Hannah Dodd Via Instagram

OLIVIA HOLT on INSTAGRAM

standing  in  the  private  elevator  that  led  up  to  alec’s  penthouse,  céleste  couldn’t  shake  the  feeling  that  she  had  just  stepped  into  an  episode  of  succession  —  or  something  equally  absurdly  wealthy.  it  was  rare  that  a  client  had  their  own  gym  —  even  rarer  that  she  would  be  the  one  making  the  house  call.  but  then  again  .  .  this  felt  different.  she  wasn’t  nervous.  céleste  didn’t  get  nervous.  especially  not  when  it  came  to  work.  and  this  was  just  work.  that’s  what  she  kept  telling  herself.  but  as  the  elevator  climbed,  the  thought  she  had  been  trying  to  suppress  surfaced  once  again  —  why  did  she  keep  thinking  about  him?  she  was  hardly  the  type  to  let  a  man  occupy  space  in  her  mind.  detached,  selective,  uninterested  —  that  was  how  she  had  always  played  the  game.  and  yet,  somehow,  alec  had  managed  to  slip  past  those  defenses,  taking  up  more  real  estate  in  her  thoughts  than  she  was  willing  to  admit.  shaking  her  head  slightly,  she  exhaled,  forcing  the  thought  away.  this  was  a  session,  like  any  other.  it  might  be  his  home,  but  in  her  mind,  she  still  held  the  upper  hand.  she  always  did.  by  the  time  the  elevator  dinged,  announcing  her  arrival,  she  had  already  slipped  back  into  her  usual,  unshakable  confidence.  stepping  forward  with  her  head  high,  her  voice  rang  out,  smooth  and  effortless.  "hello?  alec?"

♡ closed starter delivery for @velvetysage

casually resting his back against the wall, alec kept his eyes on the private elevator as the numbers ticked up. he wasn’t nervous per se, but there was a certain anticipation stirring in his nerves, a rare feeling he wasn’t about to analyze too deeply. celeste was fiery, quick-witted and undeniably attractive to the point where it was impossible for one not to look twice, and while he wasn’t the sort of guy that let himself get caught up over a girl, alec had to admit that she was able to get under his skin. their first meeting at the elysian party had given him a taste of what it was like to be around her, and now she was about to step into his territory (all business, no games... at least, theoretically). rolling his shoulders back, he waited with bated breath as the lift stopped on the penthouse floor. whatever happened next, he was ready for it.

céleste’s smirk lingered, amusement flickering behind her gaze. he was quick. smooth. predictable in some ways, but in others? not at all. his confidence wasn’t new to her — the men she had been around in her life had lived and breathed it. but the way he wore it, like a second skin rather than something performative, that was what made him stand out compared to all the rest. "i will be impressed if you last the entire session without needing a break." a beat. her gaze swept over him, like she was already calculating his limits before they’d even started. “not to worry .. it is after all also my job to make sure you don’t push yourself too much. or at least not to a point where you never want to book another session. as he squared his shoulders, slipping back into his usual self-assured posture, she took a step back from the window. "coach?" she arched a brow, amusement playing at the corners of her lips. "i may not do pep talks and participation trophies. but let it be known, i’m not one to take it easy." she let the words settle between them, her gaze unwavering, "i train hard." her voice was calm, steady, but there was something else beneath it — a quiet challenge, an unspoken dare.  she reached for her phone to check the time. " but we’ll start easy. now, show me the way to the gym.." a deliberate pause, just long enough for him to register that she wasn’t actually planning to start easy at all. "unless, of course, you’d prefer to keep standing there, looking pretty, and wasting time." she tilted her head slightly. "your call, jameson."

insufferable. the word dripped from her lips like something honeyed, meant to stain, but he let it seep, wearing it like a second skin. it wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last, but coming from her? well. he almost wanted to hear it again. cerulean hues moved to where she’d set the bottle down, noting the control she seemed to possess with every small action she took. alec wondered how much of it was habit and how much was defense. either way, he wasn’t in a hurry to figure it out. "exhausting myself trying to impress people has never been my style," he replied lazily. "but placing my energy elsewhere? guess we’ll see how much of that energy i have left by the time you’re done with me." his smirk deepened, but there was an undercurrent beneath it. one part amusement, one part something else entirely. whatever game they were playing, she was keeping up, maybe even a step ahead, and that was rare. but for now, he reminded himself that she was here to work. he straightened his posture, stretching out his arms before rolling his shoulders back, his expression slipping back into something cocky, self-assured. "alright, coach," alec began, "are you going to keep staring at me, or are we starting this session?"

enemies to lovers except muse a has been pining over muse b from the moment they met, muse b is the only one insisting they’re actually enemies. 

@niamhhmccormack_: luck of the Irish ☘️

geraldine viswanathan via instagram

"  stunnin'  face  ?  you  lot  really  are  dangerous  with  compliments  over  here.  look,  maybe  i  came  for  the  moral  support  and  maybe  i  stayed  for  the  fights  —  and  maybe,  maybe,  the  view  from  my  seat  just  so  happens  to  be  decent.  hockey’s  chaotic,  violent,  and  dramatic.  i’m  a  theatre  girl,  raph.  i  was  bound  to  fall  for  it  eventually.  besides,  it’s  not  like  you’re  exactly  forgettable  on  the  ice.  consider  me  an  intrigued  convert.  "

"  and  you're  not  ?  just  tagging  along  for  moral  support  or  did  someone  catch  your  eye  along  the  way  ?  all  the  way  from  the  uk  and  supporting  me  weekly  ,  think  hockey's  growing  on  your  sweetheart  --  who  can  really  complaining  at  such  a  stunnin'  face  ?  "

OLIVIA HOLT reveals which slasher villains she would 'fix' or 'dump' (x)

the moment drew starts talking — actually talking, beyond the bullshit, beyond the deflections — something tightens in penny’s chest, pulling taut like a wire about to snap. it’s almost cruel, how easily drew’s honesty, her rare vulnerability, still manages to slip beneath penny’s skin, still has the power to rattle her when she’s spent so much time trying to build walls against it. but she’s always known this about herself — about them. that drew could make her want to scream one second and crumble the next. she exhales, slow and shaky, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes before letting them fall to her sides. she’s so tired. tired of worrying. tired of trying to make sense of the mess drew leaves in her wake. "drew…" her voice isn’t sharp anymore, not biting — just hollow. worn. "you disappeared. just — just vanished. and you know what’s fucked? i spent two weeks trying to rationalize it. trying to come up with some kind of reason that would make it make sense. blaming myself..  because that’s what i do.. i blame myself. for every mishap, i think i am the root of every problem.. and it’s fucking exhausting." her arms cross over her chest, but it’s not anger fueling the motion — it’s an instinctive, futile attempt to hold herself together. "and then you just walk in here, cracking jokes, acting like it’s nothing, and i — " her voice cuts off, trembling under the weight of it all. "i don’t know what you expect from me. do you want me to pretend it’s fine? because i can’t do that." drew clutches the pillow to her chest, and it’s almost too much to look at. the way she holds onto it like a lifeline, like if she lets go, she might just disappear again. penny hates that a part of her still aches at the sight. hates that no matter how furious she is, there’s still something inside her that wants to reach for her. "and look," her voice drops, quieter now, not quite as sharp. "i know it’s not my place to worry anymore. but fuck… and i know it’s not all about me."

then drew says it. make it up to me. and something inside penny breaks. she meets drew’s gaze, raw and unguarded, her own vision blurring at the edges. "make it up to me?" her breath hitches, and she blinks, like that might somehow clear the storm behind her eyes. her body feels too heavy, like she’s sinking under the weight of everything she’s been holding in. "it’s not about making anything up." her voice is quieter now, the anger simmering into something heavier, something deeper. "nothing you say — nothing you do — is ever going to erase what you did. there is nothing in this world that can make me forget how little you made me feel. how unwanted and fucking pathetic you made me feel." the words hurt to say. hurt to admit. but they hang in the air between them, undeniable. penny crosses the room, sinking onto the opposite couch, the space between them stretching wider than ever. she licks her bottom lip, trying to steady her thoughts, trying to find the words when everything inside her is screaming. "but look…" her voice wavers. she closes her eyes for a moment before searching for drew’s again. " wewouldn’t be here if i didn’t think i it was something we, or i could work past." she lets the truth settle between them, lets it linger in the silence. "there’s a reason i keep coming back to you. a reason i let you in when you come back to me. even when every part of me is screaming that it’s a mistake. even when i’ve spent hours trying to convince myself that you don’t deserve a second chance." she swallows hard, curling her legs up on the couch, her elbow bracing against the back of it as she wipes a stray tear from her cheek. "but i do believe people deserve more than one chance. even when i don’t want to. even when everything inside me tells me i shouldn’t."her breath stutters, and suddenly, saying the words out loud feels like taking a blade to her own ribs. "god," she exhales, a laugh breaking through — but it’s bitter, humorless. "it goes against every fucking principle i have to even imagine keeping someone in my life who cheated on me. saying it out loud? it sounds insane." she stares at the ceiling for a long moment, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths before she finally looks at drew again. her eyes are glassy, voice on the edge of breaking. "but i don’t — i can’t — imagine my life without you." the confession feels like a betrayal of herself. a white flag she never intended to raise. "but i don’t know how to do this. i don’t know how to trust you again." her voice drops to a whisper.

it's not as though she'd expected a happy reunion. a running jump into her arms, milk maid gowns free flowing in the wind as they rejoiced. drew had expected the anger. but the delusional part of her brain, which was the part that was at the forefront these days, was silently hoping they could just skim past the anger. as a pillow collides with the back of her head, it's clear that they'll need to make a pit stop at i'm sorry station. "ow! i was holding a candle." a searing finger nestles between her lips and she sucks out the brief pain like venom. this does capture drew's attention, now completely facing penny who appears to be one lightning strike away from full-blown super villain fury. the power of their connection transcends what they are both willing to understand. it's frightening to some effect, how drew can instantly feel penny's agony crawling beneath her skin. infectious is how drew would describe it, but penny would likely describe it as empathy. she supposed that's where the two differed most. it was dangerous to drew -- and all consuming for penny, it made finding common ground far more precarious when one of them was trying to flee while the other was trying to cling.

"you know -- parker did tell me the pigeons were mindless drones. i thought that was kind of mean, you know? so i sent one. but judging by the fact you didn't get it. i guess i owe him five bucks." she fucked up. she knew the feeling as equally as she knew penny's turmoil considering their tendency to go hand in hand. and wasn't that devastating? knowing that your faults perfectly coincided with your partner's dismay? "i do want to pretend that everything is fine.." the blonde admits, likely the first thing she's been honest about in days. she sighs as she crosses the floor to penny but allows her enough space to feel comfortable. "but that's not fair to you. i know. i just -- i don't know what the fuck happened if i'm honest. and well, fuck. that's not fair to you either. i was sitting at work like.. is this gonna be the rest of my life? being good while everyone else is great? i mean - look, and i'm not trying to project this on you - but you're fucking great." drew scoops up the throw pillow off the ground and sink back into the bar stool, hugging it closely to herself. a waft of penny's perfume fills her nose and she takes a deep breath. it's grounding for a moment. that is until she says, "this time i've spent piecing us back together isn't bullshit, penny. i've been trying to make it up to you. and i'd do it all over again.. a thousand times." french nails are picking softly at the soft fuzz balls on the pillow as she nervously looks for something to do with her anxious fingers. "but will i ever be able to truly make it all up to you? i mean, really. and i want you to be honest with me."

DUA LIPA via Instagram (October 20, 2024)