"It will rain." they say. They say that every day. And every day, you wait. How long have you waited? You don't know anymore.
You stop at a dusty intersection. At all corners, there are people with fruit stands. The cherries are 2 dollars a pound. You see the sign saying no stands. You look to the police. They have one too. The strawberries are a dollar a basket.
You're walking in LA along Hollywood Boulevard. You walk along the stars. It feels like forever. So many and yet so many still. You eventually find your own name on one for film. You have never been in a movie. Or so you think.
"Let's go to In-N-Out," says your friend. Which one? There are no other burger places around. There is only In-N-Out. There is always only In-N-Out.
You walk past a person in a Dodgers hat. Not uncommon. Everyone owns one. Everyone you walk past wears one. You reach up onto your head. You are one of them.
You go to a restaurant with a friend. Everything is gluten free. You don't mind. Everything is. What even is gluten? You don't know, but you are horrified by it.
The beach is nice in the summer. The beach is nice in spring. The beach is nice. The beach is your friend, your overlord. You must respect it. Bow to it before stepping on its sandy shores.
You get onto the 405. Siri says you only go 5 miles before getting off on the exit ramp. It has been decades since she said that last. Your hands are old and wrinkled as they grip the wheel. Siri says you have 4 miles to go. It's faster than usual.
You park your car on the side of the road and get out. The beach. You look at the top of your car to find a surfboard. You don't own a surfboard. You do now and have accepted it as your new way of life. You go to put on your wetsuit.
Your friend says she has tickets to the next concert. You ask where. She laughs. It is everywhere. The Bowl. The Forum. Staples Center. It is everywhere at once. All concerts are.
You debate on where to go for summer vacation. The fight ensues. Magic Mountain, Knott's Berry Farm, Universal Studios, and Disneyland. They fight for your affection and your money for when summer comes. This happens every year.
The palm tree outside your window waves at you in the wind. The palm trees are your ever present, looming protector. They are always watching.
You hear the chiming of the elotero's cart. You grab your money and run out the door. There is no elotero. The bell still rings. It always rings.
Summary: Y/N and Jughead take a long drive out of Riverdale for a road trip and discover their hidden feelings for each other
Warnings: swearing, slight smut, drinking
‘Swerving on the 405, I can never keep my eyes off this’
We’d been driving for hours, we didn’t even know where we were going anymore, or what were running from. The sudden impulsive decision to get out of town and take a road trip was decided by Jughead. He had been distressed at school lately and said he had a lot of stuff going on in his head, and he needed to get away.
Me being the good friend I am, and caring a great deal for him, didn’t want him to be alone so I decided to make the offer on taking him away for a while.
day 405…. i still havent left my home…….im just sitting here……. i only talk to people online and they all ask me where i am and why they havent seen me in so long but…… fuck…. god……. i…… i just………. i just really f,ucking lo,,ve this chair,,
can we talk at about how they specifically showed bellamy and clarke’s reaction to seeing each other again and in that situation? they didn’t even bother showing kane like WHAT KIND OF CANON SHIT IS THIS
I’ll never forget the sound of the wind rushing past my ears… how the red needle trembled past ninety… the wheel shaking in my hands. It scared me to death. And I thought nothing in the world could be more exciting.
Collision Course - 4x05
My hands wrapped around a stick shift Swerving on the 405, I can never keep my eyes off this My neck, the feeling of your soft lips Illuminated in the light, bouncing off the exit signs I missed
“Y/N! Turn left, turn left!” Stiles shouted, noticing you had zoned out again. You jumped and sighed, noticing you had missed your turn. “We were meant to be there ages ago, and we’re nowhere near” Stiles exclaimed, sinking back into the front seat. “You should of took your jeep then” you retort. “I would of rather taken my jeep than ride with you, but evidently you don’t know where you’re going” he said cockily. “I could of just followed behind you” you said, glancing at him. “Well- Well I don’t want to have to wait for your slow ass the whole journey” Stiles excused. “Hmm” you replied, too stubborn to let him have the last word. A three hour long car ride with Stiles was the last thing you wanted right now. You had liked him since you joined the pack. At one point the feeling was mutual, until you began seeing how much he cared for Lydia, she’s your best friend and you knew it wasn’t her fault so all the jealously turned into anger towards him. “Take the next right” he said, staring out the window. “Again?! Do you not know your left from your right?” he ranted. “You drive then! I’m not listening you moan for another three hours!” you said, pulling onto the side of the road. “It’ll take longer than three hours with your driving” he mumbled, getting out of the car. You unbuckled your seat belt and climbed into the passenger side. “Can you not adjust the seat I have it in the perfect posit-” you began saying, before you realised he had already pulled it backwards. You huffed and he gave you a sarcastic smile in return. God you hated him. What did you even see in him anyway? Regardless you weren’t going to let him irritate you today of all days. Which was going to be pretty hard, considering you were both exhausted and running on six cups of coffee. You should of just gone with the others, but no you wanted to leave later on and now you’re stuck with him.
Dawn is just breaking when Clarke stumbles down next to him, soot stained and weary, leaning heavily on his shoulder. Around them the triage was finally nearing an end, most people heading off to what little was left for sleep.
Octavia still lays in his lap, a furrow between her brows and Bellamy has been focused on nothing but the quiet up-down of her chest for the past few hours.
“How’s she doing?” Clarke asks, her voice hoarse.
He gives a one shoulder shrug, taking care not to jostle either one of them. “Alright I guess. I can tell she’s in pain, but she’s trying to hide it,” he says as he fondly looks down at his sister, tenderly brushing her hair away from his face.
She gnaws at her bottom lip, absentmindedly rubbing circles into Octavia’s hand. “I wish I had painkillers or something to help her-”
“Clarke,” Bellamy interrupts, finally tearing his eyes away from his sister to look at her. Her eyes are glassy, dark purple bruises beneath them and her skin is streaked with soot and ash. She looks as though she’s ready to fall over any second now, and his heart clenches at the thought of her running around and spreading herself thin as one of their only medical officers left.
He lets his free arm shoot out, pulling her into him for a clumsy hug, and she makes a surprised sound in the back of her throat.
“Thank you,” he says, voice cracking. His chapped lips catch on her hair and she smells overwhelmingly of smoke and musk, but he can still make out that faint note of something else underneath, the barest scent of antiseptic and herbs that’s just so Clarke as he presses his face to the crown of her head. “Thank you for saving her.”
Clarke clings to him just as fiercely, he realises, tucking her head into the crook of his neck and taking a shuddering breath. “It was nothing,” she replies, voice thick, “I did what I had to do. Octavia did all the hard work.”
“Still.” Bellamy pulls back, but she doesn’t go far, leaving her fist curled into his jacket and an arm slung around his waist. His own hand drops to her hip, pressing lightly there. “Thank you.”
They both fall silent, watching as their people sort through the wreckage while the early morning sun streaks through the remaining tendrils of smoke.
“You should get some rest,” he says after a while, when the sun is almost fully above the horizon.
“I know but I,” she falters for a beat, eyes dropping as she stares off into the distance, “There’s so much that we need to see about now.”
“You’re no use dead on your feet,” he scolds her gently, before smoothing his hand up her side, “Everything will still be here to figure out in a few hours.”
Clarke slumps, letting her head drop onto his shoulder, and he feels the expansion of her chest as she breathes him in. “Can we figure it out later?”
His lips tick up at the familiar words, and Bellamy lets his head drop on top of hers. When he closes his eyes, he can pretend, just for a moment, that everything is okay. That the air isn’t cold and heavy with smoke, that people aren’t already dying, that they’ve somehow found that one miraculous solution to all their problems.
Her hand sneaks into his, linking their pinky fingers, and his breath catches when she squeezes gently.
“Whenever you’re ready,” he breathes out, before squeezing back in turn.