Dieter smacked his lips together as he looked at the label from under his brow bone, staring at the little label and trying to decipher where he had bought the alcohol. He was coming up empty-minded, unsure if it was one you had gotten and shoved to the back of his drink fridge, or if he had just gotten gifted the wrong thing from his Instacart driver; the latter seemed more probable. You never were a big beer drinker, and Dieter had his many vices, with beer not even close to the top of that list.

Tossing the bottle onto his already too full end table, he pressed his lips together and moved forward, fuzzy-socked clothed feet hitting the ground, well nearly. "Fuck," he hissed, having stepped on the corner of the top of a beer bottle. The jagged edges crushed into the flesh of his foot as he got up, kicking the metal piece away from him.

Things were miserable; that much he could admit. Not even the promise of a smooth high made his body light up with excitement anymore. He didn't get the same draft from going out and getting messed up with his actor buddies, all of whom he knew didn't like him all that much. But he had always said, "Being around people makes you look more approachable, even if you hate their guts."

Looking down to his phone once more, he shuffled out of his room and kicked at the random clothes that littered his floors, not caring too much about the pigsty he had lived in for the last few weeks. He realized in the haze that you had been tasked with cleaning these messes for him in the past. If you hadn't done what you had around the house, he would have been living in disrepair, unless he had purchased a cleaning service. But that was neither here nor there. The walk to his kitchen was long, mainly because Dieter refused to turn on the lights. He only used his phone to light the way, and even then, he couldn't be bothered to turn the brightness higher than the 50% it had been on all day. He mumbled something to himself about his eyes being adjusted to the dark, as though anyone was listening to him.

Dieter 1:02 am: I’m sorry.

"Fucking-," he nearly shouted, his hand gripping his phone as he looked at the messages he had sent over the last two weeks. All of them said the same thing: "I'm sorry," but this one was different. All of the other ones went through, their blue text box taunting him as he stared at the screen, the last one sent green. You had blocked him, finally. He assumed that it was time, considering how badly everything had ended, but he still hadn't really expected you to do it. You never had in the past, even when his words had venom dripping from them, a coke-induced anger, sharp daggers sent your way, just to see you squirm, just to see you cry, to see you beg him to stay in his life because at the end of the day; he loved to feel wanted, to feel needed, and he knew no other way than to make you suffer in order to prove to him that you cared. This time, he had gone too far.

The cost of hubris didn't fall on deaf ears when it came to Dieter, even when it was clear that he wasn't thinking about anyone else but himself. Concerns voiced to him were brushed off with a furrowed brow and a dismissive wave of his hand. It usually ended with some brief statement that he "would work on it" or he "would talk to you about it when he wasn't so messed up," but there was only so many times that excuse would work on anyone, and you had gone past your limit.

It had been an incredibly monotonous day that poured over into the evening. You and Dieter had both decided that staying in made more sense. Neither you nor him had the willpower to go out and avoid fans, prying eyes, or the tension that lingered between you. Or at least you couldn't. Dieter was another story, an enigma that found comfort in the silence you both shared. He held a clear "if you don't say, I won't ask" mentality, and it had kept things relaxed, mellow, and undisturbed, at least on his side.

You wouldn't be able to forget the moment when things had tipped over the edge. There wasn't a big fight, there wasn't a eureka moment that rolled upon you. Yet, the tea glass, for lack of a better metaphor, had broken months ago, and the shards that you consumed with every sip began to make swallowing and breathing difficult. Choking on your own blood silently, while Dieter lay next to you, none the wiser.

His arm had been wrapped around you, your head lazily placed upon his chest. The shirt he had been wearing was wrinkled and creased, a result of his refusal to hang up his folded clothes. He smelled like brandy, a bit of mint, and whatever fragrance was laced into his hair gel. His fingers played with a loose thread on your jumper, one of his old favorites that he had gifted to you after your second date, insisting that it "looked better on you than it ever looked on me."

"I don't think this is working anymore," the words were nearly silent, tasted bitter on your tongue as you continued to lay on his chest. His breathing halted, and his fingers stopped their soothing moves on your arm as he took in your words. He had heard you, and he felt the deep ache in his stomach, as though you had dug your fingers into his chest, pressing past the delicate fibers of the muscles between his ribs, ripping out every last bit of him, despite not moving from your spot.

The Dieter that you had originally met was a spitfire, never taking much seriously, not having any plans for his future outside of what drugs he was going to take at his next party or what country he was going to go to next to star in another forgettable movie. Now, things had gotten better, but the desire to fix this broken man had begun to lose its luster once the honeymoon period had worn off, and all that was left was both of you, not moving, yet gripping each other's wrists as though you two would melt if someone walked away.

You had prided yourself on your strength, and Dieter had too. Despite his shortcomings, he hadn't expected you to leave. He would have bet every last dollar that you wouldn't have left him, that you couldn't because you had promised to stay by his side and love him like he hadn't been loved before. He had always been insecure about his place in the world, despite putting up a bravado and an air of being untouchable. Still, you had instilled in him that he wasn't more broken and less deserving of love, and he had believed that your love would fix him, forgetting that it wasn't only his cup that needed to be filled, but yours as well.

You had devoted your time to making him happy, and he did his best to do the same for you, for a while. Until he got used to you being around, until he got too numb to all that you did for him. It hadn't been intentional, but when filming got hard, when he felt overwhelmed, when the drugs didn't fill his chest like they used to, he blanked out and took and took from you, never thinking about how eventually your cup would run dry while his overflowed.

He said nothing that night. He didn't beg you to stay, he didn't make false promises that he would change, as he had so many times before. No, he knew that all he could do was hold you close, inhaling your scent, and asking if you could stay for the night.

You agreed.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo angst #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x oc #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal fanfiction #the bubble

[macabremads]

calling new rp partners!

Hi there! I'm on the lookout for new RP partners and I've arranged the categories by actor and the delightful characters I'd love to play alongside your OC. Be sure to visit this ink HERE to get the scoop on my rules and preferences, so everything's crystal clear! 💫

Oh, a little heads-up! I'm only interested in doubles! 💕 Because not everyone will venture into the rules and wants thread, I thought I'd drop that in here.

The actors listed here are my current hyper fixations, but I'm an open book when it comes to exploring different actors. If there's someone you're keen on that you don't spot here, just give me a nudge, and I'll happily chat about it with you!

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**-is just a little note 🌼, I'm not a total expert on the canon lore if you see this mark, so let's have a lovely chat to dive into the details and decide together!

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-Joel Miller (The Last of Us)  -Javier Peña (Narcos)  -Dave York (The Equalizer 2)  -Oberyn Martell ** (Game of Thrones)  -Din Jarin ** (The Mandalorian)  -Maxwell Lord (Wonder Woman 1984)  -Dieter Bravo (The Bubble)

-Hannibal Lecter (Hannibal)  -Duncan Vizla (Polar)  -Gellert Grindelvald (Fantastic Beasts)  -Lucas (The Hunt)  -Martin (Another Round) 

Astarion Ancunín (super keen on astrion these days) 

Gale Dekarios 

Druid Halsin 

Raphael ** 

Karlach

-George Weasley  -Fred Weasley  -Tom Riddle  -Draco Malfoy (I am really restrictive on new draco rps)  -Severus Snape (young snape, no teacher x student in hp plots)  -Remus Lupin

-ALL TWILIGHT SHIPS -Tommy Shelby (Peaky Blinders)  -Michael Sheen (person and characters, please just ask!)  -Hayden Christensen  -Adam Driver (Restrictive on these plots) 

This list is like a garden in bloom, always changing with new plots, people, and actors. 🌱 If you've got a character in mind that's not on the list, feel free to send me a message!🌿📝 Please interact with the post or send me a message if you are interested!

#pedro pascal roleplay #mads mikkelsen rp #baldurs gate roleplay #pedro pascal x you #harry potter rp #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion romance #astarion x tav #cillian murphy #Cillian murphy rp #Adam driver rp

[macabremads]

rp rules/wants

꒰ ͜͡➸ Hello there! I appreciate your time in checking out my updated rules and preferences for starting an RP with me. Below, you'll find all the essential information you need before sending a DM.

Press HERE to go to the request/character list form!

𓆩*𓆪 wants 𓆩*𓆪 - literate replies (doesn't need to be ungodly long, but I feel as though most substance falls in a medium reply length. ie. one phone sized discord reply) -I am not too keen on writing ships depending on the character chosen. Mainly because I prefer oc x character, but am willing to discuss different plots if you have something in mind! -I prefer to not do one reply a week, I am quite active on my page and am looking for someone that likes to do multiples throughout the week. -I will only do doubles! this is because I feel like there is always a part of the group that feels like they're not having a good experience because their ideas don't always align with the other party. -I totally understand if life gets in the way and you're unable to reply! However, if we have established a normal routine or made plans to write and you're not free, please do just let me know (: communication is key! -smut is not always essential, but I am not too keen on doing ftb plots unless they're really interesting, mainly because I feel like the physicality aspect of relationships builds things in a more nuanced way, and because I just like to write smut lmao -I am in BST time, which usually means that I am the one further ahead with timezones, because of this, I tend to be the one staying up late for the other (im looking at u, usa peeps hehe), so it is really important to have good communication if you're not free so that I am not staying up late for ya if we made plans (: -communication, communication, communication. if you feel as though something in your rp isn't going the way you want, communicate! if you feel like you want something changed? communicate! I love coming up with new ideas and exploring new stuff, I will never be offended and am keen on switching to new plots if you feel like you're bored of the current one! -I love using visuals and usually include a visual section in my discord servers! so, if you like it too, do let me know!

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𓆩*𓆪 rules 𓆩*𓆪 -18+ only! (please do not message or interact if you have an age-less blog) - 3rd person replies, I don't write in 1st! - I do not tolerate any racism, homophobia, etc. - most of the things that I am not okay with writing are quite obvious and standard for most people, however; we can chat more about this in dm's! - in saying this ^^ I will add that my only hard-limit is writing substance abuse issues. by this, I don't like writing someone using hard drugs (m*th, c*caine), stuff of that nature. (I don't mind alcohol, smoking, w*ed). I don't mind it being in the prompt, or mentioned, I just don't wish to act out the action of doing it. This includes writing OD's, I don't mind if it's included, I just won't write it in detail. -I only rp on discord and use 'tupper' to keep everything put together! if you haven't used it, no problem at all! it's really simple (:

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thank you so much for taking time to read! if you have any additional questions, please feel free to send them to me!

xx sao

#rp rules #mads mikkelsen rp #jeffrey dean morgan #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal roleplay #mads mikkelsen #pedro pascal fluff #baldurs gate astarion #balders gate 3

[macabremads]

Okay, thank you for answering. Since you tagged him in your new intro/masterlist post, that shift away wasn’t apparent to me. I know it’s weird having a stranger come into your inbox so I appreciate you taking the time to answer my questions. Have a good day!

I understand where you’re coming from! My tags were more so reaching out to my old audience that was heavily rooted in the band as I made my blog about that for six plus years. I stated in that post as well that I would be branching out with my works (:

I just wanted my switch to get the most traction and that so people who used to read my things wouldn’t be confused by the change!

I appreciate you voicing your points, they’re totally valid (: wish the best for you xx

[macabremads]

I appreciate you answering my question but, with all due respect, I think if you’re going to have this man’s name in your username and have him/his band as ANY part of your blog, you should be paying more attention to his racism. It is not enough to say you condemn racism but not take the time to look into what he has been condoning. The racist porn he’s openly talked about enjoying is literally stomach turning. You can’t say he’s always been problematic like that’s just a quirk of how he is. If he’s problematic you should *have a problem* with him.

Yeah! So as I’ve stated, i’m going through a rebrand of this account and am in the process of changing all of my information over and redoing all of the aesthetics of this account, which does include my name in due time (:

My profile picture, recent content i’ve re blogged and my bio no longer are geared towards Matty, this is all my rebranding and changing. However, I need to go through and find a new name and link them up as i’ve always been known under ‘macabrematty’ as this blog is over six years old. This is currently being worked on!

I do not actively support Matty, I have not written anything steady with Matty in it in over two years, and I haven’t actively been following him or the things he has said. I don’t feel a massive need to keep up to date with him as I am no longer solely a 1975 blog, and I’m no longer writing about him!

Just because I was younger when I liked Matty and ran this blog, doesn’t inherently make me responsible to go through and discuss every thing he has done wrong and publicly speak on it. I haven’t kept up with the man as a person in years, I’ve heard vaguely of his antics and do not support them at all, I think it’s disgusting, and it doesn’t surprise me due to this history that he’s spewing bs, I do NOT support that and I never have.

This is precisely why I am shifting my content moving forward and no longer wish to make things pertaining to Matty (:

I do appreciate you taking the time, thank you!

[macabremads]

How do you justify being a fan of Matty Healy after all his racist misogynistic bullshit?

hey! this is an excellent question! I know that there has been a lot of things that Matty has done as of recent that are less than okay! . As a white person, I want to be clear that I cannot fully speak on the racial comments he has made, I don't want to put words into the mouths of POC and how they felt about what he has said, but I unequivocally condemn any form of racism. Saying this, I cannot say I have really kept track of the band in the same way that I used to when I was younger! I no longer have a heavy attachment to the band individually, and Matty's actions don't occupy much of my attention anymore. Most of my younger years were soundtracked to the band, especially since I began listening to them when they were music for cars. I met a lot of cool people that used to follow this blog when I wrote Matty-centered fan fiction as well, and a lot of my life has been shaped by the band because of the circles I was in because of them.

It's important to note that Matty has a history of problematic behavior, even when I was a younger, less informed fan. However, I believe it's essential to mention that this blog has evolved. It's shifted from being primarily a 1975 blog to a multi-fandom blog, where I now focus on writing for various actors and shows. My intention is no longer to create much in the way of content centred around Matty Healy or the other members of The 1975. Thank you for your inquiry! I hope you're well xx

[macabremads]

Hello there, I'm Sao!

Welcome to my blog! 'formerly known as Macabrematty'. I've been running this blog since I was around fifteen or sixteen, initially focusing on fanfiction for the band 1975, with a particular emphasis on Matty Healy. Over the years, I've expanded my horizons to explore various other fandoms and interests.

While I don't have a set writing schedule, I'm gradually adding more diverse content beyond just 1975-related works. If you have any specific requests, feel free to drop them in!

I create and share content that's intended for an adult audience (18+). To maintain a safe and respectful environment, I'll block any minors or blogs without age information. So, if you're under 18, please refrain from interacting with this blog.

Enjoy your reading! If you like what you find here, don't hesitate to send me a message!

taglist  // a03 // requests // rp request // rp rules n' wants

updated master list will be placed under the 'keep reading' section!

masterlist (currently being worked on)

#pedro pascal roleplay #mads mikkelsen #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fluff #jeffrey dean morgan #mads mikkelsen rp #the 1975

[macabremads]

sorrows of the sand: teaser: oberyn martell x reader

Teaser Summary: With a keen awareness of Oberyn's burning desire for vengeance over the brutal death of their beloved sister, Elia Martell, Doran perceives a unique opportunity to harness that fiery passion and guide it towards a more measured pursuit of justice. United by an unlikely alliance crafted under Doran's watchful hand, your destiny and Oberyn's hang in precarious balance. Pairing: Oberyn Martell x afab!reader  Rating: 18+ for explicit content later on. Warnings: None in this chapter. Author Note: This is just a little teaser idea I had for a series I am intending on writing. Please do let me know what you think! Truth be told, I never watched Game of Thrones, so I am a bit muffled on the details, but I am not intending this story to be cannon as the idea of Oberyn being forced to settle down in his later years does not really ring true to his personality, in my opinion.  Word count: 492

The air was alive with the scents of exotic spices and fragrant blooms, as you found yourself enveloped in the vibrant atmosphere of a traditional Dornish wedding. The venue, a resplendent courtyard adorned with intricate mosaic patterns, was a breathtaking sight to behold. Lush palm trees swayed gently in the warm breeze, their fronds casting playful shadows upon the terracotta walls that encased the celebration.

As you stood at the altar, the anticipation coiled within you like a serpent, your pulse quickening with each passing moment. Your attire, a flowing gown crafted from the finest Dornish silk, shimmered in the sunlight, reflecting the hues of the desert sands and the deep azure of the nearby sea. A delicate golden circlet adorned your head, symbolizing your connection to House Martell, and the weight of your new role as a member of this esteemed family settled upon your shoulders.

And then, he appeared. Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper, the man whose name echoed in the halls of both admiration and trepidation. He strode towards the altar with a grace befitting his reputation, his attire a testament to his bold and unapologetic nature. Clad in flowing robes of crimson and gold, his attire mirrored the colors of the Dornish sun, evoking both passion and power. The scintillating sun insignia emblazoned on his chest seemed to burn like an emblem of his fiery spirit.

As his eyes met yours, there was a glint of intrigue, a spark that seemed to convey that this union was not just a formality, but an opportunity for something greater. The intensity of his gaze bore into your soul, making you feel exposed yet strangely invigorated, as though he could see the depths of your spirit even in the midst of the festive crowd. He had doubted you just days ago, when he had first made your acquaintance. He had been skeptical of his brother's intentions in your union with him, uncertain of what place you would hold within House Martell, but now, seeing you clad in your traditional robes, intrigue surged through him.

Recollections of your first encounter with the Red Viper flooded your mind—the moment he had leaned in on the balcony, the ocean waves crashing nearby. "Your arrival in Dorne stirs both curiosity and caution within me," he had whispered, his words like sharpened blades, a veiled warning.

Now, clad in the traditional robes of House Martell, intrigue surged through Oberyn as he observed you. Doubts had once plagued him, skepticism clouding his mind about the intentions behind your union. Yet, seeing you standing before him, the allure of the enigma you represented sparked a newfound fascination.

In the vast sea of uncertainties that lay ahead, one thing was certain—you and Oberyn Martell were bound by destiny, and the tide of fate had washed you together into the grand tapestry of his world, a world you were not too certain you wished to be part of. 

#oberyn martell #oberyn martel x reader #prince oberyn #oberyn x you #game of thrones

[macabremads]

Fix You - Chapter 14: Enjoy the Silence

Gif by @hunterschafer

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader

Fic Masterlist

Read on A03

Spotify Playlist

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Chapter Summary: The final heat...

Word Count: 7k

Rating: R

Chapter Warnings: Cussing, violence. I will not be warning anything else due to spoiling the story. We are all grown. You can stop reading when you want to.

A/N: Has it really been a year? I wish I had a better excuse than "I haven't been doing great." But that's what it is. I've had huge changes in my life. New job, new career, new goals, and a greater sense of self-worth. I'm feeling a lot better. But my new schedule is busy! Hopefully you can forgive me for such a long cliffhanger.

Finally, a heads up. This has been the arc I have been working towards for almost two years, and I'm not going to waver. Just stick with me like you have been. It’ll be worth it.

I also did the absolute most and made a specific playlist just for this chapter here.

Forever thank you to everyone who commented, reblogged, shared, boosted, made content for, and supported me. It meant a lot and definitely kept this fic in the back of my mind. As always, most love to my girl @musings-of-a-rose who has tolerated me being a shitty friend for a whole ass year, and always talking things through with me in life and in this fic. Cheers.

Suggested Songs: Depeche Mode "Enjoy the Silence", Fitz and the Tantrums: "Out of My League", Lizzo "Truth Hurts", Michael Kiwanuka "Cold Little Heart", Cigarettes After Sex "Cry", Guster "Demons"

Frankie and you decided to break your apartment lease starting October 1st. Fall term started on the 30th of August, and you wanted time to settle into your schedule before planning a move. You spent almost all your time at his house anyway, only stopping back at your apartment for more clothes. Frankie had already given you a row of drawers to keep your things in.

You’d honestly never been happier, both on cloud 9 and it never faded, you were incredibly excited to begin this new start with Frankie and Gabi. It all seemed to have happened so fast. It had only been five months, you hadn’t even told your family about him yet, mostly to avoid comments on the age gap. 

You were relieved the hiccup in your relationship settled, you didn’t like feeling unsure or that someone resented you. When you started feeling secure again, you clung to it. That sparkle of joy was hard to keep in check.

You picked your Fall schedule out together and spent the remaining weeks of summer basking in your relationship, playing with Gabi, going out with the guys, and constant fucking. But your most favorite thing was still lying on the couch with Frankie, teasing each other and watching bad TV.

“This is simultaneously the best and worst movie I have ever seen in my life. I don’t understand how they achieved this.”

Frankie shrugs, reaching to your lap for the giant bowl of popcorn, his eyes still glazed to the TV where Mad Max: Fury Road is playing. “I dunno. Who cares? It’s cars and chaos!”

“And Tom Hardy. And Charlize Theron.”

He pinches you on the waist, acting threatened by your thirst just to tease you. “You ever been to a demo derby? This kind of reminds me of it.”

You sit up from where your back is resting against his chest. “Um, no? Isn’t that kind of…for rednecks?”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling. “I’m not sure if you noticed, but Benny and Will are rednecks. But no, it’s for anyone who likes cars crashing into each other. There’s actually one at the fair every year. We always go to it. You should come.”

“I’m not going to a demo derby.”

“Aw come on! It’ll be fun! First time for Gabi too, and there’s rides and games and funnel cake and fried oreos—” He pauses as you hold your hand up to silence him.

“I’ll go. You had me at ‘funnel cake.’”

The fair is packed. The final hurrah of the summer before kids return to school and university students dive back into their studies. The derby started at 8 PM sharp, you, Dali, and the boys got there plenty early to look around a bit, get some food, and find seats.

You forgo any typical entree and go right for the funnel cake, heaping fruit and extra powdered sugar on it until the plate is a big mound of sweet. The guys had talked you up on this for days, Benny wouldn’t shut up about it, and you found yourself excited to watch. Your legs bounce impatiently as you scarf down your cake, breaking off pieces here and there to feed to Gabi and your boys.

The seats were bleachers, hard metal planks that hurt your butt and back and caught vibration from every footfall, but Pope sat behind you so you could lean back against his legs to be more comfortable. 

It’s a long wait. The bleachers eventually fill up, you certainly had the best seat in the house (thank you Will), and you could see the hoods up of participating cars behind the commentator podium. The air is musty, the odor of wet dirt from a quick August shower earlier that day.

When the first round of vehicles start revving their engines, Frankie pulls some earphones for Gabi and secures it to her head. Once he’s sure she’s comfortable, he quickly runs you through the basic rules. “So there’s several ‘heats’, and which heat you’re in is based on how many cylinders the car has. Last car moving is the winner, but you can’t just avoid the other cars the whole time. No continuing if your car starts sparking from the engine, no hitting the driver side door, and no hitting anyone who’s already out.” 

“Wait, cars catch on fire in this?”

Before Frankie can answer, the announcer calls out the first heat and you almost choke at the state of the cars coming out. They were completely dilapidated, windows punched out and hood frames reinforced with extra steel. It looked like each entry had about 5 different parts all from different cars, horrendous paint jobs, and one of them even had a stuffed dinosaur duct taped to the hood. Some of them looked like they had already been hit by cars, parts hanging off and bumpers pressing in on itself. None of these cars would last at all. There’s no way...

The rink was surrounded by giant cement cinder blocks creating a large “rink” type area. The contestants lined the front bumpers of their vehicles up parallel to each other at the barricades separating the cars from the bleachers, alternately revving their engines during the countdown.

“Okay, so, usually we all pick the car we think is going to win.” Benny says. You lean forward to look over the assortment of jacked up cars for this heat, eventually settling on an old Toyota Corolla painted a matte black. Benny chooses the dino car, Will chooses a Dodge Stealth with it’s headlights hanging outside the socket, Dali and Pope argue over a Ford Taurus whose back end was already smashed into the back seats, and Frankie chooses a Chevy Impala, which you immediately regret not taking because it has such a long front and back end. Lots of room for smashing and being able to keep going.

Gabi jumps up and down on Frankie’s lap as he points out things to her over the sounds of engines and a countdown, and then the cars are off off, engines roaring and dirt kicking up as they all reverse at full speed, several of them crunching up in the middle while others circle around the perimeters.

It soon becomes clear to you that there is no rhyme or reason to which car makes it and which doesn’t. Pope’s Taurus didn’t even start and is eliminated after 2 minutes of no movement, and whoever is driving the boxy piece of shit Honda Accord that Dali had to select is a fucking maniac, winding and weaving at full speed backwards, hitting whoever gets in their way. Her choice is the winner of that heat. 

Most of them are driving backwards, and Will tells you it’s because they are trying to protect the engine. You deflate in your seat a little in disappointment, but he assures you that as the heat winds down and there's fewer cars taking up the space, the drivers and announcer will get impatient and they will hit each other head to head.

You’re shocked at how much you enjoy it. At one point a car hits the passenger side door of another so hard that it is pushed up and onto the barricade wall from the inertia, hanging from an angle as the crowd jeers and shrieks in excitement. One car flips over completely, another’s engine bursts into flames and the crowd all starts crying out caution because the announcer can’t see it. You’ve never seen anything like it before and there was so much fire you were sure the whole thing would blow up, but the driver slid out the glassless driver’s side window like it was no big deal and walked it off.

There is something satisfying about two cars hitting each other at full speed, the bodies of them crunching, wheels hanging off axles, bumpers being dragged behind and run over by other drivers, cars with mangled pieces becoming stuck to each other so they can’t separate until another car hits them, tires completely gone and cars only moving on its hubs. It’s chaos in a safe format, a way to experience destruction and violence in a way that feels good and unharmful. 

Gabi has never been so amazed in her entire life, her mouth hangs open and she wriggles against her dad to see everything, laughing every time a collision happens. The audience oohs and ahhs and boos and screams and cheers and teases, you and your friends join the clamor as you have your own mini competition with yourselves.  

Giant fork tractors come into the arena area to lift the cars that can’t move anymore, some guys are able to get theirs back up and running, driving them to the sides to shape up for the final Battle Royale.

The final heat is fucking wild. All the cars that were already battered enough before they even began to come back out, returned to do another round for the final winner. With all the action you’d barely even noticed that contestants whose cars were still driveable had spent the remaining heats beyond the barricades hammering and reforming their vehicles enough to compete again. 

And at the end, the winner of all faces the crowd, pulls off their helmet to reveal a thick curly mass of long hair.  The winner is a woman. You and Dali cheer until your throats hurt.

It’s over too soon. There’s a mass exodus the instant the derby is over, the packed stadium standing and pouring down the stairs pressing so tight that you and your boys decide to hang back until it thins out. You lead the way, Frankie’s large and warm hand grazing your waist as you slowly move down the stairs and back out into the fair, turning to wait for the rest of your friends to make it out.

“What next?” Benny says when you are all reunited. “More food? Games? Rides?”

“I’m not eating more before getting on rides, let's do those now.” Says Frankie, grumbling as he hears you tease him with Benny. He whips his head around to glare at you. “Just you wait until you get older and start getting sick on rides, I cannot wait to make fun of you back.”

The wait for the ride tickets is long, but it leaves plenty of time for the group to decide how many are needed. Who is riding what, who isn’t, what pairings and who will watch Gabi on the rides she can’t do. You’re surprised when Will and Pope back out of the Zipper, leaving you and Benny as a pairing for that.

Riding it was a mistake. The ride is basically a giant airborne conveyer belt with completely enclosed containers for people hanging off it that were 360 degree capable. And it lasted FOREVER. You lose some of your funnel cake behind the ride out of sight, threatening violence on Benny if he outs you to the others. 

But it didn’t stop you from riding The Freak Out immediately afterwards, a rotating pendulum swing that made you feel like you were going to be catapulted out of your seat. The ride seated 4 groups of 4 so that in between squeezing your eyes shut, you could catch watery glimpses of Benny red-faced and cackling hysterically, Will’s chants of “ohfuckohfuckohfuckOHfuckOHFUCKOHSHIT FUCCCCCCK!”, and Frankie looking…absolutely fine. It was almost disturbing really, he was calm and collected, the only hint that this might have been something other than a nice drive in his truck was his giant smile, the tears leaking from his squinted eyes, his chocolate curls whipping around in the breeze as his hands clutch his hat in his lap with a steel grip.

“How the fuck were you so calm?!” You gasp as you stumble off the rickety landing platform. You hadn’t moved yet you felt like you had run a mile, your heart was beating so fast from the adrenaline it almost felt like you might have a heart attack. 

Frankie shrugs. “Feels like a copter in a bad air current.” 

You simply stare blinking. 

“No, he’s always like this. Like this one time, we were flying in a helo over the Andes mountains, and—”

A sharp stare from Frankie that he tries to hide from you makes Benny backpedal. 

“Uhhh yea we were flying over some mountains and the air current was wild but we got over the mountains just fine and everything was fine and we were fine.”

Your heart seizes in your chest, that same feeling of not being told something creeping up. You hate it. You push it back down, swallowing heavily to center yourself. “So I assume you were fine.”

“Yea. Yea. Cat is a good pilot.” 

You hum, the panic still not leaving your chest.

Frankie grabs your hand as you walk. “It happened a lot, I just got used to it.”

“It happened a lot?”

“Yea. I mean, sometimes we were flying through shit climates, sometimes even pursued. Doesn’t make for a smooth ride. I’m just used to it. They always scream bloody murder though.” Frankie smiles softly.

“Oh.”

You go silent, continuing to walk to the next destination: the scrambler. You had already established you would not ride and Dali wanted some funnel cake herself, so she heads off while you stay off to the side with Gabi to watch, lost in your own thoughts.

“Just don’t fucking talk about that, none of that. That never happened.” Frankie seethes to Benny as they are strapped into the ride. 

“Sorry dude, I can’t read your thoughts. I figured she knew.”

“No. I don’t want her to know. No one else needs to know about it.”

Benny falls silent, looking to Will beside him. Pope lowers his head, choosing to say nothing.

“Catfish…you have to.” Says Will.

“No the fuck I don’t. I never want her to know. If she knows…she’ll actually see ‘real me’. ‘Fuck-up me.” And I don't want her to yet. I don’t want to lose her yet. I don’t want her to be afraid. Stop fucking looking at me like that.”

They stop. But only because the ride starts, and they can’t see anything other than blurs.

You hate this feeling, this fluttering in your stomach like something is wrong but your heart knows, it knows it’s fine. It has to be. Your mind is spinning, trying to combat the rising anxiety clenching in your chest, doing gymnastics to find reasons to not be alarmed.

He’s not lying about something. He’s not. …He promised….I’m just overthinking this…

You can’t. You refuse to even think about it. Confronting the terrible possibility that you might’ve done it again, you might have thrown yourself all in to someone only to—-no. 

He’s not lying. He’s not. …He promised….he’s different. I’m just overthinking this…

You can feel butterflies bubbling in your stomach and you feel like you might throw up. Fucking men. You huff in frustration and try to distract yourself with your surroundings, watching people on rides, sharing funnel cake. Your eyes scan over two men staring at you silently by a skewered chicken cart and in your current mood it makes you furious. “What the fuck are you staring at?!” You growl at them. They say nothing and slowly walk away, disappearing into the crowd. Fucking. Men.

You try not to let your emotions show. You sit back while Gabi goes on some rides for her age, using the time to rehydrate and calm yourself down. Living through Gabi’s joy helps.. She’s having a blast, choosing a different person to pair with for each time ride. Pope in the Wacky House, the Helicopters with her dad, Benny on the mini Viking ship. Once you feel better you join in to play bumper cars (Will and Gabi win) and ride the high-rise swings with her seated in the cool metal chair next to you, Benny singing along to the ambient speakers playing “Out of My League” so loud eventually all the other teens on the ride join in.You enjoy the mini coaster more than you thought you would considering it’s for kids Gabi’s age, you and Dali are the only others who can fit in the seats, no matter how hard Benny tried. It was easy to quickly forget.

After the coaster, Gabi begins to slow down, so you hit the fried oreo stand, paying for several batches despite protestation and alternately feeding everyone as the group slowly walks through the agricultural parts of the fair. It’s calmer here, the air warm and quiet. The pathway is less crowded so Gabi is able to frolic around on the walkway in front of you safely. 

You walk through every barn, stopping to pet every animal. She’s a natural with them. Completely fearless, not one flicker of apprehension as she approaches cows and horses that are easily 6 times her height, paying close attention to her dad in how to not spook them. Everyone finds the goats to be the favorite because of the sounds they make. Even more so when Frankie engages in a screaming contest back and forth with a bunch of them until someone shoos them out of the pavilion.

Soon, all the sugar Gabi consumed rears its ugly head in the rabbit barn, she throws a fit when Frankie won’t let her get a pet rabbit and you only just catch her upper arm in time to keep her from collapsing on the filthy barn floor. You’re surprised she held out so long. Even you were crashing and getting tired. Also, the rabbits were ridiculously cute.

“Listen Gabi, how about we ride the ferris wheel? Would you like that?” You kneel before her, swiping the tears off her cheeks as she catches her breath. “It goes really high! Higher than the swings!” She nods, sniffing in a snot bubble as she takes your hand. The two of you lead the way, and as you get closer and closer, you start to regret your decision. 

It’s much taller than the Freak Out. By more than 100 feet. It doesn’t look very stable either.

“Wait...this…this looks kind of high, don’t you think?” You turn to the guys, trying to conceal the wavering in your voice. You were scared enough at 70 feet. This was more like 200.

“Height requirement says she’s fine. And it’s enclosed, goes really slow. Come on.” Frankie takes you by the hand and your heart leaps into your throat, your feet skidding across the lawn as you try to pull back. 

A light shove pushes you forward and you turn to glare at Will as he smirks down at you. “If you don’t go I’m never going to let you hear the end of it. Not after you called us “old and broken down.”

Well shit.

“Fine.”

You’re shaking when it’s your turn, the group mad dashing to three cars next to each other so you could talk throughout. Benny pairs with Pope, Gabi is vibrating with excitement as she’s put into a carriage by Will and Dali, and Frankie is beaming as he motions you towards the left car. He pats your butt as you gingerly step in, waiting until you’re seated before joining you and taking your hand. 

“Babe…are you okay?”

You swallow, grateful it’s dark enough he can’t see you trembling. “Yep. I’m good.” 

He leans forward in his seat, the glowing phosphorescence of the lights of the ride and around the fair bathing him halfway in a multicolored glow. tThe colors and shadows fold into the angles of his face like rainbow chiaroscuro, an angular stained glass window. He takes your hand again, yours is swallowed in his palm and you close your eyes as he rubs his thumb across the top. The dark beat of Depeche Mode pounds against your chest and echoes in your ears and you briefly imagine this is what it must feel like to drop acid.

“Your hands are really sweaty…and you’re breathing really fast. Are you sure you’re okay? Hey…” He squeezes your palm and you open your eyes to meet his. “It’s okay if you’re scared. I won’t joke anymore about it, I’m sorry.”

You swallow. “It’s just really really high.”

Frankie watches the ride operator out of the corner of his eye passing their car as he makes sure everyone is safely locked in before tugging on your arm slightly. You slide forward minutely, he meets you more than halfway with his large limbs and rests his hands on your hips. You gasp as the ride jolts and begins rolling, lifting the cabs up in the air. His calloused fingertip pushes your head back up.

“How about I distract you.” He murmurs, shifting forward one inch more, tilting his neck as his soft pouty lips meet yours. 

You close your eyes, trying to lose your self awareness into him and his mouth and the soft skin of his nose that bumps your cheek and tickles your nose with its little breaths. 

The lift mechanism suddenly shudders, clunking over something and it feels like when you run over a squirrel in your car. You inhale sharply against Frankie’s lips as your cab jostles back and forth. Not much, but enough for you to slam yourself back against your seat and clutch the seat bottom as hard as you can. Your heart beats wildly and you imagine the ride breaking and dropping you on the ground to be crushed to death by this stupid fucking metal cab.

You feel pressure on your knees and look down, focusing hard to not see double from fear. Frankie cups both in his hands, thumbs lightly stroking the inside of your thighs. “It’s okay.” He reassures, squeezing your knees once more. “Probably an under-greased cog, it’s nothing. They test these things like 50 times a day.”

You simply stare, forcing yourself to nod. 

“Close your eyes.”

You open your mouth to argue then close it and obey. You trust Frankie, and it can’t be any worse. 

“Just focus on me. And…you hear the music? It’s called “Enjoy the Silence.” I was obsessed with this song when it came out. And can you hear Benny below us? I can hear Gabi laughing too. We’re all okay, you’re okay too.”

You bite your lips into your mouth, focusing on the song and Frankie’s husky voice. The meditative synth pop calms you, and the carefree voices of your friends below does help calm you, but you can’t slow down your heartbeat. 

“I’m okay. Just too much adrenaline.”

The hands on your knees slide up your bare thighs and wrap around the bottoms of them. Frankie pulls you forward in your seat with a smirk. “I’m feeling a little amped up too.”

“Frankie.”

He doesn’t respond, his sole focus on your thighs as his hands slide up and up and up until he is just able to slip the tip of one of his fingers under one leg of your shorts. For some reason, it pisses you off.

“Frankie!” You hiss. “People could see us.”

“Nah…” He shushes you, his finger sliding lower. 

You clamp your legs shut and push his hand back in his direction. “Frankie, I don’t want to right here.” 

He sits up. “Oh.”

Suddenly you hear Benny’s voice from below. “Hello we are underneath you guys! I don’t want to hear any hooking up sounds!” He trolls, and you fully push Frankie back to his side, your cheeks burning in embarrassment.

It’s the first time you can remember that it’s ever been uncomfortably awkward between the two of you, and you’re not sure why. The silence seems so much more noticeable and weird against the clanking of the Ferris wheel gears and the chattering of random other people.

You’re not even looking at each other, you realize. When did that happen? Your neck cranes to the left as you gaze at the stars, and when you turn back towards Frankie, he is looking to the right and down at the fair. 

“…Is everything okay?”

His eyes snap back to yours. “Yea? Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Cause I pushed you away, and…I dunno, you’re being weird..”

“Oh, I’m sorry, that’s not intentional. I’m not upset, c’mere.” He opens his arms wide to you, scooting on his bench so there’s enough room for you.

You hesitate. “Won’t it…won’t it throw off the balance?”

You feel ridiculous asking but he doesn’t laugh at you, just shakes his head slightly. “Nah, they wouldn’t be able to run this ride if people couldn’t sit on the same side.”

You balance awkwardly on the edge of your bench overanalyzing what exact moment during the track of the ride to launch onto his, but you overthink it and end up jostling the cab more than necessary. Frankie’s arms pull you into his side and you burrow your face in his neck as the cab continues to rock. The music fades from Depeche Mode to Lizzo to Lil’ Nas X (Will clearly enjoys that one) and then back to Lizzo, and you forget all about your uneasiness.

He was right. It did feel better being with him. 

The ride does one more pass then rolls to a halt, letting off you with Frankie and Benny with Santiago. You hover at the exit for Will and Gabi, who have to wait for their cab to reach the platform before dismounting. Frankie takes your hand as you wait.

Gabby’s adrenaline rush runs out fast, and you spend the remainder of the fair eating more fried Oreos and playing games. Somehow you manage to beat them all at the water shooting game, which amps up the competitiveness to the point you’d rather just watch.

Which is how you end up at the “star” game. 

“We’re so fucking good at this game, it pisses them off every time.” Laughs Benny, as he shoots the entire Star out perfectly with the gun that is specifically not given enough ammo to achieve this. You hop up on the far side of the counter to watch, noting the way each of you boys handles their weapon and the differences in each. Benny held his gun loosely, like he was relaxed and self assured. It almost seemed like you would be able to slap it out of his hands but you knew he still had an iron grip. Will was precise and, as you expected, “perfect form”. You could tell just from Pope’s posture change that he was the best shot on the team, you’d never seen him look so focused. Frankie held his with a tense white knuckle grip, the folding stock tucked against his shoulder joint. The tension carrying up his arms as his veins popped out in his forearms and biceps. He looked fucking good. And you wouldn’t consider yourself a “gun person.” In fact, you kind of hated them. But there just was something about a strong non-douchey man holding a rifle like that that activated you. Damn the patriarchy. Even Dali is a great shot, though not as good as the guys.

After a few rounds, the carnie finally stopped allowing your posse to keep playing, frustrated that somehow the rigging system didn’t work on your group. You lean back on your hands, your legs swinging against the wood counter, observing Benny arguing with the carnie with a smirk. Gabi is passed out in her stroller next to you as Frankie sidles up to you, feeding you a piece of Fried Reeses, then promptly kissing you so the taste floats between you. 

He hums deeply, stepping closer to you til he’s between your legs. His hands rest low on the top of your thighs. “This ok?”

You smile. “Yes. More than okay. And I want more.” 

Frankie beams and cups your face, his lips crashing into yours as he all but breathes you in. You tilt your head and poke his mouth with your tongue. He responds immediately and opens for you, meeting you halfway. You whine softly as his hands leave your cheeks and trail down your back, one hand sneaking a bit lower to discreetly cup your ass. You’ve just wound your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck when you hear a shrill voice cut through the din of the dwindling crowd.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Your heart slams to a halt so fast it hurts. You recognize that voice. And so does Frankie. Your heads both snap to the left as a disheveled looking Lex stands there with a bunch of her friends.

Frankie simply stares. She repeats herself. “Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me. The BABYSITTER? Are you fucking your BABYSITTER??? Oh Frankie…come on…how pathetic can you be? She’s like a child!”

You look at Frankie, receding into himself like a silent, terrified puppy. You’ve never seen him like this before, it unnerves you.

“Excuse me.” You snap back. “I am 28.”

She scoffs. I fucking knew something was going on with you two. And you’re doing this in front of my child?”

“Well, actually, Gabi is sleeping. At least she was, until you came ranting and raving.” You make eye contact with Pope, who reads your perfectly and starts steering Gabi’s stroller away so she can’t hear. “We made sure to be careful for her but why do you even care if we are fucking? You left him! You didn’t want him anymore, so it shouldn’t fucking matter who he dates.” 

“He’s a drug addict and a pathological liar. He will NEVER change.”

“Yea? And you are a drunk, controlling, OCD bitch who can’t mind her own fucking business. He’s happy with me. I trust him. Unlike you. Bye.” You couldn’t help yourself, you just fucking hated her.

But that set her off. “Did he tell you why he was suspended?”

“Yes, he—“

“Did he tell you he was high, flying a family and he almost injured everyone from a sloppy landing? Did he tell you how he would take Gabi to his drug dealers house with him? How he went on a STUPID fucking mission with these idiots to burglarize a fucking drug lord completely off paper? That I deliberately asked him not to because we had a new baby? That he crashed their helicopter, dropped all their money and shot innocent villagers to keep them from getting it? At children and old men adn women? That because of that, Molly’s husband was shot in the fucking head by one of those people? And then they couldn’t even bring the money back so it was all for no reason?”

She’s shouting now, spittle flying from her inebriated lips. One of her friends tries to grab her arm but she shakes them off. People in the crowd are starting to stop and watch. “Then, THEN, he treated me like shit, saying horrible things to me just when he was mad, throwing things, scaring me!”

You feel like you can’t breathe, it’s too much information all at once. “...What? I don’t…No. no, he said he was on a delta mission–”

“Oh sweetheart,” She sneers condescendingly. “He was on a greed mission. He was retired from delta. This was like a year ago. They all wanted to get rich and robbed a fucking drug kingpin and Frankie shot innocent people to make sure he got alllllll that money. And because of that, his friend was shot and killed and his family has NO idea why. He lied to you.”

You turn to look at him, and all his friends. Everyone is silent, trying not to look up from the ground. Dali looks as bewildered as you. “Frankie…?” Tears water in your eyes and you feel like your heart is going to burst. You thought he told you it was an enlisted mission, but on top of everything else you just learned your thoughts are rushing so fast you can’t seem to remember specifics. 

Frankie can’t even look at you. And that’s how you know. 

It’s true…

“Lex. Stop.” Will’s Southern drawl cuts through the silence, the commanding officer in him coming out. “It’s over. This shit between you two has to stop. Enough.” His eyes shift to Lex’s friends, who are nodding and repeating the same thing. Lex finally allows them to pull her away muttering under her breath, sending one last glare in your direction.

The walk to the truck is silent. The ride home is a foggy blur. But the minute you step into the house, you crack. 

“Frankie please tell me all this is not true.” You can’t read him at all, his face is completely blank as he moves around you towards Gabi’s bedroom to tuck her in.

So you wait.

His hackles are already up when he comes back out.

“Frankie–”

“Yea.”

“Well?”

“Yea. It’s true. We tried to steal money from one of Pope’s cases and it backfired and Tom got shot.”

“Because of you.”

His expression changes then, from blank nothing to vicious defensive anger. “Yea. Because of me. I fucked up the flight back and we crash landed and these fuckin’ villagers were gonna take the money! And it was an accident!”

“You ‘accidentally’ shot innocent people?”

He swallows, his jaw clenching and unclenching. You can see he’s doing mental gymnastics in order to avoid accountability. 

“Did your finger slip?”

No answer. 

“Frankie. Did your finger slip on the trigger?”

You already know the answer before he says it. And somehow it’s like he morphs into a Disney villain as he says it. “No. My finger didn’t slip.”

It burns, the sharp pain in your heart that makes you feel like it’s having a seizure or forgot how to pump blood or is pumping too much blood. “How many people did you kill.”

He shrugs. “I dunno.”

“You don’t know? How can you not know?! Frankie, you told me this was your job! You- you fucking lied to me! I-I I asked you if you were hiding anything else from me and you fucking lied to me!” You can’t help your voice raising, the tears spilling out of your eyes as you realize how fucking stupid you had been. Somewhere in the background you can hear Gabi has woken and is hysterically crying. Frankie, clearly having enough, turns back towards her room. But you continue, screaming at his back. “And that’s why Tom is dead? And his family doesn’t know why?!”

Frankie doesn’t answer and suddenly you are enraged. You run behind him and shove him forward. “I’m fucking talking to you! How can you just be so fucking blase about this??? And…all that other shit???—I feel like I don’t know you at all!”

He whirls around, that furious murderous face you ‘ve seen him give others is finally directed at you. “Because you don’t!” He screams back, his teeth nash and he shoves a finger one inch from  your face. You flinch.

“Frankie, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m scaring you? Really? I thought this was your thing?” 

You blink, confused, tears stalling on your face. “Don’t–”  You plead softly.

“No, Lex is right. You’re a naive little girl who thinks she can save worthless idiots like me and live some fucking fantasy happily ever after. You won’t. You can’t. I’m unfixable.”

“How can you say that!! Frankie, I love you!

He scoffs. “I know you think you do. And I know you aren’t stupid, you told me you’ve done this before. But guess what sweetie, you aren’t better, you’re still doing it because you’re so fucking desperate for someone to love you. You don’t love me. You just want to feel like some fucking savior.”

“No! No… I didn’t, I don’t…you told me you loved me!”

“I wanted to fuck you.” His eyes are black as far, it’s like you don’t even recognize his face anymore. Lex was right. Lex was right. How…did you make all of it up in your head?

“You…You’re a fucking psycho…I feel like you emotionally manipulated me into caring for you only for you to play games with me! I specifically told you I couldn’t go through this again and you fucking did it anyway!”

“Hey, you kissed me. And you were fun to fuck, I will admit that. Let me do fucking anything. But we both knew this would happen. You set yourself up. I did shoot those villagers. I caused Tom’s death. I just wanted the fucking money. And I wanted to kill a bunch of kids too, when they got in my way. Fuckin’ teenagers and I told Pope to fucking shoot them all.  And you know what else? We went back and got all that fucking money we hid, and we are fucking swimming in it. And I didn’t share a goddamn dime with my ex. You’re right. I am a psycho, so it’s a good thing this is over. Pack your shit and leave me alone.”

“Fuck you Frankie.”

You don’t wait another moment. You don’t need to be asked twice this time. You shove him aside on your way down the hallway, doing everything you can not to let the second round of tears fall. He’d seen enough.

You slam the door of the master bedroom behind you, frantically bouncing around different points in the room to grab all your shit. When did all of this stuff even get here? Anxiety bubbles up your chest until you can’t take it anymore and say fuck it, he can just throw anything else out. I have to get out of here.

You rush back down the hallway like a speed demon, praying to whatever that he won’t be standing in the hallway still. He isn’t. He’s sitting on his couch facing away from you, his head in his hands. You hate yourself for wanting to go comfort him. He’s right…I’m

not better…

You pause on the front doorway, struggling to say what needs to be said. Don’t be weak. Don’t keep letting people do this to you over and over. “Don’t contact me.I never want to see you again.” You say to his back.

He doesn’t move a muscle, or even look at you. “You won’t.”

You were able to make it halfway across the lawn before the grief fully hit. By the time you got to your car you were gasping like you were no longer able to breathe. And the minute your car door shut you broke, a wailing sob bursting from your lips as you bury your face in your palms. 

Again. It happened again. And it’s just as crushing as every other time, except now it feels like you never healed from the others and now they are all piling on top of the other with this one as the final blow.

Why. WHY? Was there something wrong with you? Why were you never enough? Why couldn’t you make them stay? What did you do to keep having to go through this? It almost killed you last time, your eyes squeeze shut as you remember the look on your parents face as they watched you writhe on your bed screaming and crying hysterically from your latest breakup.

And why did you let yourself fall into it again, like you had never learned a goddamn thing. It was like you were masochistic, you told yourself you would never need someone again so badly, you wouldn’t enmesh yourself so fully that when it fell apart you could barely function. Your heart was once again ripped out of your chest and thrown to the floor, the cracks from before making this shattering into pieces so small you know it can’t get repaired again.

With a trembling whimper, you pull your face out of your hands and wipe your eyes, your nose. You realize you’re still sitting in Frankie’s driveway and you immediately look to see if he's at the window, concerned for you. He isn’t. You hate yourself for it but it breaks you even more. 

It’s over.

You drive home mindlessly, your Spotify on shuffle and you aren’t aware of anything else. Just get home. Just get home and then you can cry, try to move on. But you already know you won’t. 

You finally tire yourself out of tears, and you try to talk yourself up, turning up the music and chanting “it’s okay” to yourself. 

It’s Coldplay. You always liked Coldplay. 

When you're too in love to let it go

But if you never try, you'll never know

Just what you're worth

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you…

Tears stream down your face

When you lose something you cannot replace

Tears stream down your face, and I–

You slam the on/off button so hard you actually cause the auxiliary cord to malfunction, so you rip it out of your phone and throw the damn thing on the passenger seat. You drive home in silence.

It’s dark in the lot when you arrive. You park in a spot along the side and towards the back because the lot is mostly full. The only light shining is the pole yards away, the bulb switches off and on opposite of the dark one right above you. 

You feel numb. You can still feel sticky dried tears on your face, but your ability to utter a sound is gone. You close your eyes and try to compose yourself, simply sitting in your car in the dark. You’re avoiding going upstairs, you know. You’ve pretty much been living at Frankie’s. Walking through that door would make it feel too ‘official’. You cover your face with your hands and rub the tears tracks off your raw face, and are about to take a breath and gather your shit when a THWACKING sound bursts right in your left ear.

You startle with a yelp and look out your window, prepared to tell off whoever is messing with you, but freeze when you find yourself face to face with the barrel of a gun, the only thing separating you from it is the shitty window glass on your cheap car.

»»———————►

Post A/N: Don't yell at me lol

[macabremads]

just saw your post about rp - do you rp on this blog?

I rp on discord (:

[macabremads]

streets// m.h pt.1

heya, im kinda back! I got a little inspired as I currently am on holiday in London. If you guys have any requests please let me know!

you had always wanted to travel and lord knows you had the spirit to do it. you had been contemplating for months about buying your tickets to London but you had always had your finger hovering over the purchase button, what had stopped you each time? you had always talked to Matty about going together, he had mentioned taking you around town to areas that he and his mates used to frequent when they were younger. 

but now you stood in Leicster square, black craft wrapped tightly around your neck as you walked around, alone. you had come a long way from playing it safe, hanging onto other peoples coattails and following their plans but you realized after things with Matty unraveled that you couldn’t waste your time running around in other peoples orbits. the both of you had a very tumultuous relationship, he never wanted to give you a label, you wanted one considering you toured with them, stayed in his flat when he came back to LA, spent hours on the phone and fell asleep to the sounds of his shallow breaths. You two had argued for many nights about this predicament but he never gave you what you wanted. 

“So you /won’t/ date me properly then?” you had asked, eyebrow raised eyes glossy but refusing to cry about the same topic, same argument. 

“it’s not that I won’t, it’s that I can’t” he had breathed back, his tone dripping with desperation for you to understand him and his reasons. he always tried to drill into your head his fear that as soon as there was confirmed strings things would fall to shit but he refused to acknowledge that holding you in limbo was doing the exact thing he was scared being with you would do. 

he had begged you to stay that night, pleaded with you as you walked around his flat and threw all of your belongings into a shitty thread bag that you had used to carry around your laptop, but this time you were done. done with him refusing to commit to you and refusing to play along as some side piece in his life, for christ sakes you had a stocking stuffed at his mums house but he still refused to call you his girlfriend. 

the two of you had texted after that night. well, Matty would text and try to pretend things were normal but you took hours to reply if you did, turned down his offers to go to the bar or come to shows, you couldn’t do it anymore. And before you knew it, Matty stopped texting back. 

this made your whole trip bittersweet, you got to be in the one place you had dreamed of, but it felt as though Matty was being pulled behind you on a string attached to your ankle that you just couldn’t shake off. 

you stopped to Pret for a coffee, finally taking the gloves off your hands as you sat down at a little table close to the windows, wanting to people watch as people walked around the large square. 

suddenly, you heard a little ‘ping’ from your phone, your breath hitching as you saw matty’s name pop up under your WhatsApp. 

‘you’re in London?’ was all it said but you felt your heart rate pick up, fingers shaky as you pressed on the notification, redirecting you to the app so you could respond. 

‘on holiday’ is all you responded, wondering why now of all times he decided to message you, was he in London now? their US tour had ended months ago, that much you knew for certain but you hadn't not kept track of where him and the boys were located. you had no reason to. 

‘tell me where you’re at.’ was his response and your eyes widened. why on gods green earth would you tell him where you were?

‘no’ you sent back before you could really think about it, taking a large sip of your coffee as you rolled your eyes,  he never really had tact. 

‘Jesus Christ y/n, just tell me where you are.’ he typed back, receiving your previous message instantly as he hadn’t left the chat. 

‘Leicester Square.’ you finally responded, feeling anxiety creep up your back as he instantly opened the message. 

‘I'll be there in fifteen.’ fuck.

#matty healy one shot #matty healy imagines #matty healy #matty 1975 #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 #the 1975 tour #Matty Healy oneshot

[macabremads]

i walk around school with a heavy tug on my heart

it never seems to end

these hallways always seem to lead me to you-

and her

the one you replaced me with

albeit it a bit fast

i am happy to see you happy

just even happier to see it from afar

because the pain i felt next to you had left me with a pain

that the hallways of this school always bring me back to;

it always starts with you

-b.m

#heartbreak #breakup #tiktok #poemsaboutlove #poemsbyme #poetry #sadbeautifultragic #call me by your name #what a shame

[macabremads]

Masterlist

~MATTY HEALY~ (Most of these are mattyxreader) 

Choices: Matty reflects on his addictions and what let up to his girlfriend leaving him. (Drabble) 

The City: Matty relapses and has to face the repercussions for his actions. (Drabble) 

Faintstar: Matty promises to do better in regards to his addictions but after a rough night, he goes on stage and collapses after overdosing on his medications. 

Milk: Matty cannot seem to grasp onto reality after finding out that his girlfriend was cheating on him. 

Nectar Part 1: AU where Matty is a Jewish business man in Germany during world war 2 and the reader is a German girl who’s family is allowing him to live with them before everything breaks out. 

The Start: You are struggling to adjust to your new school. You finally have a small break down at lunch and Matty decides to befriend you. 

Waverly Hills Part 1: Matty had tuberculosis during the 1900′s and you are a nurse at the Waverly Hills Sanatorium where he is placed.

Wavery Hills Part 2: Read above for description. 

Crestfallen: The reader has an Eating Disorder and Matty blames himself for her death. 

Somebody Else: Matty is literally fucking crazy after he comes home from tour due to him not taking his medications, causing the reader to break up with him. (THIS IS REALLY DARK SO YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED) 

Sick: Matty is just really sick and you comfort him. 

Broken: Matty chooses his addictions over the reader. 

Complacent: Matty just wants to lay in bed with you. 

Vega 1.0: The reader reminisces about Matty and how he viewed life. (Mini Series) 

Vega 2.0: Read above. 

Vega 3.0: Read above. (End) 

Morning Lovin’: Just some lovely cuddling time between you and Matty

Recompense Part 1: A story where you ask Matty to accompany you to your friends wedding and somehow, feelings get in the way. (Ongoing) 

Asperous: Matty and your relationship become severed and he decides to seek treatment for issues you were unaware of, but not before bringing it to your attention first.

(New, 12/01/18) i dont wanna slowdance: Matty has a tough time getting over a bad breakup.

~PREFERENCES~ 

How They Propose

~GEORGE DANIEL~

You Give Me The Blues: George cheats on the reader. (Part 1)

~ADAM HANN~

Fatherhood: Adams fiance dies a year after their son Mason is born and he is left to pick up the pieces. That’s where you two become close. 

~ROSS MACDONALD~

Detour: The bus breaks down, making you and the boys have to stay in a hotel which results in you and Ross dancing along to your favorite song after his shower.