life's so fun !

heat wins. he says all the right words that causes them to detonate somewhere low in her spine. one heartbeat she’s frozen in indecision, the next she’s moving, satin dress whisper-tight around her thighs as she closes the inch of static between them. fingertips curl into his shirt, yank just hard enough to jolt a breath from his lungs; then her mouth crashes into his. tequila, regret, relief, all colliding in the dark sugar taste of him. teeth catch on his bottom lip; her exhale shudders into the space they’re trying to occupy together. something hot leaks from the corner of her eye—gravity drags the tear along her cheekbone and she doesn’t wipe it away; lets him feel the slip of it against his skin, proof of everything words keep failing to hold. when she finally, barely — pulls back, lips swollen, breath a prayer, voice husk against his mouth. "you haven't lost me." she whispers, the word trembling on another suspended tear, forehead resting against his. this was the all or nothing moments, her mother always told her about. "there's only you for me."

SHE CRASHES INTO HIM and in the heated desperation of being close and yet not close enough jonas feels like he can finally breathe again. it's supposed to be this way — he's supposed to feel this burning and he only ever can when it's her. a relieved chuckle escapes his lips when her words begin to sink in and center him, hands resting on her waist where they've so often found refuge before. the world could crumble around them and it would change nothing. he would still only have eyes for her. « god, i love you, » he breathes against her lips, a promise he intends to keep for life. « i'll prove it. every day, if you'll let me. » and there's urgency to insist they leave this place, that they go home to someplace that can house them both for as long as they live, but jonas has followed this recipe before and never made it to the finish line. this time he will go slow. « i'll be better. i'll be good. »

people have stopped asking . enough people around him have either come to know him as the thirsty man he is , or has been aorund long enough to know the story . there's less concern when he finds solace at the bottle of a pint glass or serenity in a shot . so her question takes him off guard a little bit , and he blinks a few times at her . " nothin' today . maybe i'm just a thirtsty guy , lor . you know , camel of the house . " his shoulders lift with a shrug , it's barely a bandaid of an answer .

SHE'S SPENT MORE YEARS out of this town than in it. there are times she regrets leaving, and there are times she regrets ever coming back. this feels like a bit of both. a small town talks, but loretta rarely listens. a byrne knows better than to tune in to the rumor mill. « you must think i was born yesterday, » she hums, sliding him a glass of water for good measure. he can hold his liquor — doesn't mean it's good for him. « why don't you humor me for a sec, stranger ? a burden shared and all that. »

it's head versus heart every time . even before the eternity marius had given him , kieran led with his heart . it had pulled him away from his family , his siblings , and pulled him direction into marius' arms time and time again . his head and every red flag he can only stare at every time he passes them , never stand a chance . the memory of the hurt he's left with in the wake of each time marius leaves him , the loneliness that settles and rots his insides in the other's absense , it's all moot whenever marius calls him home . he can pretend and front that he's putting his foot down , but with marius whispering to him and holding him again , he's crumbling already . eyes flutter shut and he's so damn close , kieran's entirey body pulls into marius . he knows it's a lie , he can feel the sharp and jagged edges of his words that only show themselves when marius is untruthful , but he can't find it in himself to care . to break apart this moment . he melts into him , his arms wrapping around marius . " please don't break my heart again . " it's not meant to be said aloud , he doesn't want to beg this man for anything again . lips find marius' and it's like coming home .

HUMANITY HAD BEEN SCARCE in him long before he turned into what he is now. marius has always been different, has always held emotions at an arm's length and used connections as nooses meant to control rather than bonds to be maintained. and still, in his own wicked way, he cares for kieran in a way that up until him has been unimaginable. he'd been ready to roam the earth alone for centuries until realizing he doesn't need to — he can be adored so fully for all of his existence that half of it would be enough. in a way, marius is also wearing a noose. kieran is just much too kind to kick the stool from underneath him. « i won't, » he insists, a grin working its way to his lips at the knowledge that he's won, again. « and you won't break mine, right ? it does belong to you, you know. don't forget it. it's always you. » until it isn't. but right now, lips finding each other like a homecoming, marius can't imagine being anywhere else.

We don't need poetry, we just need to keep our story straight.

she had been listening. not necessarily to the words. those were easy enough to follow. it was everything else that caught her attention. the slight hesitation. the fidgeting. the way their attention seemed to drift for half a second before snapping back. little things she probably would've missed if she hadn't spent years sitting across from people and learning how to read what wasn't being said. brows pinched together slightly. studying them. and then — " oh. " the realization settled all at once. softening her features almost immediately. " oh, are you nervous ? " the question wasn't teasing or amused. if anything, it sounded a little surprised. like she'd just stumbled across something and couldn't help but let it fall off of her. " I've just never seen you like this before. " head tilted slightly to one side. hues remained fixed on them, trying to piece it together. a smile tugged gently at the corners of her mouth. " hey, it's okay. " the reassurance came before they even had the chance to argue. whether they admitted it or not wasn't really the important part. " regardless if you are or not — I know you're going to be amazing, okay ? " @silkchvffon ✦

SHE'S ALWAYS FRIGHTENED, which is why acting has also always come in handy for her. despite feigned confidence there is always that corner of her mind she can't break out of completely — always that tantalizing voice letting her know she's not good enough. she's twirling a strand of her hair obsessively around one finger as she speaks, words stumbling over each other as she draws up her plan for the audition tomorrow for the hundredth time, reciting the lines under her breath between every sentence. the fact that millie still puts up with her at all should earn them a medal. « nervous ? » she scoffs instantly, as if the mere idea of it is ridiculous when lucia's sweating just thinking about it. it feels like she has a real chance this time, and it's this high hope she's scared will come crashing and burning by the end of tomorrow. it helps knowing millie might be there to catch her though. a beat passes before lucia lets out a sigh and nods. « i'm shitting myself, » she admits, attempts a chuckle that dies out immediately. « this could be it, you know. i mean, it's coppola. i'm not getting a chance like this again. »

he'd imagined this moment a dozen different ways while while on the boat. none of them looked quite like this. arms crossed loosely over his chest as he studied the other for a moment. taking inventory. lingered there, searching for something he couldn't quite put a name to. maybe proof that they'd been miserable without him. maybe proof that they hadn't. he wasn't entirely sure which answer he even wanted. a faint smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. " so you're good then. " head nodded a few times, mostly to himself. as if he was trying to reassure himself before they could even answer. " yeah. okay. " the words came quieter. " good — good. " was that the only word he knew in this moment ? apparently. his gaze drifted away for a second, landing somewhere just over their shoulder before eventually finding its way back. two months. eight weeks. it didn’t normally feel as long as this stint did, his thoughts didn’t normally fixate toward people like this either. and now here they were. standing right in front of him. a breath let out through his nose. " you're happy ? " a small smirk pulled briefly at his mouth before fading again. " I just — " words stalled for a moment. " wanted to make sure you're alright since I couldn’t really check in while I was on the boat and all, you know ? “ @silkchvffon ✦

SHE'S USED TO THE long stretches of time without him. what she's not used to is not waiting. they'd called it quits for a reason, hoping that the freedom would prove liberating for both of them, but lola still misses him immensely and now she can no longer even look forward to his return — he's not returning for her. she's attempted to convince herself he'd wash away with time, but she still imagines his scent on her pillow, his hand around hers. it's been months and every day still aches like it was yesterday. standing in front of him now feels so unfamiliar and yet so known she's tempted to reach a hand out for him, to calm the nerves she can see so plainly written on his face, but it's not her place to do anymore. instead she folds her arms over her chest, imagining a warmth that's no longer here. « i'm good. happy, » she confirms, though it sounds unconvincing even to her own ears. « well, you don't need to do that anymore, remember ? that was kinda the whole point. » she needs him not to worry, not to think of her — it's the only way to justify what they have become. « you look well. was it ... was it a good trip ? »

" yes, absolutely. I understand your concerns. " the brunette balanced the phone between her shoulder and ear, one hand gripping a rolling clothing rack as she hurried through the hallway. customer service voice remained perfectly intact. smooth. pleasant. practiced. " I'll see what I can do on my end and get back to you shortly. " a beat, disconnection. " shit. " the curse left under her breath as she lowered the phone. frustration flashing across her features for exactly two seconds before she was moving again. orbs swept the hallway. locked. " you. yes, yes, you. come here. " she didn't wait for confirmation. didn't wait for permission, either. one hand immediately latched onto their arm while the other kept hold of the clothing rack. " emergency, okay ? " already dragging them along. " I need you to try these on right now. " explanation rattled off as she maneuvered both them and the rack toward a vacant dressing room. a shoulder shoved the door open. " and let's manifest the hell out of this working because otherwise we're going to have to get especially creative here... how do you feel about light nudity in like an artistic, we don't have another option kind of way ? " a pause as she thrusted some hangers in their direction. " okay, no never mind. don't need to answer that yet but maybe consider your thoughts as you change. "  @silkchvffon ✦

HE'S BEEN DOING HIS BEST to mirror his teammates and the way they move in the world outside of the court. embry still feels like the awkward kid in a one - bedroom apartment with limbs too long for him to work out how to use unless it was with a basketball in his hands — like someone somewhere made a mistake, put him in a jersey and on a payroll. he feels at home on court. it's off of it that has become a bigger issue than he'd anticipated. media training aside, embry has decided it's better he keeps his mouth shut as much as possible in order to not embarrass himself, but as he's shoved around by naina he attempts to put up a weak protest. would be a lot easier to do if he wasn't kind of scared of her though. « emergency ? » he echoes, hopelessly stumbling along, hand shooting out automatically to grab the hangers as they hit his chest. « what ? i'm not getting naked, miss varma, » he weakly intercepts, but he's nothing if not obedient, and it seems to be a matter of urgency. he gets into the dressing room and into the outfit she's presented him with, stepping out of the room awkwardly. « i'm missing a shirt. » not to mention the pants are too tight and he can't even buckle them. « kinda lukewarm about the nudity - idea now. »

brows pinched together in a reaction that vaguely resembled confusion. " what do you mean ? just quit. " the words flowed off him entirely genuine. not sarcastic. not teasing. genuine. because as far as he was concerned, the solution seemed painfully obvious. " you hate your boss anyways. " as if that settled that. like there wasn't possibly any other factor worth considering here. he shifted further back against the couch cushions, one leg tucked beneath himself as he continued studying the other. his band had exploded so fast that reality had stopped functioning properly months ago. tour buses. sold out shows. cities blurring together. enough money that he didn't really check his bank account anymore. so to him, at this point, the answer really was that simple. " if you're really that concerned about work — we can find you something on tour. " @silkchvffon ✦

INCREDULOUS GAZE IS RETURNED to arlo, one eyebrow raised. « quit and do what ? starve ? » atlas huffs, but it's hard to even feign annoyance when everything he feels around arlo these days is an immense sense of pride. he still remembers tagging along to band practices in a mouldy garage, handing out flyers to random people unfortunate enough to be in his vicinity whenever the band had scored a gig somewhere. it had felt fulfilling; like he was part of something bigger. it feels odd that this is all happening without him, even though it shouldn't — he's not part of the band, after all. instead he's stuck here, in this town, working its only clinic with coworkers all on the verge of becoming pensioners. he's not littered with other options though. his only talent is that pets seem to like him. « what on earth would i even do, arlo ? fetch items on your riders ? feed you grapes ? » there's a teasing lilt to his voice covering the bitterness that is surprising even to him. it's hard to leave, but much harder to be the one who stayed behind.

♡ greta onieogou via instagram ( vipersfilm )

1x06 | “The One With The Butt”

          his bored gaze scanned the entirety of the room. one rich asshole after another rubbing elbows and seeing who could win in their useless pissing contest. typical. nathan was only there to appease his mother’s incessant nagging for the past month and a half. had he been dodging her calls ? absolutely. here he was. standing in the one perfectly tailored tuxedo he uses for these kind of outings with his family. his fingers gingerly holding onto the glass tumbler while taking notice of who had just walked into the room — dj anderson. she’s a lovely girl, nathan. one that anyone would be lucky to have as a daughter - in - law. of course. and it just so happens that the path she is walking on is towards the same table his mother pointed out to him earlier. might as well get it over with, he thinks to himself.           “ anderson, ” he muses coolly, setting his tumbler on the table next to his name tag. “ and get arrested by your loving parents ? the same ones that would probably ask you what you did for me to do such a thing ? ” trust him to have already thought of asking her to do the same thing to him, she had just beat him to it. “ let me guess. they called you for forty days and forty nights to beg you to come to this. then didn’t tell you a damn thing about it but told you to dress to impress ? now they’re off doing god knows what ... but trust them to have someone in the crowd to get pictures of us tonight to frame our budding romance. how close am i ? ”

SHE WANTS NOTHING TO DO with this world anymore, but is unable to leave it behind if she wants to reap the benefits of being an anderson — and despite her own hypocrisy she knows leaving would only make her carry a different kind of guilt around. she flutters around in her confined space, the absurd rules her parents have drawn in exchange for some semblance of acceptance. and a golden cage is still a cage. she hums a reply to his greeting, eyes fixed straight ahead on some distant point rather than to her side where he towers next to her. even this proximity infuriates her, and the mere thought of their parents's insistent and seamlessly tireless attempts of building a bridge that will doubtlessly flood makes her want to both cry and laugh. « i don't know, i don't see any loving parents here, » she mutters, forcing her gaze to lift towards him. he knows her too well. yet another thing that gets under her skin, though indulging in a fist fight wouldn't be very lady - like. besides, he'd win. « close. i think it was closer to fifty days and i did not get to choose my own attire, » she sighs, tugging at the fabric of her dress again, a vintage piece her mother had sworn up and down would do wonders for her figure. dj hates that she wasn't wrong, but that doesn't mean she has to like it. « dad is probably doing his secretary in the kitchen. i wouldn't eat if i were you. » there's no need to sugarcoat this reality. glance moves down his frame, then up again so fast a blink would've made someone miss it. he cleans up well. even this angers her. « it's one night. we'll smile and wave at the cameras and then i go back to pretending you don't exist for another two months. works wonders. » until one day when it won't be enough anymore — they both know that.

          it was impossible. training the past few days where his arm felt like it’s being put through the ringer has been an absolute nightmare. even now, with rio doing his best to help with the dull ache in his shoulder. “ ease up on my arm, then, ” he breathes out, gritting his teeth once the pressure went further down his arm. now was definitely not the time for his heart to act like some trapped bird in a cage either. what a heady mixture. vincent looked anywhere but at his best friend, trying to breathe through all of this really. if he wasn’t careful, with just one wrong move ... no. he can’t think of how close their faces would be because that would make him go down a rabbit hole of how it’d feel to kiss him. “ tight still. it’s, uh, better. i just don’t know why it’s been acting up recently. i do all of the conditioning needed ... stretches, work outs, post game stuff with you and the staff. but ... i don’t know. be real with me, rio. should i be worried ? ”

HE CARES FOR ALL OF THEM, feels personally responsible for every ache on their bodies — which is absurd, but inevitable in this line of work. he still remembers the ache of his own accident like a fresh wound, how betrayed he felt by his own body when his doctor told him he'd never run properly again. he'd put that dream on the shelf in order to curate a new one, and he has it — has the sport in his peripheral vision at all times. has nathan. has vincent. « sorry, » he muses sheepishly, sending the other man an apologetic smile though one hand lingers on his shoulder, the warmth of the other's skin grounding. he's trying to remove his gaze from vincent's eyes, tries to look anywhere else, but it's futile. how can he ever look elsewhere when vincent's here ? « no, i don't think so. you do need rest though. doctor's orders. » he lets his hand glide down the other's arm absentmindedly. « i'm gonna send you some exercises you need to be doing with a teammate. or ... » he inhales sharply, « with me. we're gonna get that arm back in order, don't worry. we'll winter soldier it. you'll be invincible out there. »

          he’d forgotten that there were people surrounding them tonight. despite the bass moving through their bodies, loud chatter from those around them. it felt like they were in their own little world. with his hands on her body, his own body attempting to keep up with her. everything in him told him to keep her as close to him as possible. he’d forget where she began and he ended. apparently though, all good things come to an end. “ huh ? ” he replies, finally breaking out of whatever trace she put him under. “ so ? ” fuck. “ i mean, yeah, sorry. he’s at the tables now. ” if he were a better man, he’d walk away from all of this now. the look of disdain on scott’s face was enough for his ego to be fed. but her ? to have her in every moment like this ? it was worth it to sit here and endure it for a little longer. he thought that she felt the same. that they were moving away from this bit of theirs. “ but does it really matter ? that he’s not looking anymore ? ”

THERE'S A LINE DRAWN somewhere between them, but dean lost sight of it long ago and it's sending her into a spiral. this was supposed to be fun and easy — kit is nothing like the men she's used to and she'd told herself it was a good thing: that she would break out of old patterns, keep him at an arm's length. but he climbs every wall as she builds them, inching closer to some part of herself that no one gets to see anymore. soft, warm, vulnerable. « yes, kit. of course it fucking matters, » she hisses, but her hands are still in his hair, her lipstick still staining his lips. he looks beautiful like this and it makes her want to scream. « you promised. » promised that this — whatever this is — would never be more than a game. that there would be no feelings, no semblance of love. and now he's tiptoeing on the outline of her heart. « can we not have this conversation here ? »

          pick up dinner, get home, take a hot shower, eat, then sleep. five things to do. five things that stayed the same after a clean up job for her associates. that is, if fate could hold it together and follow along with what she wanted. tonight was anything but that. their order was all messed up on top of it being cold. one big ding to her night. it was curious though. the closer she got to her apartment, the stronger the smell of ... roast ? “ reyna ? ” breaking and entering ... with dinner ? there could be worse things that happen. surely, to any normal person, red flags and alarms would be raised. not mali though. she’s witnessed stranger things in her life. one thing she adds onto ignoring for tonight is the warmth she feels lingering in her stomach. “ i have an impeccable security system. all of which ... you’ve managed to get into. maybe you’re just that good. ” praise – something they hardly ever give out. she shrugs off her work top, placing it into the bin by the front door. “ so why are you here ? helping yourself to my apartment and my wine ? ”

SHAME IS SOMETHING LEARNED and reyna never did. her education took the shape of sharp objects against vulnerable spots on the human body, the art of seduction and touches that leave men heaving for more. men are simple though — hungry creatures who take what they are given out of habit, who flail when it's taken away from them. they are predictable, and reyna is bored. she has never once found mali boring though, and it's why she keeps coming back like a boomerang. she knows she may have crossed a line, that there's a chance mali will cuss her out and refuse her company, but no high reward without high risk. « about time you noticed, » she beams, handing them the glass. « i did bring the wine myself, mali. i'm not an animal, » she huffs, though history may suggest otherwise. « well, i just remembered on tuesday when i came by your office you mentioned today would be long for you. i figured maybe i could try to make it easier on you. » and for a woman as cunning and deceiving as reyna, it is mostly the truth — and if it guises as a date that is only a plus. « i hope you're hungry. i made extra so you'll have leftovers. »

          a hum passes through her lips as she accepts the glass of amber liquid. her hair in complete disarray, clothes practically hanging off of her shoulders from being thrown around the motel room. the names of each person in that room that wasn’t from their syndicate engraved into her memory. though, the thought of them only worsened the headache that was hammering into the base of her skull. “ doesn’t really feel like it though. you got blood all over you, and my body feels like it got thrown around in a dryer. ” the burn of the alcohol down her throat temporarily dulls the ache. she dragged her eyes slowly down his body, watching for any traces of blood blooming on his clothes. “ that blood is all them, right ? you’re not hiding a wound from me ? ”

ANGER ONLY EVER TAKES THE shape of a bomb ready to detonate when it comes to sawyer. he's always been like this — a clenched fist waiting for its next victim, a blade looking for skin to pierce. darya both calms his storms and inspires the worst of them. there's not enough blood in the world to ever set right all the ways life has done her dirty. he will never have enough power to ensure her safety completely. « i'm fine, » he confirms, rolling his head to release tension. adrenaline is wearing off and there’s a faint ache by his abdomen, the familiar sting of a shallow knife wound. nothing fatal or painful enough for him to care. « are you ? they didn’t touch you, did they ? » he takes a tentative step towards her, hand brushing away her hair to cup her behind her neck gently. if they've hurt her, he'll find a way to revive them only to kill them again.