#and fell in love with them and this story all over again

[ceesimz]

We're All We Need Today

Hey, long time no story! I'm back with this, something I had the idea for a long time ago but it was low on my list of favourites. Then I re-jigged it and re-worked it and now it's done! Everybody's favourite trope, or mine at least, angst to fluff. It's been a while since I last posted and I find myself riddled with nerves about posting stories again now, so (and I never do this because I cringe at myself) if you do like this story, please let me know in whatever way suits you because I'm seriously struggling with writer's anxiety right now and I don't have the foggiest idea how to get out of it😅

It should have been just a normal Tuesday. A normal evening on a random day mid-week in May. Training for you both that ended just after lunchtime, before meeting up at Alexia's apartment early evening after the pair of you attended meetings or completed other pieces of work. That all went smoothly, it was perfectly fine.

Alexia shouldn't have looked at your phone without your permission though. She shouldn't have looked at your messages in the first place, nevermind doing it behind your back.

"I cannot believe you told your friends and did not tell me first!" Alexia shouted at you as soon as you walked out of the bathroom, your phone opened onto your friend groupchat in her hand.

"What? Alexia, what are you doing? Are you looking through my phone?" You cried out, marching over to snatch it back, but she holds it in the air out of your reach like a high school bully. "What the hell do you think you're doing!?"

"You told your friends without conferring with me first. You went behind my back and you know I didn't want anyone knowing!"

"You've gone behind my back too, looking through my phone! Why did you do that?" You jumped and grabbed your phone, confirming exactly what you thought.

She had gone through your phone whilst you were out the room, had clicked onto a chat with your closest friends who you trusted more than almost everyone in your life, and she had read just one message that said 'What does your weekend look like in sunny Barcelona? Any plans with A?'

"No, no. You aren't flipping this around. You swore to me-" She jabbed her finger harshly against your chest as she spoke. "-that you would not tell anyone until I said you could."

Is she for real right now? Who are you even talking to?

This is not the woman you fell in love with almost seven months ago. This is not the woman who used her captaincy as an excuse to get your number. This is not the woman who asked to be your girlfriend in such a shy and awkward manner as she stumbled over her words whilst eating dinner with you on her sofa. This definitely isn't the woman who cares for you how no one else has, nor is this the woman who loves you infinitely and shows it in ways you never could have thought possible.

This is a selfish, egotistical, self-centred, and downright cold-hearted person you do not recognise. The version of Alexia in front of you here is one you thought you'd never, ever encounter. Yet, look at the situation now.

"So, what, I have to run everything by you? I can't tell my closest friends possibly the biggest detail in my life? I can't tell them I'm in love and happier than ever?"

"No. Not now. We promised we wouldn't tell anyone, and you have betrayed me." Alexia huffed angrily, her hands on her hips as she turned away from you.

"I wanted to share this part of my li- you, with them! And, Ale, you've told Alba and Eli, why can't I tell my friends?" You moved to stand in front of her so you're facing her again, and she fixed you a disapproving glare with a jut to her jaw.

"Friends are different to family - I've never met these people! What are their intentions? I don't know, and I don't want them knowing private facts about me. That is why I'm mad." Alexia gritted her teeth as she spoke, fury swimming through her veins as her hands gripped her own hips so tightly you were sure there'd be bruises the next time she looked.

"What are you even saying? Do you hear yourself right now?" You scoffed, your anger almost tripling when the woman in front of you chuckled.

"Trust me, I hear myself. I also hear you denying everything, denying the fact you've outed our relationship, denying the fact you've broke my trust. Betrayed the one thing I asked you to promise not to do. Maybe you're the one who needs their ears checking, remember when I said 'let's wait some time to tell people.' Maybe you misheard me and thought I said 'how about we tell every fucking person in the city?' So yes, I hear myself. Very clearly, you don't have to worry about that."

You stared, glared, at her for a few moments, gobsmacked at the turn of events whilst also trying not to burst into tears. This is a situation you never thought would occur between you both, and the vile way she spoke to you paired with her foul accusations had you slipping on your shoes and leaving her apartment. And, possibly the worst part of it all? She didn't even try to stop you.

Why was it always about her, about what she wants, always on her terms?

What about your opinion? She didn't care to hear you out, and it sounds like she doesn't give two flying fucks what you've got to say. Alexia Putellas and her dense head coming into play again, only caring about herself and her legacy and what people say about her. You'd think that as someone who, to the public, seems so very secure and content in her position as the best women's player still in the game, that she wouldn't be so worrisome and out-right vile if there was a chance something wasn't going her way.

No, she wasn't like that with you at least, not at all. You hadn't been together long, but the secrecy and, what you inferred now as shame, seeped into your mind and with each step as you walked home that day, you grew more and more, not only utterly infuriated, but overwhelmingly perturbed at the prospect of just... everything.

Perhaps your whole relationship had merely been a fluke. Something Alexia didn't take serious in the slightest, and nowhere near serious enough for you to tell people about it. Maybe, at the end of the day, you were too much for her to deal with, and the only way the Catalan could cope was by keeping you behind closed doors. The theories your mind was coming up made you sick to the pit of your stomach, and it was a miracle that you made it to the bathroom of your apartment by the time you were emptying the contents of your body.

There was some kind of higher power watching over you, because this whole fiasco had occurred when there were two days off afterwards. It was coming up to the tail end of the season, and as the latter half of the month was jam-packed with tense games, you had planned to make the most of the time off. With a few social events scattered across the two days, you had been greatly looking forward to spending time with your teammates outside of the pitch, your friends, and at the time most importantly, Alexia. That all didn't seem enticing anymore, nor did it even seem possible.

For the time being though, as you stumbled your way out of the bathroom and fell into bed, the breakfast catch-ups and evening dinners were the last things on your mind. The only way you wanted to spend your time off, was wallowing in a trench of self-pity.

And that's how you found yourself in the gym of your apartment complex some fourty hours later.

Jab, jab, hook. Jab, jab, hook. Right hook, then a left uppercut, and another right hook to follow.

Punch after punch after punch after punch. There was no stopping you in this mindset. Not with the things your head was chanting, Alexia's words circling endlessly around your mind. They were what fuelled you right now, allowing you to lay into the punching bag before you with no second thought to the consequences.

And those consequences were sure to bring you a lot of pain later, in your hands that weren't wrapped up like they should, nevermind wearing gloves.

There was music playing through the earphones you had in, but for the life of you, you couldn't even register it right now. Your vision was blurred by pure rage, failing to recognise the cuts forming with every unrestrained punch and the bruises beginning to form along the bumps of each knuckle. You had tunnel vision on one thing and one thing only, and that was trying to dispel yourself of the all-consuming anger that had plagued you for almost two days now.

"Amiga! Basta, basta, hey." A soft voice broke through your trance as your earphones were delicately tugged from your ears. "Hey, you hear me?"

As your hands were gently taken ahold of by the figure to your right, you took a deep breath and leaned forward to rest your forehead against the bag. It was now that the woman beside you realised just how poor your breathing was, and she brought one of her hands to rub caringly up and down your back.

"Más despacio, relájate. Tómatelo con calma, vale? Relájate." Her voice soothed you a little, giving you the peace of mind you needed to set your breathing back to normal. "Are you with me?"

At that, you nod and take some more breaths before leaning up and taking in the person beside you. It was Mariona, who you shared the same apartment complex with, a fact you had forgotten about. In this moment, you weren't sure if you were thankful for that fact or if you resented it.

"Yes, with you." You wiped your face on the sleeve of your shirt before properly looking at her.

"Are you okay?" Mariona knew it probably wasn't the wisest thing to say, but for the moment as she collected her thoughts and did an internal assessment of the situation, it was more of a buffer than anything.

"Um, I guess there's no point lying, is there." You state flatly, the Spaniard smiling sadly at you and shaking her head. "Things aren't great... right now, so."

"Okay. That's okay." Mariona's smile was perhaps the brightest thing you'd seen, and with her looking at you the way she was, with so much care and a major lack of judgement, it was hard to reject the help she was soon to offer.

"Will you let me take care of you? I have a first aid kit in my apartment that I can use for these." She gestured down to your bruised and battered hands that were growing more painful by the second. "We can talk if you want, or you can at least let me patch you up and I can call somebody else. It's up to you."

You thought you knew what you wanted, and it wasn't this, but now that the offer is glaringly right in your face, your inner monologue urged you to fall to your knees and beg for assistance, for someone to scoop up all the negativity in your mind and lift the weight of it from your shoulders.

Isolating yourself from everyone, as you had done in the last days, wasn't healthy in the slightest, and rationally you knew the excuses you gave for doing so were completely unwarranted. Yes, you were the newest signing, and yes, Alexia was the captain and the glue of the team. However, that did not lessen your worth, you still deserved your spot on the team and you deserved to be treated with humanity. As Mariona had shown in the span of a few moments, your teammates wouldn't pick sides depending on how long you had and hadn't known people, and they certainly wouldn't treat you any less just because you had fallen out with - foregoing her team title - your girlfriend.

You were only human after all.

"I would appreciate that, thank you, Mariona."

Once more, the forward smiled politely at you and nodded, moving to wait at the door to the gym to wait for you as you collected up your things. Each movement of your hands had you grimacing in discomfort, a fact not lost on Mariona as she took the items, like your water bottle and your jumper, from you just to take the edge off a little.

You weren't too close with Mariona, you had gravitated towards the likes of Ingrid and Fridolina and Aitana when you joined (and Alexia, of course), but at the end of the day she was still your teammate and you often found yourself in a group with her in training since you were also a forward. The 28 year old was a hard-worker, yet she was also one of the most laid-back people you'd ever met, so in her presence it was hard not to allow yourself to relax even just a tiny bit. The aura that radiated off of her was oddly settling, and as you both made your way up to her apartment in relative silence, you were offered your first slice of serenity since that day not too long ago.

"Would you like a shower first? You look like you worked yourself hard in there." Mariona offered as she closed the door of her apartment behind you.

"No, it's okay, thanks." You gave her an awkward, tight-lipped smile, feeling somewhat embarrassed at having been caught in such a vulnerable moment - a moment when you were filled with such rage and negativity, that all you could do was lay into a harmless object like a woman possessed.

"Alright. Sit down at the counter, I will get all I need and be with you in a second."

With a sheepish nod, you complied and sat at the island counter in the kitchen, taking a moment to compose yourself before you knew an emotionally charged conversation was about to take place. You were tempted to take Mariona up on her offer to call somebody else, but honestly you were already exhausted and just wanted to get this whole situation off of your chest.

You'd been lugging it around for days now, encumbered by the weight of anger that, as time went on, was bleeding into exasperation and disconcertion because, in all honesty, you just wanted your girlfriend back. That was a little difficult though, because the woman in question was still being as cold as ever and for the life of you, you couldn't get a good read on her to figure out what her stand was on it all now. Whether she'd confided in Mapi or Irene or her sister or even Mariona, you had no idea, you just hoped there was still an ounce of her that cared for you in just a sliver of the way you did for her.

Though you hadn't seen or heard from her since that evening, her actions and her words were still fresh on your mind, and no matter how much time you spent mentally going through each doing of hers, it all made zero sense. In no way shape or form had Alexia portrayed such viciousness towards you, nor had she ever been so horrible and completely unfair in the time you had known her. Maybe it was a case of only knowing her for a short-ish amount of time, but her behaviour seemed so out of character that it set a feeling of uneasiness in your chest.

Hopefully, bumping into Mariona, someone who had been good friends with Alexia for a long time, would give you some insight into why the Barcelona captain had acted in such ways.

"Here we go. I'm sorry if I hurt you, but it is unfortunately a necessary evil in this case." Mariona purses her lips forgivingly as she pulls out two alcohol wipes that already have you wincing at the thought. "Are you ready?"

"Yep, just get it done with. Please."

You hold your breath as she rips open one of the packets, then you watch on as she takes hold of your left hand first and lightly runs it over and in between each knuckle. It hurts a hell of a lot, sure it does, but with the tenderness that the Spaniard treats you with, all you can focus on is trying not to burst into tears at the kindness you're faced with. Your mind has been anything but towards you, and the last proper human interaction you had that had been longer than a few brief minutes was your intense argument with Alexia. So this moment here was overwhelming, in many more ways than one.

"That's one done, your right hand looks a bit worse. Am I okay to carry on?"

Honestly, why couldn't you have fallen for someone like Mariona, instead of the ignorant, hot-headed woman you were in love with?

"Yeah, it's fine."

The silence between you both is weirdly not unsettling or awkward at all, instead it's relatively comforting and for the first time in days, your skin isn't crawling at the fact you're left alone with nothing but the sound of your endless cycle of thoughts.

The Spaniard standing beside you was correct, your right hand was indeed slightly worse off than your left, and that was only made more clear with each brush of the wipe, clearing away the blood only to show cuts in the divots of your knuckles and bruises covering the entirety of the right end of your hand.

"You have a good punch on you, ever thought about boxing instead of football?" Mariona joked, trying to uplift the heavy atmosphere in the room.

"No, wouldn't want to mess up this face." You replied, the forward laughing quietly and nodding.

"You are right, and football is much more easy to watch."

You supplied her with an agreeing smile, trying to hide your discomfort as she moved your hands around to assess the damage and make a plan of action.

"Okay, I think I will apply some antiseptic cream for your cuts and wrap them up with bandages. Then I will give you an ice pack for each hand, does that sound alright?"

"That's perfect, Mariona, thank you." You smile gratefully at her, and thought it's not a genuine smile, you hope she understands the appreciation you hold for her.

"It is not a problem. We look after each other at Barça, sabes? Anything you need, please do not be afraid of reaching out. To any of us."

And there is her segue into striking up the conversation you'd both danced around since she saw you.

You had to give it to her, she let a few moments pass by so it could come across as a bit less obvious, but nevertheless it happened just as you had expected.

"Are you comfortable talking to me about what happened in the gym?" She took note of the hesitation you greeted that question with, so she put the tube of cream down and faced you fully. "That was a bit concerning to walk in on, and I wouldn't be at peace with myself if I let you out of here without checking in on you."

"I... I guess, yeah." You sighed.

"Thank you. How would you like to start?" Mariona wondered with her ever-present smile, pairing it with a nonchalant shrug, further evidence of her care-free nature that continued to draw you in. "You can start talking about what is on your mind, or I can ask some leading questions to help. I am fine with anything, I just want you to leave here feeling a bit better."

Mariona had asked you a few moments ago if you had ever thought about boxing. Now, you wanted to ask her if she'd ever considered being a psychologist.

"I think it would help if you asked some questions, maybe." You decided, and she nodded instantly. She grabbed the tube of cream again and started applying it at the same time she uttered her first query.

"Do you normally practice on the bag without gloves on?" It was a very light one to start off with, perhaps something to be grateful for, but despite feeling a little calmer now, your mind was still in turmoil and wasn't fully recovered yet.

"No, I always wrap them up. I didn't even plan on using the bag today, it just... I was on the treadmill and then I saw it and wanted to use it. I wasn't really thinking straight, so. Yeah. This is the result of that." You took a sharp breath as the forward smoothed over a particularly bad cut with the antiseptic.

"Mhm. And, forgive me for this one, was it your intention to hurt yourself?"

That one took your breath a little.

"No, no, not at all. It wasn't even a thought in my head, I swear, I only wanted to get my anger out." You responded hastily, trying to convince her that you were relatively okay and that this was just a blip, and you didn't need some kind of intervention.

"Okay, thank you for being honest. I'm very glad to hear that, and I'll take your word for it." After finishing with your current hand, she squeezes it comfortingly and moves onto your other one. "Are you willing to tell me what's wrong? Why you needed to get some anger out?"

"Yeah... yeah, I am. I have to give you some context though, and I'd be really grateful if you kept it between us."

Mariona wasn't a gossip by any sorts, but as a result of the months of Alexia's words drilling into you of how nobody can know about you both, it was still an anxiety you had. Yet, the woman looking after you in such a heart-warming way was quite possibly the good samaritan you needed right now, her acts of kindness a reminder to not lose all hope with the world around you. You were well within your right to freak out in the way you had - not only were you in an entirely new city, learning a language you hadn't paid any mind to since school, but rather naively you had probably depended on Alexia more than you should have.

It was a lesson to be learnt, a mistake you wouldn't make again, though in the future even if you didn't recognise it yet, you'd look back on your time so far and wouldn't even regret it that much. After all, every moment of the past ten months had led you to the love of your life, and nothing was ever completely perfect. You would take a few bumps in the road if it meant you could end the season with a few medals around your neck and the greatest woman you'd ever met on your arm. Sure, you might not think the greatest of her right now, but you would mend it. You were sure you would. Hopefully.

"Of course, I won't tell a soul. You can tell me anything and no one will ever hear a word of it." Mariona reasurred you and though you hadn't really doubted her in the first place, you were still beyond grateful to hear that.

"So, um... Alexia and I have been in a relationship for a few months."

Yet again, Mariona continued to surprise you with how marvelous she was. Or maybe it was just an after effect of how much Alexia's words had got to you, because when the islander simply raised her eyebrows for a millisecond before nodding as you revealed your news, you're shocked at how much of a low-key reaction she gave. Whether she had an incredible poker-face or she just didn't care half as much as Alexia thought people would, your body sagged in relief at that minute response. As far as human beings go, this one right here wasn't too bad at all.

"And, for reasons I still don't understand, she was adamant that we keep it a secret. Like it was some kind of war tactic we had to keep safe. She made it out to be a make or break situation for us. But she told Eli and Alba less than a week after we made it all official, which I didn't think much of. I talked to her about it back then, wondering if it was just something she wanted to keep quiet while we were only in the dating stage, but she told me I still couldn't tell anyone. I guess because I was still relatively new here, with not many close friends and still with the mindset of trying to earn my place in the team, I agreed. Then as time went on I got a bit... annoyed with what Alexia wanted, but whenever I brought it up with her she would immediately shut the conversation down. I figured I could do it slyly, without telling her and without telling anyone any kind of intricate details of our relationship. So I took matters into my own hands."

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose at this point, knowing it was here in the story where things got quite rocky. Mariona had finished applying the antiseptic at this point and was now getting the bandages ready, prepped with the medi-tape beside her to secure her wrapping. With each new fact you unveiled, she nodded along in understanding, completely on the same page with you. She didn't understand the actions of her friend as of yet, wondering why on earth she'd be so intensely secretive about her relationship to the point of not telling a single soul, but those were thoughts she wouldn't voice yet.

Mariona herself was in a private relationship, and she was happier than ever in it. However, it wasn't a secret. Sure, she wasn't posting photos of herself and Lia all over her social media, but if you looked close enough the facts were clearly there. Plus, pretty much everyone in her personal life and Lia's knew about the pair of them, and nobody was fussed. So why Alexia was acting in this way, she didn't have a single idea.

"I told my closest, most trusted friends that I was in a relationship, and that the name of the person I was with began with 'A'. That was genuinely all I gave. I warned them not to nag me with guesses of who it was as that would break my own personal rules, because after all I didn't want to go behind Alexia's back more than I already had. Then... Alexia went through my phone. She saw that my friends were making plans in the group chat back home, and then they wondered if I had plans with 'A' over the weekend."

"She went through your phone?" Mariona questioned, in disbelief at the invasion of privacy you'd experienced.

"Yes, she did. The text flashed up on my lock screen while I went to the bathroom, and then she just went on my phone and looked through my messages. I don't know how in depth she went, but..." You shrugged, averting your gaze to your aching hands, ultimately defeated by now; by Alexia and her stubbornness, by your own mind, and lastly by the fact you had been so suddenly caught out by one of your teammates.

It was at this point that the numbness dispelled and gave way for shame, embarrassment, and a bit of anxiety. After all, you didn't know anyone from the team in depth, you were still just getting to know them, and the first thing you had done when you arrived was dive head first into a relationship with their captain. There was an endless possibility to the vast amount of opinions each person could hold for you and how they felt about your relationship (even though there was almost no way at all they could know about it), and as the silent seconds ticked by, it started eating away at you.

Though, somehow, in some magical, god-given miraculous way, Mariona saw right through you. And from now on, you were to make it your life mission to give back to this messiah in the form of an attacking footballer from the Balearic Islands of Spain.

"Hey." She tapped on the counter in front of you to get your attention, achieving that when you look up at her. "You don't have to... to get defensive with me. I can bet what you're thinking, and you don't have to worry about all those thoughts. I am neutral here, helping a friend. I will not go and tell Alexia or anyone about this, not if you don't want me to. And trust me, I am on your side. I have never heard of her acting like this, I am shocked and slightly outraged too."

That was undeniably relieving to hear, for a number of reasons. But for the most part, you were glad to hear that because for the past few days your mind had been trying its damn hardest to manipulate you into thinking this whole commotion was your fault, that you were the fault-line in the relationship that had caused this rickety earthquake.

No, that was no longer a worry, because here was possibly the human example of sunshine saying she shared your view and was just as displeased as you when it came to the Catalan's behaviour. Now, knowing you had at least one person on your side, this obstacle felt a little easier to climb over.

"I do have one thing I'm wondering." After a curious hum from you, she explained. "Is there anything you would like me to do in this situation? Like, bring it up with Ale? Because for both of your sakes, I want this to be solved in the easiest way possible."

Was it a good idea, judging off of Alexia's already toxic reaction to the point where she refused to hear you out? Most likely, but, not only did you think Mariona could teach her a thing or two when it came to human interactions, there was a small (actually fairly large) part of you that wanted to fight back against Alexia's unfairness by showing her you simply were not one to be trampled on.

There were two people in this relationship, and in this moment you realised that rank, longevity, and status in a football team were measly things to worry about.

"I think that would be a good way to start. Having someone knock some sense into her." You answered, quietly delighted when Mariona laughed momentarily at your words.

"I will try to do exactly that, for you. Promise." For the millionth time that evening, you found yourself completely under the influence of that goddamn smile.

"You're very good at communication. Unnervingly good." The hearty laugh you got in response forced the first genuine smile out of you all evening.

"Well, when you have a very emotionally intelligent girlfriend, you have to keep up."

"If you could give Alexia some lessons, I would appreciate that a lot."

"I will talk to her. Don't worry."

You left Mariona's apartment not too long after, both hands wrapped precariously and feeling significantly better than you did during that gym incident, finding solace in the fact there was now a fairly solid plan of action.

The only thing you could do now, was wait.

That was harder said than done, because for the rest of that day you didn't hear from Mariona at all. Nor did you hear from her before training the day after, and for the first time since you arrived, you were wracked with nerves as you walked into the building.

Not once during the whole session did Alexia glance towards you. Not once did she even acknowledge your existence. It drove you crazy, her acting as if you were invisible. As if she couldn't get anymore fucking immature. It took a lot of self control to not act like a petulant child towards her, desperate to piss her off in a quarter of the way she had to you, but you were better than that.

So when she rocked up outside your apartment later that day, with freshly dyed blonde hair that was styled in a frustratingly attractive way, a bouquet of chrysanthemums in one hand and a takeaway bag in the other, it took all of your strength to not slam the door in her stupidly hot face.

"What are you doing here?" You asked flatly, followed by a sigh that clearly indicated she was the last person on earth you wanted to see right now.

Well, with that haircut, maybe not the last person...

"I have a lot of explaining to do, I know that. And a lot of grovelling too. I was hoping you didn't hate me that badly to let me in." Alexia smiled sadly down at you, a slight shrug to her shoulders when she speaks.

Your mind goes back and forth for a few moments, briefly running through pros and cons of letting her in, before you decide fuck it, worst comes to worst you can show off your new boxing skills.

Eyebrows raised, you walk away from the door back towards your sofa, leaving her to wonder what to do for a moment. Ultimately, she decides to slowly follow after you once she'd softly closed the door. A quick glance around your apartment tells her you hadn't eaten yet, and she takes that as a small win before heading towards where you were seated.

"I brought your favourite takeout. Would you like to me dish it up?" She asks, a little disheartened when you shake your head.

"If you came here to talk, we're gonna talk." You state firmly, waiting expectantly for her to come sit with you.

She should have expected this really, knowing how royally she'd screwed it up with you and how disgusting she had acted. But hearing you speak so sternly was a bit unnerving, even if Alexia did recognise she more than deserved it.

A second later, she nods and places her items down on your dining table before making her way over to you. Rightfully so, she leaves some space between you both when she sits down, and you have to stifle a laugh as to not ruin your façade with how on edge she looks.

"Uh, so, me first, or..." Staying silent, you raised a daring eyebrow at her, thoroughly enjoying putting her through this slight torture. "Sí, okay, me first."

Anxiously, she wipes her clammy palms on her thighs. Then she cleared her throat, glancing at you periodically before taking a deep breath and starting her explanation.

"I am well, well aware of how bad I have acted towards you. I want to make that clear first. I acted like an idiot, to the worst degree. I was selfish, rude, I invaded your privacy, and I completely fucked it all up."

Hm, not too bad of a start.

"Congratulations, you took responsibility!" You responded sarcastically, fighting the urge to give her a round of applause too. Then you're fighting off a bubble of laughter at the nervous chuckle she gives before speaking again.

"I will regret my actions until the day I die. I promise you, I will never behave like that ever again. I've never been more ashamed of myself in my life, and knowing it's you who I acted like that towards makes it a hundred times worth. Because, you..." She shakes her head and waves her hands in the air like she's speechless. "You're you. You're the most selfless person I know. Your heart is something I do not deserve to have, because of how pure and kind and beautiful it is. You are so caring, and you love with every fibre of your being. Not only that, but you're so open, and I really admire that, because that is something I'm not. I'm... I'm ashamed to admit that even now I'm still anxious, and being secretive is how I've lived all my life. I want to be more open and care-free, I really do, it's just... hard for me."

With each word, each compliment, and each reason she gives, your hardened exterior towards her is slowly getting chipped away. You're not a grudge holder, it's not in your nature. And no matter how much you tried to fight it, it was inexplicably hard to not get wrapped up in her.

"Mariona... Mariona said you didn't even tell your friends it was me you were with. She said you only told them my name began with A, and that was it."

Alexia trusted Mariona of course, that was something that naturally occurred having known her for so long, but she wanted to get confirmation from you.

"I did. They don't know it's you I'm with." You told her, and if it was somehow possible, Alexia's heart shattered just that bit more.

"Well, I'm sorry, amor. I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions, it was really stupid and unfair of me. I really appreciate that you didn't break my trust, like I thought you had. I... that just shows how little I valued you. And I swear, that's something you'll never have to doubt again. I value you more than anyone in my life. I have a reason for why I was... more than reluctant to tell people about us. But I don't know if you want to hear it. I don't want you to think it's some flimsy excuse."

"Well, I mean, you may as well say it now." You scoffed, watching as she gulped nervously before nodding.

"My last relationship... with Jenni. That's why I'm so worried about telling people. Because even now, years after we ended our relationship that I would never ever want to go back to, people still talk about us, comment on our posts, make edits of us, and freak out about every little fucking interaction between us. It drives me crazy, even now, when I know I should not let it get under my skin, but it does and I can't stop it."

She shrugs dismissively as she talks, eyes cast down on her hands as she fidgets with the rings on her fingers. It's clearly a topic for her that's hard to discuss, and you want to reach out and take hold of one of her hands, but you don't want to distract her.

"When I was with Jenni, I was nowhere near as 'famous' as I am now. Now, I get the most vile and intrusive articles written about me, there are always cameras on me, paparazzi trying to figure out where I am at all times, and it really worries me because I don't want to involve you in that. If the media started writing things about you that were even just half as nasty as the things they've said about me, I would never be able to live with myself. It would eat me up, amor, I don't want you to go through that."

Okay, out of all the overthinking you've done in the last three days, your mind had not mustered up this point of view. This was undeniably sweet, a stark contrast to the way she'd treated you during the argument. You'd been with Alexia long enough to be more than familiar with how she acted on her anxieties in rather unhealthy ways for herself with harmful consequences for those around her as a result. Most likely, you realised, her recent behaviour was a demonstration of that very fact.

"And though those reasons shouldn't excuse my behaviour, because I should never have acted like that, I hope it gives you a tiny bit of insight into my head and allows you to recognise my actions came from a place of love, not malice. I showed it in completely the wrong way, but I swear to you from this moment on I will treat you better than I ever have, if you let me live up to that promise."

A shaky breath leaves the woman beside you, signifying the end of her ramble. And, to be honest, you'd forgiven her long before she finished speaking.

"Thank you for opening up to me. I forgive you, I do, but I won't forget how you treated me. If you ever show even a hint of that behaviour ever again, I'm out, Alexia, you must know that." You give her a clear warning, despite the fact your heart is crying out for you to just jump right back into her arms.

"I do know, I absolutely do know that." She seems to make the leap for you, as she shuffles along the sofa and gently takes ahold of both your hands. Your wounded hands. "Amor, what... what happened?"

Her voice is filled with concern, immediately overcome with nausea as a result of the worry she feels at the sight. However, that's nothing compared to the guilt she feels when you tell her what happened.

"Oh, um... an unfortunate run in with a punching bag not too long after our argument." You reveal sheepishly.

Alexia's heart drops. It drops from her chest, to the ground, through the core of the earth, and all the way down to China.

"This... this is because of me?" She whispers the question like she's terrified to utter the words. She's even more terrified of the answer.

"I guess. Yeah. I had to get my anger out some way, and I'm sure you're glad it wasn't your face." You try to joke, but it lands flatter than a pancake.

"Amor, I..." She can't find the right words within her to even attempt to apologise.

The great thing about mental health, was that 99% of the time you couldn't see it. That meant Alexia couldn't see the psychological damage she had caused you with her words.

But this, this was concrete evidence of just how much her treatment had affected you. She had done so much damage to your self-esteem, that you had no choice but to lash out to the point of injury. That, she feared, she would never get over.

"I guess Mariona failed to mention this part to you." Another pitiful attempt to lift the mood.

"She took care of you?" Alexia asked tentatively, the tiniest bit relieved when you nod.

In a split second, her arms were wound tightly around you as she tugged you into her lap. A rush of Catalan spilled from her, of which you gathered were words of apologies and sweet nothings to convey her intense regret. You didn't catch a word, not too familiar with the language despite playing for the pride of Catalunya, but you got the gist quite quickly and it didn't take you a moment longer before your arms were wrapped around her neck.

You were flooded with relief now that you were back in her hold, the embrace finally silencing the relentless voice in your head that had been going non-stop for days now. There were tears dripping onto your neck though, something that has you furrowing your brow and urging her to lift her head up.

"Ale, what's this for?" You asked, delicately wiping some of the tears that were overflowing.

"I just... I fucked it up so bad. So bad. Dios mío, you've ended up hurting yourself because of it. I'm just so sorry. I'm so so sorry."

Alexia falls apart then, breaking out into sobs that, though it's a rather a harsh thing to admit (not that you ever would, verbally) really exemplify her guilt and regret, and tie off her apology. You hate seeing her cry, hate seeing her so ruined, but all you can do now is hug her just as tight back and hope your words provide her some comfort.

"I forgive you, Ale, I do. My hands aren't your fault, it's a result of me not being sensible when letting my anger out. It's not your fault, mi corazón, not your fault at all."

You carry on spewing words of comfort for her until her cries finally subside a few minutes later. How she rubs at her eyes is something you find adorable, the way she does so reminding you of a young child. Your own hands follow her calloused ones, treating her with the same care she had complimented you on not so long ago. It warms her heart to no end, and it offers her a little reassurance of the fact you don't hate her guts.

"It's my fault a little bit." She mumbles, and there's a speckle of humour in it that you're not hesitant to jump on.

"Maybe a tiny bit." You whisper scandalously, smiling at the tearful laugh she lets out. "But I don't resent you for it. If I did, we wouldn't be in this position right now, okay?"

"Whatever you say, amor." Alexia nods, a semi-genuine smile on her face as she leans forward to rest her forehead on your shoulder.

"There's one thing I need from you for us to move past this." You state seriously a few quiet moments after.

She lifts her head up and nods vigorously, prepared to do just about anything you asked for if it meant she could love you for the rest of her life.

"I want to be able to tell people that are important to us. My family, my friends. Your family and friends. Our teammates. I'm not asking for us to go public on social media, I'm not asking for anything like that. I just want us to be more open. I want to be able to walk around Barcelona with you, like we did together when we started out dating. Because those moments with you, where you showed me your favourite restaurants and cafes and places special to you, they're some of my favourite memories with you. I just long for us to have a normal relationship, not one kept in the safety of our apartments behind closed doors. Because it's embarrassing and... and soul destroying being treated like I'm invisible. Just... treat me like a human fucking being in training, please? In public?"

It felt rather humiliating to be begging for such normal things, but that was the exact word you would use to describe this whole thing for you. Humiliating. To be treated like you had by, arguably, the sole person who shouldn't treat you like that, was something you never wished to experience again. Because, if you did? Well, there was simply no coming back.

But, you supposed, being in love was all about taking chances on people and relationships couldn't be built without a steady foundation of trust. That's all you could do now; trust in Alexia to nurture your heart like a delicate blossom where she cherishes every petal with gentle devotion.

"I will. Mi amor, I will do that and more. I will do anything you want me to, I promise that I will change my bad habits so that you never have to suffer at my hands again. I will love you like it's the last thing I'll do. You could never be invisible to me, you never were. From the first time I saw you, in your two-sizes-too-big Barça jumper on your first day, you've been everything but invisible to me."

Finally, the nail in the coffin to this whole ridiculous thing. And man, were you glad to see the back of it.

"As long as you don't embarrass me by one-upping me with your flawless free-kicks."

Despite the push to the shoulder you give her, you giggle and pull her back in for another hug. You'd been deprived of her embrace for far too long, and you planned to make up for it.

"I can't make any promises, unfortunately." You teased, grinning into the skin of her neck as her hands splayed out over your back, rubbing up and down comfortingly.

"I think I will take that." Alexia murmured, hugging you just that bit tighter before she leaned back. She moved her hands from your back to softly cradling your face, her eyes jumping from each feature to feature, trying to commit her favourite art piece in the world to her memory. Then, she met your gaze, and the sincerity and earnest present there was breathtaking. "We'll be okay?"

It was asked in such a vulnerable tone, you couldn't help but smile down at her.

"We'll be okay, Ale."

Going into training the next day, there was a spring in your step. Alexia had stayed over at yours the previous night, near enough refusing to leave. That meant she was wearing the same trousers as the day before along with one of your sweaters that, to your amusement, was evidently slightly too small for her as the cuffs ended just shy of her wrists. Call it your revenge perhaps, but as you both arrived at training together, chatting freely with content smiles on your face, it felt like a new leaf had been turned.

Alexia had made many mistakes with you, that she knew. She also knew she had no more chances, so she was going to try her absolute hardest to never act like such a fool again, even if it killed her. However, the shy smile on your face when she bounded up to you after Jona demanded the team to get into pairs for 1-on-1 practice, was enough proof for her to realise that it wouldn't be such a shame to go out of this world as a result of your love.

She almost came to regret that though when you handed her ass to her on a plate with each of your attempts to get past her. Because, quite frankly, you did embarrass her. Crossing her sides and body-checking her and out-skilling her each time was satisfying to no end, and it was exactly what you needed really. At one point, there was an ounce of worry that perhaps Alexia would be annoyed, but that dissipated immediately when she would laugh and slap her own forehead each time she was outshone.

That tiny speck of worry was completely forgotten about when, after the last attempt of the day, Alexia ran up behind you and lifted you up off the ground with her arms around your torso. Her mouth found its way to your ear as she took a few steps whilst carrying you, squeezing you tightly once.

"Never embarrass me like that again." She murmured jokingly, fighting back a grin as you laughed unabashedly in her hold. Afterwards, she put you down and moved to walk closely beside you, heading back to the main building as Jona called the end of training.

"You're the one that partnered up with me, Ale." You nudged her in the side with your elbow, gazing up at her with an adoring look that had Alexia's heart jumping in her chest.

"Maybe, but I only have one thing to say."

"What's that?" You hummed.

"Thank god for Mariona." She murmured, smiling as you giggled and nodded.

That smile was wiped off her face when an arm flung around her shoulders not a second later.

"Thank god for who?"

"I don't need your bragging right now, Mario, you're ruining a nice moment."

"I made this nice moment happen, Ale, you better thank me properly soon."

With that, the islander left just as quickly as she had arrived. When Alexia noticed the teasing grin on your face at the interaction, she shoved at your shoulder with a grumble under her breath.

"She really got through to you, then?"

"Oh yeah, absolutely. She beat my ass."

[berryhobii]

Thinking about bf!Mingyu who will totally let you use him however you want, no matter the time of day or the location.

He could be dead tired after a flight and while he’s normally a light sleeper, exhaustion will just lay too heavily on his brain and send him into a deep sleep.

You were happy to have him back home after a few weeks apart, your own idol schedule keeping you busy but when everything calmed down, all you could think about was your precious boyfriend. He had recently returned from a visit with his parents and you were so incredibly happy for him. You know how much he misses them and it warmed your heart to hear about all his stories when he returned. He was practically beaming with happiness.

Your precious baby was just so adorable. You two had spent the entire day lost in your own little world; cooking, cuddling, and talking about everything you haven’t been able to.

He had chatted with you until he eventually fell asleep, the jet lag finally catching up with him and his gentle voice trailing off as he was swept into dreamland by your tender caress and soft lips pressing against his cheeks.

Little did he know, you’ve been slowly losing your mind for the past 15 minutes because of a wet dream that just startled you awake. You were sweating despite the cool AC, your heart pounding, and the heat between your legs too hot to ignore.

You and Mingyu had a really healthy sex life. Well, as healthy as it could get with your conflicting schedules but there was no denying how attracted you two were to each other. You could just look at him for a few seconds and you’d be ready to go at it. It also didn’t help that Mingyu kept slapping your ass whenever he’d walk by you or that he recently returned to his natural hair color which you’ve vocalized multiple times as your favorite. And it really didn’t help that he’s been walking around shirtless the entire day, feeding your eyes with his flat tummy and broad shoulders.

You could barely keep your hands off him today but you also didn’t want to ruin the sweet moment so you held back from jumping his bones.

And now you’re wide awake and silently wishing for relief.

The room was pitch black since that’s how you preferred to sleep so you slapped around your bedside table for your phone, squinting as the light burned your eyes a little.

3:14AM

Neither of you had a schedule tomorrow so you were planning on just spending that time together as well so you wouldn’t be wrong for waking him up, right? And sex would put him back to sleep and help him sleep better, right? You’re pretty sure that’s one of Newton’s Laws and science is science so….

Turning on your bedside lamp to a low light, you rolled over to appreciate your boyfriend who was resting on his back; his fluffy hair splayed out over his pillow, one of his buff arms laying by his head while the other rested on his tummy, and his plump lips opened slightly as he slept.

You almost hated to wake him up.

Almost.

“Gyu…” You whispered, fully expecting him to immediately wake up since he was such a light sleeper. You shouldn’t be surprised though. He always slept like this after a long schedule or plane ride.

You tapped his shoulder lightly, calling his name again. His eyebrows furrowed a little but he still didn’t wake up.

“Mingyu, wake up.” Then with another tap, his face scrunched up before his lashes fluttered; his eyes opened a little but closed again at the light of your lamp.

A soft, hmm?, came from him and your heart could have melted if all the heat in your body wasn’t currently focused in your nether regions.

“I’m sorry I woke you but….”

“What’s wrong, angel?”

Oof, you think you just fell deeper in love with him. Pet names were a secret turn on of yours. Mingyu normally just called you by your name or nickname which was fine but cutesy pet names were your favorite.

Now take that combined with his raspy sleepy voice? It was like a shock right to your cunt.

Swallowing thickly, you said, “I can’t sleep. I need…..you.”

He let out a sleepy sigh and nodded his head, groaning as he stretched out his weary body. He was about to lift up but you stopped him, his skin feeling cool under your hand.

“No no, baby. I’ll do the work.” Accepting his fate, he flopped back down on the bed. You leaned over him, rubbing your nose against his. “Thanks, baby. Sorry to wake you.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

Pressing a few pecks to his lips, your hand trailed down to reach into his pants, gasping when you felt his cock that was halfway hard.

You breathed out a little laugh. “Excited already?”

“Always for you.”

Humming, you kissed him once more before moving down until you were perpendicular to his body, your knees tucked under yourself. He helped you tug his shorts halfway down until they rested at his thighs. Just enough to reveal his hardening cock.

Gripping him lightly, you leaned forward to lick a long stripe up his shaft. You heard him sigh and felt his hand start to rub up and down your back, a comforting touch that made your heart flutter.

Holding him steady, you took his cock into your mouth, relaxing your throat so you could take him all the way down. Mingyu’s cock was bigger than anything you’ve ever had before so you’ve had to work extra hard over the years just to be able to take it. His leg twitched a little, his soothing hand on your back halting for a moment before restarting.

Since you weren’t planning on getting him to cum from head, you decided to go easy and just rile him up enough to get him to full hardness which didn’t take very long at all.

Pulling off of him, you wiped your mouth before rising to wiggle your own shorts off. Neither of you slept in with underwear on which just made this kind of sex 10 times easier.

You climbed on top of him, your knees on either side of his waist. His hands gravitated to your thighs, squeezing the fat there lightly.

“Do you need help?” He asked to which you shook your head.

“I don’t think I’ll last long anyway.” You replied as you leaned forward to press your chest against his. You reached under yourself to grab his cock and lined it up with your dripping heat.

Mingyu groaned at the feeling of you running the head of his cock up and down your wet folds. “How are you this wet already?” He moved his hands to your ass, spreading your cheeks to give you better access.

“I’ve been wanting your cock all day.” You admitted, gasping when the thick head slipped into your tight hole. Mingyu kept you spread open as you slid down his impressive girth, the thickness splitting you open and knocking the air out of you when it was completely inside.

“Shit, hurry up baby.” He cursed, pulling his lip between his teeth as he tried to hold back from fucking up into you. Although you wouldn’t complain if he did.

Adjusting your knees and rising up to lean your hands on either side of his head, you began throwing your ass back on him. Each drag made the curve in his cock rub against your sweet spot, your sopping walls already making noises that was like a direct rush of endorphins to his brain.

His hands gripped you tighter, helping you move against him.

You moaned. “F-fuck, Gyu. Feels so good. Gonna cum.”

One of his arms wrapped around your back to pull you down, the other still keeping you spread as he began snapping his hips up to meet you. Each stroke felt deeper than the last, your tummy burning with need. The feeling of your cunt wrapped around him had woken him up even more, the need to bury himself in your dripping walls overpowering his need for sleep.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your mouth dropped open as he delivered mind numbing strokes, the clap of your ass against his pelvis m loud in the darkness of the room.

“Don’t stop—oh shit! I’m bout to cum!” You babbled, calls of his name and more pleads of him not to stop falling from your lips as hot pleasure courses down your spine.

He holds you close, breath ragged against your throat and a needy whine coming from him as your walls clenched around him incredibly tight.

A few more well placed thrusts and your brain is temporarily short circuiting as an orgasm engulfs that leaves your ears ringing and vision blanking out for a moment. You don’t stop moving your hips against him, your body shuddering as you continue to chase that residual pleasure.

Mingyu was right behind you, forcing your hips down so that he could bury himself all the way to the hilt, moaning your name as he shot hot ropes of his cum into your spasming walls.

Chests heaving, you lifted up a bit to capture his lips in a kiss. He relaxed against the mattress, melting into your affection and exhaustion trying to take him back to dreamland.

“Thank you baby.” You murmured against his lips, his hands running up your shirt to feel your skin.

“Anytime.” He hummed, ready to fall back asleep but he was jolted awake when he felt your walls tighten around him. He hissed as your hips began to move again.

“One more time?”

[theitgirlnetwork]

Earn It

Ch. 6: Pepperdine

Note: Okay...this one is long as hell, so sorry in advance! Thank you for all of the love, notes, comments, rebloggs! They are really inspiring and it's great to interact with you all. Some people have made me aware of things that I can do to make this easier to find, so I will sit down and apply those changes later today. I hope you all enjoy this one, and alsooo my best friend just started reading this story so if you're reading this hey boo! Thank you all for reading and reminder...all of the characters are pieces of shit in their own way...as it is in the movie. Alright! Enjoy <3

Warnings: Cheating (back to sorta), mild sexual content (MDNI!!!!!), some strong language, mention of injury.

Taglist: @spookystitchery@anehkael@fkaams@butterflyybabe@sun2flower @holierthancunt @silkenthusiasts @wolflover384 @liziihorta @summerssover @jackierose902109

She feels like she’s going insane. For what it’s worth, Heaven did not get a single ounce of sleep after she did what she did. Her lip curls as she looks down at Art, his arm tossed over her lap, his large hand spread over her bare thigh, the heat of it a reminder of her…predicament. 

I love you.

She winces as she envisions the moment again, hears Art’s voice and pictures Patricks face, Tashi’s face if they knew, jesus. Heaven bites at her thumb nail nervously, staring off at the mostly bare wall in Art’s dark room. “Fuck.” she mumbles to herself, picturing Art kissing her, touching her, on top of her, between her legs- “Fuck” 

Art’s hand tightens on her leg and she shifts her gaze down to him. He’s in the same position that they’d laid in when they’d gone to bed. His eyes are closed, she can see his lashes against his cheek. It’s annoying and unfair, men always have the best eyelashes. Art’s are a brown color, not quite dark brown or black, not quite blonde. She likes looking at his eyelashes, but she does wish that she could see his eyes.

It would distract her. From the tightness in her chest that had her wrenching his thin twin XL blanket off of them both because she was pretty sure the fabric was trying to smother her, earning a groan from Art as she slipped from under his grasp and sat up with her back against the cool painted cement walls of his dorms. 

Heaven takes a deep breath trying to get rid of the squeezing feeling in her chest without waking the blond man half draped over her lap. Clenching her teeth she rolls her eyes upward  to look at the ceiling as she wills her thoughts to slow the fuck down. 

I love you. 

She didn’t say anything. He said he loved her and she said nothing. Jesus, she is just like Tashi. As much as she loves her, the thought is scary. But what’s even scarier is that she almost wasn’t. She almost wasn’t Tashi. When Art looked at her and said what he said her mouth fell open, and she almost said the thing. She almost…she almost said what he said.

I love you.

“Fuck you.” she whispers, gaze dropping back down to the man below her. A careful manicured hand sweeps over the pale skin on his cheek, sliding along his jaw before a traveling finger smoothes over his nose. She giggles breathlessly as his nose wrinkles and his arm tightens around her legs. Heaven smoothes back the messy blond hair that had fallen on Art’s forehead as he slept, smiling to herself as he hums in his sleep, leaning into her hand.

I love you.

Heaven’s brows furrow as she suddenly feels very naked and very self conscious. She yanks her hand away from him, careful not to disrupt his sleep as she tries to lift his arm off of her. She barely has both feet on the cold, white dorm room floors before the arm is around her waist.

“Where’re you goin’?”

His voice is raspier in the morning. Heaven feels herself melting at the feel of a thumb smoothing over her stomach, rubbing circles over the baggy shirt she’d borrowed from him. Stolen? She has absolutely no intention of giving it back. 

She almost gets back into bed. It would be so easy. Sliding into his arms, feeling him burrow his face in her neck, kissing her as she’s lulled back to sleep. Just one leg up, and then the other. It could be good. It could be great.

But then her eye catches on a framed picture on his desk. It’s one she’d known he’d have, but didn’t think he’d have so readily on display. Patrick was very open with discussing his affection for Art. He has no problem kissing his friend on the cheek or forehead. Talking about how they’ve pushed their beds together since their second year of being roommates, always opting to sleep next to one another in their one, big ‘super bed’ as he’d called it. 

Art was subtle. He might share some food or toss an arm over Patrick’s shoulder. Turning red and furrowing his eyebrows when Patricks would lean into any insinuation about the two of them. But he loves his friend. It’s clear, it's obvious. And Tashi’s a homewrecker for messing with them.

And so am I. Heaven eyes the picture of Art and Patrick. Bright smiles on their faces, kissing their trophies while cheersing each other. This is too much. It’s all too much. Between Patrick and Tashi and now these feelings for Art…Art’s feelings for her- Heaven needs out. 

This toxic jumble is not her idea of fun. 

Her decision made, Heaven takes one more deep breath. She steels herself, and decides she’s doing what’s best. Snatching her bag and jeans off of the floor where she’d let Art tug them off the night before she rushes out of the dimly lit room as the sun starts to rise through the cheap, white shutter blinds. And she only lets herself look back once.

Thirty minutes. Art lays in his bed with his eyes squeezed shut hoping he dreamt it. He was praying to himself that he felt the cold morning air on his chest because he was having some kind of bad dream, not because Heaven had snuck out of his bed without saying goodbye all to probably go running back to Tashi and go back to pretending there wasn’t anything between them. The longer his eyes were closed, the longer he could pretend he still felt her soft fingers ghosting across his face. He could pretend that she was his.

He had to be fair, he asked her to pretend for the night, he never said anything about the next morning. 

Sighing deeply, he opens his eyes, staring up at his ceiling he frowns, forced to be faced with reality and the hand he’s been dealt. All he had really accomplished was planting seeds of confusion in the girl’s head, they were far from the point where she was ready to leave her relationship for him. She still has feelings for Tashi, and what’s worse, Patrick. 

Art loves his friend, he really does, but he knows him very well. He’s watched the guy go through puberty, learn that he’s got a sleazy type of swagger a lot of girls find attractive. He’d been there for Patrick’s first date with Lana Powel and his second the same week with Angie Cooper. Art had watched Patrick run through women like water, down to his last girlfriend who he had just started dating when he met Tashi and Heaven. Poor girl couldn’t compete with the hot Princess of Tennis and the sexy Ballerina two for one special being dangled in Patrick’s face and was therefore left high and dry with a simple breakup text. It’s not working. You were great.

Yeah. Forgive him if he doesn’t exactly think his friend is all that deserving of the masterpieces that are Heaven Whitlock and Tashi Duncan. 

And Art doesn’t pretend he’s a saint. Like Patrick has said, he does…well for himself in the women department and has since he hit a cute little growth spurt back in the 8th grade. But he has the common decency to make his feelings for the girls he would see clear. If they were his girlfriend, they knew it, he would treat them like a girlfriend. If they were a fling, he would acknowledge that they were just having fun. It ends with him getting a lot less drinks tossed in his face than his friend does.

See, Art is smart. He knows how to compartmentalize. Random girls who throw themselves at him after tennis matches go in one category, nice girls he meets in class go in another. 

Heaven and Tashi are in a league of their own.

Tashi is awe inspiring. Beautiful, talented, smart. Scary.

Heaven was scary in a different way. Scary like, the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. Scary like he was desperate to do anything and everything to make her happy, including play along in this little push and pull game she’d tossed them into. Scary in a way that despite the fact that she creeped out of his bed at the crack of dawn, cowering away from the feelings he has with her tail between her legs, he still pushes his nose into the pillow she’d laid her head on the night before, trying to take in the last of her scent before it fades into the morning air. 

Dragging his way out of bed and away from what he has left of Heaven, he makes his way to the bathroom and forces himself to face the day.

Match point. Tashi thinks to herself, whistling out the extra hair in her lungs as she regulates her breathing, bouncing from foot to foot as she finishes out her final scrimmage against her teammate before her match with Pepperdine.

Her brain is nearly empty, the only thing swirling within her thoughts is following the ball, the only sound in her ears is her own breathing and the sound of her opponent’s sneakers scraping against the court. There’s no one in the world other than her and the girl across the net. 

With a final swing she sends the ball sailing over the net, down the line where the girl is just not quick enough to reach and with that Tashi had one. It was over. Tashi always gets this brief, melancholy feeling when she finishes a match, or even something as small as a scrimmage. The high she gets from playing simmers down into a dullness that makes her miss the version of herself she was just moments before, when the match was still going. 

That numb thrumb of disappointment under her skin usually dies out as she reminds herself that there will be more. More game to play. More time on the court. More of a tennis player she can be. 

What can she say? Tennis makes her feel greedy. It was never enough. The only thing that ever brought her a similar high was being with Heaven. And while she meant being with Heaven, she also just meant…being with Heaven.

The two of them have been together in every capacity that matters. Friends, best friends, friends with benefits, girlfriends, exes, partners. The only title she would never give Heaven is her rival. They have too much history for that.

Tashi feels the sensation of a toe pushing insistently at her side, digging into her ribs as she tries to focus on the sound of Aaliyah singing in her ears. “Stop it.” She says lowly.

“‘M’trying to show you something, just look for a second-” her little brother Ellis whines, tugging at his seatbelt to get more wiggle room, nudging the girl again with a snicker when she swats his foot away. “Tashi, play with me-”

“Jesus, can I have one fucking second-”

“Tashi Sierra Duncan!” 

The voice is sharp and unforgiving. Her mother’s tone leaves no room for nonsense as she whips around to stare her down, her father’s own gaze in the rearview mirror. Ellis is suddenly quiet, wide eyes watery as he looks at her from his seat causing a pang of guilt to form in her chest. 

Great. Now she’s the bad guy. 

Big bad Tashi. Taking her parent’s attention away from her siblings, needing to travel for tennis, being too tired to play all the damn time. Between struggling in school, watching her five younger siblings and helping her parents pay the bills with what she won at challengers and bigger competitions, somehow, she forgot to force herself to have the personality of a disney princess. 

Sue her, she wants to focus before her match. God forbid she wants to be at her best when there’s a fucking Nike rep watching her, a detail about today that her father had only mentioned 500 times, mentioning what a great fucking opportunity it was. 

Maybe she was the bitch who couldn’t take the time to glance over at her 8 year-old brother’s gameboy as he won the same game over and over again. But she was also the bitch who was working her ass off so that he could get new games. So that her sister would be able to afford the cute clothes by the time she started high school. So that her mom could stop working the job she fucking hated. 

When everyone forgot that, she didn't know. What she does know is Cleo demanded that she let her do yoga with her this morning, and Carter fucking had to practice his recorder at the exact time she started meditating. And now she’s sitting in this hot ass car, with no air conditioning, stacked with her parents and siblings, looking at her like she's the monster for wanting to do her pregame ritual.

But they’d all be smiling at her when she won.

Just 20 more minutes. 20 more minutes until she could have some peace. 20 more before the world will disappear, and all there will be is tennis.

“Apologize to your brother, please.” 

But for now she’s still here.

“I’m sorry, El. Didn’t mean it.” She sighs, brushing the back of her hand over the little boy’s wet cheek. “Mom, I need to start working my heart rate, I’m gonna take a lap.” 

“Okay, honey, just wait for us to sign in.” 

“Kay.” Tashi pushes the door open to the car, ignoring the whines of her youngest sister to go with her as slams the door to the minivan shut. There are crowds of people already gathering. Other competitors and their families. Coaches. Hers should be around here somewhere. 

Normally she’d scope the competition. Her presence tends to put the other girls on edge, so she often chooses to warm up in front of them, letting them know what the fuck is on the other side of the net before they even hit the court. But today, all she could think about is all that’s on the line. Her head swirls with thoughts of how winning today could change a lot of things for her and the people she loves. 

All she wants is to get rid of those thoughts. She wants to be one track minded. She wants to get on the court and have a good fucking time without worrying about what’s going on in the stands. 

“Hey, I heard Tashi Duncan’s here, should we all just like, quit tennis and kill ourselves?” 

A smile forms on Tashi’s face as she turns away from the van, finding Heaven standing behind her holding a piece of poster board. “Hey, there, Serena. I got here a little early. You’ve got bitches quaking already.” 

The taller girl basically hops forward, tossing her arms around Heaven, Tashi giggles as the girl stumbles back a little in an attempt to catch her. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I think my best friend plays in some of these things. I came to cheer her on.” Heaven squeezes her back before stepping away, holding out the poster for Tashi to see. “You’re crumpling the poster I made you.”

“There’s,” Tashi laughs again, placing her hands on her hips. “A lot of curse words on that.”

“I’m passionate.” 

“The poster makes you look like a fan girl, Hev.” She jokes, looping her arm with Heaven’s, guiding her toward the tennis club’s center and away from her parents' car. The headache that had started forming moments ago begins to fade as she and Heaven step side to side as they make their way to where the fences surrounding the courts are, ignoring the nervous looks from the girls they pass. “I’m usually a little more subtle when I come to see you twirl.”

“Twirl, you bitch.” Heaven scoffs. “Well, you don’t like flowers-”

“Who said I don’t like flowers?”

“Um, you, when Dylan Cho bought you some and I watched you regift them to your elderly neighbor after you said, quote, ‘I don’t fucking like flowers’ end quote.” 

Tashi stops walking, standing in the little grassy area next to the fence she rolls her, “Fine, correction, I don’t like flowers from Dylan Cho.” 

“And from Heaven Whitlock?” the shorter girl flirts, rocking on her feet. 

“Dunno, get me some and find out I guess.”

“You’re annoying.” Heaven huffs. Her eyes narrow as Tashi plops down into the grass, ignoring the blades poking at her bare legs and sitting criss-crossed, taking in a deep breath. “You okay?”

“Yup, I’m fine.” Tashi sighs, eyes slipping closed.

“Oh, okay.”  A beat passes. “It’s just you don’t seem okay. So, what’s up?”

“Just got a lot riding on today. And, I didn’t get through my regimen, so I feel fucking,” she waves her hands around as she tries to find the words. “Like just…too much. I’m thrown off. I hate when shit is too much right before I have something to do. Like, I like doing this, but I didn’t get to do what I need to and now i feel like-”

“What, you’ll lose?” Tashi’s eyes shoot open at that. Heaven had crouched down to her level, head tilted as she genuinely looked at her like she’s confused.  “Since when do you do that?” 

“What? Lose?” Tashi asks, staring into the deep brown eyes of her best friend.

“No, stop betting on yourself. You’re a tennis player, right? That’s what you are.” 

“W-yeah-”

“Okay, so you’ll win. Because you’re a tennis player and because you’re the best. Because you have to. Because its what you do.” Heaven gently pushes Tashi’s cheek with the knuckle of her pointer finger. “And because I don’t move my dance practices for people who don’t fucking win.”

“No pressure.”

“You’ll be fine.” Heaven shrugs. Tashi laughs, dropping her head forward. It almost alarms her how similar she and her best friend are in times like this. Heaven is genuinely her other half. She’s the only person who can demand that she show results and get away with it. Tashi respects her, she’s strong and yet understanding. She’s a perfectionist, and expects excellence, but she can meet her own expectations. With her, Tashi doesn’t feel like she has to run everything, she doesn’t have to carry her weight along with her own. She’s her equal. 

She may have grown up in a different kind of home, being an only child and not very close to either of her biological parents. She might be rich and spoiled. But she has what Tashi has. She knows it. The drive, the tunnel vision, the lust for her craft. 

Tashi remembers the first time she’d seen Heaven dance. The girl had shown up to the gym they used to hang out at, held her hand out to Tashi, and demanded she come watch her dance in one of the empty rooms. She’d said she’d watched Tashi play and it was only fair that she knew she was the best at something too. Tashi couldn’t have known what she was about to experience. The heart pounding, throat tightening feeling of watching someone change your life with every movement. Heaven’s eyes had been closed. It was like Heaven might as well have been alone. Everything had fallen away, including Tashi. It moved the young tennis player.

That was years ago, and now they were 16 and inseparable. They practice together, go on double dates, workout, and spend time with each other’s families. Mostly, they were themselves, not having to apologize to each torah about their passions. They were best friends. 

Which is why Tashi is shocked when she feels Heaven’s hand cup her cheek, her face moving impossibly close to hers, yet, their lips not touching, her eyes searching. “You’ll also win, because you’re Tashi.”

Blinking slowly, Tashi’s eyes flick between Heaven’s eyes and lips, her own parting slightly as she inches just a little bit closer, yet still refusing to be the one to close the distance. “What’re you doing? Trying to motivate me?”

“You need me to motivate you?”

“I’m always motivated.”

“Okay.” Heaven’s smile brushes Tashi’s mirrored one for a moment, causing both girls to shiver. “Then it’s not motivation.” She stands abruptly, swiping the grass that stuck to her legs with the morning dew away. “It’s just something to think about.” With that, Heaven turns on her heel, jokingly waving her slightly explicit, very encouraging sign in the air before calling over her shoulder. “Destroy that bitch. And then, I’ll take you out for ice cream.”

Before Tashi takes the final serve she sees Art coming through the fence. He sends her a soft smile and a wave before he moves along the edges of the court to avoid getting in their way. 

She hadn’t gotten to see a lot of him recently. Between classes, tennis and trying not to blow her brain out listening to Patrick bitch about tour, she hasn’t had time for much else. Yesterday she had four missed calls and no texts from Heaven when she’d gotten back from the courts. She offers him a smile back before serving the ball over the net.

When the match is done, Tashi watches on as her teammate pretends to whisper as she talks shit about her, taking a swig out of her water bottle before pushing it into her bag.

“Hey, you look good out there.”

Tashi looks up from her bag to see Art standing before her. He’d definitely gotten more defined in his time at Stanford. His muscles are more cut, his shirts a little tighter. And he seemed to have a little more swagger about him, his head a little cocked back as he addressed her, an easy smile on his face. And his win record was fucking great right now. It makes her think that maybe her assessment when she met him was right. He’s fucking good. Just terrified of his own best friend. Being out from Patrick’s shadow clearly agrees with him. “Thanks, stranger, it’s good to see you.”

“Oh, that’s my fault? I’m the campus celebrity that gets caught up signing her fans’ t-shirts on her way to class?” he jokes.

Tashi raises one shoulder noncommittally, sweeping her bag onto the other. “I hear the girls talking.”

“All talk, I swear.” He says, eyes widening. There’s the sheepish boy whose ears turn red at the drop of a hat.

“Hey, man, get your dick wet, I don’t care.” Tashi laughs, nudging Art before slipping past him. 

“Wait-” He calls from behind her, stepping into her path again. “Let’s catch up, we can get lunch at the dining hall.”

Tashi quirks an eyebrow, shifting her weight from one hip to the other. “On you?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ve got it.”

“Good, I’m out of points.

“So, thanks for lunch, it’s nice to see you.” Tashi smiles, popping a cherry tomato into her mouth. “What’s up?”

Art shifts in his seat. He doesn’t know what he’d been thinking. He’d gone to the courts to hit the ball a little but for some reason, as soon as he saw Tashi, he found himself inviting her to lunch. If anything, he should probably be avoiding her out of guilt or something. And he does…feel guilty. He’s buying her lunch as if the fact that he’s getting her a mediocre campus lunch makes up for the fact that he’d spent the night with his face between her girlfriend’s legs. 

It makes him wonder though. The fact that Tashi wasn’t tossing her gatorade into his face meant that Heaven probably didn’t tell her what happened. Maybe she plans to keep it a secret, and expects him to do the same. Maybe she freaked out and drove all the way back to UCLA, something he prayed didn’t happen because he was sort’ve banking on at least seeing her again later today. He knew he’d be forced to keep his distance, Patrick is coming at some point today and he knows if Heaven was still here, she wouldn’t give him the time of day in front of both of them.

Or maybe she did tell her. Maybe she told her that he’d said he loved her and Heaven and Tashi had a good laugh about it. Maybe Heaven promised that it hadn’t meant anything, and she was never going to let him near her like that again. 

The thought makes Art irritable. 

His mouth ticks downward as he sits back against the back of his plastic chair. “It’s nothing, I just wanted to catch up.”

“Mm, okay, well, Patrick and Heaven are supposed to be coming down later for the Pepperdine match, we should all get dinner or something.” 

That makes him freeze. So she doesn’t even know she was here. 

“If you want.”

Tashi’s fork hits her plate causing a plink sound to ring out in the air between them. “Okay, Art, this is fucking stupid.”

“What’s stupid? What’re you talking about?”

“Like you ask me to this lunch and then you’re being all weird-”

“I wanted to catch up with you, it’s not weird.”

She huffs, resting her elbows roughly on the table. “Just fucking say it. Spit it out.” 

He shouldn’t. Art’s not an idiot, he knows he shouldn’t. He should shut the fuck up. Or make something up. This line of conversation would lead to nothing but trouble and he should know better. He does know better. So, he’s not gonna say it. He’s gonna keep his mouth shut-

“I’m just surprised you guys are all still together, that’s all.”

If looks could kill, Art Donaldson would be dead and fucking buried. The icy stare that Tashi fixes him with has him slumping in exasperation with himself. He just couldn’t fucking help himself. Tashi’s brows furrow as her eyes move across his face almost rapidly, studying him. “Why?”

“I don’t…I’m just surprised. I just, like Patrick’s never-”

“Is he fucking other girls on tour or something? Like is this your way of trying to tell me?” 

“No, I don’t know, we don’t talk about that-”

“Bullshit.” Tashi rolls her eyes. “So what? There’s someone else? Or you feel like…like they’re fucking each other behind my back?”

“No, I don’t think Heaven is fucking Patrick behind your back.” Art scoffs jealously. This is where he fucked up. He shouldn’t have said her name. He knows he can’t say it normally, there’s always something behind it. Even Art can hear it. He adjusts his hat nervously as Tashi sits forward even more.

“I get it. You like her. That’s fine. She shows you attention. Fucking great. I bet it feels good. But Heaven isn’t going anywhere. Not without me. I know that, you know that. I’m gonna give you some advice because I’m actually a good friend. I know I sound like a bitch. I know it feels like I’m the mean one. But I’m actually showing you some grace. You don’t have what it takes to be with Heaven-”

“And Patrick does? He has what it takes to be with you two?”

“I do.” she asserts, scooting her chair out. “You might just be the worst friend in the world.”

The words cause a pang of pain that makes Art hang his head, eyes slipping closed. “Maybe.”

“Definitely.” Tashi scowls, grabbing her keys to leave.

“He’s not in love with you. Either of you.” He calls, squeezing his eyes shut, picking at his nails under the table, but keeping an even expression as Tashi rounds on the table again.

“What makes you think I want someone to be in love with me? Did I say I wanted someone to be in love with me?”

“No.”

“Okay.” she turns to exit again, stopping just short as Art’s word vomit fucks him over one more time.

“But Heaven does.” He says, scratching at his hair and dragging his eyes up to meet Tashi’s. “And she deserves it. You both do.”

Tashi snorts, meanly, crossing her arms over her chest, her large gray t-shirt wrinkles under how tightly she wraps her arms around herself. Her curls shake with her head as she looks down at him in disbelief. “You think because she gives you a crumb of pussy you know her better than me now? Don’t try to play me for her Art. I don’t lose.”

With that, Art watches as Tashi storms out of the cafeteria, her half eaten lunch sitting in front of the empty seat across from him and for the first time, he acknowledges that Patrick might not be the only opponent in his bracket.

“So, have you-uh, you been seeing anybody?” Art shoves his change in his pocket before balancing the two churros he’d bought in his hands, making his way back over to Patrick.

“What’re you talking about?” Patrick shifts on his stool, hooking his foot into the base of Art’s and tugging the chair closer as his friend plops down. “I’m taken. I think that Tashi and Heaven are making an honest man out of me.”

“Right.” Art laughs. 

“What, you don’t believe me? I really like them, man. They’re both good for me in different ways. I didn’t realize how good it could be having girlfriends.”

“Girlfriends? Is that what you are to each other?”

“Yes, actually, that’s exactly what we are.” Patrick chuckles, taking a bite of his churro, “What did they say something?”

“No, not really,” Art shrugs, leaning against the counter. “I just had lunch with Tashi earlier, like we talk sometimes, and it just doesn’t seem like she’s taking it as something serious, you know?”

“Is that right?”

“I dunno man, it just gave that vibe. And like, Heaven, what do you two really have in common?”

“What? Aside from being hot for each other you mean?” Patrick smirks, flicking Art’s hat. 

The muscle in Art’s jaw jumps at that as he involuntarily grits his teeth at the vision of Patrick being with Heaven, touching her, knowing her in the way he does, or worse, knowing her better. “I can’t help but think she might want something more than that and I know that’s not really your style is all. Just don’t want you to get hurt.” He mumbles, staring out of the large window in front of them.

Patrick scoffs and nods to himself before pushing out of his seat, leaning over Art, wrapping his arm around his shoulders as he presses his forehead to his. “You little fucking snake. I’d be doing the exact same thing, I’m almost proud of you.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Sure.” Patrick says smugly, popping the rest of his churro into his mouth before snatching Art’s, taking a bite and holding it out for the blond to do the same. “Planting seeds of doubt, smart.”

“I would never do anything to sabotage your relationship, I’m just looking out for you.” Art says breezily, brushing sugar from Patrick’s lips.

“Hm, sure,” Patrick gets a text, slipping his phone out of his pocket, he grins at his phone, smile going even wider when he sees Art trying to nonchalantly peek at the device from his seat. “Hev’s here. You know this just makes it hotter for me right? Knowing you’re here, pining for them. Scheming and shit.”

“Fuck you, m’not scheming, I’m very happy that you managed to scam your way into two girlfriends, Patrick.”

“This is good. It’s nice to see you all lit up about something, I miss that. Even if it is my girlfriends.” The two men stop for a beat and think about the situation they’re in and suddenly they find themselves laughing. It’s crazy. They’ve only ever liked the same girl once before in their lives, and they were kids then. It is absolutely insane now that they both have feelings for not one but two girls. Maybe normal friends would be able to share. They’d each pick a girl and that would be it. But something about this situation was different. Beyond the fact that both of them thought both of the girls were too amazing to pass up, there's an added layer in the conflict, because they both had a fear they didn’t want to address. 

Each girls’ feelings for them are conditional. There is no Tashi Duncan without Heaven Whitlock. There is no Heaven Whitlock without Tashi Duncan. Where one goes the other follows. That’s why none of their boyfriends and girlfriends ever worked out. They tried to divide them. But the grip the two women had on each other was too strong. Even if they could come to an agreement, if Patrick and Art decided they preferred one girl to the other, it wouldn’t matter. The two of them will always choose each other, and would always expect everyone else to fall in line.

It’s a sobering thought for both of them as they sit in the empty cafeteria, silence falling between them. Patrick feels his mind drift somewhere it seemed to be going a lot lately. He wonders if he and Art have the kind of relationship Tashi and Heaven do. Obviously they don’t fuck each other, though he’s pretty sure he’s made it clear before he’s down to hookup. But the loyalty. 

They’re best friends. Fire and Ice. It’s not lost on him that despite the fact that his friend clearly has some strong feelings for his girlfriends, they’re still friends. He still checks in on him. They’re still happy to see each other. Art still feels like Art. And Patrick’s grateful for it. So he can overlook some of the snarky comments, the glares over his shoulder, the questioning of their relationship. As long as things ultimately stayed the same between him and Art, Patrick would be fine. He pats his friend on the shoulder, getting up from the stool, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Walk me over.”

“You look pretty.”

“You look pretty too.” Tashi hums, leaning over and kissing Heaven deeply. When the two girls pull apart Tashi pushes her hands under Heaven’s large red t-shirt, running her hands along the skin of her stomach. Her brow arches as she looks down at the girl. “Art give you this shirt?”

“Tashi-”

“I know it didn’t mean anything.” Tashi says lowly, glancing over at the bathroom door, careful not to let Patrick hear the conversation. “He’s pressed though, so, what do you like him or something? Like are you over Patrick?”

It didn’t not mean anything.  “It’s fine, I…just couldn’t get you on the phone and Patrick was busy, so…it, I was just having a bad day.” Heaven breathes, bringing Tashi’s hand to her lips and kissing her palm. “Sorry.”

“Fair is fair, I’ve hooked up with both of them, now you have too.” Tashi shrugs. As much as her face is fixed in an uncaring expression, Heaven can tell she’s bothered by the fact that Heaven had been messing with Art. She’d never even addressed that she’d gone to visit Patrick without her again. Heaven wants to talk to her about these feelings she has. She wants to tell her that these guys are different from the others for her, and she thinks they are for Tashi too. The knob turns on the bathroom door and Patrick comes out, pulling his shirt over his head.

But now is not the time.

“Starting without me?” Patrick jokes, leaning down and kissing Tashi’s knee as he wraps a hand around Heaven’s ankle, causing her to squeal as he tugs her down closer to him. “Missed you.” He murmurs against Tashi’s skin before pulling away to capture Heaven’s lips. “Both of you.”

“Yeah?” Tashi smiles, sitting up and planting her hand on Patrick’s chest, pushing him down onto the mattress. He sits back, staring at the two women sitting on their knees in front of him. Tashi climbs into his lap leaning over and kissing Heaven one more time before she sinks down beside Patrick, kissing along his jaw. 

Patrick reaches over and tugs at Heaven’s shirt, unable to get it off from beside her so she sits up, pulling the shirt off and tossing it. His eyes trail after the fabric as his face takes on a confused expression. “That’s Art’s shirt?”

Heaven sits up, wide-eyed as she exchanges a look with Tashi. “Uh, yeah, he gave it to me earlier.”

“Earlier. Right,” he shifts his gaze to Tashi, letting her guide his face back to hers. “When were you guys gonna tell me about him?”

“He’s your best friend. I figured you knew.” Tashi hums against the skin on his cheek as Heaven kisses his lips. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” he mumbles against Heaven’s lips, pulling  back and watching as Heaven assists Tashi in getting her shirt off. “I’m the one who won the match. What do I need to be jealous of Art for?”

“Well,” Heaven kisses Patrick’s neck, murmuring her words against his jaw. “He’s smart, and handsome-” her hand slips down in the space between Tashi’s legs and Patricks, she relishes in the gasps they both release. 

“And really fucking good at tennis.” Tashi cuts in.

“He’s always been very good.” Patrick grunts, burying his fingers at the base of the loose braid in Tashi’s hair. 

“But he’s gotten better since he got here. I mean he’s really fucking good.”

Heaven’s brows furrow as she hears Tashi’s whispers. Was this really the time to be talking about Art? Hell, since when did Tashi have such a good fucking glowing review of him? Literally minutes ago she was dismissively saying that she knew hooking up with him would mean nothing. If she was trying to make Patrick jealous she should know the mission was already accomplished. As soon as they started talking about Art, he started kissing them a little rougher, gripping them a little tighter. “He’s never beaten me. We’re not still playing for your numbers. I won.” Patrick laughs. 

“He’s been working hard.” Heaven blurts. Both her boyfriend and girlfriend look at her as she crosses his arms. “It’s just like, are we gonna hold that shit over him forever, he’s our friend.”

Tashi purses her lips, looking between the two of them. “See? This is your problem. You always think the match is over before it is. It’s why you’ve still got that serve.”

“Jesus, Tashi-”

“Are we talking about tennis right now?” Patrick asks, eyebrows raised.

“I’m always talking about tennis.” She huffs, sitting up straight, still perched on his lap. Heaven rolls her eyes, knowing exactly where this is going. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she snatches Art’s shirt off of the floor and storms into the bathroom.

Patrick gestures toward the bathroom exasperatedly. “Could we not?” 

Tashi tilts her head from one side to the other, cracking her neck before chirping out a short, “Sure.” Climbing off of him she grabs a fresh t-shirt from her drawer and pulling it over her head. “Don’t know what else there is for us to talk about-”

“Maybe we should talk about the fact that she’s wearing Art’s shirt and neither of us knew when she got here.” Patrick follows the two girls off of the bed, standing in the middle of the floor between the bathroom door and where Tashi was rolling out her yoga mat.

“Heaven’s attracted to winners.” Tashi squats deeply on her yoga mat, not bothering to even look at Patrick out of the corner of her eyes. “So am I.”

“So what are you trying to say?”

“Art’s been winning, that’s all.” She says passively, standing into a tree pose.

“And so she’s cheating on us because Art’s getting better at tennis?”

Tashi fixes Patrick with a sharp look. “She’s not cheating on me. But if you want to confront her, go ahead, be my guest.”

“Yeah, fine I will.” Patrick takes two long strides and bangs at the bathroom door. “Hev. Can you come out here?” The door creaks open and the girl is fully dressed, still wearing Art’s shirt and a pair of shorts. “You’re dressed.”

“Yeah, imma head out, see you guys at the match.”

“Patrick wants to talk to you about Art.” Tashi says, moving into her lunges. 

“Now’s not the time, Tashi has a match.” Heaven shrugs, grabbing Tashi’s water bottle and taking a drink.

“And you don’t think it’s important to talk about this now?” 

“I tried to talk to you.” She sighs, “But I’m not gonna throw her off right before the match.”

“So this is still about tennis? Are you fucking serious?” He looks at the blank stares that both girls offer him and throws his arms out. “This is fucking crazy. So, you’re messing with Art because I lost a couple matches on tour?” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Heaven frowns, crossing her arms. 

“I’m saying I don’t need a fake fan for a girlfriend who's gonna mess with a different guy every time I go through a rough patch.”

“A rough patch?” Heaven scoffs. “Patrick, I’m having a rough patch. A rough patch is a bad day at practice, not your shitty win-loss record. Look, I’m sorry about the fucking shirt, okay? I’m sorry I went to see him, I’m sorry for this stupid fucking conversation, so take this-” She wrenches Art’s shirt over her head, and tosses it on the bed, grabbing one of Tashi’s instead. She looks at the girl with a scowl on her face. “You did this on purpose. I’ll see you guys at the match.”

Patrick watches in disbelief as Heaven has the audacity to be the one storming out and turns back to a still stretching Tashi. “I don’t need a coach for a girlfriend either.”

“Seems like you do.” She sighs, stretching her back. “Look, what is it you think you need from me, Patrick? Like really? There are plenty of girls who’d like to be your little girlfriend, cheerleader, whatever. You’re cute, you’re rich, you’ve got a big dick, go be with them. I get it, you’re living the dream, having two fucking girls but, Heaven and I actually expect results, so, I dunno. It’s kinda embarrassing, if you suck.”

“I suck now? I’m sorry not all of us are running around playing against Suzy Country Club, calling ourselves the Duncanator.” 

“Fuck you.”

“I don’t see you harassing Heaven about skipping rehearsal to come see me.”

“Heaven’s a fucking professional. Doesn’t embarrass me.” Tashi scratches her ear as she sits on the floor. “Do you know how much of a fucking waste of time it is for us take turns sitting through listening to you bitch about how you’re being cheated out on tour?”

“Sorry for inconveniencing you.”

“You are actually.”

Patrick crouches next to her, face close to hers as she faces forward with a blank look. “You don’t get to talk to me like I’m beneath you two, I’m not desperate for you to like me, I’m not Art. I’m your boyfriend, not a member of your fan club.”

He stands and Tashi quickly follows, scowling at him as she stands almost nose to nose. “You’re not a member of my fan club?”

Patrick stands his ground, staring down at her. “I’m your peer.”

Tashi scoffs, laughing humorously. “Look, I’m just warning you, if you lose her, it’ll be your fault. And I’ll go with her.” Patrick curls his lip, sneering at that. He knew that. He knows that. But to hear her say it. Like its a given. The verbal confirmation that he’s valued less has his blood boiling. “I don’t have time for this, I’ll just see you at the match.”

“You don’t get to just dismiss me.” Patrick huffs, grabbing the shirt Tashi had shed and pulling it over his own head. “I don’t need this shit.”

The pieces of Tashi’s hair that had fallen out of her braid blow into her face as the door slams shut, and all she can do is try to regulate her breathing as she thinks that she somehow lost another point because there were too many balls in play.

Heaven’s leg jumps as she sits in the bleachers at the school match. She watches students climb into the stands, decked out in ‘Duncanator’ attire. She’s fucked everything up. With Tashi. She’s pissed. She knows she is. Her even voice and blank stare is something Heaven knows well. And now she’s digging shit up with Patrick. 

She knows it’s her fault. No matter how sad she was she knows she had no business hanging out with Art. Not while he…feels the way he feels about her. Not while she feels the way she does. She clearly can’t handle even being his friend. One minute she’s just running into him, or alone with him by happenstance, or just calling to chat. The next he’s looking at her the way he does and her mind is foggy. 

She needs to do better. Patrick and Tashi deserve better. Art deserves better than half of her. So she’s going to keep her distance. 

In her peripheral view she sees blond hair moving up the stands towards her and immediately curses whatever god decided to make a joke of her today. She can feel Art’s intense gaze burn into her skin as he moves to sit in the seat next to her, pausing briefly, choosing to put one empty seat between them. 

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He says softly, eyes on her as she faces forward determinedly.

“You aren’t.”

“You won’t look at me.” His voice cracks on the last word and on the side opposite of him, Heaven grips the bottom of the bleachers, willing herself not to face him. “It’s because of what I said.”

Yes. “No.”

“Yes.” Art breathes. “I know I fucked it up. But I just…care about you. A lot.” 

“I care about you too.” Heaven sighs. “But-”

“What would it take?” He blurts, shifting completely in his seat to face her. “I’m just…he won and that’s fine but it was a stupid fucking game, so, what do I need a rematch or something, because I’ll win this time. Heaven, I’d win this time.”

“Art, we can’t talk about this okay? Patrick’s-”

“Not coming. He isn’t coming.” The blond man shrugs, sitting back in his seat, still watching the girl beside him. “I came, Heaven.” 

“It’s complicated. I shouldn’t have gone out with you in the first place. I’m fucking up. Even now, sitting here, I’m fucking up. You’re confusing me, a-and distracting me. It’s not like that with them, and I’m…I can’t come running to you crying with my problems every time I’m upset. It’s not fair to you-”

“I want you to come to me.”

“It’s not fair to them. And…I’m gonna stop, Art. We’re going to stop.”

Before Art can say anything the crowd starts cheering loudly, everyone jumping to their feet apart from him and Heaven. He just stares at her. It’s as if he could blink and she’d be gone. He feels her pulling away, and it’s causing him to panic. He nervously picks at his fingers, chest rising and falling rapidly as he sifts through his brain, anything he could do or say, just for a glance, he just needs her eyes. Just for a little bit. Just one more time. He didn’t know what to do. What to convince her. He could be so much better for her. He would do anything. He could be anything, if she’d just look at him. He’d show her he could earn her attention. Her love. 

He’s so lost in his thoughts he doesn’t notice the match started. Art watches Heavens pupils focus on one side of the court. He knows who’s over there. He knows who’s getting the attention he’s begging for. But she has his. Even like this, breaking his heart, she’s beautiful. The sad look on her face hardly affected her beautiful features. Her unbreaking focus makes her look otherworldly to him. If he wasn’t in so much pain, he might’ve been able to appreciate her passion, even if it wasn’t directed at him. 

A pained wail finally pulls Art’s attention away from Heaven. 

Studies say that the color of pain is red.

Studies are fucking right. Red is all Tashi fucking sees when her body decides to betray her and her knee absolutely snaps in half. The entire rest of her is numb as her knee screams and she feels her dreams start slipping away. It’s not fair.

Hurting this bad is not fair. That’s what really has her screaming out into the air. Several sets of eyes locked on her as she writhes on the court. The crowd had the fucking audacity to gasp when she went down. Oh you’re shocked? Me fucking too.

Quick footsteps make their way to her and she hears a man’s voice as she feels her head being lifted from on top of her racket and onto someone’s lap. “Tashi, Tashi-”

“Get that fucking camera out of her face, now! Fucking idiot!” There are two more steps and the sound of something sliding on the ground next to her. Suddenly, she feels a soft hand on her jaw. “T, you gotta breathe, babe, you have to breathe or you’ll pass out.” 

The softness of Heaven’s voice makes her cry even harder as she tries to lean her head toward her. “You shouldn’t move, Tashi.” 

Art. He’s here. Of course he is…Heaven’s here. But, still, as he smooths his hands over her hair, she thinks, he’s here. Despite what she’d said to him, he came. He’s here, after she yelled at him, holding her, lifting her gently to carry her to the infirmary. And Patrick was nowhere to be found. When she finally opens her eyes, she turns her head to focus her wet eyes on Heaven who was holding her hand over Art’s shoulder. Through her tear soaked lashes she can see the way Heaven was looking at him. And suddenly, she realized that she was too late in what she warned Patrick of. He’d already lost her. He was a sinking ship. Losing Heaven, fighting with her right before a match, not showing up. He’s unstable, unable to follow the course Tashi was charting. And she refuses to go down with him.

“Tashi, Tashi listen-”

“Out! Patrick out!”

“Just listen to me, Heaven talk to her-”

“Don’t fucking talk to her.” Tashi yells from the medical examination bed they had her wrapped leg hoisted up on. She points to the door again with venom. “Out!”

“Patrick-” Heaven starts, biting her nails from her seat next to Tashi, holding her hand with the other, Tashi whips her head to look at her, a teardrop escaping from her eye causes the girl to go quiet, sweeping her thumb across her girlfriend’s cheek. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me, just listen-”

“Patrick get the fuck out!”

The outburst even startles Heaven. She turns her head to see Art standing from his seat, breathing heavily, fists clenched. Patrick’s face absolutely drops as he takes one slow step backward before turning and leaving the room entirely. 

As soon as he leaves Tashi’s head falls back against the pillow, bottom lip shaking as he stares up at the ceiling. She attempts to disguise a sob as a sharp breath and Heaven hops down from the examination bed, ignoring Art’s soft call of her name and Tashi’s wide eyed look.

“Hey!” Heaven rushes out into the hallway, eyes burning from sterile white lights and drying tears. “Hey! Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” 

“Look, your girlfriend and boyfriend told me to go so-”

“So…so you’re just gonna leave? Fucking loser” She huffs, shaking her head at Patrick. Her lip curls as she sees him standing there in Tashi’s shirt. He’s breathing heavily, eyes narrowed at her disapproval. “Gimme her fuckin’ shirt back.”

Patrick scoffs, wrenching the fabric over his head, tossing it roughly at Heaven’s feet. “Here, give it to Art. Guess it’s his turn with you now-”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” she whisper-yells, not flinching at all as Patrick walks up on her, his nose nearly touching hers.

“I know you’re fucking him.” He says, a mean, rueful smirk on his face. “We know you’re fucking him.”

Heaven swallows hard. Clenching her teeth and looking back toward the door, praying that Art and Tashi weren’t hearing this conversation. Her voice betrays her as her heart drums against her chest. “You don’t know anything.”

“She’s done with me, so, so are you. That’s how this works, right?” He challenges, not moving an inch as she turns back to him. “You’re her bitch.”

“I’m her bitch?” Heaven laughs humorously, tossing her head back, looking up at the ceiling. “You’re a fucking fan.”

“I’m a fan? Yeah, no, sweetheart, wrong boyfriend-”

“No, you’re a fucking fan, Patrick. It’s how you met Tashi, it’s how you met me, it’s why you’re about to cry like a little bitch because Art yelled at you, God for-fucking-bid-”

“Is that all?”

“No. And you’re a bum. You’re talented but it’s a fucking waste, why don’t you go out there and win something, instead of watching everyone else achieve shit and scoffing like a pretentious prick. And then you won’t waste all your time shitting on people for actually working for something.”

The brown haired man sucks on his teeth, nodding along. “My turn yet?” Heaven just places her hands on her hips as the man moves closer. “You know what, Hev, maybe you’re right. Maybe that shit is true. But you’re looking in a mirror, baby. You’re just like me. You might go to your fancy school and you’re a hell of a dancer but at the end of the day you learned to like tennis for her. You came here for her. You like me, you like Art, but you’re so fucking scared of her being unhappy that you can’t move. Everytime we fight it’s over her. Do you even know what you want?”

Heaven sniffs, looking off to the side as Patrick smoothes back some of the hair from her ponytail fell into her face, his palm slightly soothing the headache that had formed the moment Tashi hit the ground. “I didn’t tell you to leave, Patrick.” 

“Alright, so come with me.”

“What?”

Patrick leans on the wall staring at her, daring her. “Come with me.” He watches as Heaven wraps her arms around herself, brows furrowing, and scoffs at her again. “We both know you’re going back in that room.” 

“Yeah.” she nods. “I am. And you’re fucking pathetic if you don’t come with me.” 

“And do what?”

Heaven’s hand fists in the baggy shirt, propelling her up slightly so they could be more face-to-face. The disgusted look on her face is evident as she stares him down, pretty feature’s dancing with rage. “You broke her, you fix her.” 

Patrick’s face softens as he looks at Heaven. There’s emotion behind the anger, the fear. There’s desperation. She’s desperate for a solution, desperate to help Tashi, one way or another. Right now, it's clear nothing else mattered in Heaven’s eyes. It's clear that she blames him.

He brings his hand down to the raw, bleeding skin of Heaven’s knee, cupping the back of it. “That looks bad-”

Heaven knocks his hand away, lip quivering as she pleads with him through brown eyes. “Are you gonna fix it?” All it takes is a look. And then she’s shoving away from him, storming her way back to the room, sending him one last scowl of disappointment before slamming the door behind her. “Fucking pussy.”

“What the fuck did you chase him for?” Tashi calls harshly from the padding. “Heaven.”

Heaven just silently limps in, trying hard to mask the pain in her own knee. It’s nothing like Tashi’s. It’s not even worth dealing with. Not when Tashi is in pain like that. She simply sits on the edge of the pad, careful to sit on the side that Tashi’s isn’t injured on. Her eyes slip closed as she leans up, pressing her forehead to hers. “S’okay. M’gonna fix it.” she promises. “This doesn’t…it’s not over. We’re gonna fucking fix it.”

Art’s jaw sets as he looks away. It felt like he was intruding on a moment between the two women. He hears Tashi’s faint sniffles mixing with whatever Heaven was quietly whispering in her ear. He shifts uncomfortably on his feet. He was worried for Tashi. Heartbroken for her. Laying in the bed, with an injury like that…he just doesn’t know. 

But all he could focus on is that damn drop of blood traveling from Heaven’s leg and splattering on the cold, white floor. The pink flesh showing from where she’d skinned herself, for her. She won’t just look at him. 

As he watches Heaven tend to the injured girl, Tashi’s words from the day before echo in his mind. But that damn drop of blood. He can't help himself. So he stays.

When the pain drugs finally force Tashi to sleep, Art’s had enough. 

Heaven was just…sitting there, watching Tashi sleep, running her hands over her hair with one hand, holding her hand with the other. He watches as she runs her thumb over Tashi’s forehead, staring blankly and biting her lip.

He takes a deep breath before whispering. “Hey, let me wrap that for you.”

“Wrap what?”

Does she really not feel it? She has to. The adrenaline had to have worn off, and she was limping when she came in. That scrape had to hurt like a bitch. 

“Your…your leg, Hev, let me wrap it.” Art says softly, pushing off of the chair and walking around to the side of the bed she’s sitting on. “It looks like it hurts.”

Heaven doesn’t look up from Tashi as she quietly shakes her head no, opting to continue combing her fingers in Tashi’s now loose hair. 

“Baby, c’mon-”

“I said no.” Heaven snaps, whipping her head to look at him briefly before turning back to Tashi. “Don’t call me that.”

Don’t try to play me for her. I don’t lose.

Art steadies himself before stepping closer, wordlessly holding his hand out to Heaven. He knows what he’s hoping for. He wants her to take it. But he also knows what he expects. 

So he’s shocked when he feels a soft hand in his. 

She’s still sitting. Still holding Tashi’s hand with her other one, but she took his. He has to do the rest. He knows that. Her eyes tell him that’s the only step she’ll take today. It’s been a rough one. For both of them. 

So he pulls, and she stands, and he scoops her up. Hands holding the backs of her thighs as he lifts her, eyes locked on hers as she flinches, once, as her hand pulls from Tashi’s grasp. Art sits Heaven on the infirmary counter and digs around in drawers until he finds alcohol wipes, gauze and band-aids. 

He makes work of her injury slowly, taking his time as he crouches in front of her. Art cleans the torn skin with the alcohol wipe, blowing cool air on it to soothe the sting, looking up at her through his lashes as he cleans her. He holds her thigh as he adds the gauze and band-aid, relishing in the feeling of her eyes on him. Only him. 

Finally, when he’s done, he stops her from hopping down and retreating back to Tashi’s side, bringing the injured knee to his lips and placing long, deep kisses to it, all while giving her his eyes. He watches as different emotions flash across her face as he murmurs sweet nothings and prayers into her knee, allowing herself to be soothed for a moment.

Before long she’s swallowing back her own tears that draw him up to her, determined to catch them on his finger and chasing them with his lips along her cheeks and jaw. He gently pushes her hair back before bringing his lips to her ear, holding her close. “I know, baby, I know.”

“I-” her voice cracks and Art feels her drop her head into the crook of his neck and shoulder.

“What can I do? How can I make it better?”

She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut and curling into him completely. “I wish it was my fucking leg. Instead…instead of hers.”

“Don’t say that.” He breathes. “Heaven-”

He stops. He was going to say something else. She says something else, her words mumbled against his skin. But Art misses it. 

Because all he can focus on is Tashi’s staring from the bed as he sees the reflection in the mirror.

[cuecrynsleep]

Ranking Amangela moments based on how much I freaked out over them.

Disclaimer: This is a joke and is made for fun. This tier list isn't meant to say anything on Amanda and Angela's dynamic, nor their character, or who they are as people. It's just a tier list based on what I think of them as a pairing for certain moments. Please do not take this seriously. Amanda and Angela are real people at the end of the day.

Written Out Text Version if Photos Unclear

Tier 1: "SOMEONE CALL AN AMBULANCE I'M NOT OKAY"

-Seals in another life

-Angela making Amanda a ring + "I finally get married to the person I belong with"

-Amangela playing a married couple 3 times

-Livestream affections

Tier 2: WHAT THE FUCK AMANDA/ANGELA

-Fake kiss #1/#2: Love is Blind Edition

-"I just fell in love with you" - Angela after Amanda's TNTL bit

-"What if we kissed/made out and went missing" x4

-"Quick before we go live kiss me" | "Okay"

-"Security guard I'd like to fuck" - Angela

Tier 3: OH! Oh. I don't know man that's kinda fruity

-"Put us on top of each other" / "Dude both pants are off." - Board AF Legacy

-(Amanda talking about not talking about something bothering her for a whole shoot week) "Then again sometimes I just see Angela and I'm like 'hey' and I don't know what happens..."

-Competitive Amangela - Challenge Pit

-"We'll probably find our way back to each other" - Love is Blind 2

-New York x Toilet Girl Saga

-Tinky Winky and Detective Wheresmycoffee

-Physical affection Tapple video edition

-Reddit stories physical affection

Tier 4: They're so cute I might survive this.

-"She's a thankful person... I love that about her." - Angela

-"She knows me so well that she knows when I'm lying." - Amanda

-"You're killing it" - Amanda to Angela during her first Smosh video

-Amangela team duo during Incohearent games video

-"Angela tried to like watch the reunion with me." - Amanda

Tier 5: "Wait guys we swear it's just a bit."

-"But can you kiss me before you leave?" / "All I wanna do is go into hell and kiss your face." - Angela Board AF Legacy

-French Soldier x FBI Agent TNTL bit

-Physical affection blood clocktower games video edition

-Tinky Winky choking Detective Wheresmycoffee

Tier 6: This is just them at their normal.

-"Are you okay?" / "You have to trust yourself." - Angela

-"A soulmate can be a friend." - Agree to Disagree video

-"Aww Ange" - Amanda comforting Angela during Reddit Stories

[simpforpeterp]

lucifer morningstar x reader

CHIP ON MY SHOULDER

summary: based on the song with the same name from legally blonde the musical. the reader, an angel, driven by love, follows their partner into hell, only to face betrayal and mockery. they then encounter a mysterious and charismatic man who offers surprising insights and advice.

warnings: not necessarily a warning but gender neutral reader, no use of y/n. also the partner is gender neutral and described with they/them pronouns. use of the word pretty to describe reader.

word count: 1.03k

"How did it come to this? All I wanted was to be with them, to follow them, to be by their side. And now... I'm here." You mumble under your breath, kicking brimstone as you walk.

You walk over and sit on a broken bench, your wings are tattered and dirty. As you look up at the dark sky, you begin feeling the weight of your choices. Following someone you loved all the way down to Hell was stupid. You were blinded by how they made you feel, you followed them as they fell from Heaven despite being in good standing up there.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? An angel far from home?" A man steps out in front of you, stopping his walk.

"Look, man, whatever gross things you have to say about me being an angel, I've heard it all today. So just...forget it." You cross your arms.

"I wasn't gonna say anything gross. It's just...you- uh, look out of place. To say the very least," He tries and you finally look up to see him. He's not very tall, he's very pale but he has this nice blonde hair that keeps you looking at him. "May I sit down?"

"Go for it. It's not like I'm...high priestess of where people sit in Hell." You say tiredly.

"New here?" He asks.

"I guess. Not really. I'm not...I'm not one of you people, I'm not meant to be down here." You tell him.

"If you're in denial, that's fine but at least-"

"No, really! I didn't fall, I'm on a shitty visit," You insist. "And I know, I just said a bad word, whoop-dee-frickin'-doo."

"Why would you ever want to visit here?" He laughs.

"Love."

"What?" He turns his attention to you.

"I followed where love led me and it apparently brought me to my very own personal circle of Hell," You play with your fingers as you look ahead. "And I made a big show of it too, coming down here. Now I have to go home, hat in hand. I wish I were dead at this point."

"You've gotta be more specific, babe." He sighs.

"I came down here because my dumbass partner broke too many rules and started saying these crazy things! So, of course, I'm an idiot and I follow them down here. Instead of the tragic love story I thought I was gonna get, they go and make friends instantly and turn into a completely different person. And here I am, just someone they mock with their friends. I wanted a Greek tragedy and got...whatever the opposite is."

"Did you seriously come down here to follow 'love' of all things?" He laughs before clearing his throat and covering his mouth.

"Oh, what got you here?" You wave it off.

"I'm an angel too," He sighs and you immediately turn to face him. "I was an angel."

"But you look so different."

"I've been down here for a while."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I had this idea they didn't like about rehabilitating sinners to bring them to Heaven. I was young and I was dumb and instead of persisting and trying to convince them, I got mad and slept with a human. And then I did it again. But then I fell in love with the first human and we got sent here together. We're not together anymore, messy divorce. So I'm not a big fan of love. Love is what got me here, alone and unfulfilled. I loved her more than anything, she gave me my daughter. But this place changed her for the worst and she left both of us. I wouldn't trust love for anything."

"I'm sorry but that's highly negative. Just because you have some kind of chip on your shoulder about how love hasn't worked out for you in the past doesn't mean it can't in the future. And you didn't think you'd go down the same path as Lucifer after doing the same thing? They practically have street signs up there that say not to sleep with humans." You laugh.

"Do you even know what Lucifer looks like?" He smirks.

"No, they have no pictures up there. Why?" You laugh.

"Hold on, I've got a picture," He sighs as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out something you can't quite see fully. "This is one of him sitting with some weirdo on a bench."

Before you can fully process what he just said, he scoots the slightest bit closer, showing you a mirror with the two of you sitting together on full display.

"Oh my-" You choke, falling backwards and almost slipping off of the broken bench.

"You know, people down here aren't usually real with me because I'm King but this was a nice talk. A breath of fresh air," He smirks before standing up. "And just a warning, these people are really awful, I'm sure you haven't even met the worst of the worst. If I were you, I'd just go home and sacrifice your pride. Actually, no I wouldn't. But you probably should. That asshole who left you is an idiot; an angel as charming and steadfast as you should be cherished. This was fun."

"Wait!" You say as you lift yourself to stand beside him. "How did you...how did you get used to it down here? In case I don't feel like swallowing my pride."

"Love." He chuckles.

"Oh, you're an asshole," You point a finger at him before laughing. "I like you, Your Highness."

"Haven't heard that in a while. And drop the formalities, you've insulted me too much to not be on a first-name basis." He jokes.

"Alright, Lucifer," You say, a hint of a smile forming. "Thank you for your advice or lack thereof. I think I'll stay a while longer."

"One thing I will say is, that chip on your shoulder can be your greatest ally. Let it drive you to be stronger, and fiercer. In Hell, that's the only way to survive. Especially for an angel as resilient and honestly, as pretty as you are."

[wickjump]

hehe,,,, tell us ur hcs about errors dolls/puppets if u havent yet :3 (if u have please link the post !!)

HAHA SORRY THIS IS SO LATE…..WHOOPS…. anyway!!! i like error i think he’s super fun n silly and i like talking about him,,,

ALRIGHT OKY DOLLS. error has favorite dolls, and he has least favorite dolls. his favorites are aus that don't deviate too much from classic undertale, like basic theme overhauls, while his least favorites include anomalies he deems somehow more pointless or insulting than the rest, such as fresh or any other au unrecognizable as a deviation of undertale.

his favorites get more ‘privileges’, which is to say they get to sit on the bean bag with him when he watches undernovela, while his least favorites are held up somewhere by the neck like a little noose and sometimes made fun of by him. he makes plushies of everyone he meets, regardless of how much he liked them or not. he’s a collector at heart,,!!!! and while most of his plushies are sanses, because he generally interacts with sanses more frequently, he has plushies of charas and frisks and papyri and gasters, and a few others as well.

he has made a plushie of every single cast member of undernovela, and he's protective of them in a 'nonono you cant touch it you might get dirt on it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!' way. so they remain carefully suspended in the anti-void, or sometimes uses to re-enact scenes from undernovela using the strings.

error talks to himself a lot with them. like, all the time. very very often. and a lot of the time this takes the form in him making the dolls ‘speak’, kind of like how it’s briefly shown in his ask blog.

this is how he keeps himself busy when in the anti void doing pretty much nothing. he makes up stories and ideas, sometimes even forgetting what was his imagination and what was a re-enactment of previous events, jumbling up his fleeting memories of life before the anti-void even more. obviously this takes place during a more isolated period of his story, and he’s better at remembering when others are around. however when left alone for long enough he’ll revert to using his dolls to mimic conversation.

he’s become somewhat dependent on them to fight his loneliness in a way i think. he’d use the clothes off his back and the strings from his eyes and a snapped off bone as a needle to make one, if he was isolated again with no way to get supplies. the time spent making them gives him something to do as well, it keeps him calm.

i like to think he, over time, has made some of his favorite dolls different outfits and such. i also like to feel his love language would be giving people dolls of him or themselves. very rarely other people they’re close to because he's a little self-centered but we love him anyway...

when someone he likes changes 'design', he makes an entirely new doll rather than updating their old one, such as when ink and dream got new designs. there is also a chance that the clothes on some of his dolls are made using the actual clothes of their dusted counterparts (ie outer, fell, etc).

he's fully self-taught when it comes to making his dolls, and his first attempts are,,, well they were something. probably a good thing they're hidden somewhere (his earliest dolls have a striking resemblance to an aftertale sans and a classic papyrus, but he chooses not to think about that for too long).

i have a not uncommon hc that error can trap souls in the dolls, essentially putting them in a coma-like state, but that’s not really close to canon and not unique or cool in any way so i won’t rlly expand there. i dont even use this hc much i just think its cool n silly.

his favorite dolls are classic, fell, and swap (he technically doesn't like fell, but he and his classic doll are bonded, according to him, so he can't separate the two. note how he's canonically called the classic doll 'sans' before but only referred to his fell/other dolls using numbers, which i feel shows his preference if only a little bit). his classic doll is his all-time favorite, though, it's even weighted. they're all comfort items 2 him....sighs

he's made a plushie of himself before that he has exclusively to act out 'what-if' scenarios, mostly pertaining to undernovela, where he's his own self insert. he'd probably love fanfiction

[pinkandpurple360]

Blitzøs version of Events - Trial Discussing the Full Moon Deal

Written: 22/11/2023, edited June 2024

——-

Blitzø: It all started when I saw this dumb ad in the papers. ‘Goetia Family - Not Divorced Party - Residence of Prince Stolas and Stella Goetia’ I recognised the address and remembered a book that can make portals. So I hatched an incredibly stupid idea in my head. I’d turn up that night, climb through the window, steal the book, and bounce.

Interview: Completely stupid idea.

Blitzø: Yeah. To nobody’s surprise. It did not turn out that way. Soon as I got there, the window was sealed shut. So I tried the balcony, and fell on my ass before I got the hook attached. Guards caught me right away, dragging me right to the main room right to Princey himself. He was going to town on some absinthe, really living it up. Didn’t seem to be doing anything to him though. Them hellhounds had me grabbed on both arms, my feet couldn’t even touch the ground. They said something like “Sir, this nasty imp was trying to break in, what should we do to punish him?” Thinking this was it for me, hell I had a good run I guess. I think I smiled at him or something. I shouldn’t have given him the wrong idea. It was my fault. Youre shaking your head? Whatever.

Interviewer: Because the guards told him the situation right away. They reprimanded you, try to appeal to his prejudices by using imp in a derogatory way. And you simply smiled at an authority figure to avoid the penalty death for burglary. Go on.

Blitzø: He gets this…look in his eye. Creepy as hell, narrowing I think four eyes at me, and his face goes all pink and turned on, as if he’s about to…you know what. He’s all “leave him to me, I will handle him accordingly.” I was so weirded out, and even the guards were. They shrugged and dropped me on my ass. It all felt familiar.

Interviewer: Right. The prince alleges you were best friends in your childhood. Thick as thieves.

Blitzø: Is he for real? That’s not how I remember it. When I was nine, I remember my dad yanked on my arm and said “boy, I got a job for you. Youre being bought out to play with one of the Goetia princes. If you want us to eat, and if you want to help your..your mama, you’ll do this and steal whatever they got.”

Interviewer: what was your reaction to that?

Blitzø: Well. It was just. “Ew!” (He chuckles) that was not something I wanted. Why was some random kid who saw my show getting his old man to buy me and take me home like a birthday present? He throw a tantrum? But. I was really, scared. Nervous. Back then as a kid and now. Powerless. Here were these two huge hounds grabbing both my arms, just like my dad grabbed mine, as hard as he could. When I saw him that day, the prince he made that same weird face. Like he was in love with me or something. A damn stranger, I was just a nine year old kid. It was creepy. The father of his was fuckin terrifying, hugest monster id ever seen. He towered over all of us, and hit and called the prince an idiot for bowing at me.

Interviewer: Back to the present, what did you think was in store for you when he said he’d handle you?

Blitzø: Nothing good. Imps get executed for less. I’ve heard stories all around about the prince and that temper of his, almost as bad as the wife’s. Yanking bartends hands, strangling staff with those creepy hands, without even looking at them, turning butlers to stone statues in his garden for trying to steal from him, rumour had it, all he had to do was give a look. And youre dead. Anyway. I was dropped on my ass and Prince Stolas loomed over me with those damn glowing red eyes again, I couldn’t believe how tall he was. How overpowering.

Interviewer: He is said to be one of the shorter Goetia yet nonetheless, stands nearly 8 ft in height.

Blitzø: So yeah. That height reminded me of that father of his. He was all “Follow me, imp.” and led me down the hallway, who knew where. Just him, not me. People say I should have talked my way out of it, should’ve negotiated out of it harder, that it was my own fault for breaking in. But I tried. I tried explaining that I’m sorry for bursting in, and sorry for ruining the party. But he just said “don’t bother using excuses I know why you are here” He opens the door to a room. I follow in, miserable, thinking this is the end. But it’s a dark room, with a bath, paintings, curtains, and on the left….a bed. I jumped when he shut the door behind me.

Interviewer: And you had no idea what he had planned for you.

Blitzø: None. Until he said it.

Interviewer: Go on.

Blitzø: Please dont make me say it.

Interviewer: We’re sorry but this is possibly the most crucial part of this case. How the dynamic started.

Blitzø: (deep sigh) He said I was there to…ravish him.

Interviewer: He meets you once as children. Nine years old you had said. Then once you’re alone the first thing he did is lead you to a bedroom, refuse to allow you to speak, and tell you you’re there for sex. Beforehand framing this all as a punishment for burglary.

Blitzø: Well when you put it like that…but I could have said no, I could have tried harder to leave and not play along.

Interviewer: But you said yourself, imps get executed for less, the Prince is extremely powerful, and this royal couple are known for an abnormally dramatic abusive nature towards all imps. We have heard the allegations of workplace assault. Had you confessed, he would have become angry, he could have done anything he wanted to you in that closed room of his. Was it malicious to steal? Yes. But the actions are again. Understandable.

Blitzø: Look I’m no victim okay. I played along, I knocked the book off the shelf, I…I distracted him. First thing I had to do was cover those eyes if I didn’t want to be a gargoyle. Tie him. Take the book and bounce. He…he said nobody wanted him, that I was special. And his first…friend. And, I don’t have a lot of those left from my past. Everyone from my past hated me, except for him. So I just. Sighed, gave in. Gave him what he wanted. It was supposed to be a one time thing.

Interviewer: Your impulsiveness and disregard for your own safety are astounding. But also, you simply can’t ignore the power dynamic here.

You were trapped in a room, with a dangerous powerful man that escorted you there, guards patrolling who would gladly kill you, purely for being an imp. You had no doubt committed a crime. But he used his power over you to control the entire situation, the setting, it’s purpose, the direction of the conversation. He led you to that room with intent. Had he not understood this, he would not have said “follow me, imp” and he would not have prevented you from speaking before he urged you to that bedroom.

Even still, just like as a child, the purpose of that theft was money for your family, either directly or by securing you high paying employment. This is just not a simple “cruel imp” and “innocent prince” situation as famous pop star Verosika Mayday portrayed it in her latest concert spotlighting the prince himself. The main reason this story became news to begin with.

Blitzø: Biggest mistake of my life. When I said “sorry I (__) your husband.” I meant it.

Interviewer: You apologised to the wife. When even the Prince himself has yet to do so. He claims he did nothing wrong to her. I must say that’s amusing.

Blitzø: Yeah, he neverrr does anything wrong. To anybody. And never apologises. It’s always “I’m sorry if—” or even “I’d be sorry if that was what happened” then find some rationale or self pitying way of explaining it on his terms.

Interviewer: But that’s not just the beginning of this story. After this event, a leaked phone call to the press revealed Stolas was well aware of the theft, had allowed you to keep the book, while in knowledge of its illegality, and proposed regular provisions of sex in order for you to keep it. That is blatant misuse of power, and sexual abuse. For this, he is standing trial. His defense being that a ravenous imp had overpowered him, stole from him, and played with his broken heart, then attacked him violently, for asking for it back.

Truly a bizarre narrative not backed up by any witnesses or testimony. Not even his daughter believes this, stating she witnessed his very forceful sexual harassment of said imp at the public park, LooLoo Land. While employed as his security, despite the legions of trained soldiers he commands. This is backed up by multiple of the parks employees. And by attendees of the Harvest Moon Festival, a different event in which the prince referred to him as his darling.

[arshifiesta]

Welcome to Arshi Fiesta!

Phati-sari's aur Sanka Devis, hum tumka forgetyay naahi gaye hain! Hum toh ee lobhbirds ko surprisewa deve ke khatir tumka bulawat hai! Samjheev? Ab ee ka baat padho, e khoon bhari taang kaa introductionwa likh ke gayi hai dekho to jara👀

Theme Introduction: Colours of Love!

If you didn't know already, "Satrangi Re" is a song from the movie Dil Se which is based on the concept of seven stages of love depicted in Arabic Literature. Each stage is denoted by a color so let's look at Arshi's story through these colours!

1. Black for Attraction (hub)

The song starts with a hauntingly energetic tune (spooky!) and we weave through a maze of passages till we finally meet our protagonists. Quite like how Arshi started out as strangers who didn't look like a compatible match initially until all the pieces of puzzles fell into its place.

The beautiful lyrics captures the essence of their dhak-dhaks, their initial attraction that exists from their very first meet. They've hated each other, loved each other but have never ever stopped being attracted to one another. As if a magical magnetic force has kept bringing them together over and over again (guess who? Devi Maiyya of course!) 🖤

2. Violet for Infatuation (uns)

Uff, Infatuation inke jaisa toh aur kisi couple me nahi hai, right? The subtle yet lingering touches, intense gaze, impulsive kiss games and everything about their chemistry is absolutely electrifying! No one does infatuation like them 💜

3. Blue for Love (ishq)

Love love love. Love took so long to blossom between them, like a long drawn out fire. Was it blazing or were there only a few embers alight? One could barely tell. Love started from care first. But they could only care once they hurt each other, right? Oh and hurt they did, they hurt each other really bad. But, isn't it only the people you care about who could hurt you? 💙

4. Green for Trust (akidat)

Trust is tricky. Trust takes longer than love. Because you can only trust someone blindly when you love them. From the chain of broken pearls to the soft and patient unwinding of fairy lights... somewhere between that Arshi started trusting each other. And it strengthened when Arnav stepped up to dance with Khushi, strengthened again when despite all evidence against Khushi and Shyam, Arnav decided to confess his love to her... as if it was the last thing he had left to do. And later when he came to know about Garima's past, he trusted Khushi again. Because things aren't always as black and white as they look. Sometimes they're green 😉💚

5. Yellow for Worship (ibaadat)

What is love or partnership without worship? From strangers to enemies to lovers, at each stage Arnav has worshipped Khushi. Taken care of her in ways that she needed, in ways that people around her couldn't. Tangled feelings and arms entwined in one another's. A shower of gifts, a series of intoxicated confessions. Arnav may be an atheist but if he has worshipped someone apart from his family, that's Khushi. Khushi is as good as any religion to him.

6. Red for Madness (junoon)

The first thing when you think of Red is probably danger or hell-fire. And that's right too because the fierce fire they have isn't like any other. It burns and scathes. It leaves scars. It is a mad love. They hurt and insult each other, they shout at each other. Their egos are too big for one another. And when they're done hurting, they love each other just as fiercely too. ❤️

As Aakash ji has nicely put it, "Khushi ji thodi pagal hai na?". Arey Aakash ji, aapke bhai bhi thodi kam pagal hai? (Don't tell him I said that 🫢)

7. White for Death (maut)

Death is not always about dying. Well sometimes it is... like the time when Khushi nearly dies at the cliff and Arnav fin-fucking-ally kisses her but only for CPR 😒. Or when they both pretend to die on stage as star crossed lovers Heer & Ranjha.

But death is also about other things like the death of hierarchy between them when Khushi was no longer Arnav's employee. The end of anger between them during holi after days of fooling each other with farq nahi padta post contract marriage. The end of difficulties in their path (almost) when they were about to get married again, for reals. The death of distance between them, not just physically but emotionally too, when they spend the night at the hut after running away from the goons. Like they literally met at a grave (dargah) for their second encounter, no? 😌🤍

Accha toh tum padh li ho kaa? Haan, toh e par se tumka kachu toh banave ka pade, aage tumko khoon bhari taang hi samjhayegi okayyy?

Ab jao, thoda paani piyo aur humka bhi pila diyo haiin... Bahutay garmi hai aaj🔥 Hello hi bye bye!

Never mind sasuma, you guys! We're here to celebrate toh let's wish the couple first! A very very Happy 13th Anniversary to these two AND every single one of you who has loved them, adored and cherished them at some point!

Tagging the people who liked the introductory post in comments below because it wasn't clear if y'all wanted to be tagged or not oof! :((

Index to prompts here

In case you missed the first post!

P.S. Search #moodboard or #word prompt on this blog to easily find all the prompts :)

[lemoncrushh]

Seven Six Five - Part One

Summary: They met once seven years ago. Now music has made them cross paths again.

Warnings: smut, body image issues, angst. 18+ ONLY!

A/N: Enemies to Lovers. This was originally written and posted in 2020, right before the pandemic, so the story takes place then with flashbacks of 2013. Harry Styles x Plus Size OC, written in third person.

Part One Word Count: 3.9k+

STORY PAGE

20 February, 2020 - New York, NY, USA

Dancing freely in her bathroom while a classic Dusty Springfield vinyl played on the turntable in the other room, Bronwyn grabbed her toothbrush, momentarily pretending it was a microphone. Just as she spread a healthy strip of paste on the brush and she popped it into her mouth, she heard the all too familiar ringtone chime from her phone, drowned out by Dusty’s confession of only wanting to be with you.

Bronwyn danced over to her bed to see who was calling, grateful she was able to work from home and make her own schedule. Seeing a familiar number, she knew the caller would leave a message, or perhaps a text, so she resumed her morning routine and spit out her toothpaste.

It wasn’t until she’d slipped into a pair of leggings and one of her favorite oversized tees, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, the needle safely removed from the vinyl, that she decided to check her phone for messages. As suspected, the caller had left a voicemail.

“Bronwyn, darling, it’s Antonella. Forgive me for being a little last minute on this, but I have a prospective job for you,” sang the familiar voice, her Italian accent flourishing both of their names. “Actually, I think you’ll be perfect for it, so don’t say no. It’s in D.C., and it’s for NPR Music. I’ll email you the details. Ciao.”

Her jaw dropped, Bronwyn nearly jumped for joy. NPR Music. That had to be the Tiny Desk concert series. One of her favourite things to do on free nights, or when her mind just wasn’t on her work, was to check out the newest video on NPR’s website. She’d discovered so many new artists just from that series, and a couple of them she’d managed to photograph and review at later concerts. She was thrilled with the prospect of being able to see one of the Tiny Desk shows in person and wondered who the artist might be.

Tapping on the email icon on her phone, she eagerly waited for the newest emails to load, the top one being from Antonella. Hastily opening it, she beamed as she read the mundane details of the job, the address, the date and time...until she saw the name.

ARTIST: HARRY STYLES

Instantly frowning, she dropped her shoulders and released a sigh.

“Bloody hell,” she muttered to herself. “Anyone but him.”

Staring at the screen, her vision blurred until she blinked and shook her head.

“No,” she said aloud. “No, I can’t do it.”

Quickly finding Antonella’s number, Bronwyn tapped the phone to ring her, biting her lip as the call went straight to voicemail.

“‘Ello, Antonella, it’s Bronwyn. Listen, I got your message and your email. Unfortunately...I don’t think I’ll be able to take this job. It’s just...not for me. Conflict of interest or what have you. Hopefully you’ll be able to find someone else in a pinch. Sorry, love.”

Disconnecting the call, Bronwyn fell back on her bed, her head hitting the pile of pillows. Shutting her eyes tight, she willed her mind to push away the memory of him. Though it had been nearly seven years since that night, it sometimes felt like yesterday. She had tried her best to forget it had ever happened, that they had ever crossed paths. She supposed if it had been anyone else, she could have gotten over it like she had any other time she’d been disappointed or heart-broken, humiliated or angry. But because he was...him...he managed to pop up now and then, when she’d least expected it, and most unfortunately when she hadn’t wanted him to.

She had a great life now. London was not only across the ocean, but years behind her. She’d struggled a bit when she’d first moved to New York, but after getting her foot in the door and finally making a name for herself, she’d settled into a routine and lifestyle that she’d always dreamt of. Harry bloody Styles was most certainly not a part of it.

Rising from the bed, Bronwyn made her way to her tiny kitchen to pour herself a cup of tea. She’d just sat down at the small table in the corner, her cup in one hand, a steaming danish in the other when her phone chimed its agitating tune once again. Frowning when she saw Antonella’s name displayed on the screen, she let the danish fall onto her plate and wiped her hands on the napkin.

“This is Bronwyn,” she sang into the speaker, hoping she didn’t sound too fake.

“Darling, what do you mean you can’t take this job?” the Italian woman’s voice boomed. “I arranged this for you ‘specially! Everybody else is booked or out of town that day. I have no one else.”

“I’m sorry, Antonella, I just-”

“Conflict of interest, ppfff!” she interrupted. “I won’t hear of it. It’s a job, my love, not a blind date. You just take photographs and submit your review the way you’ve always done.”

Bronwyn sighed, feeling defeated. She knew Antonella was right...to a degree. And she wasn’t about to spill her guts about her history - or lack thereof - with a certain ex-boybander to her agent.

“I’m not going to beg, Bronwyn,” remarked Antonella. “It’s your career. But I try to get you jobs I think suit you and your personality. Jobs that you’d be proud to stamp your name on. I think you’d be perfect for this, but… I guess I can call Dennis.”

“Dennis listens to 90s college rock and complains about millennials and Starbucks.”

“He’s all I’ve got left.”

“Fine,” Bronwyn surrendered. “I’ll do it.”

“You’re an angel, doll, you know that?” cheered Antonella.

“Yeah, yeah. Just let me know when I’ve earned my wings.”

25 February, 2020 - Washington, D.C., USA

“Thank you,” Bronwyn smiled at the young woman with the bright pink lipstick - Katia, she thought her name was - when she handed her a small bottle of water.

“No problem! Let me know if I can get you anything else.” Katia bounced on her heels and returned her attention elsewhere before Bronwyn had the chance to make another request.

As the room began to fill with more people, she felt herself get a bit stuffy, so she removed her grey cardigan, shoving it into one of her bags before checking her camera one last time.

“Oh cool, I get to stand by the photographer!” she heard someone exclaim, and she looked up to see a thin, toothy girl with ombre hair.

Bronwyn copied her grin, flipping her curls off her shoulders just as Katia returned with an announcement, explaining what was about to happen. The girl next to her squeezed her friend’s hand and squealed when Katia mentioned Harry’s name. Trying her best not to gag or roll her eyes, Bronwyn stood straight, clearing her throat and lifting her camera to prepare for the singer’s arrival.

It’s just a job, she told herself, remembering Antonella’s words. I can do this.

Three seconds later, Katia was gone and a huge raucous sounded down the hall. Almost immediately, a tall, thin man with his hair pulled back came into view, followed by an equally slender woman in a red t-shirt. Bronwyn watched as they headed for the L shaped desk, the man picking up a guitar that sat behind it, the woman taking a seat behind the drums that were set up in the corner. Soon, two more women followed - one grabbing an acoustic guitar, the other taking her place in front of the keyboard - and another tall man who slung a bass guitar over his shoulder. Taking several quick shots of the band members, Bronwyn almost missed his entrance until he was literally stood in front of her. Through the lense of her camera, she saw him wave at the small crowd before walking around the desk to a stool that awaited him. It was only then that she noticed his ridiculous blue jumper, a hatched chicken adorning the front of it with the french words Mon Petit.

Bronwyn felt herself snort before she could stop it. “Oh my God, you’ve got to be joking!”

But when she turned her head in search of someone in agreement, she was only met with ombre girl whose grin was toothier than ever.

“He looks amazing!” she cried, her hand clenched to her chest.

“Right, then,” Bronwyn nodded, resuming her task at hand.

Taking a few more photos, she watched as Harry and the band got situated, and he began an introduction to the first song, a tune called “Cherry” which Bronwyn found to be a surprising choice.

She’d spent most of the weekend listening to Harry’s new album, Fine Line. While she’d struggled to even get started, putting it off until well after midnight on Saturday morning during the middle of a bottle of wine, she’d decided she needed to familiarise herself with at least some of his music if she was going to write any sort of review. Having given the album one listen through, she admitted to herself that it was pretty good. By four in the morning and a few more listens, she’d admitted it was pretty fucking brilliant.

But she still hated him.

Personal feelings aside, Bronwyn had packed up her camera and drove to D.C. that morning. Even she knew that when it came to the entertainment industry, you couldn’t take things personally. She had to try her best to separate her disdain for Harry Styles from the music he made.

Throughout Harry’s short set, Bronwyn continued to snap photos, glad to focus on the other band members whenever she felt a little flutter in her chest or pang in her heart. She especially felt one when Harry would speak between the songs, because hearing him talk only reminded her of that night seven years ago. She detected a slightly deeper timbre to his voice, but it was his voice just the same. And it made her cringe. Not because she didn’t like it...but because she did.

Please stop fucking talking, she thought. Why d’you gotta be so bloody charming? Just shut up already.

By the last song, Harry made a joke which sent the room into a roar of laughter. Bronwyn groaned, hoping this whole entire soiree would be over soon and she could go home. Just when she was about to lift her camera once again, however, the horrible inevitable happened. Before she could even blink, their eyes locked. Frozen in her spot, she willed herself to look down at her camera and bring it back up to do her job. She rolled her eyes at herself this time after she cleared her throat, as if that was going to do anything for the color that she felt rising up her neck and to her cheeks. And as though that wasn’t horrifying enough, when she went to snap the photo, she caught the dimpled grin on his face. He was fucking smiling at her.

What an arsehole!

As her stomach twisted into the tightest of knots, and she felt the sudden instinct to take a seat before she collapsed in front of a room full of strangers, she heard another squeal next to her.

“Omigod, did you see that? Was he smiling at us?” exclaimed ombre girl to her friend.

Yes, thought Bronwyn. Yes, please be smiling at them!

“Ughhhh he’s soooo hotttt!” screeched ombre’s friend as she leant into her mate’s shoulder, as though she was the one about to faint.

Yes, it was for fans, Bronwyn told herself. He didn’t recognise me. It was for them.

Much to her relief, the song finished and Harry’s set was over. He rose from his little stool and waved to everyone with a big thank you. Bronwyn watched as the band filed out of the room, and within minutes, Katia made her reappearance.

“Thank you so much for being here,” she cheered, clapping her hands together. “I hope you had a good time. Now if you’ll kindly start exiting slowly to the left. Be sure you’ve taken all of your belongings.”

Bronwyn listened to the chatter from the audience as they began to leave. Preparing her camera bag, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Are your photos gonna be online?” asked ombre girl.

Bronwyn couldn’t help but smile. “Yes. Should be sometime tomorrow morning.”

“Awesome! I follow all social media having to do with Harry, so I’m sure I’ll see them!”

“Alright then,” said Bronwyn, slipping her arms back into her grey cardigan. “Take care.”

It felt like an eternity when Bronwyn finally had her things together and packed up properly. Turning for the exit, she nearly bumped into Katia whose pink lips were stretched into a wide smile.

“Thank you so much for everything!” she said. “My boss told me it was a last minute thing to get you here, and we appreciate it!”

“Oh, no worries,” Bronwyn gave a tight smile. “Please let me know if you ever need me for another show. This was...fun.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Katia agreed gleefully, missing Bronwyn’s hesitation. “Harry’s such a doll. We’ve wanted him here for ages!”

Bronwyn nodded, side-swiping the comment about Harry. “I just really love this concept. I’ve watched every video on your website.”

Katia tilted her head to the side. “Aw, well that’s good to hear. We’re so glad there’s an audience for us.”

Bronwyn continued to give her best fake smile as she slung her bag onto her shoulder.

“Well, I should be going. Thanks again.”

“Oh yes, thank you! Be sure to give your badge to Laura on your way out.”

With another nod, Bronwyn finally made her way to the lift, already taking mental notes of what she planned to say in the article. If not for being focused on that, she might have seen him when the lift doors opened. Instead, she walked straight toward the desk where she’d remembered picking up her badge. The brunette that she recognised from that morning gave her a smile and a thank you as she accepted the lanyard before quickly shifting her eyes to the left. Following the young woman’s gaze, Bronwyn nearly gasped when she saw Harry and another man walking in her direction. Hesitating for only a moment, she swiftly turned for the doors, hoping he didn’t see her.

“Oh, Miss!” cried Laura. “You forgot to sign out!”

“Shit!” Bronwyn cursed under her breath.

Quickly, she took a few steps back and grabbed a pen from the little plastic holder on the desk. She’d just finished signing her name on the line and dropped the pen in the cubby when she heard her name again.

“Bronwyn.”

Lifting her head, she was met with the hideous blue jumper and a lopsided grin.

“Harry.”

“I thought it was you,” he said, grinning wider. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yeah…” Bronwyn sighed, combing her fingers through her hair. Not long enough, she thought to herself. “Yeah, it has.”

“How’ve you been?”

“Oh you know...I’ve been alright.”

“Still a music photographer, I see,” Harry commented, gesturing at her bag. “Do you work for NPR?”

“No, I’m freelance.” Bronwyn noticed her answers were short and sweet. She only hoped Harry noticed as well.

“Wonderful!” Harry praised. “So you live in the states now?”

Bronwyn nodded. “New York, actually.”

“Wow, good for you, Bronwyn.”

Looking away towards the front doors, she half rolled her eyes, tugging the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

“I’m surprised you remembered my name,” Bronwyn remarked.

She couldn’t help but catch the tiny smirk and the bashful look on his face.

“Yeah, well...I don’t usually make it a point to remember the names of women who turn me down, but...”

Bronwyn scoffed incredulously. “Turn you down?”

Was he making a joke? If so, Bronwyn found it to be in poor taste. So much so, that she tasted the bitterness on her tongue. Oblivious however, Harry shrugged, his smirk spreading, which only fueled the resentment that Bronwyn was holding in. She thought it was very smug.

“I reckon you made an impression on me,” remarked Harry. Then he leant forward, his hand on his chest. “Even though you broke my heart.”

Bronwyn narrowed her eyes, shocked at his nerve. “You’re unbelievable.”

Staring at him, Bronwyn could tell he hadn’t realised she was serious at first, and that she was not describing him in a positive light. Ever so slightly, Harry’s grin began to falter, as though Bronwyn herself had stuck a pin in his dimple, and all the air oozed out, causing him to frown. Just as his mouth opened to speak, however, the man she’d seen him walking with earlier interrupted their conversation with a hand on his arm.

“H, we need you over here a minute,” he said, barely acknowledging Bronwyn.

“Sorry,” Harry apologised, looking her in the eye. “I’ll be right back.”

Bronwyn watched as Harry and the other bloke turned their backs, their voices hushed. Dropping her shoulders in a sigh, she took it as a free out and headed for the doors once again. A stealthy exit, however, was not to be. As soon as her hand reached the push bar, she heard him calling for her.

“Where are you going?” he asked, catching up with her.

“Have to get home,” she replied curtly with a raised brow. “Write this review.”

“You’re not staying in D.C.?”

“‘Fraid not.”

“Oh.”

For a moment, Bronwyn could detect the disappointment in his tone and on his face. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

“I was hoping we could go for… drinks or coffee… y’know, catch up.”

Gripping the strap of her bag so tightly, she was certain it was cutting off the circulation in her fingers, she shook her head, determined not to let her guard down.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Harry.”

A sound came from behind him, and they both looked to see a small group of people gesturing for him, his band included.

“We’re ready for you, H,” one of them called.

Harry slowly turned his head back to Bronwyn, a defeated expression on his face. Bronwyn pursed her lips, nodding toward the group.

“Looks like you have plenty to do anyway,” she said.

Without another word, she pushed the door open with her elbow, backing out of the building. Before turning down the sidewalk, she let the door close, leaving Harry Styles staring at her in bewilderment.

20 August, 2013 - London, England, UK

Bronwyn was grateful to finally be rid of her camera for the evening. Having found a place to lock it away, she headed for the large room where the after party was being held. She’d barely crossed the threshold before a waiter greeted her with a tray of champagne glasses. Graciously accepting one, she took a large sip. As soon as the liquor coated her throat, she threw her head back with a sigh.

This wasn’t the first job she’d taken for a red carpet event. But it was definitely the loudest. A veteran of not only the boy band phenomena, but that of rock and pop bands in general, she was certainly not new to the extremities of fandom. But Jesus Christ… as much as she loathed the comparison, she couldn’t help but imagine this was similar to what Beatlemania had been.

Admittedly, she didn’t know that much about One Direction. She’d heard a few songs, and she considered them decent, catchy at best. She’d learnt a bit more about them tonight from watching their film, and she could safely say they were quite alright. They were young, silly boys with loads of fans...half of whom must have been at the premiere if the ringing in her ears was any indication.

Bronwyn perused the room for a bit, recognising several faces from the red carpet earlier. Feeling her stomach rumble, she made her way around the perimeter toward the large buffet. She hadn’t quite reached it, however, when another waiter came by with more champagne. With a smile, Bronwyn handed him her now empty glass and accepted a new one. She’d just brought it to her lips when her gaze was met with another set of eyes and a smirk.

“Ah, so she does have a face. Thought maybe it was just a camera for a head.”

“Sorry?” she asked, slowly lowering her glass.

“You’re a photographer, right?”

Bronwyn smiled slyly. “Yes. Among other things.”

The smirk on his face slowly turned into a wide grin.

“I saw you out front,” he said, stepping closer. “At the red carpet.”

Bronwyn raised her brows in question. “How could you? There were loads of us.”

“Your outfit,” he said, pointing at her dress and boots. “I reckon you were the only one wearing anything close to that.”

Bronwyn looked down at the clothes she’d picked out for the night. She wore a vintage inspired floral dress that stopped mid-thigh and brown, knee-length, platform boots.

“Hmm, I suppose I am original,” she commented.

“I like original,” he said, lifting his own glass to his lips, one that certainly contained something other than champagne.

Bronwyn gave her own smirk then, feeling a blush on her cheeks just as a familiar song began to play, one of her favourites from the 70s.

“Finally, some good tunes!” she exclaimed at the ceiling before glancing back at the tall boy. “No offense.”

“None taken,” he said with a low chuckle.

Bronwyn could feel his eyes on her as she began to sing along and sway to the music.

“You like old stuff?” she heard him ask.

Twirling around to face him, she beamed. “I like anything that’s good.”

“Me too. What’s your name?”

“Bronwyn.”

“That’s pretty. ‘s that Welsh?”

Bronwyn stopped dancing, a tiny bit surprised he knew that. “Yeah. It is.”

“Do you speak Welsh?”

Bronwyn shook her head with a pout. “‘Fraid Not. Lived in London all my life. My dad’s mum is Welsh though, and she chose my name.”

“I see.”

“I came so close to being called Rhiannon,” Bronwyn continued, her hips threatening to sway as she held onto her champagne glass with both hands. “Can you imagine? I could’ve been a Stevie Nicks song!”

Throwing his head back, the tall boy let out a loud chuckle. The sound did something to Bronwyn, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. She just knew she liked it.

“That would have been great, I’ll admit,” he expressed. “I love Stevie.”

“You do?”

At his nod, Bronwyn stared at him for a moment, a smile slowly spreading across her face as she took him in. She remembered taking his photo several times, as well as the other band members, and she definitely had to admit he looked very dashing.

“Which one are you again?” she inquired, her long curls falling over her shoulder as she tilted her head. “I mean, I did watch the movie, I just get mixed up sometimes.”

“I’m Harry.”

“Oh yes, Harry Styles,” Bronwyn confirmed, pointing her finger before placing the tip on her lips. “The youngest lad of the group. The one who worked in a bakery.”

Harry giggled again, making Bronwyn aware of the flutter in her chest.

“That would be me,” he said.

Bronwyn stepped even closer, erasing the majority of space between them. “The cute one.”

Harry raised his brows as Bronwyn smiled up at him.

“And the one with good music taste,” she added.

Harry’s dimples dipped deeper in his cheeks as he grinned wider. Pleased with the encounter so far, Bronwyn extended her hand for a shake.

“Nice to meet you, Harry.”

Hope you enjoyed so far! Please like, comment, reblog or send me a msg!

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[jaysfavoritee]

ptolemaea | p.sh

pairing. ❥ vampire!park sunghoon x fem!reader

genre. ❥ angst, thriller, psychological

cautions. ❥ death, depictions of blood & gore, profanity

wc. ❥ 2.1k

synopsis. ❥ Park Sunghoon would do anything to protect you, no matter the price.

note! story inspired by Ethel Cain’s Ptolemaea ! thank you for reading, hope you enjoy 🤗

You stood in the room where the deep sunset appears through the singular window. The golden rays hit the quietest corners, providing solace in everything it touches. The sun does not comfort you, though. No. It cannot.

You poor thing.

You blink back the impending sting of hot tears from forming. You wish to not cry. You never cried. You shall not cry now.

“Come in here, I know you're there,” you whisper meekly, letting the vines and thorns planted inside of your throat rattle with each vibration of your vocal box.

No response.

You breathe in. You breathe out. “Sunghoon.”

The doorknob twists and slowly opens. It creaks loudly in this quiet space. Dust accumulating within the ridges and edges of the furniture floats about, the rays of the sun allowing you to see it.

A tall figure is seen, dressed in all black. His turtleneck, black. His slacks, black. His shoes, black. His neatly styled hair, also black.

He's utterly gorgeous. His pale skin complimented the silver necklace that adorned around his neck, the first letter of your name engraved on it.

He towers over you. He is not close yet not far away.

“My sweet angel. Why do you call out to me at this time?” His voice is as smooth as the sand that trickles down the hourglass that sits nicely on the table. You find that voice to be as comforting as the warmth of the sunlight that radiates on your skin. His presence alone causes goosebumps to become visible.

The rays kiss the side of his face, purely unaffecting him. He is perfect.

“You know why. I'd like to see him,” you state calmly, as calm as the waves of the sea that you could see from out the window.

Sunghoon's expression only contorts into confusion.

You blink once. You blink twice. “Jaeyun. You know this. I want to see Jaeyun.”

After a few seconds, the name registers. Sunghoon smiles and shakes his head. This action causes you to furrow your eyebrows. It's your turn to be confused.

“You promised me,” you mutter, letting the words become laced and tangled with offense. Your eyes moisten again with the tears threatening to fall.

“I devoted myself to you. I did that. I wanted you to let me see him again for the last time. That was the only thing I asked of you.”

Sunghoon walks against the old floorboard with hands clutched together behind his back, stopping right in front of you.

“I know. Is this what you want? Tell me.”

You nod. “Please.”

A pout tugs at his lips as he turns his head to look at the closet door behind him. “As you wish, my sweet angel,” he whispers before walking toward the door and opening it.

Out of everything you would expect, this was not one of them. The lifeless body of your dearest friend Jaeyun lies before you. His neck and the half of his face were mutilated with teeth marks. The rotting smell and the sound of flies buzzing around his body present itself.

He was bloody. So bloody. Clothes drenched in the colors brown, black, and dark red. You could see the insides of the flesh that had been played around with, making your body automatically gag.

You begin to blink rapidly. You slap your cheek in hopes for you to realize that you were hallucinating the entire image.

“You are not seeing things, my love. This is real,” Sunghoon tells you softly.

The sunlight that shone inside this room took away the familiar warmth and replaced it with an unrecognizable coldness instead.

Once your heart was able to process what you were seeing, you fell to your knees. The wooden ground poked harshly at the skin, but that pain did not suffice to the pain that spread throughout your entire body and soul like a raging forest fire.

The tears that struggled to escape, at last, released. Your eyes blurred 'til you no longer could make out anything. Everything felt hot and cold at the same time.

The fire deep inside of you climbed its way up your chest, to your throat, and finally, it came out as a blood-curdling scream.

Sunghoon flinched at the sudden change of atmosphere. You screamed as much as your body would allow, and you started to crawl on the floor, not caring to pick up your knees and letting it drag against the wood, causing the skin to peel and blood to trickle. It stings.

Everywhere it stings.

You cry out. Your broken sobs echo in this tiny room. The waves outside become dangerous, as if they could feel the grief that swallows you whole.

You see red. You see white. You see colors swirling in your vision as your heart breaks. You swear you can hear it.

You bring out a shaky hand and you place it on the side of Jaeyun's face that was not tampered with. One eye open, the other gone. Nothing emanates from his pupil. No soul. Nothing to be seen.

The same as looking into Sunghoon's.

Sunghoon lets you cry out for minutes, or hours, he isn't sure. Time does not exist for you right now.

You cough nonstop.

Sunghoon kneels in front of you. He tilts your chin up with his slim fingers. “You poor thing, my sweetest angel. Why must you cry?”

You angrily shove his hand away from you. He tilts his head in confusion, genuine hurt flashes through his eyes.

“You. You.”

Breathe in.

“What have you done?” You whisper hoarsely while glancing down at Jaeyun. “Why?”

“I kept your promise. Didn't I?”

You stand up immediately, though your balance nearly gives out from the wobbliness of your legs. “You didn't keep my promise...”

“But, darling, I have. He's right th-”

“He's dead. Look at him,” you mutter through clenched teeth.

Quietness fills the air once more. Your head begins to throb.

Breathe out.

“You wanted to see him for one last time, my love. Have I been mistaken?” Sunghoon asks, his face etched with worry.

“I wanted him to be...” you say quietly.

Sunghoon stares right at you.

“ALIVE!” You shriek. The glass cups that sit on the shelves rattle. Your throat is on fire.

Sunghoon swallows.

“I wanted him to be alive. You tricked me. You fooled me,” you cry, your shoulders slumping. You back yourself against the wall and slid down from exhaustion.

Sunghoon shakes his head profusely as he makes his way over to you. “No, no, no. My angel, I would never lie to you. I've devoted myself to you,” he says sincerely and looks into your bloodshot eyes.

“..I would do anything for you. I would die for you.”

“You knew damn fucking well what I meant when I said I wanted to see him one last time. I didn't want him to DIE!” You yell the last word at his face, making him flinch.

“My angel, you see, it had to be done. I've already told him your farewells before he took his last breath. I wouldn't say he deserved your kindness, though.” His eyes darken.

You feel like crying again and you shake your head resting on the wall. “What does that even mean, Sunghoon? What have I done to deserve this?”

Sunghoon gently wipes the tears that stained your cheeks. “My love,” he says as he stands up, holding his hand out for you to grab. You hesitantly take it and he helps you stand up, balancing yourself.

He looks down at you with something in his eyes that you cannot figure out, but you chalk it up to be something akin to adoration.

“I have told you this since the beginning,” he starts with a low rumble of his voice. “Once they see me in my full glory, I can never let them see daylight again. That's how it works.”

You bite your lip in an attempt to stop yourself from yelling at him.

“Jaeyun is not the man you think he is, my angel. I wouldn't have done what I did if I didn't think he deserved it.”

You stare into his eyes and for the umpteenth time, you shake your head. “What are you saying?” You ask, voice strained. Hurt. Broken beyond recognition.

Sunghoon holds your hands into his and he glances down at Jaeyun's body. He lets go for a moment before he reaches down to Jaeyun’s side, taking out a tiny journal from his back pocket.

Sunghoon stares at it before handing it to you. In pure confusion and your head still throbbing, you grab the book from him and open it to see Jaeyun's handwriting. All of the pages were filled to the brim.

As you take a closer look at the words, you realize that he was planning something. He was writing down the dates and jotted down a bunch of observations, along with his thoughts.

“Date. 03.25.12 - She tripped over a rock today. She laughed it off, but it was too tempting to pick it up and bash her head in with it.”

“Date. 05.01.14 - Every day the urge keeps getting worse. She disgusts me.”

“Date. 11.22.18 - I've practiced the way I'm going to kill her. I have it all set up.”

You look at the dates and the words in shock, your mouth opening while tears trickle down your face. “He-”

“My dearest. He was planning your murder,” Sunghoon interrupts, his hands finding their way behind his back. He stares at you flipping through the pages.

“No, this isn't right,” you blurt out, your fingertips losing their sense of touch. Everything is going numb.

Sunghoon lets out a long sigh and steps closer to you, embracing your figure and rubbing the small of your back soothingly. “I know. Throughout all those years of pretending, his main goal was to end you.”

You shudder and drop the journal, letting it hit the floor aggressively. You blink away the burning sensation in your eyes as you abruptly shove yourself away from Sunghoon's hold.

“How am I so sure that you were not the one to pull this shit out of your ass? How do I know you didn't do this on purpose?”

Sunghoon kneels down in front of you and places his hands on your waist. He looks up at you with love that you cannot ignore how hard you try.

“Have you ever seen a vampire blush?”

“What? No.”

“There's no blood circulating through my veins,” he continues. “I don't possess the ability to blush. However, my love, you have caused this. You make me alive.”

You sigh and he smiles. “You know what I am. You know my heart does not beat,” he says as he takes one of your hands and puts it right in front of where his heart should be. You feel the sensation of it beating. “This is possible because of the way you make me feel. I love you so tremendously, sweet angel. You are my light and my savior.”

“How do I know if you haven't said the same thing to thousands of women one hundred years ago before me?” Sunghoon can see the doubt written all over your facial features.

In response, he shakes his head. “If that were the case, that would mean I've ended them already. Your blood is the sweetest, and I have been tempted, though I have not acted upon those temptations. I would never lie to you.”

You know that to be true. He's always honest with you.

“I want to protect you the same way that you've given me life. You made me feel things I haven't felt in centuries, my angel. I would do anything you ask of me to. I would never let anyone or anything hurt you under my watch,” he says sternly.

He begins to stand up and he pulls you into another embrace. He protected you from what you didn't know. He saved you from what you couldn't possibly be aware of.

“I love you,” you breathe against the fabric of his turtleneck. “Thank you for protecting me.”

He smiles cheerfully that displays his sharp fangs. “I love you with everything in me. Everything that I do is to protect you, my dearest. Trust me.”

And shall you trust.

He beckons you forward to exit the room, and you wipe away the rest of your tears as he intertwines your fingers with his. Before he leaves, he takes one last look at the journal and Jaeyun's dead body.

The journal that he purely made up. The journal that he manipulated your sweet mind to hallucinate.

Jaeyun was straying too close to what was his.

The devil himself wouldn't let that happen. Not under his watch.

[seduceme-lovestruck-thearcana]

I’ve fallen back into seduce me and I know that almost nobody knows about me anymore in the seduce me fandom but I’m here for asks on headcannons or fic ideas and I’m begging for some bc I’m just…lost in the sauce right now.

[bubblepopsims]

(Is there nothing left to keep myself awake? To keep the walls from caving in?)

Ruby made her way back to her apartment. every step she took up the stairs to her apartment felt heavier and heavier clutching the bag that had now gained control over her life.. its decision would change everything around her.. standing at a crossroads.

(When all they ever do is try to bend and break? Is there forgiveness in the end?)

One after another she peed on the sticks drinking gallons of water to just get it "the fuck over with.." Ruby never was one for patience.. and having to wait on something like this was definitely not what she wanted to be waiting on.

(I need relief, a failure's coming on Just breathe in deep, it's taking far too long)

(I had you in my grip, but you're starting to slip Bring out the worst in me)

"Shit...shit...shit...shitt..."

(And now it's come to end, I think I'm giving in You set my demons free)

"Would he think i ruined his life? would he tell me to get an abortion? or ask me to keep it? oh my god.."

(It seems no matter where I look, it's always gone With you, I know I'll never win)

"Would he hate me for it...."

(And it's hard to say where it went so wrong And failed me in the end)

"Would he leave me for it?"

(I need relief, a failure's coming on Just breathe in deep, it's taking far too long)

(I need relief, this weakness carries on Please be a dream, or was it all along?)

(I had you in my grip, but you're starting to slip Bring out the worst in me)

(And now it's come to end, I think I'm giving in You set my demons free)

(It's better when you're with me, but that's better left unsaid It's better when I'm empty, but I still let you in)

(It's better when you're with me, but that's better left unsaid It's better when I'm empty, but I still let you in)

(I had you in my grip, but you're starting to slip Bring out the worst in me)

Previous - next

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: February 26

“Diamonds in the Mud” by Gerry Cinnamon

[pynkhues]

Sooo this is random, but I would love to hear your in-depth thoughts on ChrissyxEddie?!

This doesn't feel random at all to me specifically, anon, becaue I've actually been playing around with my Chrissy x Eddie fic I Might Be Great Tomorrow again recently, haha. The hold they still have on me!

I don't think I could actually articulate my thoughts on why they unhinge me better than I did at the time though, so I hope you don't mind links, but:

They're narrative foils and opposites attract!

They compliment each other in both being performers, but with different intents - Chrissy performs to hide, while Eddie performs to be heard! Obsessed with that!

They're a sandbox crush which doesn't get left behind with childhood as they get older!

They just offer so much narrative potential!

Plus Joseph and Grace both just had real chemistry, and there is a genuine drought of that in current TV.

[h3rmitsunited]

thinking about how we can hold on to little offhand moments of human connection that don't mean much, shared instances with someone we don't know and we don't ever get to know, ships passing in the night, and how that can feel so special

and then thinking about how one of those moments for me was shared with a performer dressed as a murder clown at the halloween nights at knotts berry farm

built up this fond little memory and it's some fucker that looks like this

[allfillernothriller]

Oh I missed them 😭