✶

the second the notification from her twitch account came in, viewers began piling in. y/n had tweeted a few minutes ago, foreshadowing her upcoming stream with a quote-unquote “special guest”, and to find out that it was lara fucking raj of all people had the viewers rolling. 

y/n was in the middle of setting up the game as she waited for her friends to join the lobby when the chat started rolling in.

user 01 AM I SEEING THAT NAME RIGHT? 

user 02 now how did Y/N get lara raj on stream

user 03 this has to be clickbait

she read a couple out loud, placing a hand on her chest as she let out an over exaggerated offended gasp. “how did I get lara on stream? what is that supposed to mean?” she said with a slight scoff.

from her knowledge, she was alone in the discord call, her friends were still setting up their streams so she didn’t bother to mute her mic. that was, until she heard a certain person’s voice.

“yeah, what’s that supposed to mean?” lara said with that naturally sensual voice of hers.

chat irrupted— quite literally— the once chill, or what y/n deemed as chill, viewers were now feral. one might even mistake the chat as a zoo with how animalistic they were being.

user 04 HOLY SHIT SHE’S ACTUALLY HERE

user 05 and here yall were doubting my hg y/n

user 06 lara how much did she pay you

y/n read the last one out loud, letting out a quiet scoff as she did so. “I did not pay her to be here.” she said defensively yet playfully, making lara laugh.

“Yeah, guys. I came on my own accord.”

“She’s paying me in a different way later.” the indian added in a voice quieter than her usual. Her words were faint, though the mic managed to pick up what she said.

Yeah, that did it.

user 07 EXCUSE ME WHAT?

user 08 DID I HEAR THAT RIGHT??

user 09 oh yn i wasn’t aware of your game

user 10 YNRA ENDGAME IVE BEEN TELLING YOU GUYS THISSS

“whoops.” lara blurted out. through her webcam, the viewers could see y/n covering her face with her hands, the tips of her ears turning a shade of red. “oh my god.” 

“ew can you two stop being freaky for like two seconds,” said manon as she joined the call. the others soon followed, greeting y/n’s chat and each other as if it were a reunion of sorts and not them just getting together to play bloody among us.

it was y/n, lara, sophia, manon, daniela, megan, yoonchae, olivia, laroi, and conan. ten people in one stream. it was gonna take some sort of disney magic to keep y/n’s neighbors from slipping a note complaining.

“HI CHAT,” megan yelled into the mic, nearly making everyone who was present in the call go deaf.

laroi groaned, the sound making y/n’s head snap like she just caught something. “meg you’re gonna burst our eardrums one day.” he said.

“oh let her be,” lara spoke before giving a dismissive wave of her hand. “aren’t you streamers supposedto be loud?” manon cleared her throat, about to retort before y/n cut through. “we’re not all loud. you need to stop endorsing megan yelling, i might get evicted because of her.”

“mm.. deal with it, baby.” lara said absentmindedly as she fixed her hair. y/n glanced at her webcam, as an awkward smile playing at her lips. the one you’d put on when you weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or cry.

user 11 it’s giving good cop bad cop

user 12 girl it’s giving loser cop and mean prisoner

user 13 ok i know we (yes WE) all LOVE making fun of yn BUT AT LEAST SHE’S GETTING THAT LARA COOKIE

“getting that cookie— what the hell does that mean??” y/n read out loud, making daniela and megan snort out a laugh. “girl, benson boone labubu matcha crumbl cookie, whatever the hell that means.” manon added making y/n hold onto her head as if she was on the verge or losing her mind.

“START THE GAME” yoonchae yelled, snapping them all back into fruition. 

as the youngest ever so kindly asked, y/n started the match. “mute up people.” she said, rubbing her hands together like a devious cartoon villain planning something.

“it’s y/n.” lara managed to say before the call went mute, making y/n look at her camera then at her chat with an exaggerated offended look. “rude.” she murmured.

game one - crewmate

tasks include :

cafeteria = download data.

electrical = wires.

admin room = card swipe , upload data.

medbay = submit scan.

“easy enough..” muttered the streamer as she fixed her gaze on her monitor, adjusting her glasses as she went to the top corner of the cafeteria to download data. “‘why are you doing that one’ i wanna get through the long tasks first,” y/n explained as she read through chat.

user 14 fifty bits y/n isn’t making it through the first round

y/n scoffed as she finished her task though she kept her eyes on her chat for a moment longer than needed. “mods, ban ‘ada wongs strap’ from my live IMMEDIATELY.” she joked before gazing back at her screen.

“holy shit,” she muttered, placing a hand on her chest as she saw lara’s character standing almost on top of hers. “chat, why is she here. chat, why is she here.”

she moved her character side to side, a silent way of communication to which lara reciprocated. “okay, no, she’s definitely.. sus,” y/n murmured. despite that, she didn’t try to get away from the girl, even stopping at moments to make sure she was still behind her.

after about three minutes, the first body was found. poor daniela.

“where was it?” asked olivia once they all unmuted. yoonchae, who reported the body cleared her throat before answering. “it was in communications— can i just say, i saw y/n and lara heading around everywhere together, just wanted to point that out.” what did that have to do with the— okay whatever.

“y/n keeps following me.” lara said, making the streamer’s head snap towards the direction of her monitor. “don’t lie to the children??” “it’s not lies, sweetie. the public needs to know you’re obsessed with me.”

were they hard launching..? in an among us meeting?? whilst daniela was dead???

and they said romance was dead.

“80 SECONDS WHO THE HELL ARE WE VOTING” conan’s voice cut through, making megan perk up. “I SAW MANON COMING FROM THE LOWER RIGHT PART OF THE MAP” “OH YOU SICK LIAR.”

“I WAS WITH SOPHIA THE ENTIRE TIME.”

“LIAR LIAR PANTS ON FIRE I SAW HER IN CAMS AND YOU WERE NOT THERE AT ALL.”

“ENOUGH.” sophia said with a tone of finality. “clearly we don’t have any idea on who it is so just— skip vote for now.“ and they did, after a bit more bickering between megan and manon.

“i will be keeping an eye on you, peanutbutterlover93.” the chinese said menacingly before they all muted up once more. once ensured that she wasn’t heard by the others, y/n let out a snort of laughter, “they’re ridiculous.” she mumbled.

she found herself in medbay, and like fate planned, lara just so happened to be there as well. she moved her camera side to side once more, ushering the other to stay long enough to watch her scan.

“i’m in the clear now, and if she says i’m not then i give all of you permission to spam her instagram dms with pictures of her during her hey mamas era.” y/n said rather seriously, though the peek of her lips curving ever so slightly upward gave away the amusement.

lara and y/n were unfortunately separated as the streamer chose to camp at the cameras for the rest of the round. she was watching idly when she saw lara’s purple crewmate character murder laroi.

lara stayed in place for a couple seconds as if noticing the blinking of the camera before moving side to side and clicking on report. 

“where?” asked olivia. “weapons,” the indian answered coolly as y/n’s gaze flickered between her chat yelling at her to tell the others what she saw and the somewhat carnal urge to fumble every bag being handed to her.

“who was on cams, i saw it flickering the entire round.” “I was on cams.” y/n answered yoonchae’s question. “did you see who did it??” to which y/n only replied with a no.

“okay— i saw laroi going into weapons, and then i thought someone was entering the, uh, cams room so i exited, then i went back and next thing i knew laroi was dead and lara came from.. i think lower right? and reported.”

very lengthy, very stuttery, very much a big fat LIE. 

user 15 GIRL WHAT ARE YOU DOING

user 16 and you’d lie too for a baddie!

it was quiet for a long minute before sophia cleared her throat. “so, we skip?” followed by an array of yes’s. “y/n, stay with me next round.” lara said as the screen faded and they muted once more.

y/n glanced at her chat, wearing that smile that you would put on when you know you fucked up and others witnessed it. “why did i lie? chat— no, chat, listen, i’m gaining lara as like a pawn. i’m playing the long game.”

it sounded like bullshit, even to her, but hey, she’d rather have an ass excuse than admit to her viewers that she didn’t rat the model out because she was stupidly obsessed with her.

the next round started and like lara said, the two stayed together. y/n continued doing her tasks, glancing at her chat every now and then as they yelled at her to call a meeting and to vote the indian out now before they lose.

but she never did.

why?

because y/n wasn’t about to let her girlfriend get ejected from the ship—not that her chat knew that lara and her were actually in a relationship—they didn’t need to know that.

suddenly, an emergency meeting was called by olivia.

“what gives? i was just finishing my download task.” megan groaned like a kid being told to stop trying to light her stuffed animals on fire. “i saw lara vent in electrical—i think she was trying to kill me but she misclicked.”

“HA.” manon laughed. “SEE? TOLD YOU IT WASN’T ME.” megan yelled out a small whatever as they all questioned lara to which she denied, denied, and denied. shocker, i know.

“lara was with me.” y/n spoke up in defense of the girl. “we were in weapons and she was doing the task with me.” people could quiet literally hear the smirk on lara’s lips as she quickly jumped on the story. “yeah, i was with her the entire time.”

“A LIKELY STORY. I SAW YOU VENT.” olivia retaliated. “tell that to y/n, why would she be fighting for my innocence if i was imposter?” 

an array of groans followed after as y/n glanced at her chat.

user 17 SHE’S GONE WE LOST A SOLDIER TODAY

user 18 and if they vote out y/n instead..

user 19 the concept of lying in amongus to save ur girlfriend

“she’s not my girlfriend??” you replied to the last message you saw, not realizing you weren’t muted. “you’re unmuted, baby.” lara snickered. as conan jumped to olivia’s side. “this just shows that y/n would fight a stadium for you because she is HOPELESS.”

“not too much on me??”

“tell me i’m wrong.”

unfortunately they ended up voting lara with the group yelling at y/n for lying straight through her teeth as her purple character was ejected from the ship. “In my defense, i might be colorblind.” “you can see our names on top???”

they returned to the lobby shortly after to which y/n was subjected to the onslaught of teasing and playful jabs from almost every angle. “lesbians will  literally do anything but admit that they’re dating.” daniela said as manon followed up with a laugh. “deadass!”

“i was hexed, whoever that was last round was not me.” y/n defended weakly as she raised her hands in feign surrender. “or maybe you’re just smitten.” yoonchae nudged, making the streamer scoff.

“as if—” lara cut in with a small laugh. “you’re denying it?”

y/n shut up for a moment, unable to keep the smile on her lips from forming as she glanced at her chat then at her monitor. “no.” she said before quickly following it up with: “i’m pleading the fifth.”

user 20 ure not slick gang we see you smiling

user 21 y/n fake idgafer

the next round came with duo imposters this time, thanks to the suggestions of y/n’s chat and she got assigned crewmate again. damn not even her game liked her.

“okay, i’m not gonna look at chat because i feel like it’s unfair for everyone else.” she announced as soon as the game started.

she had a task in admin, card swipe. y/n entered the room, seeing daniela, sophia, and laroi there. “damn there’s a lot of people here.” she muttered as she swiped the card.

too fast. “damn.”

too slow. “damn?”

too fast again. “DAMN.”

task complete. finally?? y/n let out an exaggerated sigh as she checked her task bar once more. six more to go.

user 22 lara’s girlfriend btw

user 23 you suck balls at this twin💔

“i think after this we’ll hop on fortnite or like valorant—depends whether or not megan objects.” she said with a small snicker, knowing how the chinese got iffy with both games. something about how there were too many try hards on fortnite and how she bottom fragged on valo.

she went around the map, just walking around and occasionally doing her task when she finds conan’s character dead in the upper engine. obviously, she reported it.

the call unmuted. 

“where.” megan said, her mic suddenly sounding crisp. “jesus christ, meg—what’d you do to your mic?” daniela teased to which megan only replied with a ‘fuck off’, again, still sounding crispy.

“upper engine. where was everyone?” y/n inquired as she fixed her hoodie.

“me and manon were in nav,” sophia said, immediately giving both herself and manon a potential alibi. “putting yourselves at the other side of the map.. suspicious.” yoonchae muttered. “excuse me??” sophia replied, her voice exaggerated.

“i was in cams.” olivia explained which was likely since you did see the camera’s flicking. 

laroi was in electrical with daniela and lara, and yoonchae was in cafeteria.

all likely stories.

“y/n where were you before going to upper engine?” olivia said pointedly with suspicion. “i was walking around and doing tasks. i have one in the reactor so i went from the cafeteria—then i saw conan on upper engine.”

“you saw conan in upper engine alive?”

oh shit. wording.

“no, like i saw him dead.” daniela let out a small ‘uh-huh’ as if she’d decided who she found sus. “I’m serious! it’s not me.” the streamer defended herself, running a hand down her face as she did so.

manon spoke up: “so who are we voting?”

“y/n” “self report” “sorry, baby,” 

“GUYS WHAT THE HELL??” y/n shrieked mouth agape in disbelief as she looked at her chat as if to make sure they were seeing and hearing what she was. “the audacity??” she mouthed as her character was ejected from the ship.

“god forbid i report a dead body.” she exasperated, now playing as a mere ghost. 

she opened the chat where there was a red dot as she read conan’s messages during the meeting.

cslayer: “OH MY GOD”

cslayer: “IT WAS OLIVIA”

ynolife: “they’re so stupid💔”

cslayer: “pot calling kettle black”

“what the hell?” she said with a scoff as she read the last message out loud.

user 24 LMFAOO nobody want u frl😭😭

user 25 conan is cracking me up omfgg

“oh my god,” y/n muttered as she hovered over conan’s ghost messages, “chat, he’s in the afterlife beefing me for no reason.”

user 26 THIS IS WHY WE DONT LET Y/N REPORT ANYTHING

user 27 she could be in a murder documentary and still be like “it wasn’t me i just FOUND the body”

“first of all, accurate,” y/n said with a playful glare at her camera. “second of all, if this was a documentary i’d be the emotional support character, not the main suspect.”

her laughter bled into the next round’s loading screen. laroi’s voice crackled through the call. “nah, you’d be the one getting interviewed like, ‘i never thought they’d do it,’ while holding a Starbucks drink.”

“okay that’s fair,” y/n admitted, smiling. “i do give ‘uninvolved friend that gets blamed anyway’ energy.”

the group’s laughter faded as sophia pressed “play again.”

game three — imposters: lara + olivia

as soon as the screen flashed red, lara’s smirk practically radiated through her mic. y/n didn’t even need to look to feel it.

“alright chat, we’re locking in,” y/n said, squaring her shoulders. she was focused. composed. a true professional.

user 28 LARA IMPOSTER ALERT 🚨

user 29 nah y/n is not surviving this round

user 30 place your bets rn—she’s dying by her gf’s hand

“guys, stop betting on my death. that’s so—” she paused. “actually, fair.”

she was halfway through fixing wires when she caught sight of the familiar purple crewmate drifting into frame. lara. of course.

“no. no. i’m not doing this again,” y/n muttered, shuffling her character side to side. “chat, i’m avoiding her this time. boundaries.”

lara’s character moved closer, like gravity.

“STOP FOLLOWING ME,” y/n whisper-yelled, somewhere between panic and laughter.

the streamer darted into medbay, fake-scanning just to test if lara would leave. she didn’t. she stood there, calm, fake-tasking like a pro.

user 31 why is this giving taylor swift “he looks so pretty like a devil”

user 32 y/n boutta let her gf kill her and thank her

“ella purnell was right, you guys are unwell,” y/n murmured. “seek psychological help.”

three tasks later, the report button flashed. manon was dead.

“okay,” conan started, “where was it?”

“storage,” sophia said. “i saw manon going that way earlier.”

“y/n,” olivia asked, voice too smooth, “where were you?”

“medbay. with lara.”

the teasing was immediate.

“again?” daniela laughed. “girl, are you two attached by a usb cord?”

“no!” y/n blurted out, waving her hands. “i was doing my scan and she— she was also doing a task!”

“mhm.” sophia hummed. “that’s what we’re calling it now.”

“you’re all so dirty-minded.”

“we’re realists.”

“is that supposed to be any better??”

y/n’s chat spiraled.

user 33 NO BC THE CHEMISTRY IS CHEMISTRYING

user 34 ya’ll medbay scan is NOT a euphemism😭

user 35 y/n: “she was doing a task” yeah we KNOW

lara’s voice cut through the noise—steady, teasing, dangerous. “if it helps, y/n’s innocent.”

“why?” olivia pressed.

“because if i were impostor,” lara said, low and certain, “she’d already be dead.”

the silence that followed was visceral.

then megan: “oh she’s insane for that one.”

y/n stared into her camera, wide-eyed. “chat—she just threatened me romantically.”

user 36 she said that like a love confession

user 37 girl it’s giving mr. and mrs. smith

user 38 the sexual tension is not regulation approved

they skipped the vote, but the energy lingered. the group laughed nervously. y/n rubbed her temples, pretending to ignore how pink her ears had gone.

once the meeting ended, y/n stood at the entrance to electrical, mouse hovering. “every horror movie starts here,” she muttered. “please don’t kill me, please don’t—”

the door slid open. purple.

“NOPE.” she bolted, running her crewmate straight to cafeteria.

the round ended with the imposters winning and lara laughing. “why did you run?”

“why were you standing like a final boss in electrical??” “i was protecting you.” “from what?? the air vents?” “from myself.”

manon groaned. “you two need therapy.”

“couples therapy?” sophia chimed in.

“STOP.” y/n practically folded into her hoodie sleeves.

user 39 atp the real game is them gaslighting us into thinking they’re not dating

user 40 enemies to lovers speedrun

user 41 so.. lovers??

game four (proximity chat mod) — imposters: megan + laroi.

“okay, redemption arc time,” y/n announced dramatically.

“the only thing you’re redeeming is your failure rate,” daniela fired back.

y/n gasped. “dani woke up and chose violence.”

it started well enough. download, upload, wires. she even hummed while tasking—until the storage doors slammed shut.

“oh no,” y/n whispered. megan was there. smiling.

“nope. nope. NOPE.”

“oh, come on,” megan said, voice light. “i’m not the imposter.”

the kill animation played on y/n’s screen.

“.. and she was the imposter.”

“oh my god,” y/n muttered as her ghost drifted aimlessly. “she killed me and then probably blamed dani.”

user 42 i KNEW IT WAS MEGAN

user 43 rip y/n she was doing so well :((

user 44 pour one out for our fallen soldier

“i was on a character development arc,” y/n said dramatically. “and now i’m a ghost with trauma.”

the round ended in chaos, laughter exploding through discord.

“this was insane,” conan said. “let’s switch games before i start taking this personally.”

“valorant?” megan offered. “god no,” yoonchae said immediately. “every time we play valo, lara hard-carries and y/n cries.”

“not true!”

“you literally googled ‘how to stop being bad at valorant,’” manon reminded.

“okay, and? self-improvement.”

chat exploded again.

user 45 STREAM FORTNITE PLS

user 46 y/n build battle with lara rn i’m begging

y/n arched a brow. “fortnite? do we look like architects?”

lara smirked. “you look like you’d build a heart-shaped base.”

“and you look like you’d destroy it for fun.”

“maybe.”

and chat—predictably—lost their collective minds.

user 47 my biological parents actually

user 48 no bc lara flirts like she’s usher

user 49 HELP THEYRE TOO CUTE

only y/n, lara, and olivia had stayed behind. the others dipped out, claiming sleep, dinner, or “emotional stability.”

the silence that followed was strange—soft, comfortable even. the faint clicks of keyboards, the creak of y/n’s chair, the hum of her pc fans filling in the spaces where laughter had been.

“okay, this is our moment,” y/n said, bouncing slightly in her seat as she adjusted her headset. “team chemistry, communication, and—”

“chaos,” lara finished smoothly, voice low in her mic.

“see? we’re already on the same wavelength,” y/n quipped, the grin audible in her tone.

they dropped at mega city, the neon blur of the skyline reflected in y/n’s glasses. she could already feel her shoulders tense as the chaos began — gunfire, footsteps, her own panicked voice overlapping the background music.

“WHO’S SHOOTING—OH MY GOD—”

“that’s me,” lara said, calm as ever. “relax, i got them.”

y/n turned just in time to watch lara’s character eliminate a whole squad with mechanical precision. it was both impressive and vaguely terrifying.

“you can’t just say it like that! give me a warning next time!”

olivia snorted, “imagine trusting y/n to be your backup.”

“i’m very helpful!”

“you hid behind a trash bin last round.”

“strategically,” y/n corrected, huffing as she repositioned her avatar behind a vending machine.

user 50 “it’s called stealth” now you know damn well..

user 51 chat she’s camping behind a vending machine rn😭

“it’s tactical repositioning!” y/n declared, pretending she didn’t hear olivia’s wheeze through the mic. she peeked out from cover—just in time to see lara drop another opponent without missing a beat.

“jesus,” y/n whispered, “she’s hot and lethal. unfair combo.”

“what was that?”

“i said you’re—uh—helpful.”

“that’s not what you said.”

y/n froze, lips parting, the delayed mortification washing over her like a tide. she leaned back in her chair, muttering, “chat didn’t hear that, right?”

user 52 WE HEARD IT. WE HEARD ALL OF IT

user 53 clip that clip that clip that

“delete the vod.”

“you’re live, sweetheart,” lara teased, soft amusement coloring every word.

y/n covered her face with both hands. “i hate this website.”

a few rounds later, they actually won — somehow. maybe it was skill, maybe divine intervention, maybe just lara being borderline unfairly good.

y/n jumped out of her chair, nearly yanking her headset cable out.

“okay, victory royale, baby! we actually won!”

“because lara carried,” olivia said flatly, but she was smiling — you could hear it.

“team effort!” y/n protested.

“team consisting of two very skilled players and one emotional support clown,” lara said.

y/n let out an exaggerated gasp. “i’ll take that. i’m everyone’s favorite clown.”

the chat erupted in emotes and inside jokes again. y/n read them through laughter, cheeks aching.

after a few minutes of wrap-up chaos, she finally leaned back in her chair, the exhaustion catching up to her in waves. “alright, chat,” she said, softer now, “i think that’s where i’m gonna end stream tonight.”

the flood of protest was immediate.

user 54 NOOO DONT LEAVE

user 55 y/n we were just getting to the romantic subplot😭

user 56 one kiss before you go (as friends)

“ew,” y/n laughed, shaking her head. “you guys are actually insane. i’m scared of my own fanbase.”

“rightly so,” lara said smoothly. “they know too much.”

“okay, say bye, lara.”

“bye, chat.”

“say it nicely.”

“bye, my favorite people besides y/n.”

“aww— wait.”

the chat dissolved into chaos instantly.

user 57 THEYRE SOOOO IN LOVE OMG

user 58 i can’t take this denial thing anymore can we skip to the episode where they kiss on camera

y/n smiled helplessly at the screen, the kind of smile she couldn’t quite suppress no matter how hard she tried. “goodnight, weirdos,” she said, and clicked end stream.

the “stream ending” screen faded, and the apartment went still.

no chat, no laughter — just the quiet hum of her pc cooling down. the kind of silence that felt heavy after hours of noise.

she leaned back, stretching until her joints popped, eyes still reflecting the faint glow of her monitor. her phone buzzed once, lighting up the desk.

incoming call: my killer <3

y/n didn’t even hesitate. “hey.”

“hey,” came the reply, softer now, smoother without the playful lilt she used for stream. “you were cute today.”

y/n let out a low laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. “you threatened to murder me in among us.”

“romantically.”

she snorted. “you can’t just keep saying that like it’s a normal thing.”

“sure i can. it’s endearing.”

y/n tilted her head back against the chair, smiling into the ceiling. “you know chat’s going to lose their minds over that line, right?”

“good,” lara said. “let them guess. private, not secret, remember?”

“yeah. i remember.”

there was a quiet pause — not awkward, just settled. that calm, steady hum between people who didn’t need to fill the space with noise anymore.

“you really did good tonight,” lara said after a moment, tone low and genuine. “even with all the chaos.”

“thanks,” y/n said softly. “you made it fun.”

“i always do.”

“cocky much?”

“confident,” lara corrected. “and maybe a little obsessed.”

y/n’s brow lifted. “with?”

“you.”

the line went quiet again — not from lag, but from the sudden heaviness that filled the space between them.

y/n bit the inside of her cheek, a smile tugging anyway. “.. you can’t just say that.”

“i can when we’re off stream.”

y/n huffed out a quiet laugh, that fuzzy, post-adrenaline kind of sound. “good. because if you said that on stream, my chat would actually combust.”

“they already think we’re dating.”

“well, technically they aren’t wrong.”

she could almost hear lara’s grin through the silence.

y/n groaned softly, covering her face. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“i know.”

the glow from the monitor caught on the curve of her smile. soft, a little tired, a little in love.

then—

ping.

notifications. twitter, tiktok, and instagram. damn, already clips. screenshots. timestamps.

her mentions climbing by the second.

“.. they’re never gonna let me live this down, huh?” y/n sighed, thumb hovering over the app.

“no,” lara said. “but at least i will.”

y/n laughed, the sound barely a breath. “yeah?”

“yeah. you’re worth the chaos.”

they really don’t. but maybe, that was exactly how it was supposed to be.

♱ but then the two of you would be in sophia’s room more, locking the door and playing loud music. even poor yoonchae would eventually figure out what the two of you were doing

♱ daniela and manon are definitely the ones to tease you

♱ what was supposed to be a secret arrangement seemed to have become a running joke amongst the katz, and though the two of you continuously denied the idea, it didn’t exactly stop the girls from making lewd noises and kissy faces at you

♱ you were still somewhat hung on your ex, and you definitely were not in the right mental space to start a new relationship

♱ though sophia had a godly mouth on her (you thank the lord for those sweet lips every day), you usually felt guilty after, as if your body telling you you still had feelings for your ex

♱ sophia definitely is not a quickie kinda woman, she prefers to wine and dine you (soda and takeout) before getting to the nitty gritty. she takes her time, she hates rushing. she enjoys a good, long makeout, her hands anywhere she can put it

♱ sophia definitely prefers oral, mostly giving, she loves savouring every taste of you

♱ i see soft dom / power bottom, doesn’t mind taking the lead most times, but loves when you push her into bed

♱ doesn’t let her guard down often, but when she does, she gets attached really fast and really easy

♱ she had no problem adhering to the rules at first, not mentioning your arrangement beyond the pillows, keeping her distance and acting as if nothing happened after. only letting you initiate anything so she wouldn’t make you uncomfortable

♱ she couldn’t help but daydream about being more

♱ she started noticing couples on the street more when the two of you went out together. when she’d watch some pair be all over each other at some restaurant she recommended the two of you try. if it weren’t for your alluring voice, she would just be staring at other people all day, envisioning herself, her hands on you--like you were her pride, not some secret nobody else was allowed to know about

♱ when sophia started blurring the line between a casual arrangement and a relationship, you knew you needed to pull the plug before it ruined the situation--or worse, your lengthy, fragile friendship with sophia

♱ when she would try her hardest to give you the best aftercare, wiping you down or carrying you to the shower. or when she’d immediately slip one of her shirts on you so you wouldn’t get cold, getting under the covers behind you to loop an arm around you tenderly--as if you were something fragile, something delicate she could crumble if she wasn’t careful

♱ she was never a subtle person, a blind person could see it

♱ you were sure she had fallen in love with you when you caught her staring at you one night when you looked up to call her over. it was a little late night hang out at the girls’, just a chill night in, and your invitation to any plans they made was practically incontestable at this point

♱ your breaking point came when the word “girlfriend” slipped from daniela’s mouth at dinner once, and there was no denial, no sign of surprise from the filipina. her smile widened, and you felt her hand on the small of your back caress your skin

♱ the soft smile she gave you, staring back at you as if you had hung the stars in the sky, you felt sick to your stomach

♱ because you knew you loved her, you loved her just as badly

♱ but that would complicate things, and you reminded yourself of that every single night you’d fall asleep clasped in her arms. you lied awake, feeling your best friend’s even breath tickle the back of your neck. her warm hand under your shirt, palming your stomach, holding you close. this wasn’t casual anymore, it was far from, and it haunted you

♱ you stopped calling her over in the middle of the night, making up excuses to skip dinner invitations with the girls. the katz were beginning to question the status of your relationship when sophia’s mood soured with your sudden detachment

♱ it wasn’t until you got a text one day, from your ex

♱ upon reading the texts of them begging for your return, something clicked in your chest and suddenly you weren’t feeling the excitement, the yearning, the longing you thought you’d feel when your ex would finally text back

♱ instead, amidst the spamming texts from your ex popped a familiar contact name: fia ♡ i miss you. please, mahal.

♱ you see her for the first time when you had finally accepted yoonchae’s game night invitation, finding it hard to say “no” to such an adorable face, you pulled up to the katseye dorm

♱ being greeted by lara and manon by the door, they enveloped you in big hugs, rambling on about how much they had missed you, and how loud your absence seemed to be

✵ You couldn’t hear what they were saying exactly, a little distracted by Sophia, who was preparing snacks and drinks in the kitchen. You immediately felt bad, seeing how gloomy her expression looked, as if she hadn’t seen the sun in days

♱ lara informed you of their discreet plan; “actually, sophia doesn’t know you’re coming. she’s been so down since the two of you stopped hanging out--look, i ain’t about to meddle in whatever ya’ll got going on, but we need our girl back. so please do us this favour and part those clouds.”

♱ you missed her so much, your resolve instantly crumbled when you caught the soft look in her big, brown eyes upon spotting you strutting into the room hesitantly

♱ you grabbed her by the hand after a gentle greeting, watching how her eyes followed your form. you hated the doe-in-headlights look she always seemed to have on her face around you. you missed having your arms around her neck, feeling those pouty lips trace the dip in your collarbone as her hands meld into your flesh under your shirt. when her hand slipped into yours, it felt natural. and as you led her into her room, you could hear the girls giggle and mumble compliments to themselves for this foolproof plan

♱ sophia was internally panicking, heart drumming

♱ she could remember the exact amount of time since the last time she was this close to you. she remembered how much she missed the feeling of you against her. she was somewhat glad you were here, after not being able to reach you for weeks, she could finally rest easy knowing you were here again

♱ you sat her down at the foot of her bed, your hands running along her shoulders up to cup her jaw. She watched you closely, her eyes trained on the way you bit your lip. she noticed it was a nervous habit of yours. her fingers crept up your hips, hooking themselves into the belt loops of your jeans, knowing the small gesture soothed your nerves

♱ she was no longer your best friend, sophia. she was your person, the one you loved so dearly

♱ your confession, the reason you avoided her like the plague, spilt from your lips. you sealed your apology, one that brought her eyes to a teary mess, with a chaste kiss to her forehead, then her cheek, then her lips. her sweet, sweet lips

♱ “i love you, mahal… please don’t leave me again.”

manon bannerman; the rival

♱ manon was the most narcissistic, snobby, and downright daddy’s girl you have ever met. you weren’t surprised when she had found her way into your agency (pre-da)

♱ having worked hard to earn your spot as a saint laurent model, you weren’t exactly giddy watching her step foot into the ranks and make herself comfortable in the page next to yours in the newest catalogue. you were almost certain her father had bought her place in the pages

♱ she was the hot, new flame, beautiful, with famous friends

♱ you weren’t surprised when people flocked to her, gawking and worshipping her like some esteemed goddess

♱ she couldn’t blame you for resenting her just the slightest. she understood, really. she was used to people being upset with her for simple being fortunate. fortunate she had good genes, fortunate she was well-off, and rich with luck

♱ but if anything, your distaste for her just seemed to encourage her to pursue this little game of yours even more

♱ manon, the new replacing the tradition (you), has never failed to let you forget she was now the golden girl of saint laurent, she was getting the covers, not you

♱ it took everything in you to not clock her in the jaw

♱ one day, however, she was being unbelievably smug about being chosen over you for the angel costume. the angel costume was such a renowned symbol amongst the saint laurent team and you had gotten it every year since you signed to the agency. but no, some horny porn-addict in the next room decided the woman with the sexy new body was exactly what the catalogue needed for a refreshed start

♱ you were devastated, more torn than you have ever been

♱ per usual, she wanted to gloat, but upon seeing just how distraught you were about the whole thing, she couldn’t help but feel her heart crack the slightest. so instead, she settled for sitting in the makeup chair beside yours instead

♱ you rolled your eyes, sighing. you kindly dismissed your hair dresser, and though mike gave you the biggest side-eye, questioning your intentions knowing your thoughts on the new resident princess, he left the two of you alone. “listen, don’t take this the wrong way, but if i have to hear a word about this, i just might wring your head off and roast it on a stick.”

♱ manon tried playing it cool, though the threat oddly made her cross her legs. “come on, l/n, you expect me to hush?”

♱ “no, bannerman, i’m telling you to hush. so, listen.”

♱ that little command had her weak, but would manon ever admit that? come on, let’s not kid ourselves now. but she will definitely channel that sexual tension into her teasing

♱ when you finally had enough of her bratty demeanour, you couldn’t keep yourself composed when confronting her

♱ “god, what’s your fucking problem, bannerman?”

♱ the slight growl in your voice made her knees buck, and she was ready to cave then and there, in the middle of her dressing stall, the one you had forced yourself into when she decided to smirk tauntingly at you right after the announcement of her snatching another cover from you. you had her pinned to the mirror, and you could see your own, fuming expression out the corner of your eye. but you were too focused on the straight look of fear and… nerves from the woman beneath you

♱ manon didn’t reply. she leant forward and kissed you. soft, but hungry, her lips swallowing your next words quietly

♱ she could finally release that pent up energy she felt from this little one-sided crush. though she knew this was a ballsy move, even for her, she couldn’t help but let her own needs possess her for a brief moment

♱ she took you in, like you were breathing life into her

♱ when you would kiss back, just as fast, just as needy, she sighed against your lips. your hands grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her into you as close as you could as you pressed into her against the wall. she immediately crumbled, turning into a whining mess, begging you to touch her when your lips would ghost the sensitive spot just between her ear and jaw. who knew this was all it took to shut little miss chatterbox up?

♱ manon’s definitely a whiner. she will paw at you, fisting your shirt or grinding into you whenever she needed more

♱ definitely loves the thought of somebody possibly walking in on you fucking any moment. she wondered what her dad would think, hearing his daughter is sneaking off to get herself off with saint laurent’s golden girl during the work hours he paid to secure for her. you loved reminding her of it too:

♱ “what would your daddy think, hm? what would he say if he saw his precious baby girl begging to cum right now?”

♱ it was then the little dance the two of you seemed to do began; manon would keep acting up in public, in front of all your peers and colleagues as she teased you endlessly about losing to the new girl, but then the moment you get her behind closed doors, you'd put her in her place

♱ eventually, manon's admiration twisted into something deeper. she wasn't just looking up to you (sometimes literally *wink wink*) anymore, she was straight-up staring in hopes of getting your attention anytime, anywhere

♱ manon was falling in love with you, inevitably fast

♱ she heard her breath hitch whenever you stood around her for a catalogue. you were rising back into your status as the golden girl, getting more covers and taking up more pages, some of which were coupled with the daughter of the company's biggest investor

♱ when the two of you were instructed to be close, she felt like every pair of eyes in the room was watching her crumble

♱ she started acting out more to get your attention. the two of you never vocally agreed on anything surrounding this arrangement, but she knew you weren't the type to waste your time focusing on anything else beyond your career. your modelling was the one pride and joy of your life, the one consistent, but she took that as a challenge to see how much of you she could win over

♱ you knew she was acting out, but you needed that outlet, that chance to release any resentment or frustration you had with her or the situation she had cornered you into

♱ eventually, she couldn’t be professional (not that she was that professional before anyway) around you anymore

♱ she started caring for you, getting you coffee or water in between shoots, or fixing your hair in the middle of a shot

♱ she began dropping by your dressing room more often

♱ sometimes, it’s not even to rile you up or piss you off so you'd fuck her straight, she'll just stand in the doorway and make comments about how good your ass looks in tiny lingerie or bring you some "leftover" takeaway she ordered even though the bag would be unopened. you were confused as to her switch in how she treated you, she was riling you up in public less and less, and you didn't even notice yourself until your hairstylist, mike brought it up

♱ "you just gonna keep torturing the poor girl, or what?" mike questioned immediately after manon left the room. she just came in to say something so irrelevant, you don’t even remember what it was, but she wasn’t here long.

♱ “what?” you scoffed, stunned, “what’re you talking about?”

♱ “come on, you're obviously fucking. you make the nepo baby act like a nervous teenage boy around you, are you that dense?” he combed through your hair, as if he hadn’t just said the most ridiculous thing ever. it never occurred to you manon could see you as anything but a professional rival, fuck buddy was pushing it, but crush? that was a step that scared you.

♱ “i know you’re beefing with her and all, but it’s so obvious she’s actually just tryna hit on you,” mike insisted.

♱ you decided to confront her about it, cornering her into the same dressing stall the two of your first fucked in

♱ you locked the door, turning back to cross your arms and stare her straight in the eye. she gulped, scared shitless

♱ “are you into me, bannerman? for real? and don’t lie to me.”

♱ she felt her heart in her mouth, nearly gagging at the words about to burst from her lips. she at first decided to deny. deny, deny, deny, laughing awkwardly and avoiding eye contact as she rejected the idea, “ha, that’s ridiculous, even for you. where on earth did you get that idea?”

♱ you were skeptical of the way she answered, watching what was supposed to be the most confident, unwavering woman you had ever met avoid your eyes. her face fell to an anxious stoic expression, where you couldn't read a single thing from her expression. you had only seen it once or twice, when she would be getting yelled at on the phone by her father, or when she first got the cover shoot

♱ alas, you let it go, deciding it wasn't worth the struggle of ruining whatever situation the two of you were strung somewhat comfortable in

♱ it was just casual anywhoo... right?

♱ but then you started picking up on the smaller things you never noticed before; how you'd catch her staring out the corner of your eye during your shoots, how she always bought extra food, drinks, or whatever during early days to make sure you ate, how she would let herself comfortably meld into you, sighing against your collarbone when you'd lay skin-to-skin. it was growing more apparent by the day, much to your dismay

♱ but you let her bleed into your space and drown you

♱ you let her linger next to you at fashion week afterparties, you let her drive you to work with her thumb tracing along your inner-thigh, and you let her bring you home that christmas to meet her family. but you never let her label it, always interrupting her with a nervous chuckle, and a tight squeeze to her arm as you finished her introduction of you

♱ it was always "i'm a friend of manon's." or "i'm manon's coworker." and you could only watch her anxiety bubble to her face as her smile flickers, her pep dimming for the night

♱ you woke up once, just before the sun began leaching through the blinds of manon's home. the sun wasn't up yet, but the room was warm, an arm pressed snug against your bare stomach, like it belonged. you managed to pry yourself away from the woman, feeling the familiarity, the comfort of it suffocated you. since when had you ever let yourself stray from your job like this? from the thing you loved most?

♱ modelling was the one constant you've always had in your life, the one thing that belonged to you, and the woman who took it all away was sleeping soundly around you

♱ you weren't golden girl, you weren't on covers, you had lost your standings in saint laurent and you were getting the secondary shoots instead of the primary ones you used to be assigned. now she was all of those. she was you. and you let her dip her fingers and pry at every other crevice of your life too. it was time for this rendezvous to end

♱ so you left. you didn't pick up her call when she woke up that morning, you dismissed her pleads for an explanation when she finally ran into you during your lunch break. it was time to phase out the rumours, the agony of what was causing you your job. trying to "sleep your way back up" with the daddy's girl wasn't a look you could afford anymore

♱ and in a month or so, your celibacy paid off

♱ you were in the director's favours again, slowly chipping your way back to covergirl whenever a new concept dropped. you opened most shows, leading the first strut down the runway lined with celebrities and infamous persons globally watching you click-clack along the carpet, and suddenly manon bannerman the "swiss angel" had her wings clipped, and the original saint was guarding the gates of heaven again

♱ you just wrapped the shoot for your fall catalogue, marinating in the silence you finally managed to seek solace in after months of manon's nonstop pestering

♱ she would plead, beg, whimper at your feet for any sort of conversation. she was usually so confident, so poised and unaffected by another's opinion--well, another person besides you. she was so defeated, so out of character for what most would know manon to be. and despite being a social butterfly, she was struggling to put up a friendly front for fellow models

♱ you knew it was bad when mike started telling you stories; about how manon had lost her "it" factor, how she had been a cyclic cloud of bad mood ever since the two of you stopped hooking up. she was snappy, the opposite of her charming self

♱ you felt bad, almost, your victory, the success you got your hands on again felt tainted. a short, borrowed glory at the expense of someone else with the same dreams

♱ but you didn’t care about manon… right? no, you didn’t

♱ no, seriously, you didn’t… you didn’t! you swore on your life!

♱ fuck… then why do you feel bad? why don’t you feel fulfilled? complete? despite being saint laurent’s top model again, despite being america’s top model, and despite being surrounded by potential suitors begging for just one chance

♱ why does the sight of her standing alone ruin your day?

♱ you were standing with some friends by the pool, soaking in the lush atmosphere of ysl’s latest campaign launch party. you had been watching manon unravel from the top, skipping fittings, losing focus in shoots… when you had a moment alone, she cornered you on the terrace, her eyes hooded and her cheeks flushed warn from champagne

you didn’t say anything, watching her stumble over in a drunken daze. she collapsed into your arms, her alcoholic breath tickling the crook of your neck. you let her lay there for a second, feeling her exhale deeply.

when she finally spoke, your heart clenched at the melancholy edge to her voice. “why do you keep acting like i don’t matter?”

you helped her over to the sofa just inches away, setting her limp body against the plush cushions. yanking you down with her, she slumped, resting her head on your lap. you sighed, letting her doze her spinning head.

“what’re you doing, bannerman?” you whispered, combing your fingers through her princess braids.

her breath shallowed, eyes. fluttering open and shut slowly.

her hand reached up to tuck your hair behind your ear. you swallowed thickly, gaze roaming across her features.

“you should be taking care of yourself. this place is full of hungry directors and horny freaks waiting for one of us to get just too drunk.” you scolded, removing the near-empty champagne glass from her hand. “this isn’t healthy, manz.”

you shook your head in disapproval at the sheepish grin on her lips. is this bitch really tryna be cute right now?

“so you do care--!” she slurred, propping herself up.

she turned to face you, nuzzling her nose into your neck as she cuddled into your side. you let your arm hang over her shoulder, lips ghosting just over her forehead. she picked at her fingernails, her persistent anxiety piercing through the thick coat of alcoholic armour.

“then why do you pretend you don’t.” she mumbled faintly into your chest. “that’s really fucked… you’re really fucked.”

you paused, staring over at the framed prints of the shoots you had done scattered across the grand ball room. you were practically plastered on every one, whilst hers sat quietly in a corner, tucked behind the curtain of you. “i’m sorry.”

“i love you.” she confessed, staring up at you.

you don’t speak, letting the waft of champagne off her breath fill your nose. “i’m going to call you a cab. come on--!”

“i love you.” she repeated, this time sitting up.

she grabbed you by the cheeks, kissing you just as tenderly as she used to. your hand met her chest, wanting to push her off, but you couldn’t. it was like muscle memory, letting yourself melt into her as her lips worked yours.

“i--need you--to love me.” she confessed, breathlessly, and between sensual pecks. “please. please say you love me.”

you sigh against her lips. she moved onto your lap.

“…i love you.” it was like the sentence itself gave her life.

♱ if only she didn’t get accepted into that survival show post-modelling career. who knows where the both of you could’ve been if she had stayed at saint laurent…

daniela avanzini; the friend of a friend

♱ when daniela proposed the arrangement to you, you thought she was just playing a cruel prank on you

♱ you were manon’s friend, occasionally tagging along to whatever shenanigans the older invited you to. when daniela first met you, she was gobsmacked. she genuinely thought you were the most ethereal person her eyes had ever laid on. she was used to being the one most chased after; talented, beautiful, destined for greater things--she was a cheerleader, a child star, and now a trainee for a top management agency in entertainment for christ’s sake, why was she so hung up on some younger woman who was around sometimes?

♱ you were much more shy than manon, more reserved but let your true self leak through your guarded exterior from time to time. daniela liked that, how you let your presence be known naturally, soundly, like the soft chime of a soothing bell ringing in the midst of her chaotic, loud personality

♱ daniela loves toying with you, having you around her finger

♱ she enjoys the power dynamic, the control--to be able to see how much she affected you. She would never want anything to do with you beyond physical intimacy, and she made that very clear when she would completely dismiss your attempts at talking whenever you were invited to hang out with the girls

♱ daniela would definitely be the most toxic of all the girls

♱ she would definitely send the most mixed signals, whether it be mumbling things like, “fuck, you’re so pretty” or “oh my god, i need you so bad--i can’t live without you” when you’re having sex, to yelling “no, i have an early morning, hurry up” as she ushers you out of her bed with your clothes in her hands

♱ she messes your head up horribly, but you liked it

♱ you liked the power you had when she was under you, when you'd straddle her and kiss any toxic, derogatory psychobabble away before they made it out her mouth. that was your time. when the sun came out, you were just manon’s friend again

♱ 100% a scratcher/biter. leaves marks shamelessly all over you, but won’t let you leave any on her. you managed to sneak a couple here and there, but always somewhere only she’d find later on, when she was nude and alone

♱ you always get teased by manon, after you’d hook up with daniela, you wouldn’t wear anything backless for days

♱ steals your clothes, and by steal, i mean physically takes it off you before you have sex and then puts it on after and just never gives it back. has a whole rotation of your clothes

♱ you buy her flowers, her favourite snacks, you spoil her rotten, even though she doesn’t ask for it

♱ it all started at a pool party this friend of megan and lara’s were holding. you were dragged along by manon because you were about to leave for tour, working as producer/performer for dominic. might as well have one last day of partying by a luxury pool to start the summer world tour off just right

♱ you were standing by the tanning chairs, chatting and giggling with jonah and his band members, mostly chattering about the events planned for dom’s tour when a familiar woman made her presence known to the group

“hey, boys. nice party you’re throwing here.” she beamed

a hand slid onto your shoulder, your head instinctively jerked to glance up at its owner. you swore you knee was almost jerked just at the sight of her tawny curls

her perfume hit you the next second, intoxicating you, as her nails scratched her mark from your shoulder down your back

“hello, y/n.” she purred, a genuine grin after the faux giggles she used around anyone who wasn’t you. she turned back to the three, flashing those tempting siren eyes. she grabbed your wrist. “sorry, guys, this woman is mine. excuse us.”

and so you found yourself getting tugged into the house

you don’t even know what to say, or what to ask, she did just drag you from your friends without anything beyond a hello

“dani, what the fu--” you yelped, as she roughly shoved you in the guest bathroom, locking the door behind her

“seriously? boylife?” she scoffed, crossing her arms. she looked to be a mother telling off her child for putting their hand in the cookie jar. “they’re so goth and ew, why do i have to keep rescuing you from that rancid group of e-boys?”

you were taken aback by her language, as it came off harsher than anything you expected her to say.

“what’re you talking about?” you questioned, trying to find her eyes as she did her best to avoid yours. “i was just catching up with them--you’re the one who dragged me off.”

“don’t play dumb with me. i’ve seen the way you look at hollis, and you need to stop embarrassing yourself.”

you were beyond confused. why was she so upset over that?

“hollis? what? dani, you’re thinking too much of it.” you chuckled, but before you could push past her, she grabbed you by the hips rather roughly, anchoring you to the sink. you gasped, “dani--! what is going on with you?”

“are you that desperate, hm? i don’t keep my eye on you once, and you move on to the next?”

“there is no ‘next’, okay?” you tucked a strand of curls behind her ear, leaning in to give her a reassuring kiss, but sucking in a sharp breath when she pulled back slightly. “you don’t want the girls wondering where you are. they’ll worry.”

your answer didn’t satisfy her, she couldn’t stand the thought.

♱ the party was a grave turning point in your relationship

♱ you were fully aware of how daniela operated, how everything between the two of you had to move at her pace, or they wouldn’t move at all. but it was exaggerating. fast

♱ you weren’t even allowed to be around the girls alone if she weren’t there, even though you had known manon forever. the eldest swore on her life you needed to break yourself free before the latina did some real damage. if anyone were to see first-hand what daniela avanzini was capable of when it came to devastating her dates, it would be her roommate

“babe, it’s ridiculous! look, i love dani, but it’s too much.” your friend scoffed. you knew she was right, you knew she missed being able to invite you over even when daniela wasn’t there. “you have to talk to her about it, this is actual bullshit.”

“it’s not that big a deal, she’ll back off eventually.”

“no, she won’t!” manon slapped a hand over her forehead, pressing at her temple. “trust me, i’ve seen the epic highs and lows of daniela avanzini, she can and will go further.”

“you’re exaggerating,” you chuckled, “it’s just… fresh.”

“you’re not even dating--i’m warning you, cut the noose before it kills you, dumbass.” she was so sure, so certain this wasn’t a good idea, you had a horrible feeling. but you were hooked on her, just like everybody else who knew her. “and fast.”

♱ and that was a month in of you hooking up. sometimes you wondered what life would be like, how peaceful and beautiful it would’ve been if you had just listened to your good friend

♱ most bipolar lover award goes to…. you guessed it!

♱ will lovebomb you when you start pulling away, grabbing at whatever she could get her hands on when you came over, thinking she was being subtle and “friendly” around the girls, but it was obvious to all of them she was giving cat in heat

♱ absolutely hated the fact you were magnetic, it didn’t matter whether it be girls or guys befriending you, she made sure to tear them apart when she would confront you about it

♱ super insecure about you guys when fans hinted at futchiela

♱ hated the thought of people finding out she was lowkey in love with a girl, one as popular as you among the celeb social circles no less. she was worried this getting out would define her, define her career, like she didn’t have a crazy resume she’s been building since a dance shoe could fit on her foot

♱ got crazy jealous over your friendship with odessa

♱ you ran in the same circles, attended the same events, and she was just your type; dark curls and a loud persona

♱ except odessa was much more shameless of hers

♱ come on, everyone knew odessa was a touchy, feely kinda friend. she had practically kissed every single one of them in one way or another and you were no different

♱ you hadn’t even registered it when she grabbed you by the face and kissed you in that one photobooth at some premiere

♱ it was only until a couple days after when she posted her dump did daniela see just how close of a friend she was

♱ radio silence from her was scarier than a crash out

♱ you remembered being manon’s plus one for this get together one of her friends were throwing. the two of you drove separately from the girls, and it was obvious they were arriving from different places. what stunned you most, though, was the fact daniela came striding in on someone’s arm

♱ you had never met jonah, not directly at least. he was just a mutual of daniela’s, one you never thought posed a threat

♱ you hadn’t spoken to her--well, she hadn’t spoken to you since “the odessa incident” as manon called it. she hadn’t called for you to come around, hadn’t texted you about the girls and guys you were hanging out with. you thought she was livid, that if you’d give her some time she’d come around; the last thing you expected was her debuting a new boyfriend

“hey, i thought you weren’t coming.” sophia said, giving the latina a brief embrace. you stood wedged between lara and manon, who took turns greeting their member as well.

“i wasn’t, but i might as well ‘cuz jonah was.”

the man made his presence known on cue, a hand slinging around the latina’s waist. you eyed it intently, gulping.

“oh? how’s that girl you were with?” megan asked, and you could see the two visibly tense at the mention of his ex.

“that’s been over a while.” he replied, clearing his throat.

“a long while.” daniela added, gaze flickering to you, glaring straight through your quiet guard. you felt your chest tighten, the upbeat mood you had arrived at the party with soured.

“what’re ya’ll acting so shady for? are you guys, like, together or something?” lara asked, a cackle following it like it was a joke. when neither of them laughed or denied the question, her face fell quickly. “oh my god, are you guys together?”

everybody let out a collective gasp, but you could only stare at her. the sick joke was, she was already staring back.

“we’re just hanging out.” jonah corrected, “…for now.”

“wow,” manon sighed. not one of wonder, not one of exasperation, just a sound of pure disbelief.

“well, we’ll see you girls around, there’s some friends i want to meet up with.” daniela’s eyes left your melancholy ones, grabbing jonah’s upper-arm and tugging him away. she doesn’t look back, not catching the solemn expression on your face. the same couldn’t be said about your friends, however.

“well, i’m about to beat a bitch up.” lara scoffed.

megan and sophia spark a conversation about just how irresponsible, how unprofessional the latina was being regarding the dating ban. yoonchae just watched the two from afar in disapproval. none of them seemed surprised.

“how ‘bout we go get a drink?” manon asked, a hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the bar.

you swore you blacked out that entire party, every sound, every call of your name blurred into a high-pitched whir. you don’t remember how many drinks manon had gotten you until you left to queue for the bathroom.

slumped against a wall, you felt the world spin around you.

your eyes shied away from the blinding, flashing lights of the kitchen, where you could clearly see the two people you wanted absolutely nothing to do with practically stuck together in a group of familiar faces. you couldn’t spare the man another look, so your gaze trained on her face.

she laughed, throwing her head back, a hand over her chest like the joke was the funniest she had ever heard.

it was so robotic, so fake, you knew better than to believe it.

she felt the burning glare from across the room, looking up, and her smile didn’t meet her eyes. it was apologetic, almost, the look she gave you, but you knew deep down she wanted to see you seethe, to see you bleed of devastation.

but you didn’t want to give her that satisfaction.

“hey, babe, you okay?” odessa’s face doesn’t register for a moment, but those piercing blue eyes were hard to miss.

she waved the girl behind you to take the free bathroom, gently tugging you aside, just a couple feet down the hall, where the party noises watered down. it was much more tolerable there, you could hear yourself think again.

“i’m--i’m okay. where’s manon?” you slurred, coughing.

“she’s with dylan and the guys. i think we should get you some water, let’s go to the kitchen--!”

“no!” it sounded much softer in your head. “no, i’m fine.”

“baby, you can barely stand, i don’t want you wandering around.” odessa insisted, grabbing hold of your elbow when you nearly stumbled over your own feet. “come on, let’s at least find you somewhere to sit.”

you didn’t have the energy to argue, letting her drag you through the sea of dancing drunks. she managed to push you down into an empty sofa by the balcony, the fresh air was just what you needed to feel like the world wasn’t spinning again.

you hadn’t even noticed it was in direct view of where daniela was standing. all you could see was odessa handing you a bottle of water, making space on the coffee table in front of you so she could sit, watching you. the latina had tuned out what her friends were saying long ago, her blood boiling at the fact her plan was falling apart. instead of you being jealous of her new kindling with jonah, she was fuming at the sight of odessa’s hands running all over your face to “brush hair away”.

the next thing you knew, you were sitting between two arguing women feeding the throbbing of your head.

“i got it from here, alright? drew must be looking for you.”

you swore you heard odessa whisper a, “good luck” before she sauntered off with no choice. the couch dipped next to you, and you felt the bottle get yanked from your hand.

“are you serious? what’re you, five?” she muttered under her breath, helping you sit up. “you’re a fucking idiot.”

you groaned, pulling away from her touch. “i’m fine.”

“stop moving.” she scolded, gripping your wrist firmly. you resisted, but your fatigue betrayed you. “you’re going home.”

“i can manage myself just fine.”

you ran a hand through your hair, sucking in a deep breath. you glanced up, noticing the man daniela came with hadn’t even bat an eye at the two of you. it made you wonder; did nobody else see through daniela’s facade? the straight bombshell image she couldn’t let go? perhaps see the way she was looking at you right then. you wanted to believe you weren’t crazy, that it wasn’t just you who saw that glint in her eye.

“is this who you want to be? another drunk nepo baby who gets their life ripped apart by those vultures online?” she hissed, tone lowering to just above a whisper.

“i don’t care! i really don’t, daniela. can you please leave?”

it wasn’t untrue. you barely paid any mind to another’s opinion about you. the only person you ever cared to please was her.

“so you can get whisked into another round? yeah, right.”

you stood up, jerking away from her hand that reached for you despite wobbling on your feet. you glanced down at her, eyes glistening. “you had no right driving her away.”

“why’re you giving me attitude? i’m trying to help you.”

“why? why’re you helping me? you don’t get to ignore me for three weeks then come back and drive my friends away.”

“is that what you are? friends?” she scoffed, following you.

you stumbled your way towards the front door, pushing past a couple new arrivals to sway your way towards your car.

“yes. friends, just like me and you. right?” you spat.

she halted in her steps, taken aback by the harsh tone of voice you were using with her. you leant against your hood, sighing, head thrown back to look up the sky. your head was spinning.

“get your fucking shit together.” she hissed, glancing around. “and keep your voice down, you’re making a scene.”

“or what? why can’t people know i love you? hey! i love this girl, i am in love with daniela avanzini--!” a hand was slapped over your mouth the next second, her body melding into yours as you leant back. you grabbed her by the waist, steadying the both of you before you could fall back into your car.

“why’re you like this?” she scoffed, like you were a bad thing.

“is it me? are you embarrassed of me?” you asked, locking your wrists so she couldn’t struggle her way out of your grasp. “you act like i’m the only person in your world one second, but then you act like you don’t know me when someone’s there.”

“it’s not like that, i’m just--will you let me go, please?”

she frantically snapped her head around, scanning for passerby’s who might recognize you. you pull her close, locking her in a tight hug. you breathed her in, feeling her slowly stop resisting. maybe it was the alcohol still swarming through your blood, but all was forgiven for a moment.

“i’ll love you wherever, i’ll buy you whatever you want, i want to be there for every single second of your life. what does he have that i don’t?” you mumbled into her neck, hearing her heart race at your proximity; at least her body can’t pretend.

“you can be there for odessa. you seem close enough.”

“is that what this is about? that’s why you’re parading that shallow iphone face around?” you pulled back. “oh my god, dani, you are so jealous for someone so afraid of commitment.”

“that’s not the point,” she said, softer now. “people saw, and now they’ll think you and her are…” she stopped, shaking her head. “the way people were talking about you guys, i just…”

“feel trapped?” she didn’t answer. her hands trembled as you brushed your fingers against hers.

“i just… i don’t want them to know,” she murmured. “i mean, come on, what does that make me?”

you tilted her chin up, meeting her eyes. “mine.”

for a moment, she forgot she was standing in the middle of a public parking lot, where the girls, jonah, or anyone could walk in on you. but she doesn’t pull away, instead, her hands found your neck in one swift, and very familiar, motion.

leave it to you to turn the straight girl… right?

♱ wrong. ya’ll would never date publicly, she just keeps you trapped in this cycle of guilt and confusion. sorry, ya’ll…

lara raj; the first-time loser

♱ dylan was the worst kind of rockstar boyfriend stereotype. a total smokeshow, but nothing beyond the grand flames of how hot he was. he was charming, funny, but a little bland for your taste. he wasn't your type in more ways than one, but here you were, sitting across from him at an exclusive bar for the rich and famous of los angeles, listening to him stumble through filtered conversation to hold the nonchalant demeanour

♱ lara didn't have to try. she was cool and smooth... ugh, lara. you blamed that fireball shot of a woman for putting you here

♱ you knew what you were getting into when you went from bandmates to bandmates with benefits. the hybe dating ban kept you from really exploring romantic interests, and luckily for you, lara was just as interested in you as you were her

♱ the thing was, she enjoyed the time she had with you; the sneaking around, the crazy sex, the looks that'd get you hot and bothered during rehearsal--but she enjoyed nurturing a flourishing career more than she did a fling like yours. it was something you agreed with, you loved finally having your dream within reach as much as the next person

♱ but you were stupid, and you let yourself get high off her

♱ high libido, high stamina, can and will go all night until you pass out with her still buried deep inside you

♱ a couple weeks and you were obsessed, it was like you couldn’t breathe without a taste of her, but you knew all good things had to come to an end

♱ some would say it's reasonable; she had no obligations, no commitment to you. and if anybody understood her hunger for pursuing music, it was you. you had no choice but to suck it up when she insisted it was time your little fling came to an end

♱ it wasn't awkward, per se, when you'd all be together and act like nothing between the two of you were chemically charged, if ever. but it was hard to concentrate, especially when she was going out of her way to act "normal" like you were disposable

♱ so when the dating ban finally lifted, you agreed to a date to the first guy that asked--the lead singer of the wallows

♱ your brain was tuning his boring dialogue out, letting your mind drift towards your terribly silent phone. hell, a booty call would whisk you out that seat if one came from her. it was just then you caught sight of click-clacking heels making their way down the marble stairs across the room

♱ like you had conjured her from your naked thoughts, the diva herself, clad in the skimpiest clubbing outfit you had ever seen, swaying her hips into the vip lounge. all eyes turned on her, but for the first time in weeks, hers were fixed on you

♱ she concealed any shock in her expression behind a grin

♱ "well, isn't this a surprise." she said, eyes glazing past the man sitting across you, never leaving your own line of sight. the pep in her tone caught you offguard, how she equipped her "outdoor" voice because of the unfamiliar face at the table

♱ "lara--! uh, what're you doing here?" you wanted to beat yourself for how pathetic the stammering sounded

♱ "i could ask the same thing." she eyed dylan up and down

♱ you hadn't told any of the girls you were going on a date, you would never be in a place like this otherwise. which only made you wonder: why was she here?

♱ "i, uhm... i'm on a date, actually." you gestured at him

♱ if you didn’t know any better, you wouldn’t have been able to pick up on the way her lips twitched in distaste

♱ “so where’s the date?” she glanced around, thrusting her head back and fourth, making a point to glaze past him. okay, you didn’t like the man, but this was just hurtful, even for her

♱ you watched dylan wave his hand. “i’m the date.”

♱ my god, she could be such a bitch when she wanted to. that performative smile cushioned the blow to dylan's ego, at least it did until she turned her head aside to mutter under her breath: "wow." thank god the man was a little soured by her reaction to notice

♱ her hand reached for you, shamelessly meeting the soft blade of your shoulder. "well, i'm early for a date of my own. mind if i sit with you guys while i wait?"

♱ you didn't know what made you more nervous; the fact she was obviously playing some sick game, or the fact her hand had slipped down to your thigh when she cramped her way into your side of the speakeasy's booth uninvited

♱ "lara, we're kinda on a date here--" you began

♱ "it's okay, i don’t mind. what's a couple minutes?" dylan interrupted, now with the urge to impress this friend of yours who was obviously so indifferent about him

♱ you wish you could explain why you'd rather not have your ex-situationship sit in on the first actual date you've had in months waiting for her own, to which this was the first you've heard of it. you would almost say it stung, the fact she was scoping out other options on her own time, if not for the warm hand tracing its way to your inner-thigh

♱ "maybe you should grab a table first," you suggested, shifting in place. your eyes darted across the room, scanning it, but not really taking anything in. "the place might fill up before your date gets here--"

♱ a harsh clench had her talons digging into your plush thighs, gripping down on her prey, like she had you right where she wanted you, and she wasn't about to give that up

♱ "no, i'd rather get to know your date."

♱ her attention was now on him, and you see him visibly swallow. she tilted her head, eyes raking him up and down, taking him in: black dress-shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hair a tousled doo with a chain dangling against his pecs. he looked just like the type you'd entertain, but she thought you liked your dates with a little less... dick

♱ "i'm sorry, what was your name again?"

♱ he chuckled to ease the cluttering tension, a hand ruffling the back of his hair. "it’s dylan. we met last year at the vmas afterparty... i'm good friends with manon?"

♱ "hm. i don't recall." she feigned thought, cocking her head

♱ you exhaled deeply, feeling your grasp on the situation slowly slip from your hands. you felt dylan glance at you a few times for help, but you could only stare blankly at the half-empty glass in front of you as lara continued her assault

♱ "you asked her out over dms? and how many dms did you slide into before that?" / "what? obvi, you should've brought flowers, are you playing around or are you serious about this date?" / "oh, come on, dylan, i live with her, you think i wouldn't know if she likes your music or not?" / "i'll give it to you, babe, at least he's cute. a little generic, but cute enough."

♱ you were beyond embarrassed, you were livid: walking all over you when you were fooling around is one thing, but barging in uninvited and insulting your date, who so kindly agreed to let her wait with company when you didn't even want her there was childish--which was a sweet taste of what she had been truly concealing behind that “everything’s ok” bs

♱ "y’know what, i've just about had enough of this place. how about we go for a bite somewhere else?" you suggested, smiling at the man. poor guy nodded frantically with pursed lips, leaving after insisting he'll get the check

♱ when you looked at her, she was taken aback by the glossy shutter of disappointment in your eyes

♱ "really, doll? that guy? he’s the most boring fucker ever.”

♱ you left with dylan, pushing past her and out the booth. grabbing his hand, you dragged him out the club, leaving the indian singer sitting idly in the booth, alone

♱ that night, when she got back from her long night out, you were sitting in the living room of the dorm, watching whatever your prime suggested. the moment you saw her now-dishevelled red locks, you turned the tv off, rolling your eyes and propping yourself off the couch. she scoffed, smirking at the immediate attitude you were shading

♱ "where 'you goin, doll?" she slurred, obviously intoxicated

♱ you held an arm up, storming to your room. daniela brought manon home for the weekend, so you had it to yourself

"i'm not speaking to you, lara." you stated sternly, no slip of emotion, no crack in your disapproval. she had always been attracted to the sure-headed side to you. she followed suit, shedding her boots, her stockings, and her bag one at a time.

"oh, come on, what're you being such a cunt for?"

you shook your head, pulling the sweatshirt over your head, hair falling over the back of your baby tee. the curve of your waist now bare for her eyes to soak in. and that, she does.

“you humiliated dylan in the middle of public, did you want me to thank you on my knees after that?”

“i always want you on your knees,” she scoffed, shrugging, “what’s the big fucking deal, it’s just banter, like, i’m not going to kill his family or anything. if he can’t take a joke, that sounds like a problem he needs to deal with.”

“it wasn’t a joke, lara, you were being a complete asshole!”

"since when has that ever been a problem?" she groaned, letting herself slump into the foot of your bed. you undid your hair, feeling yourself inhale sharply. you watched yourself through your vanity mirror, feeling her hooded eyes boring into the back of your head. "you don't have to throw a tantrum.”

"throw a tantrum? you were the one acting like a child!”

“look, you don’t have to blame me because you don’t like him.” she scoffed, “i mean, come on, doll, he’s the most boring person i’ve ever met. his favourite drink was beer. you don’t have to act like you actually like the fucking asshole.”

“why does it matter? maybe i like the bore here and there, at least he’s not afraid to take me out to dinner.”

she fell silent at the subtle jab, her smile fading into a disapproving pout. you've never raised your voice at her, always the submissive, good girl she wanted you to be.

“like i said, i don’t want to talk to you. get out.”

she didn’t budge, leaning back on her palms against your plush mattress. you stood up, turned away from your mirror to glare her down directly. you stepped closer, breath heavy and shoulders tense. she doesn’t say anything, only tilting her head in anticipation, a cheeky smirk ghosting her lips.

“i don’t want to fight, lara.” you insisted, voice much quieter this time around, “will you please listen for once?”

silence, once again, only this time, she sat up, hands reaching to grab the ones you had resting on your hips. she tugged you in gently, until you were standing clamped between her thighs. caged in her embrace, she guided your hands to her jaw, which you gently trace your fingers along. she clutched your wrists gently, as if you’d be lost forever if she let go.

“is that what you want?” she husked, “for me to leave?”

yes, you thought, but the word doesn’t make it past your lips. and she took your silence as an answer, hands leaving your wrists to trail up the side of your thigh, under the flailing hem of your shirt, and left cool prints of her fingertips against the warm skin of your stomach. why was she so hard to hate?

“i can’t keep doing this.” you confessed, “your fucking game.”

“i’ll kill him if he touches you again.” lara whispered against your palm, kissing the inside of it. “and i’ll make you watch.”

“why don’t you worry about your own date?”

“mmh. don’t remind me. everytime he so as looked at me, i wanted to throw up.” her words muffled into your chest, arms circling around your waist and pulling you down into bed with her. she grinned, and you could smell the faint waft of alcohol from her breath. she grabbed your chin, turning you to face her, whilst still trapped between her body and your duvet. “i thought about you every fucking second.”

“why didn’t you tell me you were going on a date?”

she laughed, wetting her lips. “why didn’t you tell me you were going on a date?”

you averted your gaze, swallowing thickly: because i needed to forget you, so i let the first man who asked take me out.

♱ lara was good at tugging at the right heartstrings, and you just weren’t strong enough to see past the obvious tricks she were throwing at you every time. you liked it that way

“didn’t think you’d be interested.” you grumbled.

“of course i’m interested, doll.” she grinned, nose dragging along the curve of your neck, breathing you in. “i need to know everything about you. especially if you’re out fucking vanilla clay jensen.” her hands crept under your shirt. “if you wanted to get into that bar, you could’ve just asked me.”

“lara, stop. i’m… i’m going out with dylan now.”

you tried to make it sound sincere, you really did. but the way it rolled off your lips in a whine was just pathetic. even you knew.

♱ was it really to anyone’s surprise when you ended up waking to her bare back the next morning? hickeys littering from your collarbone, all the way down to your pelvis, just above where she had kissed you over and over the night prior. you hated yourself for being so weak, for betraying yourself, for betraying what you wanted, so desperately to stand for, and for betraying dylan. you might not have been serious about the man, but he at least deserved a solid ending before you went and slept with someone else. your ex-fling, no less, the one who verbally abused him into smitherines just hours ago

♱ but then again, it was lara. you had a feeling you weren’t coaxing a confession out of her, no matter how close you get

♱ this little cycle would repeat a couple more times

♱ as bad as it sounds, i don’t think lara would ever put you above her career or her ambitions. she was a girl who knew what she wanted and she wanted them shamelessly

♱ even if it means getting mothered by sophia about ruining what used to be a healthy, normal group dynamic

♱ you’d just go along with whatever she wanted for you

♱ and to some degree, you were content with that. it was better to have some of her, than to have none of her at all

♱ but then the normality of it all would bother you again, and you would suddenly go from ghosting dylan to pouring more of your energy into him. flowers would suddenly show up on your dorm steps, expensive gifts, dinner invites to places you’ve ever only dreamed of--he was hooked on you, and you were hooked on the feeling lara loved to deprive you of

“seriously? him again? this is the third time this week.” she scoffed, following you around your room as you gathered things for your purse. “i thought you ended it.”

“i told you it’s not that simple, lara. will you please stop?”

she grabbed hold of your phone before you could reach for it, holding it just out of reach. you sigh, glaring at her.

“look at you, talking back. since when were your manners so bad, doll? he’s ruining you!” a hand slipped around your waist, pulling you in. both hands on her chest pushed her away from you. you shook your head, snatching your phone from her.

“you’re ruining me.” you snapped, “stop playing around.”

♱ that’s when you realized just how obsessive she got. something about the fact she could no longer have you had her hooked. this would’ve been everything you’ve ever dreamt of a couple months ago, but now you just wanted to get this phase of your life over with. but lara never lost

♱ you and lara definitely will never resolve your little situationship. a toxic cycle you keep getting sucked back into. probecito dylan… but i just know you’d never fully date. she loves playing with her boy toys a little too much

megan skiendiel; the number one fan

♱ megan's been an og fan of you dating back to her disney days. she had just missed the peak of your child-actress career when she watched you dominate early tv through a screen, which then followed into your booming music career. it was no secret too, eyekons easily find reposts of edits, content, or lyric videos of you on her tiktok page

♱ you had mutuals with kylie (cantrall), so it was to nobody's surprise when you were both invited to a party one of your old disney friend was throwing. you stumbled into her friend group a little bit after you’d arrived. you gave the redhead a brief embrace, then was introduced to each of her friends

♱ when it came time for your eyes to fall on her, megan felt her grin stiffen, her eyes hard and unwavering, fixed on the soft edges of your smile. her name rolling off kylie’s tongue seemed to snap her from her daze, but she was drowning in your presence. she giggled nervously, clammy hands patting your back awkwardly when you pulled her in for a tight hug

♱ you damn near gave the poor girl a heart-attack

♱ she had been waiting for this moment her entire life and she was absolutely fumbling the biggest baddie she had ever seen with her naked eyes. it was practically dream come true

♱ her heart absolutely dropped when kylie joking dropped a, "excuse her, she's just a little lovestruck right now." she wanted to scream, to cry, to smash kylie's head through a drywall for throwing her under the bus like that. but, of course, ever the professional, megan tucked mixed strands of her pink and black hair behind her ear and managed to chortle out, "yeah, i've been a big fan of you since austin and ally."

♱ see, now, you weren't one to mix business with pleasure, but dorky nerds were always your kryptonite

♱ watching this disney kid turned singer try and remember her own status as a global phenomenon from merely just standing in the same breath as you was so empowering, and just all around an entertaining twist to what might've been another mundane night of networking

♱ so you invite her for a drink, not missing the way her friends threw her gestures of approvals and teasing as you led her off by her hand, fingers lousily tangled between each other

♱ as the two of you leant by the bar, you turned to face her

you tilted your head, eyes staring through hers like you were gathering the mess wrecking havoc in her brain. her cheeks flushed a pink tint, her long acrylics toying with the bangles hugging her wrists. oh, was she nervous. finally in a scenario she could only dream of, and she’s fumbling the bag. you just took her in for a moment, before reaching out to grab her hand, hearing her breath hitch before she finally met your eyes

"relax, megan, any friend of kylie's is a friend of mine." you chuckled, watching her take a deep breath. “i’ve heard a lot about you. i was wondering when i’d put a face to the name.”

she swore she felt herself melt at the way her name rolled off your tongue. she’d play it on loop forever if she could.

“all good things i hope,” she managed to stammer out. mentally cringing at how corny it came out. “i’m a, uh--i’m actually a huge fan. i’ve been following you since i could comprehend disney shows… wait, i don’t mean, like, following following you, not like a stalker. just, kinda like--!”

your sultry chuckle, thankfully, cut her frantic rambling off.

“you’re adorable,” you commented casually, but the two words were enough to flush her pale cheeks red. “so, megan. tell me, what’s it like being in the spotlight these days?”

averting your gaze away from her seemed to ease the pressure pumping through her veins, but your attention was still fixed on her, and it was like you knew just what to say to fluster her.

“ahem--i’d ask you the same question.” she chuckled.

“oh, come on. you’re the hot new face of pop music, love. it’s bound to come with some exciting new experiences, no?” you laid a hand on hers, and she lost her train of thought.

she could just die happy right then. her life was complete

♱ practically drunk on you the first time you had sex. kisses were desperate, she couldn’t decide where she wanted her hands on you, and her movements so quick it turned sloppy really fast. when you brought it up to her after, how excited she was, she was super embarrassed, but you assured her

♱ a heavy kisser, can and will make out with you for as long as she can until she couldn’t hold back her buzz of excitement

♱ kind of a submissive mess, but when it’s been a while, she won’t even say a word before carrying you to bed

♱ the two of you had a more casual relationship at first, with her being stuck in la for a majority of comeback preparations and you touring. but when you had any crossovers on your schedules, you made sure to slip her a key to your hotel room when you’d “bump into each other” in the lobby

♱ and she was okay with that arrangement until she wasn’t

♱ you knew it was risky, it was practically like hooking up with a fan. she was utterly infatuated, and you brushed it off as an exaggerated form of puppy love. if you were young with the chance to bed your older celebrity crush, you would have been just as obsessed as she was… except your jobs didn’t really agree with something as trivial as feelings

♱ you knew for sure megan wanted more in tokyo, when she was there for a showcase, with a packed schedule first thing in the morning, but let herself fall asleep tangled in your sheets

♱ you stayed just a few resorts over, a twenty minute drive to and back, but it would still be a major hassle and she knew it

♱ and here she was, ignoring all your warnings, all your scoldings, and letting herself fall asleep at two in the morning in your bed. she slept, arms caging you in place, like you would leave the moment she let go, and her nose buried into your hair. the megan you knew a year ago would never be this bold, this comfortable, but she was slipping. and you could see it

♱ the next morning, you were awoken by a scrambling megan, picking through the tossed clothes spread on your floor and picking out her own. she slipped it on lousily, frantically making her way around the room as her manager yelled at her through her phone. you sat up, clutching the duvet against your chest, watching the scene unfold

♱ still, as she scowled at her phone, it fell into a small, exhausted smile. frustrated, but never at you

♱ she leant in for a kiss goodbye, like she always did, but you pulled back just before your lips met

♱ she looked so confused, the poor girl, like a kicked puppy

♱ “no, darling. i think it’s time for… this to end.” you gestured between the two of you, hand on her chest to keep her from leaning in again. you knew she wanted to, and you knew if she did, you wouldn’t be able to get another word in

♱ you could practically hear her heart shatter right then

“is this about my manager? it’s all just hollow threats, i’m just running late, it’s nothing!” she insisted, now sitting on the bed, resisting against your hand. “i can make everything okay.”

“no, megan, listen--!” you interrupted her rambling, sucking in a deep breath. you eyed her, watching her eyebrows furrow. her bottom lip quivered slightly, before they pursed, like she was holding in a sob. “this isn’t worth losing your job over, you guys are just getting big, i’m not going to take that away from you.” you cupped her cheek, thumb caressing along her cheekbone. “i don’t want to get you in trouble anymore.”

“it’s no trouble, i was just being stupid. i’ll--i’ll set an alarm next time, i’ll make sure i’m on time, it’s not a big deal--”

“it is a big deal, music has been your dream decades before this, you met me last year.” you insisted, leaning backwards as she leant forward. she was always such a stubborn girl.

“and you’ve been my dream ever since.”

♱ megan was young. she often lost sight of what she should be prioritizing in her life, because you somehow always came out on top. you hated yourself for letting her, for loving it, but you needed to be the mature one. to not let her throw away something so special, something you have had the pleasure and honour of experiencing so early on, and for so long in your life. you didn’t want to deprive her of the same fruitful career

♱ you wished she was just a bit older. she’d understand.

“that’s not realistic, megan.” you sighed softly, straightening out the locks knotted by her face. “how about this. why don’t we cool off for a bit, and when you’re settled into your career and there are less targets on your head, you can call me.”

“no, i don’t want that.” she shook her head, “please.”

you almost caved in, if not for her manager phoning her once again. her gaze doesn’t stray from yours, jaw tightly wound.

♱ that was the last time you saw her, the last bit of her you savoured was her eyes welling with tears, mouth running with every argument she could think of as you ushered her out your hotel room. you didn't kiss her goodbye, you just smiled, before closing your door

♱ the next time you saw her, you had absolutely no space to breathe, to emotionally prepare yourself for the gut-wrenching sight that would end up making your heart drop; her, now with new pink streaks to her hair, and a couple inches taller, face slim and defined, void of what used to be baby fat. she looked different, foreign, but exhumed a familiar energy

♱ one you are most definitely falling victim to against your will

♱ when she finally spotted you through a crowd of swaying people, it punctuated the middle of whatever she was talking about. focus no longer on the friends surrounding her, instead, her gaze was fixed on someone she had tried so hard to forget

♱ of course you were going to be here. why wouldn’t you? you walked for balenciaga more times than she could count (and she remembered every single one), of course you’d be invited

you were first to approach her, shameless, with a poised composure. you smiled, singling her out when some of her friends had left. you greeted kylie, you greeted jessica, exchanging a couple pleasantries with them before they excused themselves. you weren’t stupid, you chose to ignore the looks they shared before walking off.

you sighed, taking just a step closer. your heart clenched, along with your jaw, when she stepped back instinctively.

“it’s very nice to see you.” you smiled, “how’re you, megan?”

she wanted to scream, wanted to yell at you, to break down in your arms and blame you for everything she had gone through.

no. nothing. a stoic poker face and her arms crossed.

“can i buy you a drink?” you asked, optimistic. she sucked in a deep breath, glancing past your shoulder at her friends trying to act like they weren’t watching your interaction intently.

what do you want? was what she wanted to say. she took you in for a moment: much like her, you had grown into your look. style was more of less the same, but you carried yourself with even more experience than you already had built up to this point. your stylist had done a good job of fitting you in something that hugged you just right. she wanted to just turn around and leave you standing there, just so you would have a taste of how she felt when you had done the same to her.

you took the silence as a “yes”, resisting the urge to grab her hand and lead her off. you politely asked a buss boy to grab your orders for drinks, before settling at a standing table out on the terrace. it was a view over paris’ bustling night life.

“i didn’t expect to see you guys here. i was sure manon would have texted me that you guys were invited.” you chuckled.

megan doesn’t respond, just glances over the ledge to admire the flickering eiffel tower in all its glory. her eyes smokey, and her lips a glossy, tinted shade; she looked ethereal,

you realized she wasn’t going to talk to you. not like this.

“i’m sorry, mei, for the way i ended things.” the distance between you was small, but heavy. you could see her running a thumb against the drink that was just set into your hands. “i… i thought i was doing what was best. for both of us.”

“no, you did it because i was a hinderance in your career.” she scoffed, “y’know, it wasn’t even the fact you fucking ghosted me, it was how easy it was for you to just drop me like that.”

you shook your head. “it wasn’t easy, megan--”

“i called you, again and again months after, and you didn’t even text me back.” she barked, “i mean, are you serious? then i see you smiling and waving on tv while i’m missing you?”

you hadn’t thought about it like that. did it hit her that hard?

“the last thing i wanted to do was hurt you,” you whispered, “look at you. you’re successful, you’re famous… who was i to deny you of these luxuries? i wasn’t going to let you sideline your dream, it wouldn’t have been fair.”

you knew megan was the avoidant type; she rarely confronted you about anything, seeing her so upset about something, especially when that something was you, made your stomach churn. you never thought you’d be the reason she’d turn.

“and you deciding what was best for me is?”

nothing comes to your lips; you don’t argue. just watched her glossy eyes dart across your features.

“no, darling, listen--”

“stop talking to me like i’m a child, okay? i didn’t need you making these decisions for me then, and i don’t need you making them for me now. i hate that you always treat me like i’m a kid you’re babysitting.” she shook her head, “you should’ve never made that choice for me.”

you nodded, feeling thorns strain your throat. “i’m sorry.”

she sniffled, head tilting down so you wouldn’t see the tears brimming her eyes. like you needed to see them for your heart to break. perhaps you were way over your own head; you were just as much a kid as she was then, could she blame you?

“i miss you.” you confessed, “to the point it hurts, mei.”

the look she shot you, like you were lying, made you want to surge forward and just take her back in your arms again.

“--hey, babe,” a gravely voice pierced through the gilded atmosphere you were just getting lost in. you swore she was just about to fall apart and tear her guard down. “what’re you doing out here--? woah, what’s happening?”

her entire being changed. she wasn’t looking at you anymore.

“hey, you’re y/n l/n.” he laughed, reaching a hand out. you wiped the expression from your face, putting on a picture-perfect smile before shaking his rough hand firmly. “i’m jonah, i work with 2hollis. big fan.” he rubbed the hawaiin’s shoulder. “i didn’t know you knew each other.”

“we’re old friends.” you answered, seeing as megan was struggling to find one. “and you’re megan’s…”

“boyfriend. pleasure.” he was polite, a little rowdy for your taste but you couldn’t deny him and megan complimented each other well. very much fit the new her. it was a sucker punch in the stomach. he pecked her on the temple, but the way she pulled away slightly went unnoticed… by him. “oh, babe, i ran into kylie on the way here, she’s looking for you.”

“thanks.” she muttered, paired with a smile that didn’t linger.

“i’ll excuse myself.” you stood up, brushing the creases in your top off. “it was nice catching up with you megan.”

for the first time since you first spoke to her, her name doesn’t roll smooth off your tongue. you spat it with a sharp edge, like it was a hex you put on the two of them. you grinned, but it doesn’t meet your eyes, and you left before she could protest.

♱ a boyfriend. she had a boyfriend. and he was just so nice you couldn’t even bring yourself to hate on him

♱ catching up with the others the rest of the night blew right past you. you were so used to going on autopilot, you didn’t even realize you weren’t consciously coherent until your closer friends were dragging you out for an afterparty

♱ you usually didn’t mind another impulsive plan, but the thought of your ex, who you still so desperately adored with your entire being, was now with a new person

♱ it stung harder, knowing you couldn’t even look at another suitor’s face without thinking of her

♱ still, this was fresh. you weren’t going to be a homewrecker

♱ megan didn’t have the heart to break it off with jonah. she was starting to like him before seeing you dragged up feelings she compartmentalized. lucky the man was dense, and rarely noticed things that weren’t hung on billboards

♱ imagine your celebrity crush being in love with you and you fumbling the bag cuz your petty… *cough* megan *cough*

jeong yoonchae; the baby with a crush (sfw)

♱ see, the thing about katseye, was that they were a staggered age group. from manon, who’s practically gone through every phase and experience in the book, to yoonchae, the baby who sings about relationships she has yet to have.

♱ yoonchae doesn’t crush often, and when she did, it’s like a vault in her soul opened so she could lock away the feeling forever. it was so embarrassing, and she had other priorities.

♱ especially during her trainee era, one she was stuffed into at a very young age. yoonchae was raised on very conservative, traditional values, and harbouring feelings, especially for a woman who was older, went against every rule and principle she had ever known growing up. so, she stayed quiet.

♱ she stayed quiet when she’d feel butterflies in five-year-old her stomach whenever kim tae-hee was onscreen of a kdrama, she stayed quiet when she would blush at the dance instructor’s compliments during training. and she stayed quiet when the new assistant for katseye’s manager could quite literally bring her to her knees with a single smile

♱ perhaps it was more subtle to her than it was to the world

♱ you started noticing something off about the youngest around the three week mark of your internship

♱ she’d be laughing along with the girls in whatever setting, but whenever you’d come to deliver their schedule or coffee, she’d go quiet and look anywhere but at you. she had the best poker face, so you swore it was because she didn’t like you

♱ but that’s okay, you were there to do your job. it didn’t bother you, per se, but you did wonder what it was about you

“wow, the room just turned into a freezer,” manon commented, smirking. “one more cold shoulder and you’re gonna freeze the poor girl, yoonchae.”

the youngest raised an eyebrow at the group’s collective amusement, cradling the coffee cup you’d just brought in.

“yeah, you’re built like a little hater, babe.” lara added.

“what? how am i being a hater?” she asked. it was like every other one of them knew this little gag but her.

“you’re kinda torturing the poor girl, no?” sophia asked, her head snapping towards the corner of the room, where you and their mangers seemed to be coordinating something for them later in the day. “i mean, she takes us places, brings us food, and you barely give her a look. that’s just mean, chip.”

“yeah, for someone so big on manners, you lose the around her.” megan snorted, “but then again, it’s just ‘cuz chip has a little crush on the intern. right, yoonchae--!”

“shut up! i don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“really? if you really hated a person, i know we would be able to see it on your face.” sophia teased, pinching the youngest’s cheek. yoonchae jerked away with a whine. “come on, how long are you gonna ice her out? she’s hot, she’s nice, and she’s a little baby intern--she’s perfect for you!”

“i don’t--no, i just--no crush!” she scrambled out.

♱ only took her like six months of wide-eyed, stoic stares and several confusing interactions with you before she finally came to her senses and confessed she liked you

♱ you were mad confused because you would’ve bet your entire bank account that she straight up hated your guts

♱ before she retreated, you laughed light-heartedly and teased her with a joke about looking intimidating but actually being a huge cheese ball. she lit up like a christmas tree

♱ yoonchae is definitely a lover girl on the low. it takes a while to get through her guard, but when you do, she’s so soft

♱ not a fan of pda 100%, but is a huge cuddler in private

♱ pecks from you are a treat, pecks from her are a miracle. she rarely initiates affection, but when she does, you cling onto her because you get immobilizing cuteness aggression. you start kissing her face all over, arms wrapped around her body, hands resting just under her shirt when you lay in bed together--it was safe to say you were obsessed with everything she did

♱ gets unwarranted dating advice from lara and daniela, occasionally some jokey-ones from manon but will only ever take sophia’s comments seriously. girl has a crazy bs detector

♱ you immediately get teased by the girls after a while, you grow closer with the group but don’t make it too obvious because you would highkey be fired like yesterday

♱ lucky chae… she gets her girlfriend backstage cheering for her everywhere they go, just waiting for a “good job” kiss

an; yall school is grilling my ass please save me this took so long i hate some of it but i hope yall like it. sorry for being gone so long. happy reading! xx

♱ but then the two of you would be in sophia’s room more, locking the door and playing loud music. even poor yoonchae would eventually figure out what the two of you were doing

♱ daniela and manon are definitely the ones to tease you

♱ what was supposed to be a secret arrangement seemed to have become a running joke amongst the katz, and though the two of you continuously denied the idea, it didn’t exactly stop the girls from making lewd noises and kissy faces at you

♱ you were still somewhat hung on your ex, and you definitely were not in the right mental space to start a new relationship

♱ though sophia had a godly mouth on her (you thank the lord for those sweet lips every day), you usually felt guilty after, as if your body telling you you still had feelings for your ex

♱ sophia definitely is not a quickie kinda woman, she prefers to wine and dine you (soda and takeout) before getting to the nitty gritty. she takes her time, she hates rushing. she enjoys a good, long makeout, her hands anywhere she can put it

♱ sophia definitely prefers oral, mostly giving, she loves savouring every taste of you

♱ i see soft dom / power bottom, doesn’t mind taking the lead most times, but loves when you push her into bed

♱ doesn’t let her guard down often, but when she does, she gets attached really fast and really easy

♱ she had no problem adhering to the rules at first, not mentioning your arrangement beyond the pillows, keeping her distance and acting as if nothing happened after. only letting you initiate anything so she wouldn’t make you uncomfortable

♱ she couldn’t help but daydream about being more

♱ she started noticing couples on the street more when the two of you went out together. when she’d watch some pair be all over each other at some restaurant she recommended the two of you try. if it weren’t for your alluring voice, she would just be staring at other people all day, envisioning herself, her hands on you--like you were her pride, not some secret nobody else was allowed to know about

♱ when sophia started blurring the line between a casual arrangement and a relationship, you knew you needed to pull the plug before it ruined the situation--or worse, your lengthy, fragile friendship with sophia

♱ when she would try her hardest to give you the best aftercare, wiping you down or carrying you to the shower. or when she’d immediately slip one of her shirts on you so you wouldn’t get cold, getting under the covers behind you to loop an arm around you tenderly--as if you were something fragile, something delicate she could crumble if she wasn’t careful

♱ she was never a subtle person, a blind person could see it

♱ you were sure she had fallen in love with you when you caught her staring at you one night when you looked up to call her over. it was a little late night hang out at the girls’, just a chill night in, and your invitation to any plans they made was practically incontestable at this point

♱ your breaking point came when the word “girlfriend” slipped from daniela’s mouth at dinner once, and there was no denial, no sign of surprise from the filipina. her smile widened, and you felt her hand on the small of your back caress your skin

♱ the soft smile she gave you, staring back at you as if you had hung the stars in the sky, you felt sick to your stomach

♱ because you knew you loved her, you loved her just as badly

♱ but that would complicate things, and you reminded yourself of that every single night you’d fall asleep clasped in her arms. you lied awake, feeling your best friend’s even breath tickle the back of your neck. her warm hand under your shirt, palming your stomach, holding you close. this wasn’t casual anymore, it was far from, and it haunted you

♱ you stopped calling her over in the middle of the night, making up excuses to skip dinner invitations with the girls. the katz were beginning to question the status of your relationship when sophia’s mood soured with your sudden detachment

♱ it wasn’t until you got a text one day, from your ex

♱ upon reading the texts of them begging for your return, something clicked in your chest and suddenly you weren’t feeling the excitement, the yearning, the longing you thought you’d feel when your ex would finally text back

♱ instead, amidst the spamming texts from your ex popped a familiar contact name: fia ♡ i miss you. please, mahal.

♱ you see her for the first time when you had finally accepted yoonchae’s game night invitation, finding it hard to say “no” to such an adorable face, you pulled up to the katseye dorm

♱ being greeted by lara and manon by the door, they enveloped you in big hugs, rambling on about how much they had missed you, and how loud your absence seemed to be

✵ You couldn’t hear what they were saying exactly, a little distracted by Sophia, who was preparing snacks and drinks in the kitchen. You immediately felt bad, seeing how gloomy her expression looked, as if she hadn’t seen the sun in days

♱ lara informed you of their discreet plan; “actually, sophia doesn’t know you’re coming. she’s been so down since the two of you stopped hanging out--look, i ain’t about to meddle in whatever ya’ll got going on, but we need our girl back. so please do us this favour and part those clouds.”

♱ you missed her so much, your resolve instantly crumbled when you caught the soft look in her big, brown eyes upon spotting you strutting into the room hesitantly

♱ you grabbed her by the hand after a gentle greeting, watching how her eyes followed your form. you hated the doe-in-headlights look she always seemed to have on her face around you. you missed having your arms around her neck, feeling those pouty lips trace the dip in your collarbone as her hands meld into your flesh under your shirt. when her hand slipped into yours, it felt natural. and as you led her into her room, you could hear the girls giggle and mumble compliments to themselves for this foolproof plan

♱ sophia was internally panicking, heart drumming

♱ she could remember the exact amount of time since the last time she was this close to you. she remembered how much she missed the feeling of you against her. she was somewhat glad you were here, after not being able to reach you for weeks, she could finally rest easy knowing you were here again

♱ you sat her down at the foot of her bed, your hands running along her shoulders up to cup her jaw. She watched you closely, her eyes trained on the way you bit your lip. she noticed it was a nervous habit of yours. her fingers crept up your hips, hooking themselves into the belt loops of your jeans, knowing the small gesture soothed your nerves

♱ she was no longer your best friend, sophia. she was your person, the one you loved so dearly

♱ your confession, the reason you avoided her like the plague, spilt from your lips. you sealed your apology, one that brought her eyes to a teary mess, with a chaste kiss to her forehead, then her cheek, then her lips. her sweet, sweet lips

♱ “i love you, mahal… please don’t leave me again.”

manon bannerman; the rival

♱ manon was the most narcissistic, snobby, and downright daddy’s girl you have ever met. you weren’t surprised when she had found her way into your agency (pre-da)

♱ having worked hard to earn your spot as a saint laurent model, you weren’t exactly giddy watching her step foot into the ranks and make herself comfortable in the page next to yours in the newest catalogue. you were almost certain her father had bought her place in the pages

♱ she was the hot, new flame, beautiful, with famous friends

♱ you weren’t surprised when people flocked to her, gawking and worshipping her like some esteemed goddess

♱ she couldn’t blame you for resenting her just the slightest. she understood, really. she was used to people being upset with her for simple being fortunate. fortunate she had good genes, fortunate she was well-off, and rich with luck

♱ but if anything, your distaste for her just seemed to encourage her to pursue this little game of yours even more

♱ manon, the new replacing the tradition (you), has never failed to let you forget she was now the golden girl of saint laurent, she was getting the covers, not you

♱ it took everything in you to not clock her in the jaw

♱ one day, however, she was being unbelievably smug about being chosen over you for the angel costume. the angel costume was such a renowned symbol amongst the saint laurent team and you had gotten it every year since you signed to the agency. but no, some horny porn-addict in the next room decided the woman with the sexy new body was exactly what the catalogue needed for a refreshed start

♱ you were devastated, more torn than you have ever been

♱ per usual, she wanted to gloat, but upon seeing just how distraught you were about the whole thing, she couldn’t help but feel her heart crack the slightest. so instead, she settled for sitting in the makeup chair beside yours instead

♱ you rolled your eyes, sighing. you kindly dismissed your hair dresser, and though mike gave you the biggest side-eye, questioning your intentions knowing your thoughts on the new resident princess, he left the two of you alone. “listen, don’t take this the wrong way, but if i have to hear a word about this, i just might wring your head off and roast it on a stick.”

♱ manon tried playing it cool, though the threat oddly made her cross her legs. “come on, l/n, you expect me to hush?”

♱ “no, bannerman, i’m telling you to hush. so, listen.”

♱ that little command had her weak, but would manon ever admit that? come on, let’s not kid ourselves now. but she will definitely channel that sexual tension into her teasing

♱ when you finally had enough of her bratty demeanour, you couldn’t keep yourself composed when confronting her

♱ “god, what’s your fucking problem, bannerman?”

♱ the slight growl in your voice made her knees buck, and she was ready to cave then and there, in the middle of her dressing stall, the one you had forced yourself into when she decided to smirk tauntingly at you right after the announcement of her snatching another cover from you. you had her pinned to the mirror, and you could see your own, fuming expression out the corner of your eye. but you were too focused on the straight look of fear and… nerves from the woman beneath you

♱ manon didn’t reply. she leant forward and kissed you. soft, but hungry, her lips swallowing your next words quietly

♱ she could finally release that pent up energy she felt from this little one-sided crush. though she knew this was a ballsy move, even for her, she couldn’t help but let her own needs possess her for a brief moment

♱ she took you in, like you were breathing life into her

♱ when you would kiss back, just as fast, just as needy, she sighed against your lips. your hands grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her into you as close as you could as you pressed into her against the wall. she immediately crumbled, turning into a whining mess, begging you to touch her when your lips would ghost the sensitive spot just between her ear and jaw. who knew this was all it took to shut little miss chatterbox up?

♱ manon’s definitely a whiner. she will paw at you, fisting your shirt or grinding into you whenever she needed more

♱ definitely loves the thought of somebody possibly walking in on you fucking any moment. she wondered what her dad would think, hearing his daughter is sneaking off to get herself off with saint laurent’s golden girl during the work hours he paid to secure for her. you loved reminding her of it too:

♱ “what would your daddy think, hm? what would he say if he saw his precious baby girl begging to cum right now?”

♱ it was then the little dance the two of you seemed to do began; manon would keep acting up in public, in front of all your peers and colleagues as she teased you endlessly about losing to the new girl, but then the moment you get her behind closed doors, you'd put her in her place

♱ eventually, manon's admiration twisted into something deeper. she wasn't just looking up to you (sometimes literally *wink wink*) anymore, she was straight-up staring in hopes of getting your attention anytime, anywhere

♱ manon was falling in love with you, inevitably fast

♱ she heard her breath hitch whenever you stood around her for a catalogue. you were rising back into your status as the golden girl, getting more covers and taking up more pages, some of which were coupled with the daughter of the company's biggest investor

♱ when the two of you were instructed to be close, she felt like every pair of eyes in the room was watching her crumble

♱ she started acting out more to get your attention. the two of you never vocally agreed on anything surrounding this arrangement, but she knew you weren't the type to waste your time focusing on anything else beyond your career. your modelling was the one pride and joy of your life, the one consistent, but she took that as a challenge to see how much of you she could win over

♱ you knew she was acting out, but you needed that outlet, that chance to release any resentment or frustration you had with her or the situation she had cornered you into

♱ eventually, she couldn’t be professional (not that she was that professional before anyway) around you anymore

♱ she started caring for you, getting you coffee or water in between shoots, or fixing your hair in the middle of a shot

♱ she began dropping by your dressing room more often

♱ sometimes, it’s not even to rile you up or piss you off so you'd fuck her straight, she'll just stand in the doorway and make comments about how good your ass looks in tiny lingerie or bring you some "leftover" takeaway she ordered even though the bag would be unopened. you were confused as to her switch in how she treated you, she was riling you up in public less and less, and you didn't even notice yourself until your hairstylist, mike brought it up

♱ "you just gonna keep torturing the poor girl, or what?" mike questioned immediately after manon left the room. she just came in to say something so irrelevant, you don’t even remember what it was, but she wasn’t here long.

♱ “what?” you scoffed, stunned, “what’re you talking about?”

♱ “come on, you're obviously fucking. you make the nepo baby act like a nervous teenage boy around you, are you that dense?” he combed through your hair, as if he hadn’t just said the most ridiculous thing ever. it never occurred to you manon could see you as anything but a professional rival, fuck buddy was pushing it, but crush? that was a step that scared you.

♱ “i know you’re beefing with her and all, but it’s so obvious she’s actually just tryna hit on you,” mike insisted.

♱ you decided to confront her about it, cornering her into the same dressing stall the two of your first fucked in

♱ you locked the door, turning back to cross your arms and stare her straight in the eye. she gulped, scared shitless

♱ “are you into me, bannerman? for real? and don’t lie to me.”

♱ she felt her heart in her mouth, nearly gagging at the words about to burst from her lips. she at first decided to deny. deny, deny, deny, laughing awkwardly and avoiding eye contact as she rejected the idea, “ha, that’s ridiculous, even for you. where on earth did you get that idea?”

♱ you were skeptical of the way she answered, watching what was supposed to be the most confident, unwavering woman you had ever met avoid your eyes. her face fell to an anxious stoic expression, where you couldn't read a single thing from her expression. you had only seen it once or twice, when she would be getting yelled at on the phone by her father, or when she first got the cover shoot

♱ alas, you let it go, deciding it wasn't worth the struggle of ruining whatever situation the two of you were strung somewhat comfortable in

♱ it was just casual anywhoo... right?

♱ but then you started picking up on the smaller things you never noticed before; how you'd catch her staring out the corner of your eye during your shoots, how she always bought extra food, drinks, or whatever during early days to make sure you ate, how she would let herself comfortably meld into you, sighing against your collarbone when you'd lay skin-to-skin. it was growing more apparent by the day, much to your dismay

♱ but you let her bleed into your space and drown you

♱ you let her linger next to you at fashion week afterparties, you let her drive you to work with her thumb tracing along your inner-thigh, and you let her bring you home that christmas to meet her family. but you never let her label it, always interrupting her with a nervous chuckle, and a tight squeeze to her arm as you finished her introduction of you

♱ it was always "i'm a friend of manon's." or "i'm manon's coworker." and you could only watch her anxiety bubble to her face as her smile flickers, her pep dimming for the night

♱ you woke up once, just before the sun began leaching through the blinds of manon's home. the sun wasn't up yet, but the room was warm, an arm pressed snug against your bare stomach, like it belonged. you managed to pry yourself away from the woman, feeling the familiarity, the comfort of it suffocated you. since when had you ever let yourself stray from your job like this? from the thing you loved most?

♱ modelling was the one constant you've always had in your life, the one thing that belonged to you, and the woman who took it all away was sleeping soundly around you

♱ you weren't golden girl, you weren't on covers, you had lost your standings in saint laurent and you were getting the secondary shoots instead of the primary ones you used to be assigned. now she was all of those. she was you. and you let her dip her fingers and pry at every other crevice of your life too. it was time for this rendezvous to end

♱ so you left. you didn't pick up her call when she woke up that morning, you dismissed her pleads for an explanation when she finally ran into you during your lunch break. it was time to phase out the rumours, the agony of what was causing you your job. trying to "sleep your way back up" with the daddy's girl wasn't a look you could afford anymore

♱ and in a month or so, your celibacy paid off

♱ you were in the director's favours again, slowly chipping your way back to covergirl whenever a new concept dropped. you opened most shows, leading the first strut down the runway lined with celebrities and infamous persons globally watching you click-clack along the carpet, and suddenly manon bannerman the "swiss angel" had her wings clipped, and the original saint was guarding the gates of heaven again

♱ you just wrapped the shoot for your fall catalogue, marinating in the silence you finally managed to seek solace in after months of manon's nonstop pestering

♱ she would plead, beg, whimper at your feet for any sort of conversation. she was usually so confident, so poised and unaffected by another's opinion--well, another person besides you. she was so defeated, so out of character for what most would know manon to be. and despite being a social butterfly, she was struggling to put up a friendly front for fellow models

♱ you knew it was bad when mike started telling you stories; about how manon had lost her "it" factor, how she had been a cyclic cloud of bad mood ever since the two of you stopped hooking up. she was snappy, the opposite of her charming self

♱ you felt bad, almost, your victory, the success you got your hands on again felt tainted. a short, borrowed glory at the expense of someone else with the same dreams

♱ but you didn’t care about manon… right? no, you didn’t

♱ no, seriously, you didn’t… you didn’t! you swore on your life!

♱ fuck… then why do you feel bad? why don’t you feel fulfilled? complete? despite being saint laurent’s top model again, despite being america’s top model, and despite being surrounded by potential suitors begging for just one chance

♱ why does the sight of her standing alone ruin your day?

♱ you were standing with some friends by the pool, soaking in the lush atmosphere of ysl’s latest campaign launch party. you had been watching manon unravel from the top, skipping fittings, losing focus in shoots… when you had a moment alone, she cornered you on the terrace, her eyes hooded and her cheeks flushed warn from champagne

you didn’t say anything, watching her stumble over in a drunken daze. she collapsed into your arms, her alcoholic breath tickling the crook of your neck. you let her lay there for a second, feeling her exhale deeply.

when she finally spoke, your heart clenched at the melancholy edge to her voice. “why do you keep acting like i don’t matter?”

you helped her over to the sofa just inches away, setting her limp body against the plush cushions. yanking you down with her, she slumped, resting her head on your lap. you sighed, letting her doze her spinning head.

“what’re you doing, bannerman?” you whispered, combing your fingers through her princess braids.

her breath shallowed, eyes. fluttering open and shut slowly.

her hand reached up to tuck your hair behind your ear. you swallowed thickly, gaze roaming across her features.

“you should be taking care of yourself. this place is full of hungry directors and horny freaks waiting for one of us to get just too drunk.” you scolded, removing the near-empty champagne glass from her hand. “this isn’t healthy, manz.”

you shook your head in disapproval at the sheepish grin on her lips. is this bitch really tryna be cute right now?

“so you do care--!” she slurred, propping herself up.

she turned to face you, nuzzling her nose into your neck as she cuddled into your side. you let your arm hang over her shoulder, lips ghosting just over her forehead. she picked at her fingernails, her persistent anxiety piercing through the thick coat of alcoholic armour.

“then why do you pretend you don’t.” she mumbled faintly into your chest. “that’s really fucked… you’re really fucked.”

you paused, staring over at the framed prints of the shoots you had done scattered across the grand ball room. you were practically plastered on every one, whilst hers sat quietly in a corner, tucked behind the curtain of you. “i’m sorry.”

“i love you.” she confessed, staring up at you.

you don’t speak, letting the waft of champagne off her breath fill your nose. “i’m going to call you a cab. come on--!”

“i love you.” she repeated, this time sitting up.

she grabbed you by the cheeks, kissing you just as tenderly as she used to. your hand met her chest, wanting to push her off, but you couldn’t. it was like muscle memory, letting yourself melt into her as her lips worked yours.

“i--need you--to love me.” she confessed, breathlessly, and between sensual pecks. “please. please say you love me.”

you sigh against her lips. she moved onto your lap.

“…i love you.” it was like the sentence itself gave her life.

♱ if only she didn’t get accepted into that survival show post-modelling career. who knows where the both of you could’ve been if she had stayed at saint laurent…

daniela avanzini; the friend of a friend

♱ when daniela proposed the arrangement to you, you thought she was just playing a cruel prank on you

♱ you were manon’s friend, occasionally tagging along to whatever shenanigans the older invited you to. when daniela first met you, she was gobsmacked. she genuinely thought you were the most ethereal person her eyes had ever laid on. she was used to being the one most chased after; talented, beautiful, destined for greater things--she was a cheerleader, a child star, and now a trainee for a top management agency in entertainment for christ’s sake, why was she so hung up on some younger woman who was around sometimes?

♱ you were much more shy than manon, more reserved but let your true self leak through your guarded exterior from time to time. daniela liked that, how you let your presence be known naturally, soundly, like the soft chime of a soothing bell ringing in the midst of her chaotic, loud personality

♱ daniela loves toying with you, having you around her finger

♱ she enjoys the power dynamic, the control--to be able to see how much she affected you. She would never want anything to do with you beyond physical intimacy, and she made that very clear when she would completely dismiss your attempts at talking whenever you were invited to hang out with the girls

♱ daniela would definitely be the most toxic of all the girls

♱ she would definitely send the most mixed signals, whether it be mumbling things like, “fuck, you’re so pretty” or “oh my god, i need you so bad--i can’t live without you” when you’re having sex, to yelling “no, i have an early morning, hurry up” as she ushers you out of her bed with your clothes in her hands

♱ she messes your head up horribly, but you liked it

♱ you liked the power you had when she was under you, when you'd straddle her and kiss any toxic, derogatory psychobabble away before they made it out her mouth. that was your time. when the sun came out, you were just manon’s friend again

♱ 100% a scratcher/biter. leaves marks shamelessly all over you, but won’t let you leave any on her. you managed to sneak a couple here and there, but always somewhere only she’d find later on, when she was nude and alone

♱ you always get teased by manon, after you’d hook up with daniela, you wouldn’t wear anything backless for days

♱ steals your clothes, and by steal, i mean physically takes it off you before you have sex and then puts it on after and just never gives it back. has a whole rotation of your clothes

♱ you buy her flowers, her favourite snacks, you spoil her rotten, even though she doesn’t ask for it

♱ it all started at a pool party this friend of megan and lara’s were holding. you were dragged along by manon because you were about to leave for tour, working as producer/performer for dominic. might as well have one last day of partying by a luxury pool to start the summer world tour off just right

♱ you were standing by the tanning chairs, chatting and giggling with jonah and his band members, mostly chattering about the events planned for dom’s tour when a familiar woman made her presence known to the group

“hey, boys. nice party you’re throwing here.” she beamed

a hand slid onto your shoulder, your head instinctively jerked to glance up at its owner. you swore you knee was almost jerked just at the sight of her tawny curls

her perfume hit you the next second, intoxicating you, as her nails scratched her mark from your shoulder down your back

“hello, y/n.” she purred, a genuine grin after the faux giggles she used around anyone who wasn’t you. she turned back to the three, flashing those tempting siren eyes. she grabbed your wrist. “sorry, guys, this woman is mine. excuse us.”

and so you found yourself getting tugged into the house

you don’t even know what to say, or what to ask, she did just drag you from your friends without anything beyond a hello

“dani, what the fu--” you yelped, as she roughly shoved you in the guest bathroom, locking the door behind her

“seriously? boylife?” she scoffed, crossing her arms. she looked to be a mother telling off her child for putting their hand in the cookie jar. “they’re so goth and ew, why do i have to keep rescuing you from that rancid group of e-boys?”

you were taken aback by her language, as it came off harsher than anything you expected her to say.

“what’re you talking about?” you questioned, trying to find her eyes as she did her best to avoid yours. “i was just catching up with them--you’re the one who dragged me off.”

“don’t play dumb with me. i’ve seen the way you look at hollis, and you need to stop embarrassing yourself.”

you were beyond confused. why was she so upset over that?

“hollis? what? dani, you’re thinking too much of it.” you chuckled, but before you could push past her, she grabbed you by the hips rather roughly, anchoring you to the sink. you gasped, “dani--! what is going on with you?”

“are you that desperate, hm? i don’t keep my eye on you once, and you move on to the next?”

“there is no ‘next’, okay?” you tucked a strand of curls behind her ear, leaning in to give her a reassuring kiss, but sucking in a sharp breath when she pulled back slightly. “you don’t want the girls wondering where you are. they’ll worry.”

your answer didn’t satisfy her, she couldn’t stand the thought.

♱ the party was a grave turning point in your relationship

♱ you were fully aware of how daniela operated, how everything between the two of you had to move at her pace, or they wouldn’t move at all. but it was exaggerating. fast

♱ you weren’t even allowed to be around the girls alone if she weren’t there, even though you had known manon forever. the eldest swore on her life you needed to break yourself free before the latina did some real damage. if anyone were to see first-hand what daniela avanzini was capable of when it came to devastating her dates, it would be her roommate

“babe, it’s ridiculous! look, i love dani, but it’s too much.” your friend scoffed. you knew she was right, you knew she missed being able to invite you over even when daniela wasn’t there. “you have to talk to her about it, this is actual bullshit.”

“it’s not that big a deal, she’ll back off eventually.”

“no, she won’t!” manon slapped a hand over her forehead, pressing at her temple. “trust me, i’ve seen the epic highs and lows of daniela avanzini, she can and will go further.”

“you’re exaggerating,” you chuckled, “it’s just… fresh.”

“you’re not even dating--i’m warning you, cut the noose before it kills you, dumbass.” she was so sure, so certain this wasn’t a good idea, you had a horrible feeling. but you were hooked on her, just like everybody else who knew her. “and fast.”

♱ and that was a month in of you hooking up. sometimes you wondered what life would be like, how peaceful and beautiful it would’ve been if you had just listened to your good friend

♱ most bipolar lover award goes to…. you guessed it!

♱ will lovebomb you when you start pulling away, grabbing at whatever she could get her hands on when you came over, thinking she was being subtle and “friendly” around the girls, but it was obvious to all of them she was giving cat in heat

♱ absolutely hated the fact you were magnetic, it didn’t matter whether it be girls or guys befriending you, she made sure to tear them apart when she would confront you about it

♱ super insecure about you guys when fans hinted at futchiela

♱ hated the thought of people finding out she was lowkey in love with a girl, one as popular as you among the celeb social circles no less. she was worried this getting out would define her, define her career, like she didn’t have a crazy resume she’s been building since a dance shoe could fit on her foot

♱ got crazy jealous over your friendship with odessa

♱ you ran in the same circles, attended the same events, and she was just your type; dark curls and a loud persona

♱ except odessa was much more shameless of hers

♱ come on, everyone knew odessa was a touchy, feely kinda friend. she had practically kissed every single one of them in one way or another and you were no different

♱ you hadn’t even registered it when she grabbed you by the face and kissed you in that one photobooth at some premiere

♱ it was only until a couple days after when she posted her dump did daniela see just how close of a friend she was

♱ radio silence from her was scarier than a crash out

♱ you remembered being manon’s plus one for this get together one of her friends were throwing. the two of you drove separately from the girls, and it was obvious they were arriving from different places. what stunned you most, though, was the fact daniela came striding in on someone’s arm

♱ you had never met jonah, not directly at least. he was just a mutual of daniela’s, one you never thought posed a threat

♱ you hadn’t spoken to her--well, she hadn’t spoken to you since “the odessa incident” as manon called it. she hadn’t called for you to come around, hadn’t texted you about the girls and guys you were hanging out with. you thought she was livid, that if you’d give her some time she’d come around; the last thing you expected was her debuting a new boyfriend

“hey, i thought you weren’t coming.” sophia said, giving the latina a brief embrace. you stood wedged between lara and manon, who took turns greeting their member as well.

“i wasn’t, but i might as well ‘cuz jonah was.”

the man made his presence known on cue, a hand slinging around the latina’s waist. you eyed it intently, gulping.

“oh? how’s that girl you were with?” megan asked, and you could see the two visibly tense at the mention of his ex.

“that’s been over a while.” he replied, clearing his throat.

“a long while.” daniela added, gaze flickering to you, glaring straight through your quiet guard. you felt your chest tighten, the upbeat mood you had arrived at the party with soured.

“what’re ya’ll acting so shady for? are you guys, like, together or something?” lara asked, a cackle following it like it was a joke. when neither of them laughed or denied the question, her face fell quickly. “oh my god, are you guys together?”

everybody let out a collective gasp, but you could only stare at her. the sick joke was, she was already staring back.

“we’re just hanging out.” jonah corrected, “…for now.”

“wow,” manon sighed. not one of wonder, not one of exasperation, just a sound of pure disbelief.

“well, we’ll see you girls around, there’s some friends i want to meet up with.” daniela’s eyes left your melancholy ones, grabbing jonah’s upper-arm and tugging him away. she doesn’t look back, not catching the solemn expression on your face. the same couldn’t be said about your friends, however.

“well, i’m about to beat a bitch up.” lara scoffed.

megan and sophia spark a conversation about just how irresponsible, how unprofessional the latina was being regarding the dating ban. yoonchae just watched the two from afar in disapproval. none of them seemed surprised.

“how ‘bout we go get a drink?” manon asked, a hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the bar.

you swore you blacked out that entire party, every sound, every call of your name blurred into a high-pitched whir. you don’t remember how many drinks manon had gotten you until you left to queue for the bathroom.

slumped against a wall, you felt the world spin around you.

your eyes shied away from the blinding, flashing lights of the kitchen, where you could clearly see the two people you wanted absolutely nothing to do with practically stuck together in a group of familiar faces. you couldn’t spare the man another look, so your gaze trained on her face.

she laughed, throwing her head back, a hand over her chest like the joke was the funniest she had ever heard.

it was so robotic, so fake, you knew better than to believe it.

she felt the burning glare from across the room, looking up, and her smile didn’t meet her eyes. it was apologetic, almost, the look she gave you, but you knew deep down she wanted to see you seethe, to see you bleed of devastation.

but you didn’t want to give her that satisfaction.

“hey, babe, you okay?” odessa’s face doesn’t register for a moment, but those piercing blue eyes were hard to miss.

she waved the girl behind you to take the free bathroom, gently tugging you aside, just a couple feet down the hall, where the party noises watered down. it was much more tolerable there, you could hear yourself think again.

“i’m--i’m okay. where’s manon?” you slurred, coughing.

“she’s with dylan and the guys. i think we should get you some water, let’s go to the kitchen--!”

“no!” it sounded much softer in your head. “no, i’m fine.”

“baby, you can barely stand, i don’t want you wandering around.” odessa insisted, grabbing hold of your elbow when you nearly stumbled over your own feet. “come on, let’s at least find you somewhere to sit.”

you didn’t have the energy to argue, letting her drag you through the sea of dancing drunks. she managed to push you down into an empty sofa by the balcony, the fresh air was just what you needed to feel like the world wasn’t spinning again.

you hadn’t even noticed it was in direct view of where daniela was standing. all you could see was odessa handing you a bottle of water, making space on the coffee table in front of you so she could sit, watching you. the latina had tuned out what her friends were saying long ago, her blood boiling at the fact her plan was falling apart. instead of you being jealous of her new kindling with jonah, she was fuming at the sight of odessa’s hands running all over your face to “brush hair away”.

the next thing you knew, you were sitting between two arguing women feeding the throbbing of your head.

“i got it from here, alright? drew must be looking for you.”

you swore you heard odessa whisper a, “good luck” before she sauntered off with no choice. the couch dipped next to you, and you felt the bottle get yanked from your hand.

“are you serious? what’re you, five?” she muttered under her breath, helping you sit up. “you’re a fucking idiot.”

you groaned, pulling away from her touch. “i’m fine.”

“stop moving.” she scolded, gripping your wrist firmly. you resisted, but your fatigue betrayed you. “you’re going home.”

“i can manage myself just fine.”

you ran a hand through your hair, sucking in a deep breath. you glanced up, noticing the man daniela came with hadn’t even bat an eye at the two of you. it made you wonder; did nobody else see through daniela’s facade? the straight bombshell image she couldn’t let go? perhaps see the way she was looking at you right then. you wanted to believe you weren’t crazy, that it wasn’t just you who saw that glint in her eye.

“is this who you want to be? another drunk nepo baby who gets their life ripped apart by those vultures online?” she hissed, tone lowering to just above a whisper.

“i don’t care! i really don’t, daniela. can you please leave?”

it wasn’t untrue. you barely paid any mind to another’s opinion about you. the only person you ever cared to please was her.

“so you can get whisked into another round? yeah, right.”

you stood up, jerking away from her hand that reached for you despite wobbling on your feet. you glanced down at her, eyes glistening. “you had no right driving her away.”

“why’re you giving me attitude? i’m trying to help you.”

“why? why’re you helping me? you don’t get to ignore me for three weeks then come back and drive my friends away.”

“is that what you are? friends?” she scoffed, following you.

you stumbled your way towards the front door, pushing past a couple new arrivals to sway your way towards your car.

“yes. friends, just like me and you. right?” you spat.

she halted in her steps, taken aback by the harsh tone of voice you were using with her. you leant against your hood, sighing, head thrown back to look up the sky. your head was spinning.

“get your fucking shit together.” she hissed, glancing around. “and keep your voice down, you’re making a scene.”

“or what? why can’t people know i love you? hey! i love this girl, i am in love with daniela avanzini--!” a hand was slapped over your mouth the next second, her body melding into yours as you leant back. you grabbed her by the waist, steadying the both of you before you could fall back into your car.

“why’re you like this?” she scoffed, like you were a bad thing.

“is it me? are you embarrassed of me?” you asked, locking your wrists so she couldn’t struggle her way out of your grasp. “you act like i’m the only person in your world one second, but then you act like you don’t know me when someone’s there.”

“it’s not like that, i’m just--will you let me go, please?”

she frantically snapped her head around, scanning for passerby’s who might recognize you. you pull her close, locking her in a tight hug. you breathed her in, feeling her slowly stop resisting. maybe it was the alcohol still swarming through your blood, but all was forgiven for a moment.

“i’ll love you wherever, i’ll buy you whatever you want, i want to be there for every single second of your life. what does he have that i don’t?” you mumbled into her neck, hearing her heart race at your proximity; at least her body can’t pretend.

“you can be there for odessa. you seem close enough.”

“is that what this is about? that’s why you’re parading that shallow iphone face around?” you pulled back. “oh my god, dani, you are so jealous for someone so afraid of commitment.”

“that’s not the point,” she said, softer now. “people saw, and now they’ll think you and her are…” she stopped, shaking her head. “the way people were talking about you guys, i just…”

“feel trapped?” she didn’t answer. her hands trembled as you brushed your fingers against hers.

“i just… i don’t want them to know,” she murmured. “i mean, come on, what does that make me?”

you tilted her chin up, meeting her eyes. “mine.”

for a moment, she forgot she was standing in the middle of a public parking lot, where the girls, jonah, or anyone could walk in on you. but she doesn’t pull away, instead, her hands found your neck in one swift, and very familiar, motion.

leave it to you to turn the straight girl… right?

♱ wrong. ya’ll would never date publicly, she just keeps you trapped in this cycle of guilt and confusion. sorry, ya’ll…

lara raj; the first-time loser

♱ dylan was the worst kind of rockstar boyfriend stereotype. a total smokeshow, but nothing beyond the grand flames of how hot he was. he was charming, funny, but a little bland for your taste. he wasn't your type in more ways than one, but here you were, sitting across from him at an exclusive bar for the rich and famous of los angeles, listening to him stumble through filtered conversation to hold the nonchalant demeanour

♱ lara didn't have to try. she was cool and smooth... ugh, lara. you blamed that fireball shot of a woman for putting you here

♱ you knew what you were getting into when you went from bandmates to bandmates with benefits. the hybe dating ban kept you from really exploring romantic interests, and luckily for you, lara was just as interested in you as you were her

♱ the thing was, she enjoyed the time she had with you; the sneaking around, the crazy sex, the looks that'd get you hot and bothered during rehearsal--but she enjoyed nurturing a flourishing career more than she did a fling like yours. it was something you agreed with, you loved finally having your dream within reach as much as the next person

♱ but you were stupid, and you let yourself get high off her

♱ high libido, high stamina, can and will go all night until you pass out with her still buried deep inside you

♱ a couple weeks and you were obsessed, it was like you couldn’t breathe without a taste of her, but you knew all good things had to come to an end

♱ some would say it's reasonable; she had no obligations, no commitment to you. and if anybody understood her hunger for pursuing music, it was you. you had no choice but to suck it up when she insisted it was time your little fling came to an end

♱ it wasn't awkward, per se, when you'd all be together and act like nothing between the two of you were chemically charged, if ever. but it was hard to concentrate, especially when she was going out of her way to act "normal" like you were disposable

♱ so when the dating ban finally lifted, you agreed to a date to the first guy that asked--the lead singer of the wallows

♱ your brain was tuning his boring dialogue out, letting your mind drift towards your terribly silent phone. hell, a booty call would whisk you out that seat if one came from her. it was just then you caught sight of click-clacking heels making their way down the marble stairs across the room

♱ like you had conjured her from your naked thoughts, the diva herself, clad in the skimpiest clubbing outfit you had ever seen, swaying her hips into the vip lounge. all eyes turned on her, but for the first time in weeks, hers were fixed on you

♱ she concealed any shock in her expression behind a grin

♱ "well, isn't this a surprise." she said, eyes glazing past the man sitting across you, never leaving your own line of sight. the pep in her tone caught you offguard, how she equipped her "outdoor" voice because of the unfamiliar face at the table

♱ "lara--! uh, what're you doing here?" you wanted to beat yourself for how pathetic the stammering sounded

♱ "i could ask the same thing." she eyed dylan up and down

♱ you hadn't told any of the girls you were going on a date, you would never be in a place like this otherwise. which only made you wonder: why was she here?

♱ "i, uhm... i'm on a date, actually." you gestured at him

♱ if you didn’t know any better, you wouldn’t have been able to pick up on the way her lips twitched in distaste

♱ “so where’s the date?” she glanced around, thrusting her head back and fourth, making a point to glaze past him. okay, you didn’t like the man, but this was just hurtful, even for her

♱ you watched dylan wave his hand. “i’m the date.”

♱ my god, she could be such a bitch when she wanted to. that performative smile cushioned the blow to dylan's ego, at least it did until she turned her head aside to mutter under her breath: "wow." thank god the man was a little soured by her reaction to notice

♱ her hand reached for you, shamelessly meeting the soft blade of your shoulder. "well, i'm early for a date of my own. mind if i sit with you guys while i wait?"

♱ you didn't know what made you more nervous; the fact she was obviously playing some sick game, or the fact her hand had slipped down to your thigh when she cramped her way into your side of the speakeasy's booth uninvited

♱ "lara, we're kinda on a date here--" you began

♱ "it's okay, i don’t mind. what's a couple minutes?" dylan interrupted, now with the urge to impress this friend of yours who was obviously so indifferent about him

♱ you wish you could explain why you'd rather not have your ex-situationship sit in on the first actual date you've had in months waiting for her own, to which this was the first you've heard of it. you would almost say it stung, the fact she was scoping out other options on her own time, if not for the warm hand tracing its way to your inner-thigh

♱ "maybe you should grab a table first," you suggested, shifting in place. your eyes darted across the room, scanning it, but not really taking anything in. "the place might fill up before your date gets here--"

♱ a harsh clench had her talons digging into your plush thighs, gripping down on her prey, like she had you right where she wanted you, and she wasn't about to give that up

♱ "no, i'd rather get to know your date."

♱ her attention was now on him, and you see him visibly swallow. she tilted her head, eyes raking him up and down, taking him in: black dress-shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hair a tousled doo with a chain dangling against his pecs. he looked just like the type you'd entertain, but she thought you liked your dates with a little less... dick

♱ "i'm sorry, what was your name again?"

♱ he chuckled to ease the cluttering tension, a hand ruffling the back of his hair. "it’s dylan. we met last year at the vmas afterparty... i'm good friends with manon?"

♱ "hm. i don't recall." she feigned thought, cocking her head

♱ you exhaled deeply, feeling your grasp on the situation slowly slip from your hands. you felt dylan glance at you a few times for help, but you could only stare blankly at the half-empty glass in front of you as lara continued her assault

♱ "you asked her out over dms? and how many dms did you slide into before that?" / "what? obvi, you should've brought flowers, are you playing around or are you serious about this date?" / "oh, come on, dylan, i live with her, you think i wouldn't know if she likes your music or not?" / "i'll give it to you, babe, at least he's cute. a little generic, but cute enough."

♱ you were beyond embarrassed, you were livid: walking all over you when you were fooling around is one thing, but barging in uninvited and insulting your date, who so kindly agreed to let her wait with company when you didn't even want her there was childish--which was a sweet taste of what she had been truly concealing behind that “everything’s ok” bs

♱ "y’know what, i've just about had enough of this place. how about we go for a bite somewhere else?" you suggested, smiling at the man. poor guy nodded frantically with pursed lips, leaving after insisting he'll get the check

♱ when you looked at her, she was taken aback by the glossy shutter of disappointment in your eyes

♱ "really, doll? that guy? he’s the most boring fucker ever.”

♱ you left with dylan, pushing past her and out the booth. grabbing his hand, you dragged him out the club, leaving the indian singer sitting idly in the booth, alone

♱ that night, when she got back from her long night out, you were sitting in the living room of the dorm, watching whatever your prime suggested. the moment you saw her now-dishevelled red locks, you turned the tv off, rolling your eyes and propping yourself off the couch. she scoffed, smirking at the immediate attitude you were shading

♱ "where 'you goin, doll?" she slurred, obviously intoxicated

♱ you held an arm up, storming to your room. daniela brought manon home for the weekend, so you had it to yourself

"i'm not speaking to you, lara." you stated sternly, no slip of emotion, no crack in your disapproval. she had always been attracted to the sure-headed side to you. she followed suit, shedding her boots, her stockings, and her bag one at a time.

"oh, come on, what're you being such a cunt for?"

you shook your head, pulling the sweatshirt over your head, hair falling over the back of your baby tee. the curve of your waist now bare for her eyes to soak in. and that, she does.

“you humiliated dylan in the middle of public, did you want me to thank you on my knees after that?”

“i always want you on your knees,” she scoffed, shrugging, “what’s the big fucking deal, it’s just banter, like, i’m not going to kill his family or anything. if he can’t take a joke, that sounds like a problem he needs to deal with.”

“it wasn’t a joke, lara, you were being a complete asshole!”

"since when has that ever been a problem?" she groaned, letting herself slump into the foot of your bed. you undid your hair, feeling yourself inhale sharply. you watched yourself through your vanity mirror, feeling her hooded eyes boring into the back of your head. "you don't have to throw a tantrum.”

"throw a tantrum? you were the one acting like a child!”

“look, you don’t have to blame me because you don’t like him.” she scoffed, “i mean, come on, doll, he’s the most boring person i’ve ever met. his favourite drink was beer. you don’t have to act like you actually like the fucking asshole.”

“why does it matter? maybe i like the bore here and there, at least he’s not afraid to take me out to dinner.”

she fell silent at the subtle jab, her smile fading into a disapproving pout. you've never raised your voice at her, always the submissive, good girl she wanted you to be.

“like i said, i don’t want to talk to you. get out.”

she didn’t budge, leaning back on her palms against your plush mattress. you stood up, turned away from your mirror to glare her down directly. you stepped closer, breath heavy and shoulders tense. she doesn’t say anything, only tilting her head in anticipation, a cheeky smirk ghosting her lips.

“i don’t want to fight, lara.” you insisted, voice much quieter this time around, “will you please listen for once?”

silence, once again, only this time, she sat up, hands reaching to grab the ones you had resting on your hips. she tugged you in gently, until you were standing clamped between her thighs. caged in her embrace, she guided your hands to her jaw, which you gently trace your fingers along. she clutched your wrists gently, as if you’d be lost forever if she let go.

“is that what you want?” she husked, “for me to leave?”

yes, you thought, but the word doesn’t make it past your lips. and she took your silence as an answer, hands leaving your wrists to trail up the side of your thigh, under the flailing hem of your shirt, and left cool prints of her fingertips against the warm skin of your stomach. why was she so hard to hate?

“i can’t keep doing this.” you confessed, “your fucking game.”

“i’ll kill him if he touches you again.” lara whispered against your palm, kissing the inside of it. “and i’ll make you watch.”

“why don’t you worry about your own date?”

“mmh. don’t remind me. everytime he so as looked at me, i wanted to throw up.” her words muffled into your chest, arms circling around your waist and pulling you down into bed with her. she grinned, and you could smell the faint waft of alcohol from her breath. she grabbed your chin, turning you to face her, whilst still trapped between her body and your duvet. “i thought about you every fucking second.”

“why didn’t you tell me you were going on a date?”

she laughed, wetting her lips. “why didn’t you tell me you were going on a date?”

you averted your gaze, swallowing thickly: because i needed to forget you, so i let the first man who asked take me out.

♱ lara was good at tugging at the right heartstrings, and you just weren’t strong enough to see past the obvious tricks she were throwing at you every time. you liked it that way

“didn’t think you’d be interested.” you grumbled.

“of course i’m interested, doll.” she grinned, nose dragging along the curve of your neck, breathing you in. “i need to know everything about you. especially if you’re out fucking vanilla clay jensen.” her hands crept under your shirt. “if you wanted to get into that bar, you could’ve just asked me.”

“lara, stop. i’m… i’m going out with dylan now.”

you tried to make it sound sincere, you really did. but the way it rolled off your lips in a whine was just pathetic. even you knew.

♱ was it really to anyone’s surprise when you ended up waking to her bare back the next morning? hickeys littering from your collarbone, all the way down to your pelvis, just above where she had kissed you over and over the night prior. you hated yourself for being so weak, for betraying yourself, for betraying what you wanted, so desperately to stand for, and for betraying dylan. you might not have been serious about the man, but he at least deserved a solid ending before you went and slept with someone else. your ex-fling, no less, the one who verbally abused him into smitherines just hours ago

♱ but then again, it was lara. you had a feeling you weren’t coaxing a confession out of her, no matter how close you get

♱ this little cycle would repeat a couple more times

♱ as bad as it sounds, i don’t think lara would ever put you above her career or her ambitions. she was a girl who knew what she wanted and she wanted them shamelessly

♱ even if it means getting mothered by sophia about ruining what used to be a healthy, normal group dynamic

♱ you’d just go along with whatever she wanted for you

♱ and to some degree, you were content with that. it was better to have some of her, than to have none of her at all

♱ but then the normality of it all would bother you again, and you would suddenly go from ghosting dylan to pouring more of your energy into him. flowers would suddenly show up on your dorm steps, expensive gifts, dinner invites to places you’ve ever only dreamed of--he was hooked on you, and you were hooked on the feeling lara loved to deprive you of

“seriously? him again? this is the third time this week.” she scoffed, following you around your room as you gathered things for your purse. “i thought you ended it.”

“i told you it’s not that simple, lara. will you please stop?”

she grabbed hold of your phone before you could reach for it, holding it just out of reach. you sigh, glaring at her.

“look at you, talking back. since when were your manners so bad, doll? he’s ruining you!” a hand slipped around your waist, pulling you in. both hands on her chest pushed her away from you. you shook your head, snatching your phone from her.

“you’re ruining me.” you snapped, “stop playing around.”

♱ that’s when you realized just how obsessive she got. something about the fact she could no longer have you had her hooked. this would’ve been everything you’ve ever dreamt of a couple months ago, but now you just wanted to get this phase of your life over with. but lara never lost

♱ you and lara definitely will never resolve your little situationship. a toxic cycle you keep getting sucked back into. probecito dylan… but i just know you’d never fully date. she loves playing with her boy toys a little too much

megan skiendiel; the number one fan

♱ megan's been an og fan of you dating back to her disney days. she had just missed the peak of your child-actress career when she watched you dominate early tv through a screen, which then followed into your booming music career. it was no secret too, eyekons easily find reposts of edits, content, or lyric videos of you on her tiktok page

♱ you had mutuals with kylie (cantrall), so it was to nobody's surprise when you were both invited to a party one of your old disney friend was throwing. you stumbled into her friend group a little bit after you’d arrived. you gave the redhead a brief embrace, then was introduced to each of her friends

♱ when it came time for your eyes to fall on her, megan felt her grin stiffen, her eyes hard and unwavering, fixed on the soft edges of your smile. her name rolling off kylie’s tongue seemed to snap her from her daze, but she was drowning in your presence. she giggled nervously, clammy hands patting your back awkwardly when you pulled her in for a tight hug

♱ you damn near gave the poor girl a heart-attack

♱ she had been waiting for this moment her entire life and she was absolutely fumbling the biggest baddie she had ever seen with her naked eyes. it was practically dream come true

♱ her heart absolutely dropped when kylie joking dropped a, "excuse her, she's just a little lovestruck right now." she wanted to scream, to cry, to smash kylie's head through a drywall for throwing her under the bus like that. but, of course, ever the professional, megan tucked mixed strands of her pink and black hair behind her ear and managed to chortle out, "yeah, i've been a big fan of you since austin and ally."

♱ see, now, you weren't one to mix business with pleasure, but dorky nerds were always your kryptonite

♱ watching this disney kid turned singer try and remember her own status as a global phenomenon from merely just standing in the same breath as you was so empowering, and just all around an entertaining twist to what might've been another mundane night of networking

♱ so you invite her for a drink, not missing the way her friends threw her gestures of approvals and teasing as you led her off by her hand, fingers lousily tangled between each other

♱ as the two of you leant by the bar, you turned to face her

you tilted your head, eyes staring through hers like you were gathering the mess wrecking havoc in her brain. her cheeks flushed a pink tint, her long acrylics toying with the bangles hugging her wrists. oh, was she nervous. finally in a scenario she could only dream of, and she’s fumbling the bag. you just took her in for a moment, before reaching out to grab her hand, hearing her breath hitch before she finally met your eyes

"relax, megan, any friend of kylie's is a friend of mine." you chuckled, watching her take a deep breath. “i’ve heard a lot about you. i was wondering when i’d put a face to the name.”

she swore she felt herself melt at the way her name rolled off your tongue. she’d play it on loop forever if she could.

“all good things i hope,” she managed to stammer out. mentally cringing at how corny it came out. “i’m a, uh--i’m actually a huge fan. i’ve been following you since i could comprehend disney shows… wait, i don’t mean, like, following following you, not like a stalker. just, kinda like--!”

your sultry chuckle, thankfully, cut her frantic rambling off.

“you’re adorable,” you commented casually, but the two words were enough to flush her pale cheeks red. “so, megan. tell me, what’s it like being in the spotlight these days?”

averting your gaze away from her seemed to ease the pressure pumping through her veins, but your attention was still fixed on her, and it was like you knew just what to say to fluster her.

“ahem--i’d ask you the same question.” she chuckled.

“oh, come on. you’re the hot new face of pop music, love. it’s bound to come with some exciting new experiences, no?” you laid a hand on hers, and she lost her train of thought.

she could just die happy right then. her life was complete

♱ practically drunk on you the first time you had sex. kisses were desperate, she couldn’t decide where she wanted her hands on you, and her movements so quick it turned sloppy really fast. when you brought it up to her after, how excited she was, she was super embarrassed, but you assured her

♱ a heavy kisser, can and will make out with you for as long as she can until she couldn’t hold back her buzz of excitement

♱ kind of a submissive mess, but when it’s been a while, she won’t even say a word before carrying you to bed

♱ the two of you had a more casual relationship at first, with her being stuck in la for a majority of comeback preparations and you touring. but when you had any crossovers on your schedules, you made sure to slip her a key to your hotel room when you’d “bump into each other” in the lobby

♱ and she was okay with that arrangement until she wasn’t

♱ you knew it was risky, it was practically like hooking up with a fan. she was utterly infatuated, and you brushed it off as an exaggerated form of puppy love. if you were young with the chance to bed your older celebrity crush, you would have been just as obsessed as she was… except your jobs didn’t really agree with something as trivial as feelings

♱ you knew for sure megan wanted more in tokyo, when she was there for a showcase, with a packed schedule first thing in the morning, but let herself fall asleep tangled in your sheets

♱ you stayed just a few resorts over, a twenty minute drive to and back, but it would still be a major hassle and she knew it

♱ and here she was, ignoring all your warnings, all your scoldings, and letting herself fall asleep at two in the morning in your bed. she slept, arms caging you in place, like you would leave the moment she let go, and her nose buried into your hair. the megan you knew a year ago would never be this bold, this comfortable, but she was slipping. and you could see it

♱ the next morning, you were awoken by a scrambling megan, picking through the tossed clothes spread on your floor and picking out her own. she slipped it on lousily, frantically making her way around the room as her manager yelled at her through her phone. you sat up, clutching the duvet against your chest, watching the scene unfold

♱ still, as she scowled at her phone, it fell into a small, exhausted smile. frustrated, but never at you

♱ she leant in for a kiss goodbye, like she always did, but you pulled back just before your lips met

♱ she looked so confused, the poor girl, like a kicked puppy

♱ “no, darling. i think it’s time for… this to end.” you gestured between the two of you, hand on her chest to keep her from leaning in again. you knew she wanted to, and you knew if she did, you wouldn’t be able to get another word in

♱ you could practically hear her heart shatter right then

“is this about my manager? it’s all just hollow threats, i’m just running late, it’s nothing!” she insisted, now sitting on the bed, resisting against your hand. “i can make everything okay.”

“no, megan, listen--!” you interrupted her rambling, sucking in a deep breath. you eyed her, watching her eyebrows furrow. her bottom lip quivered slightly, before they pursed, like she was holding in a sob. “this isn’t worth losing your job over, you guys are just getting big, i’m not going to take that away from you.” you cupped her cheek, thumb caressing along her cheekbone. “i don’t want to get you in trouble anymore.”

“it’s no trouble, i was just being stupid. i’ll--i’ll set an alarm next time, i’ll make sure i’m on time, it’s not a big deal--”

“it is a big deal, music has been your dream decades before this, you met me last year.” you insisted, leaning backwards as she leant forward. she was always such a stubborn girl.

“and you’ve been my dream ever since.”

♱ megan was young. she often lost sight of what she should be prioritizing in her life, because you somehow always came out on top. you hated yourself for letting her, for loving it, but you needed to be the mature one. to not let her throw away something so special, something you have had the pleasure and honour of experiencing so early on, and for so long in your life. you didn’t want to deprive her of the same fruitful career

♱ you wished she was just a bit older. she’d understand.

“that’s not realistic, megan.” you sighed softly, straightening out the locks knotted by her face. “how about this. why don’t we cool off for a bit, and when you’re settled into your career and there are less targets on your head, you can call me.”

“no, i don’t want that.” she shook her head, “please.”

you almost caved in, if not for her manager phoning her once again. her gaze doesn’t stray from yours, jaw tightly wound.

♱ that was the last time you saw her, the last bit of her you savoured was her eyes welling with tears, mouth running with every argument she could think of as you ushered her out your hotel room. you didn't kiss her goodbye, you just smiled, before closing your door

♱ the next time you saw her, you had absolutely no space to breathe, to emotionally prepare yourself for the gut-wrenching sight that would end up making your heart drop; her, now with new pink streaks to her hair, and a couple inches taller, face slim and defined, void of what used to be baby fat. she looked different, foreign, but exhumed a familiar energy

♱ one you are most definitely falling victim to against your will

♱ when she finally spotted you through a crowd of swaying people, it punctuated the middle of whatever she was talking about. focus no longer on the friends surrounding her, instead, her gaze was fixed on someone she had tried so hard to forget

♱ of course you were going to be here. why wouldn’t you? you walked for balenciaga more times than she could count (and she remembered every single one), of course you’d be invited

you were first to approach her, shameless, with a poised composure. you smiled, singling her out when some of her friends had left. you greeted kylie, you greeted jessica, exchanging a couple pleasantries with them before they excused themselves. you weren’t stupid, you chose to ignore the looks they shared before walking off.

you sighed, taking just a step closer. your heart clenched, along with your jaw, when she stepped back instinctively.

“it’s very nice to see you.” you smiled, “how’re you, megan?”

she wanted to scream, wanted to yell at you, to break down in your arms and blame you for everything she had gone through.

no. nothing. a stoic poker face and her arms crossed.

“can i buy you a drink?” you asked, optimistic. she sucked in a deep breath, glancing past your shoulder at her friends trying to act like they weren’t watching your interaction intently.

what do you want? was what she wanted to say. she took you in for a moment: much like her, you had grown into your look. style was more of less the same, but you carried yourself with even more experience than you already had built up to this point. your stylist had done a good job of fitting you in something that hugged you just right. she wanted to just turn around and leave you standing there, just so you would have a taste of how she felt when you had done the same to her.

you took the silence as a “yes”, resisting the urge to grab her hand and lead her off. you politely asked a buss boy to grab your orders for drinks, before settling at a standing table out on the terrace. it was a view over paris’ bustling night life.

“i didn’t expect to see you guys here. i was sure manon would have texted me that you guys were invited.” you chuckled.

megan doesn’t respond, just glances over the ledge to admire the flickering eiffel tower in all its glory. her eyes smokey, and her lips a glossy, tinted shade; she looked ethereal,

you realized she wasn’t going to talk to you. not like this.

“i’m sorry, mei, for the way i ended things.” the distance between you was small, but heavy. you could see her running a thumb against the drink that was just set into your hands. “i… i thought i was doing what was best. for both of us.”

“no, you did it because i was a hinderance in your career.” she scoffed, “y’know, it wasn’t even the fact you fucking ghosted me, it was how easy it was for you to just drop me like that.”

you shook your head. “it wasn’t easy, megan--”

“i called you, again and again months after, and you didn’t even text me back.” she barked, “i mean, are you serious? then i see you smiling and waving on tv while i’m missing you?”

you hadn’t thought about it like that. did it hit her that hard?

“the last thing i wanted to do was hurt you,” you whispered, “look at you. you’re successful, you’re famous… who was i to deny you of these luxuries? i wasn’t going to let you sideline your dream, it wouldn’t have been fair.”

you knew megan was the avoidant type; she rarely confronted you about anything, seeing her so upset about something, especially when that something was you, made your stomach churn. you never thought you’d be the reason she’d turn.

“and you deciding what was best for me is?”

nothing comes to your lips; you don’t argue. just watched her glossy eyes dart across your features.

“no, darling, listen--”

“stop talking to me like i’m a child, okay? i didn’t need you making these decisions for me then, and i don’t need you making them for me now. i hate that you always treat me like i’m a kid you’re babysitting.” she shook her head, “you should’ve never made that choice for me.”

you nodded, feeling thorns strain your throat. “i’m sorry.”

she sniffled, head tilting down so you wouldn’t see the tears brimming her eyes. like you needed to see them for your heart to break. perhaps you were way over your own head; you were just as much a kid as she was then, could she blame you?

“i miss you.” you confessed, “to the point it hurts, mei.”

the look she shot you, like you were lying, made you want to surge forward and just take her back in your arms again.

“--hey, babe,” a gravely voice pierced through the gilded atmosphere you were just getting lost in. you swore she was just about to fall apart and tear her guard down. “what’re you doing out here--? woah, what’s happening?”

her entire being changed. she wasn’t looking at you anymore.

“hey, you’re y/n l/n.” he laughed, reaching a hand out. you wiped the expression from your face, putting on a picture-perfect smile before shaking his rough hand firmly. “i’m jonah, i work with 2hollis. big fan.” he rubbed the hawaiin’s shoulder. “i didn’t know you knew each other.”

“we’re old friends.” you answered, seeing as megan was struggling to find one. “and you’re megan’s…”

“boyfriend. pleasure.” he was polite, a little rowdy for your taste but you couldn’t deny him and megan complimented each other well. very much fit the new her. it was a sucker punch in the stomach. he pecked her on the temple, but the way she pulled away slightly went unnoticed… by him. “oh, babe, i ran into kylie on the way here, she’s looking for you.”

“thanks.” she muttered, paired with a smile that didn’t linger.

“i’ll excuse myself.” you stood up, brushing the creases in your top off. “it was nice catching up with you megan.”

for the first time since you first spoke to her, her name doesn’t roll smooth off your tongue. you spat it with a sharp edge, like it was a hex you put on the two of them. you grinned, but it doesn’t meet your eyes, and you left before she could protest.

♱ a boyfriend. she had a boyfriend. and he was just so nice you couldn’t even bring yourself to hate on him

♱ catching up with the others the rest of the night blew right past you. you were so used to going on autopilot, you didn’t even realize you weren’t consciously coherent until your closer friends were dragging you out for an afterparty

♱ you usually didn’t mind another impulsive plan, but the thought of your ex, who you still so desperately adored with your entire being, was now with a new person

♱ it stung harder, knowing you couldn’t even look at another suitor’s face without thinking of her

♱ still, this was fresh. you weren’t going to be a homewrecker

♱ megan didn’t have the heart to break it off with jonah. she was starting to like him before seeing you dragged up feelings she compartmentalized. lucky the man was dense, and rarely noticed things that weren’t hung on billboards

♱ imagine your celebrity crush being in love with you and you fumbling the bag cuz your petty… *cough* megan *cough*

jeong yoonchae; the baby with a crush (sfw)

♱ see, the thing about katseye, was that they were a staggered age group. from manon, who’s practically gone through every phase and experience in the book, to yoonchae, the baby who sings about relationships she has yet to have.

♱ yoonchae doesn’t crush often, and when she did, it’s like a vault in her soul opened so she could lock away the feeling forever. it was so embarrassing, and she had other priorities.

♱ especially during her trainee era, one she was stuffed into at a very young age. yoonchae was raised on very conservative, traditional values, and harbouring feelings, especially for a woman who was older, went against every rule and principle she had ever known growing up. so, she stayed quiet.

♱ she stayed quiet when she’d feel butterflies in five-year-old her stomach whenever kim tae-hee was onscreen of a kdrama, she stayed quiet when she would blush at the dance instructor’s compliments during training. and she stayed quiet when the new assistant for katseye’s manager could quite literally bring her to her knees with a single smile

♱ perhaps it was more subtle to her than it was to the world

♱ you started noticing something off about the youngest around the three week mark of your internship

♱ she’d be laughing along with the girls in whatever setting, but whenever you’d come to deliver their schedule or coffee, she’d go quiet and look anywhere but at you. she had the best poker face, so you swore it was because she didn’t like you

♱ but that’s okay, you were there to do your job. it didn’t bother you, per se, but you did wonder what it was about you

“wow, the room just turned into a freezer,” manon commented, smirking. “one more cold shoulder and you’re gonna freeze the poor girl, yoonchae.”

the youngest raised an eyebrow at the group’s collective amusement, cradling the coffee cup you’d just brought in.

“yeah, you’re built like a little hater, babe.” lara added.

“what? how am i being a hater?” she asked. it was like every other one of them knew this little gag but her.

“you’re kinda torturing the poor girl, no?” sophia asked, her head snapping towards the corner of the room, where you and their mangers seemed to be coordinating something for them later in the day. “i mean, she takes us places, brings us food, and you barely give her a look. that’s just mean, chip.”

“yeah, for someone so big on manners, you lose the around her.” megan snorted, “but then again, it’s just ‘cuz chip has a little crush on the intern. right, yoonchae--!”

“shut up! i don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“really? if you really hated a person, i know we would be able to see it on your face.” sophia teased, pinching the youngest’s cheek. yoonchae jerked away with a whine. “come on, how long are you gonna ice her out? she’s hot, she’s nice, and she’s a little baby intern--she’s perfect for you!”

“i don’t--no, i just--no crush!” she scrambled out.

♱ only took her like six months of wide-eyed, stoic stares and several confusing interactions with you before she finally came to her senses and confessed she liked you

♱ you were mad confused because you would’ve bet your entire bank account that she straight up hated your guts

♱ before she retreated, you laughed light-heartedly and teased her with a joke about looking intimidating but actually being a huge cheese ball. she lit up like a christmas tree

♱ yoonchae is definitely a lover girl on the low. it takes a while to get through her guard, but when you do, she’s so soft

♱ not a fan of pda 100%, but is a huge cuddler in private

♱ pecks from you are a treat, pecks from her are a miracle. she rarely initiates affection, but when she does, you cling onto her because you get immobilizing cuteness aggression. you start kissing her face all over, arms wrapped around her body, hands resting just under her shirt when you lay in bed together--it was safe to say you were obsessed with everything she did

♱ gets unwarranted dating advice from lara and daniela, occasionally some jokey-ones from manon but will only ever take sophia’s comments seriously. girl has a crazy bs detector

♱ you immediately get teased by the girls after a while, you grow closer with the group but don’t make it too obvious because you would highkey be fired like yesterday

♱ lucky chae… she gets her girlfriend backstage cheering for her everywhere they go, just waiting for a “good job” kiss

an; yall school is grilling my ass please save me this took so long i hate some of it but i hope yall like it. sorry for being gone so long. happy reading! xx

Many will follow their depraved conduct and will bring the way of truth into disrepute.

O lord have mercy on my soul.

For if God did not spare angels when they sinned, but sent them to hell, putting them in chains of darkness to be held for judgment.

O Lord forgive them, the lost lambs.

“Oh Lord, Have I cast astray? For my words they heed as scripture, Drink my voice as called sacred salvation and whisper my breath holds the secrecy of God’s words. Though no altar knows my name, they bow syllables shaped by a mouth they seem holy. Only for I not to be bathed in grace, but rather to be drenched in blood of the beast I serve, Oh, bury my Saint in your sins, my beast.”

"When the veil splits open and the earth swallows its own breath, hell will not rise from below. it will descend with a name they once blessed. Life shall pass like shadow at noon, death will walk among them as a familiar guest. And only those who have tasted sin shall remain, lfor innocence cannot survive what answers prayer,”

————

From my earliest of memories, My mother spoke of hellfire. An all consuming inferno that awaits for the horde of black sheep, the wicked shall not see holy. ‘Life will be harsh, my dear.’ She warned me, ‘A relentless torment, no mercy, only pain.’ An eternal damnation that no being ever escapes.

She whispered a tale beyond the cloistered walls, but her voice was veiled in secrecy, but she spoke in front of the village, deemed the outside was never ours to grasp and know for she ordered unholy, her voice as ink on the scripture, every word an imprinted oath one must follow.

But her words had been promise to I, Beyond the barrier lay not only the flames of hell but life itself.

My blood deemed holy, the last of the generation. My mother, a saintly grace, her words wrote as scripture, her silence is prophecy, they bowed to each breath she took as if divine wind. The village crowned her in silence, believing my bloodline to hold the very true angels that God had sent to whisper his very words.

Last of his kind, Last of his children and flesh.

Within my mother’s womb stirs the next vessel, My younger sister, Already spoken of, whispered in prayer, said to carry words that will potentially set all of the village’s sins free, Salvation, as they called it, fated to wear holiness like a crown of thorns before she could even draw her first breath.

Though Life is brittle, fragile in these walls that whisper of demonic power with every wrong step taken, should death come before birth,

The mantle falls to I. It shall be my tongue that serves as ink for the coming age to follow. Not that I wanted it. Such power, I lack desire for such. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth truly, for the people’s veneration remains shallow as the waters on the sand.

Yet my words will carry weight, not because they’re true, but because they come from the blood that they sanctified. A beacon of devotion for the village I’ll grace, I stand at the heart of their worship, a reluctant heir to a legacy I neither admire or comprehend.

Isn’t it cruel? To be revered not for wisdom but simply rather for surviving those who came before, Bound by flesh to lead a devotion that I have no heart for.

Hollow adoration, founded with the base of whispered lies, They cling onto hope like beggars at a gate. Their prayers echoing in a sealed tomb.

pleading that the rising day of the unveiled maw will pass them by.

—————

The bells chimed in the distant ground, the rings echoing through the dark night, A warning carried on in cold wind.

Low, Irregular, WRONG.

the soft rustle of leaves, Trembled with the lack of wind, no wind, no breathe,

Only silence motion.

surrounding, swallowing her whole, the darkness laughed at her name. Whispering at the woman in mock uniform. A cruel joke played by nature and her mind.

She ran and ran, bare feet tearing over the properties of nature. Flesh raw beneath her feet, every step a splintered prayer.

Gashes leaked out crimson pain and youth, Blood seeped, not freely, as if afraid of movement, thick and reluctant.

Roots snapped like fingers, hooking deep into skin, tearing at every step rushed, Stones bit deep and sharp. Making the woman wince with every panicked breath.

Insects had crawled, found the wounds long before she did, pale scrubs wiggling into torn skin, exposed flesh. Crept into feed. She didn’t feel them, Pain had dulled into a quiet hum beneath the terror she held in her heart.

she kept running, Her breaths jagged like broken psalms. Every breath lingered back like a betrayal. eyes wide as if she had set eyes on something unforgiving. Glassed with not tears but terror.

“PLEASE! HELP ME!” She cried out, to Gods that will never answer, to the trees that swallowed the noise whole.

The ground pulsed as a soft heart beat. Remembering every drop of blood seeping through the cracks as if she was remembering her.

Chasing, hunting. Imprints of her hooves a bloody prayer.

If she had stopped, the ground would swallow her whole, but it didn’t stop her.

The greater terror: Whoever, no, Whatever thing was behind her, it wasn’t chasing her. It was feeding off her.

It waits. And it knew no matter how hard she ran, she would collapse to its name.

But she still ran, not for survival. But rather because stopping meant becoming, becoming apart of the silence. Part of the song the trees hummed beneath rotten soil and bark.

Giving in would mean she did not fight for her right as a mother, giving up meant she would fail. Her mind tugged at strings giving her the false hope that she would survive, for her child. For her life continued as a mother.

The trees giggled at her hope like a comedic relief, branches didn’t snag, they reached out, pulling her back with every step she took. Leaves didn’t just rustle, they whispered names she left at birth.

Her hands cradled the child she did not see a future where she held, a child not of man or god but of a promise to rot inside, bound in flesh. It kicked not with hunger but with survival, not ready yet to become a sacrifice before breath.

Not quite its purpose, before bone and flesh, came a fate to suffer. Not destined to see the light of day.

Every step took, spoke of fire through her skin and bones, blood slick, pooling against torn skin. She moved not with will but an instinct older than fear:

Run, run till you are not human.

But with every footfall spoke one truth she could no longer outrun,

She wasn’t fleeing death, She was running straight to it, because everyone ran. Every saint that followed the same path, every human that walked down the same road. Running is just apart of it.

Suddenly-

A wooden point, jagged and hooked into soft skin of her talus, Buried deep in skin like funeral ground. Twisted in fate.

She fell hard, elbows scraping against sharp stone, scrapped the soft skin of her forearm, leaving back bloody, rubble marked dark red streaks, skin peeling back in ragged sheets. Blood welled slowly at first, and then seeked into dirt along with the woman’s prayers and tears.

Darkening the drops seeped like sin in holy water.

She hit the ground with a gasp, breath forced out from her lungs. Her breath hitched, pupils dilating as she stared at darkness.

She looked back, no shadows, no eyes, no breath. But her panic shot up. “Please no.. please no.” She whispered, chanting it like a prayer over and over. Not to the forest, but to the silence beneath it.

“Oh, God. Please no.” Her voice cracked like bones under pressure. Dirt digging into her torn flesh like salt into wound.

“Not her, take me.. if you must. Not her.. the village needs hope.” She begged with each short, painful jagged breath, “take me but let her live.” A chant swallowed by silence. Begging for mercy that never existed.

The trees leaned inwards, she clawed at the ground as if to bury herself alive before it took her, her fingers dug graves that wouldn’t close, the smaller creatures in the dirt creating sanctuary in the gashes.

Then,

A scream tore from her throat unlike any sound born of human, a scream of pain not even priests can describe.

Blood curdling, raw, primal. It shot through air. A sound of terror burning through the night. It echoed once through the trees,

Then died mid air, as if cut by invisible hands. Cut short not by death but by swallowing.

Then the forest exhaled, a gust of wind following over, the branches resettled, leaves closed over moonlight like eyelids. Insects crawled in and out of darkened soil mixed with torn flesh and blood.

The forest seemed to tilt back to it’s usual form, a mask preserved once again, quiet, ancient, innocent nature. Just another graveyard hiding the hunting ground that laid beneath, swallowing bone and flesh into soil like a whirlpool made to hide.

The morning sun rose, pale, sickly, ashamed,

spilling light that did not warm, only revealed. It held its breath over the village, The fog clung low over the village, thick and gray as burial shrouds refusing sunlight, It slithered between homes, coiled around doorposts anointed with prayer-runes now gone dark. No birds sang. No hearths smoked.

Even the bells hung silent, none ringing out.

It was the breath before confession. The world is still holding on to something too vast to name.

And beneath the mist footsteps thumped with each passing and a trail of crushed ivy pointed toward a mother’s empty bed.

————

The village hummed with commotion, Hushed whispers, White robed figures moving with silent purpose. Prayers left unanswered, their polished smiles hiding fears in corners of their mind, every step is planned and judged. Nothing human, hollow and despaired.

The air was thick with blood and sin. She sensed it, Something was dearly wrong.

A knock, *Halt.* and adds 2 more, It echoed throughout three times, Urgent, insistent. Shallow breaths could be heard in the cold winter, hands clutched in a prayer

“Oh, Angel,” the village chief prayed before the door, knuckles still pressed to the frame.

An offering left unanswered.

“Please hear me, Grace,” He praised her name once more, voice cracking like old timber.

“If you linger, please attend us at town hall.” his voice held a quake, an undercurrent of dread, clearly something was wrong.

A beat of silence passed, The air seemed to thick as a shift of cloth, The tension of something turning towards the door.

“We need you at the hall.” He pleaded once more. A lie, they didn’t seek her presence, rather the salvation she carried.

The chief held his breath for what seemed like an eternity, the air buzzed with bugs chipping away at wood. Then he heard it,

A voice that came from behind the door, a stillness so profound it bent light at the edges of sight.

“Very well.” the feminine voice answered, soft as breath upon glass, a tone noticeably deattached. She didn’t say much. She didn’t need to.

The chief’s breath hitched, bowing towards the wooden door. “Thank you my angel.” He bowed before quickly running towards the town door.

The Levin lineage held the legacy the longest. Not born by women but woven through flesh. Generation upon generation carrying the weight of the unseen. The first to kneel before the altar even when the sky did not answer. The first to speak in tongues before language had a name for such things.

Unbroken chain of the longest-lived pulse in the village. Angels among priestesses and priestesses among saints.

Mother after mother gave breath behind closed doors, Daughter after daughter opened eyes already knowing their purpose, Sister after sister bled into linen soaked not with holy, but inheritance.

Even the Laforteza’s, one of the strongest living faiths that had helped the village as it was built perished, Wiped clean down to the unborn. Their names erased from song. So did the other saints until one remained.

Levin remained through it all, not by purity and not by prayer.

And when fire fell from hands of men and women calling themselves pure,

Came the cleansing of 200 lineages.

It came with torches, psalms and chains. Thousands of years of prayers lost under the day they stepped in the wrong lair.

The beast went rampage they said, painted the same image over and over again, sculpted the beast. The scriptures wrote of the sacrifice of thousands to chain it down, 8 main chains, they said. Each family went down with them.

Prayers wrote of 8 chains, Scriptures spoke of hymns of the dead, Paintings depicting the torture of many; sculptures show a monster surrounded by many men, some dead, same barely alive.

Skiendiel.

The First Chain. The anchor of descent.

They did not bind from strength but initiation. Their flesh was first to touch the ancient earth where the Maw stirred beneath sleep. They pulled it down not with rope or run. but by becoming root, one family buried alive so the others might stand above, Chains hooking into own flesh.

Avanzini.

The Second Flesh. The hookset deep within its ribs. twisting tendons into covenant, grafting sinew to scripture. When they spoke, their voices echoed inside stone for three days after death.

Bannerman.

The Third Chain. the iron crown driven upon its head like a bed of nails. Their sigil carved blind into obsidian.

They called themselves saviors.

But they only meant “those who kept it closed.”

Raj, Fourth Line, Fourth chain.

Chain wrapped around limbs longer than bridges, the arms that once clawed at stars now pinned beneath mountain snow by Raj bloodline bones interred wrist-to-wrist across the white fog.

Then Jeung, Sixth, for when God’s count numbers lie.

The seal at its heart.

Chain woven through veins instead of metal and stone.

they didn’t tie down, they bled into it.

Injected ritual with wound and inheritance

And then, came Laforteza, The fifth Chain

Forged last among those remembered,

Driven like a spike through spine-of-abyss,

Their ancestor’s face fused to the beast’s maw.

Not as punishment.

As a pact.

For one among them once have said to kissed it before sealing shut,

And named it "Beloved." Forging the unforgivable. Sin must be cleansed.

The only chain that has remained unbroken with one name etched into metal.

Two more chains, Nameless. Soaked in the blood of lost lines with priest born children and false saints. The first two chains to snap only some days after.

After Binding Day, One bloodline remained. The Jeung lineage, but fate did not meet them kind.

All Jeung adults perished slowly, not torn apart, not suffered a death of pain. but emptied out, body intact, soul devoured one memory at a time until only smiles remained. Smiles too wide for human faces. To the eldest to unborn, wiped from blood and flesh.

Yet they lived four years past reckoning.

Five in some tellings. Long enough to write lullabies sung backwards.

When thunder falls without a storm?

It was not God speaking,

It is all eight chains, creaking from rust and struggle. Bound by dried discs of blood shed from wounds where hooks torn flesh.

The same will happen on the day of the unveiling, they warned. Using the incident from years ago to make sure the faith remains strong, unwielding while locked onto chains with fear.

Did Lexie believe it? No. Absolutely fucking not.

— 10 YEARS AGO. —

Lexie, Firstborn of Levin. First daughter of a bloodline that etched itself into flesh and fractured bones.

They called her reincarnate, although she has not asked for return. An angel in flesh, white wings in mortal form.

Even before she was meant to find what nature was, she was listening to problems a child should never bare.

She sat upon the porcelain throne. cold, high, cracked down the side like a spine long healed wrong.

Above her, her mother wove sermons from starlight and old blood. The villagers knelt in the dust, foreheads pressed to earth that had forgotten how to grow anything holy.

One woman trembled forward, raw hands clawed into soil, kneeling as her tears bled into the surface below.

“My Angel.. I am not but a disgrace, less than the soil that grace us” she wept. “A barren womb in a blessed land… I carry no life for harvest or prayer… Am I cursed? Am I unworthy?”

Her voice frayed at the edges, genuine agony, her voice fell loud into quiet stone.

Each sob a confession that no one asked her to make.

And Lexie?

She said nothing.

Only watched, with dead eyes that didn’t blink. as if peering through flesh into something rotting beneath. Her expression veiled with a thin white cloth that draped on to the bridge of her nose.

Inside her palm was a wound that never closed, a gash carved not by blade but birth, oozing faintly beneath its linen shroud. They called it grace, the open hand of healing. But Lexie knew better. She’d seen what it truly did, it didn’t cure, it did not fix.

It destroyed, it deceived.

For every drop used to mend another’s flesh, something deep inside her own body withered unseen.

And yet they came, begged, cried and weeped about their empty bodies and brittle bones as if grief alone made them worthy.

Pathetic.

The word echoed behind her ribs like a second heartbeat.

Are humans really this weak? This fragile?

This desperate to kneel?

Her fingers twitched under cloth, tightening around lies they all pretended were truth

That she was divine. That mercy mattered. That any of this fucking meant something.

But her mother spoke up. “Worry not dear one.” The Priestess commented. “For the angel heals.” Her voice honeyed, smooth like a ritual, like she’ve done this before. Too many times.

Along with the lie wrapped in scripture,

She grabbed Lexie’s palm, pale wrapped in cloth, treated not as pain but rather property.

She ran a sharp blade upon her palm, not clean, not deep.

A ceremonial cut across already broken skin.

The blood seeped, it welled slowly then spilled, running red not like a river but as a confession.

yet Lexie did not flinch. She just stared. Her expression didn’t change, not even a bit.

But inside something changed.

Her mother guided her bleeding hand to the villager’s womb, the same hand that torn out a beating heart to seal an oath no one speaks of.

Pressing upon the womb like it was

salvation instead of sacrilege.

The heat of shame pulsed underneath her bleeding palm as the woman wept harder. The blood slithered down all the way to her wrists

Lexie felt herself holding back a barf. Disgusting, absolutely revolting.

this woman, no this piece of shit of a whore was dumb enough to believe in this farce dressed as grace. Does she seriously think that Lexie’s blood will save her?

The thought alone filled her with rage.

Self mutilation passed on as blessing and worse, she was deemed as their prophet?

Bullshit.

No temple stone deserved this blood.

Yet she still stood. truly but she held back, they called her holy for bleeding when commanded. She felt disgusted, not only in the village but in herself.

And when the touch broke, her bleeding palm left a red touch on the woman’s stomach, she let her blood drip onto the ground.

As a promise that she will get her own way of vengeance. Even if all innocents die with it, for none of humanity is pure and sin comes with facade.

A few months later there was news that the woman bared life in her womb— a miracle indeed.

That same faithful night the news spread, The young angel sat at the edge of the dark forest on that snow cloaked night to get rid of the noise.

‘Annoying.’ She mummered.

Moving stealthily through the dark paths known only to the forest and its beasts, Lexie encountered an unexpected sight, a young rabbit limping forward on a wounded leg, each step pained by a faint squeak.

The cold snow crunched beneath her bare feet but the frost did not bother her.

the wounded bunny she chased across the snow, its breath fast and faint against palm. She bent close, a pale silhouette over dark fur, and studied it with eyes older than her years.

Her expression did not change, she hummed in a slight tilt of her head. Her eyes changed with curiosity. Not with warmth and sympathy.

But rather curiosity on how it would feel to finally take.

The young rabbit squeaked louder as Lexie’s hands closed in on the injured leg, she pressed. Break it. She whispered.

The rabbit squeaked more with pain, it grew louder in the dead of the pale moon, the only sound accompanying its despair was not the salvation of God but rather the lack of presence and hope.

The cries of the small hare grew louder as the pressure of Lexie’s palm closed in harder, it squeaks, The angel’s eyes widened in a sick glee and relief. The crack of bone, what did it sound like?

The more the bunny screams for safety fell on deaf ears.

The cries grew distant in Lexie’s ears as her eyes started to well up tears, is this what happiness felt like? Her mind flashed with excitement as her dull eyes grew a cruel light. A question entered.

Did it still pray for life?

What would feel like to end it rather than give?

The world seemingly began to narrow around her.

The air thickened, The wind hushed mid-breath. Even the snow ceased falling, as if creation itself leaned close to witness.

Lexie stood still, knee-deep in untouched white, hands cradling the small creature whose pulse fluttered like a dying ember beneath trembling skin. Its squeaks had turned to something else now, not mere just pain but pleading. A sound too articulate for beast-throat, syllables curled at their edges like ancient tongues speaking through fang and fur.

And Lexie, her eyes once dull as sealed tombs, glistened with an unholy gleam. Not light of stars or soul.

Lexie's gaze widened, her dull eyes glinting with something far more primal, a hunger that twisted into pleasure.

Her fingers tightened more,and time bent toward breaking.

The rabbit shrieked, a cry that split frost from branches and stirred shadows long buried under centuries of prayer-song. That scream did not belong to prey.

Just before that softest crack could echo through winter’s husk,

the creature twisted, not with wounded limb, but with unnatural grace and sprang from her grasp like smoke escaping a seal meant never be broken again.

It fled, across snow and into shadow.

A narrow cave mouth hidden behind weeping stone, its entrance shaped like a jaw half-open, roots curling around it like gnarled teeth holding back what should never breathe free again.

And down it vanished, the injured rabbit still hopping on one shattered leg. Lexie stood still with her palm still out, her eyes now dark with curiosity,

not to heal,

but to witness suffering without flinching. To hold agony in her palm until it revealed what all prayers denied.

And deep in her chest, The Angel felt no guilt, no regret and no mercy, for she herself was ready to stop at no ends just to step away from altar and into a caving sin.

Lexie did not falter, her feet quickened. Mind blank as she followed the hare into the deeper parts of the cave, her legs unyielding against the sharp stone that pierced pale and holy, blood dripped in melancholy as all thought disappeared from her head.

Her mind transfixed on the bloodied bunny as it scampered deeper into the cave, with a sudden wrong step, The young angel’s foot tripped on a slippery sharp rock, a black stone covered in moss and something thicker, it smelled of flesh and the faint smell of rain water although the surface was covered by nothing but snow.

As her ankle twisted, she stumbled on a slippery stone surface. Sending the young Lexie sprawling against the jagged stone. She winced in pain, but the feeling wasn’t enough to anchor her focus to injury.

Pain lanced up her leg, but she was already moving again, ignoring the red blood that seeped through her dress and pooled on the cold stone floor.

Too fixated on the bloodied trail of fresh prey.

Falling deeper, Lexie slipped once more, but then her head snapped up. Not by fear, not by her own but a force older than thought. A recognization.

Something older than the hymns they sung, Older than names of the villagers, Older than the first lie ever whispered in devotion.

Young Lexie’s breath left in a quiet shake, Her eyes widened as her eye caught it’s gaze in the womb of the dark.

It stared not at her but through her. Through every little lie she gave with drops of her own blood, her breath hitched. Whatever it was wasn’t human,

Not in a way humanity knew. It was a poor imitation of one, shredded beyond morality.

The pair of eyes seared onto her flesh like molten steel on horse.

In the darkness, the left eye was a twisted aberration. A hollow abyss of rotten flesh and blood, more akin to infected flesh than a natural iris.

Infected tissue had swollen to envelop the nerves and skin. The eyelid was torn, peeled back revealing the insides of a dark red socket pulsing with nests built.

A grotesque mockery of sight. Maggots swarmed at the corner of it’s tear duct, pushing through flesh to feast on what was left.

Rove beetles buzzed as it flew onto the broken eyelid, nibbling on dead skin as a nest of other bugs thrived and laid eggs within the festering wound.

Instead of clear liquid, a dark, viscous fluid wept from the socket, filling the air with a rancid stench that spoke of death. Yellow puss and mucus dripped from rotten flesh only to be licked clean by the writhing pale maggots.

The right was none the less brutal, dead purple skin surrounded around the iris and barely intact flesh that made up the lower eyelid.

The sclera, a dead black, only enlightening a dash pupil, one of a frog that flashed bright like a children’s broken toy.

But unlike the other children would’ve, the young Lexie didn’t wield, Lexie did not hesitate. She did not cower—no, the angel of hollow worship and bloodstained divinity reached forward, small fingers outstretched toward the grotesque abyss of that gaze in the dark.

Her fingertips brushed nothing but thick, clotting air, yet the moment her skin neared its presence, the smallest heat underlying rot and sin,

The scream erupted.

Not from any throat. Not even from the cave itself.

It was inside her skull now, inside every vein, every pulse behind her ribs, ripping through flesh like glass shards pierced upon bone. The sound didn’t just scrape at her ears, it pried them straight open, forcing its way in until she could feel it pooling hot and metallic against her eardrums.

It rang out like horror.

She slammed shut her eyes so hard sparks burst behind darkened lids—but still she saw it, seared into vision like a brand. A socket festering with things too rotten to name, that pupil burning white-hot as an unholy star mocking all creation.

Tears welled sharp as knives under clenched lashes And then Silence, A gasp choked past lips gone numb. Has the young girl gone deaf? Then it hit her nostrils. The scent of lavender and sweat-soaked sheets flooded back first.

Then her sight, she prayed for vision. Morning light seeped through shuttered windows. Woodsmoke curled lazy above hearth embers. Somewhere outside, a child laughed without fear. Her home, village, her own bed.

The young Lexie jerked upright like something had yanked her spine straight from nightmare’s grip.

Her chest heaved. Her hands reached out to her face. Had she been scarred?

Skin sticky with dried saltwater where silent tears had carved paths hours ago unnoticed. She sighed in relief.

It was only a dream,

But the relief was once short lived as Lexie looked up. The sight was simple. Her mother stood frozen by doorway, one hand gripping frame too tight, the other clutching rosary beads knotted wrong,

as if strung mid-panic by shaking fingers who knew prayers wouldn’t work this time either.

Lexie did not react, although underneath that stoic appearance a curiosity sparked. Then she turned, her hand reached for her elbow. The cut on her palm brushed against the scab of a fresh scar made on jagged stone.

———

It’s been a decade since it happened. Her memory of the incident was a blur, till this day she had not properly grasped the forgotten memory. She brushed it simply as a dream’s conception, though apart of her told her otherwise.

Lexie walked down the village with purpose, Her footsteps silent as shadow under a rising sun. Her white trench covered her shoulders as she strided past the housing of a baker who bowed his head too low, his expression filled with despair and a healer who left his door open for an unexpected guest.

She ignored the pathetic sight and only continued towards the commotions.

The fur collar of the coat covering her already small frame, weaving through the morning crowd with practiced ease.

A familiar figure moving through a world that lived both for her and because of her.

Though her face expressed nothing, not a betrayal of emotion, a serene, unreadable mask.

The village square where men and women were gathered in hushed clusters like bees around a fallen hive. Even from here, she could hear them gasping and whispering.

As mummers around her grew louder and her steps closed distance she grit her teeth under the flimsy white cloth that draped from her forehead and down to her nose.

‘What the fuck is it this time? Another plea for justice? Another pregnancy gone wrong? Another plea for an answer to prayer for harvest?’

She knew all well that their prayers didn’t reach half way to the heavens but they tried like insufferable rodents clawing at food they’ll never get. Oh, Give her a fucking break.

The crowd surrounded a sight that she couldn’t yet see, but she didn’t push, she waited. Standing with an unreadable expression. Eerily calm at the chaos unfolding, she didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.

At the sound of her footsteps, One by one, heads turned, drawn not by sound, but by something deeper. A chilling, unnameable presence that always clung to her like second skin. A habit born with blood. The crowd separated a path for Lexie.

The village chief turned, his face lighting up with relief at the sight of Lexie’s presence. He rushed forward towards the angel, his face slacked with tears as he collapsed to his worship.

“Thank the heavens you’re here! My grace!” His voice cracked through the silence like splitting of ice. He stumbled forward onto his knees into dirt with a force that should’ve drawn blood.

He pressed his forehead to the ground at her feet before clasping her small palm into his hands. Not praying, begging and breaking.

“Oh our grace, thank you for answering our call, for coming to our aid. For your help. Everyone!” The chief barked out.

“Show some respect! For she has blessed us with her own presence!” He turned back towards Lexie who only watched with an unreadable gaze. “You are a blessing among us, an angel of mercy, a saint in flesh and blood“ Words thick as congealed candle wax choking every syllable between desperate gulps of devotion.

Lexie didn’t step back.

Didn’t blink.

She let him grovel there in filth and fervor until his next choke. “Thank yo-“

Lexie didn’t let him finish.

“Enough.” Her voice cut through his grovel like a blade through skin. She didn’t offer a smile, her gaze didn’t soften. She did not need his praise.

“Speak of your trouble.” Her voice dripped with venom, not a question, an order. an inquiry stripped bare of all pretense.

Because Lexie knew better than anyone, their "problems" were never real suffering. Just inconveniences disguised as divine trial, and she was growing sick of playing savior to fools who worshipped their own chains.

She waited, unblinking for whatever pathetic plea came next, already knowing she’d hate every single word of it.

A beat of silence passed, Lexie’s jaw tightened.

“Speak.” She ordered once again.

The chief only gulped, nodding as he led the way through the mob. Lexie’s body and gaze followed every step. A silent unbreaking presence.

The villager’s whispers grew louder with every step. The fear in their voices laying on Lexie more heavier than her coat. her foot steps stirred nothing but dust as he led her to the center of the crowd.

Coming to a halt at the heart of the crowd, His voice trembled out. “My angel..” Lexie only stared at the sight.

Lexie’s mother laid bare at the center, Coiled up like a snake, mauled by something inhumane. A once proud woman now mangled like an sacrifice.

Blood stained on the torn dress, face too twisted for tears. Blood seeping from every single open wound. Her jaw tore off as a part of her brain stayed exposed like an offering. The face of her own mother unrecognizable.

Though Lexie didn’t flinch, her expression didn’t soften, every face in the crowd etched with sorrow and fear, every face expect for hers.

She stared, her gaze an eerie calm. “The holy Saint… we found her at the bay of the forest’s trees, she’s-“

“And the child?” Lexie cut off, she faced the chief. He flinched, turning away. The crowd held their breath.

“Deceased, my angel.” He whispered, his voice concealed with unspoken guilt.

Lexie didn’t flinch, didn’t weep.

The silence that coated the air was suffocating. The angel clenched her jaw hard, the sound of her teeth grinding echoed like bone scraping against stone.

“… I see.” She spat through clenched teeth like venom from a serpent's maw, each syllable laced with something too dark to name.

Without another glance at the corpse twisted upon sacred ground, without even pretending grief for this woman who had called herself mother once.

She turned on heel, her movements graceful.

“Give them a burial.” She issued a command sharp as sacrificial steel then a pause.

Then she let out a sharp breath. “I’ll take the title into my hands.” Lexie turned as she headed towards the village’s church, the village chief scrambled to follow.

No mourning, no mercy. Just power claimed without hesitation over blood still fresh upon earth, because she has learnt long ago that death was not a tragedy, only a transition.

And Lexie was done playing daughter to dead things.

————

When the afternoon sun had burned the horizon into an orange-tinted grave, Lexie had been crowned as the new priestess, as her mother's body gets discarded in the nearby river, she was left with her veil.

She stood in front of the mirror in her own home.

Wrapped in a veil of white, a thin lace that shielded her gaze in a latticed pattern.

Whispers rippled through the village like a chant of divine praise. No longer did they just recognize her—they feared her as if the very name Lexie held holy meaning.

Yet despite their reverence, despite her new title and power, not a single smile flickered over her face.

Her mothers veil.

A relic she did not choose to carry now wrapped around her head like a halo others swore she wore.

Lexie’s breath came sharp and ragged through clenched teeth, her vision burning behind the checkered veil—that damned veil, that mockery of devotion stitched into lace and draped over her like a funeral shroud.

Her reflection stared back at her from the glass, no longer a girl, not quite a saint, just something hollow wearing her mother’s face like a poorly fitted mask.

“Out of all the things you leave me with..” Lexie breathed. “YOU LEAVE ME WITH YOUR FUCKING TITLE!” The words tore from her throat as her fist connected with the mirror, glass cracked as the mirror exploded inwards like an exhale of shattered stars.

Blood slowly dripped from her split skin to the ruined silver below as she panted out heavily, Pain shot up her arm but she welcomed it. Veins gone numb from pretending that her holiness wasn’t just another suffocation.

She laughed, bitter, a mix of betrayal and disbelief. “Fucking hell.” She spat,

The same mirror that had watched silently as her mother braided crowns into Lexie's hair fingers gentle, now lay in ruins at her feet. The only thing left of her mother now in ruins.

Lexie chuckled. “Now I’ve lost the only good part of you.”

Because what else was there? What else was divine inheritance when it all amounted to is just a name too heavy for mortal shoulders and footsteps leading nowhere except deeper into roles carved long before she came into life.

She glanced out of the window, the sun set. It’s dark out. She only scoffed. A plan forming in mind.

That night, the wind howled like a wounded beast through the hollow streets of the village, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and something darker, something metallic, lurking just beneath memory.

The angel had sneaked out of the village walls, her foot crunching on soft snow as she walked the same soil her mother had died on the past night.

Lexie walked through the wavering trees, her footsteps falling into those same worn grooves in the dirt as if fate itself had carved them there long ago.

The path sloped downward into shadowed brush, its end swallowed by an unnatural mist that clung too thickly to be mere weather.

On a simple path of soil, Lexie felt a sharp pain in her head, letting out a shaky breath. She clutched her head as her stance wavered.

Her fingers dug into her scalp as pain lanced through her skull, sharp and sudden, like something buried deep behind bone was waking up.

“The fuck?” The curse tore free from gritted teeth just as her vision swam, hazy at the edges like ink bleeding through old parchment. She stumbled forward on shaky legs.

Then…silence.

A hush so complete it made ears ring in protest.

Then movement. A shadow stumbling through a bush.

A rabbit, fully grown, moved under branches. One leg dragged uselessly behind, dripping blood like funeral tears onto matted fur below as it hopped forward on trembling paws.

Its left hind leg twisted grotesquely beneath it. Bone protruding through skin stretched taut over shattered marrow, blood pooled black beneath pawprints leading nowhere.

Yet still breathing.

Still alive despite all logic screaming otherwise.

Its head turned towards Lexie, the pupil of the mammal dilated at the sight of the angel.

It was looking at her.

It hit once more, Lexie clutched her head , the veil sticking to her face with soaked heated sweat. She grunted.

The scene felt familiar, too familiar like she’d ruin it before. She let out a laugh, a sharp unhinged laugh.

Then she lunged forward, her own legs moving against her own will. Her laughter echoing off the trees inside the forest, pure insanity.

A cruel replay with the same old friends, just more grown, just with more knowledge.

One still prey, one still predator.

Seized by an urge more powerful than logic, more than thought, her body obeyed. Her footsteps quickened, faster as if some unseen hand was dragging her forward towards the wounded creature.

The rabbit, small and weak, breathing out every labored breath did what every wild animal did.

It ran.

It squirmed and scrabbled at the earth in vain escape. It hopped, with a supernatural pace though its movements were more of desperate flails than true flight.

Blood seeping through fur, bone shattered under a trembling hide.

Lexie only cackled at its pathetic attempt at freedom, her steps became chasing strides. Eyes tracking on the terrified animal as it fled.

Her sight blurred at the edges as tears pooled, but she didn’t blink them away.

On a high, she chased. Unhinged at the edges fraying faster than she could stitch them back together.

Tears concealed under a checkered veil, her senses lowered as her mind fixated onto the poor rabbit, the prey squealed loudly. A sound not meant for animal, too terrified it sounded almost human.

Then the rabbit bolted, darting toward the yawning mouth of the cave with a desperation that sent Lexie’s heart hammering in her chest.

The air inside was thick with the stench of damp earth and something older, fouler, copper and rot clinging to every uneven stone. The walls dripped with moisture, glistening like sweat on fevered skin as Lexie plunged deeper into its throat.

She could hear it still, those panicked squeals bouncing off narrow passageways, twisting into echoes that sounded less like an animal’s fear and more like her own voice from years ago, screaming into hollow sanctums where no one ever came to save her.

Her boots skidded over slick rock as she ran, breath coming in sharp gasps that bordered on laughter, on hysteria, not humor. She didn’t care if she tripped. Didn’t care if bones shattered against stone.

She would chase this wretched thing straight into hell if it meant finally catching what had always been just out of reach.

Her own freedom, her own identity.

The rabbit flickered just ahead of her, just out of reach, just far enough to stay alive, tauntingly alive in its suffering, its squeals echoing off the walls like a mimic of her own cries.

She reveled in the pain, gritting her pain. She huffed out. “You dare mock me?!”

It wasn’t pursuit anymore, it was a ceremony. A twisted reenactment played out in flesh and bone.

You’ve seen this before.

She lunged towards it, scrambling on all fours in a moment that layered hypocrisy, her desperation one of the pregnant women years ago.

The angel reached out to her prey, if she would catch it, if she could catch it.

Like if she wasn’t the prey anymore, if she wasn't the savior but rather the damned,

things would be different.

Like she won’t be the one weighing and bleeding out wishes of being normal to dirt that never listened.

On a slip, she crashed, impact. Her body met the ground with a brutal thud, knocking air out from lungs too used to emptiness.

The squeals halted, no echoes expect her own desperate gasps and sobs.

Just herself, bloody knees and hollow wishes that’ll never be granted, prayers that her own gods will never answer while she’s left answering another’s.

Still reaching for things that were never hers to begin with.

Then in her tears, she looked up, the rabbit in sight, still. Taunting her with that broken leg, it looked at her with pity.

Lexie grit her teeth, she lunged forward, not to find the rabbit but herself to be the prey once more. Her body at the feet of “it”. No.. not it. Her.

She loomed over the angel, A shadow standing at an impossible 10 feet of pure horror, draped in tattered cloth that clung like a second skin over limbs too thin to be human. They weren't limbs at all.

They were mandibles.

Each joint covered in black chitin, sharpened at each end to a wicked point, but there were two slender pale arms above, each finger tipped with dagger sharp claws.

Her pink bangs hung slick back against her head, framing a half-mask of chiseled bone and porcelain that covered only the upper half of her face and stopped just short of her nose bridge, revealing lips curled back in a permanent sneer, a Glasgow smile.

Lips split by scars.

Lips lined with teeth like a centipede’s fangs, row upon row glinting wetly under faint torchlight. Two antennae on the sides of the mask like horns.

Six eyes embedded into the mask’s hollow sockets, each one glowing faint red as coals left smoldering beneath altar ashes. Each one unblinking as they drank the angel in without mercy.

Behind them, the mask, Lexie saw the same maggots that writhed all those years ago.

A God abandoned by humanity after savior. Whispered prophecy of when worship dies short.

A beat of silence passed, The deity let the angel make the first move. Lexie looked into the back, she saw it.

The chain, thick as an executioner’s rope. Hooked onto the deity’s thoracic like a marionette’s wires.

Her gaze trailed from her legs to the face of the deity.

Tracing the gore and grotesque contours of her body, each malnourished part of broken, torn flesh, each vein ready rip at sudden light, each unnatural angle and limb, it only served to the feeling that struck her like blade on skin.

She broke, letting out quiet whimpers and sobs, not horror, not revulsion. Just pure unadulterated lust.

Heat.

Arousal so thick it coiled in her guts like the smoke from incense sticks during holy prayers. Her pulse pounded against her throat as something primal and starving unspooled inside her.

Her instincts told her that she should run.

She should scream. She should make a break for it, but all rationality was lost.

A chuckle snuck past Lexie’s lips instead, broken and confused at the edges, so utterly in lust.

Had she gone mad? Or had she finally slipped free of whatever fragile illusion kept others blind to this truth, that gods were never meant to be beautiful?

That divinity was teeth and scars and chains digging into spine-bone?

The deity tilted its head slowly, amusement curling its scarred mouth into something too knowing to be called a smile.

And Lexie, Lexie melted, slick soaking through fabric, thighs pressed together like a prayer.

Her knees hit stone with a wet slap as she swayed forward on trembling limbs. Fingers grasping for a torn cloak-edge like it was salvation itself.

“My beast,” she whimpered between shaky breaths that weren’t quite sobs. Half moan, half confession.

Tone too ugly for daylight, what would her mother think of this?

Begging, pleading. Arousal dripping onto the cave floor as she worshipped another.

The deity tilted her head in amusement, watching as Lexie did something she oh so despised.

Because devotion tastes sweetest when laced with hypocrisy fresh enough to still bleed upon tongue,

Lexie pressed forehead against insect-covered robes smelling faintly of myrrh rot and old blood,

“My savior.” Spoken like confession wrung dry before executioner’s blade falls. She panted like a bitch in heat.

Here knelt no angel, no chosen one, just craving, a pathetic, sinful, downright ugly craving. Lexie’s veil slipped onto the ground, catching dirt but she didn’t care.

She worshiped the same hands of an insect that killed her own mother, dirtying her veil, a disrespect that the village would burn her for.

Kneeling beneath jaws wide enough to swallow whole false heavens built atop bones never meant bear such weight.

The deity’s hands combed into Lexie’s hair gently before securing her brutal claws in a vice like grip, tugging hard, wrenching her head up.

Forcing her eyes to meet half a mask with too many eyes and too many teeth. The nightmarish gaze of the deity’s gaze.

The sudden pain ripped out a moan past Lexie’s trembling lips, her tongue slipping past her teeth like a bitch presented with a treat, tears stinging her eyes.

Her desperate gasps for air growing louder, pure submission, the fight she put up all her entire life slipping.

Lexie only clenched her thighs harder. A heartbeat pulsing in her core.

“It’s been too long,” the deity breathed, her voice layered with an eerie harmony of countless whispers, yet an underlying tone of feminine grace.

“Oh Doll, how you’ve grown.” She chuckled, thick as tar.

2 eyes diverted with a sickening crunch onto Lexie’s elbow, a faint scar she got when she fell into this cave for the first time. “You still have it.”

“Tell me.” She continued, “what is your desire, my doll?” The words slithered through the air like silk drenched in ichor, a hiss from several throats, all spoken with the same serpentine drawl.

Lexie could hardly meet her gaze. Her throat felt too tight for words, and a strangled sound somewhere between a sob and a moan spilled free instead.

Lexie moaned out, letting out a sob like a dying corpse. She grinded her aching core into her own palm, sitting like a dog waiting for its owner. A desperate whore for sin and punishment.

A whimper flew past her lips. Lexie couldn’t answer.

The ancient only chuckled, a sound like grinding stones and distant screams woven into something mocking.

“You know..” She trailed. “Your mother was just here yesterday.” She released her hair with a flick of her wrist, stepping back just enough to watch Lexie unravel before her.

Chest heaving, lips parted in pathetic little gasps that dissolved into choked moans.

The deity cackled “you wanna end up like her, huh?” She mocked, surrounding Lexie.

Then, movement too fast to track.

A clawed hand snapped around Lexie’s throat in an instant, squeezing just shy of crushing.

When those claws found her throat, all she could do was moan, so close.. an orgasmic bliss.

Her body arched off the ground like a bowstring pulled taut, nails scratching uselessly against scaled fingers as oxygen fled her lungs.

Tears spilled hot down flushed cheeks as she moaned around the pressure, eyes rolling back in delirious ecstasy at being handled so brutally by something so divine.

The deity loomed over her writhing form, six eyes burning with amusement at the sight.

A broken saint trembling between pain and rapture on her palm like some desperate tortured soul begging for death.

"I'll give you just that,” she purred, voice layered with promises darker than any scripture dared speak aloud.

"Please.." Lexie whimpered, voice trembling with feverish want barely muffled between lips and palm. Her grip on the dirtied veil loosening “Please… my beast..”

“Skiendiel.”

The days followed and unfolded like petals of a poisoned flower, slow, radiant, elegant and joyful. The village bloomed. It’s community thrived with life.

Crops grew strong, almost unnatural in fields where soil once had been ungrowable. illness cured overnight as if touched by unseen healers, Children laughed as the cult seemed to bloom almost immediately.

And Lexie? oh, she was glowing.

The once gloomy atmosphere that loomed over the village seemed to lift as Lexie’s demeanor changed drastically, almost over night.

She roamed through the village lanes now with steps too light, too eager. Too happy. Her steps gentle.

Her lips curved into something that might have been mistaken for serenity if one didn’t look too closely at her eyes under her mothers veil that she now wore proudly.

She helped mend fences with fingers that lingered just a heartbeat too long on splintered wood, pressed coins into beggar’s palms with a touch softer than light.

Lexie who had once healed with cold efficiency, now lingered on every wound, tending to every problem with a touch gentler than breeze.

Finger tracing split skin with near reverence as she gently poured the blood from her open palm onto wombs and diseases.

The villagers, they didn’t catch on, no. They saw only what they wanted.

Their holy angel returned to them, softened, finally pliant beneath their devotion like warmed wax taking shape under the heat of human touch.

For how would they know? How would they suspect ruin when it came dressed like an unanswered prayer? Foolish, really.

So blind eyes stayed mercifully shut, tongues lapped up honeyed lies dripping from lips now capable only of pretty venom.

Therefore no villager questioned why corpses buried last autumn bloomed fresh roses from ribcages in the coming spring.

For hunger is easiest to ignore when stomaches are full, And for corruption sweetest when swallowed alongside sanctified wine.

On one promised evening, the church, bathed in the dying embers of sunset when the chief opened the chapel’s doors. Golden light shined through stained glass, painting checkered colors on the fractured stone floor.

There, in the middle of the house of worship, sat Lexie, her expression gentle, calm under the veil covering her eyes. Her cloak heavy upon her shoulders.

In her lap rested a white rabbit.

One foot missing, wounded, though it was relaxed on her lap. Gently reaching into her touch as Lexie’s long nails carded gently through its fur coat. It seemed almost entranced.

The chief’s footsteps clicked onto the shiny stone floor, drawing in closer to the angel.

The chief noticed it. her face unburdened, free of grief and the coldness she once held in her eyes.

Like the weight on her shoulders have disappeared, Lexie hummed quietly against the rabbit's fur, the small creature seemingly unbothered by gentle touch despite its missing foot.

“My angel,” the cheif shuffled nervously. Almost too scared to trigger something inside Lexie that’ll make this gentleness go away.

A beat passed, he breathed in. “You seem.. more.. joyous.” his voice wavered as if something had been holding him back. “had the heavens spoke to you?” He continued, fidgeting his robe.

Lexie didn’t look up immediately, only smiled down at creature cradled like sacrament against breastbone before finally lifting gaze.

A smile crept like sunrise across her once somber face, an unfamiliar expression that sent unease prickling through the chief's bones.

“.. I suppose you could say that.” She hummed softly, gently cradling the rabbit in her arms like a child.

The village cheif’s eyes widened at the information, a sudden burst of energy flowing through him. He sighed out in relief.

“My angel! That’s amazing news!” He stammered out, his voice shaking from excitement and joy.

“W-what are the news?!” The excitement in his voice echoed off the church’s stone walls.

“Is it important?!”

He almost tripped on his own robe as he leaned in closer.

The chief's relief was almost comedic in its nature.

A reaction Lexie couldn't help but find amusing as she lifted a slender hand to hush his excited outburst.

Her voice was soft, words slipping from her lips like silk, "Shhh,” She chuckled.

“Quiet, Dear cheif, we don’t want to startle the entire village now do we?” she hummed.

Lexie trailed, “Although, the news are wonderous, the heavens do have reached out..”

Lexie's fingers stilled for just a moment in the rabbit's fur, as if considering something unspoken before continuing their idle strokes. When she spoke again, her voice was soft, too soft, carrying the weight of a secret too large for mere words.

“They have granted us...a gift, for our years of isolated worship.” she continued, eyes flickering toward the stained glass casting fractured light across the chapel floor.

She took a deep breath before exhaling softly.

“A..gateway, if you will.”

The chief’s breath hitched audibly in his throat, his entire body trembling with barely restrained euphoria at such divine favor being bestowed upon their village.

After years of sacrifices, of isolation. Of human society warped into twisted games, their time for heavy finally arrived.

His hands shook where they clutched at his robes like he might collapse right then and there from sheer joy.

“T-This…this is beyond blessing,” he stammered out between ragged breaths of exhilaration. “I-..” he breathed. “I must announce it-.. the villagers must know at once!” Running out of the church without a second glance,

too blinded by the double sided weapon.

Lexie merely smiled, small and knowing, as the rabbit nestled deeper into her arms with complete trust.

“Let them rejoice, prepare a feast, my dear cheif. For tonight you guys eat fully.” she hummed, her intentions having ulterior motive.

———

A wave of noise crashed through the village, punctuated by shouts and laughter as villagers celebrated with a fervor that could only stem from the highest forms of bliss.

Lexie's eyes scanned over the chaotic crowd, watching as they feasted on food and drink. Each face turned toward her in reverent gratitude.

As she moved down the cobblestone roads of the cult, they all knelt in unison, the air itself thick with worship that made her skin prickle.

Her smile took on an edged sharp and deliberate as she soaked up every drop of adoration poured at her feet. Not soft not gentle. A smile of knowing.

Lexie let out a gentle chuckle at the villagers. She lifted her hand into the air. An orderly gesture.

The murmurs of the crowd died instantly, obedient as lambs at the mere lift of her pale hand. Even the wind seemed to still instantly.

Lexie hummed in satisfaction at the crowd before turning to the village cheif. Her voice honeyed yet carrying an underlying meaning that they all turned a blind eye on.

"My dearest chief," she began.

“You have shepherded this flock through storm and famine. Led them down righteous paths when others had strayed further, that bravery, that courage.. is something only you have led.”

she trailed, putting her scarred palm onto his forehead, his breath hitched. Knees threatening to buckle.

“And for that devotion?..”

“Tonight, I grant you ascension,”

The silence followed was thick. It fell onto the whole village.

The chief crumbled to his knees before her, tears streaming down his weary face. he sobbed out words of utter devotion.

“Thank you!" he gasped, voice cracking like old stone under footstep of divinity. "My Angel, I owe my very life to you!”

A roar of voices rose up to answer his fervorous praise, villagers crying out their own oaths and promises in one great choir.

The crowd around them erupted into euphoric screams and shouts, chanting her name like prayer.

While Lexie, She watched it all unfold with a smile too wide, too sharp to be anything divine.

As night fell onto the village, The chief stood waiting near the great gates, the bundle of his robes clutched tautly in one trembling arm.

His face was pale yet resolute in the pale glow of moonshine.

When Lexie approached, her delicate hand extended, the wounded bunny cradled in one hand, he took it without hesitation.

"Are you ready?" she asked, her voice soft as silk in the cool night air.

“Yes.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak anymore than the word, with tremble of his jaw betraying his courage.

Lexie’s fingers curled tighter around the chief’s wrist as they stepped past the gates, not a guide, but a sacrifice.

“Let’s not waste more time then.” Her voice velvet-wrapped steel.

The night swallowed their footsteps as Lexie guided him forward, her grip on his hand unyielding, cool and smooth like polished bone.

No words passed between them.

the forest itself seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.

The trees stood sentinel, their twisted branches casting jagged shadows that stretched like skeletal fingers across the path.

At the crossroads where snow met damp earth, a small figure waited, the rabbit with its singular leg. It did not flee as they approached.

Instead, it turned its head toward the entrance of the cave.

Lexie’s lips curled faintly at one corner.

"Come," she hummed, not looking back at the chief,

Then without hesitation, She stepped inside, pulling him after her. The small rabbit followed suit.

After walking through the cave tainted with the smell of rot, they finally reached the other end, a huge cavern with a sloped mountain leading up to the top.

The village chief chuckled with his uneased nerves. “My angel,”

“..a-are we sure we’re at the right place?” He questioned, stammering out his words.

“Oh dear chief, of course we are.”

The chief scrambled front, his eye sight barely working in the dark maw, but then in his foot stepped into unknown material with a sickening CRUNCH.

He looked down at his feet, only to find a dead cat, its body broken in half, organs spilling out like a cruel joke, a life made sacrifice.

He then looked up at the slope, to find.. two towers implanted into stone, a thick chain trailing to God knows what.. or who.

Oh no, oh no.

The angel turned back to him with a grin, the lantern flickering across her expression like a high light.

He dropped his robes, one instinct flared,

To run.

The terror in his eyes made his legs lead him but before he managed to get barely two steps in—

CRACK

The wooden plank once part of some long-forgotten mining cart, slammed down like a butcher’s cleaver across his knees.

The impact wasn’t clean— it was gruesome, splintering bone into jagged shards that tore through muscle and tendon, tearing the muscle of his ligament.

A scream tore from his throat, raw and twisted. Echoing off the cave walls in distant screams,

He collapsed forward onto ruined legs that now bent where they shouldn't, hot pain shooting up his limbs like a bunch of fire ants.

Lexie chuckled, her voice sharp as an edge of glass.

“Did you honestly think that Heaven handed out gifts oh so easily?” She acquired. “Cheif.. you sure are mistaken.”

Peeling back her clothing, her cloak falling away to reveal pale skin barely restrained by a sheer lace top.

The lantern’s fragile flame cast flickering shadows across the cavern walls, illuminating her pale back,

revealing what should have been smooth flesh on the traps of her back but no, ruined flesh.

Carved deep into muscle and sinew, still glistening raw in patches where scabs had split fresh under tension,

"M.S."

Not ink but rather marking of devotion. letters gouged. the edges uneven where blade, or something sharp of nature

had sawed back and forth in shaky dedication, Gouged deeper than necessary, as if the blade had slipped in frenzy, or purposefully dragged to hurt longer.

The bottom of the second letter curved upward into an angry split where the dermis had torn mid-cut, leaving a permanent flap of knotted tissue resembling peeled bark.

Pink granulation tissue bulged unnaturally, too fresh to be years old, rather recent.

Lexie tilted her head just enough to watch terror dawn across the chief's face as she traced fingertips along one inflamed ridge of scar tissue-her breath hitching in a soft whimper when she found spots still tender enough to weep clear fluid under pressure.

“Mmh..” then the veil surrendered, the fabric slithered from her face and onto the floor.

The chief's scream never even left his throat.

One moment, on the ground frozen, eyes bulging at the initials marring Lexie’s skin. The next, wet impact as something descended from the cavern ceiling with a sound like rotting meat hitting stone.

A tongue as humans know it.

Thick as a bull’s neck, glistening black-red with saliva thick as glue, studded backward facing barbs on the tongue surface that ripped into his scalp the instant it made contact.

The barbed tip plunged straight through his skull with a crack of shattered parietal bone, hooking deep into brain matter and skull before yanking the chief upward.

The chief’s torso entered first. Ribs audibly unzipped themselves apart under pressure like overripe fruit splitting along seams, organs spilled loose only to be caught mid-fall by smaller tendrils sprouting from its gums.

His pelvis and legs still kicked wildly when cranial fluid started raining down in sticky strands, then came muffled sounds of femur being crunched sideways too thick to snap clean before slurped.

Marrow-first back into gullet depths. His body spasmed with futile attempts to escape.

All the while, Lexie watched from the cave’s floor as the beast feasted onto the chief the sickening sound of bone on flesh tearing through the cavern.

The rabbit only squealed with the sound of the man’s struggle, licking a drop of blood falling from the ceiling.

As the last remains of the chief disappeared into the creature's maw above, a centipede unfurled from the ceiling, landing with a gentle click on the bloodied floor.

Her jaw unhitched in a grin, exposing rows of jagged teeth upon teeth as she wiped away remnants of her feast.

The centipede deity descended, her segmented body rippling like liquid shadow as she detached from the cavern wall.

Her humanoid torso emerged first, the sickly pale abdomen split down the center by a jagged seam of chitin and raw, glistening muscle beneath coated by mucus.

Claws flexed at her sides, too many joints, too many fingers, each one clicking faintly against stone as she landed in front of Lexie with unnatural precision.

Her mouth unhinged slowly,

too wide, too deep.

a blackened jaw lined with rows upon rows of needle-teeth still dripping strands of the half-digested chief.

A clot of flesh clung stubbornly to her lip before Megan's tongue forked and too long lashed out to collect it lazily.

Lexie didn’t flinch, she only giggled, high and giddy. she cooed.

“My lord," stepping forward to nuzzle against her cloak like a cat seeking contact.

"Missed you,"

Megan lifted one clawed hand to wipe thick clots from her lips-fingers trailing strings of saliva and semi-coagulated blood down her chin before smearing it across the edge of her cloak.

“Doll,” the ancient whispered.

Her voice came layered like honey over rot.

Chuckling as she ran a clawed hand into Lexie’s hair. The angel only pouted childishly, huffing.

“Look what you did!” She whined, trying to shake off the fresh bloodstains blooming across her white trench coat. “Ruined it!”

She pressed her cheek against Megan’s exposed torso. where pale flesh split open in jagged seams between segments of chitinous armor, letting out a satisfied sigh.

Heedless streaks of the viscous fluid weeping from between those cracks, smearing onto the shorter girl’s cheek.

The scent was metallic and rotten.

A grotesque and brutal intimacy.

Megan exhaled through rows of teeth.

A sound between a sigh and hiss as her claws combed through Lexie’s hair with lethal tenderness.

“I’ll make sure to eat cleaner next time.”

“You said that last time I brought the cats and livestock here.” Lexie exclaimed, folding her arms. Her expression sulked.

Megan only cackled, “He was a bigger prey, no?”

“Still!” She rolled her eyes dramatically.

Megan only chuckled once more, shaking her head as she coiled her body around Lexie’s small frame.

The angel only leaned in as Megan lifted her chin, her heart racing for all the wrong fucking reasons, shivering as her claws traced the deep scars carved as initials onto her skin.

“My Lord..” Lexie trailed, “I’ve been good haven’t I?”

“Please.. let me stay for the night? I don’t wanna go back yet.”

“Silly girl… of course you may.”

“You earned it.” Megan purred, letting the angel rest on her body.

The night seemed to fade.

The next morning, as Lexie returned back into the village, a wave of fervent voices crashed over her like a flood.

The villagers surged forward in a frenzy of devotion, their hands reaching out to brush against her robes as if she were made of sacred relics.

“Oh our blessed angel!”

“Praise be to God for sending you among us!”

“Look how radiant our savior is!”

Their words tumbled over one another, desperate and feverish with belief, a chorus of worship that clung to Lexie like sweat-soaked silk.

She moved through them effortlessly, a fake gentle smile plastered on her face although her mind gagged in disgust.

In the midst of the crowd, her gaze fell upon a young girl, no more than nine years old, who stood in front of her with wide eyes shining.

She looked up at Lexie with unabashed admiration, hands clasped together as if in prayer.

“My Angel!” The young girl exclaimed,, smiling wide as she stepped closer to Lexie. Giving her the widest smile possible. “I have a question,”

“One day, can I also be an angel like you? Can I also save people?” Despite the warmth radiating from the child's smile, something cold and bitter twisted in Lexie's gut as the girl closed the distance between them.

Her question, innocent and wide-eyed, was a dagger plunged deep into the heart of the lie they had built this cult upon.

Lexie forced herself to maintain a gentle facade, her smile a brittle thing as she replied. "Of course."

The child continued to beam at her, blissfully ignorant of the darkness coiling like smoke beneath her angelic exterior.

——-

Lexie's voice rang through the cavern like thunder trapped inside a glass jar, her screams puncturing the air with raw fury.

Her throat raw with emotion. “THAT LITTLE BITCH!”

Lexie’s voice cracked under judgement, She ripped the coat from her shoulders and hurled it to the ground with enough force to send dust billowing up in a choked cloud.

Her veil followed, crumpled underfoot as she clawed at her own hair, yanking hard enough to tear strands loose at the root.

Tears streaked down her face, ugly, raw, unholy as she banged her fist on her own skull, twisting her gently features in something barely human.

letting out gasps between sobs that sounded choked.

Her hands shook violently where they hovered near her scalp, fingers flexing like she wanted nothing more than to dig straight through bone just for an outlet.

“SHE..-“ Lexie stammered, inhaling with a choked sob. “SHE REALLY FUCKING THINKS—“

“SOME WORTHLESS LITTLE BITCH THINKS SHE CAN JUST BECOME AN ANGEL?! DOES SHE KNOW HOW MUCH I HAD TO SACRIFICE!?”

“I HAD TO CARVE PRAYERS INTO MY OWN SPINE AT HER AGE WHILE SHE WAS STILL SUCKING ON HER MOTHER'S TIT LIKE A BRAINLESS WHO—“ Her voice shattered mid-scream, raw now from overuse and all that remained were heaving breaths punctuated by spittle-flecked whimpers.

Broken only when Megan finally tilted head in amusement. Lexie dropped onto her knees, clawing at the ground with a fever of a mad woman.

Megan’s face was unreadable, borderline on cruel amusement and disappointed as she gazed upon the spiraling angel.

Tapping her claw on the hard chitin shell of her leg, waiting, judging how far Lexie would spiral before intervening.

Lexie’s breath came in ragged, animalistic gasps as she grabbed the glass shard, her entire body trembling with unchecked fury.

The scar across her palm pulsed angrily, a grotesque fissure of mangled flesh that never truly healed no matter how many times she begged or bled for it.

“LOOK AT THIS!” Her voice was shredded from screaming—a sound more wounded beast than angel now as she pressed the shard’s edge against her wrist.

“IT WON’T FUCKING CLOSE! THEY THINK I CAN PERFORM MIRACLES!? THEY THINK I CAN HEAL?! I CAN'T EVEN MAKE MY OWN FLESH WHOLE AGAIN!"

The blade hovered there, biting just deep enough to draw a thin bead of crimson before Megan moved, FAST.

A claw clamped around Lexie's wrist like a vice, forcing the shard to clatter uselessly to the stone below. Megan’s other claw fisted tightly in her hair, yanking her head back until their eyes met.

Lexie’s wide and wild with tears streaking through dirt and sweat; Megan’s unreadable expression showed a flicker of almost something like pity.

“Calm down," She growled low in Lexie's ear as if speaking to some feral scared stray backed into a corner.

Lexie's pupils dilated, fury igniting like a wildfire as she bared her teeth at Megan. “CALM DOWN?!”

“YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT! YOU WEREN'T PUT THROUGH DIRT JUST TO BE CALLED HOLY! YOU’RE HERE ASKING ME TO REMOVE A FUCKING CHAIN THAT SHOULD’VE BEEN OFF YEARS AGO!” Her voice was a blade of pure venom, body coiled tight with the need to lash out, and lash out she did.

In one swift motion, Lexie slashed the shard toward Megan’s face, matter over mind.

Only for the ancient horror to lean back effortlessly, letting it whistle through empty air. A beat of silence.

Megan’s hand seized Lexie’s throat in an instant, claws pricking deep enough to draw blood before lifting until her toes barely grazed stone.

The pressure was crushing; deliberate in its slow theft of breath as Lexie gasped wetly, mouth working like a suffocating fish thrown onto shore.

Lexie hammered her weak fists into Megan’s grasps as her face grew red with the lack of oxygen.

Above her loomed something far worse than anger, Megan’s disappointment.

Her grip tightened on the gasping angel. "Do I have to mind you whose initials are there engraved in your pretty little back?”

Shall I carve another letter into you?" Megan mused coolly while watching veins bulge in Lexie's straining neck under claw-tip pressed into Lexie’s throat.

“Or would you prefer I peel that silver tongue from your mouth... little angel?" Megan hissed into her ear.

Lexie’s breath hitched, a shuddering gasp escaping her as she collapsed forward, her forehead pressing hard against the cold, pale flesh of Megan’s abdomen.

Her fists struck weakly, knuckles scraping against the ancient’s skin with dull thuds that carried no real strength behind them—only desperation.

Tears streaked down her face in hot streams as she sobbed desperately into her lord.

"Why didn't you just kill me...?" The words were barely a whisper. "Why did I have to be their fucking saint?"

Lexie wailed like a child; stripped of all dignity.

For once, there was no rage left in her, just exhaustion carved bone-deep from years of choking on divine lies and rotting worship.

Megan exhaled softly slowly, dragging claws through Lexie's tangled hair almost tender despite the blood still smeared across both of them from earlier violence.

Her tone held something dangerously close to sincerity if such things existed for a cruel deity.

“Because you weren't made for martyrdom, doll" She murmured back thumb brushing saltwater off pale cheeks. "...And my chains?” A pause, distant sound of straining metal far below. “Nearly rusted through now."

“Soon enough... I'll give you the freedom you oh so desperately crave.”

“Promise?” Lexie looked up, hope glistening like a child fed on lies.

Megan gently grazed her cheek with her claw. “I promise, the moment I get out of here you won’t bear the weight of having to be a Levin, you’ll be with me.”

“Forever.”

Megan paused, her monstrous silhouette a dark stain against the cavern walls. Without another word, she scaled the jagged rocks with eerie grace, her segmented limbs clicking faintly against stone until she disappeared into the upper gloom.

Moments later, she returned, clutching something tattered between her claws.

A scarf, once white but now stiff with old bloodstains and torn at its edges like time itself had chewed on it too long.

Gently, Megan took Lexie’s trembling hand, the one marred by that ragged sacrificial wound and began wrapping the fabric around it with slow precision.

Lexie didn't resist when Megan finally secured knot just shy overtight.

Lexie’s trembling palms gently cradled Megan's face, her touch tender despite the bruises already darkening across her neck.

She leaned in, hesitating just long enough to catch the faintest glimmer of something like regret in Megan's usually cold gaze before their lips met.

Megan was unyielding, returning the kiss with a violent press.

Her tongue plundered the angel's mouth, muffling any protests under the onslaught as she forced her way deeper.

Lexie gagged against the tongue and Megan chuckled.

As they finally pulled away, Lexie slumped against the cave wall, gasping for breath as Megan chuckled.

Megan looked down at her with a grin. “Come back in 4 months, I’ll burn it all to the ground.”

——

Exactly 4 months has passed.

Lexie struggled through the weeks with hope that Megan’s promise was true, on one early morning, the Angel returned to the cave.

As Lexie's eyes raked across the cave, taking in the emptiness where once the rusted chain had hung, her heart skipped a beat.

She spun around to find Megan standing behind her, holding a mask held tightly in her grip.

"Are you ready?" The question was soft but steady, like a blade sliding home into its sheath.

Lexie nodded gently, Megan’s cut curled into a smile. “Take off your veil for me.”

Lexie took a shaking breath, before reaching up and peeling the veil from her face.

Lexie’s breath hitched as Megan’s claw pressed against the smooth, untouched skin of her forehead— then it bit in.

The first incision was slow. Deliberate. A razor-sharp talon parting flesh with the precision of a surgeon, splitting open her brow in one clean line from hairline to the bridge of her nose.

Blood welled instantly, thick and hot as it cascaded down Lexie’s face in dark rivulets, dripping from her chin onto the cavern floor below.

She whimpered, fingers twitching where they clutched at Megan’s arm, not to pull away but to anchor herself as pain lanced through nerve endings laid bare by flayed skin peeling back like overripe fruit split by knife.

Megan didn't stop.

Her grip tightened on Lexie's jaw, holding her still as she worked claws beneath loosened flesh near the temple and with methodical patience.

She began peeling. Skin lifted away from muscle with sickening wet resistance, revealing glimpses of glistening fascia underneath before tendon caught stubbornly at edge.

Forcing Megan to pause just long enough for blood-slick fingers hook deeper beneath strips still clinging stubbornly around eye sockets before continuing downward past cheekbone hollows now exposed raw under flickering lantern light.

Lexie choked out half-sob when cartilage near nose tugged uncomfortably during separation, but any sound died muffled against palm now pressed firmly over mouth until only silence remained between them aside occasional drip onto stone beneath trembling knees.

Then came the mask.

The half of a cold porcelain pressing directly into weeping wounds where thread awaited needle already threaded through holes pre-drilled along its edges.

each puncture tugging flaps taught while sewing shut what once made this face human. all sealed under layers upon layers until nothing remained except perfect smooth white surface reflecting back empty eyes staring blindly forward into abyss ahead.

Pain flooded Lexie like venom, coursing through her every muscle with a vengeance. She clung to Megan like a lifeline, gasping and sobbing with each pulse of agony.

Her body trembling with each stitch.

"It's done," Megan reassured, her voice a stark contrast to her ruthless efficiency. "No more pain… no more hurt."

Lexie echoed the words weakly, her voice a hoarse whisper. "No more hurt... no more pain.."

Megan's hand stroked her hair, a rare moment of care that seemed almost out of place after what they'd just gone through.

"Good…" She whispered, gently pulling the angel up to her feet. "Come."

—

As they arrived at the gate, It didn’t stop Megan, no. She just climbed over. And all hell broke loose.

Lexie watched dispassionately as the village came to life from hell. Blood sprayed across once-pristine walls, staining cobblestones a deep crimson.

She watched silently, her expression oddly peaceful in stark contrast to the gruesome carnage that had torn through the village.

The once peaceful settlement lay shattered; only silent ruins remained of the homes and lives that once filled these streets with life.

Bodies broke with crunches and snaps underfoot; every villager, every mother, every child caught in the carnage of the ancient’s wrath.

Finally, the last of the screams died down, leaving nothing but silence. Lexie's face held that same gentle smile, watching as her lover... feasted.

And then, amidst the wreckage, a small figure caught her eye.

The girl, the same girl that asked Lexie for holy.

she laid shaking and bleeding in the dirt, body jerking in silent agony.

The little girl's blood mingled with the muck under her, staining her tattered clothes an even darker shade of brown. Her body lay broken, bone had shattered through flesh in her leg like a gruesome flag and her arm hung twisted and wrong, limp as a broken doll.

Panting, hanging onto life.

She slowly approached, her footsteps light on the bloodied cobblestones. each step sending a faint crunch through the corpses coating the ground.

She knelt down next to the girl, her gaze steady but strangely compassionate. Her peeled off eyelids under the mask unblinking.

“Rest now, Angel.” Lexie whispered, closing the girl’s eyes with a gently touch as she ran her fingers over her eyelids. “Rest.”

In the midst of the unfolding chaos, Lexie’s once house, abandoned stood tall in irony, the door creaked opened under Lexie’s bloodstained fingers.

The shards of the earlier broken mirror still scattered on the floor like pieces of a memory that she’ll never gain back.

On the table beside the shattered glass on the floor stood a picture of Lexie’s mother, her smile under a pristine veiled that covered her eyes.

Lexie reached for it slowly, hesitated. then lifted it toward what remained of her face.

The reflection of the mask sewn on the top part of her face overlapped the veil of her mother’s in a cruel manner.

Lexie’s breath hitched in a fragile moment before her hands reached towards her face, reaching the stitches at the side but then—

Megan’s claws intertwined with her reaching hands, gently anchoring her and pulling it away. “Remember.”

“I’m free now.”

“You’re free now.”

—- END. —-