and what about my wings? @deryapinar - Tumblr Blog

writing sideblog by barbie. wanted plots & open starters. thread tracker. muses.

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"so you just decided i was a hamburger in the middle of fucking ?" eyebrows raise to prompt a response , smile ghosted across her mouth as she listens to him explain himself . albeit , she was only joking . wanting to see him squirm just a little bit . she didn't mind it . in fact , she encouraged it . "i am ," she nods , leaning forward and placing her arms on top of the table in between them . "are you asking me to be your date ?"

deryapinar

“i wouldn’t choose the word hamburger” he frowns , nose scrunching as he goes over his options — none of them looking too good at the moment . “i just got a bit feral ?” jesus , that wasn’t good either and the fact his anxiousness had made tone sound more like a question than anything else , makes it somehow worse . “what i’m trying to say is that i got lost in the moment” frown lingers for another moment before he gives up , placing a smile over his features and taking a deep inhale , eyes trailing her face for any type of reaction . “i—” it’s cut short , eyes narrowing , waiting for her to change her mind , admit she’s only teasing now . “i mean , we could go together” smile spreads and he nods , hand reaching for her over the table , thumb drawing circles on her skin absentmindedly . “it’s what i was thinking , yes”

#gael narvaez #gael / tilly #parisgoodbyes

niziui

“you sure made it sound like it.” it was his idea anyway — his foolish, joke of an idea that if was actually good enough, would've already been a reality. she swallows down the bitter feeling with another sip, unsure of how to pivot in any other direction. something that at the very least, wasn't toying the line of friendship and something more. his reaction says enough — none of this was serious. maybe she was just sensitive from the breakup, maybe she was looking for affection in the wrong places, or maybe she'd just had one too many to drink. either way, she knew it was a bad idea to tread in this territory any longer. “no one knows that part quite like me,” she jokes. god, maybe she really did need to branch out. one day, she might actually end up with no other options — milo included as it seemed. “my standards have always been too high. besides, i'm sure they've talked about me too. locker room talk knows no gender — you're actually a hot topic among the girls.” granted, she wasn't so forthcoming with them — something she'd merely framed as looking out for him. it didn't have anything to do with already wanting to peel her eyes out at the idea of seeing him with someone else, already having the misfortune of bearing her teeth through enough relationships. this whole thing is dumb, being awkward around him is dumb. but he's important to her, even when he continues to say the exact wrong thing. she can't help the way she softens with that smile of his, pressing her lips together to prevent her own. “shoot. i was already planning the honeymoon,” she teases him with the roll of her eyes, fighting the idea of imagining any part of it and instead, pushing his shoulder lightly. “just don't get angry if i show up a little hungover.”

deryapinar

“it’s something i picked up from one of those movies you girls like to watch” teases but it’s empty, god knows whenever his sister is around watching another rom-com for the hundredth time he’s right beside her with his arms crossed at first, until he’s shouting at the television as the plot follows. “it’s just a pact between friends” scoffs, narrowing his eyes as humor continues to dance in them. “and i’d never call you a consolation prize” words leave his mouth with the most honest he can gather, nodding at himself as if to make sure he’d said it correctly, instead of voicing what truly had been going on inside his head. “exactly, you have a schedule just as terrible as mine. it’s why i thought it could work” this time, it’s too impulsive, a loud thought he didn’t mean to share. something he can’t switch up to a joke in time. and it hangs in the air between them, grin failing slightly before he’s hiding behind another swing at his drink and shaking his head. “really? what are my fellow skater friends talking about me?” feigns interest simply to find another subject to push them into, something he can turn lighter, take a laugh out of them both. “if brenna ever says we did something, you know it’s a lie” fingers tap against his beer before he points one toward her, features poised in seriousness. “she’s a liar and she’s very intense. we talked once at a part and she managed to get my number from someone” nose scrunches slightly, maybe talking about other girls would be safer, make sure she knew he wasn’t as obsessed as the thoughts in his head made him out to be. “she tried to facetime me like eight times, i don’t even wanna know what i would’ve found if i accepted those” shakes his head, though smile spreads over his skin easily, shoulders falling into familiarity. “we should go for a beachy place, by the way” tsks, taking one step closer as tone continues to be playful. “just don’t be late for lunch or i won’t be able to see you” he’s not above begging, it seems. sincerity leaking through his tone as eyes meet her own, chin tipped down from the proximity. “that would make me angry”

#milo sykes #milo / nina #niziui

“i think you should probably just stay way tonight” / @stereosmindgame

#theodore hudghes #stereosmindgame #:D

“who the fuck was that guy?” / @cursedcupids

#giorgio capone #cursedcupids

“why’d you have to lead me on?” / @cursedcupids

#nadia dive #cursedcupids

“are you trying to make me jealous?” / @cursedcupids

#dane pollen #cursedcupids

“you could have been a little bit nicer.” / @cursedcupids

#sofia nasrallah #cursedcupids

“i can’t help it , the coffee here is really good” / @parisgoodbyes

#sofia nasrallah #parisgoodbyes #this is ages too late but its here..

stereosmindgame

“ yeah, ” he answers after a beat too long, gaze lowering briefly toward the stack of plates between them instead of her. “ she’s coming for christmas, ” the words leave him evenly enough, but there’s a faint rigidity beneath them. his father liked his girlfriend — more than liked, really. approved of her polished edges, her ability to stand beside him at galas and afterparties with an effortless smile. the sort of woman who fit seamlessly into the life ralph alder always envisioned for his son. that alone had already cemented half the relationship before seven even had the chance to examine it too closely himself. approval, after all, has always been a currency he spent his entire life starving for. he pushes off the counter then, stepping beside celeste to help with plating before the silence curdles into another precarious territory. his fingers reach for the serving spoon from her hand with absent familiarity, shoulder brushing hers in the cramped kitchen space. “ congratulations, by the way, ” sincerity slips through easier when the conversation turns toward her, “ that’s a big deal. ” his mouth curves faintly at her words about the kids growing up. “ kinda terrifying too. ” a soft exhale escapes him, almost a laugh. “ feels like yesterday we were that age. you hiding out at your grandma’s place pretending you didn’t hate me for bothering you all the time. ” there’s warmth threaded through the recollection, dulled only slightly by the ache of nostalgia. “ now you’ve got a whole class graduating. ” the domesticity of the moment settles strangely as he spoons food onto plates, listening to her ask about racing with that same earnest curiosity she’s always had, even when she never fully understood the sport itself. “ season was good, ” he replies, “ a good amount of podium finishes. singapore was chaos — rain halfway through changes the entire strategy because tire degradation gets unpredictable and visibility goes to shit. monaco was monaco. impossible to overtake unless the guy ahead makes a mistake first. ” he shakes his head lightly, focused on the plate in front of him. “ but overall ? solid year. ” solid. not perfect. never perfect enough for him. or his father.

deryapinar

“ that’s great “ and then she sounds a bit out of breath, almost shocked, when she really shouldn’t. it was normal for people to bring their significant others home for the holidays, it was normal to want to spend time with them when they had some time off from work. she knew that well and through. and still, there’s a sour taste in her mouth that is hard to swallow. she’d never seen him do it, she’d never watched him being a woman back home to introduce them to their town. “ i’m sure she’ll love it, mr. jenkins is already all over the decoration, you know how excited he gets “ weak laugh escapes her lips, using the food as an excuse to turn her back on him, hiding the grimace that flashes over her features. she allows him to take over, mainly to put some space between them, moving to the other side of the kitchen with a quick deep breath. “ thanks, “ she breathes out, thankful for the change in subject he provides. “ it’s really terrifying actually. they’re gonna be teenagers soon and then i’m gonna have to find them trying to use their fake ids at the liquor store “ shoulders fall into place as she goes on, corners rising absentmindedly as conversation shifts into the flow she’s used to. “ i definitely didn’t hate you “ scoffs, hand moving to push on his shoulder lightly. “ i just had to pretend i did because we were at the age where boys are supposed to be disgusting, not fun to be around “ rolls her eyes upwards as grin continues to spread, head shaking as memories flood her vision, needing to focus on his voice to stop herself from drowning again. “ monaco was monaco “ she echoes, eyes narrowing towards him before a chuckle escapes her. “ i saw most of them, when the timezone wasn’t that crazy “ for some reason, cheeks burn up with admission, as if she wasn’t just a friend keeping up with his success. “ you’re having fun, though, right? traveling around and doing what you love? “ there’s a bit of jealousy in it, too. she loves her job, has always known she was right for it, wouldn’t change it for the world. but there was always that voice, that tiny annoying voice that kept craving to see the world. see those places beyond the pictures he posted, experience things herself and not through the videos she watched online. a necessity to be out in the world, though the fear of it being too big would always keep her inside their small town limits.

#celeste jansen #celeste / seven #stereosmindgame

stereosmindgame

he has always been like this, dangerously generous with his tongue when wounded, precise with his cruelty when cornered. max lamora doesn’t bruise quietly — he retaliates, escalates, turns a simple cut into something catastrophic just to prove he can still feel the blade. and tonight, that instinct has done what it always done : take what was already fragile and render it irreparable in real time. the moment she turns away, it feels less like rejection and more like subtraction. for a man accustomed to control over rooms, over men who think they’re untouchable, there is a profound destabilization about her absence mid-argument. especially after the realization that had been festering beneath his ribs for weeks now, finally made explicit tonight. his relationship ending does not reset anything between them ; there is no clean slate waiting beneath the ruin. there is only her, still orbiting other men, still capable of being seen and wanted, touched by hands that are not his. tonight was proof of that. a living, breathing reminder. he follows her before he even fully decides to. inside, the room is still humming with the aftermath of their collision — whispers, glances, the residue of spectacle. but he’s already detached from it, stepping through the exit like a man shedding a skin that no longer fits.

the terrace air hits colder than expected and he finds her there almost immediately, though he hesitates just long enough to make it look accidental. his hands are in his pockets, posture composed in that infuriatingly effortless way of his, though there’s nothing effortless about the tension in his jaw. he steps closer, but not enough to crowd her. not yet. even he knows there’s a line he cannot cross twice in one night. he exhales through his nose and for once, he doesn’t try to fill the space immediately. doesn’t try to win it back with another sharp remark or deflection. his gaze flickers over her face and his expression shifts, subtly but it’s now unmistakably less armored than before. “ i said too much in there, ” he admits at last, just the truth delivered. “ i didn’t need to say them like that. ” there’s no softness in how he says it, but there is restraint. and for him, that is its own kind of apology. his hands move before he fully announces the intention behind them, slipping his jacket off in one smooth motion as the fabric shifts off his shoulders with a muted rustle. then he steps closer, not invading nor trapping, just closing the distance. he doesn’t ask permission in words, but his movements are tentative enough to leave room for refusal. when he reaches her, he drapes the jacket over her shoulders with a steadiness that contrasts the volatility of what came before. his eyes flicker away briefly, toward the edge of the terrace. “ i don’t like what you do to me sometimes, ” it’s more honest than he probably intends it to be. then, after a pause that feels heavier than the words before it, “ but that’s not your fault. ” that’s as close as he comes to absolution. what he doesn’t say, what he refuses to give language to, is how badly it unsettles him that she looked at him like that. like he was just another man. worse, like he had always been just another man pretending at something more. because that is where the real wound sits, in the possibility that she genuinely believes none of it mattered. and the truth is uglier than either of them has said out loud. his relationship ended due to an erosion, a slow, inevitable corrosion caused by her absence in every space she was never supposed to occupy so completely. gigi simply existed too close to the center of him to ignore. his gaze drags over her face, finally looking at her properly, “ i’m not asking you to forget what was said. just .. don’t leave it like that. ”

deryapinar

the cold air sends a shiver down her spine and she basks in it, it’s half the punishment she deserves for the show she’s put on tonight. people will be talking about it tomorrow for sure, her so called friends will be texting her to hear her side of things and surely, her dad would have something to say during breakfast. yet it all feels insignificant now, watching the skyline as she feels tears warming up her cheeks. tonight feels final, as if they’re finally reaching the point where things go completely south. she’d been in this countless times, every relationship ending with her heart broken because her idea of love could never be achieved by those quick flings and sweet promises that were never kept. she’d always leave disappointed, always choosing to throw her love somewhere else for the night, shifting the taste of rejection for a drink someone bought for her and the absence of her loved one for hands rushing under her dress. this didn’t feel like any of them though, it felt worse, as if her heart was actually downsizing every minute she spent under the winter breeze.

feels his company before hearing his steps becoming louder, the whispered conversations on the terrace go on clueless about what had gone down between them, couples too entranced by one another to notice her state. she shifts slightly, not daring to find his gaze but acknowledging he is there nonetheless. arms cross shut against her chest, offering protection to whatever is going to come out of his mouth next and to physically stop herself from shivering. too much, like that. he’s not taking his words back, just regretting that they came out at the wrong time. it’s something, her beaten up organ pumps up to her brain. as soon as browns register movement, she tries to tell him no, that she doesn’t want a kind act from him but her mouth shuts closed just a moment before it opens. allows the fabric to rest over her shoulders, immediately regretting it as she’s left to drown in his scent. the perfume she’s had attached to every single dress the morning after, the one she’d come to miss when her bed was on her own pillow instead. it brings familiarity and comfort she doesn’t want to allow herself right now, and yet she doesn’t dare to move. “ i don’t think i can be your friend anymore “ she speaks after a moment of silence, lips pushed together as eyes finally land on his face, meeting his gaze through blurred vision. “ or, whatever it was that we were “ there’s a sadness in her tone, in not being able to understand their relationship anymore when she was once so sure. “ you were right, it wasn’t fair that i’d go on dates and show up at your place afterwards “ had he said that? not in those words, at least. “ you never promised me anything, i had no right to be angry “ and yet, no excuses come to mind. because they both know her reasons. or, god, she surely hopes he can understand why it bothered her so much. why the idea of someone else sharing his bed, drinking wine on the counter he’d kissed her against and talking on the couch until they weren’t talking anymore, it all tormented beyond explanation. it wasn’t the fact they weren’t exclusive, it was how quickly he replaced her. “ it’s done “ because what was the point in pretending his words hadn’t done some damage, when he knew her to an extent by now. it was nothing new, it was nothing she hadn’t thought about herself, it was the fact he saw her like that too would bother her for a while.

#giovana carneiro #gigi / max #stereosmindgame #i love my dumbasses

stereosmindgame

timeskip.

after they parted ways at the wedding, he’d vanished back into the familiar decadence of his own destruction, disappearing into the afterparty with a cigarette between his teeth and somebody else in his lap by midnight. even then, her final thank you lingered beneath his skin like an inconvenience, turning every distraction strangely hollow by the end of the night. a couple months later, autumn had settled when he saw her again. it’s nearly midnight and he’s somehow at the grocery store near her apartment. he’s there for cigarettes and a bottle of wine, looking characteristically disheveled in a dark coat thrown over an unbuttoned shirt. he spots her near the produce section, laughing quietly beside him — the neighbor, he’s assuming. for a moment, he just watches from the next aisle over, noting how she looked like she’d slipped into a version of adulthood he’d always treated like a joke. “ wow, ” he drawls as he finally steps into view, voice smooth with familiar insolence. “ sugar guy. you actually went through with it. ” his gaze flicks lazily toward the man beside her before returning to her, amusement curling into the edges of his smile. “ should i be offended ? thought you had better taste after me. ”

deryapinar

hears his voice before she has the courage to actually face him, gaze quickly bouncing from the wine in her hand to her date, daniel, who had just taken her out for dinner for the fourth time and who was finally going to be let inside her apartment for the first time tonight. a sigh escapes her mouth, guess that was out of the window now. there was no way this encounter would end well for her, or at least well enough that she’d want to end the night in bed with him. apologetic smile flashes over her features, already regretting as she turns to find him there, in her favorite grocery store — they always had the best baked goods — looking just as annoying and handsome as she remembered. “ zeno “ disappointment is clear in her tone and for a split moment she’s thankful introductions are not necessary, daniel had been her neighbor for far too long not to remember her ex and, well, here comes zeno reminding her he hadn’t forgotten their conversation. “ are you lost? “ doesn’t dignify his dig with an answer, crossing her arms against her chest as chin rises, hoping for her date’s sake that he can take the hint and keep his mouth shut.

#ayla wellington #ayla / zeno #stereosmindgame #he's so kind<3

stereosmindgame

“ not my problem, ” he says flatly, like the scene in the other room is already irrelevant and filed away under things he refuses to carry. his gaze drifts past her shoulder for half a second, then returns with that familiar composure, “ she can deal with it. ” the kitchen light hums overhead as he moves to the sink anyway, because despite the defiance in his tone, he listens. has always listened, just selectively. “ aye aye, captain, ” he mutters under his breath, almost mocking, almost amused, rolling his shoulders as if the command itself is an inconvenience he’s willing to tolerate. blood threads down his knuckles in thin, obedient streaks, disappearing into the drain as he turns the tap. he works with practiced precision, washing away the evidence with the kind of ease that suggests this isn’t new territory — split skin, bruised bone, a body built to endure impact. he reaches for the first aid kit without looking away from her for long, wrapping his hand with steady, efficient movements, tightening the bandage until the bleeding submits. “ relax, ” he adds lowly, eyes flicking up to her blouse at the mention of it. “ i’m not going to ruin it. ” his gaze lifts briefly, settling on her like he’s memorizing the details he has no business recalling, then adds, quieter, “ looks good on you. ”

deryapinar

his response is expected and yet she stills makes sure he sees the dramatic eye roll that is prompted by it, chin rising as she continues to watch him from a safe distance. nose scrunches at the sight of blood, shaking her head and moving a step further away, pretending curious eyes are searching for clues regarding the aftermath of their fight. “ why did you punch him anyway? “ it’s said absentmindedly, not bothering to linger near the door much longer when she notices the male is still on the floor. “ you’re used to patching up yourself “ as usual, words rush out of her mouth before she can fully process them, brows shooting up a little before gaze shifts to his own. it’s not a question or an accusation, just an observation. “ of course not, “ she scoffs, taking a step away from him as if in warning, eyes narrowing though humor linger across her features. “ you’d actually bleed if you did “ as if she was capable of physical violence, no, her choice was usually way more subtle. “ thanks “ it’s said with feigned nonchalance, eyes jumping anywhere else in the kitchen for a split moment before returning to find him, cheeks warming up without a warning. “ we should probably leave “ he should, at least. she should probably go back there and attempt to help her best friend deal with the situation, and yet, she doesn’t correct herself. “ did you drive here? “

#yare burke #yare / kane #stereosmindgame

stereosmindgame

maybe it’s the alcohol still dulling the edges of everything, or the way he says it so casually, like isla is just another variable they can choose to ignore. she stares at him for a second too long, searching his profile as if the angle might change what she thinks she heard. “ you .. don’t care ? ” she repeats, slower this time. despite how she plays it up at times with her teasing, sharp banter, and deliberate little provocations aimed at milo that look like confidence, all performed with the ease of someone used to being watched, there’s a carefully guarded sensitivity around isla. she quietly cares too much about her best friend finding out. it’s built-in with the kind of care that decides things before she even gets a vote. because isla, in a way, is her sister too. the girl who knew which version of elira to believe when she was switching between performances, even as a teenager. she knows isla has forgiven her before for her past mistakes, but never forgotten, not really. and this isn’t the kind of mistake you laugh off or patch over with time and familiarity. this feels like the sort of betrayal that would finally stay broken between them. her throat tightens but she smooths her expression anyway, habitually, reflexively. “ that’s .. ” she exhales lightly, almost a laugh that doesn’t fully form. “ that’s not how this works. ” because what she hears under his words isn’t just indifference — it’s willingness. a readiness to pull the truth into the light if it means keeping her. and elira doesn’t know what scares her more : isla finding out, or milo being the one willing to let it happen first.

she lets his question linger, suspended in the interior of the car like perfume that refuses to dissipate. “ you looked like you knew exactly what you were doing, ” she says, her gaze flickering to him to catch the tension coiling in his jaw. “ like it wasn’t a favor. like you actually enjoyed it. ” she continues, “ and that— was impressive, i guess. infuriating, if i’m being honest. ” she doesn’t say jealous. she refuses the word the dignity of being spoken aloud. instead, it hovers between them — uninvited but unmistakable — threaded through the flashback of him standing too close, smiling too convincingly, playing the part so well it made her chest tighten in a way she couldn’t politely contain. because it was public and his family was there, leaving her with no sanctioned outlet for the heat coiling under her skin. so she made it messy elsewhere, dragging hunter into the equation, turning internal rupture into external chaos. jealousy in its pure form would have been too revealing, too vulnerable, too honest for the version of herself she allows others to witness.

his words land with a conclusiveness that feels almost obscene in its certainty, heavier than anything their usual banter is built to carry. for a moment, she doesn’t respond, not because she has nothing to say, but because everything in her shifts at once, rearranging itself into something quieter, sharper. she withdraws from him, fingers that had been resting against his knee retreating into her own lap, smoothing over the fabric of her dress as if she can iron the tension out. the warmth of him lingers where she touched him, ghostlike and accusatory, as her gaze turns to the window. outside, the world becomes an abstract of motion and light — blurred silhouettes, fractured reflections, the city breathing in fragments. when the car slows at a red light, it all seems to pause with it. even her. even the noise in her chest. she watches the stillness like it might offer clarity. then green as movement resumes and so does the pressure in her ribs. only then does she turn back to him. “ i didn’t pick him to get to you, ” her voice quieter now, stripped of its usual lacquered provocation. “ i picked him because i didn’t have anywhere else to put it. ” her eyes land on the side of his face, gaze steadier than her pulse suggests. if milo knows her at all, if the teasing that once passed as a harmless sport has always carried a secondary current, if years of familiarity have taught him anything, he should recognize the pattern of what she did : not detachment, but emotion held too tightly for too long, threatening to spill over at once. “ you should have known what that was. ”

deryapinar

he’d already been expecting the reaction that comes from her, but it wounds him regardless. the idea of coming clean about their relationship meant something different to the two of them and he wouldn’t ignore that, or even dare to blindside her. “ i’m not saying we flash her or let her hear us through the walls “ rolls his eyes, explanation feels empty in the midst of their conversation. another reminder that this was the worst time and place for this discussion. yet instead of swallowing whatever comes next up his throat, he chooses to glance in her direction, allowing her to see the damage of her statement before saying anything else. “ then maybe it isn’t working anymore “ it’s all he says, hating how much his words feel like an ultimatum. though maybe they were, a moment where they’d decide to go on and attempt a bridge between them or burn things altogether once and for all. in his plans to bring this up, he had a strategy, a way to slowly introduce their relationship as a topic of conversation with isla. maybe stop speaking of elira in the feigned displeasure he’d put out whenever his sister mentioned she was coming over. maybe even being nice to each other in front of her. he had laid out a plan, thought about how it could happen, about how they could actually become something real. all to realize she was surprised he even wanted to, if that wasn’t a hint then what was.

“ i enjoyed her company, she’s a nice person “ shrugs his shoulder, wouldn’t bother lying to her now, after everything. things were already crashing down, there was no reason to. “ she went on and on about this guy she’s seeing, her mother doesn’t like him and that’s why she asked my mom for this date “ there was some haunting irony in the fact his date had spent the night talking about another man just as he told her stories about elira. the evening had gone a lot smoother once they realized they’d been struggling under the same predicament of a secret relationship. though, in his case, there was no ounce of madeline that wouldn’t love having elira as her daughter in law. the woman who’d already called her a daughter anyway, censured him for talking back at elira even when she had started things when they were younger and making sure he knew it was important to keep an eye out for her at parties just as he did for isla. “ why was it infuriating? “ there’s a hint of teasing in his tone, a desperate man's attempt to make her see the effect they had on each other even as she denied it.

the weight of the absence of her touch feels heavier somehow, fighting the need to run his hands over where her own was, as if he could physically stop the goosebumps from dancing under his skin. mouth opens to call her on it, knows well enough it wasn’t a satisfactory coincidence that the date she managed to grab last minute was one of his teammates. she did it on purpose, he knew that. truly, it didn’t make that much of a difference, he would’ve been bothered by anyone she’d chosen to accompany her tonight. “ you didn’t have anywhere else to put what, elira? “ there’s an idea in his head, of what she means by what, of what she means by the next words that come out, too. but he’s done making assumptions for both of them. if things were going to finally crash down tonight, it would be by the hands of the two, not his impulsiveness and quick mouth. he’d let her say the words, if that’s what it came down to. the car comes to a stop and he’s hit with the realization they’d arrived at the apartment where his sister was probably asleep peacefully or even hanging out in the kitchen. one way or another, their conversation would be cut short if they left the car. she’d probably walk her way to isla’s room and he’d lock himself up in his own until it’d be safe to come out again. so he turns off the car and sinks further into his seat, not daring to make a move to leave though unlocking the doors — a way out if she wanted one. “ seeing you with him, made me jealous too “ he confesses, air escaping through parted lips as he finally shifts his gaze to the side, searching for her own. “ mission accomplished “

#milo sykes #milo / elira #stereosmindgame #putting him on su*cide watch #just in case..

stereosmindgame

she doesn’t answer him straight away, even as they’re already moving toward the back lot of where his car is parked — where it always is, like some unspoken certainty she hates that she’s memorized. after their relationship ended, she had called off work for a week. just the blunt ache of absence and the humiliating realization that she didn’t know how to exist in the same building as him without falling apart. she had truly wondered how she was supposed to come back here after that. how she could slip back into routine, dance under his surveillance, and pretend his choice hadn’t dismantled her piece by piece. but grief calcified and she returned anyway, taking on extra shifts, covering for girls who couldn’t make it. she let the club swallow her whole under pulsing lights and bass-heavy music that rattled her bones just enough to keep her thoughts at bay. on stage, she became effortless — controlled, adored, untouchable in the illusion of it all. but the second she stepped out of those lights, silence would rush in like a tide. and in that silence, he always followed. so what was left of the hurt hardened into irritation, her self-preservation disguised as anger. she keeps her arms crossed tightly as they walk, pace steady but clipped, like she’s trying not to acknowledge how easily his presence still unsettles her. when he asks if she’s eaten, she exhales through her nose, eyes forward. “ no, ” she says simply, then adds after a beat, voice flatter. “ i’ve got leftovers at home. ” her jaw tightens as they near the car. because even the most mundane concern from him feels loaded with their history.

deryapinar

hates that he’s already planning ways to keep her company a little longer than she’s allowed him until now. it was becoming quite a bad habit, one he couldn’t seem to figure out a way to quit. he’d pack his things the same time she was out of the stage, manage to get out into the parking lot just before she did and offer her a ride. watching her deny it, pretend the cars were already busy with the other girls. i’m going that way anyway, he wasn’t. in fact, his house was the opposite way from her and she knew that. or at least he hoped she still remembered the address where they’d spent so much time together. where she had become a part of his life in a way he’d never saw coming. she’d leaked into every single one of his rituals, sat through his family traditions and got to know the things he couldn’t escape. only for him to close the door on them when the moment came. it was his cross to carry and he didn’t want it to be hers, but there wasn’t a good way to deal with this. he wouldn’t move her to a different club, not knowing how she was would kill him. he wouldn’t let her quit, for the same reason. he thought about getting her another job, something less dangerous that wouldn’t take too much of his sleep. but the selfishness would always drown that thought in the midst of something feral. “ we can stop by that chinese place “ he speaks absentmindedly, unlocking the car before opening the door to the passenger seat. “ their food is better to-go than dining in “ shrugs his shoulder, corners rising slightly, sharing a piece of information the two of them knew from their past experiences always brought him a feeling of warmth. “ it will be quick “ he promises, nodding to himself before she can argue and moving to round up the car.

#giorgio capone #giorgio / riley #stereosmindgame

stereosmindgame

he exhales through his nose, a sound caught between a quiet laugh and some restraint, using the solid edge of the counter behind him like it might anchor the thoughts pressing at his ribs. her words, though light in delivery, feel heaver in implication and they linger between them. busy. he ought to leave it there — he usually does. “ it wasn’t just being busy, ” the admission escapes before he can stop it. for a brief instant, an unguarded flicker passes through his gaze, reflecting on the years collapsed into distance measured in flights, floodlit circuits, and carefully constructed silence. then he reins it in, his jaw tightening as though he can physically contain what’s threatening to surface. any further explanation given to her would be reckless. irreversible. a man like him does not get to pull someone like her into the glare of media scrutiny and gossip’s voracious appetite, the way fame corrodes private things until they’re unrecognizable. so he lets it die. a faint, practiced smile returns when she mentions his girlfriend, polite enough to pass as sincerity. “ yeah .. she’s good, ” he murmurs like he’s reciting a line he’s already distanced himself from. then shifting the topic to her, deliberate and evasive in the way he asks, “ what about you ? you’ve been okay ? ” his gaze settles on her, choosing steadier ground than the confession he almost allowed to survive.

deryapinar

eyes land on his face once he speaks again, confusion clouding her vision for a split moment before she recovers. keeps waiting for whatever is coming next but it never does, silence laying between them until she’s forcing a smile onto her face again, shaking her head and bringing her attention back to the food she’s supposed to be plating. whatever reason he had, she’d spend some good time thinking about it later. was it the fact she was barely in his life anymore? or that she was a friend in high school and he no longer saw her as a friend now? the thought of him only staying in touch because he pitied her had crossed her mind a few too many times, not that she would ever dare to admit it. he had no reason to stay anchored to their small town, but he still did. he was a good friend like that and celeste would always be grateful. “ is she coming next week for christmas? “ the idea wounds her a little once it’s spoken out loud, though she should start getting used to the idea of him having company when he visits. it was selfish wishing his personal time was spent only with her. “ i’m okay, “ she confirms, finally daring to look back in his direction, feeling the subject had shifted into something safe enough. “ the first class i ever taught is graduating elementary school next may and they asked me to write a speech “ grin spreads, a lot more genuine this time. “ it’s kinda crazy, watching them grow up like that “ and a little depressing, too. as if everyone was moving along and she was still frozen. but she keeps that part to herself, eyes flickering down before thought it noticeable through her gaze. “ how’s everything else though? you know i don’t understand much from the races but i do know you always end up at the podium so, that’s good, right? “

#celeste jansen #celeste / seven #stereosmindgame

stereosmindgame

the words land cleanly between them, deliberate and smug in its delivery, as if he’s finally named the thing she’s been circling without touching. for a brief moment, she stills. not outwardly, of course not. on the exterior, she remains composed, fingers still resting against the stem of her glass, posture as elegant and untouched as ever. but her gaze sharpens, like glass catching light at the wrong angle. a soft exhale slips from her nose at his words. we’re both here to play a part in this story. almost laughs, but it dies before it becomes anything real. she lets the silence stretch just long enough to make it uncomfortable, to suggest she’s considering whether he deserves an answer at all. and then lightly, she’ll say, “ how romantic of you. ” her tone drips with polite derision, head tilting ever so slightly as she studies him like what he’s said is both obvious and unbearably naive. “ to assume i don’t know the script. ” she leans back into her chair, finally breaking eye contact to glance at the table between them — the wine, the untouched food, the carefully curated performance of a dinner that was never meant to feel like one. when she looks back up, her smile is there again. precise. practiced. wrong. “ you think i’m missing my lines, ” she continues, voice quieter now, smoother, almost conversational, “ but the thing is .. i’ve been reading this story my entire life. ” a pause to let it settle. then sharper, softer in the same breath, “ i just didn’t realize you’d appointed yourself director. ”

deryapinar

he can feel the animosity growing in the silence that sits between them, not bothering to fill it as he attacks the bread on the table, carefully picking apart a piece before stuffing it inside his mouth. normally, on a real date, he would be more mindful of these things. allow her to have the first bite, not be on his second glass even if they haven’t even gotten their orders out yet, ask her questions and not let the distance between their last words to drag out so much. but this wasn’t normal, it wasn’t real and fooling each other with the idea would only do them harm. everything between them had already been arranged, from the wedding date to where they’d live when they got back from their honeymoon — and a part of him expected his father would ask his secretary to write down his vows as well. “ i know you’re familiar with the script, i’m sure your father has filled you in just enough “ shrugs, her words pass him by, forehead slightly furrowed as he stares at her. “ i don’t understand why you’re making me the enemy, i’m here for the same reason you are “ overbearing parents, controlling fathers, families who think their personal lives isn’t more worthy than a juicy business deal. “ i’m your scene partner, not your director “ it’s another shrug and he’s downing the remaining liquid in his glass, cueing in the waiter for another refill. “ you can make me the villain if it makes you feel better, but we’re in this mess together “

#arthur / celine #arthur hawthorne #stereosmindgame

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