#if you saw this posted a few weeks ago on instagram first… no u didn’t | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rinkrats · 3 years

Note

🥺 that mike lange story. But also those tags #sid loooves christmas #he loves giving presents #looks good in red #piles on the pounds fast #post hockey career as santa 😂😂👌🏽👌🏽

he loves his mementos and presents and is COMMITTED to them. scrapbooking. matching jackets. little pills with hidden motivational messages~*~ his love language is gifts and neck smooches and stalking geno. relevant right now are some anecdotes i sent a friend earlier this year for dorky sid gifts fic fodder:

1. Crosby's constant thoughtfulness would be impressive from anyone, much less someone of his stature.

"Sid always texts me happy birthday, he's always asking me like, how's Russia?" Evgeni Malkin said. "We talk and message all summer. He asks me how my skates are. He knows, like, everything. He follows my Instagram, I think (laughs)."

In addition to having a handle on those little details, Crosby is constantly providing those around him with memories and mementos. If the team is on the road and goes, say, sightseeing or to a sporting event and takes a group photo, Crosby will later send a framed copy to everyone.

When Ron Hextall and Brian Burke watched their first Penguins game in person, Crosby is the one who approached head equipment manager Dana Heinze and asked for two used game pucks to give to the new GM and president of hockey ops.

After the Penguins won in 2009, Crosby had jackets made for the three players on the team who had scored a Cup-clinching goal in Game 7: Talbot (Pittsburgh), Ruslan Fedotenko (Tampa Bay) and Mike Rupp (New Jersey).

"They were blue jackets with gold buttons, and each one had a patch on it that said 'GWG Game 7,'" Talbot said. "At one of our first team meals the next season, he presented us with the jackets and did a big ceremony with the music and stuff. We had a private room in the restaurant. I still have the jacket."

-The Consummate Teammate, Captain and Ambassador, Feb 2021

2. Merz: My first interaction with Sid was when we were on the bench, guys were talking about a teammate, and the first thing this 15-year-old says is, “Hey, guys. Let’s keep everything positive. Don’t talk about your teammates that way.”

Salcido: When we were getting ready for nationals, he found these little pills that you could put a hidden message inside. They unscrewed, and inside was a tiny scroll. He gave one to every teammate. … He had everyone fill one out. He didn’t tell anyone what to write, but he made it known that we all knew what the goal was: winning nationals. So we wrote on our scrolls, rolled them up and put them in the pill thing. We kept them with us everywhere we went.

-‘Is this real?’: Stories of Sidney Crosby’s year at a Minnesota prep school, May 2020

3. On “Butterfly Boy” Jonathan Pitre:

Though the Senators are his team, Sidney Crosby has always been Jonny’s favourite player. After the TSN documentary airs, Tina gets a call from the Penguins. Sid needs Jonny’s measurements. He wants to have a suit made for him by his personal tailor, Domenico Vacca.

“It’s the kindest, sweetest gesture,” Tina says. “Sid heard that Jonny went to a lot of games, so he wants him to look like he’s one of the guys.”

“I want him to feel like a pro,” Crosby says. “Here’s a guy who is going through something so painful, and his first thought is always, ‘How can I help others?’ When I was young, I’d watch on TV the players coming to the rink in their suits. That was a cool part of being an NHL player. I want him to feel that, to make it as real as possible for him.”

Tina tries to discreetly measure Jonny while she’s changing his dressings. But he’s way too smart for that.

“Um, Mom, why are you measuring me? Am I going for surgery again?” he asks.

“No, no!” Tina replies, trying to reassure him and come up with a good lie, all in the same breath. “The doctor needs them just to make sure they have proper dressings next time you are in.”

A few weeks later, the sharp navy blue suit shows up at their front door, along with a couple of ties, an autographed stick and a handwritten letter from Sid.

“His eyes just light up,” Tina says. “Jonny always liked to be well-dressed, and he just loves having his own suit. It fits perfectly. He looks so good in it.”

-Beauties by James Duthie (2020)

4. Pascal Dupuis inspired his Pittsburgh Penguins teammates on their run to the Stanley Cup, and Sidney Crosby found a special way of driving that message home.

Dupuis retired in December with lingering health concerns because of blood clots. Despite his NHL playing days coming to an end, the veteran forward remained an integral part of the Penguins and was in uniform to hoist the Cup after Pittsburgh's six-game win against the San Jose Sharks in the Stanley Cup Final.

On Sunday, Dupuis brought the Cup home one last time as a player to share a special day with his family, friends and hometown fans.

"Yes, it does feel bittersweet a little bit," Dupuis said. "You get the Cup, you want to celebrate. But at the same time I got a gift by the mail [Saturday]. Basically, it's a book of all the pictures of all the good stuff we went through. It came from Nova Scotia, so you guys can figure out who it came from (Crosby), but he couldn't give it to me during the season, he saw me skating a little bit.

"And he sent it [Saturday], before my day with the Cup, so he knew what he was doing to get me right here," Dupuis said, putting his fist over his heart.

-Pascal Dupuis shares Stanley Cup with family, friends, Aug 2016

5. In 2011, Crosby was out of the lineup with a concussion, and the Penguins made their annual visit to Children’s Hospital.

Crosby got along so well with one boy there and was so touched that he later asked Bullano to go back... just the two of them, no cameras, no attention.

When Bullano and Crosby met for the follow-up visit, Crosby appeared clutching a pair of Toys “R” Us bags, filled with a Transformer toy the two had discussed.

“He literally bought every type of this toy they make,” Bullano said. “[Crosby] had never seen it before and thought it was so cool.

“There are no pictures of this. There’s no video. He was laying in the bed with the kid. They were just playing. We were there for over two hours. I got to know the mom really well because we were just sitting there.

“The kid had no idea. Didn’t expect it. They had no idea he was coming. We got there and he said, ‘Hey buddy. hope you don’t mind that I came back.’ The kid couldn’t believe it.

“[Crosby’s] crazy cool about stuff like that.”

What’s crazy is trying to recount the many times stuff like this has happened with Crosby:

• The Little Penguins Learn to Play program has been around for nine seasons, outfitting now 1,200 kids with free head-to-toe hockey equipment. Not only does Crosby serve as the face of the program — which the NHL has now adopted — but he helps fund it, too.

“There’s an awareness of what a person in his position can bring,” Penguins vice president of communications Tom McMillan said. “I think he activates that as much as anybody I’ve seen during his playing career.”

• After a recent practice, Crosby noticed a local family in the Penguins dressing room, approached them, introduced himself, learned their story and wound up giving them a signed stick.

Nobody asked Crosby to do that, and he wanted zero credit when discussing it a couple days later.

“For people who have the opportunity to come in here, people dealing with certain things, if you can brighten their day a bit or spend some time with them, it’s something that’s special for all of us,” Crosby said.

• A few years ago, through a team charity event, Crosby befriended a 4-year-old Amish boy with cancer. Crosby remarked to Bullano how much he loved talking to the boy because of how engaging the boy was and how he wasn’t consumed with technology. Crosby even tried to visit the boy but learned he had passed away.

• He learns the first and last names of the kids who attend his hockey school in Cole Harbour, Nova Scotia.

“Two kids came from Japan its first year,” Bullano recalled. “He was so blown away by that. He couldn’t wait to meet them.”

• Earlier this season, the Penguins welcomed Grant Chupinka, 24-year-old cancer patient, into the dressing room. Crosby chatted up Grant and his parents, Steve and Kim.

He spent his usual time — about two or three times the requirement. Gave the tour. Then found out the Chupinkas didn’t have tickets for that night’s game and decided he would pay for them to go.

“I’m sure he could just give them an autographed puck or something, but he takes his time to go out and see them and talk to them and get to know them,” Brian Dumoulin said. “It speaks volumes for him and who he is as a person.”

Spend any length of time with Crosby during his visits with those less fortunate, and a few things become obvious.

One, Crosby is really good at these. Smooth but not in a slimy way. Sweet. You know how when you’re around someone talking and they go out of their way to make eye contact with everyone around? That’s Crosby.

He’s also humble, always introducing himself like those he’s meeting don’t already know. Holding a hand is no issue. And Crosby is the rare 20-something pro athlete without kids who acts every bit like he does.

“It is not an easy situation to talk to someone with terminal cancer,” McMillan said. “A lot of people couldn’t do that. He has an amazing ability to do that and make that person feel good.”

Crosby has welcomed several Make-a-Wish kids and tries, if at all possible, to schedule such events for practice days — to maximize the time he’s able to spend.

He’s developed a special friendship with Patrick McIlvain, a soldier who nearly died when he took a bullet to the head in Afghanistan. McIlvain actually does physical therapy with one of Crosby’s sticks.

A former club hockey player at Cal U, McIlvain comes by every year, and the Penguins don’t even bother to tell Crosby. Either he already knows or immediately stops what he’s doing to come say hello.

“He’s not doing it to leave a legacy,” said Terry Kalna, Penguins vice president of sales and broadcasting. “His numbers leave the legacy. He’s just a down-to-Earth, good guy.”

Before a visit, Crosby has Bullano email him what is essentially a scouting report on who he’s going to meet. He likes to learn about them, their situation and what they’ve been through. As much information as he can ingest. Crosby never just swoops in, shake a hand and leave.

“As much as anyone has ever seen, he accepts the responsibilities of being not just a professional athlete but a star professional athlete,” McMillan said. “He views it as part of the job. Like coming to the morning skate. That’s just what you do.”

Put another way, “he owns those moments,” says Kalna.

Said Bullano, “He’s just a good human being.”

-When it comes to giving, Sidney Crosby does as much as he can, Feb 2017

6. When Crosby received a generous signing bonus on his Reebok deal, he wanted to share it with everyone.

“He gave everyone on the bus gifts,” says Oceanic radio commentator Michel Germain. “Him sharing his bonus with all the people he’d been travelling with for two years, that impresses me greatly. I think the most important thing about Sidney Crosby is his personality and the kind of human being he is. What he exuded. The inner richness he’d already developed.”

-Superstitious and generous, Dec 2006

7. also this simply because it makes me ;w;

Even in defeat — no, especially in defeat — Sidney Crosby proved why he wears the "C" for the Penguins.

After the game, with his heart sinking and his season over, the Penguins’ captain bent over, sank to the ice to pick up the puck, took it to linesman Tony Sericolo and then skated to his team’s handshake line.

I immediately thought of a View from Ice Level I’d written on Crosby making sure a retiring official was sent away from PPG Paints Arena properly. I knew picking up the puck wasn’t for the same reason that was, but I also knew, in some way, it was connected to Crosby’s awareness and respect of the game.

“It was for the Islanders,” Crosby told me after the game, his eyes swollen from a first round exit – by way of a sweep to make it worse. He told me how the winning team always wanted the puck, and it was his way of providing it for the Islanders.

Crosby looked me right in the eye as he told me this, just as he did with every other member of the media to come to him after the loss.

I could tell from those swollen eyes and the way he sat at his stall, by himself with his hands folded as he stared blankly, that Sidney Crosby is much more used to being on the receiving end of a puck when a series ends than he is at retrieving it for the winning team.

That scene. His swollen eyes. Staying in the locker room until most had left – talking to anyone who needed him. Most of all, though, picking up the puck that prompted my question in the first place and making sure the right people got their piece of their own history.

It all adds up to one thing: In victory and in defeat, Crosby respects the game above all else – just as he’s always done.

-Even in defeat, Crosby shines, April 2019

#anyway this was a nice walk down memory lane after the disastrous game rip #sidney crosby #pittsburgh penguins #hockey #text

620 notes · View notes

cafedanslanuit · 3 years

Text

chapter guide | prev. chapter | next chapter

✖ — chapter summary: Now that Zeke has explained what truly happened with Yelena, all your troubles have finally ended. Except that now you need to start avoiding Porco. However, things change once you overhear a conversation in the woman's bathroom.

✖ — pairing: porco/reader & zeke/reader

✖ — chapter tags/warnings: college au, descriptions of panic attacks, lots of self-doubt, gaslighting, hurt/comfort, fluff, referenced cheating.

✖ — a/n: i have posted the playlist that goes with this series! click here to check this post <3

chapter three: me and my husband

Porco looked at his cellphone, an ill sensation filling up his stomach as he read over and over your last messages. For the past few days, he had been trying to reach out to you but he had been rejected every time.

He knew something wrong was going on the moment you said you couldn’t make it to his lacrosse game. Ever since you became friends, you hadn’t missed a single game. He had once seen you finishing an essay on your phone and sending it while you were sitting on the bleachers, excited for the game to begin. He had seen you falling asleep on his shoulder during a party after a game, too tired from studying for a test that you took earlier.

Porco sighed. He wished he could find any other reason to explain your behaviour but the only one that came to his mind was his late night confession to you. He shouldn’t have told you he loved you. Now you were avoiding him and his feelings and he was scared he had lost your friendship completely.

He put the phone on his back pocket and grabbed his keys, heading to the parking lot. After getting into his car, he turned on the radio and drove out of the campus, entering the main highway of the city. He wasn’t sure where he was heading to, but all he knew is that he wanted to stop thinking about you, the moment he thought you had shared and the dry messages that followed.

He had really fucked it up.

…

Sitting on your faculty’s corridor floor, you looked over at the texts Porco had been sending you the past week. It physically pained you to be so curt with someone that meant so much to you. Porco had always been there for you, even in the times you had told him you really didn’t need him. He cared when you got sick, when you were sad and also when you wanted company to crash a party on campus. You two had been inseparable since the day you met and he was already acquaintances with Annie and Armin due to all the time he had spent at your place.

This was the right thing to do, you told yourself one more time, closing your Instagram. You were taking the right decision. Porco had fallen in love with you and then had tried to make you think your boyfriend had cheated on you. If Zeke hadn’t pointed that out for you, you probably wouldn’t have noticed until it was too late. Truly, you were lucky Zeke had been understanding about the whole situation and had forgiven you for not trusting in him.

Porco wasn’t a bad person. You knew in your heart he wasn’t. But you had been wrong to trust he had your best interest in his mind.

That’s what didn’t make sense. Why had Porco, sweet and caring Porco had suddenly decided to put you against Zeke only just because he had caught feelings for you? The Porco you knew wouldn’t have done that. If he truly only wanted to drive you away from Zeke, he would have let you kiss him the night he spent with you. He would have taken the opportunity, right? So, why didn’t he?

Your head started hurting.

Your thumb ghosted over Porco’s contact on your phone, wondering whether to call him or not. You missed him dearly and knew that if you asked him to be honest, he would. There were countless moments in the past where he had been honest with you, from the time he confessed to accidentally stepping on your foundation powder and the time he opened up about his father’s death.

He’ll say anything to make you doubt your relationship with me.

Zeke’s voice resonated in your ears and you bit your tongue. He was right. You needed to remember Porco was trying to put you against your boyfriend.

Before you could think of a counterargument, you shot a quick text to Zeke. Yes. A day with your boyfriend would help you keep your mind busy.

“wanna hang out later? <3”

You watched intently, a small smile on your face as the three dots twinkled on your screen. Zeke’s answer came a few seconds later.

“Can’t. Exam tomorrow :(“

He then sent you a picture of a couple of books over a table that you recognized as the university’s library. He also had the tumbler you had given him a couple of months ago, filled with straight black coffee if you had to take a guess.

“:(( okaaaay, good luck on your exam, love u!”

“<3”

You put your phone away and sighed. You missed Zeke too. The few days after you had confronted him about the time you thought you saw Yelena and him kissing, he had showered you with love. You had spent the weekend at his place wearing nothing but an old t-shirt of his and making love several times a day. You snuggled to him on the couch as he watched an old documentary and playfully took the cigar from his lips and took a puff yourself. ‘Ladies like you shouldn’t smoke,’ he had said playfully as he took it back from your lips and then pressed a kiss on your temple.

Nevertheless, the short honeymoon phase after you made up had come to an end. You knew it was going to happen, but now your body and heart were craving more of him and his classes were taking all his time. If it wasn’t an exam it was a group project or a study session and even if you knew seniors had it way harder than you, you missed him. Missed his beard scratching your neck, his strong cologne and his deep chuckle whenever you managed to make him smile.

Maybe you could walk around the mall. You still had some birthday money and you could treat yourself a little. Maybe a new body cream or a pair of cute underwear from Victoria Secret to surprise your boyfriend after he was done with his classes. Yes, a shopping trip was exactly what you needed to stop thinking so much. Smiling, you walked to the bathroom of your faculty, just a quick detour to freshen up before you got into your car.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and took out your lipstick, fixing it carefully.

“I fucking hate her.”

You turned around as you saw three girls entering the bathroom. They stood by your side, none of them seeming to notice your presence. One of them fixing her hair, another was looking down at her phone, eyebrows knitted together and mumbling more and more curses and the last one just leaned against the bathroom stalls, arms crossed against her chest as she watched the other two.

“We did tell you she wasn’t meant to be trusted,” she reminded the girl with the phone. When she raised her head, you recognized her as Pieck, one of Porco’s close friends, who you had seen around at a lot of parties and on many of his Instagram photos.

“How is that helping me?” Pieck asked icily.

“I’m just saying, Yelena is shady. Telling you all that crap about only being able to open up with you— and for what? For her to post photo after photo of her fuckboy?” the girl in front of the mirror said. “Like, nobody needs to know you’re getting it at the library, why post about it? Literally, nobody cares.”

“She’s not worth it,” the other girl interjected.

“She really isn’t, babe. And Zeke isn’t even that hot,” her friend continued with a mocking laugh. “The one that looks like a clown is her, not you. Just let it go.”

“He truly is a bad case of the monkey face,” Pieck agreed with a snort. “Men like that are what keep me a lesbian.”

“Hi Pieck,” you greeted her. For the first time, Pieck looked your way and widened her eyes, recognizing you in an instant.

“Hey,” she said in an apologetic voice. “I— I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have said that.”

You faked a chuckle. “It’s okay. I just wanted to say you shouldn’t worry about them, Yelena is—”

“Yeah, yeah, we both shouldn’t worry. You’re probably trying to move on and ignore them too,” Pieck sighed and then pursed her lips in discomfort. “But I know you were Zeke’s girlfriend for a while, it’s normal you don’t want to hear about who he’s fucking now—”

“Zeke and I are still together,” you interrupted her.

Pieck’s face fell at your words. She looked at her friends, who were also looking at each other with an indecipherable expression. Your furrowed your eyebrows, confused as to why they were sharing those glances. Why would they think you weren’t with Zeke? Sure, you hadn’t posted photos with him lately but that didn’t mean you weren’t together anymore.

“I’ll catch up with you in a bit,” Pieck said softly to her friends. They nodded and said they would be by the cafeteria before leaving. Once they went away, Pieck closed the bathroom door and walked to you again.

“Why— why would you think we’re not together?” you insisted, your voice trembling more than you would have wanted.

“Yelena and Zeke are fucking,” she sentenced in a soft voice. You shook your head.

“I know that’s what it looks like but Yelena likes women,” you said. “You— I mean you guys were dating or something, right? You know she’s a lesbian, she’s just pretending to have something with Zeke so her parents back off for a while.”

Pieck’s silence was deafening.

“Right?” you pushed. “It’s cool because she’s a lesbian and—”

“Yelena is bisexual.”

You paused, blinking as you tried to understand. After a few seconds, you shook your head.

“She’s not.”

“The reason we’re not dating anymore is because I saw her fucking Zeke at a party,” she explained.

“No,” you said, and shook your head once more. “No, because if it happened at a party then someone would have seen them. Someone would have noticed, there would have been rumours, I would have known . Pieck, someone would have told me, Reiner, Marcel, Porco—”

“They weren’t there. Almost everyone was a senior.”

“Then you! You would have told me,” you cried. “You’re telling me you saw my boyfriend fucking someone else and didn’t tell me!? Pieck—!”

“I thought you weren’t together anymore!” she defended herself. “What was I supposed to think when every single one of his friends at that shitty apartment knew he was fucking her in the bedroom and they all acted like it was a normal thing to do? I see all these photos of both of them and…” she continued, shaking her phone. “Of course I think he’s not with you anymore! Yelena is uploading pictures as she rests her legs on his lap, about their movie dates at his place and you want me to think she has a girlfriend!?”

Tears started falling from your eyes as she spoke. You sniffled, trying to compose yourself but you could feel every muscle of your body shaking.

“Does Porco know?” you asked in a whisper.

“Porco?”

“I know you two are best friends since high school. You— you had to tell him. If this was real, if this happened, you had to tell Porco,” you reasoned. “So tell me, Pieck, does Porco know?” you insisted, raising your voice, hating the way it cracked at the end.

Pieck shook her head. “I told him Yelena cheated on me, didn’t tell him with who.”

“Why?”

“Because he told me not to date Yelena, said she wasn’t a good person. I didn’t want to prove Porco right, you know him,” Pieck said with a small shrug.

You nodded idly, your eyes lost. No. It didn’t make sense, it didn’t— even if it did. It did make sense but it couldn’t make sense. Because if Pieck was right, if Yelena and Zeke were—

No.

“Give me a date,” you whispered.

“What?”

“When was this?”

“I don’t— Two weeks ago?”

“I need to know the exact date, Pieck.”

“Girl, I don’t remember exactly, I—”

“Give me a date, Pieck!” you sobbed, raising your voice. She sighed and nodded, taking out her phone.

You watched as Pieck went through her messages with Yelena, scrolling up as she tried to remember the date. Your breath was hitching, inhaling more than you were exhaling but you didn’t care. You wanted to know when it was. Pieck was going to tell you it happened on a date where he was with you. She was going to say it happened one of the nights you and Zeke stayed the weekend at his place and then you would know she’s lying. Yes, that was going to happen. She would tumble over her own lie and this nightmare would be over.

“March 31st,” Pieck murmured. “I kept texting her, asking where she was before I went to look for her,” she reminisced, before showing you her phone.

00:36

lena where are u

?????

why are my friends saying you’re with zeke rn

yelena answer me

fuck u i’m going there

01:19

FUCK YOU YELENA YOURE THE WORST

PIECE OF SHIT IVE EVER MET

REALLY???? ZEKE?????

HOPE YOU GET HERPES

I FUCKING HATE YOU

babe, i’m sorry

can we talk?

A bitter taste crept inside your mouth as you took out your phone and went through yours and Zeke’s messages, looking desperately for the date. It was the weekend you spent together. It had to be. The memories of Zeke’s kitchen calendar that said April were lying to you. It had to be March. Or maybe he changed the calendar because he was with you on March 31st.

You scrolled up until March and went to read the messages exchanged on that day.

07:23

Good morning! I know it’s really early

But I want to see you today <3

Meet me at the tennis court?

sure, i’ll take an uber :)

Silent sobs escaped your mouth as your phone started shaking in your trembling hands. Pieck whispered apologies and you wanted nothing more than to tell her to shut up, that it wasn’t her fault, that she wasn’t the one that swore she wanted to marry you and then went to fuck someone else at a party, not caring if he was seen or not.

But it wasn’t true. Zeke said it was just a ruse, that Yelena just wanted to hide her queerness, that they were just good friends. He said so. Pieck had to be lying, she had to be. She was just messing with you, lying to see how much you could believe her. Because Zeke wouldn’t do that, you were the one he trusted, you were the one he was going to marry, you—

Pieck was still holding her phone in front of you.

With the very same date.

And Yelena admitting her crime.

But it couldn't be right. There had to be a mistake because Zeke loved you. He loved you and he had told you about his family, he had taken you to meet his grandparents, he promised he hadn’t kissed Yelena that night, he—

Had he not kissed her?

Was it only a movie night?

…

No, it hadn’t.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Pieck’s voice sounded far, your lips parted as you tried to gasp for air. You lifted your head and saw her lips moving but you couldn’t hear any sound but your heart beating out of your chest. Tingles started creeping on your fingers and without you being able to do anything to prevent it, you dropped your phone on the bathroom floor.

Why didn’t it make a sound?

Why were your fingers numb?

You lifted your head and Pieck was gone. Dismissing her sudden disappearance, you crouched down and picked your phone. You winced at the huge crack on your screen and slid your finger several times over it until you could press on Zeke’s contact and call him.

As his phone rang, you pressed your back on the wall, slowly sinking until you were sitting on the floor.

“Baby, I told you I was studying for this test, I can’t—”

“I know about you and Yelena,” you said in a broken voice. You heard him let out an annoyed sigh on the other line.

“Didn’t we talk about this already? I told you she’s not—”

“I know about the party. The day we played baseball and— that same night you went to a party and fucked her,” you sobbed. You wiped the tears on your face with the back of your hand. “Zeke, tell me it’s a lie, tell me you didn’t do this, please, please tell me you didn’t really fuck Yelena,” you begged. “Please.”

“You know what? Get some help. Like, psychological help. This isn’t normal.”

The silence after Zeke hung up choked you. Your chest rose up and down as you sobbed uncontrollably. Your brain was screaming. Loudly. ‘Make it stop,’ you told yourself. ‘Get it together. Make it stop.’

Make it stop.

It’s a lie.

Make it stop.

He lied to you.

Stop.

He fucked her.

Please, stop.

He lied.

I can’t breathe.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

…

When you woke up, Porco was there.

Your head felt heavy as you tried to sit up, rubbing your eyes. A quick look around let you know you were in your apartment but you weren’t sure as to how , or why your friend was there, his phone on his lap and his eyes looking at you filled with worry.

He whispered your name as if his voice could hurt you. “How are you feeling?”

“What are you doing here?” you asked groggily. You noticed your throat was hurting as well. “What hour is it?” you mumbled as you palmed your jean pockets looking for your phone. You found it hidden between two pillows and pressed the power button, trying to see if you had any unread messages.

None.

“Pieck called me,” Porco explained. “And it’s eight and a half.”

Pieck. Pieck with her friends in the bathroom, Pieck with the text messages. Everything came back to you in a second and you couldn’t help but wince at the way your head hurt.

“How are you feeling?” he insisted. You took a deep breath. The small movement made you realize how much the muscles of your back were hurting along with your arms. You licked your lips, hating how dry they felt against your tongue.

“I broke my phone.”

Porco furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”

“I— I dropped it. There’s a crack on the screen.”

He nodded slowly and looked down at his shoes, his forearms resting on his knees. You could almost listen to his loud thoughts, one coming after another inside his head. Porco sighed and turned his head back to you.

“Want me to get it fixed? Marcel knows a guy, I’m sure he can get it done by tomorrow.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s working just fine,” you said, passing your thumb over the crack. “No need to change it.”

Porco watched your eyes get lost on the dark screen and tightened his lips. He had the urge to throw your phone out of your window, make you understand you had to leave it, that it wasn’t good for you, that you didn’t need it, that you didn’t need him —

Instead, he nodded.

“What happened?” you asked.

Porco paused, deliberating his words before speaking. “Pieck called and told me what you guys talked about and that… you didn’t take it well. She said you were crying and— that you had a panic attack, so she left the bathroom to look for help. She found Armin and he was the one that helped you regain your breath. Once you settle down, he called Annie to tell her what happened and she picked you up. When I got here you were already asleep on the couch, Annie said it was okay if I waited here.”

“I… don’t remember much,” you confessed with a grimace. “I don’t remember Armin helping me out. I— I do remember what Pieck and I talked about, though. Wish I could forget it instead,” you snorted.

“Wanna talk about it?”

You shook your head. Ouch . Why did every muscle of your body hurt so much?

“Wanna watch some shitty reality TV?” he offered. He didn’t miss the way a small smile appeared on your face.

In a matter of minutes, Porco had gone into your room and brought your laptop, and started looking for the show on Netflix. He put your laptop on his thighs and let you crawl by his side, your head resting against his shoulder.

“Wish they had Ink Master,” you sighed, as the intro of Netflix’s newest reality show played on your screen.

“We both know Netflix doesn’t have good shows.”

You snorted. “Black Mirror is good.”

“And yet we’re watching The Circle,” Porco teased you.

“Weren’t you the one that binged Season 1 on one night and then asked me to do the same so you could rant?” you reminded him with a playful tone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied nonchalantly, making you chuckle.

What followed next was a comfortable silence. One episode went by and Porco made no attempts to stop it from automatically playing the second episode. You snuggled closer, the fabric of his green jacket feeling nice against your cheek. How long had it been since you felt so much peace with someone else by your side?

In any other situation, you would be commenting on it, pressing pause just to bitch and rant about the contestants or make quick runs to the kitchen. But Porco was sitting still, his eyes fixed on the screen and his arms crossed in front of his chest. He was trying to comfort you the best way he could, knowing any words would fail, he aimed to create a safe space for you and not force you to behave normally when you both knew better than to completely ignore what had happened earlier.

Right. Zeke.

You felt your eyes watering and bit the inside of your cheek to prevent them from falling down. Focusing on your breath, you inhaled and exhaled rhythmically until the knot in your throat seemed to loosen up. Your feelings towards Zeke were confusing, a part of you wanting to run, look for him and demand an explanation. Another part of you wanted to face with, punch his stupid little face until you got tired and leave him on the floor. And another, maybe a bigger part of you wanted him to cradle you in his strong arms, kiss your temple and scratch your skin with his beard as he whispered sweet nothings to you.

You swallowed. Maybe Zeke was right. Maybe you did need psychological help.

Could you trust his words if he were to provide another explanation? Could you ever trust in him again? Most of all, could you trust yourself? Many voices had different opinions inside your head, yet they all agreed on something.

You were miserable.

“Every time I’m not with him, I’m anxious,” you mumbled, the words leaving your mouth before you thought them over. Porco moved his hand to pause the show, but you gestured to him not to. “And when he’s with me…” you continued, “I feel like I’m drowning.”

Your voice cracked at the end. Porco’s hand twitched, not sure what to do next. Should he hold you, put an arm around your shoulder to comfort you? Should he not move a muscle until you were done? Should he offer a word of comfort? He turned his head to you and noticed tears were silently streaming down your face.

“If Zeke was in front of me right now and told me Pieck lied her ass off, even after all the proof she showed me today… I would believe him. I would,” you sobbed. “And I hate myself so much for it. I’m so tired of this, I’m so tired of loving him, Pock.”

Porco’s hand cupped your head, his fingers gently caressing your hair. You snuggled closer to him, his perfume soothing the pain inside your heart and his gentle gesture comforting you. That was the magic Porco had. You knew he wasn’t always good with his words and most of the time he preferred to show rather than tell and boy, did he do a spectacular good job at showing you how much he cared.

He was there. Even after you had been ignoring him for over two weeks, he was here with his green jacket and his earthy-scented perfume ready to hold you if you needed him. And you did. You could never think of a moment where you wouldn’t want him to be there with you.

You wiped your face with the back of your hand and reluctantly pulled away from his touch, turning on your seat so you were facing him. You paused your show and put a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Thank you,” you said, biting down your bottom lip. “For being here and waiting until I woke up. I— I’ve been such a bad friend to you,” you sighed. “I’m so sorry, I just—”

Porco shook his head. “No. I’m sorry for what I said the night I stayed here.”

“No, you don’t need to— I mean— I wasn’t mad about it,” you fumbled with your words, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“I don’t know,” Porco shrugged. “Felt like I made you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” you assured him. “Thank you for staying with me that night. I really didn’t want to be alone.”

“I just— Can I say something else? Promise this is the last time I talk about it.” You nodded. “I didn’t love you the first time I met you,” he blurted, shrugging. “I mean, it’s not like I saw you and caught feelings— first time I saw you you were drunk off your ass at Reiner’s party. I was your friend first. Still am, nothing will change that. And honestly? I wouldn’t be surprised if my feelings went away,” he chuckled. “Who knows. Might finally meet someone else and fall for them.”

“Yeah, maybe you’ll meet someone,” you agreed with a strained smile.

“Whatever happens, know that before anything else, I’m your friend,” Porco said, golden eyes setting on yours. “And that will never change. You’re stuck with me.”

“And you’re stuck with me.”

“See any other reason why I’m watching a shitty reality show on a Tuesday night?”

At this, you hit Porco with one of the pillows, square on his face. You couldn’t help but laugh at his stunned face.

“You’re so fucked,” he said, putting the laptop on the coffee table in front of him.

You took this as a sign to run, the ache in your muscles forgotten at the back of your head as you tried to dodge the pillows Porco was throwing at you. Your legs weren’t weak anymore, as you quickly jumped to avoid the furniture and picked up one of the pillows to throw it back at him. Your heart was no longer aching, but jumping as you cackled when Porco tripped and fell. Even if your eyes were watering again, this time was due to the excessive laughter. And yes, your breath was hitching but it was thanks to Porco chasing you around the living room.

You let yourself fall on the floor next to Porco, the coldness of the floor soothing your skin as he dramatically held his knee against his chest like an injured soccer player. You turned your head to him, smiling at his antics as he filled your heart with happiness once more.

Maybe that had been his power all along.

#porco x reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #porco galliard #porco galliard x reader #porco x you #porco galliard x you #porco galliard angst #porco galliard fluff #porco angst #porco fluff #zeke x reader #zeke jaeger x reade #zeke x you #zeke jaeger x you #zeke jaeger #zeke angst

282 notes · View notes

dameronology · 3 years

Note

can i request from your agnst song lyrics list 1) "i had all of you, most of you, some and now none of you" - the night we met, lord huron? maybe from nat’s perspective bc she lost reader please? 🥺

of course!! i hope u enjoy <3 this came out in a weird format but ?? we move

natasha romanoff + ""i had all of you, most of you, some and now none of you"

Natasha could count the five occasions on her right hand during which she knew she was going to lose you. As each one passed, she could tell that you were slipping away bit by bit; at first, it was just a little. A tiny bit of distance, but something you could bounce back from. Then it became a deeper and deeper divide, until she'd passed the point of no return and lost you completely. The worst part was that she knew it was happening. She was fully aware that you were slipping through her fingers and she had done nothing to stop. There was only one person to blame, and Nat knew who it was.

The first time she knew was when she'd missed an important dinner date - a cliche, really. It had happened to everyone at some point or another but this one? It had been a particularly important one. A big PR night for the Avengers, where she'd promised to be by your side and help put on a united front. You'd set a reminder on her phone, written it on the calendar in her office, and even sent her a final text on the big day. Then her meeting had overran, and she had a conference call, and four hours later, the realisation hit her like a truck. She'd forgotten. She'd taken on too much work and let you down.

"I am so sorry!" Nat burst in the room, fiery hair all over the place. She had quickly come in a rush, and her less than subtle entrance only brought more embarrassment to the warmth on your cheeks. "I was working, and I lost track of time-"

"- you had one job, Natasha," you hissed. Standing up from the dinner table, you awkwardly moved over to her and shoved a glass of champagne in her hands. "You said you had booked the day off weeks ago."

"There isn't a day off when you're an Avenger," she softly reminded you. But, the presence of Bucky, Steve, Tony, Peter and literally every other fucking super-hero in New York told you other-wise.

"Yeah, I know," you murmured. "C'mon, let's just sit down."

"I really am sorry, honey," Nat pushed.

"I know," you repeated. "Just...be on your best behaviour for the rest of the evening."

You'd written it off as a blip; so what if Natasha had made a mistake? Despite all her prior accomplishments, she was a human being. Work was important to her and you totally got that. It was important to you as well, and you had always supported each other.

More than anything, you were just grateful it had been a work related incident than anything. The first few months of your relationship had been plagued with Nat pushing you away and consistently shutting you out - it had taken a long time for her to open up to you, and even longer for her to trust you. You were glad whatever argument had come her mess-up hadn't been her doing the same all over again.

Or so you'd hoped - because the second time she felt you slipping away? It was a little more serious.

"Natasha," you sighed, "you need to tell me these things."

"It's nothing, I promise," she murmured.

"A gunshot wound isn't nothing!" you countered. "The worst part is that I found out about it from Bucky's Snapchat story."

She frowned. "Bucky has Snapchat?"

"Yeah, he meant to to send it to Steve, but accidentally posted it publicly instead," you gave a derivative snort. "But that aside, you can't keep things like that from me. I thought we didn't have secrets. Nat."

"We don't, sweetheart," Nat replied. "I just didn't want to scare you."

"You scared me more by not telling me," you shot back. "Just...please tell me next time? Don't keep me out the loop."

She forced a smile. "I won't."

But she did.

So much so, in fact, that you found yourself almost losing Natasha completely. She would no longer tell you about where she was going on missions, or when she would be back - it was all just a giant question mark. And not that dissimilar from how it had been at the beginning of your relationship. She'd been secretive, then; keeping you out the loop and not opening up when she clearly experienced something traumatic.

You'd always been there for her, but you didn't want to force it either. You were just hyperaware that you were the only person you spoke too, and if she stopped talking to you? That meant she was bottling it all up. That was never healthy.

"Steve said there were deaths," you called after Natasha, helplessly following her through your shared apartment. "Five men down, Nat, and you don't even want to talk about it a little?"

"I'm not good at talking," Nat muttered. She stalked through to the bedroom, throwing her go-bag into the back of the wardrobe. "Don't force me."

You stopped in your tracks. "You're right. I'm sorry. I just...I don't want you to bottle it up, y'know? That's not good for you. I guess I'm just letting you know that the offer is there."

"Thank you," Nat forced a smile. Again. "I appreciate it."

"I also don't want you to shut me out," you continued. "I've been through that with you before and I don't want to do it again. It almost killed both of us."

"Hey, I'm sorry," her face fell, and she softly reached out, pulling you into a hug. "I won't shut you out. I promise."

Natasha managed to break both of her promises; the one about keeping you in the loop, the one about not shutting you out.

It came naturally to her, you see. She was a solitary person; raised by design to be self-sufficient and to not let anyone in. At the Red Room, finding support in others had been a sign of weakness and try as she might, Natasha couldn't shake the habits that were engrained into her brain. She wanted to - for you, she really did - but it was hard.

It didn't take long for things to come to a head. You weren't an idiot; you knew when Natasha was icing you out. It had hurt too much the first time round and there was no guarantee that you'd have it in you to see it through a second time. You figured that space might be good - not a break up, but just some time apart.

"Natasha, we need to talk."

She hated the words as soon as they left your mouth - so did you. There was never a good conversation that started with we need to talk. It was always either a separation or an ultimatum, and you were too tired for the latter. Proposing a break seemed like the best thing for you both.

Nat frowned. "What's up?"

"I won't beat around the bush," you began. "I think we should take some time apart."

You could see Natasha's face fall instantly, but she couldn't deny it that it hadn't come as a shock. Something - a trial separation, a break-up, an argument - had been brewing for a while. She was just good at dancing around it.

"Really?"

"Yeah," you admitted. "We're both tired and it feels like we're slipping back towards how things used to be."

"You're right," she agreed. "I'm sorry. You know I love you, right?"

You smiled. "I know - I figured you could use the time to work out what you want. See if you wanna talk to someone professionally, or if you just want to...y'know."

"Know what?"

"If you want to break-up permanently," you finished the sentence with a wobble in your voice. "Ball's in your court, Nat."

The ball was in her court - and she basically let it deflate.

Because for Natasha, emotions were scary. You'd left the apartment with a promise between you that she would be the one to make the final call.

A month and I'll call you, is she what she had said.

A month and I'll call you, is she what she had promised.

It was a slow month. You didn't hear from Natasha at all; when you went to collect your mail from the apartment, she was out. She barely showed her face at the office these days and her presence on social media was gone. Her name no longer popped up on the viewers list for your Instagram or Snapchat story. There were no more good morning texts.

Then that slow month turned in a slow five weeks. Then six. Then seven. Then two months had passed, and you hadn't heard a single thing.

Not until a cold Monday evening, when you were holed up in your new apartment watching an old episode of Seinfeld. The presence of your friends, paired with old sitcoms, was the only thing getting you through the Natasha-induced drought. A knock on the door only made it worst.

"One second!" you called.

Throwing your blanket aside, you put down your soup and shuffled over to the front door. Out of habit (one that Nat had taught you), you peered through the peephole - your heart practically stopped when you saw a head of red hair and green eyes. It was unmistakably your Natasha.

"Nat," you greeted her with a cold tone as you opened the door. "Fancy you making an appearance."

"I am so sorry," she began. "I just needed time. I needed time to think-"

"- I gave you a month!" you cut her off. "And I would have given you more if...if you had just asked. If you had just spoken to me, or communicated with me."

"I know," she murmured.

"No, Nat," you firmly said. "I don't think you do. I don't think you know at all - about what you're doing or how you're making me feel."

"I..." she trailed off. "I love you."

"You don't fucking act like it," you snorted. "I could deal with at first - all the miscommunications and random disappearances, but I'm done now."

"I just want one more chance - please?"

"No," you snapped. "You've made your bed. Now lie in it."

And she would; she would lie in it alone.

#asks #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x you #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff imagines #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fan fiction #natasha romanoff fic #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #black widow fic #avengers x reader #avengers imagines

133 notes · View notes

night-fallz · 3 years

Text

XY’s Muse

Based on this prompt

Like I have stated before, this is my first fanfic. Please let me know what you think of it. Any kind of criticism will be welcome.

uploaded on 01/23/21

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ao3 // Wattpad

previous II next

Chapter 2

XY was staring at the ceiling. A week has already passed. And he still couldn't stop thinking about the day he spent with Marinette. It was the most fun he'd had in a while.

Before the whole Silencer fiasco, his father would not stop pressuring him to produce a new song. So when they met up for dinner and his dad came up with the idea of stealing someone else's music, he couldn’t bring himself to decline.

XY knew it was wrong.

But all he wanted was the chance to finally impress his dad. Bob Roth might not have the best attitude towards him, but he was all XY had left.

Xy already lost his mom. He would not lose his dad too.

At least, that's what he believed. He should've known that his father was just using him for money. According to his dad, money was the most valuable thing in life.

XY scoffed. He should've known better. He should've known that all his father thought of hi-

He felt a buzz in his pocket and his face immediately brightened. Marinette just texted him!

Marinette: what's up?

Marinette: have u been inspired yet?

Marinette gave XY the idea to just sit back and let inspiration hit him. It was a common idea but it was one that most people tend to forget in the long run.

XY: nothing much

XY: and nope.

XY: my dad has been pressuring me to come up with something tho

Marinette: ignore him

Marinette: he's just mad cause he can't get any ladies

The three dots popped up on his screen.

Marinette: OH CRAP I'M LATE

Marinette: TTYL.

XY rolled his eyes and smiled.

They've been texting back and forth these past few days. He's learned so many things about her and vice versa.

It was nice. It's been a while since XY has had a friend.

Maybe she'll be even more, XY couldn’t help but think as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Huh," XY said out loud. "Even more"

And just like that, inspiration for his next song hit him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Marinette was thinking of a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed musician when she heard her phone ring.

"Tikki!" she screamed, staring at her phone as if it was Hawkmoth himself.. "He's calling me. XY is calling me."

Tikki sighed and floated next to Marinette, "Maybe you should answer it. It would be pretty rude to keep him waiting."

"Right, right," Marinette answered his call and hoped her voice didn’t sound as squeaky as she thought it did.. "Hey."

"Hey."

There was a moment of awkward silence.

Marinette didn’t know what to do. She glanced at the small goddess.

Tikki rolled her eyes at their awkwardness as she gestured to the phone. Ask him why he called you, she mouthed to Marinette.

Marinette nodded. That was a smart idea. "So," Marinette cleared her throat. "Why did you call me?"

"Right, Uhm." Marinette heard him shuffling around his room. "You know how you've been asking me if I was inspired and stuff?"

Marinette's eyes grew wide and a huge smile took over her face as she started to nod before remembering that he couldn't see her. "Yep." she eagerly said, "Did you find any?"

"Yes!" Marinette could hear the excitement in his voice. "I was actually wondering if you wanted to design the outfits for my music video."

Marinette's eyes looked shocked. "Yes!" she jumped around in excitement before remembering she was still in a call with XY. "Why me though?"

XY’s voice sounded confused.. "What do you mean, why you? You're literally perfect for it. You're talented. Plus, everyone loves your designs."

Marinette’s cheeks resembled a tomato. She has never been more thankful for the fact that he couldn't see her right now.

"Thank you." Marinette managed to mumble. "That really means a lot."

"You're welcome." XY said. Marinette had a feeling he was smiling though. "I have to go and have my dad listen to the demo. But I'll text you later, okay?"

"Yep," Marinette whispered and gave Tikki a cookie. "Good luck. I know that whatever song you came up with is gonna sound good. No matter what he'll say."

Marinette heard a faint "Thanks" from the phone before the call ended.

Marinette screamed into her pillow and looked up and saw Tikki look at her with amusement. “I think I like him.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"So, what do you think?" XY asked as his father finished listening to his song. "Is it bad? Do you think people will like it?"

Bob Roth grinned at his son. "This is a Masterpiece. Where did you find this?" He gestured to the video of XY singing the song, "Who did you steal this from?"

XY's proud smile immediately turned into a scowl. "What do you mean, who did I steal this from?" He yelled at his dad, his blue eyes glaring at him as he grabbed the demo from the table. "I made it. I came up with it myself." XY felt his eyes tearing up. "Something you would actually know if you thought of me as something more than a money-making machine."

How could he? XY thought as he climbed up the stairs. Is it that hard to believe that I could come up with something good?

XY slammed his door shut. "All I wanted was to prove to him that I wasn't a talentless son." XY put his hands on his face. "I just wanted to make him proud."

XY felt a buzz in his pocket and immediately knew that it was Marinette. After all, she’s the only one that ever texts him.

Marinette: how did it go?

Marinette: did he like it?

XY wiped away the tears that were starting to come out of his eyes. He couldn't help but smile. Marinette certainly had an effect on him.

XY: he called it a masterpiece

Marinette: yes! I knew he would like it.

XY: yeah

XY: but then he asked me who i stole it from

Marinette: THAT JERK

Marinette: WTF

Marinette: THAT's SO MESSED UP

Marinette: HOW COULD HE-

Marinette: DO YOU WANT ME TO BEAT HIM UP FOR YOU????

XY laughed at her text messages. He only started to text her and he already felt better.

XY: no, it's fine

XY: i actually yelled at him

Marinette: ...

Marinette: do you feel better?

XY: actually, yep.

XY: he's a really sucky father

Marinette: for some reason, a lot of the blondes i know have a toxic parent

Marinette: it's kinda sad

XY: maybe it's a paris thing

They texted back and forth, XY laughing at the memes Marinette sent.

XY: You're definitely a daughter of Athena

Marinette: ( ⚆ _ ⚆ )

Marinette: is that a percy jackson reference i see

XY: yep

XY: have u read the books?

Marinette: duh

Marinette: you haven't lived til you've read the books

Marinette: sadly, the movies sucked tho

XY: I KNOW

XY: ANNABETH WASN'T EVEN BLONDE

Marinette: EXACTLY!!

Marinette: SJSJSJSJSJSJ

Marinette: THE MOVIES SCARED ME FOR LIFE

XY: oh yeah

XY: before i forget

XY: what's ur insta?

Marinette: which one

XY scrunched his eyebrows up in confusion.

XY: What do you mean by which one?

Marinette: i have two

Marinette: one as my personal one and the other one for commissions and stuff

XY: ohhh

XY: smart

Marinette: i know ;)

Marinette: my personal one is @Mdupaincheng and the one for my commissions one if @MDCdesigns

XY switched his apps and searched up Marinette's personal instagram. He clicked on the first result that came up.

The profile picture was Marinette in a blue, silky dress that went just above her ankle. There was a slit on her left leg that showed her knee. It was nighttime and Marinette was practically glowing under the city lights. She was staring at something on her right side, with one hand running through her silky black hair which was down for once.

She looked hot.

After XY stopped admiring her profile picture, he finally noticed her follower count.

She had 200,000 followers. 200,000.

It wasn't as high as XY's follower count, that was still quite a lot.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

XY: i didn't know u were insta famous

Marinette: wdym?

Marinette: which acc

XY: ur personal one

XY: u have over 200k followers

Marinette thought that she read his text wrong. There's no way that Marinette had that many followers. 200,000? There was no way.

Marinette: ur lying

XY: I'm not.

XY: check ur acc

It's been a while since Marinette has logged onto her personal account. The hate she got the last time she's been signed in was too much for her and when Alya told her to log out and just focus on her other account, @MDCdesigns, she couldn't bring herself to argue against her.

Marinette hasn't even thought of that account since that day. So when she logged in and saw that XY wasn't lying, she accidentally dropped her phone in shock.

Tikki looked at Marinette with a questioning look.

Marinette ignored her kwami and texted the blue-eyes boy back.

Marinette: HOLY SHIT

Marinette: I HAVE 200k FOLLOWERS

Marinette: HOW TF DID THAT HAPPEN

XY: when was the last time you checked ur acc

Marinette: about 3 months ago

Marinette: the media thought i was adrien's gf and his fangirls came at me

Marinette: i got a ton of hate and a friend of mine told me to log out and just focus on my @MDCdesigns acc

Marinette: so i did

Marinette: i haven't thought abt that acc since then

XY: the fangirls were probably just jealous

XY: it's been months so they probably calmed down

XY: I'm looking through the comments rn and so far the latest hate comment you've got was about 2 weeks ago

XY: you've got a bit of a fanbase yk

Marinette: WHAT DO I DO

Marinette: DO I JUST CONTINUE NOT TO POST OR SHOULD I POST SOMETHING ON MY STORY ABT HOW THANKFUL I AM FOR 200k

Marinette: HOW COME NONE OF MY FRIENDS TOLD ME ABT THIS

XY: don't post anything rn

XY: post a picture of yourself and the caption it something that shows ur thankful for the number of followers u received

XY: OH

XY: a few hours before u post the picture, make sure u post on ur story abt how ur back from ur break on social media

XY: that way ppl will understand why u haven't been active

XY: it'll also have ppl prepared for ur post and they'll be waiting for u to post it

XY: that'll give u more engagement and stuff

Marinette: thank u

Marinette: that was really helpful

Marinette: when should i post something?

Marinette: AND I STILL DONT KNOW WHY MY FRIENDS DIDNT SAY ANYTHING ABT THIS

XY: u told ur friend that u were taking a break from social media right?

Marinette: yes

XY: then they probably weren't expecting u to post anything so they weren't checking ur insta

XY: u should post something on the weekend

XY: that way ppl wouldn't bother u during school this week

XY: if u want i can help u come up with ideas tomorrow?

Marinette: yes, please!

Marinette: do u wanna come over

Marinette: we can plan it in my room so that ppl won't overhear us

XY: guess I'll see u tomorrow then

XY: just text me the time ur available and I'll be there

Marinette: make sure to wear a disguise tho!

Marinette: we got lucky last time and no tabloids caught us

XY: ur right

XY: we must've been really lucky if no one got a pic of us

XY: but okay

XY: I'll wear my best disguise

XY: goodnight, princess

Marinette blinked a few times, making sure she read the text correctly.

Princess.

Marinette: goodnight ♥

previous II next

This is the first chapter of the story. Please let me know what you think

1,967 words

Tag list:

@iglowinggemma28 @mica-aa @lady-bee-fechin @maskedpainter @snnoww26 @ravenr22 @spiritofchaoticdreams @ravennm84 @heaven428 @finn-cipher @peterxwade24 @aliceofice22 @queenamongthorns @captainmac6

289 notes · View notes

only-kiwi · 4 years

Text

part two to this fic

this is long overdue i’m so sorry. how are u? love u.

[REQUESTS ARE CLOSED]

***

Harry was miserable. He’d never felt like this in his life. He was so unsure of where your relationship would end up and that was so much harder than any breakup. The first few days after you stormed out, he tried calling and texting you but you didn’t answer - he was pretty sure you blocked his number. You hadn’t posted on social media either, which was odd for you. No matter what, you’d always have a story up or a tweet sent. Harry knew he fucked up.

He was so angry at himself, he didn’t know what to do anymore. Usually, he would write a song, or play his guitar... or call you. But he couldn’t do any of that.

As much as he really didn’t want to, Harry went on Twitter. He never did this unless it was completely necessary but he was curious as to what people were saying. That’s when it hit him. You were right. No one was saying anything bad about him or your ex - only you. He knew that would be the case but he didn’t know how bad it would be. They all felt sorry for your ex, claiming how badly he was treated by you. And Harry’s fans were protective of him, saying you didn’t deserve to be with someone as amazing as him. Bullshit, he thought. The things they were saying about you were just awful, and completely untrue.

Harry wondered if you had read all of this. He knew you preferred not to, but with you being on social media all the time it was hard to miss certain things. God, he wanted to call you so bad. His phone broke him out of his thoughts as he got an Instagram notification. You had posted on your story.

Harry didn’t know what he was feeling in that moment. He was sad because you didn’t deserve any of this and he was angry at himself for not being there for you. But ultimately, he was relieved to know that you were okay. Maybe I should try calling her again, he thought. And so he did.

“Hello?” You answered after three rings, your voice was tired.

He was left breathless, “you answered?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “sorry for ignoring you.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, you had every right to ignore me. I should be the one apologising.” Harry could tell you didn’t know what to say. “This is probably a stupid question but how have you been?”

“Honestly, H, I don’t know. I went on Twitter and it was pretty brutal... it’s never been this bad before.”

“I saw, too. I’m sorry.”

“It was expected.”

“What did you mean when you said you ‘think’ we’re still together. We’re fine, right?” Harry hares having to ask, but i needed to be done.

You sighed, taking a moment to figure out what to say. “I want us to be, but are we? I know you feel bad or whatever but I didn’t expect that from you, H.”

“I...”

“You’re sorry, I know.”

“Do you think I could come over, maybe? We can talk properly.”

“Okay.”

Your apartment was a state. You’d barely left your bed in two weeks, all you did was get up to shower and pee. You barely even ate, Harry would probably notice. It was only the last few days where you realised that you couldn’t go on like this. Why would you let your shitty ex have this much control over your feelings when you had a new relationship to fix?

It was just so hard, you couldn’t go on your phone without hearing about it. Not even just social media but messages from your friends asking if things were true. You hated it. You wanted to smash your phone into pieces and never think of it again.

You took a quick shower and tried to clean the apartment as best you could before Harry arrived, you didn’t want to worry him. Even though you said you were fine, you didn’t know if you fully could be until you spoke about it all with him. He really upset you.

Harry walked in while you were cleaning the kitchen, there wasn’t much mess since you hadn’t really been in there much but you were sure the milk was gone off. And it most definitely was. “Gross,” you almost gagged as you sniffed the half empty carton, pouring the rest down the sink.

“You ok?”

You jumped at his voice. “Fuck, Harry. Don’t do that! There’s a bell for a reason.”

“I also have a key for a reason.”

“Right... I was just-“

“Getting rid of your gone off milk?”

“Yeah, and my gone off yoghurt, and my gone off hummus and my-“

“I get it.” Harry chuckled.

“Stop cutting me off!”

“Sorry, you just... you never let your food go bad.”

“I haven’t really been focused on the contents of my fridge recently, Harry.” You rolled you eyes.

You made some black coffee for the both of you, which you hated but you didn’t have a choice. You both sat on the couch, not really sure what to say.

Harry was the first to speak. “You’re not gonna break up with me, are you?”

“I will if I have to.” You sighed as his face fell, he was really worried. “I really love you, Harry, but you can’t be like this. I know you haven’t really had a proper relationship before but I’ve already gone through this and I don’t want to deal with it again.”

“I think I was just jealous. Which I know is so stupid, and there’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have handled it like that, I don’t really have a decent explanation. I’m just so sorry, please know that.”

“I know you are, and I know that’s not you. I get how you must have felt hearing that but at the end of the day, H, I don’t deserve that. Any other situation and I would’ve been able to understand you but this... you really fucking hurt me.” Your eyes begun to sting. You really didn’t want to cry anymore. So you blinked back the tears, closed your eyes, and took a deep breath. “He’s probably going to speak about this in interviews, and when he does, I’m gonna need you to be there for me.”

“And I will be, I promise.”

“How do I know you won’t just get jealous and angry again?”

“You don’t.”

“What?”

“It’s inevitable to feel uncomfortable hearing someone say all that stuff about the person you love. I’m sure you feel the same way when you listen to Taylor’s songs. But it’s not about me, is it? This is your situation and I’m gonna be there for you because I hate seeing you like this. I will apologise as many times as I need to until you know how much I regret they way I acted.”

“Well, I accept your apology.” You said after thinking about it for a moment.

“Really?” Harry looked up, smiling widely.

“Yes, but if this shit happens again, I swear to God-“

“I know. I’m gonna make it up to you.”

“Ok... well, you can start by giving me a kiss.” You smirked, making Harry chuckled at shake his head at you. “And then... you can go grocery shopping for me.”

Liked by harrystyles, annetwist and 2,103,792 others

yourinstagram good morning☀️

View all 23,018 comments

ynfan1 you’re back !!!

ynfan2 how are you doing? how’s harry? are you eating / sleeping enough???

yourinstagram @/ynfan2 i’m good, harry’s good. i wasn’t taking care of myself properly at the beginning but i promise i am now!! thanks for checking in, you’re the sweetest.

harryfan1 he’s so cute

harrystyles It was a good morning indeed.

yourinstagram @/harrystyles ;)

gemmastyles ❤️

Liked by yourinstagram, gemmastyles and 2,827,017 others

harrystyles Can I have my guitar back?

View all 27,019 comments

harryfan2 love this

harryfan3 i’m so happy you’re both doing well

yourinstagram no❤️

harrystyles @/yourinstagram ....oh

ynfan3 saving this for interior design inspo

ynfan4 i want what they have ugh they’re perfect

yourinstagram @/ynfan4 we’re not perfect at all trust me

Liked by arianagrande, harrystyles and 2,291,062 others

yourinstagram wow i look good when i stop giving a fuck x

View all 24,318 comments

ynfan5 YESSS QUEEN

ynfan6 periodt

harrystyles Missed that smile x

yourinstagram @/harrystyles me too

harryfan5 love to see it

yourex So u break my heart, move on after a few months and then play the victim when I share my story? Wow.

yourinstagram @/yourex are you forgetting the part where you manipulated me into staying with you for years because you were scared to be alone? get the fuck over yourself. we broke up ages ago, please let it go. i’m finally happy, and i would like to continue being that way. leave me alone. get off my page. it’s embarrassing.

345 notes · View notes

slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years

Text

When We Went From Friends to This - a. beauvillier

One day late, but here it is! I’ve been studying for the LSAT, but finally took it today, so I’ll have some more time to be writing more regularly now. Title is from Taylor Swift’s Paper Rings. I loved getting to write this, so please please let me know what you think, my inbox is always open! Reading the tags is one of my favorite things to do, and reblogs help me know people are liking my work.

word count: 7.7k+

September 18 (sat)

Astride Leclair was the kind of person you always wanted on your side. She’d drop anything for a friend, always be the first to reach out, and would never give up on something — or someone — without a fight. She was also incredibly stubborn. Astride had also always had a penchant for adventure, which is how she found herself in a new job 600 miles and one international border from her hometown. And she hated asking for help, it really didn’t matter the circumstance. Which is how she found herself alone, trying to heft an armchair up the stairs of her new apartment building after being very rudely informed by the width of the elevator door that it wasn’t going to fit.

The lump sum her firm gave her for relocation was enough to cover a fair amount of the furniture for her new place and she tried to bring as much as she could on the drive down, but it wasn’t like she was about to rent a U-Haul and there was only so much a Honda Civic could hold. And Astride was still her father’s daughter, still would rather step on a rusty nail than pay Ikea for assembly, so by God she was going to do it herself. And “doing it herself” apparently meant dragging an 80 pound box up three flights of stairs in 90º heat in September, when New York City seemed to have not quite yet gotten the memo that the rest of the Northern Hemisphere was now in fall.

Astride finally managed to get the chair in the door, propping the door open with one of her moving boxes, unceremoniously pulling the box through the entryway as she scooted backwards into the living room. The 600 square foot expanse of her apartment was covered in boxes, more boxes, and for good measure, extra boxes. There were moving boxes, furniture boxes, shoeboxes filled with anything except for actual shoes. There was her guitar leaning against the microwave, three suitcases worth of clothes in the barely-assembled bedroom, and her dog in a crate in the corner, who had started to whine.

“I know, baby, I’ll get you out soon,” Astride said, shooting a sympathetic glance towards the beagle mix. She had adopted Poutine a little over a year ago, soon after starting her first job out of university. It was never a question whether or not she would make the trip with Astride, and thankfully it was much easier than she anticipated to find a dog-friendly apartment in Brooklyn. It wasn’t too long a walk to Prospect Park, a little under a mile, and she was looking forward to getting out with Poutine later in the day. If, that was, she actually finished unpacking enough boxes to function like a normal human being. She had picked up her mattress-in-a-box earlier in the day, but it was still sitting in the corner of her bedroom and she wasn’t particularly looking forward to a night on the hardwood floor.

---

Three hours later, Astride had finally gotten all of the boxes out of her car and began to make decent headway on assembling the chair, finally having let Poutine out of her crate. The beagle trotted around the apartment, sniffing the baseboards, boxes, and single bag of groceries Astride had picked up from Whole Foods earlier in the day. The rest of her Ikea order was coming the next day, the actual bedframe and couch along with a couple of other larger furniture pieces that she had had to leave in Montréal. Whatever she couldn’t order online she’d find at a thrift store.

Astride looked tiredly over at the kitchen. She really wasn’t in the mood to cook, and was in even less of a mood to dig through all the boxes until she finally found her set of pots and pans. She really should have taken her mom’s advice and labeled everything, but Astride was stubborn as a mule, and once she was stuck in her ways, there was precious little anyone could do to convince her otherwise. Pulling out her phone, she navigated to her Uber Eats, feeling a tiny pang in her heart as she switched her location to New York. Not the language, though. Astride was so hungry that she literally clicked on whatever place could get there the fastest, which ended up being a Chinese place a mile or so away. After placing her order — she got an extra box of chow mein so she wouldn’t have to deal with breakfast the next day — she settled back into the hair, the only fully-assembled piece of furniture in the whole apartment. Her finger hovered over her Instagram for a moment before she clicked on it, liking a few photos before going to post one of her own. It was a picture of the Brooklyn Bridge as she crossed it that morning, Poutine’s head lolling out the front window. One tap and one caption later, it was posted.

---

Anthony flopped onto his bed, his duffel landing with a satisfying thump on the floor beside him. Training camp had just ended, and while he’d certainly been keeping up on his workouts over the summer, the hours upon hours of skating had nevertheless made him more than a little sore. He grabbed his phone, opening up Instagram and scrolling through the new posts, only half paying attention. Astride’s new photo caught his eye.

Sometimes, needing a change means a new haircut. Sometimes, it means a new country. Very excited to start this next chapter in my life. Salut, New York! Anthony quickly clicked onto her profile page and read her bio. International economics analyst. Eating my way through the world one pancake at a time. BCom McGill. MTL-NYC. He read the last line over and over again. MTL-NYC. He swiped back to the photo; she had tagged herself in Brooklyn. Brooklyn. She was less than an hour away, not even thirty if the traffic wasn’t bad. But she hadn’t told him, she hadn’t said anything. Anthony felt a pang in his heart. Astride knew who he played for — obviously — and she knew that of course he’d want to see her any time they were even remotely in the same place. She knew that. Right?

He spent the next twenty minutes typing out a message to her. Then deleting it. Then retyping it. Then continuing the type-delete-retype cycle until his head was spinning. This was his best friend. Why was he so nervous to talk to her? Because she was his best friend, and as much as he hated to admit it, he really wasn’t sure where they stood. He hadn’t been sure for a long time. Hey Asty! He internally cringed at himself at the use of her old nickname. I saw you moved to New York, that’s amazing! I’m over on Long Island, so I’d love to catch up with you for coffee or something when you get a chance. It’s been too long :)

It might have been a little petty — scratch that, it definitely was petty — but Astride didn’t respond to his text that night. She didn’t have read receipts on, thank God, but it sat in her messages, without response, like something she was too scared to confront. And she didn’t even know why. Okay, fine, she knew exactly why. She had moved and suddenly they were in the same city for the first time since they were kids and he was, had been, her best friend, but why now of all times? It’s not like he was never in Montréal during the year, or like they couldn’t have committed to a weekly FaceTime or something, or at least texted more than once a month. He could have done something. And that something, that lack of a something, was what kept her from responding until the next morning, tapping out a text as she halfheartedly made her way through a bowl of oatmeal. Hi, Tito, just saw your text! Lie. I did, an opportunity for a transfer came up and I decided to take it. I figured you were pretty close by, so it would be great to catch up. I don’t start at the office for a week, if you’re free any time between now and then. That much was true. She wasn’t stupid, she knew the Islanders played on, well, Long Island, and as much as she wanted to still hold a grudge against him, her heart ached at the prospect of finally being able to see him again.

Anthony responded almost instantly, Astride having just closed the door to the dishwasher — a luxury in New York, she was told — before seeing her phone light up with the telltale bubble. I’d love to, we just finished up training camp so I’m more or less free aside from practices. A second later. Is brunch still your favorite meal?

Astride laughed. It didn’t surprise her that he remembered, but it was still touching to see him say something about it. It is.

How about Tuesday? I’ll send you the directions. It’s this little café in Flatbush, I think you’ll love it.

I’m counting on it.

September 26 (sun)

Brunch had turned into dinner, which had turned into going to a Broadway show — Anthony had insisted the moment she told him she’d never been — which had turned into him coming over for Saturday night movies, an old habit of the pair’s from their days back in Québec. Which had turned into two movies and two bottles of wine, which had turned into Tito sleeping over on the couch instead of driving the thirty-odd minutes back to his apartment. Poutine sniffed him curiously, nudging one hand with her head. Astride stifled a giggle, opening the door to the balcony. “He’s very sleepy, Poutine. It’s not good manners to wake up your guests.”

“Even when they fall asleep on your couch and steal all your blankets?” Anthony said sleepily from behind.

Astride wheeled around, greeted by a half-awake Anthony Beauvillier, who was indeed bundled in all of the blankets she owned that weren’t actively on her bed. “Tito! Oh my God, you scared me. How’d you sleep?”

He shrugged. “Not bad, about as well as can be expected.” He tapped his phone, cursing when he realized it was dead. “Do you know what time it is?”

She glanced down at her watch. “8:52, why?”

Anthony jumped up, throwing his shirt back on and grabbing his still-dead phone. “I’m supposed to meet Mat for breakfast at 9:30, and the place is,” he paused for a moment, running through the grid system in his head, “probably half an hour away? I’m never the late one, can’t break that streak now.”

“Gotcha.”

He grabbed his keys, looking back at her. “Why don’t you come? You’re already dressed, and you remember Mat, right?”

She wiggled her hand. “Kind of?” She crossed the room, letting Poutine back in. “You only want me for my charged phone and navigation system.”

“You got me,” he said, laughing.

---

“You named your dog Poutine?” Mat snickered, taking a bite of his eggs.

“Would you rather I named him Tim Horton?” Astride deadpanned. “He’s a good Canadian boy with a good Canadian mom. He needed a good Canadian name.”

Mat raised his coffee mug, tilting it over towards her. “Touché.”

Anthony waved his hand in front of Mat’s face, trying to catch his attention from where he was utterly preoccupied with destroying his sourdough toast. “Hey, Mat.”

“Mmm?” He glanced up.

“Did you know that Astride lives right by Barclays? Like, right by Barclays?”

His eyebrows rose. “No way?” Astride nodded. “That’s a great area, would have been awesome if you were here a couple of years ago. Short walk to the games.”

“That’s what I told her yesterday,” Tito responded.

---

“You’re kidding,” Anthony said, looking up at her building, then across the street to Barclays, then back to Astride, one hand tangling through his hair. “We used to play right across from here.”

Astride laughed. “I thought about that,” she said. “You know I still watched your games, right? Even after we fell out of touch?” Anthony shook his head. “You were still someone I cared about, are still someone I care about, even when we only talked a few times a year.”

Beau stood there, unable to formulate a complete sentence. As far as he knew, the last Islanders game she watched had been the 2016 opener, his NHL debut and her first year at McGill. Why did he assume that? Why did he assume the worst? You can care about people even when they’re not in your life anymore. And sometimes, if you get really, really lucky, they come back.

October 9 (sat)

“Ebs is having a barbeque thing over at his house this weekend, just stuff to celebrate the beginning of the season if you wanted to come. No pressure if you’ve got plans already, though,” Anthony said over the FaceTime.

Astride nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds great, I’d love to come! Just let me know when to show up and what to bring, and I’ll be there.”

It was almost a fifty-minute drive for Astride from her apartment in Prospect Heights to the house in Garden City, but there wasn’t too much traffic and besides, she had always liked driving. So she set off in her Civic, plugged her music in, and headed down 495. Anthony met her outside of the house, greeting her with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek as he cocked his head towards the backyard. “Party’s this way. Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

Astride dutifully followed, trying not to let her nerves take hold of her. Everyone might have already been Beau’s friends, but she didn’t know them, or the dynamic of everyone’s relationships, or really, what to expect at all.

He noticed her apprehension, stopping her with a feather-light touch on her arm just before walking through the back gate. “Hey, Asty. What is it?”

She let out a little huff, still upset that he could read her like a book even after all this time. “I’m just worried that I’ll feel like I’m intruding on everything, like everyone already has their friends and a group and everything, and here comes some random Québécoise who’s a friend of Tito’s—”

He laughed, turning her around to face him. “Astride, they’re going to love you. As long as you’re the hilarious, witty, caring person I know you are, they’re going to love you as much as I do, and you’re going to fit in just fine. Do you trust me?”

She gave a tiny nod. “Yeah.”

He smiled, squeezing her hand. “Good, now come back, everyone’s waiting.”

They walked through the gate, greeted by a crowd of smiling faces as Anthony brought her around to everyone to make their rounds. There was Anders, he was the captain, and his wife. There was Jordan and Lauren, and she already knew Mat, and JGP — who was excited to have another person to speak French to — and a dozen or so others, along with their respective partners and children. Anthony had gone over to talk to Mat and some of the other players, while Astride had wandered over to the drinks table. Some of the other women were chatting nearby; one of them caught Astride’s eye and waved her over to join them.

“Beau didn’t tell us he was bringing anyone!” one of the women said, pulling her over to the group with a bright smile and handing her a glass of sangria.

“Mhm,” she replied, taking a sip of the drink. “I’m new to the city, obviously, so I think he wanted me to have some people I know outside of just work.”

They all nodded. “How long have you two been together, though?” another asked. “I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone, did you?” She looked around at the others, who shook their heads as Astride’s eyes bulged.

“Together? No, no, we’re not together. We’ve been best friends for ages, but,” she shook her head.

“Could have fooled me,” Lauren said with the smallest of winks.

Astride suddenly became very interested in the floating berries in her sangria. She looked over at Anthony, who was throwing his head back, laughing at something one of the rookies had said, and smiled. But Lauren’s words kept lingering in the back of her mind. Could have fooled me. Okay, it wasn’t like it was the first time they had been mistaken for a couple; whenever she’d make the trip up to Shawingan to visit him when he was in the QMJHL, more than once she’d have to explain to his teammates that no, she wasn’t Beau’s girlfriend, they were just best friends who had known each other forever. Just best friends.

Astride had always equated her lingering feelings for Anthony to the nostalgia of a childhood crush, the safety and security that came with remembering something from a time that seemed so simple and so easy. But childhood crushes didn’t last for ten years. And that wasn’t something she hadn’t wanted to come to terms with, something she’d been putting off for years if she was being honest with herself.

“You didn’t tell me Astride was coming,” Mat commented, seeing her mid-laugh in conversation with the other girls.

Anthony nodded. “Yeah. She didn’t have any plans for the weekend and I thought it would be nice to introduce her to everyone. I remember how shitty it felt to be in a new city away from your family, don’t want her to be lonely. Plus, I genuinely think she’ll fit in great with everyone.”

Mat hummed his agreement. “She’s changed since Switzerland, don’t you think?” he asked appreciatively, referring to over five years ago, the last time he had seen her in person.

“Don’t even think about it,” Beau mumbled to Mat, seeing his eyebrows go so far up they were hidden in his hairline.

“I see a hot girl, I appreciate a hot girl,” Mat shrugged. “But don’t worry, I won’t try anything. I know she’s off-limits.”

The rest of the afternoon passed quicker than she would have thought, and after a few hours and more good conversations, it was time for Astride to leave. “Have a safe drive back,” Anthony said, giving her a hug.

“I will,” she responded.

He opened the driver’s side door for her. “I’m really glad you came, you know. Everyone liked you, you fit in great.”

“It wasn’t all me,” she said, sliding into the seat, turning her head to Anthony to continue the conversation. “Everyone really did seem to go out of their way to make me feel included, I think they understood the feeling of moving to a whole new place without a big support system and wanted to do what they could to help mitigate that for me.” Astride consciously left out Lauren’s little comment, four words that had been bouncing around in her head for hours since they had been said. He didn’t need to know. She didn’t need him to know, it could confuse him and complicate things when they were just getting back into the rhythm of friendship, of being each other’s person.

Anthony tapped his fingers on the car door. “I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

Beau went to sleep that night, Mat’s words bouncing around in his head. “I know she’s off-limits.” It’s not like Cass was his sister or something, someone who would inherently be barred from his best friend’s dating pool. But Mat seemed to know right away, without having ever been told, that she wasn’t someone he could ever even consider pursuing. Why? And what did Mat seem to know that he didn’t?

November 12 (fri)

It was early November, and Anthony and Astride had just settled down at a table in Prospect Park, coffee cups warming their hands through the late fall chill. “How do you feel about last night?” Astride asked teasingly. He had a three point game, two goals and an assist in a 4-1 win over the Canes, so there really wasn’t any question that he was still riding on the high.

Beau rolled his eyes. “Good, obviously. It would have been nice to get a hat trick, but I know that’s asking for a lot and I didn’t want to tempt fate too much. They made a really good push late in the second.”

“But you won,” she said, poking his shoulder with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her mocha.

“But we won,” he agreed. He suddenly got quiet, the kind of quiet where, if you know the person well enough, you can tell that something’s up. That they’re thinking of something. And Astride was right. “Do you ever think about Switzerland?” he asked.

Astride looked at him from the side, knowing right away that he wasn’t asking about the country. “All the time,” she admitted.

---

It was the spring of 2015, and they were in Lucerne. By they, Astride meant her, Tito, and the rest of the 2015 Canadian U18 World Cup team. And by in Lucerne, she meant crowded into someone’s hotel room with no adult supervision. Anthony wasn’t sure where any of the coaching staff had gone, but if he was being honest, he was riding on way too big of a high to even care. They had clinched the bronze medal earlier that day, celebrating with the family and friends who had made the trip out, gotten dinner, and then packed into the first team room they came to. Well, technically, Astride, Tito, and Mat had made a stop at the grocery store before meeting everyone else back in the room. The drinking age in Switzerland was 16 for everything but spirits, and everyone was planning on taking full advantage of that. The cashier gave them a look as she took her and Anthony’s French licenses and Mat’s English one, but the charge went through just fine, and fifteen minutes later they were walking back through the doorway with three cases of beer and a few bottles of sparkling wine for good measure. Astride had never been so grateful to have her own checking account.

“You ever drink before?” Mat asked her as they opened the cases.

Astride shrugged. “Not really. A glass of wine every now and again back home with my parents, but nothing too crazy.”

He held out a bottle for her, fishing around in his pocket for the bottle opener they had picked up at the store. “Have fun.”

And have fun Astride did. She had finished off two of the beers, and one of the younger teammates — she didn’t remember who — had popped open the wine. In his slightly inebriated state, it took longer than it should have to twist off the muselet, which then led to foam all over the floor and fifteen sixteen and seventeen-year-olds running to the bathroom to grab towels to try and mop it up with. And then running back to the bathroom to get the water glasses because they needed something to drink it out of, right? And then to everyone else’s rooms because they quickly realized that two cups definitely wasn’t enough to go around, and then everyone was back in the room, on the beds and around the beds, finally letting themselves celebrate. Astride was just finishing her glass when Mat spoke. “Anyone up for never have I ever?” Nobody said otherwise, so two minutes later, they were all arranged in what could very generously be called a circle, fresh drinks in hand. After a solid five minutes of repeating the rules — there was always at least one person who seemed to genuinely struggle with the idea that you drank if you had done the thing, not if you hadn’t — they were slowly but surely making their way around the circle.

Questions ranged from the mundane — “Never have I ever gotten detention” — to the raunchy — “Never have I ever had my parents walk in on me” — neither of which Astride or Tito drank to.

By the time it was Mat’s turn, he had had plenty of time to think, looking around the group with a conspiratorial grin. “What is it?” Tito asked skeptically.

He shrugged. “Never have I ever...kissed anyone in the circle.” As expected, nobody drank, but apparently that wasn’t expected, not for Mat, at least. He looked between Anthony and Astride incredulously. “Seriously? You two have never kissed?”

Anthony shook his head. “Nope.”

“How? You’ve been friends for, like, a million years, not even when you were little or anything?” he asked.

“Never,” Astride said. “Kind of hard to kiss your best friend when you haven’t kissed anyone before.” She barely even realized that everyone was still listening in.

“You’ve never kissed anyone?” Anthony asked, surprised.

Astride looked down at her hands, sipping her beer. “Nope.” She gave him a brief smile. “I know it’s nothing to be ashamed of, but no. Just hasn’t happened yet.”

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, or maybe it was feelings buried so deeply in Anthony’s mind that he didn’t think would ever see the light of day, let alone have to be confronted, that made him say what he did next. “I could—if you wanted—you don’t have to, but—” he stammered.

Astride laughed, looking at him curiously. “What is it, Tito? You’re not normally one to stumble over your words like that.”

He picked at his fingernails, an old nervous tick from his childhood that his mother was never quite able to get him to break, keenly aware that the whole room had decided to listen into their conversation. “I was just trying to say...I could do it, if you want. Kiss you, I mean. If you just wanted to get it over with, or whatever. I just figured. You know me, you trust me, you’re comfortable with me. Better that than some idiot at school who doesn’t care about you.”

Her cheeks burned as she looked over at him, but even though it took her nearly a minute to respond, she had her answer after five seconds. “Why not?” Astride flashed him the purest, gentlest smile, the kind that let him know just how much she cared about him and how deeply she trusted him. And the look on her face meant the world to him.

Anthony leaned in, his hand coming up to rest on her shoulder, his fingertips just barely touching her cheek as their foreheads leant together. “You sure about this?” He needed her to be sure.

She nodded. “I’ve had a couple of drinks, and I never imagined my first kiss would be in front of an audience,” she paused to giggle at the rest of the team, who were giving the scene their full attention in a way that somehow wasn’t uncomfortable at all, just wholesome and supportive, “but yeah. I’m sure.”

That was all the permission Anthony needed to lean forward, pressing his lips against hers, in a kiss that was soft and sweet and somehow everything Astride needed all in one. He pulled back after a moment, a goofy smile on his face. “How was it?”

Astride couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Good, it was really good, Tito. Thank you for that.”

“What are friends for?”

---

“Friends are for kissing each other, apparently,” Astride giggled, leaning into Anthony on his couch.

He laughed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over her arm. “Did you ever think something was going to happen between us?” Anthony asked curiously.

Astride shrugged. “At some point, yeah. I think it was kind of hard not to, with our parents and literally everyone we spent time with saying we were destined to fall in love.” She looked down at her hands, trying not to give away the fact that at one point, she had believed them.

November 30 (tues)

“Do you want to come over Friday?” Anthony asked, sprawled out across her couch on one of his rare nights off. He had made the drive over to Astride’s apartment, cooking salmon and roasting vegetables while she took the much more daunting task of picking what to watch on Netflix. She settled on Back to the Future. “I can order in Thai, I know we’re trying to work our way through the Mission Impossibles.”

Astride grimaced. “I actually...kind of have a date Friday night,” she admitted.

Anthony made a hum of surprise. “You do?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t act so shocked, Tito. There are men in this city of nine million who want to take me out.”

He sputtered. “It’s not that that shocks me, Asty. You’d have men lining up around the block for you if you’d give any of them a second glance. It’s just that. You never seem to bother actually going after any of them. What made this one different?”

“I mean, honestly hour?” Astride said, shrugging.

“Honestly hour.”

“I haven’t been on a date since I left Montréal, you know that. It had been a few months there too. And I’ve loved hanging out with you more, getting to know Mat and the team and everyone’s partners, but...I needed something different, too. Something that felt like a part of my life that wasn’t directly connected to the team. Which, don’t get me wrong,” she added hastily, “I love them, and it’s been so nice to be a part of that group, I just…” Astride trailed off.

“You can’t let that be the only part of your life. I get it,” Anthony added helpfully.

“Yeah,” Astride agreed. “So enter Cole. He works in a different division of the IE department, I’m obviously Europe and he’s Asia, mostly does work with Taiwan and Singapore. Um,” she said, her eyes turning towards the ceiling, “he seems really nice, did international business at UPenn, which is a great program. Speaks fluent Mandarin, uh, I think he mentioned he’s got a few fish at home.”

Anthony snorted. “What’s wrong with fish?” Astride asked defensively.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong with fish,” he said. “Just seems like an odd choice. Maybe his building doesn’t allow pets or something.”

“Maybe,” Astride responded. “I wouldn’t know, he lives in Manhattan, over in Tribeca. Bikes to work.”

Tito laughed again. “I don’t trust people who bike to work in New York City, Asty. They have zero regard for their own lives or safety.”

She giggled. “That might be true. But I’m looking forward to it, the date, I mean. I really am. It’s been a while since I’ve really put myself back out there, and I’m ready for something good. Something real.”

He gave a half-smile from his side of the couch. “I’m happy for you, Astride. I hope you have a great time, and I hope he treats you right. If he doesn’t, just let him know that you can sic an entire professional hockey team on him with a single phone call.”

“I will,” she said. “I’ll call you when it’s over, tell you how it went.” “

I’ll be waiting,” he said.

Anthony thought back on the conversation as he sat on the corner of his bed that night, about to go to sleep. He turned his phone over and over in his hands, his eyes fixating on the chip in the crown molding that he hadn’t gotten around to fixing yet. He wasn’t lying to Astride when he said he was happy for her. He was, of course he was, who wouldn’t want their best friend to be happy? But while he wanted nothing more, nothing more, than to be able to give his full-throated support for her date, and the potential the future held for her and this Cole guy, he couldn’t do it. There was something stopping him. And the worst part of it all was that Anthony was starting to realize what it was.

---

Astride had said that their dinner reservation was at 7, some brasserie in the West Village. “That’s a French thing, right?” Cole had asked.

“It is,” Astride responded, gearing up for her translation skills to be used for the first time in months. She spoke almost exclusively French around Tito, and with JGP and Brassard, but the majority of her day was spent in English. Cole said that the restaurant had come highly recommended from one of his Wall Street friends, something that should have been the first red flag.

“Never trust the finance bros,” Reese, a German specialist and one of her friends at the office, had said. “They all think they’re God’s gift to mankind when I can guarantee you they ain’t shit.”

She had said it was at 7, so Anthony wasn’t expecting to hear from her until much later; honestly, he would have been surprised if she had called before 10. He tried not to think about what it could mean if she didn’t call at all that night. She had said it was at 7, so when he heard a knock at his door at half past nine, he practically jumped out of his skin before scrambling to open the door. His eyebrows rose when he saw Astride on the other side of the door, then his face contorted into a look of sympathy as he saw the sad smile on her lips, her jacket slung over one arm.

“Can I come in?” she asked. He nodded without question, holding the door while stepping out of the way. He padded to the kitchen, bringing out a bottle of Moscato and two glasses. Astride smiled gratefully at him as he uncorked the bottle and poured. He knew that she couldn’t do red wine when she was upset, and she was upset.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked tentatively.

Astride shrugged, sipping the wine. “Not much to tell other than it was probably the worst first date I’ve ever been on.”

That piqued Anthony’s interest. He’d never be happy that she was upset, but something told him the story wasn’t quite that simple. “What about it was so bad?”

“Where do I begin?” she sighed. “He was on time, but that’s pretty much the only thing Cole did right the entire night. He was rude to the waitress when we had to wait all of ten minutes until our reservation was ready, because the couple ahead had gone long. Then he ordered the most expensive bottle of red wine they had, without even asking me to see what I wanted. He really just was trying to show off that he could afford it. And it was a Sangiovese, and you know I hate dry wines, so I was just trying to choke the whole thing down. And then he insisted on ordering for me, which is probably the most chauvinistic thing I could think of, I mean, who does that anymore?” she asked incredulously.

Tito shrugged. It was disrespectful, absolutely, but more than that, it was just weird. If women have mouths that work, then they’re more than capable of doing something as simple as ordering their own food.

“And he kept trying to pour me more wine after the first glass, even when I told him a million times I was good.” Anthony’s grip on his glass tightened. Astride rubbed her temples with her free hand. “He just kept going on and on about work, and this big promotion he’s insisting he’s going to get even though I know for a fact that they want Maria for it. I could barely get a word in edgewise. That’s when I just decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I faked that Jean-Claude was calling, grabbed my jacket, and caught a cab over here.” She looked up at him, the same disappointed expression she had worn when he opened the door. “I was really hoping this one would pan out, Tito.”

He felt an ache in his heart. He may have been less than thrilled about the prospect of Astride going out on a date, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less to see her so despondent. He leaned over, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear that had fallen loose. “I know, Asty. And I’m sorry it didn’t.”

December 13 (mon)

Anthony and Mat were the last ones in the locker room after a morning practice. “I found this new place nearby last week that’s got great smoothie bowls, want to get one after you finish packing your stuff?” Anthony asked, looking over at Mat.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, Sounds good,” Mat nodded, half-listening.

Anthony glanced over at him, a weird look on his face. “You good, dude? You sound distracted.”

Mat spoke abruptly, looking over at Tito with a laser-focused expression. “How long have you been in love with Astride?”

Anthony’s eyebrows jumped a foot. “In love with Astride? Why would you think that?”

Mat gave him a look, the kind of look that let Anthony know he was dead serious about what he was saying, and more than that, that he believed it. “Tito, I’m dumb, but I’m not stupid.”

Anthony leaned forward, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “It’s that obvious?”

“Yep,” Mat said, popping the p.

“Do you think she knows?” His voice had dropped to barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Mat said, shrugging. “I don’t think so, she doesn’t seem like the type of person to really be able to know about something as big as that and not address it. Doesn’t like to keep things bottled up, it’s not really her style.”

Anthony nodded. “It’s not.” He raked one hand through his haid, his head still leaning on the other one. “God. How do you tell your best friend you’re in love with her?”

Mat put one hand on Beau’s back, comforting him as best he could. “I don’t know, Tito. I wish I could help. What I do know,” he said, “is that you’re going to have to eventually. Because it’s going to tear you up if you don’t.”

December 18 (sat)

Astride tossed one final empty can into the garbage bag. “I think that’s it,” she said, giving his living room a cursory look. What had looked like a warzone only less than an hour before now more closely resembled the somewhat-messy but perfectly respectable bachelor pad of a man in his 20s, like it should have. With the holidays approaching, Anthony had decided to take it into his own hands to host a party — alongside Astride, who he had practically begged for help — intent on showcasing his newly-acquired skills by playing bartender the whole night. He was surprisingly capable, Astride had thought, if her Sazerac was anything to go by.

He smiled at her. “Thanks, Asty. And thanks for staying and helping clean everything up, you really didn’t have to.”

She tied the bag off and set it by the door with the other one. “I wanted to. And besides, I’m staying over,” she said, looking over at Anthony, “so what did you think I was going to do? Lock myself in the guest room while you cleaned up the whole apartment by yourself? What kind of a woman do you take me for?” she asked in mock offense.

Anthony laughed, sitting down on the couch with a satisfying thump, pulling Astride into his side when she settled next to him.

“I’m so glad we got back in contact,” she said, muffled against the fabric of his hoodie. “I’m so glad we’re friends again.”

He felt guilty; more than that, he knew that the guilt, at least some of it, was deserved. “I should have done more,” he lamented. “I should have done more to keep in contact, more to show you I cared, more so you’d know that your friendship is one of the things I value most in my life.”

Astride gave a small smile. “It’s a two-way street, Tito. Sure, I won’t lie and say that you really put all that much effort into keeping in contact. You didn’t.” He winced, she shot him a sympathetic look. “I love you, but you know me. I don’t mince my words. But I definitely could have done more than text you congratulations or leave a thirty-second voicemail on your birthday. We both could have done more. We both should have done more,” she said, correcting herself. “What do you think happened, though? Where did we go wrong?” As much as she might have hated it, Astride was that kind of person. She went through every bad decision in her life with a fine-toothed comb, needing to know what went wrong, needing to know what she could have done differently.

“I think,” he began, “that it was just so easy to get distracted from ‘back home’ things. From our friendship, from my relationships with my family. From the important things, the things that I should have made an effort to prioritize even when the season got hectic and games got hard. And I’m not trying to make excuses,” he added quickly, “but there was just something about where I was, physically and mentally. I was 19, a rookie in one of the biggest cities in the world, and I think I just lost sight of things. Between the practices and games and going out and community events and trying to get in more than five hours of sleep a night, it was a lot,” he admitted. “It was stressful, probably weighed on me more than I wanted to admit. And I don’t want to sound ungrateful, because I’m well aware I was — and am — living a life thousands of kids would kill for, but there’s a lot that goes on behind the scenes that you don’t really understand unless you’ve been through it. I don’t have many regrets from my rookie season, or really many in my career so far. Don’t regret moving for minors, don’t regret going to the Isles, don’t regret any of the contracts I’ve signed or plays I’ve made. Well,” he smirked, “maybe a few. But the one big one? The only real regret I’ve had? Letting you go.”

Astride swallowed hard, choosing her next words carefully. “What do you mean, letting me go?”

Anthony let out a hard sigh. He’d put it off for long enough. He couldn’t do it any longer. “Never telling you how I feel.”

“How you feel?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper, her fingers tangling in the fringe of the fleece blanket that was slung over the couch cushions.

“Like I love you so much my heart could burst.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “How long have you known?”

He looked at her with a soft smile. “Ever since Switzerland.”

“Six years?”

“Six years.” He reached out slowly, so slowly, pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear when she didn’t move back. They sat in silence for a moment, and when Anthony spoke again, his voice wavered. “Asty? Say something.”

Astride’s lifted her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I knew since I was 15.”

His face split into a grin, wider and wider until she was sure she’d never seen a bigger smile. “You did? You do?”

She nodded, leaning forward so their foreheads were touching. She put her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat fluttering butterfly-fast underneath her fingertips. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since I knew what love was, Tito.”

He pushed forward, pressing his lips against hers for the first time since 2015, the first time since Switzerland. It was gentle and meaningful and somehow communicated all of the love and emotion that had been built up between the two of them in the past six years. Anthony pulled back after a minute, his lips pink and slightly puffy. “Tell me where your head’s at, Astride.”

“Is it too cliché to just say that this might be the happiest I’ve been in years?”

He shook his head, smiling. “Not at all.” But there was something that she wasn’t quite letting go of. “What is it, Astride?”

Astride sniffed. “I want this. You and I, I want it so mad it hurts. I just hate the idea that we’d turn into some sort of cliché. Childhood friends who grow up and fall in love, but something goes wrong and they split up and suddenly the dynamic of everything is messed up and I don’t want that, Tito. I don’t know if I could deal with you hating me because of how things ended.”

“But things don’t have to end, Asty. Every broken heart, every date where some asshole has stood you up has led you to know that you deserve more. You deserve so much more, Astride, you deserve the sun and the moon and someone who would hang them in the sky for you. It doesn’t have to end in heartbreak. It doesn’t have to end at all.”

Astride had always been someone who was cautious, someone who thought before she acted and never spoke without thinking through every possible outcome. But this was one of the times that she couldn’t do that, one of the times when, as much as she may have hated it, she needed to take a leap of faith. And so she did. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Anthony asked, his voice lifting.

She nodded, the happiness on her face unmistakable. “Okay.”

And as Astride and Anthony FaceTimed her parents to break the news, her mom slapping her dad’s shoulder, claiming that she had “called it” back in 2014, Astride was filled with a sense of undeniable, irreplaceable joy. The kind of joy that the poets write about and artists put brush to canvas trying to depict, the kind that most people go their whole lives only hoping to get a glimpse of. The kind that made Astride more certain of one thing than she had perhaps been in her entire life. It didn’t have to end in heartbreak. And this one didn’t have to end at all.

And as they stood two years later in a little church in their hometown, promising in front of their family and friends and the entire New York Islanders to love each other for the rest of their lives, Astride finally believed it.

#anthony beauvillier #hockey smut #hockey writing #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl writing #new york islanders

168 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Chase the Shadows Away (Taywhora) - Juno

Summary: It’s April 2020, the UK is in lockdown, and Tayce gets a hand-delivered letter from her neighbour Aurora which may change her life.

A/N: So this is set during lockdown and does mention covid, so please bear this in mind when reading if this will be a worry, but otherwise I hope you enjoy. CWs in place for alcohol, mental health mentions, and non-adherence to lockdown rules at one point.

Otherwise it’s quite fluffy with some h/c. I hope you enjoy.

The first letter Tayce got was in early April.

She hadn’t had much post since the whole country had been locked down, no one allowed to move outside their front doors for more than once a day for threat of fines and penalties and even getting sick. Most of the letters she was getting this week had been birthday cards for her absent housemate. She’d put the various brightly-coloured cards and Amazon boxes in a pile outside Viv’s bedroom door, and gave the pile the middle finger every time she walked past it.

But today there was a plain, white envelope, with “Hi” written on it in glittery red pen, and when Tayce opened it, she found a piece of notebook paper that had been folded at least four times, and Tayce nearly threw it across the room with the effort it was taking to open.

This had better be worth it.

When she got it unfolded, she read the three lines in the same glitter pen, then again, and once more just in case.

‘Hi, I’m Aurora. I’m on my own in my flat 7D because my housemate moved home because of lockdown, and you seem to be alone too. Want to write to each other? X’

And Tayce couldn’t hold back the rush of emotion, as much as she tried - but she was alone, and she took comfort knowing only these four walls would see tears stream down her face.

——

Tayce was on her own in the flat.

In the day time she opened her work laptop, thanking god she was allowed to work from home; throwing a hoodie over her pyjama top just in time for the 9am meeting where her boss grinned at everyone and told them all to keep swimming and chin up and whatever other self-indulgent bullshit she had read in her How To Motivate Your Teammanual in the chapter about Managing Pandemics.

Tayce was still surprised at how much bullshit her workmates seemed to swallow; all of them with the same broad smiles and straightened hair and shaved chins and eyeliner, for fuck’s sake - but Tayce copied them, knowing that not painting her own smile and her own eyebrows on was damning herself for the inevitable call and the simpering It’s Good To Talk conversation, followed by u k hun xx to be flashing repeatedly in the work WhatsApp group from all the team.

In the evenings, the only noise was the clink of the glass bottle against the wine glass. One glass was enough to make her a little sleepy, two was enough to make her dance, and three was enough to make her post something cryptic on her insta story and see if anyone DMed her.

Sometimes they did.

Joe liked to crack a few morbid jokes about how it was the apocalypse and we were all going to be dead by 2021, which didn’t help Tayce in the slightest. Ginny would message “You alright, bab?” at three in the morning, but never reply to any other message. Tia would send Tayce a picture of the banana bread she’d baked as if that would cheer Tayce up.

And Cherry sent her a message one time, telling her to look after her mental health, and then Tayce felt bad because Cherry worked for the NHS and only seemed to work and sleep right now, her insta photos showing her looking more and more gaunt, with #ClapForHeroes and #ProtectTheNHS appearing at the bottom of all her posts.

Nothing curbed the gaping black hole in Tayce’s chest, sucking everything that was good from her body and leaving her a shell.

Until the letter arrived.

——

Two days after she’d posted her own letter back to 7D, another letter arrived, in the same glittery red pen, this time addressed to her, with Tayce written on the front of the envelope this time.

‘Hi Tayce (sp?) nice to meet you, don’t worry I don’t know what to say either! Where in Wales are you from? I’m from Nottingham but I came to London for uni and didn’t leave! Are you still working rn? I got furloughed which is a bit shit. And my housemate is staying with her boyfriend so she can’t move back. Have you been clapping for the NHS? Someone on my floor was banging a pan or something!! Hope your ok? WB Aurora xx’

“I’m making a new friend,” Tayce had said to her mum on the phone later that night.

“In lockdown?”

“She’s delivering me letters.”

“How?”

“By hand, mum.” Tayce forced a laugh. “You know. Through the letterbox like a normal letter.”

“I hope you’re washing your hands before and after you open them, are you?”

“Yeah, of course,” Tayce grimaced as she said it.

“Good. Stay safe. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

One of these days, Tayce thought as she disconnected the call, she might be able to say it without her voice breaking.

——

By mid-April, a full month since lockdown had started and two weeks after the first letters between them, Aurora had given Tayce her instagram handle, and Tayce had given hers in return. Tayce found herself spending all of her Good Friday skimming down the page on moreauroramore, looking through all of her new pen pal’s photos and trying desperately not to look like an idiot by accidentally double-tapping any that were obviously over a year old.

Tayce had pictured Aurora in her mind as being over-excitable, short, with dark hair and lots of dusty pinks and baby blues and other pastel colours as her aesthetic, maybe with pot plants and cat pictures and cutesy little slogans surrounded by hearts. Instead she’d found a smolderingly attractive woman with a ridiculously versatile and sophisticated sense of fashion; one photo in a rococo-inspired summer dress, and the next in a cerulean blazer, matching trousers, and stilettos. Her hair was platinum-blonde, but it was hard to tell her eye colour as she seemed to own a never-ending plethora of colour contacts; and the eyebrow ring in the early pictures was replaced by a silver septum ring in later ones.

Her own insta looked quite plain in comparison, Tayce thought to herself. The landscapes she liked to post were interesting to her but probably not to the magnificent person on Aurora’s insta. The last picture Tayce had taken was of herself with her brother and niece in red rugby shirts just before the Six Nations was on; the last selfie before the last time she’d gone home which was … only February, she realised.

February felt like years ago.

When Tayce had awoken the next morning, she was greeted by the doorbell, and an Amazon driver sprinting away the moment she opened the door. A letter was on the doormat, in the familiar red glittery pen, and a single chocolate Easter egg.

‘Happy Easter Tayce. Don’t know if you celebrate but lol thought you would like some chocolate anyway! Don’t eat it all at once. Aurora xx’

It made Tayce’s gut wrench with guilt that she hadn’t thought to get Aurora one.

But it made Tayce even more pained, once she had clicked onto her instagram, to see that moreauroramore had liked all thirteen of the pictures she’d posted this year.

——

The zoom call at the end of April with the others from her uni group, saw not just Cherry missing, but also Ellie and Veronica.

“Ellie’s moving this week,” Lawrence nodded at the screen, “but that was all she’d tell me. She didn’t say where. Or if she’s staying in Dundee or anything. I just know she’s still trying to get her internet set up and I think she’s a bit stuck.”

“What about Vee?” Ginny asked in a low voice.

They all recognised the somber tone. They’d all taken it up. A change in their voices that all of them recognised in a kind of collective telepathic awareness. A hush in the calls, as if someone were dying, or had just died. Whenever anyone was missing, it was always the same worry circling all of their minds: what if it’s covid what if it’s covid what if it’s -

Tia was shaking her head. “It’s not covid,” she said, reading the minds of everyone through the internet, but her voice was still solemn as she continued. “I spoke to her mum. She’s -“

“Say depressed, Tia, it’s fine.” Bimini spoke gently, but not all of them were as open as Bimini was. Especially when it came to Veronica, who was a brick wall when it came to showing what she was feeling.

“She’s - not in a good place.”

“Say mental health,” Bimini said, shaking their head. “It’s okay to not be okay.”

“I don’t think that’s gonna make her feel any better, Bim.” Tia rolled her eyes.

“We’re all feeling this,” Pip nodded. “We all need to talk to each other.”

“Veronica won’t. Not yet. We just need to be there for her when she does. Anyway, who’s done anything interesting? Anyone else been trying banana bread? Everyone managed to find bogroll from somewhere now? No one is having the same problem that Joe had when she -“

“I don’t think we need to go any further with that one, love,” Joe muttered.

“I’ve made a pen friend.”

Everyone sat in stunned silence at Tayce’s sentence, mouths open like fish at feeding time.

“A pen friend? What is this, 1986?”

“Shut up, Ginny. I think that’s kind of cute, actually,” Tia mused, tilting her head to one side.

Tayce nodded. “Something a bit different. She lives in my block of flats. Two floors up from me. Been nice, to talk to someone, ever since Viv buggered off to her boyfriend’s house. Seriously, as soon as Boris announced lockdown she was jumping in her car and off to Liverpool.”

“You said she was a bit flaky,” Tia said sympathetically. “What’s your new pen pal’s name?”

“Aurora.”

“A-what?” Ginny raised their eyebrows. “Can we just call her Rory?”

“No.”

“We should get her on a call with us when Veronica’s back. Ronni and Rory, sounds like Ant and Dec will have some stiff competition when they get wind of that.”

“Ginny -“ Tia began, but Tayce was trying to hold back a chuckle.

——

‘Someone is talking about a street party on the 8th of May. Are you gonna go? I was gonna stay indoors but if you’re gonna go outside i will too xx’

Tayce knew she shouldn’t be thinking of meeting strangers outside her flat while the pandemic was ongoing, but she hadn’t seen a familiar human since March other than on a zoom call screen.

‘Hi Aurora, yeah i will go outside for a little bit. Look forward to meeting you properly instead of over letters! Tayce’

And Tayce finally stopped hesitating, adding two kisses on the end for the first time.

The weather was meant to be lush for a May bank holiday, as Tayce knew because her colleagues wouldn’t shut up about it. Almost eight weeks of lockdown were beginning to show the cracks in all their faces - no more eyeliner, and even Linda in Accounts had stopped posting boomerang videos of her kids doing Joe Wicks workouts while she waved her arms behind them.

So Tayce was over the moon when Friday rolled around and she could slam the Dismiss button on her phone alarm, turn over and sleep in until noon. Once she woke up though, she sat up with a jolt in her bed and realised she’d have to get ready; somehow it was important that she looked right today.

It was a power play, she knew it. An armour. But there was just something about clothes that made her mood turn in an instant. Her favourite leather jacket was probably a bit too heavy for the warm sunshine - warm sunshine? In May? - so she opted for the black denim instead and a skirt that hugged her slender figure, leaving her hair loose and wishing she’d gone for a trim before the lockdown. Maybe she should take her scissors to it?

She held the only scissors she had to hand - a pair of craft scissors - and wondered what her hairdresser mum would say if she knew that her daughter had taken non-styling scissors to the 30-inches of hair that she had.

No - better not. Her mum could give her a go over once the lockdown period had ended.

Someone was playing tunes on a speaker already when Tayce came down the stairs, dragging the garden chair Viv had left behind and brushing the digestive crumbs off it. One of the neighbours she recognised from her floor handed her an ice-cold can of Fosters which she sipped, not really enjoying the taste but relishing the freedom of it all. She knew to keep two metres from everyone, and she knew Cherry would absolutely murder her if she disobeyed that rule.

As soon as Aurora came into view from the block of flats, Tayce knew that keeping to the two metre rule would prove a little harder than she had first thought.

Aurora’s insta pictures showed a fashion model trapped in a little box on a screen, striving to get out - but in the flesh, she looked as if she had just rolled out of the living room after a Tiger King marathon. The grey jogging bottoms paired with the crop top and zip-up hoodie were probably too warm for today - 23 degrees, the radio kept repeating - but she made them look so effortless and stylish that Tayce suddenly wanted to buy some. Her platinum hair was piled in a messy bun, dark brown roots showing but the lackadaisical nature made it seem like Aurora meant it that way.

On her insta page, Aurora was way out of Tayce’s league; but here in life, she seemed a lot more accessible, a lot calmer, a lot more real.

Maybe it’s armour for her too. All this perfection in the photos. God. Why did I wear this?

She dropped her own deck chair down a reasonable distance from Tayce, taking another can of Fosters from the same neighbour and cracking it open. She took a swig, wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, and waved.

“Hi, Tayce. Here we are, then!”

“Yeah,” was the only thing Tayce could think of in response. Really cool. Very clever.

But Aurora was talking animatedly about how much she’d missed the sun, as she pulled a pair of sunglasses from her pocket and leaned back against the deck chair, claiming “Tesco are having them on sale - two for £12, so I got two - what else am I gonna do on furlough other than sunbathe!”

And the more the Fosters flowed - their neighbour’s 24-pack almost completely gone before 5pm, he seemingly wanting to give a can to the whole block - the more Aurora opened up her life history to Tayce.

How much she wished she was still in Worksop and could go on the long walks into the forest. How she’d give anything to hug her mum, a care-worker, and how she FaceTimed her shielding grandad every Sunday at 6.30 just after he finished his tea.

But most of all, how lonely it was every single night being alone in a flat in a huge city. Aurora dabbed her watery eyes with her thumbs as she described how much she loved everything that London had to offer when it was full of people, not dead to the world like it was now - and in this hollow place that lockdown was, she’d discovered that a city - any city, however exciting - was just a built-up area if you had no one to share it with.

Tayce hadn’t expected to cry. She’d cried maybe once or twice this whole time in lockdown, still too numb to have taken everything in that was happening. But the moment she’d opened her mouth, suddenly the Fosters had started talking for her too, and she was spilling out her worries onto the pavement below them as Aurora rubbed her back.

How her mum was furloughed from the hairdresser and her dad was always out in the lorry up and down the country. Her brother and sister-in-law, and her niece, were all still fine in Newport, but Tayce had missed her niece’s birthday, having to settle for blowing her a kiss down FaceTime and promising her through gritted teeth and cold fear that she’d give her the biggest cwtch ever as soon as this was over.

But now Tayce was in tears again, this time on Aurora’s shoulder, releasing her sorrows onto this woman who she had only exchanged written words with; now seeing her true soul laid bare in emotions that just refused to stop once she started. Aurora’s gentle hands ghosted through her hair, but then gripped Tayce tightly to her chest, planting a long, tender kiss on her hairline.

How had this happened? How had social distancing become this? Two people, thinking they were islands, clinging to one another for dear life?

Tayce held her for too long.

Aurora’s hands froze as she realised what she had done at the same moment Tayce had.

Cherry is gonna kill me.

Aurora walked with Tayce back to her flat as the sun was setting. It was nine in the evening, the heat finally starting to break, and both of them were aching and tired, spent from their tears. Aurora gave Tayce’s hand a gentle squeeze but said nothing else, her eyes red underneath her sunglasses, and Tayce had felt herself harden once again, turning the key in the door and closing the outside world back to where it should be.

——

After two weeks had passed, both of them not developing any symptoms after their contact, Tayce had an idea.

She put the letter through the letterbox in 7D at midday when she broke for lunch, and had a reply by half past one, a new record for Aurora.

‘Tayce, I’d love to form a support bubble with you. I thought you would have one already thats why i didn’t ask! Want to put on a film tonight and just chill? Bubble bud? Aurora xx’

So Tayce saw inside Aurora’s flat for the first time that same evening. After work, she practically sprinted up the stairs, thankful to get away from more of u k hun xx and her still-simpering colleagues.

It was very clean, as if it had only just been cleaned that day - freshly-washed surfaces, hoovered carpets, a sparkling bathroom - and Tayce marvelled at how tidy and orderly things were, a stark contrast from her own living space which had evolved into a nest of mess by now. Aurora’s living room and kitchen space were one area, with a mismatched sofa and chair facing the tv screen, hooking up a PS4 - Tayce hadn’t counted Aurora as a Dishonoured player either. The wall opposite the window was filled with small pictures of past fashion models - Kate Moss, Agyness Deyn, Cara Delevigne - all with matte black frames which had obviously been painted in lockdown, as one was on the coffee table drying over a copy of Hello magazine.

“My housemate’s not coming back, I can see it happening now,” Aurora shrugged, “so why not make the house the way I like it while I look for someone else to live with?”

Aurora poured Tayce a huge glass of wine, and that was followed by another; while she topped up her own glass liberally and kept shifting on the sofa as if trying to get comfortable. Tayce, for her part, took the chair instead, while Aurora tapped on the PlayStation controller to try to get Netflix up. The more she drank, the more cumbersome the controller seemed to become in her hands, until Tayce leaned over and took it away from her, Aurora’s fingers lingering a little too long on it before relinquishing.

When Aurora got up, meaning to pour them both a fourth glass of wine, she slipped on something and tumbled into Tayce’s lap in the chair, tittering something that sounded like “god I’m clumsy” through the giggles that came from her, unable to stop. Tayce slapped her on the back as she started coughing, but as that died down, Aurora straightened up, picking up Tayce’s hand in hers and drawing her up and away to join her on the sofa.

Lockdown had been so fucking lonely.

Aurora’s hand in hers was all Tayce needed to dissolve every wall she was still rebuilding from May Bank Holiday.

Aurora’s eyes were on her, she knew; through her peripheral vision as she tried desperately to cling to her focus on whatever episode of Tiger King this was.

When Tayce finally met her gaze, she averted it, turning her face to the window opposite them. Almost … playfully.

So Tayce looked back at the TV screen, but Aurora’s hand squeezed at hers, thumb in her palm pressing right in the centre, the pressure somehow travelling all the way to her gut. Tayce turned back to her, and this time Aurora did not look away.

“God, you’re gorgeous.”

Aurora looked at her through her eyelashes, lips parted in a smirk, curiously searching Tayce with her gaze as if wondering what her next move would be.

Tayce blinked incredulously. “Me? Like this? What do you mean, I’m gorgeous? Have you seen yourself?”

“And that accent, oh my days -“

“Go to Newport, we all sound like this.”

But the wine was hitting hard now and oh god lockdown is so fucking lonely and Tayce’s feet on the floor suddenly felt unsteady and Aurora was so fucking close to her on the sofa -

——

Once the hangover was gone, the memory of rest of the night felt like a dream, or maybe a nightmare. Tayce wasn’t entirely sure when she’d gone back to her flat, but she had, long before night had fully fallen and long after she was sure the burgeoning friendship she was finally making with someone lay in tatters two floors up from her.

The wine had washed away the strength she’d had, leaving her raw and vulnerable, and all the affection that had been growing since Aurora had first held her bubbled and burst into life. And Aurora must have felt the same magnetic pull, drawing them together across the sofa, nail marks still present in Tayce’s back that she could see in the mirror, a bruise forming on Tayce’s collarbone as Aurora had dipped a little lower.

It had been Tayce who had halted it - not because she hadn’t wanted to, but because she couldn’t decipher how much of this was affection and how much of this was just two lonely people, starved of company, starved of normality, seeking and clinging to it in any form.

And now it was the following day, and Tayce still didn’t know.

The group call at the end of the day was interesting. She stretched over the back of the sofa in her living room to grab her water, and that must have been enough to flash a sliver of skin.

“What’s that?” Lawrence asked loudly, prompting everyone else to go quiet. “Tayce? What’s that on your chest, hmm?”

“I didn’t see anything.”

“You’re not wearing your glasses, Ginny, you can’t see shit. What’s that on your chest? Why d’you have a bruise there?”

“Hi!” Ellie’s voice as she joined the call unexpectedly saved Tayce any further embarrassment; everyone shrieked when she came on, having missed the last two zoom calls following her move. “Thank God my internet is working now, I’ve missed all your faces!”

Tayce silently thanked Ellie’s timing and contentedly listened to the rest of them as they chatted about everything and nothing that they’d all missed. All of them were there; even Cherry showed up about twenty minutes in to wave at them and blow them kisses, her face even more pallid than before; before ducking back out to go to bed.

Only Veronica was still missing.

“She’s been messaging me,” Tia explained, “and she said she’s feeling a bit better, but since she got furloughed, she’s feeling like there’s no point getting out of bed or getting ready because there’s nowhere to go.”

“Send her some love,” Tayce said, but Tia snorted.

“You send her it! She’s gonna feel better if she knows we all miss her.”

It was true though, Tayce realised after they all disconnected. They all seemed to be drifting apart, no more energy to continue with these online gatherings, even though there were so many virtual meetup groups and apps that there almost seemed to be no excuse now.

She looked back through her phone messages. She hadn’t messaged Veronica since early April, taking her silence as a sign that she wanted to be left alone; but what if it wasn’t? Veronica was a closed fist, everyone knew that. And Tayce’s brother? Again, early April, and a quick call the week after for her niece’s birthday.

Lockdown, and self-isolation, seemed to be one and the same.

So Tayce spent the rest of the afternoon sending messages to everyone she had neglected since then. Maybe they would reply, and maybe they wouldn’t - but there was no harm in reaching out, no negative consequences.

By the end of the day, she was fielding messages back and forth from everyone she thought she’d lost through lockdown, the grey cloud over her head starting to lift, the fuzzy feeling disappearing and clarity settling in. She felt light, lighter than she had in weeks; and warm as the summery days they were getting in this late-May spring.

Towards the end of the day, she got a message back from Veronica at last.

Veronica: I’m doing ok. I got up and went for a walk today just to the park and back. It’s really nice although my hay fever sucks. Thanks for checking in on me i appreciate it x Veronica: Oh also Tia said you had a hickey on the group call haha tell me what her name is x

Tayce was surprised to realise she was grinning at the phone as she read Veronica’s message, her fingers stroking the mark on her collarbone as if to savour the vivid image that it sparked in her head.

——

It was three days after their drunken kiss on the sofa that Tayce had another letter through the door. The same red glittery pen, the same scrawl, but the writing a little smaller as if Aurora wanted to diminish herself.

‘Hi Tayce. I’m really sorry if i came on too strong this week. Can we go back to friends? Want to hang out tonight, bubble bud? Aurora xx’

Tayce swallowed down the part of her that immediately rose up and cried that she … didn’t want to just be friends.

Then it hit her.

God. I only met this girl properly this month. What’s wrong with me?

But she replied and immediately started clearing the house.

She put the pile of Viv’s birthday cards and presents from the hallway floor into a cupboard under the sink, giving it the middle finger again; put the six-weeks worth of laundry on to wash; cleaned all the dishes; and dragged the hoover out of the tiny airing cupboard and got to work on the carpets. The hard floors she swept, and carried the bin bags out to the communal bins, all before midday.

“Who needs Joe Wicks workouts?” She muttered to herself, panting, as she tugged some marigolds over her hands to sort out the rest of the kitchen.

By the time it was six, and time for Aurora to arrive, Tayce thought the house looked much better, and honestly, she felt much better too. The little spring clean she’d given the place had cleared a little clutter from her head as well.

It’s nothing to worry about. She’d just coming over for food and -

Tayce grimaced as she realised she hadn’t thought of what to do for food. She thought back to the beans on toast she’d had at four and kicked herself for not thinking of that. Dominos was still delivering, so she brought up the app and busied herself looking through the list of pizzas.

Aurora hadn’t arrived by ten past six, and Tayce started to worry.

Maybe she’s changed her mind.

But Tayce refused to let that thought take any root. She looked at the clock, which of course seemed to slow down from having eyes on it, and firmly told herself that she would message Aurora at quarter past if she wasn’t here before.

With a minute to spare, Aurora turned up, grinning merrily and waving the bottle of rose in Tayce’s face.

“Hey bubble bud! Sorry I’m late, well I’m always late, sorry in advance if you expect me on time for anything!” Aurora took a step inside and her jaw dropped. “Wow, your place is well nice!”

“Thanks,” Tayce grinned, although she wasn’t sure what Aurora was looking at. Tayce wasn’t allowed anything on the walls from what her landlord said, but Aurora wouldn’t stay still - checking out the titles of the handful of CDs Tayce had brought down to London with her; scanning a nail along the books on the shelf above the TV.

“It’s nice to hold a book sometimes,” Tayce shrugged, “rather than just read it on the kindle app.”

When Aurora got to the kitchen, Tayce cringed. She’d have to confess.

“I haven’t got in anything to eat. Only - only some bread.”

“And pot noodles,” Aurora added, opening a cupboard and helping herself to the contents as if she’d lived here her whole life.

“And pot - oh, are you thinking, maybe …”

“No way!” Aurora slammed the cupboard door and grabbed her keys again. “Be right back!”

Ten minutes later and Tayce was at the hob over the oven with Aurora, dicing onions while she cut up a red pepper, mince that Aurora had grabbed from her own fridge was out and ready to go in too.

“I needed to use that up anyway,” she shrugged. “Please tell me you don’t just eat bread and pot noodles, Tayce, please. I need to give you a cooking crash course if you do! Didn’t you learn to cook at uni? Or didn’t you do much cooking before you went? Oh my days - no fry the onion off first, with the garlic - I’ll chop the mushrooms, Jesus Christ pot noodles …”

“I know how to cook, give me some credit!” Tayce murmured, but she couldn’t stop smiling. “I just haven’t been to the shop yet, it’s been a long week.”

Aurora closed her eyes and hummed in appreciation. “Just keep talking to me, please.”

“What about?”

“Anything! Your life, your family - I don’t know, house prices, I don’t care - but that accent, ugh -“ Aurora shivered.

“Yours is cute, too,” Tayce smirked.

Aurora looked at her reproachfully. “You’re lying.”

“Yeah, I am.”

It was no use. The air was full of electricity, static around them, and before Tayce knew what was happening, suddenly they were kissing again, this time stone-cold sober, while the onions burned shadows into the bottom of the pan.

——

Viv gave her notice on the flat at the start of June.

“I just can’t afford to live here anymore,” she explained, sighing, when she got back and started to pack up everything in her room. “I’m gonna see if I can get some work back home.”

Tayce was numb, although she knew Viv didn’t mean it personally. It wasn’t her fault that she’d been made redundant straight after the lockdown ended, and it made sense that she wanted to be near her family. It was now four months since Tayce had seen hers, and she missed them every day, although she had been sticking religiously to her new routine of calling her parents every Saturday night and her brother’s family every Sunday afternoon.

“I’m sorry that’s putting you in a tight spot, Tayce,” Viv muttered, hugging her, and Tayce hugged her back.

“Can’t be helped,” Tayce replied, which was all she could think to respond with that wasn’t an inarticulate growl in frustration.

Viv was adamant she would pay her final month’s rent, and pay her half the utilities even though she wasn’t there. But she had to go home.

“How was your move?” Tayce asked Ellie on the next group call on zoom.

“Shite,” Ellie replied, “but partly because we struggled finding someone to move us. There’s plenty of places around, plenty of places to rent and stuff, because everyone’s moved back to where they came from.”

“You’ll find somewhere else to live, bab,” Ginny murmured in a soothing voice to Tayce, stroking the side of the laptop screen as she liked to do to show affection now that she couldn’t hug anyone.

“I know,” Tayce sighed. “It’s just a pain in the arse.”

She wasted no time. One of the spare room websites was always open in the background, and she was refreshing, looking maybe a little further out from central London to see if anywhere was cheaper, but nowhere was.

Then she spotted the dot in her own block of flats, and clicked the advert.

That’s - that’s Aurora’s flat.

Now she remembered. Aurora had mentioned something about her housemate moving out! It must now be official.

She read through the advert - how was it £50 cheaper than what she was already paying? - and looked at the contact name for the housemate, and there it was in black and white pixels: Aurora Martin, use form below.

Grabbing a piece of notebook paper - one of the last bits left, she’d been ripping them all out to write to Aurora - she penned a letter, one of what might well be the last ones, and jogged upstairs to post it through her letterbox.

The response came back to her in less than an hour, a new record for Aurora.

‘Tayce! I’d love it if you wanted to move in here! OMG. My landlord will want references from yours, but if you can get them quick then he can approve you really fast, he’s working from home. OMG you made my day. Come up at 7pm xx’

“Work contacted me today too,” Aurora beamed as she settled with Tayce on the sofa. “They want me to start back next week! Can’t wait. Need to get that coin again now! I mean, I’m dead grateful, you know, that I still have my job and I was on furlough so the government paid most of my wages, but it will be nice to have the full package again!”

“What is it you do again?” Tayce asked.

“Oh - I work as a fashion buyer. But because fashion’s kind of stopped right now, most of the designers are shut. Reopening now, especially the ones in mainland Europe! Can’t wait to be on the phone to them all again.”

“Wait. You speak to designers in other countries?”

Aurora nodded. “I speak French and Spanish.”

“You -“ Tayce was dazed. “I didn’t know that!”

“Well why would you? I mean you’ve only known me a couple of months!” Aurora laughed, and leaned back closer to Tayce, her perfume overwhelmingly sweet in the air. “You’re not gonna know everything about me yet, bubble bud.”

“No,” Tayce purred, “but I can’t wait to find out.”

——

By the Monday after the move, early July, Tayce was all set up to go. She’d moved the bed into the corner as she liked it, arranged her books into a rainbow as she liked them, and unfurled the posters she’d been unable to hang in her last flat, mostly punk bands that she liked, Bimini’s band’s poster, and the noticeboard with all the tickets tacked to it of all the gigs she’d been to. The vanity with the mirror that she’d brought from home fitted perfectly next to the window so she could do her makeup with natural light; and it was large enough for her work setup, which was where she was now.

The flat layout was almost identical to the one she’d just left, and the room was the same one - Aurora having the slightly bigger room - but it felt a lot more comforting, knowing she wasn’t alone here any more, knowing she had a little more freedom in decorations, and knowing that the hollow feeling in her chest was starting to slow down for good.

She turned off her work laptop at five as normal, which was when Aurora came in. Tayce pulled her in, giving her a peck on the lips.

“They’re gonna love you, I promise.”

Aurora just made a moan in the back of her throat and put her face in her hands, shrinking away from the vanity.

Tayce turned on her personal laptop, logging into zoom and connecting to the group chat. Her monthly uni call was set to half four today for some reason, and everyone else was already all there.

“Tayce! We wondered where you’d got to!”

It was Veronica’s voice, and Veronica’s face was in the top left. She still looked a little tired, and the shirt she was wearing looked suspiciously like a pyjama top, but she was here with them all, and this was a big step for her.

Tayce beamed at her. “So good to see you!”

“The move went alright then, bab?” Ginny asked.

Tayce nodded. “And there’s someone you should meet.” She pulled Aurora into frame, who still looked uncharacteristically shy for a moment before waving at the people on the screen. “This is Aurora.”

“Aurora!” Tia squeaked. “Like the princess!”

Aurora rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

“So we’ve got Rory and Ronni here together at last!” Lawrence exclaimed, while Veronica gave the camera two fingers.

But Tayce just grinned at her friends on the screen, far apart but together in this strange way. Aurora’s nails dug into her shoulder, still a little nervous, but even that was fading as she got more comfortable.

Aurora had been right - the city was just a lot of bricks in intricate patterns without someone in it that made it a home.

And this just might be becoming one.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #tayce #a'whora #taywhora #ginny lemon #lawrence chaney #veronica green #tia kofi #ellie diamond #uk2 #lesbian au #fluff #hurt/comfort #juno #tw covid lockdown #tw mental health mentions #submission

27 notes · View notes

bxthharmon · 4 years

Text

Never Go Home Again, Pt. I || JJ Maybanks x Reader

Words: 2667

Series Warnings: violence / talking about abuse / toxic relationships / talking about nudes sex tapes and sex tapes / drugs / underage drinking

Pt. Warnings: self harm (kind of?)

Series Summary: A new girl, a shoebox of old memories, a past she’s trying to forget coincide with a hotheaded, but selfless, boy. teenagers getting in way over their heads

Pt. Summary: the second time she saw him, it was at a kook party.

A/N: Okay so I KNOW i havent finished WB (im not even halfway lol) but i got this idea from rewatching euphoria. you dont have to look too closely to see that ive mirrored a couple of seens, but the plot, while inspired by euphoria, wont be the same. let me know what you think, or if you wanna be tagged!

Chapters linked in my masterlist.

“masterlist”

This story does follow the plot, so beware of any spoilers.

This town seemed too perfect. Sure, you were on the poor side of the town, but the houses were well kept and everyone was happy and friendly. It was as far from home as you could get. You hated this. The boxes stacked up in the boot, and the bags piled up in the seats behind you. The fact that you were over two and half thousand miles away from home. The fact that this was a new beginning you were sure you didn’t need.

You watched as people loaded boats with shopping bags or crates of beer, and how they all seemed to be happy with their small roles in this small town. It was everything you hated and more.

You looked at your dad, in the seat next to you. He kept his eyes on the road, glancing down while he tried to find a radio station with decent music. He settled on reggae track by Bob Marley, and hummed along. You rolled your window down, smelling the salty air that blew in from the coast even as you wound your way further into the poor housing of this end of the island.

That was when you saw him.

He was on his bike, no helmet, his longish blonde hair waving around his face, and a baseball cap slung backwards over his head. You drove past, pushing your head out of the window to keep the view, and his eyes found yours in a way you couldn’t describe. You held his gaze until the car turned, pulling into a driveway. Your new house.

Your dad turned to you with a long sigh.

“I know you’re not happy about this.” he started, and you looked at his concerned face.

“I just don’t understand how moving almost three thousand miles will change anything.” you reasoned.

“Well, you know why. She’s not here, and you won’t have to deal with all of that shit that happened at school.”

“So we’re running away?”

“Y/N, just give this place a chance.”

You nodded. “Dad, how can we afford this?”

He looked at you defeatedly.

You continued, “I mean, with the divorce, and what she did, how could we afford the moving fees and the house? Cross-state moving fees are mad, let alone when you’re on an island too.”

“Hey,” he shook his head, “I’m the adult, I’ll worry about that.”

In your first week on the island, you made friends with a girl called Sarah. She was from Figure 8, but had explained the dynamics between the pogues and kooks to you, and invited you to a party. It was her boyfriend, Topper’s, but she explained that plenty of pogues and tourons would crash anyway.

You arrived without her, a pair of cycling shorts and a crop top thrown over your bikini in a minimal-effort kind of way. Your one stab at an effort was the blue and purple glitter dabbed over your cheek bone to recreate a highlighter effect. When you got there, you could immediately tell you were underdressed. Everyone else were in shirts and dresses, and your glitter was definitely too ‘city’ to be cool here, so you stuck out, obviously the only pogue there. You spent twenty minutes trying to find Sarah, picking up some vodka on your way around.

Eventually, after leaving a few texts, you sat down on the kitchen counter and nursed your vodka. You had no idea how long you sat there for, but at some point, Sarah’s brother stormed in. You recognised him from one of Sarah’s instagram posts, but you knew he’d never seen you in person. He looked high. And angry.

“Get out of the fucking kitchen!” he was yelling, and people began to filter out, but due to your obscured path, you couldn’t get out. He turned on you.

“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded, “‘Cause I don’t fucking know you!”

“Uh,” you mumbled, “I’m Y/N, I got invited by a friend.”

Where the fuck was Sarah?

“Well I don’t know any Y/Ns. And I don’t see any fucking friends!” He yelled, slurring and stumbling. “Does anybody know Y/N?”

You looked around the gathering crowd, trying to spot Sarah, hoping she would appear and get you out of this.

“I said, does anybody fucking know Y/N? What the fuck are you doing in this house?” He cornered you, and you were beginning to panic. How the fuck do I get out of this situation?

You didn’t even realise what you were doing, but you felt yourself grab a knife from the counter and thrust it towards him. He stumbled back and you stepped forwards.

“Don’t fucking yell at me!” you shouted, watching him lean back against the wall in fear. You didn’t even register doing it but you felt the blade slice your arm.

You stepped back, addressing the shocked audience. “By the way, I’m Y/N,” You looked around, finding those blue eyes you’d seen a week ago. “And I just moved here.”

You dropped the knife on the counter and pushed your way out of the house, pulling your phone out when you got to the pavement. You checked your messages with Sarah.

You: just got here, where r u?

You: girl, where u at?

You: sarah, i dont know anyone, where r u?

You: im going home, shit turned sour. Msg me later.

Putting your phone away, you looked around. You hardly knew where you were, and you were desperate to get home.

“That was quite a show.” You heard a voice behind you. Shit.

You turned, and saw your blonde haired boy. “Well I knew someone was gonna get hurt either way, so I chose to deescalate the situation, you know?”

He nodded, reaching for your arm, looking at the cut. “You need to get that looked at.”

“You offering?” you asked, pushing down a smile.

“Sure.” he shrugged. You looked at him. He looked at the ground, an uncharacteristic shyness taking him over, “Can I stay at yours?”

You watched him stare at the ground, and however much you wanted to ask, you chose not to. “Sure, we just gotta be extra quiet.”

He grinned, “‘Course.”

“Okay,” you sighed, “This is where I confess that I don’t actually know my way home.”

“We’ll work it out.” he grinned.

When you reached your house, learning that it was only a minute down the road from the blonde boy’s friend's house, you opened the door as quietly as possible, the pair of you pulling off your shoes and carrying them for extra quiet. You snuck up the stairs, trying to avoid the creaky stair boards, and pausing in terror every time there was a creak. By the time you’d made it to your room, the only other room upstairs being a bathroom, you both relaxed. You searched your moving boxes, finding your brother’s old sweat and tee for him, and going to the bathroom so that you could change into an oversized top and old gym shorts.

When you came back, a first aid kit in hand, the boy sat you down on the bed and began to address the cut.

You watched him work in silence. “What’s your name?” you whispered, and he glanced up at you, a smile on his lips.

“JJ.” he said simply, a small smirk adorning his lips as he finished dressing your arm.

You flopped down, so that you were lying on your back in the bed, and he looked at you with an odd sense of curiosity. “Lie down.” softly, you coaxed.

“Usually I get to know a girl before I get in her bed.” he joked, and the way you laughed made him want to freeze the moment in time.

“Why do I feel like that’s not true?” you snarked.

He gasped, putting his hand to his chest in feigned hurt, “Oh Y/N, I’ve known you for an hour and you’re already breaking my heart!”

“What can I say?” you bantered, “I’m just pure femme fatale.”

He crawled onto the bed, resting his head on the pillows above you. “Oh,” he replied, “I’m sure.”

You flipped onto your stomach, looking at him, relaxed, head on the pillows, gazing down at you. “At home, there weren’t any guys like you.”

He laughed, unsure of himself, “Love, there aren’t any other guys like me.”

You hummed, fiddling with the corner of your throw blanket, looking at him through your lashes, you giggled. “You’re so full of shit.”

He grabbed a pillow and threw it straight at your head. You picked it up, your face scrunched up from the impact, and he laughed. You sat up, crossing your legs, and threw it back at his face, only he caught, laughing, saying something about you having a bad throw. He put the pillow back, and you crawled back up the bed, lying on your back, your arms touching as you both stared at the ceiling.

You glanced at him, taking how his warm tan contrasted the blue light of the moon that shone through the large window above your bed. You took in the way his muscles gave him definition, and how the top stretched slightly over his chest, and how his long blonde hair splayed over the pillow, your own, waist-length hair tickling his arm as you lay there. You took in the curve of his nose and the tiny, mischievous smirk that never seemed to leave his face. You took in his long eyelashes and the blue of his eyes and the pink of his cheeks.

At some point, you drifted off.

When you woke up, you were tucked into him, your legs tangled in his, hair spread over his arm. His eyes were still closed, and you didn’t move from your spot, keeping your eyes on his face.

“You know,” he murmured, “If you take a picture, it’d last longer.”

Blushing, you pulled away. “I don’t know what you’re on about.” you sat up, feeling his fingers trace the curve of your back as you moved out of his reach. You left the bed, looking back to see him sit up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, and you watched him take in the way your top fell over your frame. You searched your moving boxes again, looking for an outfit for the day. You really needed to move everything into the wardrobe. Eventually, you pulled out a bikini and shorts. You looked back at him, and he grinned at you.

You looked at him curiously, “What are you doing today, JJ?”

He thought for a second, electing against going home, but rather to go to John B’s for a day of weed and joking around. “Introducing you to my friends.” he shrugged, “The one who lives a minute down the road.”

You nodded, “What are we, in a relationship?” you joked, “Introducing me to your friends? Next thing I know I’ll be round for dinner.”

He felt dirty when you said that, shrinking into himself, hoping that you would never experience the shit that came with meeting his dad. You must have realised you’d hit a nerve, because you backtracked, saying you’d been stupid and whatever you’d said to upset him wasn’t intentional. When he looked back up, he saw how the tears of worry were building, and he immediately changed his demeanor, rushing forwards to hug you, assured you that it was all good.

You went to get changed, leaving him in your room.

He looked around. The corner was full of boxes yet to be unpacked, the open ones mainly clothes. There was a desk under the window, with some makeup, a book and a notebook thrown on top. The wardrobe doors were open, revealing that the few clothes that were in your wardrobe were very messily so, most either hung up or on the floor. There was a shelf above the hangers, with a shoebox pushed carefully to the side. He pulled it out, conscious that he was snooping. He pulled the lid off, and saw a set of pictures.

The first - you at a funfair when you were a little, a boy two years older (must be your brother) and a woman, almost identical to you, hugging you close. The second, you were older, perhaps twelve - you were wearing a Christmas onesie that matched the woman’s, your brother and dad laughing as you and the woman - your mother - danced around. The third - you were in a hospital gown, and your mother was crying, holding you close.

There were more, but he didn’t look. Under the photos, there was a tiny crocheted rabbit and a baby blanket with little elephants on it. He heard your bathroom door open, and rushed to put the lid on, putting the box back. You walked in, smiling at him as you checked your phone.

Dad missed calls (6)

Bro missed calls (3)

Sarah missed calls (11)

You sighed, checking Sarah’s messages.

Sarah: Sorry!! I heard what happened, i should hv been there. Meet up 2day?

You: Rain check? I met a guy last night and he wants to introduce me to his mates.

Sarah: U go girl!! Enjoy urself, msg me if u need me <3

You flicked off Sarah’s messages, glancing back at JJ, who was looking at your make up.

Mom: Darling, call me when you can.

The last text made you want to throw up, and you tossed your phone on the bed, drawing JJ’s attention back to you. “You okay?” he asks, and you nod, grabbing your purse and picking your phone back up, and getting ready to go.

“Okay, I’ll go down first, I’ll signal if there’s no one there so you can come down.” you ran down the stairs, checking the kitchen and living room, then giving JJ the all-clear. You left the house, letting him walk you to his friend’s place.

He took your hand, guiding your through the front door and into the house. You wrinkled your nose at the mess, food, clothes and empty cans littering the room. “This is a mess.” you muttered, stepping over an empty packet of sweets.

“His mom left when he was three and his dad’s missing, the lack of adults means… well, you can see what it means.”

You nodded, only just noticing a boy asleep on the sofa next to you. JJ leans over, sighing. “That’s Pope, I’ll go get John B and see if Kiara’s here.” he let go of your hand, walking down the hall, leaving you with the sleeping boy. You watched the boy shuffle and then open his eyes, jumping at the sight of a stranger standing over him.

“Who are you?” he asked, sitting up and staring at you.

“JJ’s friend.” you said, and he raised an eyebrow.

“You’re the girl who cut herself.” he said, recognition relaxing his features.

“My reputation precedes me.” you laugh, and he stands up.

“Food?” he offers, walking to the kitchen.

“Y’all have food here? It looks like you live off Swedish Fish and beer.”

He grins, “That’s the life.” he jokes, pulling a slice of moldy bread from its packet, and then throwing it straight in the bin. “That said, John B does need to get groceries more.”

“I do?” you heard a voice behind you. You turned, and were met with the sight of a tall brunette boy. He stares at you for a second, and rather than Pope’s blunt recollection, he grins, “You’re Y/N, right?” You nod, “You left quite the impression at Topper’s party.”

“What can I say?” you laughed.

JJ came back from the hallway, accompanied by a girl. “You must be Y/N!” she greets, smiling brightly, “I’m Kiara.”

“Well…” JJ pipes up, “Let's take the HMS out to the marsh and introduce Y/N to the OBX properly!”

“I’m down.” Kiara shrugged, “I don’t have any shifts today.”

“Sure,” agreed Pope.

“Leave in twenty?” John B offered.

270 notes · View notes

hes-writer · 4 years

Text

Instagram

Based on: harry is on tour and y/n posts a picture with a co-worker on a night out and he gets jealous and frustrated cause he hasn't seen his girl in a while.... he does something stupid that goes viral and breaks her heart but the co-worker is just a really good friend of hers and is happily married or something.... idk if it's a good idea but you can make it very angsty cause i love it hahahah (ooh-so-laura)

Word Count: 1457 words

Warnings: fluff, angst

Being on tour meant that Harry was away from Y/N for most of the year and that completely takes a toll on a relationship. It wasn’t because their love for each other lacked in any way, shape, or form. It was just that distance can strain even a strong relationship like theirs in subtle ways. So subtle that Harry didn’t even notice that he had gone a couple of days without video calling his lover, or that she wasn’t updating him every hour on her annoying work colleagues-- which was unusual for her, considering that she was practically attached to her cell for hours on end.

So when Harry finally had the time off to catch up with the rest of himself, alongside the buzzing environment of traveling and touring-- his first instinct was to grasp his phone and dial Y/N’s number, not even considering the time difference of their home to his location for the next twenty-four hours.

He waited and waited for what seemed like forever--he thought it was interchangeable considering he hadn’t talked to her in ages--he was surprised (not really) that it went to her voicemail. Harry knew that Y/N loved her sleep. He switched off the Clock app, finding out that it was only a quarter past nine and there was absolutely no way that she would be asleep at this hour.

He tried twice, to no avail. His eyebrows furrowed in wonder and curiosity, lips pursing in a slight pout as a sudden wave of sadness overcame him and he realized that he’d probably have to wait for a bit more time until he got to talk to Y/N.

---

As private as he is, Harry still kept up to date with the latest news through social media. He has been extra cautious as of late ever since he accidentally posted a picture of him wearing a cartoon shirt to his public Instagram story, mistaking taking it for the green, ‘close friends’ button. He made sure to keep his thumb a few centimeters more away from the sensitive screen as to not accidentally double-tap a picture he had no intentions of liking. He scrolled quickly, his eyes boring the screen in a swift glance, not really being interested in anything he was seeing.

He soon moved on to his next task--to check everyone’s story. Loud sounds and pounding music got lagged through as he tapped on the right side of his screen, cutting off the video midway. He was still uninterested.

Harry refreshed his feed, letting the loading logo swirl through circularly. Needless to say, he was stunned when he saw Y/N’s latest post, uploaded only a few minutes ago.

There it was in large format, a picture of his girl and a--not going to lie-- a very decent looking man in a slick navy blue suit with a red tie. He figured he would’ve been more up-front of his obvious distaste of the man if he hadn’t worn such a color-coordinated suit. Snickering to himself, Harry thought he could probably show him up with a Gucci patterned suit of his that he’ll pull off no matter what.

But nonetheless, the look was effortless and Harry was sure that he would’ve liked the man very much if it weren’t for Y/N appearing beside him. That alone caused a scowl to appear on his face and the next thing he knew; he was calling his girlfriends’ number with forceful taps of his calloused thumbs.

Y/N looked great, obviously. And maybe that’s why he was impatiently muttering to himself for her to pick up the phone. Harry didn’t know if he should complement the dress she wore or mention the fact that her lipstick was perfectly painted on her pouty lips, or how her hair was styled in a way that reminded him of date nights that ended in passionate lovemaking.

His chest ached suddenly, emotions overwhelming the fact that he missed his girl so much added with the boiling jealousy bubbling in his blood. The call went to voicemail and normally he would patiently wait a few minutes before calling again. However, Y/N’s profile rimmed a colorful hue, indicating that she just recently uploaded a story.

He didn’t know what to make of her actions-- if she deliberately ignored him or she simply did not hear her ringtone alarming that he was calling. He called again.

“Who’s that in your photo?” He growled, demanding for an answer instead of greeting his lover.

Y/N furrowed her brows at his sudden rough voice filling the speaker of her phone, “Hello to you, too”

“Who was that?” Harry repeated. He couldn’t help his fingers from fidgeting against a stray string of his knitted jumper. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“That was Kevin,” Y/N answered loudly, loud music blaring through her soft voice. “Did you like his suit? He said it was Gucci, but he wouldn’t let me see the tag,” She chuckled at the end, oblivious at the burning jealousy coursing through Harry.

“Kevin, huh?” Harry mocked. “I’m sure it was Gucci and I guarantee that he wouldn’t mind taking it off to show you,”

He could hear you excusing yourself from the crowd. His phone speaker muted to a quieter atmosphere--he assumed you moved outside.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“God, Y/N. I haven’t seen you in so long and the first thing I see is with you and some other guy!”

“And whose fault is that?” She bit back, hoping to get some sense into his head before she hung up.

Sighing in frustration, Harry changed to a decent attire, quickly grabbing the things he needed for a night out. Needless to say, the next morning was interesting for both of them.

———

Headlines of Harry were plastered everywhere, mostly discussing his wild night out wherein pictures of women grinding against him were linked. He didn’t have an ounce of alcohol last night, but the hazy atmosphere of the club surely made his mind boggled.

“Oh shit,” He muttered silently to himself, sitting up in his otherwise empty hotel bed.

—-

Y/N understood that he was busy as of late, especially since he was in the middle of touring. Their video calls for the past couple weeks dwindled into a good morning or good night message and as much as she wanted to beg him for a few minutes to see his faced in a pixelated screen--she knew that he just didn’t have enough* time to do so.

But apparently he had enough time to go out. She thought. She shook off the thought, knowing that jealousy and jumping into conclusion never ended in a quiet stupor.

Instead, she examined the pictures closely as much as the blurry pixels let her. Seeing the emptiness in his eyes and the slouch of his shoulders caught her attention. His hands were to himself, seeming as though he did not care enough to push the women off of him but had no intentions to enjoy the movements against his body. And frankly, Y/N should be angry at him for doing something so stupid. But she also couldn’t ignore her instincts that all he needed was a reassurance that their love was still very much alive.

She called him.

“Y/N!” Harry agitatedly explains the events of last night, spewing out that he did not do anything that would taint his conscience or ruin the relationship they had. It put Y/N’s mind to ease knowing that her initial assumption was right—he just needed her to be there for him.

“It’s okay, H. I understand,” She responded softly, playing at the end of *his shirt that she was wearing.

“Y-you do?” His voice came out childlike and scared. She could imagine his lips pursing in a pout.

“It’s alright, Har,” Y/N relaxed her tense muscles, “You wanna tell me what happened during our call?’ She giggled at his behaviour, to which he groaned in protest.

“I’d rather not,” He shook his head, his dimple making a slight indent on his cheek.

“You were jealous weren’t you?”

“Of course not. I was just wondering because if it was from Gucci, then Alessandro would’ve shown it to me by now,” He muttered quickly, lips pursing and pressing a lie to cover up his embarrassing actions. “And I kind of miss you,” He added quietly.

“Right, of course,” Y/N let a few seconds pass before replying, “And I miss you too,”

“So, Kevin is …?” Harry let his thoughts trail off, brows pinching together as he waited for her answer.

She laughed at his prying tone, “Kevin is happily married and you are, too.”

----

thank u for the request !!

Permanent Taglist: @fangirl-moment-x @kissme-hs @agoddamnmango @harrys-kingdom @harrysstyleseyes @calums-sugarbaby @queenbeestuffs @ashkuuuu @kettxo @send-me-styles @littledreamybeth @trustfulhaz @harrysfeastedflower @harrystxleslx @befourep @moonandstars-xo @babebenhardy @particularnarry @mendesromano @harrystylinsince1994 @juliassgem @miscll-fangirl @little-dragon-ate-my-heart @myfangirlworld @haroldssfedora @winchesterwife27 @w0wfxck @arypesanchez @harriemelonsugar @someinsanefangirl @derangedcupcake @bobo-bush @peachesaquari @shawnsnovel @ivegotparticulartaste @adore-you-hs2 @combativehood @simonsbluee

#harry #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles oneshots #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles angst #request #hes-writer #hes-writer2 #my writing #instagram

578 notes · View notes

unsaidholland · 4 years

Note

Congrats! If you're still doing the sleepover could I request a 🦦 where the reader is Sam's best friend who likes harry. Sam teases her and harry finds out? Xx

OKAY I KNOW I SAY THIS A LOT BUT I GENUINELY THINK OF THIS ALL THE TIME THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST AND THANK YOU FOR SUPPORTING ME I LOVE U

ps this has like one swear word and is left on a cliff hanger oops sorry not sorry for killing all of you :)

🦦- blurb request!

lie to me | h. holland

you had known the twins since they went on that trip a few years ago. you guys met in australia, somehow crossed paths, and ever since them you had been the best of friends. coincidentally, you also lived in london, which meant that you guys could hang out whenever you were all free. ever since you met the twins, you had established a strong, strictly platonic friendship with sam. he had quickly become your best friend, and you had quickly become his. harry on the other hand was quite complicated. you wanted to consider him as just your best friend, but your feelings for him were much stronger than that. the only thing was you didn’t want anyone to find out, especially sam.

you and sam decided to hang out. the two of you decided to just go sit in a park and have a mini-picnic and talk about things like you normally did when the two of you hung out. you had brought some snacks and a blanket large enough for the both of you to sit on.

you had been halfway through your first beer while sam was almost finished his when he asked about the guy you liked. you never gave him anything that would lead him to knowing that it was harry, but you still told him some details. after all, he was your best friend.

“so, has anything changed with you and this mystery guy?” sam asked. you sighed, trying to find the words to say.

“nope. sam i doubt he even likes me, i mean i think he’s made it clear that i’m just a friend and nothing more.” you took another sip of your beer, then putting it down on the blanket set up. “plus, i’m pretty sure he fancies someone else.”

it was true, you thought harry was interested in someone else. he was always going out with a girl named beth and posting about the two of them on. you weren’t with him, so you couldn’t intervene, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t hurt. she was gorgeous, she was everything you wish you could be and more. you were so insecure about yourself ever since she came around, but you continued to try and remind yourself that harry should like you for who you are, not for your imitation of someone else.

“if he doesn’t like you then fuck him, you’re literally the best person on the planet, don’t tell el i said that.” sam always found a way to make you smile and feel better about yourself. you were so grateful to have him as your best friend, but it sucked keeping such a huge secret from him.

“thanks sam.” a small smile appeared on your face, but it didn’t disguise the fact that you were still sulking over harry being out with another girl. you both continued talking, and soon enough you found yourself laying on his lap while scrolling through your phone. it wasn’t long before you found an instagram story of harry out with beth. his close friends story was often filled with photos and videos of them together, yet you still weren’t used to feeling the way you did whenever he posted. unbeknownst to you, sam was observing you as you watched the story. he saw how your face fell and how you had an internal battle between wanting to freak out and remembering that you were just a friend.

“you like harry?” he quietly asked. you shot straight up and looked at him as you furrowed your brows.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” your attempt to cover up your infatuation with your best friends twin brother failed, as you knew he saw right through you. “okay fine, i like harry, but it’s just a little crush,” you said. your tone was defensive as if he was accusing you of murder, but really you just felt like you got caught doing something illegal.

“it’s not like it matters anyway, i’m pretty sure he wants to make it official with beth.” sam saw as tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

“all this time, it’s been harry?” he asked. he thought of all the times you’ve complained about this mystery guy, giving him every detail but leaving him to wonder who you were talking about. all you could do was nod. “i’m so sorry y/n.” sam knew he couldn’t do anything to change the situation, plus he didn’t want to meddle. he just pulled you in for a hug and rubbed your back. “i’m so sorry.”

•••

it had been a week since sam found out about your crush on harry. you both found a way to get you over the upsetting feeling of watching harry and beth. he got into the habit of making fun of you when the occasion called for it.

you were over at the boys’ house, you and sam were in the kitchen cooking dinner for everyone. being sam’s best friend, and actually good at cooking, you were one of the very few people who were allowed to cook with him. sam was playing music from his phone, and lie to me by 5sos had come on. you sung along as you were prepping the vegetables for the roast.

sam decided that it would be hilarious to change the lyrics and sung, “she knows you’re taking her dress, i know that you don’t but if she asks you if you love her, harry lie, lie, lie, lie, lie to y/n.” you rolled your eyes and put down the knife to punch his shoulder.

“literally fuck off sam.” you went back to cutting up the rest of the veggies, but suddenly a voice interrupted your actions.

“you like me?” it was harry.

#lys’s 300 follower sleepover #harry holland #harry holland imagine #harry holland x you #harry holland blurb #harry holland angst #harry holland x reader #harry holland x y/n

111 notes · View notes

simonsrosebud · 3 years

Text

heyyyyyyy

so basically this week has been v stressful for me (this post is mainly so i can rant and get it out of my system)....

ab 5 days ago i saw my 3 friends from home (i go to college in west virginia but im from new jersey hehe) did an xmas gift exchange without me and i don't care for getting gifts bc im not like that but i was just a lil upset that i wasn’t involved or invited in general (which is smth that has happened often) so i told my one friend (fake names) sydney how i felt left out and sometimes unwanted or whatever just in general bc i know they talk & have a chat without me for no reason. and i said u know i get it im at school away from u guys but i’ve said before u know i like hearing what’s going on w u guys idc if u talk ab hometown stuff in a chat with me.

sydney basically disregarded my message and misunderstood it as me being mad that we don’t hang out a lot during a pandemic which, uh, is not true. it was just ab a chat and how i wished they reached out more while im away bc i reached out and didn't get that in return. so then she brought up “and u have a large family and i can't keep track of them so don't get pissed for not wanting to hang w u” which- woah. don't bring my family into this when u have no idea what they do, and also bc it's just not what i’m talking ab. dude, we were just talking ab a group chat on our phones.

granted, if she'd told me this as a heads up when i came home for the winter i would’ve taken it better, but the way she used it was kinda as an excuse and it was just irrelevant anyway.

she got mad and i said “okay i’m done” and she told me im reckless about covid and that “none of us talked with each other u weren't special”. girl, i’m far from special i know that. but don’t lie to me bc i see u post pics hanging with (more fake names) julie and carly often. i didn't say this bc it wasn’t worth my time, i let it go and accepted that we now weren't friends bc once sydney has a minor argument with someone they’re dead to her.

so then there’s carly, who was my best friend but had also not talked w me a lot since i went to college in august. i knew in the back of my mind that carly would follow sydney and that i’d probably lose the whole group from one argument bc that's how sydney works. but i kept my hopes up and today i texted her just ab something random just like oh haha i saw this the other day, and she was all like “how r u gonna do all this and txt me like nothing happened?”. and i explain that yes me and sydney had a fight but not u and i. my sister apparently blocked them all on instagram but i literally only found out when she told me so i was v taken back and apologized for that, and when she said “it doesn't matter she still did it” i was like really? ur gonna blame me for something im not in control of or didn't even know of until right now? and finally i txt u like nothing happened bc i don't want to put u in an awk position in the middle of it. we go back and forth, me explaining that i was talking ab a chat in the first place and she eventually tells me how well its also hard for them to interact with someone who said that hanging w us is a chore.

yes, i did say this once. but i said it to only her only ab the first time we hung out (socially distanced outside) when i came home for the winter. i called her a few days after to tell her how i was confused when i saw her w ppl inside a friend’s house when she told me she couldn’t do that. i explained that it was hard to go somewhere new knowing no one and to have radio silence from them when i’d put the effort in and not get it back, so seeing them that day when i came home almost felt like a chore bc i didn't know how they felt ab me and bc it felt weird to see them after that silence. she was sympathetic and said u know yes i understand that and all- but here she is using it against me when i told her that while crying on the phone.

i tell her this- that that doesn't make sense or add up (im sparing lots of details) and that for her to take something i told her in a state of such vulnerability and use it against me was not okay and not an excuse she can make esp when this all started ab a group chat, it just didn't FIT. and her response was well “all we do is argue ab this stuff. at this point it is clear that this just isn’t working out anymore”

imagine someone saying that about your 6 years of friendship just because you tried telling another friend that sometimes you felt left out and like u were outcasted from the group. that's why she said “all we do is argue ab this”, bc i’ve had the will to bring up the fact that they quite frankly treat me like nothing multiple times. we don’t argue, i told u how i felt and u think i’m attacking u. imagine your best friend telling you “good luck at school but we can’t be friends anymore bc u and sydney had an argument and i don't feel like putting in the effort to be a better friend to u”

idk that's just what it’s felt like.

so today has been quite the day for me. or the week, rather.

if anyone got this far into this post, kudos and give me a quick kalton prompt to do in reward for reading it all LOL.

#this is super duper long #sorry #its ab friend stuff #needed to rant

29 notes · View notes

mamaskillerqueen · 4 years

Note

Maybe a song fic with Ben Hardy to the song "Paper Rings" by Taylor Swift?

A/N: Hi anon!! So, I’m firstly going to apologise for how long this took me to get out. I just haven’t been loving it. I think I started over at least three times. I still don’t think that it’s my best but I do hope that you enjoy it!!

Four Years Ago:

Is there anything worse than house parties?

If there was, it was house parties where you didn't know anyone. Your anxiety had already gotten the best of you, but to top it off with the only person you knew having left to be a host... this was not your ideal night.

You'd met Joe the day you moved in next door. Having come a long way from your hometown to take up residency in New York, you were alone to unpack. That included all the furniture you had brought along to furnish your new townhouse just outside of the city limits. You were contemplating just sleeping on the hardwood floor because carrying your mattress up by yourself didn't sound appealing, when Joe came to your rescue.

Since struggling to get the furniture up the stairs, and yelling very loudly "Pivot!" at each other, you'd become pretty close friends. He was sitting on your couch during a FRIENDS marathon one day when he mentioned that his Borhap family was getting together at his later that week. Ben and Gwilym were supposed to be coming into town, and they were all going to be having dinner at Joe's. He extended an invitation and you immediately declined.

The thing about your friendship with Joe was that he never let you turn down things that you'd later beat yourself up for. He insisted you be at his house, promising it was just a small get together. Somehow you didn't believe him... and here you were, standing in his foyer ready to bolt because this was not what you signed up for. As a good friend though, you elbowed your way further into the house, hunting for the kitchen. If you were going to stay, you were definitely going to need a drink.

"Y/N!"

If it was possible to slur just a name, Joe was definitely doing it. Despite yourself, you smiled as your friend pulled you into a hug. He was drunkenly telling you how happy he was that you were here, vaguely pointed to his friend beside him but didn't actually introduce you two. Before you could even say anything else Ben, as you recognised him from all the Instagram posts, was pulling Joe away from you.

"Nice to meet you, love."

He called it over his shoulder, even though you weren't actually introduced. How rude.

Deciding that he wouldn't notice if you didn't stay, you quickly slipped out the way you came. The house reeked of smoke and sweat and booze, the combination of smells turning your stomach. It was good you were leaving, you wouldn't be missed because everyone was so out of their mind they wouldn't notice. Not to mention, you literally knew one person. He saw you, that was all that mattered.

The next day you woke up earlier than usual, having gotten to sleep far earlier than you had anticipated. After your morning coffee, yoga, and a shower it was time to adult and go to the grocery. If you could get by just eating food delivered to your door step, you would. That would be the life, however, you couldn't. What even is a delivery expense if the driver doesn't actually see that extra money?

The day was nice, far too warm for being so early but you weren't going to complain. Much. With your purse over your shoulder, you locked the front door and started down the steps. Movement caught your eye on the steps next to you and that was when you got a really good look at Ben. Photos didn’t do him justice.

Despite the direct eye contact, you completely ignored him as he started to wave. You came to the sidewalk as he was calling your name, trying to catch your attention. Without a word you looked up at him, a brow raised in question.

“Hope we didn’t keep you up too late last night.”

There was a smugness to his tone that made you roll your eyes. It was a playfulness you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Slept like a baby.”

You yelled over your shoulder at him, and went on your way. Most of your interactions went like this. A playful banter, and he often left you rolling your eyes. You didn’t see him too often though, only when he was out for a smoke at the same time you were passing by. Joe mentioned that Ben was crashing at his for a while, something to do with work. Anytime you were invited to hang out, you quickly declined.

There was no way you were getting caught up in that party scene again.

At least that was what you thought. Joe came by your place, insisting on squeezing in a few episodes of FRIENDS because it had been far too long. There was no refusing that but, that was your first mistake.

He swore it wasn’t going to be a huge gathering. Ben was wrapping up the project he’d been working on the last few months and Lucy and Rami wanted to say congratulations and goodbye before he hopped a flight back to England. You’d already missed your chance to meet Gwilym, and you weren’t going to lie, meeting Lucy sounded like a blast.

One could always use more girlfriends. Or just a girlfriend, as you hadn’t made any since moving to the city.

“Fiiiineee...”

The dramatics made him laugh, and despite yourself you laughed too. When the day finally came, you couldn’t help but feel kind of nervous. Even as you knocked on the door, it felt more like the first day of school than anything. You’d been playing this game with Ben for weeks now, almost like a cat and mouse. There was no denying you were interested though.

If you were being completely honest, you may have completely stalked him on the internet. Probably more than once.... okay, definitely more than once. Something about the playful banter made you want to know him more. The only problem was, you didn't want to lose the light fun you always had when you interacted. We'll just pretend anxiety didn't play a part.

In very Joe fashion, the party started out just the five of you but quickly developed into quite a bit of people. It was like every friend any of them had ever made ended up at Joe's house. The music was loud, because how else can one dance? They all just wanted to have fun, and sure after a few drinks that was definitely what you were having. You still barely knew anyone but it was a lot more than just one person now.

Even with all the fun, you felt the need for some fresh air. The backdoor was much closer than the front, with far fewer people between you and it. You'd been back there a few times, loving the fact that your neighbour had a pool. Summer days were always great by the pool but as autumn was giving way to winter, the pool was the last thing on your mind. Or so you'd thought.

"Hey."

Ben's deep voice startled you as you closed the door behind you. You were probably a sight as you jumped, clutching your chest as your heart tried to jump out of it. After a moment you caught your breath and took a seat on the lounge chair beside him.

"What are you doing lurking out here?"

You were responded to with a laugh as he held up a cigarette. You nodded your head in answer and then turned to look over the pool. Joe hadn't closed it up, saying he was going to have a heater installed so that it was usable all year round. That was something you'd have to see to believe.

Silence stretched out for a while but it was surprisingly comfortable. Until Ben finished his smoke, that is. He was over the silence, apparently, and ready to annoy you again. He quickly shed his jacket and pulled the beanie off his head.

"What are you doing?"

"We are going swimming, get up."

"Are you insane?"

"Maybe. Let's go love."

He had already taken off his shirt and shoes and was working on his belt by the time you gave up arguing. You just sat there and watched him as he dropped his pants. He looked over his shoulder at you once and then offered a wink before jumping into the pool. Clearly, he'd lost his mind.

"What are you waiting for?"

"Summer, like a sane person."

"You're so boring."

The chuckle made your roll your eyes, a comeback wasn't going to help you. You slid from the seat, quickly removed your sweater and pants before quickly jumping into the pool. It was far more freezing than you had anticipated and when you surfaced again you couldn't help but gasp.

"This was a stupid idea!"

You were shivering but you weren't alone, no matter how much he tried to hide it.

"I didn't think you'd actually do it."

"You thought wrong."

Three Years Ago:

You were more than surprised to see how quickly your friendship with Ben grew from that night on. He left only two days after the pool night but you didn't go a day without talking. It was weird for you but somehow through the distance you'd grown closer. So much closer that you found yourself hopping a flight to London and crashing on his couch.

It was that trip to London that ended in a relationship.

Trips back and forth weren't a rare occasion. You often found yourself in London, and if you weren't there, it was a guarantee to find Ben in your bed in New York.

"I know you were planning on coming back to London with me this week but I've had a change of plans."

You were laying in bed, the chill of winter crippling your little town house. It was late, the midnight sky leaving just a soft moon light coming through the blinds. You were wrapped up in Ben's arms, your head resting on his bare chest. It had been nearly a year since the party at Joe's house. Nearly a year of being together.

"And, what kind of change are we talking?"

"I've gotta get a flight home to see my brother. He and his wife are expecting a daughter any day now."

A smile pulled the corners of your lips up, your eyes transfixed on the finger that was drawing mindless patterns on his chest. He always spoke so fondly of his brother, and he'd been so excited to become an uncle. It was all he'd spoke about since he found out.

"I promised to help paint the nursery."

You hadn't realised how long the silence had stretched on until he'd spoken again.

"Sounds like a lot of fun."

He hummed and silence stretched again. It was so long this time you'd nearly fallen asleep.

"Come with me."

You were surprised, the thought of meeting his family was crazy. It was probably way over due but it still made you quite nervous. You still agreed to go, and you both got there with perfect timing. The day you landed his sister-in-law went into labour, leaving the two of you to get the finishing touches done on the nursery.

It was so much fun, getting to paint the walls and move all the furniture back in. You'd gotten to meet his parents when they dropped by before going to the hospital to meet the baby. It was a great time, and you weren't sure what you had been worried about before. Ben insisted on staying behind and waiting to meet his new niece until she made it home.

Something about him seemed off after his parents left. He wasn't as excited, it seemed like something was bothering him. You waited until you had everything in its rightful place before you even attempted broach the subject.

"You wanna talk about it?"

He looked up with a raised eyebrow, as if he didn't know that he was completely obvious about his feelings. For someone who often wanted to hide the way he was feeling, and for being an actor, he was terribly unconvincing.

"It's nothing."

Normally, you weren't one to push. When you uttered the same words you wanted enough respect from someone to be left alone for you to deal until you were ready to talk. Today seemed to be an exception.

"It's not nothing. This should be a happy occasion right?"

It was after the words left your mouth that you felt maybe you were the problem. Maybe he felt as though he wished he hadn't brought you along?

"Do... is it... I mean, is it me? Do you not want me here?"

You stuttered as you got the words out and when you finally managed a coherent sentence you were immediately soothed with a 'NO! Of course, I want you here'. He sighed and then motioned for you to follow him. You made your way down the stairs to the kitchen where coffee was immediate set to make.

"I just look at all of this, and you deserve this one day."

He motioned around the house and as you looked around your brow furrowed. This was just stuff, and with how well his career was taking off, he could more than afford to give you stuff. Not that you wanted any of it. For you, all that mattered was that you had him.

"You're going to have to elaborate, darling."

He chuckled at you before explaining further what was bothering him.

"One day, when it's time for you to have a baby.. if that's what you choose, you should know that your husband is going to be there with you."

"And you can't provide that?"

The confusion was clear in your voice as well as on your face. Ben always told you that you were such an open book, and easy to read. You never took that as a compliment until times like these when you wanted to convey your genuine feelings.

"Not if I'm on a set thousands of miles away from you."

He seemed so genuinely upset but all you could do was scuff at this. When he heard your reaction his head shot up to look at you. Now it was his turn to be confused.

"I don't need any of this. I need you. It doesn't matter if your thousands of miles away or not. I would marry you with paper rings. All of the ex's, the fights, the flaws, we wouldn't be here. I adore you, if that hasn't been abundantly clear the last year or so. As for the rest of it... we can figure it out as we go. You and me. We got this."

Your shoulder bumped against his, and he couldn't help but break out into a smile. You could tell almost immediately that he felt much better. In return a smile lit up your own face, your head falling to his shoulder as you hugged his arm.

"I think you're pretty great too, just so you know."

Present Day:

The mosh pit that was happening in your stomach was becoming rather annoying. You just wished your baby knew what night and day time were. The clock on the bed side table flashed a ridiculously early time at you, informing you that sleep wasn't happening any longer.

Nights like this was when you found yourself reminiscing. It hadn't been very long after sitting in Ben's brother's kitchen that you ended up engaged. Even shorter time frame from that you were married. The shotgun wedding was only six months ago, and here you were five months pregnant. Sometimes it all felt so fast but then you looked at the snoring butt head beside you and you didn't mind one bit.

You found yourself marveling at the fact that when you first met, you kind of hated him, and then you stalked him on the internet, and now you watch him breathe. Kind of crazy how life works out. Who knew moving into that small little townhouse in New York was gonna change your life so drastically, so quickly. Not that you were complaining.

"You're staring darling, and quite frankly it's a bit creepy."

His thick and sleepy voice startled you, making you jump before chuckling. Normally, he would have been laughing with you but he was clearly too tired for that.

"Can't sleep?"

"I'll get there eventually, go back to bed. I love you."

His hand reached over, finding your growing stomach and rubbing soothing circles. They were slow and lazy, but they seemed to do that trick as the summer salts that were happening came to a slow and then a halt all together.

"I love you too. Both of you."

#ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy fluff #banana writes #banana answers

54 notes · View notes