#...and then a dude followed me off the bus and halfway home.

[pride-of-storm]

first day of work and :( my feet hurt :(

[obsessed-with-fake-men]

After His Show

After seeing the band play a gig in the city, you ride back to town on Seb’s motorcycle. But, you get a little distracted along the way…

Sebastian xF!Reader, Sebastian xAFAB!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Tw: nsfw, mdni, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, mentions of cigarettes, pet names, semi-public sex, oral male receiving

AN: This fic can be read as a follow up to Under His Desk or as a stand alone. I have been on the motorcycle thirst trap side of the internet lately and I thought that perfectly aligned with a fic idea. I have never ridden a motorcycle so if my descriptions are inaccurate, I’m sorry :)

Wc: 4400

It was another fall day and you had just finished a harvest which meant one thing - it was time to pop into Pierre’s for some more seeds. You head down the road that leads into town trying to decide if you want to focus on artichokes or if you have enough time left in the season to plant some fairy roses. You’re so lost doing the mental calculations that you would’ve run into Sam if he hadn’t grabbed you by the arms.

“Look where you’re going, farmer! You could’ve made a dent in me,” he jokes, squeezing your biceps. “No, but for real you’re strong right?” 

“Uh yeah, I guess I am?” you shrug.

“Well, we could use an extra roadie for the Goblin Destroyer show tomorrow night if you’re free,” he says. “I know Seb would be really happy if you were there.” Sam winks at you.

You flush, forgetting that Sam knows you and Seb have been fooling around since he almost walked in on the two of you. If you’d only grabbed your bra before hiding under Seb’s desk this embarrassment could’ve been avoided.

“Yeah, sure I don’t have any plans for tomorrow,” you say. “It would be cool to see y’all at a real gig and not just rehearsals.”

“Sweet! Okay, we’re meeting at the bus stop at 4, see you there,” Sam calls as he heads for home.

The next day you finish your chores around the farm as quickly as you can. You may be a roadie tonight, but you’re a groupie at heart and you want to look the part. When you’re satisfied that you look somewhere between halfway decent and slightly hot, you head for the bus stop. 

As you approach, you see Seb leaving. You try to catch his eye but it’s clear his head is elsewhere. When you get to the bus stop, Abigail whistles at you.

“Damn girl, you clean up nice,” she exclaims. You hadn’t really had a chance to dress up for a night out since you moved to Pelican Town a few months ago.

“Thanks,” you laugh. “You look great too, very punk rock.”

“Dude I wear this outfit literally all the time, but thanks,” she laughs.

You help load the rest of the equipment, looking around every now and then hoping to see Seb. By the time all of the gear is loaded, Sebastian still hasn’t appeared. You see Sam lingering by the doors to the bus.

“Hey Sam, is Seb… I mean I saw him heading to town when I got here and we’re about to leave,” you trail off.

“Oh yeah, he had to help his mom with something, he said he’ll meet us there,” Sam replies.

Disappointed, you board the bus behind Sam.

The ride to the venue goes by faster than you expected, and you spend the whole time laughing and joking with Sam and Abigail. Upon arrival you jump into your role as a roadie, unloading gear off the bus with the same focus you use to plant or harvest crops. When everything is set up, you head outside for a smoke break. You’ve always smoked off and on, but since hanging around Seb the habit has admittedly gotten a bit worse.

Searching your pockets for a lighter, you come up empty. You wish Seb was there, he always has one on him. As if in answer to your prayers you hear a motorcycle nearing. Looking up, you see Seb riding towards you. You had to focus to keep your mouth from falling open. Sure you’d seen him working on the bike and that was objectively hot, but seeing him ride up on it was another thing entirely. You weren’t sure if it was the confidence he rode with, but even with his face obscured by the helmet he looked sexy.

Seb pulled the bike up right next to you. He was surprised he parked straight because he had been looking only at you since he entered the lot. Seb knew you were going to be there tonight, but damn he didn’t know you were going to look this good all dressed up in black. He knows that it’s the traditional color crew wears, but he hopes you considered his reaction as you picked out your outfit - the thought makes him blush. Those tight black jeans seem to hug every curve and your top is cut just low enough to get his heart racing. 

Sebastian pulls off his helmet and runs a hand through his dark hair. 

“Need a light?” he asks, nodding toward the unlit cig in between your fingers.

“Yeah, your timing is perfect,” you say, as Seb dismounts the motorcycle and pulls a lighter from his pocket. 

You lean forward, breathing in as he lights the tip of your cigarette. 

“Sounds like you were missing me,” he teases, plucking the cig from your fingers to take a drag.

“Missing you or just your lighter, who’s to say,” you retort.

Seb offers the cig back to you, instead of taking it, you lean forward making eye contact as you take a drag while it’s still between his fingers, lips brushing his digits. Seb’s cock twitches at your brazen flirtation and he huffs out a laugh. Damn, you really know how to get him going.

Seb grabs your hand and pulls it up to his mouth. He kisses the inside of your wrist, causing you to draw in a ragged breath.

“Well I missed you, y/n…” he whispers against your wrist. 

You can’t think beyond his admission and his breath dancing across your sensitive skin. It makes your heart race and you’re certain he can feel your pulse quicken under his soft touch.

“Are you sure you haven’t missed me too?” he teases, pulling your body flush with his. Seb’s other hand captures your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his - the cherry of your cig reflected in his blown-out pupils. 

“You can tell me, baby,” he coos. “I know how to keep a secret.”

The back door to the venue opens with a bang.

“Yo Seb, you out here?” Sam’s voice calls. “It’s time for the final soundcheck!”

“Yeah man, I’ll be there in a minute,” Seb shouts back, not taking his eyes from yours.

Without warning, he pushes you back against the wall of the building, lips locking with yours, cigarette dropped forgotten on the pavement.

His hand travels to your waistband, fingers skillfully popping the button of your jeans.

“Seb what are you doing??” you hiss. “Someone will see us!”

“Not if I’m quick,” he promises with a wink.

Undoing your zipper, his long fingers find their way to your underwear. A moan escapes your lips as he brushes over the wet cloth barely covering your pussy. Seb is quick to capture the sound with his mouth.

When you quiet he whispers in your ear, “Can’t believe how wet you are for me already sweetheart.”

Gently he runs a finger through your folds under the fabric. You gasp, struggling to remain silent. Seb plunges the finger deep into your hole, covering your mouth with his other hand to keep you from crying out. 

He pumps his finger into you a few times, just enough to make you ready to beg for more when he removes his digit from you, bringing it to his lips. Watching Seb suck your juice from his finger causes your walls to clench around nothing - you can’t get over how hot and bothered this man makes you.

“Don’t worry baby, I just wanted a taste. Let’s call it a good luck charm,” Seb chuckles. “C’mon, they’ll be wondering where we are.”

As Sebastian heads onstage for sound check you grab a drink from the bar and join the waiting crowd. You’re not in the first row but you don’t mind. Positioning yourself in front of the keyboard, you look around, shocked by the number of unfamiliar faces at the show. The second the lights go down and the band takes the stage, there’s a palpable shift in the energy. Sure you’d been to rehearsals and a couple of local shows, but seeing the guys and Abby on a stage in the city, they look like they belong up there.

Seb had played it cool in front of you, but as he walks onto the stage he can feel his hands begin to shake. Shit, this is the biggest crowd they’ve ever had. He can NOT fuck it up now. Positioning himself behind his keyboards, Seb blinks through the spotlights to the sea of faces. Well maybe not a sea, but it’s a decent-sized lake. As soon as his eyes adjust, he sees you. He’d recognize your smile and bright eyes anywhere. He’s always nervous for shows, but locking eyes with you, he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. You mouth “you got this” and blow him a kiss. God you’re so cute, he thinks, shaking his head to himself as his heart swells.

Abby starts the count-off with her drumsticks and muscle memory kicks in. Seb loses himself in the music as he always does. Forgetting he’s on a stage in front of a crowd of strangers, his fingers know just where to go. As the first set ends Seb slowly comes out of his daze, guided by Sam’s voice distantly addressing the crowd.

“We are Goblin Destroyers, thanks for coming out tonight!” Sam shouts as the crowd cheers. He introduces the band, and as you hear him say “...and on the keys we have Sebastian!” a huge cheer erupts from the audience. It’s a little too big of a cheer for your liking, and you can see Seb trying to hide his flushed face behind his dark fringe. You feel a sudden surge of jealousy and mentally kick yourself for not having marked Seb’s neck with your lips and teeth before the show. You’ll have to remember that next time. 

The music starts back up and you surrender yourself to the sound. The bass thrums in your chest and your eyes are glued to Sebastian. You love watching him play. It’s as if all his worries melt away leaving just Seb and the music. It’s so hot to see him this way, totally raw - the mask he usually keeps up between himself and the world is replaced by a look of utter calm.

The only other time you’ve seen him like that is when he’s inside of you. Watching his fingers expertly fly across the keys sends a shiver down your spine as you remember where they were just an hour before. You try to keep your lust at bay and enjoy the show, but the only music you want to hear now are the sweet groans from Seb’s lips as he fucks you.

After a few more songs, the show is over and people begin filtering out of the venue. You head backstage to help pack up when a hand grabs your arm and pulls you into a dark corner. Just as you open your mouth to shout, Seb slots his lips between yours for a devastating kiss, full of tongue and teeth and the adrenaline high he still has from the gig. You pull back for breath and punch him in the arm. 

“Ow, what was that for?” he asks rubbing where you struck him.

“For making me think I was getting kidnapped,” you laugh, putting your hands around his neck. Leaning up, you whisper into his ear, “You looked really hot up there,” and you take his lobe between your teeth. Seb lets out a soft groan and cups your ass in his hands. 

“Ahem,” Abigail clears her throat. 

The two of you freeze, debating whether it’s too late to pretend you were doing something, anything more innocent than what she’s seen.

“Oh my god, chill out you two,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I know you’re fucking, Sam called me as soon as he left your little sex pad.”

You burst out laughing and Seb says, “Ew, Abs don’t call my room a ‘sex pad’.”

“Whatever, will y’all just help pack up the gear?”

You turn to leave, but Seb pulls you in for another quick kiss.

“If everyone knows, I might as well show you off,” he says with a wink before walking away.

Packing up is quick work and before you know it everyone is piling into the bus.

“You want the same spot?” Abigail asks. 

“Oh um actually Seb said he’d give me a ride back….” you say. 

“Ah, I get it. You two drive safe and use protection,” She says, closing the last door on the equipment storage.

You flush and stammer, “wha- we won’t uh-”

“Oh my god wear a helmet, dumbass,” Abigail laughs, punching you lightly in the arm as she heads for the bus.

You make a final sweep of the venue to make sure nothing is left behind. Emerging into the parking lot you see Sebastian, leaning against his bike. The lone streetlight above like another spotlight, and he’s putting on a show just for you. Seb’s lips curve into a soft smile as takes a drag from his cigarette. The smoke curls up around him, obscuring all of his features except his gleaming eyes that track you as you approach. All his.

Finally alone, the desire that has built up over the course of the night threatens to overtake you right here in the parking lot. You reach for him as Seb puts an arm around your waist pulling you close. He leans down, kissing up your neck to your ear.

“Did you get all dressed up in black just for me?” he whispers, nipping at the sensitive shell of your ear. You let out a shaky breath. 

“All for you Sebby,” you sigh.

His cock hardens from both the nickname and your admission. He pulls your body flush with his. You gasp as you feel his hard length pressing against you. 

“Let's get you home sweetheart, there’s so much I want to do to you,” Sebastian growls into your ear.

Taking one last drag from his cig, he drops it to the pavement putting it out with a twist of his foot. Seb reaches behind his back and produces two helmets. He hands you the smaller one.

“I thought you only had the one helmet,” you tease. 

“Gotta keep my girl safe,” he says with a wink. 

The two of you put on the helmets, and you watch as Seb straddles the bike. Ugh, he looks so hot, something about the helmet covering his features, only his neck exposed, really gets you turned on. He starts the bike and revs the engine. Seb reaches out a hand to you and you take it, straddling the bike behind him, you wrap your arms around his stomach. He reaches back, running his hand down your thigh, giving you a quick squeeze. And then you’re off.

God, you feel so good nestled behind him. Your arms hold him in a tight hug as your thighs squeeze him. Fuck he loves your legs and with your tits pressing into his back, he’s in heaven. Seb has always loved taking his bike out, he feels so free flying down the quiet highway under the stars.

His heart swells at the trust you place in him, to keep you safe as the two of you speed through the empty streets. He hopes you’re having a good time too when he feels you lean back and let out a whoop into the night air. Seb laughs and does the same. When he’s with you, it’s like gravity’s endless weight is lifted and he can dream again. You must sense this because you squeeze him tighter for a moment. 

Something no one ever told you about riding a motorcycle is that it’s basically one giant vibrating seat. And with your arms around the man you’re planning to fuck the second this ride is over, the sensation is making you extremely horny. You can feel the wetness pooling between your legs and you try to adjust your position to get the vibration right where you want it. Seb must think you’re uncomfortable because the moment you shift his hand reaches back to squeeze your thigh again.

His worry for you makes you determined to let him know just how good you feel. You start to move one hand, running it down his stomach. Seb returns his hand to the handlebar, thinking your touch is to reassure him, but you aren’t done. Your fingers drift downward, searching and finding. His cock stiffens and his hands clench the handles. You give him a rough squeeze through his jeans and he lets out a groan barely audible through the sound of the wind. You tug on his length as you rock your hips on the seat.

Closing your eyes you begin a slow pace of jacking him off over his jeans and grinding your pussy into the vibrations. You’re so lost in seeking your pleasure that you don’t notice Seb has turned off the highway until the motor cuts off. You whine at the lack of vibration, not fully comprehending what’s happening until Seb pulls you off the bike. His helmet is still on but his visor is open. You can see the desire flashing in his eyes. 

“My needy girl, couldn’t wait to finish the ride before needing my cock,” he growls. 

“I- I didn’t mean to…” you whimper as Seb pulls off his helmet, and runs his hand through his hair. 

“What am I gonna do with you,” he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head.

Setting down the helmet, Seb circles the bike. You take off your helmet, shaking out your hair. He drinks in the sight of you, the moonlight shining off your hair, the desperate look in your eyes, the way your black clothes cling to you and how he wants to peel them off. He pauses in front of you, hand palming his now aching erection. Your gaze is glued to that hand, taunting you.

Seb undoes his belt buckle, pops the button on his jeans and slowly pulls down the zipper. Watching you squirm with every small movement, he could do this for hours, basking in your hungry gaze knowing that you want him just as much as he wants you. But he won’t keep you waiting. He eases his cock out, hissing as the cool night air trails over his hot length. 

“On your knees baby.” 

You oblige instantly, he chuckles at your obedience. 

“That’s a good girl,” he growls. 

He shudders as you grab him, pressing a light kiss to his tip before you flick your tongue along the slit dripping with precum. And when your warm, wet mouth wraps around his length he has to stop himself from thrusting into the back of your throat. You take your time, sucking with your mouth and pumping with your hand until he can’t take it anymore.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and rocks his hips forward. Forcing his cock to hit the back of your throat. The feeling of your tongue on the underside and the light scrape of your teeth on top force out a groan from deep within his chest. His eyes lock on yours, so full of tears just waiting to spill out. He thrusts a few more times, relishing in the feeling of his balls hitting your chin. When your throat squeezes him as you choke on his cock, he swears if he died right now at least he’d die happy.

And as much as he craves to chase his own pleasure and pump his seed into your waiting mouth, he has to make sure you’re okay. Pulling his dripping length from your lips, Seb crouches down to cup your face in his hands. You cough and take in a few ragged breaths before meeting his gaze. He strokes your cheek, “such a good girl for me” he sighs pulling you in for a searing kiss.

“Up you go,” he says, pushing you up to standing. You lean back against the parked bike, not trusting your legs to hold you. Now it’s your turn to look down at Seb, even though you know you have tear streaks on your face and drool on your chin, his eyes are full of adoration. It’s so cute you don’t know if you want to laugh or to cry.

He rubs his hands soothingly up and down your thighs. Then his fingers catch the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough for him to press a soft kiss to your stomach. He grabs the waist of your jeans, eagerly undoing the button and zipper he pulls them down to reveal your black panties. This pair has a little bow just below the waistband like you’re a present that’s his to unwrap. He stands slowly, moving his hands from your waist to cup your breasts. 

He kisses you softly then whispers in your, “Turn around for me baby.” 

You do, bracing yourself against the bike. He softly touches your ass. It’s fully on display, framed by the lacy black straps of your thong. He growls, slapping your soft flesh. You let out a moan as the cool night breeze instantly soothes the sting. Seb cups your pussy and chuckles when he feels the hot wet crotch of your panties. 

“If I knew you’d like the bike so much, I would’ve put you on it ages ago,” he teases, pulling the fabric to the side.

He teases your slit with a long finger, dragging it through your folds to lightly flick your clit. You gasp and arch your back. Fuck he loves how responsive you are, every touch eliciting a reaction. He plunges two fingers into you, pumping his cock at the same pace. He gets lost in watching his digits disappear into your warm, wet hole. 

“M-more Seb, please,” you whine, pulling him from his trance. Before you register the loss of his fingers, the tip of his cock is already teasing your folds. You moan, pushing your hips back. 

Seb chuckles. “Is my sweet girl ready for my cock?” he asks under his breath.

He knows the answer is yes, he knows you’ve been ready since before the show, but he likes making you wait. Teasing you until his cock is the only thing that could make you feel better. He notches his length at your entrance and slowly pushes into you. You groan, finally getting what you’ve been craving for days. Your toys at home can’t compare to this feeling. Being filled and fucked by your man. 

He slowly enters you until his entire length is sheathed inside your perfect pussy. Your walls clench around him causing his breathing to turn ragged. His grip on your hips tightens, as he eases out of you until just his tip is inside of you. Then without warning, he shoves all the way back in. You cry out, arching your back and Seb knows he’s hit the spot inside you that makes you see stars. He thrusts into you again and again, fingers leaving bruises on your flesh as he steers you closer and closer to orgasm. Your walls squeeze him tighter and he knows you’re close. 

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts, “Cum for me, you can do it.” 

And you do, expletives and his name string together in a chant that he’s sure could raise him from the dead as you cum around his cock. He follows you over that cliff, pushing as deep as he’s able, sealing his body with yours as tightly as he can. If two souls could join, it must feel like this, he thinks as he empties himself into you.

The two of you stay in this position, you draped over the motorcycle like Seb’s wet dream and Seb still inside you, head hung low, trying to keep his legs from giving out as he decides if he ever wants to move again. And then your pussy flutters around his length and he’s sure if he doesn’t pull out now he’ll die from the overstimulation. Easing his cock from you he watches entranced as his seed drips out of you.

He’s never wanted kids but his mind is suddenly filled with images of your belly swollen as his child grows inside of you. He flushes and his cock twitches painfully at the thought. He pushes that desire down, your relationship (if you can even call it that) is so new, he’ll do anything to keep from scaring you away.

Carefully, he covers your dripping pussy with the thin strap of fabric that is your thong. You groan and wiggle your hips as he rubs you through the fabric. Seb slaps your bare ass, huffing out a laugh at your little yelp. After tucking his cock away and pulling on his jeans, Seb helps you up and turns you around. Leaning against his bike, he pulls you into his arms kissing the top of your head and breathing in the smell of your hair. You rest your head on his shoulder, kissing his neck.

His heart is so full he fears it might burst. You pull back to see his face, the look in his eyes is so tender, so loving you have to hold back tears. You slide your hands behind his neck and pull him in for a kiss. The kiss is long, full of hope and passion and all the things you are too nervous to say.

Pulling away from the kiss, Seb squeezes your still-exposed ass. “Let’s put this away before you tempt me to go again,” he says pulling up your jeans. You giggle, buttoning your pants. When you look up Seb is back on the bike, his arm extended toward you with helmet in hand. 

“What do you say, baby, let’s keep this adventure going?” he asks, hoping you understand the weight of his words. You know that after tonight, your heart is his whether he knows it yet or not. You take the helmet and climb onto the bike behind him. You whisper into his ear, “Lead the way Sebby,” and set the helmet on your head. He starts up to engine and with a whoop, the two of you speed off into the night. 

[trickinabucket]

I went to the grocery store for once in a long time, specifically to the one I used to work for.

It made me think of the only weird as fuck/rude thing that happened in the like 6 months I worked there

One evening, I was working a shift that would let me out just in time to catch the last bus of the day. I was really antsy about getting out exactly on time, because I had no other way to get home planned and I didnt have money for a cab or lyft.

I was working as a cashier for the last few minutes of my shift, and I cut off my aisle light, indicating the line was closed.

I was beeping up the next person, and upon another glance back, I saw this old white dude got into the line while I was working.

I said, shit, i mustve forgot to put my light on. Halfway up reaching my hand to flick it off, I noticed that it was already off.

“???”

So I called to the back of the line while my hand was going down, “Sir, my light is off…”

And he left, notably in a huff.

Eventually, I got through the line and was wrapping up, while the last person was talking to me and assuring me that, yeah, that was a weird fucking interaction. She was also a manager of another store in the chain.

The guy who left my line ran up to the back of the conveyor belt and slammed an empty cart against it. To clarify, that means that guy was not in a line, so I’m assuming he finished getting his shit checked out and had decided to spend one last second there throwing a destructive tantrum. He walked away after he had done it, both I and the last person having witnessed it. My only reaction at that point was 🤨

Anyway, while packing up, a manager (of this particular store, one of my immediate bosses) came up to me and asked if I denied the last person who came in my line, to which I answered w a bit of sass, “yeah, I sure did.” Because I had assumed she was just asking about it in a conversational way. I figured the guy complained to her, and that she was on the same page as I was.

Come to find out, she thought I was in the wrong. Turns out the guy told her I turned him away while I still had my light on. This was confusing to me, because that clearly didnt happen. Because at that point I didnt consider the guy would lie. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and assumed he didnt see me do it, and was mistaken because he thought he saw me cut off my light as I talked to him (hand half-raised as I talked to him.)

Thankfully, the other manager was around to explain what happened and said I was absolutely in the right and following protocol. The guy was just a dick.

Well, I just thought about that incident again. He wasnt mistaken. He straight up lied.

I had considered the possibility he might have told a soft lie to save face or backpedal. No, he straight up knew what had happened and was putting my paycheck under compromise because he didnt want to walk over to an equally long line in the same location. Because, once again, I was done when he came back around and slammed his cart into my line.

He knew he was in the wrong and went there planning to intentionally tell a lie just so I could get reprimanded by a manager. He had lost like no amount of time between him checking out somewhere else and checking out through my line. He only had to walk a few lines down.

Lmaooo my ass literally sat here giving this guy the benefit of any sort of doubt because like. It never occurs to me that people would lie, especially to that extent. Maybe it’s just the tism?

It also probably had something to do w me being black, as well, all things considered. At the very least, he’d be less inclined to think of me in any way as a human w my own needs and plans and explanations. I was just a black person who had the nerve to tell him no.

Idk. 😂 it was just funny how I typically do some spunchbob ass shit when it comes to ppl being dicks, even when it should be immediately obvious that someone is being an asshole on purpose.

[lovetorn]

all for the game [dream]

Exy player!Dream x Reader

summary: dream runs into trouble when the florida falcons play the edgar allan ravens.

w/c: 3.4k+ :D

warnings: violence, blood, swearing, ha typical exy shit

a/n: an au based on my favourite book trilogy, all for the game. idea by 🍀 anon <3 i wrote this for my own enjoyment AHHAHAAH. if u don’t understand the rules etc of exy, it’s basically hockey, soccer and lacrosse meshed together, but if u have any questions, send me an ask!

—

Exy is a bastard sport, an evolved sort of lacrosse with the violence of ice hockey. Dream loves every aspect of it. It is vastly different from the usual college football, and it certainly gives you more bruises. Maybe a little too many more bruises. Played in a stadium, on a soccer-sized basketball court with plexiglass to protect the crowd, it brings Dream immense joy.

Scooping the ball into the net of his racket, Dream looks at the wall before he uses his body to launch the ball towards it. The ball is quick to bounce back and plop into Dream’s net. He adjusts his grip on the stick and tilts his head, deciding where his next shot should be.

“Dream?” The dirty blonde turns around and sees you push through the plexiglass door that leads onto the court. “Hey!”

Dream smiles from under his helmet. “Hi, Y/n!” You don't play Exy, choosing to watch your best friend from the sidelines instead. He grips the grate of his helmet and slides his head out of it, his hair sticking up in every direction. “What are you doing here?”

You throw your arms up. “Coming to see you practice the great sport that is Exy,” You laugh before spinning around and looking up at the highest seats of the stadium. “Haven’t broken a bone yet, I assume?” This made Dream laugh.

“No, not yet. Saving that for the game against the Ravens.”

Dream’s determination for Exy scared you a little bit—it was almost like he wanted to get hurt. “Easy, tiger. We all know what happened last time we played them. Never again, please,” You shake your head, walking closer to him. The last time the Florida Falcons played the West Virginia Edgar Allan Ravens, Dream got a concussion so bad he couldn’t walk for a few days. You had sworn they would pay for their damage, but Dream went against you.

Dream rolls his eyes, lightheartedly. “That’s the way the game goes, Y/n. No way you can stop it,” he said that back then, too. You throw him a glare before taking the racket out of his hand to gain his full attention.

“Just, please be careful.” You practically beg. Dream’s eyebrows raise slightly, surprised. He didn’t see that coming.

“Yeah, always,” He follows your eyes as they trace the scar that runs from his temple to the middle of his forehead. You sigh and pass his racket back to him.

—

The dark purple Edgar Allan Ravens bus pulls into the Falcon’s home stadium car park that Friday night. Fans from all over the state and West Virginia crowd the entrances and surprisingly, there are a lot more supporters in purple and black than green and white.

Dream looks down at his forest green Exy uniform and smooths out his jersey. He rolls his neck in a circle to release the building tension. A hand clamps down on his shoulder as Dream slips his hands into his green and white gloves.

“You’re gonna be fine, dude. We all are,” Sapnap says, although Dream can hear the waver in his voice. Dream shakes his head and Sapnap inhales sharply.

“Nah, we won’t be.”

Sapnap slides his hand off of Dream’s shoulder and turns around, probably going to the bathroom to calm his crippling trepidation. The locker room is silent as the team moves around, changing and preparing themselves for the game ahead. Dream tries not to think about the team on the other side of the stadium, who are most likely already warming up despite the game starting in an hour.

Dream opens his locker and fumbles around for his phone. He needs to know that you’re here. Opening his messages, he’s frozen from the notifications coming through.

I hope your little friend prayed for you last night.

You got lucky with that concussion. Take this as a warning.

Dream’s fingertips trail up to hover above the scar on his forehead. He clenches his fist and throws his phone back into the locker, not flinching when the dark green metal dents. Dream leans his head against his forearm that rests on the locker.

“Dream! Dude, calm down,” A voice calls from across the room. Footsteps come up behind him and Dream has to stop the tears collecting on his waterline. “It’ll be fine, Coach said he might put you on for one half.”

George’s comments do nothing to soothe Dream’s anxiety. Dream has told nobody about the threats he’s been getting for a few days leading up to this game. If he told you, he wouldn’t even be here. You.

Dream ducks down to find his phone. George furrows his eyebrows as he watches. “Wha—?”

Grasping his phone, Dream then stalks out of the locker room. He walks down the hallway towards the inner court, presses your phone number on his now-smashed phone, and brings it to his ear. Pick up, pick up. “Dream?”

The sound of your voice makes Dream exhale deeply. “Where are you?” He asks desperately.

Dream can hear the crowd chattering through the phone as he scans over the stadium trying to find you.

“Uh, section 4, row 38, where I am every home game. Why? Is everything okay?” The worry in your voice is evident and it fails to calm Dream down like he thought it would. And when he sees waves of purple instead of green, his anxiety grows.

“I—Y/n. I need to see you, I don’t—I can’t,” Dream screws his eyes shut and tries to breathe through his nose slowly.

“Dream, I’m coming. I can see you in the inner court. Stay there.”

Y/n hangs up after that and Dream looks at his phone.

Scared? A text says from an unknown number.

Dream presses his tongue into the inside of his cheek and blinks a few times. A knock on the plexiglass behind him startles Dream. He turns and sees you smiling. He lifts his hand in a small wave and you do the same, laughing at him. At least he has a way to take his mind off of the shit with the Ravens.

A bell signals the start of the line-up announcements and Dream throws his thumb over his shoulder. You nod, understandingly, and blow him a kiss. Dream smiles shyly, his cheeks growing pink before he turns to leave.

You make your way back up to your seat, your legs bouncing in anticipation as the Ravens walk on the court one by one while the announcer calls the line-up. Once the Ravens are in a line on the halfway line, the Falcons are announced.

Since teams are co-ed, the variances in heights differ greatly. The Ravens are much taller than a majority of the Falcons, which gives them an advantage, to an extent. Dream had told you that being shorter allows you to move around the court with more agility, but being 6’2’’, Dream chose to be a striker instead of a dealer or a backliner.

“Number 2, Dream Tucker.”

At the sound of your best friend’s name, you stand and cheer, earning a few dirty looks from Ravens fans. As the remainder of the team is announced, you grow more nervous than you thought possible. A warning buzzer sounds and both teams go back to their benches.

“Alright, guys, this is our biggest game of the season, again. The last game against these idiots wasn’t ideal, but don’t let that deter you from doing your best tonight. That goes for you too, Dream," Coach looks towards Dream and he nods. Dream draws his bottom lip between his teeth from under his helmet and looks down at the ground. Sapnap’s hand slaps Dream's back in support and then the rest of the team is in agreement.

At his teammates’ words, Dream huffs. He can do this. The starting team goes onto the court, the doors closing behind them with a thump and then the scrape of a lock.

Dream sits on the bench next to Punz and Liliana. They hear the buzzer go off again and then watch as Sapnap flicks the ball into the air and slams it with his racket. There’s a distinctive crack as both teams race off their lines to find their preferred place on the court along with the players they need to mark. Three bodies crash into each other and the ball pops out on the other side, rolling silently.

At the sight of violence, the stadium roars. A Ravens backliner throws the ball and it hits the plexiglass in front of Dream who jumps in surprise. The ball is picked up off the floor by another Ravens player. He throws it to a girl who is running across the court and it lands perfectly into her net. Dream sees Tegan bodyslam the girl into the wall, the glass shuddering under their weight and Sapnap throws his hand up in a thumbs-up at Tegan, who smiles under her helmet.

The ball sails high in the air and players push and shove each other under it. As it comes down, George gets pushed to the floor, skidding to a stop a few feet away. The Ravens striker looks George dead in the eye and smirks as he catches the ball. He then tosses it powerfully towards the home court goal and the Falcons' goalie, Gabby, hits it up the court and away from herself. Dream, Punz and Liliana cheer from their spots on the subs bench.

“Nice one, Gabs! Falcons down the court!” Coach yells through the plexiglass.

Dream wears a smile when he turns back to look at you. You grin back, give him a thumbs-up, and nod. That’s when Dream knows he’s ready.

But, ten minutes into the game, the Ravens break the Falcons defensive line. The ball slips through the gap between Gabby’s torso and racket and lands in the back of the net, the siren above the goal going red and blaring a high-pitched sound. The Ravens don’t hug or cheer and return to their places on the court. Their fans, however, throw insults and middle fingers up at the Falcons while screaming and hollering.

“Fuck’s sake,” Dream mumbles. Punz slaps his pair of gloves against the bench and Liliana shakes her head.

The game went on like this for the rest of the half—the Ravens scoring 6 more goals, the Falcons scoring none. At half-time, Sapnap throws his helmet on the floor of the locker room.

“I fucking hate these guys,” He curses, pacing around the room. Coach sits on a chair, his elbows on his knees.

“We all do, but complaining about it isn’t going to help us win,’ Dream says. “Coach put me on.”

Coach looks at Dream for a moment. The tension in the room is thick and Dream knows he’s pushing his luck by asking. Nonetheless, Coach sighs before nodding stiffly.

“Dream goes on for Peter, Punz on for Drew, Liliana on for Tegan.”

And so it’s decided. Dream’s thumbs fly across his screen as he texts you. You pull your phone out of your pocket at the sound of your text tone and see the message. I’m on.

You smirk softly at it and message him back before you tuck your phone back into your pocket. The warning buzzer sounds and then both teams are back on the court: the Ravens with a whole new line-up and the Falcons with their three new subs.

Dream’s heart pounds in his chest, sending shuddery heat through every inch of his body. He holds his breath in anticipation for the serve, and then it starts. The Ravens are clearly a lot more experienced than the Falcons, but that doesn’t stop the team in green from giving everything they’ve got.

The ball hits the far wall and comes soaring back, thanks to the Ravens goalie. Dream jumps to catch it before it can fly over his head and it lands safely in the soft net of his striker racket. He looks around for opponents and takes 7 steps of his allowed 10, and passes it to George who is open further down the court. George catches the ball, then twists and passes the ball across to Punz. His mark collides with him a moment later and George goes sliding, his arm out with his racket to help him balance. Punz runs down the court, stops, then throws the ball to Liliana. His mark slams his racket down violently on Punz’s in retaliation. The backliner shakes his head in annoyance and continues running.

Dream is already near the goal by the time it gets to him again. He gets the ball and only has two steps to aim and shoot before a Ravens player crashes into him. Dream hits the ground so hard, he rolls. But, the crowd holds their breath as they watch the ball sail past the goalie and into the back of the net. The siren glows red and all Dream can hear is his ears ringing. Sapnap runs up to Dream and helps him up, congratulating him in the process. Dream looks around confused before realising he scored a goal. The entire team rushes towards him, cheering and laughing.

“Good job, Dream! Let’s do that again!” Coach yells. Dream’s surprised he can hear him over the crowd.

The game starts again with Falcons serve. The Falcons’ are fired up and back in the game, even if it is 6-1. And as soon as George throws Dream the ball, he dodges his mark and flies up the court, unguarded and ready to score again. The Ravens’ goalie isn’t prepared for Dream’s throw and misses the ball as it’s thrown at him, making the score 6-2. The crowd gets impossibly louder and Dream looks up into the sea of people to spot you. The smile on your face gives Dream newfound confidence and then everybody is back at their starting positions.

The Ravens are angry, there’s no doubt about that. Sapnap gives the striker a boyish smirk and a snide comment, which Dream can’t hear. He guesses it pisses them off because the second the ball is thrown from the Ravens dealer, the striker goes straight for Sapnap. The younger boy is thrown against the wall of the court and continues to spit insults at the Ravens player, despite his situation.

“Sapnap! Get out of there, bro!” Punz yells, collecting the ball from the ground and throwing it back to Gabby to hit up the court. Sapnap laughs and shakes his head, his lips still moving. Dream sees, out of the corner of his eye, the Ravens player drawing his fist back before punching Sapnap in the nose. The Falcons fans in the crowd start booing at the unnecessary violence and the referees unlock the doors to intervene. Dream meets Sapnap’s eye and raises his eyebrows when he sees Sapnap laughing, blood dripping into his mouth and coating his teeth. The referees pull the Ravens striker off of Sapnap and give him a red card for throwing the first punch. The Ravens fans boo and start swearing at the referees, but their cries are drowned out by the sound of the home crowd.

Due to the incident, the teams are to go back to their positions to start the serve again. Now that the Ravens are down a player, Dream knows the ways to get around them, especially when Sapnap is unguarded.

“Dream!” Sapnap calls when Dream catches the ball. He spins around a little too quickly, loses his balance slightly but throws the ball anyway. As he watches it fly across the court, Dream feels his entire body get crushed against the wall of the court. His head rebounds off the wall from the impact. There’s a heavy weight that pushes him into it more and he can’t breathe. Dream flails his arms, drops his racket, and attempts to push the Ravens player off of him. There’s no doubt that Dream hit his head again. He knows he did. A helmet can only do so much.

Dream can only hear ringing in his ears as he feels the Raven get pulled off—and it isn't the same ringing he heard when he scored the Falcons first goal. He tries to scramble to his feet before he crumples to the ground. Dream blinks a few times, disorientated, but still fails to gain a conscious mind. His eyes start to close when he feels his helmet being tugged off and then someone’s slapping his cheeks. “Stay awake, Dream.”

Dream can barely hear the sound of someone slamming their fists against the plexiglass behind him and then the person in front of him nods. He thinks it’s Sapnap. “Come on, bro, it’s only a few steps and then you can lie down.”

Dream’s head lols to the side, eyes half-open and a lazy grin on his mouth. “Sappy,” he slurs. Sapnap lets out a laugh for the first time since his best friend got knocked out and smiles at him.

“Yeah, dude, it’s me. We’re gonna get you fixed up, okay?” Dream nods before he closes his eyes. “No, no, Coach!” The world fades out around him and Dream falls unconscious.

—

The light is so bright above him. Dream closes his eyes again after he opens them and groans softly. The sound is almost too quiet for you to hear, but you do. And when you do, you lift your head from where you were resting on the edge of his bed. The chair you are sitting in is uncomfortable, so when you stand up, your muscles ache. “Hey, baby, how do you feel?”

If Dream was fully conscious, he would have blushed immensely at the sound of the pet name, but for the moment, he feels like he’s in a dream. His mouth is dry and he struggles to keep his eyes open for longer than 3 seconds. “You don’t have to talk, it’s okay.”

Dream feels pressure on his hand and moves his head slightly to see that your fingers are wrapped around his. You hear him murmur something, and lean down.

“Hi,” He whispers. You furrow your eyebrows at his greeting and look him in the eyes.

“That’s all I get? Hi?” You let out a breathy laugh and use your other hand to brush his hair away from his forehead. But, Dream can’t feel you on his skin. He hesitantly lifts his other hand to touch his forehead and feels a bandage.

“Surprise! Another scar,” You joke. Although, Dream can hear the edge to your words. Your smile disappears from your lips and then you sigh. Your eyes scan over Dream’s face, noting the dull green of his eyes and the pale of his skin. “Oh, Dream. I was so worried about you.”

Dream opens his eyes from when they had fallen closed again and sees the silent tears dripping down your cheeks. “It’s okay, I’m here, I’m fine,” His voice is scratchy and the sound of the word ‘fine’ does not sound fine. You smile sadly at him, then huff, wiping at your face.

“I almost forgot…” You trail off, rounding the bed to the other side to pick up a bowl and a cotton ball. You sit on the edge of the bed and dip the cotton into the antiseptic. You turn Dream’s head slowly to get a better look at the cut on his cheek. You drag the medicine over the gash and watch as Dream doesn’t flinch.

Once you are done, you place both of the things on the side table of the medical bay in the Falcons home stadium and look at Dream. He gives you a lazy smile and his fingers twitch against yours. “Thank you.”

You nod, eyes wide. “Of course, you know I’ll always be here to clean you up.”

Dream can feel his skin heating up. You get a concerned look on your face when you see the rise in pink on his cheeks. “Oh my god, are you heating up? Do you have a fever?”

He wants to laugh so badly. “Y/n, I’m okay. It’s not a fever. I’m blushing,” Dream says bashfully.

You realise why and then grow embarrassed. “Oh.”

The air isn’t tense, but there’s something there and you want to stick around to find out what it is.

Feedback is always appreciated xx

[maddiwrites]

Secrets of the Shore (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Pogues x reader, eventually JJ x reader.

Summary: This is just my rewrite of the show Outer Banks with my own twist by adding another main character which also happens to be John B’s twin sister. 

Note: Hey guys! Thank you so much for the support of my last couple of fics. All your messages have been so kind and so sweet! I’ve made a rewrite of the show with a new character that eventually falls in love with her best friend. I’m gonna be posting a new chapter three times a week. Let me know what you guys think!

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: None

Chapter 2 

"That's what, a three-story fall to the deck?" John B tip toes across the middle of the roof as he sips out of the can of beer in his hand.

I lean to my right, pressing against JJ's shoulder as we sit on a construction slack used to hold construction workers as they work on the siding of the home. Scaffolding, I think it's called. I narrow my eyes at my brother, counting down the seconds until he falls.

"I give you about a one-in-three chance of survival," Pope jokes from the deck below us.

John B shrugs. He licks his finger and holds it up in the air as if he's feeling which way the wind is blowing. "Hm. Should I do it?"

"Yeah, jump." Pope holds up a power drill and points it at John B like it's a gun. "I'll shoot you on the way down."

"You'll shoot me?"

"Yep." Pope closes one eye and pretends to shoot it. "Pow!"

I roll my eyes and look forward again, letting the beer slip down my throat like a refreshing glass of water. The warm North Carolina air presses soothingly against my freshly tan skin and I bask in the sunlight. Its days like these that I like the most. Days where none of my best friends have work, we're drinking causally, and joking with one another. Even if it's on a construction site in the middle of Figure Eight. But the idea of getting caught just gives me an adrenaline rush.

"They're gonna have Japanese toilets with towel warmers," Kie says as she walks out of the unfinished house.

"Of course. Why wouldn't they?" JJ says next to me with a shrug like it's not the craziest thing that a Kook would own.

"This used to be a turtle habitat, but who cares about the turtles, I guess."

"I can't have cold towels."

Kie looks up at John B, shielding her eyes with the back of her hand. "Can you please not kill yourself?"

"Don't spill the beer. I'm not giving you another one," JJ says.

As if on cue, John B's foot slips. Luckily he catches himself, but his beer, however, drops to it's death on the deck below. As John B steadies himself I release the breath I didn't even know I was holding. I take another greedy gulp of my warm beer to steady the nerves in my chest.

"Whoa! Oh, shit," John B curses.

"Of course you did," JJ rolls his eyes playfully. "Smooth."

"A plus, really." I glare up at my brother, feeling his mischievous smirk right back at me.

"Dumbass," Kie mutters under her breath. She looks up at me as if waiting for me to say something, but I only giggle to myself. John B can be clumsy but he's not going to accidentally kill himself.

"Hey!" I hear another voice shout behind us towards the street and front of the house. A voice that doesn't belong to any of my friends or my brother.

"Hey, uh, security's here," Pope says.

Immediately knowing what that means, I jump to my feet with the help of JJ right after he slugs the rest of his beer. A delirious grin dances along my lips as I hop down to the main deck.

"Let's wrap it up!"

"Boys are early today."

"Humpty Dumpty, let's roll!"

My legs take off after my friends through the house. Adrenaline rushes through my veins and straight to my head like a power high. I can't even feel my legs as they jump over wooden slacks and construction tools. The high from running from the police is better than any drug JJ can get his hands on, even the good stuff.

"Gary is that you?" JJ plays along before accidentally running into him, making him slip on his feet before running the other way. I grab his wrist and pull him closer to me to catch up. "Gary, good to see you man!"

I laugh as my feet land on the freshly cut grass in the front yard. "You're asking for it."

"JJ!" The obese cop chases after us, recognizing my best friend's face instantly. I'm not surprised, not even a little bit. JJ had his fair share of run-ins with the law.

"They're going out front!" I hear another cop shout. I can barley hear through the wind rushing through my ears.

We run into a tall white painted fence that blocks us from our car, better known as the Twinkie. Hopping fences is something I've learned to become better at after doing it so many times. However, I can't say the same about Pope. He's always struggled.

I swing my legs over the fence and land with a small 'oomf.' I look over my shoulder for my slow-poke friend and see him falling over the fence, landing on his side. I laugh as I pick him up by the shoulders.

JJ is waiting for us, clapping his hands like a coach on the sidelines at a football game because his players aren't running fast enough. But there's a smile on his face. "Get up, Pope, fatso's coming!"

"Hey!" The guard shouts behind me. He's halfway up the other side of the fence, but he doesn't have the strength to pull himself over completely. "Come here you little pricks!"

I hear the familiar honk coming from the van John B and I learned to drive in. My brother and Kie are waiting for us in the front seats of the Volkswagen van that would look better in the 70s than the 2020's but I love it. It fits our friend group perfectly. Plus I'd choose this car over any fancy Mercedes Tourons usually drive. The only time I've ever been in one of them is when I snuck off with a golf player from Georgia after a boneyard party. It was luxurious of course, but nothing like the Twinkie.

"Bus is leaving!" John B says as we get closer.

"Come on!" Kie yells at us from the passenger seat, banging the flat of her palm against the door.

I dive through the back first, landing on my elbows and rolling over. Pope and JJ follow less than a second later.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Gary calls after us as John B steps on the gas.

JJ leans out of the sliding side door that's still wide open. I lay on my back watching him as I try to catch my breath. His smile is contagious. For a boy who's been through hell and back, he smiles a lot, and I love every second of it.

He holds out his beer can as if he's offering it to the cop who's still trying to catch us...if he can catch up to it. "Check out Gary, gunnin' for a raise. Come on, Gary!"

"Wait. Slow down. Hey! You little pricks! Hey!"

"You're gonna give him a heart attack!" Kie tries to scold him but she can't fight the smile on her lips either as she watches from the side rearview mirror.

"You're so close! You can do it. There you go. They don't pay you enough bro."

"JJ, stop. Stop!" Kie says through her laughter.

I love Kie. She always tries to keep the peace between her friends and the world itself. Always the girl who raises money for charities that protect this Earth and save animals and solve world hunger. She's going to change the world someday. Her and Pope. Maybe if they can tolerate each other, they'll do it side by side.

JJ slumps back into the van with a toothy grin. He sits next to me and pulls me up so I'm sitting up straight. He dangles his arm around my shoulder and I lean further into his side. If I could choose one position to be in for the rest of my life it would be this one.

But I'd never admit that.

"Oh, come on. That sort of initiative is just begging to be punished," JJ says.

I hum in response and lean back into the seat behind me and stare out the window. A view of passing vibrant green leaves takes over the window as John B drives. The scene comforts me. Summer is my favorite season. No school. Just work and friends and the Outer Banks. Paradise on Earth, some may call it.

It's the sort of place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island. We're currently driving through Figure Eight, the rich side of the island. Home of the Kooks. So, guess where we don't live.

As John B drives further South, the houses get smaller and smaller, feeling more like home. This is the South side. Or as we like to call it, the Cut. Home of the working class who make a living bussing tables, washing yachts, running charters. The natural habitat of...drumroll, please...the Pogues. That's us. Pogues, pogies, the throwaway fish. Lowest members of the food chain.

I know... a little harsh, don't you think?

So, the downside of the Pogue life is we're ignored and neglected. But the upside of the Pogue life? We're ignored and neglected, which means we do whatever we want, whenever we want.

The second John B parks the car, the boys are gathering all their fishing gear and we set off to our next destination. The marina.

"Nice haul, dude. Look at that!" JJ teases my brother when he reels in what I think is the smallest fish I've ever seen. If it was orange, I would have thought it was my old pet goldfish from when I was six. "Been all bait for, like, three weeks."

John B pulls the fish off his hook and tosses it in JJ's direction. JJ flinches back, knocking into me and almost throwing me into the water below. That was probably my fault, though. I shouldn't be sitting on an open ledge, dangling my legs twenty feet above the water.

"Watch it, idiot!" I smack JJ upside the head after letting go of the death grip I had on his bicep when I was about to fall to my death. Well...I'd probably survive, but it would hurt like hell.

"It's not my fault you chose the most dangerous seat!" JJ retaliates.

Yeah, that's JJ. John B's best friend since the third grade, which subsequently makes him my best friend since the third grade too. He's about as local as they come. Latest in a long line of fishing, drinking, smuggling, vendetta-holding salt-lifers who made their living off the water. Second best surfer I know. First being me of course. Mild kleptomaniac and a future tax cheat.

"Yeah, Mar, you should really get down from there," Kie says, walking over to me to help me down. I decide not to put up a fight. If I'm going to break my leg, I'm gonna do it in a surfing accident or something cool, not by falling off the dock.

Kiara. Or Kie as we call her. When not saving turtles or listening to Bob Marley, or getting a dolphin tattoo, she hangs out with us. I'm not really sure why though. She's a rich kid, actually. Her family owns the Wreck, this Outer Banks institution. Total cash down with the tourists and my current job. You know, I'm not really sure how her parents feel about us. But they like me enough to bring them money towards their restaurant. I bring in a lot of regulars. Advertising is kind of my thing. I'm pretty sure all my friends, even my brother, have a thing for her.

Kie hands me a water bottle and lays her legs across my lap. She lies down on the wooden bench and bathes in the sunlight the day still has to offer. Kie is my best friend. Best secret holder known to man, for the most part.

"I think she needs a leash," Pope adds, making me pass him a glare.

"The only thing useful about a leash is how I can strangle you with it," I say.

"Kinky," JJ says and winks at me. "That's my girl."

John B slaps JJ upside the back of his head.

I'm lucky my sunburnt skin is hiding the blush that creeps along my cheeks.

Pope glares at both JJ and I which only makes my growing smirk widen.

Pope...the brains of the operation...finalist for the Lucas T. Vanderhorst Merit Scholarship. And the smartest person I know. Little bit of a weirdo. His father's this legendary character, Heyward. Anything you wanted on the island, Heyward could get for you. Now, I'm not sure Heyward knew what to make of his oddball son, but it didn't matter. He was a Pogue, just like the rest of us.

"Trust me, if a leash was that easy, I would have tried a long time ago," John B mutters with a hint of a smile.

John Booker Routledge. My insufferable twin brother. Pain in my ass. Number one partner in crime. I hate him but I love him. Pretty much like any sibling relationship. We live in an old fish shack on the marsh. The Chateau as my dad use to call it. My dad disappeared at sea nine months ago looking for a shipwreck. I mean seriously, who disappears at sea these days? I miss him a lot. He may have been a little neglectful, but he took care of us the best that he could. My mom, however? She split when I was three. Last I heard she was in Colorado. At least I think it was Colorado. Honestly who knows and who cares.

Since my dad vanished, my Uncle T is supposedly my legal guardian. At the moment, he's in Mississippi, building houses which means it's just me right now, on my own, hangin' out with my brother and my friends.

Three months after my dad went missing, he was officially presumed dead. John B is more of an optimist than I am. He refuses to sign the paper and until he sees a dead body, he's not giving up. I back John B's decision, but I'm more realistic about what happened to my dad. The ocean, although my favorite place to be, is also one of the scariest.

My dad is probably dead and I will never get the closure that I want. So I'm dealing with it the best way I can, although I'm pretty sure everyone is a little worried about me, especially Kie now that John B is starting to follow in my footsteps by exhibiting reckless behavior.

But I'm getting better now. Day by Day. At least I wasn't acting like I did when my dad first left us.

                                                     ~ ~ ~

I woke up with a slap to my ankle and my head buried deep into my pillow. I groan from the abrupt living alarm clock that's now pacing my room and throwing clothes from my closet at me. It only makes me squeeze my eyes tighter in hopes for at least five more minutes of sleep.

"Seriously, Mar, we need to go. We're late." John B rips my blanket off my body, leaving me exposed in just my pajama boxer shorts and a tank top. The sudden chill sends goosebumps up my arms and legs.

"Go without me." I push myself up on my elbows and grab the clothes he threw at me. I knew meeting the social worker alone wasn't an option. Even if one of us goes to this stupid meeting, it will prove to the social worker that we're not being responsible enough to keep DCS off our backs. As far as they know, Uncle T is still living with us and keeping us safe.

"You have five minutes." John B ignores me and leaves my room, slamming my door shut.

I roll my eyes and tumble out of my soft bed. I slip on my jeans shorts and a white t shirt that I tie in a knot to make it a crop top. Underneath it I have on my plain black bikini, knowing that I will be surfing the second we get home. The News has been reporting a storm for weeks that's suppose to hit tonight. Vicious waves and crazy winds sends a thrill through my body.

We arrive to the social worker's office only two minutes late. I thought that was a sign of responsibility, but the social worker only looks at us with distaste as we sit in the two chairs in front of her desk.

"John, Marleigh, it's come to our attention that you two are unemancipated minors living on your own." Her hair is pulled back into a tight low bun and her glasses are perched on the tip of her nose. Her suit looks way too tight for comfort, like it's squeezing the life out of her.

John B scoffs and leans back into his seat as if we have nothing to worry about, but I know his heart is beating just as wildly as mine. "No....no." The social worker raises one brow in suspicion and glances in my direction to either confirm or deny what John B is saying. John B sees this and answers for me. "No."

I just shrug as a response, which only makes the social worker more weary. She leans into her desk and folds her hands on top of our folders that are piled in the middle. "I need honesty to help you. That's what we want, right?"

"Yeah. I'm being honest."

"Okay, then when is the last time you spoke to your uncle?"

John B looks down at his watch and purses his lips. "Uh...thirty-four minutes ago."

"When's the last time you saw him?"

"Two hours and...forty-three minutes ago?"

I hold myself back from rolling my eyes. It's clear on the social worker's face that she's not buying into any of John B's lies.

She sighs and turns to look at me. "We're gonna come out there tomorrow to talk to your uncle. If he's not there, we're gonna move forward with foster care." Foster care. The words make me dig my nails into the wood of the arms of the chair I'm in. The last place I ever wanna be is in foster care. I want to stay here on the island with my brother and our friends. Not with some random family who couldn't care less about us in a place I'm not familiar with. "I want to assure you, we're gonna find you a safe and loving home."

She says it like she's offering us a better life, one that we would want, one that sounds like the better option but it isn't. I ignore the worried look John B sends my way and watch the seconds go by on the clock above the door. We basically have twenty-four hours to find Uncle T or someone to be pretend to be him.

                                                  ~ ~ ~

The winds begin picking up early in the afternoon, the rain hitting by 5. On my way home from working at the Wreck, I watch people board up the windows of their stores and homes. All John B and I can do is hope that our little shack won't blow away by morning.

Unfortunately for Pope, he's at our house when John B catches me leaving the house with my board. When he tells me to stop, I'm prepared to put up a fight. I've been looking forward to surfing in this storm all day - something I can use to push the DCS lady out of my head and the promise she made that sounded more like a threat.

"You think you were gonna go out without me?" John B smirks and leads the way to the beach.

Pope follows behind us like a lost puppy, basically talking to himself as he tries to convince us that this is a bad idea. We stop at the edge of the beach. It's almost impossible to see the ocean through the wind and the rain.

"Those aren't surfable waves, bro," Pope says, squinting through the rain that splatters our faces wet.

"Says who?" I say, passing him a devious smirk and make a run for it towards the ocean.

I paddle past the choppy waves, letting the water knock me around like a feather in the wind. When I see a decent looking wave to ride, I prop myself up on my feet and stand. I lean into my board. The warmth that's taken over my body outruns the cold water I fall into when the waves crash over me. My body tumbles under the water and my board bumps against me. I try to swim back up to the surface but the current is strong. I don't know where I am and I can't see under the water. My nose burns when water rushes up my nostrils. I squeeze my eyes tight and just swim upwards in hope of reaching air. Maybe this was a bad idea, but the thrill is still keeping me excited.

I finally reach the surface after what feels like years. John B and Pope's screams are dull against the whistling wind. I hop back on my board and give the two guys a thumbs up and a wicked smile. Pope looks like he's about ready to have a heart attack and John B breathes out a sigh of relief as he paddles closer to me.

"You alright?" He asks me.

"Fine," I yell against the wind.

John B nods. He looks like he's about to say something else, but something over my shoulder catches his attention. I turn myself around, intrigued at what's he's seeing other than the water, clouds, and a bunch of rain. Then I see it. A boat that barely looks afloat, so far out that it looks like a speck against the rain.

"We should probably go," I say. I don't want John B's mind to run to what might have happened to Dad out there. Maybe he was caught by a storm like this, maybe his boat went overboard and his body is out there floating with the fishes. I don't know. The last thing I need him to do right now is speculate. Even if the same thoughts are running through my head, John B thinks he's still alive. These thoughts will keep him up all night. He doesn't move, however. "John B let's go."

                                                  ~ ~ ~

JJ is already laying on the pull out bed in my living room when I get out of the shower. JJ crashes here most days of the week. He'd much rather be here than with his drunk abusive dad. Our friends don't know the extent of how shitty his relationship really is with his dad. But I do. I found out when I was thirteen. JJ snuck through my bedroom window after a tough night with his dad. His face and torso were covered in bruises. It took everything in me not to burst out in tears right then and there. But for some reason, he trusted me of all people with his biggest secret. I cleaned him up and let him sleep in my bed with me. Every once in a while we repeat the process. Sometimes he's not even hurt, he just shows up. And I let him in because I like having him there.

I fall onto the mattress next to him and prop my head up on my hand, leaning on my elbow. I run my fingers through his hair, feeling satisfied and bubbly when he moans in response.

"When did you get here?" I ask him.

"You were in the shower. Don't worry I didn't peak, but I was tempted," He says into his pillow.

I use the same hand I had woven in his hair and punch his shoulder playfully, making him fall on his back. His lips turn up in a grin.

I lay there for a second, looking up at the ceiling. My eyes feel heavy, the events of the day officially taking over my body. I peek an eye over at JJ who's watching me carefully as if I might break under his fingertips.

"What?" I grin to myself, thankful for the darkness so he couldn't see the blush on my cheeks. Again.

"You all right?" He asks, pushing my hair out of my face so he can look straight into my eyes.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

JJ hesitates, like he's trying to pick the right words to say. I watch him closely, studying every mark and crevice on his face. Beautiful and clear like always. Even when it's covered in bruises and blemishes, he's handsome. I could look at him all day.

"You hate storms," He says.

"I can sleep through anything," I tell him. "And I don't hate storms. They make for...eventful surfing days."

His face drops to a more serious one. "You know what I mean."

I do. Storms have never really frightened me. Not really. But ever since my dad disappeared nine months ago, I worried that he would get caught in a storm like this, that by morning there would be a knock on my door from an officer who would tell me that a dead body has washed up on shore and they ID'd him as my father. The image leaves me with nightmares on nights like tonight.

JJ's the only one who knows this.

I don't like talking about it. Like JJ, we have this in common. So instead of telling him I'm fine and him not believing me, I pull the blanket at the edge of the mattress over our bodies and tuck myself into his side, laying my head on his shoulder. A position so intimate for just us "friends." I hope he can't feel my heart pounding beneath my skin, against his side. I let my body soften against his, feeling sleep take over me. I fall into a dreamless sleep next to JJ, hoping that the storm will be gone by the time we wake up.

[stillebesat]

Code: Blanket

Sanders Sides: Janus, Virgil, (Logan & Remus mentioned) Fic Type: Hurt/Comfort Prompt: “If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here.” with Anxceit? (platonic is 100% good for me) Blurb: A friendship doesn't stop just because one person decides to act like a dick. Especially when said dick is obviously in trouble. Overall Fic Warnings: Homophobia talk, Neglectful/Abusive Parents implication, Capitol Riot references. Taglist in Reblog

Janus Daemon @TheGatekeeper *12m To the ‘family’ that locked me in our unfinished attic these past 4 months to “knock the Antifa sh!t” out of me; Pretty sure this is worse than anything I’d have done. Don’t bother deleting the evidence of your ‘trip.’ It’s already been passed onto the proper Authorities. Cheers.

Virgil shot upright in bed, staring at the tweet and the handful of photos from the storming of the Capitol that Dee had attached along with it. “No way.” He breathed. No freaking way.

Janus. Janus Daemon, the goodie-two-shoes who always obeyed his parents and followed their lead...had actually turned them in as Capitol rioters?

He frowned, tapping on his phone to blow up the images so he could see the people within them better. Yah, no. Even if it had been ages since he’d seen Dee’s family...there was no denying that two of the dozen faces circled and labeled in the pictures were the same parental figures that he remembered sneering down at him before they forcefully dragged their son off the playground when he was six.

That had been right after...Virgil hunched his shoulders. After his Dad’s divorce from his Mom. Apparently hanging out with a child who only had a Dad in the picture was a big “NO” in their messed up book of rules.

Not that that had stopped them from becoming secret best friends in school...well until last year that is….when his Dad had married Remus.

That had...been rough...when word got out--well reached Dee’s parents and they’d stormed the school to find their son working on a project in the library with him, the ‘hooligan freak who dared to be okay with having two dads when it was unnatural to the natural order of things.’

He’d known, from Janus, that his parents were uptight...but that day had shown him how all Daemons were a Demonic Clan of Super Karens that had campaigned nearly as hard as the President to force both his Dad and Remus from their jobs in order to protect the community from their sort.

Unfortunately for the Daemons, they’d picked the wrong family to mess with. Not when his Dad, Logan Andrews, was considered to be the best lawyer in the state, if not the country. Not when his new husband, Remus Knight, had just finished performing a life saving surgery on the governor's daughter. No. The Daemons may be influential, but they were nothing compared to his parents when their Momma Bear instincts were roused.

Honestly...to discover that the entire group had drunk the kool-aid and actually stormed the Capitol to support the Orange Cheeto shouldn’t be so surprising.

Well...not everyone.

Virgil frowned, glancing back up to the first part of the tweet before he hit his contacts, scrolling through them to find Janus’s name only to hesitate over pressing the call button.

He hadn’t spoken to Dee in a year. Not since that fiasco. Not since his so called friend had taken his parent's side and cut off all contact, purposely burning the bridges of their friendship with sneers, glares...and well---

Virgil exhaled, closing his eyes.

Could a Demon change their stripes? Could Janus...could he---

Sure...it appeared he was finally rebelling against his parents...but he had no idea what Dee thought of him---Virgil gritted his teeth. It didn’t matter. “I made a promise.” He whispered, slowly opening his eyes.

Still. Maybe not a good idea to call. Janus had probably blocked his number anyways---

He swiped out of his contacts, switching to his barely used Facebook Messenger where he picked out Janus’s name from there, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Dee probably still wanted nothing to do with him.

He swiped a single word...once again hesitating over sending it.

They hadn’t talked in a year.

This could go so wrong.

And yet--

He hit send.

Virgil: Blanket?

He bit his lip, barely breathing as he stared at the little check mark symbol showing that Dee’s account had at least received the message.

Not that he really expected a response. It was Facebook after all. But Janus had just turned his family in. Did he have a place to stay? Had he been fed? Just how bad had it been for him to be locked in an unfinished attic over the summer by the people who supposedly loved him? Who had proclaimed they wanted to protect him. If---

His heart skipped a beat as the checkmark switched to Janus’s profile picture.

Dee had seen the message.

He stopped breathing as the three typing dots appeared.

Janus: Seriously?

“Ha.” Virgil relaxed, running shaking fingers through his hair. Not a totally unexpected response after everything. But far better than the hate filled rant he’d half expected to get. That had to be a good sign right? He had come up with that particular coded phrase as a way to judge his friend’s needs when Dee had pulled him into the hollow of an old oak tree on his way to the bus the day after his fateful encounter with the Super Karens on the playground with tears shining in his eyes.

Janus hadn’t wanted to return home that day because his parents had been so mad at him for playing with Virgil. He hadn’t understood why having only a Dad was bad--

He hadn’t been as understanding when Virgil ended up with two.

Virgil rolled off the bed, stuffing his feet into his shoes as he sent a one word answer back.

Virgil: Yes.

No typing dots appeared even though he could see that Dee had seen his response.

Unsurprising. Dee was probably wondering if this was some sort of trick, if there was a catch. Why would Virgil of all people contact him out of the blue after how he’d treated him?

He pulled his hoodie over his head, swiping his keys and face mask from his desk as he took a chance and pressed call, holding his phone up to his ear, listening to it ring as he left his room and moved downstairs.

A click sounded in his ear right before the voicemail could activate.

Janus had picked up, Virgil could hear the faint sound of sirens in the background, the shaky barely controlled breathing.

He wasn’t saying anything though.

That was fine. Not normal for Dee, who always liked to have the first and last word but Virgil could work with this.

“Offer still stands, Dee.” He said, keeping his voice low as he moved past Dad and Remus’s darkened bedroom, heading to the front door. “I’ve told you a million times that if you don’t know where to go you can always come here. You acting like the world’s biggest dick doesn’t change that.”

Janus may have thrown their friendship out of the figurative door...but Virgil--well he...hadn’t. Not really. He had been hoping Dee would come around--not like this...but if this could get his best friend back---

“You can’t mean that, Annie.” The voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Not after--”

“Dude.” Virgil tsked, scribbling a quick note to his parents because Dad would hear the car start up and be up like a shot once he realized Virgil was leaving after hours. “You just posted that you were locked up in your attic by your so-called parents.” He pulled open the front door, quickly slipping out before he jangled his car keys by the phone. “Unless you say Nest right now, I’m coming to get you and dragging you back. So. Blan--” He looked up and froze, staring at the shadowy figure hovering just outside the gate. ”-ket?”

Janus huffed in his ear, the figure at the gate shifting to grab onto one arm, rubbing it as they shuffled back a step.

Dee did that whenever he was nervous. Whenever he was afraid he was making the wrong choice.

He hadn’t spoken to Virgil in a year.

Yet he was already here.

Virgil was off the porch and jumping over the gate in a flash, grabbing onto Janus before his friend could change his mind and bolt. “Dee.”

Janus flinched, slowly lowering the phone, a crumpled face mask hanging from one ear, ragged hair half covering a deep purple bruise and three long scratches by his left eye as he ducked his head. “If...I said...Fort?’ He whispered, shoulders hunching as if expecting a physical blow.

Blanket Fort. A need for Protection. For Safety.

Virgil growled, tugging his friend into his arms, holding him tight, heart throbbing as Dee practically melted into him like a shaking leaf, breath hitching as his fingers dug into Virgil’s hoodie.

How long had it been since anyone had treated Dee with any compassion? Four months locked up in an attic. His family halfway across the country committing treason. Had they even left him any food when they left? Probably not from how bony Dee felt now in his arms.

“Janus.” Virgil said softly, holding him tighter as his friend shuddered in his arms, running careful fingers through his greasy hair. “I told you. You can always stay here.”

Part 2

[collecting-stories]

The Arrival - Ep. 01 - JJ Maybank

Summary: The pogues (and Sarah) decide to get away from the Outer Banks for senior week though Sarah’s suggestion that they spend the vacation with a friend of hers doesn’t sit well with JJ, who just wanted a week away with friends. Though his opinion of the situation may change his expectation that nothing will go according to plan is truer than they could have hoped.

A/N: This is a ‘they’re just regular teens and there was no gold hunt’ AU. This will be a 5 part story. 

The S’week Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

///

“No.” JJ shook his head, “no, no, absolutely not.”  

“Why not?” Sarah asked, looking back at her boyfriend for support. John B quickly looked away, staring out at the marsh in order to avoid the conversation.

“Why not? Because I’m not spending senior week with a bunch of fucking kooks while they prance around like their in some MTV reality show!” JJ stresses, voice raised. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it stuck up all over the place.  

“It might not be so bad,” Kie cut in, regretting it almost immediately when JJ looked over at her, “you said yourself that we’ve done senior week here...let’s do ours somewhere else?”

“Sure. Wherever you want as long as it’s not a trip to kookland.”  

“You are so dramatic, oh my god JJ. Last time I checked you weren’t exactly rolling in it. How do you propose we pay for a week down the beach?” Sarah pointed out.  

“You got money.”

“You shouldn’t even be going! It’s not like you fucking graduated, this is senior week. For graduating seniors.” Sarah waved her hand to indicate her, John B, Kiara, and Pope.  

“Screw you!”

“Guys!” Pope finally intervened, pushing his best friend back, “okay, let’s cool down.”  

“Can we please just go to the keys? I’m sick of wasting my time arguing. If we’re going we need to leave tomorrow morning...early.” Sarah said, looking pointedly at JJ.

“Hey, I’m always on time!”  

Despite his protests JJ was exactly where he said he’d be on Friday morning at 5:30a. Sitting outside John B’s house, on time and with his bag packed for Florida. He was the first one to arrive, followed by Kiara who’d almost been early if it wasn’t for the half hour argument she’d gotten into with her mom for leaving the week after graduation. As if that wasn’t ritual.  

JJ said nothing, unusually quite and still completely pissed that everyone had been so on board with Sarah’s plan to spend Senior Week in Florida with some friend at their grandparents’ vacation home. He wanted a chill holiday, just the four of them (five because John B couldn’t be separated from Sarah) spending every day on the beach. He didn’t want some kook vacation laying around a pool drinking vodka in crystal light and talking about ‘daddy’s credit card’ and whatever dumb shit else they did on their weekends.  

With the Twinkie packed to exploding with teenagers and luggage John B took the first leg of the drive south. JJ spent the trip sitting behind the passenger’s seat, rolling blunts in his lap and ignoring his friends excitement for senior week. When Kiara nudged his leg halfway to Florida and he looked over she smiled sympathetically at him.  

“It might be a good week.” Kiara tried to sound reassuring, knowing that it was JJ’s idea to go away in the first place and that they had in fact hijacked his plans, “at least the change of scenery will be nice?”

“So far the only good thing about this trip is not being home for a week.” JJ replied, refocusing on his task. He would definitely murder one of them if he didn’t spend the week at least somewhat buzzed. If you asked anyone in the obx they’d tell you that JJ was laid back and chill, a go-with-the-flow, weed smoking, kid who would probably never grow out of his ‘it is what it is’ phase. But that wasn’t JJ at all. Sure, he could hit up a kegger at the drop of a hat but he liked a plan and he liked the plan to consider him as an important factor. Not just another nameless sidekick to John B’s summer. And so far, that’s exactly what this senior week was shaping up to become.  

“It’ll be fine dude.” Pope said, voice low so he wouldn’t draw anyone else’s attention in the van.  

JJ looked up at him and frowned before nodding. What else could he do but nod and pretend that he agreed with anything that Pope said. They were already halfway to Florida and no one cared about his opinion.  

Sometime after that JJ fell asleep, Kiara taking the same case of blunts from his lap and folding everything up into his backpack. By the time Pope pulled the Twinkie into the horseshoe driveway of a house bigger than Tannyhill, JJ had woken up again, rubbing his eyes as he looked out the window.  

“This is the shit I was talking about.” He said.  

Sarah whipped around, hair flying against her shoulders as she glared at him, “for god sake JJ, can you have a good fucking time? Please.”  

John B made a face, pleading with his best friend to chill. All he wanted was a stress free vacation and the fact that Sarah’s friend was willing to let them stay aided his ability to relax. If only it would aid JJ’s.  

You were standing outside on the steps when the bus pulled up, engine cutting in the middle of the horseshoe. Kiara recognized you from school and Pope recognised you from running groceries for his dad. Sarah pulled the door open and jumped out, throwing her arms around your shoulders.  

“Oh my god, you have no idea how much I missed you.” Sarah said, pulling away, “I’m literally gonna kill everyone, starting with JJ.”

“That makes two of us princess.” JJ remarked, glaring at her as he climbed out of bus.  

“Hey,” Kiara called, drawing attention away from JJ and Sarah, “thanks for having us.”  

“Trust me I was just happy to tell Scarlett that her and Kelce couldn’t stay here.” You replied, looking over at JJ, “I’d much rather spend my senior week with you guys.”  

“Flattered.”  

“Hey, you’ve never had to sit around listening to Topper talk about workouts.” You replied, feeling unusually proud of yourself when JJ cracked a smile.  

“Oh come on, you can’t just do a bench press without the proper preparation,” JJ joked, imitating Topper’s ‘bro’ dialect.  

You laughed and nodded, following him to the trunk to help them unload packs. “Hey Pope, my mom said you got that scholarship you were going for?” You mentioned as you grabbed Sarah’s bag.  

“I did yeah,” he smiled, surprised that you knew or remembered anything about it. He definitely considered you better than some of the other kooks on the island but that didn’t make you friends with him. You were just someone he delivered groceries to every once in a while.  

Once the bus was unpacked you led the group inside, beginning the tour of the house. You lived on Figure Eight in the Outer Banks and you had a house as nice as or better than the Camerons’ but this house was even nicer than that. Your grandparents had old money and they had used it to retire to the Florida Keys where they really only spent the winter months.  

“There are four guest bedrooms, you can divy them up however you want to, I’m this bedroom,” you pointed to the closed door behind you at the end of the hall. “The master is off limits, it’s my grandparents and they’ll murder all of you before JJ even gets the chance if you step foot in their room.” You instructed, looking over to JJ as you spoke. He smiled.

“How’ll they know?” He asked, looking down the hall toward the double doors of the master bedroom. This house could fit four of his inside of it. He shifted his weight as he looked around the hallway, the art on the wall looked like something he would have seen on a field trip to a museum, ugly and old but a clear representation of their wealth.  

“There’s a camera in their room.”

“Kinky.”

“Ew, oh my god JJ!” You practically gagged, causing him to laugh as Sarah scrunched up her face at the thought of your grandparents using the camera for anything more than G rated. “Moving on!” You continued through the whole house until you’d looped back around, reminding them again that the beach let out right behind the patio.  

Once the tour was over you pulled Sarah away from John B, telling her that you needed to talk to her alone. And truthfully, you did. You hadn’t been lying when you told her that you had turned Kelce and Scarlett away for the week. Kelce had texted you days before Sarah and asked about ‘all of us’ getting together for senior week at your grandparents. You knew what ‘all of us’ meant. Him, Scarlett, Topper, and (despite having graduated two years earlier), Rafe. If Sarah was still hanging out with them she would’ve been there too. That was the senior week Scarlett had always planned for but there wasn’t anything you wanted less in life than spending time with all your least favorite people.  

While everyone else unpacked you led Sarah into the kitchen, “so, I told you Kelce had texted me about them doing senior week here?”

“Yeah, but they’re not...”

“No,” you shook your head, “no I told them I had a full house. But they are here.”

“What do you mean here?”

“I mean they rented a place down the street. Like we can see their house from this house. Topper texted me this morning before you guys got here.” You fished your phone out of your pocket and showed Sarah the text that Topper had sent along with the picture of you out on your deck.  

“Bit stalkerish.”

“Sarah, not the point.”

“Look, it’s fine,” she replied, trying to play off that maybe she actually believed that it was fine, “they can do their thing and we’ll do ours.”  

“Yeah, that would totally be fine. Except your brother is here too.”  

Sarah groaned, “fuck.”

“What’s the matter?”  

You and Sarah turned to find John B and JJ coming into the kitchen, the latter going straight for the fridge and pulling out one of the beers that you had bought before they came down.  You watched as he popped the cap off on the counter and took a long gulp, head tilted back. Sarah smacked your arm to get your attention and both of the boys turned to look at her too.  

“Topper told me that he’s here for senior week. Him, Scarlett, Kelce...Rafe.”

“Oh cool...cool, awesome...so, the kook fucking vacation I said I didn’t want.” JJ replied, grip tightening around the beer bottle. Sarah rolled her eyes.

“It’s fine. It’s not like we have to see them.” John B replied, trying to ease his friend’s mood. He didn’t need this argument to flare up again. JJ had only just started to relax and the last thing John B wanted was for him to be in a shitty mood all week.  

“Except we always do. It’s fucking like...what’s the word?”

“Kismet?” You asked, pulling yourself up to sit on the counter as Kiara and Pope joined the small gathering.  

“What’s kismet?” Kiara asked, shaking her head when John B offered her a beer.  

“Topper and” Sarah waved her hand as if to indicate the rest of the group, “them are here.”

“What is kismet?” JJ asked, leaning toward you.  

“It means fate or destiny.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what it is. It’s my destiny to have the shittest fucking time imaginable because we all had to agree to Sarah’s kook vacation.”

“What is that, your vocabulary word for the day? I’m sorry that I didn’t envision senior week as us sitting around together in a dumpster motel with a bunch of other pogues trying to pretend that we’re not still in the Outer Banks. How dare I fucking plan an actual good vacation that you, oh that’s right, don’t have to pay for!”

“Guys,” Pope stressed the word as he stepped between Sarah and JJ, “can we please just focus on having a good time?”

“I’d have an awesome time if I was anywhere but here!” JJ shoved passed Pope and headed out the sliding glass doors toward the beach leaving the five of you to stand in the kitchen awkwardly.  

“So...” Kiara began, looking around at the group, “so Topper is here?”

“Topper, Kelce, Scarlett-”

“She’s a bitch.” Sarah cut in.

“-and Rafe.”

“Isn’t your brother a little too old to be partying on senior week?” Pope asked, looking toward Sarah. Rafe was at least two years into college by now, there was no way he should’ve been hanging around a bunch of high school kids. “Didn’t he already have a senior week?”

“He’ll probably go on senior week with Wheezie too.” You joked, “anything to party.”

“Honestly.” Sarah agreed. She had a feeling her brother’s intention was for more than just partying. If Kelce had planned to stay with you than it was obvious why Rafe was even coming down in the first place though she wasn’t about to say anything to anyone right now. Kiara, she assumed, knew that you had broken up with Rafe over spring break but she doubted that it was common island knowledge that you had been dating him at all.  

Pope suggested that it was a good idea to leave JJ be, that he’d eventually cool down and come inside on his own, especially once he realized that he had no means to get back to North Carolina. He either came in and accepted that this was the vacation they were getting or he camped out on the beach, either way he was stuck in Florida for the week. Still, you couldn’t help feeling guilty that he was having a shitty time. When Sarah had asked if she could stay with you for the week you had stressed whether it was okay with her friends or not.  

That guilty feeling was completely, so you said, the reason for heading down the beach to find JJ. “I did ask Sarah if it was cool with you guys...coming down here. I know it’s not exactly what you had in mind.” You offered as you sat beside JJ on the beach. In another hour the sun would be completely gone from the sky, the oranges and pinks in the horizon hinting at the coming night.  

“I feel like I should be bitching to a confessional about how much I can’t stand Sarah right now.” He replied.  

“I mean, you could try it?” You teased, moving so your back was to the water and you were facing  him, “alright JJ, tell us what’s got you so upset and try to include a tragic story from your past.”

JJ cracked a smile, meeting you eyes as he put on his best reality show sob voice, “I’m just like, really pissed at Sarah and it totally reminds me of the summer my turtle died.”  

You couldn’t help the burst of laughter as you fell back into the sand. JJ joined in, sour mood getting shelved for another day. He honestly didn’t hate the view or being near a beach, or the incredibly comfortable mattress that he had in the room he had claimed for himself. He was even hesitant to complain about you. Not quite the stuck-up kook that he expected, you’d been welcoming to them since the Twinkie first pulled into your driveway.  

“If it’s Top and them you aren’t thrilled about I don’t blame you. I was definitely looking forward to a drama free week and I feel like that might have just become unattainable. But, we’ll avoid them best we can and focus on other stuff.” You said, trying to ease his upset.

“Other stuff like?”  

“Other stuff like, I got invited to a party down the beach tonight...if you wanna go?” You asked, “I mean who can be sad when they’re drunk?”

“John B...never let him talk to you when he’s drunk.” JJ replied. He stood up and offered you his hand to grab.  

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You said, texting Sarah that you were headed down to a party with JJ.  

The party wasn’t far away and groups of people had already gathered despite it still being early in the night. People who had just shifted from lounging on the beach to the beginnings of what would become a party. It was still in the transition between disjointed groups sunbathing and people getting drunk as you and JJ walked up. He was quiet as you walked through people trying to find somewhere to set yourselves up.  

You weren’t sure if Sarah would really show up with everyone or if she was so peeved with JJ’s attitude that she’d stay away for the night. You kept an eye out for any sign of Topper or anyone else in his group, hoping to avoid them for as long as possible. Maybe the whole week if you were truly lucky.  

Beach parties in the keys were not as good as the boneyard parties you were used to but it would have to do for tonight.  A little less chill and relaxed, people seemed to be forcing the good time as opposed to just letting it happen. The chill vibe that you felt like it should’ve had was non-existent but you weren’t entirely sure that wasn’t just you projecting. Maybe everyone else was already having a good time and you were trying too hard already for the sake of the boy trailing  behind you. People had coolers sitting around with different seltzers, hard lemonades, seagrams, and locos but not a plain beer in sight. JJ complained about the missing keg and you tried to make up for it by offering him a peach Jack Daniels. You took a can of something called Unicorn Swirl, bypassing other people on the beach to sit up on the lifeguard’s deck.  

“This is disgusting, by the way.” JJ mentioned as he took a drink, face screwing up at the overtly sweet taste of the peach. He downed another gulp quickly, trying to trick his brain into not realizing the taste and only getting the alcohol.  

“You’ll be hard pressed to find a keg here.”

“So what I’m hearing is, even the parties are shit?”  

“Not total shit-” you paused to take a sip of your drink, JJ laughing as you almost spit it out. “Oh my god, that’s disgusting!” You gagged at the after taste, holding the 16oz can out for JJ to take, “try it.”

“You just spit it out and you want me to try it?”

“Just...you have to experience it...I can’t even describe that taste.” You replied, taking the peach from him to wash down the taste. “It doesn’t even have a flavor.”

JJ kicked it back, tilting his head and gulping. The sugary taste of whatever flavor they intended it to be made him gag worse than you had and he leaned all the way forward, spitting most of it back out onto the sand. “Holy shit! That is the worst fucking thing I’ve ever had in my life!” He exclaimed, “it tastes like fucking medicine! Why did you make me drink that?”  

“I didn’t make you.” You insisted, taking a sip from his peach.  

“You literally held it in my face and told me I ‘had to experience it’. How is that not making me?”

“Yeah  but I told you it was gross before you drank it so you already knew that.”

“I can’t believe you brought me to a beach party with nothing to drink.” He replied, taking another, smaller sip from the can and pulling a face as he made himself swallow.  

“Why are you still drinking that?”

“Trying to get drunk enough that this whole vacation doesn’t suck.” He shrugged.  

“Hey!” You reached over and smacked his arm, “the whole thing doesn’t suck! I’m super cool, what’re you talking about!”  

“Except you brought me to this party so...not as cool as you think you are.” He took another sip and gagged again, “god I have to stop drinking this.”

“Come on,” you put your peach down and grabbed the unicorn from his hand to abandon that on the lifeguard stand as well, “I know there’s a distributor around here...lets get some real beer.”  

“Sounds good to me, anything but this.” JJ replied, following you away from the crowd of people on the beach.  

-

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[heyheydidjaknow]

I would’ve posted this earlier but, alas, I passed out early. This is a longer one, but tumblr got its act together so I can post it all in one part. You guys know where the other chapters are, and if you don’t, they’re at the end of the chapter. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go eat straight Nutella.

Chapter 10

“I’m thinking about getting some gloves.”

He looks over at you as he laces up his skates. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, smiling slightly to yourself as you look your hands over, trying to imagine what they would look like. “Like, badass, fingerless gloves.”

He smiles. “Dude, those would look metal as fuck.”

“Totally, right?” Your smile widens. “With studs and shit.”

He gets to his feet, hopping onto the ice. “Hell yeah.” He drops a puck to assault as you go back to your backed-up coursework the best you can—your handwriting has gone to hell, but you are working with what you have.

You flinch at the crack of his stick, the cross of the T ending up underneath the letter somehow. A cheer from Casey tells you the rubber cylinder’s fate.

‘I swear I learned this.' You squint at the basic algebra, the pencil, crudely held in your fist, hovering over the packet. ‘Why can’t I do this?’

“How’s your pile coming along?” Another crack.

“It’s comin’.” You run your fingers through your hair. “Just… trynna remember how to do ne—… subtraction.” ‘Not debate. Negating is debate.’

He laughs. Another crack. “Man, that thing really fucked you over, huh?”

“Thoroughly.” You decide against continuing to torture yourself, having been at it for the past five hours—most of it in the library before Casey invited you to watch him practice some more— and set the large stack of homework back in your bag. “Are you actually making the shots?”

“Casey Jones doesn’t miss shots.” Another crack.

“Pardon me, oh almighty king of the ice.” You stand on your good leg, grabbing the side of the wall to watch as he went back to collect his pucks.

You two have managed to bond over a mutual respect/love of heavy metal and hockey and, seeing as you are staying out of the Hamatos’ hair for a while—not upon request, but out of courtesy—you have managed to spend a lot more time with him than you may have otherwise. Your school has not assigned Biology any big projects yet, so, until you are assigned it, you do not have anything other than your health to stress about.

“Pardon accepted.” You watch his form as he performs another slap shot.

“You…” you trail off, trying to remember what you were going to say.

“What?”

You shrug. “Dunno.” You lean your head on your arms. “I’ll remember eventually.”

He drops the second puck. “Got any plans after this?”

You sigh. “Nope. Probably gonna head home and try not to cut my fingers making dinner again.”

He takes another shot. “Then let’s go out after this. You and me.”

You smile. “What, don’t have any plans either?”

“Nah.” He drops the third. “Dad doesn’t care if I’m home late anyway.”

“True, true.” You have decided against prying into his home life; it is not your place and does not concern you in the slightest. “Where do you wanna go?”

“Wanna catch a movie? Heard there was this new pizza place just a couple blocks down if you wanna try to sneak it in.”

You snicker. “In the box and all?”

“Yes.” He grins mischievously and hits this one off the walls. Some way, somehow, it still makes it into the goal. “I bet your sweatshirt is big enough to stick the box under.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Not in the mood for burns on top of scars, Jones,” you reprimand him teasingly. “That just ain't it.”

“Then you can wear mine under that one and—”

“Your sweat-soaked hoodie you’ve been practicing in all day?” You cringe at the thought. “Over my dead body.”

“I mean…” he licks his teeth, smile widening, “it’s not exactly like you’re in the best—”

You laugh. “So not cool!”

He puts his hands up in defense, gliding over. “I mean, am I wrong, though?”

“That is completely besides the point, you ass.” You balance on your foot, crossing your arms. “Damn. Making fun of the girl with the broken leg.”

He leans against the wall. “Man, you were dying before the crash.”

You roll your eyes. “Alright, whatever, Jones.” You lean against your hand. “How’s Johanna,” you sing.

He presses his hand against your face, pushing you away. “Annie is doing fine.”

You grin, steadying yourself on the wall. “Do you feel her, Johanna?”

“I’m gonna tell her you call her that if you don’t quit it.”

“Do you think that walls can hide her? Even when you’re at her window?”

He pushed his arm all the way out. You hop back.

“Her name isn’t even Johanna.”

“But she is Johanna,” you whine in protest, not bothering to hide your mirth. “She has the hair, the voice, the disposition. She’s an ingénue and you know it.” You have been teasing him about this for a while now: the girl in question—Annabelle Halshaw, a year below you two—had caught his eye when he had heard through the grapevine that she was the lead singer in some indie band. When he had shown you a picture and told you the story, you insisted on calling her Johanna for her golden hair and soft, sweet singing voice he had proudly had you listen to.

“She’s not.”

You roll your eyes, sitting back down as you grab your bag. “Lie to yourself all you want,” you goad, “but deep down, you know in your heart that the truth,” you put a finger up, “is apparent.”

He hops off the ice, sitting next to you as he unlaces his skates. “Whatever.” He smirks. “How’s The Don?”

You avert your gaze. “I haven’t seen ‘im.”

“Boo.” He tied the laces together. “Some girlfriend you are,” he ribs.

You go red. “Not my boyfriend. Not even friends with benefits.”

“Yeah, sure.” He sets the skates into his bag. “That’s why you already know his family.”

“That—”

“And why you’ve had him over to your place.”

“If you don’t cool your tits, I’m telling Lucy you’re crushing on her friend.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“What,” you simper, “think I won’t?”

He grabs his bag. “If you do, I’ll show her that video.”

You laugh, following him out of the rink. “You’re the worst.” You note how strange it is that he spent so little time on the ice as you two walk out, but you do not say anything about it.

“Hey, you’re the one throwing threats around.”

“Yeah,” you argue, “but my threat is clearly better.”

He rolls his eyes, pushing you again.

You two keep chatting on the way to the theatre about anything and everything, from new bands to upcoming games to the newest blockbuster horror movies. You are not personally on the hockey team, but, as his friend, it is your duty to care. Besides, you figure, it gives you something to look forward to.

The movie is fine. You convince him against sneaking an entire pizza in, you split a bucket of popcorn, and you give him shit for getting freaked out by the disembowelment scene. It is payback for him teasing you about crying during the last movie you two went to a couple of days ago.

You two stand at the streetlight.

“Dude, it’s like eight,” he groans. “It’s not even late.”

“True,” you agree. “Counterpoint: I still have another week’s worth of work to do by Friday on top of the homework I’ll have to do anyway, so unless you wanna help—”

“Forget I asked.” He pulls his hood up against the autumn wind. “Need me to walk you back?”

“Nah.” You shrug. “If someone mugs me, they’ll give me an excuse to not do my homework.”

“Murdered?

“I’m already halfway there.”

He grins. “See ya tomorrow, Y/N.”

“See ya, Jones.” You wave as he runs off.

The walk home is quiet and considerably easier than it was a couple of weeks ago. Seeing as you now get queasy whenever you get into a car, you have been limited to taking the subway and walking, which, among other things, has contributed positively to your physical strength. You know that you should probably at least try to take the bus or a cab around town to build your tolerance up, but the last time you tried, you had almost tripped and fallen from how shaky your legs were getting out. Oddly enough, you note as you go through the door, you do not have a considerably larger fear of heights than you did before, or of fire, but cars were tripping you up, even though you were the one that crashed it. You feel thankful that, at least, you do not think your fear is crippling. At least, you reason, you can still get into the car.

You lock the door behind you, debating whether you feel like adding to the collection of cuts you now possess— they are self-inflicted, but not intentionally so; you stubbornly refuse to acknowledge the fact that you physically cannot use your hands to cut things. You decide against it tonight, tossing your bag on the bed as you sprawl across it, admittedly exhausted. You allow yourself a couple of seconds with your eyes closed before you pull yourself up with a groan and get back to work.

A part of you wishes that you had the physical energy to stay out longer. You are always trying to find excuses not to sleep, and although the mountain of homework and readjusting your timelines for things you missed is certainly one way to keep yourself preoccupied, it is not exactly what you would consider fun. Then again, reliving your greatest traumas while you sleep is not exactly fun either.

You catch yourself peeling at the newly applied bandages on your fingers, fingernails catching under the crudely applied adhesives. Applying bandages properly requires more dexterity and patience than you currently possess, and you are hardly going to ask someone else for help with something as stupid as that. You have lasted this long without needing too much help. People can live by themselves. You will live, probably. Well? Not your concern.

‘I should eat something.’ Your eyes strain to focus on the piece of paper in front of you, your mind wandering aimlessly as you try to impress the actual importance of finishing this upon yourself, but you find that is an insurmountable feat.

You drop your bag off the side of the bed, reaching down and pulling your shoe off, leaning back into your pillows, the weight of the day practically immobilizing you. Fumbling hands switch the lamp off, bathing your room in momentary, blissful darkness before the gravity of your decision sets in.

“Alright, me,” you breathe to yourself. “What’s it gonna be today? My folks? Bradford? What’s his face? Hell,” you chuckle, “why not all three? I’m sadistic enough, I’m sure.”

You close your eyes. “Give me your worse,” you challenge as you slip into unconsciousness.

--

Two weeks.

He had kept his distance for about two weeks. It was not as if he did not care or was not morbidly curious what the crash had done to you—his glances through the curtains did not tell him much-- but, after some debate, he had figured you needed time to recuperate before you would want his company. Two weeks, he figured, would be enough time for you to get back on your feet or, at least, for you to start wanting company.

His excuse to see you had come in the form of his brother’s newfound prideful boasting. Feigning insult was as good an excuse as any to go see you; after all, he just so happened to be in the neighborhood anyway, and it was normal to pop in to see someone if you were already just a couple blocks down, right? Sneaking away was easy enough—they would not mind his absence—and he, after much prep work, knew exactly how and why he was going to say the things he would to get in your good favor. The plan, he knows, would have gone swimmingly.

His plans seem asinine when he hears you crying.

His brothers do not cry much. He does not, either; it was a habit that they had all thoroughly bullied themselves out of when they were much younger and, if they still did, he knew nothing of it. His master did not encourage this, per se, but talked, then, frequently about the importance of maintaining a more stoic disposition and not allowing emotions to cripple you in battle. Practically, Donatello was satisfied with that explanation, having not properly cried for more than a year now. To hear the sound again, especially coming from you, was novel.

Novel, too, is how you are crying. The sound is less of actual sobbing and more of you being strangled, quiet gasps for air escaping your lips as you shake on the bed, curled in on yourself and clutching at your chest as if whatever pain you are experiencing is centered and can be relieved by something between your collarbones. His eyes, for the first time, trace the lines on your skin, your sleeves riding up your arms to reveal them to him, tears racing down and along the gash in your face. Everything about the scene, from the soft gasping of panic to your position to the heavy scarring, is completely foreign to him, rivaled only by one or two particularly hard nights when he and his brother were much younger.

He slides in through the window, leaning onto the bed. His fingers flick your lamp back on as he grabs your shivering shoulder tightly, shaking you awake as he mumbles words of encouragement. He is not sure if his help will be appreciated, if snapping you out of it was even what he is supposed to do in this situation, but now is not the time to think of that. You are in pain. He can offer you this kindness. “Wake up,” he pleads, not thinking of how this would look until your eyes snap open to look at him.

Immediately, the reality of the situation sets in, and he scrambles off the bed. ‘Why did I think that would be a good idea?’ Panic. ‘You just walked into her room like a fucking creep. See, now she’s going to—’

“Sorry.”

He blinks, looking up at you from his place on the floor. “Huh?”

You clear your throat, wiping the tears from your eye with your sleeve quickly as you bring your knees to your chest, voice hoarse. “Sorry,” you repeat. “That you… I’m not sure what I’m apologizing for, but I know I should be apologizing.”

He is completely dumbfounded.

Your eyes glance to the open window. “I should probably start closing and locking my window, right?” You rub the back of your neck, voice clearing the longer you talk. “It didn’t occur to me since I’m so high up, but if you guys can get in, The Foot can too, right?”

‘Why is she apologizing?’

You push the hair out of your face. ‘You need something, right? I—uh—need to stop saying ‘right’ so much.” You shake your head to clear it. “’ Sup?”

He hears himself mumble some bullshit out about being in the neighborhood.

You sigh. “Sorry.” You close your eyes. “I’m usually up later; I’ve been so tired lately.”

‘Is she serious right now?’ He is completely lost. ‘She was just crying her eyes out in her sleep and now she’s apologizing? Did I miss something?’ You are smiling now, eyes still bloodshot, as if the whole thing is a figment of his imagination, still shivering where you sit.

He rises to his feet, kneeling in front of you on the bed. “What was it about?”

You blink, seemingly confused. “Huh?”

“Your nightmare,” he clarifies. “You were crying. What was it about?”

You avert eye contact. “Nothing too crazy,” you shrug. “Just about the crash. Nothing too exciting.” If possible, he thinks the bags under your eyes are worse than the last time you saw him.

He takes your hands loosely, turning them palms up to look, for the first time, at the patchwork quilt that is now your skin. “What happened in it?” He runs his thumb along the lines, keeping his voice low; he remembers how that used to help when Mikey used to have fits when they were younger. Leonardo and Raphael were never good at that; they took better to being more violently snapped out of their moods, but, then again, they never had this kind of breakdown; theirs were always more driven by loathing, self or otherwise.

You pause, still not looking him in the face as your muscles relax. He remembers, vividly, how he had done something similar when you two had first met, how much better, health-wise, you looked. ‘How long has it been since then? Three months? A little less?’

You take a deep breath. “Just… family shit,” you mumble, eyelids drooping as you trace his frame loosely. “Fire.”

Your gaze is piercing as you finally look at him properly. He feels something catch in his throat as you bow your head.

“It’s my fault, you know.” Your voice is so soft, barely a whisper. “That they’re dead, I mean.”

The air is a suffocating blanket that smothers you both.

“I never told you, did I?” Your focus does not shift as it might have a bit ago. It is locked solely and intensely on him, taking in every detail of his expression. “How I died? How they died? Why I died?”

Hesitantly, he shakes his head. He thinks it best to just be quiet and let you talk. He does not think he has ever heard anyone speak in quite the same tones, ever looked at him quite the same way you are.

You take another breath. “I wanted to try my hand at baking.” You force your eyes to stay focused on his. “I was—still am—not good about sleep. I always slept bad, and never at the right times. I used to take pills for it, to try to get myself back on track.”

He sees where this is going.

“I thought I could still stay up as late as I was used to.” You glance to the side, stealing yourself a second before focusing back on the boy in front of you. “I sat down in my room, turned on a movie. I set a timer. I fell asleep.” You swallow, hands shaking in his. “I can’t smell well, either. I must not have smelled the burning.” Your lips curl in a bitter smile. “Sure as fuck felt it, though, when I woke up.”

He lets you finish.

You try to blink the tears out of your eyes. “They were asleep,” Your voice rises ever so slightly. “I fell asleep at two something. I woke up when they started yelling.” You purse your lips, face reddening in shame as your nostrils flair. “They were trying to get someone out of bed when the roof caved in above them. My door got blocked.”

You feel yourself smile.

“So,” you strain not to cry, “that, Donatello, is why I’m here and why I’m dead, and why I really do deserve to burn again.” You laugh. “Hell, my body count is rivaling some serial killers, so that’s… that’s certainly something.”

He lets go of your hands, face blank.

You lean forward, placing your hands on your knees. “I don’t blame you,” You wipe a wayward tear out of your eyes, trying to swallow the frog in your throat. “Fuck, man, I’d think less of me, too, if it were me.” You nod towards the window. “I get it if you want to leave, but I thought you might want to know why—”

He stops you mid-sentence, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to him.

Your arms lay slack at your sides as you try to process what is happening.

He does not say a word.

You break.

You burry your face into him, tears welling in your eyes as you let out a strangled sob. You hold onto him tightly as you struggle to breathe, body shaking as you wrap your own arms around him the best you can. The sound roars in your ears like thunder, the deafening quiet of the apartment punctuated only by your own cries. He gently holds you there, resting his head on top of yours. Each sound you make sounds as though you are physically being choked by your guilt, and his chest feels as though it is being crushed by an invisible hand as he listens to your pain.

Neither of you knows how long you stay like that.

He considers telling you a story from a long time ago, about some training he and his brothers had back then, but thought better of it; he does not want to upset you any more than you already are, and being in good company with someone like him may not be exactly what you need right now. Granted, he does not know what you do need, but he knows listening to him talk about bashing brains would not help your sensibilities any.

Instead, he stays quiet.

You pull away after a while, wiping your face off again as you mumble out an apology.

“Don’t apologize.” He clears his throat. “It’s good to cry; it releases endorphins.”

You smile at that. “Well,” you giggle tearfully, “if it releases endorphins.”

He smiles back, face flushing. You look good, he thinks, even with your face all red. He knows that, scientifically, there is probably a reason, but he cannot think of it right now.

He stands up. “I’ll get—”

You grab his hand tightly.

He looks back at you.

“Can I ask a favor?”

He blinks. “Of course,” he agrees easily. “Anything.”

You glance off. “Promise not to take it weird?”

He feels his heart rate increase. “Y-yeah,” he nods.

He feels you pull him gently back on the bed. “Can you stay here tonight?”

His eyes widen as they flicker between the mattress and you. “What,” he clarifies breathlessly, “like sleep with you?”

You nod.

“In the same bed?”

You hesitate, nod again.

He clears his throat, face heating again. “Like, actually?”

“If it wasn’t actually, I wouldn’t ask, would I?” You grip his hand tightly. “I just really don’t want to be alone tonight.”

‘Oh.’ He mentally kicks himself. ‘She’s scared. Don’t make her uncomfortable.’

“It’s alright if you don’t—”

He is extremely quick to reassure you that he is more than happy—‘Bad choice of wording.’—to stay tonight until you fall asleep, but that he would not stay the whole night as to not worry his brothers.

You nod in agreement. “That’s fine.” You rub the back of your neck. “Not sure I would be good company when I wake up, anyway; I still have class.”

“Oh, right.” He nods in understanding, pushing himself further onto the bed. “Which side…?”

You shrug. “Which way do you face?”

“I usually lie on my stomach.”

“Then it doesn’t matter.” You slide your sweatshirt over your head after a bit of squirming around, tossing it onto the couch.

His face is now scarlet. “Okay then,” he mumbles, laying down on the side away from the window. ‘Is she going to—no, stop that.’

You look over at him, face down on the mattress. You can almost feel the heat coming off him. “Are you alright there, buddy?”

He nods.

You shrug, laying down under the blanket and curling into him, facing the window. “Mind getting the light?”

He reaches over, clicking it off.

You sigh in content, turning to face him, teetering on the edge of the mattress. “I’m not venomous,” you inform him teasingly. “I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: of the two of us, you should not be the one who’s a nervous wreck.”

“You dunno that.” His voice is muffled by the bed.

“You’re the strong one,” you argue.

“So?” He turns his head to look at you. “I’m the guy laying in the—I’m just gonna stop that sentence.”

“It’s only bad if it isn’t consensual.” You smile reassuringly. “I invited you to lay with me, right? So, unless I make you uneasy, then we’re all good.”

He breaks eye contact. “So,” he clarifies, “you don’t mind if I move closer to you?”

You shake your head.

He hesitantly slides himself further onto the bed. “Can I move closer than this?”

“You’ve already seen me bawl my eyes out. You’re doing me a service. Move as close or as far as you want.”

He moves to press his side against you. “Is this fine?”

You nod. “Look, how about this?” You rest your arm under your head. “If you do something I’m uncomfortable with, the safe word is pina colada.”

‘We already have a safe word?’ He was not sure if he is on cloud nine or just terrified of you.

You are very confused why he looks so warm. “Do you need me to turn the AC on?”

He shakes his head. “I’m good,” he assures you tightly. Slowly, he reached an arm out and over your waist, pulling you closer. You do not seem to resist in any way, wrapping your good leg around one of his to pull him closer.

‘Conscious touching.’ He glances down at you, trying to act cool. ‘Conscious, intentional touching. She smells so nice and she feels—okay, this is not going to work if you keep being a perv.’

“Thanks,” you mumble, humming softly. “I appreciate this more than you know.”

Cloud nine. Definitely on cloud nine.

“Every time.”

You giggle.

He blinks. “What?”

“Every time,” you note, already nodding off. “Like in that book.”

‘Which one?’ “They wrote it down for a reason, right?” The longer he spends like this, the smoother he feels.

“Totally.” You smile, closing your eyes. “Just know that this goes both ways, alright? If you ever need help like this, you know who to call.”

This is new. ‘Help like this? What, like crying?’ His eyebrows furrow as he tries to understand what you mean. ‘Or he means if I ever need company in my—what did I just say?’

You pick up on his confusion. “Emotional help, I mean.” Your fingers trace the indentations in his shell absentmindedly. “I mean, I know sometimes I didn’t want to go to my family about stuff. I dunno if you have that…” you trail off, realizing that you might be unintentionally bashing his brothers. You sincerely do not want to blow this.

“I mean,” he says after a bit, “I think I get what you’re talking about.” He sighs. “You mean stuff that they’d make fun of me for, right?”

You nod.

He feels his heart melt a little. “I’ll have to take you up on that.”

You forgot how safe he makes you feel. “Goodnight, Donnie,” you mumble sleepily.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You pass out not long after that. If he has to estimate a general amount of time, he will clock it in at about five minutes. He does not move, however, until about thirty minutes before sunrise, too busy listening to the sound of your breathing and memorizing how exactly your body feels next to his. As he slips out of the window, early morning air waking him back up completely, he wonders if, someday, he could stay to see you wake up next to him. Not out of necessity, but just because you both wanted to stay like that for a while more.

‘I hope so. It’s a nice dream to have, anyhow.’

Table of Contents

Chapter 9

Chapter 11

[thosesouthparkimagines]

For You, Anything. (Cartman!Reader x Kyle)

(Y/N) Cartman. My full name. Sibling to the well known as an idiot, Eric Cartman. We were twins, I was born 10 minutes earlier, much to his dismay,and he always made my life a living hell for it. He did not think it was fair to him that he was younger, but that was the way it was. 

“(Y/NNNNNN). Come on. We’re gonna be lateeeee” my brother groans, his annoying voice slipping out as he whines. “Come onnnnn.” 

“Relax Eric, I’ll come when I come” I say, irritated. 

“Haha. Thats what she-”

“Finish that statement and I’ll punch your teeth in” . He goes silent. I’m the only one he’d listen to because he knows I won’t put up with his bullshit. 

“Finally. Jesus woman, you take forever to get ready” Eric says, sighing in relief when I finally come downstairs ready to go.

“Yeah, yeah. Lets just go before we miss the bus.” 

This was the first year I was attending school with Eric. When we were younger, we did not get along, so I went to live with our father. He got sick of me and sent me back to live with my mom and Eric, telling me to never contact him again, and then I was forced to finish my senior year of high school in a new city, with new people, with my twin brother, who I have learned, has the reputation of an asshole. 

We arrive down at the bus stop, where we  are met with four other boys our age. One  with black hair wearing a red and blue hat, one blonde haired kid, hiding most of his face in a parka, and the last one, a red haired boy, wearing a green hat. 

“Hey Cartman.” The one in the blue hat says, referring to my brother, but pauses when he sees me next to him. “Um. Who’s this” 

“Yeah she’s hot. I’d like to get a piece of that” the orange parka boy says. 

“I’m (Y/N) Car-” I’m cut off. 

“Her name is (Y/N). She just moved here. We’re neighbors.” He gives me a death glare which immediately tells me to shut my mouth. 

“Uh, Hi” I notice the guy in the green hat still hasn’t said anything to me. He just stares. It’s really creepy. 

“Fatass. What did you do to this poor girl?” Green hat guy asks, looking at me in concern. “She seemed scared out of her wits.” Oh I wasn’t scared. Eric wanted to pretend I wasn’t his sister, fine, but I’m going to play this to the best of my abilities. 

“He didn’t do anything to me” I say sweetly, batting my eyelashes, and the green hatted kid’s face goes bright red. “I never did catch your name. I don’t think its fair you know mine, but I don’t know yours” 

“Uh, K-Kyle”  he is  a red, stuttering mess. But his name fits him. I don’t exactly know how it fits so well, but just by looking at his face, it matches. The green eyes, freckles littered around the bridge of his nose like stars at twilight. It’s soothing. We both get caught up in our staring we forget about the other three boys standing next to us, carrying on with their own conversation, or the fact that the school bus pulled up and was waiting for us to board. It seemed as if we were in our own little world. 

“Hey!”. It’s Eric’s screaming that breaks us out of our trance, both looking away with red cheeks that didn’t come from the freezing Colorado air. “Let’s gooooo” he whines, for the countless time this morning. 

“Jesus, fatass, okay we’ll get on” Kyle says, irritation easily changing his entire attitude.  He looks towards me and notions for me to get on the bus before him, after the other three had boarded and taken their seats. The entire bus ride was boring, just Kyle and Eric going back and forth between each other, insults making their way in every other word. I sat next to the boy with the blue hat that introduced himself as Stan, and behind the parka wearing boy named Kenny, who remained turned around in his seat no matter how many times he got yelled at. 

The bus ride to the small high school was short, too short for my liking. Talking with Stan and Kenny was a lot of fun, and I didn’t want to end it. But as quickly as our friendship had come, the conversations had come to an end.  

“Hey, (Y/N)! What class do you have first?” Stan asks, as we exit the bus and stand at the entrance of South Park High. It reminded me of the school back home, with the obvious cliques seen just by gazing around the campus, and the judgemental looks I felt by anyone who walked by. 

“Um, English, with um Mr.Garrison?” 

“Oh shit dude” Kenny speaks “You’re with me!”. He slings his arm across my shoulders and flashes me a bright smile.

“Woah, Kenny, you got Garrison?” Cartman asks, bursting out laughing. “Oh man that’s great”

“What’s so bad about Garrison?” I ask, shrugging off Kenny’s arm, blind to the glare Kyle sent towards the parka wearing boy. 

“Oh man what isn’t wrong with him? He was our fourth grade teacher and  underwent like 4 sex changes, went from being gay, to lesbian, to straight, back to gay, and then became president and tried to build a wall between us and Mexico. He insane” Stan says, making elaborate hand gestures to show effect. 

“He seems crazy, you guys must have had a rough childhood from that. I’m sorry”. All three boys laugh at that. 

“You have no idea how rough our childhood was” Kyle chuckles. The second he finishes laughing, the bell rings, sending us in our separate ways in promise to meet up for lunch. I follow Kenny towards the classroom, eager to see the man that seemed so bad. Upon entering the room, Mr.Garrison is standing in front of several rows of desks, a chalkboard behind. Could they not afford computers and screens? The old school I attended had them. Mr.Garrison was an older man, half balding with grey hair as the little he had. Some sort of puppet was on his left hand. Great, he seemed as crazy as the guys made him out to be. 

“Oh. You must be the new girl.” Mr.Garrison says, and I nod, and walk up to him. 

“Could you not mention my last name please? I’m trying to avoid people knowing” I say quietly to him, and he looks at his roster and his eyes widen. 

“(Y/N) Cartman? You’re related to that little asshole?” He says loudly, but not loud enough for anyone to hear, just the person standing behind me. 

“You’re related to Cartman?” I hear Kenny’s muffled, but shock filled question. I turn around and cover his mouth, or where I think his mouth is. 

“You can’t tell anyone! You have to promise me!” I say quickly, and Kenny chuckles. 

“Oh man, Kyle has a thing for you and you’re related to that fatass. Good luck”. He turns towards the rows of desks and sits down, patting the seat next to him, motioning for me to sit. I take the desk next to him, and next to another kid. He seems to be wearing a letterman jacket, with brown hair. Just by the way he was sitting, it was easy to see that he was cocky. The second I sat down in my seat beside Kenny, he turns his entire body away from the blonde girl he was talking with. 

“I haven’t seen you around here. Are you new?” He asks “I’m Clyde, Clyde Donivian” he says, extending a hand out towards me.

“(Y/N).” I give him a smile. 

“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl” he says, flashing a smile, when Kenny interrupts. 

“Back off Donivan. Kyle’s called dibs” Kenny chuckles, and in return Clyde pouts, going back to flirting with the girl in the opposite side of him. I turn towards Kenny. 

“What do you mean that Kyle called dibs? I’m not something that you can just, claim” I say, before turning and facing forward as the bell rings. Kenny attempts to get my attention throughout the rest of class but I chose to ignore him, still a bit upset. 

Soon enough lunch comes, and I make my way towards the cafeteria, after stopping and asking for directions a few times. Entering the loud, crowded cafeteria, instantly notoicing the orange parka and green hat, she makes a beeline towards the only group she really knows. She makes it about halfway when she’s whipped away by a blue hooded man, towards another table. 

“What? Hey!” She says, attempting to getr out of this strangers grasp. Being this close to him, she began to notice a few things. His black hair stuck out in small parts of his hood, and he had extremely blue eyes. He leads me towards a table. I recognize the brown haired boy from class, Clyde, but there was also two other boys seated there. 

“Craig-ack! You can’t just-just drag her here!” the blonde haired boy says, his words stuttered. 

“Yeah! You should have asked her!” he turns to me. “I uh, I’m sorry about Craig here. I’m Token. These are my friends, Tweek-” he points to the blonde one, “Craig” he points to the one still holding onto me, who in return flips them off, “and Clyde”. 

“Uh, hi? Why am I over here?” I ask, turning towards the boys at the table 

“Well, you’re hot, we’re hot, you should be with us” Clyde speaks up, attempting to wink. 

“Yeah- uh, no. I’ll be going back now” I say, attempting to leave, but Craig, still silent, grabs hold of my arm. 

“Sit” his voice finally speaks. Not wanting to go against him, I sit on the empty side of the table, as far as I could from the boys, which becomes futile as Craig sits right beside me. 

“So, (Y/N). What brings you to south park?” Token asks

“I decided to move back with my mom who lives here” is all I say, not really wanting to talk to the guys who quite literally kidnapped me. 

“Ack- you’re-you’re from here?” Tweek says, to which I give a nod. 

“(Y/N)!” I hear a voice and my head whips around, and I see Kenny storming towards me. He grabs hold of my arm and takes me from the table, much to their irritation. “Why are you with these assholes? You’re supposed to be with us!” he says, beginning to drag me back towards their table. 

Stan seemed to be interested into the black haired girl sitting at the table, while Kyle and Eric were arguing over something. The second I arrived back at their table, they go silent,. Kyle sends me a smile as I sit, which I return. 

“Where the hell were you (Y/N)? You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago!” Eric complains “Not like you care, but Craig and his crew apparently had something important to say to me”

“You were with Craig's crew! Stay away from them! They’re not good influences!” I roll my eyes

“It wasn’t like I wanted to go over there” 

“Whatever. Give me my cheezy poofs-” Eric mumbles, before I throw the bag of the chips at him. 

“Fatass- stop harassing the new girl! Bring your own cheey poofs” Kyle says 

“Well our mom packed them for me but then she put them in (Y/N)’s bag instead of mine.” Kyle freezes 

“Wait- are you- related to fatass” Kyle asks, looking towards me. 

“I-uh, yeah. He’s my twin” I admit. Instantly Kyle is up out of his seat and making his way into the hall. 

I look towards Stan, since they seem to be the closest, but he shrugs, as if not knowing what to say. 

The rest of the day goes without a hitch. I finish my classes and make my way home, choosing to walk rather than ride the bus. Kyle refused to look me in the eye the rest of the day, which really hurt. 

Once I arrive home, I head straight up to my room, not stopping to listen to Eric calling our mother all the names he could for the mix up at lunch. Shutting and locking the door behind me, I sigh, pulling out my headphones and starting my homework. I had a lot to catch up on, especially since I came in the middle of the school year, but It was easy, especially because I had already learned most of it from my other school. 

A solid and hard knock on my window is what jolts me from my focus. I whip my head around to see the familiar green hat outside my window. Instantly I go and open it, allowing him to crawl in and sprawl on my bedroom floor. A few puffs of his red hair stuck out of his hat as he went to catch his breath. 

“What-what are you doing here?” I ask, sitting back on my bed. Last I checked, he was angry at me for being related to Eric. It’s not like I could change that. 

“I-I wanted to apologize” he says, sitting up after catching his breath. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad. I just, couldn’t believe you’re related to the fatass” 

“Our parents separated when we were young. Our father took me away with him. He soon sent me back here” I say. “I hardly know Eric.” 

“You both are so different. You’re so amazing. You’re smart, kind, pretty-” he pauses, his cheeks going bright red. “I-I didn’t mean that. No- I’m mean, you are pretty, I just didn’t mean to say it- no I did mean to say it agh!” he says, before falling silent. 

“Kyle-” 

“Damnit! I have feelings for you and the fact that you’re related to that asshole-”

“Kyle” 

‘You’re so much different than he is and I really like you, and I-”

“Damnit Kyle just shut up!” I shout, which finally gets his attention. “I like you too okay? Now stop being such a baby about this” I say

“Wait-you-you feel the same?” he asks, to which I nod.

“I thought it was obvious-” I can’t finish my sentence before he throws himself onto me, kissing me. I’ve read somewhere that the first kiss feels like fireworks, but this seem to feel better. 

He doesnt stop, even when we both need air, he pulls back and goes right back into kissing me, shifting until he’s hovering over me on my bed. When he finally pulls away, we’re both panting, red in the cheeks. 

“Does this mean you’ll be my girlfriend?” Kyle asks, before lying next to me. 

“That depends, if you’re willing to put up with Eric”

“For you? Anything”

[creativewritingpracticestudio]

Pretty Little Pin-Up Girl(John 5 x Reader)[Smut]

@send-in-the-clownss thank you for this amazingly creative request🥺I’m so sorry for the long, long wait, this was so cool to write! I really hope you like it! This is in 1998/99, before Marilyn and Dita got together(so John and him know who she is enough to confuse you for her, but not enough for her to be in the story.)

Description: While performing with Marilyn Manson at a concert, John 5 spots a woman in the crowd with a striking resemblance to Dita Von Teese. He’s immediately intrigued, and he makes it his goal to meet you after the show. The meeting goes..very well, to say the least.

Warnings: Smut, cursing, mentions of alcohol and drugs, typical edgy MM concert stuff

Permanent Taggers: @smokeandmirrorz @overlyobsessedfangirl @holyjunkie @slashevilsister @julessworldd @agroupiewhore @comawhxte666

“(Y/n), do you think Marilyn Manson will notice me in this outfit? Be honest.” You glanced up from your compact mirror and took in your friend’s outfit. Fishnets, black skirt, corset. “Definitely. Just put on some lipstick and you’re good to go!” Your friend nodded and grabbed a tube of black lipstick from her dresser. You finished applying your own blood red lipstick, examined it in the compact mirror, and smiled.

“How do I look?” You spun around once to give your friend a good look at your outfit. You’d styled your hair in a Marilyn Monroe-esque way, done your typical cat-eye and lipstick, and worn an elegant short white button-up cocktail dress with red heels. “Beautiful, but you look more like you’re going to a dinner party at Dita Von Teese’s house than to an MM concert.” You laughed. “Good. That’s what I was going for!”

Your friend shook her head. “You’re a strange girl, (Y/n). But we look amazing! Let’s go, I don’t want to be late. We didn’t get backstage passes for nothing!” She grabbed your arm and almost dragged you out the door, and within minutes the two of you were off. “I’m telling you, (Y/n), Marilyn’s gonna see me and instantly fall in love and break up with Rose McGowan for me!” You laughed. “I think John 5 is cuter, babe.” She playfully rolled her eyes. “Of course you do.”

———————-

The two of you had gotten front row tickets, which came with the passes, and were now standing right in front of the stage. “Dude, this is perfect! There’s no way Marilyn won’t be able to see me from here.” You nodded, checking your vintage pocket-watch. “It should be starting any minute now.” Sure enough, right as you said that, the lights went down and the people of the venue began to cheer loudly.

Your friend grabbed your arm and squeezed. “Marilyn!” You followed her eyes to see Marilyn coming from the side of the stage. You smiled, but your excitement wasn’t peaked until you spotted the blond guitarist himself, John 5, making his way behind Marilyn. You grinned, cheering loudly as the lights came back on and the first song began. They played the most popular songs from Mechanical Animals first.

About halfway through, they began playing Coma White, one of your favorite songs. You cheered, loudly singing along to the lyrics of the song; when the chorus came, you could have sworn that John 5 glanced in your direction and widened his eyes, but when you blinked he had turned his attention back to his guitar playing. Your friend elbowed your side. “Did John 5 just look at you?” You shrugged, slightly shocked.

Although you brushed it off as a one-time thing, this was soon proven wrong when the band began to play “User Friendly”, and John 5 started glancing over at you every few seconds with that same shocked look on his face. Clearly, something about you had caught his eye. The attention made you blush, and when he stared at you for a full 10 seconds during the chorus, you shyly waved at him and smiled. He smirked and waved back, a look of interest now clear on his face. He barely looked away again.

When the show finally ended, you and your friend made your way to the VIP area to meet the band. “I’m telling you, (Y/n), Marilyn looked at me a couple times. He has to be interested.” You smiled as she went on about how her and the singer were gonna get married and have two children together, still thinking about how John 5 had looked at you so much during the show. Surely it didn’t mean anything...right?

The two of you waited in line for about a half hour, excitement brewing up at the fact that you were going to get to meet your idols. Time passed very quickly, and soon enough the two of you were at the front of the line. You walked into a large room, where Manson, Twiggy, John 5 and the others were all sitting at a table with posters to autograph. John immediately perked up at the sight of you, and Marilyn shot him a look. Clearly, they had been talking about you.

Your friend excitedly walked up to Marilyn and began talking at a fast pace about how much she loved him and how great his show was. He looked completely overwhelmed, which Twiggy seemed to find hilarious. You slowly walked up to John 5, who was at the end of the table, and smiled. “Hello.” He smiled back, pushing his blonde hair out of his face as he leaned forward on his elbows. “Hello there. Did you like the show?” You nodded. “Yes, it was amazing! You’re a very talented guitarist, I must say.”

John’s smile widened, and Twiggy elbowed him in the side. “Ow! What?” Twiggy leaned over and whispered something in his ear, and John pulled away, glanced up at you and cleared his throat. “So, what’s your name?” You giggled and stuck your hand out to shake his. “It’s (Y/n). (Y/n) (L/n).” He shook your hand. “That’s a beautiful name. You know, I couldn’t help but notice, you remind me an awful lot of someone but I just can’t put my finger on it.” You smiled knowingly. “Let me guess. Dita Von Teese.”

He nodded. “Yes! That’s it. How’d you know?” You laughed. “I get that a lot. She was actually my fashion inspiration, so it makes sense.” You pulled out your vintage compact and checked your lipstick in it, and then put it back in your bag. John 5 looked impressed. “Good choice. She’s beautiful. Not quite as pretty as you, though.” You blushed and glanced down with a shy smile. “Oh, thank you very much. That’s so sweet of you.” The two of you awkwardly looked at each other for a few seconds, and Twiggy elbowed John again, this time much harder.

John 5 glared at him and mumbled, “Okay, okay, I get it!”, under his breath before turning back to you. “Say, why don’t you stick around and hang out with me for a little while after this VIP thing? Just for a couple hours or so.” You bit your lip in thought, feeling a wave of excitement at the fact that John 5 of all people wanted to hang out with you, and then nodded towards your friend. “She’s my ride home.” John smirked. “Aw, she can hang with Brian for a bit. Isn’t that right, Brian?” Marilyn glared at him warningly, but your friend gasped in excitement. “Yes, yes, fuck yes! Holy shit!”

John 5 had the two of you sit on the bench behind the band’s table while you waited, and your friend spent the entire time whispering very loudly to you about how she was gonna get dick from the Marilyn Manson. It was especially funny when Marilyn glanced back at the two of you with a slightly terrified look, and your friend immediately began whispering about how Marilyn had looked at her and that clearly meant he wanted to smash. The rest of the VIP took an hour, which you spent reading a pocket-sized book that you had brought along. Occasionally, John would look back and smile.

When the VIP was over, John 5 and Twiggy got up and walked over to you. “(Y/n), this is Jeordie.” You smiled and reached out for a handshake. “How do you do?” Jeordie didn’t reply, just smiled goofily and giggled. “He’s high, sorry.” You laughed. “That’s quite alright. So, where are we gonna go? I heard Marilyn say he’s going to the tour bus.” John 5 smirked and looked over at his singer, who was currently being suffocated by your friend. “Actually, I was thinking you and me could go hang out in one of the backstage rooms for a little while.” You nodded. “That sounds lovely. Is Jeordie coming, too?” Jeordie giggled again.

John grimaced and shook his head. “No way. Jeordie, you go with Brian and the rest of the guys.” Jeordie frowned and made a protest, but John shot him a death glare and he finally gave up and slumped away. John 5 held his arm out and grinned. “My lady.” You chuckled and linked arms with him, biding your best friend goodbye and telling her where to meet you at afterwards, and followed him to the backstage area of the concert. He led you to a backstage room, which contained a loveseat couch and a mirror vanity with tons of makeup supplies on it. “This is Brian’s. Don’t tell him we went in here, he’ll stab me with an eyebrow pencil.”

You giggled and crossed the room to the couch, sitting on it with one ankle crossed over the other. John sat beside you, staring at you with an awed look on his face. “What is it?” He shook his head with a grin. “I don’t know, I’m just surprised that someone like you came to a Marilyn Manson concert. You’re so elegant and classy and shit. I mean, most of the people who come to our shows are violent and trashy and all that, so you stuck out like a sore thumb. I like trashy and violent, of course, but you’re a nice change of pace. Do you have a boyfriend or a friend with benefits or anything? I just can’t imagine someone like you doesn’t have people lining up at her door trying to score a date.”

You laughed and shook your head. “No, I don’t have a boyfriend or anything like that. You’d be surprised, I don’t have that many suitors. I think the way I dress and act scares some people. And besides, I have a very specific type.” John 5 smirked. “And what would that type be?” You took out your compact and reapplied your lipstick, and then boldly shut it and smiled. “Oh, well, I’ve always had a bit of a thing for guitar players.” John’s grin widened, and he played along. “Really? Go on.” You crossed one leg over the other and pondered the subject some more. “I also really like blonde hair.” The guitar player raised an eyebrow. “Blonde? Wow. Continue.”

You struggled to contain your smile as the tongue-in-cheek conversation continued. “And there’s nothing I find more attractive than a guy in face paint. Do you know anyone like that? Guitarist, blonde hair, face paint?” John 5 pretended to think it over for a moment and then shook his head. “No, I don’t think I do.” You pretended to be disappointed. “Hm, that’s unfortunate. If I ever saw a guy like that, I’d probably just take my clothes off right then and there.” John 5 grinned and snapped his fingers. “Ah, now wait a minute. I forgot, I do know someone like that, he’s right here in this room!”

“Really?” You played dumb, looking around in confusion. “Where is he?” John reached out and cupped your cheeks in his hands and turned your face to look at him. “Right here.” You grinned, the two of you leaning closer to each other, lips just an inch apart. “Wow. You are my type.” John smirked. “So, what were you saying about taking your clothes off?” You grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him up to you, smashing your lips together in a passion-filled frenzy. His hands immediately went up to cradle your face, and yours wrapped around his neck. He pushed you down onto the couch, his body flat on top of yours, and you could feel his bulge already starting to form.

His lips never left yours as he moved his hands down to disappear under your dress, rubbing and caressing your thighs with his slightly rough hands and causing the skirt to move up to your mid-thigh in the process. His fingers lightly rubbed your clit through your panties, and you moaned into the kiss. He finally pulled away, lips slightly reddened from your lipstick, and smirked. “Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do this since I saw you in the crowd.” You smiled coyly. “Do it, then.” John pulled your skirt all the way up to expose your panties, and unbuttoned the front of your dress to expose your lacy bra. He immediately started groping at your breasts, pulling them out of the bra to squeeze them.

You moaned at the pleasure, and he pinched and teased your nipples with his skilled fingers. “Like that, baby?” You nodded eagerly, and he moved his hands away to instead pull your panties aside, immediately pushing a finger inside of you. “Fuck, you’re dripping wet. And your pussy is so fucking tight.” You spread your legs wider, and he pushed another finger inside you. You clenched around the digits and bit your lip. John reached down and palmed at his bulge as he took in your appearance, and you stared at it. “Need help with that, rockstar?” He grinned and nodded eagerly, and pulled his fingers out of you, sucking the juices off as he went to unbutton and unzip his tight pants.

You reached your hand into his pants to help him pull it out, and he moaned as you wrapped a hand around the base. It was at least 9 inches long and decently thick. You slowly pumped a hand up his shaft, rubbing your thumb over the tip, and he moved the head closer to your mouth. You took the hint and leaned closer, wrapping your lips around the tender head and suckling it. John 5 cursed under his breath and jerked his hips just slightly, and you could already taste his precum in your mouth. After a minute or so, he pulled you off his cock and smiled. “Better save it for the best part.”

You leaned back on the couch and relaxed, and he placed one hand beside you on the couch to steady himself as he used the other to line his cock up with your entrance. “Ready, baby?” You nodded eagerly, and he pushed inside you, immediately stretching your walls out as he kissed up and down your neck and played with your nipples to distract you from the slight pain. After a moment, he began a steady pace, fucking you slowly and roughly as he left a trail of hickies from your neck down to your breasts. “Faster, baby, fuck.” John went faster, holding your hips down with hand to steady himself.

You could feel the knot in your belly starting to come undone, and you pulled him down to smash your lips against his; he sucked on your bottom lip and leaned his forehead against yours, a look of pure bliss on his face. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight and wet, baby. So fucking sexy. You gonna cum for me?” You gasped in pleasure as his tip rubbed against your g-spot, and he smirked. “Right there, baby?” You nodded desperately and threw your head back as he began repeatedly hitting that same spot, and you could tell he was as close to cumming as you were. “Baby, I’m so close!”

“Cum for me baby, fuck, I’m close too!” Your pussy tightened around him as you came, moaning loudly as your toes curled and your eyes rolled back in your head. John 5 came almost as soon as you did, biting down on your neck as he filled your pussy with his cum. When the both of you had finished, heavily panting and worn out, he laid his head down on your chest and soaked in the feeling of his orgasm. “Fuck, that was the most incredible sex I’ve ever had in my life. You’re so fucking amazing.” He kissed your neck, and then pulled away, helping you button up your dress and pull up your panties and then helping himself.

You smiled bashfully. “That was amazing. You’re not so bad yourself..” You took your compact out to fix your makeup and your hair, and then turned to John, who had waited patiently by the door. “I wish we could spend some time together and cuddle, but Manson and the tour bus are leaving soon. Could I have your number? There’s no way I can just let you go without getting it.” You laughed and scribbled your number down on a scrap of paper, and then handed it to him and followed him out to the tour bus. Sure enough, Marilyn was standing in front of the bus, trying to get your friend to stop hugging him so tightly.

“(Y/n)! Me and Marilyn had so much fun together! What did you and John 5 do?” You and John exchanged a look, and you smirked. “Oh, you know, we just talked. Come on, we ought to get out of here now before traffic gets bad. You guys did an amazing set tonight, thanks for giving us some of your time!” John 5 hugged you goodbye; your friend tried to hug Marilyn, but he hurriedly ran into the tour bus and wouldn’t come out, much to Twiggy’s amusement. Your friend left to find the car, and as you were following her, you stopped to wave goodbye to John 5 and Twiggy, giving John a meaningful look that he returned.

“Call me.” You mouthed, and he nodded hurriedly. “Most definitely.” You blew him a kiss, and he caught it with a grin. You giggled one more time, waved to the both of them, and then turned and walked off gracefully to catch up with your friend. John 5 turned to climb back onto the bus, and Twiggy flashed him a drugged-up grin. “Damn, who was that girl? Looked like that one chick, what’s her name, Dina Van Fleece or something? Pinup girl.” John 5 shook his head with a laugh. “Yeah. She’s a pinup girl, Twiggy.” Twiggy boarded the bus, and John glanced in the direction you’d gone in. You were just a dot now, too far away to distinguish any features. John 5 whispered to just himself. “My pretty little pinup girl.”

[bookersebastien]

Heyy! 🎂 🍓 ⛅ 🔪 For the asks?

hi twilight!!!

🎂- if you had 3 wishes, what would they be?

ooh um, to be able to travel wherever i wanted for free, to know every language, for a happy life

🍓- one secret about yourself

ahfjksd okay, it’s my fault my sister has her scar on her eyebrow from when we were like 4 or 5. my parents don’t know and idek if she remembers it

⛅- what is your morning routine?

not much of a routine, but i’ll get up anywhere from 7:30 to 9:30 am and turn on the tv and have breakfast

🔪- scariest/creepiest experience?

when i was a freshman in college i used to take the bus and the closest bus stop was in front of this big main road and i used to have dudes catcalling me all the time and many times guys would try to talk to me at the stops. and one time when i got off the bus (the stop was directly across the street from where i’d get on) i was walking through this bank parking lot and these dudes drove by saying some shit with the window rolled down so i told them to fuck off and flipped them off and they followed me halfway home (which was literally three blocks away so i had to walk around another block to make sure they didn’t follow me all the way)

sweet and pure asks!

[smokeybrand]

Smokey brand Movie Reviews: You Should See Me in a Crown

I’m not a massive fan of the classic Sherlock Holmes tales. I’ve read them all and appreciate the legacy and what they’ve inspired in other works, but they’ve never been my favorite tales. I actually enjoy the various interpretations and re-imaginings much more than the core mythos. I like RDJ’s take in film and the more modern spin with Elementary but, by far, my favorite rendition of Sherlock was the BBC version that made Benadryl Cumquatt a star. That show is inspired, at least the first two seasons, and it blessed me with one of the greatest television villains i have ever had the pleasure of witnessing; Andrew Scott’s Moriarty. My goodness, is he the greatest adaption of that villain! He even looks the part. I say all of this because Enola Holmes dropped today on Netflix. It’s a completely different take on the Holmes mythos centering on Sherlock’s younger sister, Enola and starring Millie Bobby Brown of Stranger Things fame. This is her vehicle, i think she’s producing it, so I'm curious how well it’ll fare. These Stranger kids are all growing up and trying to transition into adult stardom. Finn Wolfhard is doing fine and Millie seems to be taking things into her own hands. Let’s see in those hands are steady enough to push her into the next phase of her career.

The Good

I’m not one for that old timey Victorian aesthetic but i can appreciate the effort it must take to give it life in the modern age. The costumes and sets in this thing are exquisite. This is gorgeous and meticulously crafted film.

This film’s direction is pretty okay. The narrative, itself, leaves a lot to be desired but what is presented, has been deftly constructed. Credit to Harry Bradbeer for that. Dude has directed a few episodes of both Fleabag and Killing Eve so he’s got the chops. I just wish the fare this time was a little more substantial so he could really sink his chops into it.

This cast is loaded. There are several names in supporting roles worth note. Adeel Akhtar, Fiona Shaw, Frances de la Tour, and Susie Wokama all make memorable appearances. Louis Partridge is a little flaccid in the love interest role but he does enough to distract.

Millie Bobby Brown makes this movie. Her Enola Holmes is brilliant, witty, and full of that ardent, rebellious, energy all teenage girls are filled with. Though er story is one of mystery and intrigue, it is, first and foremost, kind of a coming-of-age tale. Brown does a decent job carrying this film and never falters in the same space as older, seasoned, actors like Helena Bonham Carter and Fiona Shaw.

Henry Cavill is basically playing Superman. His Sherlock Holmes is easily the weakest I've ever seen. Dude simply doesn’t have the chops to pull this off. I might be judging him too harshly considering the caliber of actor to have filled this role and made it their own in recent times. These are big shoes to fill but they fit ill on Cavill. This ain’t his story so we don’t really get to see that brilliant deduction but i don’t know that he could have pulled it off even if we did.

Helena Bonham Carter as the Holmes matriarch, Eudoria, is a pleasure. She steals every scene she’s in, even if there aren’t many. The Mrs. Holmes is mostly absent but the specter of her charisma permeates every facet of this film and it’s very welcomed. I just wish there was more of her.

Sam Caflin’s Mycroft Holmes is a very interesting take on the character. Dude is effectively the villain of this narrative. He’s out to force Enola into doing everything she doesn’t want. Dude is the overbearing pops or whatever. It’s awkward seeing Mycroft this way but he is ably portrayed by Caflin so i don’t have too big an issue with him.

The Bad

This thing exudes female energy. It is every bit Enola’s story. Now, I'm not too mad at that. Millie is decent in the role and it is unmistakably her film but that is, in this current climate, very abrasive to some. There is a strong feminist slant in how this narrative is presented and that might turn a lot of people off, depending on if they feel that is “controversial” or not.

There is just SO much exposition in this thing. It’s the nature of the genre, cats have to talk there way through problems or whatever but I've seen this part of these types of stories done much better. Sherlock, for example, found a way to visualize this and did it very well in the first two seasons. This film does not do that. It’s not super terrible but it did take me out of the story a little bit.

The music in this is very distracting. There aren’t many scene where the narrative just let’s you breathes. There’s always a whimsical swell or a punctuation flare to emphasize a shot. This feels like a callow tactic to give more levity and agency to the film where there really isn’t any to be had.

The writing in this is kind of weak. I thought, with how everything was progressing, that it might have been written by several people bu it wasn’t. One person crafted this tale; Jack Thorne. I’m really familiar with the bulk of his work but, if it’ anything like this, i imagine his is an underwhelming catalog.

This thing doesn’t feel like a movie. It feels like a series or that it should have been a series. I don’t see how this thing could have succeeded in the theater and it should count it’s blessings it found a home on Netflix because this definitely would have flopped. This thing feels like a proper Netflix movie, not a Hollywood outing.

As if to dive my previous point home, this is definitely sequel fodder. This film was made with several to follow in mind. Enola Holmes is a whole ass book series so there is definitely material to be had there. There’s six book so content isn’t lacking but i kind of feel like that ending should have felt a little more finite. This cash grab attempt at film universes and sequel bait is the most disingenuous sh*t ever outside of microtransactions in games and i kind of hate it. It’s wild to see everyone release sub-par entries on the hope they can patch the sh*t with sequels but everyone forgets that Iron Man was exceptional. It’s easily the third best MCU film and was the first to release. That first film has to be solid enough to bare the weight of a entire franchise and Enola Holmes ain’t doing that level of heavy lifting.

This film wears it’s Young Adult categorization like a badge of honor. You can tell this film is just a step and a half up from the likes of Riverdale or Nancy Drew. As a grown as man, this was not for me and i understand that very well. That said, it falls into that same, tropey, nothingness that the worst of the YA genre is known for, which is all the more reason this should have been a serial not a film. It’s not aggressive in it’s cliche but, if you’ve seen as many films as i have, you pick up on it immediately. For me, that’s the biggest issue with the film but for others. it might not even be worth mentioning.

The Verdict

Enola Holmes is a very cute, but flawed, viewing experience. It’s an interesting take on the Sherlock formula, injected with all of the GRRRL power you’d expect from a film starring a teenage woman in the lead. It’s not pretentious or forceful about it’s messaging but you definitely understand that there is a message it wants to convey. Millie Bobby Brown is excellent as Enola, easily the second best thing about this movie after the scenery chewing Bonham Carter, and there are some strong supporting performances. Cavill is a miss as Sherlock and Mycroft might as well be a mustache twirling villain but, in service to this particular narrative, the change in character makes sense. The film, itself, is ably directed and it’s a legitimately gorgeous watch but there are severe shortcomings. The writing is pedestrian, the plot is cliche, and to cover up these weaknesses, the music is leaned on too heavily. The foremost mystery isn’t one of true merit, i figured it out about halfway through, and it eschews the real conundrum for later time. The whole premise of this movie delivers a relatively intriguing situation but that is left for a later film to resolve and i kind of hate it. Sh*t was mad bogus. None of these issues are very pressing but they are noticeable and, at times, a little grating. Still, i was never bored and it is a rather well put together film, overall, even if it does feel like it should have been a proper miniseries. Enola Holmes is worth a watch but, understand, mileage may vary. I thought there was potential going forward but this thing should have definitely been a series and not a film.

[ificouldau]

Section 3 - Chapter 23

> 62% of you chose to grab Dino’s hand.

38% of you chose to back away.

You reach forward, no time to spare, Chan’s fingers locking into your own as he pulls you into the safe haven of the cave tunnel.

You feel the heat of the fire lapping at the side of your face as you duck underneath the wooden planks. Jihoon follows, right on your tail.

The two of you collapse onto the dark ground in fright, all of the other boys backing away to let you catch your breath. A mere second slower, and it could’ve all been over from there. The burning red flames spread thoroughly across the wood, lapping at the cave air in a boiling rage.

You turn to look back at Jihoon, noticing a light burn stretched across his arm despite his unmoved expression.

( -1 Health: Woozi )

“Are you okay?” You ask frantically, “I’m so sorry, I should’ve been faste-” “I’m okay.”

He sends you a quick, subtle smile, looking grateful more so than in pain. His ever so slightly gentle manner says it all; you did good. ( +1 Reputation: Woozi )

You cough away the smoke as Vernon helps you to your feet.

“The others…” Chan begins, struggling to see past the high flames. Jeonghan is quick to ease his worry.

“They’ll be fine. Believe me.”

“What are we supposed to do now?” Soonyoung asks, a barely conscious Mingyu resting upon his and Joshua’s shoulders. You all take a moment to gather your surroundings, glancing about at the rocky cave walls and the tunnel extending down into Lord knows what.

Jihoon wipes the sweat off of his forehead and stares down the dark passageway with concern. You don’t have many options. It’s clear that there’s nowhere else to head, other than forward or back through the violent fire. You all walk on silently, knowing full well you’ve no other choice.

A long while- minutes, maybe hours- passes before any sort of image other than rocks and darkness meets your eyes.

“Are you-“ Chan stutters, squinting his eyes, “Is that-“

A rusty old ladder comes into view before he can finish his sentence, fastened tightly against the cavern wall and headed up into what seems to be a trapdoor.

“What kind of shitty horror movie is this?” You hear Jeonghan mutter as Shua takes the lead, clambering the first few rungs up. Soonyoung shakes Mingyu a bit in his hold, and the exhausted boy’s eyes flutter halfway open in confusion.

“Wake up,” Soonyoung murmurs, “I can't carry you up that thing.”

Mingyu struggles to stand on his own, slowly easing back onto his feet and grabbing his stomach as if just remembering the pain of his wounds. He stays silent all the while, watching Soonyoung grab onto the ladder without a complaint to be said.

Jihoon goes next with a blank look on his face, but as he turns to look back, you smile, flashing two thumbs up his way.

“Dumbass,” He scoffs. You follow behind him, grabbing hold of the grimy rungs.

Within moments, the pitch black cave is flooded with dim, gray sunlight. Jihoon pulls you up onto the surface, and you look around to realize you’ve entered into some sort of old storage room.

As Vernon helps Mingyu off of the ladder, Joshua pulls open the first door he sees, revealing your location to be some sort of empty store. With bare racks and expired cans littered throughout the dusty tile, it's clear that it's been abandoned for quite some time.

“If we’re here…” Chan begins, a finger on his chin as he looks over the shattered windows, “We must be in some sort of city, right?” Jeonghan nods. “We better find somewhere to go, then.”

The boys take their cue to head out, making their way over to the graffiti covered front door. Right as Joshua reaches for the handle, however, Vernon’s hesitant expression at the back of the group catches your eye.

“Hey,” You mutter, leaving Jihoon’s side and trotting over to join Hansol, “Is something wrong?”

His eyes darken for a moment. It’s clear he’s not feeling alright. “No, nothing.”

“Okay,” You begin walking away to allow him space, “But if there is, you know I’m here.”

Joshua pushes open the door to reveal a sight so expected yet so damn sudden: a city street, people going about their days and cars roaming about as if a cult sacrifice weren’t happening beneath their buildings just moments ago. The boys take a second to process the situation before continuing down the sidewalk, ignoring the judgemental glares of those passing by.

“Wait,” You hear Hansol say softly, tugging at your hoodie and cueing you to the back of the group to walk with him.

“Yeah?”

“I… Honestly…” He struggles to land his wording, “I just… I’m going to tell you the truth… I… I actually... know where we are.”

Your eyes widen. “You know where we…?” “Yeah, but… damn it…”

He rubs a hand at the back of his neck, closing his eyes for a moment and prepping himself to delve into detail.

“It’s...” He mutters, “It’s near where the note says. But like I told you before, I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle where we might end up…” You briefly remember the note, and the fight with Soonyoung, and the man on the bus, and the shithole of a journey it took to get here. Your heart thumps with hope, but Hansol’s nervous expression throws that excitement off balance.

“Look,” You say gently, “You know that address better than any of us. I… As much as we might need it… I won’t force you to tell me. It’s not my place to make that choice for you.”

Vernon closes his eyes, relieving a quiet sigh before meeting your gaze.

“Thank you,” He mutters, “But…”

“But…?”

“But now that there’s no other choice... I… I’ll take you.”

His words catch you off guard. “You’ll… take us?”

“I’ll take you. But… they’ll kill me if I change my mind now, I-”

“Who’s gonna kill you?” Soonyoung’s loud voice chimes in as he throws an arm around Vernon’s shoulders.

You meet his challenging gaze, eyes full of mischief and utter dislike.

“No one,” You say before Hansol can speak, coming right to the poor boy’s defense, “Hey- Jihoon! Wait up!”

As you pull Vernon over to the front of the group and away from Soonyoung, the older boy’s fiery stare darkens. He backs away to talk to Mingyu, eyes never losing track of you. Vernon heaves a soft, relieved sigh, clearly grateful to have your genuine help. You imagine how things might’ve gone if you hadn’t been here.

( +1 Reputation: Vernon )

For the next long while, you all walk along the streets, brushing off the countless stares as you move. Thanks to the boys trailing your path blindly, you’re able to follow Hansol’s silent directions without getting him into trouble. His mere points and gestures are enough to finally stop you at a tall apartment complex, where you all stand staring up in awe.

Fountains line the sides of the building, complemented by neatly trimmed bushes and trees. Hansol briefly gestures for you to lead the others inside, so you do.

“Why are we going in here?” Mingyu asks innocently, Vernon glancing towards you for help.

You wait patiently as the elevator door slides open. The boys file inside in confusion.

“I… think I remember this building name on the note.”

Joshua frowns. “Are you sure it's this city? How did you know where to go?”

“Just trust me.”

Vernon holds up four fingers at his side, so you press the button for the fourth floor. As the elevator dings and the boys pour out into the hallway, he tugs at the rim of your hoodie, nodding up towards one slick black door amongst the many others. You don’t waste a second before trotting up to the wood and knocking.

“Wait- Are you sure?” Chan asks, brows furrowed in worry, “Did you have the address memorized this whole time? What if this isn’t even the right city on the-”

The door swings open before he can finish his question, and you’re all completely taken aback to see Seungcheol standing before your eyes.

He looks happy, even freshened up in new clothes, and soon the others you’d left behind are crowded right behind him with smiles on their faces.

“You’re not dead!” Mingyu gasps, running forward and pulling Wonwoo and Minghao into his arms. Chatter fills the hallway almost instantly as the boys meet yet again, making such a fuss that you’re forced to stand back for a moment and watch. As they laugh and check in, however, Vernon stands still at the back with a dark expression. You forget what this place might mean to him, wherever it is. He meets your gaze as you walk over. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” You ask. He relieves a shaky breath, but a smiley Seokmin hurries over and rushes both of you inside before the boy can think up an answer.

Marble floors and spotless leather couches are the first to greet you as you walk inside, and you almost forget about the situation entirely at the sight of chandeliers and floor to ceiling windows. The group stands frozen in surprise, and those who wound up here first still seem just as awestruck as the rest.

You raise an eyebrow. “How did you guys…?”

“One of the cult dudes! Can you believe it?” Junhui replies. Seungcheol shakes his head, nodding your way with a subtle smile. “He brought us down a tunnel and went back to finish the fight. We were lost until a man stopped us on the street. I didn’t want to trust him at first, but he showed us a picture of the guy… the one from the bus. Explained he’d been looking for us, thirteen guys and a girl… Drove us over here, and-”

“And you’re safe now, is what.” You glance up at the low, unfamiliar voice, shocked to see another new face. A middle aged man, sporting dirty blonde hair and a neat black dress shirt walks out from one of the rooms to greet you, eyes crinkling into a smile upon seeing you all arrive. “It’s nice to finally meet you all. I’ll show you your rooms, where to find clothes and towels and all of that… So please, feel at home.”

He shakes your hands one by one, wearing simple white gloves and thin squared glasses. Vernon pulls his arm back hesitantly as the stranger comes his way for a greeting, but while the others look on in shock, your heart hurts a bit to see it.

“I…” The man begins, subtle pain in his eyes for a brief moment as he steps back from Hansol, “I’ll… just get dinner ready. The TV is on, so feel free… I… Okay. I won’t be long.”

The man turns around, heading off into the kitchen without looking back even once. You look on at Hansol in pity, unsure of the situation, but the others crowd around him with puzzled looks before you can get there first.

“What was that, Vernon?” Seungcheol asks, eyes wide, “Is there something suspicious about him? I thought so, too… Maybe we should leave? He could be dangerous, I don’t kno-”

“No,” Vernon says quietly, turning away from the group with eyes on the ground, “He’ll take perfect care of us. Don’t worry.” “Then what was…?” You place a careful hand on Cheol’s arm, silently shushing him as you watch Vernon ease himself onto the couch. The others all look on quietly, just as clueless as the rest as Hansol relieves a soft sigh and glances up at you with a weak smile.

“Wanna watch a movie?” He asks, “Or Wonwoo can kick your ass at some games?”

It’s almost as if nothing had happened at all throughout the mess of a day. As if the kidnapping, the fight, the cave, the fire... had just never existed. The boys share nervous mumbles of confusion as you frown. Hansol waits patiently with bright eyes on yours.

- Watch a movie.

or

- Play games.

( Vote now on instagram.com/ificould_au. You have 24 hours. )

[probably-writing-x]

Falling like the stars

~Shawn Mendes~

~Based on Falling Like the Stars by James Arthur~

Tour was an incredible experience to word in the most mundane way. Every night, Shawn's young soul felt utterly overwhelmed by the downpour of love that echoed through sold out arenas as he was welcomed with hours of reminders that all of his dreams were now real, present realities. It was all he could wish it could be.

But one thing was missing from those nights. He didn't have his star sitting cross legged on the left side of the stage, always the left. He didn't have her swaying in her seated position, only miming along since she wanted to make sure she took in as much of his voice as humanly possible. He didn't have her to give him a chaiste squeeze of his hand before he ran through the crowd. And that could sometimes make it feel like arenas might as well be empty.

"Come on man, are you alright?" Connor waves a hand in front of Shawn's face, "Stop missing her so much!"

"No, I'm not- I mean it's not-" Shawn stutters, running a hand across his hair, "I'm fine,"

Connor tips his head to the side in a typical 'don't bullshit me'.

"I'm fine," Shawn encourages, "Come on, we're missing the match,"

Connor turns his attention back to the screen of the tour bus that was currently playing the basketball game and it gives Shawn a chance to slip back into his feelings.

He'd promised you that he wouldn't think about you too much when he was away, thanks to you knowing how upset he got if he thought about not seeing you for too long. He'd also promised that, when he got home, he wouldn't let you leave his arms, he'd never let go. And the last few weeks had been spent with him constantly regretting not saying goodbye to you one more time before he left. Or not missing his taxi so that he could stay with you for another ten minutes.

You had been friends for long enough to know that you were destined to stay together for the rest of your lives. Up until recently, Shawn had assumed that eternity would remain completely platonic. And then he realised he was falling faster than he could keep up with. He realised that ache in his heart wasn't loneliness but instead it was the realisation that he'd already found the one to cure all loneliness, heal all sadness and give all love. He'd had you right beside him and now, he was halfway across the world feeling more distant from you than any ocean could represent.

Shawn excused himself silently from the group and found seclusion in the bed he took as his own at the back of the bus. It was just a little too short for his long legs and he always felt tangled in the sheets when his legs weren't intertwined with yours after somehow managing to fall asleep during another film.

The two of you weren't dating. No, definitely not. But neither showed any interest in dating anyone else and there had been far too many occasions where you did things above the friendship boundary. Hands that trickled into each others hold during a long car journey. Fingers that dropped low on your back as he guided you through a crowd, no inch of your skin feeling uncomfortable in his touch. Lips that ghosted almost too close too kissing - never going so far as to do so.

But, now, he was dialling your number because no other option seemed plausible.

"Hey Shawn!" Your voice sounds from the other end of the call, though he is only met with the image of your ceiling instead of the face he hoped to see, "I'm just making myself some lunch, are you okay?"

"I can't see you," He mumbles, pulling his knees up to his chest and tugging the cuffs of his hoodie a little more over his hands.

"Oh, shit, sorry," You chuckle, fiddling to prop the screen up against the coffee machine, "I didn't realise you were facetiming. How are you?"

"I'm good, just tired," He comments in a lousy attempt at shadowing his low state.

You frown and drop the wooden spoon in your hand into the pot, turning your full attention to the boy, "Dude, what's wrong?"

" Just, 'm missing you is all," Shawn mumbles, "It's been too long,"

"Come on man," You pout, "You're killing me! You know I miss you too, but it's only a few more days and then you're back, right?"

"But the shows are over now, I can't distract myself with them," He admits, taking a deep breath as his chest felt far too tight, "It's just interviews and press,"

"Then distract yourself with them, and then you can focus on coming home. This place feels so cold without you, and the view gets a little boring when you're not picking out things I haven't noticed," You laugh, "I've got everything planned for when you're home, too,"

"Tell me," Shawn says, shifting in the bed so that he flops a bit lower onto the pillow, the camera low in an angle that somehow still refused to give him a double chin as it did for you.

"Okay," You clap your hands, "I've already picked out enough films to last approximately 24 hours. I've got my shopping list of all of your favourites. And I've said to your mum that we'll go round there on Friday night - and I asked her to cook that meal you love,"

Despite his low state, Shawn can't help but smile at your efforts. His parents loved you as they would love any daughter-in-law. You still went there for dinners when he wasn't home and you still met up with Aaliyah to go out for a girly day. But it was always 'Shawn's friend' when they introduced you to anyone. And you didn't realise how much it would hurt every time those exact words were used.

"What are your plans for the next few days then?" You encourage at least some conversation from Shawn, moving your phone as you settle into a stool at the island in the kitchen.

"I don't want to talk about me, tell me what you're doing,"

You knew Shawn was really low when he got like this. When even the thought of himself felt like something he wanted to erase. When he wanted nothing but to focus his attention solely on someone else - namely you.

"Okay, well I've got my nieces and nephews coming tomorrow so that should be an interesting one," You laugh, "All four of them on my own! But it will be good, I'm sure we'll end up going on some adventure,"

As you continue to ramble about your upcoming days, Shawn can't help but fixate on the idea. He'd come to imagine his future if the two of you were really together. And he always imagined you two as parents. Four exactly. Sure, you'd be living on no sleep and an empty fridge and the desperation for a minute of silence but it would be somehow perfect. You'd have nights with one child on each knee, telling them stories about how you two met or how their Daddy embarrassed himself on countless occasions. Maybe you'd walk in on him singing to them and it would be the picture of everything you could ever ask for. Maybe he could be part of all you'd ever ask for.

"Honestly, S, I'm sure I'm losing my mind," You exclaim, laughing with your own mishap, "I just keep forgetting everything. Yesterday I walked all the way back from the shop and realised I'd driven there in the first place! It must be my old age,"

Shawn laughs absently and lets himself focus solely on that idea instead. When your kids have grown up and it is just you two once again, you changed in no way from the girl he learnt he could truly, truly love. You'd be one of those couples still completely engrossed in each other, devoted to making sure your past vows were still followed, through sickness and health.

"Brian's asked me to go out with him tomorrow night but I don't think I'll drink. You know he's a bad influence and you also know what happened last time I went out with him," You shake your head.

Yes. He did know. He remembered holding your hair back and stroking your back as you brought up the regret of that one last drink, and the next one, and maybe the one after that. He remembers finally giving up and letting you sleep on the couch, and he remembers not sleeping because he feared what would happen if he didn't keep an eye on you. Shawn remembers forcing himself to count at least fifty reasons why the two of you should just stay friends. He got one - he didn't want to lose you.

"Right, I'm going to have to go honey," You conclude, "Just, don't even think about home. Enjoy your last couple of days of freedom because, as soon as you get back, I expect you to catch up on all the chore days you've missed, understand Mendes?"

"I'll see you soon, okay?" He seals, "Real soon,"

Before you can respond, the facetime call ends.

That's when it washes over. These interviews could be cancelled, these flights could be moved forward. Anything could be twisted to make it possible. The only thing holding him back from being with you was his fear. Well... they say you're most fearless when you're young.

~~~

"You're sure about this?" Andrew chases after him as Shawn gathers up his already packed suitcase and his guitar case - the others could bring back the rest.

"No, god, no," Shawn shakes his head frantically, eyes wide to hopefully take in anything he'd left, "But I'd rather settle it now. Know where I stand, y'know?"

"What happens if she-" Andrew starts but he knows it will pain Shawn too much to think about the end of that sentence. He refrains from completing it.

"If she doesn't love me back? Then I've lost the most important person in my life, the entire future I want and things won't ever be the same between us," He clasps his friend on the shoulder, "But I'm trying to not think about that too much, buddy,"

Before anyone can say anything more, Shawn's got his bags in hand and he's stepping off the bus, walking the length beside the vehicle towards the waiting taxi.

~~~

He thought about it for the whole journey to the airport, he thought about it when he was going through security, all the way to the flight where he realised even loud music wouldn't drown out the questions flooding his mind.

Eyes focused on the sea underneath the blanket of clouds he now flew above, Shawn knew exactly where he stood. Vulnerable and fearful, throwing it all out on the line, Shawn was coming back to you. And the thought of you on the other side of the door to your place was enough to guide him home. Always.

~~~

You were sure you'd dreamt it when you first heard the knock. Sure it was the concoction of the fatigue in your mind and the ache in your heart. It couldn't have possibly been real. You'd been on the phone to him only 12 hours prior.

But there it was again.

And, somehow, as the early hours past midnight crept lonely through the apartment, you found yourself unable to resist the slight glimmer of hope that he would be on that other side of the door.

The almost-known source knocked again before you opened the door, wanting to truly make sure that it wasn't just a figment of your imagination. But, as the door between you opened, you were met with none other than the only person you hoped to see at this hour.

"Shawn what are you-" You begin, "I mean, how did you-"

"(Y/n), you talk way too much and it's one of the things I love about you but, right now, I've been planning what I'm going to say for the past six hours on that Goddamn flight so I just need to say it," Shawn says breathlessly, pausing to breathe once, twice before continuing, "When we were sixteen, you told me that there was one way you'd know you were in love. What did you say?"

You stutter a little and swallow the thick lump in your throat, "I... I told you that it would feel like you were falling through the stars,"

"Right," Shawn nods, "Well, I think I'm falling a bit too fast (Y/n),"

All of this was making your head ache and your heart race. You dug your nails into the middle of your palm just a little harshly. Would you wake up?

"See, what I've realised is that I lose myself when I'm not with you. And that's not just something platonic, it's because I've found the person I want to spend all my moments with. The person I'm not afraid to tell that..." He stops and looks you dead in the eye, "I love you,"

You're completely stunned speechless - which happened rarely but always seemed to be around Shawn. When you first heard his album. When he brought you to one of his live shows for the first time. When he asked you to move in with him. Now.

"I-" You begin but the attempts are filled with futile effort, "I can't-"

You watch Shawn's mouth drop slightly as he expects the rest of that sentence to be completely negative.

"I can't believe we're doing this in the doorway at 2am," You laugh, "You dickhead,"

With that you find yourself stepping forward to kiss him, latching onto lips you'd been longing for. His hands are uncertain at first, falling back into teenage fear, before they become sure of themselves and one moves to your hair, the other pressing against the small of your back like it could bring you any closer.

"You didn't say it," Shawn mumbles against your lips, trying to calm his breathing as he settles his forehead against yours.

"I'm not falling Shawn. I'm already there," You admit, "I'm in love with you. Completely and utterly in love with you,"

~~~

Tags: @imarypayne @sunshine112 @bringmethehorizonandpizza @supernatural-girl97 @vibhati123 @butithasntkilledyouyet @faefictions @carisi-sonny @trap-house-homiecide @spiderrpcrker @tommydaspidey @oneblckcoffee @darlingtholland @fanficparker @xxtomxo @httpfandxms

[airariaira]

Quatrième - 04/03/2020

Alright, strap yourselves in lads, because I left the writing of this about a week later than I usually do so this post will probably be a bit of a long one. First of all I’d like to say again that yes, I feel that my French is improving quite a lot with each day here - even if I’m not perfect, but confidence is growing and I’m definitely more confident in saying the things I say often.

Now, let’s go back to the 13th of February. My journal entry from that day seems a bit of a negative one, because I was writing about my conflicting feelings that sometimes pop up - whether I should allow my classmates to approach me first and thus seem like the quiet and awkward exchange student, or whether I should approach them first and feel like I’m pushing myself on them. It feels a little overwhelming sometimes to be surrounded by so many cool French people when my language skills often can’t keep up (and perhaps a bit the same with my social skills too 😂). Sometimes it feels like I’m wasting the opportunity right in front of me when I don’t have the confidence to strike up a conversation. As mentioned by Alex in his blog, I know I shouldn’t keep myself at a distance from my peers, but it’s so hard not to fall into the trap of doing that when 1. I’m leaving in only a month (oh my goodness, it’s so soon 😱), and 2. the past two weeks have been holidays and I haven’t seen any of them at all (reasoning for that is distance, being busy, and/or the fact that the week following the holidays - this week - is their BAC blanc exams, which is prelim exams for all you NZ ppl).

The 14th was a better day. Of course it being Valentine’s Day, the Cœur de Troyes is a major attraction on that day. I should have wandered by it to see it all dressed up. That morning I was late to school (great first time French school experience...) I was close to catching the bus, but just not close enough.. How frustrating it was to watch that bus leave without me right before my eyes. I caught the next bus, but it turns out that my bus card had run out that day. However, the bus had already left so I took that ride without a working bus card (oh heck, is that police sirens I hear?) So all in all, that was a day of many bus hardships. Because of all that, I walked home and it was actually really lovely to take the chance to admire the city again. Sometimes I find myself getting a bit comfortable and I have to remind myself that omg I really am  a c t u a l l y  in France right now! 

On Saturday the 15th I went to the market with Marie. The market here is so cool. Lots of bustling people buying all the things they need for the week, there’s live chickens, cheese of course, clothes, a whole lot of other random stuff... The market is a pretty big thing in French culture so I enjoy going and seeing it. That afternoon we drove to pick up Antoine from a friend’s house, who lives a few towns over. It was a really nice day, so the sun hit the rolling countryside really nicely that day. We also drove through some small towns I hadn’t seen yet, and they were very cute. I’ll never stop being impressed by all the beautiful old buildings in France. That evening I made a silly language mistake and mixed up the words for packing bags and doing the dishes, so now whenever I hear one I think of the other. 😅

Sunday 16th had us travelling down to Marseilles for out 5-day holiday. It was a 7 hour drive, but we took the whole day because we stopped off at Marie’s sister’s place for lunch. She and her partner live close to where Alex is placed, so I took this truly wonderful quality photo to demonstrate to him whereabouts I was:

For lunch we had raclette, the weather was very nice, and so was the company. Marie’s sister’s husband’s children were there too. Last minute, it was decided his daughter Ambre would come along on the holiday with us which was nice. So we switched to a bigger car and set off again. When we reached Marseilles it was almost pretty much dark, but I could still see the countryside - different but really nice. The city is an eclectic mix of old and new, and there’s even a Hollywood style sign (like in Wellington!) here’s another definitely really great quality photo...

Some of the highlights from our trip to Marseilles:

Visited the museum (called Mucem)

Place des Pistoles

The Cathedral

The Notre-Dame of Marseilles

Picnic on the beach

Visit to Cassis

It’s very easy to get around Marseilles, because there’s a card called “le ticket” which you can access not only the Metro with, but also the busses, which is very useful. The Metro system is also a lot more simple than the one in Paris, because it only has two lines. The city is also quite pretty because it’s this nice mixture of old buildings, street art, flowers and plants overflowing from balconies, sculptures, and sunshine of course. People’s accents in the south are also a bit different to in the places further north, so that was interesting for me to experience too. The first day (Monday) was a bit rainy, so we decided to visit Mucem, which was nice. The museum was incredible. The two exhibits I liked the most were one on voyages and travel, which had a mixture of different art pieces that I really adored. One of them was this light globe, which seemed cool... Until we noticed that the rug in the foreground had left out New Zealand! Typical 😂

The other exhibit I really liked was one on the life and work of the famous and very celebrated French author/poet named Giono. He was a part of the world wars, so a lot of his work is descried as being often very haunting. I hope to be able to read some of it sometime. I wish I could have stayed in the museum for longer and committed the exhibits to memory. After seeing the exhibits, we headed outside onto the roof, where there’s a pretty herb garden and a gorgeous view all around you of the city and the sea.

The following days, the weather was a heck of a lot better, with the sun out and about I almost forgot it was winter at some points! On Tuesday we visited a pretty old part of town, and walked along the Place Des Pistoles, which is an area of streets dedicated to street art. it was very pretty, and I guess you could say it felt ... right up my alley 😏

After that, we went to the Catheral which was nice - it was very very big inside, and the weather at that point was very very windy outside.

Following that, we continued with the church thing and went to visit the very high-up Notre-Dame of Marseille. Because it’s so high up we were able to take a bus thank goodness, and there was also a gorgeous view of the city below us. 

The inside was incredibly extravagant and shiny...

On Wednesday we went for a picnic lunch on the beach. We definitely earned it, as we had many bus mishaps on the way there! It was a very sunny day, but the wind was very strong on the beach. We also amassed a small army of seagulls, pigeons, sparrows, and other miscellaneous birds while we were eating. This is the view back from the shore:

There was also this dude here across the road from the beach:

Thursday was a wonderful day. It was also the half way point of my exchange, whaaaat!? We drove out to the pretty nearby village of Cassis. It was even warmer there - so warm I didn’t even need to wear a jacket! We went on a short walk first, and got some nice views of the cliff-faces, water, and boats below:

(Cassis has always been a boating/fishing area. I can see why, with how beautifuul the water and the weather is!)

^ Ambre, Lola and I

Halfway through the walk, we stopped on some warm rocks for a rest and some lunch. It was really nice in the sun.

Lola, myself, Lola, and Olivier.

Clearly I missed the peace sign memo AND the cup holding memo!

After that, we wandered around the town a litte bit. It is truly a beautiful place - I couldn’t really believe I was seeing it all with my very own eyes.

There were also a few groups of people very intensely playing games of Petanque. I think Dad and Lisa would have appeciated that. We then had icecream while looking over all the boats. It feels very odd writing about the nice weather there when currently as I am writing it is 6pm and suddenly very rainy! That evening, we had dinner at a friend of Marie’s. It was very nice, and their family was lovely and welcoming. I did gett a little overwhelmed at one point because there was a lot of rapid French being spoken by a lot of different people all at once and it was difficult for my tired self to keep up after a big day. However it was still enjoyable. Us younger ones got along pretty well. It’s a little weird, meeting all these nice people here while I’m exchange and realising that I may very well never see some of them again... On Friday the 21st we drove back home, stopping off to drop off Ambre and to have some lunch there too. 

That weekend was quiet. On Sunday Marie’s mother joined us for lunch. We then went to the house in Geraudot for a short while, then went for a walk along a different, bigger, lake nearby. I would love to see it in the summer, when all the restaurants and things were open, people camping just across the road, the golden sand in the sun... Here’s a picture from the ride home to demonstrate why the landscape here sometimes gives me (coming from Blenheim surrounded by hills) shellshock. Tell me, am I living in that Window’s screensaver we all know and love?

On Monday evening I went to watch my first sports game ever - a French football game (sorry Kiwi rugby diehards). The Troyes football team is called Estac. The game felt a little slow at times, but other times I found myself getting pretty into it! A good experience in general.

On Wednesday evening, three friends of Lola’s came for an early overnight celebration for Lola’s birthday. We played a game called “Ta Mere En Slip”, which is a little like “Heads Up”, but with a person and an action to guess. Here’s a photo from that:

Thursday 27 February - Paris no. 2

On Thursdays, usually Marie works in Paris, taking an early train there and an evening train back. We decided that it could be a cool idea for me to travel over with her and spend the day by myself. It was an... interesting day, to say the least.

We had an early start, took the train, and then recharged my Metro card once we got there. All good, mostly, except until the card didnt work, which was a little awkward and confusing 🙄 After getting through that, Marie and I parted ways; she on her way to a meeting at work, and I on a metro to the Louvre. I had some trouble with the many confusing lines once I got there, and another tourist even asked me if she was in the riht line, to which I replied that I was sorry I was also rather confused! I hope she found her way in the end, because we were both very much in the wrong line but for different reasons. I found the correct line for me, and then I was in the Louvre! I ended up spending upward of three hours here, there was so much to see. Beautiful paintings that are so nice to appreciate in person, Greek and Roman sculpture (my inner classics nerd was wilding, it was great to see these things that I’d studied up close), some gorgeous neoclassical and otherwise French sculpture, beautiful extravagant objects from past French royalty, even Eastern and Egyptian antiquities. There was just so much and of course it was impossible to see it all (though naturally I tried - my sore feet did not thank me later). That moment of awe you feel when you see something that you truly ove is near indescribable. Here’s some photos of some of my favourite things that I saw:

A bust of Alexander the Great

Some very  impressive, large paintings

The very very extravagant ceiling in one of the gallery rooms

A view of the pyramid, the little doll people, and the not-so-great weather outside from the beautiful objects area with all the past belongings of French monarchs

A nice piece from the French sculpture area

I got pretty lucky with my trip to the Louvre for a few reasons. One was that my ticket was for the morning at opening time, so I managed to get in before the worst of the crowds. Pretty awesome being able to wander around without being hindered too badly by lots of other people also trying to get as close as they possibly can to every piece. The other reason I got lucky was because the Louvre is now closed. It closed on Saturday the 29th of February, and remains closed now, it being unclear when it may open again. This was following an announcement of a nation-wide ban of gatherings of more than 5000 people in a confined space. The Louvre, of course, falls under this category.

Anyway, after that very long musemum trip, I was happily full with appreciation for art nd culture, however I was also very hungry and thirsty (no drink bottles allowed in the museum haha). So I went outside and got myself a bite to eat from a bakery stall outside, which I had overlooking the pretty garden outside (yes it was raining a bit and the bench was a little damp too, so yes I sacrificed my rain jacket to sit on). The interaction I had with the person at the bakery stall felt like the most natural interaction all in French I had had with a customer service person so far. I think that was the proudest I’d ever been of myself simply for ordering a sandwich! 😂 It was nice to just sit down with my food and admire my surroundings and people watch for a while. I could even see the Eiffel tower fro my spot, which was nice. I then wandered all the way through the garden, admiring the flowers and fountains and sculptures and the many many empty benches. I’d love to see how it looks in the sun - I bet those benches will be pretty well occupied in the springtime. After that I went on a mission for toilets and discovered the truly wonderful and fantastic thing that is Paris’ tendency for toilets that cost money to use. After that delightful exprience I headed to see the Obelisk. I may have been walking against the wind and rain, but the area was still pretty. 

I then walked all the way down the Champs- Élysées (my poor feet), until I reached the Arc de Triomphe. It was by then only the early afternoon and I realised I was at a bit of a loss as to what to do. I had options, of course, but the travel to them on the metro or busses or otherwise seemed confusing and I had the added issue of not having any data or wifi to use google maps with. (Next time I am definitely getting some data - that would have solved a whole lot of problems 🙄). Long story short, one thing led to another and I ended up stressy ugly-crying with a burger I didn’t want in a McDonalds just so I could use the wifi to try and make sense of the metro system, while messaging Marie. Then to top it all off, my bathroom grievances continued because, naturally, the bathroom in that restaurant was another one that costed, and I had spent the last of my change on that burger. Dang. Anyways, I decided to go down to the metro to try and find my way to the Montmartre church. However, my metro card problems continued, my confusion of the metro system continued, and I ended up on the phone to Marie who said she would come meet me. I felt very bad that she left work for me, she said it was all okay, but naturally I still felt bad. She found me eventually, a littel tearstained and very embarrassed, and we headed on the metro to Montmartre together. She tried to explain the metro system to me a bit more, which was good and I feel like I’ve got a liiiittle bit of a better handle on it now.

On the steep walk up to Montmartre there were lots and lots of tourist shops, and then a lot a lot of stairs, with some street art on the walls which was pretty cool. The church was very pretty. We didn’t go inside, but the outside was very nice. All the surrounding fences were cooovered in lovers’ padlocks

The viewn was also very nice. Paries views (and I think French views in genral?) are always interesting. A mix of that classic Parisian architecture, you know the one -modern buildings, well-known monuments, building cranes, oooold old buildings and monuments, and sometimes the odd bit of big street art on the high-up walla. It’s never the same view you expect to see. 

After that nice wee trip we went to grab a coffee and stop off at the cafe’s toilets before we headed home. However, toilet grievance number 3 hit us suddenly because the toilets were out of order. After that we decided to head to the train station and leave a littel earlier than originally planned. I was so tired after a big day I couldn’t help but fall asleep on the train 😂 Once we were back home I recounted my metro meltdown and we all decided that perhaps public transport (missing train stops, being confused by the metro and bus syetems...) is simply not my strong point, lol. Anyways, despite the stressy moments of that day, all in all it was a good experience, and the good moments were really enjoyable. I’m not going to letit deter me, and I hope in the future I’ll have more chances to explore the city and improve my knowledge of how to get around.

Saturday the 29th was a good day. We had gratin dauphinois for lunch, which was cool because it reminded me of my Nanna because it was one of her specialties, and it reminded me of the one time I made it for a culture project for French class. That afternoon, Marie and I headed back to the museum with the section on bonneterie, because there’s a new exposition there at the moment. It’s on the brand of socks called Doré Doré, celebratng it’s 200 year anniversary (weird that a sock brand in France is older than the entire government in New Zealand), and the factories have been based in Troyes since the beginning. It was cute, and a littel funny with all the little socks and things. There were lots of these big sock wall decorations outside the exhibit:

Sunday was the last day of the holidays. In the morning Marie, Lola and I went to the bakery to pick up Lola’s birthday cake. Her birthday isn’t until the 7th, but on Sunday afternoon there was some family coming to celebrate. It’s funny when we go into any store, every time the cashier assumes I’m a separate customer, so I’m now well practiced at saying oh no thank you we are all together. For lunch, Marie’s mother, brother, his partner, and their young son Jack-Jack came around. There was nice conversation, nice food, and then a game of ‘Ta Mere En Slip’. They’re all very nice, and it feels easier now than every for me to speak French with groups of people. It’s still hard sometimes, but it’s much better! 

Yesterday was interesting. It was sort of the first day back at school. I got up early, Marie took Lola and I to school as usual... However I had neglected to check what the case was with the BAC blanc exams this week. Turns out that no, there is no classes at all, and it is in fact just tests all throughout the week. So that was an interesting time for me, turning up there and my classmates finding it funny I was there at all. So I just headed back home after spending a little while in the school library, and sike! I have, in some ways, another week of holidays... I’m thinking I might do some more exploring, go back to the museum, I could go to the movies and try watching something in French again, I could write some postcards or things home... Today I’ve just been writing this blog entry this morning, I’ve gone out to eat pizza for lunch with Marie, but the weather today is lovely (much better than the rain last night), so I might go do something. I am in absolute disbelief that I have less than 4 weeks left on exchange. Where did the time go? I swear I must comment on how fast the time is going by at least a few times a day at this point. But wow, it really is going fast.

Until next time!

[cloudsncoffee]

Ohhhhh my god your blog is so amazingggggg!!! Could you write one where like reader is corbyn’s best friend since high school and also a musician (maybe touring with them for a bit) and him and christina decide to set her and jonah up. But she’s really reluctant because jonah is more experienced and always has a girl and stuff but they end up together and just agajalak sorry😂😅

Oh my gosh, you’re the sweetest. Thank you!! It truly means so much to me to hear that you appreciate my writing. Of course, I’m so happy to write this for you.

I hope you love it!

…

Christina won’t let it go. She’s been on this topic for the past twenty minutes, and in that time you’ve thought of two hundred ways to escape, none of which you’ve actually followed through on.

“But you think he’s hot right?” Christina presses, her legs tangled with yours on the couch, and you groan, leaning back into the cushions, staring up at the ceiling.

“Well?” She demands.

“I mean,” You hedge, “I do have eyes.”

“For Jonah?” Corbyn asks, appearing seemingly out of thin air, because he tends to dracula around their apartment and enjoys scaring you half to death.

“Oh, my, god,” You throw a pillow at him, “Do you want to say that any louder? I don’t think they heard you in Australia.”

He laughs, “Whatever, we’ve got thick walls.”

“It’s the principle,” You argue, because you’ve been friends with Corbyn for close for forever, and you bicker enough to prove it.

“It’s not like I,” Corbyn starts to respond, when Christina kicks him.

“Shut up,” She commands, “We’re in the middle of an important conversation.”

“About Jonah’s hotness?” Corbyn wiggles his eyebrows, and when he says it you feel a little like you might puke.

“Corbyn,” You kick him too.

“Ow!” He throws himself down on the middle of the sofa, sitting on top of both your feet and Christina’s, “I’m just trying to help.”

“Help set me up with Jonah?” You narrow your eyes at him, “I’ve been on tour with you guys, Cor,” You remind him, “I might like Jonah, but I also know what he’s like.”

“Except not,” Corbyn protests, lazily, leaning over to cuddle Christina.

“That,” You poke him, “Doesn’t even make sense. What do you mean ‘except not’?”

Corbyn’s face is pressed into Christina’s collarbone, prominent dark circles and voice exhausted the way it is every time he sits down for weeks after he gets home from tour, “He hasn’t spent the night with anybody since you told him he could call you at bedtime,” Corbyn turns his face to pout at you, “I’m still mad at you for that. I’m your best friend and I like calling you at bedtime too.”

Christina plays with his hair, “You poor baby,” She coos, then looks over at you, “See, I told you Jonah’s got a crush.”

“Jonah’s got a reputation,” You fight the urge to roll your eyes, “Jonah’s got more than a reputation, Jonah’s got a record.”

Corbyn swats at you, missing your leg and hitting the sofa, “I just said he isn’t like that anymore. Don’t you trust me?”

“Only as far as I can throw you,” You pat his hand.

Corbyn, for a brief moment, opens his eyes and seems to actually consider that.

“Dude,” You laugh, “It’s a metaphor.”

He nods, once, then presses his face back into Christina, mumbling, “Right, right.”

You sigh, addressing Christina, “Get him to bed before he does something stupid. Do whatever you have to, just keep him there.”

You do roll your eyes, when Corbyn sits up immediately, and Christina laughs.

“C‘mon, babe,” She takes his hand and pulls him towards the bedroom, “Time for sleep,” She looks over her shoulder, meeting your eyes while you shove your shoes on, “Just think about it. I think you guys could be really happy.”

You sigh, but nod, because Christina is nothing if not stubborn. The last thing you hear before you close the door to their apartment is Corbyn’s yawning protest, “Yeah, but she implied you might…”

You’re halfway down the hall, not in the direction of the elevator, but towards the pool, when you realize what you’re doing.

Jonah might not even be there, you reason, pushing the door open and checking all the chairs. It’s not like he spends every second of his time in Los Angeles soaking up the sun.

Except for how he does, and you find him sprawled out in the lounger furthest from the splash zone.

You step in front of him, and watch him take you in. Jonah looks at you over the top of his sunglasses, “You’re blocking my light,” He teases.

“When was the last time you picked someone up?” The question, somehow, surprises you but doesn’t ruffle him.

“It’s been a while,” He sits up, making space between his legs for you, and smiling, “Is it safe to assume this is Corbyn’s fault?”

“I’d mostly blame Christina,” You fold into the place he left for you.

“They’re ridiculous,” He puts his hand on your thigh.

“Does that mean they’re wrong?” You study him.

Jonah shakes his head, “No, but that doesn’t mean we have to do anything about it.”

“About what exactly Jonah?” You blink.

“About, well… You know,” Now he’s caught off guard, scrambling to find an explanation before he realizes you’re messing with him. You start giggling, and he can’t help laughing, pressing his forehead to yours, “You’re such a brat.”

“You like me,” You grin.

“I do,” He shrugs, nonchalant.

“Don’t you want to know if I like you back?”

“Well,” He smirks, “You’re basically in my lap, babe. I think it’s safe to assume you want me too.”

You shove at him, loving how it feels to have your hands on his warm shoulders, “I really don’t know why.”

“I’ll make you a list,” Jonah smiles, and that’s why.

His happy is never uncomplicated. Jonah’s difficult to pin down and hardly ever completely honest, he never lies, but he’s always worried about other people’s expectations and feelings above his own, except when he’s looking at you. That smile, from the first time you caused it, playing him a love song in the back of the tour bus with more sincerity than the joke you meant it as, is blindingly real. Of course, you want it, and him, to be yours. Of course, you always have.

…

I’ve written a similar C&C setup before, except with Daniel x Reader, so if you’re interested, you can find that story here