Cooper Koch For Vman Magazine

everything is loud. too loud. the sound of drew’s voice rising, the screech of the kettle, the slam of cabinets — it all starts to blur together into a cacophony that pounds against penny’s temples like a war drum. she sits frozen on the couch, arms still wrapped tight around her legs, like they’re the only thing keeping her from flying apart at the seams. she wants to respond. she wants to scream, to cry, to match the chaos that’s suddenly unraveled between them. but instead, her brain short-circuits. everything inside her is pulling in different directions — heart, logic, rage, love, grief — until it feels like her whole body is ringing. a bomb, seconds from detonation. her eyes flutter shut, tight. she forces herself to breathe — in, out, again — but it doesn’t help. it only reminds her of the weight in her chest, the ache that hasn’t left her since drew walked out two weeks ago, since she vanished without explanation and left penny piecing herself back together in silence. and now she’s here, tearing through the flat like a storm, knocking things loose with every breath. the kettle screams. not yet boiling over, but close. it’s the only sound she can actually hear now. she opens her eyes, slowly, and for a moment, she doesn’t look in the direction of drew — she can’t. instead, she stares at the floor. at the space between them. at everything unsaid that’s managed to grow roots in the middle of the room. then, her voice. barely above a whisper at first. "right." she lifts her gaze, finally meeting drew’s, standing in the kitchen and something in her expression has gone terrifyingly still — not cold, but stripped. bare. tired in a way that doesn't sleep off. "so what are we doing here, then?" her voice wavers slightly, but the words are clear. a quiet tremor beneath the strength. "what is this? what are we still doing if all we ever do is circle back to the wreckage?" she stands slowly, her movements deliberate, but her body betrays the storm inside — a tremble in her hands, a twitch at her jaw. "i keep telling myself we’re fighting for something. that there’s still something good buried underneath the damage, underneath everything. that the mere thought of me forgiving you .. letting you back in .. trying to trust you again .. that it can all be worth it." her throat tightens. “but if all we have left is guilt and love and pain, if that’s all we know how to hand each other — if every room we enter together ends up on fire — then i need to know…” her voice catches, but she pushes forward, fierce and fragile all at once. "what the hell are we doing here?" silence answers first. the kettle whines behind her like it's in mourning. "because if this is just habit," she whispers, "if this is just grief and ghosts and some sick pattern we’re too afraid to break — then maybe we should admit it. maybe we should finally say that love... just isn't enough." she doesn’t cry this time. maybe she’s cried it all out. maybe she’s holding her breath too tight to let it fall. all she knows is that she’s standing in the eye of the storm, asking the one question that might finally undo them both.

"i don't know how many times i can say it." drew finally snaps. after penny's heartfelt confession, she can hardly keep it in. a thread within her severs. the last sliver of rope pulling taut and creaking until it unravels entirely. she's chewed on penny's words, tasted their bitterness and digested them. but as tensions rise, the bile comes up right along with it. all she can do is expel her boldest, innermost thoughts. "i'll be here, okay? i'll stay. i know i've fucked up. do you just like -- do you get off hearing me admit it?" drew circles the counter to create considerable space between herself and penny. the physical divide is certainly representative of the one that is blurring the line between them. the greatest point of contention between the two of them. penny's anxieties and drew's tendencies to toe the line between wanting to fix things and wanting to be free. it's not fair for either of them to be on this see-saw of opposition. then why can neither of them get off the ride? it may seem like drew is completely disregarding all of penny's concerns, that each and every syllable goes in one ear and right out the other. but they hadn't. instead every word ricochets off the walls of drew's mind like an idle dvd screen. and when one thought hits the corner of her brain, a new thought pops off. "obviously this all still matters to me, i wouldn't come back here with my tail between my legs every time if it didn't. we're both fucking battered and burdened. you're upset over what i did and what i continue to do. and i'm upset over what i've done and continue to do, it's a vicious cycle." the fridge door swings open and the blonde grabs the milk that is sitting unexpectantly on the door. she plops it loudly on the counter, the plastic jug sinking in on itself at the bottom upon impact. busy bodied, the girl walks over and fills the tea kettle as her thoughts continue to race. "what'd you say? i'm a hurricane. yeah -- i'm a hurricane. i come, i tear through the fucking place, and we try to rebuild and repair. you can either move away or get a raincoat and weather the storm --" the tea kettle is placed on the stove with a screech and the flame beneath it flickers to life. her voice breaks slightly as she raises her voice. "because i don't know how to fix me. i can make all the promises i want but i don't know how to -- god, i don't know. stop.. being a monumental fuck up?" the tea kettle is whistling before drew can even register how much time has passed. her frantic hands flip the cabinet doors open and closed, open and closed. she quickly realizes that she doesn't know where the mugs are anymore. how much has changed about this place. how once finding the mugs was second nature and now it's a disorienting quest. it become clear -- once things were so easy for them. as common as breathing. and now things had changed -- and this quest to get back to familiarity was a wild one neither of them knew how to navigate. tears are brimming the corners of her eyes as she cuts the heat on the kettle, utterly giving up on the search for the mugs. "i'm messy. i'm cruel. i make jokes. and i've changed and i don't know if it's for the better. i try to be honest. i try to stay -- i try to be here. but it fucking sucks to be reminded or everything i've done wrong.. every single time i look at you. and i'm not looking for your sympathy. it's entirely my fault. i love you. and you love me. but it's fucking destroying us."

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

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

she's a 10 but it's hard for her show affection so she just bullies you

"  trust  me,  the  last  thing  i  want  to  be  doing  is  wasting  my  energy  on  you.  hate  ?  actually  ,  how  about  extremely  aggravating  and  borderline  intolerable  ?  you  seem  pretty  good  at  ruining  your  own  day,  so  i  guess  that’s  a  talent.  no  need  for  me  to  step  in.  "

˖ ࣪ . ࿐ ♡ ˚ . ↪ closed for @velvetysage ˖ ࣪ . ࿐ ♡ ˚ .

"for someone who claims that they hate me so much, you surely do enjoy staring at me.. did you need something? or did you just pop up to ruin my day?"

i am missing writing on here sm and i plan and hope to get back to it and start new things so soon :(

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

♡ closed starter delivery for @velvetysage

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

oooooooooooooooooh the way i want to make a gideon glick character 🥹

FRIENDS • S1E04 ↳ “The One With George Stephanopoulos”