#mcstump

i’m fucking losing my mind that this is a person who takes up so much space on this website and has the attention of young p!atd fans, it’s SO HARMFUL

STOP WHERE IS THE LIE this is too real like josh dun could tie me up and other crazy shit but if i so much as got on top i’d feel like i’m pushing tyler to far and he’d need counseling

tasha u are being so relatable today I feel this

brendon is much too young to ever be called daddy wtf he’s a small child

Patrick doesn't have a crush. Crushes are stupid and trivial and Patrick's not a teenage girl. 

"Hey, Baby, what's goin' on?" Travie's voice comes low and smooth in his ear and, okay, Patrick is totally a fucking teenage girl. Whatever.

Patrick feels Travie's warm hand on his shoulder and he fights the urge to lean into the touch, to reach back and wrap his slender fingers around the back of Travie's neck and pull him down for an awkward, upside down kiss.

"Just messing around with some GarageBand stuff," Patrick mumbles, ducking his head to hide the crimson blush spreading across his face.

Travie's hand pulls away and Patrick swallows down a disappointed whimper. Travie sprawls out on the couch opposite to Patrick and gives him an easy grin. Patrick grins back. 

"Can I hear what you're working on?" Travie asks. 

Patrick swallows thickly and gives a half-hearted shrug. He hasn't let anyone hear what he's been working on--not even Pete. It's just stuff that's been bouncing around in his head, things that wouldn't work for the band because it's not their style. And Patrick is usually never nervous about sharing music he creates because, well, it's his job, but for some reason, this feels different. It's like sharing a diary filled with secrets. It's like sharing the countless blog entries he's written and never posted. 

Travie sometimes forgets that the sweet, tiny singer he's dating can play just as dirty as he does.

They're at some party in some loud club with some actually pretty decent DJ spinning tracks in the booth. Travie's sitting on a couch next to some girl who's pissed off that her partner is drunk and dancing with some other girl on the dancefloor. Travie's offering his condolences when Patrick saunters over and falls right into his lap. 

"Hey, gorgeous," Patrick murmurs in his ear. 

Travie grins, "What's up, baby?" 

Patrick smiles easily and Travie knows he's had a few drinks, but Patrick definitely hasn't had enough to not know exactly what he's doing. 

Patrick runs a hand up underneath Travie's t-shirt, letting his fingers skim along his warm stomach. He glances up at him with the most innocent look and then leans in to kiss Travie's neck. 

"We should go back to the hotel," Patrick mumbles before nibbling at Travie's earlobe. 

It's Patrick's wet dream and his worst nightmare all rolled into one. He watches longingly as Travie plays football with some of the techs and other band members, and Travie pulls off his shirt in the middle of the game to wipe his sweat. Patrick bites his lip and shifts from foot to foot uncomfortably. 

"Dude, you're like a dog," Joe says, approaching Patrick from the side, sunglasses and a baseball cap obscuring his identity and the likely hangover that's rattling Joe's brain. 

"What?" 

"You're looking at Travie like he's a piece of meat."

Patrick scoffs and feels himself blush. "I am not!"