#one thing about Taylor Swift is that she fucking hates when the internet asks her to use her platform about something

[sadgirlautumn]

.

[bbitches]

don’t you

Charles Leclerc x Reader

synopsis: angsty fic based on the song ‘don’t you’ by taylor swift 😃 lmk if you want a sad ending or a happy ending

warnings: kinda sad and kinda shit ngl, i wrote this in math class so probably a shit ton of mistakes, and its not proofread :)

no hate to alex!!

Hey, I knew I'd run into you somewhere It's been a while, I didn't mean to stare

It was inevitable. You knew this. You remember Charles vaguely mentioning that he was invited to some movie premiere, but you didn’t know it would be this one.

And he must’ve known you would be here, you were quite literally in the movie.

Maybe he’s moved on, so he doesn’t feel the need to avoid you.

But it’s only been 6 months, how could he move on so quickly when you feel like the hole in your heart would never close up?

You let out a sigh, brushing your sweaty palms on your dress, rehearsing things you’re supposed to say on your interviews: the dress is by Antonine Guerin.. makeup sponsored by Charlotte Tilbury..

Once the staff gave you the signal to step onto the red carpet, your name was frantically called by one of the interviewers.

“Y/n! Hi!” the woman said, “We’re so glad we caught you!”

You gave a polite smile in return, “What do you have for me?��

The woman smiled, “We love your dress! Tell us, who are you wearing? What inspired it?”

Bingo. “Thank you. My dress is Antoine Guerlin. Umm- The gold details are, obviously, inspired by greek-��� You continued, repeated lines your publicist made you memorise, when you saw someone approaching in your peripheral vision.

You didn’t realise who it was, until the lady said, “Thank you, Y/n. Charles! Do you mind stepping in with Y/n?”

Charles. Charles. Charles.

You lifted your gaze to look at him.

Those eyes. The eyes that stare down at yours, tired, lustful when you make love.

Eyes filled with so much pride after he wins a race, eyes that look for you as soon as he steps out of the car, eyes that tease when you reluctantly wear the extra jacket he brings you every time because he knows you were cold and that you didn’t bring one for whatever reason, eyes that comfort when you blame yourself for not being good enough, when you don’t win an award. Eyes that-

The lady cleared her throat.

Fuck.

Charles falters when he catches your gaze- your stare.

You both gave a nod in greeting.

“Great!” The woman said, “Now, I know it’s tense with you guys, since you broke the whole internet with your breakup announcement a couple months ago-“

God.

“What happened? You two were going strong, with almost 8 years together.” The lady finished, looking pleased with herself, and you fought the urge to bitch-slap her across the face.

You opened your mouth to repeat the same answer you gave every time, the one your publicist carefully crafted for you, when Charles beat you to it.

“Yes, Y/n and I broke up.” He started, “I’ve.. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love Y/n, and I know she feels the same. But sometimes love isn’t enough to fix a relationship. Trust me when I say we’ve tried everything, but somethings were bound to end.” He swallowed, “We will always love each other. Y/n was- is a very special and important person to me. She always will be. And I hope you-“ His eyes flickered to you for a millisecond. “-she never stops smiling that beautiful smile of hers, and I wish her nothing but the best.” He finished.

The woman stared at him for a few seconds, “Wow- Thank you, Charles! I’m sure she’s falling right back in love with you right now-“

Wrong. It only made the ache in your heart worse. The longing you felt for him strengthen.

-

F1gossip shared a new post!

liked by user1, user2, alexandrasaintmleux and 368 others

F1gossip: BREAKING! Y/N L/N AND CHARLES LECLERC HAVE BROKEN NO CONTACT AT THE GLADIATOR II PREMIERE! When asked about their breakup, Charles Leclerc gave a VERY emotional answer! (link to the video on our story)

user1: the pain in y/n’s eyes omg

user2: isn’t @/alexandrasaintmleux the girl charles was seen sneaking around with after chary/n broke up? why’s she liking this

user3: CHARY/N COME BACK TO ME

user4: The way they look at each other is the definition of LONGING

user5: can they stop being so angsty and get back together?!

user6: what did charles want to achieve with that answer tho

-

I heard she's nothin' like me

They confirmed it.

You’ve heard rumours, sure, but you didn’t think he would move on this quickly.

Alexandra and Charles confirmed their relationship with a story of them cuddling in bed. At least, that’s what your friends told you.

You and Charles had long unfollowed each other, on both your public and private accounts, and viewing his story would be.. awkward.

You scrolled through Alexandra’s photos from google, since her Instagram was private.

She was tan, her hair was perfect, her body.. Perfection. She was perfection. She was everything you were not. Her appearance exuded grace, class.. At least, that’s what this gossip article says.

She’s private, nobody knows anything about her, and her life was peaceful.

She was everything you weren’t.

I'm sure she'll make you happy

Charles finally found what he wanted. Peace. In her.

*flashback*

“Chérie, please, understand that I- I can’t do this anymore.” He whispered.

“Come on,” you pleaded, “we’ve made it work for years, I don’t see why it-“ You said, but Charles cut you off, “Mon dieu, Y/n, they broke into our apartment!”

You stared at him.

“I-“ You started.

“No, Y/n.” He said, “No.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, “You knew what you were signing up for- Hell. you were the one who said not to worry about- about the fame, the press, the paparazzi, the fans- You told me to go for it.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” He said, “Je suis désolé.” (I’m sorry)

“It’s not like- You have to deal with the fame too, I don’t see why mine is an issue-“

You’re rambling now, trying to salvage what’s left of your relationship with the love of your life.

“Y/n, listen to me.” He said, grabbing hold of your shoulders, “First, some fucker flew a drone to our bathroom window, hoping to catch you naked. Then they flew it into our goddamn apartment throw the balcony.” He said, moving a hand to grab ahold of your chin, making you look up at him.

His voice softens when you make eye contact, his gaze softening, “People stalk you. Everyday. You can’t go out without a bodyguard anymore.” He leans his forehead onto yours and whispers, “I can’t take it anymore. I can’t live my life when I know I’m being watched, Constantly. I’m used to it, I know I have to deal with this with my own career, but with you- It’s different. The- The hollywood fame is different from my kind of fame. And it’s too much for me. I need some peace for-“

“So what, this is the end?” You cut him off, pulling away.

“I just-“ He sighs, pulling back his arms, “I just mean that we should take a little break. Put some distance between us to clear our minds, then we can talk.”

You swallowed, “But what if we don’t?” You continued, “What if- What if we don’t talk- What if we don’t come back to each other?”

Charles stared at you for a beat.

He ran a hand through his hair, the same hair that you run your hands through every night.

“Listen, let’s just.. Take a break for a couple of months, and when we feel like the time is right, we’ll reach out, alright?” He said, his voice softening at the end.

He cupped your cheek with his hand, kissing away your tears.

*end of flashback*

She had the one thing you couldn’t give him. Peace.

But don't you Don't you smile at me and ask me how I've been

It was inevitable that you bumped into him sooner or later, Monaco was a small place.

So you weren’t surprised, but you certainly weren’t prepared when you quite literally bump into him when you’re on your way to the bathroom at your (and his) favourite restaurant in Monaco- Étoile Monte Carlo.

“Y/n!” He said, a warm smile and dimples plastered on his face, “Comment as-tu été?” (how have you been?)

How have you been? How have you been?

“Just fine,” you said, forcing a smile on your face, “And you?”

“Great,” he said, smile widening, “I’m here with my girl-“ he caught himself, smile slipping from his face.

You cleared your throat, “That’s great, Charlie.” You said, “Have fun.” Giving him another small smile, you slipped into the bathroom.

Don't you say you've missed me if you don't want me again

“Y/n!” He called after you.

She’s not you, he wanted to say, she’ll never be you.

“I miss you.” He blurted out. It was the best he could do.

You turned back to look at him.

Without a word, you vanished into the bathroom.

He collected himself, and went back to his table- The table you two sat at, every time. Every week. Your table.

You don't know how much I feel, I love you still

And the only thing on his mind was you, even when his girlfriend welcomed him back to their- your table, was a kiss to the cheek.

You.

The only thing he wanted to do was to come back to you.

So why don't you, don't you?

-

Sometimes, I really wish that I could hate you I've tried, but that's just somethin' I can't do

“Yes, my girlfriend- My Alex is here today.” Charles’s voice pours from the TV in your living room, “She’s my number 1 supporter. I couldn’t have done it without her.”

He won the Monaco Grand Prix.

All those late nights, and warm afternoons on his yacht talking about how you’d celebrate with him when he finally wins. Sipping champagne together, with his head laying on your chest, and your fingers playing with his hair, discussing where to eat on the night of his Monaco win- Because he would rather spend that night with you, rather then going clubbing.

You always go back to one conclusion: Étoile.

You were his biggest supporter. You were the one who picked him back up, the one who stopped him from spirally after every bad race.

You were the one who talked about his dreams- His home win with him.

But you don’t hate him for saying otherwise.

“..This win is for you.” He said, quietly, to the camera. Others would think he directed that to Alexandra. But you- You knew it wasn’t.

You hate him. You hate him for leaving you when you were at your worst, when you needed him the most. You hate him for moving on so quickly- Or, pretending to, at least. You hate- try to hate him for saying everything he’s said, for doing everything he’s done after your split.

You try, but you can’t.

My heart knows what the truth is I swore I wouldn't do this

You stared at your phone.

‘mon coeur ❤️’

It wasn’t your fault- The ‘delete contact’ button was right next to the ‘call’ button.

And it wasn’t your fault that you were slightly tipsy. You just got a leading role in what you believe will be the biggest movies of the year, you had to celebrate.

Fuck it, you thought.

YOLO, right?

You hit the call button.

It rang- One, two, “Allo?” You heard.

His voice was rushed, a hint of shock in it.

“Y/n?” He said, his voice rushed- worried, “Êtes-vous d'accord?” (are you okay?)

Maybe it was the dramatic side of you that was controlling you right now, because for some reason, you burst into tears.

“Y/n.” He said, “Listen to me.”

After a beat, “Mon ange, listen to me.”

“Tu me manques, Charlie, tu me manques-“ you said. (I miss you, Charlie, I miss you)

”Hey, hey, hey,” he soothed, "listen.. I can't do this."

Your heart dropped, "what?"

You heard some shuffling from his end, "I'll just go straight to the point, Y/n. I can't do this. I 'm with Alex now, and.. it's serious. She's.. she's sleeping right now-"

On your side of the bed. Where the nightstand was once overflown by your little trinkets- Jewelry, mints, your chargers, now filled with her perfume- Her.

"-And I can't do this to her." He finished.

You stilled.

Can't do this to her? You can't do this to me!

"But you said that this was only gonna be like a break. Some temporary space, and that things will go back to how it was." You rambled, "You promised." Your voice cracked.

He promised, didn't he?

"I can't do this to her, Y/n, I'm so sorry." He repeated.

"And what about me?" You said, finally, "What about me?"

"I'm so sorry, Y/n." He said, for the tenth time, "I'm so sorry."

So I walk outta here tonight Try to go on with my life And you can say we're still friends (But I don't wanna pretend)

"You'll always be welcome, Y/n. With me or with my family," Charles continued, his voice cracking a little, "We can be friends, still, if that's what you want."

A beat of silence, "I don't want to lose you, Y/n. You're really special to me."

You didn't lose me, you left me.

"Okay." you said, "okay."

"Y/n," he started, but you beat him to it, "good night, Charlie."

So if I see you again

Don't you (don't you) Don't you smile at me and ask me how I've been

Sometimes you find yourself wearing his hoodies to sleep.

Don't you (don't you), say you've missed me if you don't want me again

He texts you 'merry christmas' or 'happy new year', and things like that on special occasions.

He still invites you to family brunch with Pascale, Arthur and Lorenzo.

His brothers still catch up with you from time to time.

You still go to brunch with his brother's girlfriends, pretending that you don't mind when they cancel on you for Alexandra.

You don't (you don't), know how much I feel I love you still

You're at brunch with Arthur and his girlfriend.

It's turned into a once-in-6-months thing, when it used to be a weekly or monthly thing.

You pretend that doesn't hurt you.

"You know, he's really sad you never come to brunch with everyone anymore." Arthur commented.

"Why would I? I'm not his girlfriend anymore, and it'd be weird." You said, "Besides, what would his girlfriend think?"

Arthur and his girlfriend stared at you for a few seconds, "You don't know?" Arthur finally blurts out.

"I guess that bastard wasn't lying when he said you two don't talk anymore." Arthur said.

"Know what?" You said, eyes flickering from Arthur to his girlfriend.

Arthur cleared his throat, awkwardly.

"They're engaged."

So why don't you, don't you?

-------------------------------------------

so, any ideas for part two? something like that fic called wistful yearning (One of my fav fics) or just angsty shit?

[ohdorothea]

more info on the tournament here <3

lyrics under the cut!!

the 1 lyrics

I'm doing good, I'm on some new shit

Been saying "yes" instead of "no"

I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn't though

I hit the ground running each night

I hit the Sunday matinee

You know the greatest films of all time were never made

I guess you never know, never know

And if you wanted me, you really should've showed

And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow

And it's alright now

But we were something, don't you think so?

Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool

And if my wishes came true

It would've been you

In my defense, I have none

For never leaving well enough alone

But it would've been fun

If you would've been the one

I have this dream you're doing cool shit

Having adventures on your own

You meet some woman on the Internet and take her home

We never painted by the numbers, baby

But we were making it count

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now

I guess you never know, never know

And it's another day, waking up alone

But we were something, don't you think so?

Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool

And if my wishes came true

It would've been you

In my defense, I have none

For never leaving well enough alone

But it would've been fun

If you would've been the one

Hey, yeah-yeah

I persist and resist the temptation to ask you

If one thing had been different

Would everything be different today?

We were something, don't you think so?

Rosé flowing with your chosen family

And it would've been sweet

If it could've been me

In my defense, I have none

For digging up the grave another time

But it would've been fun

If you would've been the one

betty lyrics

Betty, I won't make assumptions about why you switched your homeroom

But I think it's 'cause of me

Betty, one time I was riding on my skateboard when I passed your house

It's like I couldn't breathe

You heard the rumors from Inez

You can't believe a word she says

Most times, but this time it was true

The worst thing that I ever did

Was what I did to you

But if I just showed up at your party

Would you have me?

Would you want me?

Would you tell me to go fuck myself

Or lead me to the garden?

In the garden would you trust me

If I told you it was just a summer thing?

I'm only seventeen

I don't know anything but I know I miss you

Betty, I know where it all went wrong

Your favorite song was playing from the far side of the gym

I was nowhere to be found, I hate the crowds, you know that

Plus, I saw you dance with him

You heard the rumors from Inez

You can't believe a word she says

Most times, but this time it was true

The worst thing that I ever did

Was what I did to you

But if I just showed up at your party

Would you have me?

Would you want me?

Would you tell me to go fuck myself

Or lead me to the garden?

In the garden would you trust me

If I told you it was just a summer thing?

I'm only seventeen

I don't know anything but I know I miss you

I was walking home on broken cobblestones

Just thinking of you when she pulled up

Like a figment of my worst intentions

She said "James, get in, let's drive"

Those days turned into nights

Slept next to her but

I dreamt of you all summer long

Betty, I'm here on your doorstep

And I planned it out for weeks now but, it's finally sinking in

Betty, right now is the last time

I can dream about what happens when you see my face again

The only thing I wanna do

Is make it up to you

So, I showed up at your party

Yeah, I showed up at your party

Yeah, I showed up at your party

Will you have me?

Will you love me?

Will you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends?

If you kiss me

Will it be just like I dreamed it? Will it patch your broken wings?

I'm only seventeen

I don't know anything

But I know I miss you

Standing in your cardigan

Kissing in my car again

Stopped at a streetlight, you know I miss you

[heyftinally]

re: fact checking / believing media.

You handled that anon better than I would have. I got angry on your behalf. I’m sick of Swifties defending Taylor for very obvious flaws / problematic behaviour she exhibits.

Swifties also believe what they read. A lot of media outlets wrote articles to benefit Taylor. That anon was bitching cause you were discussing one that didn’t support Taylor.

Also Swifties not only believe the media when it comes to Taylor but they also actively believe the rumours THEY MAKE UP THEMSELVES. No one reported Joe cheated on Taylor, it was a fan theory that they believed into reality. And when it comes out she cheated on him they hype her up and then still attack Joe. I’ve seen antis get hate for pointing out Taylor has a drinking problem (with concern not hate) which Swifties venomously deny she does. But that hate comes from the same Swifties who create the narrative she had to drink to escape Joe. Like they can’t even keep their story straight.

People telling antis to stop believing everything they read and stop speculating when it’s the EXACT behaviour her fans exhibit is laughable. Her fans are actually worse cause they make up false stories to the point they all believe them. “She’s pregnant” is only coming from her fans. They are inherently more problematic towards Taylor. This woman they apparently adore.

Honestly I’m not even convinced they’re fans of her anymore with how they behave. It’s just habit to defend her. Or FOMO.

This. All of this. If I had a dollar for every time a swiftie made up facts about something - Taylor's behavior, history, quotes, anything really - I'd have enough money to go to, like, two Taylor Swift concerts (y'know, because her overpriced tickets are like 20k a pop in some cases)

In all seriousness, though, youre100% right that her fans make shit up constantly and then believe their own theories as fact. All the times I've ACTUALLY called out Taylor, I've used facts. Let's use my Fortnight Ableism callous as an example - you can go find sources for everything I wrote in that post. It's not hard. "Abuse in mental asylums" will turn you up countless results on google. The pictures of her house are from an article *about her house*. I ran that post by my disabled friend to get their stamp of approval on my statements, too, because it's THEIR history I was speaking about, so I asked them to approve it. And they did.

I also fact check things like, say, my election news. Or crimes that happened (just today I fact checked something that happened near where I live, and what I'd heard had been false).

I don't post every random thing I fact check. I also don't post citations for everything that I *do* fact check, because this isn't a college essay and I'm not obligated to prove my research to a bunch of internet strangers.

But as usual, swifties love to throw baseless accusations around just to feel like they did something. Honestly, it was kind of funny to metaphorically curb stomp their accusation. Like, I'll post my own receipts, I don't care. Funny how the proof shows they can't read, though lol.

Now this isn't an invitation for swifties to come harass me - y'all can kindly fuck off. But it would be nice if they would at least pretend to have self awareness before they try to come at me.

[darkwing-katy]

The Spider and the Fly Part I

Pairing: Eventual Leland x Reader (sorta? You’ll see what I mean)

Word Count: 2,527

Summary: All you want to do is get through your online courses and keep your best friend from making bad choices in men. But there’s this creepy therapist who is absolutely insisting on you making an appointment with him. Who the hell is this Leland Townsend, and why won’t he leave you alone?!

Part one of seven. Takes place sometime around seasons one and two.

This series is inspired heavily by my favorite poem, “The Spider and the Fly” (1829) by Mary Howitt. This poem is in the public domain.

Tagging: @primosflowergarden

————————————————————————————————————-

“Will you walk into my parlor?” said the Spider to the Fly

“‘Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy.

The way into my parlor is up a winding stair,

And I have many curious things to show you when you are there.”

You take a casual sip of (your favorite coffee drink) and raise your eyebrows at Betty. “Look, this is, what, the fourth time that he’s stood you up?” 

She nods, her blonde hair whooshing in her ponytail as her head bobs up and down. “Yeah,” she confirms as she takes a sip of her strawberry hibiscus drink. 

“Four times is too many times. Three times is too many times. Honestly, two times is pushing it, unless there’s a legitimate reason for it, and even then, I’d be pretty damn wary.” You swirl your drink around, careful not to spill it. “If you ask me, you should be ruining his life right about now.”

Betty rolls her eyes. “I’m not like you, (Y/N),” she replies. “I’m not petty.”

You scoff. “Petty? I’m not petty! I just make sure that people who fuck me over get a little fucked over themselves.” You take another short sip. “If it were me, I’d start following our lord and savior Taylor Swift and pull some vigilante shit.”

“You don’t even know if there’s a reason for it! What if he’s got a valid reason—like his mom died or his dog got hit by a car or he got COVID?”

“Does he even have a dog?” you wonder. Betty shrugs, and you sigh as you fix your eyes on your friend. “You see too much good in everyone, Betty. Sure, there can be valid reasons to stand someone up, but not four times in a row, and especially not without giving you a heads up of some kind.” You smirk as you remember what you did to Talison—not that Betty knows how far you’d gone. It had been mostly harmless, at least. 

For you.

“You should do some research. Figure out if there’s a subreddit on them or something. The internet is a wondrous place, you know.” You shift in your chair, setting your drink down and leaning forward on your elbows. “And then, if you find out anything suspicious, I say you take a page outta tumblr and slash three of his tires. Allegedly, if you slash three instead of all four, insurance won’t cover it. Not,” you quickly add, “that I’ve ever put that to the test.”

Betty didn’t know about that time with Matt, either.

Betty rolls her eyes and stands. “You’re a psycho. I gotta pee, and then I’m gonna order me a sandwich. You want anything to eat?”

“I mean, I’m always down for a croissant,” you reply. 

Betty nods and walks off in the direction of the bathroom. You lean back and drink some more of your drink as you study the people around you. The coffee shop is only half-full, but it’s still busy with couples and friends chatting. You skim around the tables for anything interesting, anything worthy of your attention. There’s a few teenagers giggling as they swipe up and down with their phones; a shrimpy-looking teenaged boy making doe-eyes at them; a few college kids on their laptops, along with some businesspeople. Fortunately, no one is talking overly loud—you hate when people do that in shared spaces.

A man sits across from you on his laptop. He’s kinda cute, and you let your eyes trace over his face as he types, unaware of the fact that you’re watching him. You think you might want to say something to him when your eyes catch a glint on his left hand—a simple gold band—a wedding ring. “Guess not,” you mutter under your breath. 

“I couldn’t help overhearing,” a voice starts, distracting you from the cute married man. You snap your head to Betty’s chair, where a man is standing, one hand wrapped around the top of the chair. He’s handsome, sure, if a little older than your usual tastes.

The man is tilting his head at you, a friendly smile on his face. “It sounds like your friend is having boy troubles,” he continues.

You’re a bit perturbed that he’s been nosy enough to overhear the conversation, let alone comment on it. Even if he’s attractive. “Pretty sure that’s not your business, buddy,” you reply, pursing your lips.

He chuckles. “It’s not, but I’m curious, and I think I could also be of some assistance.” He nods his head at the chair. “May I?”

“Nope,” you say, but he ignores you and sits down. 

You gotta admire the guy’s boldness, even if it’s tempting you to toss your drink in his face. From the way he’s tilting his head at you and narrowing his eyes ever-so-slightly, he half-expects you to react aggressively, so you swallow your anger and settle for cool observation instead. He fixes his eyes on you as he sets his arms on the table, the very picture of two old friends getting together to chat. “So. Boy troubles?”

You eyeball his outfit. It’s business casual, a tweed suit, and he’s got glasses that are half-black, half-tan framing his eyes, which are a deep blue that you haven’t seen on anyone else before. His hair is short and brown. As you study him, you think to yourself again that he’s pretty nice to look at. “Why do you care?” you ask.

He flashes you a disarming smile that shows all of his teeth. “I’m a therapist, actually. I hear stories like your friend’s all the time, and I just thought I could…help out. Maybe give you some advice to give her.” He folds his hands together and sets his chin on them, propping his head up like you’re sharing the hottest gossip with each other.

Well, that’s even more disturbing—he’s a therapist and he’s just butting into your and Betty’s lives? Must not be a great therapist, then, if he’s not respecting boundaries.

Still, you can’t see the harm in sharing a few details, if only for the fun of it. “She’s been stood up by this dude a few times,” you say, careful to omit any descriptions. “And I’m simply advising her to ditch him. That’s all.”

The man gives you a thoughtful look as he blinks. “I swear I heard you mention slashing the guy’s tires,” he says, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“I merely mentioned it as a potential solution to impress upon this person that standing someone up four times in a row is not an acceptable form of behavior.”

“But encouraging others to slash tires is?”

Alright, fun’s up. This guy is getting annoying. “My friend’s gonna be back soon, and she’s gonna want her chair back,” you say as you cross your arms over your chest. “You should go.”

He shakes his head. “Nah, I can wait for her to get back. I’m on my coffee break right now.”

You feel your eyes narrow even further. He’s either not getting the hint, or he is and he’s choosing to deliberately ignore it. Either way, it’s greatly diminishing his attractiveness. Deep blue eyes do not excuse a shitty personality, no matter how pretty. “Look, buddy,” you say in a low voice as you lean forward. “I’m telling you to go away.”

“Or what? You’ll slash my tires?” There’s a strange gleam in his eyes, like he enjoys the idea of you doing that. It’s unsettling. A chill creeps up your arms. “What? Or maybe you’ve got something worse up your sleeves?” He raises both eyebrows, daring you. You hope he doesn’t notice the goosebumps prickling up your bare arms, but if you reach for your cardigan, he’ll definitely notice it if he hasn’t already.

You need to change strategies. It seems like you’re unable to intimidate him into leaving you the fuck alone, but luckily for you, pivoting is something you do well, so now it’s your turn to flash him a tense smile. “Alright. I’ll bite. What do you want?”

He blinks, almost like he hadn’t expected that response. “I’m sorry?”

You keep the smirk off of your face, but only just barely. It’s nice to have caught him off guard. You pick up your drink to maintain the illusion of friendliness. “You came over here asking about my friend’s boy probs. You say you’re a therapist. So then what do you want? Just to give me some…friendly advice?” You’re raising your eyebrows at him, a mirrored mockery of his earlier facial expression.

He presses his lips into a thin line as he studies you. You study him right back, unflinching as his eyes flick from your drink to your face. You make a point of allowing your own eyes to rove over him. Give him a taste of his own medicine a bit, make him uncomfortable. He catches the way your lips are tilting into a smirk as you examine him, and now his eyes are the ones narrowing. “I want you to make an appointment with me,” he finally says.

You snort. “What the fuck, dude?” Where did that come from? First he acts like he wants to help you with Betty’s relationship problems, and all of a sudden he’s wanting you to make an appointment with him?

Good God, this man must be insane.

He doesn’t flinch at your exclamation, just patiently watches you. 

You shake your head at him. “You can’t be serious.”

His lips curl into a smirk of his own. “Oh, I am very serious,” he replies, and you feel another chill run down your spine that has nothing to do with the air conditioning. “I think we could do great things together.”

“The heck does that mean?”

He tilts his head. “Make the appointment and you’ll find out!” He sounds excited now, too happy for your tastes. You haven’t even agreed and he’s acting like you have.

Well, screw that. This screams creep, this screams psycho killer, this screams serial assaulter. There is no way in hell you’re gonna make an appointment with this dude.

But you can’t react that obviously. He’s already noticed your shift in body language—you can tell from the way his eyes glitter at you. All of the weird charm from earlier has gone. He knows that you want to run away from him, and he’s relishing it, the bastard. He expects you to flee. 

You set your jaw, grit your teeth, tilt your head. This guy is bad news, and Betty’s gonna be back anytime now. You need to get him away from her, away from you. The best way to deal with these types of guys is to play along, to give them an amicable smile and nod your pretty little head, so that’s what you do. “Alright, fine. If you leave now, then I’ll schedule an appointment with you, okay?” You give him the fakest smile you can muster and pray he can’t see through it.

His smirk widens into a toothy grin, and somehow you know that he’s seen right through you. He doesn’t care that you’re just saying it to get him away; he’s glad to have won this weird little battle between the two of you. With one swift movement, he rises from the chair and pulls out a small business card, back in charming gentleman mode. You accept the card without looking at it. If you’re lucky, you will never need to refer to it. This is all a ploy to get him out of sight, anyways.

But he’s extending a hand towards you and waiting. You’ve half a mind to ignore it, but that might signal to him that you’re faking everything, so you begrudgingly accept the handshake. His hand wraps around yours, nearly covers it completely, and you give it a firm squeeze in the hopes that he’ll let go quickly.

He doesn’t. He keeps his hand wrapped around yours and tightens his own grip. It’s teetering on the edge of painful, and he’s maintaining eye contact the entire fucking time. It’s a challenge, one that you’re unwilling to lose, so you lock your eyes with his and keep the forced smile plastered onto your face.

“Dr. Leland Townsend,” he says cheerfully.

“(Y/N),” you say, intentionally withholding your last name. He quirks an eyebrow at you to indicate that he’s noticed the omission, but you have no reason to elaborate. You know his name, he doesn’t need to know yours. There are dozens of people in New York who have the same name as you.

“You might not realize it, yet, (Y/N),” he says, “but this is gonna be the start of a beautiful partnership. I can feel it.” His thumb strokes your hand as he drawls out the word ‘feel’, and you bite your tongue to keep from shuddering. 

What a fucking creep.

“I’ll take your word for it, Doctor,” you reply, keeping that false friendliness in your tone. 

“I’ll see you around!” With that, he finally releases your hand, though not before giving it another not-quite-painless squeeze that kinda feels like some sort of warning. He flashes you another smile and saunters off. You track him, unwilling to let him out of your sight until he’s out the door. He reaches the door and pushes against it, though he does glance back at you, as if he’s expecting you to be watching him. He wiggles his fingers at you in the mockery of a wave, which you don’t return, and then he’s gone at last. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“What a fucking creep,” you repeat to yourself. 

“What was that?”

You spin around to see Betty approaching, a sandwich and a croissant squished together in one hand. She’s got another strawberry hibiscus drink in her other hand. If you weren’t so unsettled by the man—Dr. Townsend?—you’d roll your eyes at her.

“Nothing,” you lie. There’s no reason to tell her about this odd encounter. She’s got enough troubles to worry about.

You hastily shove the business card into your pocket. As you and Betty eat and continue to talk, you’re strangely aware of it burning a hole in your pocket. It’s hard to focus on her words, but you manage to make it work.

It occurs to you that maybe you should call the office and give them all false information. Dr. Townsend wouldn’t know, right? And then you don’t have to actually show up, and he doesn’t have anything to trace you with. It’d lull him into a false sense of security only to have the rug ripped out from beneath him.

You smirk to yourself. Yeah, that sounds like a fun little prank. It’s not like he’ll be able to find you and retaliate. 

You rub your sore hand with your other hand. Oh, yes. He thinks he can intimidate you? He’s gonna find out just how wrong he is.

“Oh no, no,” said the little Fly, “you ask me this in vain.

For who goes up your winding stair can ne’er come down again.”

————————————————

Part Two

[placeinthisworld]

i mean taylor was the bridesmaid in lena's wedding a couple years ago (2021-ish) and i think there was some other post that lena made a while back that included a polaroid of her & tay... so i do think taylor & lena are still friends/acquaintances - just NOT publicly. because that's how taylor is, the moment anyone in her close circle starts being problematic, she starts to distance herself from them publicly (i'm not so sure abt privately). remember the blank space mv director joseph kahn? she was collaborating with him back to back throughout the whole 1989 & rep era... and then right before lover he started to do problematic shit like stirring up controversies on twitter with the beyhive. and then taylor just... dropped him. just like that. said she wanted to branch out with directors and she even picked up directing later on. but i suspect she & joseph are still close or atleast acquaintances and there isn't bad blood between them because he seems to have nothing but nice things to say abt taylor even after all these years. but keeping this in mind... i just don't understand how she's brazenly walking around with that trump supporter nazi woman after everything. like..... ms taylor "i care about my reputation" swift who's KNOWN for publicly distancing herself from close associates now just doesn't give a fuck at all?? i don't get it. this is why i fully believe in the theory that joe made her a better and more politically conscious person lol. because it's like she's literally gone back to square 1 after the breakup.

nahhhh 2021 was literally four years ago, so much has changed. taylor has always been closer to jack and lena just happened to hop on the taylor swift bandwagon via him for a couple of years. and then jack and lena got divorced and when he get asked about her he looks like he just saw a ghost 😬 if anything, lena tries to maintain that image that they’re still friends to keep the tiniest bit of relevancy (just like todrick hall tbh - they can pull the “okay he’s a pic of taylor and i from 2019 she likes me so you can’t hate me” card) but like in reality we know taylor’s public circle of friends changes depending on her PR needs lol. as long as you’re giving her positive buzz you’ll be in the circle, as soon as cancel culture gets ya ur out (bye blake)

as for the joseph kahan situation he’s just a messy person and i think taylor only used him for his skills and connection at the time. he’s also one to pull the “i worked with taylor!!! she loves me!!” card to defend himself. taylor swift is NOT known to be a good public defender of people she cares about so she’s not gonna make a statement about anything unless it’s true or actually pisses her off. besides she’s been trying to get her foot in the door with filming/ directing herself (hence why i think she sucked up to gracie and hard launched her career lol) once kahan did his job and she got what she needed, she dropped him and never looked back. and then he started drama with children on the internet and ruined his own reputation- so taylor will never acknowledged him again.

honestly i don’t think people outside of the east coast/ the sports world even really know or care who the mahomes are sooo they prob don’t know or care that she’s a MAGA idiot. only a few people have made it an issue on the internet, but it’s clearly not enough to impact their relationship irl lol. either taylor is making too much to even care about the small backlash from fans or she genuinely doesn’t care and willingly supports the mahomes . either way. she sucks lol. like most people i talk to irl only know brittany as a WAG and that’s literally it. doesn’t help that the kelces only hang out w them too and for some reason people love that family so by relation they just don’t know. most people who i have talked to had no idea brittany was MAGA bc they only see her with taylor at games or him playing in games…like they’re not super popular independently.

joe was absolutely the only reason why she was politically aware and it’s fucking horrifying lmao. like good god….her partners really do effect her personality….huh…..😅

[teenidleadultgirl]

like i do think there needs to be space for white celebrities to be honest about the emotional realities of being politically activists as well without shaming them for feeling those emotions, right?

like yeah, maybe it's because i can only see it in a white woman perspective of having done the exact same thing before in my youth while trying to make friends with other white women but like it DOES suck and feel embarrassing when you think you're saying the right thing but nobody wants to hear it. maybe it's also my autistic perspective too because at least the narrative taylor has given us, i understand to being bullied and not understanding why as a child and being hesitant to make friends and then going into adulthood and entering a new phase (for me sorority college life ugh dont ask me id like to Forget) trying to make friends but not being able to ignore the harsh social realities of the world and trying to navigate friendship in white spaces in adulthood.

but like i just... everything i hear from political leaders and activists on the extreme left side of politics, especially globally, is that the best way to be an ally to ANY community is to call out bigotry when you hear it. however, especially for taylor swift who is very silent on political issues and who grew up idealizing the chicks, when you make that part of a public platform, it DOES come with mental health compromises.

again, if we broaden the discussion to societal standards of ethical behavior and how should allies move about in the world, we hear this narrative ALL THE FUCKING TIME from black activists on the internet. Kat Blaque is prime example of this and she talks about it often on her channel the impact it had on her back in 2016. um that one chick.... princess flowers! she also talked about her trauma regarding her harassment. like and there are many more people that have spoken out about how awful it is to be a political activist online nowadays.

do you guys think it only happens to the black activists though? the struggle with their mental health? i can only speak from my brief time on twitter before i was harrassed into getting banned for supporting amber heard but like even knowing some of the comments are fake, i had a walking dead actress put my tweet on blast onto her account. me. a fucking nobody. and it DID take an effect on MY mental health.

and i think we just have to be willing to hear it coming from white activists as well because frankly, white voices get the most validation. there IS a reason yall wanted her specifically to speak about politics after all right. her fame as a white woman, arguably The White Woman, would help get ALOT of shit done. and i guess in a way, she is tackling a political issue, it's just not one you guys are very happy about discussing i think.

like, yeah, after 2016 happened to her over the most pathetic ass petty bullshit, why WOULD she speak up about anything that matters ever again? I'm not saying i agree with her mentality but i do see how someone who is not in therapy would get to that conclusion. I've BEEN there before but for like different reasons. when you have trauma, your brain can react illogically to so many fucking things that seem normal and fine and healthy enough. thats like the point of trauma.

and i feel like honestly the reaction to i hate it here just validated her trauma response even more because i cannot even begin to describe how pathetic some of y'all were about that song. STILL are about that song. i keep thinking about how in ms americana she said that she felt like saying anything would have added fuel to the fire and she didnt want to cause harm by trying to speak out.

the hatred yall showed in response to her saying the 1830s had sexism and racism in it and would've been fun to live in..... i fear that it did the exact opposite of what yall wanted and just validated that belief for taylor and i cant help think... what's the point? was it useful? did the clowning on her make you feel happy inside? are you happy now that she refuses to talk about palestine or trump or the abortion ban?????

idk it feels so fucking destructive and mean and most of.... unnecessary.

idk if you want to ask people to challenge social norms, you have no not freak out every time they don't talk about exactly what YOU want them to bring attention to.

[butchona]

I just need to share this with someone, so might as well be on here because no one really cares about what I have to say. And yeah, you can all laugh at my expense, I’ll allow it:

So, I met this “wonderful” woman on the internet and we instantly clicked, we live in different countries, of course, but when did that stop a lesbian?

But yeah, she was really turned on by me being butch and she would just be the sweetest about it.

Far from me to have such prejudice, but the first thing that I found it was a BIG RED FLAG was that she was a Taylor swift fan and said that “she didn’t see nothing special about fricking BEYONCÉ (I should’ve just bailed at this point, really)

But anyways, I just thought we wouldn’t bond over music but could bond about a lot of other stuff. Especially about how much we freaking loved lesbians.

So yeah, we’ve been flirting for about a month, thinking about our future marriage life lol and, even though I’ve mentioned before when she asked about “what would turn me off on someone” and my answer was “problematic political views”… she decided to wait ALL THIS TIME to tell me she was a fucking republican and that she support the US military.

I honestly though it was a joke at first, like, it sounds like one, right?

But no, she was dead serious about it and that was my cue to send her right wing intolerant anti Latinos (which I am one) hating ass to hell.

Do I think now that because of this incident that I am incapable of finding a decent woman who clicks with me and it’s not a complete douche? You bet I do!

[toosexyforthislife]

Paper rings { jack champion x f!reader }

I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this <3

Synopsis: Jack and you have been friends for a little over a year . Paper rings were their inside jokes, but what if it wasn't just a joke but real.

Cw: NONE 🤭🤭 just straight fluff, that's it bcs as much as I like angst I can't write it what so ever ✊️✊️

It was the scream six premiere and I was going with my life long childhood best friend jack! Everyone looked amazing but I couldn't help but feel a tad out of place! I mean these are FAMOUS people!!!!

We watched the movie, and it was so weird seeing Jack evil and also getting stabbed. We were on our way to the after party when I started messing with my small paper ring jack had made me a year ago.

" y/n meet Jack! " my friends say high off their mind. I laugh and shake his hand! " hi I'm y/n sorry about our mutual friends they take having fun all night to the literal definition! " I say as he laughs at our friends.

The moon is high. Like your friends were the night that we first met

I left a little after that and immediately searched up " jack," and what popped up was " jack champion " on Instagram and everything else. My friend follows him, so he must be the one ( a/n : hehehe t.s )

Went home and tried to stalk you on the internet. Now I've read all of the books beside your bed

" What are you thinking about y/n ? " I hear devyn ask with concern in her voice. " Oh, sorry ! Nothing important, don't worry !! " I say soothing her when Jenna pipes up," probably about jAaAaAcK, " she says in a sing-song voice. " Oh shut up, Jenna," I say, defending myself. But she wasn't wrong. I wanted to he his. He's the one I want, but I don't if I'm the one he wants.

I mean, sure, we played cat and mouse for a month or two or three, but I couldn't remove the thought that you just wanted to be friends. I wish I could just be next to him all the time.

Cat and mouse for a month or two or three. Now I wake up in the night and watch you breathe

I just want to kiss him one two three times, but I will hold off on that till we confess. " Oh yeah, she's definitely in love with Jack," Jasmine says, breaking my thoughts that were indeed about him. " Who's in love with me?" I hear that oddly familiar voice say. I jump and give Jasmine a look . That " Shut the fuck up before I murder you " look and the girls all giggle while jack looks at me confused. " anywyas y/n I actually need to tell you something real quick! " everyone does their 2nd grade " oooohs " at this.

Kiss me once 'cause you know I had a long night. Kiss me twice 'cause it's gonna be alright.Three times 'cause I've waited my whole life

" Okay now that we're alone I've been meaning to tell you something but I don't know how to say this so sorry if it's not the best but, I really like you and I wanted to know if you'd be willing to go out on a date and maybe perhaps be my girlfriend?" He says as fast as he could. I just squeal. Embarrassing, I know, but HELLO ??? The jack champion likes ME!!!! " Oh no, okay, I'm sorry about that -" he rambles. "Jack, just shut up and kiss me." And with that, he does :)

" is that a yes?" I laugh " jack I would marry you with paper rings of course it's a yes! "

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings. You're the one I want. I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this Uh huh Darling, you're the one I want

A/n : I LOOOOOVEEEE LOVEEERRR!!!! Also, I really enjoyed this one!!!!! I know it's not a lot, but I have zero motivation, so!!!

[greylunar]

your hogwarts house quiz is Incorrect. sincerely, a disgusted slytherin labeled hufflepuff p.s. you did like 50 thousand whiny ass sleeping at last songs (and i like sleeping at last!) so for god’s sake, respect taylor swift you fucking hipster.

Hello friend! I hope you’re doing well and that you’ve found some quizzes you enjoy more than mine since asking this. I know the HP quiz is not for everyone, honestly I made it two years ago at this point and I don’t know if I would say it’s as ‘for me’ as it once was. I think it’s pretty ironic that my house quiz is what brought so many people to my blog, because the reason I made it in the first place is because I kind of hate house quizzes, I don’t think I’ve ever taken one that hasn’t gotten me wrong! A random quiz some stranger on the internet made is never going to know you better than you do, so if you think you’re a Slytherin, then you are! It’s as simple as that. Hehe I also agree with the fact I put too many sleeping at last lyrics in it, I think at the time I just thought they were an easy way to get really specific lyrics that represent a way of thinking, since the songs I pulled them for were about personality types anyways. As for Taylor Swift, absolutely no hate, the comment in the description of the quiz is a joke directed toward my roommate (back when I was pretty sure only my groupchat was going to take the quiz). She sends a lot of uquizes that include questions like “Pick a song off of Red or Evermore that Represents You” or a similar type of question with artists like Lorde or Florence and the Machine. I’m definitely a fan of all those artists at this point, or at least many specific songs, but I’m not an album person and I used to complain to her All the Time that since I didn’t know every song off the album I either had to Google every songs individual lyrics or just go off of title alone and possibly get a less accurate answer. At this point in our friendship though I’m pretty sure I could do it at least with Folklore and probably Red hehe. But I wanted to set up my song based questions so you never needed any prior knowledge going into the quiz, hence the insane amount of stupidly long lyric questions hehe. None of this is said to get you to like my quiz, the internet is a big place, if you don’t like my quiz that’s cool, there’s like a million others you can enjoy. It’s mostly just that I’ve had a few asks that touch on all these subjects so I figured I could give a little explanation. Mostly, you’re right, I’m more than a bit pretentious and it gets pretty exaggerated in the quiz just because of the format and general lack of context. Hehe I haven’t been called a hipster in a while but I do look like a guy who’d be into like. Pour over coffee. And that’s not everyone’s thing! But you know, unfortunately it’s my thing, and whatever your thing is, I hope you find a lot of uquizes and blogs that suit it better. Im sure there’s a ton of them out there.

[thedisguisedaltruism]

fond stares, vast place, loud heartbeats

genre: fluff, best friends to lovers, concert au

pairing: wonwoo/gn reader

summary: wonwoo hates the crowds, but he has to save up all his energy since you’re taking him as your concert buddy for taylor swift’s 1989 tour. little did he know, he will soon realize that he was actually in love with you, thanks to taylor and her wicked songwriting.

word count: 2,192

a/n: dumping this shit because too much feels for you are in love live :((

2015

“Wons, turn it up, turn it up!”

Wonwoo couldn’t help but snort from your excitement to see your longtime idol live. You worked hard to save enough so you could see Taylor Swift since then, and now you’re about to witness your turning point in life.

...together with your best friend, not to mention how he loathes crowds.

I Know Places is currently playing on the car stereo and you're warming up as you hit the high note in the chorus, dramatically pressing your chest with eyes shut. Wonwoo takes his final turn as you finally arrive at the stadium.

"Missed the note there, my friend." He teases. You could care less from his assed remarks because your mind's been in euphoria since you woke up from a power nap a few hours ago.

Outside the venue has already gathered a big crowd, and you patiently wait for your best friend who's double-checking the doors if they're surely closed.

Wonwoo has been your best friend for five years, and being grateful to have him is an understatement as he has witnessed your ups and downs in college. He knows that apart from your family and him, Taylor and her music has already played such a great role from adolescence until adulthood.

As a sucker for books, Wonwoo was undoubtedly impressed by Taylor's songwriting prowess since he listens to your discussions during the free time about the lyric analyses that you read across the internet, and you usually play her live performances whenever you pull off all-nighters that's why he agreed to be your concert buddy because he wants to see the person who could give rainbows to the person he likes.

Yes. The person he likes.

Wonwoo thought being in a Taylor Swift concert is not bad at all. It's like having a big crowd of best friends gathering in one huge place to have fun with their most talented best friend. Everyone's perfectly singing along to every lyric, breathing to each punctuation, and screaming at the top of their lungs.

Honestly speaking, he was having fun, and boy, he could sing along to a few songs while waving with his light-up bracelet. 

Aside from being fascinated by the live performances, he would sometimes steal glances at you, making him amused by your kaleidoscope of emotions you've shown from the past eight performances. Sometimes you'd turn to him just to sing while holding your chest, and go back to screaming how much you love Taylor Swift.

After the succeeding crowd-jumping performances, Taylor comes out with her black Gibson acoustic guitar to perform an acoustic version of her song just like the old days. The crowd has once again roared, and you scoot close to Wonwoo to whisper that Taylor's going to sing your favorite song from 1989.

He knows the story behind it. You told him on your graduating year at the rooftop of your college building while chugging an energy drink just to keep yourself awake from pulling off an all-nighter for your thesis, it was about Taylor’s known actress friend falling in love with her producer on this album—someone with the name Jack—if he could still guess correctly.

Taylor has already ascended for a clearer sight of crowds from the top seats, instructing everyone to sing back the specific words. Wonwoo watches you hugging yourself while craning your neck so you could see Taylor from above.

One look, dark room

Meant just for you

Time moved too fast

You play it back

Buttons on a coat

Light-hearted joke

No proof, not much

But you saw enough

  You and Wonwoo first met at the same elective during college freshman year. You were sitting near the door, sparing the next seat with your bag since someone from your class politely asked you to but unfortunately, she never came back and it was perfectly timed that Wonwoo immediately spotted the vacant seat beside you, exhausted from running before he gets late (yes, in a goddamn first day of class). 

  He learned that you’re taking up creative writing that’s why said elective was important for your course. He told you that he was taking up computer science, but he still needs to take the elective.

  ...and then, your friendship started.

  You have friends, but they’re few for your liking because socializing is exhausting. Wonwoo, on the other hand, despised being exhausted around people and that’s the reason why both of you became friends quickly. Reading was Wonwoo’s stress escape and yours was binge-watching k-dramas and reality shows.

  You can hear it in the silence, silence, you

You can feel it on the way home, way home, you

You can see it with the lights out, lights out

You are in love, true love

You are in love

  Since both of you chose to live in dormitories at college, sometimes you’d walk together around the university park late at night and talk about stuff happening in your life outside academics. One time, you told him how you’re pissed at your family’s insights about coming out since they happened to share once about how your cousin came out at a family gathering and the next moment, he was already in the hot seat. You told Wonwoo that you wished you were there to end all of your religious hypocrite relatives.

  Wonwoo, within the years of friendship, was never the type to initiate a conversation, but he’s an excellent listener. He could watch you talk about Taylor Swift, the perennial hate for your Major professor who’s academia-obsessed since she sets a standard too high for her liking while her class is on the brink of dropping out, and how you were fascinated about him staying up all night for computer games and still ace programming exams.

  Suddenly, the crowd started to roar out of the blue, making him shake his head from spacing out. Still standing, much to his surprise since he hates getting tired, he realized that he’s just watching you being helplessly in awe at Taylor Swift no matter how neck-stiffening it is, how your eyes sparkled with bliss just like the days when you talk with him about the things you love.

  And then he felt the pace of his heartbeat quickened.

  The crowd was already singing along with excitement—he has no idea what kind of reason it is—but he remains watching you like you were excruciatingly hard to reach, despite how you could hear his loud heartbeat if this was an empty place.

  One night he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says “You're my best friend”

And you knew what it was

He is in love

  You screamed you’re my best friend at the top of your lungs together with other sixty thousand people at Taylor despite how your best friend, who’s silently watching beside you, couldn’t calm himself down unnoticed.

  You can hear it in the silence, silence, you

You can feel it on the way home, way home, you

You can see it with the lights out, lights out

You are in love, true love

  Suddenly, you turn to Wonwoo as Taylor does her guitar break before singing the bridge, and you were surprised to see him just staring at you instead of watching Taylor from up above and tell you how skilled she was at playing guitar. The way he’s looking at you wasn’t even judging, teasing, or the usual antics that he does.

  He’s just looking at you fondly and you thought maybe, he’s extremely happy that you get to see your longtime idol live after all these years and you deserved it so much.

  ...except that your tentative guess is incorrect.

  “She’s really good, isn’t she?” you yelled at him proudly while pointing at Taylor with emphasis.

  Your best friend could only nod and gesture at you to look back on your idol.

  And so it goes

You two are dancing in a snow globe, 'round and 'round

And he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown

And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

And why I've spent my whole life tryin' to put it into words

  That made Wonwoo look up to Taylor Swift in an instant and judged her as he could so. As Taylor stopped, the crowd screamed once again, but nothing is deafening as his heartbeat while watching you cheer in chorus.

  He didn’t know if he should feel betrayed, because you were his partner during graduation ball and you were just having the best time of your lives because fuck it, despite being anxious about what’s to come after the graduation, both of you were so happy to have been able to survive despite the shit hole life your university has given.

  He also happened to frame a picture of you in his office peacefully sitting beside the stacks of scratch papers for software development. He secretly requested for its original copy at the official student publication of your university during that one major event as he saw it on Facebook.

  He realized that he’s in love with you after all this time.

  Much to his misfortune, you suddenly looked at him again and your eyes met that he couldn’t look away, but this time it was replaced with worry. You caught him twice, and knowing Wonwoo, he’s not usually vocal when it comes to express his discomfort.

  You gently hold Wonwoo’s hand. “Are you having a bad feeling? We could go out if you want to,” you whispered just audible enough for him to hear.

  And that’s how he lost it. 

  It took him another deep breath to sink in that you chose his well-being over your once-in-a-lifetime moment with your idol.

  Like… holy shit, he was so lucky to have you in his life and he thought this time, he wants to step out of his shell and gather the courage to tell you how much you mean to his life. He’s had enough secretly pining over you for years.

  But first, he wants you to be happy and enjoy your time with Taylor. He shakes his head no and holds your shoulders to turn to Taylor who’s now descending for the next performance.

                      “I can’t believe she’s real, what the hell, she was fucking real, Wonwoo.” you sighed. “Oh my god.”

  You couldn’t stop wiping your face after spacing out which made Wonwoo chuckle. After the concert and almost a painful hour of waiting to get out of the stadium, you mutually agreed to stop by the nearest convenience store.

  Although you only bought a coffee and went back inside Wonwoo’s car.

  “Me too.” Wonwoo whispers. That made you remember what happened during You Are In Love performance. You looked at him and tapped his shoulder.

  “You looked unwell this evening. Were you honestly okay, Wons?” you ask.

  He only blinked in response.

  It took Wonwoo a few seconds to gather up his courage. Now that it’s only the two of you alone, he thought he must let it out.

  “Yeah, I was just overwhelmed. You don’t have to worry.” he jokes, his attention remained at the store. He could see from his peripherals how your eyebrows furrowed, obviously not convinced enough by his excuse.

  “What you told me about Taylor the first time you introduced her to me was...true,” he sighed deeply. “She sings what we couldn’t put into words.”

  For someone like Wonwoo whose eloquence is something to look up to, you were confused by what he meant.

  Wonwoo turns to face you and takes your icy palms to wrap them with his large, slender, and warm ones. 

  “I love you.” He says, straightly looking into your eyes.

  Your eyes widen in surprise.

  “Please don’t joke around!” You hit his shoulder, but all he does is let out a burst of breathy laughter.

  But honestly, your heart skipped a beat after hearing his sudden confession.

  Tracing circles on your hand, Wonwoo smiles at your bewildered expression. “You were wondering if I was having a bad time? No, it’s all Taylor’s fault for making me confess to you tonight. That took me a long time I guess.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “I love you and Taylor made me realize that I should confess before it gets too late.”

  You looked up at Wonwoo while pulling your hand from his gentle hold and laughed. It was unbelievable how both of you have been painfully oblivious despite being helplessly pining towards each other.

  It was your best friend’s turn to get puzzled so you took the time advantage to confess.

  “Idiot, I liked you too, ever since we first met.” sounding bashful, you looked away hoping that you didn’t sound like an idiot. So much irony for making fun of your best friend a few moments ago. “I have no idea that you felt deeper than I thought I have.”

  Even if you already knew how Wonwoo’s mind works for five years, he is always full of surprises.

  Or maybe he was so happy tonight that he kissed your hand and never let go of it as he started driving you home.

[itsamejin]

this love || yoongi angst

Summary: A story through the years detailing your relationship with Yoongi and all the ups and downs that came with dating an idol. 

Warning: cursing, sexually suggestive content

Genre: angst, fluff, idol!yoongi, artist!yn

Pairing: Yoongi x female!reader

Premise: Based on the song ‘This Love’ by Taylor Swift. Reader is an artist.

Commission Request: @minyoongail​

Word Count: 7,681 words

—

You met Yoongi when he was just a trainee, ready to take on the world and bursting with energy to get on stage. He had visions of grandeur- him living in a beautiful mansion, wearing name-brand jewelry, cruising in rare sports vehicles. When times were simpler, he’d promise that you’d be there with him, indulging in the glitz and glamour that came with his fame. He’d be an idol and you’d be his muse. Yet under all those pretenses, under all those empty promises, he was just Yoongi.

He was a guy who walked in and out of your life as easily as ocean tides come and go on the shore. He taught you how to fall in love, fall out of it, and rekindle it all the same. It was a sort of beautiful asphyxiation, being wrapped up in his lifestyle and learning to accept the consequences that came with dating a celebrity.

You wonder even now as you search his name on the internet, if you had any regrets. After all, you lost too much to be with him.

—

April 2013

A first meeting meant everything to you, especially when it came to your clients. You didn’t accept jobs from weirdos who didn’t respect your craft and you definitely hated impatient ones who badgered you to finish your pieces as quick as possible.

Big Hit was a happy medium and had hired you as a contract employee after reviewing your portfolio. Although the style of work they wanted from you was not at all what you specialized in, you were happy that they treated you like an actual employee and not some sort of machine. Plus, the pay was good.

You were asked to work on some cute animal characters for an upcoming boy group that you weren’t terribly familiar with, maybe stumbled on a vlog of theirs that you forgot about. You were intrigued by the slew of trainees that sat in front of you, their palms clenched out of anxiousness.

“I’m [Y/N], one of the digital artists that will be working with you guys from now on,” you introduce yourself politely to the seven bright-eyed boys in front of you.

You were in a room with other staff members, discussing the concept of the “Hip Hop Monsters” your graphics team was working on. This was a planned project lasting over a span of years and would eventually result in collectors edition items. It made you giddy just thinking of the royalties you’d earn from it all.

“I’d like it if the animals took after us,” one of the boys suggested shyly, slightly intimidated by the large number of corporate employees there were in the room for something that seemed so trivial. “I think our fans would like the characters more if they kind of resembled our personalities and stuff...”

You nod along to his suggestions, staring at his jersey to notice that the member who spoke up was Rap Monster. It was cute how they all wore clothes with their names on them. That’s one way to attract attention, you suppose.

“Any other suggestions you guys have for us?” you ask, jotting down notes and making rough sketches as they talk amongst themselves.

“I’d like it if,” a somewhat husky voice starts and you can’t help but stare into the guy’s eyes as he speaks, “my character was a turtle.”

You burst out into a fit of laughter along with the other staff members. He had said it with such a straight face and with so little enthusiasm, yet you could tell from his slight blush that he was serious. He was cute in the way that he wasn’t trying to be.

“You resemble one,” you grin at him, drawing out a small turtle with a cute beanie on your iPad, like the one he wore in front of you. You show it to him. “Something like this?”

“Exactly that!”

He breaks out into a gummy smile, one so bright that it hurt your heart to stare at him for too long. Now you were the one left flustered. He realizes how enthusiastic he was and got embarrassed once again, scratching the back of his head to avoid eye-contact.

“S-sorry, for shouting. It looks good.”

You bite your lip from forming too big of a grin. You still had to remain professional after all.

“You’re welcome,” you smirk slightly as he goes back to trying to look cool. You can’t help but doodle his name on your iPad even as the other members shared ideas for their own animals.

Suga, Suga, Suga.

You smile to yourself. It does have a ring to it.

—

June 2013

Yoongi sees you in the hallways sometimes and wants to say hi, but he can’t because other people are watching. Though, that isn’t the only reason.

He tells himself every day that he’ll muster up the courage to go talk to you, but every time he sees your face his legs turn to jelly. Yoongi was busy with debut stages recently, but he found some free time in his schedule to approach you.

Yoongi was never the shy type, more reserved if anything else, but you had something that enamored him- intrigued him. He wanted to know who you were other than the cute girl he was stuck in meetings with from time to time.

As you sat there on your desk, Yoongi lingered in an area nearby. He would give you his number today and if things didn’t work out then that would be that. There was no need to be all shy about this; it’s not like this is his first time asking someone out.

He strides over to you with feigned confidence and you look up after a minute, not noticing how his shadow loomed over you. He sees that you’re working on realistic portraits of the members and not the cutesy characters he usually sees you drawing.

“Hi,” he says curtly, trying to seem disinterested though he was the one that approached you first.

“Hello,” you smile up at him.

Suga.

“You draw really cool stuff,” he says to break the awkward tension. “You should show it to the CEO. I’m sure we’d have cooler concepts for our albums with your work.”

You look up at him, a happy glint in your eyes. He was complimenting you, although avoiding eye contact to seem a little less nervous than he really was.

“Well, I’m just a contract worker so I don’t think I really have the authority to start up new projects out of nowhere,” you say with a smile on your face at how flustered he looks. “I feel like you’re here to ask me for something. Am I right?”

He looks away for a split second, coughing to alleviate his nerves. He was a grown man for fuck’s sake, why was this so difficult?

“I was actually wondering if you could come give me some opinions about some art that I drew,” he lies through his teeth, just trying to find a way to get you in a more private area than the corporate floor teaming with watchful gazes. “I’ve been trying to start a new hobby.”

You chuckle slightly, seeing right through his words. You stand up to amuse him.

“I’d be happy to.”

He leads you to a studio filled with whacky knick-knacks and dim lighting, not necessarily the best place to draw. You know by now that he just said those things as an excuse to be alone with you.

“So where’s this masterpiece?” you tease slightly at his nervous expression. How did a guy who looked so deadpan have such a giddy personality?

“Well actually,” he starts off, palms already sweaty. “I-It’s not here right now, but I think I left it at the dorms. Maybe if we exchange phone numbers I can text it to you.”

He tried to appear nonchalant, but his hands moved as if he was doing a public speaking presentation. Yoongi thought he was doing great, though growing a little more nervous at how you were giggling.

“You know, Suga,” you start teasingly, “My number is in the company directory. Feel free to text me anytime.”

Yoongi slightly cringes hearing his stage name. He loves it, don’t get him wrong, but he didn't like hearing it come from you. He didn’t like the unfamiliar aspect that came with using his stage name- like you two only went by professional terms.

“Call me Yoongi,” he says with genuine confidence this time. “I like it better when my friends call me Yoongi.”

You nod, relieved that you could finally know this cute guy’s name. Truth be told, you were snooping around his conversations with other people to figure it out.

“So we’re friends?”

Yoongi nods, sitting down in his rolling chair.

“I’d like to be,” he grins, patting the sofa, hoping you’d take a seat with him.

And you do.

—

Present

It’s hard to work efficiently when you’re no longer in a corporate space. There’s no boss to check up on your progress nor is there a nosy coworker trying to see what you’re doing from the corner of their eye. You missed the hustle and bustle of an office floor, but it was nice exploring your creativity through freelance work.

You tap your digital pen onto the table repeatedly, looking at the reference image over and over again. It was a sick joke played by the universe to have been commissioned to draw your ex-boyfriend’s idol group, but you couldn’t refuse the hundreds of dollars the ecstatic fangirl was willing to give you. Truth be told, she might have offered too much pay, but you took up her offer anyway. Money is money.

Yet a face you’ve touched so often, a person you’d been with for years felt so unfamiliar to you. It wasn’t like you were drawing him realistically either. The client wanted anime-style figures that resembled them, looked enough like the boys to display it as her Twitter header. In the end, it’s still too difficult to draw. The rest of the members were lined up and sketched perfectly, but there was a blank area where Yoongi’s face should’ve been.

Your wrists hurt from the constant drawing and erasing so you set it down to massage your hand from cramping. In moments like these, you hated your job.

Ting.

A message notification popped up on your phone that laid beside your iPad. You usually left it silent when you were working, but you opened yourself up to distractions when drawing this particular piece. Whoever thought it was a good idea to specialize in celebrity artwork? You pick up your phone and smiled softly at the text.

hey, can I come over?

—

March 2014

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Yoongi, happy birthday to you~~”

You cheer on with the rest of the boys in their cramped dorm. Somehow you had gotten close enough with them to be at this level of comfort, sitting crisscrossed and shoulders touching with Jungkook and Seokjin. Yoongi blows out the candles and claps his hands, a little sad that another year passed by so quickly. He kept glancing at you who was focused on cutting the cake like the perfectionist you were.

He couldn’t help but feel like time was running out, like if he didn’t confess to you now then it would never happen. Yoongi took off the beanie he wore and ruffled his hair. He was feeling anxious all of a sudden.

“Dude don’t do that your dandruff is gonna get everywhere,” Hoseok whines. “The cake is gonna be decorated with your dead skin cells.”

“Go wash your hands,” Jin commands and Yoongi could only roll his eyes.

“Relax, I don’t even think we’re gonna have cake anytime soon when this slow-poke is taking forever to cut.”

He flicks your forehead as you glare up at him.

“I could so easily throw this in your face, but I choose not to,” you stick your tongue out at him and he scoffs.

“I’d like to see you try.”

All the members groan out of annoyance.

“Oh my god they’re having a lovers quarrel again,” Jimin yawned. “Aren’t you guys sick of arguing?”

Yoongi freezes at his words. Lover’s quarrel. That was a nice way to put it.

“They’ll stop arguing when Yoongi finally-”

Taehyung was cut off as Yoongi swipes three fingers worth of frosting from the cake and lathers it all over Taehyung’s face.

“You talk too much,” Yoongi shakes his head and soon chaos descended. Cake flew in places it shouldn’t have and ended when Namjoon knocked over a glass of water, managing to break it on the floor tiles. In the end, no one got cake.

Yoongi and you were laughing amongst yourselves at the kitchen sink, washing off some of the bits that got onto your shirts.

“I’m so sorry about your cake,” you say through your chuckles. “I’ll make it up to you some time.”

Yoongi only smiles.

“Yeah, you can treat me on a date,” he replies a little too boldly. You look at him in shock, not quite processing his words.

“A date?”

He nods.

“We should go out sometime.”

You purse your lips to prevent the huge grin about to be displayed on your face.

“We should.”

—

Present

It was subtle, the way it all started. You trace over the features you drew so far, only getting to his eyes. Yoongi and you were innocent lovers for a while, keeping your trysts a secret from everyone in the company except his managers and the members. A few of your friends knew, but none of them knew BTS well enough to be all that surprised. It wasn’t all that rare to go out with a celebrity in your line of work.

You almost miss those days when he was unrecognizable. After your friends realized who he was after he hit it big globally, you felt like a secret of yours was displayed to them. Your love was supposed to be private, but his fame left very little room for privacy. You missed when you were the only one that knew of him and maybe it’s selfish to think that way, but you were past the point of being selfish.

You text back.

yeah, can't wait to see you

—

Jan. 2015

Yoongi lays you down on the couch gently. His hands caressing your sides underneath the thin material of your shirt as he pulls you in closer to his kisses. This felt different from other nights, different in that there was nothing around to stop what would come next.

He pulls away from you slightly, panting from the lack of oxygen.

“Are you sure?” he asks, drawing circles on your hip with his thumb. He was only supposed to come over to help you unpack some stuff for your new apartment and here you were, pinned on the couch and sweating from the close contact.

You nod back in response, not finding the right words to get him to continue. He pulls your shirt over your head, peppering kisses on your neck and atop your breasts. He fixates on your neck languidly, biting as he sees fits.

There was a pause as you felt him press up against you and you knew then that there was no making it to the bed. You would have your first time with him on this newly moved-in couch.

The clothes dropped to the ground as his touches get more impatient, more desperate. It all passes by like a blur and you could only remember the pleasure that came with his long fingers, the satisfaction you felt when he was inside you. The climax of it all made you realize that you loved him, truly and without regret. He holds you in his arms when you come undone, flashing a satiated smile as you look up at him. It’s like the stars were in his eyes.

“How do you feel?” you ask him, worried he was already drowsy. You didn’t want to have to sleep on the couch naked.

“Satisfied,” he says with a smile on his face.

You can’t help but swoon, his eyes fixated on you. At least for now, he was yours He wasn’t Suga, a rapper. He was Yoongi, your boyfriend.

It didn't matter to you that he was struggling to make a name for himself in this cut-throat idol industry or that he would spend countless nights cursing as one of his numerous tracks get rejected. None of that was in your mind. Only he swam through your thoughts. Only him.

“I love you,” he sighs out. He was the first to say it.

“I love you too,” you reply back and he holds you tight against him.

He’s nuzzling himself in your hair, his chest pressed up against you so his heartbeat can synch with yours. He loves this, can’t get enough of it. He catches your lips and once again you are whisked in the pleasure of it all. This is it. This is what love is.

—

Present

The piece is finally finished and you send it off to your client, hoping she doesn’t ask for revisions because you can’t handle another second of drawing his stupid face. His soft skin, his tiny moles, his gummy smile...

It's not like you hate him. It’s just... a certain contempt lingers after a breakup from a long-term relationship. It’s the type of resentment that can’t really be explained. You don’t want to see him, but you catch yourself watching his videos on Youtube. You don’t want to think about him, but you hope he thinks about you. You don’t see yourself ever getting back together with him, but you don’t have his phone number blocked.

It’s a sort of paradox you catch yourself in and you wonder if you could ever get out of it. Will Yoongi ever escape your mind?

can't wait to see u too babe

—

Aug. 2016

Yoongi hugs you from behind, his face scrunched at the nape of your neck where several marks were made from last night’s events. Your eyes stayed focus on the TV in front of you, still impressed by your own ability to afford one in your bedroom at your salary.

“BTS' SUGA drops new music video for his song and mixtape Agust D...”

The news anchor drones on and you could barely hear her through the sounds of Yoongi’s soft snores. His hold on you grew tighter as he hears his stage name from an unfamiliar voice and it makes you giggle slightly at how different the edgy music video being displayed was from the same person wrapping you in his arms so tightly.

“Babe, wake up. I have work to do,” you whisper into his hair and he only shakes his head back in response.

“No,” he mutters, pulling you into him closer. You roll your eyes, managing to pry off one of his hands as you sit up on the bed.

“Don’t you have studio stuff to do today?” you ask him, searching for a shirt to wear.

He shakes his head as his eyes start to flutter open. You both reeked of alcohol since you opened a bottle of wine last night to celebrate the release of his first solo work. He was proud of it and you were proud of him.

“Can you turn that off, I’m getting a migraine,” he whines, covering his head with a pillow. You opted to wear Yoongi’s shirt instead of your own since you couldn’t be bothered to walk to the other side of the bed to find it. You smiled at his laying figure, cooped in a fetal-like position. He was still naked, but you were with him long enough to no longer be phased by that sort of thing.

“From one bottle of wine?” you tease slightly. “I think you’re losing your touch, Agust D.”

You chuckle as he throws the pillow on top of his head towards you.

“Don’t call me that,” he pouts, “It feels like you’re making fun of me.”

You stand up from where you were, stretching out your back as you make your way to the door.

“That’s because I am,” you smirk, “You know you’re saved on my phone as Sugar?”

He gives you a glare.

“It’s Suga,” he says, attempting to add some intimidation to his voice. It doesn’t work because all you do is stick your tongue out at him.

“Whatever sugar.”

He chuckles lightly and watches the silhouette of your figure exit his view. Yoongi can’t help but mindlessly follow after you.

As you exit towards the kitchen, you can’t help but hear the television from the bedroom.

“Suga has recently been caught up in a dating scandal with Suran, the solo artist, who sang with him in a song...”

Your head snaps up from those words, your skin crawling with goosebumps. You make it into the kitchen but with a heavy heart and no appetite.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, passing by you to pour himself some water.

“Nothing,” you say, though you sounded bitter. He caught on quite quickly. You were jealous again.

Yoongi heaves out a deep sigh and sets the glass of water down. He comes over to your angry figure and gives you a soft hug, laying his head on top of yours as if to comfort you. You try to pull away but he keeps you close.

“I’ll tell them to drop the rumors, okay?,” he says, genuinely enough to make you believe him. “I don’t want us to fight so early in the morning.”

“You promise?”

He pulls away.

“I promise,” he says, brushing a hair away from your face. “Let’s not think about those rumors right now. You and me both know they’re not true.”

You were never one to forget so easily.

—

It was around 2016 when you had stopped working at Big Hit. They halted the Hip Hop Monster brand and your contract was expiring with them anyway. You went from living a kush office life to struggling freelance worker in a matter of a second. It also meant that Yoongi and you would be spending less time together. His busy schedules couldn’t permit him to stay with you longer than a few hours and his presence slowly started to disappear from his side of the bed.

It was like a sinking ship, what you had with him. The pain starts off slow, unnoticeable. You’ll still laugh and keep up appearances as time passes, but you could tell there was an ominous atmosphere that wasn’t initially there in the relationship. Your screams start to grow silent as more problems start to stack on top of each other. It’s then when you hit the iceberg. It’s then when it all starts to fall apart.

He was still good for you, you convinced yourself, even as the currents swept you out under your feet.

—

Dec. 2016

“What the fuck do you mean you’re not coming?” you yell through your phone. You were sitting on the floor of your living room, holiday decorations strewn around the apartment. He promised he’d come spend a day off of his winter promotions to be with you.

“You know how hectic the end of the year gets with promotions,” he says in quiet hushes. “I can’t do anything about it. This is my job.”

You suck in your cheeks to prevent yourself from yelling. From the sound of it, he was in public.

“Yoongi, I called out of talking to a really high-paying client,” you say through gritted teeth. “And I still came home. Why am I the only one making sacrifices?”

He sighed at the other end. He didn’t have the patience to deal with you today.

“Look, can you stop being so fucking needy. I don’t need this right now.”

He couldn’t tell from the phone call, but your heart broke at the word. Needy. He thought that you were needy.

“I’m already stressed out as it is,” he continues through the phone. “I don’t need you up my ass all the time.”

“I’m not gonna wait for you,” you reply, tears threatening to spill over. “I’m going to sleep and you’re gonna get rid of all the shit you have in my apartment. I’m sick of you, Yoongi.”

He scoffs.

“I’m sick of you too.”

Yoongi hangs up, about ready to hit the wall when Jimin comes to calm him down. Small things that were never meant to be taken seriously built up until it was ready to crash down.

When Yoongi comes at night to visit you, he sees that you’re asleep on the couch. He sits next to you, pulling you into his arms.

“I’m sorry baby,” he whispers quietly. “I’ll do better.”

You nuzzled closer to him, comforted by words you forget the next day. Even when you woke up with a bad neck and Yoongi snoring onto your skin, you couldn’t find a way to stay mad at him. You knew, deep down, that some way or the other you’re gonna find yourself arguing about the same thing next week.

—

Present

Junghoon comes to pick you up. Junghoon, your boyfriend.

He’s a little uptight and too stern for his own good, but has a good heart and a knack of giving great gifts. You met him from working in the same industry, a 3D graphics designer for several video game companies. He was a new addition to your life, your relationship only about three months old.

You were warming up to him slowly, thankful for finally having a consistent presence in your life. He always made time for you, never used work as an excuse, and didn’t act cold just for the sake of acting cold. Junghoon was sweet in the way that Yoongi used to be when he wasn’t such a massive celebrity.

It was a relief to have someone like Junghoon in your life that didn’t walk in and out of your door without much of a thought to even say goodbye. Your life with him has been a tad bit dull, but you don’t mind all that much. Junghoon’s made you feel secure in ways that Yoongi couldn’t.

—

May 2017

“Your boyfriend is winning a whole ass award across the world and you’re having ramen with me?” Chaerin sighs. It’s typical for a best friend to judge the actions of the other.

“Yeah and?” you reply snarkily, swirling your chopstick around to find the perfect clump of noodles. “I’m not the top social artist according to Billboard, what’s it have to do with me?”

She rolls her eyes at you.

“I don’t know, you could at least watch him win the award?” she suggests. “The live stream is literally happening right now. Your boyfriend is making history and you don’t even care!”

You look at the clock on the restaurant wall. It was nearing 2 o’clock and your client meeting would be starting soon. You were in high demand as a graphic artist recently and as far as you were concerned, that was the only thing on your mind at the moment. You stare back into your bowl, suddenly losing your appetite.

“The apartment is lonely without him,” you admit sadly.

He bought one for himself and had you move in. ‘It’s easier to not get noticed by the tabloids,’ he convinced you. The modern sleekness of his penthouse was a nice change to your lifestyle, but you missed the comfiness of your small studio apartment. It was often too cold when he wasn’t around.

“You could watch it with me?” Chaerin suggested. “Yoongi’s probably so sad that his own girlfriend doesn’t even want to watch him win such a major award.”

You bite down on your chopstick harshly.

“Well he didn't even want me to come with him so I don’t wanna hear anymore about him from you.”

Chaerin squinted her eyes in your direction.

“Well I mean I get where he’s coming from. He’s still an idol, [Y/N],” she scolds. “It would be a massive risk to take you with him.”

You shook your head disapprovingly, pushing the bowl away from you.

“I’m not an idiot, Chae. It’s not like I was asking to be on the red carpet with him, I just wanted to be there waiting in the hotel room after the show. Two nights ago he suddenly backs out and says I shouldn’t come.”

Chaerin’s jaw dropped out of shock. That wasn’t what she was expecting at all.

“Did he say why?”

You stare down at your nails, your heart growing heavy as a long pause of silence takes place. It would be better to be honest, right? You shouldn’t have to pretend like everything’s okay when it clearly isn’t.

“He said he wants space,” you say, careful not to get choked up. “So I’m giving it to him.”

You clutch your thigh instinctively, remembering how Yoongi had brought that up with you just nights before. You two weren’t happy and that he needed to figure himself out before the relationship gets any worse. It’s just a break or whatever bullshit he spouted.

She scoffs.

“What is wrong with you two?” she asks, genuinely concerned. “You are not the type of person to take a break in a relationship.”

You stare bitterly into the reflection of your soup.

“I just don’t think I’ve been happy for a while,” you reply, taking a sip of your water that was left untouched for a better half of the night. “I don’t think he is either.”

—

Sept. 2017

The break lasted for months and you wondered if it was really even a break at all. It felt more like a break up if you were honest. He’d text once in a while and video call you when he was free but other than that it felt like he became a stranger, just another celebrity billboard you walked past on your way to a client’s workplace.

You’d draw sketches of him countlessly, in fear you’d forget how his face looked in real life and not through a low-quality screen. You etched every baby hair, every small blemish he’d hide with makeup. It was your method of not forgetting who the real Yoongi was because honestly, you didn’t know anymore. You didn’t know him.

Trrrringggg.

The sound of your doorbell could be heard all throughout your apartment. You stood up from where you sat on the bed, leaving the sketchbook of his face on the comforter. You weren’t expecting any visitors, but surely enough, Yoongi stood in front of you with a lopsided grin on his face.

“Hey.”

You let him in, not uttering a single word. He looks different now. His hair was black, thank god, but his face was a little softer than you were used to. You remember him being so paranoid about turning bald just a few years ago and here he was, no bald spots to be found. He looked healthy.

“It’s been a while,” you respond, hugging your arms close to your chest, uncomfortable that he was in your presence. It was his apartment technically, but you lived in it more than he did. He opted to stay in the dorm ever since he issued that idiotic break.

“I miss you,” he says in a lowly voice and you almost believe him. Almost.

You scoff.

“It seems like you’ve been having fun without me though,” you say through gritted teeth. “I thought you still wanted space?”

He shakes his head and brings his hand to touch your arm.

“No,” he swallows his saliva. “I miss you.”

You could feel his sincerity, but you can’t help but not trust him. He’s been viciously cold to you, but you find yourself pulling him closer anyway.

“Don’t ever do that again,” you threaten. “It’ll really be over then, Yoongi.”

He sighs into your hair. He loves you. He does. But he doesn’t know why it’s so hard to express it.

“I promise [Y/N]. I won’t leave.”

—

Aug. 2018

He buys you flowers, your favorite kind. It’s a small gesture, but it has you jumping into his arms all the same. It shows that he still cares somewhat. It’s been a while since he’s last shown it.

He holds you closely, appreciating the softness of your body and how you curl perfectly into him.

“I want to stay like this,” you say mindlessly, just relishing in his presence.

You’re not mad at him today and he’s not frustrated with you. It’s a high point in your relationship.

“Me too.”

His words are simple but it warms your heart nonetheless. Yoongi looks at you with twinkling eyes and for a moment you think that this could last forever and that it will last forever. You kiss him slowly and he reciprocates.

It reminds you of your first time, slow and careful- like you were the last person he’d ever want to hurt.

His love, although painful at times, was good to you when you needed it to be.

—

July 2019

Yoongi’s gone again. He’s on tour, as usual, and not giving you any updates. You were getting sick of it. The constant waiting, the constant insecurities that ate you up inside. You weren’t built to endure this kind of torture.

Suga. Suga. Suga.

It rolls off the tongue but it feels disgusting coming out of your mouth. His stage name, a persona. He starts to resemble that name more and more as the days go by. You hear it so much now that it no longer registers as an actual word.

You call him.

He doesn’t pick up.

Again.

No answer.

You’re about ready to throw the phone at the wall until a soft ring was heard from the small device. You take the call immediately, smiling as if you passed the hardest difficulty of a video game. The grin would soon be wiped away, though.

“Why’d you call?” he grumbles from the other line, loud music blasting in the background.

“Why weren’t you picking up?” You sound bitter. You don’t care.

“I’m out right now,” he says, exasperation laced in his voice. “I’m not in the mood to talk.”

Clearly, he just wasn’t in the mood to talk to you. Yoongi was at a party or a club or wherever he could possibly be in the streets of Shizuoka at 10 p.m.

You just wanted to chat, check on him as a good girlfriend would. He’s been complaining that you haven’t been in a while. You thought this was what he wanted- for you to care.

“I just wanted to see if you were doing okay,” you sigh. “How’d the concert go?”

“Good,” he says, clearly distracted. “Some of us snuck out of the hotel rooms to let loose for a bit.”

You nod as if he could see you.

“So you’re partying?”

You could hear him laugh at the other end, but it wasn’t from your comment. Someone else was making him laugh. Someone with a light and dainty voice, whiny as she got closer to Yoongi.

“Yeah, I guess you could call it that,” he says, clearly distracted. “Listen I’ll call you back, okay?”

You feel a lump stuck in your throat. There are no words left to say. The foreign girl on the other end giggled harder at whatever Yoongi was saying and it felt like you were invading their privacy- as if she was his girlfriend and you were nothing. You hung up, your mouth feeling dry as the tears poured down.

You see a text from Yoongi just a few seconds into your wallowing. You sniffle as you read it.

don’t misunderstand. nothing’s happening rn i'm just having a bit of fun.

This time you really threw your phone at the wall.

You go to your iPad that’s sitting untouched on your desk. You open your drawing app and just let the anger in the stylus take you from there. You draw a rough sketch of a couple on the edge of a beachside cliff. The woman seems to be falling into the water as if she was pushed. The guy’s hand reaches out to her, but you can’t really tell if he was trying to grab her or if he was the one that let her go in the first place.

As the tears spilled onto the cool surface of the iPad, you sob harder. Nothing could be fixed and everything still felt broken. It was meaningless, sleeping in his bed and wearing his clothes when he was all the way in Japan snuggling up to girls that were probably much prettier and much more willing to understand his lifestyle.

You look around the penthouse he had bought for the two of you, beautiful wide panel windows and modern furniture. It mostly looks empty, everything nice and tidy as if no one lived here. It had such a stark contrast to that of his old life when he shared rooms with other members and had no place to really put his keyboard except the studio. You smiled at the memory of you all hovering around the small coffee table in the cramped living room eating ramen.

Maybe it was your fault for falling behind, for letting the world around you build up and not follow in Yoongi’s tracks.

—

Present

You guess it was then when the relationship had passed a point of no return. When everything that felt right had started to feel incredibly wrong. You tolerated his presence rather than bask in it. You heard him speak but couldn’t bother to listen. Maybe you were petty, but more than anything you were angry.

You were angry that he could break you that badly and you would still forgive him for it.

You stare over at Junghoon who’s cooking you up something on the stove. This is what you needed.

—

Nov. 2019

Yoongi was back from some big-name award show that you didn’t watch. You heard he won Artist of the Year or whatever, the accolades that he’s collected no longer having meaning as the days pass. Why be happy for him when he himself showed no signs of excitement? This was routine. He expected the awards at this point.

You walked towards him. Yoongi looked angry, though you have no idea why.

“Hey, I made dinner to celebrate,” you tell him. Yoongi’s sitting on the couch, scrolling through the congratulatory messages he received from other industry stars. He looked like he needed to get something off his chest.

“I’m not hungry,” he mutters. “Just leave it.”

“Are you sure?”

He scoffs. It was a simple question.

“Not in the mood.”

You give him a pointed look and sit next to him.

“Why are you never in the mood for anything?” you ask him. “It’s just food Yoongi. I just want to eat with you.”

You don’t see it properly but he rolls his eyes.

“Just drop it okay? Today’s a good day, I don’t need you to ruin it.”

You suck in your cheeks.

“Ruin?”

Yoongi sighs heavily.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he starts, facing you. “Why do you have to be so dramatic over everything.”

You grit your teeth.

“Dramatic?” your voice quivers. “I didn’t know feeling hurt was being dramatic.”

His gaze softens and he touches your arm lightly.

“Sorry, I didn't mean it like that.”

You shake your head, feeling your eyes dampen at his words.

“I hate your apologies, Yoongi,” you say in a hushed tone. “They don’t mean anything anymore.”

He’s shocked, not really sure how to respond. You were never one to confront him, especially when he was angry. Instead, he holds your hand softly. He was terrible at comforting people.

“Yoongi are you really sorry?” you ask abruptly. It was a question you’ve been meaning to ask for years now.

His grip on you tightened and you can’t quite read his expression, but you can tell that it’s not a positive response. He looks conflicted and he shouldn’t have to be if he really was. You force him to let go of you.

“I am,” he says, knowing he answered a little too late for his words to not seem suspicious.

“I don’t think you are,” you reply sadly. “You say sorry more than you-”

say I love you.

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence because he knows. He knows what you’re trying to say.

“I am,” he says with more sincerity, but he looks at you with an unreadable expression. “I just don’t think it’s enough at this point.”

“What’s not enough?”

You were confused. Is he still talking about whether he's apologetic or not? Or is it something entirely different?

“I do love you,” he says with a certain conviction in his voice, “and I always will, but it feels like nothing’s working out.”

Yoongi doesn’t look at you and focuses on the leather of the fancy couch. He doesn’t say anything but you know what this means. He’s about to stand up, but you grab onto his wrist.

“This is your apartment,” you say before he could say anything to break your heart even further. “I’ll leave.”

“[Y/N], no,” he says. “You don’t have anywhere else to go. I’m just gonna stay over at the dorm. I just...”

Your eyes get blurry from the tears. Even now it felt like he was looking down at you. Nowhere to go. It was like he pitied you.

“...need to go clear my mind,” he finishes the sentence, standing up to grab his coat.

You shake your head and stand in front of him. He’s usually like this. A coward. A bumbling fool who would rather avoid problems than face them head on.

“I need you to stay, Yoongi,” you cry out. “I need you to actually stay for once and comfort me.”

He looks at you, mouth open but no words come out. He smiles sadly and walks toward you, kissing your cheek.

“I don’t think I can do that anymore, [Y/N],” he says and you watch him leave as easily as he walked in.

It’s not like he ever comforted you in the first place.

—

The break up happened silently over a late-night phone call a few days after he disappeared on you. You packed up your things, stayed over at Chaerin’s house, and braced yourself for what was to come. It should’ve happened sooner, you admit, but your heart still sinks when he speaks.

“I just don’t think either of us is willing to try anymore,” he says solemnly. “We’ve been on and off for the past few years and I don’t think it’s healthy for either of us to continue.”

You agree, just wanting the call to end quickly so you wouldn’t have to hear his voice any longer. It hurt to have to listen to him rationalize breaking your heart.

“I don’t think we should be together anymore, [Y/N],” he says, not even a tiny bit choked up. “I think we’ve... outgrown each other.”

You knew what Yoongi really meant. He’s outgrown you.

“I think so too,” you say rigidly. Short and simple. You left nothing to be desired. “Let’s break up.”

Yoongi looks at his phone, slightly disappointed. He wished you would fight back, maybe rekindle something in him that he’s lost over the years. Yet you were silent on the line and he just had to accept it- that there was nothing left to be saved.

“Take care, okay?” he says softly because in the end he still cares- he just doesn’t want to anymore.

“I will,” you reply, ultimately hanging up the phone. You collapse onto a bed unfamiliar to you. Yoongi would no longer sleep beside you, no longer reach over to hug your side and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. He was gone and you had to accept that maybe he was never yours in the first place.

His last words replay in your mind.

Take care.

That was the most concern he’s ever shown you in the past few weeks. You almost scoff at the absurdity of it all. You don’t notice how truly broken you were until the tears start streaming down your face. You see the image of him through blurry eyes and you wonder how you could let Yoongi leave such a permanent scar on your heart.

—

Present

“Do you like your eggs runny or no?”

Junghoon asks as you approach his figure. You hug him from behind and smile at his warmth. Safe.

“Just a little runny,” you reply.

He smiles and nods, turning off the heat and grabbing some seasoning from your cupboard. You detach yourself from him when you realized what he was grabbing.

“Babe that’s not salt. That’s-”

Sugar.

You stop yourself from saying it and Junghoon looks at you with concern. He chuckles at your stoic state and ruffles your hair.

“Cat got your tongue or what?” he asks, grabbing the right container this time. “Maybe I should’ve asked if you like your eggs sweet instead, huh?”

“I’ve never tried that combination before,” you say teasingly. “Why don’t you test it out for us.”

He clicks his tongue at you and splashes some salt on your face.

“I’ll pour sugar all over you if that’s what you really want.”

You laugh half-heartedly. A simple word shouldn’t affect you this much but you find yourself get more teary-eyed as it repeats in your head. It wasn’t fair to Junghoon that you were thinking of your ex in his presence. It wasn’t fair to you either.

You feel a vibration from your pocket and you pull it out to serve as a distraction from your wallowing thoughts. It’s a text.

From Sugar.

—

A/N: This was so hard to write because my mind has just been empty these days but I’m so glad it’s done now >_< Thank you to @minyoongail​ for requesting this story. I’ve been bumping to the Taylor Swift song now because of this commissions T^T I recommend you all to listen to it. I tried to write this in a different style from my other works so I hope this is still readable for you all LOL

I’m closing commissions temporarily to focus on the ones I have now and to also start writing my own stuff. Let me know how you feel about this, I appreciate all types of comments and criticisms <3 Look forward to Part 2!

[strawberrielarrie]

Music Industry Stunts and why they happen

Stunts are a big part of the music industry, you may not know it, but they are.  The purpose of stunts is to push a certain narrative to the general public. Now this could mean many different things, PR relationship; coverups; or to peak the publics interest. Why? You may ask, why would the artist do this, why wouldn’t they just be truthful? Well, many don’t have a choice, the music industry is a place that I wish no one would have to be in, it is a cruel and awful place to be if you don’t know how to get around it, or if you don’t have the correct connections. In the past (and still now), many big brand music industries, such as Sony Music and Warner Music have controlled artists immensely.

George Michael

As a legend in the music industry, George Michael is a well-known name in the average household. From his time in the hit duo “Wham!”, Michael’s music was distributed through CBS, but in 1987 Sony took over and that’s when things went downhill. Michael reveled in the popularity of his hit album “Faith” in 1987, and so did Sony, because he was earning them money.

But that ended quickly with the news of his next album “Listen Without Prejudice” in 1990, Sony refused to promote the album and appear in the music videos for it. Michael in turn, disputed his contract with Sony, but he could not do close to anything, because Sony possessed the power of approval over everything that he put out. Meaning, George Michael could not release music without it going through the board of Sony, and if he did, he could get sued and fired.

(Sony is a whole other world of fucked up, they fucked MJ up so badly, Sony Kills)

During this whole time, George came clean, saying that the board of Sony, used many different homophobic slurs against him, and wouldn’t let him release any music that seemed to allude to the fact that he was gay.

George Michael brought Sony to court in 1993, claiming that between 1987-1992, he had made worldwide profits of £7.35 million ($9.8 million) compared to Sony making £52.45 million ($70 million). Ultimately, the case lasted till June 1994, and Michael had lost, the judge claiming that it was fair. Michael retaliated saying how Sony is “Professional Slavery”.

Suzanne Kessler, Entertainment attorney at Bone McAllester Norton and former in-house attorney at A&M Records and Universal Music Group stated, “There are two sides to this tale,” she said. “The music business is a relationship business, and he was uneasy with what was happening. A label often wants an artist to continue to trade on their established brand with the public. But after “Faith” Michael was trying for a new direction, to be taken more seriously as an artist instead of just as a pop star sex symbol.”

This brings me to my next point,

 Closeting in the Industry

(Now I could go on for day about closeting in the music industry, but I will only give you the basis and then I will link another post that goes further in depth.)

Closeting is not a rare thing in the music industry, it in fact happens more than you might think. Many different artists have come forward, saying how their management said they should remain closeted to the general public, in order to maintain the brand that has been established. A popular example of this would be Sam Smith, they were offered multiple times by their management to have a beard. More closeting in the industry comes from Colton Haynes, who has been open about how his management closeted him because he “could not be gay and work in the industry”.

Colton link

Beard: A woman or man who fake dates a person of the LQBTQ+ Community, to hide their real sexual orientation or identity

 The Types of Stunts and Stunt Songs

“Pap Pics”

Stunts are common, we all should know that. From the amount of staged paparazzi pictures and videos that get posted to twitter on the daily it is not surprising that stunts happen. One of the main reasons stunts happen is for publicity, I can tell you now, living in LA for as long as I did, the paparazzi aren’t at every corner just waiting for a celebrity to walk past. They are called to meet at a place where the celebrity is going to be, in order to get pictures. This call is made by the artists management normally, and many times it is done against the artists will.

“Relation-shit”

These types of stunts are the relationship stunts, normally it is two popular celebrities dating to gain publicity for a movie or song that they are doing. A popular reference to this would be Joe Jonas and Demi Lovato, Joe was approached by a head of Disney, who asked him to date, at the time, co-star Demi Lovato. This stunt was to push the new Disney movie that both were starring in, Camp Rock 2: The Final Jam. Now at the time Demi was unaware that Joe was approached to do this, so when Joe and hid dad approached her about it… wow that must have hurt.

Another example of a relation-shit would be Shawmilla. Now before you attack me for this, let’s look at all the facts. Everything that relationship has done has been staged, let’s look at the timeline.

 August 2015

-       the first time they publicly hung out (at the 2015 VMA’s), sparking rumors of them dating

September 2015

-       pictured together at the iHeart Radio Festival, sparking rumors of Camila branching off of Fifth Harmony

November 2015

-       “I Know What You Did Last Summer” was released and performed many different times, Camila was still in Fifth Harmony at the time

June 2016

-       Shawn and Camila win an award for IKWYDLS and accepted together

-       Camilla ultimately starts her solo career

December 2017

-       Shawn is pictured with Hailey Baldwin (Bieber)

February 2018

-       Camila is in a serious relationship with Matthew Hussey, confirmed by a trip to Mexico together

April 2018

-       Shawn and Hailey go to the Met Gala together (Iconic)

December 2018

-       Camila hints at music between her and Shawn on twitter (6 months before Senorita)

https://twitter.com/Camila_Cabello/status/1070381510740598785?s=20

May 2019

-       Matthew and Camila last spotted together, returning from a vacation in Italy

-       Met her family on May 14th

June 20th, 2019

-       Senorita is released, now this had been in the works for over 6 MONTHS, so this was all very planned out

-       On release day, the Senorita music video was also released, which is literally soft porn, I do not know how it is still on the internet, gross

-       But, Camila? Aren’t you still dating Matthew? Why would you release this very VERY touchy music video with Shawn, if you are still dating Matthew?

June 21st, 2019

-       Shawn and Camila in V Magazine, still very touchy

June 26th, 2019

-       Breakup articles about Matthew and Camilla, Weird since he met her family only a month before.

July 3rd, 2019

-       Staged photos of Shawn and Camila out and about

4th  

-       more staged pics

5th

-       Camila at Shawn’s Concert

6th

-       Shawn denies that him and Camila are dating

 https://twitter.com/PopCrave/status/1147700409919778816?s=20

7th  

-       Shawmila in San Francisco all day

12th

-       That god awful making out pics that shook the entire internet

-       More pics in SF

 Ok you get the point, they are pictured together only when one of them has music to promote, In this case its Senorita. Now for more recent proofs of this entire relationship being a sham. Shawn just released an album called “Wonder” and guess what we wonder Shawn? Why do you not post any pictures of Camila until you have an album to promote? And now you have a puppy? Pulling an Elounor are we?

Senorita is a total stunt song to “prove” to the public that they are together.

“Style”

Now this type of stunt gets its name from the queen of stunt songs herself, Ms. Taylor Swift. The notorious song Style, supposedly about “Ex” Harry Styles, is probably one of the most stunty stunt songs I have ever heard. Like come on! “James Dean Daydream look in your eyes” if you didn’t know, here is a short recap on the icon himself James Dean.

Taylor has time and time again written amazing songs, I would be lying if I did not call her one of the greatest lyricists on the 21st century, the woman can write extremely well. So why would she put a nod to James Dean, a famous actor, who was a closeted, RAGING bisexual in a song so clearly about Harry Styles? She knows what she is doing.

Talking more about the “Haylor” stunt, can we please end that? It was a 3-month PR stunt that happened 5 years ago, please just get over it, they never really dated. And to the hardcore Haylor fans, there is no chemistry between them.

Haylor; The Stunt

“I hate you because I’m getting paid to!”

Now I do not go into this one much, but basically it is when you see two artists publicly fighting and releasing diss tracks. A popular example of this would be, Machine Gun Kelley and Eminem, with their songs called “Rap Devil” and “Killshot”. Their “beef” was totally staged to boost views on both sides, its even more prominent because they have the same record label, INTERSCOPE.

Eminem v. MGK

 I will be adding to this the more things happens, but it you have and questions feel free to ask them!

[sunjaesol]

maybe "brunette" was the only rhyme

based on "skin" by sabrina carpenter and the drama surrounding it - no hate towards any of the people in the situation!

Julie stared at the pot of spaghetti, knuckles white as they gripped the kitchen counter. Glaring wouldn't make the water boil faster, but maybe then she wouldn't feel like exploding herself.

Carrie Wilson had to release that song. She had to. It was a good song, Julie would give her that, if only it wasn't so fucking obvious about who it was. Subtlety was never the girl's strength and it clearly hasn't changed after all these years.

In just twenty-four hours, her song blew up. And in-between those hours, every single person on the planet with an internet connection connected the dots between the "brunette girl" and Julie Molina. The one who "snatched" Luke Patterson away from Carrie. The "homewrecker" - according to Twitter at least.

At first, she and Luke were hoping it would die down. The song was getting hype, but with the nature of social media, they were sure the attention would drop as quickly as she got it. She'd get her fifteen minutes of fame and then they'd all continue on with their lives.

But then it reached number one on the charts on every streaming platform, the radio bombarded the song every chance it got, ads played before YouTube videos to stream the song. The New York Times gave it its own spread. "Drivers License" was everywhere.

So yeah, Julie was fucking angry.

Carrie and Luke broke up two years ago. Four months after the break-up, she and Luke met each other after a Sunset Curve concert and instantly hit it off. She knew he had history with the famous blonde, but never gave it much thought. Never thought how she'd feel when photos began to leak of Julie and him around LA. And why should she? Carrie was his ex that he, frankly, didn't speak too fondly of. It was the past.

It didn't click at first. Julie listened to it and was excited for the girl's lyrical prowess. But then at the second listen, she realised how it narrated quite specific events only the three of them knew of. How blatant it was. To make it worse, Carrie was pretending to be the meek one. Not that she was this villainous cartoon figure, but she wasn't a saint either.

Now Julie was getting floods of hatred each second of the day. As if Luke wasn't an active participant in this! He hardly got any questions about it! Naturally, the guy was left out of the conversation. If she didn't love him as much as she did, she would've probably started raging at him too. (Alas, Luke had stolen her soul the moment he kissed her.)

Carrie should've just stayed in her lane. Written a different song, processed the break-up without tilting the music world of its axis. Julie nor Luke did anything to deserve this.

Teen Vogue and Seventeen Magazine have asked her for a reaction. She hasn't given them anything. There was nothing to say. People broke up and then eventually moved on - then fucking do it. Carrie hasn't reached the status of Taylor Swift yet that permitted her to get away with stuff like this.

"Babe."

Her eyes ripped themselves from the now boiling pot of water, calloused fingers gently tugging on her arm before it splashed and hit her.

She sighed. "I'm losing my mind."

His touch trailed to her shoulders, massaging the knots. She looked up, a tender smile blooming on her face as she met his timid gaze. If it wasn't for Luke, she would've probably had multiple breakdowns in the five days since its release. Slipping in his embrace, the soft thud of his heartbeat calmed her down.

His lips murmured against the crown of her head. "I'm sorry."

"I thought the break-up was amicable."

"It was." He paused. "As amicable a break-up with Carrie can be."

It made her chuckle, a sliver of levity, and kiss the fabric of his hoodie. She was kind of lost right now. The longer she hesitated reacting, the more theories and falsities would sprawl on the internet. Her reputation wouldn't forever be tainted - she was Julie Molina, biggest singer-songwriter of the moment - though one that stayed spotless would've been better.

(Ugh. She could already imagine the wild stories that would inevitably pop up once the Grammys rolled around. "Possible cat fight on the red carpet?! Tune in to find out!" Just as she got them to stop asking about who she was wearing, this had to happen.)

His lips trailed from her hair to her forehead, cheeks, jaw, lips. He hummed a tune in her ear. "Let's stay in," he whispered. "Order in some food, watch a movie you like. Let me treat you."

She wanted to give in. She really did - and it almost worked. Let go, allow herself to sink into his loving touch, forget about everything. But she couldn't. Julie pulled away. Gah! Ignoring Carrie's stupid song with taco's and West Side Story won't make it go away. She had to change the narrative! Fight back!

"I just feel like I'm letting her get under my skin," she huffed, throwing the dry spaghetti in the pot. "She's winning."

He frowned. "There's nothing to win though. You have me."

"This is not about you, Luke." Rolling her eyes, she added: "It's about her coming at me. A girl. It's about pushing the idea that girls naturally hate on each other and then allowing others to do it too."

With every syllable that uttered from her lips, anger flared inside of her, bursting from the crevices. Argh! Couldn't the blonde just give her a call? Talk it out?

But then it came. Julie stilled. The shimmering idea of a powerful takedown danced behind her eyes. A coup on her own turf. If Carrie had the balls to air out her personal relationships without pardon, then she just had to do the exact same.

She pecked his lips with a mischievous grin, fury morphing into assertive passion. Carrie wanted drama? Wanted press? Then let her get it.

"Maybe I should just... respond." Tilting her head, she kissed him again, firmer. "Play along."

Luke, dazed, tucked a curl behind her ear. "Don't let it blow up in your face, Jules."

"I won't," she pressed. Her hands glided onto his chest, relaxed now that a solution brewed and flourished. Things were going to be fine again. Stepping between his legs, her smile was coy. "Mind helping me get some inspiration?"

She didn't have to ask twice, him turning off the stove and pulling her into a searing kiss that numbed her mind and shaped lyrics in her heart. Each touch was one step closer to her truest feelings being poured into a song. Each breath a beat in the music.

Carrie would never get under her skin, but Luke would always be on hers.

@blush-and-books @willexx @unsaid-emily @sophiphi @alexjulies

[oneweekoneband]

her Nebraska (1982)

In July I flew to Massachusetts with a plague on, and I felt that it was wrong, but my mother had begged and I’d been out of work for months. Mornings there I ran in long, uneven ovals on the same roads I’d memorized in high school. There’s no sidewalks, but the few feet of dirt between the craggy pavement and the open mouths of the fields serve all right for a single body in motion. When a truck comes up close from behind, the ground shakes, and I step away bouncingly from the street toward thigh-high yellow weeds and grass, and keep going. I was slowly picking my way back in that dirt, sweat-slick from only a plodding couple of miles in peak summer heat, and sucking the wet cotton of my mask in between my teeth on every inhale, when Taylor Swift announced she was releasing a surprise album produced by the guy from The National. Not the guy from The National, like, the voice, but the guy from The National whose photo was circulated on Twitter earlier this year as some kind of antifa super soldier, which isn’t the case, but would’ve been rad. First, I stopped dead to send some outraged, misspelled text messages, and then I ran home faster than I’d moved in years.

Tall, blonde, patrician pop star Taylor Swift is to me something like a cross-between a wife and a boogeyman. Bound we’ve been since we were really children. Time and its changes haven’t rid me of her, and what’s worse is I have never quite been able to wish they would, though I claim as much all the time. Countless hours of my one wild and precious life have been spent on endlessly analyzing the minutiae of Taylor Swift’s music, the mind that made it, the real world events which influenced it. And though all the while I have known she is only a person, and that people, while each strange and lovely in their own ways, are, in the end, mostly dull, needful in just the regular manner, the fantasy is better, the sick dream of a megalomaniac songstress, curious, thrilling, probably evil, and I choose that. I don’t know Taylor Alison Swift, born to this world in, I presume, the usual way. But my Taylor Swift? I’m a renowned expert. I’ve always eaten up stories—movies, music, celebrity news, the one my grandfather tells about falling off his bike once in Ireland as a boy and his face “cracking open like an egg”—like a starved dog. I’m obsessive about my interests, but not inclined to intense fandom, and certainly not fandom in the mode of the stan. For one, I’m too self-absorbed. But caring intensely for a famous person is falling in love with a ghost, and that’s all right—I mean, what the hell? We’re here together just dying... Let’s enjoy—but is an affair best undertaken with the knowledge that everyone alive has their own complex interiority, as unruly as your own, and that you, a stranger, are not in any real way connected to the lawless, blurry middle of that celebrity, and will never be. It’s freeing and fun to know this. I mean, these people are basically in your employ. Glamorous dollhouse dwellers. Acknowledging that uncrossable distance allows for a different, healthier closeness of pure imagination. My feelings, then, can comfortably be at once both fiercely intense and entirely silly. I am a foremost scholar in the art of the Taylor Swift who exists in my head. The real person raised in Pennsylvania I don’t know at all. I have some conjectures on the matter, and, as with all my conjectures, every hackneyed theory, each picky little opinion, I’m sure they’re perfect, brilliant, just absolutely right, but that’s still all they are. Taylor Swift, figure of the cultural imagination, is the Jodie Comer to my Sandra Oh in Killing Eve, annoying and pretty in frills, taunting me endlessly and holding us trapped together in a dance of most enchanting death. But the real Taylor Swift has favorite bed sheets and a social security number and a British boyfriend, none of which I have any desire to know about, and if I saw her at a restaurant I’d politely avert my eyes before, yes, dive-bombing the group text. There’s nobody on Earth I’d stand in line to speak to, but then I’ve been speaking to a certain figment of Taylor Swift for nearly half my life.

I went to a Taylor Swift concert the night before I moved into college in 2009. My father’s work friend, firefighter by day, near professional gambler by night, got comped tickets to the Fearless Tour stop taking place at the nearby casino, and he let me have them as a reward, mainly, for happening to be seventeen. Live in-person and performed acoustically, “Fifteen” made me cry. A few years after that, in the thick, sticky part of my first post-college summer, I wrote approximately twenty-three million words about her in these very pages.  (”Pages”) At that point, Taylor’s most recent release was 2012’s Red, and the work I produced that long ago July about Taylor and her career, writing I was fairly pleased with at the time, feels now, besides just being extremely clearly written by a twenty-one year old, strange to me for the way it favors the sweet over the sour almost uniformly. There is a wholesome kind of ardor in that writing which maybe I’ve outgrown the ability to hold. Or maybe Taylor just proceeded to spend the next half a decade plus releasing one bad single after another, and it was taste—and trespasses against taste—and not some shift in my nature which altered the tenor of our bond. I have real love for my particular image, gleaned from public statements and published art, of smart, bizarre famous woman Taylor Swift, and I admire the bulk of her output very much. I’m just no longer so inclined to fawn. This is not to say I am here to offer a Taylor Swift hate screed. I couldn’t swing it, and, anyway, I’m not a pop feminist-for-hire circa 2010. But we’re older now. Things are different. At twenty-eight, twenty-nine this month—Taylor will, also this December, turn thirty-one—I regard Taylor Swift warily, like an ex with whom you have a tentative friendship, perpetually on the brink of falling one way or the other into hatred or delight, only to wobble back the opposite direction again at the slightest provocation, but still, despite best efforts, even, I regard her all the time. 

folklore was released at midnight on July 24th 2020, but I was at a cabin in rural Vermont without Internet or cell service. I drank Bud Light seltzers with my mother while watching the eerie pandemic return of Major League Baseball, and when I got into a strange bed there I stewed, knowing there were people out in the world all over who were hearing Taylor Swift songs I never had, and that this was a fundamental wrong, a disruption in the balance of the universe. I listened to it the next morning in a Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot. 

And folklore is great. That’s the terrible thing. Slightly less great, maybe, than some people have insisted, tricked, I think, by just the pronounced shift in sound. But it’s great. A little gift I asked for a thousand times and was still surprised to get, like a wife who didn’t expect her henpecked husband to ever follow through and buy the paraffin wax hand bath as-see-on-TV. For years, I’ve been halfheartedly insisting that Taylor had a great album in her. I’d say it even, perhaps especially, while she stubbornly fed me gruel. Or worse, gruel with the occasional whiff of something better. With a ripe, little raspberry dropped into the slop. The bright, villainous thrill of “Getaway Car” made me believe Taylor, my Taylor, was in there somewhere under the lacquer of sequins and synth, which, while not objectionable by default, seemed a costume, and an ill-fitting one. The lived-in world of “Cornelia Street” made those old scars sting. That gay “Delicate” video. When she did “Call It What You Want” on SNL and played guitar while wearing an ugly sweater. If the abominable “ME!”, lead single off Lover, was the stick, 1989’s “Clean” was the carrot. I was Charlie Brown, and Taylor my Lucy, yanking the football back again and again. Over drinks I still yelled that Taylor Swift’s next album would be, “her Nebraska”, referring to my favorite Bruce Springsteen record, and learned to live with that egg on my face for good. I suppose I even came to like it. There was something inherently funny in taking up, like, “blind faith in the as of yet untapped greater artistic potential of massively wealthy and popular singer Taylor Swift” as my totally inane personal cause du jour, and eventually it was a bit, a gag I performed to be obstinate and didactic, but way down somewhere awful near my kidneys I meant it the whole while. And then she did it. A pandemic befell the world and amid a sea of human suffering Taylor Swift remembered she can write. She wrote, and with a massive, crucial assist from Aaron Dessner, whose music on this record is sometimes so beautiful it actually angers me, as the last thing I needed in already perilous times was to be made to try and marry my uniquely perverse emotional responses to beloved divorced dad band The National and fucking Taylor Swift,  she made an album which, if not her Nebraska, per se (I’ve come to realize that a major part of believing Taylor Swift will one day make an album I find as quietly devastating and gorgeous as Nebraska is knowing that no album will ever actually be Her Nebraska... That each will, rather, to me, be more and more evidence that it’s coming still, more proof that the limit is untouched, on and on ad infinitum, or at least until the seas take us into a place of salty peace.) is a shocking credit to all my hard-fought and deluded confidence. folklore is great. This fact has made me feel almost equally as disoriented from my understanding of the world as the time-melting COVID-19 lockdowns have, and it turned my Spotify year in review annual collective AI humiliation kink thing into a glaring indictment of my mental state, but still, I mean... It’s great.

In talking about folklore a bit this week, there are a number of specific topics I intend to cover—what a thrill it is to hear Taylor say “fuck”; Taylor’s terrifying birth chart; the astoundingly perfect bridge of “the last great american dynasty”; “because my ass is located at the back of my body”; the bit in last year’s “Lover” where deranged WASP Taylor Swift implies that to “leave the Christmas lights up til January” is some signifier of being a love-struck bohemian, when actually everyone who doesn’t employ domestic staff to take their lights down does this; how reputation is the best of the Taylor Swift records released in the latter half of the 2010s, actually, and the people who can’t see that are cowards—but intend mostly to let the muse move me where she will. Against the advice of my better angels, she—that tie-in marketing eldritch terror—always does.

[theotherackerman]

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: Any recognizable elements belong to Attack on Titan.

NOTES:

Monday January 18th

song played on mikasa's computer that is sang by mikasa and eren: coney island-taylor swift & the national

the game they are playing is card against humanity and I just googled random card to get that one.

chapter twenty-one: coney island

The video began to play on Mikasa’s laptop.

-------------

They were nineteen in the video.

Far before everything went to hell after Grisha’s death.

In the video, they were in Eren’s bedroom. He was gently strumming a guitar as he sat on his bed.

“Tell your dad to buy a piano over here,” Mikasa called from off screen.

“Shit, this won’t line up right,” Eren grumbled before adjusting the camera.

“Why are you recording this anyway?” Mikasa asked off camera.

“So when you go famous, I can sell it on the internet,” he grinned. “Get in frame.”

“Why? Then no one can confirm it’s me.”

Eren set his guitar down and dragged Mikasa into frame. She was laughing as he pulled her into his lap. He held her there.

“Now there’s proof. Okay, drag your keyboard over here and let’s do this,” he smiled at her.

“Fine,” she grumbled.

The screen went dark.

--------------

There was no more video but the audio continued to play.

Mikasa heard the playing of the piano.

“Is that me?” she asked as she looked over at Eren, taking her eyes away from the screen.

He nodded.

She began to recognize the music.

But this wasn’t the same song that her nineteen year old self had written.

No, this song was much more recent.

It had been the last song she had worked with Eren on.

Her eyes widened at the realization.

“{lyrics redacted due to copyright} ” Mikasa’s voice filled her bedroom from the speaker of the laptop.

Eren looked scared.

Like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck.

“ {lyrics redacted due to copyright}.”

Mikasa reached across the bed but stopped from taking Eren’s hand again as her own voice cut through her thoughts and feelings.

“ {lyrics redacted due to copyright}. ”

She had been so lost back then.

Maybe that was why she had proposed.

Maybe that was why she thought the only clear answer was to commit more to Eren.

Maybe if she did then he would be okay.

He would understand that he was committed to her.

It was Eren’s voice that sliced through her thought this time.

“ {lyrics redacted due to copyright} ”

He had turned her song into a duet.

That was what he had been nervous about.

He was staring at her.

He was waiting for her reaction.

Her eyes met his.

“ {lyrics redacted due to copyright}.”

Neither of them moved.

Neither of them said anything.

In the audio, Mikasa’s voice joined Eren’s.

“ {lyrics redacted due to copyright}. ”

The chorus began, with both of them singing after that.

Mikasa’s head was swimming.

She had purposely forgotten about this song.

She was sure that somewhere around here she still had the lyrics in a journal.

An unfinished journal for an unfinished song of unfinished relationship.

Another move out of desperation.

If she had made so many moves out of desperation, how many had Eren made?

“ {lyrics redacted due to copyright} ”

Mikasa knew exactly the place Eren was singing about in the song. The place where they had played as children, snuck away to make out as teenagers.

“ {lyrics redacted due to copyright}.”

The DUI.

Her?

He had seen her when he had almost died?

He had still wanted her then?

Of course he had, they had already been through this.

So as the song continued, Mikasa put her hand in Eren’s.

He smiled.

She pulled him towards her and he rested his head on her chest. She hoped he wouldn’t notice that her heart had sped up a little.

They stayed like that, even after the song had ended.

A CRASH came from downstairs.

“I think they’re back,” Eren muttered.

At some point, Mikasa had begun absentmindedly running her fingers through Eren’s long hair.

“Probably. Glad I shut the door.”

“So, do you hate it?” he asked finally.

She shook her head. “I love it. I loved that you were here to listen to it with me. I don’t think it would have been the same without you.”

Eren nodded.

“Why were you so scared?”

“It’s your music...I didn’t want you to think I ruined it or anything.”

“You’re wrong. It’s your music too. I didn’t compose it. You did and I loved it.”

He sat up.

Mikasa was disappointed that he moved away from her.

“If you actually hate it...you can tell me…”

Her hand grabbed his shirt, pulling him towards her.

“I love it.”

Was she going to kiss him now?

Would that be a good idea?

This whole situation was a mess.

“I’m...glad..” He mumbled.

“Eren, I don’t know if we should kiss yet or not. I don’t know how to go about redoing this whole….”

Her sentence was cut off by his lips on hers.

She sighed into the kiss as she kissed him back. Mikasa would have been lying if she said she hadn’t missed this. There was something about kissing Eren Jaeger that just made her feel so drunk and addicted. Maybe it was the way his lips moved on hers or how his hands were always in her hair. Maybe it was the way that no one else could ever make her feel this alive. Her heart was racing and any thoughts or worries seemed miles away as moved her hand from the front of his shirt to wrap around his neck.

When they were kissing, there were no other worries for either of them.

And maybe that was the moment that Eren realized he had been blowing this whole her listening to his song out of proportion. If it had led to this, this feeling of having her back in his arms. This feeling of her soft lips on his.

He was so weak for her.

And he didn’t even care who knew it.

Finally, when they both needed air, they broke apart. He rested his forehead on hers.

“Too soon?” he asked.

She shook her head. “We waited too long to do that again.”

Eren grinned. “I’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”

“Should we go see what they’ve destroyed downstairs?” she asked him.

“Probably or they’ll come looking for us to assume the worst,” Eren sighed as he pulled away from her. He stretched as he stood up.

Mikasa got off the bed and her hand slipped into his as they made their way out of her bedroom and downstairs.

“SQUISH IT AGAIN!” Historia yelled from her perch on the couch.

“I’m trying!” Ymir was chasing something around the couch while she was holding a frying pan.

“Is it dead?” Sasha asked as she poked her head out of the kitchen.

“NO! Ymir, kill it!” Historia cheered.

“What does it look like I’m trying to do over here? Take it on a date?” Ymir asked as she continued her chase.

As Ymir moved to the back of the couch, Mikasa and Eren saw the largest spider either of them had seen.

“Nope!” Eren yelled as he jumped into Mikasa’s arms.

“Where did that come from?” Mikasa asked.

“No idea. I threw my clothes in the laundry and this thing came out,” Ymir explained.

“Yeah, it tried to kill us!” Sasha called while standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

Ymir swung at the spider.

It jumped.

Ymir missed. The frying pan made a CRASH noise as it hit the floor.

The spider ran under the couch.

“MOTHERFUCKER!” Ymir shouted as she stood up.

Levi came down the stairs and passed Mikasa and Eren. Eren was still in Mikasa’s arms with his arms thrown around her neck.

Levi went into the kitchen and pulled out a vacuum cleaner.

“Move,” he said as he came back into the kitchen.

Historia got off of the couch which Levi quickly flipped over.

The spider charged at Levi who pushed the vacuum straight for the spider.

At the last moment, the spider swerved and ran under Levi’s chair.

“See?!” Ymir said as she pointed towards the chair.

Levi was not going to be defeated. He dropped the vacuum to the floor. He picked up one of his steel toed boots and pulled it on. No one laughed as he made his way over to his chair. Levi flipped the chair and immediately stepped on the spider.

The spider was dead.

“You’re my hero, Levi,” Sasha said from the kitchen.

“Clean that up,” he said as he pointed to the remains of the spider left on the floor.

Annie came downstairs. “What did I miss?” she asked as she ran a hand through her hair. She clearly had just woken up from a nap.

-----------------------

After the carpet and Levi’s boot had been cleaned, they put the furniture back together.

“I think I’ll go shopping for a new couch,” Mikasa said as she flipped the couch over.

“We do need a new one. It’s so small,” Historia agreed.

Sawney and Bean came downstairs.

“Babies! You’re safe!” Ymir said as the dogs ran towards her. “Why was that spider so large?”

“Probably had a good food source if I had to guess,” Sasha shrugged.

“Great. Well, it’s dead now,” Ymir said before sitting down on the couch.  

“Should we just order dinner?” Mikasa asked before she sat down on the floor.

“Sounds good to me. I don’t really feel like cooking. A bakery bought all of our eggs today and we had to load them all into the truck,” Sasha collapsed next to Ymir.

-------------------

Pieck had another glass of wine and sat down on Zeke’s couch.

“You’re worried about Eren,” she remarked.

“Am I doing the right thing?” Zeke asked her.

“What?”

“Moving him here. Selling his childhood home. Is that the right thing?”

Pieck sipped her wine. “The fact that you’re questioning it says you are. It says you care. I don’t think Grisha sat around and thought about whether or not he did the right thing. From what I know, I think the bastard just did whatever the fuck he wanted. Look at how that went for him.”

“I have a theory we all crave love. I wrote a paper on it. My mother...she loved me. She always made sure I knew she loved me. But my father...he never gave me that.”

“Dina was special. I miss her. How many years has it been?”

“Nine. Ten this year,” Zeke said before he looked down at his hands. “I was twenty-three. I can see her...all those machines hooked up to her.”

Pieck put her hand on Zeke’s shoulder.

“But after she was gone, well, you know how crazy my grandparents were. And then when I found out Grisha was dead….I thought Eren would be looking for a family like I was but...he was not. He already has a family. I feel like I am taking him away from that. I don’t want him to resent me for that.”

“You crave love from family,” Pieck concluded.

Zeke nodded. “I have had my fair share of relationships. They grow old for me, boring. Predictable. But to have someone who loved me and asking for nothing more….that would be good.”

Pieck hauled back and slapped Zeke in the back of the head.

“PIECK!” he yelled at her.

“You dumb fuck! I love you like that. Don’t you dare say we aren’t family. You say Eren and I are fucking stupid but you’re even more so. You think I don’t love you? What about Porco or Marcel? Or Gabi or Reiner? What about Falco, Udo, Zophia? Bertolt? EREN?” she slapped him again.

“Ow!” Zeke said as he rubbed the back of his head.

“I don’t care. Don’t you ever say you don’t have a love of a family, you dumbass!”

“You hit hard,” Zeke said as he continued to rub the back of his head.

“Good. Now bring me a pile of blankets so I can sleep here.”

“I love you too, you know.”

“Fuck off. Too little, too later, Jaeger.”

“But Pieck...you are my best friend,” he teased her.

“Go die in a hole,” she told him before taking another drink of her wine.

“You do not mean that. You would miss me.”

“Unfortunately for everyone involved, that is true.”

“What does Jean think about our friendship?”

“At first he thought you and I were dating,” Pieck replied.

“I know you said that but the idea….”

“Is absolutely ridiculous? I know. Maybe in another life but you know after you ripped my dolls head off and threw it back over the fence, I think our fate was sealed.”

“You kept throwing it at me!”

“I still haven’t forgiven you for that.”

Zeke just sighed.

“Go get my blankets so I can make my nest.”

“Fine….”

--------------

Levi was always the last one to go to bed.

Sawney and Bean followed behind him as he made his way towards his bedroom.

“Oh man! Come on, Ymir!” Eren’s voice came from Mikasa’s room.

“I told you! I own this game!” Ymir’s voice rang out.

Levi couldn’t stop himself from taking a few steps back to look into Mikasa’s room.

There was Ymir, Historia, Sasha, Annie, Eren, and Mikasa playing some sort of card game.

“Okay, you’re not getting the card this time. It says Jar Jar Binks is better than blank but not by much,” Eren read.

“Oh! I’ve got the perfect card for this one!” Sasha exclaimed.

He knew he should probably say something about them having work tomorrow.  He couldn’t help but be happy for all of them. They had had it rough, all of them. Sasha’s family almost losing the farm, Historia being Rod’s kid, Annie with the constant pressure from her father, Eren losing Carla and Grisha, Ymir having no family, and Mikasa losing both of her parents.

So let them be young and reckless for a while.

Levi smiled to himself as he made his way into his bedroom.