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rafesfavoritegirl · 18 days ago

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waves between us

chapter 2: lines in the sand

𓂃⋆.˚ Aurora, still reeling from a fractured relationship with Jj, heads to a party in search of distraction but instead finds chaos. A tense confrontation erupts when Jj shows up, dredging up unresolved feelings and regrets between them. The night spirals further when Rafe intervenes, igniting a violent clash that leaves Aurora caught in the middle, torn between two volatile worlds and the remnants of a love she can't fully leave behind.

word count 2.1k

content warnings: alcohol use, a party setting, physical violence, verbal conflict, mentions of past relationship trauma, toxic relationship dynamics, mild injury, emotional manipulation, explicit language, and aggressive behavior.

I woke up feeling a bit disoriented, as if last night had been nothing more than a hazy dream. Reaching for my phone on the nightstand, I checked for any notifications, my heart sinking slightly when I saw that Jj hadn’t called me back. Maybe it was because I’d called so late, or perhaps he’d been busy—he was always off on some adventure. Pushing the thought aside, I opened Instagram, craving a distraction to pull me out of my restless thoughts.

I came across Sarah’s story on Instagram, a post shared to her close friends that read, “Swipe up if you’re going to the Boneyard tn.” Instead of swiping up, I decided to call her. The phone barely rang twice before she picked up.

“Hey!” I started. “I saw your story—I’m gonna go.”

Her response was immediate, her voice bubbling with surprise. “No way! I thought you didn’t like parties. What made you change your mind?”

I hesitated for a moment, it caught off guard by how true her observation was. I had been avoiding parties as much as I can ever since everything went down last year. “Yeah,” I admitted, “I just... need a distraction, you know? And what better way than to get wasted?” I added a soft laugh, trying to keep it light`.

She chuckled back, clearly amused. “Fair enough. Do you want me to pick you up? I’ll be the DD.”

Her offer was a relief. With Rafe likely being there, I wasn’t eager to run into him, and having Sarah drive would make things easier. “Sounds perfect. Thank youuuu!”

“Of course! I’ll see you there. Love you! Bye!”

“Bye!” I replied quickly before hanging up.

The party didn’t start until 10, which left me eight hours to get ready. Plenty of time to mentally prepare myself for whatever the night might bring.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

When we arrived at the Boneyard, the first thing I did was make my way for the shots. Without hesitation, I downed two drinks back-to-back, hoping to catch a buzz quickly. Across the party, I caught Sarah’s concerned gaze as she stood near Topper, but I brushed it off. What I couldn’t brush off, however, was Rafe making his way toward me. I knew I couldn’t avoid him forever.

“Hey, what was that all about?” he asked, smirking as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Nothing. I just want to have some fun,” I replied casually, trying to dismiss him.

His expression shifted as he took a sip of his drink, his tone turning more serious. “You wanna talk about last night? I kind of want to talk now.”

I stared at him for a moment, then drank my third shot. “No, I don’t really want to talk. Can you just give me space?”

He scoffed, clearly irritated, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “Space? Fine. I’ll give you space, but we’re leaving together.”

I wiped the alcohol from my lips and shrugged. “Whatever, Rafe. See you later, I guess.”

Without another word, he stormed off, heading back to Kelce and his crew. Feeling the buzz settle in but wanting something stronger, I wandered over to Sarah and Topper, who were holding a jug of Kelce’s infamous lemonade.

“Can I get a cup?” I asked as I approached.

“Yeah, for sure,” Topper said, pouring me a drink and handing it over.

“Thanks,” I said, taking a long sip, the sweet burn of the drink hitting just right.

Just as I was starting to unwind, a sudden commotion rippled through the party, accompanied by murmurs and glances. Of course, it had to be a group of Pogues crashing the scene—the one day I desperately needed to clear my head. The first person my eyes landed on was Jj. My heart sank the moment I saw him. For a brief second, our eyes locked, and I quickly looked away, pretending not to notice. The Pogues wasted no time, heading straight for the kegs and scattered drinks, their laughter and chatter so loud it was impossible to ignore, I almost felt like I missed it.

The party buzzed around me, each group tucked into its own little corner of laughter and conversation. I sipped my drink, the alcohol sinking deeper into my system with every passing moment. The worries and thoughts that had been gnawing at me earlier were fading into the background, dulled by the warm haze spreading through my veins.

Then, like a ripple through the fog, I saw him.

He moved toward me with an ease that made my heart plummet straight to the floor. My breath hitched, and the world seemed to tilt just slightly as he stopped in front of us—his gaze lingering on me, though he addressed the three of us as a group.

"Would I be able to offer you ladies a drink?" he asked, his voice smooth, almost disarming.

The words hung in the air, yet all I could focus on was the way his presence seemed to shift around him, pulling my attention into his orbit.

Before I could even process the question, Topper stepped in front of Sarah and me, his stance firm and protective, his hand lightly brushing my arm as if to shield me. His voice came out steady, though with a sharp edge to it.

“Nah, man, we’re good,” he said, dismissive but calm.

The blonde guy didn’t falter. Instead, he smirked, his eyes locking on mine with a confidence that felt almost invasive. “Nah,” he said, his tone low but playful, “but I’m asking Rora.”

The outside seemed to hold its breath, the tension crackling between them like static.

Topper glances at me, confused, before turning back to Jj with a stern voice. "Rory wants nothing to do with you. Back off." He shoves Jj, causing him to spill beer on himself.

"Yo, what the fuck!" Jj snaps, his tone sharp.

Before things escalate, I grab Topper and pull him back. "Let me handle this," I say firmly. Without waiting for a reply, I stride toward Jj, grab his hand, and pull him away from the party, leading him somewhere out of sight.

Once we're alone, I spin around to face him. "What the hell was that about, Jjay?" I demand, my words slurred, not realizing I'd just used the nickname I swore I'd never say again.

Jj raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a crooked smirk, though there was something guarded in his eyes. “Jjay, huh?” he drawled, leaning back slightly, his tone teasing but laced with something else. “Didn’t think I’d hear that again.”

He ran a hand through his messy blonde hair, his eyes flickering with a mix of amusement "But if you're asking about back there..." His smirk faded briefly, replaced by an unguarded moment of honesty. "I didn’t like seeing you with them, alright?

In response I spat out "And what was that look you gave me at the party yesterday?" Jj didn’t seem surprised; he knew exactly what I was referring to. "I don’t know," he replied, "seeing you there and even now, it just didn’t feel like you. That whole scene isn’t you." I scoffed, disbelief flooding me. No way he actually said that. Anger surged through me as I shot back, "You ended things with me because you thought that was my scene?"

"I didn't end things because of you, Rora. I ended it because of what we both were getting dragged into. I didn't want to see you lose yourself in all of that. But you—" He pauses, looking conflicted for a moment before continuing, "You were always different from all that Kook shit, and now youre with Rafe fucking Cameron bro” I sighed, frustration bubbling up inside me, and then I raised my voice, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "Then why? Why did you throw it all away? It wasn't over for me!" I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, the sting of everything we’d left behind surfacing in that one moment.

Jj just looked at me, his expression unreadable. I watched him, waiting for him to speak, the silence hanging thick between us. After what felt like forever, he finally broke it. His voice was low but sharp, almost like he was trying to hide something beneath the anger that laced his words.

"You think it was easy for me?" he snapped "You think I wanted to walk away?"

His words hit me like a slap, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure what to say. His eyes burned with something I couldn’t place—regret, maybe, or maybe something deeper, something he hadn’t let me see until now.

"But you did," I shot back, my voice wavering but determined. "You chose this life over us, over everything we had. And now I’m supposed to just act like that didn’t happen?"

Jj’s expression softened for a split second. before he looked away, trying to hide whatever emotion flickered behind his eyes.

Finally, he let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. "You don’t get it," he muttered, almost to himself. "I wasn’t running from you, I was running from everything else. This whole damn life… I don't want you getting caught in the shit I do." He trailed off, his voice quieter now, like the weight of his words was too much to bear.

I took a shaky step closer, not sure what I was looking for, but feeling the urge to close the space between us. "You could’ve fought for us. You could’ve fought for me," I said, my voice softer now, though the hurt still lingered beneath the surface.

"I didn’t know how to," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

It was then I realized that maybe, just maybe, we were too far gone. But I still wanted to know—did he regret it? Did he ever want to fight for us, or was it always too late? The question hung in the air, unanswered, as we stood there, both of us torn between the past and the reality of what we had become.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Jj steps closer, closing the space between us until we're face to face. The intensity was replaced with something more sincere as his eyes drift down to meet mine. I can feel the weight of his stare, a silent apology in those deep eyes. My throat tightens, and I look up at him, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill. Slowly, I feel his hand reach out, his fingers gently wrapping around mine, offering a connection I didn’t know I needed.

A distant, foggy voice calls my name. "Rory," it shouts, but I block it out, my focus entirely on Jj. Our eyes lock, and I feel a pull I can’t ignore. He leans in, his hand sliding behind my ear, cradling my head. Just as our lips are about to meet, the voice cuts through, louder and sharper now.

"Rory, what the fuck are you doing?"

The moment shatters. I pull away from Jj, my heart pounding as I turn to see Rafe standing there, fury etched across his face.

"Rafe—I... I can explain," I stammer, but my words fall flat.

Before I can say anything more, Rafe charges at Jj, his fist connecting with a sharp thud. Jj stumbles but quickly fights back, and suddenly they’re locked in a brutal fight, fists flying and bodies shoving each other.

"Rafe, stop!" I yell, panic rising in my chest, but my voice is drowned out by the chaos.

The commotion of their fight quickly escalates, drawing the attention of everyone at the party. Before I know it, a crowd forms around us, their voices rising in excitement and alarm. Rafe has Jj pinned to the ground, his fists raining down on Jj’s face without pause. I can’t stand it any longer.

"Rafe, stop!" I shout, rushing toward him. I grab his arm, desperate to pull him off, but he jerks free with a sharp motion, sending me stumbling backward. I hit the sand hard, the rough grains scraping against my leg and leaving a deep, stinging cut. Cradling my leg in pain, I glance up, only to see Jj’s expression darken with rage.

Jj twists his body, delivering a sharp kick that sends Rafe sprawling onto his back. Climbing to his feet, Jj’s voice thunders, "Don’t fucking touch her like that!"

Rafe, winded and lying in the sand, looks over at me with a mix of anger and guilt, but Jj doesn’t give him a second thought. Instead, he turns to me, his features softening. He kneels down, offering his hand to help me up, but when I try to move, a sharp pain shoots through my leg. Without hesitation, Jj scoops me up into his arms, holding me bridal-style as the crowd parts to let us through.

"There's nothing to fucking see here," Jj snaps at the onlookers, his voice cutting through the chatter as he carries me away.

#outerbanks #obx #outerbanks fanfiction #outerbanks fanfic #drew starkey #rudy pankow #john b routledge #john b outer banks #rudey pankow fanfic #drew starkey fanfiction #john b angst #love triangle obx #love triangle #rafe cameron angst #rafesfavoritegirl #jj x oc #jj maybank x oc #rafe x oc #rafe cameron x oc

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mariacallous · 1 year ago

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The war in the Middle East is a laboratory for new means of spreading fake news. Propagandists across the world are watching and learning. This year will see democracy’s biggest test: more than two billion people across 50 countries are expected to go to the polls. And a fair proportion of them will be on the receiving end of disinformation techniques refined in Gaza.

The extent of the lying is breathtaking. The BBC’s Verify unit says it has seen nothing to compare to the ‘volume of dehumanising rhetoric posted during this war’. Eliot Higgins, founder of the investigative website Bellingcat says the level of disinformation in the Israeli-Gaza war is ‘unique to this conflict’. The Israel and US based security company Cyabra, which monitors fake news on social media, adds that about 20 percent of accounts participating in the online conversation about the war in the days after 7 October were fake. On social media, X (the bin fire formerly known as Twitter) and TikTok were the favourite sites for disinformation, as you would expect.

The explosion of lying reflects a grim truth: for state and private actors, it has never been cheaper or easier to establish credible sock puppets, and then order bot armies to spread falsehoods. I could look at horrible claims that a Palestinian mother was just pretending to cradle her dead baby (see picture above), or that Israelis giving accounts of their sufferings at the hands of Hamas were just actors.

However, to show the extent of the new world of lies I want to return to the story I covered last week: the fake news that an advertising campaign by Zara was somehow mocking or exploiting the war-ravaged people of Gaza. Like the QAnon and Pizzagate conspiracy theories, the story matters more than the usual online rubbish because it was a lie with measurable consequences.

Across the world, pro-Palestinian protestors targeted Zara stores. In the US, Canada, Spain, and Sweden, they vandalised them. A video on social media showed that disgusted customers had thrown piles of clothes in front of the Zara store in Times Square, New York. Or at least so the accompanying propaganda claimed. The video turned out to be footage of an old protest against another brand.

As I said at the time, the demonstrations showed the madness of crowds in action. They decided to hate a clothing chain that had done nothing to justify their rage. Zara’s agency shot the ad campaign long before Hamas attacked Israel. No one in the photo shoot resembled a soldier or a casualty of war. The pictures showed a model in a sculptor’s studio posing with a mannequin, which was clearly not meant to refer to the corpses of slain Palestinians

And yet even after Zara apologised for an imaginary offence and withdrew the ads, demonstrators continued to target the company. Only a few days ago, they closed the Zara store at the Trafford Centre in Manchester.

But I only told half the story. The truth was that much of the rage was confected.

Cyabra uses machine learning scanners to study social media sites and identify fake accounts. They process scores of clues: whether the account is posting 24/7, whether it is posting in multiple languages. The company scanned X, Instagram, TikTok and Facebook, and noticed that Zara was initially criticized for being oblivious to the war and its victims. But the conversations quickly adopted a conspiratorial tone, and you could guess that someone was raising the stakes by looking at the trending hashtags

What began with the hashtag ‘#BoycottZara’ turned to the false ‘#Zara_is_a_zionist_brand,’ and the frankly mad ‘#ZaraSupportsGenocide.’

Faced with what it thought was genuine anger, Zara pulled the campaign. The BBC, the Guardian, Business Insider and scores of other news sites reported the climbdown and treated the allegations that Zara was exploiting Palestinian suffering seriously.

When they did, they missed the role of well-resourced and malicious actors. Cyabra said that 39% of the profiles that interacted with Zara were, in fact, fake. The bots were also far more active than real protestors, it found.

Bots ‘were prominently pushing the hashtags “#Zara_is_a_Zionist_brand” and “#ZaraSupportsGenocide,” the security firm said. ‘They were actively engaged in conversations about the Israel-Hamas war, making sure to regularly tag Zara and interact with the brand while advocating a boycott.’ They were giving protests against Israel more weight, by turning then into demonstrations against the evils of global capitalism.

Journalists covering the story had no way of knowing this. They and Zara did not have the tech to analyse tens of thousands of social media accounts, and nor did their readers and viewers. Suppose they did. Suppose the media reported that, while there were undoubtedly real people who disapproved of Zara’ photoshoot, almost four out of ten of the accounts attacking the firm were fake, and looked as if they were part of a coordinated influence operations campaign possibly run by Iran or Russia.

Exposure would make all the difference, as would the exposure of any other campaign boosted by malicious actors. If readers suspect a trick, they will be on guard.

It is about to get significantly harder for readers and journalists to realise that they are being tricked. For Gaza is also showing that the quality of the lying is increasing as fast as the quantity of lies.

We are in the very early days of an artificial intelligence (AI) revolution which presages an anarchic future for open democracies. Put simply, the fake news AI creates is more believable. AI can tailor the messages from social media accounts so they appeal to a precise target audience. Until now, targeting has been a difficulty from propagandists. If they wanted to spread conspiracy theories to, say white working-class men, they needed a different tone and vocabulary than if they were targeting wealthy retirees. A Russian propagandist may well not know how to do that.

Campaigns to persuade US Republicans to abandon Ukraine need to be in authentic American English not British or international English. ChatGPT can now translate propaganda into the required dialect in seconds and ensure that it doesn’t sound as if the message was composed in a Petersburg basement.

What applies to words, applies to images. In the past, bad actors creating automated profiles at bot farms had to use generic stock images for profile pictures, or steal a real person’s photo and risk being caught. Today AI image generators give them what they need.

Rafi Mendelsohn, marketing vice president Cyabra, described an exponential process to me. Tactics used to twist elections are applied to war zones, refined, expanded, and then sent back to be used to influence the next political campaign.

What should we do? Can we ban TikTok, because the Chinese Communist Party exploits it? Should Western governments build their own troll farms? Should the security services monitor social media and issue fake news warnings? It’s not that western democracies do not know how to answer these questions, we barely know how to ask them.

When the security services are warning that by 2025 generative AI could be ‘used to assemble knowledge on physical attacks by non-state violent actors, including for chemical, biological and radiological weapons,’ we are in a new world. It strikes me as a world that Western democracies with their liberal protections for freedom of speech find strange and baffling, but one in which the West’s dictatorial enemies feel entirely at home.

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symptoms-syndrome · 1 year ago

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Last night my big gay crush (S) texted me being pretty vulnerable. Not like, excessively so but he confided in me that he thought he made some folks uncomfortable at a party and felt upset about it.

I comforted him and it felt very. I don't know. Smooth. Easy. He said he felt better talking to me. I didn't feel overburdened or like he was excessively dumping on me or anything.

Would it be silly or inconsiderate to say this feels like a sign he wants something more from us than a FWB relationship? I've been being pleasant and cordial with him because I feel a FWB isn't someone you generally confide in about being upset (unless ofc it's related to what y'all are doing.) But maybe I can be a little more vulnerable. I wouldn't say I'm being fake, because I'm not, I do genuinely really love being around him and feel happy with him. It might just be. A baby step. Telling him I've been feeling down if the time arises where it's appropriate to do so.

I feel really at ease and comfortable with him, which is kind of unusual for me to feel that way so fast. I'm usually pretty guarded.

I said in therapy that it feels like someone should have to sign a waiver to get emotionally involved with me. It still kinda feels that way. I know he has some stuff of his own though, which makes it feel a little easier I think. He's just seemingly got it together a lot more than I do.

Also, a few days ago I posted a mutual aid request to Instagram, forgetting that he followed me there. I was sort of worried about him knowing/finding out that I'm financially disadvantaged because he's very comfortable. But he shared it to his story and stuff. And this was before last night. So I think it's fair to say that he doesn't look down on me too much for it.

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paperstorm · 1 year ago

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The others have shown stuff that criticizes the US in some ways but it's mainly just news articles about the death toll in Palestine. For the most part, their posts have been mainly about not spreading hate and stuff like that. Brian has shared stuff about how the US never has enough money to fund domestic things but always has money for war. None of them have actually said that they are firmly pro-Palestine. And in fairness, Ronen has also shared and liked stuff supporting a two-state solution and a ceasefire. He's also shared stuff about how Hamas doesn't represent Palestinians (which is true) and he's liked posts that sympathize with Palestinians. I do think it's something to take into account while still acknowledging that a lot of the stuff he has also shared is problematic. So to just straight up call him genocidal or a war monger like I've seen isn't entirely fair IMHO. So the others aren't posting or sharing anything that Ronen hasn't also shared or posted for the most part. It's just that Ronen is the one that has said the most and has been the most transparent and it's a bit easier to assume that the others are pro-Palestinian based on the few things they have shared and liked

I find instagram stories kinda problematic just for this very issue. The historian in me does not like that there is a whole culture of public figures making often very loud political statements and in 24 hours they're just permanently erased from the historical record and people can spend forever arguing about the exact nature of what the post was or what it said. It seems almost designed to be destabilizing.

#911ls asks #israel/palestine discussion #I'm not gonna get into this today friends I have a lot to do and also I am TRYING to write for the first time in a while

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arsenalgbt · 8 months ago

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Do we think ice skater Martin would have stuck to Tiktok or Instagram in some way after becoming a viral sensation? I could see him charming the Internet through content and earning the title of the Internet's boyfriend. Aaron finds it easier to deal with the shipping because he's used to it, Martin's shipped with loads of people and is accessible to loads of people. It's different for Kai and Dec though, Kai's not seen as accessible to the Internet, he's a supermodel and other than his weekly bouquets and the animal fundraising links he posts on his stories- that's pretty much all people have in regards to an insight to his life. Dec has always felt kai is exclusive to him but the kaixmartin rumours change that. The fact Martin is an active poster could lend itself to some martindale angst with how often Aaron has to move out of pictures/videos. I'm intrigued by this au

TikTok methinks! hate the app, never ever use it, but gotta be fair that platform brings opportunity (cough by being viral) so deffo TikTok. ig will blow up too ofc~

Martin as the figure skater internet boyfriend? I'm into it~

fuck yeah!!!!!!!!! the exclusivity of supermodel!kai......... I'm thinking... supermodel in the 90s........ kai is the yasmeen gauri of the new generation yes or yes!!! his ig is dusty, all posts are basically PR, his stories are mostly faceless, he doesn't repost his fellow supermodels' stories, yes to the weekly bouquet and animal fundraising links~

but ofc, martinxkai shippers find their way to cut clips from their individual interviews mentioning each other, then posting it on tiktok as a comp LMAOOO

ben is dec and Aaron's teammate. he's being nosy, igniting insecurities in both players lolll (because I am me, I need willo to be here as per; willo is kai's fellow supermodel with dusty ig lol)

imo, the conflict is not fleshed out yet. maybe u can sharpen it up via whyyy why why why don't both kai and Martin want to go public with their relationship? is this universe just as homophobic to football players as our world? whyyyyyyyy . is it something with sponsorship contract? maybe Martin and his on-ice partner, Frida maanum ofc, are each other's beard? maybe Martin and Frida are selling their 'chemistry' for sponsorship? just to ignite ur inspiration~

#je suis #ok what's the tag #deckai #martindale

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crater-lake · 8 months ago

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118

5/21/24

I have 20 days until I leave Austria. J'ai vingt jours jusqu'à je m'aille d'Autriche.

Reasons for Staying

That a season to speak through me has to shout but I am quiet.

I’m vulgar enough to dissect this body. The one right here. Meaning is more long term than pleasure and I am an investor, a good American.

Become sufficiently sacreligious let us understand how the body’s systems folds into and feeds itself to sustain itself.

That I cried on this flight, reading other words, better words. Dreams feel thrilling two armlengths way.

Six poetry books for a weekend trip. Because I am 17 and 71.

That I am still deciding between love and mercy. I do not have a cleverer subject or ultimatum currently. I want to be forgiven before I grieve. I wonder if I can be more curious about grief than it is about me.

And a list of verbs I have yet to unlock. And my wordlist with warbling, eclipsis, and passerine. Why do you have a face?

What an eclipse does to a half-sprung chorus. Lenition.

Blue jays, northern cardinals, mourning doves transmit from my phone into crumple space of my room and I find it hard to feed myself many days of the week though it embarrasses me to say.

Mourning doves oppress Spring air with death and Mom hears it for 32 years to have it be born in me. I found it and now I am speaking with intention for probably a few years before what is next. Obsession is very useful because everything is terrifying. When everything is not terrifying, it feels like a Sudoku board that went wrong somewhere. I am not sure if a good friend likes me or not as well. I think in saying this I hear something else, deeper, speak.

That I cannot rhyme this story. That the cool boy with dark eyes in Seventh Grade ruined magic. That he said there was no such thing, only science, facts. That the 3 blocks to the Walgreens was impossible. It felt like a voyage that could drown me.I have too many words and not enough ideas. No, the conviction behind my ideas is wavering. No, I have just chosen the wrong story to sculpt. No, I am not sure who will listen and I am not sure if there is a story in the first place and I am not sure if it is worthwhile if it is mine. If I did not have to be inside a paragraph for it to hold my attention.

I might be a bad poet on Instagram soon if it means holding a name and conviction. Tuh!

I posted the above to my online journal because it seemed to fit the canon of the other writings that I waver inside of me every minute of every day and I cannot stand it. I distract myself by staring at it and seeing if it changes. I will occupy the inside of the feeling for a long time, even if it makes me insane or stupid, just to see. Fuck you, Lorenz.

I also want to talk about how I think Molly is generally annoyed with me and I want to broach that with her soon. I don't mind it but I am feeling insecure and am wondering what an appropriate course of action would be. Which is fair.

I also have talked to Anna about moving into her apartment for next year so I can get out of here because I am unable to stand living here unfortunately. This apartment has a pretty stifling atmosphere to me, and I do recognize how I contribute to it by isolating myself, but I isolate myself because of anxiety and shame, and me and Bettina's modi operandi and personalities do not glom well and I DO NOT WANT TO GO TO SLEEP. I WANT TO WALK AROUND ALL DIE AND EAT MYSELF IN THE MOUTH OF THE SUN. THE PIANO IN VOTIV PARK DISAPPEARED. I AM USELESS DURING BAR TRIVIA. ONE WINDMILL IN A FOREST OF WINDMILLS. A LIGHT ON A HORIZON NO ONE IS LOOKING AT. A WINDOW IN THE CITY OF GLASS. Bettina and I will talk about next year tomorrow and I will explain that I am going to look for another place and am likely going with Anna's apartment because it would just be easier for me given how I feel in here. And I will not assign blame at all, actually, but will just be honest because I actually do appreciate her efforts to communicate with me. I am just particular and I accept that about myself and I forgive myself for not having done a better job. I write this last sentence because I feel Lorenz shaming me in my head. And I am noticing also how things fester from High School onwards: baggage. Problems begin to stick and feel more permanent, like identity markers, stones becoming boulders.

Without Grindr the smallness of myself, the fretting and anxiety, the difficulty with planning, and my general neutrality has become abundantly clear. I may be slightly depressed generally but it feels like a good way to right off not having pleasure all of the time. I think I am very accustomed to satisfaction or I find dissatisfaction to be uncomfortable and stressful so I do everything I can to avoid it but it usually is fruitless. I wonder why Molly likes Lisa more than me even when I am writing these sentences. I want to text Molly and apologize if little things about me bother her but what would that accomplish actually? I will try to make sense of this feeling and offer forgiveness towards it. Later I will not go insane about devotion but I have to distract myself for 65 years and then I get to have a great break. I wish my brain was normal and I wish it was not contrived to speak that way. I want things to be easier. I wish I had more clarity inside my head and that I didn't stay stupid things and that I just was smarter about my surroundings and, tasks, and that I did not get bizarrely stressed about board games. I do charge myself with these things and each word bleeds a little bit as my fingers tap them out. Right where my stomach pouch folds a little evil feeling is nestled inside that makes me want to stay awake for the joy and terror and agency of it. Transitioning between sleep and awakeness is literally hard for me because it is hard to live in this apartment. I am writing because moments where I do not wish to be someone else are mystifying and enough to believe in hope, and I can use the word alders, the cold hush of it like smoke rising from a chimney in iron clad winter. I know about the magic of it. I am realizing how when I was 18, all of this, what I am getting out now was literally already inside of me but I could not translate it and I have known since I was 15 that I will need to spend a lifetime trying to perfect the projection of the craziness inside. Not craziness. Not incorrectness. Not agony. I can do it as soon as my story stops being my own. As soon as I see more of myself and use the word Alders and share the right things with the right people and the right things with nobody else. I think about so many things at once that some people would not call that clarity but that is where they would be wrong. The Highland Park Dunkin' Donuts where the Hasidim would frequent, an old man donning a Yarmulke drinking his large coffee on an iPad, his white frizzy beard, big ears and glasses, who had no idea that I was also Jewish. The coffee there tasted like smoke and mud and put lightning in my fingers. My story is my story. At 18, I was obsessed with the sentence, "I know more than I know" because I knew I could only be 18 when I was 22 and I know I can be 22 when I am 25 but one day I will be faster than the whirring and when I stand tall looking down at it, it will bend trying to get a look at me. I do not miss Murod I miss how I was not afraid to die for any other reason than to be beat the zenith of my grandiose suffering. In the summer when Julian and I exchange nervous glances and try to both be big when no one leaves their hometown completely if they have lived right and my parents grow older and I am squandering privilege and uniqueness and I should be more concerned about politics so that I can get a good job in the UN one day. I mostly rather be beautiful because I am clever enough to know what it means. It feels inane to touch and challenge my voice as much as I do.

This is not Golden Hour anymore, this is Crater Lake. My voice is wings fastening themselves to flying and the perfect description of the sky and the pithy phrases of my dying father. I know what to do with three fingers of scotch and starting a fire in Winter in the slow death of my home. My dead cat still sits on the white green arm chair and why not be obsessed with myself?

I AM ADDICTED TO GRINDR BECAUSE HOW I AM WRITING IS A BRIEF DEPICTION OF WHAT THE WHIRRING LOOKS LIKE FROM DAY TO DAY TO DAY TO DAY AND THE GENERAL REQUIREMENT OF ME TO MAINTAIN MYSELF WITH THE 55 THINGS THAT DO THEIR WHIRRING IN MY HEAD WHEN ALL IS QUIET. BEING AROUND PEOPLE IS A GIFT AND LORENZ IS DEAD. LORENZ IS DEAD THIS STORY HAS DIED LIKE A BIRD.

I will fasten wings to flying a story to my name. I do not forgive my pimples for existing and I am here and know how to talk about footsteps leaving a place. Thanks magazine for projecting my voice into sorry people now I am bit more whatever I have been being. Conviction is a really good story and pretend I am shooting a gun at credentials. Now that everyone is really listening I am here in a scary way. Okay, now that your toes are twitching, eyes brows raised, mouth dry, I am lying in bed smelling the fuck out of myself and a bit too sweaty and 20 days from remembering. Who is not plagued by whatever the fuck is going on in there? I am lying when I say I do not like it. I feel clever for having been plagued because cleverness is still what is somehow most valuable. Here is a suggestion: write a poem with kindness instead of cleverness. Having just written that, I felt a pang of something strange because I write to feel more stable. I do feel like I am writing all for the wrong reasons: not virtuous, not healthy. I give things away too quickly or use too many words, I am garrulous.

I'll grow up in a few years goodbye

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insomniactalks · 2 years ago

Text

I have about 10 different asks sitting in my inbox regarding the “leaks” for S3, and I finally found some time to address them today. Instead of answering each ask one by one, I’m just gonna address all those concerns/questions in this post. If you are one of the several anons who’s sent me an ask about the “leaks,” and have been patiently waiting for an answer, keep reading! This is the only time I will address the “leaks” b/c I think it’s best to just wait and see what happens at this point. (Typing this up from my laptop, so I apologize for the length of this post...hehe)

To start, I’m so sorry if you’ve been waiting a while for a reply. July has been hectic for me. Thank you for ur patience! A few things before I start: I won’t tag Ricky and Gina’s ship in the main tag b/c I assume they may not want to read my thoughts on the matter (which is totally fair! LOL) I think I’ll start tagging Gicky instead from now on b/c that’s also a combo of their names and so I can keep my own blog organized in some way. Also, my thoughts on the “leaks” are less from a Portwell stan’s point of view and more so from my thoughts as an English major in undergrad and grad school. I will try my best not to insert my own bias here. I’m simply looking at the story that’s being told on the show and the evidence.

Yes, I have seen the “leaks,” both the Twitter thread and the screenshots/“script” from back in April/May. And no, I will not share any of that with anyone b/c I promised the person who was kind enough to share it with me that I wouldn’t do that. That being said, lemme get into it!

Is anyone really surprised S3 would have another semi-formal event given S1′s HoCo episode (1.05) and S2′s quinceñero (2.05)? We all shoulda known S3 would follow that trend, so I’m not surprised by 3.07 apparently being another dance/formal event, “Camp Prom” I believe is the name. What corroborates “Camp Prom” is the actual evidence to back it up. The screenshots for this are actual pics from crew on set while they were filming, which show colorful 70s-themed décor. It’s not just someone’s words that’s taken as truth, there’s legit posts from crew on their Instagrams. All that confirms is that there will be a dance at camp (which seems so fun! Can’t wait to see it.) The only reason the “leaker” was right about that is b/c of the crew’s behind the scenes pics.

The “leaker” claims Ricky and Gina “have a great moment together” in the prom episode and that they “make eye contact across the room” at some point. I can see how one would easily assume this scenario to mean something romantic for Ricky and Gina, but just b/c 2 characters “share a moment” together doesn’t inherently make it a romantic scene. BTW, the “leaker” never claims Gicky “almost kiss” at prom, they only said what’s stated above. There’s a screenshot of part of the alleged script for “Camp Prom” that claims they “almost kiss.” I have several issues with this “script,” starting with the font used. I’ve seen plenty of official scripts from other shows (Riverdale and SPOP in particular) and even from Tim himself. They all have the exact same font and font size (no idea what that font type is called, but all shows/movies in the industry seems to use it. It must be standard practice b/c that font is sorta boxy and spaced out, making it easier for actors to read). Tim’s even shared part of the script for 1.06 before, and the font used is very different from this “script” from 3.07. I’m not claiming Ricky and Gina won’t share a moment in 3.07, I just highly doubt it’s an almost kiss. This “script” goes from Jet and Maddox on stage, to the coat check area where Gina “spills her bag” before her and Ricky allegedly almost kiss. There is no description for what Gina does after her “bag spills.” It just says she and Ricky “almost kiss” immediately after that. That makes no sense. Any person would be fumbling to put stuff back into their bag if everything spills out. This “script” is missing so much context, on top of being the wrong font and font size, that it makes me question it’s legitimacy. Seems pretty fake to me. Also, anyone notice how none of the “leaks” have ever stated anything specifically about Portwell? All these “leaks” seem to be in favor of only one ship (Gicky), yet official releases for S3, such as posters, the trailer, the “It’s On” music vid, etc, have continually presented Portwell as a team. I’m not saying Gina and EJ won’t be dealing with couple drama in S3, of course they will, but I doubt S3 will be the end for them.

One of the anons bring up Channing and Corbin filming Gicky during rehearsals for the musical for the documentary, and EJ possibly seeing that footage as the director. That’s deff a solid theory b/c the show could do that to add more drama. But here’s the problem. If Gina and Ricky are the leads in the musical, they would be playing romantic interests. Just like in S1, EJ will be in the exact same position in S3 where his girlfriend is playing romantic leads with a guy she has/had feelings for. By S1′s finale, EJ accepts Nini’s decision in choosing Ricky and truly lets her go (which is a moment he’s “really proud of” (2.10)). He learns a lesson in S1 about letting someone go and putting their interests before his own. In 1.04-1.06, EJ was still trying to win Nini back and hold on to their relationship, even when she was clearly done. However, thanks to character growth (and a certain someone! *ahem* Gina) EJ does the right thing. What would be the point in having EJ placed in the same situation as S1 again, where his girlfriend and the guy she has a past with are playing romantic leads, and have him go thru that rejection again? With the same other guy (Ricky) no less? There’s no point in EJ learning the same lesson from S1 again cuz he already went thru that. Don’t ya’ll think the writers know this? I think the more likely story that will be told in S3 is EJ having to confront his past insecurities with Nini, and how that affects his present relationship with Gina. The writers may have set up what seems like the same story from S1, but I’m pretty sure there will be a different outcome in S3. Doesn’t make sense to repeat the same lesson of rejection for EJ’s character in S1 in S3. There should be another important lesson to be learned here for EJ, such as someone other than himself actually wanting to “hold onto what they had over the summer” (1.04). Nini couldn’t do that for him unfortunately, due to the feelings she clearly still had for Ricky in S1. EJ was always gonna be a rebound for Nini b/c she was just trying to move on from Ricky over the summer he broke up with her. Gina, on the other hand, waited several months, during which she was actively moving on from her romantic feelings for Ricky, before she even considered being more than friends with EJ.

That doesn’t mean Ricky and Gina shouldn’t have a convo or two in S3 to clear the air b/t them, and work on rebuilding their friendship. This may very well lead to Gicky sharing moments this season, but I’m not convinced they'll be romantic moments. Every time EJ witnessed or suspected s/t going on b/t Ricky and Nini in S1, he was actually right. While he did NOT handle it in the right way, his suspicions were correct (esp in 1.02 w/ Ricky and Nini sharing a moment on stage/voicemail and even in 1.04 where Nini and Ricky almost kiss the same day she broke up with EJ). Having already gone thru that with Nini and Ricky, why would the show make EJ live thru that again with Gina and Ricky? Unless....there’s a different outcome! (That being EJ seeing Gina and Ricky interact and actually having to confront his insecurities this time instead of just being on the defensive. Who’s to say this won’t lead to more honest conversations b/t Portwell? Better yet, EJ and Ricky having the conversation they never really had in S1, where Ricky really overstepped certain boundaries in EJ’s relationship and Ricky comes to terms with that now. What if Ricky acknowledges his wrongs in the past and chooses to want a more genuine friendship/comradery with EJ this time? Just a thought.)

Last thing, S3 is confirmed to be only 8 episodes. The writers spent 8 episodes in S2 having EJ and Gina just flirt with each other. I doubt Portwell will date and break up (and stay broken up) in the same season they just started dating. They even set up the strong possibility for a Portwell love confession someday b/c of the following allusions to love in regard to Gina and EJ: (2.06) EJ would ask his future self if “he could learn to love anyone after Belle,” then takes a seat right next to Gina [visual foreshadowing]; (2.08) Howie singing, “No lesson could teach me how I could have loved her and make her love me too” as EJ takes care of Gina while she sleeps by placing his Duke hoodie over her; and (2.11) Ricky and Ashlyn singing “Something There,” a love song about 2 ppl unexpectedly falling for each other while Gina and EJ send e/o hearteyes thruout the performance (at least 3 times!). When writing a story, like the writers for the show, you include these subtle/indirect hints, like love in relation to Portwell in S2, in order to bring that concept back up again in a more apparent way. I couldn’t help but notice the set up in S2 for a Portwell love confession, but there’s a clear lack of a set up for an EJ/Gina/Ricky love triangle. By S1 finale, we knew Gina still had feelings for Ricky, hence the somewhat awkward moments b/t them in the dressing room after “Stick to the Status Quo” performance and their hallway convo before “Breaking Free,” which was the writers setting up Gina’s storyline for S2. She was obviously still grappling with her feelings for Ricky, hence the S2 promo posters placing Ricky b/t Nini and Gina b/c he was gonna be an important part of both their stories that season. It was a love triangle -adjacent situation. In contrast, S2 does not set up a Gicky/Portwell love triangle by the finale. The writers have already set the foundation for a Portwell love confession and a long-awaited conversation b/t Ricky and Gina to restart their friendship. I am hoping that happens with Ricky realizing how poorly he treated Gina in S2, apologizing for it, and wanting to be good friends again.

Bottom-line, let’s all stop acting like the writers are gonna fuck it all up just for the sake of drama. EJ and Gina’s stories (both individually and together) have been wonderfully written so far (the writers going as far as paralleling PW’s first moment ever in 1.01- with EJ watching Gina from the wings with mutual respect for her as a performer, to their 2.11 moment- with EJ proudly watching Gina from the wings, tenderly admiring the kind of person she is. See here for gifs!) This show even brought in not one but two different guest stars to help further develop Portwell’s relationship in S2. Just sayin’.

I see it this way: Gina and Ricky should be having positive interactions again in S3, esp after S2, and I’m hopeful for their renewed friendship again. And, if EJ and Gina don’t have their love confession this season, that’s deff something to look forward to in S4! Let’s face it, PW love confession is on the horizon, and the writers have set it up that way.

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impishtubist · 3 years ago

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I feel like the biggest differences w/Gen Z in comparison to some of the older Generations' works are that they're willing to take the Marauders into different universes as children and write about them in a more contemporary style.

Young/new adult (17-28) and older readers were first introduced to Sirius and Remus as 33-year-old individuals, so it was easier for those readers to write S & R as adults attempting to grapple with their background and trauma and grief than it was to reach back and try to make their Hogwarts years more accessible. I think Gen Z writers are coming in and reclaiming their life experiences as young people growing up with technology and texting and the realities of being Online All the Time in a way that older authors weren't doing at the time. I assume part of that comes back to the development of technology and the schisms that exist between gen x/millennial/gen z readers on that front, but I also think older writers may have been less aware of some of JKR's bullshit, which made it less uncomfortable to stick to canon environments and scenarios.

Barring 'All the Young Dudes', many of the currently popular wolfstar stories take place in non-magical settings (college AUs, sports AUs, etc), and while those aren't exclusively written by the youths™, I think their prolificness has likely been influenced by JKR's shitty behavior; it's a lot easier to divorce those characters from their author's terrible views when you remove them from the world she created. That also plays into how large of a factor the characters' queerness plays in the narratives being planned—and as you mentioned, the influx in fics that feature trans, NB, or genderfluid characters is a great side effect of these shifts.

Also, having spent a fair amount of time reading fics in the fandom, I think there was a bit of a high bar to clear in terms of writing quality early on. There are always posts going around that recommend more "literary" wolfstar pieces, and a fair amount of them tend to skew older (specifically: before 2010). By and large, online communities seem to have embraced the "everyone has to start somewhere" mentality a bit more in recent years than they had then, but I distinctly remember getting comments when I was writing in the 2000s where people would drop in to tell me I had utterly mischaracterized someone or that my grammar was bad. All for constructive criticism, but I do have to wonder if the "flame" reviews forced people to either conform to what people were looking for (literary, stylistic writing), switch to another platform (LJ to ff, or ff to Wattpad, etc), or stop writing altogether.

Nowadays, I think our younger authors have an idea for a fic and just...go for it. They don't always have beta readers (which aren't inherently necessary, but can definitely impact style, structure, and word choice) so they'll post things as they come to them, they've got fan-pages on instagram and tiktok and tumblr where they make textposts about characters using modern slang that get hundred of likes/reblogs—they've found a formula that works for them, and they aren't inclined to change it (see: how many texting fics exist). Beyond that, relying on conversational and colloquial writing means they can process their emotions in real time while writing, in a way that we as older writers definitely could have, but didn't usually. When I was reading fics then, and even rereading some of those fics now, it always seemed as if fics danced around trauma a bit more delicately than some of the popular fics do now.

That's not meant as a slam to younger writers, but I do think young people on the internet these days are FAR more willing to share about their personal trauma(s) online, and when they write their fics, sometimes that's obvious. Older authors do/did it too, but I think it's usually a bit more strategically veiled than younger authors are now. It was a poetic thing, and arguably, not always a good one, considering the way mental illness/saviour complexes could often be romanticized. Young authors now fall into the same patterns, which again, aren't great, but I also think that they're the first to acknowledge their own mental health crises and say it hasn't been a great experience—even in a joking manner.

I could go on about this for DAYS but I've already written you an essay, so I'll leave it there hahahah

Thank you for the essay!!!! I love all of these points. Yes, I have also noticed that the big fics in this corner of the fandom tend to be the non-magical AU ones--fics that essentially follow the plot structure of contemporary romance novels, but just so happen to have characters named Sirius and Remus in them. I mean, any one of those fics could have the serial numbers filed off and be published as an original romance book, you know? Up until now, I was just chalking that up to the popularity of romance novels--I figured that the writers were just replicating the structure of the books like they like to read, but in fanfic form. But you bring an excellent point--it might be more that they're trying to divorce the characters from the world JKR created.

This is fascinating. I'm loving all the meta that's ended up in my inbox today.

#imp speaks #writing #fandom #meta

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maastrash · 3 years ago

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Person A and Person B are friends and neither of them have a date for Valentine’s Day, so they decide to order takeout of some kind and watch a movie together. At some point, hidden feelings are revealed. umm elorcan, obvi, because i am nothing if not predictable 🤪

isa... babe... i swear i actually did start writing this around Valentine's day... but... i am CLEARLY a mess.... please accept my VERY late elorcan present 😳

Valentine's Day Confessions

a/n: surprise i am alive ;)

Elide cursed as she grabbed the steaming hot popcorn bag from the microwave. The decadent buttery scent filled her cozy apartment as she poured it into her favorite mixing bowl. She was about to pour in the m&m’s when she remembered who exactly was joining her tonight - Lorcan. And her friend was not a fan of chocolate. If you asked her, the man simply had no taste.

It was Valentine’s Day and the pair had decided to have a singles awareness celebration. Since their entire friend group was filled with couples they were each other’s only source of company on this dreaded day. Truthfully, Elide despised Valentine’s day. Seeing countless couple posts on Instagram and stupid lovey-dovey shit everywhere only made her more bitter. She hadn’t had a boyfriend in a long time - too long. If she was being honest, she had always thought Lorcan would make a move on her one day. Though at this point, it had been years of banter and flirting with absolutely nothing else, so she had pretty much lost all hope. She would just have to accept that she would forever be in the friend zone, but of course, that was easier said than done.

She settled into the couch with her favorite stuffed animal when the doorbell rang. Lorcan, she assumed.

“It’s open,” she called.

“Elide, I could have been a killer,” Lorcan chastised as he took off his leather jacket and shoes at the front.”

“What killer rings the doorbell?” she shot back.

“Ok fair point,” he said, quickly settling down next to her.

“What do you wanna watch?” she asked, turning to Netflix.

Lorcan shrugged, “Your house your rules El.”

“Lorcan,” she grumbled. “You know I’m too indecisive for this.”

He had the audacity to laugh at her misery, “I know, but it’s funny watching you struggle.”

“I already know no romance movies. I’ve already seen enough lovey Snapchat stories to last a lifetime.”

“Agreed. Did you see all the shit Rowan and Aelin have been posting?” Lorcan asked with a laugh.

Elide laughed too. “Can’t be worse than Lysandra and Aedion.”

Maybe they were just cynical because they were both single, but at the moment Elide didn’t care. It was fun to joke around with Lorcan.

“Let’s watch an action movie then,” Lorcan suggested.

“John wick?” Elide asked, already clicking play.

Lorcan smiled, “Sounds like a plan.”

The movie had barely begun before Lorcan was shifting his massive frame to lay down, placing his head on Elide’s lap.

"Lorcan," she groaned. “You’re heavy as fuck.”

He mockingly gasped, “I’ll have you know I’m on a diet Elide Lochan.”

“It’s your absurd height, stupid,” she whacked him, but he was laughing the whole time.

“You’re warm,” Lorcan whined, sounding much like the five-year-olds that Elide taught every day.

“I have blankets right over there,” she said, gesturing to the basket overflowing with various throws.

Lorcan only stretched his legs out and adjusted himself on her lap. “If you don’t get up I’m gonna sit over there,” she said motioning to the new armchair she recently bought.

“When did you get that?” he asked, finally speaking.

“A few days ago because you literally take up the whole couch when we hang out.” She actually got it for decoration, but bantering with Lorcan was entertaining.

“You’re dramatic Lochan.”

“I’m dramatic?” Elide asked, as she stood. “I’ll show you dramatic.”

She walked to the armchair and plopped down crossing her arms and legs.

She was about to add another dramatic remark, but before she could she felt the chair give way. Suddenly, she was on the floor.

“Ouch,” she mumbled, once she registered the pain she felt on her ass.

“Elide, are you okay?” Lorcan asked, making his way over.

“Yeah I’m fine,” she muttered. “But I am never buying Ikea furniture again.”

In all honesty, it was probably her faulty building skills, but she was not going to admit that at the moment.

She tried to stand but pain shot up her ankle. She had landed on it weirdly, due to her dramatic crossed leg position.

“Wait for me Lochan,” Lorcan said as he carefully picked her up bridal style from the ruins of what once was her armchair.

“I could’ve walked,” she said softly against his chest.

That made Lorcan chuckle. “You were barely standing, El. You would have hobbled at best,” he said gently, placing her on the couch. "Let me get some ice. Your ankle already looks pretty swollen."

“I think it's just aggravated. Old wound,” she tried to say it with a smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace.

Lorcan’s eyes softened in understanding. “Ice won’t hurt though.”

Elide nodded and Lorcan took to the kitchen freezer in search of ice. He returned moments later with a bag of frozen peas wrapped haphazardly in a paper towel. He helped situate her ankle on a pillow so it was elevated and gingerly placed the bag on top.

“Shit that’s cold,” Elide couldn’t help but hiss.

Lorcan laughed softly and Elide smiled. Lorcan’s laugh was one of her favorite sounds. It was rare to see him smile and laugh openly when they were with their other friends, but when it was just them she saw it more often. She liked to think that it was because he was comfortable enough with her to show the real Lorcan.

“That’s the point, Lochan.”

“Get us some drinks, Salveterre,” she chuckled. “There is no better medicine than alcohol.”

“Whatever you say, boss,”

“I have a bottle of wine on the top shelf,” Elide called when she heard Lorcan rustling around.

“Got it,” Lorcan said, returning with a cup of wine. A cup.

“I was too lazy to find the glass,” he said in response to the look she gave him.

Elide stuck her tongue out at him before accepting the cup. “Let’s drink every time Keanu Reeves shoots someone,” she suggested.

“Elide, I think you would throw up if we did that.”

Elide rolled her eyes, “I’m not as much of a lightweight as I was in college, Lorcan.”

He raised a brow at her statement. “We’ll see about that."

As he expected, it had barely been 20 minutes, and Elide was already a giggling mess.

It only took 10 more for her head to fall on Lorcan’s shoulder.

And after another 10 minutes, Elide was onto the honesty.

She had hung out with Lorcan one on one many times, but nothing as intimate as a movie night on Valentine’s day where they were practically cuddling.

“Ok Salveterre truth or dare,” Elide slurred, turning to look at him.

“Elide the movie isn’t over yet,” he said pointing to the screen.

Elide gave him a look and paused the movie, “I’m too drunk to pay attention, plus we’ve watched this movie like five times,”

“Fine,” He laughed, giving in, “I say dare.”

“I dare you,” she said, poking him in the chest, “To kiss me.”

Lorcan almost spit out his wine. “Elide, you are way too drunk to be saying things like that.”

“I’m serious,” she said, setting her wine cup down for emphasis.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day I met you, but you clearly only want to be friends.”

“Elide -”

“I know I’m not your type,” she said, her eyes dropping to the floor. “It’s fine, we can forget about this and blame it on the alcohol. It doesn’t have to be weird between us.”

She felt his hands on her chin, tilting it so they made eye contact.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day I met you too. Elide Lochan, you are smart, kind, and pretty much out of my league in every single way. ”

She felt her cheeks flush at his admission. “Please just kiss me already, Salvettere.”

Without another word, his lips were on hers. Soft and sweet, a perfect first kiss, but she wanted more. She kissed him harder and opened her mouth. He took the hint, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. He pulled her closer, her heart was beating wildly against his.

Elide shifted so she was straddling his lap. She grinded against him and let herself get lost in the way he felt. The way he made her feel.

Lorcan shifted slightly as if he was going to lay her down. It would have been perfect, but Elide’s ankle turned too quick and she grimaced, breaking the kiss for a moment, but that’s all it took for Lorcan to pull back.

“Shit. Sorry, Lochan. I forgot about your ankle.”

“No I’m fine,” she panted breathlessly, trying to pull him back in.

“Maybe we should stop for tonight,” he said, brushing the hair from her eyes.

Elide grumbled, “stupid cock blocking ankle.”

Lorcan laughed again. “I can get you set up in your bed before I head out.”

Elide couldn’t help the pout, “Stay please?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his chest.

He smiled softly. “Anything for you, El.”

They readjusted on the couch so they were facing each other, this time cautious of Elide’s ankle. Lorcan pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and Elide tucked herself closer to his side. It wasn’t long before both of them became drowsy thanks to the alcohol and their heartfelt confessions.

And as Elide began drifting off to sleep in Lorcan’s arms, she knew this is how she wanted to spend every night for the rest of her life.

Tags: @illyriangarbage // @court-of-fuck-me-daddy // @girlnovels // @julesherondalex // @ifangirlninja // @dreamerforever-5 // @queen-of-wings-and-fire // @rhysanoodle // @jemma-nessian-and-elriel // @books-and-words-addict-blog // @nightinshadow // @wolffrising // @the-regal-warrior // @dreamingofalba // @abillionlittlepieces // @alitzeldiaz // @kylizzles // @queenmaas // @illyrian-bookworm // @aspillofstars // @b00kworm // @tswaney17 // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn // // @perseusannabeth // @sweetlyvillainous // @awesomelena555 // @notyournymphetish // @ladywitchling // @aesthetics-11 // @sjmships // @iammissstark // @illyrianwitchling13 // @moondancer-204 // @sjm-things // @foolsinlovex // @sayosdreams // @welcometothespeaknowworldtour // @stardelia // @julemmaes // @thewayshedreamed // @texas-shaped-waffle-maker // @keshavomit // @superspiritfestival // @wannawriteyouabook // @verryberriess // @courtofjurdan // @bookstantrash // @sannelovesreading // @ahappyhistorianreader // @cass-nes // @my-fan-side // @junsuichow // @sleeping-and-books // @yumna402 // @lordof-bloodshed // @emcarstairs578 // @gisellefigue08 // @maybekindasortaace // @starborn-faerie-queen // @empire-of-wildfire // @loveofbooksandwine // @sanakapoor // @silentquartz // @a-omgnaomithings-love // @aimee1602 // @jlinez // @creamcheesechicken // @steamedlattes // @sahsahprova // @elriel4life //

#elorcan #car answers #nalgenewhore #elorcan fic

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outerbankspreferences · 4 years ago

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Is It Just Me? - Chase Stokes

Is It Just Me – Chase Stokes

Word Count: 2893

MASTERLIST

It's been way too long for me to find it this hard Sitting alone, my fingers picking the sofa apart An attempt to distract from the fact that I miss you I wonder if your friends have had to carry you home And stay for the night because they don't want to leave you alone Way before it was fun, it's becoming an issue

I know it's cruel But I kind of hope you're tortured too

It had been exactly 3 months and 13 days since you and Chase had broken up. You wished it would have been a shock to you, but you had seen this coming. Things with Chase were great in the beginning. He was caring and sweet towards you. You could remember a time someone had cared for you as he had. You always supported Chase with everything he wanted to do with his life. You met him when he had just started out acting, and you were proud to watch his career blossom to the extent it had.

But had someone told you 6 months ago that you guys wouldn’t be together anymore you would have denied the accusations. 6 months ago, you thought Chase was in love with you.

Chase had been going back and forth to North Carolina for auditions and eventually got the leading role in the television series. You spent the first month with him and his new cast mate Rudy, having the time of your lives with the other people on the show. The whole cast would go out to different clubs every weekend enjoying spending time together.

Just a little over 6 months later you were still going to clubs but this time on separate sides of the country. You couldn’t process what had happened in a healthy manner and instead turned to going out with your friends every weekend to keep your mind off things. It always ended the same, one of your friends dragging you up the stairs of your once shared apartment because you were too drunk to do it yourself. They had grown accustomed to the weekend ritual of getting you sleep wear and a bucket for the morning.

Then you would wake in the morning, puking the nights content in the bucket popping Advil for the headache and dragging yourself to couch, throwing on some stupid movie that you wouldn’t be able to watch anyways. Instead, you would pick at the loose strings of the sofa thinking of all the times you spent in the apartment with Chase.

Tell me, does your heart stop at the party when my name drops? Like you're stood at the platform when the trains cross Are you hurting, yeah you must be Or is it just me? Tongue-tied, screaming on the inside When I say that we broke up and they ask why Are you crying in the shower like a freak? Or is it just me?

As you sit picking away at the sofa, you mind wanders to Chase. You still follow everyone on Instagram, and you were still good friends with Rudy, so you could see everyone’s stories. Rudy had been the only one to keep in touch with you, which surprised you because he and Chase seemed to be such good friends.

You wondered if Rudy ever asked about you to Chase, and then you wondered what Chase’s reaction would be. Would his heart be in his stomach at every mention of your name, or would he simply shrug like you guys had never been more then distant friends?

You sat wondering if Chase ever thought back to the day at the airport. The way he let you walk through security with no more then just a side a hug you would give a sibling. Wishing you a good flight and see you later before leaving. He hadn’t even waited for you to board the plane.

There were so many things you had wanted to say to him. You want to tell him you loved him, that you would fight for him. More so you wanted him to fight for you, for the years you had spent together. To fight for the promises he made to you, the ones you made together and the ones to come. You wanted to apologize for not being enough, but you couldn’t find the right words, so you watched him walk out of your life.

I heard a rumor you've been spending some time With that blonde girl that you work with and I know she's exactly your type And my miserable mind's running wild with the picture Or are you there by yourself, dialing, redialing my number? And I'm calling your mother, spilling tears on my jumper again The way I am

I know it's cruel But I kind of hope you're tortured too

1 month later, Chase’s mother, Jennifer, had called you because she had seen the announcement on Instagram. The two of you had been close while dating Chase considering how close he was with her. Your mother lived down south, and you didn’t get to see her that often, so Jennifer was a close second.

You had heard rumors from Drew and Rudy about Chase and Maddie hanging out together more, and it didn’t come as a shock to you. In the last bit of your relationship, you played second fiddle to her on multiple occasions. “It’s probably nothing, it because they have scenes together.” Rudy would make excuses over facetime when he watched your face drop at the mention of her name. “Yeah, you’re probably right, nothing to get worked up over.” You responded in a less then convincing tone, “she seemed super cool the couple of times I met her.” “Yeah she is. I think under different circumstances the two of you could have been friends.” He encouraged.

When the nights started to get cold in LA again you found yourself struggling to sleep. It was at these times you would reread old text messages and look through old pictures of the two you. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but you weren’t ready to move on. Chase had extra time to mourn the lose of the relationship while you were still grieving. It was on these cold nights alone in the apartment you shared that you began to wonder if he was thinking about you. Was he sitting next to her thinking about you? Was he wondering whether he should call you or just delete your number?

It was early in the morning in North Carolina and Chase was sitting on the patio of his shared apartment with Rudy. The sun was just starting to rise in the distance as he found himself restless yet again. He had been awake for about an hour just laying in his bed when he finally decided to get up. He was careful not to wake the sleeping girl next to him. She felt different next to him compared to you. When the two of you slept together you always liked to be the big spoon. Chase let you, finding comfort being wrapped up in bed next to you. Maddie was different, she preferred to lay her head on his chest, letting the sound of his beating heart lull her into sleep.

Not soon after Rudy came on the patio too, and Chase cursed him for being a night owl. “Not tired?” Rudy asked pulling out the bong they kept under the table. “No, and I didn’t want to wake Mads’” Chase spoke up tossing Rudy the lighter next to him watching the blonde inhale the smoke.

“I can’t stop thinking about her.” Chase finally spoke up, keeping a hushed tone just in case. “Oh yeah?” “I shouldn't have left her like that. It wasn’t fair to her I just didn’t know what to do.” Chase explained and Rudy didn’t need to be a love doctor to know he was talking about you.

“It’s been 2 weeks, she’s okay.” Rudy explained and Chase gave him a confused look. “When you guys broke up, I stayed in touch with her. She was mine friend too, and I felt bad that we all sort of dropped her when you guys broke up.” Chase nodded his head in understanding but was still jealous that Rudy got to talk to you. “Why did you break up with her? Not that I’m judging, I just thought things were going good between the two of you.”

It was Chase’s turn to have a hit from the bong while he thought of his answer. “Shit man I don’t know. Things just feel different with Maddie then they did Y/N. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did.” “Are you sure you’re not feeling too much as an actor oppose to being a person. Sometimes having a love interest on show can be different and confusing.” The blonde tried explaining to him but even he saw the demise of the relationship before Chase start acting with Madelyn. “Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?” Chase asked looking at Rudy and he could tell by the look in his eyes that it was doubtful. “You hurt her man. I think maybe one day, but not right now. I think right now she’s just trying to figure out how to do this without you.” Rudy could see the few tears in Chase’s eyes, and he knew that this wasn’t easy on him ether.

Chase got up but before leaving he spoke one more time. “If you talk to her again, just tell her that I never meant to hurt her the way I did.” Chase still wasn’t sleepy but the effects of the marijuana did aid in his problem, so he finished off with a shower. He turned the water to steaming hot and then got in. He let the water soak his hair while he wondered what you were doing right now. It only took a few more minutes for the tears to start. Chase stayed another hour in the shower wondering if he made the right decision.

'Cause this would be one whole lot easier God, I know that's selfish but it's true If underneath some calm exterior You're all fucked up too

The first few months of quarantine had been rough on you working from home. You also felt alone all the time but seeing Chase’s Instagram post sent you spiraling down another unhealthy path. You had just started to get better. You weren’t drinking as much, and you had let your friends set you up on a group date. You knew you weren’t ready for another relationship just yet, but you also couldn’t hide in your apartment for the rest of your life.

You had also been talking to Rudy a lot more. He had been your biggest support through all of this. He had flown back to LA a couple weeks ago to help you move to a new apartment. You figured if you were going to move on you had to move from the place you spent the most time with Chase. It was bittersweet because not only did you have good memories at the home with Chase, but those memories extended to your other friends as well. Rudy had ensured you that you would make knew memories in your new place.

But when you woke up on June 14, 2020 you almost had a heart attack. It had been 3 months and 13 days to the day, and he had already moved on. Now you were stuck trying to grabble with the emotions you were feeling. In some messed up way at first you didn’t want him to be happy. You wanted him to hurt the way you did, but you knew it wasn’t right. There was a small part of you that was happy that he was now happy.

Then you were reminded that you owed Chase his half of the damage deposit. Rudy had told you they all moved back to LA and were waiting for season one to come out. You debated on just giving the money to Rudy for him to pass along, but you also wanted to face Chase, to show him that you were now okay even it was a lie.

You took the latter of the chooses and sent him a text. (Y/N) It’s Y/N, I have your half of the damage deposit from the apartment. I can drop it off or you can pick it up if you want. You stared at the text message for fifteen minutes before sending it. It only took five for him to answer and you dashed to look at the phone. (C) Oh shit I forgot about that. I mean if you want to keep it, that’s fine. You scowled at the text. You didn’t need or want his pity money. (Y/N) I’m fine without it, if your busy I can send it with Rudy the next time he’s here. (C) Okay, no that’s fine I can come by today and get it just air drop me your address. You did just that deciding against messaging him back.

Chase’s heart fluttered a little when he saw your name come up on his phone. He hadn’t heard from you in months, and he assumed it was going to be about the post on his Instagram. He made the decision that Maddie made him the happy he wanted to be and left you. He had just gotten back in town when you told him about the deposit, and he didn’t mind letting you keep the money. It was the least he could do after everything he put your though. His heart sank when you declined his offer but lite back up when you offered for him to come over.

He honestly thought of this as his chance to apologize for everything that happened. You didn’t deserve for him to treat you like that, and he owed you an explanation. He drove over to your house, white knuckled the whole way. You lived in a small, gated apartment building and he remembered Rudy telling Maddie B. about it. He remembered Rudy saying how excited you were for a new place, and he wasn’t sure if Rudy was just saying that to upset him. Every time Rudy mentioned something about you it always made his heart sink underground and he was reminded about the way he treated you.

Chase started to walk up the stairs to your apartment once you buzzed him in but to his surprise you were waiting outside on the step. You looked tired and had lost weight which worried him because you were small to begin with. “Hey.” He spoke not really knowing what else to say. “Hi.” You said and he could hear how sore your voice sounded almost like you had been crying. You were smoking, which was something new, but he figured this was just as stressful for you as it was him You handed him an envelope with his name on it. “Uh, I cleaned the whole apartment, and nothing was broken so we could all the money back. Your half is in there, so I just need your key to give to the landlord.” You explained looking at Chase. He pulled his keys from his pocket fumbling with the ring.

“Y’know, I never meant”- “Please don’t” “Please don’t want?” Chase looked at you confused. He thought you wanted an apology. “I can’t listen to it Chase. I know it’s mean, but I’m not ready to hear you apologize. I’m just starting to get better, and I don’t need you to set me back again.” You explained looking him the eyes. He flinched when you said again. He handed the key back to you. “Thanks, I hope everything works out. I’ll make sure to watch the show.” You smiled at him and he didn’t realize how much he missed seeing you smile. He returned the smile before turning on his heels to leave. “For the record Y/N, you weren’t the only one to get hurt in this.” And it was your turn to flinch at his words. “I guess grief looks better on some people.” And with that you escaped back into your apartment sliding down the door letting out a silent cry. What you didn’t know was that Chase was going back to his car to the same thing.

TAGLIST:

@drewstarkeysbitchh @taylathornton @jjmaybankzz @lemur46

#chase stokes #chase stokes x reader #chase stokes outerbanks #chase stokes x y/n #chase stokes x you #chase stokes imagine #chase stokes imagines #chase stokes angst #chase stokes heartbreak #chase stokes fluff #outerbanks

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nbrook29 · 4 years ago

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💞 My ultimate Sobbe fic recs 💞

Recently, I have gone through Robbe/Sander tag on ao3 and I decided to compose a list of fics that are absolute gems for me. A few disclaimers first:

✔ I didn’t include works in progress (WIPs), however I did include fics that are only on tumblr

✔ the order of the fics below is random

✔ this is the list of my personal favorites so if your favorite fic is not on the list it doesn’t mean it’s bad or that I consider it bad - we just vibe with different things :)

✔ if there’s a fic on this list that you decided to give a shot and loved it, please remember about leaving a comment under it to let the author know that

✔ I’ve been trying to add the “read more” thingy but it doesn’t show, I’m sorry, I know long posts are annoying af

under 1k

we’re keeping it simple by noobishere | G

Summary: Sander comes over unannounced and attacks Robbe’s very person (a.k.a the one where Sander teases Robbe on Eenvoud)

This is a guaranteed mood lifter. It’s short, sweet, to the point, and oh so funny. The banter. And I’d die to see that in the show.

1k - 5k

Fizzy Colas by Foxsake5 | M

Summary: Let’s say this is a clip (hopefully not as short as the standard 1:40 of this season) with Sander as the main on a ‘bros night out’ 🍻

This author is my queen/king alright? They take a simple idea and turn it into the most lovely/cute/soft story. This fic is exactly that. Sobbe’s chemistry here is out of this world and the banter is to die for.

high for this by flowersmaze (@bowieskam) | G

Summary: In which Sander remains a Flirt™ and in love with Robbe even when he can’t feel his face after a medical procedure

The summary says it all. Loopy Sander is the cutest and funniest thing.

Pull Me from the Dark by TheOceanIsMyInkwell (@theoceanismyinkwell) | T

Summary: Sander discovers that Robbe has recently been prescribed antidepressants, and Robbe opens up to him about the night he almost stepped off the bridge. Only love will show how much they’ve grown and pull them through.

This time, the boys talk about Robbe’s mental state which is unusual in fics. This oneshot is communication 101. And this line is just 👌🏻 “But after the dust of their first kiss and their first vows of commitment settled around them, Robbe took a look at the space in which he floated and realized, somewhere along the line, that finding the love of your life doesn’t fix you.”

diminuendo by noobishere

Summary: Waking up feels like an ordeal. His eyes are heavy, arms a dead weight, he isn’t sure if his limbs are even in the right places, but eventually, Sander comes to. (a.k.a a take on how Sander fairs after Robbe left for school.)

Sander’s POV after Dinsdag 7:27. It’s a great insight into his headspace during that time. This could be a scene in the show because it fits so well.

you’re wonder under summer sky by nothingbutniall | M

Summary: Two city boys go camping. What could go wrong? (Everything, apparently.)

Those boys are a chaotic mess okay? They’re such dorks. This fic has the best kind of grumpiness there is and sobbe is written so in character here.

if we can make it through december (maybe we’ll make it through forever) by nothingbutniall | G

Summary: Robbe and Sander at the Christmas market.

Can you imagine those two dorks at the Christmas market? Well you don’t have to anymore because this fic is everything you need and more. And this line “Couldn’t,” Sander sulks. “You can’t hold hands properly with mittens on.” makes me go all gooey inside every.single.time 😍

A New Sunday Feeling by Foxsake5 | M

Summary: Sander before Robbe: Ugh, Sundays 😒 Sander after Robbe: 😏🥺🥰

The way this author writes sobbe’s intimate moments is just pure talent. They have such way with words.

memories painted with much brighter ink by nothingbutniall | G

Summary: Saint Nicholas is the perfect excuse for an evening of gifts and banter with the flatshare. (Basically all five of them being cute together, and then Robbe and Sander being cute with just the two of them.)

This is the perfect fic for an October evening, when Christmas is just around the corner and you’ve just made yourself a cup of coffee and want to read some heart-warming well-written christmassy fluff.

5k - 10k

Let’s Dance by msleviss (@sander-driesen) | G

Summary: Robbe and his friends go to a club to check out Amber’s DJ cousin.

THIS PERSON PREDICTED DJ SANDER Y’ALL. And Robbe thirsts over him. And there is an instant connection. And Robbe dances. And it’s so cute.

video phone by tokyometropolis (@luludemauryyy) | E

Summary: AKA OH MY GOD, THEY WERE QUARANTINED…except not together, because life is cruel. Thankfully it’s 2020 and when Robbe has an…er…intense dream about Sander in the middle of the night, all he has to do is press one button and Facetime him about it. Thing is…sometimes FaceTiming isn’t enough.

Look. I get that smut fics are not everyone’s cup of tea. And that’s totally fine. But. If you’re looking for a well-written smut that’s in character and where you can feel the love between the characters, this is it. Hands down. Sorry not sorry 💁🏼‍♀️

10k - 20k

our camp of dreams by robbesanderx (@robbesdriesen) | M

Summary: a summer camp!AU where robbe and sander are both co-counselors

Misunderstandings lead to pining. Teenage angst at its finest. I really like camp stories, it’s my thing.

Falling For You by silver_etoile (@azozzoni) | T

Summary: Robbe only knows one thing about football: that Sander Dreisen is the hottest player on the FC Utrecht team. When Jens drags him to a match, the last thing Robbe expects is to meet someone so perfect, and it’s all he can do not to mess it up, but will he succeed?

Sobbe in a different setting with a bit different dynamic yet still having that special something. It’s a nicely written story of the development of their relationship, first meeting, falling in love, ups and down, all the best things in fics. And Sander as a soccer player is a pretty 🔥 concept (and I think Robbe agrees).

This isn’t our first time around by noobishere | E

Summary: One moment they are in the kitchen of their shared apartment, the next, they’re in this strange but familiar room.(a.k.a the au in which they accidentally go hopping through multiple universes)

The universe takes matters into their own hands and shows those silly boys that they are meant to be. Sign me up for the ride.

Coffee and Croques by peaceoutofthepieces (@peaceoutofthepieces) | G

Summary: Sander works at the on-campus coffee shop with Eliott, and he might just have a crush on the cute boy in the brown coat.

I’m a sucker for coffeshop fics. There is just something so good about them. This one is the coffeshop!AU that sobbe deserves. Oh the pining, and the secretive looks, the silly boys, and a pinch of Elu. Me likey ☕

The finest of the meadow by allforyoumylove | M

Summary: The universe brings two lonely boys together in a flowering meadow. They fall for each other fast and hard among delicate daisies, warm summer breezes, and shooting stars.

This is magical. My comment on the work was “So soft, so beautiful, so THEM, ugh.” and I MEANT that. This is just the right amount of sweetness. This is a must read. I’m not messing around.

two side of the same coin series by MajorAccent (@acespaceacepilot) | E

Summary: the valleys and mountains of sander’s bpd

How the boys handle Sander’s ups and downs. Robbe being the best boyfriend ever. I love how good he is for Sander, being there for him, not treating him like a baby, and not controlling him. How much he tries to make it at least a little bit easier for him. If you don’t want to read explicit stories, at least give the first part a try since it’s not E rated.

Zaterdag 9:58 by Foxsake5 | M

Summary: What happened after the croissants dropped to the floor 🥐🤭💕

I meant it when I said Foxsake5 has great way with words. Every single piece of theirs is just “chef’s kiss”. This fic is a definition of a domestic fic. Oh, and it happened. Totally. It’s my headcanon now.

its an unrequited love by eggsntoast | G

Summary: Sander works part-time at a museum every Sunday. Robbe is a frequent visitor.

A Sander POV fic. I was sold from the beginning. The development of their relationship here is so cute, and they’re being so stupid with their pining instead of just talking to each other and you just want to shake them but at the same time you’re rooting for them so hard. Oh and did I mention pining?

20k+

Jij Verliest series by ravenbrenna09 (@djsander) | M

Summary: For the past three months, Robbe’s life—and what it once was—had been stripped away and rearranged. Now, if anything, his life had become a bit repetitive: homework, stream, ignore Thomas’s Instagram, repeat. But one Friday evening, Robbe meets a hurricane in the form of a platinum-haired tattoo artist who just might show him everything that he’s been missing.

This is a long series okay? But oh so worth it. It’s captivating and you don’t want to stop until you finish. And once you finish you’re sad it’s over even though you’ve just spent 8 fucking hours reading it. It’s amazing. But you probably know that because it’s quite popular (rightfully so). The best thing is that you expect it to go bad halfway through because it’s difficult to keep the quality on the same level in a fic that long. But it doesn’t.

Visitations by lucidpantone (@lucidpantone) | E

Summary: Does Robbe and Sander’s relationship survive into adulthood. This fic takes place in two simultaneously timelines: the past and the present.The present occurs in one entire day. Both timelines are completely out of chronological order. Everything is in clips.You can be dropped in at anytime of the day in any timeline. So clip by clip you will need to piece together what happen to Sander & Robbe and why the present looks the way it does and what happened in the past that got them there.This love story is a journey. So be prepared.In the words of one of our Even’s. It’s a complicated love story between complicated people.

This is not a regular fic. The author put so much thought into it, there are so many gems, so many little things that you have to pay attention to because it.all.matters. And there is not one interpretation. Don’t you just love when a story forces you to think and use your brain? Cause I do. Not gonna lie: this story hurts, and like the author says themselves, it’s a journey. But oh my god get in because it’s amazing. And the ending is just sjsjsjsjsddhdhsdsgdsg 🤯

the night we met by themoongirl (@dearsander) | T

Summary: Robbe Ijzermans has a brain that won’t let him sleep, a chest that feels far too heavy and thoughts that never stop.During his first year of college he meets Sander Driesen. Robbe finds what he never went looking for.

A college AU. This fic is a journey of pain and fluff and humor. It has awesome friendships. And sobbe falling in love. And liminal spaces. I read it a while ago so I don’t remember it as well as the others but you know what? I still remember that it was great and I’m lowkey happy I don’t remember it that well because now I can go and read it again.

The Stars Look Very Different by @peaceoutofthepieces

Summary: Robbe is bored. He’s bored of listening to his friends talking about girls, and his other friends making out, and no one ever doing anything. He’s tired of having to put in all the work, of making his own fun. He’s tired of feeling nothing so he doesn’t have to feel like nothing. His party stunts are pushing the limit, his thrill seeking beginning to worry even his friends, and his carelessness is toeing the line of dangerous.

He’s a little tired of being ‘dangerous’, too.

Sander may or may not have a crush on the older boy with the apparent death wish. He wouldn’t mind a little danger.

Once I started reading this fic, each day I was waiting for an update at the edge of my seat which was a feeling I expected from s4 that did not deliver. TSLVD definitely delivered. My favorite sobbe social media AU

Ziggy Stardust Series by skamsnake (@skamsnake) | M/E

A collection of fics taking place throughout the season. Most of them are E rated so be aware of that but it’s a really cool mixture of fluff and spice *fans myself*

#wtfock #sobbe #robbe x sander #wtfock fanfic #sobbe fanfic #SHOW UP IN THE TAG

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duskholland · 4 years ago

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Say Goodnight | Harrison Osterfield

Summary ↠ you and Harrison broke up before he left to chase his dreams in Hollywood. With 5,000 miles between you, you’re both struggling to adjust to life without the other; exes to lovers; prompt: “why did you call me at 2 in the morning?”

Warnings ↠ angst with a happy ending, a breakup, one curse word?

Word Count ↠ 2.7k

A/N ↠ I miss Harrison. A lot. And I haven’t written enough for him, so...here ya go! This is definitely inspired by Ariana Grande’s song goodnight n go, which never fails to hit me in the feels (listen to the version from her live album... it’s magic).

This is also my fic for @t-holland2080‘s writing challenge! Thanks so much for hosting such a fun challenge Sammy - I hope you enjoy this :)

(a repost because tumblr decided to block me out the tags lmao)

You didn’t think it was possible to cry this much.

Harrison’s standing in front of you, glistening tear tracks running down his rosy cheeks. His eyes shift over your face, guiltily running the lines and curves of your cheeks and your forehead, trying desperately to stay away from your eyes, because you both know that seeing the heartbreak reflected in his icy blue gaze will be too much. Your chest hurts and you’re shaking, but you know that everything he’s said is true. You know that breaking up is for the best.

But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“I still love you,” Harrison tells you quietly. He rocks back on his feet, his teeth grazing his lower lip before he adds, “I’ll always love you, Y/N. The timing just…”

“The timing isn’t right,” you finish. With shaky hands, you reach up behind your neck and your fingers fiddle with the clasp of the necklace Harrison had draped around you, all those months ago. He makes a small sound of objection as the chain falls heavily into your hands and you hold it out in front of you. “Keep it,” you urge. You finally let yourself meet his eyes, and you try to stay strong as you grab his hand and push the chain into his palm. “So you don’t forget about me whilst you’re off being a movie star.”

Harrison reluctantly pockets the chain, his eyes lingering on the solid curve of the H. “I could never forget about you, Y/N.”

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that the only way Harrison can pursue his dreams is 5,000 miles away, across the Atlantic in America. It’s even more unfair that you can’t go with him because you’re enrolled in university in London. But worst of all, neither of you signed up for a long-distance relationship when you first began dating, and now you’ve had to come to the mutual, heartbreaking decision that breaking up is going to be easier than stringing out a virtual relationship together. It doesn’t matter that you love Harrison more than you’ve ever loved another person, nor that he holds you so closely to his heart that he’s certain you’ve somehow intertwined yourself with his soul: long-distance is too much, and you both think you’ll be too busy to maintain your relationship. Neither of you want to sit by and watch your relationship break down.

So breaking up is simpler, supposedly.

“You should go,” you find yourself saying, swallowing down the lump in your throat. Your hand rests on your front door knob, the cool brass feeling icy against your warm skin. You use your other hand to sweep beneath your cheeks, trying to stop the endless flow of tears from your eyes. “Don’t want you to miss your flight, Haz.”

He runs his hand through his hair, a grimace spread across his face.

“I- Are you sure this is the right choice?” He asks, echoing the words you’ve both been saying for days.

You shrug helplessly. “I don’t know,” you admit. “But I know that I can’t stand here waiting for you to walk away any longer.” You release a deep breath. “Just go, Harrison. Please.”

And he looks like he really wants to stay. His feet twitch, as if he’s about to push his way back into your flat and throw himself down on the sofa like he’s done a thousand times before. But his eyes pass over your tearful, heart stricken face, and he finally sighs, slipping his hands into his back pockets as he manages a weak smile.

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he says softly, his lips curving around the words with ease. The way he says your name so fondly causes the pain in your chest to crack and expand.

“Bye, Harrison.”

And then he turns, slowly, and you watch as he drags his feet down the corridor. Harrison pauses when he reaches the staircase, one hand on the door as he casts his eyes back towards you. Your mouth twitches into a smile instinctively: the sight of his face, his loose blond curls, and his friendly smile never fails to make you feel warmer - even now, as he walks out of your life, taking a piece of your heart with him.

You raise your hand in a final wave, and then Harrison steels himself and walks through the door at the end of the corridor, leaving you standing alone in your doorway, a lump in your throat and a weight hanging so heavily in your heart that you know you won’t be forgetting him any time soon.

[-----]

Life without Harrison is hard.

Before you’d started dating him a year ago, you hadn’t believed love could feel so fulfilling or right. But then you’d stumbled into him at Tom’s birthday party and you’d immediately hit it off, and everything had changed. You think it would be hard not to instantly fall in love with Harrison: he’s charming, witty, and he carries such a bright light in his eyes that he had you hook, line, and sinker within the first ten minutes of your conversation.

As you try to move on, you find Harrison haunting your every move. You open Instagram and you see his posts and stories staring you right in the face, broadcasting his life out in LA with his new friends and castmates, and it stings. When you strike out and find yourself in the pub with Sam, all you can think about is how you used to frequent the place with him, and your eyes find the corner booth you’d used to sit in, your figure usually curled up in Harrison’s lap. You can almost feel the presence of his slender, delicate fingers wrapped around your waist as you gaze longingly at the booth.

And the most frustrating part of it all? Harrison seems fine. He seems completely unbothered, which just serves to twist the knife further into your chest every time your thumb hovers over his contact photo, or you start writing out a lengthy, emotional text. You’ve heard nothing from him, and it makes you question everything you’d thought you’d had together.

Everything changes one Wednesday night, around six weeks after Harrison had left.

You’re woken up by the loud, shrill ringing of your phone. You try to ignore it at first, groaning as you roll over on your side and try to press your head into your pillows, but it just keeps going, and it seems to rattle louder against your skull the longer it prattles on. So, after releasing a stream of your best expletives, you roll over and snatch it off your bedside table, accepting the call before you’ve even had time to check the caller ID.

“Hello?” You croak, clearing your throat immediately as you hear the fatigue hanging heavy in your throat.

“Y/N.”

Suddenly you’re wide awake.

“Harrison?!” You exclaim, sitting bolt upright. You bring your knees to your chest as you pull the duvet around you, trying to hide beneath the warm sheets as if they’ll protect you from the way that hearing his voice unleashes an onslaught of painful emotions. “What’s going on?”

Harrison doesn’t reply for a few moments, but merely the sound of his level, familiar breathing is enough to bring tears to your eyes. You try to push them away as your heart races in your chest, so many emotions flying through your heart that it feels consuming.

“Uh, nothing,” he eventually says softly. “Sorry. It doesn’t matter.”

“Then why did you call me at 2 in the morning?”

The sound of his chuckle is forced, but it’s so lovely to hear him again that you can’t stop yourself from smiling. “Oh, I didn’t realise it was so late,” he says, “‘m sorry, love.”

“It’s okay. I missed your voice.” It slips out before you can really stop it.

“I missed your voice too,” Harrison admits, voice thick. “I miss you so much, Y/N.”

You swallow deeply, running your fingers over the crinkles of your duvet as you think. Your mind runs slowly, clouded with your fatigue and your emotions, and you really don’t know how to take this all, but you know that hearing his voice makes you happy - more happy than you’ve felt in weeks.

“I miss you too,” you mumble down the line. Your fingers ache from how tightly you’re gripping the phone. “How’s LA?”

Harrison chuckles, and you hear a noise in the background as if he’s climbing into a bed. You can almost imagine him: his lanky legs spreading out over the sheets, a low groan slipping past his lips as he stretches out his arms and back. That lazy pink smirk hanging freely from his perfect lips. The image burns into your eyelids.

“LA is mad,” he tells you honestly. “It’s a whole different world over here, Y/N. It’s… It’s exciting, but it’s so different to London. I wish it would all slow down.”

“You’re really busy then?”

He hums lightly. “Yeah. I’m either on-set or doing fittings or rehearsals.”

“Are you having fun?”

Harrison takes a while to ponder your question.

“Yes,” he says, bringing a swell of tears to the front of your eyes. “But I’d be so much happier if you were here too.”

You try to disguise your sniffles, but you’re almost certain he can hear them. “Well… I’m not,” you manage. “I’m glad it’s giving you everything you wanted.”

There’s a very awkward, very thick silence that envelops the line, and it makes you shift uncomfortably in your sheets.

“I should let you sleep,” Harrison says, guilt lacing his words. “I’m sorry for waking you up. I shouldn’t have called you.”

“Oh, okay.” Your free hand clenches into a hard fist as you try to stop your lower lip from wobbling. “Don’t worry about it, Haz. I’m always here if you want someone to talk to.” A small smile flicks out across your lips. “Doesn’t matter what time it is.” I love you - those three unspoken words hang between you. You can feel them, surrounding you, smothering you, and you can almost hear them on the tip of Harrison’s tongue, so you jump in to add, “Goodnight, Harrison,” because you really can’t bear to hear them.

You can feel his reluctance, but you release a deep breath as he says, begrudgingly, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You hang up quickly, your fingers trembling as you toss the phone down the bed. The blank screen stares at you, taunting you, and you’re overcome with such a strong sense of regret that you almost reach out and call him back. Your body craves him - his soft, melodic voice, his gentle words, his love.

Your phone starts ringing, and you snatch it back up, eyes taking in the image of Harrison’s contact photo as he flashes over the screen. You accept it without a second thought.

“I don’t want to say goodnight yet,” Harrison says immediately, words falling into one another. “I don’t want to stop talking to you, Y/N. Can we please keep talking? Just for a bit.” He pauses, his voice breaking. “I miss you.”

The relieved smile on your face shows no sign of budging. “I don’t wanna say goodnight either, Haz.”

[-----]

It’s a bad habit, but for the entire time Harrison is away, you end up on the phone with him each evening. The first few times had been fairly spontaneous, but soon it becomes a habit: every day, as Harrison finishes filming, he gives you a call and you have a long, rambling conversation. It breaks up your sleep, but you grow so used to it that you start setting an alarm at 1.50am just so you can grab a cup of tea and wake yourself up before he calls.

It’s definitely inadvisable to stay so connected to your ex-boyfriend, but it feels too good to quit. Harrison is your drug, and every time you hang up the phone, you’re left feeling sad and hollow inside. But it eases the pain of having him so far away, and maybe a part of you deludes yourself by reasoning that your calls are helping you get over him: cutting him out completely was too hard, but maybe sharing these phone calls will help you. Eventually he’ll stop calling, and you’ll be able to heal, because you’ll have practised saying goodbye so many times it’ll feel normal.

But Harrison doesn’t stop calling, and you don’t stop answering, and soon enough, he’s been away for six months, and he’s preparing to move back to London, his film complete.

You don’t really know where you stand with him, if you’re being completely honest. He’s still your ex - but you’re still helplessly in love with him, and you’re fairly sure that most exes don’t spend hours on the phone each day, chatting and laughing like you’re still together. You try to bring it up with him, but every time you start the conversation, your heart clenches in your chest and you wimp out.

You ignore the difficult conversation for as long as you can - which lasts until you hear a loud knock on your front door, and you know that it’s him.

It feels almost like a gravitational pull, drawing you back to his figure. You’ve spent all day pacing your flat, fussing over your hair and your outfit, but for the entire time you’ve spent waiting on his flight arriving, you haven’t been sure if you’d be able to open the door and face him. But now you know that he’s here, your heart seems to act of your own accord.

You wrench your door open, and immediately you’re pulled into a tight, crushing hug. It knocks the air out of your lungs and you wheeze as you feel that familiar set of curls brushing up against your neck, and you feel a few tears slip from your eyes as you take it all in. He’s back.

“Haz,” you exclaim, your voice choked with tears. His hands move over your back, clinging to you, drawing you as close as possible as his rich, earthy cologne invades your system. It doesn’t even matter that his jacket has a collection of chilly raindrops clinging to the leather, because it feels so fucking perfect to have him so near you again that you can’t focus on anything other than him.

“I missed you,” he whimpers, as he pulls away from your neck. His large hands fall on your shoulders as he stares at you intently, his focused eyes whipping the air from your lungs. He looks so cute that you can’t really stop yourself from shifting closer and pressing your lips to his. Immediately you relax, and he does too, and he kisses you back softly. Your mouths are tender at first, pressing together softly - testingly - but as you wrap your hands around his waist and bring him closer, it deepens. Your mind spins with dizzy, overwhelming happiness as you revel in the feeling of Harrison, enjoying him utterly, your heart thrumming happily against your ribs.

“I missed you so much,” you mumble against his lips, kissing him between each word. Your fingers drift into his hair, and you smile as he hums in agreement.

“We are so stupid,” he says, drawing a laugh from your lips. “Can’t believe we ever thought breaking up was for the best.” His mouth shifts up to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I love you so much, Y/N. Please, can we get back together?” His words are desperate, but they echo the things you’ve been feeling for months, and hearing them is such a relief that you simply have to kiss him again.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whisper, moving to rest your forehead on his shoulder. Harrison brings you into a warm hug, and you let him hold you as you breathe him in. “I missed you. I love you.” You tilt your head back, meeting his eyes gleefully. “I’m so glad that you’re back.”

Harrison reaches down and pulls a familiar, glinting chain from his pocket. Your gaze softens as you pull away from him and tilt your head, letting him wrap the necklace back around your neck. The H pendant settles gently over your chest, and it feels like coming home.

“Perfect,” he comments, and you’re not sure if he’s talking about you or the necklace, but you’re willing to accept either.

With a warm smile on your face, you move aside and welcome him inside. “D’you want a cup of tea?” You offer.

Harrison steps across the threshold and presses a final, loving kiss to your lips. “There’s nothing I’d like more.”

----

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send me some feedback?

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x y/n #harrison osterfield oneshot #sammy's summer writing challenge

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missjanjie · 3 years ago

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Better Than Revenge | Chapter 3

Title: Better Than Revenge Summary: Karma Inc.’s business structure is simple - clients hire them when they’ve been grievously wronged and they send one of their revenge mercenaries to right them. As painstaking as their efforts to remain ethical may be, that may be tested when former detective, Rosé, enlists the squad to pick up where she couldn’t on a much higher scale, with potentially greater consequences. Word Count: ~2.7k (this chapter) | ~8k (total) Relationship(s): Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx), Jankie (Jackie Cox/Jan Sport), Halldoll (Nicky Doll/Jaida Essence Hall), Gimone (Gigi Goode/Symone), Gottlux (Gottmik/Olivia Lux) Rating: T

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: Rosé learns Gigi, Symone, and Denali's revenge origin stories

Woodstock, IL — 2016

Gigi took a deep breath as she stared at herself in the mirror. She could do this, it was fine. Every time her suspicions or confusion would bubble up, she forced them back down. Hannah was nice, she was different from the other popular girls. She didn’t see the ‘weird art lesbian’ with the braces and thick-rimmed glasses, who rarely got pop culture references post-1989, at least, that’s how she made her feel.

“I’ll text you in the morning,” she assured her mother as she threw her bag over her shoulder. “It’ll be fine, I’m just hanging out with a friend.” She was out to her mom, of course, that was her biggest ally. But she wasn’t ready to tell her that the head cheerleader had taken an interest in her. Maybe when and if they became official. Until then, she shook off the last of her nerves and drove to her house, only pulled from her thoughts by the time she was sitting on Hannah’s bed.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Hannah cooed, batting her lashes and resting her hand on Gigi’s thigh.

If Gigi hadn’t been so blinded by her crush, she might’ve thought Hannah was laying it on a little thick, but she couldn’t act like she didn’t enjoy the attention. “Me too, a-about you, I mean. Sorry, I’m just nervous…”

“How come? I didn’t come on too strong over text, did I?”

“No, no I liked it, it’s just… I’m a virgin, like, I’ve only ever kissed before,” she confessed, her cheeks flushing rosy pink. She had talked a big game over text, but being faced with the chance of starting a physical relationship brought her back to reality.

Hannah pouted, rubbing Gigi’s thigh as she thought, letting her hand inch higher. “Well, you’ve got fantasies, don’t you? I know you’ve masturbated before. What do you think about while you touch yourself?”

Gigi hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. The other girl wasn’t wrong, she did know what she liked, could conjure up vivid imagery to get herself aroused, but she had never said any of it out loud. “I like powerful, confident women. I guess that’s something that drew me to you,” she started, “I wanna just… give up control, be dominated.”

“Really? Tell me more,” Hannah prompted, kissing along her neck and jaw and slowly tugging Gigi’s shirt off in an attempt to coax her to continue.

When Hannah didn’t seem deterred by her confession, Gigi started to relax. “It’s just, I don’t know, I always feel the need to be in control of my life and with sex, I just wanna let go and give up that power.”

“So like, what would you want someone to do to you?” she asked, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

She bit down on her lip. “Um… tie me up, spank me, choke me, and I know it’s kind of intense but maybe something like cnc or—” the incessant buzzing of her phone distracted her and, concerned it might be an urgent call or text from home, she took her phone out. “Sorry, one sec.”

It wasn’t from home, she had two missed calls from her best friend, Crystal, followed by several texts.

Crystal: GIGI STOP Crystal: SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! Crystal: She’s broadcasting you on IG live! Crystal: We can see and hear everything…

Gigi’s face fell, her first instinct to pull her shirt back on. Then she slowly looked up and in front of her, that’s when she saw it, nestled between stuffed animals — Hannah’s phone with an instagram live going. She didn’t say anything, just ran out of the house as fast as her legs would take her and through her tears drove right to Crystal’s house. That was when the two of them formed their plot.

In and of itself, it was simple. Gigi waited one day until Hannah was away for a cheer competition and went to her house. “I’m so sorry to bother you, Mrs. Andrews, but I think I left some of my homework in Hannah’s room, she just said to let you know so I can run in and grab it.” Once inside, she found exactly what she was looking for, sliding Hannah’s diary into her backpack and went right back out.

“This feels very Mean Girls, I love it,” Crystal remarked as they taped page after page of the diary on lockers, walls, anywhere they could.

“Well, plan B was to go the Heathers route, so let’s just hope it works.”

And to say it worked was an understatement. As it turned out, Hannah had written things far more incriminating, and because it came from someone of her social ranking, it made everyone immediately lose interest in Gigi’s livestream scandal, and she graduated with the anonymity she needed for survival.

Present Day

“I’ll be honest with you,” Rosé remarked, “it’s kinda hard to picture you as an ugly duckling, especially the way you described it.” Gigi was too pretty, too perfect. Something didn’t add up.

Gigi got out her phone and scrolled through her photos until she found one from her senior year. “Believe it, doll,” she said as she held her phone up. She watched with an amused expression as Rosé looked from her phone, to her, and back with her eyes wide and mouth agape. “Braces off, lasik, learned a lot about how to dress while going to FIDM, which is where I met Symone, who helped fill in the blanks.”

“And made sure she got to do all them things she listed to that bitch without feeling ashamed about it,” Symone added with a smirk, draping her arm around Gigi and pulling her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Why don’t you tell her your story next, baby?” Gigi prompted.

Conway, AR — 2014

Symone watched her sister throw her bag over her shoulder and start to sneak out the window. “Look, I ain’t snitching or nothing, but I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

She and her sister, Lala, were close, sometimes referring to themselves as twins – they were only ten months apart, in the same grade at school. And until the summer after sophomore year, they had the same group of friends. But the crowd Lala ran with now just rubbed her the wrong way.

“You worry too much,” Lala brushed it off. “I’ll be fine, in bed by morning like nothing happened.”

But when Symone got a collect call two hours later, she found out things were far from fine. She drove down to the county jail as fast as she could without getting pulled over herself. Luckily bail was a mere fifty dollars, but once she got her sister back in the car, she looked at her incredulously. “What the fuck happened?”

“One of ‘em brought weed, another brought booze, but when the cops rolled up on us, they said it all was mine. And who was they gonna believe, me or three white kids?” Lala sniffled, wiping her eyes. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen to me,” she whispered.

“I don’t either,” Symone admitted quietly, frustrated at her inability to come up with an immediate solution. “But we’re gonna do our best to get you out of this, okay?”

The best they could do wasn’t easy. It involved a lot of legal maneuvering, meetings with one person in a suit after another. The end result wasn’t ideal, but it was far better than what could have been. Lala was fined three hundred dollars and put on thirty days of probation. In and of itself, it didn’t seem so bad, but the residual consequences took their toll.

“I lost my scholarship, ‘mone. That was my ticket into college,” Lala sighed. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know I’m getting off with a slap on the wrist, but I really ain’t thrilled about taking out student loans,” she sat down on the floor beside the bed, head leaning against it. “Or maybe I’ll start with community college, I dunno. It just fucking sucks that they all got off with warnings.”

Symone’s brows knitted together, her lips pressed into a fine line. “Don’t you worry baby,” she said after a moment, “they gon’ face consequences one way or another.”

It had taken most of spring break, but Symone finally had all of the pieces for her plan. “Not the most convoluted thing in the world, but it’ll get the job done,” she mused.

Lala looked at her sister, then at her desk and back. “Do I even wanna know where the hell you got coke from?”

“No, you do not.”

Getting the drugs was the hard part. Getting into school early to plant the drugs in the lockers of Lala’s former friends was far easier, as was leaving an ‘anonymous tip’ from a ‘concerned student’ on the principal’s desk.

“God, I wish I could’ve seen them get hauled off in cop cars,” Lala remarked as she and Symone drove home from school. The three students were quietly escorted out of class and arrested, the school wanting to bring as little attention as possible. “Shame that they rich daddies will still get them off lightly.”

Symone sighed and nodded. “Sure, but they’re still gonna get something, which is more than what they got when they threw you under the bus. Bet they’re gonna think twice before they let someone else take the fall for them.”

Her sister smiled softly and shook her head. “You really ain’t gotta do all that for me, you know?”

“I know,” she hummed, “not gonna stop me, though.”

Present Day

“Wow, that’s both selfless and hardcore,” Rosé remarked with an impressed nod. “Did she ever find out where you got the coke from?”

Symone laughed and shook her head. “Nah, that secret I’m taking to the grave.”

Rosé jokingly put her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, fair enough,” she chuckled. After a moment, she turned her attention to Denali. “That just leaves you, princess,” she remarked, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. “What’s your claim to infamy?”

Denali tossed her hair off her shoulder and grinned softly. “Who, me?” she cooed, fluttering her lashes. “Well, it is kind of an interesting story…”

Nicky rolled her eyes and tossed one of the couch pillows at her head. “Stop flirting and get on with it already.”

Fairbanks, AK — 2011

Denali groaned when the sound of loud footsteps racing up the stairs pulled her from her quasi-asleep state, then pulled a pillow over her head when the door swung open.

“What the hell are you still doing in bed when the qualifiers are in two hours?” her friend, Kahmora, asked with incredulous horror. She yanked the covers off of her, but stepped back in concern when she finally caught sight of Denali’s face. “Oh god, you look like shit.”

She frowned and rolled over to face away from her. “I feel like I died and was in the process of being reanimated, then killed again,” she lamented. “It’s probably food poisoning… or maybe swine flu came back, I dunno.”

“Did you eat anything unusual?”

Denali furrowed her brows as she wracked her brain. “I mean, Tara gave me those brownies and I had one, but when she said they were ‘special’, I just thought she meant they had weed in them, but that sure as hell isn’t it.” With as much energy as she could muster, she sat upright. “Oh my god, do you think she poisoned me?”

Kahmora arched her brow. “I think that’s a bit much, even for her. Do I think she put something like a laxative in there so it’d take you out long enough that you couldn’t beat her out in the international qualifiers? Yeah, probably. She’s a cunt.”

The skater scowled, her jaw clenched. “She’s a dead cunt,” she corrected, then suddenly shot out of bed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered as she raced to the bathroom yet again.

There wasn’t an obvious revenge plan for Denali. She knew that nothing she did would get her spot in the competition, and she wondered if it was even worth it. But her pettiness and spite won out and she began planning out her course of action.

“Remember,” she was saying, “if all else fails, we go the Tonya Harding route.”

Kahmora sighed. “For the last time, you are not whacking Tara’s kneecaps, now let’s go.” Despite some pouting from Denali, they went to get the gears turning in their plan. They got to the ice rink and slipped into the locker room without being noticed by Tara, who was in the middle of practice.

Denali picked the lock and took out Tara’s change of clothes. Then she reached into her own bag and pulled on latex gloves and a plastic bag containing several leaves of poison ivy. She turned the shirt, pants, and socks inside out and firmly rubbed the leaves against the fabric, making sure she left as little fabric uncovered as possible. “She’s lucky I’m merciful or I’d rub it on her panties too,” she remarked offhandedly.

Kahmora tilted her head as she watched her. “Do you actually think it’ll take her out of the competition?” she asked as her friend put the leaves and gloves into the ziploc bag.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I mean, it’s possible, probable really, that the constant itching might make it too difficult for her to skate. But this is more about getting even with her. I might not ever get another chance to compete for internationals. She’s lucky the only retribution she’s getting is a few weeks of itchy blisters.”

“Otherwise you’d Tonya Harding her?”

Denali nodded brightly. “Exactly! Now come on, we have to get rid of the evidence.” And with that, they scurried out of the locker room as inconspicuously as they’d entered it and threw out the evidence in a trash can several blocks over.

When the news broke that Tara had withdrawn from the competition due to ‘unexpected physical problems’, Denali did her best to feign shock and didn’t celebrate until she and Kahmora were alone.

“So, what do you wanna do now?” Kahmora asked.

Denali tilted her head in thought, then smirked. “Let’s go get brownies.”

Present Day

“Personally, I still think you should’ve busted her knees,” Mik mused offhandedly. “Like, I bet you would’ve figured out a way to get away with it, you conniving bitch,” he teased.

Denali shrugged. “Maybe, but it’s not very original and it’d look a lot more suspicious on my end.”

“I think it was pretty badass,” Rosé offered, making the other woman smile which, in turn, made her heart flutter — something she chose to actively ignore. Instead, she let all of their stories sink in. None of their reasons for revenge were out of line, none of their victims undeserving. And none of the consequences were as severe as some of the things she had seen in her time. “You all really know what you’re doing, huh?”

“We wouldn’t have been able to keep this up for three years if we didn’t,” Jan replied. “We had all of the potential on our own, but we make a difference together, and then we added Jackie to tie up the loose ends. It’s been smooth sailing from there.”

“Yeah, and now Jackie ties you up instead,” Nicky teased, earning an eye roll in response.

Rosé watched the group interact with a fond smile. She had assumed they all got along to be working together for as long as they have been, but she hadn’t anticipated them truly behaving like a family. It was a stark contrast to the constant coldness and curtness she had grown accustomed to, both in her previous career and in the environment she grew up in. She only hoped it would make the tasks ahead that much easier for them.

#gimone #rosnali #rpdr rpf #i promise everything else will be present day unless its something important lol

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hstyleshoney · 5 years ago

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Stay With Me - part one

AU friends with benefits but things get complicated, like they always do

word count: around 8.3K // angst, alcohol consumption, language

A/N: Hiiiiii! So, back in September I posted a preview kinda thing to a fic I was just casually writing and now I have finally finished it! Took a while but I’ve been going through some shit but now it’s done! It’s gonna be a two part thing (I think) because it turned out way longer than I first expected, and this part is still so long, woops. It’s the first thing I’ve written in YEARS so please be nice haha. (Also, English is not my first language so I’m sorry if some grammar is wrong. I’ve proofread it many times but it could still be bit off in some places.)

AND please let me know if you liked it and if I should post part 2 as well. Feedback is so so so appreciated because it’s been sooooooooo long since I posted anything and I’m scared hahah anyways..!

Hope you like it!

His lips were hot against her skin when he leaned in and whispered in her ear.

“Your place or mine tonight?”

She smiled to herself and her heart skipped a beat when she felt his warm body press against her back. The music was loud around the two of them and she could hardly hear herself think, yet his voice was clear as day. She turned to look at him and was met by his familiar warm grin as he looked right back.

“What makes you think I’ll be going home with you tonight?” she teased.

He snorted and raised his eyebrows, and she had to bite down on the inside of her cheeks to stop herself from smiling too much.

“Well, love” he started and spun her around so he could place his hands on her hips. She felt her cheeks flush under his stare as he pulled her even closer to him. He smelled like beer and tequila mixed with that cologne she loved so much. Her knees weakened and he smirked. “I think we both know you are.”

He was right.

But she wasn’t going to let him have that.

“It’s awfully bold of you to assume such a thing, Mr. Styles.”

“Is it though?” He was still smirking and she felt her knees weaken even more as his tongue poked out to wet his pink lips. Her heart was beating so hard she was sure he would’ve heard it if it wasn’t for the loud music. Sweaty bodies kept bumping into the two of them on the overcrowded dance floor, which normally she couldn’t stand, but she was drunk. Very drunk and she was hungry and tired... and also in a huge need of a wee.

However, now Harry was standing in front of her.

So needless to say nothing else really mattered anymore.

His mere presence made her forget about all the people around them and suddenly her bladder didn’t seem so full after all. That’s the effect he had on her and he knew it. With his soft brown hair that curled so pretty at the tips, his smooth skin and green eyes; there was no way she wasn’t going home with him again tonight. He was the best thing she had ever laid her eyes on and he also wanted to take her home.

So who was she to say no?

“Yours then,” she replied and tried to not sound too eager. Harry squeezed her hips again as she finally confirmed they would indeed go home with one other again and pulled her even closer into him. His chest pressed against hers and she swore she could feel his heartbeat against hers.

“See that wasn’t so hard to say, was it?” She rolled her eyes as she noticed his smug grin and as much as it pained her to do; she pushed him off, pointing a finger into his chest.

“We’re stopping to buy fries on the way though... and you’re paying!”

Harry laughed and agreed, but not before adding; “I can give you something a lot better than fries once we get back.”

And well… she didn’t disagree.

She wasn’t entirely sure when this thing between the two of them started, or how it started even. It was just one of those things that happened one night. Harry first came into her life when her flatmate Louisa started dating his mate Tom during their first year of uni.

The first time she met him they didn’t really speak to each other. It had really just been a case of her admiring him from afar as he was approached by a handful of women at the student bar. She thought he was probably the prettiest guy she had ever laid her eyes on and thought to herself that he was just way too cool to ever notice her.

It was obvious from the start, by just watching him, that he had an aura around him that drew everyone in. People, both boys and girls, flooded around him wherever he went. He was always the center of attention and she understood why. Because not only was he the prettiest guy she had ever seen, he was also one of the nicest guys she had ever met. At first she had just assumed he’d be an arsehole because to be fair she had never really met a guy that got as much attention as him that wasn’t one.

However, as Louias’s and Tom’s relationship grew more serious; the more all of them hung out and she started talking to him rather than just staring from afar. She got to know him and even though the two of them were quite different from each other, they still became good friends.

While she was more of a typical girly girl who enjoyed spending a little too much money on overpriced makeup palettes and listened to whatever songs were in the top list that week Harry was a little more into old school music, bringing up bands and songs she had never heard of before. He did all his shopping at different thrift shops. He wore weird shirts and painted his nails without caring what anyone else thought while she couldn’t even leave her house without checking with all her roommates at least three times if her outfit was okay. She loved scrolling through Instagram. Harry didn’t even have an account.

He was interesting, alluring and cool.

She just wasn’t any of that.

She wasn’t his type and he was simply just out of her league.

Until one night.

It was at the start of their third year at uni and they were out to celebrate their friend Jax’s birthday. To make a complicated story short, there had just been a ridiculous amount of alcohol consumed and when she told everyone she was leaving Harry stood up too and announced he’d come with her, and because everyone was so drunk, the two of them included, no one thought more about it.

They left the club together. Harry got them an Uber and when it stopped outside her house he got out as well.

Kisses were shared and clothes came off and the next day she thought she was still dreaming when Harry was right there next to her when she woke up. There was no awkwardness though as they shared a cup of tea and he made them a full English breakfast to cure their hangovers.

And then they did the same thing again next weekend and it kinda just became a thing. That was three months ago now and it was still nothing they really talked about. Which was fine; she didn’t really want to talk about it. Because what was she supposed to say? Whatever was going on between them was working and she didn’t want to complicate things.

She was fine with just waking up next to him every now and again. Especially now when the nights were getting colder it was just nice to have a warm body to snuggle up to.

It was an agreement that worked well for both of them, even if she did fancy him a little it wasn’t a full-blown crush and Harry kept calling her his friend so that’s what she also settled on calling herself. She knew she wasn’t the type of girl he usually went for and that somehow made it easier to keep her feelings for him platonic. He was too cool for her anyway.

This way she just didn’t have to swipe through tinder or chat some random guy up at the bar to get laid.

Louisa kept warning her that she was going to get her heart broken but it was just sex. Amazing sex. He made her feel like no other man ever had. Harry knew just how to work her and it made her lose her breath every single time. Her whole body was on fire anytime he touched her. She didn’t want to think about getting her heart broken.

“What time is it?”

Harry’s raspy voice startled her out of her thoughts and his body vibrated against hers under the duvet as he chuckled at her reaction. His arm was slung over her waist loosely and she could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck, leaving goosebumps all over her skin.

“I dunno,” she whispered back and leaned into his touch a little more. The hair on his legs tickled her smoother ones and she could feel her skin sticking against his, but neither of them made any effort to move away from each other. It was still early though, that much she knew. The sun was barely shining in through the blinds in Harry’s bedroom.

“Hm,” he hummed and tightened his grip a little. “Can’t sleep?”

“Just thinking. “

“About…?”

“Nothing really.”

Harry hummed again but didn’t say anything else. They laid in silence while Harry circled his thumb over her stomach lightly. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. Just the two of them, tangled in each other’s naked bodies and the sheets. She could feel a hangover coming over her slowly. Her head felt heavy and throbbed painfully against the soft pillows. There was a glass of water on the bedside table tempting her but reaching out for it meant moving away from Harry and she was just way too comfortable to do so.

It wasn’t long until Harry’s soft snores filled the room again and his thumb stilled. She sighed deeply, sleep creeping over her too. They were friends. Friends that slept together and cuddled. Nothing else. Just friends.

… but she really could stay like this forever.

The next time she woke up Harry wasn’t next to her anymore and the room was a lot brighter. A weak whimper left her lips and she buried her face into the pillow; the sunlight too much for her sensitive eyes and raging headache, which only seemed to have gotten worse.

Blindly she reached out for the glass she’d spotted earlier, but instead of actually getting a hold of it it was knocked over. It landed on the floor with a soft thud and her eyes shot open at the sound. Glancing down she noticed that, thankfully, the glass hadn’t broken into a million pieces, but unfortunately there was water everywhere.

“Damn it,” she muttered and fell back, hiding her face in the pillow again. Stupid water. Stupid hangover. Stupid everything.

Her head was spinning and her body ached. This hangover was going to be rough and she cursed herself for letting Jax and Beth persuade her into taking all those shots the night before. She knew it was going to come back and bite her in the ass today. Stupid Jax. Stupid Beth. Stupid shots.

Outside the bedroom she could hear Harry roaming around in the kitchen, talking to his flatmate Isaac and every now and then he’d sing along to the music playing softly in the background. She relaxed as she listened to his voice. At least there was something good about this morning.

And it was enough to eventually get her out of bed.

She found her black underwear at the bottom of the bed and pulled them on, stepping around the water she had just spilled as she got out and made a mental note to herself to fix that mess later.

The black strap dress and oversized blazer from the night before were stern across the floor and she stared at them for a long time before deciding she wasn’t in the mood to put them back on at this time. Looking around the room she spotted something very familiar. The yellow jumper she always wore when she slept over was hung neatly over Harry’s chair by the desk, waiting for her, and she smiled to herself knowing he’d put it there for her to wear.

Always so considerate.

“Jesus, you look like absolute shit,” Isaac teased when she eventually emerged from the bedroom and into the kitchen “Wild night?”

“Fuck off,” she groaned and walked straight past him and over to the sink to pour herself a glass of water, downing it in pretty much one gulp. It spilled down her chin and onto the jumper, leaving a big wet stain, but she really couldn’t care less. Water had never tasted better.

“Ah, I’m just saying,” Isaac laughed. “You look like you got run over by a truck.”

“Feels like I was,” she admitted and slumped down on one of the chairs next to the kitchen counter. “Ugh, I’m never drinking again.”

“Ha! Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.”

The kitchen was surprisingly cold and she regretted not stealing a pair of Harry’s sweatpants before leaving his warm comfy bedroom. She let her eyes wander over to him and felt her pulse pick up. Harry was standing shirtless in the kitchen, only dressed in his regular Nike sports shorts, and she just couldn’t stop herself from staring at his tattoos and toned chest. The same chest she’d left kisses all over just hours ago and it gave her goosebumps just thinking about. He had a spatula in one of his hands and a cup of coffee in the other. As always, he was perfect and she looked like a mess. Great.

Harry smirked as he caught her staring, but didn’t say anything about it.

“Do you want some breakfast?” he asked instead.

“Please.”

A minute later he placed a plate of eggs and some toast in front of her. The smell of it made her nauseous but she also knew that if she didn’t eat anything she was going to feel a lot worse soon. She’d much rather crawl back into Harry’s bed and maybe sleep for another hour or two, preferably with him beside her.

But now she had a plate of food in front of her that Harry had made and it would be rude to at least not try to eat some. So she ate in silence while listening to Harry tell Isaac about the previous night and slowly she realized that she had a few blackouts from the night.

Shit, how much did I drink?

She really shouldn’t have taken those shots. Her mother would have lectured her for hours if she knew about the heavy party nights that sometimes occurred, having a strong belief alcohol was indeed a gift from the devil himself. Alcohol and sugar. She had lost count of the number of books her mother had given her about healthy living and mindful thinking, and she was pretty sure she was getting another one for Christmas. Harry once found her hidden stash of books she’d put in the back of her closet and begged her for one. She happily gave it to him.

Harry would probably love her mother’s rants about the dangers of alcohol and unhealthy meals she thought to herself and almost rolled her eyes. She could picture it now; Harry and her mother sharing recipes with each other that claimed your life would be twenty years longer and ganging up on her about the lack of exercise she did. What a nightmare.

Yet, she had to ignore the warm feeling in her belly at the thought of Harry getting along with her mother.

“Alright well,” Isaac announced after a while and stood up. “I gotta get to work. Fuckin’ Jake called in sick so now I gotta cover his shift at the shop.”

“Sucks mate,” Harry replied while he shoved the last piece of his toast into his mouth. “At least you’re getting some extra cash.”

“Yeah yeah, something like that,” Isaac muttered as he dropped his dirty plate into the sink. “I’ll see you guys later. Hope you feel better party girl!”

She shot him a weak smile and a nod as a thank you. Her plate of food was still half full and the cup of tea Harry had also made for her was now cold. She just couldn’t force herself to eat more. Stupid shots.

“You really do look like you got run over by a truck,” Harry chuckled when Isaac was gone and she sent him a glare. “How much did you drink? Didn’t realize you were that drunk when we left.”

“I actually have no idea. I think Jax and Beth might have poisoned me.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “That explains it.”

“Mm.“

“Can I get you anything else?”

“No, that’s okay” she told him. “Kinda just wanna go back to bed if I’m honest.”

“‘S your lucky day then,” Harry said and rose to his feet, offering his hand out to her. “Let’s go.”

She could have cried out of happiness when she finally crawled back into Harry’s comfortable bed. The sheets had never been more comforting as she pulled them up to her chin and made herself into a little cocoon. She never wanted to leave his bed ever again. “You are ridiculous.”

She peeked out at him from under the duvet and noticed him smiling down at her fondly, but his smile soon turned into a small frown. “Is that water all over the floor?”

“Oh yeah... that was me. Sorry,” she pouted.

“I repeat, you are ridiculous,” he rolled his eyes but she also knew he wasn’t upset when she noticed his little dimple.

He quickly cleaned up the mess she had created earlier and then jumped up to join her. The bed shook as he landed and she groaned as another wave of nausea washed over her. But having him next to her again made her forget all about it. He smelled so good. How did he always smell so good?

She rested her head on his shoulder as he pulled up his laptop and signed onto his Netflix account, picking the first random movie that caught his interest.

And that’s how the two of them spent the next few hours. Just laying in bed together watching random movies on Netflix with her dozing in and out of sleep for most of the time. Harry kept running his fingers through her hair, gently scratching the top of her head and it was probably the most soothing thing she had ever experienced.

Eventually, she started feeling better but made no effort to move or get up.

Not until he did.

“I’m gonna take a shower quickly,” he announced as the third movie finished. She followed him with her gaze as he got up and pulled out a pair of fresh boxers out of his drawer. Her heart beat a little extra. “You can watch something else if you want.”

“Thanks. Are you doing something later or?” she asked casually and pulled his computer onto her lap.

“Yeah, uh, I forgot I have a date actually.”

She’s pretty sure she forgot how to breathe then.

A date.

Harry had a date.

“Oh... “ is all she managed to say. Her mouth felt as dry as it did when she woke up earlier that morning and she racked her brain for something else to say. Unfortunately there was nothing. Harry stopped and looked at her.

“Is - I mean... um, is that okay?”

“What?”

She felt stupid. So utterly stupid but she just couldn’t find the words to speak. She felt weird, even though she knew he was technically only her friend and she knew they were not even close to being exclusive. But Harry was going on a date. Like a proper date. Not just hooking up after a night out. A date. With someone else.

“Are you okay with me going on a date... ?” he asked slowly, inspecting her closely and that’s when she realized she needed to say something fast.

“Yeah, no, of course!” she tried to laugh but it was more of a strange cackle coming out of her mouth rather than a laugh. Harry eyed her for another minute and she sat up. Her palms were sweaty and her cheeks hot. She felt like a bigger mess now than she had all morning. “Harry, we’re friends. Why would I care if you go on a date?”

Harry looked at her a bit startled.

“Well, because we-”

“I’m fine,” she interrupted before he could finish and cursed herself yet again for being so fucking weird. They were friends. She had no reason to not be okay with it. She knew she wasn’t his type. Of course he was going on a date with someone else. She knew this and she needed to get herself together before he wanted to talk about something related to the two of them and make things complicated. The thing between them wasn’t something they ever talked about and she refused to start doing it now. “I’m excited for you even,” she shot him the biggest fake smile she could muster. “Who is she?”

What a stupid question.

“Uh, a friend of Matt’s or something like that,” he shrugged, but he looked at her with uncertainty written all across his face; almost like he didn’t believe a single word she was saying. “I don’t know really. He set us up.”

“Cool.”

“Cool... ?”

Suddenly she doesn’t want to be in his bed anymore. For the very first time, she felt awkward sitting in front of him.

“Yeah, cool.”

“Oookay.”

Silence.

It’s uncomfortable and she knew she messed this up. Both of them were frozen in place and she had to look away from him before it was all too much. She was so aware of how her cheeks had turned into a deep color of red and she felt nauseous, only this time she knew it was not from the alcohol.

“I’m just,” Harry coughed in an attempt to break the heavy tension and she wanted nothing more than to disappear. “I’m gonna go take that shower.” He pointed awkwardly towards the door.

“Yeah, uh,” she said and tried her absolute hardest to get herself back together. To act normal. “I’m going to head home anyways I think.”

“No, you don’t-”

“It’s okay,” she interrupted him again. “Beth wanted to have pizza night and I should stop being such a lazy ass anyways. I have some studying to do before my lecture tomorrow too, soo... yeah, gonna head home.”

Harry looked at her for a moment, scanning her face after any other sign that something was wrong, but she managed to keep it together and he nodded.

“Alright, well I’ll see you around yeah?”

“Of course.”

When he left the room she let out a breath she’d been holding ever since Harry first mentioned the word ‘date’. She also realized she did not like the way she just reacted and that maybe, very possibly, Lou might have been right.

She was fucked.

For the next few days she couldn’t stop thinking about Harry and his date. She wished she could go back in time and take back everything she said; wished she would have reacted differently. It was hard to think about anything else and all she wanted to do was to go and see him and ask him all about it. How did it go? Was she nice? What did they do? Was he going to see her again? Did they kiss?

And if she hadn’t been so embarrassed about her behaviour she probably would've done so, but she had no explanation as to why she’d been so weird and she was too scared to go deeper into her own feelings and find one. So as much as she wanted to see him she was also extremely terrified to do so.

But it was really eating her up.

She couldn’t focus on anything else.

And it was strange.

Before all this, she was sure of her feelings towards Harry. Sure he was attractive, he was nice and he made her laugh, but she thought she’d managed to keep it platonic. Now she just felt weird. Everything about their arrangement felt weird, and she didn’t know what to do. Deep down she knew there wasn’t much she could actually do about it. He went on a date and she was his friend. Friends with benefits. They weren’t anything exclusive. He hadn’t done anything wrong. She told him so herself.

Still, something felt wrong.

On Thursday night their whole gang made plans to meet up for their regular quiz night down at the pub and she stood in front of her mirror for an hour, preparing herself to see him again. She changed her outfit five times and rehearsed what to say when she saw him over and over again.

Only for him to not show up.

So instead of being squished into his side all night, she was stuck between Jax and Louisa and she found herself missing him. She didn’t even have to ask to know he was on another date, yet when Isaac confirmed it later she felt her heart drop down to her stomach.

Louisa glanced over at her when Isaac told them and she forced a smile, not ready to let anyone know about the weird feeling in her chest. Louisa also tried to bring it up on their way home, but she brushed it off with the same thing she always did.

“We’re just friends.”

But once she was home in bed it was harder to act like nothing was troubling her. Harry was out on another date and it shouldn’t be bothering her but it did. It bothered her a lot. He should’ve been right there with her, laughing along at their friends' jokes all night and then suggest coming back home with her.

Now he just wasn't and it felt wrong. It was only three months ago that he came home with her for the first time but somehow it wasn’t until now she realized that she may have gotten a little too used to it.

It was so stupid the whole thing. Like ridiculously so.

She knew from the first night that she would never be more than a few drunken nights to him. That his touch wasn’t hers to keep. It belonged to someone else. So why did it feel so weird now?

On Friday night, Beth invited a few people over from uni to their place for a game night and some wine. She joined them but decided to stay away from the wine. They played monopoly for most of the evening while gossiping about everyone they knew. It was nice. It was fun. She won at monopoly. But most importantly it helped her to not worry about what Harry was doing or who he was seeing. It felt like her brain got a long awaited break from everything and she slept better that night than she had all week.

It was on Saturday it all came crashing down.

They were all going out. The whole gang. As always everyone had shown up for pre-drinks at the house she shared with Louisa, Beth and Aliyah as it was the biggest one. Jax had as usual brought along a bottle of Fireball that he forced everyone take a shot out of. Beth refused to let anyone else control the music. Tom and Louisa were loved up on the sofa together. Isaac was in the kitchen mixing drinks for everyone while Aliyah complained about Beth’s choice of music. All in all it was a pretty typical Saturday night and it was all going well.

Until Harry showed up. With a girl.

She almost dropped her drink when she saw them and everyone in the room turned to look at her when they entered. Once again she had to force a smile to assure them she didn't care and more than ever before she tried to ignore the way her heart sank inside her chest.

And for some very odd reason; she was the first to stand up and greet Harry’s new lady friend. Maybe because everyone was looking at her and it felt like they were just waiting for her to start crying in front of everyone. She didn’t want their pity so she stood and shook this new girl’s hand, acting like everything was completely fine.

“Cleo,” the girl introduced herself with a cheery smile.

And that was about it.

After that she didn’t really talk to her anymore. That’s something she left for the rest of the group to do.

It was hard to concentrate on anything else for the rest of the evening and despite promising herself to not take a shot from Jax’s bottle of Fireball; she had three. The alcohol was warm as it made its way down her throat and she noticed Louisa watching her with worried eyes.

And Harry? She couldn’t even look at him. He tried to talk to her and start a conversation at one point but it felt like her brain was about to explode from anxiety so she quickly excused herself and hid in the bathroom for a good twenty minutes.

She tried her very best to be engaged in the conversations around her and she tried so hard to have a good time. Just like she had the night before. But with Harry right there with Cleo it was fucking impossible and she felt like a green little goblin watching the new pair.

Cleo was pretty much everything she expected her to be and more. She just couldn’t stop staring at them. Harry had a hand on her thigh and she was so polite to everyone. Just like him. She had tasteful tattoos all over and it was almost like the two of them had coordinated their outfits before coming over. Both dressed in checkered prints and matching colors of pink and red. She felt so stupid in her boring and basic black jumpsuit and her dull eye make-up.

Cleo was so effortlessly pretty and she just wasn’t.

It was a slap in the face just how right they looked together.

And it just got worse when they arrived at the club because under the flashing lights on the dance floor she saw how Harry leaned in and kissed Cleo. One of his hands was low on her back while the other caressed her face. Everything was spinning as she watched them kiss she knew it was not only because of the alcohol in her veins.

It hit her hard. Because a small, a very small, and naive part of her thought that maybe he’d still want to go home with her and not Cleo. But as she watched him kiss Cleo the way he used to kiss her ruined all hope she had ridiculously built up.

And maybe it wasn’t the kiss itself that hurt so much but more the fact that Harry was now with someone else and it was real. It was so bloody real. Just last week it was her and now he was kissing Cleo and had barely looked in her direction all night. And even though he technically hadn’t done anything wrong it still hurt and she was angry. Angry with him for kissing someone else, but mostly at herself for still wanting him. For wanting to walk right up and pull him away and take him home. She still wanted him despite everything, but she couldn’t have him.

So instead she had some tequila.

Except, tequila probably wasn’t the best company because in the wee hours of the night she regretted every single shot she had taken. The alcohol in her body made her stomach turn heavily and it was a miracle she even made it into a bathroom stall before it all came back up. Someone on the other side of the stall asked if she was okay but she could barely hear them over the loud buzzing in her ears and her own gagging.

It took her several minutes before she found the strength to get back up on her feet, brushing away the dirt from her jumpsuit, trying desperately not to think about all the germs she had most likely caught from resting so long against a public toilet seat.

As she exited the stall another girl looked over and she didn’t even try to pretend like she hadn’t just been throwing her guts up minutes ago. Instead, she splashed some cold water on her face and took a steady grip of the sink to keep herself standing up.

Fuck.

When she stumbled out of the bathroom a while later she had to lean against the walls to not fall over. The dim lighting in the club made it even harder for her to see where she was going and she kept bumping into bodies as she eventually made her way through the crowd.

Then all of a sudden someone grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Heeeey, party-girl, are you okay?”

The buzzing was still loud in her ears and her vision was blurry, but she still somehow managed to recognize the voice and the striking blonde hair. Isaac. As soon as she knew it wasn’t a complete stranger that had grabbed her she fell into him without a warning and he stumbled a little as he tried to catch her body. “Woah, steady on.”

She tried to talk to him. Tried to explain how she got to this point but no coherent words were coming out of her mouth and she had to use his whole body for support. He wrapped an arm around her and hoisted her up a little before taking a hold of her chin so he could get a good look of her face. She could tell that he was talking to her, his mouth was moving, but she had no idea what he was actually saying. It was too loud and she was too drunk. The club atmosphere made her stomach turn once more and all she wanted to do was to get out of there before she was sick all over again.

And somehow she managed to communicate that to Isaac.

The air was cool and refreshing when they finally made it out of the club and she was clinging onto Isaac as if her life depended on him. He had a strong arm wrapped around her as he pulled out his phone with his other hand to get an Uber. As they waited for it to show up Isaac slowly guided her over and sat her down on the curb next to the road. He crouched down in front of her and took a hold of her chin again. That’s when the first tears fell. She didn’t even try to hide it, once again too drunk and too sad to care if Isaac saw that she was crying. His eyes widened as he noticed.

“Heey, noooo, no, don’t cry. What’s wrong?”

She didn’t know what to tell him. Everything was spinning too much to be able to think of what to say. The alcohol and emotions had taken over all of her senses and it was all just too much. There was only one explanation for her behavior tonight after all and how would she even begin to explain it to him? She had no idea. So all she said was

“Cleo.”

Isaac didn’t say anything in response but she was pretty sure he knew exactly what it meant when he reached out and squeezed her shoulder. Nothing more was said as they waited for the Uber to show up and the last thing she remembered was crying about not having the key for her house.

The next morning was arguably the worst morning of her life, which seemed quite fitting as she’d had the worst evening of her life the previous night. Most of the morning was spent on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, head first down the toilet, regretting every single decision from last night.

This time though it was all her own fault. There was no one else to blame for all the shots she downed but herself.

It was embarrassing. So so embarrassing how drunk she got and how much Isaac had to take care of her. He had brought her back to his and Harry’s shared flat after they couldn’t find her key and realized she was locked out from her own home. She cried her eyes out in the Uber while Isaac tried to comfort her and when they got out she almost got vomit all over his new sneakers.

However, Isaac was nice about it all. He didn’t say anything and just helped her inside, put her down on the sofa, made sure she drank some water and covered her with a blanket. She couldn’t remember exactly what she told him but she knew she had talked about Harry and it was killing her.

But Isaac continued to be nice and he didn’t bring it up when he wandered in and said good morning.

“Y’alright?”

“I feel like death,” she confessed and her throat hurt a little from being sick all last night and earlier that morning. Isaac chuckled lightly.

“Yeah, I can imagine.”

She bit the bottom of her lip and struggled to look at him where he sat on the armchair opposite the sofa she was spread out over. She had known him for as long as she had known Harry, but she had never actually been alone with him in a room and now when she was sober she felt so stupid, and also so incredibly self-conscious because she knew her make-up from last night was smudged all over her face and she had vomit on her jumpsuit and all over her hair. It was the lowest she’d ever been.

“So um,” she grumbled. “Thanks for last night, eh... yeah, I don’t know. I’m sorry for being a mess.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Isaac waved it off and smiled at her. “We’ve all been there.”

“Yeah, well, thank you anyway.” She still couldn’t look at him as she spoke. Because he knew. He knew her feelings for Harry had changed and she didn’t know how to act now.

“So much for never drinking again huh?” he joked lightly to ease the mood and she forced a laugh.

“Yeah, didn’t stick to that one, did I?”

Silence fell between them after that, but in some ways, it was a comfortable one. Isaac sat in his chair and scrolled through his phone as he drank his morning coffee while she just laid on the sofa and tried to collect her mind and emotions. He offered to make breakfast but there was just no way she was going to be able to stomach it. Water was pretty much all that her stomach allowed and she was barely holding onto that. It was early still and she could tell it was raining heavily outside as the raindrops drummed heavily against the windows. It was comfortable though. Pleasant even.

And then, out of nowhere, Cleo emerged from Harry’s bedroom and all the emotions from last night washed over her like a tsunami.

Plus, it felt like someone was playing a practical joke on her when she saw that Cleo was wearing Harry’s shirt from the night before.

“Good morning!” Cleo was as cheery as she was last night and looked even better. Issac nodded and greeted Cleo politely. To make things worse Cleo sat down in the other armchair and started a conversation. Time stopped as she watched Cleo and Isaac talk and it felt like someone suffocated her with one of the pillows. “Did you guys have a good night then?”

She couldn’t take her eyes off Cleo, who looked perfect even after a night out. Her hair was still flawless and her skin looked like it was glowing. It wasn’t ideal for anyone to see or be next to Cleo when they woke up after a chaotic night out and they themselves were covered in vomit. It honestly made her more nauseous than her hangover had all morning and she’d probably never felt as ugly as she did in that moment laying next to Cleo.

“It was decent, yeah,” Isaac said and then looked at her. His eyes filled with pity and she hated it. She hated it so much. “You?”

“It was super fun,” Cleo answered with a big smile. “Harry and I got in sooooo late though. We stopped to get some food down at that kebab place around the corner before we got in and I swear to God it was the best food I’ve had in my life! Thanks for letting me come out with you guys.”

And just like that, it was all too much. There was just no way she could sit there and talk to the girl who was dating the boy she had come to realize she liked more than just a friend. There was a lot she could do and put up with, but that wasn’t one of those things.

“Um, excuse me,” she mumbled as she got up from the sofa. Isaac called out her name but she ignored it. Her whole body ached and her head felt heavy. She had no idea how she was actually going to make it home in this state but she’d try her damn hardest, even if she was sick along the way it would be better than staying here.

Then she heard her name being called again.

This time however it was from someone else.

Someone whose voice she’d recognize anywhere.

Harry.

“What are you doing here?” He looked at her with furrowed brows, clearly not expecting to see her.

“Oh, eh, hey,” she managed to croak out and fought back the urge to be sick all over again. “I came back with Isaac last night.”

“You uh, you came back with Isaac?” Harry asked slowly, his eyes never leaving her as a small line formed between his brows. He opened his mouth to say something else, but closed it just as fast. The silence that fell between them then was defeating.

“I mean, I wasn’t feeling very well so he helped me out a little.”

“Oh, okay,” he nodded and the corner of his mouth twisted into a small smile, but then it faltered just as fast. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” She knew she was being short with him and the look he gave her burned into her skin, but with tears threatening to fall at any moment it was a conversation she really didn’t want to have. Not with him. Not right now. “Look, Harry, I gotta go.”

“What?” he said and pushed himself off the door frame he leaned against, and as he came closer she took a step back. “You’re more than welcome to stay. It’s so early still and by the sounds of it it’s bucketing down outside. Stay for some breakfast. I was gonna make some pancakes.”

“I have to go.”

“Wait,” he called after her when she turned her back to him and got ready to leave. “Hey, wait a minute!”

She didn’t really care at that point though. Whatever thing she and Harry had was already gone and there was nothing that could make things worse than what they were now. She just wanted to get out and get as far away from him as fast as possible.

So she left without saying another word to Harry despite him calling her name.

- “Harry’s a fucking prick anyways,” Aliyah began and threw her hands up dramatically. “Like, is he just going to sleep with you one week and then replace you next week? No, fuck that. You deserve better.”

“He did tell me about it though,” she noted with a small sniffle and curled up further under her blanket. “I mean, he did tell me he was going on a date so it’s not like he lied or I don’t know... went behind my back.”

“Yeah, well, he’s still a prick,” Aliyah grumbled and slumped back against the sofa, arms crossed over her chest.

“Besides, we’re just friends, you know... ”

“You’re clearly more than just friends though,” Louisa added carefully with knowing eyes. “Like, I hate to break it to you but it’s pretty obvious you like him.”

“I... “ she trailed off not knowing how to respond to that. Because she knew she couldn’t keep denying it anymore. Not after showing up at her own house, drenched from the rain with red puffy eyes in last night’s clothes and without a key. No matter how scary it was to admit what she had buried inside her heart for so long it was impossible to deny it any longer. “Yeah. I do. I do like him.”

She let out a huge breath as she finally admitted it. It was strange, but also so right. The feelings she had for Harry was something she had buried inside for so long and it was freeing almost to now admit it out loud in front of her best friends.

“Maybe you should tell him that?” Beth suggested.

She almost laughed.

“That’s definitely not happening,” she shut down the suggestion straight away. There was no way she was telling him how she felt. Especially not now. “He obviously doesn't like me back, and besides he has Cleo now, and you know.. he’s like actually dating her and stuff so…”

“So what?” Beth cut in. “He might like you too. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“Me?” she scoffed. “Yeah, I highly doubt that.”

Beth shrugged.

“I don’t know. I think he might do.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter anymore does it? He has Cleo now.”

“You won’t know unless you ask,” Louisa pointed out with a small twinkle in her eyes. Before she had the chance to object to the faulty statement the sound of the doorbell ringing echoed through the house.

“That’s probably the food,” Beth announced and stood up swiftly. “I’ll go get it.”

She gave Beth a small smile and wiped her wet cheeks with the ends of her blanket. As soon as she had left Harry’s flat earlier that morning she broke down in tears and called Louisa who offered to come to pick her up straight away but she declined, needing some time for herself before facing anyone.

But after showing up a mess, drenched from the rain in last night’s clothes after walking all the way home it was clear that she needed all her friends today. So Aliyah ran her a bath while Beth ordered food and Louisa went out for snacks and her favorite drink.

And she couldn’t be more grateful.

“Uhm,” Beth popped her head back in the living room and it was obvious by the look on Beth’s face that something was off. “It’s Harry.”

“W-what?”

For a moment she thought that maybe Beth was just taking the piss but judging by the confusion spreading across the room she quickly realized that wasn’t the case. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

“You sure?” Louisa asked. “This might be the perfect opportunity to talk things through.”

“No,” she shook her head quickly. “I can’t. Not now.”

“I’ll go talk to him!” Aliyah announced with fire in her eyes and leaped off the sofa in one go, only to have Beth stop her in the doorway.

“I think maybe I should talk to him,” she offered and looked at Aliyah with both her eyebrows raised knowingly. Aliyah only mumbled something under her breath but accepted Beth’s proposal and returned to her spot on the sofa without a fuss.

“You okay?” Louisa asked when Beth disappeared again to go talk to the boy who had her heart aching so badly. Louisa reached out to squeeze her knee gently when she didn’t respond. She just didn't know what to say; because she wasn’t okay. She was very much far from okay today.

Tears welled up in her eyes for the hundredth time and she shook her head and attempted to blink her tears away. She didn’t want to cry anymore. Louisa sighed and pulled her closer and wrapped her arms around her in a long hug. It was embarrassing really how much she had cried all day but she just couldn't stop. Never in a million years did she think she’d ever get so upset over a guy.

But it was Harry.

Harry who left jumpers out for her to wear after she stayed at his flat. Harry who made her breakfast in the morning and knew exactly how she liked her tea. Harry who made her laugh until she couldn’t breathe anymore. Harry who rubbed her back after a night out. Harry who let her steal all of the duvet in her sleep even though he was cold too. Harry who texted her stupid jokes just because he knew she liked them. Harry who also texted her cute pictures of puppies because she loved dogs. Harry who made her feel like no man ever had.

Harry who was now with Cleo.

Cleo who was absolutely perfect for him. Cleo who probably went thrift shopping with him and helped him find silly shirts with crazy prints and knew about all the bands he always talked about.

Cleo who was just so much better than her.

Harry Styles 8:27 AM Heeeyyy are you mad at me?

Harry Styles 10:12 AM Hello?

Harry Styles 10:46 AM Ok so mad then? will you pls talk to me? don’t like the way you stormed off earlier :/

Harry Styles 12:01 PM Hellloooooooo? pls talk to me

Harry Styles 12:30 PM Isaac told me you were quite upset last night... did something happen?

Harry Styles 12:56 PM You’re making me a bit worried, did you make it home okay?

Harry Styles 1:15 PM I tried calling a few times but it’s not really coming through.. Are you okay?

Harry Styles 2:49 PM I'm coming over

Harry Styles 4:37 PM Beth said you weren’t feeling so well, I hope you feel better soon, make sure you drink loads of water! .xx

Harry Styles 11:26 PM Ok sooo, i dunno whats going on. i dunno if Beth lied to me today or not... i just hope you're okay. you know you can talk to me if something is bothering you right?

Goodnight .xxx

PART 2 ♡

Let me know your thoughts. Thank you for reading! <3

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