#this stupid sport said fuck sarah lives

[strawberryblondebutch]

maybe in your hockey au Sam should beat the shit out if someone for transphobia. just saying.

Honestly, I think I need to live in a fantasy world where there isn't any queerphobia in professional sports. That seems like the only way to keep my sanity intact.

I hate watching this play out. The NHL isn't doing pride warmup jerseys anymore because a handful of people said it was against their religion (what's against your religion? acknowledging that queer people exist?) and now, after I've spent my whole adult life advocating to take women's sports seriously, there's a vocal minority rolling over and saying "nooo we can't have trans people on our team! They used to be MEN and that means they're STRONG and BETTER than me, a tiny fragile woman!"

It's also like... I'm five foot ten, kinda butch, and my shoulders are wider than my hips. What happens if the transvestigators decide I'm a threat to my local beer league? What happens when they realize that the most famous women's hockey player is 5'11" and built like a tank?

It's such a fucking non-issue. No bad men's hockey player is going to put on a wig and say they're a woman to become a star. Especially not in fucking ICE HOCKEY, where someone like Sarah Nurse makes $24k a year as a top-3 player in the sport and Nicolas Aube-Kubel makes $1 million to run around taking stupid penalties.

I'm tired of the bullshit.

[racingcore]

Did you cry at any of the episodes of tlou yet? Episode 3 and 5 were the ones that got me sobbing man i swear

cuz bill and frank's relationship was everything to me AND THEN THEY BOTH JUST LIKE DIED- and bill poisoned his drink along with frank's too cuz he didn't want to live alone, he didn't want to live a life without frank and that was just so hauntingly beautiful to me

also the fifth episode had me sobbing, cuz the way ellie thought her blood could save sam, and then henry having to kill his own brother- like even though his brother was starting to turn, he killed him, and then decided a life without sam wasn't one worth living, I think this show is just so good man I've cried so much-

Sorry about the ramble I JUST LOVE THIS SHOW SM AND IVE BEEN DYING TO TALK ABOUT IT WITH SOMEONE

sorry for the late reply was very busy! hope you be having a good day <3

just know in all of this, im a game fan, in some way i know how the story is going but they surprise me every time. suffering twice lets gooooooooooooo masochist behaviour 100!!!!

i cried "three" times okay

when in ep1 sarah died. always. game or show. i always cry/tear up. if you watch last of us you gotta cry then /j

yeah i was crying almost all of the bill and frank segment of ep3 which is like 95% all them. really started bawling when Frank told Bill how they are gonna spend Frank's last day. cuz damn im such a sucker for 'love' in all kinds just humanity. im so insane about that episode it makes me look fucking stupid. if i had something like bill and frank, im sure i'd not want to live without the other too. they would be my purpose.

the third time was ep5. sam and henry's death didnt make me cry. i knew they were gonna die. ellie helping sam made me cry so bad. it hit so fucking hard.

ellie telling sam and helping her with her blood. there is just something in kids, alive and so caring and naive to the world. ellie in her caring nature and naivety fully believed that she could save sam. AND FUCK SHE WANTED TO. SHE HAD A FRIEND AND CARED SO MUCH. even joel saw how ellie liked henry and sam and in the sniper scene when he knew what she was gonna do to save them he didnt even question it. he helped her. he is softening. he asked henry to come with them to wyoming.

i dont think joel is the kinda person who buries people. he did it for ellie. she needed it. and as i said in my other post, for her he needed it too.

LIKE FUCK IM INSANE CUZ OF TLOU. both the games killed me and neil drukman and criag maizn are hunting my ghost down for sport.

[maddiwrites]

Secret Lives (Part 2)

Paring: JJ Maybank x reader 

Summary: You and JJ never got along so your friends trap the two of you on a boat in the middle of the marsh to work it out. Only it doesn’t go as planned. (Part 2)

Note: I couldn’t be happier with the feedback I am getting from Part 1!! Thank you guys so much for helping me out and hanging on there with me as I figure all of this out! I’m so grateful for all the comments and messages and I am ready every single one! Now I saw a couple people asking to be a part of a tag list...so if someone could tell me how to set one of them up I would be more than happy to lol. I will tag the two people I’ve seen who asked to be tagged! But yeah, am I supposed to set something up for a tag list or do people just message me if they want to be tagged in my stuff? Someone let me know!! 

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: Language, angst, small parts of child abuse. 

Part 1

It’s been about two weeks since you’ve seen or talked to the Pogues. Everyday felt ten hours longer and the air felt thinner. You missed your friends. You missed surfing with John B, you missed debating about the accuracy of medical TV shows with Pope, you missed sleepovers with Kie, and yes, you even missed JJ. 

As much as you hated yourself for it, you knew you did the right thing. Staying with the Pogues would have caused more harm than good. It was clear as day that you and JJ would never get along because he didn’t like you and you weren’t going to stand around and be insulted by a guy you still can’t help but think about every single day. 

Every night, you pictured the hatred behind JJ’s blue eyes when he spoke about you being nothing but a spoiled brat who didn’t deserve his trust or your friendship with the other Pogues. Each word felt like an individual stab to the heart. You were use to people not liking you. The girls at your school hated you for not giving them the time of day, the boys threw hurtful remarks at you all the time after you rejected them. But they never hurt as much JJ’s. Because they didn’t come from the guy you loved. 

It didn’t matter how much JJ hated you. You couldn’t help but fall for his sparkling blue eyes, tan skin, and fluffy blonde hair. You swooned every time JJ laughed and smiled because you loved seeing him happy. You were turned on every time JJ stood up for one of your friends, threatening to fight whoever it was that was bothering them, even if it was an uptight Kook. You were silently heartbroken every time JJ told you and his friends about his sexcapade from the previous night.  You were concerned and personally infuriated when JJ would come to the Chateau with new sets of bruises without telling you where they came from because that little voice inside your head told you exactly where they were from. 

You loved him, and you hated that you loved him. 

But this was for the best. At least thats what you told yourself.

Kie didn’t agree though. She found you in your room the next day, ready to apologize for stranding you on a boat with JJ, but it just ended in another screaming match when you told her what happened. 

“So just like that? You’re gonna leave?” She yelled. 

“I can’t do it anymore, Kie! He doesn’t want me there, and I am so sick and tired of trying to get him to like me.”

“What about John B and Pope? What about me? You’re our friend too!”

“We can still hangout -”

“Without JJ? That’s so unfair!”

“He hates me, Kie! How would you like it if I forced you to hang out with Sarah Cameron, huh?”

“That’s not the same.”

“Its the exact fucking same, and you know it!”

Kie ended up storming out of your room, neither one of you feeling any sort of peace or satisfaction with your decision. You haven’t talked to her since, and you contemplated calling her every day. 

But you never do.

The alarm you set on your phone blared in your ear from the pillow next to your head - a reminder that you needed to leave to pick up your father. You slapped the touch screen of your phone until the stupid alarm turned off. The last place you wanted to be was anywhere outside of your room. The thought of being with you father, the man you continued to blame for all your problems, filled you with self-hatred. You hated how easily he was able to manipulate you to help him, making you and your mother out to be the bad guys. He used Andrew’s wealth as a guilt trip for you, saying that since you didn’t do anything to deserve his money, the least you could do was help him out because you and your mother left him with absolutely nothing. And you fall for it. You fall for it every single time because he says you use to be daddy’s little girl - that he had big plans for the two of you when you were old enough to learn life’s pleasures. Little did you know his biggest life pleasures had always been drugs, alcohol, and gambling.

You tied your hair up in a messy bun and bounced down the stairs. Swiftly, grabbing the car keys to your new Mercedes Andrew bought you for your sixteenth birthday, you sped walked past your little sister who tried showing you a new trick that she taught your maltese puppy.

“Look, Y/N/N!”

“Not now, Gracie,” You huffed. 

As you drove through the Cut, you couldn’t help but keep a lookout for your Pogues.  You tried not to slam on the brakes every time you caught a glimpse of blonde hair or swerve when you saw a guy John B’s height carrying a surfboard. 

You honked your horn twice when you pulled up to your dad’s shitty apartment. After no longer being able to pay his mortgage after your mom left him, he had no choice but to move into the cheapest apartment in OBX. He always tried telling you that was your fault too. 

A few minutes later, he walked out, looking like he hasn’t showered in days or knows how to change his socks.

He slid into the passenger seat with a grunt, barely passing you a second glance. “You’re late.” He said. 

You stayed quiet, knowing that anything you said would only piss him off even more since you weren’t in the mood to put up with his antics.

You drove him to his drug dealer’s house, parking outside of the one story home that looked like it was rotting from the inside out. Your dad made you take him here a couple times. Every time you stayed in the car. But today, your father had something different planned.

“Come on,” He said.

“What?” You looked at him with your brows pinched together in confusion. 

“I need you inside.”

“No, no, no, no. That wasn’t the deal.”

“Well it is now, so let’s go.” His voice was stern through his clenched teeth, his eyes unblinking. You stared at him for a long second, debating whether fighting with him was worth it. 

Without another word, you reluctantly opened your door and followed your dad into the house. It smelled like B.O and marijuanna, just like how you pictured a frat house would. Pots, pans, and plates were filled to the brim of the sink. A moldy meal that looked a couple days old sat at the round table tucked in the corner. 

Your dad lead you into the living room where three other men were sitting. Well two men and one boy you recognized immediately. You swallowed your nerves as they all turned to look at your dad, then you.

“What’d you bring me, today, Jerry?” The guy with the long black hair tied in a low bun looked at you like you were fresh meat. 

You took a small step closer to your dad, ironically looking at him for some kind of protection. You didn’t trust any of these men in this room. You didn’t care if they were your father’s friends. They were men who made poor life choices and you didn’t know how far they could take it.

You looked over at Rafe Cameron, who compared to these guys, looked like a lost kid in a carnival. He was sporting a black eye and jaw. He looked both shocked and scared to see you here, probably worried that you would torment his reputation by letting everyone know how he really spends his weekdays when he’s not partying on his daddy’s boat. Little did he know, he had just enough blackmail to use against you too. 

“This is my daughter, Y/N,” Your dad introduced you. “Y/N, this is Barry.”

Barry looked you up and down and smirked. “You look like you a part of Country Club’s world.” By the way he was pointing his thumb back at the Kook, you figured that was his nickname for Rafe.

“She is,” Your father answered for you. “Remember when you said you didn’t trust me to come up with enough money to pay you back for my blow? This is proof that I got it. That I’ll always have it.”

Bile rose up your throat and your heart twisted in your chest. Is this how your dad thought of you? An open wallet? 

Of course it is, you thought. 

Barry nodded, impressed that someone like you came from a man like your father. “Well, take a seat. Can I offer you anything? Beer? Soda? Maybe a whiff?” He pointed to the white line on his clear coffee table.

“No. Thank you.” You said slowly before looking up at your father. “I didn’t bring any cash...”

“Don’t worry sweetheart. I paid out this time - used the check you sent me for my water bill. But now Barry knows he can trust me with his shit - that I wasn’t lying about you.”

“Maybe you can help Country Club pass my shit around. You’ll get a nice discount if you do...and maybe something else,” Barry looked at you suggestively. 

“Don’t scare her off, dude, she just got here.” The other man said. He extended his arm out for you to shake his hand. “I’m Luke Maybank.”

In that moment, it felt like the whole world stopped turning. You stared at the man in front of you, drinking in all his features and matching them to JJ’s. Same blue eyes, sharp jaw line, and a perfect nose. You looked down at his hand as you hesitantly shook it. Dirty, dry, scuffed. You remembered the days and nights that JJ would limp into the Chateau. He would blame it on the Kooks but the details in his story never stuck, like he couldn’t remember them with each person he told.

“Maybank?” You repeated.

“Yeah,” He narrowed his eyes. “Do I know you?”

“I was friends with your son.” Just like that, you went from being nervous to being angry. You hated this man more than you’re own father. JJ didn’t deserve the beatings and the abuse from the man in front of you. He was nothing but a deadbeat dad who didn’t know how good his son really was to him. 

“I would have remembered a pretty face like yours.”

“He never brought me around your house,” You looked at Luke Maybank from his shoes to his face. He was wearing jeans with dirt stains on them, a fitted white tank underneath a grey and blue flannel that was ripped by the cuffs around his wrists. The bags under his eyes were as dark as the bruise on Rafe’s face and his chin was in need of a shave. “Wonder why.” You couldn’t stop the sarcasm that dripped from your tongue.

You wished you could say more, or spit in his face, or kick him where it hurts. You weren’t afraid of what would happen to you, but how he would take it out on JJ if you did.

You looked up at your dad. “I’ll wait in the car.”

You quickly walked out of the house, immediately taking in a deep breath of fresh air. Before you could hide away in the front seat of your car, Rafe called out for you to stop.

You turned, only because you didn’t know what he wanted.

“What?” You said.

“Tell your boys this isn’t over. They’re not going to get away with -”

“I’m sorry. What are you talking about?”

“The Pogues. They sunk Topper’s 2020 Malibu, 24-MXC.”

At least now you have an idea as to where his bruises came from. “Is that suppose to mean something to me?”

Rafe smirked. “I forgot. You’re not a natural born Kook.”

“And yet you and I are standing in the same douchebag’s yard. What a coincidence.”

Rafe sneered at you. If this were a cartoon, steam would be coming out of his ears. “Just tell them.”

When Rafe turned to walk back into Barry’s home, you called out to him. “How do you know it was them?” Rafe turned around. “What’s your proof?” He didn’t answer immediately, and you watched him wrack his brain for some bullshit lie, which gave you all the answers you needed. “I’m guessing there isn’t any but you think it was them because you gave them a good reason to sink Topper’s 2020 Mailbu, 24-MXC. A boat I know is the finest wake setter and number one in luxury, quality, and performance.” The only reason you knew that was because JJ would say it every time Topper and Sarah would cruise by you on the HMS Pogue, and the look on Rafe’s face made it worth every second having to listen to JJ repeat that almost every week.

If Rafe wanted to respond, he couldn’t, because your dad was now walking towards you with a mean mug on his face.

Before you could say anything, the back of your dad’s hand whipped you across the face. His wedding ring, the one he refused to take off for eighteen years, caught on the corner of your mouth, splitting your bottom lip.

Rafe jumped back, startled, and you bit back a scream. Your thumb skimmed over your lip, blood coating your finger. 

“Don’t embarrass me like that again. Got it?” You dad glared down at you.

“Sir...” Rafe’s voice shook with unease. If you weren’t silently shaking with shame, you would have been surprised that Rafe even said anything at all. 

“Trust me, kid. You don’t wanna get in between a quarrel between a dad and their kid,” Luke Maybank smirked as he made his way to his own truck that was parked in front of yours. 

You glared at the back window of the car, now shaking with both shame and anger. You knew there was nothing else you could do to change the way Luke treated his son. You knew you couldn’t stop him from hurting JJ. 

But it shouldn’t matter. Because JJ wasn’t your problem anymore.

                                                  ***************

The next morning your mom made you run her errands for her. A trip to the Cleaners to pick up Andrew’s suits, the pet store for dog food and treats, and lastly to Heyward's because, according to Gracie, he sells the best hot dogs she’s ever had. 

You were trembling with nerves as you stalked through the aisles. You kept your head down, focusing on finding everything on your mother’s list as quickly as possible so you could get the hell out of there. When you went to check out, Mr. Heyward studied you but didn’t say anything. Lord knows what Pope told him. You wouldn’t be surprised if he charged you extra just to make a point. 

“Thank you,” You said as he handed you the brown paper bag. 

He nodded silently. 

As you walked out of the store, you’re faced with three out of your four friends that you dreaded seeing. They were huddled together, whispering and bickering about something. When they heard the bell above the door chime, they all looked up at you. The four of you stood there like you had all just gone brain dead. Your mouth dried up and you forgot how to speak. 

Pope looked surprised to see you, like a ghost he wasn’t expecting to see. Kie looked glum, and you remembered your last conversation. You didn’t know what you were now. You couldn’t read JJ’s expression. His eyes are casted down on your face. He was staring at your lips. Your beautiful soft pink lips he’s dreamt about kissing for years. Now they were tainted and he was dying to know how, so he could wrap his hands around that bastard’s neck and set him straight. 

“Hi...” You said softly. You didn’t know what else to say. 

No one else had a chance to speak because the piercing noise of a police siren cut through the awkward tension. Officer Shoupe got out of his car and started approaching Pope of all people. 

"Morning Officer,” Pope said nervously.

Shoupe acted like he didn’t hear him. “I have an arrest warrant for felony of destruction of property.”

You instantly thought back to what Rafe said to you yesterday. Topper’s boat. How they’re not going to get away with it. 

You watched Shoupe with wide eyes as he told Pope to put his hands up. “Hands where I can see them.” Kie tried blocking Shoupe from getting any closer to Pope. “Young lady, out of my way.”

Heyward walked out of his shop when he heard the commotion. “You arresting my boy?”

Shoupe didn’t answer and forcefully pulled Pope’s hands behind his back. 

“Be careful!” Kie screamed at him. 

Everyone started screaming at Shoupe, trying to get him away from the boy who didn’t deserve this. Pope had a future ahead of him. One that didn’t involve relying on his parents money to get. He was a hard worker, stayed out of trouble, and even had a scholarship interview in a couple weeks that will be his one way ticket off this island. He couldn’t go to jail. It would ruin him. 

Your head started ringing as the people in front of you moved in slow motion. Rafe’s words repeated in your head - more importantly the words he didn’t say. He hesitated when you asked how they knew it was your friends. Because he didn’t know for sure. 

“Stop!” You screamed louder than anyone else, causing everyone to pause in their movements. Your friends looked at you with wide eyes and Shoupe narrowed his in suspicion. “Pope didn’t do it.” You couldn’t stop yourself from doing what you were about to do, but you knew it was better than Pope getting pushed down to the station. “I did it.”

“Y/N...” JJ started to say softly, but you cut him off. 

“You’re here for the Thornton’s sunken boat, right?” You continued, knowing that if you proved with some details that you were there, Shoupe would have no choice but to take you instead of Pope. “Pope didn’t do it. He wasn’t even with me when I did it.”

Shoupe shook his head. “Y/N, you don’t want to cover for -”

“I’m not covering. I was sick and tired of Topper and his friends always taking advantage of my friends, who do nothing but work their asses off to make sure families like mine can prop their perfectly painted toes up on some beach chairs and do nothing but lay in the sun all day. So I hit Topper where it hurt with something so replaceable as a boat because I know money is all that matters to that family.”

“Y/N, what the hell are you doing?” JJ said through clenched teeth. 

You shrugged. “What? I’m just telling the truth.” You took a deep breath and glanced at JJ one last time before focusing back on Shoupe. “You know my dad, Shoupe. And you know I’m not talking about Andrew. I mean, my real dad.” 

You tried to act like you didn’t just spill your biggest secret to really sell your story. You pretended like the eyes of all your friends weren’t burning holes in your head. 

Shoupe used to be the officer that would frequently visit your home when you lived with your dad. Neighbors would call the cops on your family a lot because the screaming got to be too much. Without your mom pressing charges, there was nothing he could do. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I know your dad,” Shoupe said softly, like he felt sorry for you that he knew exactly what you were talking about. 

“I guess I inherited his temper.”

“What?” Kie’s voice broke and tears started cascading down her cheeks. You forced yourself not to look at her. 

“I know you don’t have any proof that Pope did it. There’s no cameras posted around the Thornton’s dock.” You knew that because Sarah made you hang out with their friends a couple of times on that boat. “And there were no witnesses.” You were banking on Rafe’s reaction for this one. “So I’m guessing the Thornton’s, most likely the Mrs., paid you or something to make the arrest. But I don’t think the Sheriff would appreciate you taking someone who you have no evidence against in instead of someone confessing to the crime right to your face.”

You didn’t blink when you stared Officer Shoupe down, challenging him to go against you and fight his way to Pope. But both of you knew he couldn’t take Pope after this. 

“Is this true?” Shoupe looked at Pope.

“Yes -”

“Not you! I’m asking Pope,” Shoupe snapped, glaring at you. You knew you just ruined his entire day. 

Pope looked at you for some kind of answer. You tried subtly nodding your head, telling him it’s okay to agree. You wanted him to say it was true. 

You didn’t know what was coming next for you, but you knew you could handle it. You didn’t know if Pope could.

“Yes, sir,” Pope said.

JJ felt like he was punched in the gut. He didn’t want Pope to go to jail, but he sure as hell didn’t want you going there either. He wanted to tell you he was sorry, that he was an idiot, that he tried not to love you but failed. He knew he treated you like shit and he pushed you away. Yet here you were, still taking bullets for each of them. 

Shoupe nodded and began reading your Miranda Rights. You handed Heyward your groceries and said, “I’ll have someone pick these up.”

“Wait!” JJ tried calling out to you as Shoupe helped you into the back seat of his car. “Wait! No!”

You kept your head down as Shoupe drove away, only looking up when you knew you were at least a mile away from your friends. 

As Shoupe closed the door to a room where you were to wait to be interrogated, you smiled to yourself. Your mom was going to be pissed, you were about to get in a shit load of trouble, and the Pogues still may never talk to you again, but you knew you just saved Pope’s entire future - the one he deserved more than anything. 

And you were proud of yourself for that.

                                                   ***************

Of course Mrs. Thornton didn’t want you to go to jail. She wanted about $30,000 of restitution money to make up for it. You rolled your eyes when you heard that. All that family cares about is money. You knew she probably didn’t even care about the boat in the first place. 

Your mom screamed at you the entire ride back to your house. She took your phone and TV away and threatened to homeschool you for the next school year. Your mom was strict but her punishments never lasted long. She usually caved somewhere in the first week. You think its because she thinks your childhood was punishment enough and that behavior like this was to be expected because of it. You tried not to get that mentality stuck in your head, but sometimes you could get yourself into some trouble here and there. 

Another part of your punishment was to do the yard work around the house. Andrew had already written you a list by the time your mom forced you to wake up at 6 a.m.

You couldn’t even be mad at the punishment. Mulching the yard was the least you could do. Andrew even planned on paying the Thornton’s back if you worked for him for free the rest of the summer. 

It was about mid morning when a car pulled up your driveway. You felt like the wind was just knocked out of you when you noticed the junky Volkswagen van park. 

JJ hopped out of the Twinkie and walked in your direction. You didn’t know what to do. Were you supposed to say hi and pretend like nothing ever happened between you two? Would you go back to bickering? You looked down at your body and was mortified at what you were wearing. Although it was only some black leggings and a white tank top, you were covered in dirt and sweat, and reeked of cow manure, which you knew was what mulch was made out of. 

You tried pushing away the butterflies that swarmed your stomach when JJ stood next to you. You turned to look at him, unsure of what to say. You hated that he had this effect on you. Usually you were quick witted and were able force any kind of small talk. I mean, you were a Kook now after all. But this felt different. You didn’t want to have small talk with JJ. You wanted to really know him. His past, his now, his future. You didn’t want to be tongue tied. 

“Hey,” He said softly.

“Hi,” You wiped the sweat off your forehead with the back of your gloved hand. You glanced back at the van, waiting for one of your other friends to appear. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren't answering your phone and I got worried,” JJ sheepishly tucked his hand in his pockets and had a hard time of meeting your eyes. 

Ever since you mentioned a dad with a bad temper, JJ couldn’t stop thinking the worst for you. When you weren’t answering your phone, he wondered if he had done something to hurt you. The thought made him so sick with anxiety, he drove to your house to make sure you were all right.

“Yeah, my mom took my phone away. Turns out she doesn’t like it when her daughter gets arrested.” You tried to joke. “Why were you worried?”

JJ finally looked at you again. “What happened to your lip?”

You coughed from the unexpected question. You reactively bit your bottom lip and looked away. “I uh, fell on Sarah’s boat the other day.”

“Y/N...” JJ said softly and touched your elbow to make you look at him. 

“What, JJ?” You snapped, turning to look at him with a glare. He probably put two and two together the second you mentioned your dad yesterday in front of him. Just like you did when you met Luke Maybank. You hated that you had this in common with the blonde Pogue, but you also knew he could be someone you could confide in, which is something you never had. “Why do you care? Just because you know about my dad now doesn’t make us friends.”

“I was wrong, okay? I was wrong about you, Y/N.”

You scoffed, “I have an asshole for a dad, JJ. Nothing else has changed.”

“I was the biggest dick to you. You tried every day to be my friend and I pushed you away. And I’m sorry. The truth is, I don’t like change and I don’t trust people because my dad -” JJ paused and looked away towards the road, unable to meet your eyes. 

“Because your dad’s just like my dad,” You said, making his head snap back to you. “I met your dad the other. It turns out they have the same drug dealer.”

“You met my dad?” JJ’s eyes went wide.

“Yeah.”

“Did you...”

“I didn’t say anything other than how we use to be friends. But trust me, there was a hell of a lot more I wanted to say.”

JJ nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. “Listen, you were right. I didn’t take the chance to get to know you because I was afraid that I would like you a lot more than I wanted to, and then you would realize you were too good for us...for me. So I pushed you away. I tried hating you so you would hate me too. But truth is, I never hated you. I could never hate you. You’re smart, funny, kind, beautiful...” Your eyes flickered up to meet his and you noticed a pink hue running up his neck, which probably matched the one on your cheeks. “I’ve always thought that. And I don’t care about where you came from. You could have been born and raised a Kook or you could have been homeless your entire life. Nothing could ever change my opinion of you. I like you, Y/N. And I miss you. The Pogues miss you and they hate me and I hate me too because I drove you away. And I’m so sorry.”

You couldn’t tell if this was a dream or not, but you weren’t going to mess this up, even if it was a dream. Because JJ was standing in front of you, telling you he missed you and that he wanted you back with him and his friends, and you’d be a fool not to take him up on that because you missed them too and you were miserable without them.

“I miss you too, JJ.”

JJ smile grew wide at your words and for a second, you thought he was going to jump up and down and cheer. “Really? You don’t hate me?”

You shook your head. “I never hated you, JJ. I never could.”

“You should.”

“No. I shouldn’t. I get why you didn’t want me around. I’m a Kook now and I was being shady when I tried hiding my dad from the rest of you. You were just protecting your friends.”

“Turned out they weren’t the ones who needed protecting,” JJ said softly.

You shook your head. “I don’t need protecting.”

“Why do you still see him if you live here now?”

“It’s complicated.”

JJ reluctantly nodded. He hated that this was a part of your life he couldn't exert himself into just yet. He had to earn that. He needed you to trust him first before you let him into such a vulnerable part of your life. But he understood that. He understood that more than anybody. 

But he was going to make sure John B kept his eyes on you. JJ knew you two were close.

“I won’t push you to tell me. But you can talk to me about it. I won’t judge you.”

“Thanks, JJ,” You said graciously. People say that all the time. You can talk to me. For the most part you never believe them. You think its just something people say to make them sound sincere. But with JJ it was different. You believed every word.

“Just promise me if you see him again to take someone with you. Like John B or something.”

“Okay,” You said. You didn’t know if you meant it because all you could think about was that JJ cared enough about you to be worried. 

“Okay...” JJ said awkwardly. “So we’re good? Friends?”

Your heart cracked at the ‘F’ word but you knew you were crazy to hope for anything else. You were lucky enough to even get called a friend. You bit down on your bottom lip as your grinned and nodded. “Friends.”

“Good,” JJ nodded. “So, I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay...” JJ clapped his hands in front of him nervously. “Good. Then I’m just gonna...”

“Yeah, I should probably get back to...” You pointed back to the mulch.

“Bye, Sassy.”

You turned back to the mulch in your wheelbarrow and bit back the urge to squeal in delight, at least until the van pulled out of your driveway again. 

“Actually you know what?” JJ said, making you turn around. He was walking back over to you with a determined look on his face. “Screw friends.” 

“What -”

Before you could process what was happening, JJ cupped your cheeks and smashed his lips against yours. You instantly kissed him back and pulled him closer to you by fisting your hands into his shirt. The butterflies in your body transformed into a stampeded and your heart was hammering against your rib cage. 

You’ve kissed so many other guys before, but this one felt different. There was a passion behind this one - a meaning that felt so deep it could only be explained through actions. Kissing JJ felt right, like you had done this hundreds of times before. 

JJ pulled away first and rested his forehead against yours, his eyes trained on your swollen lips. His breath hit your face and your legs went weak in the knees. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for about two years.” He said.

“What took you so long?” You said, your eye lashes fluttered up to look at him.

“I didn’t know what I had until it was gone,” JJ said, looking up at you. He pulled away to look you in the eyes. “I love you, Y/N. And I understand if you don’t feel the same way but - “

You pulled him in for another kiss as fireworks exploded in your head. You didn’t want to let go of this moment. You couldn't believe that everything you wanted was happening.

“I love you too.”

JJ’s eyes lit up like lights on a Christmas tree as did his smile that widened with each second. He picked you up by your waist and spun you around. You giggled above him and beamed down at him. You’ve never felt this happy in your entire life.

When he set you down, he kissed you again. “Say it again.”

You pulled him in close enough for your faces to be nose to nose. “I. Love. You. JJ Maybank.”

JJ shook his head and chuckled. “Unbelievable.”

He kissed you again, and you didn’t care if you didn’t get the yard work done in time because you fulfilled your duty as a Kook. You officially have everything you could ever want. 

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tags: @allycat449-blog @zarahsloves

[collecting-stories]

Charismatic - JJ Maybank

Request: hi, can I request a jj blurb with the prompt #1: “There’s so many people looking.” - “Well, they don’t have to look if they don’t like it, do they?” Thank you!

A/N: This is the fic that broke my writer’s block. 

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

JJ was in the midst of a hilarious story. Or at least everyone in the room seemed engaged enough that it felt like it must be some kind of epic recounting on his part. He was smiling talking, fast, hands moving, and everyone seemed to have stopped what they were doing to pay attention to him. The nice thing about fall was that parties downsized to John B’s house or some other place on the Cut and generally, you could name every face. Most of them went to school with you.  

Most of them had helpless crushes on JJ. And who could blame them. He was gorgeous and sweet in that way that made you feel important when he was talking to you. As if some good fortune had smiled down on you just because JJ was giving you his undivided attention for .3 seconds. Maybe it was a kinda pathetic but you felt for them. You had been them until roughly six months ago when something greater than fortune shined on you and all the years spent being friends with JJ had turned into something more.  

“What’s happening right now?” John B teased, grabbing a beer out of his fridge and popping the top.  

You were sitting on the counter right beside the open door, goosebumps prickling your skin at the feeling of the cold refrigerated air hitting your legs. It was a little too cold for shorts but you had decided to wear them anyway. The hoodie you were sporting clearly did nothing for you, at least the shorts made your legs look good. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that,” John B waved his hand toward the living room area of the Chateau where JJ was talking. Some girl to his left, was her name Anna, you took calc with her, laid her hand on his arm and leaned in close to him.  

“The cleavage shot.” You replied, “It is Anna, she always goes for the cleavage.” You watched her angle just so and JJ’s eyes lingered for a split second before he was looking away, passed his listeners, to you. His eyes met yours and you bit your bottom lip to stop from laughing at him, expression like a puppy that knew he was in trouble though you could honestly care less.  

When he wasn’t with anyone he liked to fool around, you knew that well enough from all your years as friend and confidant, but you also knew that JJ was always loyal, sometimes to a fault. In six months, you had never even considered the possibility of cheating. It never crossed your mind, you never worried about it.  

“It’s disturbing you know these things.” John B replied, watching the group again.  

You shrugged, “you know how much crap I used to pull just to get JJ’s attention? I broke my arm on a skateboard for him.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Oh yeah, the sex is amazing.” You replied, laughing when John half spit out his beer before shoving your leg.  

“God, don’t tell me that.” He groaned.  

“You asked,” You watched JJ get up, heading over to the two of you while someone turned up or restarted the music, you couldn’t be sure. “Hey tell me,” you said as he grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, “does the JJ stand for Jim Jones, cause you’re some kind of cult leader, I swear.”

“You’re hilarious.” JJ muttered, popping the top off his beer and kicking back half of it in a single go.  

John B sent you a concerned look, glancing out over the rest of the small pogue gathering, searching for Sarah, “I’ll catch you later.”

You nodded, turning your attention back to JJ. When he tried to move passed you extended your leg, socked foot just barely touching the island as you barricaded him.  

“Move.”

“No,” you laughed, dropping that leg and extending your other when he tried to turn around. When he turned again you did the same thing only this time, he pushed your leg down and you gripped the countertop to keep yourself from falling over at the sudden jerk of your leg. “What the fuck JJ!”  

“I told you to move.”  

“I was just teasing you, god,” you muttered, hoping down off the counter.  

“Yeah well, you aren’t funny!”  

JJ had never been accused of being patient in his life and you knew how short his fuse could be but when he got angry it was usually because there was something to be angry about. He wasn’t one to be too irrational or get mad out of nowhere though there were times when he perceived something that wasn’t true and flipped out over it. You usually let him calm down before you talked it out, never one to like being yelled at, but tonight you were annoyed.  

He had been fine five minutes ago, laughing with everyone and now he was going to act like a jerk to you for no apparent reason. You were not in the mood. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” You tried to keep your voice down so no one would notice the two of you arguing on the other side of the island but that was futile, Anna from calc was already casting glances your way and she motioned to her friends to pay attention too. It was like she was waiting for something, like she’d foreseen it and it was all happening according to plan.  

“Wrong with me?” JJ downed the rest of his beer, tossing the bottle in the trash. It clashed against others and you jumped from the sudden noise. “At least wait till I’m out of the fucking room before you start flirting with my friends!”  

“What are you talking about? I wasn’t flirting with John B.”  

“I saw you!”

“I’m allowed to talk to whoever the hell I want, John B included!” Out of the corner of your eye you could see more people paying attention. You could imagine the residual effects of fighting like this in front of everyone. The gossips in the pogue circles were worse than the kooks. Were you and JJ breaking up? Had you been cheating with John B? And then it would morph into different stories, that you were cheating, that you were stringing JJ along. “Can we talk about this somewhere else? Please, there are so many people looking.”  

“Well they don’t have to look if they don’t like it, do they?”  

“Please can we just talk in the bedroom?” You could hear yourself practically begging him to have this conversation anywhere else. The crowd and the music and the atmosphere of the party were definitely fueling him.  

“I’m sure you’d love that.”

“I’m not cheating on you!” You shouted, catching him off guard. You’d had your fair share of arguments, some of them pointless and silly, some more serious, but you were always level-headed. You talked things out first, you never shouted or raised your voice or even engaged when he was angry. You waited until he was ready to talk or you were ready to talk and then the issue was resolved. Seeing you yell like that, hand hitting the countertop, shocked him.  

You pushed passed JJ and ran down the hall into Big John’s office, slamming the door shut and sitting against it on the ground, the music a faint murmur now. You couldn’t tell if you were just crying or hyperventilating but either way that tightness in your chest settled in as you tried to breathe. Everyone had been in the room, you had seen Kiara, Sarah, Pope, and John B in the back, toward the door, a sea away from you. If anyone came it wouldn’t be John B, he wasn’t stupid enough to check on you directly after JJ had accused you of flirting or cheating or whatever with him. And you ruled JJ out pretty quickly too. Maybe Pope then, or Sarah, you were closest to both of them.  

Someone knocked, “can we talk?” JJ’s voice came through the door and you reached up, holding the door knob so he couldn’t push it open.  

You weren’t sure if you wanted to talk to him. You hadn’t even thought of him as being the first person to check on you let alone thought about whether or not you would want him to check on you. Maybe you did, maybe you wanted to know why he thought that you were flirting with your best friend right in front of him.  

“Hold on,” you started to get your bearings, letting go of the door knob and moving so you could stand up. JJ, in his overzealousness, swinging the door opening and banging into you. “Ow, fuck JJ, god.”

“Why are you on the floor?”

“Oh sorry I fucking hit you with the door, let me help you up.” You mocked, getting up and crossing your arms in front of you.  

“Sorry,” JJ apologized, though a little irritable.  

“What?”

“Don’t day what like that, I came to apologize.” He insisted.  

“No, you came in so you could bullshit an apology and get back to the party.” You replied. “I should’ve known.”

“You’re being a-“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!” You snapped. “I don’t need to hang on you like your precious flock, god, I’m allowed to just sit and chill with my friends.  I don’t know what you expect JJ…do you want me to be jealous? I’m not. I’m sorry if you think I would ever cheat on you or flirt with some other guy cause I wouldn’t. And I would never think that you would either, so I don’t give two shits if Anna from calc wants to hang all over you because until like ten minutes ago I was pretty secure in the knowledge that we were going home together at the end of the night.”  

JJ stood there, not saying anything for a moment, the sound of the music seeping in beneath the door. You wondered if everyone else had resumed partying, if your friends were all waiting at the end of the hall with baited breath to see what might happen next.  

“I like you so much. I did the dumbest shit just to get your attention. John B is my friend, end of, I don’t care about him the way I care about you…I don’t care about anyone the way I care about you.”  

“I just…” JJ paused, running a hand through his hair, pulling at the ends a little as if that would help calm him down, “I don’t know, I just looked over and you guys were talking and whatever, yeah, talk to whoever you want but lately it just feels like everything is about him and I don’t know…I don’t give a shit about anyone else, I just wanted your attention.”  

You sat down on the edge of Big John’s desk, “we’re really something huh?”  

“Yeah,” JJ sighed, leaving the door he’d been standing in front of and coming over to you, stepping between your legs and letting you wrap your arms around his, holding you against him.  

“You always have my attention J, you don’t have to do anything special.” You said, face pressed against his shirt.  

“Sorry, for real this time, I shouldn’t have freaked out on you.”  

“You’re right, you shouldn’t have.” You looked up at him, biting your lip, “you can make it up to me though.”  

“Oh yeah, how’s that?”  

“The couch is pretty comfortable in here.” You laughed when JJ scooped you up off the table, hands beneath your thighs. He never had to be told twice.  

-

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[thewickeddevil]

A Study In Jean Moreau

(tw: mentions of Jean's past, violence, mental health and suicidal thoughts/intention to die. let me know if there's something else)

ok, so, i say all the time that Jean Moreau is my favorite and comfort character in All For The Game (i know. it literally hurts but also brings me joy sometimes) and i would literally kill for that man. so, that said, i think too much about him and, consequently, i have too many hcs about him. on request, i will now do what i'm gonna call A Study In Jean Moreau

(my beta reader and best friend helped me a lot with this. thanks @jostenrun)

i'll start with this quote from one of my kerejean fics (https://archiveofourown.org/works/26146540)

During Jean's first four months at USC and playing with the Trojans, he would always ignore Jeremy and put a frown on his face whenever he was in the same place as him. It obviously wasn't the best of strategies to put distance between himself and all the Jeremy glow, but it looked exactly bad enough to work.

Still, Jeremy was all pompous and charming looks at him, always smiling and being polite even though he received much less in return. It pissed the shit out of Jean.

He was used by the Ravens for many years, treated exactly like the exchange item he had been, just possession and obliged to follow lines and lines of rules too strict even for how he should breathe.

Riko was violent, the Ravens were cruel, the Moriyama family was wrong and he needed to repeat this to himself on a daily basis to be able to just keep going.

Back at the beginning of those days, many times he would fight back until he was taught that it was only worse. Many times he would beg until he realized that it encouraged Riko more than it prevented him. Many times he would cry until he was taught that it was wrong.

He would often bleed.

He would often wish to bleed until there was nothing left in his veins, no thoughts in his brain, no air in his lungs, no words on the tip of his tongue—

And he would often try to do just that on his own.

That was his daily life for a long time. Evermore was what he knew, the Moriyama family was who he belonged to and all of that was for what he served. That was it.

How was he supposed to know back then that suddenly overly nice twenty-eight other people would replace all of that with magnificence?

How was he supposed to know that they wouldn't look at him with disgust whenever he accidentally let a curse in French slip away?

How was he supposed to know that the Trojans had complete freedom within the team, instead of having to walk in pairs like the Ravens?

How was he supposed to know that Jeremy wasn't going to hit him whenever he made a mistake?

Or how would he know that Jeremy never considered anything that he made a mistake?

It was all a very big break from reality and so, so suddenly. Jean felt confused at first. Lost, wrong, out of place, stupid and scared.

And Jeremy was always determined to be the best he could be. Jeremy was safe.

Until Jean felt comfortable, confident, fine, and satisfied. He was someone instead of something and he really felt like that.

i think Jean would take years to relearn how to live instead of surviving. sometimes he would fail at that, but so many failures can only lead to success eventually.

he really didn't want to keep playing exy after everything, he doesn't think exy is good at all and trauma made him hate it, but he needs it because of the deal with Ichirou. fortunately, the Trojans are a team big enough to put him in the background for a while, to give him a little rest. but he knows he can't relax too much

he starts therapy. he needs it badly and it takes time for him to really be able to do it, but Jean was never anything but strong, and when he sees the chance to finally heal he knows that, despite how tired he is, despite how many times he wonders if it's worth it to keep going, he needs to grab that and at least try. just one more time. he never wanted to work for anything in his life because nothing was important before, but now he thinks that maybe things are changing

the Trojans get a dorm exclusively for him at first, because they don't want Jean to force himself to share space with someone he doesn't know and still doesn't trust. they want Jean to have his own space and feel safe before anything. he needs that solitude and he knows that it doesn't mean loneliness because his team will always be just a call away from him

he relapses sometimes. days without taking basic care of himself and without getting up from bed, and he no longer remembers whether he’s alive or not. sometimes he's able to call his therapist when that happens, but sometimes he isn't

this is how he gets into the habit of learning poetry. and eventually, writing poetry. he needs a coping mechanism and words seem to be safe enough to float around in his mind and make space in his core

(French poetry that Kevin always dissects for him and tells about the history behind the period in which those texts were written, or about the authors of each text)

the process is slow but it’s progress nonetheless

so, we know about therapy, about not being easy, about difficulties and things happening slowly during the healing process, now let's talk about the little details when things finally start to work out positively. when the best part of Jean's life finally begins

he finds out that his eyesight isn't bad only because of the beatings he took in the nest, and finds it ridiculous when Jeremy offers to help him buy glasses because, according to him, all the glasses Jean likes make him look like a middle-aged man that curses people for fun. Jean doesn't hate it though

Jean learns how to swim and likes it more than he thought he would. he likes the fluidity and movements of the liquid around his skin, how he cuts the water with his body when moving around and how it doesn't hurt him, and he just feels light

Jean likes nutella and chocolate with nuts, because Jeremy used to give it to him after nightmares or difficult days, and it became a comfort food for him (something he wasn’t even allowed to eat in the nest)

Jean's musical taste is a big mess of R&B, soul, pop art, folk, dark pop... he likes artists like Lorde, Aurora, Marina, Sigrid, Sleeping at last and the list goes on

Before he left France, Jean's family had a farm and he was responsible for harvesting fruits and vegetables there. this is one of the last memories he has about France, so he likes to harvest fruits and vegetables whenever he has the chance in the US

Jean loves to read fantasy books. he is a hufflepuff and part of cabin 6 in camp half-blood (children of Athena)

he likes geography. pedology, topography and weather are his favorites. he likes to look at the sky and know how to name climatic phenomena regardless of where in the world he is

(he also likes history and sociology, but only because he can hear Kevin and Jeremy — respectively — talking for hours and hours about those two subjects)

he hates biology

he absolutely hates croissants, tea and coffee. in the morning he always drinks juice or chocolate milk (the latter is Jeremy's fault)

the first time he willingly got wasted on alcohol, he, Sarah and Laila woke Jeremy up in the wee hours of the night while singing in Spanish (Jean barely knows Spanish). he passed out after that and woke up the next day in his room. his first thought was that he was fine even though he lost control of himself around other people, and he cried because of that. Jeremy was concerned because he thought he was crying from a headache or something related to a hangover

Jean can never find shoes his size in conventional stores because he's very big (fucking tall, muscular but not too much, with large shoulders and hips, and eventually a tummy) and, consequently, his feet are also big. he needs to have it personalized and he completely hates it

he loves dogs but is easily scared by them. he couldn't get out of the dorms for almost an entire day after Jeremy's mom's dog barked too loud and it scared Jean. he felt guilty and didn't want people to be mad at him for being so scared of a simple dog

he loves cats though, and after some time into therapy, he adopted a service cat. Kevin and Jeremy always joke about it looking like a replica of Jean himself

Jean doesn't understand the purpose of MMA competitions, because he doesn't like violence and thinks martial arts should be only for self-defense, so he doesn't really understand why people choose to compete over something so aggressive

he also doesn't like the violence in exy, but he forgives because, at least, violence is not the main goal of the sport, but to score points

he learns to draw and starts to open art commissions on the internet. this is his first job and he's proud of it because it was something he achieved by himself

Jean and Jeremy fell in love on the beach

Kevin and Jean take time to forgive each other, especially Jean. the broken heart Kevin left in Jean hurt more than being abandoned by his parents. he suffered from it for years but he didn't really want to blame Kevin. he also knew Riko, after all. he knew how capable of driving someone insane Riko was. it didn't make things easier or less painful though. Kevin and Jean took time, but they never loved each other less

Kevin and Jean fell in love for the second time (the time they could, the time they were allowed) after one of the matches in which their teams were rivals

Jean is very picky for food consistency, and he hates ketchup and mayonnaise for that. he insists all the time that if people knew how to season the food well, they wouldn't need those condiments

(he secretly loves Dijon Mustard though)

Jean was born on 08/31. he’s a virgo

plushies are the first resource that Jean uses when he feels alone but is unable to be around anyone at the moment, so he unconsciously starts making a collection of them. they're all small, except for two that Kevin and Jeremy gave him and are, respectively, a fox and a red and gold trojan. he eventually distributes his plushies to children in local orphanages but keeps those two to himself out of sheer emotional attachment

he doesn't stop suffering because of his trauma throughout his life, but he learns to deal with it. that's the point of everything. he never thinks he will magically forget or get over it, but now he is in a different place in his life and he can start working his way to be the best version of himself he can. he doesn't fool himself into thinking it will be easy and fast, he never thought it would be less difficult than it really was, but he takes things slowly and carefully and hopes it works

his entire healing process is too complex and extensive to explain everything here, but i did the best i could and now i really need to stop because i could stay here ranting for days. xx

[maggotmouth]

          hillo sexthy legends !!   i’m nora and i’ll be writing margo colby n probs sm1 else bcos lets be real, i lack self-control. u can find her pinterest here n some info abt her sexy self below the cut. plot with me on discord ( hot girl midsommar#8664 ) or in my ims !!  x o x

     * CAMILA MORRONE, CIS WOMAN + SHE / HER  | you know MARGO COLBY, right? they’re TWENTY-THREE, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, ELEVEN YEARS? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to SCRAWNY BY WALLOWS  like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole BLEACH WHITE SNEAKERS POUNDING ON A GYMNASIUM FLOOR, USING THE SAME BLUNT SCISSORS TO HACK THE SLEEVES OFF AN EXES T-SHIRT THAT YOU USE TO CUT YOUR 3AM FRINGE, A WALNUT-SHAPED ACHE IN THE PIT OF YOUR STOMACH FOR THE PERSON YOU COULD HAVE BEEN thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is AUGUST 8TH, so they’re a LEO, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nora, 25, gmt, she/her )

CLICK ANYWHERE ON THIS SENTENCE FOR SEXII GOOGLE DOC!!

bullet point summary of margo.

—   born margaret but NOBODY calls her that. its colby, coach or margo, and go to the privileged few. margo grew up in the creek commune n then dropped out of school cos of a teenage pregnancy so she was a bit of a cautionary tale back in’t’day (said tht in my yorkshire accent). she now works for summer camps coaching pee wee soccer and pee wee cheer, as well as helping out her beekeeper dad on his honey farm, which is jst north of abernathy creek, and working at scuba on the off seasons.

—  its just her and her dad, and has been for as long as she can recall !! everything she knows about her mum could fit on the back of the weathered passport photo she keeps in her wallet of a stranger who shares her face - her name’s melody, or at least tht was name she used when working as a dancer, she’s from argentina and dropped mag’s dad as soon as someone w more money came along.

—  margo’s father is a beekeeper with his own organic honey company. margo and her dad moved to irving in the early 00s, the summer between grade school and middle school, because her dad had heard about the communal living in abernathy creek and wanted to lend his skills there and live off the fatta the land in a very lenny from of mice and men kinda way.

—  for a few years of middle school margo was bullied for living with the ‘freaks from the creek’, but when they realised how chill her dad was with underage drinking, margo ‘keg-bringer’ colby soon gained popularity among the more renegade students. every so often, the high school parties would happen at her end of town, occasionally with members of the commune even offering the high schoolers a spiritual experience they’d never forget (often in the form of mushrooms) which meant people tried to stay on her good side. to get an invite to a margo colby party handed you a free pass to make up the most ridiculous shit about the commune you liked and nobody else could say anything, because they’d never been to the creek.

—  at school, margo had a lot of ‘behvioural issues’ bcos of undiagnosed adhd, she found it difficult to sit still for hours n write down huge chunks of information n her restlessness was seen as laziness. she was encouraged to do sports, as were most of the kids who weren’t that academically inclined, but she turned out to be pretty hot shit at sprinting, because she grew up surrounded by bee houses and he who runs slowest gets stung, baybeyy!! so yea, in school sports became her LIFE. she was gonna get a sports scholarship to college but ended up dropping out of school in senior year n becoming one of those kids who could have had it all but lost it.

—  she had sex with sutter at a house party when she wasnt really ready because it felt like the right thing to do at the time and everybody else was doing it. she’d attended health class, she’d seen the corny videos. she knew about all the statistics, but she also knew that it had never happened to anyone she knew and the pull out method was basically safer than the morning after pill and way less expensive.

—  a teenage pregnancy knocked her out of the runnings for prom queen and meant she had to leave school early. she didn’t go to college when her friends did, instead she spent the time interviewing potential foster candidates and eating her weight in lindt chocolate while marathoning love island in her room.  

—  she had a son, who she passed off to someone else a couple of towns away.  it was a closed adoption which seemed like the best idea at the time, but she now wishes she had access to his life.

—  after peaking in high school and jumping between jobs for a few years, she got a more permanent role at scuba which she loves with all of her heart and soul, but unfortunately a bar job doesn’t pay the rent.  

—  she works at summer camps coaching  junior soccer and netball on the side. she’s extremely competitive and takes it very personally if her team lose. the kids all call her, coach colby n write her longwinded letters about how they’ll never forget this summer camp before they go back to their suburban picket fence houses n she keeps all the letters in a drawer n takes them out to read when she’s feelin depressed.

—  enjoys surfing and worked for a number of years on resorts like mila kunis’ job in forgetting sarah marshall. she went on to work 18-hour days as a stewardess on luxury yachts which is a part of her backstory i added after watching season one of below deck because i guess i really am that fucking impressionable. met most of her surf friends doing tht but said she’d never in her life do it again bcos it was mostly just picking up after rich white ppl for shit pay. she came back to irving n thats when she started doing the summer camp jobs so she could move out of the creek n get her own apartment. 

—  she never actually finished senior year so she’s currently going to night school at the community college to get through her exams and is trying to save to go to college or open university. she wants to major in criminology. she’s super ambitious but also super adhd so she fluctuates between thinking she can achieve anything to just feeling like a failure n thinkin whats the point

—  used to shoplift to feel joy and as an act of resistance to her hippy commune routes, but now sees herself as a reformed, bin-diving freegan (sims 4 eco living can i get a hell yaaaa). also she thinks it’s totally wrong to steal when you have enough money and clearly don’t need to steal to survive, ppl risk imprisonment for basic necessities, so for her to do it for a brief thrill and some new shades felt a bit derogatory

—  was raised jewish. became a vegetarian as a child because it seemed, at the time, easier than having to explain which foods she was and wasn’t allowed to eat together, so she just cut out meat entirely. still a vegetarian now and dabbles in veganism, although its become less about not eating certain meats in the milk of their mother and more about her global impact / carbon footprint

—  nurses little animals to health in her garden. has a hedgehog name OJ short for orange juice not the other one filthy pig. her and her dad have always been huge animal rights activists and existed on a vegetarian diet. the only one in their house who isn’t vegetarian is their cat, auggie. (short 4 augustus gloop)

—  has a lot of stupid ass stick and poke tattoos. there was a phase during her years as a barmaid where she wanted to train as a tattoo artist n would mostly practice on herself or any friends who would let her

—  she doesn’t form many long lasting friendships cos she tends to be super excited when she makes a new friend and just see them all the time but then it wears off and she can ghost a bit. she’ll always coming pinging back but she’s not the most predictable or loyal friend, sometimes she’ll sleep in your house every night for a week and then you won’t even get a text from her for a month. her best friends are elderly neighbours and houseless people she meets when volunteering at the foodbank. she thinks they’re more authentic than most of the ‘fake posers’ she meets down the vela pier

—  calls herself a butch lesbian but still has sex with men when she wants validation. sexually attracted to some men, especially effeminate men, but only romantically attracted to women. very possessive of the gals in her life.

—  stopped giving a shit about getting older or adhering to anyone elses bullshit standards, realised it was all fake p much as soon as she dropped out of school and one by one her friends just stopped texting her

—  lives in one of the lofts in port apartments. it’s open plan with rugs and lava lamps everywhere. she has a palette bed. its all very ‘sustainable chic’. like, oh wow, a pallet bed that im supposed to think you made from scratch but i KNOW you got it  off ebay because you thought it looked trendy

—  constantly says shes poor but still buys clothes from urban outfitters. sus.

—  frequently found at fannies flirting with the cute bisexual bartender with a choppy black bob.

general vibe / personality

vibrant, vulgar, self-absorbed, tenacious, veers bewteen apathetic and dogmatic, temperamental, flighty, unreliable, magnetic, charismatic, passive aggressive, likes to play devil’s advocate, takes the moral high ground. estp and a leo

likes: 70s music, john wayne movies, black mirror, philosophy, cowboy chic culture, dc comics, the smell of locker rooms,, deep red lipstick, lacrosse sticks, smoking weed from a bong, dogs, karaoke, pet rats, kate moss, late-night strolls, hawaaiian shirts worn open over a bralette, skinned knees, thai food, picking the apples at the very top of the trees, zip-lining, cigarettes, the idea of pegging but not the practical application of it, decorative lamps, LGBTQ+ pin badges, worn-out furniture, twangy electric guitars.

dislikes: girls who call other girls ‘pick me’ girls, woody allen movies, mental mathematics, wealthy children, quentin tarantino, ironing, institutionalised misogyny, the imaginary future, french literature, ��dump him’ feminism, wes anderson films, spoken word poetry nights, college-educated bar staff who act like they’re better than you,  indie softbois, the general mentality of cheerleading squads.

aesthetics

orange peel, the smell of bleach, skeleton drawings in the margins of a journal, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, bleach white sneakers pounding on a gymnasium floor, setting dumpsters on fire for the hell of it. a hit flask of vodka decorated with hello kitty stickers, split knuckles, alien conspiracy theories and sci-fi paperbacks, doc martens with fraying laces, a child in an oversize bee keepers suit, scabbed knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, and piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your dad wouldn’t take you,  a tennis racket you punched through in a fit of temper, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes.

hoo boy this is getting LONG AS FUCK but here are my wanted plots

wanted plots

ok margo’s been in irving since she was like 10. she’s quite a vivacious person?? she dresses completely instinctively without any sense of cohesion so she stands out. a guy once told her she was wearing the ugliest outfit he’d ever seen and he thought that was so cool and brave of her. but anyway where was i going.. she grew up in the abernathy creek so stuck out like a sore thumb,,,, maybe ppl who were super interested in the creek or maybe poked fun at her bcos of it idk.....

b4 she dropped out, margo used 2 b in with the cool kids at school bcos her dad would buy them booze and rarely ask for the money. maybe a fun plot cld b with some of the ‘it girls’ she used to hang around with b4 she got pregnant n dropped out and they all went off to college n stopped texting her.

frinds !! unlikely friends !! toxic friends !! some1 she feels like she knew before irving ???

since margo literally can’t differentiate between romantic and platonic love, she’s got off with so many of her mates, so i want awkward friendships where they nearly dated, or exes that have now just turned into weird friendships. fwbs. enemies with benefits. all the angst. all the slow burn mutual pining we hate each other narratives

locals who play sports. margo wld be all over community soccer n take it way too seriously. maybe ppl she plays hockey with. girls who she’s like, weirdly intimate with but its not a thing cos the other girls straight !!! what do u mean !! aha just fun !

she works part time at scuba. i want a mate that just goes and sits in there talking to her until her manager gets angry.

she's also a surf instructor and occasionally works as a lifeguard!! gal has like 7 jobs ik but regular swimmers hmu

ppl she coaches at the gym !! she wants to be a personal trainer

i reckon she might have recently started meditating to try and calm down her mind cos its always bustling with thoughts, n i think she’s p interested in buddhism so if anyone’s a buddhist hmu

someone she’s trying to make a zine with on female empowerment and women in film and art, etc. just a very feminist zine. 

TLDR:  angry sports gay, former high school track prodigy turned drop out, who likes feminist literature, wearing leather jackets over slip dresses, and smudged red lipstick.

this was so long !!! im sorry !! if you’ve read this far have a biscuit, love x

[1787americanrevnerd]

The Avengers (Student Body Government for S.H.I.E.L.D High School) Post: 1 of ?

Book Summary:

A High School AU that I hope isn't cliche, I tried to make it my own and it's also not focusing on any ships it focuses on them as a whole. When Nick Fury decides that he needs a Student government he chooses people that could never work together, for the student government he recruits Tony Stark (a bad boy/nerd) Steve Rogers (The skinny kid always trying to pick a fight with people) Natasha Romanov (a Russian transfer student) Clint Barton (no one really knows what he's doing there) Bruce Banner (the lovable nerd) Thor (a nice jock) Sam Wilson ( a pilot in training and actually has student body government experience) Bucky Barnes (the athlete who's always getting Steve out of trouble and never talks about his past) Pepper Potts (she's really just there to make sure nobody adds or subtracts from the population) and their siblings can only watch it all go to shit and then something greater coming out of it.

Chapter 1: Issues

Everyone has their... stuff, whether it be physical or emotional everyone has it. Most people find their people or groups in high school, but some don't fit into the system. Tony was smart but too cool to be in the nerdy group, Steve actually didn't really fit in anywhere, Natasha was a cheerleader and a transfer student that hated most people, Clint wasn't a jock but he didn't belong in any other category, Bruce was nerdy and geeky but had too many anger issues to really hang out with the other geeks and nerds, Thor was an amazing Football player but far to nice to be friends with the other jocks, Sam was a Track and Feild runner but had different dreams than the rest of them, Bucky was an athlete who spent most of his time protecting Steve to belong to any group, and Pepper was a future businesswoman who was too uptight by everyone else's standards. Some of them became friends with each other but it's not the same as having a whole group behind your back.

Tony Stark hated his father, it was the first thing you should know about him. Tony spent most of his time in his garage trying to make a robot suit which he called Iron Man and his friend Bruce called, "A Flying Death Trap" it was a slow process. Tony was a smart kid he was in all the AP classes, however, he was a ladies' man which meant that he didn't really get bullied. If he wasn't in the garage he would be nearby the coffee shop that his other friend Rhodey worked at. Tony was living his best life in general, except for the fact that he had only two real friends.

Steve Rogers was a skinny kid with a boatload of health issues, but that didn't stop him from trying to beat anyone to a pulp who did something wrong. His friend always pulled him out of the fights though saying that, "Your Mom would kill me if you got injured on my watch." Which Steve thought was unfair, why did his Mom and his best friend have an agreement of making sure he didn't get hurt? He wanted to be part of the football team but he was too skinny and had asthma. Steve wanted to play sports with his friends, unfortunately, that wouldn't happen, the worst part of his day was the hour he was alone because his friends were at track practice.

Natasha was a Russian transfer student, she was told to gain American government secrets Clint told her that this was frowned upon. She brought her sister with her and they were living at the Barnes house, she liked it there it was peaceful. She was a cheerleader, she only joined to make fun of the other girls. She tried to act like a stupid pretty girl, that way no one would pay much attention to her however that backfired quickly. Almost every boy wanted to date her, she didn't mind the attention people gave her now. The only thing she didn't like was the fact that people now had misconceptions of her personality.

Clint is a champion archer in the region and is currently trying to be part of the national archery competition. However he didn't really know what to do with his life, they don't exactly give out scholarships for archery. He spent most of his time in "little secret rooms" he found in the school. Clint also didn't have many friends, Natasha had her own stuff and he got the vibe someone like her wouldn't want to hang out with him. His grades weren't the best in the world which made him even more worried about the future and school. He didn't know what to do he thought that archery is the only thing he's good at.

Bruce was a nerdy geek with anger issues, which made it hard to hang out with people. He only had Tony, and Tony didn't always stay right next to Bruce. Bruce was bullied a lot, which didn't help in making friends. He was at the bottom of the social chain, at least he could get into a good school and have a bright future. Bruce tried to be a pacifist however he had really bad anger issues and everything stressed him out, he called the angry part of himself The Hulk. He didn't have bipolar depression, he just got angry easily simple as that.

Thor was a football player and very popular, however, he wasn't mean. Most people saw him as the jock, but that wasn't who he was, not deep down. He had a lot on his place, he would be getting the family business passed down to him because his "nutcase older sister was on thin fucking ice" his father's words not Thor's. He took care of his younger brother at most times, but they've hit a snag in their relationship. Thor didn't have many friends against contrary belief, sure he had people wanting to be his friend but they didn't want to know the real Thor.

Sam was trying to get his pilot's license which was a lot of work and took up most of his time. He was also on the track team which almost took up the rest of his free time. He did have time to talk with Steve and Bucky though. Sam was somewhere on the middle of the social food chain, he wasn't bullied or unpopular but he wasn't the most popular kid in the school. He had secrets though like everyone, one's he couldn't tell his friends knew about them but never asked. He and Bucky had a rivalry neither of them really knew why, Sarah and Rebecca say that they're competing for the best friend role. At least he had people, even if he didn't really like one of them.

Bucky was an athlete and only had one arm, well most of the time. He had a prosthetic but only wore it for baseball and if he had to wear it for the track. He had lost it when he was young, a freak accident and they couldn't save the arm. He had a big family so they were a big help with helping him. He had four sisters Rebecca, Lizzy, Martha, and Linda which was difficult at times but they were good to have around to tell you not to make stupid decisions.

Principle Fury wanted to have a student government, but he didn't want to be stuck with assholes running it. He had to decide who would be in it, and he already had an idea. They might not like each other but this would be a good bonding experience and it would help Fury out a lot. He sent Hill to go and gather them up, and put them in the office he found himself sitting in. This is not going to work, a part of him thought. He couldn't help but feel that he just made a grave mistake, like he interrupted the order of things, in retrospect he probably did.

No one was happy about the fact that they all had to work together. People thought that Stark wasn't serious enough, they said that Rogers would get into too many fights, some people had problems with jocks being in the same room as them. Others really didn't know what they were doing there, one of those people was Pepper Potts. Pepper Potts had an inconsequential life she wanted to be a CEO, but like that would ever happen. Fury told her to make sure that nothing happened to the other kids, make sure they have ground rules. So that was her job, to be the babysitter. This is going to be an interesting year for all of them.

Notes: This chapter was majorly inspired by The Breakfast Club. Did any of you catch that?

Part 2

[syms-things-5]

Clear The Area - Chapter Eighteen

Previous Chapter Here

Notes: So sorry this took me an age to get out. Thanks for sticking with me. We’re in the end game now... 

Warnings: Heavy language. Angst. 

Tags: @jennmurawski13 @kelbabyblue

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 

Sarah was trying her hardest to get out of Lisa’s birthday weekend. Really trying. She couldn’t remember the last time she had put this much effort into something that wasn’t related to work or getting to a finish line she’d imposed upon herself while out on a run. 

She wasn’t a very creative person either. Not when it counted. She spent three days pathetically dropping hints that she was coming down with something. Scott dismissed it at first, insisting the fresh air would do her some good. She went as far as to suggest she was feeling quite nauseous so perhaps a five-hour-plus car journey might not be the best idea. Only she had downplayed it to such an extent, she inadvertently removed the problem from the table. 

She also tried the whole “it should be a family event” thing, but Shanna told her she was family and that she should stop mithering and start packing. 

Things got a little desperate. She wasn’t proud of herself but when Audrey had told her about a falling-out she’d had with Michael, well, it would be stupid to lose that golden opportunity. So, she told Shanna she was thinking of offering to stay and support her dear, dear friend and colleague but, with a glint in her eye, Audrey insisted it wasn’t that big of a problem. She was definitely off Sarah’s Christmas card list now. 

Truth be told, she didn’t have a legitimate reason to avoid the break. She couldn’t deny the prospect of having the entire apartment to herself for four days was enticing, though. She could enjoy some rare peace and quiet. She could read a book in a long, hot bubble bath without Shanna perching by the side and regaling her with the latest issues in her romantic life. She could cook and eat seafood without worrying about giving her best friend an allergic reaction. She could also lounge around in her pyjamas all day, or maybe even naked. 

No, not naked. She was never one for that idea. 

Carly had been filling the family WhatsApp with game ideas; some solo, some in teams. All kid-friendly, which was a speciality of the Evans’ clan. Lisa had planned a long hike for the Sunday morning followed by what sounded like an extravagant picnic with champagne, quiche and foot-long subs. She also sent a picture of three humongous bags of marshmallows, the size of small children, and suggested they could sit round a camp fire on the evening they arrive. That was assigned to Chris as his first job. 

There was also the small issue of a massive hot tub. Thanks to a new reliance on fast food during her late shifts, Sarah wasn’t much a fan of her body at the present time. That was another thing she’d have to contend with. She loved the family but forced fun in bathing suits was not really her “thing”. 

“If we get there early, we can bagsy the attic room.” Shanna suggested, nose in a gossip magazine. Sarah nodded in agreement while keeping her eyes on the television. “I’ll be damned if Scott gets it all to himself again.” 

“Sure thing.” Sarah replied, acting nonchalant and biding her time once more before she could raise again the possibility of her not going with them. 

“Don’t get anything out for dinner tonight. We’re heading to mom’s in a couple of hours. I hope that’s OK.” 

“Sure. Wait, what?” Sarah did a double take at Shanna, her face now fully hidden by her magazine. 

“Sorry!” She peaked out over the top of the page. “I forgot to say earlier but Mom wanted to have dinner at hers tonight so we can go through the itinerary in full. Make sure everyone knows what they’re bringing. I said it’d be cool ‘cos you weren’t working.” Her tone was apologetic. “You’re not doing anything, are you?” 

No, she wasn’t doing anything. And she couldn’t think of anything either. There was literally no thoughts running through her mind at that time. None that offered her any help whatsoever. Blank. Stupid, fucking, dumbass. 

“Yeh, no, of course. Makes sense.” She responded after a second had passed. She silently blew out a long breath and sank further into the couch. 

* 

When Shanna had said they were having dinner, Sarah figured it would be one of Lisa’s massive pot pies followed by the biggest tub of Neapolitan ice cream she could find. Something easy and comfortable that wouldn’t get in the way of the more pressing matters at hand, namely finalising plans for her birthday weekend. She was most certainly not expecting candles and a table runner, the fancy anniversary cutlery and four or five bottles of expensive red wine. Lisa had even added some fresh flowers as a centrepiece. 

Sarah looked down at her ripped black jeans and grey t-shirt and felt woefully under-dressed. She scolded Shanna with an annoyed look that didn’t go unnoticed. 

“I didn’t know she was planning some fancy thing, did I?!” Shanna whispered as they hung up their jackets in the hallway. “You know what she’s like.” 

Sarah did know what she was like so, really, she should have known better.

Shanna nudged her out of the way to walk into the kitchen and give her mother a hug, leaving Sarah standing in the doorway feeling like a potato and not sure how to make use of herself. She could hear Scott get beaten loudly by Carly’s husband on a computer game. She glanced her head inside the living room and waved at them, watching as they offered muffled sounds as acknowledgement of her greeting. Chris didn’t seem to be anywhere around yet which gave her some mild comfort at least. In fact, nearly a whole hour went by before he arrived. A light, summer shower had started outside and his arrival was announced to all by Lisa’s shrill tone instructing him to take his shoes off before walking on her newly shampooed carpet.  

“Yeh, ma, I got it. Gimme a break…” 

“Did you bring that picnic blanket I asked you to find? The one you brought last year? The large, tartan one?” 

 Chris gave his mother a confused look before she audibly sighed. “I asked you about it yesterday? I texted you earlier to remind you? Jesus….” 

 He shrugged off his sport jacket, placing it on top of Sarah’s, and toed his boots off before ambling into the dining room to join the others. 

 “She’s on one again.” Scott whispered to him as Chris took a seat beside him, across from Sarah and Shanna. “She called me three times this morning alone to remind me to pick up plastic cups and plates. Like I’m gonna forget something she’s messaged me about, like, a hundred times.” 

 “That’s nothing. You should see the list of jobs she’s given to Miles and Ethan.” Michael joined in. 

 “But they’re only kids.” Scott questioned him, half surprised and half...not so surprised. His memory suddenly recalled all kinds of jobs he was forced to do as a young boy, raking lawns and cleaning the family car. Michael just shrugged back at him, rolling his eyes knowingly. Scott looked between Shanna and Sarah, worrying for what she’ll impose upon them all next. 

 “She hasn’t given me any jobs yet.” Shanna said. She almost sounded offended at being left out of the menial work. The room fell silent as everyone else slyly eyed each other. “Oh, right. Thanks guys.” 

 “Hey, your job is to read the maps so we get there in one piece.” Scott finally broke the awkward silence. 

 “And Sarah? What’s Sarah’s job? I don’t think she’s been asked to do anything either.” 

 “Her job is to make sure you’re reading the map the right way around.” Chris interrupted and the room descended into fits of laughter. Shanna merely leaned back in her chair, folded her arms and cast a mental curse on her older brother. Sarah tried hard to mask a smirk that didn’t go unseen by Chris. 

 Pointedly ignoring his sister, Chris reached for the open bottle of wine closest to him. He leaned his arm across the table and offered Sarah a glass. “Want a top-up?” 

 They made eye contact for the first time in what felt like ages and he smiled at her, a slight crease appearing in the corners of his eyes so she knew it was genuine. “No, I’m OK. Better pace myself.” 

 They hadn’t seen each other, hadn’t messaged each other, in over a week. She was grateful for the break. He looked good, though. Lean and sculpted to a point that was inhuman or, at the very least, unfair to an average human being. A couple of weeks of working out and his body seemed to ping back to what it once was. It was like watching elastic snap into place. Sarah suddenly felt every single extra pound clinging to her thighs. Whenever she gained weight, it always seemed to land there. It was annoying and proved nearly impossible to remove no matter how often she ran. 

 “The hell is this?” Chris asked. He finally noticed the smooth table runner stretching out in front of him. “Are we expecting someone official?” 

 “Just keep quiet and let her do her thing.” Scott pleaded with him quietly before connecting eyes with Shanna and Sarah, everyone seemingly thinking the same thing. “Let’s try to get out of here in one piece, yeh?” 

 “What took you so long to get here, Chris?” Lisa asked as she walked back into the dining room carrying a large tray of what looked like bread rolls. She placed it down in the centre before moving to the side table to gather the salt and pepper grinders. 

 “Oh, it was just a work call.” He shrugged, confident enough in his manner that the conversation didn’t go any further. Scott elbowed him seemingly without anyone else noticing but Chris brushed him off with a shake of his head. He rested his chin on his hand as he took stock of what was in front of him, Sarah included. 

 His beard was thicker and apparently untended to, Sarah noticed, now that things had quietened down. He glanced at her through his lashes as things grew quiet and Lisa started dishing out vegetables to everyone. Lisa had a particular way of handling large family dinners – lessons learned from cooking for many kids over the years. You knew to wait until everyone had something on their plate before making moves for any more. It all smelled delicious. As unnerved as Sarah felt with the formality laid out in front of her, she had to admit she was looking forward to some proper home-cooked food. 

 Chris kept looking at Sarah, hands folded in her lap, polite as always, waiting for everyone else to go in front of her. He saw Michael help himself to three bread rolls before passing the plate back round to Lisa. Michael was a tall, hefty man whose appetite never seemed to be affected by anything. Even when he had horrendous flu that left him in bed for a fortnight, he still managed to put a lot away. He had never once experienced food poisoning. 

 “If you’re waiting for everyone else, there’ll be nothing left.” Chris spoke as he leaned in towards her so she could hear him over the sounds of cutlery and enjoyment. “Just go for it.” 

 She smiled shyly back at him and thanked Lisa for cooking what appeared to be a mini-feast. 

 “Can you pass the butter, please?” Shanna asked as she reached her arm over Sarah’s plate, forcing Sarah to lean back in her chair. She stretched her other arm out for the gravy that Scott was currently pouring over his plate. 

 “You’re always so polite.” Chris chuckled. “Shan, can you stop getting in the way and let the poor girl eat.” 

 “Huh?” Shanna questioned, unaware of what was going on. 

 “You’re getting in her way.” 

 “No, she’s fine. It’s fine.” Sarah quickly interrupted as she sensed him bristle with frustration. 

 He looked at her for another second before shaking his head. Shanna threw her brother a look of puzzlement but Scott appeared just as confused by his sudden tone.

 “Bet this beats McDonald’s, eh Sarah?” Carly said, before giggling to herself. 

“You’re telling me. I can’t remember the last time I ate something green and fresh.” 

 “Michael is so jealous.” 

 Michael’s ears perked up as he turned to his wife and Sarah. “Damn straight. Being only able to eat burgers and fries is, like, the dream scenario.” 

 “Why have you been on so many night shifts lately anyway?” Chris asked, a mouth full of chicken, placing the spotlight firmly on her. 

 She tried to shrug it off, act casually. “Audrey needed some extra support and I figured it would do me good to work in a few more nights. I always seem to manage to get out of them.” 

She was fast hoping Lisa would start discussing the impending trip to distract everyone but no such luck. 

 This felt like it was going to be a long night. 

 “It gave you time off for this weekend so swings and roundabouts, eh?” Shanna added. “Speaking of which, is there anything you need us to do for the trip, Mom? I noticed everyone else has jobs and lists except for us.” Shanna inquired, not quite able to hide the mild accusatorial tone creeping into her words. 

 “Um, no, I don’t think so, honey. Just trying to keep it as casual as possible.” 

Scott nearly choked out a chunk of potato. Chris, side-eyeing Michael’s increasingly red face, tried his hardest not to bark out in laughter. It was tough. Lisa noticed it, too. Choosing to ignore it, she turned back to her daughter. 

 “I meant that things are under control now so there’s no need to add to the pile. As long as you get there on time, that’s all I’ll ask for.” 

 Shanna wasn’t feeling convinced and the smug grin now on Chris’ face wasn’t helping to reassure her either. She turned to Sarah to see if she was thinking the same thing as her but Sarah just kept her eyes on the plate of food in front her, hoping that if she continued eating and finished as quickly as possible, she could get home again. 

 “I can do something, Mom.” She protested. “I could bring that lawn bowling game again?” 

 “Actually, Michael has one of those. It’s a bit newer and the skittles are heavier so the wind won’t keep knocking them over.” Carly spoke up before glancing apologetically at her sister. “He just got it from a friend at work, so… No biggie.”  

“What about wine and drinks? We could stop off on the way up?” 

 “I put an order in for all of that.” Lisa responded with a casual wave of her hand. “It’ll be here the day before so I’ll pack it up here before we set off. Speaking of which, anyone for more wine?” 

 Shanna remained quiet as the family conversed about nothing in particular. Carly was talking about some game the kids at school had taught her that might be fun for the weekend but nothing could remove the unease surrounding her sister. Sure, Shanna wasn’t the most reliable when it came to shopping lists and sticking to plans but it was unlike Lisa not to call upon her for something, no matter how small and inconsequential it might be. 

 Attention turned from one brother to the next as discussions about carpooling took over. Chris really wanted to use the trip as an excuse to take his new Audi for a drive but with all the gear he and Scott had to bring, there wasn’t much room for anything or anyone else. 

 “Except maybe Sarah?” Chris posed the question, keeping it casual. “You could tag along with us and then Shanna could go with mom, I guess.” 

 “I was thinking of hiring a car myself actually.” Chris looked surprised at Sarah’s sudden offer. She hated driving. “We could take some of the load off everyone else then. Lisa? We could pack up some of your stuff?” 

 Sarah had loosely discussed this with Shanna some time ago but they had ultimately decided against it because, well, she really hated driving. Now, however, sensing her friend’s growing despondency, she figured it might help her feel more useful. Plus, it would give Sarah some control over when they could head back home again. 

 Shanna looked at her friend and smiled gratefully. 

 “That’s very kind of you, Sarah. I supposed you both could go on ahead and get the keys from Maggie and we could meet you there soon after? I said we would be getting there some time around the early afternoon if that’s alright with you both?” Lisa requested, opening another bottle of wine. Shanna nodded, a smile wide on her face now and she felt a sense of relief. 

 Sarah mentally calculated backwards from “early afternoon” and reasoned they would need to be up and out of the apartment by 7am at the latest. Suddenly, her role in proceedings made more sense where Shanna was concerned. She gladly accepted a new glass of wine and made a mental note to contact the car rental in the morning. 

 “You know who you should ask about renting cars?” Scott asked. “Greg, of course! I bet he knows a guy who knows a guy who is the son of the guy that started Mercedes. Or something. Either that or he probably has shares in Hertz.” 

 Sarah rolled her eyes at him, laughing. He probably wasn’t wrong. 

 “OK there, brother. You need to ease up on the wine” Chris pushed Scott’s glass further away and patted him on the back. “There you go, little sis. Looks like you have a job after all.” 

 A clear sign of Chris’ irritation was when he chose to be patronising. Shanna was taken aback by his tone and Sarah felt her friend sink back into her chair, irritated. Sarah raised her eyebrow at him but all he did was shrug, playing innocent. Not his strong point. 

 The room stayed silent for a little while as people finished up their meals. As much as she originally wanted to pace herself, Sarah didn’t object when Scott filled her glass up yet again. He turned in his chair to place the empty bottle on the side table alongside the others. It was then that Sarah noticed all of the other empties. Had they really drunk that much? In little more than an hour? She clocked the time and there still seemed to be plenty of food left. They would be travelling much of it home as afters at this rate. Chris left the room briefly and returned with a couple of beers for him and Michael. 

 “What are you gonna do with all this left-over food, ma?” Chris asked as he sat back down indicating a second tray of roast potatoes that had so far gone untouched. 

 “Please don’t let us take any.” Sarah joked, holding her hands up in playful protest. 

 “What?” Scott asked before laughing. He looked at his sister before smiling broadly at Sarah as he watched her cheeks blush red. 

“Oh, she’s feeling self-conscious about her weight.” Shanna answered, nudging her under the table. That was helpful of her, thought Sarah. She could feel herself heating up as they all looked at her, waiting for her to speak up again. Chris took a swig of beer from his bottle and leaned his forearm on the table. 

“No way in hell are you fat, Sarah. That’s ridiculous.” Scott combatted. “You’re really trim, being on your feet all day. I’d love to give you my fit-bit some time. I’d probably gain a few thousand steps.” 

 Sarah laughed out loud. “Thank you, Scott. Can we please change the subject?” 

 “So, you’ll be wearing a two-piece, yeh?” Chris asked. She turned to look at him suddenly before chuckling nervously. 

 “Um, I have no idea yet. Are we even going to use the hot tub?” 

 “I won’t be.” Lisa laughed. 

 “Oh, we all definitely will! It’s the height of summer and that thing can fit a dozen people. Ample room for comfort!” Scott enthused. He should be a salesman. 

 “And it’d be a real shame if you didn’t join in, Bernette.” 

 She felt her skin heat up under Chris’ gaze as he attempted to hide the fact he was looking at her by taking another long swig from his beer bottle. “I’m not apologising for that by the way. As a man and your friend, I can say that and you can’t get mad at me.” 

 “What?” Scott asked. It was a valid question in the circumstances. “What a…weird thing to say.” Scott laughed a little uncomfortably but Chris didn’t break eye contact with Sarah. 

 “So,” Michael attempted to add some humour back into the room. “Bet it’s nice sleeping during the daytime now you’re on lates? I used to love lazing around the house when I did them.” 

 Scott nodded enthusiastically in agreement, slapping his hand on the table. “I remember night shoots on this one TV drama I did a few years ago and honestly, the sleep I got the next day was the best ever. I don’t know why but I always tend to sleep better in the daytime.” 

 “Funny, that’s what your teachers used to say.” Chris joked, swigging his beer. Lisa giggled and fondly touched her son’s elbow. 

 “Oh ha ha ha. You’re so funny. I swear if you’re this amusing this weekend, I might not survive my sides splitting open.” Scott rolled his eyes. “Which reminds me, we should figure out rooms now so there’s no fighting on the day. No way am I sharing with this idiot.” 

 “You only wanna do that ‘cos you know we’ll be there first and we will be bagsying the attic this time.” Shanna thumbed the space between her and Sarah. 

 “You don’t deserve the attic.” Chris pointed. “You’ll be half-cut the entire weekend, like last time. You won’t enjoy the space or the views.” 

 “Excuse me? What do you care?” Shanna retorted. 

 “You spent a whole day in bed with a hangover last time. If you’re gonna be sharing with Sarah, it’s not fair on her to have to look after you. Again. It’ll spoil her weekend as well.” He explained. “She deserves a break just as much as you do.” 

 Shanna looked aghast at her friend before regarding her brother again. She shook her head in disbelief. “I can handle my drink, OK? I was just gonna say that it wouldn’t be fair if Scott got that room all to himself. Especially if he’s on his own again.” 

 “Thanks sis.” 

 “Sorry, Scott. But…y’know. If anything, Mom should have it.” She suggested, looking towards her mother in hopes that she might appreciate the offer.

“Thanks sweetie but I’ll be staying in the guest house this time. With Carly, Mikey and the kids.” 

 “Since when?” Chris asked, surprised. 

 “We just figured it would be easier this time around. Plus, I can help with the kids and you guys can sort breakfast for us all. Get your pancake apron out again, hun.” She winked at him, sipping her wine. 

 “Chris is a great tosser.” Shanna said under her breath. 

 “Shanna….” Lisa nudged her. 

 “Wait, so does this mean we get a room each then?” Scott interrupted. He wasn’t even sure of what he was saying as the wine haze gradually descended over him. “Sarah?” 

 “I have absolutely no idea.” 

 “I’ve lost track of what’s going on now.” Scott said. 

 “That doesn’t answer the question of who gets the attic, though?” Shanna asked, a little whinier than she had intended. 

 “If Sarah and I take the downstairs rooms, we can figure out breakfast in the mornings.” Chris suggested. “And you can have your precious attic. That makes it easier, right? Does that make you happy, Shanna? Good.” 

 “What’s crawled up your ass and died this evening?” Shanna asked, irritated. 

“Oh my god, Shanna, it’s a fucking bedroom.” He practically spitted. “You keep dragging everything out and making everything into a bigger deal than it needs to be.” 

 “No, I’m not!” 

 “Yes, you are! I’m just making the decisions so we can all move the fuck on.” 

“Chris!” Lisa reprimanded her son and regretted over-ordering on the wine. 

 “It’s alright now.” Sarah attempted to calm things down. “I think we’ve pretty much figured it out so it’ll be fine.” Carly nodded and nudged Michael to offer something by way of support but he looked just as baffled by the tension as she did. 

 Chris landed his bottle on the table hard. “Sarah, you don’t need to keep standing up for her. She’s a big girl. She should be able to figure it out now without you babysitting her all the goddamn time.” 

 “What?!” Shanna also slammed her glass down on the table and looked to Scott and Carly for some back-up but they both seemed frozen to their respective spots. “I don’t need babysitting.” 

 “OK, guys. Dessert? I have pecan pie and or ice cream?” Lisa offered, standing up from her seat and making a shade more noise than necessary in the hope it might snap the kids out of whatever funk they were in. 

 Chris glared at his sister a beat too long and she returned the favour before turning away with a look of disgust. “You’re gonna be heaps of fun this weekend, I can tell.” Shanna shrugged. “Clearly, I’m not the one we need to be concerned with. Maybe it’s you that needs babysitting?” 

 “Fuck you!” Chris stressed, just low enough to miss his mother’s ears. 

Carly’s eyes grew wide in shock and for a second, Chris looked like he might apologise. Sarah reached a hand under the table to gently tap Shanna on her leg. Shanna felt it but didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, she leant on her elbow and rubbed her earlobe between her thumb and forefinger, a sure sign she was feeling upset and possibly trying to stop tears forming. Sarah tried to get Chris’ gaze back on her but he continued eying his sister, no apology yet materialising. He was a loose cannon when he was in this mood and she didn’t much want to stick around and find out what might happen if he downed another beer. 

 “We should probably think about heading home, Shan. I’ll check for an Uber.” Sarah stated. 

 “Don’t do that, I’ll give you a lift, hun. It won’t take long. We can have some pie and then go if you like.” Carly offered with a wink and for the first time that evening, Sarah noticed she hadn’t been drinking. 

 “Always looking out for you, aren’t we?” Chris said, lowly. 

 “Do you wanna calm down?” Shanna asked. 

 “I am calm.” Chris replied. “I’m just having a nice time, right? That’s what we’re all doing here, yeh? Sarah?” 

 “Sorry?” 

 “Are you having a good time?” He pressed. 

 She was sure he was leading her into a trap. 

 “I am OK. Sure.” She spoke each syllable carefully, trying to warn him off from whatever his motive was. 

 “I don’t believe you.” 

 She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, or anyone. She held her hands in her lap and paid attention to the air she was now breathing in deeply. 

 “Oh Jesus Christ!” Shanna called out. She was growing more and more frustrated with her brother by the second. 

 “Shanna!” intercepted Lisa. 

 “No! He’s being a dick and I wanna know why!” She turned back to Chris. “What the hell have I done to piss you off?!” 

 He stayed quiet, blocking her voice out. He focussed as much of his energy as he could at Sarah sitting across from him, willing her to look back at him, to let him know it was going to be OK. He swung between feeling regret and feeling practically and absurdly confident. It was the beer obviously. It really felt like a now-or-never moment. Fuck it. 

 “I’m sorry, Sarah.” 

 Sarah finally looked up at him, tears appearing in the corners of her eyes. Her feet felt like they were weighed down with concrete to the spot underneath. She tried to feel them, to grab at the carpet between her toes. She was pretty sure she could no longer hear what was going on around her as she felt her heart beat inside her ears. 

 “Why are you apologising to her? I’m the one that’s upset!” countered Shanna, jabbing her finger at him, aggressively. 

 He shook his head before looking back at his sister. “I’m sorry, Shanna. I wish there was a better way of saying this but I guess not. I’m just…” 

He paused as he tried to find the words. Sarah felt her heart sink. What felt like goosebumps suddenly appeared up and down her arms. Chris looked at her again. Scott looked at her, too, picking up on something for the first time but what, he couldn’t work out. Damn that second bottle. 

 “I’m just tired.” Chris offered. Carly looked to Michael but he knew nothing of what was happening. “Of this.” 

 “Is it work again?” Lisa enquired. “Maybe you could work in some time off this time around, so you’re not away from home for as long.” 

 “No, it’s not work, ma. I’m just tired in general. Of a lot of things. People.” He pronounced each syllable as clearly as he possibly could. “And I know it sounds pathetic and you’re probably thinking I’m being selfish but I really don’t fucking care.” 

 “I…I don’t understand, honey.” 

 “Yeh, what are you talking about?” Shanna turned to her friend but her stare wasn’t quite matched by Sarah who looked like she was waiting for the ground to swallow her whole. “Does anyone know what the hell he’s talking about? Or why I am in the firing line for it all of a sudden?” 

 “Shan, I don’t think-” Scott started but the glare from his sister stopped him in his tracks. Scott looked at Sarah and things started falling into place. For some reason, of all the memories to have at that moment in time, his mind flashed back to standing out on his brother’s terrace on the evening of his birthday party. Chris had been distracted and checking his phone, even more than usual so Scott was certain it had something to do with a girl. Normally, he’d feel a sense of pride at being right but it didn’t feel altogether appropriate in the current circumstances. 

 “What the hell is going on?” Shanna pressed. She looked to Scott who had his gaze fixed firmly on his brother. “Do you know, Scott?” 

 Scott looked to his brother and when Chris met his gaze, he knew. He knew Scott knew, too. Call it brotherly intuition but something had connected for him and Chris was all the more grateful for it. 

 “Do you ever feel tired or dictating everyone else’s happiness?” Chris asked, breaking the silence. 

 Shanna dropped her hands on her lap in frustration. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? When have I ever dictated your happiness?” 

 “Do you even realise what people do for you? Do you ever take notice of everyone around you, going out of their way to make you feel better even if it makes them feel worse? Take tonight for example. Sarah doesn’t even wanna drive this weekend. She fuckin’ hates it, you know this, but she’s doing it anyway so that you can feel useful. It’s pathetic.” 

 “What? You heard her, she just offered.” 

 “Because you’ve been moaning about not having anything to do! If you’d just moved on, shut up, she probably wouldn’t have needed to.” 

 “That’s not true. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shanna dismissed him. 

 “Why don’t I get the car running and you guys can meet me outside in 5?” Carly proposed, indicating to Sarah that she should try and gather her things, Shanna included. 

 Chris completely ignored Carly. “And you’ve asked her what she wants, right?” 

“Chris, please…” It was pathetic. Sarah knew that. 

 “I just don’t get it, Sarah.” He turned to her with a half-hearted shrug. “I’ve thought about it all week but I just don’t understand what you are getting out of this. Surely, I give you more than this?” 

 “OK.” Lisa got up from the table and moved round to where Shanna was sitting, rubbing a hand across the back of her shoulders as though it was in preparation of something, but Shanna abruptly pushed her hand away. 

 “Sarah and I have been seeing each other. For a little while. A few months maybe, I lost track of time.” 

 Shanna’s jaw dropped. Scott should have felt something but after glancing at his mother stood in front of him on the other side of the table, and recognising the same look in her eyes, he stayed quiet. He saw Sarah close her eyes and figured someone should try and comfort her, too, but it was hard to know where to stand.

 Shanna found some strength to open her mouth a few times but no sound came out, until… “What?” 

 “You don’t need to worry, though. It’s over now.” He placed his bottle of beer on the table and leaned back. He placed his fingers on the edge, running them up and down the smooth, varnished wood. “She ended it by the way. Because she knew you wouldn’t be happy.” 

 Shanna’s mouth hung open, dry. “Is that true?” She turned to Sarah. “Were you with him?”

 “I just said so, didn’t I?” 

 “I wasn’t asking you!” 

 Chris wasn’t sure what he was hoping for in that moment. He looked at Sarah and felt sadness. Sadness at the pain evidently coursing through her body in that moment. She looked small and deflated somehow. He felt astonishingly sober, more’s the pity. He wished he could go to her and hold her but he knew it was the last thing she wanted. Probably what anyone would have wanted. It wouldn’t have helped matters and he wasn’t sure anything he could say now would do that job either. 

 Sarah took in an audible breath and looked at her friend. She blinked back the few tears that had gathered but it only seemed to make things worse. “I’m…sorry. I don’t know what to say.” 

 “I think I’ll just…” Michael pointed to the door and left the table as quickly as he could manage, no doubt to fill Carly in. 

 “Oh my God.” Shanna replied. She put her face in her hands and didn’t move. “I don’t believe this.” 

 Sarah looked beyond Shanna to Lisa who offered her a surprisingly reassuring smile that she was definitely not expecting. Did she feel grateful for it? She had zero clue. “I’m so sorry.” 

 “We don’t have anything to be sorry for, Sarah.” It was the gentlest tone Chris had spoken in all night. “Shan, I know it’s a lot to take in right now but you should know that this wasn’t just some fling or something utterly stupid. There’s a real thing here.” He looked to Sarah for reassurance. “Right?” 

 Sarah couldn’t look him in the eye. 

 “OK, I know I haven’t handled this in the best way-” 

 “-That’s an understatement.” Scott finally found his voice. 

 “-I accept that and for that, I am really sorry, I promise you. But you have to see things from my perspective here.” 

 “Chris, I don’t think that’s what needs to be said right now, OK? Your sister is very upset and I think you should maybe head home to sleep this off. Scott, can you...?” 

Scott nodded in agreement and left the room to grab both their jackets. 

 “Mom, this isn’t-” 

 “-I know.” She held her hand up to stop him. The less he said now, the better. At least until a few hours had been put between them. Chris, resigned, agreed. 

He looked at Sarah again hoping for something, anything, that might make him think things were going to be alright. Lisa noticed the plea in his eyes, practically begging her to look at him. 

“Sarah, sweetheart, you both can stay here tonight. I think we should probably be together for a bit, yeh?” 

 Sarah was flummoxed by the offer but grateful at the same time. She knew Shanna wouldn’t say anything to her if they just went home again, if she would even come back to their apartment at all. She’d shut her bedroom door and not emerge for some time and that would have driven her mad. She wanted to get out of there as fast as she could but…this was perhaps better. Safer. 

 It was going to be a long night. 

 *

[malfoyfarms]

Behind His Back

maybe a rafe imagine? i get it if you don’t want to write for him :) -nonnie

hi can you do a fluff/angst with rafe pls 🥺🥺-nonnie

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

T/W: couple a swear words

A/N: So I managed to finish three requests bc I’m sitting in the barn waiting for my last three cows to calve... hopefully they’ll all be posted soon! 

You pushed the lobster and pasta around your plate trying to avoid any conversation with the adults who were gathered around you. The polka dotted dress you were wearing was constricting your movement, probably on purpose so you wouldn’t mess up the perfectly pinned back hair. 

Your family had invited the Cameron’s over this evening, celebrating you and Rafe’s one and a half years of dating. To you it felt like a business deal, but all you wanted from your parents was to hear “We’re proud of you,” and if that meant dating Rafe Cameron, then so be it. 

You weren’t one to lie, you had fallen in love with the boy, but things between the two of you weren’t exactly the same as when you had first announced your partnership. Deep down you two understood each other, but it still didn’t completely outweigh the unhealthy behavior. 

“So Y/N, where have you been looking for college? I know your Mom’s an alum of Wake Forest,” Ward asked you from across the large table. Swallowing your bite and wiping your mouth, you prepared your answer. Rafe and I were a year apart, him already attending the university in Chapel Hill.

“It was supposed to be a surprise for next week, but I accepted a position to play field hockey at Dartmouth College,” you responded absentmindedly. You flashed a large smile, feeling Rafe’s hand tighten around your thigh. He hated thinking about the two of you parting ways for college, therefore you never talked about it. 

“Y/N, I thought you were applying to UNC Chapel Hill?” Rafe asked, caught off guard by the response you gave his father. 

“No, not anymore. With double legacy, a first-gen woman at Dartmouth, and a position to keep playing field hockey, I’d be stupid not to accept,” I stated, getting heated. My two older brothers made eye contact with Sarah, John B and Wheezie, knowing it was about to get interesting. 

“It’s beautiful here in North Carolina, why would you want to leave?”

“I can ski in New Hampshire,” I retorted.

“We’re a team, Y/N, I thought we talked about decisions before we made them,” Rafe was turning red. You were challenging him, in front of both families and a pogue. 

“We’re not married, Rafe, I can make my own decisions,” You rolled your eyes. As if anything more could go wrong, your eldest brother threw in a comment about a friend of his he could introduce you to so you can acclimate to the campus properly. 

“I just can’t believe you went behind my back when making such a life altering decision. What you chose affects my reputation,” He was looking down at you, like you were a dog and he was your owner. You were ready to destroy, destroy, destroy, just like Daddy had taught his little girl. 

“Oh, so it’s okay to go behind my back and do drugs with Topper and Kelce, or go around beating the shit out of the kids from the cut?” His eyes were starting to dart around as the entire table kept watching. You weren’t finished though. “It’s okay to go behind my back and take my tip money to pay your drug lord? Rafe, your actions affect my reputation.” You spat with a mocking tone. Everyone was silent. 

You stood up, pushed in your chair and made your way to your bedroom. You hadn’t even had the door closed before you stripped your dress off, replacing it with shorts and a sweatshirt representing your future commitment.

Tears were pricking your eyes due to the scene you had caused downstairs. Your mother would be furious without a doubt, but your dad may let you off the hook, you were his baby girl. All you wanted to do was impress your parents with the academic and athletic achievement, but once again you let Rafe’s words cause actions that took that very moment away from you. 

~

It was going on 3:30 in the morning, when you heard your brother walk down the hall towards your room. Quickly wiping your eyes, and standing up to greet him.

“Rafe is on the front porch waiting for you. He called me like nine times because you decided to turn off your phone,” he said. “I can make him go away if you want.”

You shrugged your shoulders and silently made your way to your boyfriend. Once you opened the door and took in his appearance as it matched your own. Red-rimmed eyes, runny nose and twitchy hands. 

Here the vicious cycle began again. You’d fight, make a fool of each other, and then run right back to each other. You slid right into his arms, holding onto him as tight as your hands could. This cycle was the only way you knew how to love. You had learned from your parents, seeing many situations such as the one that had just played out between you and Rafe. 

What you noticed was that as you gripped him, he didn’t return the favor. He gently peeled your arms off of his body, then turning away and wiping his eyes. 

“Look, Y/N, after the scene you caused tonight, I think we,” he paused. You knew exactly where this was going. You had thrown too big of a fit this time. “We need to take a break for a little, get ourselves on the right path, then possibly rejoin.”

“Rafe what the fuck, did you just recite that from a script?” he wouldn’t make eye contact with you, proving your theory correct. 

“No, I just think it’s best for us, this way we can figure out what we’re doing before you leave in the fall.”

“Rafe, I leave the second week of May to start practices, we either fix this now, or end it now,” you whimpered, revealing another secret you hadn’t had time to tell anyone yet.

“Goodbye Y/N.”

~

It was the annual Christmas Party at the Country Club, and you were not looking forward to it. All the kook families were going to be there, including the Cameron’s. It wasn’t Ward, or Rose, or even Sarah that you were scared to see, it was Rafe. Ward wasn’t as upset as you thought he would be to find out you had ended things with his son, probably more focused on cleaning the reputation his son had picked up. 

The preppy skirt and sweater combination you had on complemented your new body type, highlighting the now more developed muscles. One semester of collegiate sports had completely changed you. You finished pinning back your front pieces of hair and made your way to the living room where your family and your new boyfriend were waiting. 

His name was Wilder Buchanon, a third year at Dartmouth, you had met over the summer as he was another fellow athlete. Your families adored one another, almost more than the two of you’s attraction to each other.

As you made your way into the venue, all eyes were on you once again. You were flooded with greetings from other kook kids, asking how New Hampshire was, about your studies, and most importantly the man standing next to you. Everything around was a blur when your eyes met Rafe’s from across the room. 

He didn’t look the same. His eyes had dark circles around them, his shoulders were slightly hunched as if he was trying to hide. He overall just didn’t look well.

“Wilder, I’m going to go get something to drink, I’ll be right back,” he nodded in acknowledgement and removed his hand from your back. 

Your feet carried you towards the former lover, and he instantly looked at you. He flashed a soft smile and took in your new appearance. Your y/h/c hair had grown long, you had put on muscle, not in a bad way. 

“You look good kid,” he chuckled softly.

“How have you been doing Rafe?” There was a genuine tone to your voice.

“Better, I’m officially two months sober, and I’ll be going back to Chapel Hill in the spring,” he responded. 

He didn’t expect you to envelope him in a hug, and tell him you were proud of him, but he accepted it greatly. Of course his smile softened when he met Wilder, but he was right. The two of you needed to work on yourselves as the relationship the two of you shared was unhealthy. He couldn’t be mad at Wilder for falling for such a wonderful girl like you. 

“Go back to be with your boy,” he said softly. “Just remember kid, I’ll always be in your corner.” He moved your hair behind your ear, and sent you on your way.

[ilovefandoms102]

Oh Boy-Part 7

Summary: JJ and you try to plan a date when it backfires...

Taglist:

@ma10427 @lasnaro @certainstatesmantoadartisan @iamaunicorn4704 @riverdaleserpent04 @justcallmesams @sspidermanss @tangledinsparkles @jellyfishbeansontoast @hurricane-abigail

Part 6  Part 8 

edited by author

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=====================================

JJ and I were sitting in my room after a hard days work for the both of us. Me smoking a cig, reading some of my dads old findings, and JJ rolling a blunt (what a surprise).

It was a hot day in the outer banks and our air conditioning decided to go out. Neither JB or I had money to fix it, so we suffered through the heat. JJ strolling around shirtless with a pair of khaki shorts, and I in my bikini top and jean shorts.

If I had to run anywhere I threw on a cropped tee, but I wasn’t planning on leaving the chateau unless it was to go to the beach, or someone was dying. 

“Ya know sweets, we haven’t been on a real date yet,” JJ said, blowing a puff of smoke in the air. 

“What did you have in mind?” I asked, hoping he didn’t think he had to do anything fancy for me.

“I was thinking a day at the beach. Just us..no Pogues.” JJ suggested, looking over at me and shooting me his pearly whites.

“Sounds good to me, as long as you provide the beer,” I laughed.

“You know I got us babe,” he said, scooting closer towards where I was sitting on the floor, starting to play with my hair.

“When are we doing this?” I asked, looking up at him.

“You work tomorrow?” he asked.

“I work the early shift, so I get off around 3,” I said. 

“Perfect, we’ll go have a day at the beach after you get off then.” JJ smiled, leaning down to kiss my head.

“JJ, what do you think about the whole JB and Sarah thing?” I asked.

“I don’t know..I really don’t like the idea of her being involved..” JJ shrugged.

“I mean she’s already a Kook, practically has money falling out of her dads ass. Has never had to work a day in her life for anything, and she has the audacity to try and slither her way into this.” I said, getting up from my spot, starting to pace around the living room.

“Babe..”JJ sighed, knowing I was overwhelming myself worrying about my brother and his new found love with a Kook.

“Of all people JJ it had to be fucking Sarah Cameron, Princess of the Kooks. And I mean, what if we don’t find this gold? Then what? Is she just going to leave? God, John B would be heartbroken.She-” I rambled on.

“Sweetheart, you’re working yourself up over nothing.” JJ assured, coming to stand in front of me. He put his arms around me, hugging me to him. I buried my face into his neck, feeling my tears coming to the surface.

“You don’t know that J, people like us don’t get happy endings.” I slipped out, regretting it immediately. 

“Shit..” I whispered when I felt JJ grow tense.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” JJ asked, pulling away from me.

“I-” I started, but JJ didn’t let me finish.

“So how long were you going to let this go on before you cut me loose then, huh!?” he yelled.

“Baby, please, I didn’t mean it like that. It just slipped out!” I cried.

I couldn’t look at him knowing what I said cut deep.

“Don’t even baby me” JJ said through gritted teeth. 

“I’d take a fucking bullet for you, and you have the audacity to sit there and say we don’t get a happy ending?” he yelled, pointing his finger in my face, coming so close to me I had to take a step back. 

“JJ please! I’m sorry I-I didn’t mean it like that you have to believe me!” I sobbed, trying to reach out to him, but he back away with a disgusted look on his face.

“What because I’m not rich I’m suddenly not good enough for you? Is that it?” JJ asked angrily, his face becoming redder by the second.

“It’s because of me JJ it has nothing to do with you! I’m not good for you!” I screamed, now it was my turn to get in his face. 

“I have an insane amount of problems that will never go away! My mom left, my dad is dead, and my brother is on the same path. I have no money, no way of going to school, and I can barely keep this house now. I’ve got nothing going for me J..” I confessed, finally letting out what’s been bottled up for so long. 

“Sweetheart..” JJ whispered, realization hitting him.

He relaxed his shoulders, trying to put a hand on my face when I stepped back from him.

“Nothing in my life has ever gone right J..and I’m terrified every single moment that I’m going to lose you, my brother, the others..you can have any girl in the world you want. So why would your happy ending be with me?” I explained.

We started at each other for what seemed like hours. I couldn’t take it anymore and started to make my way past him to go to my room.

JJ’s hand shot out and caught my arm as I was about to walk by him. I looked into his baby blue eyes, he was so beautiful..any girl would be lucky to have him.

Not just for his looks, but for his heart, JJ has the kind of heart that when he cares, he cares deep. That’s what I love about him. He was perfect inside and out.

“I don’t want anyone else..” JJ said, staring deep into my eyes. “I want you, all of you, the good, and the bad...I want all of it baby...because it’s you” he said, staring intently into my eyes. 

“JJ-” I started, leaning my forehead against his.

Suddenly there was a big bang right outside the door, both JJ and I jumped at the sound. We waited for a second before someone started pounding on the door.

JJ started towards the door, dropping my arm in the process. I snatched his hand before he got too close to the door.

“Are you insane?! Have you not seen any kind of horror movie?! You don’t just walk to the door at a potentially dangerous situation!” I whisper yelled at him. 

Then we heard, “COME OUTSIDE YOU DIRTY POGUES!”

Kooks. No surprise there.

“Please tell me you didn’t leave the gun in the van JJ.” I said, squeezing his hand.

“Ok I won’t tell you,” he agreed, and I smacked him over the head for that.

“The one time we need it!” I yelled.

The banging got louder, we both stared at the door. We took off to my dad’s office since it was the closest room to us. Shutting the door, I locked it and stood with my back against it.

I called my brother, telling him we needed back up and to get here as fast as humanly possible. JJ was trying to get the window open, but was having trouble. I went and tried to help, both of us pulling with all our strength.

“Fuck, it’s not budging!” I yelled.

Finally the stupid thing caved and we got it open. JJ climbing out first, I followed behind. We took off towards the HMS, running into none other than Rafe and his goons. 

“Well, well, look at what we have here guys.” Rafe smiled wickedly.

“Why are you here Rafe?” I asked, grimacing at his creepy smile. 

“An eye for an eye,” he said.

“What the fuck does that have to do with us?” JJ asked, snatching my hand and pulling me behind him.

“You see, your brother little pogue, beat my boy Topper here pretty badly over my sister. So, I figured, what a better way to get back at John B than to come after who he loves most...and that would be you little pogue.” Rafe shrugged.

My eyes widened looking at each of the Kooks he had brought with him. I noticed Topper sporting some nasty scratches and bruises on his face. We didn’t have a way out with the Kooks surrounding us, I just prayed that my brother would get his ass here soon along with the others.

“So we’re not even going to do this fair and square? You had to bring your goons for one girl?” I taunted Rafe.

“If I had thought you’d be alone little pogue, I would had definitely came by myself.” Rafe said, looking me up and down. JJ took the few steps separating us from Rafe, their chests bumping together.

“You better watch your mouth talking about my girl Kook,” JJ said through gritted teeth.

Rafe just laughed and motioned towards his goons. Circling us in, two guys getting JJ in a headlock, and Topper and Kelce holding my arms. I resisted as much as I could, but trying to fight against two guys who were twice my size was not the easiest thing to do.

“Stop this Rafe! This is so stupid! I have nothing to do with my brother and your sister!” I screamed.

“I need you to be quiet, it’s very disrespectful to talk while someone is trying to hit a ball.” Rafe said nonchalantly, acting like he was lining up a golf club.

“Very brave of you Rafe! Five on one?” JJ sneered.

“Aw JJ ya know, you look really bad man. You’re starting to look more like your dad.” Rafe said laughing. JJ spit in his face in response. “Oh shit” Rafe exclaimed.

“Rafe please!” I pleaded.

“You just wait little pogue, I got major plans for you later” Rafe winked.

I fought the urge to vomit right then and there.

Then Rafe took his first hit at JJ, and I couldn’t help the tears that flowed. I screamed and pleaded with Rafe to stop. JJ not wanting to seem like it bothered him, taunted him more.

“Come on man is that all you got” JJ laughed, blood coming from his nose and mouth.

Rafe then took JJ by the shoulders and threw him on the ground. Rafe and the other Kooks holding him starting to kick and punch at JJ. My heart broke into a million pieces. I felt so helpless, I fought my hardest against Kelce and Topper to no avail. 

“RAFE PLEASE STOP! PLEASE! JJ!” I wailed. 

“Shut the fuck up you stupid bitch!” Topper yelled backhanding me.

My head snapped to the side, my ears starting to ring. I could taste blood in my mouth, and I turned back towards Topper. I looked him in the eye and spat in his face, the blood from my mouth splattering across his face.

This caused him to let go of me, and I took that chance. Somehow I managed to yank my arm from Kelce and sprinted towards JJ. I jumped on top of him, turning to look at Rafe.

“You’ve done enough Rafe!” I yelled, holding on to JJ for dear life. My poor boy was unresponsive to my touch, so I assumed he had to of passed out. 

I heard a car pulling up, hoping that it was my brother and the other Pogues. My prayer was answered as I saw my brother, Kie, Pope, and Sarah running towards us.

I looked down at JJ and lost my breath. His beautiful face was so bloody and swollen I hardly recognized him. I put my head to his chest and thankfully he was still breathing.

“JJ? Baby, can you hear me?” I asked, my tears falling onto his face. I brushed his hair out of his face. I sobbed harder, my shoulders shaking, I bent my head towards his. 

“I’m so so sorry baby, I never wanted this to happen to us. I hate myself for thinking that we couldn’t have our happy ending. This can’t be the end for us. I’m falling in love with you JJ Maybank, so please don’t leave me now.” I sobbed into his shoulder.

================================

Hope this was worth the wait! I loved how this turned out! 

[rayne-storm]

AUgust 14 - Chefs

Title: WENN LIEBE IN DIR IST… UND GUTES ESSEN

Fandom: Tanz Der Vampyr

Alfred/Herbert, Graf/Sarah

This is my favourite musical. Straight up. You cannot get better than this. Maybe "Master and Margarita" but I haven't found a good bootleg of it.

I really hope you guys like this one!!!

Oh, there they were again. That damned truck with it's bombastic orchestral music, the catchy paintings, and the obnoxious sign boy. Alfred knew they were doing this on purpose, parking there because they knew how much it pissed off the staff of his own restaurant. Sure, it wasn't really "his" restaurant. It really belonged to Abronsius, the eclectic perfectionist who taught him everything.

And there the sign boy went, platinum hair flowing ever so delicately on the wind. He chatted up anyone that came by, and of course the mesh shirt mixed with the weird cape thing only made the spectacle that much more intriguing.

Alfred must have been glaring for too long because the blond eventually turned and winked straight at him through the window.

Damnit!

His face must have turned red because Abronsius asked him what was wrong, and he quickly made up some excuse about the heat before going back into the kitchen.

"You know," Sarah - the newest pastry chef - whispered, "their food's really good, and the sign dancer guy is single~" she teased.

Alfred felt his face pucker like he'd eaten a lemon.

Yes, the man was attractive, but from what Abronsius had said, they were all bad sorts there. But… well… whatever. Whatever. He had soups to make.

---

Three nights later. They were back. He had the evening off. Fuck. He was pissed. Abronsius had denied him a raise again. He shouldn't have been surprised, but if always stung when he was educated on exactly why he wasn't worth an extra two dollars an hour.

He knew he was young, sure, but he wasn't stupid or incompetent, he didn't have wrong priorities. He wasn't any of the things that stodgy old bastard said. And all he had wanted was two (2) more dollars. It wouldn't have even made him the highest paid (even discounting the profits he knew the old asshole was keeping).

So he wanted to make the man upset. As the sounds of Tchaikovsky drifted towards him, he couldn't help smirking. He hoped Abronsius was watching. Hoped Abronsius saw him ordering off the competition's menu, and he fully planned on eating right outside the restaurant, in full view from the large glass windows.

"Well hello there, finally come to see what all the fuss is about?"

Alfred nearly jumped out of his skin. He hadn't heard anyone approaching, but there he was: the sign guy. Blond haired, pale skinned, and just, umf, fucking beautiful.

Alfred felt his heart rate increase just from the sheer proximity.

"I-I-I, uhm, yeah. Uh, m-mostly, well, I, uh, wanted to p-piss off my boss."

Real smooth, dipshit!

Sarah was right. He was hopeless.

The guy grinned and, of all things, kissed his hand.

"Well, I'm glad you did. I thought I might have to venture into that tacky place to properly say hello."

Alfred honestly didn't disagree. The restaurant was called Knoblauch, which just meant "garlic" and the interior was kind of gaudy. Not that he would have ever dared say so.

"I, uh- wait. You wanted to see me?"

"Every day since I first spotted your adorable pout, yes."

It was effortless the way this guy flirted and Alfred was just getting more and more shy.

"I'm… um… that's sweet. Thanks."

"So did Sarah get you to take a look? She's been very chatty about you, you know."

Ah fuck.

"I, uh, I mean, maybe I guess, but, uh-"

"She says you're a single hopeless romantic, and I really hope she's right," the man interrupted, and whoops, there went Alfred's ability to speak anything but flustered gibberish entirely.

The man leaned down and grinned.

"My name's Herbert von Krolock. What's yours?"

Oh, Alfred knew this man knew, but he couldn't help answering anyway, stuttering it out.

Herbert grinned. "You're so cute! Do you wanna have dinner with me? Now?"

"U-u-uh, um, I mean, uh, I…. Yes…?"

Herbert took his hands (both of them, like this was some kinda romcom), and led him over to the side of the food truck, music playing louder there, and the magnificent frescoes truly visible. They were gothic scenes, dark balls. Alfred couldn't help liking them, for whatever reason.

Then another beautiful man appeared, pale and salt-and-pepper tied in a neat bun.

"Oh, the boy finally came. What shall we have tonight?"

Herbert smiled and nudged Alfred, who realized in a panic he had no idea what kind of food they even sold. The man seemed to take pity on him, luckily.

"Let's start you with a sampler, then. I know it's a wide variety… I'm glad you stopped by. Sarah speaks highly of you," he added with a small smile.

If he survived this Sarah was getting the bougiest fucking brunch ever.

Hebert led him to a small table over to the side to wait.

"You know, Graf is head over heels for her, but he's afraid his age will put her off," the blond murmured conspiratorially.

Alfred couldn't help snorting softly.

"She has a thing for older guys, actually. He should go for it."

Herbert grinned brightly. "I'll try to let him know that…"

Alfred couldn't help smiling. Was it something in the air? Who knew? He just… was having the best night he'd had in a long time.

The food was ready and Herbert got it, stopping only briefly to greet visitors. Alfred was a little surprised, since he always seemed so sociable before, inviting people in.

"What's the look for, hmm?"

Alfred was startled again by the quietness of Herbert's steps.

"O-oh! Nothing, really. Just… you always seem so chatty when…"

"When you spy on me from your little restaurant? I am. But tonight I'm on a date with a very cute guy, and he gets all my attention."

Alfred once again lost all coherence, nibbling at a strawberry to hide his sheepishness.

Herbert just chuckled, and began telling him about the food truck.

Graf (the owner, Mr. Sexy Older Guy) had taught himself to cook after dealing with a very hard childhood, and one day he decided he would take his knowledge out and feed others. He quickly became popular as a caterer at parties, the rich-people kind, like masquerade balls and that kinda thing.

He still did them sometimes. But his true love lay in cooking for the masses, it seemed, out on the street, in parks, at games. He decided to take the Balls and Parties with him.

"That's… really cool," Alfred admitted.

"Yeah? I think so. But we might have to give it up… he's thinking of doing a world tour in his golden years," Herbert began with a wry smirk, "as though he ever plans on retiring… but he wants an apprentice. I'm no good at anything except cold foods and people-pleasing…"

Alfred sighed and shook his head. Just his luck. He found a new favourite place and they were closing.

"I mean, you seem pretty good at what you do…" Herbert added suggestively.

"Wait, wait, what? Me?"

"Yeah. You. You're not the only one that spies from time to time. You seem really passionate about food. And fast. And competent in general."

Everything that Abronsius berated him for not being.

"I… is this all just a ploy? To poach from the competition?" He asked, stiffening. It was one thing to be all flirty and friendly, an entirely other thing to-

"What? No. Of course not! I'm not so shallow I'd do that."

Herbert looked genuinely hurt and offended. Fuck.

"I… I… I'm sorry it's just… I'm pretty often reminded that I'm a young, stupid know-nothing that'll never make it on my own and all…" Alfred muttered bitterly.

"That old hack doesn't know what he's talking about."

Graf's voice came from nowhere, and you know what? Alfred could live in a state of permanent heart-attacks. That was fine.

"What? You know him?"

"That pompous blowhard is the reason I never went to culinary school. Way back when, he made everyone's life hell because it had to be his way or nothing, because he knew how to cook 'properly' and we knew nothing."

"....so I take it he hasn't changed much."

"Nope. Almost ruined food for me. I decided I'd never go through anything that would turn me into a rude monster like that."

"Well, I'm quitting tomorrow, so I don't blame you."

Graf chuckled. "Why bother with that courtesy? Just come work for me. Rub it in his face. Bring the girl too. Take his two best kids from him."

Yeah. That… that sounded good.

"You know what? I think I will. If you'll excuse me, I have a call to make."

He walked over to the other side of the truck, a little ways away, where he could look in and see the kitchen. And there was Sarah, flinching at something the old bastard was saying.

He called her number.

He almost couldn't believe it when she picked up.

"Look outside," he directed. She did, and gave him a wave and a bright smile.

"How do you like it?!”

"So much I'm gonna work here. I quit. You should too. They asked for you by name."

"Say no more."

She hung up, and without further ado completely stripped off her uniform, leaving her in a sports bra and leggings (cause let's be real it got fucking hot in that kitchen sometimes), and she just sauntered on out.

Herbert started laughing, and Alfred turned just in time to see the look on Graf's face as his dulcet darling was strutting over.

"So, you want to give a recently unemployed girl a job?" She asked with a bright smile.

Alfred was glad he wasn't the only one who sometimes forgot how to speak.

Herbert took over, and the pair quickly bantered a deal, and Alfred just took a minute to watch.

They looked good, all together like that. Almost like a family.

Of course, then Herbert glanced up at him, and gave him another of those heart-stopping winks.

Well.

Carpe noctem and all that.

[apoguecalledjj]

Fixation (Chapter 6)

Series summary: Eleanor is new to the outer banks, and the pogues are quick to take her in. But so are the kooks, and as she grows closer with Rafe, trouble emerges. Trying to balance her relationship with the pogues and the kooks, as well as dealing with her own personal problems, Eleanor falls into a hole she may not be able to dig herself out of.

Chapter Word Count: 3366

Chapter Warnings: mentions of addiction and drug use

Previous Parts: Ch. 1  Ch. 2  Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6

Taglist: @prejudic3 @maragritatimebaybee @drewxxrudy @outerbankslove @bricksatanakinswindow @alexa-playafricabytoto 

Rafe made it clear that he did not want Ellie hanging out with the pogues. When he woke up the day after their argument, he started another one, yelling at her once again. She only managed to calm him down by promising him that he would stay away from them. Even though Ellie was beginning to become scared of her boyfriend after their physical altercation, she still didn’t keep her promise. Living with a crazy, drug-addicted mom had taught her a lot about sneaking around and she was putting those skills to good use. Rafe was spending a lot of time with Topper and Kelce anyway, which made it easy. She had been hanging out with the pogues a lot. To be honest, she only went to Rafe’s every couple of nights to get high and have sex. He seemed content, now and then he would accuse her of avoiding him but once the cocaine got into him it was always forgotten about. Currently, Ellie was sat on the dock by the chateau. John B and Sarah sat across from her, Kiara and JJ on either side and Pope in the hammock a couple of feet away. It was a beautiful day, but for some reason, they had decided against swimming and instead had spent the morning sitting around, drinking beer and complaining about being bored. JJ had his arm draped loosely over Ellie’s shoulders. She had expected his friendliness to change once he found out she was dating Rafe, but he never faltered. She always brushed it off, because JJ flirts with everyone, but she couldn’t pretend that she didn’t notice the way he had stopped drifting away to tourists at parties or how John B and Pope constantly teased him and asked him if he was okay. According to them, he hadn’t gone this long without getting laid or even kissing a girl in over a year. Thinking that JJ might actually be seriously flirting with her made her stomach twist in a way she tried to ignore. Ellie knew Rafe wouldn’t be impressed with the way JJ was treating her, especially since she wasn’t meant to be hanging out with him at all. Yet, she never pushed him away or asked him to stop, because secretly, she enjoyed it. “Ellie, you never did mention what brought you to the outer banks,” Pope mentioned, looking at her from where he was in the hammock. “Is Travis your mom's brother or your dad's?” JJ could feel her tense underneath his arm, and he gently squeezed her shoulder. Besides her aunt and uncle, he was still the only person on the island to know her secret, she hadn’t even told Rafe. Not that Rafe cared enough to even ask. “uh,” She mumbled, looking down and picking at the skin around her fingernails. She hated hiding things from the pogues, they were so nice and open with her, and she did feel like they deserved to know. She trusted them. But it had always been hard for her to talk about, no matter who with. Not to mention it brought her mind right back to the fact that she was falling right into her mother’s footsteps. The scariest part was she didn’t care enough to change it. Ellie was already in too deep. JJ leaned over slightly, so his lips were near her ear. “Don’t feel like you have to tell them, El.,” He assured. “They’re not pushy. They’ll understand.” Ellie nodded, but she knew it was time to finally let them know. All of her new friends were looking at her, eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and sympathy. She continued to pick at her fingers, preparing herself to possibly change her friend's opinion of her. “It’s a bit hard for me to talk about,” She started. Her brain was flicking through memories like photographs. The day her little sister was born. Birthday parties. Vacations. Her mom, healthy and happy. First days of school. Then, as the timeline continued, less of her mom. More of Ellie taking care of her sister. Her mom stumbling home late with men Ellie didn’t trust around her sister. Needles left lying around that she was left to dispose of. Getting eviction warnings. Quitting sports to get a job. She didn’t even realize she was crying until JJ reached up and gently brushed a tear away. She sniffled, quickly wiping her eyes. There was no need for them to see her cry. “It’s okay, Ellie, you don’t have to tell us. We don’t mind.” Kiara spoke softly, smiling at her gently. She shook her head, continuing to speak. “My mom is a drug addict.” It felt like a weight was left off her chest, just letting that one piece of information out. She didn’t look up, had no intentions of locking eyes with any of the pogues. She could imagine well enough how they were looking at her. “She lost her job. It got worst and worst. I was terrified we would end up homeless. I had to give up all my after school activities, I got a job and worked as much as I could. I was selfish, I know I should have told someone or asked for help, but I was terrified of getting separated from my sister. I didn’t want to lose Sadie. She’s only 9.” Ellie choked up at the mention of her sister. JJ rubbed her back slowly, trying his best to soothe her even though he understood that probably wasn’t possible. “Eventually it got too much. My grades were dropping. I almost failed my junior year. Mom was spending more time at home instead of at other houses, and she brought men with her. I didn’t feel comfortable leaving Sadie in that house. I was scared something would happen to her. “I called DCS. I fucking called DCS on my own mother,” She sobbed out. This was the most she had ever told anyone. “They came to take my sister. They had contacted her dad, a man she didn’t even know, and he decided to fight for custody. It was short, because of the situation, and he won. She went with him. I went with uncle Travis, even though I begged to stay home. I needed to take care of my mom. She needed me.” JJ pulled Ellie even closer as her body shook with the sobs overcoming her. Sarah and John B were frozen in shock, John B had suspected something had happened for her to come here that she was uncomfortable talking about, but this wasn’t what he expected. Kiara grabbed her hand, squeezing it slightly. “They promised me I’d hear from my sister. That we would stay in contact. I haven’t heard from her yet. I don’t even know who her fucking father is, cause my mom was a goddamn slut and we had different dads. Surprised she only ended up with two kids.” The anger in her voice quickly shifted back to sadness. “I don’t even know what happened to my mom,” Ellie whimpered. “She might be dead.” “They wouldn’t let anything happen to her, El,” JJ reassured her as she sobbed into his chest. “She’s getting the help she needs.” “I just wish they’d let me know,” Ellie muttered. “Uncle Travis refuses to talk about her.” Kie wrapped her arms around Ellie. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve to go through that.” Sarah shifted over and joined the hug as well. “I’m sure you’ll hear from your sister soon.” Before long, Pope and John B had joined as well, and the six of them sat on the dock, huddled together in a group hug around Ellie, as her sobs slowly quieted and her body stopped shaking, comforted by her friends. --- Rafe had dragged Ellie to a party, but it wasn't on the beach like she was used to. Instead, she was at some random kook's house, music vibrating the wall and way too many unfamiliar faces. Pogues weren't welcome at these parties, Rafe told her. She wasn't stupid, she knew they stopped going to the Boneyard because her friends were there. He was dragging her here so she would be away from them. But his plan failed, because only an hour after they got there, there were shouts and whoops from the front door. The pogues were crashing the party, and Ellie had never been more glad to see some faces she knew. The party had been dull so far, and now there might be some excitement. Rafe’s eyes narrowed, glancing between his girlfriend next to him and the four pogues he noticed her staring at. It angered him, he could tell she longed to go talk to them. Her eyes were fixated on JJ specifically. God, Rafe hated that guy, hated the way Ellie seemed to be obsessed with him. That would have to be dealt with. JJ turned and finally noticed Ellie. “We should go say hi!” He said to John B, his eyes locked on the beautiful girl across the room. He didn’t notice it, but his smile grew wider. John B shook his head. “No man, are you crazy? She’s with Rafe.” JJ hadn’t noticed Rafe until John B pointed him out, standing right next to Ellie. She looked slightly uncomfortable, tense, and Rafe looked unhappy, angry even, his eyes slowly scanning the room. So JJ just waved at her instead, not being able to help himself. He saw her slight smile as she moved her hand to wave back, but Rafe grabbed her arm before she could lift it. JJ could tell he was holding Ellie too hard, he saw her wince at his grip. Rafe’s lips were moving angrily, but JJ was too far away to pick out what was being said. “John B he’s hurting her,” JJ said, turning to his best friend, but the brunet was nowhere to be seen. He glanced back at where Ellie was but the spot was now empty, the girl he cared so deeply about, and the boy who was hurting her gone. He glanced around, looking for any signs of her, but there were too many people at the party and whichever kook lived here had a huge house. Rafe’s hand grasped Ellie’s arm tightly. “Stop fucking staring at the pogues,” He sneered in her ear, quiet enough that no one could hear. “You’re here with me, alright? I don’t need my girl being seen with those fucking dirtbags.” He pulled back a bit, loosening his grip. Ellie stared at him with wide eyes, shocked that he would get so angry in public. “Come on now, baby,” He said, softer now. “Let’s go get the fun started.” He dragged her into a room just down the hallway, where multiple kooks she didn’t recognize were sat around a table covered in lines of white powder. Her body finally relaxed at the sight of the drug in front of her, she was eager to get across the room and lean down to the table. She tore away from Rafe, and before long, Ellie was bent over the table with the rest of them, a dollar bill rolled and assisting her in snorting the drug. She sighed happily, the feeling she missed and craved for finally coming back to her. All the conflict from Rafe was forgotten as he sat next to her and wrapped an arm around her, leaning down to do a line of his own. JJ quickly found his friends and a beer and tried his best to relax and enjoy himself, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Ellie had looked so upset, Rafe so angry, and he feared what the boy might do to her in a state of anger. “Guys I think we should go look for Ellie,” He mentioned to Pope and Kiara. John B and Sarah were off god knows where probably doing things no one wanted to think about. "JJ, she's with Rafe and you know how that'll end. I'm sure she's fine." Pope assured JJ. "I'm worried though, Rafe looked angry at her earlier. We don't have to talk to her, I just want to know where she is." He told the two. "Please," he added on after. "Okay fine," Kie gave in. "But just to find where she is. We are not talking to her. And don't make it obvious that we're looking for her, especially to Rafe." The three made their way around the party, squeezing around various kooks who did not seem too impressed by the pogues. They poked their head into room after room, praying that they wouldn't come across a couple having sex. Ella wasn't in the bathrooms, and she definitely wasn't still out at the party. Pope drifted down a hallway and stopped outside an open door. "Oh fuck," He muttered, leaning slightly against the wall. "Fuck. Fuck." "What? What is it?" JJ rushed over to where Pope was standing, Kiara not far behind. But Pope had no need to answer because the two could easily see what he had: Ellie sat around a table with half a dozen kooks, the surface in front of her scattered with cocaine. JJ prayed that Ellie was just there with Rafe, that she would know better than to get caught up in that, but all his prayers went out the window as he watched her grab the dollar bill from Rafe's hand and bend down. Kiara's breath hitched in her throat. "Oh, Ellie," She mumbled. We have to do something, guys." Pope said, moving towards the door. "No." JJ, of all people, held Pope back. "Look at how effortless she does it. The smile on her face. No one is pressuring her, I don't think this is her first time. If we rush in there telling her off, we just risk getting beat to shit by Rafe and his friends. We'll talk to her tomorrow after she works." Pope and Kiara nodded and turned, making their way back to the party. But JJ stayed just a minute longer, his heartbreaking as he watched Ellie fall in the steps of her mother. --- JJ didn’t wait until after work. The moment Ellie walked through the door, ready to clock into her shift, he jumped up. “Hey JJ!” She said excitedly, but her smile faltered when she noticed he didn’t match her energy. “Is something wrong?” “Yeah, somethings wrong,” JJ told her, sitting back down at the table with Pope, John B, and Sarah. Ellie scraped her brain, trying to figure out what this could be about. But she came up empty-handed, she couldn’t figure out what the pogues wanted to talk to her about. Kiara made her way out from behind the counter to the table they were sitting at. “Come on.” She motioned for Ellie to sit down with them. “Work can wait.” Kiara’s eyes looked stressed, and a quick glance at JJ and she could tell he hadn’t slept, dark bags under his eyes. Ellie pulled out a chair and sat down with them, fiddling nervously with her fingers under the table. She chewed at her lip until she tasted blood, her mind racing with possibilities of what was about to occur. “We saw you last night at the party,” Pope said softly. Ellie screwed up her face in confusion. She knew they had seen her, JJ had even waved. “After we got there,” Kiara added, sensing her confusion. “You were in a room.” Finally, everything fell together for Ellie. The pogues had seen her doing cocaine. They knew. Her breathing quickened, her hands beginning to shake slightly. They were never supposed to find out, and now here she was, five pairs of eyes staring at her with sadness, sympathy, and disappointment. She pushed back her chair harshly, standing up. “I don’t want to have this conversation.” John B, who had been sat on the left of her, grabbed her wrist softly. “Ellie, we want to help you.” He and Sarah had been filled in the night before, and even though they didn’t physically see it, they were just as shocked as the other three. “I don’t need your guys help.” Ellie took a step back. “It’s just cocaine.” “I know you’re smarter than that, Ellie. It’s not ‘just cocaine’. You have a history of addiction in your family. Do you really want to end up like your mom?” Pope asked, but that was the wrong thing to say. Ellie scoffed and turned on her heels, not wanting anything to do with the five people behind her right now. “I’m not my fucking mom.” She stormed across the room, letting the door slam on her way out. “Good job Pope!” JJ shouted before jumping up to go after her. Kiara went to get up too but JJ put out his hand, “No, stay there. I got this.” JJ found Ellie outside, leaned up against her uncle's truck. Tears were silently streaming down her face. Now that he knew about her usage, he was angry with himself for not knowing something was up sooner. Her nostrils were red and irritated, and she had lost weight in only the few weeks she had been here. Her hands were always shaking and her mood swings were quite severe, but JJ had always brushed that off as PMS. “El,” He mumbled quietly, reaching her side. “I’m not in the mood to be yelled at, JJ,” She muttered, shifting her body away from him. “I’m not gonna yell at you.” He grabbed her shoulder lightly and turned her so she was facing him. “I’m just worried about you, okay? I’m not mad.” Ellie nodded slowly, before breaking out into a sob. “I’m sorry, JJ,” She leaned her body into him, her face buried in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “I fucked up, I know but Rafe is always doing it. I didn’t think it would hurt. I didn’t think it would be a big deal. But now I can’t stop and JJ I’m so scared because I really don't want to end up like my mom and-” JJ cut her off. “Hey, El, shhh. It’s okay. We’re gonna help you, okay? You’re not gonna end up like your mom. You’re stronger than that, okay? It’s okay,” He gently kissed the top of her head, her sobbing getting quieter and her shaking slowing. “I’m sorry, JJ,” Ellie said, pulling back to look at him. her eyes were red and puffy, she looked so sad, and nothing could have broken his heart more. He hated to see her like this. “You’ve barely known me for three weeks and this is what you have to deal with. I don’t expect you to help, JJ.” “Of course I’m going to help you.” “Why?” Ellie couldn’t figure out why anyone would want to deal with her. “Because I’m falling in love with you, El. You make me feel things, things I’ve never felt before. I care about you, so, so fucking much and seeing you hurt like this is tearing my heart apart. Seeing you get better is the only thing I want to see.” Ellie smiled softly. “You really mean all that?” JJ nodded. “I do.” Neither of them knew who leaned in first, but their lips were pressed together. It felt right, this wasn’t how Ellie felt when she kissed Rafe, this was better. JJ’s arm wrapped around her waist lightly, his other hand gently stroking her cheek with his thumb. He bit her bottom lip softly and she opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to slip in. They could have stayed like that forever, Ellie’s hand tangled in JJ’s hair as she leaned up against the truck for support. But footsteps heading towards them quickly and they pulled apart, smiling at each other for just a second. But when Ellie turned to see who was coming, the smile fell quickly. Rafe was stood, just a couple feet away, a glare on his face, aimed more at JJ than Ellie. “Ellie, you want to explain to me what the fuck is going on?”

[xbreezymeadowsx]

200 Questions

No one asked me to do it but I made @sharpiewashere do it so it’s only fair I suffer through, too.

200: My crush’s name is: Zach because husband but also... Tommy motherfuckin’ Flanagan

199: I was born in: New Hampshire

198: I am really: horny and annoyed

197: My cellphone company is: Verizon

196: My eye color is: Brown

195: My shoe size is: like 10.5W I think.

194: My ring size is: I think it’s a 9.

193: My height is: 5’ 3”

192: I am allergic to: cats and crop dust

191: My 1st car was: old ass shitty Jeep Grand Cherokee

190: My 1st job was: at a stand in a city mall where we had an inflatable slide and two bounces houses and served sno cones, smoothies, and novelty ice creams

189: Last book you read: Fangs by Sarah Andersen

188: My bed is: fuckin’ broken and uncomfortable and clearly not big enough for myself and my bedhog husband.

187: My pet: 1 old black cat.

186: My best friend: Yuki (that bitch is my best best best friend and I miss her to pieces)

185: My favorite shampoo is: Garnier Whole Blends: Honey Treasures

184: Xbox or ps3: Fuck both. Switch.

183: Piggy banks are: cute

182: In my pockets: nada at the moment

181: On my calendar: is scribbles from my kid

180: Marriage is: Don’t marry a redneck!

179: Spongebob can: stop. Give me the early Bob but that’s it.

178: My mom: loves Unicorns

177: The last three songs I bought were? Wap metal version, Room with a Zoo, Shoop

176: Last YouTube video watched: GabSmolders playing Control

175: How many cousins do you have? technically only 2 by blood and actual familial connections. 6 if you count some others. 9 if you count step-cousins.

174: Do you have any siblings? 1 big Seester!

173: Are your parents divorced? Yeah

172: Are you taller than your mom? Maybe? IDK, we’re both shorties

171: Do you play an instrument? sadly, no.

170: What did you do yesterday? Slept and worked

[ I Believe In ]

169: Love at first sight: yes

168: Luck: yes

167: Fate: yes

166: Yourself: HA, you’re funny.

165: Aliens: no

164: Heaven: these are...

163: Hell: ... kinda loaded...

162: God: ... questions

161: Horoscopes: maybe

160: Soul mates: yes

159: Ghosts: yes

158: Gay Marriage: yes

157: War: yes

156: Orbs: yes

155: Magic: yes

[ This or That ]

154: Hugs or Kisses: hugs

153: Drunk or High: unfortunately neither.

152: Phone or Online: online

151: Red heads or Black haired: black

150: Blondes or Brunettes: brunette

149: Hot or cold: cold

148: Summer or winter: winter

147: Autumn or Spring: autumn

146: Chocolate or vanilla: chocolate

145: Night or Day: night

144: Oranges or Apples: apples

143: Curly or Straight hair: straight

142: McDonalds or Burger King: McD’s outta these choices but I’d take Steak’N’Shake over either.

141: White Chocolate or Milk Chocolate: Milk and Dark.

140: Mac or PC: PC

139: Flip flops or high heals: flip flops

138: Ugly and rich OR sweet and poor: Zach can be sweet (he certainly isn’t ugly to look at) and we’re definitely on the poor side.

137: Coke or Pepsi: Pepsi (anybody remember Pepsi Twist? That was the best!)

136: Hillary or Obama: Obama

135: Buried or cremated: Buried I guess. Though, if I’m cremated, my ashes need to be spread in one place and no separating them.

134: Singing or Dancing: singing

133: Coach or Chanel: I am a redneck, these things don’t mean anything to me.

132: Kat McPhee or Taylor Hicks: who?

131: Small town or Big city: small town

130: Wal-Mart or Target: Either? I shop Wal-Mart all the time out of convenience but I do like Target

129: Ben Stiller or Adam Sandler: I am overall not a fan of either barring a select couple movies (like Heavyweights and Little Nicky)

128: Manicure or Pedicure: no thanks.

127: East Coast or West Coast: east coast

126: Your Birthday or Christmas: Christmas

125: Chocolate or Flowers: chocolate

124: Disney or Six Flags: Can I go to a Zoo instead?

123: Yankees or Red Sox: I’ll say Sox because New England but I don’t particularly care for baseball.

[ Here’s What I Think About ]

122: War: there’s a time and place

121: George Bush: he’s an idiot?

120: Gay Marriage: yay!

119: The presidential election: tearing families apart because people are stupid and vote for Trump

118: Abortion: this is a bit of a grey area for me. While I firmly believe in “my body, my choice”, I do not accept that argument if you are constantly getting them as if it is a form of birth control. Use proper contraceptives you slut.

117: MySpace: does that even exist anymore?

116: Reality TV: certain ones can assume me.

115: Parents: love them even when you don’t like them.

114: Back stabbers: pussies.

113: Ebay: never used it

112: Facebook: is reserved for pictures of kids, pets, funny videos and memes, and gifs.

111: Work: shitty... literally

110: My Neighbors: I’m just glad they aren’t the cousin-fuckers or the Methicans anymore.

109: Gas Prices: it takes like 20 bucks to fill my tiny car gas tank so whatever.

108: Designer Clothes: never fit me

107: College: didn’t go.

106: Sports: HA. My fat ass play sports? Maybe Badminton or Tetherball but that’s it.

105: My family: lives too far away.

104: The future: needs to be better than now.

[ Last time I ]

103: Hugged someone: like 20 mins ago when my kid was trying to suck up to me to get a sip of my frappe.

102: Last time you ate: two hours ago.

101: Saw someone I haven’t seen in awhile: Zane’s first day of school this year. Miss Angie came over to see him off in the morning.

100: Cried in front of someone: probably a few weeks ago.

99: Went to a movie theater: Twilight Breaking Dawn pt 2.

98: Took a vacation: three years ago.

97: Swam in a pool: probably close to 8 or more years ago.

96: Changed a diaper: 4-5 yrs ago.

95: Got my nails done: professionally? never. By Zane? last weekend.

94: Went to a wedding: three years ago.

93: Broke a bone: never. dislocated shit though.

92: Got a piercing: over a decade

91: Broke the law: probably frequently without realizing it.

90: Texted: couple mins ago.

[ MISC ]

89: Who makes you laugh the most: oh I’m a funny bitch

88: Something I will really miss when I leave home is: nothing? fuck this house. fuck this town. fuck this state. I wanna go HOME home.

87: The last movie I saw: Smokin’ Aces 2

86: The thing that I’m looking forward to the most: my nephew’s birth and the vacation we plan to take to see him!

85: The thing i’m not looking forward to: the travel for the vacation stated above.

84: People call me: a lot of things. most of them true.

83: The most difficult thing to do is: wake up

82: I have gotten a speeding ticket: nope

81: My zodiac sign is: Taurus

80: The first person i talked to today was: my husband

79: First time you had a crush: I had a massive crush on Shawn Micheals as a kid.

78: The one person who i can’t hide things from: my Seester

77: Last time someone said something you were thinking: probably someone in the Flanaclan Chapel

76: Right now I am talking to: the Flanaclan on and off

75: What are you going to do when you grow up: I’m supposed to grow up?

74: I have/will get a job: yes

73: Tomorrow: is Halloween

72: Today: I’m horny and annoyed

71: Next Summer: is a long time away

70: Next Weekend: work

69: I have these pets: already answered

68: The worst sound in the world: right now I’d have to say it’s Zane clucking his tongue.

67: The person that makes me cry the most is: myself? or more specifically my anxiety brain.

66: People that make you happy: my Flanaclan friends, my bff, my sister.

65: Last time I cried: a few weeks ago

64: My friends are: on the internet and/or mostly too far away

63: My computer is: a hunk of shit laptop

62: My School: never going ever again.

61: My Car: looks like the car emoji.

60: I lose all respect for people who: beat animals

59: The movie I cried at was: recently? Up

58: Your hair color is: brown

57: TV shows you watch: SOA, SVU, SWAT, wrestling, Wynonna Earp, Van Helsing, Supernatural

56: Favorite web site: tumblr and youtube

55: Your dream vacation: Scotland, Ireland, Wales, England, all that.

54: The worst pain I was ever in was: dislocating my knee

53: How do you like your steak cooked: med rare

52: My room is: some boring off-white

51: My favorite celebrity is: Tommy Flanagan

50: Where would you like to be: New Hampshire

49: Do you want children: I have 1 and that’s 1 too many.

48: Ever been in love: yup

47: Who’s your best friend: didn’t I already answer this?

46: More guy friends or girl friends: girls nowadays. guys around here suck.

45: One thing that makes you feel great is: reading Chibs fics, staring at Flanagan

44: One person that you wish you could see right now: Flanagan

43: Do you have a 5 year plan: hell no

42: Have you made a list of things to do before you die: no

41: Have you pre-named your children: I did not.

40: Last person I got mad at: me

39: I would like to move to: for the millionth time, New Hampshire

38: I wish I was a professional: dog sitter/walker

[ My Favorites ]

37: Candy: Sour Patch Watermelons

36: Vehicle: 90′s Ford Ranger, Jeep Renegade, Jeep Wrangler, Jeep Gladiator, Ford Shelby GT350R 

35: President: certainly not the fuckin’ current one.

34: State visited: Massachusetts

33: Cellphone provider: Verizon

32: Athlete: Aleister Black, Drew McIntyre, Luchasaurus, Sonny Kiss (and fuck you if you try to tell me they aren’t athletes)

31: Actor: Tommy Flanagan

30: Actress: Millie Bobby Brown

29: Singer: Ville Valo

28: Band: HIM

27: Clothing store: don’t care.

26: Grocery store: don’t care.

25: TV show: Law & Order: SVU (as much as I’d love to say SOA, Law & Order was my first real love)

24: Movie: 10 Things I Hate About You

23: Website: tumblr, youtube

22: Animal: dogs, wolves

21: Theme park: Zoos

20: Holiday: Halloween

19: Sport to watch: professional wrestling, football, hockey

18: Sport to play: nothing that requires that much energy

17: Magazine: don’t read them much

16: Book: the House Of Night series and sequel series by P.C. Cast and Kristen Cast (I don’t care that I’m probably too old for them now, I love them)

15: Day of the week: Saturday

14: Beach: Hampton Beach, NH

13: Concert attended: 69 Eyes headlined (opening with Night Kills The Day, then Fair To Midland which were fine but also Wednesday 13!!!!!)

12: Thing to cook: fajitas

11: Food: apple fritters/apple cider donuts

10: Restaurant: Panda Express I suppose.

9: Radio station: WGFA

8: Yankee candle scent: Midsummers Night

7: Perfume: don’t wear perfume so much as body spray and it’s usually something like cucumber melon or some baked goods scent.

6: Flower: Tiger Lillies

5: Color: Green- specifically Forest/Hunter

4: Talk show host: idk I used to watch Maury all the time, does that count?

3: Comedian: George Carlin

2: Dog breed: Pittie mixes, mutts, labs, medium to big short haired breeds

1: Did you answer all these truthfully? Yes I did.

[markcavendish]

ROD ELLINGWORTH I TRUSTED YOU

[thepatricktreestump]

Reinvent Love

~ a modern day Ryden fanfiction ~

A/N: Happy Pride Month. Here’s a gift from me to you.

               His face was different than I had initially remembered. It’s ridiculous to say, I mean, thousands of people have probably seen his face on billboards and on television screens and in advertisements and even commercials. He’s famous, worldwide rock singer, been on Broadway even, social media celebrity, and teenage heartthrob ever since he stepped on the scene. He was everything I could have been, and I was the one to throw it all away. He steps into the café in a button down dress shirt and that stupid smug smile on his face, cheery and handsome, going up to the counter and ordering a coffee. I didn’t expect to see him here. Ever since I had grown astray from the music business I had moved away to a small city, settled down in a simple apartment with my dogs and some friends, taken to studio work and low budget film productions, decided to find refuge and serenity in the gradual slow-down of my once ambitious and chaotic career. They had told me I had potential but I was too weak, too susceptible, too young. I had barely made it out of high school and I was doing interviews and playing shows across the country, signing my name on the possessions of kids half my age, plucking a bass guitar underneath the blinding stage lights. It was overwhelming. I’m almost glad I left.

               I hide behind my newspaper and try to pry my eyes off of him. I haven’t seen him in years, well, ever since the party. Fuck Adam Levine. I watch as he taps his foot on the floor, whistling a tune as he waits for his coffee, then chatting up the barista, a brunette girl with dazzling blue eyes. I thought he already had a wife. I snort, thinking that has never stopped him. He’s always been a charmer, a flirt, a goddamn beast of a man. He has gotten quite handsome, I do admit. Refined hair and shaven face, more toned, put together, sophisticated. I wonder how it feels to be the only one left. I only stayed for two albums then bailed, went onto create my own, then abandoned that too. I hate him for so many reasons. Maybe it’s because deep down inside I know I will never be as good as him. He’s always had the better voice, better image, better stage presence -it makes me bitter to reminisce. I take a sip of my own drink and then dip my head back down into the article I had been reading. Sure enough his name’s printed on the thing, nomination for a Tony award.

               He decides to sit right across from me three seats and two tables down, by the window, setting his coffee to rest and uncapping the lid, letting the steam waft up to let the drink cool. I’m careful to keep my face covered by the newspaper. Although, I doubt he would even recognize me. I’ve stopped shaving, let my hair grow out, gotten dagger earrings, and my face looks tired. I know because my ex-girlfriend had pointed all these things out to me once she dumped me, ranting on and on about how much I’ve stopped caring. She’s not wrong. I have. He takes a sip of his coffee and then pulls out his phone, swiping through what I assume is his social media feed. He has such a big ego sometimes I just want to slap him. He never used to be like this. He was quiet and shy and nervous, waiting for orders and fidgety, anxiety ridden and worry eyed, looking for direction and desperate for a chance to catch a break. He only ever wanted a way out, and he found it by joining us, abandoning his life for the road and the fame. It’s almost ironic he had stolen my dream from me, decided to take a leap of faith and slowly rise to the top. I remind myself that I’ve stopped caring. It’s easier to cope that way.

               I pretend to be interested in a sport’s column when his voice startles me. “Ryan?”

               I almost spill my coffee. I didn’t expect him to notice me, much less speak to me. “Uh hey,” I attempt to clear my throat, forcing a smile onto my face. It’s awkward. I’ve imagined this almost a thousand times even though I knew the likelihood of it ever happening would only be a thousand more. I guess I was wrong.

               “I hope you remember me,” he chuckles, inviting himself to sit down right across from me, one seat away. It makes my stomach sick.

               “How could I forget?” I try to widen my smile but it comes out misconstrued and broken. I decide to pick up my coffee cup and keep my lips occupied instead. It’s easier than having to carry on the conversation.

               “It’s been a couple years,” he shrugs, taking a sip himself. He’s definitely changed. I can sense it.

               “You know what they say,” I attempt to give a chuckle myself. “Time flies.”

               “I guess so,” he nods.

               “What are you doing here?” I finally ask, cutting to the chase. There’s no way he could be playing a show or doing an interview. This town is too small for that. I thought I had escaped him.

               “Looking for you,” he says it so casually you’d think he was speaking about the weather. I almost choke when I realize what he’s said. He’s playing me like a fiddle, I know it. It’s another one of his gimmicks. There’s no way he could’ve actually taken the time to track me down, pretend like he’s seeking me out. He would’ve called, would’ve sent a message, a text, something. Not this. This isn’t like him at all.

               “Right…” I draw out the word, nodding along. “And why might that be?”

               “I wanted to talk,” he replies.

               “Brendon,” just saying his name hurts. “You didn’t have to come all the way here to do that.”

               He makes eye contact with me and my stomach turns into knots. “We both know why I didn’t send a text,” he whispers in a low voice. Bad memories flood my mind. Fame had always left a sour aftertaste in my mouth. The over obsessive fans and catfish traps were only a reminder of my consequences of leaving. I wish I could erase my past.

               “Do you need someone for bass?” I raise an eyebrow. “I thought you found Nicole.”

               “You stay updated,” his lips curl up in a smile, surprised.

               “Word gets around,” I begin to play with the coffee stirrer poking out the top of my cup.

               “No, I don’t need a bassist,” he shakes his head. “But um, I do need you.”

               “Me?” I try to suppress a smile of my own. Why the hell would he be crawling back to me after all these years? And for what? I try to repress my excitement in order to curb the inevitable disappointment. It’s a technique I’ve been using for years in order to protect myself.

               He downs the rest of his coffee and then sighs, looking out the window for a moment, and then reattaching his gaze on me. “Mind taking this back to your place? I think it would be more preferable for us to discuss this matter elsewhere. Less open,” he decides.

               “Y-yeah,” I agree. I would hate for someone to see us here, together, sharing coffee, exchanging smiles. Rumors start without even a whisper, I can’t imagine a paparazzi photo or social media snapshot. It would be the end for me. For us.

               “Perfect,” he gets out of his seat, pushing the chair back as I do the same, then taking a moment to drink in my presence when I stand up. I don’t know what to think. “You know, I’ve missed you.”

               I pause, taking a breath, looking back at him. “Yeah,” I swallow hard. “I’ve missed you too.”

(continued...)    

           Elwood and Dottie are eager to see a guest at the door when we enter. I almost have to practically pry them off of Brendon they’re so excited to meet him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them this active before. Especially Elwood.

               “What are you doing hanging around that asshole of a director Daniel Adams?” is the first thing he asks when we sit down on the couch at my apartment.

               “I don’t know,” I narrow my eyes. “What are you doing hanging around that douchebag of a security guard Zack Cloud Hall?”

               “Touché,” he respectfully complies. “Guess we both have a tendency to follow dickheads.”

               “Like Shane?” I can’t help but bring up the past. It’s impossible around Brendon.

               “Yeah,” he gives a bitter laugh. “Like that motherfucker Shane.”

               “Hey, why would you meet me at the coffee shop like that?” I ask. “Someone could’ve seen us. There would’ve been drama.”

               “There’s always drama,” he sighs.

               “Not for me anymore,” I shake my head. “I’ve tried to escape it.”

               “It’s inevitable,” he stares around the room. “Nice place. You live alone?”

               “I have the dogs,” I reply. “They keep me company.”

               “Me too,” Brendon smiles.

               “Penny Lane and Bogart,” I point out.

               “You stay updated,” he repeats. I don’t respond. “Nice to know I’m not the only one.”

               “What about Sarah?” I snort. “That Katy Perry lookalike wife of yours.”

               “Ah,” he gives a nod before leaning back into the couch cushions. “Yes, Sarah.”

               “Yes Sarah?” I cock an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

               “Divorce would be bad for publicity,” he simply shrugs. “We decided to keep things low. She moved out a while ago.”

               “You wrote a whole fucking song for her dude,” I retort. “You fell in love with her. And you just let her walk out on you like that?”

               “She found someone else I guess,” he mutters.

               “Don’t we all,” I groan. “My girlfriend did the same.”

               “Sorry to hear that,” he says.

               “So what are you doing here? How did you find me?”

               “I know,” he apologizes. “I’m sorry about that. You’re right, I should’ve at least called or something.”

               “Nobody shows up around these parts. That’s why I decided to live here.”

               “I need you.”

               “You’ve said that before. For what?”

               “I’m caught in a slump, alright? Things have been tough. Ever since you and Jon left, really. Dallon helped me get by for the time being, but now he’s gone too. I’m working on this new album and the lyrics aren’t coming out right. I don’t know how you did it, Ry. I can’t seem to come up with anything.”

               “How the hell did you make Vices and Virtues then?”

               “I was just trying to copy what you did. Hell, I even took the entirety of Nearly Witches and threw it on there.”

               “I saw that.”

               “Come on. The Young Veins haven’t done anything in years.”

               “I still have gigs,” I argue.

               “What? Playing for your ex’s prom concert and acting as a corpse in a music video? Yeah, that’s a gig alright.”

               “Shut up. I left for a reason.”

               “Look, I need you. At least look over what I have, maybe give me some suggestions.”

               “I’m not rejoining the fucking band. This was your choice, your position, your situation, Bren. Not mine. I don’t owe anything to you. Dig some shit up from my old live journals if you’re really that desperate.”

               “I wouldn’t have come here if I wasn’t desperate.”

               “Obviously.”

               “Look,” Brendon takes a deep breath. “I haven’t seen you in years. I miss you. We used to work so well together. Sure, we had our moments, but look at what we had accomplished. We hit double platinum on an album we made fresh out of high school.”

               “That was in 2005.”

               “Come on. Help me out here.”

               “I don’t want to go back into the limelight. I’m off that shit. No more social media stuff, no more internet, no more fame.”

               “And you don’t need to have that. This can just be you and me.”

               “What do I get out of this? I already have a job.”

               “What? Composing singles you’ll never produce and starring in short films that only work off a low budget? Come on Ryan, I know you’re hurting too.”

               His words are caustic. “I’m fine with it,” I insist. “I’m happy where I am. I don’t need you.”

               “You don’t need me,” Brendon shakes his head. “Yeah. That’s why you left the band.”

               “You were the one who left me,” I remind. “You left me for Sarah and because of that I left you, then Dallon left you, and then even Sarah herself left you. Everyone left you Brendon. For a good reason, too.”

               “I still have Spencer,” Brendon tries to redeem himself, keep his head up high, save whatever dignity he might have left. “And Jake.”

               “Right, and you’re the only one left in the band,” I can’t help but laugh. “Goddammit Brendon, I’m not going to help you and your stupid pity party excuse of a music career.”

               “I’m the stupid pity party excuse of a music career,” he rolls his eyes. “Right, not you. Not at all you. It’s not like I made Broadway or top charts or Grammy nominations or anything.”

               “I’ll have you know I actually went to one of your sparkly gay Broadway shows, yeah. I saw you on stage in your underwear and those sparkly red thigh high boots singing your ass off. You know who I didn’t see there, though? Your fucking wife,” I spit. “Or Spencer or Jake for that matter.”

               “I sing better than you ever will and I make music better than you could ever imagine,” he argues. The tension in the room is unbearable. I want to punch him in the face.

               “There’s that goddamn awful ego of yours again,” I growl. “Just can never seem to control it, can you?”

               “Fucking forget I ever said anything,” Brendon shakes his head, getting up from the couch.

               “Oh I’ll never forget the day you came crawling back to me when everyone in your life finally abandoned you,” I give a bitter laugh. “Get the fuck out of my apartment.”

               “Ten percent,” he offers before he heads to the door. “Take it or leave it.” He rests his hand on the doorknob when I stop him.

               “Make it twenty,” I argue.

               “Deal,” he nods, turning back around with a smile. “I’ll be back for a beer tonight and we’ll discuss details.”

               “Where are you going now, dumbass?” I ask, confused.

               He’s out the door before I can get a response. Fuck him. Fuck Brendon Urie.

               Elwood and Dottie are staring at me as the silence fills the room. I have no idea what the fuck I’ve signed up for but it sounds like a nightmare. I contemplate withdrawing my offer. Like I said before, I don’t owe him shit. But I do miss him. A lot. I wonder how he’s doing, truly. Dottie hops up on my lap and nuzzles her head underneath my hand, begging for a good scratch. It must hurt, having everyone leave you behind, being lost, being scared. I secretly wonder who his wife left him for. I wonder why it took Dallon so long to leave. I wonder how the hell he even made it out alive.

               It’s a couple hours after he leaves when I decide to fix up a sandwich and turn on a rerun of a horror movie on the television while checking my emails and texts. There’s a couple offers, mostly small film projects and a couple asks for help around the studio, playing bass on a single for an upcoming album, some friends reaching out, potential tickets for a hockey game, animal shelters asking for donations. The usual. As much as I hate to admit it, Brendon was right. This was my life now, I was stuck within it, and things weren’t going to get much better than this unless I did something drastic about it. Adopting another dog or coming up with an annual elaborate Halloween costume wasn’t going to solve my problem this time. I had to get my life back together for real.

               I take a bite of my sandwich and look over my schedule. I have a couple shows to play, a business trip or two, and even a road trip with some friends. There’s filming dates and music video shootings, some Skype interviews, volunteer hours, but that’s all. I glance up at the gory scene on the screen, a monster chasing a bloody girl down a dark alley. I need a thrill in my life once again, a new taste, a little bit of a change up. Perhaps this could be good for me. After all, twenty percent is a lot of money, money that I need to pay the bills and keep up with my life. Probably enough and more.

               Unwillingly, I find myself going to my bookshelf and pulling out old notebooks and journals, searching for fragments of song lyrics and poetry. I find at least three spiral bound, two leather bound, and folders full of graphite scribbled loose leaf with refrains and choruses scrawled upon the lines. These dated back to when I had still been with Panic! and the boys, then The Young Veins, and even some projects I worked on with others. Most of them had never been used, much less seen by others. I always picked and chose what I wanted. Lyrics had always been a personal ordeal for me, speaking about mental health or alcoholism or sexual experiences or even marriage. Most of them weren’t meant for sharing.

               I find myself opening up to a page and my breath hitches. “If all our life is but a dream…” I whisper the beginning of the words and I can already feel the tears starting to form in my eyes. I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss what we once had. Northern Downpour was one of my favorite songs I had ever written, a time of my life where I could almost take the moment and put it in a picture frame, the haze of smoke still setting the stage, his lips so soft against mine, the band on break and reveling in our success of the past tour, everything almost perfect. It was bittersweet, and that was what that song had been for me, a bittersweet moment, the flavor of nostalgia, a vintage dream now turned old. I closed the notebooks around me and pushed them back on the shelf. This was no time to revisit the past. Things would never be the same as they had once been. I was a fool to ever think so.

               I’m in the middle of a shower when there’s a knock on my door and I curse. It’s probably him. “Coming!” I shout, but of course, that does me no good. He just keeps pounding on the door like the entitled asshole he is. I groan, trying to quickly dry off my hair before wrapping the towel around my waist and rushing to the door. I open it, and he’s there, sporting a leather jacket and ripped jeans, holding a couple beers.

               “Oh,” he’s surprised at my presence, and an uncomfortable silence blankets over us.

               “I uh, just got out of a shower, give me a second,” I stammer, trying to collect myself. I’m clinging onto the towel for dear life as I gesture him towards the sofa and then make my way back to the bathroom. Probably not the best way to present yourself to your old new business partner. I tell myself that there had never been any professional aspect here, that what we had always done was much more intimate, comfortable, casual. I shake my head and stare in the mirror as I slip a shirt over my body. Things weren’t like that anymore. This was a new beginning. What was done was done.

               I walk out fully clothed and pick up a beer as I sit beside him, popping it open and taking a sip, watching as Elwood plops down across the room from us and decides to take a nap. “I suppose you wouldn’t be so keen to moving out to Los Angeles again,” he clears his throat. “You’re much more comfortable working from here.”

               “Of course,” I narrow my eyes. “I still have other projects and responsibilities. I can’t abandon what I’ve already obligated myself to.”

               “I understand,” he nods. “I figured we could work through phone calls and emails. They are just lyrics after all.”

               “Just lyrics?” I poke fun at him. “Lyrics you can’t seem to come up with.”

               “Come on,” he sighs. “We both know you’re the poetic one out of the two of us. You always come up with such good little sayings and clever satirical spin offs. Don’t you remember all our old song titles and references? It was brilliant.”

               “I’ll give you my email,” I decide, opening up my laptop and scrolling through my browser. “I’m not on my phone that often.”

               “We have about a year until they’ll be itching for me to drop an album,” he informs. “I’m finishing up my tour now so responses might be slow, but after that, I’m down for meetings and revisions. If you want twenty percent like you say, I’m serious about this. You deserve credit as much as I do if you’re going to put in the work.”

               “I don’t want my name on anything,” I reassure. “I only want my cut.”

               “They’re going to know I’m not the one who wrote it,” Brendon insists. “You have a special signature when it comes to these kinds of things.”

               “I don’t want credit, I just want cash,” I restate. “That’s my offer.”

               “Alright,” he takes a swig of his beer and nods.

               “So how do you plan on going about all of this?” I laugh.

               “What do you mean?”

               “All of a sudden your songs go from being filled with catchy choruses about partying all night and living on top of the world to poetic tragedies and metaphoric romances?”

               “I’ll say I took a different approach with this album, tried to go back to my old roots.”

               “Right…” I rest the beer bottle on my leg and stare at my open laptop, possibilities floating through my mind. This was the last thing I had expected to happen today, or tomorrow, or for the rest of my life for that matter. I wasn’t exactly counting on Brendon showing his face around here, or speaking to me, much less wanting to collaborate once again. I’m almost excited.

               “So where do you want to start?” he wonders, and I can’t help but smile.

               It feels so good to talk to him again. To sit on the couch and crack open some beers and just be able to relax. I write and type out ideas and he grabs one of my guitars and starts strumming out melodies, tapping drum beats out on the coffee table, whistling possible interludes and introductions. It feels like old times, minus the marijuana. I ask him if he still smokes, and he says he does, and I tell him maybe he should bring some next time. We decide to make this next album a concept album, one that clashes together our differences, the quiet drawn back simplicity of my life and the boisterous chaotic business of his. It tells a story, these songs, outlining the idea of two worlds once pulled apart now combined, rediscovering the other, intertwining their different assets. Maybe I’ve had too many beers, but it seems a lot like a simile for our situation. I secretly wonder if he notices this too.

               Before we know it, it’s four in the morning and we’ve already outlined a concept for the album as well as a couple good lyric fragments for what could possibility be the first couple of singles. They’re mostly about the pain of rejection, and we share stories about the women we had once loved leaving us, telling us how we were never good enough for them, and using that to build off of. We actually have a lot in common, for how much we’ve both changed. I really have missed him. When we’ve finished all our beers and our voices have gone hoarse, my computer now dead and his fingers callused from playing the guitar strings, we doze off on the couch. It really is like it used to be, stuck on the tour bus with open computers and notebooks, in the early hours of the night, drunken and high, conceptualizing the next big idea. I can’t wait to see what he does with this.

               When I wake up, I’m startled to feel somebody beside me. Then I remember it’s him. He’s taken to sleeping on my legs, which are now definitely asleep. I have to stifle a laugh, his lips parted and messy hair proving quite adorable. I slowly inch my legs up off from his sleeping body and crawl out from the sofa, stretching and yawning. He doesn’t look like he’s going to be up anytime soon. I make my way to the kitchen, sunlight already filtering through the blinds, and decide to make breakfast. I turn up the heat on the griddle and break out some sausages and eggs, start up some toast, and brew fresh coffee. Dottie’s at my heels begging for a bit of bacon and of course I give in. I hear a groggy muffle of noise and poke my head into the living room and laugh at the sight of Brendon dragging himself up off of the couch. “Good morning,” I call out. “I made some breakfast. You can help yourself.”

               “Shit, I have a show tonight,” he groans, running a hand through his hair and staggering to the kitchen. “I’ve got to get a plane to Texas in the next couple hours.”

               “Don’t worry about it, it’s still before noon,” I reassure. “You’ve got time.”

               “Alright. And hey, uh… Sorry, I think I slept on top of you last night,” he apologizes awkwardly. “Totally unintentional, I probably had way too many beers.”

               “Not a problem at all,” I laugh it off. “Just like old times, right?”

               The broken smile he chisels out from between his teeth makes my heart hurt. “Yeah,” he nods, only making my heartstrings ache even more. “Just like old times.”

               We sit down and share coffee, working our way through plates of breakfast. He talks about how the tour’s been going and such, how he picks up interviews whenever he can, how long and boring the endless hours of traveling and waiting can be. “More time for you to email me and work on the new songs then,” I point out. He grins.

               Both of us promise to make this our secret. We’re not telling anyone, not his managers, not my friends, nobody. If word gets out, it would be a craze, rumors of a reunion, fans blowing it up into new conspiracies, and TMZ would probably be bursting through our doors to try and get some footage. We would keep our collaboration on the downlow, and if anyone would ask, we would simply deny. I give him a ride to the airport after breakfast and tell him to have a good trip and play a great show. We exchange numbers and then he says goodbye.

               The next couple of days are empty. He doesn’t respond to my email, or my three missed calls. I assume he must be busy and try not to take it personal. After all, he actually has a life. Unlike me. I take to going out for lunches and watching sports, playing video games on the couch or falling asleep to old reruns, walking the dogs or sending emails back and forth with my director. Brendon’s right about Daniel being a dick. Over the span of this week I truly realize just how much he treats the girls like shit, uses basically everybody, and couldn’t give a rat’s ass about fair payment. I make a mental promise to ditch him as soon as the money from this new project starts piling in and I’m able to support myself.

               My phone rings one day when I’m sifting through the letters that have come in through the mail and I can barely answer it fast enough. I pick it up and of course, it’s not who I hoped it would be. It’s Jeremy Burke, one of my friends. I groan. I was stupid to think it would actually be him. “How’s it going jackass?” I greet him when I pick up the call.

               “Hey,” he laughs at my greeting. “Doing anything tonight, loser?”

               “Not that I know of,” I respond. “Was probably going to watch a couple Game of Thrones episodes while I work through the scripts Daniel sent me. How come?”

               “Burgers at that new bar downtown?” he offers. “My treat.”

               “Count me in,” I grin. “What time?”

               “Nine,” he states.

               “See you then,” I hang up and lean back into the couch cushions. Getting out of the house would be good for me.

               I roll up at the bar a little late that night, but knowing Jeremy, he won’t mind one bit. I stroll in with my usual jacket, striped shirt, and ripped jeans. I give a sly smile to a girl who winks at me as I enter and then slide into a booth across from Jeremy. “Look who finally showed up,” he raises his eyebrows. “And already reeling in the ladies also.”

               “Whatever,” I shake my head, laughing. “Anyways, what have you been up to these days?”

               “Well I got back from a festival last week, recovering from the trip. Saw some pretty cool shows, it was a great line up. How about you? I heard you’re still working on that film thing,” he says, snapping at the waiter to fetch us some drinks.

               “Yeah,” I sigh. “The usual.”

               “How about you take to the road with me? Only a couple of tour dates,” he offers. “You can be a roadie or someshit, get a little breath of fresh air. Come on, Ryan. You need a bit of excitement in your life again.”

               “I’m getting there,” I reassure. He’d flip if I ever told him about what was going on with Brendon. “I just need some time.”      

               “Whatever,” he rolls his eyes. “Anyways, that chick’s been staring at you since you entered. Mind if I wave her over?”

               “Not at all,” I chuckle. “In fact, I don’t think I’d mind taking home a date tonight.”

               “Really?” Jeremy wonders. “And you say you need some time.” He scoffs and I give him a playful slug on the shoulder, taking a sip of my drink.

               “Hey beautiful,” I call out, waving over the cherry haired girl with the bright green eyes. “Mind keeping us company?”

               “Not at all,” she blushes, grabbing her clutch and hopping off the bar stool, strutting towards us in her stilettos and short skirt. She’s not really my type, but I’ve got to hand it to her, she’s hot.

               “She’s a looker,” Jeremy murmurs as she slides into the booth beside me, planting a kiss on my cheek. She’s too easy. I’m not complaining though.

               “What are you boys up to?” she wonders, picking up my drink and taking a sip herself. Cocky.

               “Grabbing some burgers, having some guy talk,” Jeremy shrugs. “How about you? What’s a lady like you doing all alone?”

               “Waiting for someone like him to come along,” she winks, wrapping her arm around my shoulder. Super desperate. I can tell. Me and Brendon used to meet girls like this on the road all the time. Overconfident and overexposed, willing to do anything and everything for their five seconds of pleasure, then off to the next eye candy boy toy.

               “Well you’re in luck,” I smirk. I know how to play the game.

               “How about you get this pretty little lady a drink, hmm?” Jeremy waves over the waiter. “Margarita suit you fine?”

               “Tequila,” she corrects with a smile. “Something strong.”

               I’m about to lean in for a kiss when I feel something in my pocket buzz, and I turn rigid. “One second,” I apologize, fishing for my phone. When I pull it out, Brendon’s contact pops up on the screen and it’s like nothing else matters. “This is important.” I say the words faster than I can comprehend and before I know it, I’m shoving the girl out from the booth and racing towards the exit, picking up the call and out the door, then standing by the umbrella tables outside, barely able to catch my breath.

               “Ryan?” his voice laughs on the other end of the line. “You alright, buddy?”

               “Yeah, just caught me at a bad time,” I reply. “But it’s good, it’s good.”

               “Uh, I can call you back if you want,” he suggests but I shake my head.

               “No, no, no it’s good. I can talk,” I quickly reassure. He laughs again. God, I could get drunk off of that sound, the thought of his smile, the memory of his laughter. I miss him so much already. I close my eyes. I’m thinking absolute nonsense. I have to get my head on straight. “So, what’s up?”

               “Sorry I couldn’t call back, I’ve been busy with tour and everything,” he explains. “But if you want to start emailing back and forth some ideas, I’m totally down. I’ve been thinking, these two characters we’ve created, the simplicity and chaos, maybe we could create a song based upon that concept. An entirety of slow and graceful and classic towards intensity met with hurriedness and adrenaline, you know? Almost like a dance between the two, an exchange of some sort?” He pauses. “I don’t know, it’s stupid, forget it.”

               “No-” I quickly inject. “I love it. I think that’s great. It would make a perfect introduction to the album, setting the stage if you will.”

               “You think?”

               “Of course!”

               Before I know it we’re talking on the phone for fifteen minutes, rambling on and on about this song, how we’re going to totally blow them away, how this is the coolest thing we’ve done since A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out, how this is going to absolutely knock the socks off the critics when there’s someone shaking my shoulders. “Get off the fucking phone, Ry!” I blink and realize Jeremy’s shouting at me.

               “I g-got to go,” I apologize. “Sorry.” I instantly hang up and slip my phone in my pocket and Jeremy’s still shaking my shoulders.

               “What the hell?” he stares at me. “What was that?”

               “I had a business call,” I argue, shoving him off of me.

               “You had one hell of a date tonight, that’s what you had,” he spits. “I could only keep her for so long. She walked out on me, I mean, you. She walked out on you.”

               “I couldn’t care less,” I narrow my eyes.

               “I could!” he argues. “She was smoking hot, dude! If you didn’t want her you could’ve at least told me!” He grumbles. “God, since when did that douchebag director of yours become so important anyways?”

               “Get lost,” I shake my head, storming off.

               “Fine!” Jeremy shouts at me. “I’m going to enjoy my burger and drinks and hot chicks alone at this bar tonight! Have fun with your stupid Game of Thrones episodes and stinky dogs!”

               “Go fuck yourself,” I flip him off as I walk away.

               “Go to hell, Ross,” he hollers back.

               I smirk. All my friends are assholes. I kind of like it that way. It makes me fit right in.

               The rest of my night is spent emailing back and forth with Brendon, and I couldn’t have wanted it to go any other way. I made a cup of coffee and ignore my missed calls from Jeremy, and instead begin to come up with new ideas. Although, most of our emails aren’t about lyrics. It’s all catching up. Brendon tell me stories about tour, the new cities and crazy fans, ranting about Kenny throwing popcorn in his face and Zach being a dickhead. I tell him about my experience at the bar and Jeremy, as well as some films I’m working on and an update on my dogs, plus some old stories about volunteering at an animal shelter. It feels like we might be good again, like we’re friends again, that this could work. It’s about six in the morning when I think he falls asleep on me, and I laugh, waiting on him for a couple minutes before falling asleep on my own. I close my computer and finish up the rest of my coffee, then head to my bed and watch as Dottie curls up at my feet. I can’t remember the last time I got a night of sleep that good.

               I spend the following weeks in a daze up to my show. I’m sending strings of emails back and forth, filling up notebooks with revisions and edits, excited more than ever for this project. I promise myself that from now on, I was putting my best foot forward, and I was going to do everything in my power to make this album rise to the top. I didn’t even give a shit that my name wouldn’t be on it, that I had already vowed to take zero credit, or that I would even get any profit. I just wanted to be able to make music with my best friend again. That’s all I could ever ask for. Before I know it, I’m half drunk and on stage, playing a show with Zee Zerizer in Los Angeles, looking into a crowd of smiling teenagers and a sea of phone flashlights. I know that somewhere, in some city in America, he’s doing the same thing right now, and that only makes me smile more.

               After the show I go out for drinks with the gang, get even more drunk, and proceed to pass out in a hotel room bathtub half naked, but I couldn’t care less. The hangover the next morning is miserable, but judging from the twitter feed, it was a night that nobody would forget. I take a cab back home and then spend the rest of the day sleeping, too lazy to open up my laptop and too tired to get anything to eat. I ignore the buzzing of my phone and even the later knocking on my door. Nobody can interrupt this, the serene calm happiness that blankets over me, the sweetness of knowing that everything is going to be okay.

               I’m eating lunch on the couch the next evening when I’m scrolling through my Instagram and a certain name catches my eye. It’s Brendon, livestreaming. I remember back in 2014 when he would Periscope almost every week, making margaritas with Sarah in the kitchen or going skateboarding throughout the city, talking to fans and answering their questions. It was good to see his face again, nice to know how he was doing. As much animosity and grudges I was holding against him at the time, I still wanted to know that he was okay. Now, I was relaxing on my sofa and pulling up his feed, rolling my eyes at the sight of him dancing in his studio to some stupid Drake song. He had always been a character. He takes a drink of some beer, ends up rolling a joint, and talks about some wild tour stories he’s already shared with me. He seems happy, relaxed, one of his own dogs sitting on his lap, the glow of the studio light framing his face. I want to see him again. I need to.

               It’s been about a month since we saw each other last, since the phone call of the night of the burger bar bail, and throughout the course of the next couple emails, we decide to meet each other again. This time, halfway, in a city right between mine and his, in a small hotel room near the outskirts of downtown, where we hope and pray that fingers crossed, nobody will see or find us. It’s a three day weekend, just me and him, and we’re going to hopefully start putting the words to music. He’s sent me a couple different samples he likes, as well as audio recordings of him playing around with the lyrics, but we both know that until we actually sit on a couch and piece it all together, we won’t know for sure if it clicks or not.

               “There he is!” he gives a goofy smile as I enter the hotel room, and I can’t help but let one surface on my face as well.

               “Good to see you,” I reply, surprised when he gets up from the couch and envelops me in an embrace. It feels so nice, I almost don’t want it to end when he takes a step back and retreats to the couch.

               “I brought all sorts of stuff,” he gestures to the table where a variety of weed is displayed along with several drinks. “I figure we take it easy and take our time. We have several days, so there’s no need to rush into things. We work when we want to.”

               “Yup,” I pick up a joint and light it, breathing in the smoke before exhaling. “God, that’s good.”

               “It’s been a while,” he agrees. “You and me, that is.”

               “What do you mean?” I ease into the couch, raising an eyebrow. “Smoking or writing music?”

               “All of it,” he shrugs, picking up a cigar and lighting the end, taking a puff. “Talking, hanging out, smoking, making music…” He’s thinking of something else but he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t have to. I already know. “Just being together.” He takes a moment to close his eyes and breathe in the atmosphere, then sigh. “It’s nice.”

               “Almost like how it used to be,” I give a soft laugh and he nods slowly. I can tell he’s reminiscing like I am.

               “Almost,” he whispers.

               We fill the room with smoke and laughter, guitar chords and the humming of melodies, stitching together the body of a song on his laptop screen, playing it over and over again through headphones and earbuds, searching for the perfect sound. Before I know it, we’re dozed off on the sofa again, except this time, somehow, our limbs are tangled together in a soft embrace. My head’s resting on his chest and his arms are wrapped loosely around my hips, and I don’t even remember when we decided to lay down, but I’m too tired and too stoned to care. We’re safe here, we’re okay here, we’re together here. I give a sleepy smile at the sound of his snores, nuzzling my head closer to him. It’s been such a long time since I’ve been this close, his body pressed up against mine.

               In the early morning when I flutter my eyelids open, I’m still half asleep. A mess of notebook pages and empty chip bags scatter the table along with two dead laptops and the lingering smell of marijuana. I’m on the couch, the room is dark and still, a body is pressed up close to my own, and his face is only but centimeters away from mine. I don’t know how we got here, but we did. His warm breath blows onto my face through his parted lips, eyes closed, soft exhales comforting, quiet snores amusing. I almost think I want to kiss him. He looks so sweet, so handsome, so perfect like this, calm and still and sleeping. It feels like decades since I’ve seen him like this, and now that I actually think about it, it honestly has been. I miss the way his mouth feels on mine. It’s been so long I can barely control myself. So I don’t. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m inching closer to his face, our lips barely touching, my heart racing. What the fuck is happening is what I am asking myself but it’s too late. I know I’m not supposed to be doing this but I kiss him anyways. It’s simple and sweet and soft and wonderful and when I pull away, his eyes flutter open and I can barely breathe. I’ve fucked up for good this time. Shit.

               “Ryan?” his hoarse voice calls out my name, staring at me as he slowly pulls himself out from his sleep, giving a funny sort a smile.

               “Y-yeah?” I stammer out, scared and nervous and afraid he might shove me off this couch and yell at me to leave like I had done to him the day he offered the possibility of this moment even happening to me.

               “Did you just kiss me awake?” he tilts his head to the side, staring at me now, lazy smile still plastered on his lips. “Because correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty damn sure you did.”

               “Maybe…” my voice fades out quietly and I try to pry my eyes away from his but I can’t.

               “Almost like how it used to be,” he murmurs. “Huh?”

               “Almost,” I mumble back, making us both grin.

               “Come here,” he cups my cheeks with his hands and kisses me, with such fervor and passion. My mind is spinning and I feel the higher than I ever was last night. I’ve missed him so much I’ve almost forgotten what this feels like, to kiss someone you truly love. I don’t want it to end, but he pulls away, reminding me that there’s this thing called breathing, and I can’t help but release a winded chuckle from between my lips. “What?”

               “Nothing,” I shake my head, still laughing. “I um, I’ve missed you. You know?”

               “I know,” he gives a small smile, staring into my eyes. “Believe me. I know.”

               “This is overdue,” I agree, looking up at him, goddamn goofy grin stuck on my face.

               That entire day we decide to snack and work, grabbing room service and locking ourselves in for hours, really going at it. We’re almost finished with two whole songs. By the way Brendon’s talking, it might even get fully recorded, edited, produced and released in a handful of months. I’m ecstatic and can barely wait. All he has to do is get home to the studio and physically record and play the music, but besides that, we have it all written down and placed perfectly. We also have plenty of fragments of other songs and even more ideas for the album. When we work though, it’s obvious there’s been a change. He rests his head on my shoulder or in my lap. I wrap my arms around his waist or end up holding his hand. We share smiles and kisses on cheeks and foreheads. It’s different, us.

               Tonight we play our favorite songs over the speakers and drink a shit ton of alcohol. There’s nobody to stop us. We dance around like fools and stuff our face with junk food and order almost every dessert on the room service menu. Surprisingly, we don’t get a single complaint. We over excessively lip sync the entirety of Queen’s classic Don’t Stop Me Now and then proceed to have a rather sloppy make out session to What Do You Want From Me, his tongue slipping in my mouth as the guitar riffs flood the room. The rest of the night is fuzzy, but all I remember is the taste of him on my lips. Clothes are being shed, words are being exchanged, and we’re gravitating towards the bedroom, Pink Floyd still playing in the background. He’s pushing me into the mattress and running his hands all over my body and the rest is forgotten in the bass lines of Nirvana’s Heart-Shaped Box and the faint lyrics of the second verse of an Arctic Monkeys hit single.

                I wake up to his lips and his body and him beside me, in this hotel room bed, all mine. It smells like beer, sex, weed, and rock and roll. I don’t mind one bit. I pull his body close to mine and press my lips to his neck, relishing the taste of his skin. I don’t ever want to forget what he tastes like ever again. My small frame aches as I curl up closer to him, but the knowingness that what I’ve craved for all these years has finally been fulfilled makes every dull pain in the joints of my bones and tender bruises on my skin worth it all. It reminds me of times when I would wake up in the middle of the night from bad dreams and flashbacks, him there to remind me that everything would be okay. I had a rough life before I took to moving out of my home. Especially when my dad had died, that’s when I needed Brendon the most, and he was there for me. But having my heart broken, leaving him behind, abandoning the music dream, keeping to myself, that’s probably the second time I needed him the most honestly. I was glad to have him back now, even if it was only for one night.

               We both curse instantly when the freezing cold shower water hits us both, jolting us out of our haze of a hangover. Showering together was something we had grown accustomed to after our many years on the road, especially after fucking in the tour bus bunkers in the middle of the night and being forced to wake up super early for interviews. The boys never really cared, would occasionally make a faggot joke or point out a hickey, but flipping them off and investing in a hefty collection of scarves during the Pretty. Odd. era of the band did the trick. God, as much of a literal pain in the ass as it was, I did miss touring and playing huge festivals, getting barely any sleep and signing kids’ shit, that whole ordeal. Especially with Brendon by my side. It felt like being on top of the world.

               Both of us down cups of coffee and get back to work, must mostly share occasional kisses while plucking out rhythms on our acoustic guitars. It’s a lazy Sunday, a sit around and do nothing kind of day, and there’s no one I would rather spend it with than him. I flip through the channels on the television and we settle for an 80’s classic before curling up together and making commentary back and forth. We make note of some of our favorite quotes and write them down, an old thing we used to do back in high school in order to come up with witty lyrics or song titles. It’s something I’ve done mentally but haven’t had a chance to do out loud since I left the band. It makes me smile. We’re on commercial break when all of a sudden, Brendon turns off the television. “I want to make a sex song,” he declares matter-of-factly, making my eyebrows raise.

               “I thought you already did,” I retort. “Miss Jackson?”

               “No, something nitty gritty, something to fuck to,” he shakes his head.

               “The Good, The Bad, and The Dirty? Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off? Casual Affair? House of Memories?” I begin listing off the ones on the top of my head.

               “What? Are those all the songs you jack off to when you’re busy thinking about me?” he smirks.

               “Oh shut up,” I laugh.

               “I was thinking something with an old school vibe,” he says. “Like in those movies, you watch the couple turn up the radio and make out, then take it to the back seat. Classic 80’s shit, right? I want to create that moment in a song, the whole backseat lucky night after a trip to the diner and the roller dome. Catch my drift?”

               “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off meets Breakfast Club meets Dirty Dancing and Footloose,” I turn to look at him and we both break out into stupid grins. “Fuck yeah.”

               “Imagine all the references,” Brendon’s face lights up. “That’s a goldmine right there.”

               “Think of all the samples we could choose from, that would make such a cool introduction.”

               “It’s like the song that would replace Journey’s Don’t Stop Believing in an alternate universe. Except sexier and even more iconic.”

               “That’s the perfect description for it.”

               “It doesn’t even exist yet.”

               “Yet,” I remind. “Yet.”

               He kisses me fiercely before we take to flipping our laptops open and searching for the perfect quotes to intermingle into the lyrics of this upcoming song. This is going to be by far his most memorable album yet. I know it.

               We relish the rest of the time we have together, seeing as we’re slowly approaching the end of our three day weekend hotel room stay. Before I know it, we’re packing up our things and cleaning up the hotel room, promising each other that we’re going to keep up the emails and phone calls and whenever we get a free chance, come back to this city and do it all over again. He even invites me to come over to the studio and says that if we’re particularly sneaky, I might even be able to record some bass tracks for the new album. It’s probably illegal, he says, the whole not crediting me for all the work I’m putting in, but I tell him I couldn’t care less. Just imagine if the press caught wind of this. It would blow up and I would never get a chance to go outside and grab coffee in peace ever again. Much less check Twitter or Instagram.

               The ride back home is glorious, one of my favorite CD’s blaring with the windows down, sun shining on my face and hair blown back, a cigar poking out my lips. I don’t think I’ve had that good of a time since Z’s Prom, and even then, that was nothing compared to this. I secretly wonder if we’ve reached an unspoken arrangement that we’re back to normal, back to how it used to be, back to being lovers rather than enemies. Maybe I’m making this all up in my head. I’m too wrecked too care. I’ve fallen too far down already. Fuck trying to postpone or avoid disappointment. I’ve stopped trying to hold myself back at this point.

               I would’ve thought returning to my apartment would be lonely or boring, but it wasn’t at all. I was glad to see Elwood and Dottie again, and sift through my mailbox and voicemails, sit on the sofa and take midday naps and edit script scenes. It was comforting almost. That week, Brendon and I call almost every day. Usually in the afternoon all the way up into the late hours of the night. We’re not really working at this point rather than reminiscing old times and pouring out forbidden confessions, expressing our once secret thoughts and yearning to see each other once again. Most of the time I fall asleep listening to his voice, or he does mine. I would have thought it to be something that only happened in stupid romantic novels or bits of over glorified love poems. It’s worth every single unprecedented charge to my phone bill that month.

               I end up actually going out for burgers at that dumb bar with Jeremy the next week and then have a lengthy conversation about whether it’s better to invest in headlining festivals or starting up tour dates for over the summer. He’s been playing small shows and been debating about taking the whole thing to another level. I always encourage him, tell him I’m here if he needs me for anything. The burgers actually aren’t half that bad and the only chicks in here tonight are already talking up some other guys. Lucky for me, because if I pulled another ditch on a date, Jeremy might smack me over the head this time.

                I’ve been avoiding Daniel on purpose and instead investing all my time in Brendon and his project. He’s sent me demos of the songs he’s recorded so far, and I’m super stoked. They sound even better than I had expected, and he even added a couple little twists of his own on the tracks, which I love. That night on his livestream he tells the fans that he’s been working on a little something for them and that it’s going to be a special surprise. I find myself smiling at the screen like a fool, probably like the other thirteen thousand fans watching, and so I decide to click off right after his talking dies down and he takes to sipping a beer and headbanging to whatever nonsense he’s playing on his radio with five o’s website.

               “You should come over when you get some free days to my place,” he insists over the phone that night. “Nobody’s home but me.”

               “It’s a couple hours of a drive but yeah, I’ll consider,” I joke.

               “I miss you,” he croons. “I don’t have anyone to cuddle me to sleep anymore.”

               “Uh huh,” I roll my eyes. “Need another hotel weekend?”

               “More like week,” he insists. “Come on Ry, it’ll be fun.”

               “You just want to fuck me,” I tease.

               “Maybe,” he admits. “But I also want to do so much more than just that.”

               “Like what?” I prod.

               “How about you come on over to find out,” he challenges.

               “Guess like I’ll just have to,” I sigh sarcastically. “Otherwise the anticipation and unknowingness would eat me up alive.”

               “I’m about to eat you up alive the next time I see you,” he replies. “It feels like fucking forever.”

               “All in due time,” I remind. “I’m going to see if I can take the next week off and head over. I don’t think it should be a problem. I’ve been slacking lately anyways, I don’t even think Daniel’s going to notice.”

               “He’s too far up his own ass to notice,” he snorts. “Come on, you’ll be fine.”

               “I do miss you,” I slowly nod my head, curling up on the couch with Elwood in my lap as I readjust the phone to my ear. “I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

               “Alright,” he sounds content and I relax. “Don’t rush, take your time. It’s not like I’m dying without you or anything.”

               “Must’ve been dying for a quite a long time then. Last I checked you went a couple years doing just fine without me,” I unintentionally insult.

               “Shut up and kiss me you idiot,” he laughs. Then he suddenly stops, silence on the other end of the line. “Oh wait, that’s right, you’re too fucking far away to do so.”

               “And who’s fault is that?” I retort.

               “The one who said he wasn’t moving to Los Angeles to be with me,” he argues.

               “You literally came bursting into a coffee shop with a desperate proposal and a couple beers, how was I supposed to know we were magically going to go back to how it was?”

               “Take a leap of faith, Ry. Maybe you’ll actually go somewhere.”

               “Uh huh.”

               “Like my bedroom if you’re lucky enough.”

               “Go to sleep, Bren. You’re probably drunk.”

               “Drunk on your love.”

               “Goodnight dumbass.”

               “Sweet dreams loser.”

               He hangs up and leaves me to fill up my empty apartment with delayed laughter, my heart aching to see him once again. He’s not wrong, it has been a while. I turn on the television and watch an old sitcom before dozing off. I dream of old times, being on a stage, flower decorated microphone stands and tambourine in hand, strumming on acoustic guitar strings and peeking through shaggy haircuts, scrawling down lyrics about the sun and the moon being in love. He hated the idea of a Beatlesque vibe, hippie aura, folk styled music. I loved and craved it. I still think he’s an idiot for refusing to add the songs to the current setlist. Personally, one of my favorite albums I’ve ever created. Him, not so much. He was always more of a heavy bass, electric guitar, party playlist kind of guy.

               I leave Elwood with one of my friends and pack Dottie in the backseat the next morning. I grab some snacks and an iced tea from a gas station, fill up my tank, and snatch an e-cigarette. Road trips will always be something held close in my heart. I turn the radio up and roll the windows down, then head towards the highway just past sunrise, leaving Brendon a voicemail that I’m on my way. “Ready or not, here I come” is what I had told him with a soft chuckle. The ride there is fairly nice, light rain for part of it, but it’s actually not bad at all. He has a nice place, a little hard to find, but that’s alright. After all, he already was forced to move out of his dream house due to those goddamn awful over obsessive fans. I knock on the door and when he opens it up, he pulls me in and gives me a huge hug and a kiss on the forehead.

               “Hey you,” I blush.

               “Hey yourself,” he grins. “Took you long enough to come over.”

               “It was overnight,” I narrow my eyes. He tousles my hair and laughs before catching my lips in a kiss, then taking me by the hand to his kitchen, where he’s prepared some salads and sandwiches as well as mixed some drinks for us.

               Lunch is nice. We throw playful insults back and forth. But we know deep down, we deserve it. Nothing could hurt more than the years that had separated us before. It’s a love-hate relationship, what we share. It always has been. Dottie gets along well with Bogart and Penny Lane, which is good, because I don’t know what I would’ve done if she didn’t. She’s probably the only person I love more than Brendon, which is ironic, but honestly, the saying is true. A dog is a man’s best friend, more than any human ever will be. We end up shifting to the couch and laying on top of each other, him playing Grand Theft Auto and me resting my head in his lap. He asks if I want a turn and I decline. I’m not even staring at the television. Instead I’m staring upwards at his face, the change of expressions, the way he gets excited or intense or surprised or frustrated. I hate everything about him because it’s everything that makes me love him even more. It’s a paradox. It’s inevitable.

               It’s not even past noon when we end up having sex. Then having more sex. And even more sex. It’s almost like we can’t get enough. I joke that we have to make up for all the years I’ve missed out on him, and he rolls his eyes before attacking my neck with his mouth. He’s leaving marks everywhere and I’m warning him to stop, but he’s reckless and careless and he’s not even listening. He tells me I’m not leaving anytime soon so there’s no reason to worry, making me the one to roll my eyes this time. He’s so goddamn irresistible. That night we order take out and grab tubs of ice cream and eat in the bedroom after a warm shower and an agreement that we’re turning in for the night. It’s so nice to just chill, not having to do anything or even say anything, simply being in the presence of the other. It’s one of the most comforting things I could ever experience.

               The next morning, I wake up in a daze trying to figure out where I am, and as soon as I realize it, the biggest, stupidest, goofiest smile surfaces onto my face. I curl up closer to the warm body that’s wrapped in my arms, amused at the usual soft snores that he emotes, running my fingers through his hair. He’s definitely sleepy, and I find it almost surprising that I’ve been waking up before him in the past. I’ve always been the one to sleep in while he’s the early morning bird. I think it’s the fact that I subconsciously already know that I want to watch him sleep, and I laugh to myself. It’s stupid things like this that I thoroughly enjoy about being in love. It’s these sort of things that help inspire me, encourage me, make me want to create again, make music again, follow my dreams again. A part of me wonders if why I stopped caring was because I had lost everything in my life that had made me have hope, which was me being in love. Specifically, with him.

               His eyelids flutter awake and he groans, and I nudge him slightly. “Come on,” I whine. “Wake up, sleepy pants. Let’s go get coffee.”

               “Five more minutes,” he grumbles, and I relent.

               It’s oddly satisfying to see him this calm, this quiet, this peaceful. I’m used to his boisterous behavior and overbearing happy-go-lucky attitude, wild stage antics and overexcitement, not the soft sleepy boy that I see in my arms. I give him a kiss on the forehead and tell myself I would let him sleep forever if it meant my arms weren’t going to fall asleep and I didn’t have to take a piss. I let him sleep for ten more minutes before finally kicking him out of his own bed. I need my caffeine and I need to really fucking pee. Dottie follows me at my heels, and another dog, which surprises me at first, but then I realize is the sweet little Bogart. A little voice in me whispers the temptation of the idea of doing this every single morning, every single day, being able to live here, be with him, love him forever. It terrifies me and encapsulates me at the exact same time. I refuse to think about it. It’s too dangerous. Fuck what I said about trying to avoid disappointment. I’m doing it again, this one last time. For something like this, it’s an instant free pass. Anyone else would do the same. Thoughts such as these are too good to be true.

               That morning we dance around the kitchen and make homemade waffles, playing his favorite Frank Sinatra album on a vinyl, and sharing laughter and kisses and throwing batter at each other playfully. We’re making such a mess but we couldn’t give a single shit. The dogs are howling happily and barking and jumping around, the sweet smell of fresh breakfast in the air, and freshly poured orange juice in two tall glasses. We sit on the sofa and eat, keeping to ourselves, but staying together just the same. He rests his legs over mine and leans back, drizzling syrup over the golden squares and giving me a goofy smile. So much for working on music. We’re too busy falling in love all over again.

               “I want to go out and do something,” he pouts after playing a couple hours of Outlast on the sofa, tossing his controller to the side. I’ve been replying to emails beside him.

               “Then go,” I shrug.

               “No,” he shakes his head as if I don’t understand. “With you.”

               “Very funny,” I roll my eyes. “You know we can’t be seen together, much less go out together. Where would we even go anyways?”

               “To a music store,” he suggests. “Or maybe to grab some coffee.”

               “We have plenty of music here and we can brew coffee if we need it,” I narrow my eyes. “We don’t have to go out.”

               “But think about a nice car ride, getting some fresh air, maybe even walking the dogs,” he insists.

               “You know as well as I do that no matter how much we might want to, we can’t,” I sigh. “Let it go, Bren.”

               “How about we ask Pete for those giant llama costumes? Then we can go wherever we want, nobody has to see our faces, you know?” he smiles.

               “You’re batshit crazy,” I laugh.

               “As if you aren’t,” he gives me a kiss on the lips and then pulls away, staring at me with puppy dog eyes. “Come on Ry, it’ll be fun. Even if people do see us, I don’t give a shit anymore, alright?”

               “I do,” I argue. “So just drop it, okay? I’m not going to go out in public with you.”

               He pulls back even more, hurt expression on his face. He looks almost offended. “Why are you so ashamed to be with me?” he asks. “Why don’t you want your name on anything? Why do you want to keep us a secret? Why are you always so scared of everything?” He looks like he might cry.

               “Have you forgotten everything that happened or are you stupid?” I say the words faster than I can comprehend. I instantly regret saying them as soon as they leave my mouth. Fuck.

               “So what?” he tightens his jaw. “All of a sudden you want to keep bringing up the past? Are you ever going to let it go? I thought we were over this.”

               “We were,” I get up off the couch. “Then you wanted to start recreating mistakes.”

               “Mistakes?” he grabs my wrist as I begin to walk away, stopping me. I turn back and shrug him off of me, facing him who’s still sitting down. He looks up at me, even more hurt than before. “W-we were a mistake?”

               “Shit Brendon, are you blind?” I run my hand through my hair in disbelief and frustration. “Do you know how much press and paparazzi and fucking interviews and fanfiction we had to go through? Do you remember all the comments and signs and harassment? Do you really want to repeat all of that over again?”

               “Do you think I care?” he retorts. “You’re worth it, Ry. You’re worth every single bit of it, all of it, I couldn’t care about the fans or the press coverage or any of that.”

               “This is your life now, Brendon. You chose this. Everything you do, all eyes are on you, waiting for a moment to ridicule you, your entire reputation is on the line every single time you step outside that door. And you want to throw it all away for me?” I shake my head. “I’m not going to let you do that and I’m not going to take in any part of it either.”

               He takes a deep breath and looks away, stays quiet. He does for the rest of the night. I don’t know if he wants me out of his house, but I give him time to settle down and breathe. He’s not the type to get angry or hold grudges for more than a couple hours, especially with me, so I think we’ll be good. Instead I sit on the couch and browse through the channels until I find a hockey game, and then pop some popcorn in the microwave and sit on the sofa with Dottie as I watch it. I think he’s taking a shower or a nap. It’s probably what’s best for him. He decides to join me towards the end of the game, resting his head on my shoulder, still silent. I don’t say anything, but keep my eyes fixed on the screen. I don’t know which of us is to apologize, so neither of us do. Until the game ends that is.

               “We have a whole week,” he states after I pick up the remote and shut the television off. “What do you plan on doing at my house for a whole week if we’re never going out?”

               “Relaxing, working, sleeping, eating-”

               “Then what?”

               “Then I go home back to my old routine and wait around for your emails and phone calls.”

               “And then what?”

               “I don’t know,” I think hard. “Uh you’ll probably get around to releasing the album and I’ll be playing a handful of shows and we’ll still be calling and stuff.”

               “And then what after that?”

               “Hell, I don’t know!” I finally sigh, leaning back. “What do you want me to say?”

               “That’s the thing,” he points out. “What are we going to do? Constantly hide ourselves from the world? Pretend like this isn’t going on? Sure, I’ll release this album. But what about the next one? What about all our calls and emails and visits? What about days like these? What about when I go on tour and I’ll never have a chance to be alone for months on end?”

               It’s my turn to be quiet now. I don’t know what to say.

               “What happens after this, Ry?” he looks at me, desperate. “I need to know that this isn’t just another phase, this isn’t just some daydream to attempt to recreate what once had been, this isn’t a temporary craving, this is for real.”

               “W-were you actually serious?” I stammer. “When you first asked me to move out to LA with you?”

               “Of course I was,” he responds. “I thought maybe we could…” His voice fades out and he looks down, as if preparing to say the next words, rehearsed lines in front of a bathroom mirror, replayed in his mind on a loop. “I thought maybe we could be together. For real.”

               “You want me to live with you?” I whisper, wary.

               “I want us to be free,” he insists. “I want us to be able to love each other freely, not care about whatever the people say, be able to wake up next to your handsome face every morning. Imagine it, Ryan. You and me and the dogs, back to making music together, smoking and drinking, having a grand old time. You can still play shows, you can do your own thing, hell, you can even still tag along with that douchebag director of yours and beg to act in his short films. But please, no matter what you do, please don’t leave me. Alright?”

               “I thought you didn’t want me anymore,” I tell him. “I thought you wanted Sarah.”

               “Everyone’s left me,” he confesses. “Everyone, even Sarah. And now all I have is you. I’m not going to let that go again. Leaving you and watching you leave the band was one of the biggest regrets and mistakes of my life. Thinking that we couldn’t be together just because of what others would think or say is ridiculous. I’m never going to let anything or anyone stand in the way of me loving you. I promise.”

               “It’s only been a couple months,” I argue.

               “I know, I know,” he closes his eyes, nodding. “But I’m telling you, all those years you’ve been gone, you’re all I’ve ever thought about and you’re all I’ve ever wanted. Take a chance Ryan. Take your leap of faith. Just trust me on this one. I can’t possibly be the only person here missing what we had, cherishing and enjoying what we have, and being terrified it might all be gone. I don’t just want you for your lyrics or your company, I want you for you.”

               “I took that chance when I kissed you that morning,” I tell him. “When you were still sleeping and my mind was reeling and I decided that maybe I would throw it all away to have the chance to kiss your lips one last time.”

               “Yeah, you did,” he gives a small smile.

               “That terrified me,” I admit. “But I did it, and in that moment, I let go of everything. I lost everything.” I pause. “But in the same token, I gained everything I could ever need. And that was you.” I look at him. “You’re my everything.”

               We kiss again and this time I’m not holding back. I think of the possibility of this every day. There are no boundaries or protection or attempts at avoiding disappointment. There will be none. He has given me everything I could ever wish for. Homemade breakfasts and time with dogs and watching sports games and playing music, sharing cups of coffee and puffing out smoke from between our lips, late night sex and holding each other as we fall asleep, exchanged phone calls and messages. We end up having rough sex for hours before falling asleep on the couch exhausted and tired by early afternoon. Everything seems right for once. I couldn’t be happier.

               Although, as soon as we step out the door the next day, I’m terrified. I don’t think I’m quite ready. I’m already a deer in the headlights anytime I’m out on tour and kids are racing up to me asking for selfies and autographs and spitting out a seventy-five words a second presentation on how I’ve changed their lives forever. Not to mention the social media mentions and tags. So when we go out for coffee the next morning, his fingers interlaced with mine when we walk down the sidewalk holding hands, my heart is thumping so hard I think it might fall out of my chest. My eyes are flitting around, nervous, anticipating some mob of girls or throng of paparazzi to jump out at us any moment. It doesn’t happen though. Brendon must sense this, because he squeezes my hand, giving me a soft smile, and I force one out too. It’s hard though.

               I stammer out an order when we get to the counter, and the barista looks at us funny, like maybe she’s seen our faces together before somewhere, but she doesn’t say a word. Instead she nods and grabs our names before Brendon tugs me towards the end of the counter. We sip our drinks and sit down, Brendon going on and on about some new action film trailer that dropped, but I can’t seem to follow his words. My anxiety is holding me hostage. Ironically, I can’t help but feel a sense of panic when I’m around him. My mind is screaming the question “what if someone sees us” even though I already know everyone is probably looking. I think I hear a camera shutter and I flinch. My mind is playing tricks on me.

               “Hey, you alright?” Brendon tilts his head, frowning slightly.

               “I don’t know,” I admit, looking down. “I just, this is new…” I start fidgeting with my thumbs. “The whole us, in public, and stuff.”

               “It’s going to be okay,” he puts a hand on my arm reassuringly. “I’ll be right here beside you.”

               “Y-yeah…” my voice drifts off and sure enough, when I look up, there’s someone standing beside us.

               She’s a teenage girl with a pixie cut and rubber bracelets lining her arms, a black hoodie and ripped jeans, huge gauges, holding a bright purple phone case. “Hey I’m so sorry to interrupt but I saw you guys when I walked in and I’m a really big fan and I’ve been listening to your music for literally forever and I just-” she goes on and on and I start to feel faint, almost dizzy.

               “Of course!” Brendon’s voice jolts me out of my daydream and I blink back to reality. “Come on Ry, let’s pose for a picture.”

“Oh my god thank you so much you have no idea how much this means to me, holy shit,” she rambles on even more, opening up her camera app. The words don’t even process in my mind before he leans in with a cheery smile and a bright flash blinds my vision and the girl grins and waves goodbye before racing back to her table. I don’t know what to think.

“She was nice,” Brendon sighs. “See? Not so bad, right?”

“W-what did you tell her, again, exactly?” I stammer out.

“How we’re still friends and we’re hanging out,” he shrugs. “That’s okay, right?”

“Right,” I nod slowly. I take a sip of my drink but it only makes me feel twice as sick. My head is spinning.

“You don’t look so good,” he points out. “You need some fresh air?”

“Maybe,” I pale. “Uh sure.”

The idea of going outside makes me even more sick. That girl probably tweeted out that picture to everyone, put the address of the coffee shop on there too. It will make headlines of Alternative Press by tomorrow morning, I’d almost bet fifty bucks on it. As soon as we step out, I hold my breath, terrified a bunch of people are going to be snapping pictures and running up to us too.

My brain immediately recognizes that I’m not in my small town anymore. People are bustling on the streets, on the sidewalks, everywhere. I feel so claustrophobic and uncomfortable. Brendon squeezes my hand in reassurance, walking me down the sidewalk, our drinks in hand. I’m still stuck on that girl, that photo, the possibility of everything going south. What would my friends say? Wasn’t Brendon’s plan to make sure nobody knew about his divorce with Sarah? And what would happen if news articles started saying I’m part of the band again? I’m not, I’m only writing the lyrics, right? I start to feel as if I’m about to faint.

“You okay?” he sits down on the bench outside the café and my hands are still trembling. I’m afraid that if I try to sit down my legs are going to give out and I’ll end up tumbling down onto the sidewalk and skidding my face with the pavement.

“S-sorry I just…” I stammer out, him slowly helping me sit down. I haven’t had my anxiety this bad since I don’t know when. “I wasn’t r-ready for that I g-guess.”

“It’s alright,” he soothes me, rubbing small circles on my back and taking a sip of his coffee. “Small steps, little things. We can head home if you’d like to. If uh, if that would make you feel better.”

“I don’t think I can do this,” I confess, squeezing my eyes tight.

“It’s okay we can have more time,” he insists. “Maybe we can try going out again tomorrow.”

“No, I mean that. That. The going out thing, the being public thing,” I explain. “I thought you didn’t want them to know about your personal life, your romantic life, the divorce.”

“I just told you yesterday, I’m so in love with you Ryan. I don’t give a shit anymore. I’m tired of hiding. I want them to know about us,” he looks hurt. “I thought you wanted that too. I thought that we agreed.” He looks off into the street and sighs. “You’re all I have, you know.”

“It’s just such a big city,” I whisper. “There’s so many people. It’s overwhelming.”

“I know,” he sighs. “It’s alright though, we can do this.”

“Maybe you can. But I can’t,” I admit. I get up from the bench and begin to walk away and he grabs my hand, concerned.

“Ry, don’t say that,” he begs.

“It’s true,” I come to a breaking point, tossing my drink to the ground, frustrated. It feels like Cape Town all over again. “I was so stupid to think we would ever even work out.”

“Just give it time-”

“Oh I’ve given it plenty of time,” I seethe. “A couple years, actually.”

A camera flash blinds us both and we freeze. I’m a goddammit idiot forever thinking going outside for fresh air would be a good idea. Brendon’s head whips around to stare at a handful of paparazzi growing closer. “Let’s go,” he grabs my hand but I jerk it away, still angry.

“I can walk on my own,” I grumble, walking past him and the paparazzi, ignoring the questions they’re raining down on me, paying no attention to Brendon following behind.

Of course I had to make a scene, getting up from the bench and throwing my drink and refusing to hold his hand. The paparazzi decides to lose us after a couple blocks and Brendon has stopped trying to talk to me from behind. When I get to his house, I realize I can’t open the door and stand there like a dumbass waiting for him. Okay, so maybe I didn’t think this entire thing through. I’m so caught up in the moment the only thing I can think about is distancing myself. Taking Dottie and driving home, ignoring his calls and emails, hoping to forget about him. It would all blow up then blow over and it would be done.

“You could’ve just told me,” he says when he walks up to me on the porch. “We didn’t have to do this in public.”

“What?” I can’t even meet his eyes, instead staring at my shoes.

“Break up,” he answers and my stomach does a flip. Yeah I knew we were arguing and yeah my current plans were extreme but I didn’t actually process the idea of splitting up so soon.

“Oh,” I become silent. Fuck. I really didn’t think this through.

We both stand there, avoiding eye contact, not really sure what to do with ourselves. He clears his throat awkwardly and reaches into his pocket, fumbling for the keys. The door opens and as soon as I step in I feel like I’m about to puke. I walk into his house and made a beeline to the bathroom. This entire day has been a fucking train wreck. “Hey Ryan-” he calls out for me but I’ve already locked the door and slouched down, holding my head in my hands. Suddenly I can’t breathe. I feel like I’m hearing his voice from underwater. My vision is fuzzy. I feel like I’m having a panic attack. My entire body is shaking and I don’t know what to do anymore. I can feel him knocking on the door behind me but it feels as if it’s in slow motion.

I slowly start to resurface, gasping for air and feeling my heartbeat begin to settle. My thought process becomes molasses. Thoughts about the picture and paparazzi and going out in public begin to drift off to the corners of my mind. I stagger up and wash my face in the sink, looking up at the bloodshot eyes and pale lips that stare back at me. I make my way to the door and jostle the knob before unlocking it and staggering out to the couch. It’s quiet. I curl up with a blanket and watch as Dottie slowly approaches me and then hops up to join me, nuzzling her head underneath my arm. I let out a heavy sigh. I wonder where Brendon is or when he’s going to come out to talk to me. A part of me doesn’t want to know.

I end up falling asleep on the couch. I wake up in the middle of the night, and Dottie’s not beside me anymore. Instead, it’s a boy with messy black hair and parted lips and soft features. He’s in his underwear and an oversized sweater and he’s clinging onto me, with his head on my shoulder. It’s him. I close my eyes and hold him tight, giving him a kiss on the forehead. I love him, I really do. I don’t want to give up on us. Not yet.

But somehow, I feel like I might have to.

When I wake up in the morning, I go out to the kitchen and Brendon’s there, staring at his phone with a blank expression on his face. I already know. “It’s uh, it’s up. Isn’t it?” I clear my throat. He’s already smoking a joint.

“Yeah,” he silently hands his phone to me and my stomach drops.

There’s pictures of us on AP’s newest online article, of fucking course, just like I called it. A video up on TMZ. Even a Twitter hashtag with that dumb ship name Ryden or whatever. It makes me absolutely sick. “Are you kidding me?” my voice goes hoarse.

“We both knew it was going to happen,” Brendon gives a slight shrug. “It doesn’t bother me, Ry. But um, I know that you, you might not handle it as well.”

“No shit,” I scroll through another article and I can’t believe what I’m seeing. No amount of mental preparation could ever make me ready for this. I wish I never left the house that morning. I wish I never went to visit Brendon. I wish I would’ve just stayed at home in my little boring, pathetic, stupid life and just ignored him at the coffee shop the day he interrupted my newspaper reading.

“Well what do you want to do?” he stares at me, blowing out smoke from between his lips, dark eyes pondering what I’m about to say.

“I want to go home,” I simply tell him.

He looks twice as broken at my response. “Okay.”

We don’t say much as I pack up my things and get Dottie situated in my car. In fact, we don’t talk at all. We just exchange goodbyes with a nod and before I know it, I’m back on the road again, heading home. I don’t know if this is the end. There’s still so much we haven’t decided upon. Him using the lyrics in his new album, how he’s going to go about producing it, things like that. I don’t know if he’s going to call me or email me, and I don’t know if I have the guts to reach out to him.

I go straight to my bed when I get through the door, Dottie following at my heels, and check my phone. I already know I’m not going to respond to anyone who’s called or texted. It’s all about the press coverage anyways, I already know. Daniel might just drop me. I don’t really care at this point. Even Helena reached out for me. “Fuck my ex,” I mutter. “Probably is just glad to know I’m single again.”

That’s when I realize about a week later that throughout all the notifications on my phone, mostly bullshit sympathy and people dying to get some inside information on the drama, Z has texted me. All of a sudden I feel bad for even saying what I had said about Helena, or any of my exes for that matter. Even though we broke up, Berg has been my best friend throughout all this chaos. She doesn’t deserve my hate. “Hey,” I pick up right away even though I promised I was going to distance myself from everyone and everything. So much for that.

“Hey, how are you doing?” her voice is soft, concerned, careful.

“You heard. Didn’t you?” I stare off at a wall.

“It’s been over a week, Ryan. Everyone heard,” she replies flatly. “Look, if you need someone to talk to-”

“Come over,” I insist.

“What?” she’s confused.

“Come over,” I repeat. “Tonight.”

“Okay,” she swallows hard. “Talk to you then.”

When she comes to my place, I tell her everything. We drink glasses of wine and I pour out the entire story, all that had happened with me and Brendon from when we first met to when I walked out his door. She sympathizes with me verbally, but after a few glasses of wine, physically. She’s putting her hand on my shoulder and then on my knee and making these eyes, these sad, longing, nostalgic kind of eyes, and I can tell she’s missing what we had too. And that’s my next biggest mistake. Because once I kiss her, I can’t just stop there.

We’re drunk and we’re hurt and we couldn’t give a shit. By the end of the night we’re in my bedroom and we’ve had really shitty pity sex. The bottle of wine is long gone and she’s going on about her latest ex as well. We’re both broken and fucked up and lost. She’s my best friend for a reason. But this, it feels wrong. It feels like an act of impulse, an act of not knowing what to do, an act I’m going to regret. I think about Brendon and I’m already wrapped up in guilt. Not even two weeks separated and I’m already sleeping with someone else, my ex and best friend much less, already confessed our entire relationship and spilled secrets over a couple glasses of wine. Fuck my life.

“Why do you care?” she asks, curling up next to me underneath the sheets.

“What do you mean? Like why do I care about you?” I tilt my head to the side, confused. We’re both slowly drifting off to sleep.

“No. Him. Brendon,” she clarifies. “Why do you care if the media finds out? If people begin to start rumors? If the paparazzi snap a couple photos? If you really love him that wouldn’t bother you.”

“But it does,” I argue.

“Exactly,” she points out. “Why?”

“I don’t… I don’t really know,” I admit. I did really love him.

“You can’t hide forever,” she insists. “And maybe you didn’t quite get it when he explained it to you the first time, so let me.” She caresses my face and gives a weak smile. “When you find someone, that special someone, you don’t let anything get in your way. Whether it’s other people or publicity or whatever might try to pull you apart, you need to be stronger than that.”

“Did you think we weren’t strong enough?” I look at her, curious and somber.

“No Ry,” she shakes her head slightly, smile coming out even more damaged. “I think we just weren’t meant to be.”

“Yeah,” my voice fades out, looking away. I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss us.

“But you and him,” she insists. “I think that you found each other again for a reason.”

“A mistake,” I pout.

“No,” she reassures and then pauses. “But um, us hooking up tonight, uh, that was a mistake.” She laughs and then recovers. Her tone turns more serious. “Look Ry, you can’t go against your instincts. When you were apart you missed each other so much. And then you were reunited and you flourished. Like you said, you felt on top of the world, and I’m sure he did to. Making music again, loving each other, just being together… it’s what you’re meant to do.”

Z’s words stick with me for a while after that. Brendon doesn’t call and so I don’t either. My inbox stays void of his name. I drink coffee alone. I don’t check the news or the internet. I ignore everyone around me, even Z, who tries to call several times and even leaves a couple voicemails. I don’t bother listening to them. I already let her in too much, I can’t let her know even more. I need space. I need time to think. Dottie must know something’s up, and Elwood too, because they’ve been giving me extra love and affection this week.

About a month passes and eventually I do have to talk to Daniel, because he’s my employer, and I absolutely dread what’s going to come out of his mouth. It’s probably the fifteenth call this week when I pick up and I can already hear the sarcasm dripping from his voice. “About done fooling around with your emo boy toy?” he taunts.

“Cut it out,” I scoff.

“No really,” he insists. “Are you done or should I consider yourself extracted from the project? Because I don’t need that kind of bad publicity around my work.”

“I’m still on for the project,” I argue. “I need cash, I need work.”

“Well I don’t want you seeing him anymore. I don’t care if you’re off the press or the papers or photos and shit, absolutely off. No more going off and seeing him or arguing or any of that. You’re my worker and you abide by my rules. If you want to argue, consider yourself fired,” he states. “And hey, pick up your goddamn phone, will you? I’m sick of it going to voice message.”

“Fine,” I spit. “And by the way, I dumped his sorry ass a while ago. Don’t worry about it.”

“Good to hear. See you next shoot,” and with that he hangs up. God, he’s such an asshole.

That’s when, of course, I get the fucking notification. He’s livestreaming on Instagram. I quickly ignore the notification and shut off my phone, trying to push him out of my mind. Half of me wants to go running back to him, but another promises that I’m done having my heart broken and playing these types of games. Perhaps I’m just not a relationship type of person and I’m meant to be alone. Maybe Z was just talking nonsense to try and make me feel better. I should’ve just ignored his call that night at the bar with Jeremy, taken home that cherry haired girl for the night, stuck to flings and not caring about all that romance shit. The things I write about in my songs are meant only to be lyrics, not reality. They were simply dreams, fragments of poetry, wishes put into words. I needed to face the truth.

The next couple of weeks are dry. I’m really hurting, and pushing myself away from others doesn’t help. Even after I reach out to Jeremy and try to hang out for the night, go to see a movie and grab some drinks, I still feel empty and dull. We only make small talk. I start calling Z, and when she asks why I haven’t talked to Brendon, I can’t really give her a pinpoint answer other than I’m lazy and afraid of confrontation. She’s patient and understanding, and talks me through rough nights. I start meeting Daniel for some projects, help with the shooting and cinematography, whatever other bullshit he’s too lazy to do himself. I’m there, I’m interacting with people, and I’m doing things, back to my old life. But it doesn’t feel the same. Not at all.

“Did you hear?” Jeremy’s the one who brings it up, when we’re a couple beers in, playing pool at a bar.

“Did I hear what?” I narrow my eyes, unamused.

“They’re coming to town,” he replies, addressing the ball before hitting a stripe across the table.

“Who? Fucking Santa Claus?” I scoff. He’s kicking my ass at this game.

“No, your ex,” he corrects.

“Z or Helena?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Him, Ry. Brendon,” he states. I blink at him.

“Like, this city? Here?” I tilt my head, unsure.

“He put it on the list of tour dates. He’s coming next month. Playing that little venue down by the liquor shop a couple blocks across from your place. Tickets are going quick so I’d score some if you plan on going,” he shrugs. “I don’t know, in case you wanted to see how he was doing or something. I think it’s odd he’d pick here out of all places. Probably his first time playing in a place like this.”

“He’s never done a gig here,” I agree. “Weird.”

“Probably to see you,” Jeremy prods, and although I can tell he’s joking, it still makes my heart stop. “Probably wants you to come out and see the show.”

“Right,” I roll my eyes and take a lousy shot. What if it was his intention though?

“I mean, why else?” he asks. “It just wouldn’t make sense.”

I go home that night and search up his stupid tour on my computer. Apparently he’s doing a string of dates before dropping his next album. I scroll through his Twitter and that’s when my heart stops. All of his tweets this entire past month, while we’ve been apart, are quotes. Not just any quotes, song lyrics, all written by me. Fragments of the things I have given him, written him, emailed and spoken over the phone. And he’s signed them all from the sun. My heart aches.

Before I know it, I’m buying a ticket. I don’t dare tell Jeremy. When Z mentions that he’s visiting my city I don’t say much to her either. She claims this is my chance, my moment, my opportunity at redemption, but I just shake it off. Even if I am going, I don’t know how to gain his apology, to make things right. Yeah, I do miss him and I’m anxious to see what he’s doing with the things I have written him, the song lyrics on the next album, what’s to come. However, I’m indifferent towards the idea of reuniting us just the same.

When I can’t sleep, I find myself reopening my computer and going to my email. “I miss the moon.” Right before I’m about to send, I falter, saving it to my drafts instead. I drown myself in alcohol and hide within the clouds of cigarette smoke. Every night I debate whether or not I should click send. I feel like the entire world has its eyes on me, waiting for my next move, wondering if I’ll take the chance. He had always encouraged me to take the leap of faith. Perhaps I just have an inevitably bad case of pistanthrophobia.

Sure, Sarah was part of it, but it wasn’t really why I had left the band. This was something different. This was why we had broken up. This was why we weren’t talking now. I was always too scared, too afraid, too uncertain. I was never brave enough to trust him, to accept myself, to let others see me for who I was. I just wanted someone to love, but he wanted someone to show off, or at least that’s what I had thought. But no. He needed someone to love, someone to love openly and freely and with pride. He didn’t want to keep hidden what we shared. It was what had happened before and what had happened now, and both times I had shied away, afraid and scared and nervous and confused.

Ticket in hand, oversized hooded jacket hiding my face, shifting eyes, I stand outside the venue along with a string of hipster emo teenage girls and goth punk boys. Arms crossed over chest parents and bored older siblings stand beside them, clearly only there for supervision and transportation. I get in just fine, sticking towards the nosebleed section, but staring at him from afar as he sings the songs and performs. I can tell he’s searching for me. His eyes scan the crowd, he seems distracted, and he even stumbles on some of the words here and there. He’s doing backflips and funny impersonations, cussing and making speeches, dancing and taking off his shirt like a fool. I miss him. My heart aches as I watch him sit at the piano and belt out a ballad. As he finishes up the show, I have to hold back tears. I wish I was up there with him.

People start to file out, and I’m surveying the area for a while, trying to find a way to sneak backstage. There’s security everywhere, so I doubt I’ll get to the pit, much less to where I need to be. I’m almost tempted to shoot him a text. I’m lingering by a merch table for a good half an hour when a teenage boy comes up to me, donned in messy fringed hair and dark eyeliner. “Uh hey,” he gives a small smile. “I know this is uh, a weird question, but would you be Ryan Ross by any chance?”

“Um…” I stare back at him, his wide eyes and eager expression making me anxious.

“No sorry, it’s okay,” he laughs nervously. “You just looked like him, I don’t know. Sorry for bothering you. Have a great night.”

I watch as his expression fades, embarrassment turning his cheeks bright red, disappointment starting to arise. There’s no use in hiding. I should stop. Brendon’s right. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

“Uh wait!” I call for him as soon as he turns his back towards me. He flips around, raising an eyebrow. “Um, yeah. I am actually. Ryan.” I swallow awkwardly. “Sorry, I was just surprised.”

“Oh,” he lights up instantly. “Awesome. I’m a huge fan and I’m glad to see you playing music again. I went to the Z Berg Prom a while back and had a great time. I’m glad to see you came to the concert.”

“Wow, thanks. And uh, yeah. Me too,” I give a small nod.

“Well hope to see you at another one!” he gives a wave and then walks away, leaving me puzzled. He didn’t ask for an autograph or a picture. He simply just asked me a question, gave me a compliment, made small talk, then left. It was almost comforting. I let out a small sigh of relief and then pull back my hood, running my hand through my hair. I can do this.

I get strange stares and a couple whispers and points as I make my way through to the door of the venue. I know where the tour bus will be, maybe I can sneak back there and wait for Brendon to appear. Maybe if I told the security I was one of his friends or relatives they would escort me to see him. I can see the flashes of cameras and hear the sounds of shutters as I walk outside, but I don’t mind. In fact, I give a small wave and a smile as I walk past the groups of people. I was done lingering in the shadows. I was ready to be open and be proud of who I was.

Sure enough, he’s outside the venue towards the back, a barricade separating him from the throng of fans, going through and signing stuff, taking pictures, and even giving hugs. I race towards the crowd as fast as my feet can take me, not giving a single shit about how strange I may look. I need to get to him and I need to make my move. I’m squeezing through the crowd, shoving people out of my way, ruthless and desperate. As soon as I make it to the barricade, I shout his name as loud as I can, waving my arms at the black haired, brown eyed, overexcited hyperactive broken-hearted boy standing just several feet away. He does a double take, staring right at me, awestruck. “Ryan?” his jaw drops.

He drops the Sharpie marker and the poster he’s holding midway through giving an autograph and races towards me, and before I can even process what I’m doing, I’m capturing his face in my hands and pressing his lips on mine. We’re kissing. In front of thousands of fans. With a metal barricade between us. Outside, in public, absolutely exposed. And I couldn’t care less. We kiss and kiss, tongues slipping into each other’s mouths and fingers tugging on locks of hair, passion replacing unspoken words. We’re drowned in camera flashes and videotaping, screaming teens and people pointing, absolute mayhem and chaos unleashed around us. But here, in my arms, interlaced in our embrace, shared between our lips, it’s peaceful. It’s tranquility and serenity and comfort and quiet. We construct our own world, compose our own melodies, write our own stories. We do not care who decides to enter, who sings along, or who wants to read. I am open doors, I am full volume, I am an open book. From this moment on, I am nothing but me, authentically and genuinely me. And part of being me is loving him.

“Holy fuck,” he catches his breath when we pull away and we both burst out into laughter like fools.

“I love you,” I blurt out and he grins.

“I love you too,” he replies, capturing me in another kiss.

Security doesn’t know what to think. Fans are squealing and going wild. I feel like time is in slow motion as we make out the second time. Before I know it, he and the fans around me are carrying me over the barricade and placing me into his arms, and everyone’s laughing and smiling and having a grand old time. There is no shame, no guilt, no regret here. I am completely and fully free.

“I took the leap of faith,” I tell him happily. “I trust you.”

“You don’t care about the cameras? The paparazzi? The rumors? The press coverage?” he stares at me, still confused and puzzled. “Ry, you don’t have to do this.”

“I don’t care about any of that,” I reassure, tears surfacing in my eyes, giving a laugh. “I care about you. Alright?”

“Fuck,” he closes his eyes and blushes. “This is too good to be true.”

“Well you better believe it,” I chuckle. “Cause you’re stuck with me now.”

“Oh yeah?” he raises an eyebrow, amused. “I like the sound of that.”

“Despite what I may say or do, I could never leave you Bren,” I confess. “No matter how many times I hide or run away, I’ll always come back to you. Somehow, someway.”

“Whether Seattle or Cape Town or LA or even here, in a little run down city like this, I will be there and I will find you,” Brendon promises. “I’ll be here for you. I will always love you.”

               “Our love might be confusing and broken and different but that’s okay,” I reassure. “I want it and need it just the same.”

               “Reinvent love,” Brendon whispers, placing a kiss to my forehead. “It’s okay. We’ll reinvent love. Together.”

               “Together,” I repeat, kissing him back. “We must reinvent love.”

[smartchicken]

Hi I show up every time you post which is haha, so funny, but I just wanna know if you've figured out that I'm a desperate bitch yet and if not, I'm a desperate bitch and I like your stuff. You're cool (also what're your thoughts on a road trip AU featuring young!Tony with a lot of trauma under his belt alongside honourably discharged Bucky who's forgotten how to live but they meet in the middle and it becomes a little easier to breathe)

-chokes-Oh manFirst off, i really would like to encourage people to just randomly describe themselves in my inbox.SECOND this is the first time I've replied to an ask with the mobile app and i don't understand why it's not automatically double spaced, it's really fucking with me, but I'm about as likely to do something about it as i am to tell my phone to auto-capitalize "i". I just Don't CareTHIRDLYROADTRIPokay first off I've had a very few good roadtrips and only one was "Long" (~18 hours) BUT i have great stories from those and now i am picturing not only a young Tony maybe on the run or just trying not to be home, and poor Bucky who got an honorable discharge but got fucked over because that's the American way, but all the avengers because the best roadtrip is when there's two cars and by about halfway through you're straight up enemiesSo like, car 1: Rhodey, Nat, Pepper, Bucky, and Tony. Car 2: Steve, Clint, Phil, and Sam. Because those are who i currently feel like giving a fuck about. Car 1 starts with a disadvantage because 5 people in one car always sucks but like, ride or die bitchesSo I'm sort of imagining this as BlackPepper combining their friendgroups in a fucking into the fire way like sink or swim love each other or else. Because it's that or awkward lunches for six months and they clearly don't have the time for that. I assume there is plotting going on because we all know it plotting redheads, but they probably lost control of the situation at one point because roadtripLike I'm imagining a college au so get in that mindset. I feel like Pepper immediately put her foot down about Tony, who's the only teenager there even though he acts like an old man. Pepper is just like okay Tony HAS to be with me or Rhodey at all times or I'll fuck everyone up Nat i stg i will kill your friends to death if they look strongly at my precious baby and Nat looks a this stubborn little asshole who is at once fearless and terrified and she's like, fair enoughBut Bucky, right? I know I'm a Tony fangirl but I'm not forgetting about Bucky. Cause Bucky went into the army at 18 and he came back three years later a different person. Steve didn't go with because a) he's a twiggy artist and b) Sarah would have murdered him after she destroyed the entire us military tbh. Bucky's a freshman, the only one in the group even though he's older than most of them. He's been back for like 6 months now and probably shouldn't even be dealing with college life but he's Bucky and lbr he's not gonna cut himself any slack. But by golly his friends love him and will absolutely fight everyone for him, even himself. So while Pepper's like "protect my son" Nat is like okay let's try to make sure Bucky's with Steve because they're kinda codependent but we're letting that happen for now because we have bigger fish to fry, but on the dl because currently Bucky won't admit to any issues under penalty of death.So day of the roadtrip. I dunno where they're going probably tourist shit they're just like get in the car we'll head for such and such and go from there. My only frame of reference here is Florida so I'm picturing them having to drive at least five hours before they have any reason to stop.Oh! Yes so first stop is gonna be a spring or river or some sort of water shitSoGetting ready to go is Hell they have to fit enough shit for nine people into two regular sized trunks. So they've gotta clean literally everything but the spare tire outta those("Fuck it, leave the tire," Clint suggests. He's packed all of a backpack and, incomprehensibly, his bow with three arrows and he's absolutely going to reek in about two days and probably didn't bring any shampoo or a toothbrush. It's probably like, a t-shirt, some boxers, and swim trunks. He'll wear the same shorts for a month he doesn't care. "If we get stuck on the side of tree road, I'll feed you to buzzards for sport," Pepper says pleasantly. She knows him a little better than most of Nat's friends because her and Clint half live together. They get along fine but Pepper progressed to threats much quicker than Clint is comfortable with. He thought about telling her it was hot but decided he liked his balls intact. "Just shove over the duffle," Bucky said. Tony's being quiet but he's got a toolkit packed in case anything goes wrong; there'll be no stuck-on-the-roadside on his watch. )So they get the trunks sorted and there's a couple bags in the backseats but it's good enough. Then Phil shows up (when did he leave???) and stuffs some blankets and pillows into both cars. "My family likes roadtrips," he says. His eyes are dead. Phil is not including himself in his family here. Phil tried to beg off but Pepper couldn't get Happy and Nat couldn't get Scott etc etc for various missing people and Phil agrees to come because, ultimately, these socially-challenged morons need a voice of reason and that's not Pepper or Nat OR Sam, no matter what they think(The truth is they're all reckless idiots and Phil's no exception but combined they can keep each other safe-ish or at least get in trouble together)((Tony didn't want to come either but more because he doesn't want to get underfoot. But Rhodey and Pepper made the mistake of trusting his "I'm fine" and leaving him alone for a few weeks at school exactly once. Pepper had hugged him and said "Pretty please?" and Tony's no good at turning down requests, especially from his few, beloved friends))(((Nat took a different approach with Bucky, who didn't want to come either. "If you don't come Steve won't come and then you'll have to say at Steve and Sam's wedding that it was delayed all because you skipped out on the best roadtrip ever.""It is going to be awful," Bucky said. Nat gave a particularly Russian shrug. Bucky sighed and gave in. He didn't exactly wanna spend a week in the dorms alone anyway.)))And then they really just wanna get going what the fuck guys it's already evening should we just wait til morning no fucking way shut your mouth we're going n o wPepper and Nat manage to be together, and they manage to pay Tony and Bucky special attention, as intended. But uh. Oops?It's Rhodey driving with Pepperi the passenger seat, mostly out of habit; they've done short road trips a lot at this point and it's always Rhodey driving to start, Pepper up front so Tony can nap in the backBut uhTony's in the middle in the back, with a pillow and a tablet in his lap. He's putting on a good show of being Totally Fine, but he's clearly tense. Bucky's smooshed against the door as much ash can, broadcasting discomfort like a cat in the rain. Nat leans against the door too, trying to be considerate, but Pepper starts texting her urgently( TOUCH HIM!!!!!hes so tense wtfNat I love you trust me and touch him a littleAnd Nat shifts over just a bit, so her legs are against Tony's, and for a second he freezes, and then he finally loses some of that tensionTOUCH STARVED?????? Nat texts Pepper, alarmed for this kid.His dad sucks, is Pepper's take, and Nat scowls and gets comfortable, pointedly touching Tony without pushing into his space.)MEANWHILE Phil is the odd man out but he's driving so it kinda works. Clint's in the passenger seat because Clint is a no good dirty cheater, and also has very stern, specific instructions from Nat. Steve and Sam are the most comfortable of the entire group, and within an hour they've got their feet a little tangled, not cuddling but not-not cuddling, and Steve's dosing a little cause he took a motion sickness thing and it always makes him a little sleepy"So Pepper seems terrifying," Clint says to Phil as an opener. They probably should've hung out at least a little before this because Pepper and Nat are the only things he can think of to talk about (and maybe it's not helping that Phil is weirdly hot and serious and he's seen him smile a couple times and he's trying to figure out how to see it up close but it turns out it's not hard cause right away Phil grins and chuckles a little and Clint thinks he's maybe having a heart attack)"So does Natasha. Or is it just Nat?""Sometimes it's Natalia," Clint says automatically, which isn't very helpful. "Uh. What are you studying?" Which is stupid and cliche but Phil manages to turn it into an actual conversation and in the backseat Sam's texting the whole thing to Bucky, who keeps sending back strings of emojis that aren't always sensible but like, Sam totally gets it. And then Sam gets a text of the top of a head of messy dark brown curls and a string of panicking emojis. There's a suspicious blushing emoji in there though and Sam snickers to himself. Steve wakes up with a little "hm?" which is too cute for words so Sam just passes him the phoneTony started off working on his tablet but he hasn't slept in...a while and he's been stressing about this but now he's in Rhodey's familiar car and Pepper's got classic rock going kinda quiet and Nat snuck her toes under his leg and he fights it for a while, but eventually he slumps over, and he doesn't even notice himself sliding towards the warmth that smells like machine oil and leather. Tony looks small and sweet and quiet and Bucky likes to watch him sometimes, when he can, even though he feels like a creep. It's just that Tony seems so alive in a way that Bucky can't really capture. Like he's so tired but so full of life and fire and maybe that's optimism he's not sure but he thinks it might be. Everyone always seems tired on campus, or young and stupid, or just so unrelatable. And it's not that he can relate to Tony so much as he wishes he could. Like watching the moon in the surface of a lake and being afraid of the ripples. Bucky slowly relaxes, lulled into it by Tony's quiet breathing, and Nat gives him a very obvious thumbs up, with a certain look in her eyes, and he catches Rhodey's eye in the rearview mirror, so he slides down a little, slowand quiet, tucks an arm around Tony and lets himself relax, puts down three phone and stares out the windowThey stop at an all-night walmart when Clint suddenly realizes they don't have SUPPLIESWATER SUPPLIES!!!Bucky and Tony go in, with Clint and Phil, to get Supplies, while everyone else stretches their legs or texts demands for snacks.They grab a bunch of stuff, everything that looks even mildly amusing, Tony sleep-fuzzy and relaxed from it, and in line him and Clint attack each other with pool noodles, earning a few glares from other shoppers, but they're laughing too!much to care. There's not really room in the cars for everything but they make it work and they're all wide awake then, everyone chattering for the last two hours before they realize they should've arrived by now and then Rhodey stops (he was the one leading) and there's dogs barking and they're in a trailer park andPhil calls him just to ask, "What the fuck Rhodes."They all get out their phones and they're yelling directions at Rhodey and they're lucky he loves them because seriously they deserve death at this point. They pull up to the park at 5am when they should've been there at, oh, 1 or so no one's sure how they got so turned around but they made it yaaayAnd then "Fuck," Pepper says. "Tents."And that's where I'm leaving this for now cause I'm tired of typing on mobile but tbh i wanna write a college roadtrip now. I'm just imagining a lot of cuddles at this point everyone gets maximum hugs plz. Also i can't tag this??? So thanks mobile