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#blog rules. #masterlist. #request rules.

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ᴀʟʟ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴡᴇʟʟ. tashi duncan x fem!reader

warning(s): age gap (reader is 22, tashi is 36). angst. mommy issues. arguing. mean!tashi. coach/player dynamic. crying. drinking. smoking.

index: And I might be okay but I'm not fine at all

note(s): yet another one

that’s been collecting dust in the drafts

YOU STAND IN front of the sink, the faceut running warm water over the dirty dishes you washed and assorted; your back was stiff ever, just like when all of tashi’s friends were here and around your table, laughing and joking. you still felt as hollow as you did when they were here just a mere thirty minutes ago. you felt like a ghost in your own house, ignored and undervalued.

“do you want me to help?” her voice came behind you, cold as it normally sounded.

“no.” your voice stern and just above meek.

you thought this would be different. you thought tonight would be different—the whole dinner that’d been planned with her friends, you thought it would be different.

tashi promised you to never treat you less than or talk down to you just because she were older. she told you that just because she also coached you, she wouldn’t let it infer with your relationship.

she wouldn’t let tennis infer in your relationship.

but tonight has shown you otherwise.

for fucks-sake, she smoked a cigarette. and never in your three years of knowing and dating her have you ever seen her even look at a box of cigarettes. whenever you were out on a day in the city and a whiff of a cigarette even just blew by, she would complain about it.

so, when you were sitting at that table, right next to her and all her old college friends around; when you watched her swipe the cigarette from the hands of one of the said friends who had offered it to her—when you watched carefully as she brought it to her lips and took a puff it did more than shock you.

the scene made you hold your breath as if you were the one to take a drag of the stick. you back stiffened and eyebrows narrowed at the sight.

tashi duncan actually smoked a cigarette.

you don’t know if it shocked you more, or disgusted you more when she had the nerve, after taking a few puffs, to reach her hand over and offer you the stick as well.

tashi knew you didn’t smoke. hell, she knew you barely even liked to drink.

“you’re upset?” her words showed more annoyance at the fact that you could potentially be upset, rather than concern.

“i’m not.. jus’tired is all.” you were trying your best to prevent arguing.

if there’s anything you hated most in this world, more than the night you’ve had, more than when tashi’s pushes you to your limits on the courts—it were arguing with tashi. it was nothing short of intense and left you crying, with only a bouquet of flowers on the table the next morning as an apology.

sure, the woman could cut you with her eyes alone, but her words? she had a way of saying the most fucked up things and making it sound so hurtful that it were almost poetic.

“you’re pissed off.” her voice flows from behind you like an agitation of memory that just won’t leave you alone.

“i’m not upset or ‘pissed off.’ like i said, i’m just tire—”

she scoffs. “bullshit. look at how you’re acting, you won’t even looking at me. you’re practically throwing the dishes around, it’s ridiculous.”

the movements in your body pause, and your eyes flick up: it’s ridiculous.

“my friends were nothing but nice to you, i don’t see why you had such an issue tonight.”

“no, i liked your friends,” kinda. “i never said i had an issue with your friends, but i did have an issue with the way you were acting.”

you finally turn, directing to face her as she sat at the kitchen table with another glass of wine.

“i mean, you wouldn’t even look at me, tashi.”

“so, this is about you not getting enough of my attention?” her tone was dry, almost mocking you.

“no! this is about how the second your friends got here you ignored my entire existence!”

“you weren’t even saying anything,” her words come out with a bitter laugh as she throws her hand up, pointing it in your direction like you’re an object. “what am i supposed to do? talk to a brick wall—”

“i didn’t say anything because you didn’t ask me an entire thing the whole night!—”

“that’s total bullshit—”

“bullshit, it’s bullshit? you know what’s bullshit? when i tried to touch you, when i tried to hold you hand; you pushed my hand away! what am i supposed to do with that? how is that supposed to make me feel? because it definitely didn’t make me feel like a part of anything, let alone make me feel like i could say anything.”

“what are you talking about? i pushed your fucking hand away, i didn’t push your hand away.”

you scoff, astounded.

“yes you did! god, tashi, i—i don’t know any of these people, they’re all strangers, they’re so much older than me, and what do you do? you make me feel like an outsider the entire night!”

“i’m sorry the entire night wasn’t about you, i’m sorry i was just excited to see people i haven’t seen in years; but you need to act your age and get over it. what? i didn’t kiss you enough? i didn’t baby you enough?”

“that’s not what i mean and you know it. act your fucking age, tashi.”

you turn, facing the sink and your back gave to the woman once more. bringing your hands to the edges of the sink you rest on it, dropping your head slightly, eyes caught on the two plates left to wash in the sink.

you breathe in and you breathe out, through your nose, out your mouth.

this.

this is why you hated arguing with tashi.

she made you feel crazy in the way she purposely mistook your words, what you were trying to express, and twisted it into a cutting edge insult at your emotions and intelligence.

it was only a matter of time before the insults came to. on how you were weak, on how you needed to be a better tennis player. every word that tashi said, every insult she threw your way was like venmon that snuck up your legs, into your veins and eventually all the way up to your heart, to your head; and altogether it made your bones feel weak.

“you should be thanking me, without me what opportunity would you have? what stanford graduates would you be sitting at a table with, having dinner with? in this very nice apartmen—”

you whip your entire body around so you fast you almost forget to turn your head, “oh fuck you! you’re the one who moved in with me. you’re not the only one with some money, tashi.”

“oh, yeah i forgot not only are you fucking your tennis coach for some extra cash but you’ve also got mommy’s money too—”

“fuck you, tashi! you and i both know i don’t need your money—”

“yeah, you just need my talent,” she keeps going but you stop hearing her the moment that sentence slips past her lips.

it keeps repeating in your head like mantra.

you just need my talent.

you just need my talent.

you just need my talent.

it takes you back to your mother, who was an advent tennis player in her youth. she was the best in high school and all through college, so good, correction: great, that she turned it into a career. she traveled the world, had her face plastered on wilson rackets, sports commercials, adidas, nike, you name it and she was on it for her talents on the courts that resided to tennis. she was the sole reason you played the sport.

not that you didn’t enjoy it, but you’d rather be doing any else with your life besides hitting a ball with a racket but from a young age she made it clear that if you wanted her love you played her sport, and you better had made sure you were damn good at it too.

most children, could say they spent their time with their mothers shopping, mani-pedis, learning to cook, or just simply playing childish games in the backyard. bonding with a nurturing spirit. but you? your childhood, your time with your mother stayed on the large tennis court in your large backyard. running drills from nine AM to four PM. no breaks, just at it for hours.

it was nothing less of grueling and demeaning. even if you slightly hit the ball wrong she nagged you, told you needed to be better, she asked if you were even really her daughter by the way you were playing.

if it’s anything your mother was good at, it was making you feel inadequate.

the only reason she even agreed to pay for your college was if you played tennis. she knew you wanted nothing more to go to NYU and she held it over your head. but what other choice did you have after graduating high school? sit around while she told you were nothing and wait for her to eventually kick you to the streets of LA? no, you did what she wanted just so you could have an education.

somewhere sick and twisted inside her she saw it as love. she saw it as pushing you in the right direction, so when you agreed to go to NYU and play tennis, and eventually play professionally that’s when she got you the best coaches.

that’s when tashi came in.

you remember after your mother retired, she’d watch tennis all day, around the clock. you remember seeing tashi on your big flat screen television in the wide living room of your mother’s house. to say she was a big fan was needless. she always went on and on about how tashi duncan was the new, perhaps even better version of her (but she would never admit that to anyone but you,) she even wanted to coach tashi at one point but at the time the girl was in college and had let all her confidence to go to her, she thought she didn’t need anymore coaching. yet, your mother still praised her.

in fact, the only time you saw your mother show sympathy was when tashi’s injury happened.

she said it was shame and that, that girl could’ve gone places no one else went in the tennis world.

but she was thrilled when years later, you going into your first year of college, she heard tashi was now coaching. she immediately called a friend of a friend to hire the woman and to a surprise, she took the position in an instant. apparently she had seen a few of your games on the college tennis channel and thought you had real potential. well, that, and she was just a big fan of your mother. she even apologized for declining her coaching offer, saying maybe she would still be playing if she agreed.

when you first met tashi, you didn’t like her much. and it was nothing personal, you just knew how much your mother loved her, perhaps more than you and it twisted something deep inside your stomach. not entirely against her but you couldn’t outright show your hate to your mother so you took it out on tashi. you purposely showed up late to practice, hit the ball wrong, dropped the racket, and talked back like a spoiled brat who could hide behind mommy’s money.

but you quickly found out exactly who tashi duncan was.

you quickly found out how mean and unprofessional she could be. you remember one day you showed up late, latte in your hand, scrolling onto the court like you hadn’t left tashi waiting for almost over an hour. she dropped the nice, professional act and walked right up to you, she grabbed you arm with haste and hardness, the type of hardness that reminded you why she almost held a racket for a living. she pulled you to the court and demanded you run drills.

you almost laughed in her face and called her crazy but she bit back saying she already talked to your mother who threatened to pull you from your studies.

after that day, tashi began to be meaner, harder, persistent. she didn’t miss a beat.

just when you thought no one could be more obsessive than your mom. just when you thought no one could push you to your limits more than you’re own mother, tashi duncan showed you why they called her the duncanator.

you don’t how it started or when, maybe it was your mommy issues but the lines between tashi being your tennis coach and your girlfriend started to blur. when she stood behind you to fix your stance her hand was lower than it should be, when she whispered pointers in your ear, her mouth touched your ear; and after running practices way longer than they should, when you’d go shower, she bursted into the bathroom, lecturing you on how terrible your backhand was and how you needed to take this more serious.

you were tired and the day had already been long, having failed a test, you didn’t need to hear how inadequate you were. so, naturally you bit back and tried to argue but she snatched the curtain back and from there it was a blur—she kissed you, and then she kissed you again, and more, and more.

it became a regular thing. practice. sex. practice. sex.

tashi was still tashi but she became nicer, she started to listen to you more and maybe, just maybe if she was in a good mood she’d give you days off without telling your mother. and for a while it was nice, or so you thought. on some nights tashi would come over and two you would just watch a movie, you’d find out tashi had a lot more big ideas about the world than just tennis, though she’d use the sport as an analogy often. she was very hard on the exterior but underneath was a softness that peaked in rare moments that you treasured.

that’s how she became your girlfriend anyhow. that’s how she started picking you up from classes and taking you to dinner. she even took you to bars and danced with you.

it felt like getting the love you never had.

of course, you and tashi argued from time to time and it was almost always over tennis. you cried to her and told her how much you hated it, how you wanted to be a dancer, how your mother pushed and pushed until you were on the edge of a cliff but all tashi could see was an opportunity. how she would kill to be in your position and that you shouldn’t take it for granted, that your mother just wanted what was best for you.

it was one thing you and tashi didint and couldn’t see eye to eye on.

you naively hoped one day she would get it, that one day she would stop being so obsessed and see how broken down you were in the world that her and your mother had been so greatly absorbed in.

but right now, as you started to strain from an attempt of holding back tears over your own sink, in your own kitchen, in your own apartment after trying to get her to see how she treated you tonight, it was clear that maybe you and tashi had seen more than just tennis differently.

“you know, i had a great time tonight. i was laughing, talking, reminiscing and now, now this is night,” you hear the chair squeak and you know now she’s standing. “you’re selfish, y/n, you know that?”

you stay silent, urging yourself not to give her the satisfaction of your tears. the satisfaction of having another reason to call you weak and immature.

“i mean, not only to me but you’re selfish to your mother too. she’s trying to make you into greatest, she pays for you fucking school for crying out loud. and this apartment? oh right she pays for that too—”

“fuck you, tashi!” this time you move, turning around to see her pouring more wine into her glass.

“i’m selfish? i should be grateful? grateful for what? my mother doesn’t love me! she isn’t doing this because she wants to me to have some great, big, life! she’s just trying to live through me!” you throw your hands, not even noticing your face started to glisten from the tears that unrecognizably spilled.

“and you know, maybe you are too! maybe you’re just too pathetic to admit that you wish you hadn’t been so dumb that day and maybe you would have a career right now—”

“you wanna throw that in my face? really?”

you scoff, “i’m not throwing anything in your face. i’m stating facts. you don’t love me. you just love what i have, you just love what you see in me.”

she looks at you like she has the right to be astounded, “i see why your mom doesn’t call you. i see why she probably doesn’t love you. maybe she should’ve thrown you out and you wouldn’t be such a spoiled brat! because that what you are and you are ungrateful!”

you stand there as if medusa appeared, gunning for you and successfully stoning you with the snakes upon her head. your body is somewhere between cold and hot all at one time, like heaven and hell have collided with in the molecules of your body, in your veins and all over. you know the tight feeling in your chest and you know it’s no use to pretend that this was just another argument because it was anything but. there was no longer the notion that could hold back your tears and stand your ground. like a man dripped in red in front of a very angry and fast bull. it was one thing for you to go around believing and saying that your mother held no love for you but to hear it was a different story. and to hear from the woman you had supposedly fell in love with, spent most of you time with, was the most wicked thing to grace you thus far.

you’re crying hard and your breathing is uneasy. you don’t know why but you can’t catch your breath, clutching your chest as you look as tashi with blurring vision who just stood there before your breathing started to get uneven and out of control.

“hey,” she steps toward you, softly grabbing your hands. “hey, come on, it’s just an argument. it’s okay.”

but it’s no use, you just keep crying and hyperventilating.

“y/n, come on, sit down.” her voice is unbelievably soft as she guides you to the chair she once sat in, kneeling down before you.

“hold my hands. clam down and breathe with me.” she breathes in and out in a slow motion, urging you to do as she does and you try.

it takes a moment but you get there, calming down the feeling in your chest but tears still streamed.

“i’m sorry…i…i didn’t mean it like that. i’m drunk and we were just…”

you shake your head, “can you stay?”

“stay?”

“just stay the night.” you plead with a meek and weak voice.

“i’ll stay, don’t worry.”

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ᴄʜᴀʀᴍ. ᛪ༙. ck!model ellie williams x vs!model reader

warning(s): none.

index: part two.

note(s): i read this ck!model ellie fic a while back…

and it was like crack to me

i can’t find the fic to tag the author but

if you see this girl chefs kiss and ib to you!!!

i thought this might be fun to do sooo

click to load more comments…

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AFTER DIGGING THRU MY LIKES I FOUND IT!! here’s the OG fic teehee

Post by @lemonbbars · 6 images

💬 5  🔁 70  ❤️ 1149 · ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ for your eyes only · calvinkleinmodel!ellie x vsangel!reader a/n: this is quite long for a headcannon thing ‘

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index: part one.

note(s): …

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ᴄʜᴀʀᴍ. ᛪ༙. ck!model ellie williams x vs!model reader

warning(s): none.

index: part two.

note(s): i read this ck!model ellie fic a while back…

and it was like crack to me

i can’t find the fic to tag the author but

if you see this girl chefs kiss and ib to you!!!

i thought this might be fun to do sooo

click to load more comments…

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Please do a part 3, I really love your writing

i want to but i have no certain direction for it, i do have an alternative ending though 😏

anddd aww thank you sm!!! <3

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request are open :))

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ɪɴ ᴍʏ ʀᴏᴏᴍ. adult!natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

warning(s): set in college, party setting, set in new york, drinking, fluff, sort of happy ending? might do a part three if it’s wanted.

index: I want your things in my room, I miss you all of the time

You make it look so easy, leaving everything behind

note(s): prequel.

…i KINDA wanna do another part

but i legit have no ideas for it… or i might just

leave the interpreted ending

NATALIE STANDs, STRETCHING as her bones crack at the contraction, she groan and let outs a loud breath of relief. fresh off her slumber from the couch that somehow felt comfortable last night, for once in the three years she has been sleeping on it.

it was old suede couch, green, and from a goodwill a few blocks from the apartment. it wasn’t used to be bad when it was first purchased, but natalie had been it on it so much and so long her body was practically engraved in the damn thing.

awfully to say but the living was a makeshift room for her: a clothing placed by the window with her very tight selection of clothes on it, a box by it with a few more clothes, another box with junk she just threw in it, oh and not to mention the multiple beer cans that took over the coffee table’s surface, paired with the full ashtray.

now, natalie worked, at a diner, but still it was work and she made money but damn sure not enough to afford anything nice in new york—let alone to have her own place in new york.

“you’re up early.” the voice flows from the kitchen.

“good morning to you too, tai.”

see, after high school, natalie did keep in contact with a few select of people.

promptly, she kept very close contact with tai and van, who after high school didn’t have to hide their relationship they had hid so well from everyone. nat wasn’t shocked in the least bit when they had kissed at graduation, though. if anyone always had their suspicions, it’d be her and she was right to suspect. they had applied to same schools together and ironically one of those schools were NYU, which the both got into.

she doesn’t know if it was pity but that night after the party, after you stormed off from her, she went off and go so drunk she just stumbled around lottie’s lawn, crying and looking like a child who had just lost their mom at the store. tai and van come across her, urging her to explain what had happened and she was so drunk by than she couldn’t help but to, and had no other choice but to sob out the whole story of the night and even the things she were feeling.

she told them she hates losing you, but also that she was scared—that she was scared to be stuck in that small town, coming home to her father, and working some shit discount job. she knew that life was no good and would lead her to the darkest parts of life she hadn’t been yet.

but van stepped up, she rubbed the girl’s back and told her that her and tai had already put a down payment on an apartment in brooklyn, that she could crash on their couch until she got her shit together.

and she had nothing else to do, nowhere else to go so she took the offer.

but that was three years ago and now she were still here, and they didn’t seem to mind as long she kept up with her end of the rent and didn’t have sex too loud with any random woman she brought home occasionally.

aside from tai and van, she also sometimes talked to jackie, who sometimes found her way to new york and actually made time to stop to visit the couple. it was a shock to everyone that her and shauna had completely cut ties after high school, everyone thought they’d still be tiptoeing around each other until they were thirty, but shipman was off abroad and of course jackie were attending rutgers.

besides those three, natalie didn’t keep up with anyone else, even if they all did.

she knew lottie stayed in new york as well, some classy apartment near time square. she were another person who ironically placed themselves at NYU. and though tai and van went over there whenever the lavish girl threw a party, nat didint dare step foot into the atmosphere.

for one reason, and one reason only.

you.

that’s right, for whatever godforsaken reason she had found through van that you and lottie had become friends and were living together. apparently, story goes you two shared a lot of classes together your first semester and obviously having already known somewhat of each other you gravitated towards one another and found you had enough in common to be true friends, let alone live together.

you and natalie never spoke again after that night. you stopped being her tutor, stopped coming to her games, hell, you didn’t even look her way in mrs. jackson’s class; though the girl’s gaze burned holes into the back of your head as she hoped you would somehow turn around and make eye contact with her. yes, natalie missed you more than she knew she could miss anything, let alone a person, in her life. but she didn’t budge, she didn’t beg, and she could have very well waited by you locker many times and tried to get you to talk to her.

or she could’ve threw rocks at your window late into the night and begged for forgiveness.

but she fucked up and she knew it—she was fucked up and she knew it. and in her mind it was best for you to stay away from her before she dragged you down under into the pitiful hole her life was in. she didn’t want to hurt you further than she already had, and she didn’t want you to lose your dreams at the cost of her nightmares and demons.

so, she just longed for you.

she walked around the hallways and shamelessly stared as you walked down the same halls, laughing and talking with your friends. her gaze fell upon you in third period whenever you raised your hand to talk, or even when you were just sitting there with nothing to say. she even sometimes took the long way home, not only to avoid her father, but to pass by your house and if she were lucky she could catch a glance of you helping your mom bring groceries in.

she silently applauded when you walked across the stage during graduation.

again, that was three years ago but here, now, and for whatever reason natalie’s heart still pounded differently when she heard your name. she doesn’t know if it’s guilt or those same feelings she held as a teenager but often, very often, did she think of your face and all the times she had stared at it. all the times she had kissed it. she thought about the feeling of holding your hand and she wondered what your hair looked like now, if your style had changed, she wondered what classes you were taking and if you still wanted to be a dancer or if you dreams had changed in the last few years.

but even with all her wondering and the way she refused to even have the opportunity to see you, she didn’t even ask van or tai about you—she figured it were better to not know at all. it’d just hurt her to know bits and pieces about you, it would just urge her into further questions and those questions would lead her to more.

“you know,” tai drags out. “lottie is having a get together tonight, you should come—”

“you ask me this almost every weekend and my answer remains the same. come on, tai, you know i’m not feeling all that bullshit.”

“by bullshit, you mean seeing y/n?”

nat’s eyes roll and she huffs a little, “yes tai, by bullshit i mean seeing my ex-girlfriend.”

“it’s been like three years, nat.”

“time is still healing…or wounding for that matter, haven’t figured it out yet but i’ll be sure to let you know when i do.”

“come on, nat. all you do is go to work and then drink and if you’re lucky you bring some random home.”

“sounds like a day spent well to me.” sarcasm is sharp on her lips and prominent in her body language.

“y/n won’t even be there. she’s studying abroad right now. six months.”

the girl peeked up this information, “abroad? where?”

“i don’t know,” tai shrugs, eyes going down to her now empty mug then back to natalie.

“somewhere in europe. point is, come see lot at least. she misses you.”

“lottie misses me? lottie mathews doesn’t even miss her own parents.”

by now tai is far annoyed and rolling her eyes, “are you coming or not? starts at six.”

natalie’s lips purse and she pauses.

she can’t deny it would be nice to see lottie, they were pretty close in high school and partying with the girl was a lot of fun—also, with the news that you wouldn’t be there became some type of ease in her. she didn’t really have an excuse to not show up, not this time.

“maybe.”

“that’s a yes. be ready by 5, van and i are catching the train at 5:30.”

with that tai strides back the comfort of her room where van was overslept, yet refused to get up—nat stayed seated on the couch for another ten minutes before deciding to stand and stretch once more. getting dressed, brushing her teeth, and pretending to care what her hair looked like before toasting a pop tart and eating it as she walked out the door.

she didn’t have anywhere particularly to go, for one she didnt have work, which we worked at some local bar/restaurant where the pay didn’t seem like much but throughout the weekend tips were good and she got free drinks so who was she to complain. and it’s not like she had many friends either, just van and tai of course, plus a few of her co-workers: sam and tyler. which her and sam had seemed to be in an odd place after one.. or two drunken hook ups.

for most of that day, she walked around the city. through the streets, stopping at the local deli for a beer and a sandwich to which she ate and drank at some park where families having pinics, couples who either kissed or argued, homeless men trying to sell stolen goods, or just reckless teens were scattered.

she couldn’t help but think about what tai had said about you and it made her wonder what you were doing and where exactly you were. she wondered if you were at some fancy dance studio in paris, having been dance partners with some handsome guy or pretty girl who had a beautiful accent and flirted with you shamelessly; that really made her jealous to think about. she also wondered if you were with friends she had never met and never would.

natalie knows it’s been a long time, long enough to not know you anymore but again, it was almost human nature for her to wonder about you. some days she could trick her mind into thinking it was just nostalgia getting the best of her, but most days she had a pit in the stomach at the idea that no one could ever make her feel the way she did with you. she knew what it was like to feel so hurt to feel nothing at all. knew it like the back of her hand.

but she also knew what it was like to feel so grateful it made your body feel like it was buzzing even in slumber…and she had only known that feeling with you.

—while taking down the last of her beer, nat had make the decision to take a breath and take in her life now. she didn’t see or speak to her father anymore, which was a blessing. she wasn’t reduced to the little down who had labeled her before she could even talk. she was here. in new york. with a new life and it didn’t seem like much but it was new and that was something in its own.

so, she made the decision to go to lottie’s party.

she was going to go and feel good and try her absolute hardest not to think of you.

that being said, she got on the next bus back to her shared apartment.

“hey, you coming with?” the question hit nat as soon as she stepped into the door: van seated on the couch with a backwards cap, flannel with a faded band-tee under, dickies, and converse.

“good evening to you too, van.”

“ah, my deepest apologies,” van sarcastically put her hands to her chest.

“good evening, natalie.”

“i, uh, yeah i think im gonna go.”

“you’re joking?” van’s tone was flat, actually convinced nat was being sarcastic as she tended to be.

rolling her eyes, “no. i’m not joking.”

“good, it’s about time you came to party with us.” tai, now standing in the hallway interjects.

“holy shit, what’d you bribe her to go?”

“no,” tai rolls her eyes at her significant other. “i’m just really persuasive and sexy.” she jokes.

“ah, makes sense.”

“are you guys ready or i mean, i could stay here and not go.”

“you’re going!”

—

well, here she was.

this was it.

after these few years, natalie was finally face to face with lottie’s off-campus-apartment door. to say the place was nice was an understatement, the building for one, was huge and held a doorman at the bottom. there was a receptionist and mini chocolates at the front desk and the lobby was insane was fresh green plants, more than enough room for guest to sit and socialize with flat screen tvs—hell, even the elevator was a luxury in its own.

needless to say lottie was doing good all on her own…and you as well. but natalie wasn’t going to go down that rabbit hole.

“jesus her neighbors must hate her.” natalie notes at the music and chatter that could probably be heard two floors down by how loud it were.

“oh, trust they do but when they start to threaten to call the cops she throws money at em.”

“i doubt they need it if they’re living here too.”

“you’d be surprised at how greedy rich people can be.” van snarks.

“okay, i texted lot she said one sec.” tai notes as they stand face to face with a locked door—behind it full of life and college students.

“dude, she’s gonna lose her shit when she sees na—”

the locks on the door could be heard clicking and immediately it were swung open, a brunette guy, tall and built, dripped down in a backwards cap with frat boy reading all over him.

“yo, i’m james, lot said to let you guys in? no idea why the doors locked. come on in though,” he steps aside, wide smile on his face and dazed look in his eyes indicating he were definitely buzzed.

“what’s up, james, i’m think we met last party, yeah? this is an old friend of ours and lot’s, nat.” van steps in first, tai on her arm, with natalie beside them.

upon stepping in, her eyes went over the place, it were a wide penthouse that was open concept. the living room was huge with an expensive looking black, leather living room set and gold accessories to go with, the hard to miss gold tiger statue that sat by the flat screen tv that was almost as huge as the wall it took over. not to mention the chandelier that hung above the glass kitchen table.

jesus fuck. nat thought to herself.

the place was huge and eccentric. definitely had lottie written all over it.

“yeah, we did! you were a mean beer bong partner, ha ha. but help yourself to some drinks, lottie’s in the kitchen.”

tai turns to look back at nat, “come on, we’ll get a drink and find lottie.”

“anything strong?”

“trust, she has every drink you can think of.”

natalie wordlessly smiles, following closely behind the couple’s trail as they move through the crowd of people who took over the luxurious space. people were scattered all over, their chatter heard just under the obnoxiously loud music. some danced, some stumbled around, some were shamelessly making out—safe to say it was your basic college party, except most of these people were more than certainly trust fund babies.

“van? tai? ayy! yall made it!” before they could make it to the kitchen some blonde girl—definitely in some type of sorority by the looks of her—stopped them in their tracks.

“hey, stacy! what’s up?” tai went for a hug, van following behind her.

“i didn’t see you guys last party, i wasn’t sure you were gonna make it to this one.”

“yeah, van had work so i decided to stay home.”

“i’m glad y’all made it! how do you think you did on bernstein’s exam?”

“oh, you know…”

van continued the conversation with the girl all while, once again tai turned behind her to face natalie, “kitchen’s that way,” she pointed.

“we’ll be there in sec’ just grab a drink and relax. lottie will be happy to see you.”

“so, you beg me to come and now you’re ditching me?” the girl scoffs, half joking, half serious.

“you wanna stand there while we talk about class and exams? we’re just catching up with a friend, we’ll be a few minutes at most.”

a quickly snark appears on nat’s face before she scoffs, moving into the direction tai had pointed, pushing through the bodies of the college students. her eyes search, running over the kitchen islands that had three chairs against it, the nice overhead lights that were bright and peering over the scene, the large silver fridge, and the large keg on the counter top.

bingo.

she goes to move towards the keg but something stops her in her tracks—by the way she stopped you would think a wind storm blew by and pushed her whole body back. or better yet, you would think a ghost flew through her body and made her cold and uneasy. natalie had faced a lot circumstances she was more unprepared for her whole life, she had faced unpredictable gruesome things, why? why did this seem like the one to make her flip, trip, and shake into a face plant of an endless sky fall?

it’s you.

you—you were here.

you were standing right in front of her, trying to open a beer but miserable failing, laughing as someone, or better yet lottie came to your rescue, swiping the glass bottle from your hands and saying something to you before bringing to her lips and using her teeth to open it. she watches as you grimace at the action and point as you say a rebuttal before taking the now open bottle for you own.

she feels as if she is frozen in time; her eyes can’t leave your face but then she notices your hair, which is longer than she’d ever remembered. she notices your outfit that is so cool, you look so cool and clean, and confident…and happy. god, you look even more amazing the first time she laid eyes, and if she’d had the right to say she would say you looked pretty damn amazing back in those hallways.

what. the. fuck.

natalie was going to kill, taissa turner. yes she was. and she was going to make sure it was a painful, slow, sinister death.

abroad my ass. she thought.

was this just some sick, twisted lie to get me here? to show my face?

eugh.

natalie didn’t know what to do. she didn’t want to stand around van and tai like some groupie, waiting for them to get done talking to some plastic barbie about school but there was no way in hell she was going to step foot in that kitchen and have to face you—

“hey, you good?” tai comes into view, arm interlocked with van’s.

“no, im not fucking good.” she hisses. “i thought you said y/n was abroad? what the fuck? why would you lie to me, tai?”

“i thought she was—”

“no, babe.” van interjects. “that’s next month.”

“ohhh…” she trails off, eyeing natalie who seemed she was going to having a breakdown within the next mere second.

“shit. i’m sorry, nat. i thought she was—look, it’s not a big deal. i’m sure y/n would be happy to see you too. you know, she asks about you from time to time…”

she does?

“i don’t care, tai! i can’t face her. i—well, i…”

“exactly. you don’t have a good reason. when are you gonna stop being a pussy, nat and just talk to the girl? it’s been three years.”

“don’t be harsh, babe.”

“no.” tai shakes her head at the red head. “she needs to stop leaving in high school and get over it. she can’t sleep on our couch all her life and be heartbroken.”

“look,” she turns to nat. “i love you, nat. i do, but you need to stop this. it’s not healthy. y/n doesn’t have any hard feelings towards you. and like i said, lot misses you…and y/n, well she asks how you are sometimes.”

natalie scoffs, “wow because that makes me feel so much better that she asks about me. she looks fucking great, look at me. she’s gonna take one glance at me and see she was right about me being a burn out.”

van rolls her eyes, “come on, nat. y/n isn’t like that and you know it. she’s never been and never will be.”

“what am i even gonna say to her?” nat throws her hands up before letting them plop back down to her sides.

“uh, i don’t know,” tai starts. “maybe, hey? how are you? how’ve you been? like a normal person.”

“and then what? she slaps me and tells me fuck you for cheating on me.”

“god, nat,” by now tai is far frustrated and just wants to enjoy the night. “she’s moved on.”

natalie’s heart starts to beat differently, “moved on? what do you mean moved on? is she seeing someone?”

“well…” van trails off.

“who?”

“doesn’t matter. point is—god, just come on, nat.” tai is well over it, taking the reluctant girl by the wrist and pulling her in the direction of the kitchen.

moved on? what the fuck does that mean?

“hey! my two favorite lesbos!”

your voice. she hasn’t heard it in so long but god, it makes her ache—it makes her feel almost the same as it did three years ago. it makes something in her twist with light but also dim with fear. it’s so soft and delicate but somewhere it has matured.

she watches as you hug tai then van. you hadn’t seen her yet but when you do—

“oh my god!” your eyes go wide and mouth agape. “natalie?”

“uh, hey.” she mutters with a shy smile, standing slightly back.

“you actually came, no way.”

“yep…i’m here…in the flesh.”

“where’s lot?” van speaks, easing some of the underlying tension.

“uh, she was just here,” you pause to look around. “she’s probably flirting with some girl, she’ll pop up.”

“we’re gonna go dance, you two should catch up.” before anyone knows it, tai is grabbing van’s arm and pulling her away with haste.

natalie just stands there, staring at you like you’re the mona lisa and she’s the first person to see it. you on the other hand are staring at her with a glint in your eyes she can’t read nor did she try, paralyzed with fear and other emotions she couldn’t pinpoint to save a life.

“you want a drink?” you casually ask, taking a swig from your own beer.

“sure…got anything strong?”

a soft laugh escapes you and if nat wasn’t so aware of her own body she would’ve let a hitch of breath come out.

“you still like vodka?”

“of course, i do.”

“coming right up.”

she watches as you turn to behind you to grab a red solo cup then turning to the refrigerator and grabbing a bottle from it. her eyes move from your dress to your boots, to your hair, to your face; she studies the light make up on it—you are vision to her. the sight of you is enough to make her glow but also deflate.

“cranberry, yeah?”

“uh, sure.” she nervously rubs her hands together as you already mixing the drinking.

“here you are.” she’s careful to not touch your hand as she swipes the cup from it.

“thanks…”

“i didn’t think you’d ever pop out.”

“pop out?” she snorts.

“yeah, you know, come out, show your face, hang out with us college losers.”

“yeah, well,” she shrugs. “you know how persistent tai is.”

“yeah…it’s good to see you, nat.”

this time she dumbly lets a hitch of breath out.

“it’s..good to see you too, y/n.” she quickly takes a large swig from her cup, tasting more vodka than cranberry—just the way she liked it.

you remembered.

of course you did.

“you, uh, you wanna go chill on the balcony?”

“oh, i—”

“you can smoke out there.”

“sure.” she agrees without even thinking.

she definitely needed a cigarette right now.

“cool. follow me.” you lead her.

she can’t believe how innocent you are being with her. it makes her think how you kindness hasn’t changed, well, she can see obviously changes but something important in you she recognizes and it eases something slight within her. she expected you to run the first glance at her but she knew that wasn’t you at all, though maybe a part of her hoped for it so she wouldn’t have it face you….maybe this was better than an out. maybe this is what she secretly hoped for all this time; to see you and feel like she still knew you…to feel like she still had the right to know you.

“here, go first so i can lock it back.”

she steps through the slid in glass doors you had led her to, being met with a fake grass laid where concrete was supposed meet her feet; a few chairs and beanbag that had plastic laid over it, she assumed was for in case it rained. there was also a table with an ashtray she can bet lottie put there, unless you had started smoking too, which she more than doubted.

“sorry, we just don’t want people out. it’s a drunk accident waiting to happen.” you announce as you click the lock with your key.

“better to be safe than sorry.” she’s already placing a cigarette between her lips, drink sat on the table.

“exactly…” you trail, eyes fixed on her as you take a respected seat.

“so, how’ve you been?” she wants to laugh as you speak the words tai had sarcastically told her to say to you.

“good.” she blows smoke out. “just working, living. and you?”

“where do you work?” you completely ignore her returned question.

“at some bar. money is too bad, i mean, the tips are great on weekends. enough to pay the rent anyways.”

“that’s good…” you look down at the bottle placed in your right back before back up. “i’m good too. schools good, friends and all that.”

“yeah? you still a dancer?”

you giggle, “of course. i go to france next month, an internship at some dance company.”

“always knew you’d be successful.” she turns, leaving on the railing, her back now faced you.

“it’s funny,” you say and she hums in question.

“you ended up in new york anyways, huh?”

now she lets out a laugh mixed with a scoff, “yeah…guess i did.”

“you look good,” you let out. “it’s good to see you, nat. i’m glad you’re here.”

she turns her face to the side, staring back at you with that stupid smug smirk she wore back in high school. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

“it’s good to see you too, y/n.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

for a moment things for radio silent. you nervously take gulps from your half empty beer and nat continues to nurse her cigarette, eyes taking in the view of the city she had only seen from the tops of abandon buildings she had broken into on some nights just out of reckless urges to feel like a teenager again. your view however burned into the back of natalie, eyes fixed on her now brown hair that was grown out and not to mention the leather jacket that you recognized.

sure, nat had spent her whole existence after high school pining and yearning over but little did she know, you had been doing the same. you wondered about her, maybe not as much as she wondered about you, but you definitely thought about her. you wondered if she were safe and not being reckless. you wondered if she changed her mind after all and gained hope about an education or future in general. you wondered if she were just okay….and sometimes you wondered if she were seeing anyone new.

and it’s true you asked tai and van about her but they only gave you vague answers.

but tonight, you could ask her yourself, which felt like a dream and nightmare in its own way.

“why’d you finally show tonight? i mean—it’s been years and you’ve never came before, what changed?”

she laughs, turning her body to fully face you but staying leaned against the railing, her cigarette long gone, fizzed out and dropped off into the night of the sky.

“you really wanna know?”

“yeah, i mean that’s why i asked.” you had a little more bite to you ran before, she notes.

“tai told you were on your internship thingy this month. she thought you were gone and i agreed.”

you smirk, “so, you didn’t wanna see me?”

“i mean, apart of me did but the other part…well, i thought you hated me after what i did to you.”

“nat,” you say her name in a soft way that makes her remember what it felt like for you to hold her head in you hands. “i could never hate you. i mean, i was upset and disappointed but im over it. that was a long time ago. i’m a different person now, you’re a different person now.”

“yeah, i guess so—but, i don’t know, i—i just felt so guilty i never got to properly apologize for it.”

“well, what’s done is done. can’t waste our time trying to fix the past.”

“you’ve been spending too much time in class, shakespeare.” she gains the confidence to tease you.

“oh, shut up, i’m being vulnerable with you. or are you still scared of that sort of thing?”

“screw you,” she jokingly says. “like you said, we’re different people, right?”

“yeah, i guess so…” you set the empty beer bottle down by the leg of your chair.

“so, you and lottie living together, huh? didn’t see that coming.”

“neither did i. i kinda wish i were closer to her in high school, turns out she’s like my platonic soulmate or something.”

“platonic?”

“yeah, platonic.”

“you know,” nat leans up. “tai tells me you’re seeing someone…”

you let out a sound that somewhere between a scoff and laugh, “not anymore…didint work out.”

“ah, i’m sorry.” she’s not sorry. she’s anything but.

she knows you aren’t together anymore and has it nowhere in her mind that you will be again but the thought of you kissing someone else still makes her sick.

you wave your hand, “it wasn’t long don’t worry. two weeks official and she was already in bed someone else.”

“jeez, i’m sorry…that’s fucked.”

“yeah, but,” you shrug. “i’ve got thick skin.”

“…because of me?”

“…maybe.”

for the first time the whole night, you two made direct eye contact and it makes nat turn in puddy. it makes her think about all the time she had spent just thinking of your face and it takes her back to the look in your eyes when you had caught her and travis or the look in your eyes back in the library when you were only her tutor. or damn, when you drunkenly admitted how much you wanted to kiss her.

she hates and loves what she’s feeling at the same time. the atmosphere is so bittersweet.

“i…i missed you, y/n. am i allowed to say that?”

“yeah,” your eyes shutter. “you’re allowed to say that.”

“good because i missed you, a lot. it’s weird for me to say but i…well, i want you to know i loved you regardless of anything. i was stupid and insecure back then but i swear i loved you…more than anything i ever have.”

“i…i missed you too, nat. i’m really glad you came.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

[dustslut]

ᴍᴏɴᴅᴀʏꜱ. ᛪ༙. ellie williams x fem!texan!reader

warning(s): fluff. angst. arguing. enemies to lovers undertones. mentions of reader having an ex-boyfriend. barely proofread. mentions of breaking up. none really.

index: And I couldn't hold him if I wanted to, so I

Left my man in the middle of the highway

Won't be seen with him 'cause that's embarrassin'

He can be such a bitch, and it makes me sick

Alright, alright

note(s): kinda rushed the ending

this has been in the drafts so long

THE SUN BEAMED down brightly and the heat matched the rays, even with the windows down of your father’s old beat-up, red and white ford truck, the heat still seeped in like no other. even with being born and raised in huston, texas you still would never get used to the summer it brought. the air was always dry and thick, it barely rained and when it did, it seemed like a miracle. the bugs were restless and the sun was too—you swore it stayed out longer in texas than it did anywhere else during the summertime.

but, nonetheless, you loved it here. your whole life was here—you went to grade school here, you had you first kiss here, you got into your first fight here, hell, you were in your third year of college here—huston was your home and you repped it proudly, and not just because your father, the most country man you know, instilled it in you.

you genuinely loved it here.

even more, you loved living on a farm—of course, it is hell of a lot of work but the cows, the chickens, the horses, the pigs, they all were like a family to you. and no matter how many times your father made a poor pig into bacon you still cried—and each time he got a new one, he urged to not to name it because “the more you get attached the harder they are to eat.” which is way, even against his protest, you were vegan.

“you’re up early,” you hear the voice of the man you spot in the rearview mirror as you break—you grimace at the squeaking sound the car makes.

no matter how many times you urged your father to get the breaks fixed on this damn thing he wouldn’t, saying: “as long as the car still comes to a stop, the breaks are still good.”

“my dad gave me off for the day, said it’s too hot for his little girl to work…i was hoping you’d told ellie the same thing.”

“ah,” joel smirks, cowboy hat on his head casting shade on his bearded face. his hands occupied with a red rag he aimed to get the dirt off his hands with.

“well, lucky for you ellie’s refusing to work anyways. complaining about the heat.”

“tsk, tsk, not a good farm hand.”

“not at all.” joel laughs out.

joel miller and ellie williams.

you had known them for about four years now—see your dad had not only a farm business but he was mixed into construction as well, buying property and flipping them; building large texan houses on wide land and selling them for big bucks. he was a rugged and country man, but trust he had more than enough money to live above the means—that being said six years ago, tommy miller, joel’s brother moved to texas with his own construction company and once your dad seen it fit for good business he partnered with tommy.

miller-y/l/n industries.

together they were making more money than ever, tommy brought new-school landscape to the table, while your dad brought old-school money deals to the table—it was a match made. eventually, with all the money they seemed to be making tommy had convinced joel to move to texas and get a piece of the business.

you liked joel.

he reminded you a lot of your father, very old school, protective, and respectful. though, at first you couldn’t tell him if liked you or not, you found that once he warmed up to you he was a complete sweetheart.

now, ellie, ellie williams.

she were harder to crack than joel, and that’s definitely saying something.

you remember the first time you had seen ellie—it was two days after her and joel had moved into tommy’s guest house that sat in the back of his own house, next to his large barn. your father had invited tommy, his wife, maria, and both ellie and joel over for dinner.

you had worn a white dress that came just above your knees, mid-thigh, cowgirl hat, and of course your brown beat-up cowgirl boots to match.

you weren’t nervous—you had nothing to be nervous about, you had known tommy and his wife for years, grown more than fond of them, but they were like family now. all you knew was that joel, his brother, had a daughter the same age as you. if anything, you were excited.

but ellie was not what you expected…you didn’t expect her to be, well, so attractive. it peaked you that she looked like she already belonged there, her beat up converse, ripped jeans, white tank, and faded flannel that rolled up on her arms showcasing her tattoo.

she was hot.

yet, she was always grumpy—like more grumpy than joel. she didn’t hide the fact that she was not happy about the move, especially texas of all places.

you recall for the first month she walked around complaining about how much she hated texas, that it was just either a bunch of racist rednecks or overly rich people who pretend to be more poor than they actually are—and made it clear that’s what she thought of you.

your dad, and joel, and tommy often tried to get you two to bond, sending you two off to do chores together or to the store together.

“you need help?” you question as ellie threw hay to the horses.

“no.” sharp and cold cut.

“they like it when you’re more gentle…it helps them to trust you more.”

she grumbles something under her breath but it’s too low for you to hear it—and it’s not like you care because you grab some hay from the bucket, gently holding your hand up to the white and grey horse whom you had named blue jeans and your began to feed him.

“it’s been a month and you still hate it here?”

“everything is expensive here, it reeks of shit everytime i step outside, and it’s hot as fuck. i will hate it here, as long as i live here.”

you can’t help but snort, she thought you were prissy but look at the way she’s acting.

“what’s so funny?”

“nothing, nothing…it’s just, nothing.”

“no, what? if you have something to say, say it.”

“have you ever ridden a horse, ellie?”

“no.”

“i could teach you, you know…”

“no.”

“come on, give it a try, you won’t know until you try.”

“i won’t know what?” she throws more hay to the ground, seemingly more aggressive than before your arrived.

“you haven’t even tried to like texas, at least try. you’ve been here a month and all you do is walk around looking pissed off and talking about how much you hate it. what good is going to come from that?”

she purses her lips, her eyes traveling from the hay, to the horses, to you, and than back to the horses. she is silence for a moment, opening and closing her mouth before sighing.

“one ride. that’s it.”

you jump up and down like a kid getting full-size candy bars on halloween, “yay!”

“don’t get too excited.”

til this day you can still remember the way ellie looked wearing a cowgirl hat for the first time as you, despite her protest, you had laid yours upon her head. you can still remember the way she struggled climbing onto the saddled horse, but once she was on her hands flew your waist to steady herself. you also remember the way you caught a glimpse of her eyes shut tightly when you turned your head to the side and asked if she were okay.

you didn’t take her far, but just enough for her to enjoy it—though, back then she’d never admit how much fun she had, you knew she liked it—watching her walking away with the most shit eating grin on her face.

though, ellie was still ellie, being stubborn as ever and un-willing to admit she were starting to warm up to texas; she started being nicer to you after that day. she didn’t complain when she had to ride to the store with you or round up the cows with you, and she didn’t decline when you offered to show her better ways to feed the pigs. in a way, you became friends.

but somewhere along that line, a year and half into their stay, ellie and you became more.

it was no secret you were attracted to ellie, at least to you and well, maria, as she had caught you many of times standing on the porch, admiring ellie from afar as she went to feed the horses. she sometimes teased you about it, urging to make a move but you had all of doubts that ellie williams would ever see you that way, no matter how much she stopped treating you like public enemy number one.

and it’s like you were insecure, you were more than pretty girl and you knew that, all on your own and by the many of guys that tried to get with you on your campus—but with ellie, it was different. ellie was so, to put in simple terms, cool. she didn’t care about much of anything and that made her presence strong.

“when are you gonna stop gawking at the girl and make your move.”

you roll your eyes at the voice that seeped in from behind you, not startled by it as you heard the footsteps against the wood of tommy’s wrap around porch, “i’m not gawking.”

“oh honey,” the woman comes into view, taking steed beside you. “you’ve got it bad.”

you purse your lips, eyes trained on ellie as she led blue jeans back into the enclosed fence, cowgirl hat on her head, beat up light wash denim jeans and worn out boots to match: obviously she had on a white tank top and the same old flannel.

“ellie likes you know. you’re one of the only person she talks to beside well, joel and tommy, and me.”

“that’s because she reads comics more than she socializes. if you ask me, she’s a little underdeveloped for a twenty-two year old.”

maria chuckles, “you’re the only person she lets help her with chores.”

“i’m the only person you’ll send to help her.”

“because she won’t take advice from joel or tommy…she trusts you.”

“we’re friends.”

“she trusts you.”

you don’t respond and maria doesn’t give you a chance to, leaving it to herself to exit your bubble back into your home where you could smell stew cooking on the stove.

you breathe in and out, eyes going back to the girl you were most definitely gawking at. you can’t help but smile as you watch her attempt and fail to capture the horse that galloped with her rope—even after all this time that was the one she couldn’t get the hang of.

placing your thumb and your pointer finger on your mouth, your blow as hard you can creating a whistle that causes the horse to halt in its tracks and ellie’s eyes avert to you.

“i was handling it!” she shouts out.

you just give her a sarcastic thumbs up, your feet already moving off the porch and into the short distance that took you into the direction of her.

“you say this everyday and yet, blue jeans still doesn’t listen to you. i told you—”

“i need to be more gentle and they’ll listen more.” she mocks your words in a weird accent that definitely didn’t sound like yours.

“i do not sound like that.”

“you definitely do…” she trails off in a teasing manner.

“don’t get me started on your little boston accent.”

“i do not have a boston accent!”

“mhm,” you hum, reaching for the rope she loosely held.

“let me show you how a pro does it.” you step back, winding your arm up before swinging the rope forward and with ease you make it around the horse’s neck.

“show off.” ellie utters.

“don’t be jealous.”

“you wish.”

“come on, maria’s cooking; let’s finish rounding ‘em up so we can eat.”

“actually,” she swiftly swipes the rope form your hold, her fingertips lightly brushing against yours in the motion.

“i want to take you somewhere.”

“you? wanna take me somewhere? ellie williams you barely leave this farm wher—”

“will you shut up and grab a saddle?”

“and you wanna ride a horse instead of taking the truc—”

she huffs, “forget it—”

“no, no,” you place your hand on her shoulder, so gently that it were almost as if it were only hovering.

“i’m sorry. let me grab my hat, and the saddle.”

she utters a hollow ‘thank you’ at your compliance, trailing behind you as you head toward the barn in which both doors where wide open, blue jeans close behind as he had no choice with the rope ellie held onto loosely, attached to his neck.

you eye the saddles that hung up on the wall, they were seemingly out of place as joel had just cleaned them—always tedious of how fresh-looking he could get them to look—you settle for your go-two one, brown and silver, though slightly beat up from how often you used it. once taking it from the hook, you gently attach it to the horse you’ve had since you were a little girl.

“lead the way.” you gesture for ellie to get on blue jeans, to which she silently does, leaving you to hop on behind her—your hands coming to her shoulders to steady yourself.

she lightly moved the whip, guiding the horse into the direction she wished for him to go. both of you silent as you really didn’t know what to say or even have much to talk about—you figured ellie wouldn’t explain to you where you were going so you let yourself enjoy the feeling of the moment: you arms loosely wrapped around her waist, yet body at a safe mere distance from her’s.

you could hear her breathing softly, it made you smile to think about how comfortable she had gotten with not only the horses, but all the animals—let alone the farm, let alone texas.

your eyes scan over the wide grass that covered tommy’s yard, his own rather large house he and your dad had designed—and somewhat built—themselves. of course the enclosed fence that held the horses and cows, not to mention the smaller (still large) house in which ellie resided in with joel; two bedroom, one and a half bath. plus the barn in which ellie seemed to be leading you two behind into the deep the woods you didn’t dare go in.

“is this it?”

“what?” her eyebrows furrow.

“is this the part where you kill me?”

she scoffs out a light laugh, “shut up.”

you open your mouth but she’s quick to speak again, “and don’t ask where we’re going.”

again, you open your mouth but she’s hot on you heels: “and don’t ask are we there yet.”

damn. your curse under your breath.

scanning the scenery you notice the make-skip trail you were being lead, some just dirt and mud, while other parts had old plywood laid across it—the further you went you could hear ripples moving in the wind, coming face to face with a medium-sized creek that surprisingly held clear water.

ellie brought blue jeans to an easy halt.

“here, get off so i can tie him up.”

you comply, sliding off with ease.

“what is this? did you make that trail back there?”

it takes her a minute to respond as she hops from the horse, you can hear her boots hit the ground. she moves to a tree closer to the creek, tie him to a sturdy branch, making sure he had access to drink the water.

“somewhat..it’s a work in progress.”

“i didn’t,” you bend down, letting your hand flow through the chilly waters.

“even know this was there.”

“i was doing some explore and found it a while back.” she shrugs nonchalantly, crossing her arms over her chest as she watches you take in the scene.

“a while back?”

“…when i first moved here…”

“ellie williams,” you turn to face her, placing your hands on your hips like a scolding mom.

“you’ve been here a whole damn year and are just now bringing me? it’s beautiful here!”

eyes rolling, “you’re here now, so enjoy it.”

you return the same eye roll, if not filled with more attitude, before turning back to the water. it seemed deep enough to swim in and clean enough at that, so you place your hat on a near by rock and begin to slide your white farm dress over your head.

“what are you doing?”

“what’s it look like i’m doing? i wanna swim. join me?”

if you weren’t so occupied stripping down to your undergarments and taking your boots off you would’ve seen the way ellie’s body slightly jerked, her eyes glazing over you before immediately averting to the trees.

“well?” you motion to the water your feet were already planted in.

“i—” she pauses with pursed lips, eyes going back and forth from you to the trees like the check light in a car.

“okay,” she lets out slow. “i never thought about swimming here…”

“of course you haven’t.” you move deeper into the water, you back facing ellie as she began to take off her flannel.

once left in her black tank-top and boxer shorts, ellie begins to slowly move into your direction.

silence has laid over you two like a blanket, you moved with the water, even dipping your head under at one point; all while ellie stayed keeping herself afloat, just watching your bask in whatever feeling you seemed to be experiencing from ‘her spot.’

she eyes you as you dip under once more, swimming towards her space before coming up close, you resurface, meeting her with a sinister smile.

“what—” splash. you flinging water in her face before letting out an amused laugh—ellie on the other hand stayed still for a second, eyes closed and nostrils flared.

“you little shit.”

“you snooze you lo—“ it was her turn to splash you.

“oh, you wanna go?

back and forth, and back and forth you begin to flinging the creek’s water into each others direction; laughs in the air and ‘girly’ screech’s escape from your lips—before you know it, ellie takes the opportunity to grab your body by the waist, she wraps her arms around your tightly and dips you under the water, quickly pulling you back up.

“i win.”

“that’s cheating.” you bring your hands to your face, wiping the dripping water.

ellie’s hands still firm on you.

“it’s called strategy.”

“asshole.” you grunt, pushing from her hold and swimming away.

“are you seriously upset? you started it.”

“fuck you, williams.”

she purses her lips, staying afloat in the same spot for a moment, watching you move away.

“hey, i’m sorry, okay?”

“fuck off.” you continue to, rather slowly, swim away and she begins to follow suit.

“y/n, cmon, stop.”

you turn your body, facing her once more, floating in the same spot—you both face to face before a grin appears on you face that she doesn’t have time to see because again, you splash her.

“i win.”

“oh fuc—” she reaches again, her arms going to your waist and your screech out a laugh, fighting as she tries to dunk you under again.

“okay! truce! truce! i call truce!”

she grunts, stopping her attempts to dunk you but arms still in place on your body—your hand slightly grazing her rather toned biceps.

talk about sleeper-build.

“i still win.”

“no, no, i think i win. i mean, i was the last to splash you.”

“you cheated.”

“tsk, i didn’t take you for a sore loser, williams.”

“deflecting.”

you rolls your eyes, the same silence that once took over you two now come back to take it’s place—in the mix of all the playing, you did register the body contact as you did now. you didn’t register just how close you were to ellie, not just side by side in a beat-up pick up truck on the way to the store, not just feeding the animals together, not just sitting at the dining table together, not just on the back a horse with her—but her arms were around you and your hands were fully gripping her biceps.

you can hear maria’s voice: “oh honey, you’ve got it bad.”

your heartbeat begins to pick up—your eyes are staring right into ellie’s, her face was so unreadable—you wanted to move (not really,) you wanted to ask why she were still holding onto you so firmly but you were choked up.

the tension mixed into the silence and something different was around the two of you.

“i—” you try to speak but quickly, she rushes forward and kisses for a total of three seconds before pulling away.

if it weren’t for your own daze—your heart bounding, hands shaking upon her shoulders, and mind mixed with everything leading up to this moment, youve would seen ellie’s daze—her face ghost-white, body stiff with fear as she let impulse control her previous actions.

“i’m sorry. i don’t know why—”

“don’t.” it’s your turn to bring your lips to hers.

it’s been almost two years since that day and you still remember the kiss, hell, you can still almost taste it—the way you kissed her hard and soft at the same time, the desperation, the way her arms were wrapped so tightly around your waist as if you would disappear at any given moment.

it’s hard to believe that she kissed you. it was a shock to you that all the pining you had been doing was more than mutual.

that being said, here you were today, boots clicking down the hallway that led to ellie’s room; her door plastered with a pre-teeny hazard sign that read do not enter. which, you roll your eyes at it every time, you girlfriend could be so dorky sometimes.

you knock a total of three times before letting yourself into her room, band posters filled the walls and one megan fox one you were never too fond of, her laundry splatter over her floors—it were rather dark with her black out curtains completely shut, not for long before you full the own with haste, letting the sun seep in.

ellie was laid onto her bed, face buried in the pillow and no cover on her body, only a white tank and boxer shorts on her sleeping body. you pout a little at the soft snores you hear from her as you crouched down near her bed, bringing your hand to her shoulder.

“wake up, sleepy head.” you gently shake her shoulder and she groans, moving a little but it doesn’t wake her.

she was more than a deep sleeper you had learned.

“ellie.” you shake a little harder this time, but still she remains in her slumber.

you huff, standing.

“ellie! wake up there’s fire!” you shout as loud as you can and immediately you girlfriend jumps from her bed, landing in her feet and her hands splatted out, face filled with fear and worry.

you stand arms loosely crossed as you laugh a little harder than you should, but you couldn’t help it—

huffing, letting her body relax, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“you should’ve seen you face,” you laugh out. “i’ve never seen you so scared.”

“fuck off.” she groans, throwing herself back onto the bed, face down.

“cmon it’s nice out, i wanna head to the store for a few things.”

“and you need me for that?”

“stop being grumpy.”

she doesn’t respond, leaving you to take a seat beside her body on the girl mattress and bringing your hand to her defined back, placing it softly upon her and rubbing gentle circles into it—you hear her softly grumble at the contact and you take the ends of your acrylic nails, runs them gently up and down as you knew as much she loved the feeling, practically begging you to scratch her back whenever you two cuddled. you noted how much it helped her fall asleep.

“i guess i’ll go alone then,” a dramatic sighs leaves your mouth. “maybe abby’s working…she can help me reach the tall shelves. you know, with her big, strong—“

“alright, alright,” she props herself up on her hands.

“let me get ready.”

a wide smile takes over your face and you lean down placing a kiss on her shoulder.

“that always works.”

you can’t see but she rolls her eyes, “yeah cause’ abby’s just waiting for an opportunity to get in your pants.”

“so don’t give her one.”

swiftly, she moves her body, grabbing you hips and throwing you down onto the bed; her body on top of yours.

“don’t me a smart ass.”

“that was hot.”

she smirks, placing a kiss on the corner of your mouth before moving from her position.

“i don’t see why you need to look for an outfit. you have the same twenties flannels.”

before you know, ellie is moving around the room, through her closest she pulls out a pair of faded jeans, socks, underwear—then she moves around the pile of clothes of her floor, picking up the first t-shirt she sees along with, of course, a flannel. half-dressed she moves to her bathroom, placed right outside her bedroom, she brushes her teeth and does her skincare (which you prompted her to do, and carefully curated what products to use.)

—you two move downstairs into the direction of your father’s truck, not before ellie urges to kiss her, then again, then some more…then some more.

“where’re you two off to?” joel comes around on a horse, two sheep attached to a rope close on his trail.

“she’s dragging me to the store, princess needs eyeliners and hair care—” you punch ellie in the shoulder.

“shut up, i need groceries too.”

“see, joel, i told you she hits me!”

the man laughs, looking between you two, “someone’s gotta keep you in check.”

you laugh, winking and grabbing ellie’s arm, pulling her from the porch to the truck.

“maria’s cooking, try to be back at eight!”

“you got it, joel.”

—the drive was silent for the most part, ellie’s comfortable on you thigh, rubbing slight circles in it as you hummed to whatever song played the static-filled-radio.

you and ellie spent a lot of time together, obviously. you woke up five AM sharp, just three hours before classes, rode over to place and work her up. you two did you morning chores together, feeding the animals, tending to the barn, and whatever else was set out for you two on the chart joel had put together to keep track of everything. you came home after classes, straight to her place and watched as she played video games, or put a movie on.

you loved ellie, there was no denying that—fuck that, you were in love with ellie and there was no denying that.

initially you didint know how your relationship would work, you didn’t peak ellie for the affectionate type, let alone the romantic type but for the most part you were wrong. of course, it took some getting used to with kissing and cuddling but she’d buy you flowers, take you to the local bar and when she got drunk enough she’d dance with you—you still think about one night where she got so drunk she did karaoke and sang keisha cole’s ‘love’ to you.

ellie was more than enough and sometimes it scared you—scared you that it was too good to be true, you had your fair share of broken hearts—your had been in two relationships, one from the ages of fifteen to sixteen, some guy braden; the quarterback at your high school, who you had found after a year of being together was talking to half of the cheer squad. you laugh everytime thinking about it because when he came to your house to apologize your dad threatened to shoot him, firing a round off into the sky, the image of the boy running away whaling still fresh in your mind.

then your second relationship, only lasting six months when you were eighteen. your first year of college you had met a girl, skyler, through a mutual friend. she was cute, tall, fair skin—nothing was wrong with her, really. she was a sweet girl but also, ambitious, having played three sports and the head of a club—she just didn’t have time for you. the breakup was mutual, plus you still followed each other on instagram.

but all of that seemed to be discarded in the world you and ellie had created between you two. she supported you, she loved you, and she cared for you—and she had absolutely no problem showing it.

“you know,”

“hm?” your eyes stayed glued to the road.

“i’ve been thinking about going to school-trade school, i mean.”

your eyes go a little wide, slightly shocked as you’d been urging for ellie to check out a few schools for the longest.

“what? that’s great, babe. electrician?”

“carpentry…i was talking to, tommy about it. he thinks it’s a good idea, said he’d help pay for it.”

“would you go out here or…”

she shrugs, “i don’t know, baby. i haven’t even looked at any schools, just a thought.

“well, i think that’s great. i’m glad you’re interested in something other than comics.”

“hey, i’m interested in more than comics.”

“yeah, like what?”

“you, naked.”

“shut up, dork.”

“i love you too.”

—you pull into the parking lot of anderson grocery outlet, snagging a spot close to the automatic doors leaving less than an inch walk for you and ellie to walk in grabbing a cart from the designated sections and heading into anderson’s outlet. which, the outlet was owned by jerry anderson; a noble family man, whom you’d known because your dad and tommy had reconstructed his porch that belonged to very old and outdated house after the wood on it started to chip and the paint on it was left to pieces.

he had a daughter you age, just a year older to specific. abby anderson. you had known the girl for some time now, going to the same high school and chatting at parties. she was polite, when her father was around but when he wasn’t, well, to put it in simple terms she was one of the biggest fuck-girls in town. you still remember the rumors that spread around school about how she had managed to talk to the whole cheer squad for like six months without each of them finding out they were getting played.

more over, you were once and kind of still were a target of the girl’s affection; especially since she attended the same college as you and hung out with some of the same people you did—she used to snapchat you shirtless pics all the time, texting you late night with the ‘hey, u up?’ and walking by in the halls with ‘looking good, y/n.’ and even now with you dating ellie, she still had an obvious crush on you, but her advances stopped being so extreme.

ellie hated her. god, ellie could go on and on about how dumb she thought abby’s face was if you even brought the girl up in passing.

“where to?” ellie asks as she aimlessly pushes the cart.

“can you go get my foundation and two brushes? i have to grab the horses sleeping pills.”

she scrunches her face, “i’ll still never understand why a horse would need sleeping pills—i mean, doesn’t that count as animal cruelty?”

“no, you dofus. it’s for when we take them to the fair for the kids to ride. they get rowdy in the travel pins.”

“mhm,” she dismisses. “okay, don’t talk to abby too long, she likes to try and look at your tits.”

“that is not true.”

she gives you a look.

“ok, maybe it is true but—just go get the makeup and then we’ll grab a few other things.”

“ey, ey, captain.” she childishly salutes before moving down the isles, leaving you to head towards the pharmacy.

“i can help the next—” the girl at the counter starts to speak but quickly halts when her eyes look up and she sees you, igniting a spark in her.

“hi, abby.” you hold a tight lipped smile.

“hey, y/n. good to see you.”

“you too…i just need the sleeping pills for the horses.”

she nods, leaning on the stores counters, hands face down causing her forearm veins to slightly pop and flex at the contractions.

“how’ve you been? i haven’t seen you around much lately.”

“im good, ive just been helping my dad out with stuff and hanging with ellie.”

“ellie?” she perks up. “i take it you took the news well?”

you face scrunches, “what news?”

“oh, sorry,” she palms her forehead. “i mean, with ellie moving and everything. gotta say, i didn’t peak you for the long distance type; thought i was finally gonna get my chance.”

you shake your head, a hollow laugh escaping you.

“what? ellie’s not—” you turn your head, eyeing your girlfriend who moved down one the isles, looking up at you with a soft smile.

“where’d you hear that?”

she shrugs, “i uh, ellie came out for some drinks with me, dina, and jesse, and—”

she pauses, sensing she has said something she definitely shouldn’t have. you can see her eyes flicker to ellie before drifting back at you.

“well, and?”

“nothing. maybe i misheard her, you know? i was pretty fucked up.”

your eyes pull to a squint and you look her up and down, “you were so fucked up that you thought ellie told you she was moving?”

she flags her hand, “you know me, i always go big or go home on a night out—i should go get those pills so i can get back to stocking before my dad starts buzzing.”

she’s quick to turn, moving in the opposite direction before you could say anymore. yet, you remain amongst the counter with your nails tapping against it and eyes squinted as you watched abby through the glass, moving around the back looking for prescriptions.

moving? why the hell would she think ellie was moving? and if she were, she surely would be the first person you told, right? you mean, why would she spill it to your shared friends and the girl she semi-hates before she told her long-term girlfriend? and where the fuck would she even be moving to—

“i’ve been thinking about going to school-trade school, i mean.”

you pause, recounting her words in the car.

no. no, that definitely wasn’t it. she said she was just thinking about. nothing was final.

maybe, abby really did mix up her words.

“you get the medication?” you slightly jump as ellie appears beside you, three items now in the cart.

“uh, yeah, just waiting on it.”

she hums, aimlessly looking around as she went back to nodding her head to whatever song was playing throughout the store. you however side eye her before looking back at abby who was coming back your way.

“hey, williams.”

quietly scoffing, “abby.”

“here you are,” abby hands you the brown paper bag. “looks like your dad already pre-paid it, so you’re good to go.”

“thanks abbs.” you mutter, still recounting the conversation you’d just had as if it were a mantra.

as you walk away from the counter, you’re side by side with ellie as she pushes the cart. you can’t help but to keep glancing at her. you try to look and search her face for a secret; for any slight hesitation or simply just anything that looked behind her eyes as something you didn’t recognize but you fail. and your failure reassures you but also scares you. you hate think abby, out of all people, had told you something about your own girlfriend you didn’t know yet.

but you shake off the feeling as best as you can as you move around the outlet, grabbing a few things from the grocery sections and eventually checking out.

“you want me to drive back?” ellie kindly asks as she puts the last bag in the back seat.

“no, it’s okay.” you meekly answer as you were already stepping into the driver’s seat.

the drive back started off silent, ellie just staring off into the window, humming along the oasis song on the radio—your fingers tapping the steering wheel as you paid attention the road. well, at least it was physically silent but your read was binging with different thoughts. you were going back and forth between the notion ellie could be keeping a huge secret from you and the other notion that, that was entirely silly and ellie had never told you a lie to you, even when it was cruel. you completely trusted her. you really did, so why your stomach was churning right now and every time you tried to reassure yourself something inside you went against it, you didn’t know.

“do you miss boston?”

“hm?” your girlfriend perks up. “yeah, i guess. sometimes i miss my friends.”

“yeah?”

“yeah, i mean i still talk to them but it’d be nice to see them—oh, and i miss this bakery there too! best donuts i’ve ever had.”

you ignore the tightness in your stomach, “maybe you can visit one of these days.”

“yeah…” she trails off slightly. “why do you ask?”

“uh, nothing,” a laugh escapes you. “it’s just…”

“when i was talking to abby, she said something about you moving but she said she was plastered and misheard you.”

something shifts in the air in the car, it’s ever so slight and delicate but you can feel it the moment ellie’s gaze moves to you completely; and if you weren’t driving you would have missed the way her fist clenches before releasing. but you certainly don’t miss the deep inhale she sucks in.

“she…she told you what exactly?”

you come to a red light, “she just said you told her, and dina, and jesse something about moving when y’all went out last weekend but i told her that can’t be right because like, you would’ve told me.”

she gets quite for a moment, quiet in the way she only gets when something in bothering her, like when her and joel are bickering about god knows what or when she get jealous when some hits on you.

“what?” you ask, glancing at her do a split second, noticing the expression that had taken over her sculpted face.

“i…” she trails off.

“what?” you laugh, a little nervous. “you know how abby gets when she’s drunk. why are you being weird?”

again, she says nothing and the churn returns to you stomach without grace. you keep glancing between the road and her.

“y/n…”

“ellie, what? she misheard you right? i mean, i know you wouldn’t keep that from me. plus, it’s abby, maybe she’s just trying to get in my head about you—”

“she’s not.”

“what?”

“i mean, i—” a deep sigh escapes her. “at the end of next month…joel and i, well, we’re heading back to boston.”

immediately, without even thinking, you bring to foot to the break and slam on it.

“you’re joking?” you looked at her, slightly dazed, feeling shaky like you do before you throw up or sneeze.

her eyes are like doe and her face is white as a ghost. “i’m sorry.”

your head slightly tilted and face mixed with underlying disgust and something unreadable, you gaze at ellie in a way that makes her want to be swallowed whole by the earth. your brain could almost be short circuited by the thoughts flying up and down and around inside of you. your mind flashes from the first time you’d ever even laid eyes on her, to the times she brushed you off when you tried to talk to her, to you first kiss, to you laying in her, and to now, right here, in this moment. it didn’t feel real but you knew this moment was. and since you knew it was real it made you second guess the person you had been with. it made you second guess all the times you had told her you’d been lied to and she comforted you.

hell, it even made you second guess when she held your hand or even looked at you.

“fuck you,” it’s soft and defeated but stings.

“y/n—”

“no, fuck you!” it’s louder this time. “why didn’t you tell me? you’re leave next month ellie! not in a few months, not in a year but next month!”

“i—”

“everyone knows but me huh? does maria know? does tommy know?”

she sighs, “yes.”

“and my dad? does he know?”

“yes.” she answers your questions like it stings to do so.

“why didn’t you tell me?” you turn your head to the side, looking downward.

“i…i was scared. i didn’t know how to say it. i swear i was going to tell you, i mean—that’s why i brought the school shit, to ease you into the idea of me being gone—”

“how long have you known?”

“…since april.”

your body jerks, “april?” you sound astounded and breathless.

“it’s june, ellie! you’ve known you were leaving me since april—”

“i’m not leaving you! i’m just leaving here.”

“it’s the same thing, ellie! you’re a coward! you couldn’t even tell you’re own girlfriend that you were leaving! fuck you, ellie! fuck you and your plan to ‘ease me into it’ because guess what? it didn’t fucking work.”

“y/n, please we can still be toget—”

“no!” you shake your head. “how? how the hell can i be with you when you kept this from me? this is huge ellie. you’re leaving for good. you’re going back to your life in boston, my life is here.”

“that doesn’t mean i can’t come visit or you can’t. we can talk about this—”

“oh, now you wanna talk, ellie? you’ve had since april to talk!” your body moves before you can register and your pushing her, hitting her chest weakly and immediately she grabs your arms trying to bring you into her but you refuse.

“baby, stop.” she says gently.

“g—get out.”

“what?” she looks at you like you’re the one who just told her that you’re moving within a month.

“get out, ellie!”

“and go where? the farms at least three miles from here and it’s scorching out—“

“i don’t care.”

“y/n, this is ridiculous. can we just—”

“ellie, i swear to god if you don’t get out of my father’s truck.”

your eyes are as deadly as your words and it leaves her no choice but to comply, hesitantly letting her grip go on your wrist and even more hesitantly reaching for the latch handle on the door; it opens with a soft squeak and she sighs, looking at you one last time before stepping out. normally, when you see her eyes you’d just fall for anything but anger and sadness were so blinding.

you don’t even say goodbye, you don’t even take the time to yell more—hell, you hadn’t even cried; you simply just drive away.

[dustslut]

writers block will be the death of me

[dustslut]

ʟᴏɴᴅᴏɴ’ꜱ ᴄᴀʟʟɪɴɢ. ᛪ༙. jenna ortega x singer!fem!reader

warning(s): angst. mentions of break ups. mentions of reader having a past drug addiction. arguing. cigarettes. etc etc etc

index: in which, your relationship with jenna is on the rocks and you fly all the way to london to try and make it right.

note(s): it’s a long one so buckle in lol.. definitely will be multiple parts to this, it’s a series i’ll link the masterslist when i make one

ib; london’s calling by

plvtinum

THE SUN SHINED, making your face feel warm and fuzzy. your head turned to the side, as your body seated in the black metal chair that had a colored cushion to make it more comfy and fancy looking. you eyes narrowed amongst the city view, and cigarette smoke was taking over your atmosphere.

you still remember your first ever visit to london. you were only fifteen and had sold over millions of copies of your debut, teen-pop, album. you remember the flashing lights of the foreign press that yelled questions at you, that you barely had time to register, let alone answer. the sea of foreign fans, some accompanied by overwhelmed parents.

the way security pushed anyone who got too close. you also remember your manager, scooter, by your side; detailing the first show of your first ever tour. how you would stop to rehearsal first, then check out the stadium, then check into your first ever five star hotel.

you felt so cool back than, overwhelmed, but still, cool. you were only fifteen living the dreams of millions of people, young and old. you had a taste of money, admiration, and hate—the world was all around you and at your finger tips at once.

but just like everything else in the world, the fame, the success, came with its cons.

the type of cons that took away that cool feeling, yet left the overwhelming one.

because here you were, twenty-two and in london but none of it felt the same. you were tired and your body was a little more frail. your heart was heavy, and your mind dragged on. sometimes you wish you’d chose something simple like a doctor or a teacher because maybe then you wouldn’t be where you were now.

in london on the verge of a break up, in six months of recovering from addiction, and other issues brought on by your position in spot light. and it’s not like you weren’t grateful—you were more than grateful to have a enough money to do just about whatever you wanted, but the things people said about and to you. the people who pretended to care about you to get closer to that money. the schedules that didn’t care if you were tired or not.

it’s just a lot. especially when you’ve been dealing with it for so long, eventually you start to break down at some point; because well, you’re only human.

“you’re in london, in a nice ass hotel—one of thee best hotels in london to be correct, and instead of enjoying it, you’re sulking on the balcony, smoking a cigarette.”

you roll your eyes at the voice that seemed to agitate you the moment you heard it, “fuck off.”

“easy tiger,” dom, your best friend and personal assistant steps out onto the balcony, taking a seat next to you.

“i’m just trying to cheer you up, i mean, if she hasn’t responded then she hasn’t responded. what can you do abou—”

“i’m going to her filming studio later.” you say, confidently and a little absent minded.

“y/n, i don’t wanna get in your relationship bullshit but don’t you think that’ll just make her more mad? i mean, that’s her job and—”

you huff, snapping your head in his direction; “i don’t know what else to do! i called her from not only my phone, your phone, but the hotel’s phone too.”

“she won’t answer.” your voice becomes a little quiet, sad desperation taking over your tone.

“and i texted her like a million times…”

“come dude,” he places a hand on your shoulder.

“she’ll come around…let’s just try to at least enjoy some of london while we’re here.”

you purse your lips, eyes going from the view to his pleading eyes, back to the view. your shoulders drop from their tense position, and you take one last huff of the just-about-done cigarette.

“fine.”

“yay! i have a bus tour of the city booked for us already!”

you roll your eyes, this time in humor at the man’s antics.

you both abandon your positions on the balcony, going back inside to your hotel room big enough for an entire family to live, with its own wide living room that included a coffee table, a loveseat and a couch. a kitchen, a bathroom, and of course the bedroom occupied by a king size bed.

that was all for you.

dom’s room, that connected to yours by door was the same, minus the balcony you acquired.

once you both catch a shower, and get a change of clothes you’re already out onto the foreign streets. another cigarette already in your hand with dom’s complaining voice to go along with it.

“eugh, i can’t stand the smell of those.”

“yeah, well look around we’re in europe. everybody’s got a cig in their mouths; even the kids.” you point at a group of teenagers near by, in view of your shade-covered eyes, who seemingly were all sharing a cigarette.

“yeah, they’re over there. away from me and my space, you’re right next to me, blowing that directly in my direction.”

you purse your lips, looking at him for a moment before deciding not to be a complete dick and put it out using the side of a building.

“thank you.”

“you’re wel—”

“y/n!” your name was shouted by some lady who now stood in front of you, phone in hand with the camera app open.

“picture! please?!”

“of course,” you throw on a smile and taking her phone, handing it to dom, who quickly snapped the photo.

the woman didn’t even bothering to say goodbye or thank you, she just ran off all smiley.

“remind me again why we have no security with us, miss international, grammy winning, pop star.”

“because i’m here on vacation. not business.”

“no,” his word drags out. “you’re here trying to fix things with your girlfriend, or is it ex-girlfriend? to be honest i’m confused.”

“well, she didn’t explicitly say we’re over so…i’m hoping it’s still girlfriend.”

he stays silent, continuing to walk beside you, in his own mind worried for you.

in your mind, all you could think about was your last conversation with your supposed girlfriend. the way she screamed through the phone, the way you yelled back. the way she called you an asshole and said you weren’t making time for the relationship or her. the way you called her a bitch and accused her of the same neglect.

the way you could hear her crying through the phone, while you held back your own tears. the way she hung up the phone. and now she wouldn’t answer your texts, or your calls from any other number.

—you had to see her.

if there was one thing you couldn’t lose, or if there was anything good about the spotlight you were in; it was her. that’s how you met her after all, on some red carpet to promote some movie you definitely hadn’t seen or heard of, but your PR team suggested it’d be great for publicity for your new single. she just so happen to be seated at your table for the pre-view screening and the rest was history.

you couldn’t believe that was almost three years ago.

time seemed to be going fast, and not in your favor as these last few months of your fleeting relationship had proved.

you thought your plan to show up to the studio she’s filming at would help. it would show her you really cared, that you flew all the way out here just to make things right with her. but maybe dom was right, maybe it is a bad idea. after all, you two made it a point to try hard as possible to keep the career aspect out of your relationship, wanting things to just feel normal with each other—to be each other’s escape.

than again, this seemed like it was the only choice to get to her.

and that was more than a risk you were willing to take just to talk to her.

“that was so much fun! wasn’t it so much fun? it was so much fun!” dom cheerfully (and annoyingly) exclaimed to you as he stepped off the bus with the help of the tour guide.

you, stepping off right after him: “yes, so much fun.”

“don’t be an asshole! you know i love when we come to london.”

“you only love when we come to london because according to you, everyone guy on grindr here looks like a member of one direction.”

he scrunches his face, “not true…i love the food too.”

you snort, turning back to the man who just gave you guys the tour and hand him a hundred dollar bill.

“where to now? you wanna pick or—”

“how about,” you pull more crisp bills form your wallet, not caring about the amount.

“you go find a hot guy, take him shopping or out to dinner and i go handle my business.”

“you’re so not bribing me right now.”

“i, so, totally am.” you flash a wide smile.

he eyes the money in your hand, then the city, then directly into your sunglasses-covered eyes.

“you’re lucky i know there’s no way i’m stopping you.” he take the money form

your had and your smile wides even more.

“have fun.”

“yeah, yeah” he flags you off, turning to make his way down the sidewalk into the busy city.

you turn your body in the opposite direction, following the trail of ‘quiet’ cafes and small flower shops—which, you make it a point to stop at one of said flower shops, purchasing a rather large bouquet that came wrapped in brown paper with white string tied in a bow around it.

as you walked down the sidewalk, now on a mission to find a cab you got a few stares and even someone shouted ‘i love your music!’ at you. some people even stopped you for photos, not a lot, well besides a group of seemingly college kids that stopped you.

two boys and one girl. one guy was brunette, while the other was blonde, and the girl had pale pink hair.

“ay, mate, can we grab a picture?” the brunette guy speaks up, his accent thick and smooth.

“please? we came to your chicago show a few years back and it was just awesome!” the blonde cheerfully exclaimes, his accent just a broad and just as understandable.

the girl nods her head, “your breakout album is our favorite of all time.”

your eyebrows go up in shock, your breakout album was your second album. released only when you were seventeen and it was a smash hit, just as your first. you’d never admit to the public, but you didn’t enjoy making that album. the label made it clear they were looking for a certain teen-pop sound and that’s just what it was.

you weren’t allowed to write any of the songs on the album, despite being credited for almost all of them. the hours for rehearsals were so brutal and the stupid outfits they made you wear on tour—

“oh, breakout? yea, that was one of my favorites to make!”

“you have,” the brunette drags his words out, emphasizing the have and talking with his hands. “to do an eras tour like taylor swift, i would love to see you perform that album again.”

“yeah, how come you never perform anything from that album? like you did with mind of mine?” the blonde refers to your very first album.

now that one, mind of mine, you did enjoy making.

you were so naive, young, and new to the whole music industry that it was fun. you were allowed to write some songs, obviously they were polished by real writers, but still fifteen year old you got to take you cheesy love songs about your first significant other to the booth; and eventually shown to the whole world.

again, you liked the attention you got. the money you got. everyone from you hometown who laughed and doubted you when you said you wanted to be a singer whenever the teacher would ask “why do you want to be when you grow up?” were now being proved wrong.

—it was just an all around nostalgic album and era for you, before all you bad stuff leaked in and it became a job instead of a dream.

“oh, you know i’ll have to talk to my team about an eras tour—but, how did you guys wanna take the pictures? group or?”

you end up taking individual pictures with each of them, then one group one where the blonde holds the phone up, as he seemed to be the tallest. you bid your goodbyes and quickly find a cab, where luckily the driver didn’t recognize you nor was a fan, making it easier to get the location you so desperately needed to get to.

the hotel you had booked for you and dom was only five minutes from the filming studio; you know this because you had checked prior to even booking the rooms or flights, assuming once you got here you would call your girlfriend and she would agree to meet-up. which, you would surprise her with flowers and all the fighting would just go away.

but it’s clear now that it wasn’t that simple, the cab being twenty minutes from the studio; which wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t five minutes.

you were just anxious and antsy. you were really starting to miss the woman you laid by almost every night. you could barely sleep last night, wishing she were there to rub your back gently as she always did because she knew how much it helped you fall asleep. you missed the smell of her hair, eating breakfast with her, showing her new songs you’d been working on.

your heart became more heavy, aching at more than just the bitterness that filled your relationship lately; but now at the fact that you could loose all the sweetness that contained between you two…that is if you already haven’t.

—the car comes to a halt causing you blink your flying thoughts away.

again, you pull more bills from your wallet as if they grew off a tree, and hand the man at least two hundred dollars before exiting the vehicle.

your heart is beating so fast and loudly it fills your hearts. your palms are sweaty, and your whole body seems to be gently shaking in anxiety. but still, somehow you feet moving forward, people scattered around as they worked on the rather expensive, multi-building set. you seemed fit in as everyone around seemed to be stressed out, running around as they communicated through their headsets.

ok, so you definitely didn’t think this through.

you’re here but you have no idea which set she were at, as they were other shows or movies being filmed in each building.

you sigh, pulling you phone from you back pocket—as soon as you unlock it, the screen is already open to your messaging app.

J❤️

june 15, 2025

12:01 AM

i literally don’t wanna talk to u

you’re acting like this is only fault

you don’t call me all day unless you wanna use my driving service, maybe ppl are right and you’re just using me for money and fame lol

are you serious right now?

i call you all the time but you’re too busy in the studio to answer remember?

june 25, 2025

7:45 AM

you’re ignoring me now?

june 25, 2025

10:09 AM

i went out last night, didn’t see your text

cool.

how’s london?

read 2:13 PM

you scroll, reading for a moment, everything was just arguments or short conversations, then just you practically begging for her to answer your calls. which, you thought sure as some point they would turn green but no, you knew she was definitely getting them but they were all very much blue and said delivered under them.

you contemplated on trying to call her for a second, then you typed and untyped a few text.

you hadn’t realized how long you had been standing in the same spot until some tapped on your shoulder, to which you looked up from your phone.

“yes?”

“uhm…are you supposed to here?”

you pause for a second, your guys going over the guys face. you knew just because you were a big star everyone wasn’t supposed to recognize you, or know who you were, but you gotta admit your ego was a little bruised the cab driver didn’t recognize you, now this crew member too; but nonetheless you digress.

you had bigger things to worry about.

“can you tell me where they’re filming the netflix shows?”

“uhm, you don’t have a badge and i’m not supposed tell—“

you sigh, placing the flowers between your arm and your side so you could pull your wallet from your pocket, in turn was your last two, hundred dollar bills that you indeed mindlessly pull out and wave in front of his face.

“i just need to know which studio number.”

“twelve.” he points straight ahead before easily taking the cash, and getting out of your face.

that should not have been as easy as it was. you thought.

like genuinely, what if you were some crazed fan who wanted to hurt a star or something?

but, good thing you weren’t.

you were just some dumb person in love and trying to save your relationship.

it was a straight walk. a short one runway walk that you could take and be okay: is what you kept telling yourself as you looked forward to the building that had a big white twelve, in bold font painted onto the concrete in front of it.

it should be just that simple, so why were your feet still planted? why did it feel like your hands were so sweaty that would loose the tight grip around the brown paper of the flowers? why did the ringing in your ears that managed to go away for a split second suddenly come back, and louder?

what if she breaks up with you? what if she already had? doubt started to leak into your mind and somewhere inside you wished you were with dom right now, on one of his stupid vacation quest.

but you had made it all the way here, all the way in london, and you couldn’t pussy out now.

step by, slow step, you move your feet. you breathing in shaking and uneven; and you keep switching the flowers from your left to right hand, but still you managed to make it.

you there right in front of one of the many entrances.

all you had to do was open it, go inside, apologize and give her the flowers.

it was sooo easy.

fuck this. i’m y/n y/l/n. i’ve traveled the world and performed in front of millions of people. you try to soothe yourself inside your mind.

i can open this door and talk to one girl.

one, single, girl.

in one motion your swing the entrance open; staff running around, tables of treats and coffee, stunt doubles, extras, all took up the scene. no camera was rolling, everyone either seemed to be getting ready for one or just in between a take.

you hadn’t spotted anyone you knew yet, nor her or at least of her co-workers/friends that you had met on many occasions for things like dinner and karaoke nights.

your eyes searched, so many people swarmed around you weren’t sure which direction to go—not until you spot her co-star and friend, a girl you had met more than anybody else your girlfriend worked beside and befriended.

as if on cue, her eyes land on you, meeting yours as you stare at her; hopelessly, like a dear caught in headlights.

her eyes go wide, and she excuses herself from a stage crew she were in a conversation with.

“y/n? what are you doing here?” she quickly clears her throat, changing her tone. “i mean, i thought you were in LA.”

“hi, emma…i came to talk to her.” you ignore her failed attempt at hiding her obvious dismay for you.

she blinks, “all the way in london?”

you purse your lips, “can you just tell me where she is? i’m not here to start any problems, i just wanna have a conversation with my girlfriend.”

you watch the way her face slightly changes when the word girlfriend leaves your lips.

you’ve never had a problem with emma, because well, why would you? she was one of your girlfriends closest friends, along with being her co-star. whenever she came over to your shared apartment you two shared conversations about film, and mostly other art things. Or anything related to the industry for that matter. in all, you wouldn’t exactly consider her your own friend but she also wasn’t a complete stranger.

but right now?

she were really starting to irritate you.

she goes to open her mouth but it immediately closes it and her eyes narrow, trailing to something or better yet someone that appeared to come in view behind you. tension appeared all over her body langue and you knew exactly who were in stride behind you, you could also hear the clicking of heels.

immediately you turn, now face to face with the girl who held a unreadable look on her face but a clear hollow gaze in her eyes.

“what are you doing here?”

ok, maybe you deserve that but ouch.

“can we talk? in private?” you watch as her gaze seems to travel over your body to the flowers that you were holding onto for dear life in some attempt to soothe your overbearing anxieties.

you really needed a cigarette right now.

she doesn’t say anything, not a word she just turns on her heels and is striding off to where she came from; you assume she’s signaling you to follow her so you do so.

your body seemed to be on fire and your head rushing, you were feeling so many things you felt you could just explode from your nervous system overloading. a part of you was hurt, and a part was angry; and there was was another part of you that was scared.

her lack of affection framed things in a way that you did not like. she didn’t touch you, not a hug or a kiss—hell, she didn’t even take the time to say anything to you, you would’ve rather she’d started ripping you apart off-bat rather than just “what are you doing here?”

and now she has you on her tail like some lap dog? you knew you had a part to play in the way things were going between you two but it takes two to tango—she’s not all innocent.

but you didn’t have time to point fingers and state your grievances—what if she didn’t want to talk at all? what if she were just taking you somewhere private to break your heart and give you back the rather very expensive promise ring you had given her a few months ago?

you can see it now in your head, you going to hand her the flowers before even talking, her rejecting them and placing the diamond ring in your hand before telling you she’s had a enough.

fuck.

“are you just going to stand there or come in?”

“huh?” you snap from your thoughts, seemingly face to face with the girl who were holding open her trailer door open for you.

“my bad.” you utter, stepping up the tiny steps.

you eye her set up, it were mostly clean besides the ash tray laid on the table pairing with a half empty bottle of red wine.

“jenna—”

“what are you doing in london, y/n? let alone my studio.” her arms cross over her chest.

“i came to see you. you weren’t returning my calls or answering my text, i even called your manager and he wouldn’t take my call; and i know how much scott loves me,” you point your finger.

“maybe because all we’ve been doing is arguing and the last time i called you, you called me a bitch,” she throws her hands up.

“or more specifically a selfish bitch!” her voice slightly raises and your drop your head, eyeing her shoes.

“i came to apologize. i didn’t come to fight.”

her mouth opens and closes, she purses her lips and you take the opportunity to continue to speak, lifting your head back up.

“jenna, i—look, i could say a lot of shit right now. i could point out all the things that you’re doing to hurt me, i could say some shitty apology, i—i came here because i don’t want to lose you.”

“i know, i know i spend too much time out partying or in the studio or whatever—and i ignore your calls, i—too be honest i don’t know what’s gotten into me or what’s happening to us but fuck, i can’t lose you.”

you voice cracks slightly, throat burning from the tears that were threatening to come from your eyes.

silence drags as she once again opens and closes her mouth, pursing her lips. it scared you. she had never been this unreadable before. normally you could tell what she was thinking just by the blink of an eye but, right now? in this moment? she were so closed off, standing far and her arms crossed.

she were treating you like she barely knew you and it was breaking your heart.

maybe dom was right.

maybe this whole thing was a bad idea.

“i have a question…and i need you to not get mad when i ask it.”

you shake your head, “okay.”

“i need you to answer honestly,”

you shake your head once more.

“did you—have you relapsed?”

you body jerks, eyes squinting in disbelief.

you remember the first time you ever tried a drug. you were sixteen and hanging around other celebrities, some way to old to be conversing with you but it was a grammy after party, what could you expect?

you were hanging around bodies like kanye west, justin bieber, ariana grande, and anyone else you could think of who belonged in that scene.

you don’t remember exactly how it happened but you ended up smoking weed for the first time that night—and it kind of stuck with you as you bounced through interviews and moved through cities on tour. it started off slow, just a joint before an interview to calm your nerves, no one knew besides dom, he sometimes smoked with you and was sure to keep eye drops on him at all times. then when you went on tour, it became two after a show.

eventually, weed wasn’t enough and somewhere along the lines you started experimenting with harder stuff like pills and powdered white substances. and no one knew, not even dom.

not until one fated night when dom had found you laid out on your penthouse living room floor and seizing.

that was only the start—you begged dom to keep it secret, manipulating him with things like what it could do to your career if it ever got out. you told him you had it under control and you were getting help, which was more than a lie at the time.

you struggled for years.

you would read the awful things people would say about you for hours on end, to the point where it consumed you and than you would turn to substances just to soothe the pain it brought.

it became a cycle that went on and on. even after you had started seeing jenna. though, you made sure to keep it a secret from her as long as you could.

until she was the one who found you, this time you were on your bedroom floor. she had just gotten off the lax and wanted to surprise you, using her spare key to get into your penthouse.

it wasn’t easy but you got clean—for yourself first, but for her second.

“jenna, what the fu—no!”

“don’t start yelling at me.”

“i’m not yelling, but why the fuck would you ask me that? are you serious right now? i told you i’d never do that again! to you or myself.”

she holds her hands up, “you can’t blame me for asking, y/n. you started staying out late like you used to. you stopped answering my calls…i’m—i was worried.”

you drop your body weight onto the couch, tossing the flowers on the table and dropping your head into your hands before looking up at her.

“i—i—i’ve just been working. i can’t say i haven’t about thought it, i mean fuck it’s hard not to see what people say. but i made a promise to myself and to you.”

she moves, sitting on the couch across from you.

“so, what’s happening to us, y/n?” she sounds deflated.

“i don’t know, jenna. i really don’t.”

she doesn’t say anything and silence drags long this time. you stare at her and she stares at you, her eyes averting to things around the trailer than back to you, than back around her. she keeps pursing her lips and hesitating. you have nothing left to say, fighting to the urges to move around the tiny coffe table that divided you two and just have her hold you tight—because well, you really needed it more than anything right now.

“y/n, i love you, i can’t deny that,”

you blink, your body language careful. you were almost scared to move. it felt like eggshells and glass surrounded you and any sudden movement would shatter everything.

“but i think we need a break from each other.”

[dustslut]

(prequel.) ɪɴ ᴍʏ ʀᴏᴏᴍ. natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

warning(s): mentions of abuse, drinking, parental issues, a lot of backstory bc well this is a prequel, no crash au, kissing, cheating, breaking up, angst, mentions of jackie x shauna, mentions of nat x travis.

index: You look so cool, I wanna die

Is it too soon to say what's on my mind?

— in which, three years after high school you and natalie finally see each other as your very messy break up —

note(s): yes i came up

with whole idea based on a spider-man edit

NATALIE SCATORCCIO KNEW she had been unlucky in many ways.

she had felt her world was an endless pit that crashed down further and further as the years went on. she wasn’t religious by any means, but when she sometimes (all the time) sat drunk and alone in her rather, shitty apartment that sat in brooklyn new york, she wondered if there was a god and if he, or she, or they were playing some sick prank on her. or trying to teach her some type of lesson that she just kept missing and each time she failed, she didn’t get an f but a rather large stormy rain cloud over her head.

the first ever memory she can recall is her sitting in front of the tv watching some low budget cartoon because her family didn’t have enough money to afford disney channel, they didn’t have enough money for a house for fuckssake, only a shitty trailer with shittier neighbors. anyways, that’s besides the point—in front of the tv with her parents shouting back and back, and back and forth.

they had been shouting for hours, it had be to late into the night because her mom had been sitting at the kitchen table with a lit cigarette and bottle of open wine, as soon as her father, drunker than her mother, stepped into the door—her mother began questioning him about where he had been and did he know what time it was.

her father tried to flag her off but she kept going, insisting he was seeing, marsha johnson, the infamous woman of the neighborhood who was shamelessly went about sleeping with women’s husbands.

at first, he denied it, claiming to have been at a bar with some friends but the more her mother the shouted, the more he lost his patience. he finally admitted to the cheating and that’s when things got bad.

her mother aimed to throw the bottle of open wine at his head but horribly missed—natalie can remember her father shouting, calling her mother a ‘crazy bitch’—the more they fought, the more physical it got. her mother throwing things around, her father shouting and attempting to stop the woman before slapping her and throwing her to the ground.

all of it, every last bit of it was engraved into natalie’s mind.

and she didn’t remember much of any of her childhood before that moment.

it shook her to the core, but not more than the night her mother had disappeared without a word.

all of her belongings gone, no note, and no word to nat.

just gone.

natalie’s father was always a ruthless man, but after that day he became something more, something raw.

day in and day out he drank. first thing in the morning, when he came home from work, into the night. he began shouting at natalie and blaming her for her mother’s absence.

but it wasn’t until fourteen when the hitting began.

natalie used to pray every night that her father would disappear the same way her mother did.

but it never happened and at the age of sixteen natalie stopped praying and started drinking just as her parents had done. she started to stay out late to avoid her father, hoping by the time she got home he would be passed out on the couch, which most of the time he usually was…but when he wasn’t, it was bad. very bad.

home life aside, natalie had been labeled in her town as a ‘burnout’—as trash. no one wanted to be her friend and the parents of the people her age made sure their kids stayed away from her, and not because she caused trouble (which she did sometimes) but because her parents had created a reputation for her all on their own.

there was nowhere for natalie to go.

she couldn’t go home and she couldn’t create a home with friends, not the girl’s who played on her soccer team, and damn sure not kevyn tran: the only person who she actually took the time to hang with, that boy was far more fucked up than her, especially his own home life.

natalie was completely alone.

well, until you came along.

y/n y/l/n.

you name forever engraved in her head and heart.

sophomore year of high school you had transferred to WHS—that might be the only day she remembers of school, let alone the first day.

she remembers standing at lottie’s locker, raving about their next game and gossiping about jackie’s relationship drama with jeff and how she had cheated on him with shauna. her back pressed to locker she laughed as lottie had made a remark about how she always knew jackie was a secretly lesbian, but that her smile quickly faded into a gawk when you walked down the hallway, right foot in front of the left, black and white converse on your feet, black-skirt that met just above your mid-thighs, and a white crop top on your top half; hair in an updo and backpack securely on your back.

natalie wasn’t the type to have a crush, let alone be in a relationship. she did hookups and purely that, but fuck why did the halls seem to move in slow motion as you moved down them. why couldn’t she take her eyes away from your face.

she had asked lottie who you were but the girl shrugged and suggested that you were new.

which she quickly found that you were indeed new in her third period class: science with mrs. jackson, who insisted you stood and introduced yourself to the class.

and you did, seeing as you had no choice.

your name: y/n y/l/n.

you had moved from: chicago.

your favorite band: fleetwood mac.

natalie felt stupid, she felt stupid to think of someone as pretty. she felt stupid to actually want to know someone. she felt stupid because she knew whoever you became friends would tell you to steer clear of her.

and she swore if there was a big-all-mighty being in the sky that they had a funny way of screwing her because a few months into your presence being plopped into her world you had become her tutor.

and she didn’t even want to be tutored, she could give a fuck less about high school and grades but she did care about soccer, as it was one of her many escapes and being called down to the guidance counselor who had told her to pull up her grades or be dropped from the team forced her into your direction.

she thought about asking mitsy but the girl creeped her out far too much to spend that much time with her. so, she signed her name on the stupid paper that hung outside the library for three pm tutoring every thursday.

the following week she sat at the wooden desk surrounded by books as she waited for her tutor.

“natalie scatorccio?” the soft voice butchers her last name.

immediately, her head flies up into your direction. her eyes wide and mouth agape.

no.

no. anything but this.

“i’m sorry, i know i said that completely wrong.” you notice her body language and stride towards the table she had take up.

“it’s fine.. are you my, i mean, are you tutoring me?”

a smile flash across your face, “that’s what it seems, yes.”

“cool.”

“you’re in my third period right? you sit a few seats behind me.”

“yeah, couldn’t escape mrs. jackson if i tried.”

“she is a bit much, isn’t she?”

“that’s an understatement.” the soccer player utters, thinking of the older woman who was definitely too strict for a teacher, better off being a drill sergeant.

you let out a light laugh, “so, math is it? you’re struggling with?”

“high school in its entirety is what i’m struggling with.”

once more you laugh, “we can start with the basics and work our way up.”

natalie doesn’t remember learning much that day, but she does remember staring at your face a lot. she remembers looking at your y/c/h hair that fell to the sides of your face, she remembers her eyes traveling from

your perfect eyebrows to your eyelashes, then your eyes, then to your nose and eventually your lips.

she grimaces inside with disgust—she has never wondered if someone’s lips were as soft as they looked before.

she also has never been nervous around anyone, not in the way she were with you.

and it made her sick that she actually started looking forward to tutoring—that every thursday she ran home and showered and reminded herself to be as nonchalant as possible around you.

you always smelled good and you never made her feel stupid—you were actually kind to her and it scared her. she often found herself asking herself things like: what had you heard about her from others? and were you just nice to her out of pitty?

you started waving at her in the hallways, talking to her in class or when you seen her at the local convenient store you sparked conversation, mostly about school, but still you talked her—you treated her as friend and she worried because you seemed to not know how much that could ruin your own reputation.

“nat?” you call out as you walk towards the door of the store, two girls by your side she recognized from the cheer squad.

she had been standing around, drinking with kev and talking shit.

she watched as you flagged them to go inside, telling them you’d be there in second, they glared in her direction but didint protest as you walked towards it.

“hey” she awkwardly lets out.

“what’s your poison?” you point to the bottle in her hand.

she looks down and back up at you.

“svedka.”

“ah, i’m more of patron girl.”

“you drink?”

shrugging, “occasionally. if i go to a party i’ll have a drink or two.”

“you like the expensive shit.”

you laugh, “how did you think you did on jackson’s test?”

she gives you a look, “i think we both know how i did.”

“give yourself some hope. you’ve been improving a lot with math, maybe you’ll do good with science too.”

there it is again.

your kindness you so easily gave to her.

it made her sick.

“jackson is an ass though, i’ll admit i was kind of struggling.” you tease.

“we know you did just fine.”

you open your mouth but are cut off when your friends come from the store’s glass doors, calling your name and not wasting a second to rush you away from nat.

“i gotta go, i’ll see you thursday?”

“yeah. definitely.”

you began to walk away but not before turning one last time, “oh, and nat,”

“yeah?”

“i didn’t know you were a soccer player. i’ll be at the game friday, don’t be a stranger.”

and you turn back away like you weren’t driving nat crazy, like you weren’t doing things to her she couldn’t make sense of.

“the fuck was that?”

“what was what?” she turns to kev.

“who is that? she’s hot.”

“shut up, asshole. she’s just some girl from one of my classes.”

“since when do you go to class?”

that friday had rolled around quicker that nat had anticipated and she hated it, and loved it at the same time.

she loved it because well, she loved the pump from the games. the whole school watching, the whole team jumping around and shouting, hyping themselves up with music and maybe a shot or two of whatever bottle she had snuck into the locker room—soccer was something that made nat feel alive. on the field she wasn’t some burnout with a fucked up home life and reputation but a great defense who earned praise.

but on the other hand, she hated it because you were going to be there. watching her play.

nat had never had anyone come to one of the games just to see her, obviously not her mother as she was long gone before the girl started playing soccer and damn sure not her father.

but luckily that day she had played good, maybe even her best and the yellowjackets had done more than won—they completely dominated the opposing team, 6-15 was the score to exact.

after the game, she were standing with the team surrounding coach ben as he praised the girls when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

swiftly she turned around and there you were with the school’s colors dotted on your face neatly. black thigh high boots, short jean skirt, and an off the shoulder, cropped black top.

“congratulations on the win.”

“uh, thanks.”

“you played really good, surprised me a little.”

“surprised you?”

“yeah, normally you’re so laid back but you had so much energy out there…i loved it.”

i loved it. the sentence repeats in he head.

“thanks.”

“you going to the party tonight?”

“which one? there’s like three happening, it’s friday night.”

“i don’t know,” you shrug. “my friend, becca, is dragging to this party, she said some girl named lottie—“

“that would be me!” the taller girl interjects in the conversation, throwing her arm around nat’s shoulder and flashing a smile.

“you should totally come, i throw great parties.”

“oh shit, you’re on the team too? i’m y/n,” you stick your hand out to which lottie takes with pride.

“lottie. and yes nat’s definitely gonna be there, she has no choice.”

that night nat practically ran at the speed of lightning to get home (thankfully her father was long gone) she showered—no scrubbed away sweat and dirt, picking out the best outfit she could, which she swore to herself she wasn’t picking out for you because that was lame and pathetic.

she kept repeating to herself that she probably wouldn’t even run into you at the party, that you friends would be surrounding you and spewing awful things about her to make you stay away from her, which she’s surprised hasn’t happened already.

and for the most part she doesn’t run into you, she spends the first hour and a half of the party standing around the bonfire with lottie, van, and tai as they talked about the game and gossiped more about how jackie had showed up with jeff and shauna had showed up with randy walsh, not to mention how they didn’t talk all throughout practice into the game. she then drifted to kevyn who was already far to buzzed and talking about lighting some jocks car on the fire. which that took a lot of talking him out of.

eventually kevyn was on the verge of passing out from how drunk he was so she had to make her way into the house to phone a cab for him. she had to go upstairs because obviously downstairs was booming with music and chatter of drunk teens. she ended up using the phone in lottie’s room, which she had been in a few times, and called a nearby cab service.

moving back downstairs she made sure to stop into the kitchen for another drink, finally running into you.

“hey stranger.”

“hey, enjoying the party?”

“it’s okay, my friend is currently drunk and arguing with her boyfriend so i’ve just been floating around.”

“ah,” she brings her cup up and tilts it. “had to call my friend a cab, he’s too drunk to function.”

“cheers to messy friends.” you bring your own cup up and clink it with her’s.

she were definitely more than a little tipsy, feeling herself unfamiliar-ly unfazed by your presence.

“i like your jacket.” your comment causing her gaze to look down at the very old leather jacket.

“thanks.”

“so, lottie must be really rich, right? because this house is huge.”

she laughs, “oh yeah, lottie’s kids kids are never gonna have to work.”

you laugh along, “tell me about it, i’m friends with some of the cheer girls and they have two closets.”

“a luxury i’d kill to have.”

“you and me both.”

“i find that hard to be believe.” she takes a swig from the red solo cup.

“what?”

“you don’t have two closets as well.”

“i mean, i’ve got a nice house and all but i’m not two closets wealthy. my dads an exterminator and my moms a nurse.”

“hey, it’s nicer than anything i’ll know.”

“i’m grateful,” you stare down into your half empty cup. “my parents work hard.”

“cheers to that.” nat utters, trying to stop her mind from drifting to her parents.

“i’m gonna step outside for a smoke, i’ll see you monday, yeah?”

“i, uh, yeah.” she fails to see the disappointed glint in your eyes as she begins to move out of the kitchen.

“actually,” you call out and she stops.

“can i join you?”

“you smoke?”

“no, but i can stand around you and pretend i do too.”

that smirk comes across her face as she is far amused with your words, “come on.”

and just like that you two are standing in the back of lottie’s house, nat leaned against the wall with a lit malboro red between her lips, gaze upon you as your stare off.

“you have a math test coming up.”

“eugh,” smoke blows from her nose. “you want to talk about school at a party?”

a soft laugh escapes you, “i…i mean i don’t really know much about you, whenever we see each other it’s at school, so…”

“why’d you move to new jersey? let alone, wiskayok? i know there are more interesting things going on in chicago than here.”

“my dad got a really good job opportunity, him and his friend are starting their own extermination business.”

“why extermination?”

“my dad’s dad did it and he wanted to follow in his footsteps. creeps me out though, i hate bugs and all that.”

“well, he kills em’ for a living, so.”

another soft laugh, “yeah guess so…”

for a moment silence takes over you, nat stares into lottie’s backyard that held a black fence surrounding the yards of grass and in-ground pool. you however are staring directly as nat.

“your hair is so cool.”

she breaks her gaze, “uh, thanks.”

“i uh—that was weird. i’m sorry.”

“nah it’s cool, i mean, it wasn’t weird. i’ve just never had anyone compliment my hair before.”

“i find that hard to believe.”

“what?”

“no one’s ever complimented your hair, i mean, you’re so pretty i bet people tell you all the time. especially your boyfriend.”

nat chokes, “my boyfriend?”

“yeah, the guy you were with outside the store that day. is he not your boyfriend?”

she grimaces, “kev is not my boyfriend. i wouldn’t come near his dick with a ten inch pole.”

you laugh, “sorry, i just assumed.”

“it’s alright…for the record, i don’t have a boyfriend.”

“you don’t?”

“no. do you?”

“i mean, i have this ex back in chicago but, i’m not actively seeing anyone.”

“good. it’s a waste of time.”

“that it is.”

she pauses for a moment, “why is he an ex?”

“he wasn’t exactly monogamous.”

“ah, that’ll do it.”

once again, it goes quiet for a moment and nat begins to think.

wait.

did you call her pretty?

you called her fucking pretty.

she had never, never, had anyone in her fucking life call her pretty.

“…you’re pretty too by the way.” her sentence drags out slow like she’s trying to be careful.

she’s trying to not sound dumb.

you push some of your hair behind your ear, “thank you.”

“surprised one of WHS’s finest jocks hasn’t grabbed you.”

“oh, believe me they have tried. this guy, jeff asked me out on the first day but one the cheer girls warned me to steer clear.”

she scoffs at the name. of course jeff would ask you out.

“plus, i’m…i’m not really into guys so there’s that.”

“what?” nat’s body language becomes hard to hide, she thinks she is just too drunk and misheard you.

“i, uh, i’m so drunk i don’t know why i even just admitted that to you.” you face palm.

“hey, no,” nat waves her hands. “i’m not into that judgy god bullshit, i’m just surprised is all.”

“surprised?”

“yeah, you know you’re all girly and stuff—i don’t know, i just, yeah. but i’m not judging, i mean, i’m not into guys either.”

your head shouts up, “you’re not?”

she shrugs, “that’s just between me and you though. if anyone in this town knew i’d be more of an outcast than i already am.”

you purse your lips, eyes batting at her, “our little secret.”

she smirks, “our little secret.”

the silence had come back around for a third time now, nat already pulling out a second cigarette and you finishing your drink. it was now your turn to stare off into lottie’s yard while nat held a gaze upon you.

but you sigh and turn to the girl, who averts her eyes.

“nat?”

“yeah?”

“i really wanna do something stupid right now.”

“how stupid?”

“i really wanna kiss you right now.”

i really wanna kiss you right now. i really wanna kiss you right now. i really wanna kiss you right now. i really wanna kiss you right now.

the words echo at least sixteen times in natalie’s head, paralyzing her. she knew she had drank a lot tonight but definitely not enough to hallucinate you saying you want to kiss her. she’s so frozen in place it doesn’t register to her that you were reading her body language and thinking you had completely fucked up by saying that.

you were drunk.

that had to be it.

that’s the only reason you could even think, let alone say you wanted to kiss her.

that’s the explanation nat forced into her mind.

“i—i’m sorry, that was really stupid of me to say. i should go.” you try to rush back into the house through the slide glass door causing nat to break from her trance to grab your arm in a haste.

“hey, no, stop. it wasn’t stupid, i mean—i—” her eyes pierce into your scared ones.

“i, think i wanna kiss you too?”

“i—you do?”

“fuck yes,” she desperately sighs out.

that was the being of something natalie didn’t know was possible.

she didn’t know it was possible to kiss someone and feel something other than drunk emptiness—she didn’t know it was possible to kiss someone and feel her whole body buzz. she didn’t know it was possible to to realize how long she’d been waiting to grip someone’s waist. she didn’t know it was possible for someone to have their hands running through her hair and it feel so good.

it was like a lightning rod shooting through her body and bringing something to life inside of her that she didn’t even know died.

fuck it felt so good, it felt like winning a game.

that night flipped and rumbled nat’s life.

things shifted between you two.

you had given her your number that night and made her give you her’s as you were skeptical of her call to come.

and that monday after the party you had called to which nat had to pretend she weren’t waiting for it all weekend, contemplating like an idiot if she could call first. upon answering, you were the first speak, making a joke about if she still liked you or not to which she couldn’t help but laugh.

from that day on, things were different. you occasionally stopped by nat’s locker and conversed about school, along with music, you sometimes asked her to hang out. you didn’t dare kiss or touch her though, it’s not like you were in an official relationship (yet) and after all, wiskayok was a very small, unprogressive town. but that didn’t stop you from verbally flirting with her.

and now you two began to have tutor sessions at more than the library, sometimes at your house when your parents weren’t home, or the bleachers when the field was empty and the weather was giving; where you also shared stolen kisses and more than friendly touches with each other.

it was new—well, new for natalie at least. again, she didn’t do relationship—she had never met anyone she liked enough to even consider the idea. but you? you had this face that was hard to not stare at, this voice that was hard to not listen to, and this kindness that was too good to me true—nat had never met anyone pretty girl who liked rock music, enjoyed horror movies, and was well, into her.

it scared the living shit out of her. and who could blame her? with the luck she has had, good things didn’t just fall into her lap and if they did, it came with a great price.

but her fear didn’t stop her, not for a while at least, not until senior year: six months before graduation.

by then you two were more than official, a year and half in, only her teammates, kevyn, and coach ben knowing of your relationship.

it was good—no, it was an amazing year and a half.

you made nat softer in the way you handled her, you tended to her in such a kind manner that she didn’t know existed so much she swore you invented it.

the way after a game you came to the locker room and brushed the sweaty hair out of her face, kissing her cheek tenderly and congratulating her on her wins and even her losing, you always said a loss is still win. you even brought her flowers—no one ever brought her flowers. you listened to her talk about whatever crazy theories she had of the world and where life would take her. she had told you when she was a kid she often dreamed of being an astronaut and she had never had anyone to tell that.

the way you laid her head on your shoulder when you two were up in your room, seated on your bed, watching a movie. or the way you made sure to tell her you loved her after every call. or the way you took her to lunch and paid without complaints that she never really had the funds. or the time you re-dyed her hair for her, listening to music and kissing her in the process.

—of course, somewhere along the lines you had learned about nat’s home life: her mother leaving, her father’s abuse, the shit-hole she lived in.

and for once, for once on this godforsaken earth, someone didint judge her. they didn’t see her as ‘burnout’ no, but instead you cleared one of your dresser draws and insisted she bring a haul of clothes to fill it as you prompted her to sneak in every night to stay at your place.

you hated the idea of natalie being anywhere near her father.

though, sometimes she had no choice but to go home, it was rare she did after the start of your relationship.

every night after your parents fell asleep nat climbed up to your window and rested her head without the worry of her father busting in and taking his anger out on her. hell, you even snuck the girl up some of your mom’s home-cooked breakfast when you could.

you had ignited a spark within nat that died a longtime ago in her mixed childhood.

it was liberating.

you had her doing things she didn’t know she was capable of, liking passing school, calling someone babe, waiting on someone’s calls.

but again, it also scared nat—and when nat got too scared it could and had led to stupid things.

she was happy, she truly was. but with graduation around the corner it returned a familiar bitter taste to her mouth. it returned a feeling of displacement into her bones.

yeah, nat was doing better with school with C’s and a few B’s, one D—but you were smart. really smart. she knew you would get into any school you wanted with no trouble. more specifically, NYU, the school you had been raving about all year. the school of your dreams. —she knew you would get one that school no problem, excel it, and be that big-time dancer you had dreams of being.

but natalie? she didn’t see herself in that type of environment. she damn sure couldn’t pay for it, let alone get a scholarship.

so, if you went off to NYU, where did that leave you two?

where did that leave her?

in her mind, it was clear there was tiny room, if any at all for her in your life after high school.

if her mind this is the price she had to pay for a good thing she had found.

heartbreak.

a deep heartbreak that left someone feeling like they were stranded in the middle of the sea on a makeshift raft with no food, water, or way out beside death.

“you going to lot’s party tonight?” kev questions as he passes the joint to nat, who leaned against the abandoned buildings wall.

“of course, i am. free booze and plus, lottie would kill me if i didn’t.”

“lottie’s hot. you think she’d be into me?”

natalie’s eyes shift.

travis martinez.

he was a new addition to her and kev’s world. he had transfer to WHS just three months ago and was nothing but trouble.

he was kicked from his last school for anything you could think of. drugs, fighting, vandalism—he even claimed to have spit on a cop once. finally, his parents got sick of it and thought moving would cure his ill behavior.

of course, kevyn drifted towards the troublemaker and invited him in with open arms.

nat didn’t care for him much, he was cool and didn’t cause any trouble in her life—but he was the true definition of a ‘burnout.’

she knew you didn’t like him, well, at all. especially after he got caught spray painting the school with kev—which, she knew you didn’t like the idea of kev much but you weren’t going to dictate who she hung out with. but travis? oh, you made it clear you didn’t like, saying how he had nothing going for him and nat didn’t need to be around him.

but, isn’t that the same thing people said about nat? so, she couldn’t judge him too much. but she also wouldn’t be stupid enough to do crimes with the boy.

“definitely not. don’t even try.

“cockblock.”

“i believe the correct term in this case is, pussy pauser.”

nat squints, “no one says that, kev.”

“they will one day. i’m gonna make it a trend.”

after, smoking a joint and breaking a few windows, nat had left kev and travis to their own at the building; she had promised she would help lottie set-up, saying she would just meet you when you got there due to the fact.

“your girls here,” tai signals to nat as they stood by the bonfire.

the party was more than buzzing by now, half the school there and drunk. people dancing, couples either making out or fighting, guys begging girls to dance or just outright fuck them.

nat’s eyes shift from the flames to you, who had already spotted as you seemed to be ditching your friends and walking into her direction, dress on your body, wide smile on your face.

“hey pretty girl.” you greet the blonde headed girl.

“hi.” she smiles.

“i missed you,” you utter. “becca and ash have been driving me crazy all day. they went and got new outfits all cause’ they hear jeff’s single now.”

she roll her eyes, “still don’t understand why you’re friends with those girls, you’re way too nice for them.”

“hey, they’re nice too…sometimes.”

again, she rolls her eyes. “you want a drink?”

“i would love one.”

you end up in lottie’s kitchen—you seated on the counter as nat pulls a solo cup from the stack she had set up on the counter earlier, she brings it to the keg and fills it halfway.

“what’d you do in our time apart?”

“went to a bando with kev and trav, smoked, busted a few windows then just helped lot,” she shrugs, taking a sip from her now re-filled cup.

“no trouble right?”

she smirks, “no, sheriff, no trouble.”

“shut up,” you push her shoulder playfully as she was leaned against the same counter you were seated on, beside you.

“i’m just making sure.”

“yeah, yeah. what about you? besides being tortured with becca and ash gawking over jeff.”

you snort, “studied and i, uh…i got my letter from NYU.”

nat’s stomach does a tiny rumble.

“holy shit, that’s amazing, babe. did you open it?”

“yeah…”

“anddd?”

you look down into your cup, around at the party, then to nat. a deep breath escapes you.

“i got in.”

“what?! jesus fuck, why didn’t you call? we gotta celebrate.”

“i don’t know…i was nervous, i didn’t wanna make a big deal.”

“a big deal? you got into your dream school.”

“so, you’re happy for me?”

taking a swig of her drink, “of course i am. why wouldn’t i be?”

“i…i don’t know, i guess it’s just the nerves.”

nat was happy for you. she was ecstatic even. she wanted nothing more than for you to be happy, for your dreams to come true. she wanted to to live out all your dreams and more. —she wanted to you sit down when you were like eighty and think to yourself that you did all you set out to do.

but fuck did she have an empty pit in her stomach about what was on the horizon for your relationship.

this image pounding in her head and you just breaking it off, riding off in your car as the sunset, onto go live your life at NYU and find someone who actually had more value than high school, more value than a small town.

“well, i’m happy for you. buttt, i did promise lot to help get more kegs to put out, i’ll be right back.”

that was the first time natalie had told you a lie.

lottie had more than enough kegs scattered around her house and lawn for people to drink up—natalie just needed to be away from you, away from the thoughts you made swim in her brain, the eerie-ness of familiar emptiness in her returning for the first time in a long time.

so as she left you to go find your friends, she were really off to go find kevyn, who was with travis, by some tree with a large bottle, a cigarette, and joint.

“hey, there she is! got tired of you rich friends?”

“shut up, kev.” sh easily swipes the bottle from his hand and takes a big gulp.

“there’s the nat i know, i was starting to think you were getting soft on me after you started dating that girl.”

she eyes him, drinking more, “that girl has a name.”

“wait, that hot girl you’re always with? like really hot.”

“don’t call her hot.” she barks at travis, who is seemingly shitfaced.

he puts his hands up in defense causing kevyn to laugh.

“nat’s super territorial.”

she ignores the comment, continuing to take rather larges gulps of the vodka.

“we’re gonna trash jeff’s car tonight.”

“why?”

“why not? he’s an asshole and deserves it.” kevyn barks out.

“yeah, his parents are like super rich. they find out it’s you and you’re done for.”

“i’m already done for. after high school im gonna work at some shithole and be miserable with a fat wife.”

“college?”

“oh please,” it travis’ turn to speak. “none of us are getting into college, we’re burnouts. not in the cards for us.”

“i hope that girl of yours isn’t getting it in your head that you’re going to college. you know you can’t afford that, nat.” kevyn bounces off travis’ un-hopeful words.

“nah, nah” she flags her hands. “nah, i’m not going to college.”

her heart was sinking deeper and deeper and she couldn’t get to the end of the bottle fast of enough.

“good. —i gotta take a piss i’ll be right back.” kevyn stumbles off, leaving nat and travis to their own by the tree.

“hey, save some of that bottle for us.”

“sorry, sorry.” she brings it from her lips, pushing it into the boy’s hand.

“—do you think i’m attractive?”

“what? ew—”

“no, no, not like that, i mean—i’m tryna’ get laid tonight but all these girls have like sticks up their ass.”

“maybe try to approach them like a human being instead of just asking if they wanna fuck.”

the boy laughs, “see, i tried the whole polite, can i get you a drink thing and still didn’t work.”

“well,” she pauses. “you’re not an ugly dude, might just be because you’re burnout.”

“soo, you think i’m attractive?”

“i just said you’re not ugly.”

again, a laugh escapes his lips, “you’re cute, nat.”

“what?”

“you’re not an ugly girl.”

“so? what—what is this? are you flirting with me?”

“maybe,” he shrugs, stepping closer. “i don’t know, man i’m drunk…i just…”

nat eyes him, she was definitely drunk from the big gulps of vodka she had taken down just minutes ago, her gaze hazy and body feeling lighter than normal—some of her feelings had been washed away, but still lingered deeply and heavily.

“are you really only interested in girls?”

“i mean, i like guys too but—i’ve got a girl right now.”

“that’s hot.”

“what? that i’ve got a girl?”

“nah, i mean, like that you like guys and girls.”

“thanks?”

travis’ eyes linger on nat for a moment, his eyes flicker from her eyes to her lips, back to her dazed eyes. —out of nowhere and swiftly he pulls her hand, crashing his lips into hers and for a split moment she can taste the cigarette on his lips mix with the alcohol on her’s before she pulls away.

her eyes are wide as she looks up at him, confused and somewhere repulsed but for some reason she goes back in again, kissing him hard and longer this time.

why the fuck was she doing this?

her mind was telling her to stop but her body seemed to be controlling itself all on it’s on.

the kiss becomes more aggressive as his hands grip her waist and she pushes him back into the tree. kevyn was long disappeared and she seemed to be engulfed with travis.

not for long though, maybe a few seconds or minutes, she was definitely too drunk and time had slowed but all she knows is when she hears it, the words, and who says the words she is immediately, somehow, sobered up.

“nat?”

she pulls herself from the clutches of the boy.

beautiful and yet so devastating, you stand there with the most heartbroken look she had even seen come across your face—come to think of it, that’s the first and only time she had seen that type of glint in your eyes, that type of shock and snare in your face.

you look like a flimsy paper that could blow away at the smallest motion of wind passing by.

“i—how could you? i—i thought…”

“y/n,” careful. “it’s not like that, i swear i would never—”

“never what, natalie? because it sure looks like that to me.”

“it wasn’t—it isn’t, i’m drunk and i was scared and sad and—”

“and so what? you cheat on me with him? with travis, really?”

“y/n, i promise you—”

by now you’re crying and it’s making natalie panic—she had never seen you cry before. not ever. and the fact that she was the reason for it right here, right now—

“i knew it, god, i am such an idiot. everyone told me—they told me to stay away from you, that you were bad news, but of course i didn’t listen,” you throw your hands up. “becca and ash told me you were no good and that you would hurt me, but fuck of course i went against that.”

“wait, becca and ash told you want? that i’m no good? when were you gonna tell me that?”

“it doesn’t even matter. we are done. this,” you point between you and her. “is over.”

“enjoy your burnout life, natalie.”

ouch.

natalie’s world was really crumbling, at least the on she built around you.

she never seen, let alone made you cry. she never seen you angry, that you definitely were right now, which was also at the hand of her. and you explicitly declared your relationship over—but most of all you had been mean to her—as childish as it sounds, you had said something that cut deep wounds all over her body, which was weird because when anyone else called her ‘burnout’ she shrugged it off, she had gotten used it. so, why, why in this moment when you said it did it feel the first time ever being hurt in her life when that was far from.

“yeah, well, enjoy your fairy tale at NYU. have fun fucking all those brainiacs and becoming a dancer.” that was definitely the alcohol talking but she couldn’t help it, she were now angry.

you stop in your track, turning back, nostrils flaring.

“that’s what this is about? NYU? i got into college and you didn’t? i knew you would react like this.”

“this isn’t about you getting into college! you’re gonna leave, y/n! you are going to leave where does that leave me, huh? laying on your couch, waiting for you to get home from class everyday for four years! there’s no future for us and you know it!”

crossing you arms, “there’s for future for us because you don’t want to have one! you’re not even going try? try to go to school? try to make something of yourself? helping you with grades was one thing, but i can’t make your life for you, natalie. i can’t decide where you are going to be for the rest of your life.”

she throws her hands up, stepping forward,

“no one’s asking you to.”

[dustslut]

ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ. tashi duncan x fem!reader

warning(s): cheerleader!reader, angst, mentions of cheating, arguing. barely proofread.

index: Well I was once willing to admit you're perfect

And now the words they stutter off my lips

note(s): this has been

in my drafts for so long

SWEAT DRY ON your body, cheer uniform complete with a hair bow, you moved with haste across the stanford campus ground; each step was a stomp and anyone who looked at you could see the furry practically oozing from your body. anyone who dared make eye contact with you being met with the bitchiest, harshest glare.

you didn’t even care, nor did you have the time to think about how you had left all your belongings, your change of clothes, your car keys—your whole practice bag on the football field where you had been practicing routines for last hour and a half. you had one thing and one thing on your mind only.

you reach forward with your right hand, flicking the latch to the tarnished metal gate that belonged to the tennis courts; flinging the entrance open you step in with nothing less than the stomps that got you here.

you eyes look back and forth, immediately landing on her.

she doesn’t see you yet, too occupied in beating her practice partner in the match they were in the middle of.

normally, you would never do this. you always sent a text, at least thirty minutes before showing up to her practice. you knew better than to interrupt her perfectionist time. but here, today, you could give a fuck less as you rush to bring your storm to her and her precious court.

still stomping, cutting through the courts in the middle of the other matches that seemed to be happening and somehow managing not to get hit by any flying tennis balls, you make it to her court and plant your feet right in front of the net.

her serve falters and the ball goes flying completely to the side, her eyes wide and grip still tight on the racket.

“are you crazy? i was about to hit that full force, you could’ve been hurt.”

“are you crazy?” you mock her words with even more venom in your tone.

“what are you doing here? and why—”

“what am i doing here? gee, i don’t know tashi maybe because you promised to pick me up from practice today! maybe because you promised i would get your time today!”

she turns her head to the side, biting her lip and twisting the racket in her hands.

tashi duncan.

the duncanator.

by herself she was obsessive, determined, avoidant, and some might say just an all around bitch. but with tennis, she was the world’s next star—the young prodigy who went to stanford, who was coming for serena williams’ title as the best female tennis player in the world. she was the girl who had an adidas brand deal that was one of many to come.

her talent was unmatched, determination even more insurmountable—her looks and sex were just a bonus.

that’s who she was to the world, but to you she was your neglectful girlfriend who constantly was late to dates with you because she were running tennis drills.

tennis. tennis. tennis

it always came back to tennis.

her tone dry and nonchalant, “can we not do this now?”

your eyes narrow and body language change, you’re in disbelief at her words.

“why? you don’t wanna do this in front of your boyfriend?” you refer to the boy who seemed to be getting most, if not all of her time lately.

art donaldson.

the boy hopelessly in love with your girlfriend and who terribly sucked at tennis.

“stop with your jealous bullshit—”

“my jealou—i told you, tashi. i told you what would happen next time you blew me off for tennis and him,” you point your finger at the boy who awkwardly stood on the other side of the net, head low and chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“i’m sorry i forgot, okay? drills ran late and i thought you’d still be at practice anyways.” she throws her hand up, letting it fall back down by her side.

she’s not even trying to act sincere.

“i told you practice was done at three-thirty! it’s almost five oclock! you didn’t even text or call! you’ve been doing this shit for months on end!” by now you’re full on yelling, catching the attention of the other students and tennis players who occupied the other courts.

swiftly, tashi strides forward, attempting to grab your arm but you pull away.

“y/n—”

“fuck off.” and just like you’re stomping away.

you don’t stop. you don’t turn, like you had done a many of times when arguing with tashi amongst her dorm. you don’t even stomp or run, you just walk.

you knew tashi wasn’t after you.

tashi wasn’t the type to run after you, make a scene, or beg for your affection.

part of you ached at the fact that she thought of you so lowly, her girlfriend—or ex-girlfriend for this matter—that she wouldn’t even call your name, she wouldn’t even show that she loves you. she didn’t make you feel wanted in the way you should in a relationship. she didn’t hold your hand in public. she didn’t kiss you in front of people. she didn’t call you sweet names like she sometimes did in the comfort of either of your rooms.

for a split second your mind drifts with the feelings, you can hear her voice going: “can you pass me the remote, hon?”

but even then, that was rare as well—to think of it, most times tashi wasn’t affectionate.

“woah, someone doesn’t look happy. you can’t cheer with tears in you—”

“fuck off, patrick.” you scoff at the boy who so conveniently and annoyingly crossed paths with you on the campus sidewalk.

“this must be serious, you didn’t even try to hit me.” patrick refers to the many of times you have slapped him for this reckless mouth.

you don’t know why tashi associates with patrick, but you can say you tolerate him more than art because unlike his clueless best friend, he wasn’t in love with tashi—though he really wanted to fuck her.

but it’s patrick—he wants to fuck anything that moves.

“we’re not fucking friends, patrick. you don’t need to talk to me just because we both know tashi.”

“you know,” he holds his hands to his chest. “i’m hurt. i thought of you as my friend, and not just because you’re dating tash—”

“i am not dating tashi.” the words angrily fall off your tongue, so fast you barely have time to register what you are saying.

his face changes, something unreadable but sly and predictable.

“you.. broke up?”

you eye him, mouth pursed.

your mind had to be racing at a hundred miles per-hour. left, right, side to to side was tashi. the argument you just had. the things leading to this point. how you need to get your belongings before someone ransacked it and found your car keys, taking your rather expensive car your dad had brought you for your own.

your mouth opens and closes more times than you can count, your eyebrows are narrowed so hard it could create wrinkles in your face instantly, and your hands are clutched in fist at your side as you stare at the boy.

his question echoing in your mind; “you broke up?”

it hadn’t registered at all what you had just done.

“i told you what would happen next time you blew me off for tennis and him”

prior to today, last week you and tashi had been bickering—less than an argument but more than a disagreement—and you had told her she had one more chance to leave you out to dry like a towel rack for tennis or art donaldson and that would be the last of your year-and-a-half-relationship.

you knew in your mind that this would happen, you didn’t think so soon, but still you knew—in your heart you hoped that tashi would break down her walls, get on her knees and tell you that you’re more important than tennis or her so-called prodigy she were working on it—but it’s clear now more than ever who were on their knees and who had been all this time.

you knew you always loved tashi more than she loved you but you didn’t think this much.

tashi duncan put a whole new meaning to the term ice cold.

you didn’t know what to say or think—

you had broken up with tashi.

this was real.

—by now, your body was shaking in a way you don’t even realize.

“okay,” patrick slowly but surely brought his hand up to touch your shoulder. “i know you like the last person you want to be around but i think you should sit down.. maybe take a breath?”

mindlessly, you follow the boy’s lead as he guided you to the near by bench, a worried glint in his eyes you fail to realize.

in this moment, your adrenaline pushed by anger had fizzled out and something took place—a feeling of displacement and emptiness you couldn’t describe, the thought of tashi bouncing around in your head like a tennis ball. (all pun intended.)

“so…you two broke up? i mean—she broke up with—”

“i broke up with her.” you say sharply.

“over art?”

you whip your head towards him, eyes sharp. “what do you mean?”

“i mean, it’s no secret he’s so in love with tashi he’s willing to wear a damn collar for her. he’ll do anything to spend time with her and it seems like they’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

“yeah, well, you know tashi. nothing is more important than anything that involves tennis and she thinks she can turn him into a superstar.”

patrick chuckles with a scoff, “art is good but he’s no superstar…he’s no tashi duncan.”

“and you?”

“me?” he shrugs. “i just like winning. tashi’s hot, don’t get me wrong, but she ruins anyone she touches.”

“i mean, look at you, look at art.”

you squint and pause for second—you hesitate.

“do you—do you think something’s going on between them?”

patrick purses his lips and for the first time you see the boy genuinely hesitate before saying something—and he never hesitated to open that big, annoying mouth of his.

his eyes seem like doe when he looks at you, than away into the view of the campus’ courtyard that was wide, open, and green with perfect grass and trees. filled with other students in their own bubble and wrapped in stanford clothing.

you can’t believe you’re actually sitting down with patrick zweig, let alone having a conversation with him—scratch, let alone crying in front of him and inquiring about tashi to him, because well, what could he possibly know about her that you don’t?

“y/n,” he said carefully in a way that makes you uneasy and unsure.

he opens his mouth but a voice that comes from behind you two, from behind the bench, speaking before he can—a voice both of you know all too well.

“why the fuck are you talking to my girlfriend?” sharp and ruthless.

in the same motion, you and patrick whip both your heads around. your eyes are narrowed and sharp, the anger beginning to rise again instantly and reclaim its front seat in your car of emotions. patrick however seems to claim his signature smug look, yet something unreadable behind his eyes that he so carefully tries to hide; turning his body away from the girl, he places his arm out on the bench behind you and opens his legs to manspread as if he’s getting comfortable in front of a tv.

“speak of the devil.” he utters.

“get up.” she demands and you’re not sure who she’s talking to.

“don’t be so dramatic, tashi. we’re just talking. don’t worry, i don’t think y/n would fuck me even if i tried. and believe me i would love to—“

your eyes shift between them, you watch carefully as tashi’s eyes seemed to be trying to kill patrick all on their own—his back facing her as he didn’t bother to look at her, seeming fed up with even the idea of her.

“why are you talking to patrick?” she doesn’t even look at you when she speaks: still trying to kill the boy with her eyes. burning holes into the back of his head.

“why do you care.” it comes off more of a statement than a question.

“yeah, why do you care, tashi?”

“don’t you have something better to do, like getting your dick sucked behind some trashcan?”

“don’t you have something better to do?” patrick’s words imply something that you can’t depict.

they seem to be having their own conversation that you can’t understand.

“get up.” finally she looks at you, her eyes cutting into yours—her words even more sharp in demand.

you purse your lips and turn your head away. you’re so used to listening to tashi. you always did what she said, went where she wanted—but now you had no reason to.

“you’re so fucking demanding, tashi.” before you can even open your own mouth, patrick scoffs out his own words.

you’re sure tashi is about to open the tennis bag that slung on her shoulder and take a rack out, and beat the shit out of patrick with it by the demeanor that takes over not only her face but whole body.

“and you’re so fucking pathetic, patrick. you actually think you’re going to have a career in tennis, you have better shot with a handgun in your mouth.”

he chuckles, finally looking up at her—directly in her eyes. “and what about art?”

“he’s got a chance at one of those fancy adidas brand deals?”

“yeah. more than you.”

“oh right, i forgot, he’s got the duncanator as his coach now. he’s gonna be a big time wilson whore.” (easily one of the best lines i’ve ever written.)

“you know what, this fucking conversation is pointless. you are pointless, patrick. y/n, get up and let’s go. now.”

she demands it like she owns you.

like she’s two seconds away from dragging you away herself.

you feel stuck in place. conflicted and complacent. part of you wants to listen to her demands—it wants to run back into her arms and be second place on her shelf. you were so stupidly in love with tashi it could lead you to death at times. but than, the other part of you—the part of you that has had an endearing reality check about your relationship wants to tell her to fuck off, or better yet just scream at her.

but you do nothing, you just stare at her—right into her eyes and you attempt to get past the deadness of them.

silence has long taken over and it began to be a questions of who would break first.

patrick was far amused, wondering if he would see tashi duncan break.

he watches carefully, eyes averting back and forth. tashi’s face was scrunched up in annoyance and something else he couldn’t read, her mouth pursed tight and her tongue poked to the side of her right cheek. her eyes didn’t dare look away from yours, they were almost deadly like medusa’s. you however looked like a baby deer caught in headlights, eyes soft and a little wide, yet they held this fire behind them that threatened to rise. your jaw was clenched in a way you could almost see your teeth gritting together from the inside out.

—for the first time, you really look at tashi. not the tennis player, nor the girl who bravely and nonchalantly asked for your number one night at a frat party—but tashi, tashi duncan. you see the look in her face, the creases that formed from anger, the glint in her eyes that suggested a sense of control, or lack of it—or want for it. there was so much anger and fire in her, but you couldn’t find the love—you couldn’t find the thing you held so deeply for her, you couldn’t find the thing keeping you fighting for this relationship.

words fly out your mouth before you know:

“do you even love me, tashi?”

patrick’s body language shifts, moving slightly back, he feels something personal in the air that even he didn’t want to witness.

“what are you talking about? you wanna have this conversation here?”

your lips purse, “look at you. look at how your looking at me…”

“how am i looking at you?”

“like you want to control me, not console me.”

a flare of air exhales from her nose and she pinches the bridge of it, “can we just go back to my room?…please?”

“i—” you mouth opens and closes.

why can’t she just say she loves you, or a simple yes to your question.

your mind started to stir again: what was wrong with you?

“tashi!” all three of your heads’ turn.

art was jogging on the sidewalk, bag on his shoulder and he held something in his hand.

you roll your eyes, along with patrick but you don’t see with your body turned away from him.

“you forgot your phone.” he catches up to the tense space that was surrounding you.

swiftly she takes it, a quiet thanks leaving her mouth.

your eyes shift between the boy and you ex-girlfriend. than you stare at patrick who’s head was low.

“are you coming or not?”

“jesus christ! i can’t watch this anymore—” patrick’s frustration being let out with a huff.

“pat, come on…it’s none of our business.” art speaks.

“it is our business, it really is when you’re,” he points to tashi.

“fucking him,” he points to art.

“and i know about it.”

seemingly, if even possible, your world comes crashing down even more—ears ringing, eyes shifting quickly between the three people surrounding you. it felt like your senses were heightened and every suspicion you had ever had about the woman you laid with had come true.

everytime she blew you off, every text she ignored from you, her un-affectionate, the way she had become meaner the last few months.

things started to subtract and be added.

this.

this was it.

all you’ve known was not something you could blame on insecurity or jealousy, but the truth.

tears start forming and you exhale a large breath. you expect yourself to start sobbing right then and there, but oddly you feel yourself laugh as the wetness takes over your cheeks.

“god,” you exhale a deep breath, batting your eyes to tashi.

“you’re pathetic.”

contagiously you laugh more as well as cry more.

“you are so fucking pathetic, tashi. i mean, really? art?” you throw your hands in the direction of the boy.

patrick can’t help but snort at the notion.

“look at you, tashi!” you voice raises as you stand from the bench.

“you’ll never have the control you want.”

p.s. bring challengers

back to life lol

[dustslut]

i can’t tell yall how many times someone has stolen a story/concept from me bruh. 💀

[dustslut]

currently working on texan!reader x cowgirl!ellie… let’s just say i’m excited for this one

[dustslut]

why is like.. every single fandom dead now ?

[dustslut]

ʟᴏɴᴅᴏɴ’ꜱ ᴄᴀʟʟɪɴɢ. ᛪ༙. jenna ortega x singer!fem!reader

warning(s): angst. mentions of break ups. mentions of reader having a past drug addiction. arguing. cigarettes. etc etc etc

index: in which, your relationship with jenna is on the rocks and you fly all the way to london to try and make it right.

note(s): it’s a long one so buckle in lol.. definitely will be multiple parts to this, it’s a series i’ll link the masterslist when i make one

ib; london’s calling by

plvtinum

THE SUN SHINED, making your face feel warm and fuzzy. your head turned to the side, as your body seated in the black metal chair that had a colored cushion to make it more comfy and fancy looking. you eyes narrowed amongst the city view, and cigarette smoke was taking over your atmosphere.

you still remember your first ever visit to london. you were only fifteen and had sold over millions of copies of your debut, teen-pop, album. you remember the flashing lights of the foreign press that yelled questions at you, that you barely had time to register, let alone answer. the sea of foreign fans, some accompanied by overwhelmed parents.

the way security pushed anyone who got too close. you also remember your manager, scooter, by your side; detailing the first show of your first ever tour. how you would stop to rehearsal first, then check out the stadium, then check into your first ever five star hotel.

you felt so cool back than, overwhelmed, but still, cool. you were only fifteen living the dreams of millions of people, young and old. you had a taste of money, admiration, and hate—the world was all around you and at your finger tips at once.

but just like everything else in the world, the fame, the success, came with its cons.

the type of cons that took away that cool feeling, yet left the overwhelming one.

because here you were, twenty-two and in london but none of it felt the same. you were tired and your body was a little more frail. your heart was heavy, and your mind dragged on. sometimes you wish you’d chose something simple like a doctor or a teacher because maybe then you wouldn’t be where you were now.

in london on the verge of a break up, in six months of recovering from addiction, and other issues brought on by your position in spot light. and it’s not like you weren’t grateful—you were more than grateful to have a enough money to do just about whatever you wanted, but the things people said about and to you. the people who pretended to care about you to get closer to that money. the schedules that didn’t care if you were tired or not.

it’s just a lot. especially when you’ve been dealing with it for so long, eventually you start to break down at some point; because well, you’re only human.

“you’re in london, in a nice ass hotel—one of thee best hotels in london to be correct, and instead of enjoying it, you’re sulking on the balcony, smoking a cigarette.”

you roll your eyes at the voice that seemed to agitate you the moment you heard it, “fuck off.”

“easy tiger,” dom, your best friend and personal assistant steps out onto the balcony, taking a seat next to you.

“i’m just trying to cheer you up, i mean, if she hasn’t responded then she hasn’t responded. what can you do abou—”

“i’m going to her filming studio later.” you say, confidently and a little absent minded.

“y/n, i don’t wanna get in your relationship bullshit but don’t you think that’ll just make her more mad? i mean, that’s her job and—”

you huff, snapping your head in his direction; “i don’t know what else to do! i called her from not only my phone, your phone, but the hotel’s phone too.”

“she won’t answer.” your voice becomes a little quiet, sad desperation taking over your tone.

“and i texted her like a million times…”

“come dude,” he places a hand on your shoulder.

“she’ll come around…let’s just try to at least enjoy some of london while we’re here.”

you purse your lips, eyes going from the view to his pleading eyes, back to the view. your shoulders drop from their tense position, and you take one last huff of the just-about-done cigarette.

“fine.”

“yay! i have a bus tour of the city booked for us already!”

you roll your eyes, this time in humor at the man’s antics.

you both abandon your positions on the balcony, going back inside to your hotel room big enough for an entire family to live, with its own wide living room that included a coffee table, a loveseat and a couch. a kitchen, a bathroom, and of course the bedroom occupied by a king size bed.

that was all for you.

dom’s room, that connected to yours by door was the same, minus the balcony you acquired.

once you both catch a shower, and get a change of clothes you’re already out onto the foreign streets. another cigarette already in your hand with dom’s complaining voice to go along with it.

“eugh, i can’t stand the smell of those.”

“yeah, well look around we’re in europe. everybody’s got a cig in their mouths; even the kids.” you point at a group of teenagers near by, in view of your shade-covered eyes, who seemingly were all sharing a cigarette.

“yeah, they’re over there. away from me and my space, you’re right next to me, blowing that directly in my direction.”

you purse your lips, looking at him for a moment before deciding not to be a complete dick and put it out using the side of a building.

“thank you.”

“you’re wel—”

“y/n!” your name was shouted by some lady who now stood in front of you, phone in hand with the camera app open.

“picture! please?!”

“of course,” you throw on a smile and taking her phone, handing it to dom, who quickly snapped the photo.

the woman didn’t even bothering to say goodbye or thank you, she just ran off all smiley.

“remind me again why we have no security with us, miss international, grammy winning, pop star.”

“because i’m here on vacation. not business.”

“no,” his word drags out. “you’re here trying to fix things with your girlfriend, or is it ex-girlfriend? to be honest i’m confused.”

“well, she didn’t explicitly say we’re over so…i’m hoping it’s still girlfriend.”

he stays silent, continuing to walk beside you, in his own mind worried for you.

in your mind, all you could think about was your last conversation with your supposed girlfriend. the way she screamed through the phone, the way you yelled back. the way she called you an asshole and said you weren’t making time for the relationship or her. the way you called her a bitch and accused her of the same neglect.

the way you could hear her crying through the phone, while you held back your own tears. the way she hung up the phone. and now she wouldn’t answer your texts, or your calls from any other number.

—you had to see her.

if there was one thing you couldn’t lose, or if there was anything good about the spotlight you were in; it was her. that’s how you met her after all, on some red carpet to promote some movie you definitely hadn’t seen or heard of, but your PR team suggested it’d be great for publicity for your new single. she just so happen to be seated at your table for the pre-view screening and the rest was history.

you couldn’t believe that was almost three years ago.

time seemed to be going fast, and not in your favor as these last few months of your fleeting relationship had proved.

you thought your plan to show up to the studio she’s filming at would help. it would show her you really cared, that you flew all the way out here just to make things right with her. but maybe dom was right, maybe it is a bad idea. after all, you two made it a point to try hard as possible to keep the career aspect out of your relationship, wanting things to just feel normal with each other—to be each other’s escape.

than again, this seemed like it was the only choice to get to her.

and that was more than a risk you were willing to take just to talk to her.

“that was so much fun! wasn’t it so much fun? it was so much fun!” dom cheerfully (and annoyingly) exclaimed to you as he stepped off the bus with the help of the tour guide.

you, stepping off right after him: “yes, so much fun.”

“don’t be an asshole! you know i love when we come to london.”

“you only love when we come to london because according to you, everyone guy on grindr here looks like a member of one direction.”

he scrunches his face, “not true…i love the food too.”

you snort, turning back to the man who just gave you guys the tour and hand him a hundred dollar bill.

“where to now? you wanna pick or—”

“how about,” you pull more crisp bills form your wallet, not caring about the amount.

“you go find a hot guy, take him shopping or out to dinner and i go handle my business.”

“you’re so not bribing me right now.”

“i, so, totally am.” you flash a wide smile.

he eyes the money in your hand, then the city, then directly into your sunglasses-covered eyes.

“you’re lucky i know there’s no way i’m stopping you.” he take the money form

your had and your smile wides even more.

“have fun.”

“yeah, yeah” he flags you off, turning to make his way down the sidewalk into the busy city.

you turn your body in the opposite direction, following the trail of ‘quiet’ cafes and small flower shops—which, you make it a point to stop at one of said flower shops, purchasing a rather large bouquet that came wrapped in brown paper with white string tied in a bow around it.

as you walked down the sidewalk, now on a mission to find a cab you got a few stares and even someone shouted ‘i love your music!’ at you. some people even stopped you for photos, not a lot, well besides a group of seemingly college kids that stopped you.

two boys and one girl. one guy was brunette, while the other was blonde, and the girl had pale pink hair.

“ay, mate, can we grab a picture?” the brunette guy speaks up, his accent thick and smooth.

“please? we came to your chicago show a few years back and it was just awesome!” the blonde cheerfully exclaimes, his accent just a broad and just as understandable.

the girl nods her head, “your breakout album is our favorite of all time.”

your eyebrows go up in shock, your breakout album was your second album. released only when you were seventeen and it was a smash hit, just as your first. you’d never admit to the public, but you didn’t enjoy making that album. the label made it clear they were looking for a certain teen-pop sound and that’s just what it was.

you weren’t allowed to write any of the songs on the album, despite being credited for almost all of them. the hours for rehearsals were so brutal and the stupid outfits they made you wear on tour—

“oh, breakout? yea, that was one of my favorites to make!”

“you have,” the brunette drags his words out, emphasizing the have and talking with his hands. “to do an eras tour like taylor swift, i would love to see you perform that album again.”

“yeah, how come you never perform anything from that album? like you did with mind of mine?” the blonde refers to your very first album.

now that one, mind of mine, you did enjoy making.

you were so naive, young, and new to the whole music industry that it was fun. you were allowed to write some songs, obviously they were polished by real writers, but still fifteen year old you got to take you cheesy love songs about your first significant other to the booth; and eventually shown to the whole world.

again, you liked the attention you got. the money you got. everyone from you hometown who laughed and doubted you when you said you wanted to be a singer whenever the teacher would ask “why do you want to be when you grow up?” were now being proved wrong.

—it was just an all around nostalgic album and era for you, before all you bad stuff leaked in and it became a job instead of a dream.

“oh, you know i’ll have to talk to my team about an eras tour—but, how did you guys wanna take the pictures? group or?”

you end up taking individual pictures with each of them, then one group one where the blonde holds the phone up, as he seemed to be the tallest. you bid your goodbyes and quickly find a cab, where luckily the driver didn’t recognize you nor was a fan, making it easier to get the location you so desperately needed to get to.

the hotel you had booked for you and dom was only five minutes from the filming studio; you know this because you had checked prior to even booking the rooms or flights, assuming once you got here you would call your girlfriend and she would agree to meet-up. which, you would surprise her with flowers and all the fighting would just go away.

but it’s clear now that it wasn’t that simple, the cab being twenty minutes from the studio; which wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t five minutes.

you were just anxious and antsy. you were really starting to miss the woman you laid by almost every night. you could barely sleep last night, wishing she were there to rub your back gently as she always did because she knew how much it helped you fall asleep. you missed the smell of her hair, eating breakfast with her, showing her new songs you’d been working on.

your heart became more heavy, aching at more than just the bitterness that filled your relationship lately; but now at the fact that you could loose all the sweetness that contained between you two…that is if you already haven’t.

—the car comes to a halt causing you blink your flying thoughts away.

again, you pull more bills from your wallet as if they grew off a tree, and hand the man at least two hundred dollars before exiting the vehicle.

your heart is beating so fast and loudly it fills your hearts. your palms are sweaty, and your whole body seems to be gently shaking in anxiety. but still, somehow you feet moving forward, people scattered around as they worked on the rather expensive, multi-building set. you seemed fit in as everyone around seemed to be stressed out, running around as they communicated through their headsets.

ok, so you definitely didn’t think this through.

you’re here but you have no idea which set she were at, as they were other shows or movies being filmed in each building.

you sigh, pulling you phone from you back pocket—as soon as you unlock it, the screen is already open to your messaging app.

J❤️

june 15, 2025

12:01 AM

i literally don’t wanna talk to u

you’re acting like this is only fault

you don’t call me all day unless you wanna use my driving service, maybe ppl are right and you’re just using me for money and fame lol

are you serious right now?

i call you all the time but you’re too busy in the studio to answer remember?

june 25, 2025

7:45 AM

you’re ignoring me now?

june 25, 2025

10:09 AM

i went out last night, didn’t see your text

cool.

how’s london?

read 2:13 PM

you scroll, reading for a moment, everything was just arguments or short conversations, then just you practically begging for her to answer your calls. which, you thought sure as some point they would turn green but no, you knew she was definitely getting them but they were all very much blue and said delivered under them.

you contemplated on trying to call her for a second, then you typed and untyped a few text.

you hadn’t realized how long you had been standing in the same spot until some tapped on your shoulder, to which you looked up from your phone.

“yes?”

“uhm…are you supposed to here?”

you pause for a second, your guys going over the guys face. you knew just because you were a big star everyone wasn’t supposed to recognize you, or know who you were, but you gotta admit your ego was a little bruised the cab driver didn’t recognize you, now this crew member too; but nonetheless you digress.

you had bigger things to worry about.

“can you tell me where they’re filming the netflix shows?”

“uhm, you don’t have a badge and i’m not supposed tell—“

you sigh, placing the flowers between your arm and your side so you could pull your wallet from your pocket, in turn was your last two, hundred dollar bills that you indeed mindlessly pull out and wave in front of his face.

“i just need to know which studio number.”

“twelve.” he points straight ahead before easily taking the cash, and getting out of your face.

that should not have been as easy as it was. you thought.

like genuinely, what if you were some crazed fan who wanted to hurt a star or something?

but, good thing you weren’t.

you were just some dumb person in love and trying to save your relationship.

it was a straight walk. a short one runway walk that you could take and be okay: is what you kept telling yourself as you looked forward to the building that had a big white twelve, in bold font painted onto the concrete in front of it.

it should be just that simple, so why were your feet still planted? why did it feel like your hands were so sweaty that would loose the tight grip around the brown paper of the flowers? why did the ringing in your ears that managed to go away for a split second suddenly come back, and louder?

what if she breaks up with you? what if she already had? doubt started to leak into your mind and somewhere inside you wished you were with dom right now, on one of his stupid vacation quest.

but you had made it all the way here, all the way in london, and you couldn’t pussy out now.

step by, slow step, you move your feet. you breathing in shaking and uneven; and you keep switching the flowers from your left to right hand, but still you managed to make it.

you there right in front of one of the many entrances.

all you had to do was open it, go inside, apologize and give her the flowers.

it was sooo easy.

fuck this. i’m y/n y/l/n. i’ve traveled the world and performed in front of millions of people. you try to soothe yourself inside your mind.

i can open this door and talk to one girl.

one, single, girl.

in one motion your swing the entrance open; staff running around, tables of treats and coffee, stunt doubles, extras, all took up the scene. no camera was rolling, everyone either seemed to be getting ready for one or just in between a take.

you hadn’t spotted anyone you knew yet, nor her or at least of her co-workers/friends that you had met on many occasions for things like dinner and karaoke nights.

your eyes searched, so many people swarmed around you weren’t sure which direction to go—not until you spot her co-star and friend, a girl you had met more than anybody else your girlfriend worked beside and befriended.

as if on cue, her eyes land on you, meeting yours as you stare at her; hopelessly, like a dear caught in headlights.

her eyes go wide, and she excuses herself from a stage crew she were in a conversation with.

“y/n? what are you doing here?” she quickly clears her throat, changing her tone. “i mean, i thought you were in LA.”

“hi, emma…i came to talk to her.” you ignore her failed attempt at hiding her obvious dismay for you.

she blinks, “all the way in london?”

you purse your lips, “can you just tell me where she is? i’m not here to start any problems, i just wanna have a conversation with my girlfriend.”

you watch the way her face slightly changes when the word girlfriend leaves your lips.

you’ve never had a problem with emma, because well, why would you? she was one of your girlfriends closest friends, along with being her co-star. whenever she came over to your shared apartment you two shared conversations about film, and mostly other art things. Or anything related to the industry for that matter. in all, you wouldn’t exactly consider her your own friend but she also wasn’t a complete stranger.

but right now?

she were really starting to irritate you.

she goes to open her mouth but it immediately closes it and her eyes narrow, trailing to something or better yet someone that appeared to come in view behind you. tension appeared all over her body langue and you knew exactly who were in stride behind you, you could also hear the clicking of heels.

immediately you turn, now face to face with the girl who held a unreadable look on her face but a clear hollow gaze in her eyes.

“what are you doing here?”

ok, maybe you deserve that but ouch.

“can we talk? in private?” you watch as her gaze seems to travel over your body to the flowers that you were holding onto for dear life in some attempt to soothe your overbearing anxieties.

you really needed a cigarette right now.

she doesn’t say anything, not a word she just turns on her heels and is striding off to where she came from; you assume she’s signaling you to follow her so you do so.

your body seemed to be on fire and your head rushing, you were feeling so many things you felt you could just explode from your nervous system overloading. a part of you was hurt, and a part was angry; and there was was another part of you that was scared.

her lack of affection framed things in a way that you did not like. she didn’t touch you, not a hug or a kiss—hell, she didn’t even take the time to say anything to you, you would’ve rather she’d started ripping you apart off-bat rather than just “what are you doing here?”

and now she has you on her tail like some lap dog? you knew you had a part to play in the way things were going between you two but it takes two to tango—she’s not all innocent.

but you didn’t have time to point fingers and state your grievances—what if she didn’t want to talk at all? what if she were just taking you somewhere private to break your heart and give you back the rather very expensive promise ring you had given her a few months ago?

you can see it now in your head, you going to hand her the flowers before even talking, her rejecting them and placing the diamond ring in your hand before telling you she’s had a enough.

fuck.

“are you just going to stand there or come in?”

“huh?” you snap from your thoughts, seemingly face to face with the girl who were holding open her trailer door open for you.

“my bad.” you utter, stepping up the tiny steps.

you eye her set up, it were mostly clean besides the ash tray laid on the table pairing with a half empty bottle of red wine.

“jenna—”

“what are you doing in london, y/n? let alone my studio.” her arms cross over her chest.

“i came to see you. you weren’t returning my calls or answering my text, i even called your manager and he wouldn’t take my call; and i know how much scott loves me,” you point your finger.

“maybe because all we’ve been doing is arguing and the last time i called you, you called me a bitch,” she throws her hands up.

“or more specifically a selfish bitch!” her voice slightly raises and your drop your head, eyeing her shoes.

“i came to apologize. i didn’t come to fight.”

her mouth opens and closes, she purses her lips and you take the opportunity to continue to speak, lifting your head back up.

“jenna, i—look, i could say a lot of shit right now. i could point out all the things that you’re doing to hurt me, i could say some shitty apology, i—i came here because i don’t want to lose you.”

“i know, i know i spend too much time out partying or in the studio or whatever—and i ignore your calls, i—too be honest i don’t know what’s gotten into me or what’s happening to us but fuck, i can’t lose you.”

you voice cracks slightly, throat burning from the tears that were threatening to come from your eyes.

silence drags as she once again opens and closes her mouth, pursing her lips. it scared you. she had never been this unreadable before. normally you could tell what she was thinking just by the blink of an eye but, right now? in this moment? she were so closed off, standing far and her arms crossed.

she were treating you like she barely knew you and it was breaking your heart.

maybe dom was right.

maybe this whole thing was a bad idea.

“i have a question…and i need you to not get mad when i ask it.”

you shake your head, “okay.”

“i need you to answer honestly,”

you shake your head once more.

“did you—have you relapsed?”

you body jerks, eyes squinting in disbelief.

you remember the first time you ever tried a drug. you were sixteen and hanging around other celebrities, some way to old to be conversing with you but it was a grammy after party, what could you expect?

you were hanging around bodies like kanye west, justin bieber, ariana grande, and anyone else you could think of who belonged in that scene.

you don’t remember exactly how it happened but you ended up smoking weed for the first time that night—and it kind of stuck with you as you bounced through interviews and moved through cities on tour. it started off slow, just a joint before an interview to calm your nerves, no one knew besides dom, he sometimes smoked with you and was sure to keep eye drops on him at all times. then when you went on tour, it became two after a show.

eventually, weed wasn’t enough and somewhere along the lines you started experimenting with harder stuff like pills and powdered white substances. and no one knew, not even dom.

not until one fated night when dom had found you laid out on your penthouse living room floor and seizing.

that was only the start—you begged dom to keep it secret, manipulating him with things like what it could do to your career if it ever got out. you told him you had it under control and you were getting help, which was more than a lie at the time.

you struggled for years.

you would read the awful things people would say about you for hours on end, to the point where it consumed you and than you would turn to substances just to soothe the pain it brought.

it became a cycle that went on and on. even after you had started seeing jenna. though, you made sure to keep it a secret from her as long as you could.

until she was the one who found you, this time you were on your bedroom floor. she had just gotten off the lax and wanted to surprise you, using her spare key to get into your penthouse.

it wasn’t easy but you got clean—for yourself first, but for her second.

“jenna, what the fu—no!”

“don’t start yelling at me.”

“i’m not yelling, but why the fuck would you ask me that? are you serious right now? i told you i’d never do that again! to you or myself.”

she holds her hands up, “you can’t blame me for asking, y/n. you started staying out late like you used to. you stopped answering my calls…i’m—i was worried.”

you drop your body weight onto the couch, tossing the flowers on the table and dropping your head into your hands before looking up at her.

“i—i—i’ve just been working. i can’t say i haven’t about thought it, i mean fuck it’s hard not to see what people say. but i made a promise to myself and to you.”

she moves, sitting on the couch across from you.

“so, what’s happening to us, y/n?” she sounds deflated.

“i don’t know, jenna. i really don’t.”

she doesn’t say anything and silence drags long this time. you stare at her and she stares at you, her eyes averting to things around the trailer than back to you, than back around her. she keeps pursing her lips and hesitating. you have nothing left to say, fighting to the urges to move around the tiny coffe table that divided you two and just have her hold you tight—because well, you really needed it more than anything right now.

“y/n, i love you, i can’t deny that,”

you blink, your body language careful. you were almost scared to move. it felt like eggshells and glass surrounded you and any sudden movement would shatter everything.

“but i think we need a break from each other.”