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undercovercameron · 1 year

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hole in one

summary: you're a server at the island club, and you may or may not have a favorite customer.

notes: i'm back baby! haven't written anything in a good while but i suddenly had this image of a girly reader and a flirty golfer rafe with that season 3 buzzcut... i HAD to make a pun with this title and i'm so glad i did. also i always write rafe a little more attentive and well-meaning than he is, so take this headcanon of nice rafe with a grain of salt-- and this shit is hella dirty so please enjoy and let me know what you think ;) (also im coming back to edit this fully in a little bit but i wanted to post just to prove i still love and use this account kajddjd)

tags: rafe cameron x fem!reader

word count: 4453

Some things in Rafe’s life were simple pleasures.

A cocktail during dinner, a night where all the TV he watched was reality shows, a cigarette on a night out. The silence of his childhood home.

Golf, coincidentally, was also one of those things. The course he frequented was just a ten-minute drive from his house, and he had priority parking. As a donor and a club-member of course. The drinks were cheap, the company was even cheaper, and he had a killer swing. There was rarely an afternoon out on that green that he didn’t enjoy. He felt closest to peace when all he had to work for was getting that tiny white golf ball sunk into a hole.

They were often sweaty putting sessions, as the North Carolina heat in the summer was no joke, but the traveling drink cart was a brief respite from that.

“What can I get you?” You ask, bright and long-lashed. Your hair was done in a tight updo, your makeup was flawless, and not a single spec of dirt or turf lay on your uniform. You took pride in your appearance and the effects it had on the loose wallets of the Outer Banks’ finest real estate investors and offshore bank account holders. Most of all, you enjoyed a certain someone’s attention.

Rafe peeks under the overhang of the cart and stares at your selection. He stands with his hands on his hips, gold rings flashing in the hot sunlight. You take a look at him for the first time today, eyes taking over his bent form. He has gray slacks on with a dark blue polo stretched over his well-built back, unbuttoned to show the tiniest glint of blonde chest hair and his gold chain. He spared no expense when it came to his appearance, you’d come to notice.

“I think,” he starts, standing back up, and fixes you with his blue-eyed stare. It makes you hold back a shiver despite the heat. “A double tequila soda.”

He gives you a once-over, admiring the way your skirt hugs your waist and the sparkle of your earrings. He always likes when the girls have their hair up— gives him a sneak peek of what it’d look like if he pulled it.

“Three limes? Just how you like?” You ask, breaking his focus, and reach for a plastic cocktail cup. You have a freckle behind your ear, he notices.

“Exactly right,” he says, folding his arms over his chest, and his face splits into a grin when you glance at him and blush. He could be back with his friends from highschool, talking shit about their shitty swings or increasingly high scores, but he’s not. He’s right here, watching closely as you carefully measure the ice and pour a perfect double shot.

“How’re you guys playing today?” You ask, a humiliating attempt at small talk, and you feel sweat bead on your lower back.

“Shit, honestly,” Rafe laughs. “These jack-offs couldn’t get a hole-in-one if it was right in front of their fucking faces. And I’ve been distracted all day.” He looks down at you over the bridge of his nose, liking the way you tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

“Heat getting to you?” You squeeze the final lime and turn away from the cart, holding it out with a polite smile. He takes it carefully.

“Something like that,” he says, cocking his head, and takes a sip. Tart. Just how he likes it. “Hey.” He digs a hand into his pocket and the tips of your cheekbones heat again for some reason. “Keep the change.” He hands you a fifty.

You take it between hesitant fingers, peering up at him.

“The drink is $6, Rafe.”

He always does this. Pays cash with big bills and tells you to keep the change. He gave you a twenty for a packet of peanuts one time. “I don’t know if I can legally take this.”

He just shrugs.

“Consider it a personal donation.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Makes me feel better. I think you deserve a little extra for your services—it takes a lot of work to look that good for a bunch of old geezers in sweater vests and loafers. I know I appreciate it.” He turns and starts off towards his group, yanking his sunglasses out of his shirt and jamming them onto his face. “I like your bra, by the way. ‘S my favorite color.”

You glance down the collar of your shirt, heart thumping, and look back up.

That stupid fucking swagger he has. He’s going to throw out his back walking around like a peacock like that.

You tug your shirt up, hiding the red bra you’d chosen for today, and hop back on the cart. Off to another hole where another old man will look down your shirt and ask for his Manhattan with two cherries instead of one.

You think you’ll either quit this job or start wearing a fucking monk robe.

The next time you see him is back at the club. Your boss had you on pool bartender duty, opposed to the drink cart you favored, and you were a little out of your element.

The customer demographic was different, which you enjoyed, but they all seemed to want a lot more and a lot quicker. There was no loitering around to small talk; you had to work quickly and attentively to earn these housewives’ measly two dollar tip on margarita pitchers.

You had spilled raspberry purée on your company-approved golf dress more times than you could count in your six hour shift. Near the end of it, however, Rafe had made his way to the end of the bar and watched as you ducked to put away the umbrella toothpicks and quickly and secretly downed a shot of Tito’s. Drinking on the job. Hm.

(It’s not that you like to be drunk at work; it’s more of a little ‘fuck you’ to your boss, you think.)

“Hi,” you say on an exhale, coming over and wiping the already-spotless counter with a black rag. “What can I get you?” You have dangly earrings on today, and a different shade of lipgloss than he is accustomed to.

“Two grapefruit High Noon’s.” He folds his arms and leans on the counter, so close he could smell your perfume. “I could report you for that, you know,” he says, voice as low as a whisper. You peer up at him, lips pursed, and scan his face. No ill intent. Just an easy smile and dirty eyes.

“Oh, yeah?” You reach for the fridge underneath the mixing mats and pull two cold cans from the shelf. You sit them on the counter and stare up at him. “You’re a real upstanding customer, huh?”

“Mhm.” He twists his pointer-finger ring mindlessly. “You owe me.” The corners of his lips quirk up.

“Oh, do I?” You ask, giving him your best ’I don’t know what you’re talking about’ look. You know he likes that.

The fact is that you and Rafe had countless conversations exactly like this one. Whether it be at the drink cart, on the way out of the building, or back inside in the restaurant bar. He always somehow leaned over you, smiling like the flirtatious bastard that he was, and making you feel like he’d like nothing more than to take you to his car and show you how much he actually enjoyed being served by you. That’s how you imagined him in bed, at least. Proving a point.

He takes the two cans in one hand and straightens up, fixing you with a dangerous look.

“Your shift ends in ten minutes, yeah?” He asks.

“Yes.” You square your shoulders and stare back.

“Good. I’ll take you home. Well, mine.” He backs up closer to where his friends are sitting at a covered patio table, mischievous smile flashing white in the sun.

“I have a car, you know,” you say, leaning on the counter with folded arms. You ignore the hot rush of blood in your veins from his words. “And I have to shower.”

“What makes you think I don’t have a shower?” He purses his lips, faking the wildly confused look, and turns back around to his friends.

You just sigh, exasperated with him, and work on cleaning up your station. God, it has to be him? The boy you had a crush on in elementary school? You’ve had plenty of hookups in your adult life, but none as close to home as this one. (Literally. You live down the street.) You feel his eyes on you as you scrub a particularly defiant streak of Grenadine from the counter, and feel his gaze on your back when you turn around to get a fresh rag. It makes your face burn hot.

You know he’s not talking about just hanging out at his place. He probably has a huge shower, for God’s sake, and probably a humongous bed. California king if you can guess.

You bet he tastes like summer.

After your replacement comes to the bar, you take your lanyard to get into the staff locker room from a hook under the bar and make your way slowly through the gaggles of people to your designated locker. It takes a brief conversation with your boss Angela about if you left the tip jar or took the contents to finally shoulder past the last group of people.

You tug your bag from the hook, a change of clothes and your shower stuff already packed (as you had been planning to go to the gym after work). You now know you have other forms of exercise coordinated. You give yourself a final look in the little mirror on your locker. Here goes nothing.

Rafe is waiting outside the swinging door when you push past it, button up shirt and shoes haphazardly thrown on. He immediately takes your bag from you and slings it over one massive shoulder, starting for the exit.

“I can carry my own things, Rafe,” you say, slightly out of breath with the effort it takes to catch up to him.

“Yeah, well, I’m in a bit of a hurry.” He casts a look over his shoulder, eyebrows raised seriously. You roll your eyes.

His bedroom door pushes open and you stumble back, hand tight on his bicep as he walks you further. His hand circles your waist as he ducks to kiss you again, mouth hot and commanding over yours.

He tastes exactly how you imagined.

His room is bright with sunlight and slightly messy when you glance behind him, but you’re pretty fucking sure you won’t be focused on how his room is decorated when he keeps grabbing at you like this.

The back of your knees hit the bedspread and you fall into a sitting position, posture curved up into his as he leans and holds you by the side of the neck. You make a pleased noise into his mouth and tug at his shirt, suddenly irritated that he is wearing so many clothes. You snake a hand up his shirt and claw at his skin with your sharp nails.

“Save that for my back,” he breathes, and your fingers fumble to unbutton his shirt as you finally pull it down and off his body. You rejoice at his newfound lack of clothing and smooth a hand over his chest, eyes trained on his toned and tan stomach.

He’s huge like this, up close, and the warmth radiating from his skin makes your heart jump into your throat. Your fingers splay across the middle of his abdomen, just appreciating the way he breathes under your touch, and you lean back up for his mouth.

He threads his fingers in your hair and pulls your face so hard to his own that your neck smarts. Between your legs throbs. You protest, grabbing at his wrist, but settle when he shuffles closer to the bed and tilts you back into the sheets.

“Spread your legs for me,” he murmurs. Your back meets silk, and he lifts your open legs up and around his hips as he settles between your thighs comfortably. Right where he should be.

The feeling of his heavy weight where you’ve been needing it makes your back arch. He breaks away from you and slides a hand down your chest, laying the route that his mouth will take.

“You smell like cherries,” he says as he presses his mouth to your collarbone and sucks.

“I know.” You shudder through a laugh and bring your hand up to the back of his head as encouragement. “Spilled Grenadine.”

He hums noncommittally and shoves the hem of your dress up past your hips and to your midriff in one fluid motion. You wriggle for a second, so exposed so fast, but sigh contentedly when his lips meet your stomach. His mouth is so unexplainably hot, and as his tongue meets you your whole body erupts in goosebumps. It sends a shiver down your spine. It’s even better than you imagined.

“Knew you’d taste so good,” Rafe practically moans, eyes darting to yours, and his fingertips curl around the waistband of your underwear as you watch. Your cheeks flush at his word. You’re honored to be the recipient of words like his— it’s not often Rafe finds himself giving someone a compliment. He lays a final kiss on your stomach and surges back up towards your chest. He mutters gibberish to himself, probably something like “I hate this fucking dress” and yanks your dress up past your tits.

His fingers find your left nipple and squeeze as his tongue finds the other. You arch again, unused to the sensation, and let loose a groan. His fingers are so soft and light, but his teeth nip.

You make a noise of surprise, eyebrows furrowing, and tug at the short, blunt locks of his hair.

“Impatient,” he reprimands, tongue rolling as he glances up at your pink face. You’re strung so tight you might snap. “Needy.” He releases your nipple with a pop. Your lips are so pink and shiny, he just has to kiss you again. You whine into his mouth when he comes back, fingernails scratching at his scalp, and your legs wind around his waist.

But he lets go of your hip with his left hand and creeps closer to the crotch of your underwear, fingertips dancing. Your grip on his hair tightens. Between your legs pulses with heat and need, hot on his clothed crotch, and he knows he could calculate your BPM just by laying with you like this.

“Rafe,” you breathe, staring up at him as your chest heaves.

“Relax,” he shushes, ducking down to press a kiss to your neck, and you gradually relax the muscles that lock your legs to his abdomen. “There you go.” You think you hear a “good girl” fall from his soft lips but it’s in that moment that he pushes past the cotton and digs his hand into your underwear.

You immediately spur into motion, back arching and mouth dropping into an ‘O’, and he just bites his lip and watches. You’re so responsive, and it makes his dick fucking ache.

“Thought about this? Hm?” He pants, releasing his bottom lip from between his teeth, and grins. “So wet, this pussy’s been begging for me for weeks.”

You struggle to nod, movement interrupted by the slew of noises and ramblings of “please” and “yes” and “Rafe” falling from your lips. His middle and ring fingers push past the slick resistance your pussy gives him, and you go silent and slack-jawed as he pushes all the way to the hilt.

And he’s got big fingers. You wonder if they’re the same size as his dick. If so, you might be in trouble.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you nearly cry, head falling back into the sheets, and you’re slammed back into reality and consciousness of your surroundings. The coolness of the AC makes your nipples peak again, and the sweat on your lower back cools almost as soon as it’s created. But Rafe makes you hot. Your chest and cheeks are flushed a bright pink, and your lips are swollen into a bigger size and slick with his saliva and your own. We don’t even have to discuss how flushed the other parts of your body are—he already knows.

His fingers curl slightly up and to the right, and your abdomen jerks at the unfamiliar feeling. You curl up slightly, eyebrows furrowed, and try to catch a glimpse of his large hand in your underwear. God, you wish you could take a picture. You lock gazes with him momentarily but fall back down at the look in his face. It’s nearly animalistic.

“Rafe, please,” you beg, grabbing onto his wrist with both hands. You meet his eyes. “I want you to fuck me. Please.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, pulling his fingers out, and clambers off of you for a second. You sit up, quickly ridding yourself of the dress bunched up to your shoulders, and watch as he rips his shorts off and nears the bed. You don’t even have enough time to gape at the size of him before he’s grabbing your bicep and jerking you onto your stomach.

You have half a mind to protest his man-handling of you but stay silent as you look up at the angle he positions you.

There’s a full length mirror opposite this side of his bed, and you just stare at the pair of you as you catch your breath.

“Like it, huh?” He asks quietly, dipping down and pressing a kiss to your hair. His hand finds your neck and he moves you to face the mirror head on, watching your face closely. You really like the feeling of his fingers around your throat. He can tell, now; your shoulders relax and your lips move into the shape of a smile when he squeezes.

“You always keep this here?” You ask, head falling onto your folded arms when he releases you to just admire your body. His fingers trace your spine and the curve of your ass, never losing focus.

“I moved it this morning,” he murmurs, gaze never straying from you.

“Oh, so you knew you’d be fucking me tonight.” Your face splits into an easy grin, head tilting mischievously. His eyes find yours in the mirror, and he bends again to press his mouth to your lower back.

“Always teasing me.” His voice is muffled by your smooth skin. He can’t get enough. “Knew it’d happen sometime soon. You can’t stay away forever, you know.” He straightens up but doesn’t find your eyes in the mirror. His large, warm hand maneuvers your hips into a tilted position, and you move up onto your feet. He has you flat on your stomach on the bed, but your ass and legs hang off and the soles of your feet just barely press flat into the floor. “Knew this pussy would get me at some point.” He smacks at an asscheek lightning fast; and your whole body jiggles with the force of his hand. You squeak involuntarily.

A large hand grabs at your shoulder as the other one jerks himself steadily. Once, twice, three times, and then he’s spreading you open and pushing into you.

Your spine stretches and relaxes when he gets halfway in, and your thighs start to shake when you’re filled all the way to the hilt.

“Shit, Rafe, you’re fucking big,” you complain, but the tail end of your protest bleeds into a desperate whine. Your fingers grip the sheets tightly, eyes squeezed shut, and your head falls onto your folded arms. “Please,” you say, reaching back to frantically find his hips. “Go slow.”

“Stretching you out, hm,” Rafe comments, breathing hard already, and relieves the pressure by sliding almost all the way out. His tip almost breaches the seam of your slit but he pushes back in, pulling your asscheek away with a thumb to watch. “Fucking sexy.”

You squeeze around him like a vice, but the intrusion is welcome. You will yourself to relax and accept his huge fucking dick, and the thought of yourself getting fucked by him sends a gush of slick between you two.

“There you go,” Rafe sighs, and pulls out only to fuck back in to you quickly. You cry out, fingers squeezing extra tight on the sheets, but you will yourself to look up.

His chest is flushed in the mirror as his chain swings in the open air, and the pure concentration and pleasure on his face prompts a pleased noise from your throat. You tentatively jerk back into him and his head whips up in the mirror, blue eyes meeting your own.

“Oh, yeah?” He mutters, teeth catching his lip, and his hips snap into yours. Your mouth drops open only momentarily before you close it and tilt your head to the size coyly, biting your own lip and pushing back into his hips. He watches you carefully in the mirror with squinted eyes, half-impressed and half-challenging. “You think you can take it?” His fingers squeeze at your shoulder tight.

You just silently nod. Cocky.

His emotionless gaze locks with yours and his blood pumps hot in his veins. He’s going to make you eat your words.

His hips surge forward in a suddenly-steady rhythm, skin slapping skin ringing out in the room. You just stare at him, defiant, and push back with every thrust he gives.

Rafe grunts and lets go of your shoulder, replacing his touch with an arm slung around your neck and the other hand between your legs. His warm fingers nudge your clit, finding it immediately, and his hips snap punishingly quickly into yours.

It’s brutal, having him like this. You hope you bruise. But you challenged him, and somebody has to lose. Except it’s not really a loss when Rafe fucking Cameron is genuinely fucking you into next week.

“Shit,” you exhale, choking on the inhale that accompanies it, and you squeeze your eyes shut as his fingers rub you in circles. “Fuck, Rafe, that’s so good.” Something hot coils tight in your stomach and your thighs suddenly warm almost in preparation for the wave of sensation.

“Yeah?” He pants, hot in your ear. “You like that?” His chest sticks to your sweaty back, gluing you together as his strong hips and legs pound you into the mattress. You stay strong, along for the ride, and provide all the verbal encouragement he needs. Your stomach feels hotter and hotter and your throat runs dry.

“I love it,” you whine, head tilting up as if you’re praying he won’t stop. “Fuck me like this forever.”

“Mhm,” is all he says, too lost in the squeeze of your pussy around him and the warmth your body grants him. You pulse even more, so close.

You gather some strength and struggle to push up into an elbow, head tilting further and further until you can feel his forehead brush the crown of your head. Your muscles strain.

“Just like that. Just like—God, shit, right there.”

You squeak when the hot coil in your abdomen snaps and you fall twitchingly onto your stomach. His fingers rub quickly at your clit and you feel suddenly a hundred pounds lighter, eyes rolling back into your head. It’s so fucking good you wonder how you’ll ever masturbate happily again. Your fingers don’t compare in the slightest to this fucking dick. Your chest heaves with the effort it takes to fill your lungs with clean air, and your legs start to shake miserably underneath him. Your thighs feel like jelly and you barely did anything.

“Please, Rafe,” you beg, turning your head to the side to look innocently up at him. “Give it to me.”

“Yeah?” He pants and leans down to kiss you messily. You groan into his mouth and push back once more into his hips. Your pussy is still buzzing with feeling, and it fades slowly into a pleasant ache the more he fucks into you. “You want it on your back or in your mouth?”

You blink wildly and push onto your palms, signaling that you want to turn over. He pulls out but jerks himself steadily until you scramble onto your knees in front of him, face level with his pelvis and tongue out. You look up at him with the most earnest and well-meaning eyes, and he just has to close his eyes when the tip of his dick finally meets your tongue and he fills your mouth. His chest loosens with the most pathetic noise he’s ever made, a mix between a raw groan and a whimper. Your soft mouth accepts him and cleans his dick, humming contentedly, and when he catches his breath and manages to open his eyes you’re staring up at him, an immensely pleased look on your face.

You crawl closer and lift onto your knees, arms coming around his neck and pulling him to you. You press a kiss to his mouth. He can almost taste himself on your tongue, and he smoothes a hand down your side to grab onto your asscheek as you just kiss him.

“Hey,” he murmurs, pulling away slightly to give your face a once-over. “You haven’t even showered yet.”

“And whose fault is that?” You sigh, exasperated. “Someone couldn’t make it up the stairs without shoving his hands up my dress—we barely even made it to the bed.” You smooth a hand down the back side of his head, liking the way his hair feels.

Rafe just purses his lips.

“Sounds like a really cool guy to me.”

“Mhm,” you say, rolling your eyes, and sit back on your heels.

This room is a mess.

The corner of the well-made bed’s sheets and bedspread is yanked from the far corner and lies bunched up in the middle, dark with sweat. It smells like sex in here, the ceiling fan doing nothing to mitigate it, and your work dress is hung haphazardly on the closet door handle. With a dark Grenadine stain down the middle.

“Don’t even think about it,” Rafe says, interrupting your inner monologue. His warm hand comes to rest on your thigh.

“What?” You ask, eyebrows drawn.

“Don’t even think about putting on clothes.”

You scoff.

“Like those would do me any good right now.” You wind your arms around his neck and smirk up at him. “I still haven’t even shown you what’s in my bag.”

His smile grows.

“What’s in your bag, baby?”

#obx #obx 3 #obx smut #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron x afab!reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fluff

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topguncortez · 2 months

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Slap Shot | Teaser

A Jake Seresin Hockey AU || masterlist

Press release from the North Island Daggers:

“Monday,

Jake Seresin will not travel with the team to Edmonton for the away game series against the Edmonton Oilers. The North Island Daggers Association declines any further comments.”

--- --- ---

Transcript from the Paul Marquez Report on ESPN:

Paul Marquez: “The North Island Daggers, quite possibly the worst team in the league who is surprisingly having their best season in franchise history. . . have benched their star player, Jake “Hangman” Seresin. This could be the biggest mistake this team has made in a long time. The association posted their comment on their various social media accounts, and then declined to make any further comment. Coach Beau Simpson did his pre-game press conference and of course was bombarded with questions about the decision to bench Seresin when they are headed into a tough few weeks of away games. Sitting with me in the studio as always, Marcus Kirby and Denny Lester, let’s hear from you guys on this choice.”

Marcus: “This is the dumbest decision the Daggers have ever made. This kid is amazing. He is the best in the league, probably going to be the best in history. He is this generation’s Rus Hamilton. He is breaking records left and right. He is the reason why the Daggers are finally looking like they could win the Cup this year. This decision to bench him when you’re about to go on a 5-game series against the other best team in the league? This is like choosing to fly Spirit Airlines instead of Emirates. Sure, the kid is a hot head but isn’t that why we-”

Denny: “Isn’t that why we watch Hockey? To watch players pummel each other? Maybe some do, but I watch Hockey because I enjoy the sport. Holloway makes me enjoy watching the sport. Bradshaw makes me enjoy watching the sport. Seresin? Makes me want to watch golf. The dude needs an attitude check. He thinks he walks on water and the sun shines out of his ass. He’s not this generation's Hamilton, and it's insulting that you compared the two. I’ve seen better footwork and stickhandling down on the farm teams. He’s got one hell of a temper-”

Marcus: “He’s a goon! That’s why!”

Denny: “He can be a goon all he wants, but you don’t drop the gloves and go after your own teammate. We all saw the way he went after Holloway last week during the game with the Devils. For fucks sake, the other team got involved to pull Seresin off of him. The call to bench Seresin is a good one, and I approve of it.”

Marcus: “Man, you’ve been a Seresin hater since he went overall one in the draft. What will make you stop drinking the haterade.”

Denny: “Maybe if he can grow up and pay attention to the sport he’s getting paid millions to play and less on the off-screen conquests and the fights.”

taglist: @dempy @marchingicenotes7 @abaker74 @aworldwideapart @atarmychick007 @hookslove1592 @lynnevanss @djs8891 @jessicab1991 @senawashere @bethbunnyy @bradshawbaby @coconut152 @jazminlahey20 @averyhotchner @misconceptionmistress @drxgxnslxyer @atinytinaa @hangmansgbaby @buckysteveloki-me @himbos-on-ice @krispybearbouquet @fandom-princess-forevermore

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golfupnorth · 3 days

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May has been a whirlwind! 🎉 Guy’s league kicked off on May 2nd, and we hit the road to Virginia for the grandkids' birthdays. Met Captain America and some "pop stars" too! 😊 Golfing adventures took us from Virginia to Northern Michigan, and we had an absolute blast. So many thoughts and stories buzzing in my head—get ready for a hodgepodge of random golf musings. This could be entertaining or scary, proceed at your own risk! 😊⛳️

#golf up north #golf #golfing #northern michigan golf #northern michigan golf courses #we made it simple #golfupnorth

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pink-princess-pussy-pop · 10 months

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Scream For Me - Rafe Cameron Ghostface! x Reader PART 3

Warnings: language, rafey being a bit of a perv

Scream For Me Masterlist

You were sitting with anticipation all through the next day, staying in public places to avoid interacting with him.

He hadn't tried to contact you but God knows Rafe was itching to talk to you.

You were currently at the golf course with your family, the North Carolina sun was burning your skin. Because of the heat, you had decided on wearing a cropped white polo shirt and a blue mini skirt.

You weren’t ever a huge fan of golf, opting for sitting in the golf cart reading or scrolling on your phone.

Rafe Cameron was watching you from hole 5. He was spending the day with Kelce and Topper but the moment he’d seen you from across the green, his attention wasn’t on his friends.

It was on you wearing that Godforsaken miniskirt. His eyes were narrowed in on your legs, crossed over each other, how the tops of your things were just barely covered by the hem of that skirt.

“Yo, Rafe!” His eyes snapped to Topper.

“What?”

Top glanced at Kelce, snorting out a laugh.

“You’re up, man.” Rafe glanced over at you again, nearly choking on air as he sees you bending over to pick up your book. He tears his gaze away, focusing instead on hitting the ball into the hole.

After 30 more excruciating minutes with his idiot friends, they were finally finished. Now, the three were getting drinks at the bar and Top and Kelce were laughing about who knows what.

Rafe’s focus was once again on you.

You and your family were now eating dinner, Rafe had noticed that you’d ordered a club sandwich with fries, but you hadn’t touched any of it.

He smirked as he watched you tap your phone for the hundredth time. He knew you were waiting for him to text you.

Well, not him.

His alter ego.

Rafe took the bait.

Did you miss me, sweetheart?

Your heart jumped as the unknown number flashed on your screen. You grabbed your phone off of the table, not wanting your parents to see.

Staring wide-eyed at the text, you contemplated what to say.

This guy, (were they even a guy??), is a serial killer! You should not be smiling at your phone at the nickname he has given you. Glancing up at your parents, who were now in a full blown conversation with other patrons of the Country Club, you decided to excuse yourself from the table.

As you walked outside, you debated what to do. You could reply, going against all the morals you’d come to create, or you could leave him on read, waiting for his flood of texts until you ultimately caved and responded.

You stared at the thread of texts on your phone, completely unaware of the person walking up behind you.

“You shouldn’t be out here on your own with a killer on the loose.” You practically jumped out of your skin, shutting off your phone before turning around and slamming right into Rafe Cameron’s chest.

You didn’t notice the ghost of a smile or his hands on your arms as you caught your breath.

“Didn’t mean to scare you…” he trailed off, forcing himself to not call you “sweetheart”.

Finally, you noticed how he was touching you, looking up at him with wide-eyes. You had barely spoken more than a few words to him before but the way he was looking at you was like you had known each other forever.

“Not the best idea to sneak up on a girl while there’s a killer on the loose, Rafe.”

Oh Jesus Christ, his eyes almost roll at the way you whisper his name. He takes you in fully, the smell of your perfume and your shampoo, your shirt, and that fucking blue skirt that he’s trying to keep his eyes off.

Rafe lets his arms drop, trailing his fingers down your forearms as he does so. He doesn’t miss the goosebumps he leaves.

No. The loss of warmth makes you crave his touch again.

“You were the one who came out here alone, Y/N.” He bites back.

Your eyes narrow and your arms cross over your chest.

The struggle to keep eye-contact was eating him alive.

“What if the killer was out here, just waiting for a pretty girl like you…” His head dips low and you smell the whiskey and mint on his breath. “…to come out here all alone so he could kill you?” He pouts. “You should be thanking me that I came out here when I did, hon.”

Your heart races at his words, him calling you “hon”, the way his touch left you reeling and wanting more.

“Why were you following me, Rafe?” He grins and then holds up the keys to his Range Rover.

“Not following you, princess. Just leaving.” He steps back, finally allowing himself to check you out, his eyes shamelessly roaming your body. Your arms cross further over your chest, unknowingly making yourself look even hotter.

Rafe turns to walk away, the keys dangling from his fingertips.

“Wanna ride?” You turn your head to the window of the country club, watching as your parents chat away with their friends. “I’m not gonna wait all day.” Your eyes roll as you jog to catch up with him, shooting your parents a text that you didn’t feel well and that you Ubered home.

As you near the Range Rover, Rafe opens the passenger side door for you, smirking as you get in the car.

“Thanks.” You mutter out.

“Sure.” He shuts the door after you before walking around to the driver side, muttering under his breath, “Falling right into my trap, sweetheart.”

yall, the way I have this planning to go… you simply aren’t ready.

Taglist: @iameatingmyhair @cherrrywraith @lil2023 @lcvrsheart @sophiah2253 @mila1224 @iamlilykrav @emotionalldamage @earthruled @bluuuughh @sunsetargent @kingedmund007 @iluvbunnyhops @steveharie @rafelover @tarrenshayne @stcrkeyluvr @idktheusual @eddiemunson86 @taylorswiftloversera @wh0r3-for-klaus @veescorneroftheworld @wildwallflower24 @poge-life @fuckmelikestilesstilinski @user556677889900 @lonnielain @sachaa-ff @xhaliemax @kravitzwhore @coryisagee @multidimensionalslut @fratboyharrysgf0201 @iheartthe90s @settingmoxn @lewisroscoelove @hannahxhoney @iluvcatslolol @x2skyler @user36376373 @kkmstblog @kinokorii @pickingviolets @somebodys-enola @bloody-mf-bsc @rafesxgold @img-stilinski24 @nmedina8611 @tahliac11 @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @bru1sedhe3rt @byarmstrongs

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe #rafe x reader #obx #rafe fanfiction #rafe obx #outerbanks #rafe smut #outerbanks fanfiction #rafe x y/n #rafe x reader smut #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #outerbanks rafe #rafe ghostface #rafe cameron ghostface

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milligramspoison · 10 months

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Welcome to the FOB edition of this list! I originally did this with MCR :)

North America

LIVE DEBUT OF G.I.N.A.S.F.S. (Chicago)

CHRIS LIVESTREAMED THE SHOW

Live debut Heaven, lowa!!

Live debut of Baby Annihilation!

A cover of Crazy Train by Ozzy Osbourne!

The Take Over, the Breaks Over for the first time since 2017!

GIANT DOG HEAD BEHIND PATRICK

Someone wore a Mikey Fuckin' Way shirt to the show (he's already somehow made his way into this list and it's only night one)

Someone else wore a Hey Chris shirt

The Pink Seashell was the intro!

They opened up the tour with LFTOS (it's called Otherside on the official setlist!)

GINASFS being labeled GOLF on the setlist

William Beckett and a handkerchief

They played Don’t Stop Believin’ by Journey!

They played Fake Out for the first time with Joe!

New merch tour merch!

CLANDESTINE MERCH

Security/ushers going hard during Centuries!

Pete straight up disappearing off the face of the earth before Crazy Train

Setlist got leaked (very reminiscent of one of MCR hometown shows lol)

Not tour content but Pavlove has randomly appeared on Spotify but is currently unplayable (Maryland Heights)

Patrick was spotted watching the openers!

A paper had to be made for presumably security to not mistake the guys as a concert goer (fucking hilarious)

Andy was also spotted watching the openers!

THEY'RE PLAYING RAY'S ICONIC SPOKEN WORD PART OF I'M NOT OKAY BETWEEN SETS

Each city is getting its own special shirt!! (This was revealed during the Missouri show!)

Setlistfm user mommymilkers live updating the setlist for us (icon)

LIVE DEBUT OF WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE

GIN JOINTS FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2008

JOE SINGING DURING CHICAGO

No one could tell if they either played Gin Joints or Tell That Mick at first

Setlistfm saying they covered Super Bass by Nicki Minaj (it was a troll but a funny one)

Patrick saying he wants to talk to the dog during This Ain't a Scene

Pete petting the dog

Pete giving his pick to a young fan <3

Stardust Funhouse! (Bonner Springs)

Fans with vip packages get their own magic 8 ball! (This has been happening since Chicago but wasn't revealed until night 3 of the tour!)

Patrick and Andy were watching Alkaline Trio together :)

PATRICK IS WEARING THE FEDORA

TOUR DEBUT OF HUM HALLELUJAH

I’M LIKE A LAWYER FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2014

SOPHOMORE SLUMP ALSO FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2014

More trolls saying they covered ME! by Taylor Swift

“Fall Out Boy is my favorite fucking band”

New (I think) BMTH merch! (Woodlands)

BMTH joining the tour! (Been waiting for them since the announcement lol)

FOB SETLIST GOT LEAKED AGAIN

BMTH fans exploding over the fact that Kingslayer wasn't on BMTH's setlist

FOB fans being sad over the fact Pete isn't wearing his skirt (I think someone lied about this so understandable tbh)

THEY COVERED SOMEBODY TO LOVE BY QUEEN

THEY ALSO COVERED TAKE ON ME BY A-HA

Someone on setlistfm trolling everyone by saying they performed Golden for the first time since 2007

Someone else also trolling on setlistfm saying they covered Princess Diana by Ice Spice

Same troll mentioned above saying Ice Spice was there

More trolls saying they did WAP by Cardi B

LIVE DEBUT OF KINTSUGI KID

MORE trolls saying they did I Write Sins and Viva Las Vengeance by P!ATD (the trolls were really annoying tonight tbh)

What a surprise more trolls saying they covered Dear John by Taylor Swift

“I DRESS THIS WAY BC IF THE CROWD IS FEELING HOT AND MISERABLE THEN IM GONNA BE HOT AND MISERABLE WITH YOU GUYS WE'RE IN THIS TOGETHER”

Patrick getting a friendship bracelet and having some banter with Pete <3

The lovely @andoutofharm leaking the setlist for us that says Kansas City even though they're in Dallas (Dallas is proving to be chaos) (wasn’t actually tonight’s setlist but funny it was there)

Joe is hiding his book for fans similar to how MCR hid drumsticks for fans!

Clandestine merch returns in Dallas!

Oli giving FOB a brief shoutout before MANTRA!

PETE IS IN THE SKIRT

Speech about support staff!

Speech about TTTYG’s anniversary!!!

WHAT A CATCH DONNIE FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2013

THE (AFTER) LIFE OF THE PARTY FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2007

Pete walked around in the audience!

“Trying to keep it cool in Texas”

Patrick’s speech about imposter syndrome <3 (whole thing is very sweet and nice)

BMTH not performing in Phoenix :( (sad times)

PETE IS IN A SKIRT AGAIN

Patrick is wearing the black button up again but tucked in!

TAKE OVER AND HUM HALLELUJAH IN THE SAME NIGHT

Pete talking about prioritizing love <3

SPOTLIGHT BY PATRICK WAS FUCKING PLAYED HOLY SHIT

ALSO PATRICK’S FIRST TIME PLAYING SPOTLIGHT SINCE 2011

SPACE CAMP FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2013

They played one extra song tonight! (They usually play 27 songs a night)

Played the instrumental version of Stardust at the end of the show!

Patrick’s speech before Spotlight <3

Pete got Grimaced but Patrick lives on in peace lol

MIKEY FUCKIN WAY IS AT THE FUCKING SHOW (Chula Vista)

A COVER OF NOTHING COMPARES 2 U BY PRINCE

(COFFEE’S FOR CLOSERS) FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2009

Patrick and Pete didn’t do the waltz :(

MIKEY PLAYED FUCKING SATURDAY WITH THEM

MIKEY WITH PETE WHILE PLAYING SATURDAY

MIKEY RUNNING TO THE STAGE TO PLAY

Mikey posting Andy on his story <3333

PATRICK AND MIKEY HUGGING <33333333

Mikey with the entire band <3333333

I nearly spread an entire rumor that Mikey posted sim versions of FOB on his story (oops)

Pete doing this weird/messed up bow thing towards Patrick

“Love you dudes!” on Mikey’s story <33333

“My two dads” on Gabe’s story (never change Gabe)

Patrick stopping the show to make sure a fan is okay <3

Kristin reposting Mikey playing with FOB on her story <3

The pit during BMTH’s set

Oli is missing a fucking shoe

I predicted Mikey performing with FOB :3

Mr. Blue Sky cover! (LA night one)

GOLDEN FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2007

G.I.N.A.S.F.S. IS MAGIC 8 BALL ONCE AGAIN

AMERICA’S SUITEHEARTS FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2009

TWO MAGIC 8 BALL SONGS AS YOU CAN SEE ABOVE

They played 29 songs tonight!! (They usually about 27 songs a night)

PETE AND PATRICK HARMONIZED DURING SRAR

Pete spotting his trainer in the crowd (literally the equivalent of Gerard from MCR talking about their mailman during a show)

Patrick’s speech before medley <3

“New car smell stadium”

Demi Lovato was at the show and performed with Royal & the Serpent, one of the openers!

Pete being shipped to the audience (Amazon same day delivery)

America’s Suitehearts being labeled as ASS on the official setlist

Oli in a cult leader tank top (literally just says cult leader)

The band had a secret show earlier on in the day! (LA night two)

Technically tour stuff, but Pete possibly hinting at an MCR x FOB tour for 2024!

Someone on setlistfm deleting the entire setlist

LIVE DEBUT OF I’VE GOT ALL THIS RINGING IN MY EARS

A COVER OF EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE

SOPHOMORE SLUMP WITH WILLIAM BECKETT OF THE ACADEMY IS

THE (AFTER) LIFE OF THE PARTY ONCE AGAIN

LIVE FUCKING DEBUT OF BANG THE DOLDRUMS

Pete’s speech <3

Pete has a new jacket!

Saturday with Adam T. Siska!

“It looks like there's a lot of you, it's a little intimidating” ~ Patrick (Mountain View)

What A Catch Donnie once again!

A cover of Alison by Elvis Costello!

THE PATRON SAINT OF LIARS AND FAKES FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2013

Pete and Andy briefly turning the show into comedy hour

Pete stood on the piano (thanks piano)

Random guy checking his emails during BMTH’s set (lowkey pretty funny, shoutout to this iconic guy)

Not tour stuff but Electric Touch by Taylor Swift featuring FOB came out today! (July 7th) (West Valley City)

Patrick telling everyone to sing along to Grand Theft Autumn

Cover of Hold The Line by Toto!

THE KIDS AREN’T ALRIGHT FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2018

Someone having a Frerard license plate (honestly super funny)

Patrick saving a bug

Pete broke up a fight (pls don’t fight at concerts that’s not fucking cool) (Greenwood Village)

THEY DID FUCKING BANG THE DOLDRUMS AGAIN AND IT WASN’T EVEN MAGIC 8 BALL TIME

ACOUSTIC GUITAR FOR MEDLEY

PATRICK PLAYED AN ORIGINAL SONG BY HIS DAD <33333

Patrick’s dad is at the show! <3

NOBODY PUTS BABY IN THE CORNER FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2014

“The party tonight is awesome” ~ Pete

“The last thing you want to do is go and brag tomorrow that you got into a fight at a fucking Fall Out Boy show. And it wasn’t even with Bring Me The Horizon, y’know what I mean?” ~ also Pete

The song Patrick played from his dad is called Goin’ North!

There’s bubbles during Disloyal!! (This has been happening the entire tour but I haven’t seen anyone bring it up until the Colorado show!)

Cover of Peace Love and Understanding by Elvis Costello & The Attractions! (Rodgers)

I SLEPT WITH SOMEONE IN FOB FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2015

A speech about Stardust!

Patrick during Saturday <3

“I’m gonna go play Super Mario Brothers”

Pete chatted with a kid during the show <3

Storm delay just before FOB’s set, thankfully everyone was safe!! (Somerset)

Oli has lost his fucking shoe once again

Drunk guy took his pants off and had security chase him (hope they caught him)

THEY SOUNDCHECKED BANG THE DOLDRUMS

The venue is apparently in a cornfield

Only half the stage got set up :(

The dog is named Blitz (yes it took me till Wisconsin to learn it’s fucking name)

THE EYES ALSO FUCKING GLOW

“People ask us what it was like at old fob shows and the answer is that it was kind of like this, we would just play until the police kicked us out” ~ Pete lol

LIVE DEBUT OF FAME < INFAMY CONGRATS WISCONSIN YOU FUCKING DESERVE IT

No medley tonight (storm delay and strict curfew)

Also the shortest show of the tour so far! They played only 16 songs when they usually play about 27-28 songs (again storm delay and strict curfew)

One of the openers wore a cheesehead apparently!

BMTH’s drumhead says Steve for some reason??

Oli hugged a fan <3

OLI RAN THROUGH THE FUCKING MERCH STANDS

Double rainbow!! (Cincinnati)

LIVE DEBUT OF FAVORITE RECORD

Patrick being proud of himself after performing Favorite Record <3

Joe got a new tattoo entitled Z-Bone for his youngest daughter Zayda! <3

Troll on setlistfm saying they covered Harder, Better, Faster Stronger by Daft Punk lol (Noblesville)

Same troll saying they covered Mr. Brightside by The Killers and I Gotta Feeling by The Black Eyed Peas

Same troll saying they covered Peaches by Jack Black

Patrick skipping around <3

WHERE DID THE PARTY GO FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2014

Patrick randomly became a wizard during the show and made Pete disappear :3

Pete being a gamer boy on his ig and playing Fortnite <3

The same troll from the other night saying they covered Daft Punk (again) and fucking Nintendo (Cuyahoga Falls)

“I have like, 3 brain cells left” ~ Pete

MEDLEY HAD I’M LIKE LAWYER

Cover of Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen!

LIVE DEBUT OF 27

Pete smiling and waving to his two youngest kiddos, Saint and Marvel during Dance Dance <3

A fan also gave Meagan and the kiddos friendship bracelets! (Revealed in the tags in the link above!)

PETE’S IN A SKIRT (Bristow)

NOBODY PUTS BABY IN THE CORNER ACCOUSTIC

TOUR DEBUT OF SHE’S MY WINONA

SHE’S MY WINONA FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2009

I FUCKING PREDICTED SHE’S MY WINONA

New merch for the magic 8 ball! (Charlotte)

Someone the day before the show put an entire fake setlist on setlistfm lol

A Jehovah’s Witness is at the show (slay ig)

And apparently another person randomly preached at the show??

Someone is also barking in the pit??

Lean On Me by Bill Withers cover!!

DEAD ON ARRIVAL FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2013

S’mores after the show is over on Pete’s story

Oli dedicated Can You Feel My Heart to FOB!

POSSIBLE 7 MINUTES SOUNDCHECK?? (Virginia Beach)

7 MINUTES FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2007

PATRICK PLAYED THE DRUMS

“Sing it with me, honey!” Patrick to Blitz during This Ain’t a Scene

In typical Florida fashion…severe thunderstorm warning to start off the night (West Palm Beach)

Karaoke by the merch stand!

Setlist got leaked!

8 ball hint is gator bites…

Andy is back!!!

PETE’S IN THE SKIRT

THEY COVERED DANCING QUEEN BY ABBA

TELL MICK FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2013

ACCIDENTALLY PREDICTED TELL MICK IN MY DMS WITH @frankierosbackbends

DEAD ON ARRIVAL IN PLACE OF CHICAGO TONIGHT (Tampa)

MISS MISSING YOU FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2015

ALSO THE TOUR DEBUT OF MISS MISSING YOU

Facebook completely simping for Pete on instagram

Oli dedicated Can You Feel My Heart to FOB again!!

PATRICK MAY HAVE SANG FRICTION IN HIS JEANS (Atlanta)

Played Nothing Compares 2 U in honor of Sinead O’Conner as she passed away </3

LIVE DEBUT OF FROM NOW ON WE ARE ENEMIES

FOB (kinda) ARE IN THE FUCKING BARBIE MOVIE

Pete revealed in the RATS podcast that Saint (his youngest son) drew the backdrop for Blitz! (Clarkston)

William Beckett is at the show for whatever reason??

He also performed Chicago with FOB!

Trolls on setlistfm saying they covered Blood by MCR

Pete falling into the box during Crazy Train

DON’T YOU KNOW WHO I THINK I AM FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2007

Cover of Coffee Mug by Descendents as a tribute to Milo Auckerman

The crowd booing people who were fighting (Toronto)

Pete also mocking the people that were fighting

THEY CUT LAST OF THE REAL ONES

LIVE DEBUT OF WEST COAST SMOKER

I PREDICTED WEST COAST SMOKER

THE RETURN OF DOUBLE 8 BALL

Oli taking someone’s drink and BMTH posting the person’s reaction on their story (op got a good laugh out of it, I saw the video from their pov!)

Pete playing tennis at the venue just before tonight’s show! (Forest Hills)

PETE IS AIRDROPPING THE NEW GAMES WE PLAY SONG TO FANS

JUST ONE YESTERDAY FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2014 FOR MEDLEY

STEREO HEARTS AND CUPIDS CHOKEHOLD FOR MEDLEY AS WELL

TRAVIE FUCKING MCCOY PERFORMED WITH THEM

COVER OF ENTER SANDMAN BY METALLICA

LIVE DEBUT OF I AM MY OWN MUSE

DOUBLE FUCKING 8 BALL AGAIN

TRAVIE SAID GYM CLASS HEROES IS COMING BACK

Oli down in the pit saying “don’t tell Patrick” for whatever reason lol (Boston)

Joe posting a bunch before tonight’s show!!

I’m Shipping up to Boston cover by the Dropkick Murphys!

Cover of Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond!

LIVE DEBUT OF WAMS DURING MEDLEY

XO FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2007

THIRD DOUBLE 8 BALL IN A ROW

“I’m standing in your spotlight now” Patrick to Pete during riff banter!!

“I like it, I like it” Pete to Patrick also during riff banter!!

GET BUSY FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2006 FOR MEDLEY (Darien)

Pete saying Patrick has a “teddy bear vibe but he gets the job done”

Patrick also blushed when Pete said that

LIVE FUCKING DEBUT OF YOU’RE CRASHING

FOURTH DOUBLE 8 BALL IN A ROW

DON’T STOP BELIEVIN’ AND ENTER SANDMAN IN THE SAME NIGHT

Pete saying Patrick reminds him of Josh Allen, the Buffalo Bills quarterback

Patrick also being incredibly confused by the bullet point above lol

Oli dedicated DiE4u to Snooki (Holmdel)

Pete’s bass very briefly caught on fire after The Phoenix…Pete is VERY THANKFULLY okay (this apparently happened at another recent show too)

Dead on Arrival was dedicated to RATS aka Royal & the Serpent!!

“We’re very happy you're part of our family” Pete to someone at their very first FOB show!!! <3

LIVE FUCKING DEBUT OF I’VE GOT A DARK ALLEY FOR MEDLEY

A mini stage was set up on the lawn for Pete for Dance, Dance!

LIVE DEBUT OF BOB DYLAN

FIFTH DOUBLE 8 BALL IN A ROW

Games We Play played bass for Pete during Saturday!!

Bob Dylan and I Am My Own Muse being labeled as Willie Nelson and Super Smash Bros on the setlist

They randomly played the national anthem at the show?? (It’s apparently a venue thing??)

Gabe Saporta trying to make it to the last show of the NA tour but LAX keeps delaying his flight :( (Camden)

Pete posting food onto his story that is presumably on Patrick’s piano to practice for medley lol

DEAD ON ARRIVAL WITH RATS!!!

Rats requested Dead On Arrival a bunch of times!!

“Awww :(” Patrick after Pete said that this is the last night of the us leg of the tour

JET PACK BLUES FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2018 FOR MEDLEY

Jet Pack Blues into I’ve Got a Dark Alley into Golden for medley </3

LIVE FUCKING DEBUT OF FUCKING PAVLOVE

TRIPLE FUCKING 8 BALL

Somehow fucking predicted a triple 8 ball a couple of days ago 0.0

manicpixiefinalgirl on tiktok started a Joe chant in the pit!!

Hello if you’ve made it this far!! Ty for taking the time to check this out and go through it all!

This will be back for FOB’s Japan shows later this month and for their shows in Europe in October and November, so stay tuned for that!

I had a fantastic time following the North American tour with everyone, can’t wait to do it again with you all soon! :)

#apologies for not many links towards the end!!#ran into this issue with the mcr list…tumblr only allows 100 links per post #fall out boy #fob #patrick stump #pete wentz #andy hurley #joe trohman #so much (for) stardust #so much for (tour) dust #bring me the horizon #bmth #oli sykes #matt kean #lee malia #matt nicholls #jordan fish

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i-am-dulaman · 6 months

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Why I hate Golf

This is the Takapuna Golf Course in Auckland, New Zealand.

It is in the middle of Auckland's north shore suburbs.

According to their website, they are one of the most popular golf courses in Aotearoa and have an annual visitor count of 60,000 people. They don't clarify if that is individual unique visitors or recounts, but lets be generous and say its unique visitors. 60,000, not bad.

This is Eden Park Stadium (the little square on the right) and oh look there's another golf course on the left there, ignore that one for now.

(the above two images are at the same scale)

Eden park has a capacity of 50,000 people. Ed Sheeran was here earlier this year and sold out the two nights he performed. That's 100,000 people in a weekend all in that little red square. 60,000 in a year no longer seems so great.

60,000 people per year is also only 160 people per day. 160 visitors to a golf course that is 470,000 square meters in area. Now the average property size in Auckland is 500 square meters. So the golf course takes up the area of 940 houses.

940 homes worth of land for 160 people.

And that is Auckland housing sizes. Auckland is horribly designed and very spread out. Let's instead look at Barcelona, considered one of the most well designed cities in the world.

This is Takapuna golf course side by side with Barcelona

(The scale is as close to being equal as I could get them, I don't have ArcGIS data for Barcelona so had to use google maps)

Each red square overlaid on Takapuna Golf Course is exactly 133m in height/width, the same size as each city block in Barcelona, road width included.

There are 23 Barcelona blocks worth of space in Takapuna Golf Course with room to spare. About 640 people live in each Barcelona block, that's 15000 people.

15000 peoples worth of homes and living spaces, sacrificed so 160 people can play golf in a day.

Now this is just one golf course in a big city, what's 15,000 people to a city of 1.6 million, who cares right?

Here is a wider shot of Auckland City.

Those red dots? They're golf courses.

There are 16 golf courses inside the metropolitan area of Auckland City (4 not pictured as Auckland is too spread out to get one clean screenshot). Keep in mind these are not rural golf courses out in the country, these are right beside housing developments and shopping malls. And for the record I could not find a single golf course in the Barcelona metropolitan area, you had to go out into the country before finding one.

So lets multiply that 15,000 people by 16 golf courses?

240,000 people.

With Auckland City's golf courses you could house 240,000 people comfortably with some good urban planning.

That is why I hate golf.

#For the record I'm not 100% against golf I just think if you have the time to play the most boring sport in the world #Then you also have time to drive 30 minutes out into the country side to play it #golf courses water usage is a whole other story but they aren't uniquely wasteful so thats why I havent mentioned that #golf courses in dry areas with water shortages are even worse than a waste of space and it doesnt matter if theyre urban or rural #but for golf courses in a place like auckland theyre water usage is generally fine and its the waste of land use that bothers me so #Auckland #New Zealand #Aotearoa #Golf #Barcelona #Why i hate golf #golf hate

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theetherealbloom · 7 months

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NO COMPLAINTS | JOEL MILLER

No Complaints | J.Miller One Shot

Summary: In the peaceful town of Jackson, life seems stable. Ellie has found some sense of belonging, but for you, life remains a constant struggle due to the trauma you carry. You've faced loss, isolation, and danger, and you're not sure where you fit in. That's when you cross paths with Joel Miller, a man with a haunted past and a heart hidden beneath a tough exterior.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 8.5k

Warnings: Age-Gap (Late 20s - Early 30s) Angst, Hurt-to-Comfort, soft!joel, suicide ideation, Almost SA (dw nothing gets that far), Assault, Abuse, Blood, Injury, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Panic Attack, Slavery, Ellie and Joel had talked through their problems and everything is ok so no golf =D

A/N: This fic by @familyvideostevie titled “the meaning of it all” inspired me to write again after a long-ass writing slump. Literally, go read all of her fics cause they're just THAT good. Tbh, I’m not sure if this was even good to post since I’ve been out of practice. This one is a little darker than my usual writing, idk how it happened… it just does… so remember the trigger warning ya’ll!

Song: No Complaints by Noah Kahan

MAIN MASTERLIST

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

You always thought that you’d find peace in never being awake long enough to feel anything. You lay there staring at the red marks on the hillside and the sharp grooves in the bark of the trees, and you couldn't help but wonder how you got to be in this desolate spot. Your feet, which were now exposed and rough, bore witness to a difficult journey.

All you knew is that one moment, you were fighting for your life from a group of raiders a few miles North, and you ended up where you lay. Had it been minutes? Hours? You weren’t sure as your vision was blurry and hazy, only saw the bleak white winter sky, you could hear crows cawing in the distance as you were freezing, and the snowflakes were on your lashes as you lay there in the snow.

Memories were a blur, time a mysterious riddle. One second, you had been immersed in a life-and-death conflict with savage captors who had enslaved you many kilometers to the South. In the next, you were in this desolate, snow-covered setting, with no clear explanation for how you had arrived. You saw the world through hazy glasses, your eyesight clouded, and all you could see was the stark winter sky, pure and cruel. As you lay there, a lonely soul in the middle of the cold wilderness, the eerie cries of far-off crows provided a haunting tune to your frost-chilled daydream. Each snowflake rested sweetly upon your eyelids.

A ghostly mist danced in front of your eyes with each breath, a whispered reminder of life's fragileness. You tried to relish these fading moments with every exhausted breath out. You felt tired and under pressure from having survived for a long time. You had endured the storm for a long amount of time, seeing pathetically as those you loved died, leaving a thick veil of grief, guilt, and unremitting agony in their wake.

You ached for relief, an end to the never-ending agony that had become your daily existence. During those last seconds, as your eyes closed like a curtain shutting on a world of hopelessness, you heard the muted voices of a group of strangers and the distant sound of galloping horses. A lone figure towered above you, their voice a beacon crying for assistance, while the warmth of your own tears blended with the chill on your cheeks.

“Please… make it stop,” you gasped, the words escaping your trembling lips like fragile whispers, hanging heavy in the frigid air. "I just want it… to stop." And with that, at that very fragile moment, you gave yourself up to the gentle embrace of the gathering darkness.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

How you awoke unfolded gradually, like the faintest of whispers. First, a parched throat and chapped lips stirred you, and then the sensation of the plush pillow cradling your head, the yielding mattress beneath, and a soft blanket cocooning your form.

Your eyelashes fluttered as you hesitantly blinked awake, and an immediate panic surged within you, constricting your chest. The world around you was unfamiliar, and a gnawing uncertainty clawed at your psyche. Was this a new iteration of hell on Earth?

A relentless drumming, your heartbeat, echoed in your ears, and your vision swirled with chaos as you scanned the alien surroundings. You used your forearms to hoist yourself from the bed, your chest rising and falling with the rapid pace of your breath.

Then, the door swung open, revealing a man in a pristine white doctor's coat, clutching a clipboard. "Oh, you're awake," he began, but your question cut through his words like a knife.

"Where am I?" you demanded, urgency coloring your voice.

"You're safe," he assured, though the reassurance felt as hollow as an echo.

Driven by an instinct you couldn't fathom, you sprang from the bed, the IV drip yanked free from your left hand, a sharp sting preceding the rush of cool air against your skin. Barefoot and resolute, you pushed past the doctor, racing down the dimly lit hallway, your footsteps echoing in the empty, sterile corridors.

With a beating heart, you reach the end of the dimly illuminated corridor and see two enormous doors. With bated breath, you lunged forward, pushing them open and preparing yourself for whatever horrors could be behind them. You expected to be in another harsh and terrible location where the only things that remained consistent were torture and cruelty.

To your astonishment, you found yourself in a simple, wintry town. People of all ages populated the snow-covered streets. Elderly residents chatted quietly on porches, and children giggled and played, their rosy cheeks contrasting with the chilly air. The adults turned in surprise at your unexpected arrival, their faces mirroring a mix of curiosity and concern.

From behind, the approaching doctor and nurses shouted, their voices filled with alarm. In the midst of your confusion and disarray, a strong pair of arms encircled you, causing your instincts to scream in fear.

"Let go of me!" you cried out, struggling in the grip that held you captive.

A soft, heavy southern accent whispered gently in your ear, "You're okay... you're safe here. Ain't no one here gonna hurt you, darlin'."

Your fear intensified as you flailed and cried inside the confining hold. But you didn't notice the abrupt, stinging prick on your neck because you were too caught up in the chaotic mayhem. The environment around you became blurry and black in a couple of minutes.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

The patrol had begun like any other routine, just another day in the relentless grind of survival. The plan was straightforward: coming across a few Clickers and eliminating them like they were just annoyances to be removed. What he had not expected, though, was to stumble across a lady who was on the verge of dying of hypothermia.

“Please… make it stop,” you begged in a voice so soft and fragile, "I just want it… to stop."

Joel couldn't ignore the desperation in your pleas. He'd been there before, when the world had crumbled into chaos, and he'd lost his daughter. Back then, he saw no point in carrying on, until he'd met Ellie and endured the hardships alongside her. He found her, protected her, and now, he cared for her as if she were his own.

Joel stood there, just across the street from the clinic, his weary eyes and gruff exterior a testament to the countless trials he'd faced. Those brave enough to ask for the details of what had transpired a few days earlier, who he had discovered, were met with curt, direct responses, followed by an icy, hard stare.

He'd assumed that Maria, Tommy, or whoever had been entrusted with integrating newcomers into Jackson would take care of you. So, for the past few days, he went about his life as best he could—patrolling, teaching Ellie how to play the guitar, constructing new homes, and restoring old ones.

But as he made his way to assist Tommy with yet another task, he saw you in the middle of the street, awake and in a state of panic, clad in your medical gown. His chest constricted with a sudden, unexplainable urgency, and without a second thought, he was sprinting towards you, clutching you against his chest in an attempt to ground you.

Now, you were back in the small room of the clinic, asleep due to the sedative they had administered. Joel sat in a chair beside your bed, patiently awaiting your awakening. He couldn't quite comprehend why he felt drawn to be by your side, to ensure your well-being. He closed his eyes, pressing both palms to his face, contemplating the reason he felt so adamant about your recovery.

Maybe it was the way he had glimpsed the hopelessness in your eyes, a reflection of his own prior misery. The way you had pled, already having given up on yourself, touched a chord within him. He understood that sensation all too well. Despite the plethora of sins he had committed, perhaps aiding you was a chance for atonement, a way to make amends for everything he’s done.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

You stirred from your slumber, feeling the haze of grogginess envelop you as your weary eyes fought to open. Gradually, your vision sharpened, and you found yourself in a familiar place. This time, you weren't alone.

Across from your bed, a figure sat in a chair. His countenance was rugged, marked by the passage of time, a salt-and-pepper beard framing a face etched with the stories of his life. His presence exuded a rugged handsomeness, even as he raised a quizzical eyebrow in your direction.

In a deep baritone, his voice resonated through the room as he uttered the words, "You're awake."

You shifted uneasily on the bed and looked at him with wide, unsure eyes, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. His piercing look was enigmatic; you didn't know how to respond, so you decided to be quiet, entangled in a fog of uncertainty.

With a soft hum, he introduced himself, "The name is Joel… Joel Miller. What's your name, ma'am?" His voice carried an air of gruff kindness that gently nudged you to respond, yet you found it hard to meet his gaze. Your eyes darted everywhere but his, and you said your name in a shy whisper, leaving it hanging there like a delicate secret.

Joel's voice wavered as he began, "I'm... I'm not exactly supposed to be here, but I—"

Your brows furrowed, and your eyes squinted with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion as you interrupted, "Then, why are you here?"

His words stumbled and faltered. "I... I don't—"

Frustrated with the lack of a clear answer, you turned your gaze away from him, your attention drawn to the frosted glass window on your left. Joel fell silent, respecting your need for space.

After a brief pause, you nodded toward the outside, your voice soft, inquisitive. "Is it real?" Joel waited for you to elaborate, and you continued, "There are kids playing in the street, no FEDRA, elderly being taken care of... it all seems so..."

"Normal," Joel finished your thought, and you snapped your head back to him, watching him nod in agreement. "Yeah, I couldn't quite believe it myself, to be honest," he admitted, clearing his throat. "Jackson is a safe place, a good community. They've got real food here."

A weary, exasperated chuckle escaped your lips as you felt a lump form in your throat, and your eyes grew watery. You hugged yourself tightly, seeking comfort in your embrace as you confessed, "I... I don't know what to do."

"We'll figure it out, darlin'," Joel reassured you, his words infused with a tenderness that pierced through his rugged exterior. It was a kindness you hadn't expected, a gentle ember igniting a glimmer of hope within you. Maybe, you began to believe, that life wasn't supposed to be a never-ending punishment after all.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Solidarity was something you thought was long gone ever since the beginning of the apocalypse, where the Infected had taken what they wanted, and the remaining people who survived will always be at war with each other rather than fighting the common enemy.

It took more than a few tries, but eventually, you got the hang of things, thanks to Maria and Tommy, and especially Joel and Ellie. Bits and pieces intertwined with time got you to understand them better and sometimes made you feel less alone. Your mind sometimes wonders how Joel and Ellie met, when Joel practically adopted Ellie as his own, or how they got to Jackson.

You’ve got a house that you have made your own, a bed, and a kitchen. You help give back to the community in ways that you can. You helped in the greenhouse, and the stables, and when you were finally ready, you went out patrolling with the group when you were up for rotation.

Initially, you kept to yourself, often skipping breakfast, lost in a peculiar silence that enveloped you like a shroud. It was a protective cocoon, a way to conceal yourself as if you were an isolated island adrift in a sea of people. The presence of others had always unnerved you, a lingering fear that refused to release its grip.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Taking charge of the stables for the month had its perks, especially when it came to tending to the horses—an undertaking that ranked high among your favorite chores. While two other residents were technically assigned to work with you, the majority of your time was spent in the solitary company of the majestic creatures.

In the quiet embrace of the early morning, just before the crucial handover to the patrolling team, you busied yourself ensuring the horses were well-fed and prepared. Running your fingers through Scout's mane, one of the older stallions, you continued the rhythmic task of brushing his coat, a tranquil hum escaping your lips.

"S'cuse me," a voice interrupted, and you jolted at the familiar sound. Turning your head, you found Joel, surprisingly up and about at this early hour. Mouth slightly agape, you greeted him breathlessly, "Joel, hi."

"Up early for patrol today... so... was wonderin' if you needed any help," Joel's gravelly voice broke through the quiet serenity of the stables.

You tilted your head, a subtle quirk of curiosity. The unexpected shyness emanating from Joel piqued your interest. Scanning him up and down, you suppressed a smile before nodding, trying to appear nonchalant despite the fluttering in your chest. "Um, sure... Could you feed the rest of the horses over there?"

He nodded in acknowledgment before moving with seasoned ease to attend to the horses, his hands moving confidently as he handled the feed and navigated the familiar routine of caring for the animals. As he worked alongside you in the quietude of the stables, the bond between caretaker and horses, and perhaps something more, unfolded in the soft morning light.

"How are you settlin' in in town, darlin'?" Joel inquired, his voice dipped in a gentle southern charm that sent a delightful shiver down your spine. The term of endearment he used left you feeling a sweet warmth spreading throughout your body.

You shrugged, a subtle smile playing on your lips. "Jackson is good, quiet, and peaceful. Never thought a place like this could still exist after... everything."

Joel's gaze lingered on you, and he couldn't help but note, "Well, it's got its charm. People here look out for each other. You included darlin'." His words held a quiet sincerity, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

Your eyes shifted around, a flutter of nerves settling in before gathering enough courage to meet Joel's gaze. You licked your lip nervously, and the words tumbled out, "Joel, I... I never apologized when I... um... first arrived here in Jackson. I'm sorry."

Joel looked at you, seeing the vulnerability in your eyes, and a softness overcame him. He offered you a sympathetic smile, "Nothin' to apologize for."

"You must have thought I was crazy," you lamely laughed, and Joel shook his head, his voice gentle, "No, not at all, just someone who's hurtin'."

You stared at him wide-eyed, feeling a phantom fear of tragedy as if he could see through you, still aware of any negative tendencies you may have. It evoked a sense of helplessness and vulnerability.

Then, a flicker of something in his gaze—a fire, a subtle intensity that caused warmth to spread across your face. An unspoken connection kindled in the quiet space between you, creating an inexplicable but undeniable bond.

Unable to hold his gaze, you looked away, clearing your throat, and tried to hide your smile as you continued to brush out Scout's mane. Joel smirked, watching you duck your head, proud of the way he made you react with just his gaze. The unspoken words hung in the air, a sweet tension that hinted at something more than apologies and simple conversations.

“So… what’s today’s patrol route?” You asked, trying to move the conversation, Joel walked over to you and finished feeding the horses, he stood in front of you and sighed, “Should be a quick one, makin’ sure there aren’t any infected or raiders nearby.”

Time flew by in the hypnotic flow of discussion with Joel before you realized it. His patrol partner eventually arrived, signaling the end of your stolen moments together. As you handed over the reins to Joel, a subtle thrill coursed through you when your hand brushed against his. A soft smile graced your lips, and you whispered, "Stay safe out there, Cowboy."

In response, Joel's steely exterior softened, and a rare, small smile played on his lips. He nodded, meeting your gaze with a warmth that transcended the casual camaraderie. "I will, darlin'," he affirmed, the endearment lingering in the air like a promise.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

The kitchen at Jackson bustled with activity, and you were focused on the mundane task of chopping carrots for the evening's stew. Gemma, a fellow resident assisting you, had stepped outside to discuss some news with an acquaintance. The day seemed ordinary, a haze of familiar routines in the post-apocalyptic town.

But then, it happened. A deafening crash of the door bursting open shattered the tranquility, causing you to jolt in fear. Instantly, you were transported back in time, your mind torn from the kitchen and thrust into a nightmare you thought you'd escaped.

In an instant, you weren't in Jackson anymore. Instead, you found yourself in that dreadful place, that sinister basement that still haunted your darkest memories. It was as if the chains that once bound your ankles were clinking and dragging across the worn wooden floor again, just as they had back then. The echoes of your fellow captives' whimpers and cries resonated in your ears, the cacophony of despair down the hall of that wretched basement.

The room seemed to whirl around you, and a frantic panic welled up inside, a chilling flood of memories surging through your mind like an unstoppable tide. It was as if the past, a nightmare you believed you had left behind, had come crashing back into your reality.

Your throat constricted, and tears welled in your eyes, blurring the faces of the people and the clatter of the fallen knife in the kitchen. You couldn't bear it any longer. You couldn't pretend that everything was okay. You couldn't ignore the haunting echoes of the past any longer.

Without a second thought, you dashed past the bewildered onlookers in the kitchen, their voices fading into a distant, indistinct hum. Your pounding footsteps carried you through the dining hall and out into the crisp, autumn air.

Outside, you continued to run, propelled by an inexplicable urge to escape. The scene before you spun as you sprinted past, driven by an overwhelming need to distance yourself from the nightmarish memories that had clawed their way back to the surface.

Reaching the stables, you sought refuge by pressing your trembling hand against the cool, aged wood of the railing. It was a familiar anchor in this moment of turmoil, offering some semblance of support as your chest heaved, each breath drawn in ragged gasps. Your other hand clung to your racing heart as if to prevent it from leaping out of your chest.

Overwhelmed by emotions too powerful to contain, you eventually collapsed to your knees on the straw-strewn ground of the stables. There, amid the scents of hay, horses, and leather, you allowed yourself to succumb to the tidal wave of anguish. It was a cathartic release, an outpouring of pent-up pain, as you wept for the horrors of the past and for the insidious trauma that still gripped your very soul. The weight of the past was crushing, and a foreboding sense of its unending presence gnawed at you.

Amid the silent stables, in the hushed serenity of the autumn afternoon, your sorrow reverberated through the air. The horses nearby snorted and shifted, sensing your distress. Through your blurry vision, you made out the form of your own horse, Spirit, a palomino, whinnying and restlessly pawing the ground. Even he could perceive your distress.

With a heavy heart, you surrendered to the overwhelming emotions, curling into yourself. You buried your head in your arms, seeking refuge from the maelstrom within.

Time was elusive in that moment of vulnerability, and you couldn't gauge how long you remained in that cocoon of pain. It was the gentle touch of someone's hand on your shoulder that finally roused you from your anguish. Startled, you jolted and flinched backward, your tear-soaked eyes locking onto the familiar figure before you.

It was Joel. He knelt on the stable floor, his expression a mix of concern and understanding. His hands were lifted in a gesture of surrender, a silent assurance that he meant no harm. His voice, as gruff and comforting as ever, reached out to you with reassurance, "Hey, sweetheart, it's just me. Nothin's gonna hurt'cha."

You felt yourself wrapping your arms around Joel in a vulnerable moment as if motivated by an unsaid desire for comfort rather than condemnation. He hesitated for an instant, but then he threw his powerful arms around you and held you close to his chest. Tears poured easily into his flannel, his hold's warmth providing a haven from the cold.

His hand moved with a soothing rhythm on the small of your back, a gesture meant to calm the storm raging within you. In that quiet corner of the stables, amidst hay and the comforting scent of horses, you let out the pain that had long been buried.

Word had traveled through the residents about the outburst you experienced, reaching Maria's ears. Concern etched on her face, she went to check on you, only to discover your broken state in Joel's embrace on the stable floor. A shared look between Maria and Joel conveyed an understanding, a mutual acknowledgment of the solace he provided. Without a word, Maria nodded in appreciation before quietly walking away, leaving you in the tender care of Joel's comforting arms.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Funny how it all fades away, the chaos of the world and the turmoil within, the very moment you surrender to Joel's arms. It's as if the universe aligns with the comforting embrace, reshaping the way it spins. You find yourself rearranged, your mind shifting, holding on a little tighter in the safety of your old age.

Your past, a fragile tapestry of pain, remains untold, hidden away from prying eyes. No one had ever asked, and the memories were not something you carried with pride.

Before you knew it, tears had given way to exhaustion, and you had surrendered to the solace Joel provided, falling into a peaceful slumber in his arms. Joel, unable to disturb your tranquil rest, gathered the strength to lift you with a gentle grace. Carrying you across the farmhouse they called home, he navigated the familiar halls with the kind of care one reserves for something precious.

In his bedroom, he gently laid you down on the bed, tucking you in with a blanket. You slept soundly, undisturbed by the world outside. Closing the door with a soft click, Joel rested his head against the wood, his tired eyes reflecting the weight of concern.

A voice sliced through the quiet, shattering Joel's contemplation. "Watcha hidin' in there?" Ellie's words caught him off guard, and he jumped, a whispered curse escaping him, "Fuck! Christ, kid, you almost gave me a damn heart attack."

Ellie leaned against the doorframe, her eyes studying Joel's worn expression. "Who's in there?" she asked, her curiosity tinged with concern.

Joel sighed, running a hand through his grizzled hair as he said your name, "She needed someone, kid. Don't worry, she's asleep now." He could see the questions forming in Ellie's eyes, and he continued, "She didn't need to be alone, not tonight."

Ellie's gaze softened, her understanding silently conveyed. "Need any help?" she offered, the bond between them speaking volumes in the unspoken connection.

Joel shook his head. "Nah, I got it covered. Get some rest, Ellie."

As Ellie retreated to her space in the garage, Joel turned back to the closed door, a silent vigil for the fragile peace within.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

As you deeply inhaled, the scent of soft cotton sheets enveloped you, and the plush mattress cradled your form. A gentle breeze wafted through the open window, causing the curtains to sway gracefully. Blinking your eyes open, your eyebrows knit in confusion as the unfamiliar room unfolded before you, a stark contrast to the one you had meticulously crafted as your own.

As you pushed yourself up, the blanket slipped off, revealing a scene that painted a portrait of the person who occupied this space. A guitar stood propped up next to a box of records, hinting at the melodies that might have filled the room. A clock, perched on the wall above a small bookshelf adorned with a multitude of books, ticked away the moments. The window, adorned with a closet nearby, allowed soft daylight to spill into the room, casting a warm glow on the carefully curated details that made this space unique.

Exiting the bedroom, you quietly padded towards the kitchen, drawn by the inviting aroma of breakfast and a faint hum in the air. As you entered, Joel came into view, focused on the morning task of preparing a meal. You said his name, but he tilted his head to the side, as if catching a subtle sound in the stillness. Eventually, he turned around, and a small smile graced his face, revealing the hint of a dimple.

"Oh, you're awake. Good mornin', darlin'. How'd ya sleep?" Joel greeted, his eyes warm and the kitchen bathed in the aroma of breakfast. The worn, well-loved kitchen table held evidence of countless meals, the scent of brewing coffee enveloping the space, and a charming clutter of ingredients spoke of a morning routine crafted by familiarity and care.

“I… I’m–”

“Before you start to apologize for shit that you can’t control, don’t,” Joel interjected, a wry smile on his lips.

Deciding it was too early for arguments, you settled for a small nod, and Joel mirrored it with an agreeing one, “Alright, good.”

You began, “Uh, then I should… uh, see myself out then um–”

Joel shook his head, “Not with an empty stomach, you’re not.”

“But I–”

“Let me take care of you, please?” Joel's request carried a certain weight, and you found it hard to resist. Politely nodding, you ventured, “Is there anything I could help with?”

Joel shook his head, “Just have a seat over there by the dining table.” You complied, the chair scraping against the floor before you settled, observing Joel expertly preparing a spread of plates.

The front door opened, and Ellie walked in with a bright smile upon spotting you. "Hey! You’re still here and Joel hasn’t scared you off yet?”

You began to reply, but Joel scolded Ellie, placing down plates and glasses on the table, "Ellie!"

With a sheepish smile, you told her, "Quite the opposite actually."

Ellie shot Joel a cheeky look as she stuffed her face with food, “Wow! Look at you, when did you become such a social butterfly?” Joel sighed, shaking his head, while you shared a chuckle with Ellie, finding yourself welcomed into the heartwarming banter of their unconventional family.

You three had a nice supper together in quiet companionship. Ellie finally got up from her chair and announced that she was going to hang out at Dina's apartment. Never one to pass up a chance, she gave Joel a playful glance and puckered her lips into a kissy face at him while you were busy with the dishwashing.

By the time Joel was done drying the dishes with a towel and setting them on the drying rack, you picked at the loose skin on the edges of your fingernails, nervously waiting for Joel to ask the question you knew was coming.

“Let’s go sit out at the porch and enjoy the good weather, watcha’ say darlin’?” Joel asks and you bring yourself to look at him and you just nod as you follow him outside. He opens the door for you and gestures to the seat that you take, Joel moves the table around and moves his chair closer to yours.

You inhale deeply, finding solace in the delicate dance of silence and the caress of a spring breeze that leaves goosebumps in its wake.

“Have ya talked to anybody?” Joel's voice breaks the quiet, and you turn your head to meet his gaze, a mixture of curiosity and kindness in his eyes.

“What?” you respond, caught off guard by the sudden question.

“Y’know, made some friends around town?” Joel elaborates gently.

“Are you asking if I have friends?” Your quizzical tone hangs in the air, and Joel huffs, “Well, you ain’t answerin’ the question, honey.”

A sigh escapes you as you weigh the words in your mind. Finally, you admit, “I like being alone.”

“Must be why you’re talkin’ to me so much,” Joel remarks with a smirk.

You meet his gaze, the warm sun highlighting the depths of his brown eyes as he looks at you. Shaking your head, you say, “That’s why I knew you were different. Because, for the first time ever, I wanted someone else’s company more than my own.” The vulnerability in your words hangs between you, suspended in the soft glow of the sun.

Joel's weathered hand envelops yours, a gesture that carries the weight of shared pain. "I’ve had 'em, the um, panic attacks," he admits, his voice a low murmur that echoes the haunting specter of those moments. "Feels like all the air in your lungs is gone, and you begin to feel like you’re drownin’.”

“I see her sometimes,” Joel continues distantly, his gaze lost in the depths of memory. You wait, the air thick with unspoken sorrow. “Sarah, my daughter. I lost her on outbreak day. She was only twelve.”

Your eyes well up, and you squeeze his hand in silent solidarity. "I'm sorry, Joel."

Joel shifts his gaze to his broken watch, a relic that marks the day and time when his world shattered when he cradled Sarah in his arms as she bled out.

“I got Ellie now, and she’s…” Joel trails off, the weight of his feelings for Ellie impossible to articulate fully. She's his everything, the reason to press on in a world that often feels desolate.

“I know,” you say, nodding in understanding.

“Talkin’ about it helps, y’know. Learned the hard way, almost lost her.”

Tears stream down your cheeks as the raw vulnerability in Joel's words resonates with your own pain. “I don’t want to just survive anymore,” you gasp, the ache in your chest palpable. “It hurts, Joel.”

“What happened out there, darlin’?” Joel asks, his voice breaking.

With a sob, you reply, “Nothing good. Nothin’ good, Joel.”

Then, the floodgates open, and you begin to tell an account laced with patches of short-lived joy and a frantic search for any opportunity at a better life. You spoke about the day of the breakout, the terror of seeing your parents die, and the passing of your siblings. You were taken prisoner by deranged and vicious raiders who took you to a basement filled with the deafening screams of violence.

You consider yourself lucky, spared the physical torment, yet the anticipation of it looms, a shadow of dread. "They should've just killed me then and there," you choke out, laying bare the scars that time can't erase.

A surge of anger courses through Joel's veins, an incandescent rage that echoes through his chest, resonating in the very marrow of his bones. The simmering heat in his head intensifies, a visceral response to the mere thought of anyone causing you harm. Every protective instinct in him flares up, urging him to mount a horse and embark on a ruthless pursuit, to track down those who dared lay a hand on you and unleash a torrent of violence upon them.

Yet, a rational part of Joel prevails. He recognizes the urgency of your need, the necessity for his presence here and now. Despite the molten anger that simmers beneath his skin, he restrains the impulse to act immediately. For your sake, he remains seated, the muscles in his jaw tensing as he clenches his teeth, locking away the fiery wrath that threatens to consume him. It's a fierce battle within, between the protective warrior ready for vengeance and the caring soul determined to offer solace. In this moment, he chooses the latter, for you.

The weight of your dreams presses upon you, vivid and haunting, every detail etched into your consciousness. "I've been remembering my dreams, more vivid than they've ever been, every detail and little thing. Every time I think about going back there to save the others I just… I can’t,” you admit, the guilt seeping through every fiber of your being. Joel kneels in front of you, a pillar of support, placing his hand on your knee.

“Let’s go inside, sweetheart,” Joel suggests, his voice a gentle anchor. You nod, allowing him to guide you back inside. Both of you settle on the couch, and Joel scoops you into his arms, a comforting embrace that shields you from the harshness of your own thoughts.

Sniffling, you pour out your heart, “I know I should have gone back for them, but I saw the opportunity, took it, and fought. I fought hard, and then I ran.”

Joel hums, a soothing melody that allows your tears to flow freely. “I thought… I was okay with the idea of dying, right there, in the snow, and then–”

“I found you,” Joel interjects, his voice a soft murmur.

You look up at him, eyes filled with uncertainty. “You found me?”

Joel's voice drops to a low register, his gaze steady on yours. “I found you during the patrol, freezin’ to death. Thought I didn’t make it in time.” The admission lingers in the air, a symbol of the frailty of beating the odds and the silent connection that kept you from falling apart.

You both stay quiet as you try to calm yourself down while Joel holds you, unable to form any response to the revelation that Joel saved you. You know you’re supposed to be grateful, but at the same time, you don’t feel that way. So you settle closer to him and Joel squeezes you a little tighter as if he knows what you are thinking, and there is no judgment, just pure empathy and understanding.

Eventually, you settle down and softly say, “I don’t know what to do,” Joel rubs a soothing hand up and down your back, “We’ll figure it out, darlin’.”

Then for the first time in years, that's when you could finally breathe.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

As the seasons wove their tapestry of change, so did the fabric of your life, threading moments of lightness and warmth. Having shared the weight of your past with Joel, he became a steadfast presence, an anchor in the shifting tides of your existence. Ellie, too, became a companion in the shared journey of growth.

On a particular day, amidst the vibrant greenery of the greenhouse, you found yourself potting plants and tending to the garden alongside Ellie and another resident named Tris. The air was filled with the earthy scent of soil and the symphony of laughter as you engaged in the simple joy of gardening.

Joel, clad in his worn yet beloved flannel, entered the greenhouse, his eyes inadvertently catching the scene of camaraderie and playfulness. He watched, a subtle smile gracing his lips, as you and Ellie exchanged sweet banter, a dance of words that resonated with laughter.

Ellie couldn't resist a playful pun, and you responded with a burst of laughter, the sound harmonizing with the rustle of leaves and the hum of nature. The moment encapsulated the genuine connection, the shared language of laughter, that had blossomed between you and Ellie.

There had never been a label given to the unwritten relationship between Joel and you. It was a wordless understanding, manifested in the tender attention he paid you and the evenings you spent finding comfort in the round of his arms. There was a promise in the air as he held you tight, "I'll keep you safe, sweetheart." The words were genuine and reverberated through the unexplored areas of your connection, a song of love and safety that didn't require any further explanation.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

The morning proceeded as usual, and the break of dawn illuminated Jackson's sanctuary with a hopeful glow. There was a small party of new arrivals, an expected but unusual sight, and the customary welcoming committee was called upon to assist them in becoming adjusted to the way of life in the community.

You and a few others started the annual task of welcoming the newcomers into the communal room that serves several purposes. A mixture of wonder and expectation pervaded the air as the newcomers experienced Jackson's regularity and warmth—a sanctuary amidst the chaos of the post-apocalyptic world.

You did your duty without thinking as the new faces moved into the shared dining room, where a shared meal was waiting. But at the doorway, something stopped you cold, a pause that went against the normal flow of the greeting.

And then, you saw him.

Recognition struck like a bolt, the back of his head triggering a flood of memories—the cadence of his voice, the grimy shirt clinging to his frame, the dirt-encrusted hands that bore the stains of a past you had fought hard to escape. Time seemed to fracture as you stood there, immobilized, your mouth agape and dry, eyes widened in sheer terror.

You could feel the weight in the pit of your stomach, a concrete representation of the eerie memories of abuse and torment. This could not be real. He was not allowed to be here, breaking into the safe sanctuary you had taken refuge in. Previously perceived as a haven of security, the shared area now seemed to evoke images of suppressed anxieties and bad dreams.

His eyes lock onto yours, and a malevolent grin creeps across his face, revealing a set of teeth that seem to glisten with wicked intent. The sight sends shivers down your spine, and an overwhelming sense of nausea threatens to consume you. In that moment, Maria's reassuring grip on your shoulder serves as a lifeline amidst the storm of dread that surges within you.

Her voice cuts through the dissonance in your mind, “You okay? You look unwell,”, her concern accentuated by the chaos unfolding around you. Yet, it's her inquiry that acts as the catalyst for your unraveling. A surge of panic propels you out of the scene, your movements fueled by a desperate need to escape the looming threat.

The world blurs around you as you sprint through the town, a disorienting juxtaposition of familiar faces and judgmental gazes. The echoes of a haunting déjà vu accompany your frantic run, amplifying the weight of your terror. Tears stream down your face, and your breaths come in ragged gasps as your throat constricts, a relentless grip tightening around your airways.

Staggering, you struggle to maintain composure, but the relentless onslaught of fear takes its toll. The corners of your vision blur, and in a secluded moment, away from the prying eyes of the community, your body rebels. The gut-wrenching sensation overwhelms you, and you bend over, retching as the trauma resurfaces in both memory and physical reaction. The ground beneath you bears witness to the aftermath of a confrontation with the haunting specter of your past.

As you slide down the cold, unforgiving wall, a shiver courses through your body, amplifying the stark reality of the present moment. The cool surface offers little solace as you fold into yourself, desperately clutching your knees as if they could shield you from the impending storm.

The air around you thickens with a stifling heaviness, a cruel reminder of the past that refuses to release its grip. Curling into a defensive ball, you hug yourself tight, as though this simple act could ward off the encroaching darkness threatening to consume you.

With your head buried in your arms, the world outside the fortress of your limbs becomes a distant, distorted canvas. The minutes unravel, each tick of the clock echoing the pulsating rush of blood in your ears. The simplicity of the moment clashes with the complexity of the emotions swirling within.

Seventeen again, caught in the clutches of an awful, horrible place that has become an indelible scar etched into the tapestry of your existence. The pain is not merely a memory but a living, breathing entity, clawing its way back into your present, rendering the passage of time meaningless.

The walls around you seem to close in, their echoes carrying the weight of your history. It's a stark reminder that the past, no matter how desperately you've tried to escape it, remains an unwelcome companion, haunting the recesses of your soul.

You feel the air thicken as he draws near, his presence casting an ominous shadow that seems to devour the feeble rays of sunlight. A cold shiver races down your spine, a chilling prelude to the encroaching darkness. His footsteps echo like ominous drumbeats, each one resonating with an unsettling promise.

"You thought you could escape, huh?" The words slither from his lips like venom, his voice a malevolent symphony that pierces through the ambient sounds of the surroundings. His gaze, filled with a malevolent gleam, locks onto yours, trapping you in a macabre dance.

Despite your mind screaming at your limbs to flee, a paralyzing fear roots you to the spot. The weight of your past sins, haunting and relentless, manifests in the figure before you. His form, etched with the scars of your shared history, now looms with a menacing intent.

"Did you really think you could hide here? With these people?" His tone drips with disdain as he gestures to the community around you. The tendrils of his threat extend beyond mere words, reaching into the very fabric of your newfound sanctuary.

Your breath catches as his words morph into a menacing promise. "I can take it all away, you know. Everything you've found here." His gaze shifts to the people you've come to love, their laughter and camaraderie now tainted by the looming specter of his return.

Nathan. A name, almost lost to the recesses of memory, surfaces in your mind – a cruel reminder of the scars he etched upon your soul. In this ominous confrontation, the echoes of your past reverberate with the sinister intention of reclaiming what he believes belongs to him.

Nathan's grip tightened around your arm, and you let out a scream, thrashing wildly to break free. As your nails clawed at his face, Nathan spat out a curse, "You fuckin’ bitch, I’ll kill you!"

In desperation, you tried to stand, but he grabbed your ankle, dragging you mercilessly across the floor. Your knee aimed at his face was thwarted, and his hands closed around your throat. The air in your lungs dwindled, and you kicked and screamed in a futile attempt to escape.

Feeling the switchblade in your pocket, you willed yourself to grab it. Flipping it open, you cried out as you stabbed him in the neck. Joel stormed towards you, anger etched across his face, but before he could intervene, you pulled out the switchblade, attacking Nathan with a frenzy of stabs.

"Stay the hell away from me!" you cried, each word punctuated by a vicious thrust of the blade. Tears streamed down your face as you unleashed your rage on the man who haunted your nightmares.

Joel, realizing the danger, moved swiftly. He pulled you away from the blood-soaked scene, shushing you and grabbing your wrist. The switchblade fell from your grip, staining the grass, and Joel held you close, shielding you from the aftermath of the violent confrontation.

Amidst the chaos, Joel's voice cut through, reassuring and protective. "Easy, sweetheart, easy. You're safe now." The echoes of your cries mingled with the distant sounds of Maria, Tommy, and others dealing with Nathan.

Maria's gaze shifted towards you, concern etched across her features. She turned to Joel and gave a decisive order, "Go and make sure she’s okay." Joel's response was a firm nod, an acknowledgment of his responsibility.

There was a hint of irritation in Joel's eyes as he escorted you home with an arm around your waist. It was an aging-related displeasure with himself for not being fast enough. But he was driven by desire to take care of making sure you were safe, and he brought you home with a strong sense of protectiveness. The atmosphere was tight, with echoes of Maria's instruction that spoke of the need to protect you from the horror that had recently occurred.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

In the quiet confines of the bathroom, Joel tenderly cleans the cuts and blood on your skin. The sterile scent of antiseptic hangs in the air as he carefully tends to your wounds. His touch is gentle, a stark contrast to the harsh memories that still lingered.

Joel glances at you while he works, capturing your attention. Through the difficulties you've undergone together, you've built a mutual understanding and a silent bond. The air changes, as trust and frailty meld together at that one instant.

Joel stops and meets your eyes for a brief period. There is a tangible tension between you that none of you can deny. The air seems heated. He places the first aid kit aside and reaches for your face with his hands.

Without a word, Joel leans in, closing the gap between you. The touch of his lips against yours is a gentle reassurance, a promise that you're not alone. In that tender kiss, there's a quiet acknowledgment of the strength you've found in each other.

As the kiss lingers, the weight of the past starts to lift. It's a moment of solace, a testament to resilience and the possibility of healing. Joel pulls away slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort or hesitation.

And in the quiet bathroom, amid the wounds of the past, you find a newfound feeling of hope, grounded in the connection established through endurance and the compassion of Joel's care. Joel smiles softly and says, "You deserve to be happy, darlin'. Let me take care of you."

As Joel continues to care for your wounds, a sense of calm settles within the small confines of the bathroom. The sting of antiseptic is a tangible reminder of the present, but you find solace in the fact that Joel is here, offering comfort and care.

He finishes cleaning the last cut, his hands lingering for a moment before he retreats. There's an unspoken understanding between you, a silent agreement that this moment marks a turning point. The ghosts of the past may linger, but the present holds a promise of healing.

Joel's gruff voice breaks the quiet, "You're a tough one, you know that?" A hint of a smile plays on his lips, a rare sight that warms your heart. You manage a small smile in return, grateful for the unexpected bond that has grown between you.

Leaning back against the bathroom counter, Joel lets out a sigh. "You've been through hell, and here you are, facing it head-on. I've seen folks crumble under less. You're stronger than you think."

The atmosphere shifts as Joel's gaze meets yours again. There's a question lingering in the air, one that goes beyond words. You realize that this moment is a crossroads, a chance to choose your path forward.

"You're not alone in this," Joel reassures, his eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that transcends the scars of the past. "Whatever you need, I'm here."

In that moment, you feel a surge of courage, a newfound strength that emanates from within. The pain of the past begins to lose its grip as you accept Joel's support. The familiarity of the bathroom transforms into a sanctuary, a symbol of resilience and the possibility of rebuilding.

As you rise from the seat, Joel watches you with a quiet intensity. You get closer as the uncovered pull between you becomes stronger. This is a turning point in your life when you realize that you are now in control of the two worlds you have battled to survive and are determined to rebuild.

Joel's weathered hands find yours, a comforting embrace that symbolizes the connection you've forged. The tension that once lingered now gives way to a shared understanding, a silent agreement to face the future together.

In the hushed bathroom, among the fragments of the past, you lean in, closing the distance between you and Joel. The kiss that follows is a testament to resilience, an affirmation of the strength found in vulnerability. It forms a bridge between the hope of the next day and the scars of yesterday as it becomes deeper.

Joel pulls away, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt or hesitation. Instead, he finds a glimmer of determination, a spark that signals a new beginning. With a whispered promise, he says, "We'll face whatever comes our way, together."

With Joel right there beside you, you walk into that tiny, quiet room, ready to tackle whatever the world throws your way. Strangely enough, the weight of the world feels lighter with him around. No complaints from you—just a sense of readiness for whatever comes next.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

End Notes:

tbh, I blacked out while writing this--- so UH if there are any inconsistencies let me know! :>

#joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader tlou #joel miller x reader au #joel miller x female reader #ethereal writes #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller tlou #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x reader masterlist

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fuckinthewholetown · 2 months

Text

Fallingforyou - Matty Healy Chapter Two

Chapter two is finally here!!! Thank you all for the support on chapter one, none of the comments made me cry which means I’m clearly doing something right. I’ve tried something a bit different with this one so you finally get some insight into what the hell Matty is doing.

Tags: Angst, slight mentions of smut, swearing

Word Count: 4985

Minors do not interact!!!

Your POV

The UK/Europe leg of the tour was over in a flash, doing a full lap of Europe before you end back where you started, Wembley Stadium. Now, you have three months to relax until you kick off the North American portion of your tour in Arlington, Texas. However, there’s one thing the Lost Atlantis girls don’t know how to do and that’s take a break. Somehow, despite all of your success, you end up in a dingy Premier Inn just North of central London on a random Sunday in the beginning of July.

“If I knew you’d get free tickets to 1975 gigs, I would’ve slid into Ross’s DMs for you years ago.” You say, slicking your hair back into a low ponytail in the dim lighting of the bathroom.

“This is why I was hesitant to tell you, because now you’ve got us dressing up like we’re spy’s.” Maddie says, chuckling as she sticks a skinny black tie around her neck.

“I thought considering you’re shagging a member of the band you’d understand this but I’ll gladly explain it to you again. This is a formal situation, and there’s a dress code. It’s essentially a Matty Healy cosplay competition disguised as a concert.” You reply, exiting the bathroom and doing a spin to show Maddie your entire get up.

“I understand the whole dress code thing, what I don’t understand is why you want to follow it. All you’ve been doing for the last two months is performing and slowly falling into a downwards spiral over Matty hating you. The last thing you want to do is look like him.”

“Maddison, when will you learn? Yes, I am constantly having a mental breakdown over the fact he hates me but my power as a fan girl trumps that any day of the week. I tried getting tickets for this gig and I couldn’t, so now that God has dropped free tickets into my lap I’m going to seize this opportunity.” You respond, sitting down on the rock solid mattress probably worth about a tenner.

“That was an excellent speech, there’s a reason we make you do all the talking.” You both fall into a comfortable silence, doom scrolling until the rest of the girls are ready.

Truth be told, you were putting on a front, acting all excited to see the boys again. And you are, both because you missed them and because you’ve spent the last four years waiting to see The 1975 at Finsbury Park. Despite this, there’s still a feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach. The thought of seeing Matty again and once again being rejected leaves a lump the size of a golf ball in your throat. Maddie was right, you haven’t been able to enjoy the last two months of tour. Despite traveling Europe with your best mates, performing at some of the biggest stadiums in the world, you’ve only got one thing on your mind at all times. Matty.

How he brushed you off when you first met, the snarky comments made in your direction, the infuriating nickname meant to be a jab as your band name. Despite this, the thing on the forefront of your mind is the hug. You know it was a group hug that he was forced into, and knowing how he acts towards you he would have rather been standing next to anyone else. However, all you’ve been thinking about since you last saw him was the fact the area his fingers touched has been noticeably colder since he pulled away.

You’re quickly pulled out of your shame spiral by what could best be described as an assault on your hotel room door. That means one of two things, either a mob of angry fans have found where you’re staying or the girls are finally finished getting ready. Luckily for you, it’s the second one. You have about 30 minutes until you need to leave so conversation fills the room, with the dulcet sounds of Being Funny in a Foreign Language playing in the background to hype you all up. Final touches are made to hair and makeup and next thing you know, you’re all barrelling out to the streets of London.

Despite not growing up here, London feels like a second home to you. Even though you’ve been on tour most of the time, you’ve lived here since you were eighteen so navigating the streets comes with ease to you. It’s also the one place where no one cares who you are. Everyone’s so focused on themselves, they don’t pay attention to the fact that one of the biggest bands in the world is just casually walking around next to them. It’s an introvert's dream.

You eventually get to the entrance of Finsbury Park, blending in with the thousands of fans wearing the exact same thing as you. You knew these outfits would be a good idea. Bypassing the general admissions entrance, you and the girls walk over to the VIP entrance. Introducing yourselves to the security, you’re quickly escorted through the park towards the side of the main stage.

Before you even see anyone, you hear them. The rowdy conversations echoing in the corridors, long before you even get close to reaching their dressing rooms. You hear him, his laugh as George says something out of pocket. That stupid laugh that you know you’ll never get to hear unless you’re outside the room.

“Hey boys!” Ava says, entering the dressing room and making your presence known. The room erupts with cheers at your arrival. Matty seems happy, until he makes eye contact with you and his smile drops. This is going to be a long day.

When he sees you, George immediately wraps you up in a hug that makes you actively try to keep both your feet on the floor. It’s the kind of hug that makes you forget all of life’s problems. It’s the kind of hug that makes you forget that the man you’ve dreamt about since you were sixteen is currently sitting in the corner giving you a look that could burn through your scalp.

“Todays gonna be a good day, pretty girl! We’re performing at fucking Finsbury Park! I know that’s not a big deal to miss ‘I casually play Wembley Stadium’ but it’s a big deal to us.” He says, slowly putting you down. You chuckle at his slight dig at you, knowing full well he means no harm.

“Oh George, I love how you’re always here to remind me how much more successful than you I am.” You laugh, playing into the egotistical role he’s forced you into, “but seriously, this is gonna be one hell of a gig. I had tickets back for the 2020 show, but that damn covid ruined all my dreams.”

“I always forget you’re a fan. Like, it’s so weird to imagine you just casually listening to our music before you win a Grammy.” He says, sitting down on the edge of a chair and pouring a glass of water.

“I don’t listen to music before a gig, it stresses me out too much. But you know what I make sure I do before every show? Cleanse the space.” You say, pulling out a stick of incense from your bag. George gives you an apprehensive look, clearly not buying into the hippie shit you know and love. “Come on, it can’t hurt. It’s won us 2 Grammys for album of the year. You can argue with that logic.”

“Fine, but if Matty shits himself on stage it’s on you and your incense.” He laughs, holding out his lighter. You go around the room, getting some weird stares from some and knowing stares off the girls.

“Hey, don’t knock it. She forgot to do it before a show once and the sound system stopped working halfway through and a rogue pyro burnt me and I ended up in A&E at 3am. That shit works!” Moon yelled, somehow making herself louder than the countless conversations that we’re going on at the time.

Then you got to Matty, who’s been side eyeing you the entire time you’ve been walking around the room. You make sure to linger in his area for longer than the rest, aggressively cleansing him of any negative energy.

“This is the biggest gig of your life and yet I’m getting a lot of negative energy from you. Might wanna fix that before the show.” You say, refusing to make eye contact with him.

“Whatever you say, Princess.” He scoffs, you instinctively roll your eyes as the horrendous nickname before walking off towards the rest of the group.

Luckily, you could ignore the side eyes and the snarky comments by supporting all your friends. The highlight of your day being The Bleachers. You’ve known Jack and the rest of the band for years, almost as long as you’ve been in the industry, so seeing fifty thousand people yell the lyrics to their songs makes your heart swell with pride. However, nothing will beat hearing the entire crowd chant the name of Mattys mum. Knowing the entire audience is secretly there for Denise, makes you and the rest of the girls burst out with laughter.

Before the boys go on stage, you meet them all at the side. Giving each of them a hug and your best wishes for the show. You can’t hide it, your inner fan girl starts coming out at this point. You go up to Matty, trying to create some element of peace.

“Do me a favour and play Love Me?” You say, a glint of a smile on your face. He doesn’t return the favour.

“In your dreams, Princess.” He responds, before walking off to do some final preparations before heading on stage.

However, you could forget all about this when you hear the first few notes of The 1975 from Being Funny in a Foreign Language. All of a sudden, you’re no longer the lead singer of a world famous band. You’re just a girl, standing in London, watching her favourite band perform her favourite songs. All your problems wash away, and you get absorbed by the charismatic nature of Matty.

Every so often, you’d catch the eye of one of the people on stage. Throwing up a heart to Polly, blowing a kiss to George, and giving Hann an enthusiastic thumbs up. That’s until you meet eyes with Matty. Not sure what to do, you stand there staring at him. A mischievous grin falls upon his face, a smirk that’s going to haunt your dreams. And also, the first bit of actual emotion he’s shown you. You’re unsure what to think of this, until the end of Happiness comes around.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” He says into his mic, despite putting on an act his charisma is palpable. No wonder you fell for the act. “Welcome to The 1975 At Their Very Best! Now normally, we don’t take requests this early on. Especially not from blonde bimbos who think crystals do shit. However this songs a banger and you all deserve it!”

You know what’s coming next, however it’s still whiplash hearing the opening notes to Love Me. You’re not sure how to feel. On one hand, they’re playing one of your favourite songs. On the other hand, the man who you’ve considered to be your musical inspiration just called you a blonde bimbo on stage. Clearly, you’re not hiding your disappointment as well as you thought you were as you feel Maddies arms snake around your waist.

“You good?” She whispers, barely loud enough for you to hear.

“Yeah,” you nod, “I’m great.”

The rest of the show goes off without a hitch. If you ignore the comment Matty made early on in the show, you’d go as far as to say it’s the best gig you’ve ever been to. Tim Healy singing All You Need To Hear, About You with Carly at golden hour, Be My Mistake. It’s a show teenage you would’ve dreamt of seeing.

You head backstage after the show, the energy from everyone is radiant and even Matty can’t keep up his stoic demeanor. Annoyingly, his smile lights up the room and you find yourself feeling things you haven’t felt since you were in your peak tumblr days. These feelings quickly get diminished when you realise that everytime he looks at you, the light behind his eyes dwindles.

All of your fears are washed away when you hear the familiar voice of Charli. You first met six years ago, when she opened for your band on the UK/Europe leg of your second world tour. You’ve stayed close friends since, however both of your busy schedules have kept you apart. You spot her, realising she’s mid conversation with Matty and George. Deciding to talk to her later, you turn to look for one of your bandmates however fate has other plans.

“Holy shit, come over here you sexy, blonde bitch!” She yells, dragging you over to join the conversation. She pulls you into a hug that rivals George’s from earlier in the day.

“Damn, I forgot you two know each other. Don’t know how, Charli constantly reminds me that she’d leave me for you in a heartbeat.” George laughs, handing you another drink.

“I have that effect, the girlies love me.” You reply, taking the drink off George and winking at Charli. Matty scoffs.

“Yeah, whatever you say.” Matty responds, taking a sip of his drink to muffle what he was saying. It doesn’t work, silence falls over the group. The silence is palpable, until someone decides to play Boom Clap over the speakers and the group erupts into laughter.

You can’t help but feel guilty for bringing the mood down backstage. You know it’s him who started this, but you play into it. When Ava comes over to you to inform you that everyone’s going to a local bar, you decide to opt out of it. Using the excuse that you’re tired after a long day and you just want to go back to the hotel to sleep. Once you get back, the silence envelops you. You realise it’s the first time you’ve heard nothing all day. Before you knew it, tears started rolling down your face. Over analysing the day's events didn’t help. Every comment, every look, everything he’s done towards you crosses your mind, and the more you think about it the more tears stream down your face.

You did not expect sobbing in a Premier Inn to be how you end your day.

Mattys POV

The 1975 at Finsbury Park has been a long time coming, getting canceled due to Covid when it was first announced. He’s waited for years for this moment, and it’s finally arrived. He’s sat in the dressing room with the rest of the band, conversations about who knows what are flowing. The adrenaline in the room makes everyone unusually talkative.

“I’m just saying, would we be as successful if we were worms?” George said, with the most deadpan look on his face. The room erupts into laughter, joy that is only boosted when five unexpected guests walk into the room.

“Hey boys!” The drummer of Lost Atlantis, Ava Fletcher, yells over the roaring conversation. It’s all fun and games until he spots her. They’re all dressed in their best 1975 concert attire, dressed in different variations of his suit getup. It’s her outfit that catches his eye first though. Opting for a short sleeved shirt and a mini skirt that perfectly frames her body. Her blonde, curly hair pulled up into a low ponytail. She looks annoyingly beautiful.

His face drops instinctively when he sees her, refusing to have any feelings that may give his thoughts away. He recognises the disappointment on her face, and he knows it’s his fault. He can’t help but feel guilty, knowing he’s the reason she never truly has a real smile when she’s around them. Yet he’s not sure why he does it, maybe it’s because he’s been hurt by women like her before, maybe he’s afraid of rejection. Who knows?

He can pinpoint the exact moment these feelings started, he was on a night out with the boys when Ross pulled up a video on his phone. It was a video of a girl, clearly pissed out of her mind, singing the ending of Robbers. Ross informs them it’s the lead singer of Lost Atlantis, who’s apparently been very open about being a fan for years now. However, for some unknown reason he’s never seen her face. Even drunk, she’s beautiful. The way her curls perfectly frame her face, the makeup that’s clearly been smudged by a night of drunken antics, the dress that perfectly frames her figure. She’s everything and more.

Despite acting cold towards her, the secret looks still brings a smile to his face. Watching her interact with his boys as if she’s been a member of their inner circle for years. Watching her perform at Wembley, like she was made for that stage, hiding her fear with bravado and excellent stage presence. He’s never met anyone like her.

After sitting in the corner for what feels like hours, she finally walks over to him holding a stick of incense. He’s never brought into any of that shit, but when she does it it’s weirdly endearing. The fact that she’s so set in her belief system, it just makes her more beautiful.

She stays near to him for longer than she does elsewhere, giving him the opportunity to bask in his presence for a second longer. Her perfume envelops him, luring him further down the rabbit hole. She aggressively incenses the area he’s sitting.

“This is the biggest gig of your life and yet I’m getting a lot of negative energy from you.” She says, her voice acting like a siren luring him in and yet he continues to walk to the other way. “You might wanna fix that before the show.” She continues, almost at a whisper. Without warning, his trousers suddenly become two sizes too small. If she keeps acting like this, it’s going to be a very long day for him.

“Whatever you say, Princess.” He responds, clearing his throat to try and hide any arousal that the previous comment caused. Rolling her eyes in response, he can’t help but let the intrusive thoughts roll over his mind. The thought of him being the reason she’s rolling her eyes, but instead of it being out of frustration it’s when she’s lying naked underneath him. Now his trousers are three sizes too small. He watches as she struts away from him, going back into idle conversation with the rest of the boys.

He tries his hardest to ignore her the rest of the day, which is an impossible feat when she’s so unknowingly beautiful. Watching as she jumps around to The Bleachers, or whooping and cheering George on as he steps on as drummer for The Japanese House. She’s always there, just in the corner of his eyes. He knows he hasn’t had a great life, but this is a cruel act even for God.

Despite this, he manages to pull himself together by the time he needs to get on stage. Standing in the wings, silently hyping himself up, he’s joined by the rest of the band as well as the Lost Atlantis girls. They’re wrapped up in hugs, which he reciprocates for most members of the band. Before he knew it, she was standing in front of him like a sight out of a dream.

“Do me a favour and play Love Me?” She says, a smile on her face, the only smile he’ll get from her for a while. That damn smile.

“In your dreams, Princess.” He responds, knowing full well they were already planning on playing it early on in the set. The thought that maybe he’d get to see her enthusiastic reaction is the only reason he can justify his response.

He stands behind the door at the back of the stage, reveling in the cheers from fifty thousand fans standing in the field before him. The adrenaline is enough to forget everything around him, he’s no longer a love struck boy from Manchester, he’s a performer ready to put on one hell of a show for the fans who have traveled far and wide to see them.

The opening notes of The 1975 blares over the sound system, somehow still quieter than the screaming fans. He looks out, reveling in the moment of fifty thousand fans screaming along the lyrics he wrote. He also notices how she reacts to making eye contact with other members of the band. Throwing a heart up to Polly, blowing a kiss to George, and meeting his stare with a deadpan expression and quickly looking away.

The first three songs are over in a flash, and before he knows it it’s time to speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to The 1975 At Their Very Best! Now normally, we don’t take requests this early on. Especially not from blonde bimbos who think crystals do shit. However this songs a banger and you all deserve it!”

He’s not sure why he says it, it just slips out. This whole hating thing is way too easy to fall into. It doesn’t make seeing the look on her face any easier. The way her smile drops at what she hears is heartbreaking, turning a moment of joy into something she’ll have nightmares about. He knows the bimbo label has tormented her on the internet over the years, but he guesses hearing it on stage come from someone she’s been a fan of for years affects her differently than when it’s coming from an anonymous journalist.

He manages to put this at the back of his mind as the show goes on. And he can’t deny, despite some hiccups the show goes amazingly. Bringing his dad out for All I Need To Hear cemented this show as one for the history books, getting deservedly emotional over how far they’ve come since they were 12 playing in his mum's garage. He occasionally looks to the side of the stage, hoping to catch her eye but it never happens, either catching her eye at the wrong moment or she’s refusing to look at him for the rest of the show.

Once the show’s over, they all head backstage for a post show party. He’s dragged around left, right, and center, forced to take part in some of the most mind numbing and repetitive conversations known to man. That is, until he’s saved by George and Charli. He’d much rather be a third wheel than have corporate conversations with sleazy businessmen trying to profit off his success.

He’s too distracted to take part in the conversation though, his eyes constantly finding the cheery, blonde figure in the room. Her smile emits a light source, drawing everyone towards her including Matty. His feelings are only heightened when Charli calls her over.

“Holy shit, come over here you sexy, blonde bitch!” Charli yells, grabbing her by the forearm and dragging her over to the group and pulling her into a hug. He forgot that they knew each other, making his situation ten times more awkward.

“Damn, I forgot you two know each other. Don’t know how, Charli constantly reminds me that she’d leave me for you in a heartbeat.” George chuckles, handing her a drink that he ,not so sneakily, puts extra alcohol in.

“I have that effect, the girlies love me.” She says, looking at Charli and winking at her. A soft groan escapes his lips that he manages to cover with a cough.

“Yeah, whatever you say.” He responds, taking a sip of his drink to calm him down. An awkward silence falls over the group, no one really sure what to say in response. Luckily, someone starts blaring Boom Clap over the speakers, causing an annoyed groan to come from Charli before she starts loudly exclaiming how the song was a quote unquote “mistake”.

He jumps at the opportunity when Hann asks if he’s coming out with the rest of them to a local bar. However, when they get there he notices one person is missing from the group.

“Hey, um where’s your little friend gone?” He says to the four remaining members of Lost Atlantis.

“She’s gone back to the hotel.” Maddi responds, clearly annoyed. “She claims she’s tired, but I think it has something to do with the fact an egotistical asshole called her a blonde bimbo on stage.” A look of regret floods his eyes, he knew it would affect her but he didn’t think it would be that bad.

“Look, I'm sorry but,” he starts talking but is quickly cut off.

“We don’t care about how sorry you are, Matty. We just wanna know why you did it? You’ve been an ass to her ever since the Wembley show. She’s been nothing but nice to you, and you’ve responded by being a childish dick head.” Ava snaps, giving him a glare that resembles daggers.

“You’re in a band as well, I’m sure you understand why we’re being so protective. But whenever she’s around you, she isn’t herself and we’re not losing her over some petty grudge you hold for god knows what reason.” Moon follows up, not giving Matty enough time to respond.

“Disrespectfully, but we’ve lost all respect for you after the bimbo incident, so fuck off and leave us alone for the rest of the night.” Maddie continues, walking off before he could say anything. He walks over to a booth in the corner of the bar, cradling his drink and thinking how he’s going to grovel at her feet the next time he sees her. This self pity spiral is quickly ruined when Sienna Turner walks over and sits down next to him.

“I know why you’re acting like this.” She says, giving him a sympathetic look. “I get it, I don’t agree with the way you’re doing it, but I get it.” The confusion is obvious on his face, unsure of what the hell she is on about. “You like her, trust me I totally understand. She’s a total smoke show, and I’m not just saying that because she’s my best mate. And I get that you probably have commitment issues, you’re not the first rock star I’ve met, but being a little bitch and calling her a bimbo on stage is not the way to cope with it. You’re just getting a one way ticket into us five shunning you, and that wouldn’t be fun for you because as long as Maddie and Ross are sleeping about you’re stuck with us.” She finishes, leaving the two of them in a comfortable silence.

“I’ve been hurt before.” He starts, unsure of why he’s spilling his secrets to who is essentially a stranger but he continues anyway. “And when I first saw that video of her, drunk and singing along to Robbers, I was smitten. But I never expected to meet her in real life, I mean you girls are stars and we’re just four men in our thirties. So when I did, I panicked. I mean, she’s somehow even more beautiful in real life than she is in that video.” He chuckles, taking a sip of his drink to collect his thoughts. “You know flight or fight? My response was to be a dick, and now I’ve pushed her away and she thinks I’m an asshole which I guess I am after what I said today. It’s probably for the best, your songs are amazing but those breakup songs are brutal. I think I’d have to go into hiding if one was written about me.” He laughs, making eye contact with Sienna for the first time since the conversation started.

“I’m going to give you some advice, and don’t take this as me liking you, I’m doing it for the beautiful woman who we need to be as mentally healthy as possible because she pays my rent. She’s been hurt by men before, and I’ve just sat back and let it happen but I’m not going to do that again. Despite everything that’s gone down in the last couple of months, I want to believe that you are a good person. However you need to prove that and apologise. I know it’s going to be awkward and uncomfortable, but you will do whatever it takes to make her forgive you. I don’t care if you have to get on your knees and beg, next time you see her you will be a groveling little bitch.” She says, with the most serious expression on her face. He knows she isn’t joking, those girls are protective over each other and will fight heaven and earth to make sure each other is safe.

“To being a groveling little bitch.” He says, holding up his drink for a cheers. Sienna clinks her glass with his, giving him a small yet comforting smile.

As harsh as it was, he needed that reality check. And not from someone who was close to him, but from a stranger who doesn’t care about his feelings. Sienna was right, he can’t keep hurting the people around him just because he has been hurt before.

He goes back to his apartment, ready to start planning the best apology ever given. But he doesn’t know where to start, considering he writes songs for a living he can’t seem to find the right words to explain how he’s feeling without exposing all of his feelings. He decides to give up, closing his laptop and falling into his bed. Letting sleep take over him as images of her flashes in his mind.

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