hot pavement

If you ever think your 12 year old self was an idiot just remember this: 

one time when I was in seventh grade I decided to walk home from the community center without wearing any shoes. But it was like 98 degrees outside, so obviously the pavement was hot as balls, but I stubbornly continued to walk home barefoot. Long story short I got second degree burns from the pavement and painful blisters on every part of my feet. When I had to explain to my parents why the hell I walked home barefoot I told them that my shoes were hurting my feet. I ended up going to go see doctors, and I wore inserts in my shoes for three years. My parents even considered surgery to fix my feet so that they wouldn’t hurt. 

I never had the courage to tell them that the reason why I walked barefoot that one day was not because my feet hurt, but because, being an avid fan of Avatar: The Last Airbender, I had wanted fucking callouses on my feet like Toph


buttery yellow summer sunrises, soft baby blankets, creaky swing sets, old teddy bears, apple trees, bright blue paddle pools, baby powder, rain on hot pavement, the sound of spoke beads, rosy hot summer sunsets, fevers and popsicles, glowing night lights, an air conditioned grocery store on a hot summer day, the scent of spilled bubble solution, rainbow water balloons, barefoot on a trampoline, farm roads, 2001 newspaper articles, little golden books, classic care bears cartoons

Fake Service Dogs

I’m BEYOND pissed
This is what happened at REI tonight with a fake service dog (REI’s near me only allow service animals). I went in with Kasida to get her some boots for the hot pavement. I was putting one on her to make sure it fit after I measured her paw. My back was facing the main aisle and I hear Kasida start to whine. I heard a commotion behind me and stood up. There was a dog lunging at Kasida and if I hadn’t have stood up I would have gotten attacked. Kasida freaked out and backed up and got caught on a basket. It took me 15 minutes to get her unhooked from it. My mom yelled at the guy and asked if it was a service dog and he smirked and nodded his head. I AM ABSOLUTELY FURIOUS. First your pet was going to attack my dog. Second of all its illegal to fake a service dog. Third of all Kasida is a seizure alert dog. My seizures tend to be violent and can become life threatening. Your stupid dog could have made her miss an alert, and if she had and I had a seizure, I’d potentialy be in the hospital or worse. DO NOT FAKE SERVICE ANIMALS. DO NOT HARRASS SERVICE ANIMALS. DO NOT INTERACT WITH THEM.
Sorry for the rant

Latte Art

PAIRING: Taekwoon x OFC


WARNINGS: The usual AU/sex/foul language/cheesy romance y’all know the drill at this point…


NOTES: Y’all know my usual excuses: life is cray, I work hard, blah blah blah…However this has been sitting in my drafts for a while nearly finished so I decided to buckle down and write the finishing touches on this today. Please note that I’m complete trash for even writing a coffeeshop AU in the first place like who even does this anymore…TRASH I TELL YOU!!!! I hope that those of you who can stomach my cheesy AF writing will enjoy. Big hugs to y’all xoxo


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the children’s season falls like love: slowly, stealthily, devious and sticky-sweet like ice cream running down kids’ fingers, like painted colors running down a sunset canvas. there is nowhere to go without sun, without the sound of hot feet slapping on pavement like God is applauding this freedom, this flying-bird falling-sunshine laughing-wind freedom that tastes like honey and looks like the way the sun shines off his hair, the way the sweat rolls off her skin, the way the hearts beat in their chests like youth, passion, red-hot life right off the shelf.

shorts and tank tops and chuck taylors and ponytails swinging like pendulums, glowing like halos, all golden thread and chestnut string; sleek bared chests and swimtrunks and smiles like streetlights (they only come on at night, when the moon is drinking whiskey and the girls are out in full-swing). sweet sweat rolling like ichor and words dripping from full lips like ambrosia. this is how you know the young gods are alive: electricity is in the air in anticipation of all the storms, skin turns to bronze and smiles turn to ivory, the city comes alive deep in the streets where no one thinks to look. the world gets brighter - then the world gets darker.

her mother always told her summer was her season: long legs like effortless, a chest like godless, a laugh like goddess, sweet beauty on top of sour sly cyanide. love pooling in the fingertips of one hand and poison pooling in the fingertips of the other. her teeth are white like sinless but in the right light they glow with the blood of all the hearts she’s popped like balloons and when she walks down the street time stops. sound stops. the light stops. everything stops.

his father always told him summer would be his season: sex drive like a v8 engine, fingers like gold-laced leaves (beautiful but shaking), dimples like craters deep down in his skin. hair falling past his eyes like stay away. his eyes are wide and quiet like the sky, but in the summer the skies light up like the bright flaring pain of beauty and maybe his eyes seem a little more like universes, a little more alive, a little more there, or maybe it’s his imagination. sometimes, when the eye in the sky sets and he’s left on his own at the old cornerstore on 44th street, he wonders why his bones are made of the earth instead of the stars. why he doesn’t bleed jack daniel’s and laugh smoke. why the others are young immortals and he is just young.

immortality is made, not born. the stars whisper to him even though he is deaf to the heavenly:

yours is coming. when your feet no longer touch the ground, do not cry for relief; we will not hear you. and if we do, we will not answer.

- i. the melting season // part one of “seasons” // abby

sunlit baby blue bedroom, picking dandelions, running through sprinklers in wet grass, fluttering white butterflies, lemonade stands, chlorine scented skin, sidewalk chalk scrawlings on the front steps, a barbie jeep in a sunny backyard, watermelon lip smackers, plastic butterfly hair clips, blockbuster dvds, capri sun and fruit snacks, air conditioner humming, barefoot on hot pavement, skip it, america online, nickelodeon’s day of play, bouncy balls in the driveway, a rumble of thunder in the sky

Where My Shoes Have Walked

Hot summer pavement
Toddler flips flops
Chasing cars
Begging my mother
To come back.

Doc Martens in autumn,
Kicking through brittle leaves.
Leaving home and knowing
There was little left behind.

Generic Converse, going away shoes
No noise made as I packed up the car
And left in winter terror
Afraid to rouse my sleeping dread.

And now, princess peach,
My dreaming spring shoes,
I’ve found whimsy again.

Down the road.

Part One of Two
Taehyung & Jeongguk & OC.
Words: 4481.
Genre: A little bit of everything.
Bonnie&Clyde!AU. Warning: This includes consumption of licit drugs such as cigarettes and alcohol. 
“In which you meet two guys who will take you to a route you’ve never seen before.”




It didn’t really matter how many times they’ve done this, Jeongguk would still get bewildered and worried by gunshots.

Ten seconds later, the passenger door is being opened and two people hurriedly enter the car.

“C’mon, asshole!” Taehyung’s voice brought him back to life making Jeongguk turn on the engine and hit the pedal until it touch the rugged floor of the car. The tires squeal against the hot pavement, leaving dust behind as the car drives away.

They only had a couple minutes before the cops show up, leaving them more than enough time to escape the place but still, none of them dared to talk or move during those minutes.

“Are you alright?” Jeongguk asks a couple miles later, once they were sure cops were not following them.

“I’m perfectly fine, a little too sweaty and these leather sits are not helping but I’m fine.” Taehyung answers while opening the windows and sticking his arm out.

“God, this wig itches like hell” _____ said while furiously taking off the wig and grunting in frustration, “I’m fine but fuck, I hate when people try to shoot us!” Jeongguk tears one hand off the steering wheel and fondly gropes her thigh. She turns her head to the side, staring deeply at Jeongguk before quickly kissing his cheek, not wanting to distract him from the road.

“At least we got the money and a snickers bar.” The girl turns around and finds Taehyung eagerly trying to open a brown package. “Can you open it? My hands are too sweaty.” She rolls her eyes and reluctantly opens the package, stealing a quick bite before handing it back to the peach haired boy.

“How much money did you get?” Still driving, Jeongguk extends his free arm and brings ______ closer to his side, passing his arm over her shoulders.

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Peter Quill x Reader -Ravagers-

Request: Ok so Peter is out thieving or something and he runs into reader. Which he has never met before. When he runs into her he notices that’s she’s wearing ravenger gear. Turns out she’s also Terran and she was also taken from her home by Yondu at a young age around the same time Peter was taken. Except both of them were kept apart in Yondu’s ship to make sure both of them wouldn’t meet and do something to escape (or something else I don’t care). Despite working for Yondu and being a ravenger readers actually a really kind person! So later on Peter and the reader become really good friends or something more, (again i dont care) XD Again Sorry if its so long and detailed. I hope it’s ok! And makes sense XD

A/N: I didn’t know how to end it dont hate me 

His shoes crashed against the hot, Xandarian pavement. Behind him bots were hot on his tail, firing and missing. A few turns into alleys, and through a couple shops Peter was sure he had lost them.
But like usual, he was wrong. He heard a buzzing coming down the road, more stupid robots.
He took off again, his jacket flying behind him. At the corner of the road was a rather small alley opening that looked perfect for hiding. He took his chance and slipped inside.
“Owch.” His body collided with another. And with a quick glace it looked like just an average woman. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, still occupied by the buzzing that drew closer.
“Get out of-”
Peter placed his hand over the girls mouth as the robot flew past. His body was pressed up against the woman who was much smaller then his, trying to not be seen.
Finally when Peter was sure the robot had passed he dropped his hand.
“Sorry, I-”
With a swift knee to the groin Peter was down on the ground with the girl hovering over him.
“Don’t ever touch me.” Her (h/c) hair draped over her face making it hard to make out any detail from Peter’s angle but her clothes were familiar. A dark red jacket covered a curvy figure. It was Ravager gear down to her boots.
“Where did you get those clothes?” He breathed in pain, working his way off his knees.
“I was going to ask you the same questions. Steal those too?” She reached down taking Peters satchel.
“If I wasn’t in so much pain I’d kick your ass right now.” He muttered.
“Oh, scary.” She laughed before turning to walk away. But Peter jumped up and grabbed her arm. He spun her around which rewarded him a fist to the face. A kick to the stomach landed her against the wall and Peter pressed up against her again, grabbing her hands and holding her legs with his knees.
“I asked you a question. Where did you get those clothes.” His face was so close to hers he could feel her hot breath. Her blue eyes gazed into his.
“I am a Ravager. Your turn.” Her head collided with his making Peters world spin, then suddenly he was against the wall, useless again.
“You aren’t a Ravager.” He yelled. “I am and I sure as hell know Yondu wouldn’t train no girl!”
“Then why would he train you, Princess?” She smirked. He felt her grip loosen slightly as she laughed and he took the opportunity. He slipped the hands out of her grasp and their battle for dominance continued.
“Okay, stop, stop, STOP!” Peter shot his hands up when he was a good distance away from her.  They both stood there panting but on guard.  
Peter finally got a good look at her as she stood where the sun entered the small Alley. She was Terran. She had to be.
“You’re a Terran? And you say you’re a Ravager?” He watched her closely.
“Yeah.” She answered.
“Did you live in space your whole life?”
“No. I was abducted from Earth.” She seemed to be loosening up a bit.
“In 1988?”
“How did you… Who are you?”
Did Yondu abduct two children the day Peter was taken? He was having trouble wrapping his head around it. He was always the only Terran on the ship. How could she say she was a Ravager?
“Come back to my ship. We can talk.”

With much hesitation the girl followed Peter. She told him her name and he decided to go by Starlord which she recognized because Yondu would always make fun of it.
“So, (Y/N), you’re saying you lived on the other side of the ship then me, and just by chance we never met?” They sat in the back of the Milano, which (Y/N) found absolutely disgusting.  
“I doubt it was by chance. I don’t think Yondu wanted us to meet. If you knew you weren’t alone would you want to stay on that damned ship?” She sipped her drink that Peter was actually nice enough to get her.
“Yeah but can you imagine an eight year old and a six year old ganging up on Yondu and trying to take over the ship?” Peter laughed. “We weren’t even tall enough to control it.”
The image made (Y/N) laugh too. A little buck tooth boy and a little girl in pigtails running an M-Ship by themselves.
“Yeah but now we’d make a good team. Two of the best trained thieves. Well, one of the best trained thieves and Starlord.” She joked.
“That’s actually not a bad idea.” Peter sat up in his seat and looked at (Y/N).
“Starlord and (Y/N), the galaxies greatest outlaws.” He smiled at her.
“(Y/N) and Starlord.” She corrected him.
“No way!”

Summer INTP Things

The smell when you drive into the forest after a long time away.

Afternoon thunderstorms, and the smell of hot pavement meeting cool water.

Walking barefoot in the grass, feeling each blade softly move between your toes.

Long swims in a cold lake, and a dock to sunbathe on.

The peace and serenity of being alone in nature, knowing that no one is within miles of where you stand.

A breeze that wicks away the sweat from a long day’s work outside. 

Evenings that last for an eternity.

Silky soft shorts and light cotton tank tops.

The hum of the air conditioner and the chill of a cool room when the days get a little too warm.

lunchables, dirt-caked sneakers, hot pavement, back to school commercials, animal cracker boxes, the smell of woodchips after rain, popsicle stained tongues, sidewalk chalk, scraped knees, “summer 2005” on a tie-dye bouncy ball, ant traps, rooftop fireworks, bug spray odor, windowsill crickets, chlorine-and-ice-cream-cold, sleepy rainbows, a barbie diary full of stories


Week 5 // Type with material and water

This week we were tasked with forming a pangram with a certain given material and water. We were provided with scoobie strings which, after we let our our initial childhood nostalgia, we found to be rather difficult to manoeuvre. While their ability to bend was beneficial, making it stay was much more difficult and we required sticky tape for a bit of assistance. We used multiple strings to create some letters, overlapping them, and braided others to create a different effect. I like the sketchy, imperfect look that eventuated from this.

Next we were handed a cup of water, some brushes and told to go find a hot surface outside. We found out very quickly that water and hot pavement do not equal longevity. We also had to change locations due to a pole’s nasty shadow preventing us from photographing the type successfully. It required several hands working at once in order to stop the water from evaporating completely in the hot sun. We then tried writing on one of the walls of Building 9, creating a cursive script this time as opposed to the san-serif capitalised type we worked with previously. I liked the way the water continued dripping once we created our letterforms and this provided a nice effect.


the end of a life. nothing special. yet your blazing look is still
seared into the ventricles of my heart and into the
deepest corners of my mind?
you went out grasping at my fingers, kicking and screaming,
death the first, oh the way the terror ripped through
your lungs and spilled off your tongue nobody could have
guessed you a preacher’s son

we walked a thin line, you and I, as smokescreen,
black on black on black, always together, always hurting.
grins with sharp, pointed teeth and happiness
scraping its way out of our mouths and trailing blood down
each other’s backs like we never learned how else to show affection,
death the fifth came without end and without pause.
it came over caps popping, clacking on hot pavement with your
wild laughter and an insatiable delight for the firefight like
fireworks you once said you never saw before,

by then we knew the role to play.
Gunshot! exit, stage left, like a rehearsal, ad infinitum,
never anything but a rehearsal for the missing final call.
rehearsal meant you were invincible. rehearsal meant
Gunshot! and being able to still say words like
“hope you have a good death,” like
“see you at dinner tomorrow night,” like 
“come back to me,” like
“I love you,

who were you by then? were you still mine? still you?
by death the hundredth we’d long since stopped counting.
your lungs were more parts sea salt crystals than oxygen
from all the drowning you had done and my eyes bloodshot from
staring down a scope, from watching your unyielding back
littered with bullets and blood and scratches that all still say
more than we will ever to each other

then you turned to me saying “look, I love you,
I love you, I love you goddamn it, but here, but listen,
we are destined for collapse, you and I, we’re destined for ruin
for without final act we lead up to nothing and nothing
like this rubble and smoke you still try to call a city”
and you walk away but you don’t because
it’s still you and I hurtling down the freeway tonight, isn’t it,
like death won’t catch us if we chase the sunset fast enough?

4. now, it’s still you and I. always and always.
I’m still a piece of shit, and we still love each other,
but it’s not like we need to talk about it


(for @clearsyet)

thevexingquinn  asked:


J had been sitting there minding his own business, not bothering to sleep yet again… But then she began to wrap him up in the blankets.

“Harley???! What the hell are you doing?? ” he shouts as he squirmed around helplessly like a wriggling worm on a hot pavement.

she rides her bike over to your house, beaming. you pick wildflowers from your front yard as she sits on sunsoaked steps, teasing that “dandelions are weeds, not flowers!” but it’s not a second later when you go to argue “simply because they weren’t planned, doesn’t make their yellow any less pretty” that the sky opens up, a freak sunshower pouring down. giggles and shrieks are drowned out by the pitter patter of puddles forming on hot pavement as you both struggle to pull her bike onto your porch.


He was a reckless driver.

Reckless in the sense that he lived for the adrenaline that ran through his veins at the long outstretches of an empty road, balanced and exposed, music so loud in his ears he could only just hear himself laughing, only just recognize the rumble of his engine and only just see the blur of green and the blank canvas of countryside. He could only feel. Feel the rush of it, the danger, and the recklessness. Maybe because it reminded him of how he felt about her – how before her it was black and white, and as he raced down the rivers of tarmac, all he sees is colour.


She sat against the metal fence, knees tucked up into her chest and neck tipped back, eyes closed behind her sunglasses and the sun warm on her face. The pavement was hot beneath her as she stretched her legs out, content with the heat of it.

Summer was her favourite. She loved the pureness of a clear sky and the haze of summer rain; she loved the long days and short nights. And today, everything felt endless.

The skatepark was her favourite place to hang out, messy and dirty with graffiti covering the fences and floor, bars and ramps and a deep bowl in the middle where the stoners usually sit. She didn’t skate much, last time she tried she ended up spraining her ankle pretty bad, but there’s something comforting about it. About the buzz, the loudness of laughter and swearing and music and the grinding of wheels against bars and the thump of someone losing their balance.

Someone kicked at her shoe, and she lifted her sunglasses up slightly, peeking one eye open and was greeted with bright red hair and a battered skate board tucked under his tattooed arm. She always told him she thought they looked lame. (They didn’t).

“Alright Clifford?” She smiled, squinting against the sun before it was blocked out by broad shoulders and lanky legs.

“You weren’t home and I ran out of flour.” He frowned, dropping his board to the ground and rolling it beneath his foot, “So now I’m pissed at you.”

“Why the fuck did you need flour? The last time you tried to cook it ended it fire and burnt chicken.”

“Special brownies,” Calum answered, wiggling his eyebrows and blowing her a kiss before dropping his backpack down next to her and pushing himself towards the nearest ramp. She rolled her eyes and let her sunglasses slid back down her nose, watching as they attempted to tic tac.

Hidden behind her shades, she let herself watch Michael as he tried to copy Ashton, watched how he scowled when he couldn’t get it right and shove at Luke when he did it first. He was wearing a dumb snapback and a t-shirt of some band she didn’t know, with boots laced up his ankles, and she called out that maybe big clunky boots are the reason he keeps falling over. He flipped his middle finger at her and she stuck her tongue out in response. And she found that Michael wavered between being needy for attention or distant in himself, like he can’t find the right words or that maybe his thoughts are too consuming or perhaps he’s just not thinking at all.

It was getting dark when she finally brought herself to move after wasting another day, standing up and stretching out her cramping legs before she pulled out her phone and realised she missed dinner, and her belly rumbled. She walked over to Michael, who was watching Calum with an encouraging smile, and he turned his head towards her. His jeans were ripped at the knees, showing fresh scrapes and he had a slight burn on the side of his cheek and she poked it just to spite him, grinning at the hiss that left his puffy lips. He moved to slap her hand away,

“Fuck off, you goin’ home?”

“Yeah, missed dinner. You wanna come back for some?”

He stared at her and nodded quickly before she laughed and – oh. He caught himself though, shook it off. He’s cool, it’s cool.

“I’ll walk back with you though, I’m beat.”

She waited while he grabbed his bag, swinging it over his shoulders and tucking his board back under his arm and rearranging his hat. Calum noticed her waiting and rolled towards her, breaking too late and colliding into her shoulder, the two of the falling back onto the floor littered with cigarette ends and droopy flowers growing between the cracks of concrete. She groaned and he giggled, pushing himself up, hands either side of her head and she laughed too, hitting his chest,

“You gotta stop finding your way beneath me,” He grinned, eyes crinkling in an adorable way, “I know I’m hard to get over but –“

She shoved at him until he rolled off, laughing and she tousled his hair,

“You need to get your head out your ass, Cal,” A pale hand with stubby fingers reached out for her and she took it, clammy in her own as he hulled her back to her feet and she rubbed the back of her head, “It’s not like your packing down there.”

Michael let out a snort and Calum scowled, pushing himself up and moving towards one of the girls from school, shouting over his shoulder, “No one likes a liar, Cora.”

Grinning, she tossed her arm around Michael’s shoulders even though she’s a head smaller than him, and led him towards the street, watching as the street lights turned on one after the other.

“Did you get that trick down today?”

He kicked a loose pebble, “Nah – well I did it once, but that’s when I got this,” He pointed to the scrape on his cheek.

“Must feel pretty shitty to suck,” She teased, letting her arm swing down to her sides, hands bumping awkwardly. He shrugged,

“Least I can actually stay on a board,” They turned the corner onto their street, “Remind me, who did you go crying to when you fell down the ramp? You came over, hobbling with pathetic red eyes and a runny nose. You were such a mess –“

“You can fuck right off,” She muttered, kicking at his shin, “Why’re you such an asshole?”

He shrugged, “Fun, ain’t it?”

They stopped when they reached her house, dark and empty looking and she gazed at the street lamp that flickered outside her bedroom while he gazed at her. And he could stare at her for ages, could get lost so easily in everything that’s her. She dropped her gaze to meet his, his vibrant hair looked lost in the dusk of the street. He cleared his throat,

“You gonna go in?”

“Right – yeah, sure. ‘Night,”

He nodded, lifted a hand in bye before turning and walking down the street. She watched him for a moment, before shaking her head and unlocking the door, smiling at the plate of sausages and chips left in the microwave.

[Cal – 21:58]

my dicks not small :(


She’s been at the park all morning, after Michael woke her up by banging insistently on her door until she opened it, grumpy and in her pyjamas. He’d had the decency to look sheepish, as he held out a bowl of dry cereal and complained about the lack of milk in his house, grinning at the look she gave him before he pushed past to get to her kitchen and raid her fridge, smiling triumphantly as he grabbed one of her spoons.

“Why’re you up so early?” She asked, jumping up onto the counter while rubbing at her eyes as he leaned against the fridge, shoving cornflakes into his mouth. She pretended not to notice his eyes trail down to the naked skin of her legs.

“Ash wanted to get to the bowl first, said he wants to show us this thing he’s practicing,”

She wrinkled her nose as milk dribbled down his lip as he spoke, watched as he licked it away absentmindedly. She liked his lips, liked the fullness and the colour – always so pink and smooth. He looked good today, dressed all in black and a borrowed pair of battered converse, the balls of his piercing changed to a dark blue; a sharp contrast between the green of his eyes. She’s caught up in his eyes – she found that they can tell you so much about a person. Whether they’re warm and kind, or cold and shut off, distant or cruel or lost. Lost in themselves, or where they are, lost in that they’re just one small person in a place so big it’s overwhelming.

She lay against the grass, blinking up at the sky as it slowly woke up. It’s still early, the town still mostly quiet except the swearing that kept leaving Luke’s lips and the occasional lawn mower. She breathed it in, taking a deep gulp of the sticky air and the smell of freshly cut grass and the vibrations of wheels against the ground.

“For fuck sake!”

She sat up, raising her eyebrow at Luke who sat on the floor where he fell, looking dejected as he pushed his board away.

“Having some trouble?” She grinned and he knee walked his way over to her before collapsing at her side.

“Skating’s fuckin’ stupid.” He huffed. She heard a snicker, glancing up to find Calum before he sat down on her lap, wriggling to make himself comfortable and she huffed at his dead weight.

“Stop pouting, Lucas, you’re doing fine,” He turned to look at her, long legs latching around her waist, “Good morning babe,” He leaned down to peck a kiss to her lips. She shoved him off, smiling.

“Keep your lips to yourself,” She whined, bringing her hand up to wipe at her mouth. Michael found himself walking over, he always did whenever he saw Calum get too close, and a warm sense of satisfaction bloomed in his stomach when she wiped away his kiss.

“Just cause you’ve hooked up once, Cal, doesn’t mean you can kiss her whenever you feel like it.” He muttered, a crease denting in between his eyebrows as he sat down, leaning back on his hands and watching them with narrowed eyes, jealousy sparking in his chest.

The thing is, they met at some party a few months back and Calum introduced her to them, drunk with a hand around her waist like he knew someone else would snatch her up if he let go. Because she was like that, he supposed. Captivating.

Michael already knew her, of course he did. She lived just down the street, moved in a few months ago with her parents in hope for a ‘fresh start’. He doesn’t think it worked much, if the late night arguing was anything to go by. They’ve spilt up now.

He never really spoke to her though, before Calum found her. Fucking Calum, who managed to get her in his bed when he could barely muster up the courage to speak to her. It’s just – it’s when he sees her walking down the street with her headphones in or around her neck, her flowered docs always kicking at the ground, scuffing them up. He noticed she didn’t like anything to stay new, or clean. Maybe because it reminded her that she was getting older and still stuck in the same picket fence town, stuck at a minimum wage job in that sleazy pub that Michael hated. Hated the idea of anyone looking at her without looking at her because she was like a car crash, like a brewing storm; he couldn’t look away.

Michael watched as her head fell back as she laughed, and he gets it. He got it a while ago, probably. Got that she’s way too cool and collected within herself, with her dirty blonde hair that fell down her shoulders in a messy tangle of waves and a fringe she constantly ran a hand through to push it back. She winged her eyeliner and had a ring looped through the left side of her nose and dark lipstick that had him staring, wondering what they’d feel like against his, if the colour would rub off against his lips. He doubted he’d wipe it off. A reminder that she was there even though she’s totally out of his league and he could never get someone like her even though he’s pretty sure his eyes light up when she sees her and that he doesn’t feel like such a loser when she smiles at him.

He got that she was sort of cynical, especially after her parents’ messy divorce, and that her views on the world were sad and honest and he liked that they shared the same ideas, agreed on things that left her smiling and disagreeing on others that left them to loud debates, yelling at each other in the bowl.

She told him the other day, after he’d pointed out of the dark bags under her eyes (he wondered what she thought about, when she was lying in bed restless. He wondered if she thought about him at all.), that sometimes it terrifies her that all she’s doing is waiting and,

“What if nothing ever happens? What if I never find out what I’m waiting for?”

“Who cares? Why does it matter? No one has any idea what they’re doing,” He’d paused, they’d reached her door. It was bright yellow, chipped and faded. Sometimes he felt a bit like that too, “That’s the beauty of it. You gotta stop living in your head.”

They’re not friends, he doesn’t think, but they’re something.


She heard an airplane rumble overhead somewhere and she would do almost anything to be on it.

She’d crept out a while ago, when her room had become too stuffy and her duvet too constricting; the dewy grass damp against her back, her clothes stuck to her skin.  She was tired of being tired, tired of her heavy eyes that were difficult to keep open but harder to keep closed. She can’t remember when she last had a proper night sleep, or when she last woke up feeling less exhausted than before.

It was another late night, gone half one in the morning, the air windy and the clouds dark; thick, black blankets taunting her like a suffocating pillow. She turned her head and sighed.

She wanted to run away. Run so far away that the air tastes different and no one knows who she is because it’s getting bad for her again, and she hated herself.

She jumped when she heard a voice, before flattening herself into the ground, chest still and listening. Maybe if she pressed down hard enough she could disappear; get swallowed by the earth and spit up somewhere else. Or perhaps not, she doesn’t mind which. But as the voices got louder, she propped herself on her elbows to glance down the street, listening curiously at the voices she thought she recognised.

“Do your parents know you bought it?”

“No, um – they didn’t want me to. Can I keep it at yours? Please, my mum will literally kill me when she finds out,”

“Yeah, yeah, how much was it?”

“’Bout £900? It’s old though, and done a few miles.”

“Can we give it a quick go now?”


But the protest was drowned out by an engine as it roared to life, loud enough to make her look away and glance back at her house to check for any lights.

“Fuck! Turn it off before you wake everyone up, asshole,”

It spluttered and let out a few weak groans before cutting off, replaced with grumbles and laughter.

“C’mon, let’s just go before mum realises I’m gone.”

“Alright mama’s boy,” Someone teased, and she ducked back down when they started walking towards her, until she saw red hair and lanky legs with boots and converse.

“The fuck are you guys doing?” She asked, surprising herself and making them jump as they looked for her, half hidden in her garden. “Jesus Christ,” Ashton muttered, hand over heart as he regained his composure, “Scared the shit outta me,”

“What’re you doing up?” Luke asked, surprised as he squinted at her under the low light of dim streetlamps, “Aren’t you cold?”

She shrugged, “Not really. What’re you doing? Planning to rob a store?”

“No, you idiot. Ashton hooked us up with these from the garage,” Luke tossed her a can, rattling as it landed at fuzzy sock clad feet, “Gonna go decorate the bowl,”

She picked up the spray paint and shook it, waiting for the clicking noise it makes. She got to her feet, wiping at her back and bum and grimacing at the cold, damp material of her sweats.

“I’m coming with,”

“Um,” Michael looked at her, eyebrows together, “Are you sure? You should probably take a shower and get in some dry clothes-“

“If she wants to come, let her,” Calum interrupted, grinning as he jumped over the small garden hedge and grabbed her arm, “Let’s go babe, what colour d’you want?”

Michael bit his lip, annoyed as he trailed behind, glaring at Calum’s head, hoping he’d feel the daggers he was shooting there. It wasn’t fair and Calum is a dickhead, he decided. A complete dickhead.

The skatepark was dead, eerily quiet as they ducked under the hole cut into the metal fence, following Ash as he dropped his backpack onto the concrete, a loud echoing clang of cans on hard ground before he bent down and chucked one to them all.

She followed Michael into a corner, watched as he shook it and rolled up his sleeves, tongue stuck out in concentration as he pressed down lightly on the cap, twisting his wrist for the paint to follow. She didn’t realise she was staring before he glanced behind and noticed her there. He ducked his head sheepishly.

“You gonna have a go or just stand there and admire my vandalising skills?”

She smiled and moved forward until they were shoulder to shoulder,

“I didn’t know you were good at art,” She said, staring at the spot in front of her, trying to figure out something she could create.

“I’m not,” He muttered, eyes avoiding hers.

“You totally are. It’s gorgeous,” She gestured to the wet paint opposite them and leant forward to get a better look, of what looked to be two people, wrapped around each other. It made her wonder if she would ever have that. She doubt it. “Who is it?” She asked quietly.

He didn’t answer, just looked at her before shrugging and pointing at the blank grey canvas that was begging to be turned into an explosion of colour. He noticed her unsure gaze and slipped behind her, bodies close as he took her hand in his, placed her finger over the cap and his over hers.

“Just press and aim,” He murmured, pushing down on her finger until blue escaped the nozzle, colliding with the grey with a splash. She let him guide her aim, change and flick her wrist until she saw a girl with headphones resting over her head staring back at her. Her finger started to cramp and the can was starting to run out and she thought it was beautiful.

“How’d you even do that?” She asked as he shook at the bottle before throwing it to the ground, rendering it useless. She leaned forward, fingers stretching out to trace it, watching as the blue smeared onto her hands. He was so good, “Oh,”

He laughed, looking over the top of her head and then down to her blue covered fingers as she turned around to face him. Her low cut pyjama top was pulled down, and he adverted his eyes from her chest, determinedly looking at anywhere other than her tits as she pressed close to him, breathing quickly. She reached out and ran her fingers down his chest, his white top stained with coloured streaks as they both looked down to watch, watch her create a mess on his shirt, criss-crossing lines and splodges. She grinned up at him when she was finished, and he raised an eyebrow.

“So I help you vandalise and rebel against society, and you decide to ruin my shirt?” He joked, before backing up to Ashton’s left bag and shaking an unused green, looking at her with sparkling eyes and a twisted mouth. She put her hands up and stepped away, glaring at him,

“You wouldn’t dare,”

“No?” He asked, eyebrow still quirked and she watched as his piercing rose with it, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because little Mikey is too sweet to try and upset me,” She teased, standing still and tall as she stared at him, smiling slightly as he stopped in front of her. Daring him.

“Yeah?” He asked, before he pressed down, sniggering as paint spurted out of his can and onto her covered stomach, dripping down and smearing at her pyjamas. She squealed and dodged out of his range, running at him and knocking his hand away from her and swearing.

“You fucking asshole, you best wash these,”

But she was giggling and he smiled, before he heard a yell of, “Paint war!”



But it was too late, and she hid her face in his neck as Ash came running over, giggling with paint raised in his hand and then they were stuck in a circle of colours and swearing and by the time they all ran out and everyone was panting, they looked like a fucking unicorn had threw up on them.

“Fuck, it’s all in my hair,” Michael whined, running his fingers through it and pulling his hand back to be coloured in a mixture of purples and greens. She peeled herself away from Michael after she deemed it safe, clothes sticking before she glanced up at the state of him, and then herself, before falling into fits of laughter and it made him feel warm, as a fire licked up his chest and settled in his stomach like warm contentment. He loved her laugh, loved making her laugh. He wished she’d laugh more. He had a look around, gazed at the others doodles before he smiled at the conclusion that his were easily the best with Cora as his muse.

“I’m shattered, I’m gonna head back,” Luke yawned, clicking his phone and sliding it back in his pocket. The others nodded, and Ash swung his bag around his shoulders.

Michael let his feet follow her as she moved first, pulling her hair over her shoulder and wringing it, tugging out drying flecks of green. He walked quicker, took bigger steps until he was next to her.

“You feeling better?” He asked, voice so low and quiet she only just caught it. She glanced over at him, hands pausing in her hair.

“Yeah,” She breathed and he nodded, relieved. She didn’t ask how he knew something was off, and he didn’t tell her. But she felt herself smile, felt herself feel slightly dizzy because somehow he knew and she doesn’t think she could ever thank him enough for that.

“Wait,” He stopped, “You’re not wearing shoes.”

She looked down as he pointed at her fuzzy socks and she shrugged, “Oh well,”

“Nah, come here,” He bent down and looked over his shoulder at her, “Get on, c’mon,”

So she took a small run and jumped, wrapping her arms and legs around him as he led them down the familiar route to their street, a comfortable silence as she wriggled on his back and rested her chin on his shoulder, watching their shadow next to them. How wrapped in each other they looked, as she stroked her socked foot against his stomach.

“What did you buy that you wanted to hide from your mum?” She asked.

“A, um- a motorbike?” He replied, tightening his grip on her thighs. Her warm, thick, exposed thighs. Because of course she was only wearing small cotton shorts, leaving her long effortless legs to be covered in goose bumps and dried paint. He couldn’t help but look at them, and now he couldn’t help but squeeze and feel them pull him closer in response. She made him weak.

“No way,” She laughed, “You got a fucking motorbike?”

“Yeah, why’s that so funny? I’m cool.” He defended.

“No you’re not.” She said simply, “You’re only 17, I didn’t know you’d got your licence already,”

“Past last month,” He hitched her up higher on his hips.

“So, can I get a ride sometime?”

“Really?” He asked, surprised and his heart raced a little at the thought of her on the back, arms tight around his waist with the wind against them.

“Would that be okay?”

“Yeah-yes, um definitely. As long as mum doesn’t kill me.”

She slid down his back once they stopped in front of her door. She was smiling and her eyes were brighter than they had been in days and he felt warm. And he could probably write poems about her. He could write essays on her lips with his, leave stories on her tongue and paint pictures on her neck. Maybe like the pictures he’d drawn of her, tucked in his art book hidden under his bed.

She’s looking at him and god, he wanted her so bad that it’s exhausting. She was ethereal.

“I want you to be happy.” He mumbled before squeezing his eyes shut because wow, he is a loser. He swallowed loudly, and when he opened his eyes she was still there, still looking at him with glassy eyes and paint smeared across her face and splattered in her hair and she leant up, standing on her toes before pressing a kiss to his cheek and breathing heavily in his ear.

“Me too,” She whispered, kissing his cheek again before turning and almost running to door, opening it quietly and slipping in and away from him before he did the same.


He didn’t see her for a few days then, spending most of his time racing down motorways and back roads on his bike, or skating at the park. He’d finally got this trick down and he was so excited to show the boys and Cora, if she’d watch. He had bruises on his elbows and cut knees and scrapes running down his back but he lived for it, shoving playfully at Calum before he noticed her.

She was sitting under a tree, hidden beneath its low hanging branches and the suns shadow, shades over her eyes and a new nose ring looped through her right side and a book propped against her legs. He didn’t linger on her long, not if she didn’t want to be found. And it always made him feel better to know he had the upper hand on Calum, even though he knew there’s nothing going on with them. It still irks him, made him clench his fists whenever he sees him getting too close because he loved her way more than Calum could even fathom. He’s cool about it though, totally cool. He’s gotten a new leather jacket for his bike and he wears it down the park, and he liked the gazes girls gave him when he rolled past.

She didn’t.

She didn’t because somehow some seventeen year old skater had her reeling, making it difficult for her to think about things that weren’t him; like a circle, they always seemed to fall back to him and it pissed her off. It pissed her off because he was almost three years younger than her, and she was ready to leave and leaving meant leaving him behind and she doesn’t want any more hurt. But she ignored it.

Stacked in the front of her book were application forms for universities around the country and she pulled out a pen, bringing it to her mouth and chewing on the lid as she shuffled through the pages. She kept putting it off, doubt clouding her eyes and overthinking her thoughts.

She looked up in time to watch him skate quickly towards one of the higher ramps, left foot pushing hard against the ground for momentum with his sleeves rolled up and a flannel wrapped around his middle. Biting her lip, her eyes followed his figure as it went up, spun, and landed almost perfectly as he rolled away to the cheers from Luke and an envious pat from Ashton.

He noticed she was watching him, his chest swelling with a sense of pride before he tucked his board into his backpack, sitting it on his shoulder and walking towards her, hands tucking into his jean pockets.



“What’re you doing?” He asked, flopping to the ground beside her and taking the applications from out of his grasp. She watched anxiously as his eyes flew across the page, “Uni forms?”


He frowned down at them before passing them back and catching her eye,

“Since when have you been looking at universities?”

“Awhile,” She sighed, “I just- I don’t know.”

“What course you looking at?” He asked softly.

“There’s this course in counselling and therapies. So I can help people when they’re sad and ill, y’know. Does that sound stupid?

“No, of course it doesn’t! That’s-“ He shook his head, “D’you really want to?”

She took in a deep breath, “Yes,”

He smiled, tugging the pen out of the corner of her mouth and putting in her hand.

“Let me help.”


She heard him before she saw him, glancing out of her window when he came around the corner on his loud ass motorbike. It was a dark blue, scratched and muddy with an engine like a fucking lion, with Michael on the back in his helmet and leather jacket that made him look like such a try hard but he pulled it off. Just about. He came to a stop in front of her house and the skin between her eyebrows creased when her phone vibrated,

[Michael x – 15:07]

come outside? X

Shoving her phone back into her pocket, she grabbed her jacket that had this month’s shitty wage in and shrugged it on before going downstairs.

“Clifford?” She asked, stepping out of her door.

“D’you still-erm, do you still want to go for that ride?” He asked hopefully, tucking his helmet under his arm. She smiled,

“Sure,” She breathed and he helped her swing her leg around the body of the bike before he turned and move her hair out of her eyes, pausing to cup her cheek until she looked up at him,

“You’re wearing my helmet okay? I haven’t got a spare yet, so if we crash you better remember I put your life first,” He grinned before pulling it over her head and wiggling it until it was comfy, “Okay?”

She nodded, and he threw his leg over and in front of her, kicking it up and turning on the engine, “Hold onto me,”

She let her arms wind around his midsection, squeezing when she felt them move, eyes wide open and grip tight as they sped down the road.

It was adrenaline; her nerves alight as he swerved down lanes and between cars, drove them right out of town and into the countryside, winding down long outstretches of road. Her grip was achingly tight around him but he felt alive. Alive with the sound of her laughter than escaped her mouth, just catching his ears before being carried away by the wind, her hair a fan floating behind them. She felt so exposed, so free. She didn’t know if it was the speed, or that they were in the middle of nowhere, or if it was Michael. But, whatever it was, she clung to it like it was a lifeline because fuck if she could feel like this every day, she’d never have another sleepless night.

He slowed down after about an hour, out of breath and his hair standing up in completely different directions, and pulled to a stop outside an old village shop. She let her grip on him go, and he felt cold where her touch left him. She wriggled out of the helmet, running a hand through her hair as he did the same, eager to tame his wild wind hair.

“Good, yeah?” He asked, voice slightly hoarse as they jumped off.

“Incredible,” She grinned, “I loved it,”

“Me too,” He took the helmet and rested it on the bike, chaining it up before standing next to her, “Mum found out though,”

She grimaced, “What’d she say?”

“Well, she yelled. Then she begged me to get rid of it, and now she’s not talking to me,” He shrugged, still smiling, “She’ll come ‘round, she’s just terrified,”

They started walking towards the shop when she reached down for his hand absentmindedly, lacing his fingers with hers. Oh. He froze, eyes fixed on where they were joined before she was tugging him forward,

“C’mon, I’m starving,”

And he let her pull him into the store, following with wide, confused eyes. He squeezed her hand experimentally, and heat rose in his cheeks when she squeezed back, his heart chasing after her. Fuck.

He grabbed a basket and threw in some crisps, sandwiches and chocolate when he found her looking at the hair dye, hip cocked to one side and her head titled, chewing on her lip. She called him over,

“Clifford, do you think I’d suit green?”

“You’re dyeing your hair?” He asked, surprised.

“Just the ends. When we got home from the skate park last week, the paint literally turned my ends green. And I dunno – I liked it,”

He was nodding his head before she even finished her sentence, grabbing the box she was looking at, “Definitely, fuck you’d look so hot,” He rambled. She turned to him, eyebrow raised and lips pulled into a playful smirk,

“I’d look hot?”

He felt a warm blush settle on his cheeks and down his neck, “Um – yeah. I mean, you always do, but-,”

She laughed lightly watching he shook his head,

“Why do you let me make such a fool of myself?” He whined, putting the box of dye in the basket and following her to the till.

“I think it’s cute,” She smiled, biting back the urge to tell him how hot he was too, how fucking gorgeous she thought he was, “Will you help me do my hair?” She asked, watching as he handed over the change before taking the plastic bag in his hand and leading them back outside.

“Can we do it today?” He asked eagerly, the thought of her with her hair messy and dark highlighted with green made him feel hot and eager. They sat at a picnic table in the corner, sharing food and splitting chocolate,

“Oi, you took the bigger half!” She complained, reaching over the table to tug it out of his mouth and he bit her finger,

“Piss off, this is mine,” He laughed, snorting through his nose.

“You’re a pig and I hate you,” She whined, pouting at him until he rolled his eyes and gave her his last piece. She grinned, “Good boy,”

He preened under the praise.

“Can we head back? And do your hair now?” He prompted, picking up his rubbish and throwing it in the bin behind them before going to unchain his bike, smiling when she picked up his helmet and wrapped her arms around him again. He was just starting the engine when he felt cold fingers slip under his shirt and trace circles around his stomach and he shivered, biting his lip. He smiled the whole way home.


She sat on the edge of her bathtub with a towel sat around her shoulders in a small vest top, leaning back on Michael who was concentrating on parting her hair, tugging on it accidently,

“You could at least try to be careful,” She complained, as her head fell back with the force of it.

“Sorry,” He replied, though he didn’t sound remotely apologetic and she rolled her eyes. Aside from the murmurs of ‘Californication’ playing from his phone they were quiet, as he ran the dye through the ends of her hair, listening to him hum along. He’d spent way too long on her hair, longer than needed but she didn’t say anything. She liked the attention he was giving her, fingers occasionally lingering on her neck and sending goose bumps down her arms. He was standing over her, her weight warm against his thighs for support. She lifted her arm up to his mouth blindly, parting his lips with her fingers to nudge in a piece of chocolate and he mumbled his thanks around it. He liked being this close to her and it’s just - he’s just so in love with how even though she acts cold and bored towards everything else, she looks at him like he’s interesting; looks at him like she gives a damn about what he’s going to say and she’s the wood that fuels his fire.

“Pass the foil?” He asked, putting the comb down and wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans. She stood up and bent over to grab the box from the floor, and fuck why did she have to wear such tight jeans? He diverted his gaze to his feet, to the ugly pattern of tiles but when she wiggled her hips to the intro of ‘Stadium Arcadium’ he looked up, just catching the cheeky smile on her lips. She was doing it on purpose, showing the tanned skin on the small of her back as her vest rode up and the curve to her bum and then the long expanse of legs that followed. And then she stood up slowly, turned to hand the foil into his clammy palms and she was teasing him; teasing as she let her fingers skim over her boobs, rubbing slightly over where her nipple was hidden before carrying on up to readjust the towel on her shoulders causally. He shuddered, lip caught between his teeth and she smiled at the swallow of his adam’s apple. He took the tin foil from its packaging with shaking fingers and she took her seat between his legs again, falling back on the quick rise and fall of his chest as he covered the bleached ends of her hair.

“It should be done in about ‘half hour,” He said, clearing his throat. She tugged at his arm until he was sat on the floor next to the bath, almost as tall as her despite her advantage. She ran a hand through his hair and he nuzzled into her palm, surprising himself because they both knew he hated it when someone touches his hair. He could feel her staring at him and he battled with his head, she’s looking at you. She’s got her hands in your hair and she’s looking at you fuck fuck come on, mike, look at her, avoid looking at her tits and mouth and look at her, and he rolled his eyes at himself before meeting her eyes.

“Thanks, Clifford,” She said quietly, and his eyes zoned into her mouth despite himself because she was licking and tugging at her bottom lip and it looked full and plump, covered in a deep burgundy that looked so tempting that he wanted to touch,

“For what?”

“My hair,” She paused, “For the ride today. I just- just thanks,”

“Yeah- it’s okay, it’s cool,” He hated how his voice sounded wrecked, sounded knocked out already.

She leaned in closer, pausing when she was close enough for him to touch, noses just brushing. She watched as his eyes fluttered closed, watched as he licked slyly at his lips and she pushed that bit closer, letting them fall together only just, her lips like a ghost on his. He could feel himself sweating, as he balled his hands into fists at his sides to try and ground himself and breathe. She pulled away and they both took a desperate gulp of air.

A bang on the door made them both jump, and she was about to tell him to ignore it when Ashton’s voice pulled them away,

“Mike? You here? Your bike is and I’ve been looking for you, you’re gonna be late! You told Jenna you’d pick her up at 7!” He yelled through the door and his eyes widened as he remembered. Shit.

“Oh shit,” He cursed, knocking his head backwards onto the sink, “Shit,”

“You’ve got a date?” She asked, standing up and watching as he did the same, straightening out his shirt, tugging it down past his thighs. She grinned,

“Oh, um- yeah?” His hand went to cup the back of his neck again, “Luke set me up with this girl- I didn’t- I didn’t ask him to? Or want to go? I just-“ He cut off when he caught her grinning, a dimple indenting deep on the left side of her mouth, “What?”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to defend yourself. I’ll finish my hair, and you go have a good time, yeah?” She replied, voice tinged with a bitten back laugh. He nodded uncertainly, because he didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to even look at another girl when his thoughts were so plagued with her. She leant forward, let her lips brush over his again, just for a second but it was enough for him to try and press forward. She pulled back too quickly though, watched as he chased her for more, stumbling over himself.


He sighed and let his eyes open reluctantly,

“I’ll, um, see you later?” He asked hesitantly, and she shrugged teasingly before shoving him out the bathroom and closing the door. He sighed. Fuck.


The date didn’t go too well. Ash dropped him off outside her house, and they had to walk to the restaurant Luke booked for them because his motorbike broke down halfway, leaving him almost an hour late and almost missing their reservation. He’d stumbled over his words when he complimented how she looked (she was cute, he’d admit. But she looked like a dimming ember while Cora was a forest fire), and he almost called her by the wrong name and although she was sweet about it, he knew he’d screwed up before they’d even ordered.

And when he was asking her what she wanted, looking down his menu, his phone buzzed and when the hell she changed her name?

[2 cool 4 u – 20:38]

so what d’you think??

Picture Attached

He opened it eagerly, fingers nimble and excited and holy fuck life is unfair. Her hair was falling down either side, a warm, calm green mixed with her dirty blonde hair that he thought looked killer hot, but she’d angled it so he could see just down her vest, see how her boobs spilled just so over her bra before her top hid the rest from view. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, smiling guiltily at the girl across him. He felt awful and horny and his pants were slightly tighter and his lips were still tingling from where he’d touched her, chest still thick with the feeling she’d left him with and he loved her.

He ended the date eagerly and although she was lovely and they held great conversation once he’d cleared his head a bit, she could tell his mind was somewhere else. Even so, she stood up on her toes for a kiss goodbye and he turned his head just slightly, letting her lips touch the very corner of his mouth instead.

“M’sorry, I just – my friends set me up on this and I didn’t mean to lead you on –“ He started to ramble but she nodded,

“It’s okay, I get it. Thanks for the meal,” And then she waved and left for her house and he let out a puff of air before turning and heading back home, feet kicking at loose stones.

He didn’t notice her sitting there as he opened the small, squeaky gate to his path. She was waiting on his bike that was chained up and leaning against the wall beneath his living room window, feet swinging back and forth lightly, tapping against the body of his broken down bike. She watched as he knocked the gate back with the back of his foot, only lifting his head when he heard her legs make a small thump against metal. He looked surprised, taking in her bare feet and sweats, hair curling around her face as she blinked up at him.

He was so gorgeous and she still wanted to kiss him and she’s starting to think that feeling was never going to go away.

“Hi,” He murmured, boots crunching against gravel until he was next to her, his legs encaging hers as they came to a stop.


He brought a hesitant hand to twirl the ends of her bleached hair around his middle finger, twisting it in the dim light,

“It looks really good,” He breathed, and she tucked her finger under his chin until he let their eyes met, “Looks so gorgeous on you,”

She smiled, tugging him closer until he stumbled, hands jumping to her hips to secure himself, spanning the width of them across her waist. She was warm under his grasp, soft and curvy and delicious,



“I want you to kiss me again,”

He swallowed, “Yeah?”

She pulled at his neck until their noses bumped awkwardly and he had to angle his head right and move a little closer and then they were kissing and he’s imagined this hundreds of times when in the dark of his bedroom and a hand wrapped around himself, but this, this, is so much better. It’s so much better because she’s demanding; now that she’s let herself have him in this way she can’t get enough of him. Can’t get enough of the softness of his lips, big and encasing, he hasn’t fully grown into them yet and she finds it so endearing as she chases his mouth, her hand firm on the back of his head and fingers clenching tightly in his red hair. He’s panting against her, wet and warm as he lets his tongue slide timidly against her bottom lip until she lets him in. He’s hesitant and eager, eager for more, more, more as she bites at him and he let out a weak whine before pulling back with a gasp,

“Fuck,” He breathed, opening his eyes to look at her and it was like another punch to the gut, another rush towards his crotch as she looked back at him with wide eyes, lips puckered and wanting, cheeks flushed and she let her legs wind around his midsection, encouraging him back.

“More,” She demanded, grabbing at the collar of his flannel until he fell forward, teeth bashing as he shuddered with the command and let his fingers run to her hair, to run through it and through the newly dyed ends and sucking on her lip,

“God, s’hot – so hot,” He mumbled, eyes squeezing shut as she pulled away from his mouth, trailing down his slightly stubbling jaw, rubbing her lips across it and taking his hands from where they’d tangled and dragging them down to her boobs, squeezing her hand over his for him to do the same, and shit he had his hand on her tits and her lips against his throat as he took another desperate gulp of air that didn’t seem to reach his lungs properly because he was drowning in everything that was her.

“How’d you date go?”

“Shit –“ He panted, “Couldn’t think of anything but you,”

She felt her cheeks heat up a little and let her mouth close around his throat and take the thin skin between her teeth, tugging and then soothing it with her tongue before sucking on it until he could feel the heat bubble up beneath his skin, and he dug his nails into the flesh of her thighs when it started to hurt but the deep whine that rumbled from his chest encouraged her on and when she let up to poke at the deep purple mark claimed upon his pale skin, he shuddered because there’s no way he could hide that and his mum will kill him and his friends will take the piss out of him but she gave it to him and he’s aching in his boxers just at the thought of her marks on him.

“Oh my god,” He said thickly, his words slurring and tripping over each other in his desperation to let her know how good he feels and how fucking desperate he is for her, how desperate he always is for her.

“Put your hands down my pants,” She mumbled as he cupped her face for another searing kiss, but he surrendered as soon as she tugged at the hairs on his neck, letting his hands fall submissively to her waist. His hips rutted forward as the sentence fell from her spit-slick lips and he bit her lip in response,

“Now?” He gasped, chests heaving as they pulled back and foreheads touching, palms sweating as she led them to the elastic of her shorts, sighing when he cupped her, letting her grind lightly against the heel of his hand.

“Now,” She confirmed, but her voice was shaking, was needy as he pushed the leg of her pyjamas aside and he groaned when he was met with her bare warmth, ready and wet against his fingers. She wasn’t wearing underwear and holy fuck his pretty sure his never been this hard in his life, as he let his finger curl up against her warm walls with his forehead fallen against her shoulder. He heard a car then and let out another noise, because they were outside, where anyone could see, could come and watch how he had her, needy and desperate as she rocked against his finger on his motorbike.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” She panted, wriggling against the leather and hitching her legs up higher, “Take me inside,”

“Yeah, yes – okay,” He let his finger slip from her warmth, relishing in her whine as he placed his hands under her bum instead, lifting her up and towards the front door, keeping one hand on her and the other fumbling for his keys in his pockets, barely able to concentrate when she was breathing in his ear like that,

“Want you to fuck me, Mikey, yeah? Been thinking about it for so long,”

“Fuck,” He closed his eyes and took a deep breathe before unlocking the door, “Don’t say that, don’t-“

He’d managed to get her to the kitchen before he had to stop, place her down on the breakfast bar, and let her claw at his top before it was shrugged off. He paused, arms lingering self-consciously over his stomach. She sat back, taking his hands in hers and placing them back around her. He knew he wasn’t ugly, or that he had a bad body, but he was softer and less sharp than Ashton and Calum, and he was a little curvier than Luke, with pink scars and grazes littering down his back and elbows from skating. But she thought he was gorgeous, thought he was so pretty with his soft hips and white pale skin,

“Michael?” She encouraged and he shrugged, asking the question he’d always wondered,

“D’you think I’m like, y’know, hot?” He cringed at how he sounded, voice husky and low and anxious and she loved him and pulled him in for a short kiss,

“So, so fucking hot,” She said, slurred against his lips, “Think you’re so gorgeous,”

He smiled shyly and pawed at her top until she lifted her arms up so he could wriggle her out of it, and yep, fuck, her boobs made his cock ache and he just had to look at her, as she leant back on her elbows, body stretched and tanned, a small tattoo of a paper airplane against the crevice of her hip. He leant over her, as much as his back could bend to meet her lips in a messy kiss, lips sliding against each other. And everything felt so bright and warm and colourful.

Her hips were bucking up again, rubbing against the rough denim of his jeans and the almost incoherent pants of,

“Please, please, please,”

“Yeah, fuck,” He mumbled, though he wasn’t sure what he was agreeing to, but whatever it was he wanted it. She sat up, tugging at the button of his jeans impatiently, and letting them fall until he kicked them off his feet and then she wrapped her arms around his neck and nestled into his sweaty, blushed chest, pressing kisses there and licking at his slightly salty skin and running her nails over his nipples to watch him press into her touch.

“Um, did you wanna go upstairs?”

She shook her hand, hooking her fingers under his waistband and he tensed,

“No, here.”

“But-“ He glanced towards the stairs, where his parents were asleep, where his bed was but then she was kissing him again, tugging his boxers down his thighs enough so she could wrap her hand around his cock, tight and warm, tracing the thick vein with the tip of her thumb and he nearly swallowed his tongue as she smiled up at him, lip between her teeth as she watched his mouth fall open with a small, stuttering gasp.

He was so pretty, with his red hair flat and fallen across his forehead, eyes fighting to keep open, pale, stubby fingers grabbing blindly until they clutched at her thigh and waist and this is the first time in forever that she’s loved someone more than she’s hated herself and that was what it was all worth waiting for.

Spreading herself across the cool marble of the counter, she let go of him and he fell into her feverishly, kissing her like he was ill and she was his cure as they scratched and pulled at the others skin, down his back and tracing the outline of risen pink tissue, and over the dips of her stomach and curves of her waist, the lines of her hips and the thick of her thighs.

“Are you a virgin?” She asked, when he trailed his tongue down the junction of her neck,

“Um, no?” He replied, phrasing it like he knew it wasn’t what she wanted to here, and he pulled back to see the pout on her lips and tiny frown between her eyebrows, “What’s up?”

“I wanted to be your first,” She shrugged, finger following the dip of his cupids bow and the scruff of his jaw, “Don’t like the idea of you doing this with anyone else,”

“S’okay,” He said thickly, “You are my first,”

Because she was, was the first person he’d ever felt like this with, the first person he’d ever fallen in love with and the first person for him to fuck, knowing that he was so gone for her in ways that still felt foreign to him; foreign but welcoming, like home. She felt like home.

Her heart swelled in her chest and she wondered how he’d gotten into all her cracks, found all her crevices like water. She kissed him again, and he let out little noises against her lips as she wiggled out something in her bra and he only pulled back when he heard the rip,

“You keep condoms in your bra?” He chuckled before coughing on it when she rolled it down his length, squeezing, “Oh my god, you’re gonna be the death of me,” He moaned, her legs wrapping tightly around him, ass on the edge of the counter and he bent down for a kiss, a reassuring one, before he tucked his head against her bruised collarbones and titled his hips forward, forward and into her, muffling his sounds against her skin because, holy shit, he’s fucking her in his kitchen and  he never knew he would be so into that.

Her heels were digging into his bum, her hands pulling at his hair and trailing down his back, pushing him away from where he was hidden so he was standing up and she could see him properly, thankful for his lanky frame. He took his hands to her hips, closed them tightly around her before pushing herself back onto him, needy for more. He took a deep breath before dragging out teasingly and slowly before letting himself rock into her quicker, harder, watch her laid out beneath him, head tipped back and body moving with the force of his hips,

“Shit – what the fuck, Michael, holy fuck,” She whined, taking his arm and biting on the skin of his wrist to keep herself quiet and he could hardly breathe, it was so good and she looked so beautiful and he could barely keep himself from yelling, barely keep himself from losing it completely when he leant down to kiss at her, to touch her more because he needed to be touching as much of her as he could, “Doing so good, Mike, fucking me so well,” She praised and he blushed under it, tightening his grip.

His wrist was bruised and marked with indents from her teeth, and she tightened around him until his legs felt weak and he was squirming. Her constant stream of praises that left her tongue made him feel bubbly and he smiled, spurred on by the compliments that made him blush. He liked it when she told him how well he was doing. It didn’t feel real yet it felt so real, because somehow she was here under him and wanting, looking up to meet his gaze and hold it. And he didn’t want this feeling to ever go away.

She didn’t manage to warn him before she came, body arching into his, face open and exhilarated under him and he is so screwed, as he let out mumbles and groans until her hand clasped over his mouth, her body pliant and soft now. He pressed into her palm, nudging it until she covered his nose too, grip tight and he was on fire, lungs desperate for air and his body desperate to come and he was desperate for her. He bit on her hand as he shuddered, eyes popping behind his closed lids as he came, enough to make his fingers tingle, and he was a little dizzy from lack of oxygen when she pulled her hand away. She watched with warm eyes as he breathed in greedily before his arms gave out beneath him and he collapsed onto her, chest heaving and sweaty. They stayed like that for a moment, drinking it in, when a light flickered on upstairs and he jumped, cursing as they scrambled to tug their clothes back on, only for the light to be turned off again and the house fall into silence.

“That could’ve ended really badly,” She grinned, before wrapping her arms around his neck, his around her belly,

“Really badly,” He chuckled, “Was that, um- was that, like, okay?”

“I loved it, did you?”

“How can you even ask that?” He laughed, nuzzling his nose through her hair, happy and satisfied.

“Didn’t know you’d be into some of that though,” She mused, and he bit his lip, shrugging because he didn’t either, “I need to get back before my dad flips out,” She smiled as he clutched her closer, “I don’t want to go,”

“Then don’t,” He pleaded, “Go in the morning, stay with me.”

He noticed her hesitation and tugged her upstairs before she could make up her mind, leading her to his room and shutting the door quietly. She sat on his bed and he leant against the door, and they looked at each other.

“Come to bed,” She whispered, arms outstretched, watching as he crossed the room until she felt the bed dip under his weight. He crawled until he reached his pillow and pulled her in, pulled her tight and safe in his arms. She’d never been in his room before, as she tucked her head under his, breathing in his smell on the sheets, boyish and warm, before a sketchbook on the table beside his bed caught her eye,

“Can I have a look?” She pointed and his cheeks tinged with an embarrassed pink.

“Erm, I guess?” He hesitated, “I’ve never let anyone see it before,”

He let her reach over him and wriggled upright, letting it fall open in her lap. The pages were smudged, pencil marks and water colour stains with small doodles on one page and then a portrait on the other.

“Is that – is that me?”

“Sorry, I know it doesn’t really, like, do you justice? I never thought you’d actually see it.” He bit his lip, watching as she stroked a finger over the gentle lines of he’d drew of her. She’d never been as fond of someone as she was now, never felt so important. Michael made her feel significant. She closed it and dropped it lightly on the floor before pushing up to kiss him. Kissing her was his new favourite thing.

“Hey, have you had any acceptance letters back yet?”


“There’s still time, you’re gonna get in somewhere. They’d be mad not to want you,” He promised.

Anyone would be mad not to want her, he thought as she nodded and snuggled closer, falling asleep to the rise and fall of his chest and his lips against her forehead.


They never spoke about being official, but she held his hand when they were out, would kiss him when she met him at the skatepark, would sneak into his room at night and sneak out before his mum caught her. And he couldn’t help but stare at her all the time, stare at her because how in hell did he manage to get her? How did he manage to fall in love with someone so out of his league, someone so beautiful, so enchanting? He’d noticed how she laughs more now, and how he laughs loudly at almost everything she says, just to see the smile on her face. And he knew how shaky his voice still got, how he trips and fumbles with his words sometimes because he doesn’t deserve her; doesn’t deserve to be with someone as mesmerising as her.

He’d never been so happy, as he watched the summer shape out to be his favourite, his days now revolving around skating, his bike, and her. Her, her, her.

He hadn’t told her that he loved her yet, at least not while she was conscious. Every night after she was breathing heavily in his arms he’d let an ‘I love you’ fall from his lips softly, and only then could he fall asleep. And he loved her. Not in the way that he loved the extra half hour in bed, and not in the way that he found freedom in skating. He didn’t love her in the way he loved riding his motorbike, or the way that he loved his tea with three sugars and milk. He loved her with his whole being, and she was one of those choices that life made for him, but one he’d chose just the same.

He was watching Calum pull an Ollie when she slipped up behind him, barely able to contain her excitement when she jumped on his back, giggling as he stumbled in shock before she leaned down to kiss his lips.

“Hey you,” He grinned, pulling her around until she was wrapped around his front instead.

“Guess what came today?” She squealed, before shoving a piece of paper in his face before wriggling out of his grip and pushing it into his hand. She bit at her lip as he scanned over the page, before it spilt into a wide smile,

“You got in!”

“I got in!”

And she tugged him down for a fierce kiss, full of excitement and adrenaline as he pulled her closer, whining lightly as she pulled his hair,

“I knew you would, I told you they’d be mad not to want you,” He pulled away, “I’m so proud of you,”

“I wouldn’t have done it, if it wasn’t for you,” She said, kissing him again, “Thank you. So much,” She blinked, eyes hopeful and excited.

“When you leaving?”

Her face fell slightly for the first time, “The end of summer,”

And maybe summer wasn’t as endless anymore, not now he’d found the end.


He was sat on her bed, watching as she rushed around her almost empty room for things she’d missed. Open suitcases and flyers, bits of paper and money were scattered by his feet and on the floor, clothes packed neatly with things she kept finding thrown on top.

“Did I pack my hairdryer?” She asked, kneeling down to grab something that’d rolled under her bed.

“Yeah, baby. It’s still in suitcase from the last time you checked.” He said, voice quiet and rough.

“And my camera? I did pick that up, right?”

Yes. Cora, you’ve got everything. You’ve triple checked, twice now.”

She looked up at his exasperated tone, and frowned at the sad look that was etched in his face, had been for a week now, as her leaving date loomed closer. She was leaving in two days for Melbourne University, an eight hour(ish) drive from where they lived, from where Michael was staying on for school. From where she was leaving him. She put down the CD case and walked over to him slowly, kneeling up on the bed and over his legs until she was straddling him as he leant against her wall, sad eyes following her as she moved.

“Mikey,” She said softly, “Michael, look at me,”

“What?” He mumbled grumpily, catching her eye before looking away again, determinedly at her mirror opposite. It’d been stripped from its stickers, stripped from all the notes and pictures she’d stuck to it and it looked lonely now. He felt lonely too, he missed her already, even though she was still here. He looked at their reflection, at her back and faded out green hair, at his bright new blonde hair, at the bracelets that littered both of their wrists and a pink entry band from that music festival they’d went to a few weeks ago.

“Please stop looking like a dejected kitten,” She whined, “This isn’t going to change anything.”

“But what if it does?” He shot back, “You’re so far away. And what about all the uni guys that’re all older than me and fitter and in a fucking 5 mile radius?”

She pressed her thumb against the lines of his frown, smoothing them away.


“No,” He huffed, crossing his arms and shifting so she almost lost her balance.

“Please, I hate the idea of leaving to you being mad at me,”

“It’s just – I just got you. I’ve loved you for so long and it’s been, what, two months? And now you’re leaving me, and it’s not fair-“

“What?” She asked, tensing, eyes wide as she stared at him.


“You said you loved me.”

He bit his lip, heart thumping and shrugged,


“Do you? Don’t fuck with me,”

“Yeah? Um,” He closed his eyes, “Sorry, I guess,”

He opened his eyes when he felt her press her lips to his, surprised,

“Say it.” She mumbling against his lips, “Say it properly.”

“I love you,”

“I love you, too,”

And he kissed her with everything he had, everything he had left to give before rolling them over and pushing at her top, eager to prove just how gone for her he was.


Their goodbye was sad.

He felt a mixture of hollowness and pride as he helped her load her dad’s car, helped pack away almost every trace of her left in her house as she hugged her friends in sweats and her hair in a bun. And when everything was put away and the car engine turned on, she turned to him and ran, letting her legs wrap around his waist and pull him in from a heart breaking hug as he sniffled into her shoulder,

“S’not goodbye though, is it?” He murmured, “I’ll see you Saturday,”

She nodded, “Yeah. Promise you’ll take breaks though, it’s a long drive.”

“I will,” He smiled, kissing her cheek and putting her down gently, “Now go. Before I make you stay. And skype me when you get there?”

“Okay,” She smiled, kissing him again, kissing him as hard as she could so he didn’t forget her, didn’t forget how she made him feel and how in love with him she was, “I’ll see you Saturday?”

“Yeah, baby. See you Saturday,”

And he watched as she got into the car, and waved her away with her friends and his friends as she drove away to the university she’d always wanted to go to. He realised then, that she’d did it. She’d left the place she felt like she didn’t belong, left to do what she wanted to do, needed to do, despite how terrifying it was. But it was okay, because they’d be okay, and he was happy. And she was finally happy too.

When I was little I picked up a flower and put it in a vase. After a few days, it died. I asked my mom why and she said: “You can’t force a flower to thrive somewhere it doesn’t belong to.”

And now I have realized that people are like that too.” S.T


“It wasn’t supposed to end like this.”

Hanamaki held his face in his hands, trying not to look at the scene before him. His best friend, the person he loved the most in life, was laying facedown in the middle of the street, completely still.

“Matsukawa…you can’t leave me like this, it isn’t fair!” Hanamaki cried, dropping down onto the hot pavement. “You can’t die, you-”

“I’m not dead, jackass. Now help me up before I get hit by a car.” Matsukawa said, still laying there. “But first, tie my shoe so I don’t trip again.”

“What’s that? I swear I heard my dear Matsukawa nagging at me. Perhaps I’ll be forever haunted by his obnoxious voice-”