#Green room reece

[rentonmark]

Gotta revive this fandom somehow

[therealwoozie]

mcdonald green room. thanks friends for giving me the courage and inspiration.

[chelseachilly]

so high school

pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: you and ben have been friends for years, but you haven't seen him much since you left chelsea for another job opportunity. all it takes is an engagement party, a bit of alcohol and a drinking game to bring the feelings you've been harbouring for years to the surface... warnings: hints of smut, alcohol use word count: 5k

author’s note: this fic has been SUCH a long time coming! it started as an idea from a request i got like a year ago asking for a friends to lovers fic involving spin the bottle, and then i got re-inspired to finish when 'so high school' by taylor swift came out. please note this takes place last summer since that's when i started writing it lol, and hope you enjoy!

-

You didn’t really know what to expect when you arrived at Kai and Sophia’s place, but you figured it would be a somewhat classy evening. 

You’ve had your fair share of wild nights with this group of friends - the night in Porto after the Champions League win comes to mind - but you’re all a little older now and you are celebrating Kai and Sophia’s engagement, after all. You thought it would be a relaxed, grown-up party. 

Evidently, you thought wrong.

Kai is already clearly drunk when he greets you at the door with a massive hug, and you can hear Sophia squeal as she comes running to hug you too.

“Congratulations, you two!” you exclaim, hugging Sophia back. It’s the first time you’ve seen them since the engagement, and you’re over the moon for them. 

“Thank you!” Sophia grins, proudly showing off her ring when she pulls away, beaming at Kai. “Now come on, everyone’s already here and they’re excited to see you!”

You knew you were running a bit late, but you don’t realize how late until you walk into a living room filled with drunk footballers. You know most of them, except for a couple of Kai’s new Arsenal teammates you haven’t had the chance to meet before. Reece is here, Timo, Kepa, even Mason is in town for the night.

And, of course, on the couch next to Mason is Ben, whose face lights up when he sees you.

When you got a job on Chelsea’s media team in 2019, you were pleasantly surprised by how quickly you became friends with many of the players. During your very first week, Mason invited you to a party at his house, and from that point forward you’ve been close with a lot of the boys and their partners. 

They’re now like family to you, regardless of if they’re still playing for Chelsea. Many of the boys have now gone in different directions, and you yourself left the club for an incredible job opportunity at Sky Sports a few months ago, but you wouldn’t miss an important occasion like this one for the world.

Even if that means you have to see the one person who has always made your legs weak and your brain turn to mush. The one you’ve missed significantly more than all the rest of the guys since your departure.

The one that you’re pretty sure you fell for the day he signed for Chelsea and you bumped into him in a hallway at Cobham.

Ben Chilwell. 

“Y/N!” Ben exclaims, jumping up to hug you. As usual, he looks unfairly hot in just a white t-shirt and black shorts. “You’re finally here!”

You sink into his embrace, breathing in his familiar scent before the hug is over - which is far too quickly for your liking.

“Yeah, can someone get me a drink or did you lot finish off the bar already?” you joke, pulling back to meet Ben’s gaze. 

“On it,” Mason offers before Ben can say anything, giving you a quick peck on the cheek on his way over to the bar. 

As Mason makes you a strong drink so you can catch up to everyone else’s level, you turn back to Ben and find him still looking at you with those bright blue-green eyes and the warm smile that captivated you from the start. 

“How’s your summer been?” you ask quickly, trying to ignore the butterflies erupting in your stomach from just being in his presence.

It’s been a couple of months now since you’ve seen him, but you’ve seen on his Instagram that he’s spent his summer at F1 races and on yachts while you’ve been stuck working in London. 

“Good, it’s been way too long since I’ve seen you, though,” Ben says sincerely. “How’s life as a hotshot producer for Sky?”

“Busy,” you reply, trying not to blush at his previous comment. “I’m liking it, but I do miss Chelsea. You know, the atmosphere at the club, all the familiar faces.”

“The club misses you too, trust me,” Ben says without missing a beat.

You don’t have time to respond before Mason is thrusting a drink into your hand and Sophia is tugging you away to discuss early wedding plans. 

After an hour or so, you’ve quickly relaxed back into a familiar state of comfort with your friends. Even if you don’t see each other as much as you would like these days, and it’s only going to get harder to make time when the season starts, these people still mean the world to you. 

At some point, after you’re a few drinks deep - you’ve definitely toasted to Kai and Sophia’s engagement with at least 3 different bottles of champagne at this point - and have made the rounds to talk to everyone, you feel someone grab your hand and tug you down onto the couch. 

You let out a surprised squeak, and your heart rate doesn’t settle down at all once you realize who grabbed you - who you’re now sitting so close to that your legs are touching. 

The entire time you’ve been here, you’ve been trying to resist going back over to chat with Ben, even though you’ve felt a magnetic pull in his direction from the moment you laid eyes on him. You’ve been sneaking glances at him whenever you can, admiring the way his eyes light up when he talks or the way he runs his fingers through his hair when he’s thinking about something, but you haven’t had a moment alone since he greeted you.

“What’s up, Chilly?” you ask, chuckling at his content expression. “You pretty drunk?”

“Just buzzed,” Ben smiles. “You know, last hurrah before the season starts.”

“You didn’t have enough fun frolicking around the Mediterranean for a month?” 

The question leaves your mouth before you can think about what you’re saying, and you see the way his eyebrows immediately raise and a slightly smug look appears on his face.

“Someone’s been stalking my Insta,” he smirks. “You miss me or something, Y/N?”

You take a small sip of your drink, staring down at your lap before answering him. Some combination of the buzz and the party and just him makes you briefly emboldened to tell the truth. 

“Yeah, maybe I did.”

When you look up, Ben’s eyes immediately lock with yours, and you suddenly feel your cheeks growing hotter and your stomach in knots. 

There’s always been some unexplored tension lingering beneath your friendship.

Nothing has ever actually happened between the two of you, although there are a few times it probably could have (and one time it almost did) if you weren’t trying to be professional and not hook up with one of the players at the club you worked for.

A club you no longer work for, you realize. 

“I missed you too, Y/N,” he says in a slightly lower voice that sends a shiver up your spine.

You continue to look into each other’s eyes, the tension seeming to build with each second, until Sophia plops down beside you and interrupts the moment.

“Alright, we’re playing a drinking game,” she declares, setting a deck of cards on the table in front of you. 

“Is that really necessary at this point?” you joke, gesturing to the fairly inebriated group of people around you.

“No, but it will be fun,” Sophia grins. “And I’m the bride-to-be, so I’m in charge.”

It’s a simple game to follow, thankfully. It’s essentially a version of truth or dare where the questions and challenges are pre-written on the cards. You go around the circle a few times, and thankfully you get some fairly easy ones, like revealing the name of your first crush (who nobody here knows) and taking a shot of the alcohol of your choice.

It’s entertaining watching the boys complete some pretty outlandish dares, and you’re excited to see what crazy task Ben ends up with when you see him draw a dare card from his spot next to you.

“Alright,” Ben says before reading his card aloud to the group. “Kiss the person…to your left.”

Even in your slightly inebriated state, it doesn’t take you long to realize that you’re the person to his left, meaning Ben has to kiss you. 

The room goes silent as the implication of this settles in. You’re certain at least half of the people here have had some kind of wager at some point over when you and Ben would get together, but you always brushed it off and joked that it would never happen.

Nothing has ever technically happened between you, other than flirtation and the occasional touches. You’ve never kissed him, despite how many times you’ve wanted to. 

There was one time you almost let your desire get the better of you, right after the Club World Cup win in Abu Dhabi. 

You were both caught up in the excitement of the win, and you’d been spending a lot of time together outside of work lately as Ben was recovering from his ACL injury and you wanted to support him as much as possible. 

You knew it was hard for him not to be a part of the win that day, to have to watch from the sidelines as his team emerged victorious. So, you spent basically the entire day with him, sitting with him during the game and staying close by during the celebrations afterward. 

Toward the end of the night, you ended up alone with him in a corner booth of the restaurant the club had rented out for the party. Nobody was paying much attention to the two of you, everyone still caught up in the excitement and dancing the night away. 

“Thank you, Y/N,” Ben said, gazing at you intently as he set down his drink, which wasn’t his first of the night (or third or fourth). 

“For what?” you asked a bit shyly. “I haven’t done anything.”

“You’ve done everything,” he corrected quickly. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

You weren’t sure if he meant physically there in Abu Dhabi, as you were the one that had encouraged him to come, or where he was mentally in his recovery at the moment. You’d done everything you could to help him through it, but there was only so much you could do. You weren’t a doctor, or a time-traveller that could magically stop the injury from happening, or even his girlfriend. You were just a friend with no medical knowledge, trying to help without overstepping any boundaries. 

You were just a girl who was head over heels for one of her best friends. 

“Ben, I haven’t…I’m just being a friend,” you said softly. “You’re the one who’s faced this setback head-on, never complaining or giving up. And you’re almost there. I’m so proud of you.”

For a moment, you saw a look in his eyes you didn’t recognize, one that made your heart flutter uncontrollably. The next moment, Ben began to lean in, his eyes flickering to your lips, and you had never wanted anything so badly in your life as you wanted to kiss him.

But you knew you couldn’t. Not when he was drunk and vulnerable and had been relying on you for emotional support for months. He was sad and confused and you knew he would regret it in the morning, and you would regret letting yourself feel something that wasn’t real.

“I, um…” you muttered quickly, pulling away from him. “We should go to bed. Early flight home tomorrow.”

Ben just stared blankly at you for a moment. “Y/N, I’m sorry, I-I’ve just had too much to drink and-“

“Don’t worry about it, Chilly, seriously,” you said, reverting back to the nickname you’ve used for most of your friendship, worried that the if you spoke his first name right now, the pure adoration you harbour for him would come through in the way it left your tongue. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

You quickly squeezed his shoulder as you got up from the table, making your way to the exit as stealthily as possible to avoid having to talk to anyone else. 

The moment you got back to your hotel room, you cried over Ben Chilwell for the first time. You cried in a way you hadn’t even after breakups. 

You cried because you knew he would never be yours, and you had to accept that. 

That night was over a year ago now, and you and Ben never spoke a word about what nearly happened between you. There were certainly moments since where he looked at you with that same glint in his eye, and you allowed your mind to wander as to whether he was feeling some deeper for you, but these hopes were always quickly dashed when he went home with some model or bid you goodnight without acknowledging the tension between you. 

You took the job at Sky, and started seeing him much less often, which wasn’t exactly intentional but wasn’t totally an accident, either. It certainly made your life easier not having to suppress your feelings for him at work everyday. 

Until now. 

Now, when he’s looking right at you with those eyes and you’ve never wanted anything more than to kiss him. 

“Uh…” Ben looks at you and scratches the back of his neck. “It’s up to you-“

“Just do it, Chilly,” you say with a sudden burst of confidence and a bit of recklessness, turning on the couch to face him properly.

Something flashes in Ben’s eyes for a moment - maybe surprise, maybe pure elation - but he doesn’t take long to act on your instruction. 

He grabs your face with both hands and leans in to kiss you firmly. He tastes a bit like beer, but he’s so warm and his lips are softer than you imagined - and you imagined them a lot. 

Everyone cheers and hollers at the kiss, but you can hardly hear them while you’re so singularly focused on the feeling of Ben’s lips on yours.

It’s over before you can properly enjoy it, making you wish desperately that there weren’t so many people here and you could grab him and kiss him over and over again.

“That’s gonna be tough to beat,” Mason jokes from across the table as you and Ben are silently reeling from the kiss you just shared. “I think we should call the game, Soph.”

Everyone else murmurs in agreement, and they begin to get up to get more drinks or continue to chat. But you remain frozen in place, only able to move enough to glance over at Ben, who is still looking at you. 

“Y/N,” Ben breathes your name. “I…”

“I should go,” you say quickly.

You immediately have deja vu to the night he nearly kissed you, how quickly you ran off, but this time is different - now that you know how good it feels to kiss him, there’s no way you can stay another moment in his presence without doing it again. 

“Wait, please,” Ben says, gripping your hand before you can stand up. “Can I give you a lift home?”

“You’re driving?” you ask in confusion, knowing that even if he’s not fully drunk, he’s certainly not sober enough to drive a car.

“No, no, I’ll just get an Uber and have it drop you off first,” he insists. “Make sure you get home okay.”

You know it doesn’t really make sense logistically, as you live much farther away than he does, but you can’t resist the temptation of his soft voice or the way his thumb is caressing the back of your hand. 

“Okay, sure.”

Ben gives you a small smile before pulling out his phone to call the car. 

Once he’s ordered it, you both quickly grab your things and say your goodbyes, ignoring the curious looks and knowing smirks you get when you say you’re sharing an Uber. 

Within five minutes, Ben is opening the door for you to climb into the back of a fancy black SUV, and then sliding in tantalizingly close to you. 

You feel like you’re going to explode with desire for him. 

“You alright?” Ben asks you after another minute has passed, and the look on his face gives you the sense that he’s been working up the courage to say something to you. 

You nod, holding his gaze and trying to keep your heartbeat under control. 

“Do you remember that night in Abu Dhabi, when we…”

You can feel your cheeks growing hotter as you nod, trying to process the fact that Ben not only remembers that moment between you but is choosing right now to bring it up. 

“You were drunk,” you remind him.

“Yeah, but I still - I still meant it. And I still remember how gorgeous you looked that night. You always do, really, but-“

“Ben,” you cut him off, unable to hear another word from him if this is going to end the same way it did last time. “I think you’re drunk now, too.”

“I’m really not,” he says in a steady enough voice that you’re inclined to believe him. And, now that you think about it, you don’t think you saw him have more than a few beers all night. “Are you?”

You shake your head, managing only a small gulp in response as you meet Ben’s intense gaze.  

“Y/N…” he says, barely above a whisper as he leans in closer. “Can I…”

“Your place,” you reply without a beat. Your brain is fogged by how much you want to kiss him again, but clear enough to know that once you start, you aren’t going to want to stop. “It’s closer than mine.”

Ben stares at you for another moment, just processing your words, before he nods and turns to the driver, asking him to skip the first address and go straight to his. 

It’s only a ten minute drive from there, but you’re so full of nervous anticipation for what’s to come that it feels like hours. 

By the time you pull up to his house and get out of the car, you still can’t quite believe what’s happening. Ben quickly unlocks the door and holds it open for you to enter his house. You haven’t been here in a while, but it’s as big as you remember it from all the times you’ve been here for a party or movie night. 

It shouldn’t be awkward being here, except for the fact that you haven’t really been alone since the night of your almost-kiss. And the fact that your first actual kiss was less than an hour ago. 

“Can I, erm-do you want some water?” Ben offers, gesturing to the kitchen. 

You nod with a small, nervous smile and follow him into the next room. 

The kitchen is dimly lit, the only light source coming from the hallway and the stove light as Ben  grabs two glasses and fills them both with water. He passes one to you, and you thank him quietly before taking a sip. 

“Been a while since you’ve been here,” he remarks, perhaps reliving all the same memories you have been since you walked through the door. 

“I know,” you say, setting your glass down and taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry I’ve been a bit distant since I left Chelsea. It was just…easier.”

“I’m sorry if I fucked our friendship by trying to kiss you at the totally wrong time,” Ben says sincerely. “But honestly, I’m more sorry for not trying again since.”

That’s all it takes for you to take the few steps between you and crash your lips to his, immediately throwing your arms around his neck to steady yourself. 

Ben stumbles in shock for a moment before his hands find your waist and he kisses you back with equal passion, backing you up against the kitchen island. 

You moan slightly as he parts your lips with his tongue, tangling your fingers in his hair. Kissing him like this, with no restraint, is something you’ve craved for so long that you can hardly wrap your head around the fact that it’s happening. 

You let out a small squeal of surprise as Ben’s hands move to your thighs and he hoists you up onto the counter, never breaking contact with your lips. Your legs subconsciously tighten around him, and the friction makes Ben groan into your mouth. 

Kissing Ben is everything you dreamt it would be and more. No guy has ever made you feel a fraction of the way he is right now, and all you can think about is how good it would feel to have him inside you. 

You know how badly you want him, and it’s pretty clear that he wants you just the same, but you have just enough sanity left to know that you can’t just be another one of the girls he’s slept with. You’ve liked him too much, and for too long, to be just another notch in his bedpost. This has to mean more to him, too.

“Ben,” you sigh, reluctantly breaking the kiss and feeling your heart palpitating as you open your eyes and see his swollen lips and dilated pupils. “I…I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“Me too, baby,” he smiles, and the new pet name alone is almost enough to make you cave on the spot and kiss him again. 

“I don’t just mean like this,” you say, hoping he understands what you mean. “I mean I want more with you. Something real.”

It’s the most terrifying moment of your life as you wait for him to respond, not sure what to expect. But when a wide grin breaks out on his face and he lets go of your waist to gently cup your face in both hands, your heart flutters uncontrollably. 

“I want that too, Y/N,” he says softly. “I’ve wanted it from the moment I first saw you, in the hallway at Cobham my first time there. You were wearing that flowy white dress, and I was so nervous being there, but you just smiled at me and introduced yourself and I felt so…safe.”

“You remember what I was wearing?” you ask in astonishment, thinking back to your first encounter with him. You have a similar memory of thinking he was the fittest guy you’d ever seen and how you could get lost in his eyes for hours. 

“Of course,” Ben smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, those same eyes sparkling. “And I remember thinking I couldn’t believe my luck that I signed for my dream club and met my dream girl on the same day.”

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes beginning to water from the heightened emotions you’re experiencing. 

“I-I never knew you felt the same,” you breathe. “Why did you never…”

“At first, I didn’t want to ask you out because I thought it might be frowned upon at the club and I didn’t want to break any rules or do anything inappropriate,” Ben explains. “And then we became such good friends, I didn’t think you would feel that way about me. When I tried to kiss you in Abu Dhabi and you turned me down, I took that as your answer.”

“God, no, Ben, I wanted to let you kiss me so badly,” you sigh. “I just couldn’t take advantage of you. You were drunk and emotional about the injury and…”

“I know, I know, it’s okay,” Ben assures you, pecking your nose quickly. “Now we both know how we feel, right?” 

You nod, resting your forehead against his for a moment and just taking this all in. You’ve wanted to be close to him like this for years, and to have it finally be a reality is almost too much to take. 

“Kiss me again?” you ask quietly. 

All you see is another quick flash of Ben’s grin before he leans in and presses his lips to yours. 

It only takes a moment to escalate back to the same passion you were both displaying before, and Ben’s hands move back to your thighs to pull you closer to him again.

You can feel your desperation for him growing by the second as his tongue explores your mouth and his hands roam your body. You reach for the hem of his t-shirt and pull it upward without breaking the kiss, making Ben chuckle as he helps you in your effort to remove it and tosses it on the floor. 

You immediately move your hands to his sides, feeling the toned muscles you’ve admired from afar all these years. 

The sundress you’re wearing gives him easy access to where you need him most, and his hand is tantalizing close as it rests on your upper thigh. 

“Ben, please,” you groan. “I want…can you-"

You’re interrupted by your own gasp of surprise as Ben tugs you closer and lifts you up off the counter. Your legs tighten around him reflexively, and the friction created makes you gasp again, this time in sheer pleasure. 

“Been waiting too long for this to not do it properly,” Ben says, punctuating his sentence with another, softer kiss. “You wanna go upstairs?”

You just nod and shift slightly to try to get down, but Ben only tightens his grip on your thighs and begins to walk toward the stairs. You continue to exchange sloppy kisses as he ascends the staircase, and you’re turned on even more by the strength and ease with which he carries you up to his room. 

He kicks open the door and gently lays you down on the bed before reaching over to flick on the lamp. You take a moment to take in your surroundings. Of all the times you’ve been in his house, you’ve never been in his bedroom. It’s cleaner than you expected, and a bit cozier and more lived-in than the rest of the house. There’s a book on his nightstand that you can’t quite make out the title of, and a photo of him and his family next to it. 

It feels like Ben, and you feel completely at home.

Ben climbs over you and begins to kiss you again, and your hands immediately fly to his shorts to help take them off. Once they’re discarded and he’s in nothing but his boxers, you can feel how hard he is pressed up against you. 

“Are you sure?” Ben asks softly, though you can see him biting his lip in anticipation as you lightly stroke him over the thin material.

You nod, maintaining eye contact as you quickly pull off your own underwear and toss them aside.

“I’m sure.”

Ben leans in to kiss you again, and you let out a sigh of pleasure as you let yourself surrender completely to the ecstasy of being with him. 

-

“I can’t believe we waited this long to do this,” you sigh dreamily.

You’re curled up in Ben’s arms, lying with your head on his chest and an arm and a leg draped over him. You’re both still catching your breath a bit after the most perfect, mind-blowing sex you’ve ever had in your life. You always knew he would be good in bed, or at least you thought he would be, but he truly surpassed all of your expectations. 

“I know,” Ben murmurs, pressing a reverent kiss to your temple. “I wish I had the courage to tell you sooner, but you’re so important to me. And a part of me also thought I would never have a shot with you.” 

You prop your chin up on his chest to look him in the eye, furrowing your eyebrows. “You thought that you, a super fit, gorgeous footballer would never have a shot with me? Are you being serious?”

Ben nods shyly, as if he didn’t just go down on you until you were seeing stars and screaming his name in pleasure less than 30 minutes ago. 

“You’re beautiful, Y/N, and you’re the smartest person I know,” he says, almost certainly making your cheeks redden. “You’re definitely out of my league.”

“Please, Ben, you spent the whole summer with Instagram models with perfect bodies,” you remind him, a bit ashamed of how insecure it made you seeing him all over social media with so many women you know you look nothing like. 

He laughs softly before shaking his head and pressing a soft kiss to your nose. “No, my mates spent time with those girls who don’t compare to you at all while I sat around feeling sorry for myself and missing you.”

You can’t resist leaning in to kiss him firmly on the lips, your hand tangling in his messy hair. Your heart is so full of affection for this boy already that you know it’s only a matter of time before you fall even deeper for him than you already have.

“You know, maybe it’s a good thing we waited,” you say when you break apart, your fingers still threaded through his hair. “We’re both a little older and more mature now, and we don’t work together anymore. If we’re going to do this, we should do it properly, right?”

Ben smiles sheepishly. “Does that mean you’re my girl now?”

You stiffen, a little surprised by his question even if it’s far from the biggest surprise you’ve gotten tonight. 

“I, um-well, if you want-“

“You already know what I want, babe,” Ben says with a soft expression on his face. “I meant it when I said you’re my dream girl. I want everything with you, Y/N.”

“Alright,” you reply, a wide smile breaking out on your face as well. “Then I’m all yours, Chilwell.”

You both lean in for a kiss at the same time, giggling softly against each other’s lips. You’re so giddy that it’s actually a challenge to kiss him properly, soft moans mixed with the glorious sound of his laughter. 

You don’t think you could ever get enough of this.

And as you drift off in Ben’s arms a bit later that night, after going another round and exchanging a few more soft goodnight kisses and tender words, you make a mental note to buy Sophia and Kai a really nice wedding present. You certainly owe them one.

-

a/n: please let me know what you thought of this, it makes my day getting feedback 💓 thank you for reading!

[canirove]

Broken Hearts Football Club | Chapter 21

Author's note: This chapter happens a couple of months after he previous one. Just letting you know in case it is a bit confusing.

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

"Girls, you don't need to come with me. I'm just going to jog on the grass, nothing else."

"But it is the first time you are doing it since you injured your knee, June!" Lauren said.

"And we are really proud of you, so we are joining you" Vittoria added.

"What about your training session?"

"We told the gaffer we will be a bit late, don't worry. Shall we?" 

"Ok, fine" June sighed.

After many hours working in the gym and the pool and spending time with the physios, she had finally gotten the green light to go outside onto the pitch and do some light running. There still were a few months left before the World Cup, and everyone was being very optimistic about her being able to make it. She just needed to keep working hard and stay focused on her goal. 

"What the…" June gasped as she walked outside.

"Surprise!" Vittoria and Lauren said, hugging her from behind.

"What… what is this?" 

"Thought we were the only ones proud of you?" Lauren said.

"I… I…" 

"Aww, June" Vittoria said, wiping away a tear.

Her whole team was waiting outside for her, doing the usual passageway they do for the winners of a trophy. Though this time, it was just for her. 

"Will you girls walk with me? I can't do this alone."

"Of course" Lauren said while holding her hand, Vittoria doing the same on her other side.

"Ok, then" June said, taking a deep breath. The moment she took the first step forward, everyone started clapping, making her cry and smile at the same time.

"C'mon, Maxwell!" someone shouted.

"Reece? What… Oh my God." 

It wasn't only her teammates waiting for her. The men's team had also joined them, some staff members too.

"Everyone wanted to be here for you, June" Lauren smiled.

"And when we say everyone, we mean everyone" Vittoria said, nodding towards their left. 

"Mason?" June whispered. He was there. He was actually there, smiling at her. And it looked like an honest smile, because his dimple was showing.

"I… I don't know what to say" she mumbled when she made it to the end, tears still rolling down her cheeks. "It means so much that you are here today. All of you" she said, looking at Mason. "Never in a million years would I have expected something like this, so thank you very much, everyone. Thank you."

"Three cheers for June Maxwell!" Reece shouted again.

"Oh my God, he is so lame" Lauren said, making June laugh before everyone started chanting. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Pst, Maxwell. Maxwell!" someone called when June was leaving the changing room.

"Ben? What are you doing here?"

"I came to watch you on the grass for the first time" he smiled.

"You… you did?"

"Yep."

"But I didn't see you. Where were you?"

"At the offices. I came with the excuse of visiting some old friends from when I was still playing."

"Oh, I… Thank you."

"I'm so proud of you, June" Ben said, walking towards her. "You are gonna make it to the World Cup."

"We'll see" she replied, nervously playing with the strap of her bag.

"I know you will. I believe in you" he said, his hand suddenly next to her face, his fingers caressing her cheek before putting a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Thank you" June whispered, the butterflies on her stomach going crazy.

"Can I kiss you?" 

"You don't have to ask, Ben" she chuckled.

"You already punched me once, I don't want to risk it" he smiled.

"Idiot."

"Can I or not?"

"Of course you can" she said before his lips found hers. 

"Oh my God!"

"Mason!" June said, quickly moving away from Ben. "What are you doing here? You scared the hell out of me."

"I work here" he replied.

"I meant now. Shouldn't you be in training?" 

"We… Chilly, are you ok?"

"Yeah, yeah" he said.

"Ben, you are too pale. Are you sure you are ok?" June asked, touching his face.

"I'm fine, I just…"

"Mason, help me!" she screamed as Ben's eyes started to close.

"Chilly! Chilly, hey!" he said, holding his friend and helping him sit down on the floor. "Chilly, can you hear me?"

"I… I don't feel ok" he said. "June…"

"I'm here" she replied, taking his hand on hers. "I'm here."

"June, I…" 

"Ben! Ben, wake up!" she cried as his eyes closed once again, his body going limp. "Ben!"

"I'm going to find a doctor" Mason said before disappearing through the corridor.

"Ben, please. Wake up. Wake up, please, please" June sobbed while holding him. "Please, wake up. You can't leave me, Ben. You can't. Please."

[starrrling]

TASK 005: THE TALENT SHOW

"Y'know, I had to retune my guitar for this, you guys..."

Richard got her the guitar for her fourteenth birthday, and she named it Desdemona. It was a vintage Taylor, exactly like she’d asked for, an electro-acoustic Dreadnought in whiskey sour. She’d loved it fiercely for years, irritating everybody on the third floor (Reece didn’t like the sound-proof music room in the basement—not enough light) with her covers of Liz Phair, The Cure, No Doubt. 

How many Fridays in a row were the wards treated to a breakfast performance from Reece, singing “I don’t care if Monday’s blue…!” into her cereal spoon? (That was after Richard made a rule about Reece not bringing her boombox down to the breakfast table, but before Mrs. Tristan made a rule that Reece could only eat cereal with her hands—a rule which lasted all the way through 1992.)

Desdemona remained behind at the Woodrow House when Reece moved out, replaced by her more portable electric Jaguar, Jenny. But she had Desdemona with her again now, still spangled with faded stickers, just a little bit too big for her to comfortably cradle sitting down. She wanted to tell herself that something about it just felt right. She didn’t want to think about the fact that she’d forgotten the Jaguar at the apartment that she was not sure she could go back to, the apartment she’d shared with Jack and from which she’d fled to Alison’s car with only the essentials. But Jenny had been an essential, and Reece had forgotten. 

So she had Desdemona in hand when she stepped into the pool of golden light in the spare room, onto a sort of stage they’d set up, because they were doing a talent show. Reece was plaintively aware of her status as entirely unextraordinary in comparison to the vast majority of the other wards; rather than brimming with potential, she’d been a lost soul, somebody to be saved. 

“Last January,” Reece said, moving to the mic, squinting a little against the light, her smile self-effacing, “when D was driving me to rehab—that long, quiet drive downstate, y’know, hours where you don’t see a single other soul on the road—he turned on the radio. Switched it from static to NPR, sort of mindlessly, but they were talking about Bush’s second inauguration, which made me want to drink, so I changed the station until I got to one playing Green Day. This song. The chorus came on, and there’s this part, right, where Billie Joe Armstrong rhymes the word ‘again’ with itself, a little clumsy. So, when he heard that, Richard sort of frowned, and he said, ‘Adverb epiphora in a chorus? That makes me want to drink.’ So, this is for him. Just the verses.”

The song’s main riff itself was simple enough, a lot of 0-2-3 stuff around the fifth and sixth chords, quick and twangy and vaguely hypnotic. A few repeating counts of just that sound in the quiet, her calloused fingers plucking at the strings in rote memory, and then Reece began to sing. Her voice was somehow both dulcet and hoarse; she didn’t think she had the kind of voice that anyone really needed to hear, but when had that ever stopped her?

Summer has come and passed,  the innocent can never last, wake me up when September ends. 

Richard had signed her up for singing lessons shortly after she arrived at Woodrow (“What she lacks in discipline, she makes up for in volume,” the instructor had told Richard once); then followed piano, percussion, guitar, music theory. When she started really learning to write music at 15, it was euphoric, like her skull had split clean open, but her actual aspirations for her future remained vague. Maybe she never really believed that she was talented enough to get very far, or maybe she just couldn’t picture any future version of herself that was successful, capable, exceptional. She wandered her way through a few years of majoring in ‘recorded music’ at NYU, and she ended up as a dropout guitar teacher in Staten Island. 

Like my father’s come to pass,  seven years has gone so fast, wake me up when September ends. 

The song, she knew, was so absurdly apt, almost too on-the-nose. It seemed somehow like the safest option for her performance, like the plain honesty of the song would keep every other true thing that Reece didn’t want everyone to know from pushing past her lips when she stepped onto the stage. Reece was trying very hard to make herself opt for whatever the safest option was, but it was behavior that didn’t come naturally to her at all. 

Ring out the bells again, like we did when Spring began wake me up when September ends. 

Her voice was too loud in her own ears; her exposed skin felt sunburnt from the spotlight’s glare. She was too terribly present, so here and now exactly when she didn’t want to be, exactly when she didn’t know if she could handle it. It was as if Reece could suddenly see her whole life condensed, a series of saviors and nosedives, the bleakness of who she was when nobody else was around to hear her. The word curse was lodged behind her uvula, it was catching between her two front teeth. Richard was dead, and she was starting to wonder if maybe it mattered that she was a lost cause who was probably completely doomed.

[angrysadhappy]

I can’t eat at Thanksgiving

The table is too close to my stomach and the seats are too tight around my hips, I hate the taste of strawberry flavored jello and orange cream soda. My cousins next to me spill their disgusting concoction of mashed potato-soup-n-Reece’s peanut butter cups onto my plate, my siblings in front of me annoy me with their conversation, the things they bring up to either embarrass or mock me,

“Hey Jas, hey-“

“What Melinda.”

“You’ve got something- giggle- you’ve got something on your face”

I sigh. I roll my eyes

“What. Melinda.”

“Something stupid!”

everyone cracks out high pitched giggles or squeals. I am not amused, I am very annoyed;

Im 16 but im still sitting in the kid’s table.

I stare at the adults; up at them I admire their clean clothes, their sophisticated talks, their expressions are appropriate and pleasant, they all look so put together, like a painting they look perfect.

I stare down in shame, looking at those who sit with me; their dresses stained, opening their mouth full of food to laugh, hitting each other or stealing food off each others plate, too many conversations going at once, we are so unkept, so much of a distraction, I feel like a burden. I sit here with them as if I belong so well in this environment. I’m afraid to make eye contact with my mother or uncle, to see in their eyes what confirms that I deserve to be sat in the kids table.

Ive lost my appetite, i refuse to eat

I’ve felt this way for a while.

Not even when I brought a boy to dinner did my position change, not after I got caught and got “the talk”, and then the break up and I’ve told my family everything; not even after all that did they invite me to sit with them. I see it now having a man doesn’t make me woman, I see now being 16 doesn’t make me mature, but I can’t seem to understand that even when i understand the politics, know the name of wines, know the taste of liquor and the reasons why some people aren’t invited; I still don’t know why I can’t sit at the adult’s table.

My aunt died.

I took her place, I sit where she sat, got her same plate

Green beans, gravy on potatoes, BBQ Rudy’s takeout meats, sweet cream corn and white bread for a side dish

I miss her, she was the one I admired most. I looked up to her in every sense; made my makeup look like hers, I fake her birth marks and I even learned her accent— she’s got this way of her that I think I’m losing. She’s a child at heart, everyone’s baby, but she died so young so I guess it makes sense that everyone expects me to be what she should’ve been.

I know I shouldn’t take creative liberties when writing about the truth but as absurd it might seem this is what I think.

I truly do feel like I have to be someone’s everything, that without me they die, without my mind they’d go crazy, act like I’m a part of their body; most preferably the heart. But i learned that kind of thinking is what killed my aunt, that way of submissive cheating is what weakens the body, crushes the hope in your mind and leaves nothing but a withered soul who wishes for death, no longer does it believes it deserves happiness.

What a fucking joke this adult table is, not every family member is here, not everyone is here by choice and no one is really happy; god damnit why did I ask to sit here! was it my ungrateful thinking that brought this darkness?

The living room feels so small now, the lights don’t glow as bright and Thanksgiving brings me nothing but anxiety. I don’t miss my parents, my grandma or my aunt, I miss my cousins, my siblings and toys. I miss being a kid, back when I had nothing in mind. So badly I want to sit, sit back where I belong at my favorite spot in the kid’s table.

But I don’t fit. I’m too grown for a colorful plastic seat, my appetite changed—

“What does that mean?

“It means I don’t eat the same”

“Why?”

“I can’t handle sweets”

“But I love candy— I love Reece’s Peeb-mut M-cups”

“Yeah I like em too”

There it is. There’s my answer. My why to;

I’m 16 but I’m still sitting at the kid’s table.

Im still a child which is why I feel comfortable sitting here, but in just 3 years I’ll be an adult so that’s why I don’t fit in my seat. I feel uncomfortable because I’m in a transition of getting ready to leave. The action of fleeing doesn’t mean I’m in danger, I want my body to understand this; that changes don’t always equate to negative things. This is a part of life many find difficult, I think that’s natural. This way of thinking is good for the soul, it gives the body its strength to grow, the mind permission to breathe and learn. It gives the meaning to life and it makes the idea of the adults table more comfortable.

Today, this thanksgiving; I sit where my aunt used to sit but that doesn’t mean I need to be what she should’ve been. My uncle doesn’t bring up my grades, my mom doesn’t ask about my exes, grandma called me a young lady and my cousin just turned 3.

I sit and watch him take my seat. With great pride I wonder what he thinks of me, because in little glances when I pass the turkey, pie or green beans; I see him staring at me, the same eyes I couldn’t take off Tia Candy.

[franklycharmed]

Location: The powder room on the first floor

Date: September 7, 2005

Closed starter for @meadelicta

Tip tip tip.

It was barely a knock at the door, just Frankie's nail, red from Natalia's handiwork, tapping at the hardwood. "Kamon?"

No answer, the only noise was the unintelligible sound of Reece's voice drifting down the hall from the Great Room. Something about Richard actually hating Green Day? Frankie blocked it out, pressing her ear to the bathroom door instead. Silence.

It was the silence that terrified her. Blank nothingness, no color, no warmth. Just speaking fruitlessly into a void. It had always set her on edge for reasons she had never bothered to examine. There was a difference between quiet and silence, the former peace, the latter a wall. Frankie would scrape her fingers raw trying to climb it.

She felt blindly at the back of her head, extracting a bobby pin. She had known Kamon wasn't okay but hadn't pried, opting, not for the first time, to passively solve problems.

"I'm going to let myself in, okay?" Time for a more active approach. She pried the bobby pin open with her teeth. "So if you are, you know, in the bathroom for the bathroom, put your pants on or whatever."

It took a moment to jiggle the bobby pin into the lock just right, but there was a tell-tale click and she gently pushed the door. "You there, duck?"

[chvndlr]

task seventeen: spring forward

1. first things first: do you like spring?

Yeah, it's fine I guess. Not my favorite but I don't really have anything against it either.

2. what is your favorite thing about spring?

Look, my favorite season is winter. I like the cold. I like the snow. I like that nobody's trying to get me to hang out at the beach. But I gotta admit the sunshine and the warmer (but not hot) weather feel pretty good.

3. what is your least favorite thing about spring?

I'm gonna be real with you. I fucking hate summer. Spring means we're that much closer to it and that I have another, like, six months before it starts to cool down again.

4. do you have a vegetable / produce / fruit garden?

No. I've thought about starting one, it'd be way better for my cooking than being at the mercy of whatever's in stores. But it's a lot of work and I don't think I've ever kept a plant alive in my life.

5. how about flower beds, or things planted in the house?

My house gives off a certain vibe. That vibe says "I'm 22 and I've never lived anywhere but a college dorm" which, despite not being factually true, feels accurate. Learning how to not kill a houseplant would really go against that aesthetic.

6. regardless of what you do or do not plant, are you good at growing plants? have a green thumb?

I think I've done a very good job explaining I'm fucking terrible at growing shit.

7. what’s your favorite flower or plant?

They're all pretty much the same....(Don't tell Nari I said that)

8. what’s your favorite scent that you associate with spring?

Floral scents. But not like real flowers, like candles.

9. is there a sound that you associate with spring time?

I guess birds chirping? You don't hear them much all winter, cause most of them leave and come back, so when you start to hear them a lot it really feels like spring

10. do you prefer sunny mornings or rainy afternoons?

Rainy afternoons. I'm not usually up early enough in the mornings to be happy about the sunlight coming into my house.

11. favorite thing to do on a sunny, warm spring day?

Take Jenna on a walk

12. favorite thing to do on a rainy, chilly spring day?

Stay inside and invite a friend over to play video games all day

13. do you celebrate Easter? any traditions you follow for it?

Eh, not really. My family was never big into holidays, so they were never a big deal to me as an adult either. No traditions or anything. And it's not really a holiday people get together and party for like Halloween or St. Patrick's Day

14. regardless of if you do or don’t: favorite Easter candy?

Anything chocolate-peanut butter. So Reece's I guess?

15. what other springtime holidays do you observe?

Are there even other spring time holidays? Other than St. Patrick's Day, I mean. Like who the fuck is out here celebrating Memorial Day?

16. favorite place in Merrock to visit in the springtime?

I've been here a couple years but I don't know. Pine Grove Gardens make for good photos in the spring, so I guess we'll go with that.

17. the spring bugs are coming out: do you rescue them and let them out of the house, or grab the nearest shoe?

Shoe. I don't need them getting back in the house the way they came in and fucking up any fruit that's on the counter.

18. are you a big spring cleaner?

Yeah. I didn't come to Merrock with much stuff, so I don't have much to declutter yet. But I am big into making sure every room is deep cleaned at least twice a year - in the spring and in the fall.

19. do you switch over your wardrobe from cold weather to warm weather clothes?

I saw a meme about switching from your winter blacks to your summer blacks, which sums up how I feel. I mostly wear jeans and tshirts year round, so all I really do is put my thicker jackets away for a few months.

20. how about the house: does your decor change for the spring season? do you rearrange furniture?

Yeah, I tend to switch out my decor every few months so it doesn't feel boring. It's been awhile since I rearranged furniture though. I like where it's at now.

21. what color makes you think ’spring’?

Pastels, right? Isn't that the big thing every year? The easter bunny is usually made in pastels, I notice a lot more pastel clothing when I'm doing photoshoots too

22. describe your perfect spring outfit:

Same thing I wear every day. I don't really think about my clothes unless I need to dress up more. And even then, I just make sure I look nice enough without putting a whole lot of energy into it. most adorable looking baby animal that you ever did see?

23. what’s a drink that makes you think of spring?

Mint julep. Couldn't explain the connection to you, but I seem to have them more in the spring than any other time of year

24. how about a snack?

Easy, peeps.

[smootbrainchicken]

Without Me

Part 2

September 2, 2024

School was mid. I expected it but I had hoped maybe I could just pass by and let the world spin around me. Nope, the first problem came after 2nd period.

2nd period honors English with Mr. Wilson, one of my favorite teachers but least favorite classes. I like English to a point, and we crossed that point 5 years ago in 6th grade. Now it’s just a class I tolerate. Unfortunately for me I am actually good at English so they keep putting me in higher education English classes and that’s how I ended up in class with mr. and ms. know-it-all, Violet Davison and Barry Saloman. They have been dating for 2 years and honestly they deserve each other, she can never shut up and he is first in line to correct someone over anything. That’s also how I ended up in the same class as Reece Tallon, a totally hot senior. The seating chart for class had me in the front of the class far left row, right in front of Reece and beside Violet. Violet seems to think that because Ii’m not part of the popular clique anymore that we are friends because she keeps talking to me about her summer and how great her schedule is this year.

“Look I know it’s the first day and all but I really don’t care” I snapped at her.

“Oh, I had just thought that since you had fallen from the top of the high school social hierarchy, you would be my friend” she replies.

I rolled my eyes, “I didn’t fall from the hierarchy.”

“You kinda did. I mean you were basically the second in command to Allison, queen bee status, now you're a nobody.” she remarked.

“First of all she didn’t rule the school at 15, she was popular but she wasn’t a sophomore superhero. Second, I didn’t fall off the face of the earth, I left a toxic group of people, and plenty of them are following suit.” I argued.

“She’s right you know,” Reece chimes in.

I turned to him, “excuse me?”

“I just mean that you were on top of the world hun, even i know who you are” he explains.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” I snarked.

He raises his hands in mock surrender, “Alright honey no need to get snappy. I get that it’s a sensitive topic, why don’t you sit with me at lunch today?”

“I can’t leave Danni,” I told him quickly.

“Then she can come too, we have room” he answered.

“Are you sure that it’s okay?” I am skeptical about his invitation.

“I’ll see you at lunch today” he says, shutting me down.

“Y-yeah, we will be there.” I stutter out.

“Perfect see you then,” he winks at me then walks out of the class.

“Violet! Let’s go, "Barry yells across the room.

“Goodluck with Allison, you’re gonna need it” Violet walks away from me to go to 3rd period.

That was the first time I was specifically sought out by people today, the next was lunch. Danni and I used to sit at the center table with the popular clique and the jocks sat one table over but now they have combined the two and the popular boys and girls sit together to judge everyone else who are obviously so far below them. Theo is sat by his best friend and he seems comfortable enough with that crew I don’t even try to say hello. There's no need to try to rescue him because he doesn’t need rescuing, those are his people, and they used to be mine too. Reece is waiting for us by the door to the lunch room with a small grin on his face. He greets us kindly and kisses both of our hands.

“Hello ladies, right this way,” he points his hand towards the door.

“We are going outside?” Danni asks him before I can.

He walks backwards so he can look at us, “Yes we are, my friends and I eat in the courtyard not the cafeteria.”

“So we won’t be judged immaculately?” I asked sarcastically.

“I can’t promise you that, but I can promise you the vibes will be good. You will be judged in a ‘we think you rock and want to ask you to come back’ type of way” he says it almost like it’s been rehearsed.

He swings the door open revealing the lush green courtyard and 5 other people. They look up as we walk forward and Reece goes over to one of the other guys and hugs him roughly.

“Guys this is Danni and Lydia. Lydia, Danni, this is my crew. The red head laying down is Eve.” he introduces

“Sup kid” she nodded to me, she looked familiar, I think I had math with her last year.

“You're a junior like us aren’t you?” Danni asks for me.

“Yeah, I had math 3 with you last year” she responds.

“The guy laying on her stomach is Mack” Reece points.

“What’s good?” he says with his eyes closed.

“Then we have Olivia and Charles Mason, cousins.” Reece continues.

“Hey girls, call me Liv” she says, holding her hand out for me to shake then turning to Danni.

“Yeah and call me Chuck, Charles is too pretentious” he says while wrestling with Reece.

Reece gets out of a head lock, “and last but not least T.J.”

“Taylor Jackson nice to finally meet you,” she commented.

“Like Reece said my name is Lydia, and this is my friend Danni.” I say trying to keep all the names straight in my head.

Chuck puts his arms around Danni and I, “How did you meet our little Reecey poo here?”

“Actually Lydia is the one who met him, I am just here because she is my only real friend anymore.” Danni responds before I can.

“Yeah, so Reece and I met in English class today. I was arguing with Violet Davison and he interjected into our argument. We talked for a little while and he invited us to sit with you all at lunch today.” I explain.

The whole group of them seem to share a knowing look, leaving Danni, Reece and i in the dark on the context. Eve and Liv smile at each other having a silent conversation before they speak.

Eve is the one who says, “So you're the girl who made a big deal and left that Allison chick’s friend group last year?”

“Yeah that’s me, the ‘fallen’” I say.

Reece laughs at it, like I thought he would because he was in the class with me and was clearly listening to my conversation with Violet.

Danni looks at us confused with the rest of the group, “wait why is that funny?”

“It was just something Violet kept saying during second period,” I told her.

[wild-stray-renegade]

"Reece's Cups"

Author's note: My writing is sponsored by commas and em dashes. Do not expect anything above a thirteen-year-old's writing on Wattpad or else you'll be sorely disappointed. This was brought to you by my 5 am energy bursts and those who sat on voice channel to listen to my incessant rambling. They're the real MVPs here. Also cursing and bullying warning Word count: 2758

Reece scribbled away on his ragged notebook as his teacher droned on in the background. Periodically, he would look up and see draining math equations scrawled in bright red and green dry erase markers contrasting the white background This typically wasn't a problem for him. Today he couldn't focus on them. He couldn't focus on anything really, but today was definitely not a math day.

"Hey, Reece! Are you paying attention or do I need to send you to the office again?"

Reece snapped out of his trance. His gaze shot up to meet the teacher's in a slight panic. "I'm listening!"

The teacher squinted her eyes in distrust. "Okay then—" She points back at the board. "If 2x2(5-x)(3x+2) = 0, then what is the sum of all of the possible values of x?" Before he could answer, the bell's call rescued him. She dismissed the class with a groan and a hand wave. Only having two notebooks and a small pencil pouch, Reece was the first to bolt out of the door and into the hallway. His three-year old shoes quietly squeaked with every step on the cracked tiled floor. Students slowly filled up the narrow halls around him. Grateful for the disguise, he snuck to the basement where his favorite class awaited- band.

Once in the basement, Reece walked to his assigned locker in the corner. The paint was peeling off in spots, centering around a decent sized dent in the door. Every day, that dent made it harder for Reece to yank it open. He wished that the locker was closer to the entrance but it was one of the only large-sized ones that could fit his tuba so he was stuck with it. He slowly pulled the hand-me-down instrument out from its jail, being extremely careful not to damage the thousand-dollar item. After carefully setting it down on the stool in the corner, he shut and locked his locker. Sounds of footsteps thundered down the hall behind him.

Reece braced himself for the worst with a heavy sigh.

A long shadow loomed over Reece as a stocky jock towered over him. Dark brown hair hid the light; a pair of grey eyes glaring down at the smaller male. A sense of impending doom radiated from his frame as a small smirk brushed across his stoic features.

"Hope you enjoyed your weekend break, pipsqueak."

Reece sniffed quietly, his sinuses stuffed from the spring allergies. At least he couldn't smell the body odor slowly filling the room. "Enjoyed is a strong word, although I did enjoy the peace and quiet that I felt away from here. Better than whatever chaos your parents had to deal with since you were home." His feet lifted from the floor as the jock picked him up by the collar and crushed him against the wall. He sucked in some of the missing air as a squeak escaped, his hands gripping Sam's arms. Yeah, I asked for that one. "Oof- decided to live up to the 'football quarterback bully' stereotype moves there, Sam? I could have sworn I've seen this move pulled in any typical bullying movie. I thought you were smarter than that. Friday's attack with a wasp in a jar was at least creative. This is just disappointing."

Sam growled as his grin quickly disappeared, replaced with bared teeth. His eyes hid a sting of pain that Reece's words left in their wake. "Listen here, you insect. Your voice is annoying and it digs into my brain like a disgusting cockroach." Spittle covered Reece's face as the grip on his collar tightened as Sam spoke, ensuring his hold on Reece. His breath drifted towards Reece's nose. The hot gust reeked of foul, rotten flesh. The scent reminded him of when they had to dissect a frog freshman year and he ran out of the classroom bawling his eyes out. "All you do is sit around and never actually accomplish anything. You're lost in your mind for some godforsaken reason."

"Might I interrupt your beautiful interlude for a second here, I'm making solid A's and B's, which is better than what you can say. I've seen your report card from last month where you dropped it in the hallway. You should really start taking notes there."

Sam threw him into the corner with a loud grunt. "Shut the hell up, smartass! I don't care about what grades you make or that you think they matter." He picked up the tuba, the lights reflecting off of the metallic surface. The sight struck fear into Reece. "You know? Getting caught up in foolish hobbies like music or dance won't get you anywhere. You'll end up chasing a worthless dream and wind up nowhere."

He threw the tuba against the brick wall, severely denting the metal. He turned around and looked over his shoulder. "At least my baseball skills will get me far in life- my father is the coach for the Mets, after all. Where will your tuba skills get you?" Following that statement, he strutted off with his chest puffed out.

Reece set up and rubbed his head. It took all of the willpower he had to fight back the waterfall that threatened to break from his eyes. The pounding of his head attempted to distract him from anything going on around him. As if in cohorts with Sam, the light above him flickered a few times before shutting off. He was left alone in the darkened corner of the locker room. He pushed himself up and off of the crumbling wall with a stumble. despite his wavering balance, he made it to the bench where the tuba lied. He slowly lowered himself onto the wooden surface as a creak responded in protest. He stared down at one of his only prized possessions in pain- the tuba was comparable to his poetry notebook in that category. His head was muffled with thunderous pulses while his thoughts were incoherent. Other classmates came and went in droves around him. Their chittering filled the room as they either grabbed their instruments or placed them back into their holes. No one noticed him, and if they did then they didn't care about how he was.

Only one student noticed him- Conner, his best friend of 8 years. He could see right through any frail attempt of a front Reece would put up to deflect. Normally, Reece would be happy to see his best friend's optimistic face, but today was the worst day for him to show up.

Conner slipped over to where Reece was sitting with his own tuba in tow. "Hey, you good dude?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just dropped my tuba." Reece leaned down to pick it up with a slight wince. His side sorefully ached from being rag-dolled at the wall. He didn't want to admit to Conner about how Sam bullied him yet again; last time he told Conner about their altercations Conner got sent to detention for a week straight. "Let's just get to class."

The duo walked to the bandroom and took their spots together, the director watching them. He noticed the dent in the side of Reece's tube but didn't comment on it. Today they were practicing their set for May's competition and wanted everyone to have their full attention on rehersal. Reece's tuba sounded slightly off, but no matter what he did it wouldn't go back to how it sounded last week. He decided he would have to discuss it with his director. He managed to survive the practice— stopping halfway through as his tuba was more damaged than he initially thought.

Reece and Conner made a direct beeline for the lunchroom- Conner excited for the mozzarella sticks on the menu today and Reece excited for another chance to write. The former hopped in the lunchline immediately, salivating at the smell. Reece went to their regular seat in the furthest corner of the packed cafeteria. He sat down and flipped open his notebook to the poem he was previously working on, his handwriting barely legible. He was giving haikus a shot as he's never tried writing them before.

The breeze flits drifts around

Holding Carrying a golden leaf;

Gentle as the a doe.

As he finished writing the rest of the haiku down, Conner approached with two orders of mozzarella sticks, some chicken, chocolate milk and a scoop of applesauce on a blue plastic tray. The corners of his mouth practically touched his ears as he plopped down. "Bro, I'm so glad today's mozz stick day." He took a giant bite of one and started chewing, poking at the other things on the tray. "Mmmmm….the chicken looks drier than my grandmam's ashes but I'm not here for that. They have cinnamon applesauce so that's another bonus!"

Reece chuckled at his friend's excitement over their lunch. Conner was one of those guys that spoke through his stomach. He was one hell of a chef and he could consume a meal fit for a whale. Reece pulled out his lunch box and pulled out a grilled cheese sandwich, a thermos of tomato soup, a can of knockoff Dr. Thunder and a Hershey's bar that his mom had packed for him, along with a little note. It was rare he got this type of lunch; normally it was just a sandwich and some chips, but yesterday was his birthday so he was spoiled a bit. He read the note and smiled. A shadow crept over him as he finished reading the note, but when he looked over his shoulder no one was there. He put the note away and started eating his food, Conner raving beside him about how good the food was as Reece's mind drifted elsewhere.

He wanted to be at home more than anything in the world. He loved hanging out with his chaotic mess of a friend, but there was nothing he loved more than when him and his mom would sit on the couch swaddled in some blankets with popcorn, drinks and a Disney movie marathon playing in the background. They would sit there and talk about his mom's work week, what he learned in class, the movie themselves and topics that just pop up in passing. After the stress of today...he needed a movie night.

When the two teens finished eating, they started to migrate towards their next class. They made a quick pit-stop at the bathrooms so Conner could hop in while Reece hung out on the metal bench outside. He was writing in his notebook when Sam strutted up like he was the alpha of the school.

"Hey, pipsqueak. I saw your mom was shopping for groceries at the dollar store yesterday. You that broke that you can't afford food from Walmart?" He cackled, Reece's eyes not leaving the page. "At least I get a healthy meal of steak for lunch every day. You get, what, a disgusting ass cheese sandwich and some knockoff tomato soup from a can?"

Reece snorted. "My sandwich was fantastic and so is my mother's cooking, so don't you dare mock her for that. At least I got homemade tomato soup." His eyes darted up to meet Sam's. "Judging based on how you act and your 'expensive' lunches, I'm assuming that your parents' love language is gifts and money. Your mom screamed at you when you guys lost the last baseball match."

"How dare you-" Sam started just to be cut off.

"I was there with the band, dumbass." Reece pushed up his glasses as he lkept his eyes locked with Sam. "She and your father both treat you like shit anytime you do something even slightly under the best of the best. When you finally get something perfect, you get, what- a pat on the back? A smile periodically? A fancy new pair of shoes?" Sam stood there, silent for once as he continued. "I got a question for you Sam- when was the last time you got an actual hug and not just a pat on the back? I get an actual hug from my mom every night before I go lay down- can the same be said for you?"

Daggers stabbed into Sam's chest with every word that Reece said. It didn't sting because of the way he said it, but because it was true.

"Listen here motherfucker. You don't know me nor do you know my life. I actually have fantastic parents- yeah, I may not get hugs or whatever, but those are for weak ass pussies like you."

Reece chuckled. "Wow, you must be popular with the girls then. No hugs? You don't want to show your girlfriend that you actually love them and don't see them as an object? You think your girl is a- how did you phrase it? A weak ass pussy?"

Sam growled with anger. He was being shown up by a nerd with a smartass mouth. He grabbed the top of the notebook Reece was holding and started to tug but Reece clung on this time. He wasn't about to let his notebook be ruined. They fought over it before Sam kneed Reece in the stomach, the notebook flying out of their hands and papers flying everywhere.

Reece knelt down in pain with a cry. He tried to breathe but with every inhale he kept feeling a stabbing pain on his right side. He looked up to see the papers flying and started grabbing for them, stacking them to his chest.

Kneeling and picking up one of the pages, Sam began to read it aloud with a strong and assertive tone.

All of the things you said

Keep running through my head

Even when I’m trying to sleep

Forcing me to lie awake in my bed

All of the things you said

Weighs me down like a ton of lead

To the point I truly wish I was dead

All of the things you said

Keep running through my head

????

Towards the end of the poem, Sam's voice started to falter and grow softer as what he was reading slowly sank in. It wasn't until he read the third stanza that he stopped, noticing the small Reese's cup doodle at the bottom of the page. Once the realization of what he was reading hit, tears began to prick at his eyes. His gaze left from the paper to Reece's face. The injured poet's gulp could be heard down the hall.

Sam slowly inhaled and exhaled in an attempt to keep his composure. His voice was wavering and his posture completely changed. "Reece...do you happen to post these online?"

Standing up with an armful of secrets and keys to his soul, he nodded. "Y-yeah...I write them here and then post them to my Tumblr; it's the only way for me to escape from here and, frankly, escape from your bullshit that I've been putting up with for the past ten years. Why?"

Sam locked eyes with Reece as a tear threatened to slip from his barricade of emotions.

"Because you're my favorite poet."

The world stopped for Reece. He swallowed slowly as he tried to process what he had just heard. "Wait… you read my work? How did you find it?"

The taller male grabbed Reece's arm and yanked him into the bathroom in an attempt to avoid the crowd of students wandering down the hall. Sam didn't seem to notice Conner washing his hands right beside where they ended up standing. "I've been reading poetry in general since I was about ten. It helped distract me from all of the fighting and the fact that I honestly didn't have a support system. Yeah, I have money and all of the things you could wish for but it's not the same as having caring parents. It's not the same as what *you* have. You have a pair of caring and loving parents that love and cherish you- even though you're broke, you're always happy."

Reece cleared his throat. "That still doesn't answer how you found me."

Sam looked at the floor and watched a cockroach scuttle away. "I was one of your first followers. I found you through another favorite poet of mine- back when you two did a collaboration together. Ever since then, I've read your works, commented on a few of them and even showed them to my friends here. No one would've even considered you were the author of them."

The poet bit his cheek in thought. "Tell you what. If you swear up and down not to bully me anymore, I'll let you be the first one to proofread my poems."

An offended "Hey!" echoed in the bathroom as Connor walked up. "I thought that was my position!"

"Okay, the second one to proofread them."

A genuine smile spread across the jock's features; a pleasant change.

"I'll take you up on that."

[my-head-is-an-animal]

Happy Wednesday

Chapter 9

Finch had warned him how careful you were, you’d spot a tail a mile off. Reese changed cars on each tail, but Finch was unsure about whether you’d fall for it.

    ‘Well, we’ve been to the school and to the charity garden party,’ Reese sighed. ‘I haven’t seen anything so far that strikes me as odd. Her security personnel are very thorough.’

    ‘Evelyn wouldn’t hire anything less,’ Finch sounded like he was walking. ‘She has always seen quality in people, even and most especially when they cannot see it in themselves. She has a way with people that is… breath taking.’

    Reese thought it an odd choice of word, that was until he parked close to the university building to see the man himself standing across the road, watching you step out of the blacked out vehicle, surrounded by three bodyguards and a much smaller driver. You were escorted swiftly and quickly into the building that was filled with students and visitors alike.

    Finch looked like a man longing for a life he once had, but had taken away too soon. Reece could see the heartbreak in his eyes, in the way he stood looking up at the university building, he really loved you.

    ‘You think this is a good idea?’ Reese asked, scanning the street as he approached where Finch was standing. ‘She might see you.’

    ‘I know it might be a mistake, but…’ there was evident emotion in his voice that Reese wasn’t quite ready for. ‘She didn’t deserve to be put in such danger. I should never have involved her with the machine, should’ve kept her at arm’s length… but then,’ Harold chuckled. ‘She’d never forgive me if I didn’t tell her, and honestly, I don’t know which is worse.’

    Reese didn’t have any advice, but he couldn’t stop Finch from going in to see your speech, all he could do was keep you both safe.

    There were heavy checks before anyone was allowed to enter the lecture hall, and Reese decided he wanted to take a look around instead of sitting listening to you talk about the internet.

    ‘Let me know if you see anything.’ He said, leaving a somewhat nervous Finch to enter the very back of lecture hall on his own.

 Harold made his way to a seat in the very back row amongst students sitting with their laptops and phones out. It gave him a small lift to realise how entertained you would be by that.

    He could feel his heart pumping a little harder as you were being introduced by the usual lecturer. Just seeing you in the flesh would be a privilege he hadn’t allowed himself in far too long.

    God, you were so beautiful. You’d barely changed since he last saw you, maybe a haircut that framed your face better than before, but you still had that playful confidence that he’d known you for.

    He was reminded briefly of your first kiss inside his hotel room, you always looked so good in that dress, so elegant in evening wear, but somehow you were making business dresses look elegant as well. The dark green of the one you were wearing for the lecture was stunning. A square cut with a floral design sewn over the top. You also wore the silver necklace, fiddling with it slightly as you stood flicking through your notes.

    Harold was captivated by every word, your voice unfiltered was something he missed so much, hearing your jokes, your one-liners, hearing you whisper, ‘I love you’. He removed his glasses, trying to compose himself and keep his emotions in check. Your entire speech was detailed, thorough and passionate, he sorely missed the passion you held for your work, so to see it one more time was a blessing he would always take advantage of.

    ‘Finch, you there?’ Reese said in his earpiece.

    ‘I’m here.’ Harold said as quietly as he could.

    ‘I’ve found the threat, four men posing as delivery drivers,’ he was panting a little. ‘But I need you to keep her there a little longer while I figure out how to get rid of them.’

    ‘Mr Reece, I cannot-‘

    ‘Finch these men will kidnap her if they get a chance. What’s worse, she finds out you’re alive, or she’s killed for information?’ Reese made his point and Harold’s chance was coming.

    He quickly wrote down a question and handed it off to a student, who just looked at him and shrugged. Harold urged him to ask it.

    ‘Any questions?’ You asked as a sign off to your speech.

    ‘Er, yeah,’ the student put his hand up to begrudgingly speak. ‘What about the dangers of the spread of misinformation? Surely that can used as a security measure, to keep information safe?’

    Harold had his eyes down, he couldn’t bear to look up, but you hadn’t yet answered and he got curious. You were looking directly at him. His entire body went cold, you had such disappointment in your eyes that it killed him. You took a deep breath and slipped off your glasses, clearing your throat before you spoke.

    ‘It would depend entirely on the information.’ You swallowed back any emotion you felt and Harold felt terrible that he’d caused you such pain in such a public setting. You cleared your throat once again. ‘If that’s all there is, it’s been a pleasure speaking with you.’

    Harold began to panic, he hadn’t given Reese enough time, in fact, you were leaving earlier than intended. What had he done?

    ‘Mr Reese?’ Harold stood with the rest of the noisy students, only to hear a lot of physical movement being made by Reese, he was in the middle of a fight, but he still needed to be warned. ‘I’m afraid, I may have miscalculated, Miss Brooke has left the lecture hall and will be on her way to your position by now.’

    There was no reply and that was never a good sign. Harold made his way to the where the delivery trucks would come in and found the one thing he dreaded more than anything. Reese passed out with a heavy wound to his head and your necklace on the floor next to one of the wheel of your own empty car.

    You had been kidnapped.

(Chapter link)

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[themickey]

closed starter for @starrrling when: september 6th, idk like 10am where: wherever reece is doing the music for the greenhouse

when angus told them the plans for the day, mickey was less than pleased. run around the grounds doing a scavenger hunt? hell yeah. tell her to clean the library or something? sure, she may get distracted but she'll do it. but clean up the greenhouse? ugh, mickey did not want to do that. she never had a green thumb and wasn't particularly strong to help do a bunch of lifting to clear out the space. usually, she would be the first to jump up and be helpful but she wasn't really feeling it today. instead, she was trying to find any excuse to put off helping without flat out hiding in her room. though, she did spend some time in there, digging through her drawers looking for something. which was why she was walking over to reece with a bounce in her step and a thick cd binder in her hands. "look what i found," she announces before shoving the binder out for reece to see. "it's all my old burned cds from when we were teenagers. there are so many good relics in here."

[sosimsofmaddi]

Intro: Shilo & Rio

Ughhhhhhhh. Thanks mods. I downloaded a few mods for this game, not thinking about the fact that Gunnar and Reese would need contraceptives if they didn't want more babies (we didn't want more babies). But GUESS what. We got more babies. I blame their shower activities.

Our house, which I LOVE, cannot support more babies. But, what can you do?? Aunt Roxana finally moved out. Following the lore, she moved in with her adoptive brothers to make room for the new Leikos-Geroux babies.

That also meant that Gunnar lost his art studio, not that he could use it much since Roxana was sleeping on a blow-up mattress in there. But there was zero room for his easel and supplies with the babies' nursery items. So we got two new babies, a nursery, and a little art studio upstairs for dad.

Gunnar's mood was my mood when I realized they were pregnant, and then when they had TWO more babies. That means we have Kelley (teen), Brucie and Juneau (twin kids), and now two newborn baby girls.

We redisigned the art studio to have this adorable little nursery! The babies are named Shilo (right) and Rio (left). Rio is the youngest.

I didn't age up the newborns right away. I let it happen on its own, but they were really trying my patience with all the crying. And Gunnar was definitely slower to respond, but Reece was on it 100%.

We got really cute new cribs for when they aged up to infants! I love that rug so much.

Shilo is the blonde! She's our fourth blonde baby, and her hair is closest to Brucie's white-blonde, but not quite same. Shilow was the bigger cry baby as newborns.

Rio is the brunette! She's our first dark-headed baby, but I do which that it was black like their mom, rather than this brown color. But all the kids, all five, received their mom's pink eyes! I love that. I thought for sure one of the four (of Reece and Gunnar's kids) would have Gunnar's green eyes! I kind of which one did!

The parents are now using contraceptives!

[exquisiteterrormagazine]

WIN: Green Room Blu-ray

Struggling punk band Ain’t Rights are in the Pacific Northwest for a gig, but when it’s cancelled, Pat, Sam, Reece and Tiger must find another way of making the money they desperately need. When an opportunity for a show in the sticks arises, they can’t say no… but what the hell have they walked into? The venue turns out to be a neo-Nazi bar, and when the band witness a brutal murder, things…

[pointlesswalks]

Green Room, 2015, a fragment

“When you take it all virtual you lose the texture.” So says the Ain’t Rights’ bassplayer, Pat (Anton Yelchin), in relation to a question about his band’s non-existent online presence. He continues, “You gotta be there. The music is for effect. It’s time and aggression. And it’s shared live, and then it’s over. The energy can’t last.” Pat’s statement is of course an ethical one – a commitment to living in the moment. These moments though, when not catalogued virtually or indeed by any other form of analogue or digital media, become the preserve of memory.

Although Green Room is a horror flick with a very simple set up – the members of a punk rock band are forced to fight for their lives after witnessing a murder at a neo-Nazi compound – writer and director, Jeremy Saulnier, is concerned with what it means to “live in the moment,” and to that end he dedicates some time to the cinematographic representation of memory and our experience of it.

 Memory as... ephemeral

This sequence begins just after Pat and Ain’t Rights’ guitarist, Sam (Alia Shawkat), siphon petrol out of a car so as to continue their journey. The first shot of the sequence is of the van’s dashboard. The lens used has a shallow depth of field, and focus shifts between a pair of shoes on the dash and a bauble that is hanging off the rear view mirror. We then cut to a shot of Sam’s – Alia Shawkat’s famously – curly hair. This shot is backlit, so we can’t make out any details about the hair apart from its texture. The source of light is sunlight streaming in from the car’s window as it makes its way down the road. Because of the shallow depth of field, we can’t make out any details of what’s whizzing past outside – it remains a pleasurable green blur. For a brief second the severity of the backlighting gives and Sam’s hair becomes a flash of auburn. The next cut takes us to Pat in a moment of reverie. This shot is a low-angle close-up of the right side of Pat’s head. Because of Pat’s location in the van and because of Anton Yelchin’s top billing, this shot indicates that the previous two shots have been Pat’s POV. The soft focus used in this shot that adds a daydream quality to Pat’s reverie. Pat’s gaze shifts in this shot as if he were looking around, and this seems to justify the final four, significantly shorter, shots in the sequence: the first is of an out of focus steering wheel; the second is of the outside of the van as seen between the gaps in the front seat headrest. This shot is a little less blurry than the one of Sam’s hair, and we can make out trees and a signpost or two. The third is another low angle, close up shot, but this time it is of Ain’t Rights’ singer, Tiger (Callum Turner), as he dozes. Light travels across his face causing some lens flare. The final shot is of a hand – we don’t know whose – opening a window. In this sequence memory is represented by a series of ephemeral and nearly abstract shots. These come to stand for memory that is unstructured and fragmentary, for memory that exists not as a whole but as a series of abstracted moments.

 Memory as... distance

This sequence takes place the night before the band’s fateful gig at the Nazi compound. The first shot is of a campfire surrounded by three pairs of feet. This cuts to a severely unbalanced two-shot: a little to the right of centre is a medium close up shot of Tiger drinking beer, facing screen left; at the very left of the frame is a medium full shot of Pat, laughing. Sight of Pat is soon obscured by another of the band members. We’ll learn later that this figure is Sam. The source of light is the campfire, which lights the shot in chiaroscuro. We then cut to a shot of Ain’t Rights drummer, Reece (Joe Cole), sitting down and telling some sort of anecdote. This is presumably the story that was making Pat laugh. This is also a medium full shot. The city lights behind Reece are out of focus and appear only as a line of occasional bokeh cutting across the horizontal of the frame. This cuts to a full shot of the band, and it is in this moment that the spatial arrangement of the scene becomes clear: the four member of the band are sitting/standing around a fire by a lake. A city can be seen across the water but it is not in focus. This is the longest shot in the sequence, and we can see the members of the band chatting and enjoying themselves. Here memory would also seem to be represented as being fragmentary: the chiaroscuro lighting, for example,

 Memory as... transcendence

This sequence takes place as the band plays in the Nazi compound. In the lead up to the sequence the band play a cover of the Dead Kennedy’s “Nazi Punks Fuck Off.” The choice of song is a deliberate and amusing provocation to the crowd. The sequence properly begins, however, when the band begin their second song, of which the crowd is much more appreciative. This song starts in real time but at a specific moment there is a match cut from Pat jumping with his guitar to a close up of the guitar in slow-motion. From this point on the rest of the sequence is in slow-motion.

 At the moment of the match cut, the music changes from the diegetic sound of the band playing to the non-diegetic score, an ephemeral synth track by the Brooke and Will Blair called “Moshpit.”

There are then a series of shots of the taken from within the moshpit of Nazis dancing, interspersed with a few of the band playing. The key to this sequence is the use of slow-motion. Slow-motion in this sequence serves to stretch out time – there is, in effect, more of the moment in the moment. This is visual representation of those moments which seem to last a lifetime, in which normal time is transcended.

In this latter shot, however, the crowd is out of focus, the part of the foldback amplifier is in sharp focus, you can even see the texture on the moulded plastic.

 Memory as... elision

[tawneybel]

Imagine after Big Justin deadpans he’s going to butt/fuck everyone in the room, Reece tells the bouncer it’s too late—you already did that to him, Tiger, and Pat before the show.