#Like I despise PR with a PASSION....

[stuntghoul]

YONAKA coming to portugal: 😃😃😃

It's 2 days after the bmth show I'm (hopefully) going to: 😐😐😐

They're opening for p*laye r*yale: 💀💀💀

[adventuringblind]

request idea: fake dating troop for max v xreader, they can’t stand each other maybe she supports Ferrari or smt but secretly admires his talent but he doesn’t know and is kinda of and ass to her and a lot of drama for them to get together idk, maybe there was an wedding and max needed a partner — I’m sorry of this is a lot but I would absolutely love to read something like this 💕

Media Relations

Max Verstappen x Leclerc reader

Genre: a mix of everything?

Summary: the Redbull and Ferrari PR teams think it would be great publicity if you and Max have a relationship. With the promise of your brother getting a better race engineer (and the hint of a crush already) you accept. Max does too, but he hates you for some reason.

Warnings: Max is a jerk, hints at lestappen if you really squint, jos verstappen, not edited

Notes: I felt maniacal writing this tbh.

Masterlist

“No. Absolutely not.”

You stand there watching Charles pace. You can’t tell if your older brother is mad at you or the situation. Maybe both?

“I already signed the contract and so had Max.”

“Why would you do this to yourself? I trust Max, but not like this.”

It had originally been intended for Charles to sign the contract. The teams thought this type of media would be good for them. Neither Max or Charles agreed to it. They don’t want to portray something there not where there are thousands who want to be themselves but can’t. It felt unethical and just generally wrong.

That’s where you come in. If they couldn’t do it with Charles, you’re the next best option.

The contract didn’t offer you anything, other then a possibly happier brother and he knew that. When you did your time, they’d have found him a new race engineer and some better strategists.

He knew you’d give up everything to help him get his dream. That’s why he’s frustrated, not with you, but himself.

“Do you know what Max is getting out of it?”

“He mumbled something about his father but that’s all I got.”

“Just don’t get attached, please, I’m begging you.”

“Don’t worry Charlie, I’ll be fine.”

~

It was a lie. You knew it was going to be difficult. Mostly because you’d already had a crush in him, it he despises you with a passion,

Regardless, you two walk hand in hand together through the paddock. The fake smiles you give each other gone as soon as your tucked away from the cameras.

“You can go out the back.”

Then he disappears, leaving you stranded in the Redbull hospitality.

Most of the weekend was like this. You had to carefully divide your time between your brother and fake lover. On the bright side, everyone was raving about it. You’d already grown used to toxic fans since you’d been around racing with your brothers your entire life.

You and Max got together a few times a month to stage Instagram photos and go on fake dates.

You were somehow falling for him while he seemed to have a growing dislike for you.

Tonight, you are having dinner in Monaco. Your attempts at starting a conversation are nothing short of pointless.

"Can I ask you a question?" He grunts and doesn't look at you. So you ask anyway. "What was on your contract?"

"Why do you need to know?" Stone cold eyes pierce right through you body.

"I was just wondering. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want."

"I'd rather not talk with you about anything?"

Letting the embarrassment take over, you shift your gaze downwards. You knew what was on the contract. It was all about Jos.

Max was willing to do anything neccecary to please his father. Including getting his father into a higher position of power within the team.

Jos had been messaging you throughout the week with reminders that you're just another step for his son's success. This led to multiple arguments with the older Verstappen because you're not one to back down when defending those you care about. The slander had turned more aggressive recently, and you wanted to talk to Max about it. Too bad he hates you.

~

"Charlie, I don't think I can do this." You sob to your brother over the phone. "Jos is refusing to leave me alone, and Max hardly spares a glance in my direction if he doesn't have to."

"You can always break things off. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“No, this will help make your dream come true. It just doesn’t help that I was crushing on Max before we started this.”

Charles sighs heavily. “Chéri, If it comes down to it and Jos doesn’t stop then I will have words with Max.”

“Thank you, Charlie.”

It was nice having a brother that you could rely on. Lorenzo is the oldest and cares, but he has his own family, and Arthur is the youngest, so he had a tendency to steal attention.

With you and Charles both being middle kids, you two stuck together. He was your protective big brother then, and he still is now.

The next morning, you wake up to a shock. The sound of your ring tone echoing through the room.

You lazy grab it off the nightstand and look at the caller ID.

"Max?"

"I'm going to a wedding and need a plus one." He says matter of factly.

"Okay?"

"Come with me? Please? I'd rather go with you than show up alone." The sincerity in his voice sends your head into a mess of thoughts. This stupid Dutch makes no sense!

"Yeah, sure, okay."

"Great, I'll come puck you up tomorrow before noon."

"Wait, Max!" You definitely didn't mean to shout but maybe this is your opportunity to figure this whole thing out.

"Yes?"

"Why do you hate me so much?" Your voice gets quiet again as the anxiety takes over. "I just thank that if I know why then maybe I can change it."

You can hear Max's breath hitch. "It's nit that I hate you. I actually really like you." He sighs out finally. His words don't register in your brain. "I just hate the reason why we're doing this. I didn't want to get my feelings involved"

"I like you too." You say without thinking.

"Really? I thought you were just doing this for whatever is on your contract?"

"I was... but I've liked a certain Dutch with pretty blue eyes and a winners smile for a few years now."

"So what was the contract for then?"

You wonder if you should tell him. Wonder about Jos and how he might have your head later for distracting his son. But you don't care. "A better team for my brother."

"Well, that's selfless of you."

"And you? What is your contract for?" You ask, turning the subject away from yourself.

"My father wants more say in the team."

"Do you want him to have more say?"

There's a pause, and you can hear Max's mind working from the other end of the phone. "Not necessarily."

"Then why do this? Even if you liked me before why take this on?"

"Because my father wants it and I want to please him." You can hear his voice start to break. It hurts to hear him like this. "It's not a big deal though, I'll survive." He downplays. Something she's grown used to with Charles.

"We should probably get some sleep." He follows up with after your lack of response. Your thoughts still moving miles a minute.

"Yes, sorry, your right. I'll see you tomorrow Max."

"See you tommorow."

~

Just as he says, Max shows up right before noon hits. Knocking of your door in a nice suit.

"Wow." Is what you greet with and your face flush with embarrassment.

"Ditto."

The car ride is too short for your liking. The two of you catch up on life and simply enjoy eachothers company.

The wedding is more of the same. You are tailing Max while he talks to those he knows. It's weird seeing him genuinely smile at you. Finally, he feels like he can let himself give into his heart.

It's sunset now, and you and Max are on a balcony enjoying the view. Secluded from the rest of the guests.

"Thanks for coming with me."

"Thanks for inviting me." You turn your gaze upwards at him. The sun illuminates his skin with a warm glow.

His eyes flick nervously between your eyes and your mouth. He wants to do it but can't get the courage. The intimacy of this is far to much for him.

So you do it instead, and he lets himself relax in the hold of your lips.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted to do that."

~

Max and you weren't pretending anymore, and both teams could see it. Which is why you sit in a cramped conference room with your pr teams and team principles.

You feel out of place since you're not a driver. You don't belong here.

"Your contracts are null now."

"I'm sorry, what?" Your taken aback. How had you violated your contract?

"You two are actually dating now, so the contrat no longer works. We wanted to stage a breakup at the end of it, but we can't do that now."

Max is avoiding the gaze of Jos and plays with your fingers for comfort. His mind boggled with how that has turned from great to shit and five minutes.

After sitting through what the contract being void now entails, you and Max find a quiet spot to talk things out.

"I wanted to help Charlie so bad. Worse is that I don't remember that being in the original contract."

"I think something is definitely wrong here. I may not have liked my end of the deal, but yours was for good reason."

You tear up over thoughts of having to endure another season of Charles getting frustrated with his team after every race.

Max holds you close and wipes your tears away. "Whatever happens we'll figure this out, we're in this together now remeber?"

His words bring a warm feeling to your body. You and Max are a team now even without the contracts. Somehow, that Max you feel even more connected to him.

~

Part Two? 👀

[morganbritton132]

i wonder how steve’s neurological issues and eddie’s career interact. like obviously metal music is not gonna work with seizures and migraines, so im wondering if steve ever feels like hes not doing enough, like he’s a bad partner who doesn’t support eddie’s passion.. Plus i imagine the overprotective fans who notice steve is never at any concerts and how eddie keeps joking about how steve despises metal music, leading them to go on a whole tirade about how eddie deserves better yadayadayada ☹️

I have been staring at this prompt since you sent it, trying to articulate what I want to say because it’s so good. I think it really opens up the door to talk about parasocial relationships and fans who overstep, which I find endlessly fascinating.

Fans notice things.

They notice things and they think that they knows things, and then they tweet about it. They make YouTube videos and TikToks, and they post to their Instagram stories. Eventually articles are written about it and those articles make it into the Facebook algorithm and then mixed into Steve’s timeline.

So, he sees it.

A fan posts about how there are virtually no videos of Steve at award shows where Corroded Coffin had been nominated. They say that he was uninterested or not supportive, but not that Steve was just terrified of Eddie being outed and his career ending. Being in a queer relationship in the nineties could destroy your career and Steve never wanted to do anything that would jeopardize the band’s success.

Even after Eddie came out publicly, his record label’s PR team told them not to be seen being intimate with each other. They could walk side by side, but they couldn’t hold hands. They could hug goodbye but not kiss. It wasn’t just Eddie’s career. What do you think is going to happen when parents find out a homosexual was teaching their children?

A fan tweets about how Steve is never at Corroded Coffin’s concerts and when he is, he just hangs out backstage. Fans quote tweet it talking about how Steve doesn’t give a shit about the music, but say nothing about the noise and the lights that cause him to have migraines. They say nothing about how terrifying the thought of having a seizure in a moshpit is.

And it’s not just that.

It’s not just that everybody thinks that he’s an unsupportive husband or that he hates Eddie’s music.

Eddie live-streams in the car on his way to pick Steve up from work, spends the entire time talking about how he’s going to take him on a date. When Steve gets in the car, he turns Eddie’s music down. That’s a TikTok about how Steve refuses to show any interest in Eddie’s hobbies. Eddie tells him what he wants to do and Steve says, “Not today.”

That’s a YouTube video about how Eddie is a doting husband and Steve is an ungrateful bitch, and not that Steve had a seizure at lunch and a migraine pressing against the back of his eyes. It says nothing about how Eddie knows this, Eddie’s used to this. This is how it is with head trauma, some things falls through and they pick them up when they can.

None of these fans know anything and it ends up in the ads and the articles that Steve sees on Facebook, and it makes him feel like shit. It’s everything that Steve was trying to avoid when he told Eddie to break up with him in ’87.

He told Eddie then that all this shit in his head was only going to get worse and it was just going to hold him back when the band was just taking off, and Eddie had refused to accept that.

He refuses to accept it now and tells Steve that those articles don’t matter. They’re written by morons that don’t know shit, but it doesn’t matter. It’s like the whole world is looking at them and telling him that Steve is shit at loving Eddie when it’s the only thing he thought that he got right.

[heir-less]

The dumber and more incoherent PR is usually from Kensington Palace. - ROFLing at this 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 only because w&k think themselves so superior and they think all their strategies are "long-term", but they are absolutely nothing when it comes to Charles' pr games! As much as I despise everyone in that family, I dislike w&k more, ONLY because they never get called out, for anything! At max it'll be couple of hours or a day of uproar, then they'll bring out the kids and everyone will go gaga over them again. I'm soooooooo looking forward for this war between KP and BP!

Did I lie, a lot of the KP PR is just one-note and stupid and doesn't help William and Kate at all? Like, here are some examples of glaring PR flubs that are laughable if you think about it for 0.5 seconds:

William's "interest" in homelessness is framed as a long-time passion he inherited from Diana, but William has never done anything notable for the homeless and he comes off as pompous because he's just sitting on a money pile while saying "Wow, someone should help these people, OMG, something needs to be done!" The interview where he said "any one of us could be a few steps from homelessness" was so rich, I thought it was a joke.

Kate's rotating hobbies and "passions" that either come and go (textiles, sustainability, the piano, baking) or are seasonal interests that are ignored outside of slices of the year (scouts, tennis, photography)

Mental illness "advocates" who demonize therapy when it suits them. William has a "toolbox" of needs or whatever but can't find a clue in the damn thing

William got COVID in April 2020, hid it at the time, but then when KP maybe accidentally leaked it that November they reported it as if he was on death's door, aka it would have caused alarm had the public known. They also did not disclose when or where he isolated, making it seem like he exposed his entire family at Amner Hall. The whole thing was a mess.

William's work with football players has regressed to him just attending games and making "Good Luck" videos. Remember Heads Up? What happened to talking about mental health and football? I can only assume he gave up after he kept putting his foot in his mouth during the documentaries and podcasts.

Kate saying she'll work less until her kids are in their twenties, but also, oh, she's ready to step up and work hard as Princess of Wales. She is the "Top CEO"

Meghan was bad for being political and ambitious but Kate still wants to do these things on a way bigger scale for some reason

Kate being compared to the Queen Mother on her 40th birthday but then "rebranding" into a modern, innovative, pantsuit-wearing business-savvy, lady-boss the very next year

Kate is Diana, Meghan, and Elizabeth II with her fashion choices. All of these women occupied different periods of fashion history and have very different tastes.

The entire Caribbean tour was an incoherent slog that was tone-deaf at best

William talking about sustainability in Dubai of all damn places

Kensington Palace doesn't know what they're doing. They often just throw stuff at the walls and sees what sticks.

[theclockworkkidart]

Guy that thinks he’s the most well adjusted normal one out of the group but he’s just as weird.

Also the guy Farfalle referenced in a previous post. They were talking to this nerd who thinks he’s a rock type gym leader or something.

Panini Stand: Turn To Stone (reference: “Turn To Stone” by ELO) - stand is capable of turning things into minerals. This can include organic. - user needs to know the composition of the mineral. Minerals with elements readily available in the area are easier than if elements are rare. Diamond is easiest to make especially out of living things. Can turn mineral into different one with proper resources. - can be reversed by him. But if the thing that was turned into stone is broken, the object will be broken. If the living thing was broken, either they’re dead or missing limbs. - based on a thing I did a while ago when I asked on Insta what my stand power would be and a bunch said gem based or turning things into gemstone.

Panini himself is a member of Passione, gaining the stand by joining. He works in relation to La Squadra, although not really considered an assassin himself. He’s more of the PR for them as he knows how to act like a well adjusted individual. He deals with clients (sometimes extra gigs for LS).

Technically Farfalle is in charge of him, and he does respect and trust them a lot. He calls them “Boss”. But he knows they have a tendency to wander and possibly get into trouble with rival games. His solution is making an interesting mineral and letting them look at it for a while. He also gives out rock facts to people.

He’s good with pointing out bluffs. Despises those market stalls that sell fake gems especially for high prices. Has accidentally picked a few fights with this.

I forgot to draw her but he has a cat named Pepe. She yells at him if he’s five minutes late with serving her food.

[hjellacott]

I don't believe in Twitter Trials

These days it seems like way before a courtroom even sees you (and these days that can take years to happen) you're already judged and sentenced by Twitter and other social media. By the people. To hell with your presumption of innocence. And I absolutely hate it. I despise those people with passion.

Do I love Prince Andrew still enjoying a privileged life? No. But I also don't want to give random people the power to judge anyone and decide on anyone's lives. I want to defend presumption of innocence. I want to defend democracy. I want to defend freedom of speech. I wipe my arse on cancel culture, Twitter Trials and the authoritarian concept of everyone having to say the same politically correct thing all the time because disagreeing means you're a Nazi. Fuck that.

Look at what happened with Johnny Depp, for example. The world was quick to ruin his life, his career, to condemn him. And then as we always see, these people quickly disconnect from the case, they don't follow up, and they don't learn that he hasn't ever been sentenced guilty for domestic assault, that what became clear in the trials was that Depp was a victim of domestic violence, who received beatings, cuts, and systemic degradation from Heard, and what also became clear is that Heard had suffered shouting from Depp, and that she'd lied multiple times and exhibited signs of mental illness (in the crazy bitch sense), and even witnesses called to court had little good to say about her. The whole narrative of victim vs demon was dismounted, both were proven to have done unforgivable things, but the people who'd already decided Depp was the wolf didn't care. They already had their story. So bravo for Depp if he's managing to straighten his life now.

Happens again with Prince Andrew, to a lesser degree. Do I personally think that he's a piece of shit? Of course. Because there's a lot that has been made public to make me think he's a piece of shit. But is that enough for me to condemn him and punish him? No. Because presumption of innocence goes first, and because I acknowledge that the media and the press also have an agenda and that perhaps it interests them that the majority of people turn against Andrew or the British Monarchy for whatever reason, and I'm not keen on being used by the media and brainwashed. Anyway, always follow the money, that's what I say.

And then look at Prince Harry, Prince William, King Charles and Princess Diana. The press has done them all dirty and good, at different times, depending on what narrative was convenient at the time, and I'm not going to enter those games. Prince Harry has, objectively, become a piece of shit in my eyes because of the way he's betrayed his family, encouraged the use of drugs, publicly criticised his family, taken no responsibility for his actions, and thrown all the blame on everyone else but himself, and because previous to that, the only good thing he's ever done were the Invictus Games, while from his teens, he's been shit. Prince William has always been the responsible one. And sure, you can say "but that's the press narrative, they've been boycotting Harry". Dude, they haven't said Harry's done anything he hasn't said. They can't boycott you if you don't give them material. There is photographic and video evidence of him doing horrific stuff like the Nazi costume. Yes, perhaps William's dirty laundry has been hidden better because he was a heir, but he's also made the effort to get a degree, settle down, and make sure that whatever can be said from him from now on is good stuff. And the point is, they both received the same education up to their late teens, and they both knew their position in the royal family and were warned to be in their best behaviour. If they didn't, that's their fault, their responsibility. It's not the blame of who decides to expose them or hide them.

And then you get King Charles, who growing up has always had bad PR, but mostly because of his love affairs. Love and sex shit! OMG, there are other things more important for me when it's about who's going to be the King. For example, did you know Charles has always loved the arts and culture, wanted to be an actor, worked hard to learn Welsh (becoming the only Prince of Wales in the last century or more to be fluent in the language) and give his PoW speech in Welsh, and has always been a fierce protector of theatres and culture in Britain, donating money to it, and donating benefits from the Duchy of Cornwall to help with inflation? And I still don't like him much as a person, but hey, I don't see any real reasons to outright dislike him. And I also don't see any real reasons to consider Diana an angel. She knew what she was getting into just like (and even better than) Meghan, and she still did it, followed by love if you wish, only to step back and discredit the institution their children belong to, doing no favours to them.

You know why the Royal Family in Britain doesn't often piss me off? I'm Spanish. I've seen the Spanish Royal Family and believe me, the amount of crap, embarrassing stuff and nightmarish things they've done makes the British RF look like angels. But I'm now adopted English, and I've lived in Britain for a long while, it's my home now, and so I've read plenty of books and seen documentaries about their royals. And contrary to the Spanish ones, I see a family devoted to service for real, particularly devoted to charity service, constantly working (I mean, the Princess Royal actually makes me dizzy with her never rest policy), and trying to make a positive impact. I see a family who's fucked up a lot and are fiercely trying to remain relevant to Britain, caring to do things better. And so although I'm not a monarchist, I'm also not trying to kick them out. Hey, if they're working hard and trying to be positive, good. I mean, the Queen Elizabeth II did SO MUCH for Britain, all good. But just stay out of trouble, that's all I ask.

And whatever it is you read online, think of why would the press want a certain narrative and story and try to get the whole thing. But don't count on me to do online trials. I'll say my personal opinion, but I'm never going to decide someone's guilty of actual crimes unless a judge says so.

[jerseydeanne]

Hello JD, I was wondering if you could tell us at this point, what if anything have you learned about H& M’s ( alleged) children? Are they with them, do we expect to see them in any form? Do you think or have information that HMTQ will actually skip the Darby to celebrate her namesakes birthday and be photographed with her and Archie? As we all know that this is M’s ultimate goal, even beyond Netflix. Lastly, are we for the 1st time in history, to just take H&M‘s word that the kids are biologically both theirs and will still remain in the line of succession. This is based on the fact that no legal birth certificate’s have been found for either one of the (alleged) children. Anyone with half a brain knows that she was never pregnant with either child, and I will not say allegedly. I truly look forward to your knowledge and your honest heartfelt answer‘s. Thank you so very much, I look forward to your response. Sincerely, Anon

Hello Anon! What a bunch of great questions!

Let me reveal what Samantha Markle told me in DM on Twitter. Meghan Markle banked her eggs a long time ago. Surrogate!

Harry had a low sperm count, and as you may know, he had an undescended testicle when he was a little boy.

Also, MM went MIA in June or July 2018, and I tracked her IP to Toronto. Royal Central reported it at first, and the rest of the royal reporters said they were lying. They were not lying and stood by their article.

A rumor sent to me is that MM stayed at Jessica Mulroney's house and had sex with a guy while there.

You can see both parents in Archie, but Lili, who knows.

Go way back to when Harry and MM went to Amsterdam and partied, and then she said to the Grenfell ladies I wanted to tell you I was pregnant back then. That was September 2018. Porkie pies, Meghan Markle!

It's always about paranoia with Harry, and I know MM pushes that narrative with the I'm the New Diana, they are after me, Harry. Which, of course, is false.

Now, on to the Queen!

Oh drats! And double drats! Poor little fame hoes won't get their moment with HMTQ if we believe it. The smell of desperation in the morning. I hope they are relegated to the back of the short bus.

Even though we despise these two thirsty vampires, we must remember that Harry is part of the BRF. They have been trying to protect him by letting him find out on his own what his wife is really all about.

Harry, like Prince Andrew, suffers from second child syndrome. He doesn't like to hear the word NO. We all know that Harry will dig his feet in when he is passionate about something.

Something that Anon from the past kept telling me. With the right PR, we can rehabilitate him. Bet the farm on it. Harry misses the UK and loves the attention.

It's a shame that HMTQ has to do this during her celebrations, but what would you do to help a family member?

Is time up according to past anons? There was supposed to be one, and the BRF would push her out the door?? Or is Harry still under Stockholm syndrome?

I'll be posting the live ceremony that can be reblogged. I'll leave the stills to the other Royal bloggers. I got other fish to fry.

Leave your comments.

Love, JD 😜💋

[devilgene]

@muse-borealis​​ asked; 🎁, 🗣️, 🖌️ ? c:

►  ❪  MISC. ASK MEME  ❫  

🎁 - How do they feel about their birthday/birthdays in general?

He knows he enjoyed it once upon a time when his mother was still in the picture. But he quickly grew to hate them throughout his childhood. It was never a happy affair. It just served as a reminder for what wasn't there anymore. He always dreaded the days leading up to it because birthdays and Mishima traditions guaranteed Heihachi's oppressive attention would be on him. He's forced to go through it every time, and I figure he spent it imagining how great it'd be if Heihachi was dead.

Later on in his adolescence, I imagine it was just used as a way for Heihachi to use to posture. A meaningless, extravagant gesture meant for others - filled with nothing but strangers, to be used as an opportunity for business associates and new clientele - and not a legitimate celebration for the actual subject of the birthday itself. It's nothing but a facade. Kazuya was meant to be used by Heihachi as an extension / representation of himself. An empty prop meant to be put on display. It's this aspect in particular that Kazuya despised his birthdays for.

Later on, he doesn't pay much attention to birthdays beyond noting that another year has gone by. He doesn't bother celebrating them.

🗣️ - How do they handle public speaking?

He's relatively... fine with public speaking, despite being someone who is more often than not curt with his wording.

Kazuya can be rather charismatic and charming when he wants to be. Persuasion is in his repertoire of skills. He knows how to maneuver this field. He has intimate knowledge of how to carry himself in front of others and how to maintain a "clean" public image. It was basically a requirement as he was taught the ins and outs of business, being raised to inherit a massive conglomerate like the Zaibatsu.

However, Kazuya has always an introverted person. Someone who hated it when the spotlight is on him. The timidness went away as he grew older and it got easier to maintain a calm, confident, seemingly unaffected front but that dislike - that bothersome feeling of being under unwanted attention - never left. If it's an option, he'll pull the strings from the shadows and leave management of PR to others  ( TK2 he left it to Lee, TK6/7 - he assigns branding to people like Lucky Chloe ).

🖌️ - Do they have any hobbies?

He has the official one - collecting sneakers. Something he started in his youth and maintains as a passion all the way to present. He’s got extensive in depth knowledge and research into these shoes under his belt and has sharp insight into what sneakers have value. I think his fascination is just him appreciating the designs and general aesthetic to be honest, plus he likes spending cash so he picks up a ton of trendy and outrageously priced kicks. He has many types  ( retro, canvas, leather etc )  but he prefers high end designer or athletic sneakers. Thanks to his sheer wealth Kazuya was big in the “sneaker world” with massive amounts of clout due to owning one of the most comprehensive collections in the world.

Besides hoarding, I imagine he liked to read in his spare time. Something quiet and not as high energy as the rest of his daily activities. I also think he always had a fascinating interest in biological studies, something juxtaposed to Lee’s interest in robotic science. Otherwise, he’s like Vegeta. Brutal training and eating in between sessions specialized education in a variety of areas / running businesses. Later on he expands his scientific knowledge and essentially has enough knowledge to get a phd in in biology if he ever bothered to get a doctorate.

[sagaofstardustmkg]

You’re Dead || Nevros Cantastoria || CH 1 Body react

When people say the dead look like they’re sleeping, they’re lying. Death is always unmistakable, the stench of it, the waxiness of the skin, the unnatural sagging of the face. Our brain is hard-wired to recognize dead people, to fear and flinch from them, the uncanny valley helping us know that which feels unnatural and unsafe, even if dying is as easy and natural as breathing to our kind.

But the way that Merlin is laid out here, with his hands clutching the delicate flowers, cloth bundled up into a pillow under his head, is almost enough to fool Nevros.

What do they feel? It’s difficult to say. It’s not like they know, with the numbness that now lives out in their hollowed out bones. Do they feel anything at all? This isn’t the first time they’ve seen a dead person, hell, it’s not even the first time they’ve seen someone who has died of violent causes. Their own violence should be an indication that they come from a place where death always has a hand on one’s shoulder. How many people does it take to become this numb? Desensitized?

”So you’re telling me…. You came here just to become.. what, a PR person for your company?!”

”Ah.. I guess that’s a good way to put it.”

Whatever be the case, they aren’t surprised. After all, if they were to have picked someone here to kill, Merlin would’ve been on the top of that list. He was a kind, approachable, nice person with no magic, with no means to fight back against those on top of the foodchain. Someone who came here not out of passion, but to be useful to others. A part of Nevros feels that maybe that’s why Merlin died. He lacked the outrage to fight back, the unwillingness to give up his research and kill someone in his stead.

Nev isn’t sure if they admire or despise him for it, the willingness to go this gently.

[sukirichi]

reckless [01.]

With a lackadaisical playboy as your boss, being reckless wasn’t an option. But on the one time you let loose and made mistakes, your life is shattered, and now you’re playing house with your insufferable boss who is the father of your baby.

✘ cw. explicit smut, accidental pregnancy, playboy! gojo, slight angst

✘ note. dedicated to wifey @7tsumurai​ who also made the banner and always supports me and showers me with love aaaa i love you baby <3 also this fic is mostly romance and fluff so i hope you enjoy this as much as i did writing it! thank you to @chosonore​ for pr-ing UWU. and we get like...10-15 chapters of this?!

one  ✘  two  ✘  three

You shouldn’t be doing this.

The night was young; streaks of gold flashing with the shimmering jewellery collared on your neck, the romantic humming of the violins pairing perfectly with the champagne that fizzed in your hand. It was supposed to be another day at work where you accompanied your boss to one of his events, considering the Casanova refused to bring his girlfriends in fear they might get the wrong idea he liked them outside the bed. It should be just another day at work; you’ve accompanied him hundreds of times before. Today wasn’t any different.

And yet it was.

You blamed it on the alcohol. On the slow dancing. On the fact he hadn’t stopped complimenting you all night and you’d been so stressed, the amount of planning and sleepless nights sacrificed in exchange of preparing for this event made you grab for three more flutes, the touch of your undeniable attractive boss permanent on your waist.

Satoru was equally aggravated. You’d worked him long enough to recognize even the smallest of cues, and the fact you’d spend nearly every hour of the day working with him for weeks straight in the office let you know he needed to let off some steam.

And what better way to relieve both of your tensions if not to give in to the cloud of lust?

The sultry gazes, the clashing perfumes between rose and musk, and the alcohol – the fucking alcohol – that gave way to you succumbing to your desire just this once.

There were no more thoughts – or if there were, they were muddled – as you kissed him back just as passionately, forgetting the fact his stylist spent an hour gelling his hair back to perfection as your eager fingers traced over his scalp. How you ended up in the back of limousine was beyond you, and neither was it your biggest concern when Satoru insisted you kept your heels on; his large hands caressing all the way from the ankle pressed beside his waist up to your waist.

You felt his daft fingers move the lacy thong you wore especially for tonight (not because you expected something, but the boost in confidence felt necessary) before he slides inside almost too easily.

Both your gasps and moans are swallowed in the stuffy compartment, windows fogged saved for the handprint you’d left when he hit a sensitive spot. He was moaning in your neck, skin slippery and sweaty as you slid from one another, seemingly never staying from one place as your hands treaded through his hair down to rake your nails on his back; his touch angry on your hips before his thumb found home in your clit.

As much as you hated him, hated his reputation, you couldn’t deny he really earned his title for being an absolute god in sex. You were no virgin, but you’d never felt this good, never felt this alive as bruises began to form in your skin and his lips hungrily sought out yours.

“S-Sir...”

“Satoru,” he corrected through your lips, the kiss barely even one when you were too busy moaning left and right. Satoru hitched your leg up to fold it right beside your waist, allowing him to explore deeper territories that not even you could mark.

His stare on you is perverted; openly wanton as he lets his empyrean gaze snake down to where your bodies connected. It was embarrassing to be this spread wide open for him, though it didn’t matter much, not when you clutched onto his bicep for dear life and panted breathlessly. He was kissing you everywhere – smearing your lipstick all over your lips and his, a stain of red on his hard, white collar and love bites marked deep into your collarbones and under your breasts. You tightened around him once he changed his rhythm into a more sensual one; the quick pace replaced with him pulling out slowly – inch by delicious inch until you felt empty with each growing second – before slamming back inside with fervidity that he never quite possessed behind his desk.

He groaned at your walls clenching down on him, his hips stuttering in the process. “Call me Satoru.”

“Satoru,” you moaned out, and his next sounds were pained. Pained because you sounded too gorgeous, felt too good, and with you following his hips thrust by thrust, neither of you would last any longer. Not even as you shake your head, lips swollen as you remind him, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“We shouldn’t,” he agreed with a curled lip, sweat beading from the streaks of his white hair. “But I want you – god, you’re so beautiful tonight. Need to fuck you good—”

Gojo Satoru, one of the most eligible bachelors in the entire South East Asia and ranked as the second richest man in his early twenties, was a man of his word despite his reputation. Just as he was praised and fawned over for his beauty, charisma, and power, he was equally hated for breaking the hearts of women and treating his past ‘lovers’ like they were objects. The news were so confident of it; that he fooled them, played around with them, but behind the scenes, you knew Satoru wouldn’t do such a thing – from the first time he laid his eyes on someone, he made it extremely clear they were not to be attached. Everything with him was physical and sensual – anything beyond that would simply be out of character.

You weren’t surprised that he really did keep his word and fuck you good, because you couldn’t feel your legs the next morning and even though it had been hours, you still very much felt the shape of him carve through you.

The bastard wouldn’t stop laughing, of course, snickering under his breath every now and then each time he saw you grimace from doing simple things such as standing up and giving him the files he asked for. Perhaps it was because your dislike for him was apparent that Satoru quickly went back to fooling around, pretending you didn’t exist and only approaching you when need be. There were still moments you had to clean his mess up for him; taking his drunken phone calls at 3am because he got wasted in a bar, or doing the same for his current sex buddy who he didn’t want to stay in his home.

He was terrible, terribly awful that you despised this part of him.

You were only grateful enough that neither of you brought that night up ever again, for no matter how immensely hellish of an experience it had been, it was also something you’d really rather not be reminded of.

But now, there was no more running away from it. The truth stared at you blatantly in the form of two white lines that had appeared four times already from previous tests.

You were pregnant.

The world had never been that heavy on you. You had a rough upbringing, but it was a household filled with love and patience that it was innate in your nature to keep strong, be levelled, continue moving forward even during the times it felt like everyone and everything was going against you. You’d been through so much worse and you can do this, but you still couldn’t stop the tears that pushed from your eyes, your heart shattering the same time you dropped the stick.

“No, we won’t cry, it’s okay. I can handle this – I’m strong,” you repeated to yourself like a mantra, taking deep breaths to stabilize yourself. Clearly, this was unexpected, but you wanted to do your best, had to do your best. You didn’t have time to lose your composure, so you quickly fished your phone out your purse to dial the person you trusted the most.

“Rei...?”

Your best friend picked up on the second dial. “Sweetheart, where have you been?! I’ve been calling you for like hours now and you’re not picking up, I heard you called in sick for work and you never do that even when you’re about to pass out!” Some shuffling could be heard from the background before she spoke again, her tone a lot more gentle in response to your muted sniffles. “Is there something going on? Do you need me to drop by there right now? Tell me what you need; I’ll be there right away.”

“No, no, Rei, it’s fine, I just...”

“Sweetie,” she sighed, “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

You nodded even though she couldn’t see it. Rei had been there for you in everything, starting from when you newly arrived in the city; fresh-eyed and hopeful for new opportunities. She’d been there when you first complained your boss was a creepy flirt, all the way until you’d made peace with said boss and remained firm in your boundaries. But those boundaries had clearly been crossed – no, rather, you erased those boundaries. You were drunk enough to give in to the need to be touched, but sober enough to consent to everything that happened. You couldn’t place this all on him.

“I’m pregnant,” you said eventually, voice barely above a whisper as you added, “And Satoru’s the father.”

Rei stopped munching on her – you assume – bagel.

“Satoru? Gojo Satoru, your boss, bonafide casanova, the face on billboards and one of the most “eligible” bachelors in the country, billionaire Gojo Satoru?” she let out in one breath, the image of her flipping her hand out in the air in disbelief as clear as day. “Am I really hearing this right? I’m not going crazy, am I?”

You sighed.

“We were drunk. I slept with him.”

“Did that bastard force himself on you?”

“No, gosh, never,” you defended with widened eyes, sitting back down on the toilet with the lid now closed. You couldn’t look at the tests even if you dared yourself to, the plastic bag concealed in the garbage or else you’d feel sick all over again. “I-I wanted it too...we just got carried away and the night was just...I don’t know. I don’t know what came over me and why I did that, but there’s no point in fretting about it because I’m carrying his baby now.”

“Well,” she started unsurely, “What are you going to do?”

“I’m keeping it. There’s no way I would even consider abortion.”

“But what about him?”

The back of your head throbbed in pain. Just thinking about his stupidly handsome face made you want to throw up once more. “I don’t really want to tell him, but he has a right to know that he’s going to be a father.”

“Will he even take responsibility for it?”

You swallowed nervously, nibbling on your thumbnails before snatching your hand away. Composure was something you didn’t struggle with; you were the more reliable one in the duo of you and Satoru, but you had a bad habit of picking on your nails whenever you were anxious. Had it not been for Satoru flicking your nails away from your mouth each time you dazed out a little bit, you would’ve never gotten rid of the habit, but it all came crashing back down on you in an instant.

A heavy knot formed in your belly.

“Most likely not, I know how he’s like. He loves his single life so much that he’d never allow to be tied down like this. I wouldn’t even be surprised if he tells me he doesn’t want it.”

“What an asshole!”

“Yeah, he is, but I don’t need him in my life,” you reinstated, finally feeling more confident the longer you talked to Rei. She was your instant hype machine in more ways than one; her presence itself gave you the reassurance you could handle everything your way. With hope blooming in your chest, you picked yourself of the toilet and wiped away your tears. You could do this – you can handle this. Not just for you, but this baby growing in you as well.

“In our life. I’m more than capable of taking care of the baby myself,” you told her, gaze hard and determined as your sunken reflection stared back at you in the mirror. Sighing, you shook your head and pictured Satoru’s face, already picturing a thousand ways this could go wrong. Only one way to find out.

“I have to go now. He needs to hear about this and then I’ll resign. Probably move back home – anywhere that’s away from him.”

“Doesn’t the baby deserve to meet their dad?”

“Their dad doesn’t even want to be one,” you muttered bitterly and threw your sweater back on, refusing to kick yourself around any harder. Now wasn’t the time to be illogical; you were now a mother and had to be responsible now more than ever. But first, you needed some well-deserved rest after endless agonizing of missing your period, along with the baby drop that until now, had shook you to your core. “I’ll call you back, Rei. I’m very tired.”

“You let me know if you need anything, okay?” Humming in response, you ended the call and crawled back to bed.

It wasn’t that you felt lonely, but you didn’t feel particularly belonging anywhere. You were far from home in a city that felt like the future, and each day you come home, it was mostly just a place to rest before you went back to work the next day. It was a dull, empty routine that you’d gotten used to, but never had it sunk deep into you that you did felt completely hollow.

But not anymore.

You were with your baby now, and as much as it scared you shitless to be a mother with zero preparation and knowledge, you were confident things were going to be okay.

Wrapping an arm around your belly, you had the best sleep you’d had in years.

You’d just have to worry about tomorrow. Hopefully, and you quite prayed harder than you ever did before, Satoru would let you go and keep things less complicated than it already was.

“No,” Satoru shook his head, his words dropping like a heavy boulder in the middle of nowhere. You stood in front of him shock still, hands wrung solid beneath your belly. Satoru merely shook his head, brushing back his gelled hair with a dry laugh. “No, what are you even thinking? You’re not resigning.”

You pursed your lips. “I wasn’t really asking for permission, Sir.”

Truth be told, you expected this sort of reaction from him. It may be true that you and Satoru never got along in personal levels since he was too crass and you much stiff, but it couldn’t be denied you worked well together. You balanced each other’s flaws and brought out the best in one another. If someone had asked you years ago prior to you being employed by the heir if you could even tame the renowned free spirited man, you would’ve said probably not, but after sharing struggles and quite literally forcing one another to do better, you both reached highs neither expected to achieve.

It was an experience and a whole lot lessons learned working with him.

Unfortunately, all things must come to an end, and you had to leave even if Satoru negated to it.

“We’ve been working together for years. Do you know how many people I fired and have resigned all because they’re not equipped for the job?” he plopped down atop his desk, loosening his tie out of frustration. The simple gesture made you swallow and look away – it felt impossible to look at him any other way than a boss now that you had his baby inside you. Thankfully, Satoru was mouthy as usual that he pulled you back from your train of thoughts as he gestured between the both of you. “You and I are perfectly compatible – I can’t let you go like that. I’m sorry, but I need you. There’s no one else I can work with this functionally. No one else is as willing to tolerate my bullshit except you and...I need you to stay.”

You clenched your teeth at the desperation in his voice.

Satoru admitting he needed people was one thing. But him asking others to stay? It may have just been for your value as the only person who had put up with him in both his best and worst times that made him feel that way, but you had to keep your foot down on the ground.

You wouldn’t let him sway you like this.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and willed all your energy to spring forth. “Sir...I’m more than thankful for all the opportunities, it truly was a pleasure working with you but—”

“Is this because we slept together?” he cut you off, your shoulders tensing. Upon your silence, Satoru heaved himself away from the desk and took cautious step towards you, stopping a foot away when you stepped back defensively.

You almost wished you didn’t know him so well. His eyes shone with a flicker of hurt before he masked it just as quick as it had came – for Gojo Satoru was a master of many things, and a great actor was one of them. Cautious, you had to be cautious, and you clenched your fists behind your pencil skirt as you tore your gaze away from his pleading ones. “It is, isn’t it?” he affirmed with a clear of his throat, looking just as lost as you did. Satoru stuttered for a minute before he eventually composed himself, but even then, he didn’t sound half as sure as he wanted to be.

“Listen, whatever happened that night, we can forget about it if you want. We’re both adults and professionals – we can put this aside us and just go back to normal. You don’t have feelings for me, right? So then it shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Satoru...it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?” he demanded, aggravated. Satoru began to round his desk and pulling out little white envelopes, stacking them before you in a haste. “Do you want a pay raise? A new car so you could get to work easily? O-or perhaps a bigger house where you can work more comfortably, somewhere nearer to the office? All you have to do is tell me and I’ll give you what you want. There’s no need for you to resign, this company has given you everything and we’ve got so much offer just as you could still be great—”

“I’m pregnant.”

Satoru’s slender fingers halted around the pen hovering over a cheque slip. “What?”

“I said I’m pregnant,” you exhaled, biting down on your bottom lip to prevent yourself from quivering. A quick sweep from your face to gather sincerity trailed down to your belly, staring at you hard enough as if he had the ability to look through your soul. “And you’re the father.”

“Is that true? Is...is it really mine?”

“Yes sir,” you nodded, “I’m not telling you this because I expect that you’ll be responsible for it. No offense, sir, but I’d really rather raise the baby alone. Plus, I understand that you’ll never settle down or suddenly abandon your old ways just to—”

“Stop right there,” he raised a palm, “You mean to tell me you’re resigning because you thought I wouldn’t take responsibility for it? For you?”

The hurt in his voice and expressions were evident, lip curled in disgust; not for you, but rather of himself. Satoru was the type of man that couldn’t be withered down even with the harshest of rumours; you’d never seen him be affected before by tabloids and nasty ex-girlfriends who only slept with him for money or fame, only to talk smack about him afterwards. But now, he was crumbling before you, and you didn’t know quite what to say or feel over the vulnerability present in his cerulean eyes. It almost pained you know that you caused this – for the comforting, blue sky to be tainted with a thunderstorm that hinted of anger, of disappointment, of betrayal.

But could he blame you for not thinking the best of him?

“I’ve worked with you for years, sir, I know you.”

“Clearly not well enough,” he chuckled sarcastically, “Admittedly, I’m surprised, but not upset. The only thing that I’m upset about is that you actually believed it would be better to raise the baby – our baby – alone like I don’t even have a right to be in their life. Sure, it was an accident, but we made that. That’s our child and I’m going to take care of you and be a great father, even if you don’t think I’m capable of it.”

“Sir, I didn’t mean—”

“That’s the first time you said something stupid. That’s our baby. We’re a family now,” Satoru’s hesitance had vanished into thin air as he was on you the next instant, hands shaky before they landed on your shoulders. It was meant to be a comforting gesture; a reassuring one, yet you couldn’t help but flinch and falter under his gaze. As if getting the message, he quickly retracted his hands and shoved them deep inside his pockets with a sigh. “You don’t need to resign or worry about anything else. I promise I’ll give you both the life you deserve, just...just please don’t go. Now that I know we have a baby, there’s just no way I can let go of this and pretend I never heard of this at all.”

You swallowed, rubbing your sweaty palms on your skirt.

Out of all the different scenarios you stayed up late at night to turning your head in one by one, none of them included this. Undeniably, he was an asshole to most, but maybe he was right.

He hadn’t done anything wrong to you and he was still the father of your baby; he deserved a chance. Satoru had the right to be the father he was willing to be. You could already tell this might completely turn into one big mess, but his eyes were so hopeful, his smile so nervous yet expectant that you couldn’t help but say –

“Okay,” you relented.

His reaction was instantaneous. Satoru beamed and lounged at you, arms wide open for an embrace before realizing at the last second you could stab him with a pen and not regret it. One warning glare sent his way and he was retracing his arm behind his head, pretending to stretch with an off-tune whistle.

The sudden switch between pained and enthusiastic gave you whiplash, but you really shouldn’t be surprised. This was Gojo Satoru in the first place – he was as unpredictable as nothing was permanent and lasting to him.

It could be both a blessing and a curse.

For the sake of your baby, you genuinely hoped it was the former.

Not wanting him to get too ahead of himself since you still didn’t trust him enough, you raised a finger to poke him in the chest. Right now, you were no longer his secretary that openly despised him but added six sugar cubes in his coffee just as he liked anyway, but rather a woman who shared this mess with him, and as the mother of his child. You had to be strong. Being with Satoru felt like playing with fire, and you had far too much at stake – both of you did – but you weren’t privileged and fortunate like Satoru. One bad thing thrown his way could be brushed off, but for you? Everything you worked hard for could disappear just like that.

If you really chose now to play with fire, you had to be careful not to be the gasoline that ignited things to burn down into ashes.

“Satoru,” you stressed with your lips pressed into a thin line, “The only thing I expect from you is to be is a good father to our child. I know that it would be difficult for you to be a new person in a day and that your old habits won’t die right away, so please do what you can to be a good parent, and I’ll be with you every step of the way. I promise you don’t have to worry about me getting in the way of your life as well.”

His smile slowly vanished.

“Is that how low you really think of me?” he echoed rather sadly, “That I would still sleep around knowing I’ve got a family now?”

“We’re not a family, Sir. I have no intentions of marrying you nor would I ever want it. I’m just staying for the baby.”

“Fine. For the baby, let’s both do our best,” he crossed his arms on his chest, pumping out the hard muscles from how tight his shirt was. You were stuck between wanting to slap him or be closer to him; the hormones too much of a mess that you had to grip your thigh for restraint. “But tomorrow, you’re moving in with me. I’m going to take care of you from now on – I’ll get you whatever you need so whatever it is, just tell me. My credit card is yours to use as well.”

Move in with him? You wanted to laugh. That was the last thing you would want to happen.

“Sir, it’s fine, I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t, but I want to take care of you both,” he reiterated, growing slightly annoyed from your rigidness. You professed that you were being difficult right now, but it was much better than being easy around someone like him.

“We don’t have to be friends or lovers, alright? I know you don’t see me that way and I’m probably repulsive in your eyes – which is understandable since you always clean my mess up for me – but as a father, at least, let me do my job. There doesn’t have to be anything between us other than a mutual want to be good parents. Is that alright with you?”

You mulled the thought over in your head. So he was capable of being sensible sometimes, and after a few moments of silence, you narrowed your eyes at him.

Still suspicious and your guard was most definitely still up, but he was right. You both had a mutual want to be good parents and that was the most important thing right now. Everything else that complicated matters would be handled afterwards.

“I’m okay with that, but I would have to set down lots of boundaries if I’m living with you.”

“So you’ll really stay with me then?” You regretted nodding in response because Satoru was now fishing his phone out, a goofy smile on his face.

He took the news...surprisingly well, and you didn’t know what to make of it.

“Perfect! I’ll have your room prepared!” You tried to grab his arm to stop him from going overboard; knowing full well Satoru always had rushes in which he impulsively overdoes things. He might turn your room into some sort of grand suite that you wouldn’t really like, but he was far too excited and lost in his own thoughts that your words went from one ear and out the other. “Fuck,” he laughed to himself, “I’m going to be a dad.”

Whether it was relief or anxiety that bubbled through you, you had no idea.

It was definitely anxiety.

Satoru felt like a hyper child to be around, and as much as you were grateful that he was happy about this, you also wished he would calm down. You didn’t even have enough chance to settle in before he’s shoving you inside room by room, announcing that what was his was also yours and he would have a baby room set up next week.

You followed him around like a puppy as he marched into the kitchen, mumbling incoherently to himself about baby proofing furniture.

“Sir,” you called out, “Sir, listen to me. We need to talk about boundaries.”

Satoru blinked owlishly at your tired eyes, sheepishly smiling at you. It must’ve dawned on him that his speed tour of his penthouse felt a lot more overwhelming than welcoming, and he sat you down on the island stools before drumming his fingers impatiently on the cool marble. “Sorry, you were saying? I kind of got carried away.”

Carried away was far an understatement.

“I said, we need to talk about boundaries.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” he paused with a furrow in his brow. “Also can you just call me Satoru? We’re going to be parents anyway and it’s awkward if you keep uh, calling me Sir.”

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, not really in the mood to argue with him right now. You had to keep intact with him while you still had his full attention. Taking out a little notepad you prepared the night before, you slid it over Satoru who tilted his head to the side rather cutely to read it. “So here are my boundaries. One, I don’t want this pregnancy to be announced in the media unless I’m ready. I understand that we can’t keep this a secret forever but I need time to process this. Two, just because we’re living in the same roof together doesn’t mean that I get to go anywhere and everywhere with you. I’m going to work by myself—”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I said no,” he repeated more firmly this time. “You’re pregnant and I want to make sure you’re safe at all times. I’m driving you to work.”

“Didn’t you just hear what I said? I don’t want to be seen with you.”

“You’re my secretary. People see us together all the time.”

“But you never drove me to work! I live far from the office and I most definitely don’t drive an Audi.”

“Things change, that’s your life now,” Satoru shrugged nonchalantly, stealing the pen you twirled in your hands. The sudden contact sent jolts of electricity from your knuckles, one that had you recanting your hands back to yourself. Satoru didn’t seem to notice as he crosses out the second rule, “Sorry not sorry but I don’t want to let you go places like that. Fine by me if you don’t want me to drive you, but at least have one of the chauffeurs take you somewhere if you really don’t wanna be seen with me.”

“Fine,” you gritted your teeth. Compromise, compromise, meet in the middle – you repeated to yourself to keep your sanity. “Rule number three: I don’t want you changing your attitude around me. We may have a baby on the way, but you’re still my boss and I want to keep our relationship professional.”

“You’re saying I’m not allowed to fall in love with you?”

You flicked his forehead, effectively erasing the teasing grin he wore. “That’s not going to happen,” you interjected irritably, although your heart skip a beat. That was a massive red flag already; you could never be too comfortable with him. For Satoru, his little comments here and there may come naturally and probably meant nothing to him, but there was a chance you could receive it with different interpretations. Shaking your head at him, you ignored his grumblings on how ‘mean’ you were. “We’re never going to be a couple. We’re just raising a child together. I don’t want you acting weird or too comfortable with me.”

Satoru scratched the side of his head as he mulled about it, “Are we allowed to be friends, at least? I understand the professional part, but I can’t imagine the both of us getting along for nine months and more when we act like boss and employee even alone at home,” before you could say anything, Satoru raised his hands in surrender. “I promise I won’t do anything weird to you. No offense, but you’re not really my type, so same as you, I view you platonically.”

Right. The heart surely was stupid and confusing.

You didn’t want him getting any ideas that this could lead to something more, but at the same time, it hurt a little to know you weren’t his type.

Hiding that pang of hurt behind a tight lipped smile, you forced yourself to agree with him. “I view you professionally, Sir.”

“Satoru.”

“Whatever,” you grumbled. “Rule number four: don’t bring home any of your fuck buddies or flavour of the night. I really don’t care if you sleep around, but respect my privacy and my standing as the mother of your childIf you’re really desperate to get your dick wet, go fuck them somewhere else.”

“You’ve never been this vulgar with me.”

He wasn’t wrong about that. Despite countless of times that he tried being friendly with you to ease your stiffness in the office, you always shot him down.

You came to the city to work and provide for your family, not to be friends with your annoyingly hot boss who enjoyed his life way too much. Unlike him, you were more work than play, and eventually Satoru respected the fact you would never speak or treat him casually.

Until now.

“Try being in my shoes and see if you’d still have the patience of a saint,” you mumbled under your breath, sighing when Satoru’s smile got more awkward. “Listen, Satoru, I don’t mean to be difficult, okay? It’s just...this is a lot. This isn’t just us about anymore – we’re going to be parents and that’s a huge responsibility. It’s not only our lives changing here, a child will be relying on us in the future and I simply want to be a good mother, but I also don’t trust you very well to be comfortable enough to act like we’re suddenly friends.”

“I understand that.”

“Good.”

“Do you have rule number five?”

“No, not really, but I can add more as we go.”

“I have a rule number five,” he piped in, flipping the notepad his way as he scribbled something down. “And it’s that if you need help – and I mean with anything – you would let me help you. I’ve worked with you for a long time and I’m not dumb enough to not notice you like to do things by yourself. Like you said, things are different now, and especially with this pregnancy, you’re not alone in this. You need to let me take over the wheel sometimes. I can’t be just a passenger in the car – you and I are both in this together.”

“Just keep your hands to yourself.”

“That’s easy,” he chirped, and there was that uncomfortable knot in your chest again. However, it didn’t sink in too deep because Satoru was blatantly staring at your belly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “So do we have a name for them already?”

“Satoru, I’ve only been a few weeks pregnant, I don’t—”

Conflicting his previous statement that he’d keep his hands to himself, Satoru suddenly dropped to his knees. You watched with wide eyes, too flabbergasted to move as he places his ear on your belly.

“Hi there, little one,” he spoke in a soft tone, large hands caressing the tiny bump beginning to form. You couldn’t move; hell, you could barely breathe from how comforting his touch seemed in contrast to your mind ringing warning bells above. His voice quickly pulled you back to reality as he flattened his palm, white lashes fluttering against the cotton of your shirt. “I’m your daddy; I can’t wait to meet you. Daddy promises to take good care of you and make you the happiest kid ever, alright? You don’t have to worry about anything as long as I’m here.”

“D-don’t spoil them too much, Satoru.”

“I’ll try not to,” he chuckled. Satisfied with that small moment he had, he straightened up and trudged over the dining table that was far too big for a man who lived alone. In that moment, an image flashed in your mind – that someday that table would no longer look empty as you and your child shared meals with him. You could already imagine how heavenly the sun would shine on the glass windows behind it, the flowers gathered in the middle of the table blooming to life.

Out of nowhere, it struck you.

Could it be that this was why he loved this baby so much after only knowing about it for a few days? Could it be that Satoru really was alone?

“Okay, we should probably have a welcoming dinner! The chefs left me something tonight. I forgot what it’s called but I think you’ll like it. Grab some wine on the cellar for me?”

“Satoru, I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, right! My bad,” he clapped his hands together before pulling out ceramics and a cold pitcher, “Just water for mommy then,” Satoru said absentmindedly, completely oblivious to how your mind short-circuited a few feet away from him. He went about his way ignorant to it all and gently tugged you to sit with him, eagerly digging into the heated meals as you realized both of you hadn’t eaten.

For a guy who talked a lot, dinner with him was surprisingly quiet. Other than the occasional clinking of utensils against the plate, you enjoyed the silence with him.

You wouldn’t have believed it to be possible since Satoru made it his daily business to always fill in the gaps. Peace and comfort stretched before you the whole time, however, that for a moment, just a short moment, you found yourself letting your guard down. Even when you both caught each other’s in the middle of a bite, you found no tension or awkwardness in it. Perhaps it was the familiarity of being beside each other for years now that this should feel natural, or maybe it was because you both mutually agreed on wanting the best for your baby. Whatever it was, you didn’t want to overcomplicate it right now.

“You know, I’m really excited about this. I can’t believe I’m actually going to be a father,” he mused through a bite, swirling his red wine through his glass. Satoru gazed at his reflection almost dreamily, seemingly too deep in thought that he felt far from reach.

Or maybe you were the one who was detached, the one who kept pushing him away, because you could offer him nothing but a lame nod. “I’m glad to hear that...”

“What about you? You don’t look too happy.”

Your eyes widened at his worry. “No, I-I’m happy, of course. It’s just...it’s unplanned, and I’ve had my whole life planned out that I’m not really sure how this will all fall into place together.”

“Hey,” he laced his fingers with yours, squeezing warmth back into your skin that you hadn’t noticed turned cold from the nerves. Unlike his usual self with eyes brimming with glee, you could only see tenderness in him now, some sort of silent vow through a private smile shared only between the two of you in that moment in the solace of his home. Your home. “I promise I’ll be there for you and the baby every step of the way. I know that I haven’t had the best reputation and I have zero idea on parenting, but you’re not alone in this. You can trust me on this one, just like how we always trusted each other during work. Being a parent and running a business are both responsibilities right?”

“Yeah...”

“Well then you already know we work well together. We’re great partners!” he cheered, patting your shoulder way too bro-like. You resisted the urge to cringe. “We’ll be great parents, Y/N. I’m sure of that.”

Unsure of what else to do, you squeezed his hand back. He was right, you would be great parents as long as both of you never gave up. The thought of eating meals with him again with another addition to the table made you smile, and you hadn’t noticed you were spacing out, thumb running over his knuckles that were smooth for a man who never knew a day of hard labour. It wasn’t until you felt something prodding at you metaphorically, and you chuckled nervously as you saw Satoru smiling mysteriously at you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing,” he grinned, “I’ve just never seen you this close before; not so much that I paid attention anyway. But this is nice – having you here, I mean. It gets lonely here sometimes.”

“Don’t you bring your girlfriends around?”

“I never make them stay,” was all he said, and just like that, whatever thread that was beginning to form snapped. Satoru released his hold on you and gestured to your plate, carrying the dishes in his hand before leaving you alone on the table. Like always – a whiplash. “I’ll clean up, you can rest in your room now. I’ll take care of the dishes.”

“Do you even know how to do them?”

“Yeah, my mother forced me to wash dishes because she didn’t want me to rely on the house help too much,” he informed, the new information shocking you right to the core as he put on dishwashing gloves and started scrubbing. From this angle, he sure looked damn nice and domestic in just a white shirt, hair ruffled down to bangs.  “I’ll be right there with you,” Satoru announces casually, spinning on his heel with red cheeks once he realized what he said. “For just a goodnight, I mean! We’re not sharing rooms!”

“Yeah, no,” you coughed out, “We’re definitely not.”

It felt…surreal, to wake up in a room much grandiose than yours yet felt like home even for the first night. Satoru handled your moving in rather happily; you found him singing to himself this morning as he brewed his own coffee before realizing you were right behind him, sleepy as you lazily made waffles for the both of you. Everything flowed nicely and normally, like this had always been a normal thing that for a moment, you questioned once more what would happen next.

You were now getting ready for work, hands tugging at his tie because he was such a man-child who couldn’t even properly knot his own tie. His suit was custom tailored and he looked effortlessly gorgeous – beauty ripped straight from magazines he was constantly a front page of, but his tie was skewered and loose that it irritated you.

“You’re such a mess without me.”

Satoru bent down to wiggle his brows at you, thought you didn’t notice because he wouldn’t stay still for you to fix his tie fast enough. “Isn’t this sweet; you fixing my tie for me as we both get ready for work?” he teased, “We’re like a married couple already.”

“If you don’t shut up, I’m kicking you in the nuts.”

“Then how can I give you more babies?” picking up the newspaper on the coffee table beside you, you rolled it and started whacking him, a string of profanities colorfully painting his otherwise monochrome and sleek walls. Satoru’s laughter boomed all over the room even as he wiggled away from you, clutching his bicep that had been the victim of your abuse. “Ow, ow, I was joking! Jeez, woman, you are strong. Fight men a lot like this?”

“I work with you. My fighting instincts are always activated.”

His laugh really was annoying. But it did help ease your nerves – though you’d never tell him that – as you sat beside him in his car, the expensive leather seats no longer strange to you. It would’ve felt like any other day where you accompanied him somewhere, except the reason was different now, and it came crashing down on you of your current situation that things were undeniably different from now on.

You immediately stepped away from him the moment you got out of the car, clutching your clipboard to your tummy when Satoru bumped his shoulder with yours. “Come closer, it’s fine. No one will suspect a thing,” he points to the crowded building with people bumping and walking past each other, everyone too occupied in their own heads to even notice you.

It wasn’t much, but hearing his voice and reassurances relaxed you, even for just a little bit. Maybe your first day at work after the baby news wouldn’t be so bad, after all, but it seemed you had spoken too early.

Satoru heavily insisted that you worked inside his office from now on.

Your desk was located right outside his office, the phone line always within reach in case you needed to pass calls to him or if he needed you to come. Satoru preferred the privacy of his own space – or so he said; he actually just didn’t want you to witness him slacking around and experience your wrath – but now he was dragging you inside his office, pushing your shoulders down until you were ‘settled in.’

You didn’t even want to ask where he got a new desk from, or why it had to be right across from him. His desk remained elevated on a few levels, the welcoming lobby of the room filled with couches and stacks of coffee with a rich amount of sugar cubes.

Safe to say, most of the morning was spent (or rather, wasted) on you telling Satoru off. The man was too persistent, coming in on the office at random times of the hour with either snacks or heaps of biscuits on his arms. He always greeted you with a wide grin on his face, only to be kicked out of his own office because you had his hellish schedule and events to deal with. That was around three hours ago when you’d asked him to shut up and go bother someone else. You were halfway around finishing your workload for today when the door swung open, a tuft of white hair and mischievous eyes peeking through.

“Hey! Just checking in on mommy—”

“Satoru!”

“What? It’s just you and I,” he defended with a shrug, welcoming himself inside. Surprisingly, he was empty handed, though the pout on his lips told you it was against his will. “Seriously though, do you need anything? Do you want snacks? Tea? Do you need help going to the bathroom? You haven’t moved in your desk for an hour now.”

“Satoru, I’m pregnant, not disabled,” you ignored him for a while, resuming to working back on his schedule for the month. There were a bunch of e-mails you still had to respond to, which normally wouldn’t be such a daunting task if Satoru wasn’t shifting his weight from one foot to another, the sounds of his shoes hitting the tiles in an annoying click-clack rhythm getting to you. “Will you stop fidgeting! Your anxiety gives me anxiety, stop that!”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it, I just feel like there’s something I should be doing.”

“Shutting up and letting me work in peace would be great, thank you.”

“You really don’t need anything?” Sending him a warning glare, Satoru sucked in his cheeks and ran back to his desk where he hid behind the safety of his large monitor. “Nope, yeah, I got the message: leave you alone. Good luck with that then, I’ll need those archives to pull up for our meeting with the directors later at five.”

Muttering a sarcastic finally under your breath, you resumed working.

The routine was per usual – answer the calls professionally with a welcoming and sweet voice, a pen always in one hand to jot down notes in reminders, adjust his schedules, work out his plans, go to him whenever he needed to sign something before responding back to e-mails. You were focused as you always were, but someone wasn’t, and it was getting harder and harder to keep being placated.

It didn’t help that he made no effort to hide the fact he was slacking off, the tip-taps of him randomly pressing keys on the keyboard similar to a fork dragging down a plate.

“I can feel you burning holes at the back of my head,” you twittered, “What do you need?”

“Nothing at all. I’m just realizing how beautiful you are right now.”

You paused. Unable to deny your curiosity over how serious he sounded, you spun around in your swivel chair. Satoru had his chin on his hands as he stared right back at you, his face devoid of expression that you couldn’t pick up on a single clue. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

You rolled your eyes at him. Of course the bastard would be teasing you, his loud chuckles a painful reminder of that. It was best to ignore him, so you went back to reading e-mails and forced yourself to focus on the task at hand. “We’re at work. Please stop distracting me; I can’t focus when you’re staring at me like a creep.”

“Sorry, babe, I’ll try to be less distracting next time, though I can’t control my charisma, you know!”

You jotted your thumb to your desk outside, “I can walk back to my desk where you can’t see me. That’d be a great for both of us.”

“Stay right there, I was joking!”

“Do you promise to be quiet and actually do your job if I stay?”

“With you disciplining and ordering me around like that, why not?” Mouth open for another heated retort, Satoru stopped you before you could say anything, his aura more serious this time. He was always like this; fooling around and maturing the next second, only for the cycle to repeat and test your patience. “I’m just teasing you, Y/N, I’ll shut up now. You’re free to end work as soon as you’re tired though; the driver is waiting in the parking lot whenever you want to go home.”

“I’ll go home with you.” Home. It felt weird to say that, but also…natural.

“You’ll stay with me at work today?” He sounded genuinely surprised, and you responded with a one-shoulder shrug. That seemed to be enough for him, however, and it wasn’t long before Satoru found the oh so rare and fleeting motivation to work hard.

Once he was settled, sleeves rolled up to expose his veiny forearms and brows furrowed as he centered all his attention on the pile of paperwork before him, there was no stopping him.

Roles reversed and positions switched, you were now the one unable to take your eyes off him.

In this light, in this moment, Gojo Satoru had never looked more beautiful. He was much the same as you in the manner you never really noticed each other this way before; not romantically, but even just person to person. In your eyes, he was nothing but your irritating boss whose boisterous self always crowded over your peace, and in his eyes, you were nothing but his secretary who he knew always silently hoped would leave you alone.

But things were different now. You were different now.

Boundaries there may be, you couldn’t help that fluttering forming in your stomach. Contentment, happiness, relief, nervousness – all of them jumbled into one big mess. Out of them all, however, there was most definitely adoration, either out of respect for his unexpected kindness, or simply because it felt nice to feel for once.

Turning away from him until your back was the only thing he could see, you hid your smile as you secretly held your belly.

You’d never been reckless before, but what was to be a good story when there wasn’t a mistake or two made?

[horansqueen]

Vote For My Next Story

New Angel is almost over and I have way too many story ideas in my head. I can’t seem to pick! I also can’t write more than one at the same time, I’s rather focus on a specific one, which is why I’m asking you to vote for which of my ideas you’d like to read the most!

I apologized for some of the synopsis I wrote, I know they’re not really clear and if you need any information on them please, don’t hesitate to ask (anon or private) about them!

(click on the read more to read the summaries of the story ideas I’d like to write)

NOTES

all these are mainly about NIALL (yes, even #8) even if some other characters may appear.

i wrote AU or OU before each summary.

titles may change

some are re-writes of old stories

if you vote, thank you so much!

                       VOTE HERE

OR SEND ME AN ASK

1. MEANT TO BE

(cheating)

AU. When they first met, Louis was all *MAIN GIRL* ever wanted. However, a decade later the high school sweethearts had change and she felt like most of the sparkles she once had were now gone. Then she met Niall and it clicked instantly and intensely and since then, they’ve been seeing each other in secret, lying to their whole entourage about the nature of their relationship. Feelings started to grow, things started to change, and maybe, just maybe, it’s meant to be. Or maybe not.

A tale of broken hearts, unforgettable love and many… way too many lies.

2. LOOK WHO'S PERFECT NOW

(fake dating)

OU. *MAIN GIRL* finally finds out what fame is after starring in her first big movie, but she has a hard time getting used to it and getting involved in the showbusiness. Niall Horan is going through a break-up and is seen as 'the bad guy' when all he really wants is have fun and live his life the way he wants to. 

The first time they meet, it's hatred at first sight, but when they both agree to sign a PR contract to restore their images, they're going to have to pretend to be head over heels in love with each other. They both decide on some rules to follow as they get more and more annoyed with each other. Even holding hands feels like a horrible chore to both of them.

If there's one thing we learned through the centuries though, it's that hatred is not that far from love, and that feelings can change when you open your heart.

3. THE DAY WE FELL IN LOVE

(best friends to lovers)

AU. Since they were kids, *MAIN GIRL*, Niall and their group of friends have always been close. They all grew up together, spent all their time together, made all their mistakes together and shared all their first experiences together. 

After *MAIN GIRL* and Niall share their first kiss, everything seems to fall into place for them. At least, for a while. When everything seems to change around them and that distance threatens to tear them apart, they're going to have to fight to keep their love intact. 

Sometimes, growing up is full of bumps in the road. Feelings change, friendships end, and that promise you made to your friends to meet a year later exactly at the same place is not that easy to keep... but going may change your life.. AGAIN.

4. THE BREAK-UP PLAN

AU. *MAIN GIRL* and Niall’s relationship had started when they had barely entered their teenager years. Now, over 10 years later, they feel like something is missing. They didn’t know anything else besides each other and it had to change. They still planned on spending forever together but their lack of experiences and mistakes seemed to be an obstacle between them.

They agreed on  break that was not really a break. for six whole months, they would be able to do whatever they wanted to do with whoever they wanted to. Going to parties, leaving for a whole weekend with friends without giving any news, dating and even screwing whoever they wanted, nothing was out of reach. 

They only had one rule : honesty. Every friday night, they’d meet and spend the whole night together, talking, making out or just cuddling until they’d fall asleep, to make sure their love was preserved.

Unfortunately, things rarely go as planned and seeing the person you love the most in the world be happy without you is something almost impossible to accept.

A story about angry tears, painful jealousy, sweet sweet revenge and realizing who your real soulmate is. Watch out, it’s gonna hurt.

5. I ALMOST CARE

(used to be a Louis fanfic)

(exes)

AU. Niall and *MAIN GIRL* have dated and broken up a long time ago. When they both end up on a trip to Vegas with common friends, they’re not sure how to act around each other. After one evening spent completely drunk, they both wake up in the same bed with rings on their fingers. Maybe it will make them realize that sometimes, you don’t break up because of lack of feelings and that the spark never really die when love is real.

What happens in Vegas doesn’t always have to stay in Vegas…

6. BRUISES

(used to be a Harry fanfic)

(best friends to lovers)

AU. When Niall Horan realizes his old best friend goes to the same college as he does, he decides to keep in touch with her and try to reconnect. Feelings start sparkling but having been hurt before, Niall can’t seem to open his heart again… but if he doesn’t, he may lose the love of his life.

7. BITTERSWEET

(used to be a Harry fanfic)

(exes)

OU. Niall Horan is undeniably happy. Of course he is, why wouldn't he be? But when he finds out his ex girlfriend (for lack of a better word) wrote a book about him and their story, he gets suddenly worried. Going through the pages, he discovers the story from her point of view, and realizes that maybe, just maybe, nothing ever really ended.

A story of misunderstandings, broken hearts, lonely nights and more truths than anyone can handle.

8. LIVING WITH LOUIS TOMLINSON

(used to be a Harry fanfic)

(enemies to lovers)

AU. Call me Queen Catastrophe. I lost my job, my boyfriend, my best girl friend and my apartment on the same day. Just a little friday afternoon like all the others, right?

Thank god, my best friend Louis was there to save the day. Nothing unusual. I was supposed to crash at his apartment for one night and then walk on my pride and go back to my parents to admit how much of a failure I really am.

However, Louis had other plans : he wanted me to move in with him. That’s when my story really starts. Mutual feelings, drunken sex, grocery shopping, fights that end up with porcelain thrown around the kitchen (I’m an intense person, I know) but most of all, his best guy friend stealing his (our, now) couch at least 5 nights a week.

I despise Niall Horan with all my heart. Him and his stupid charm, his flirty smile and his hands that always ended up in places they shouldn’t. He was threatening to come between Louis and I. He was slowly taking more space in our apartment… and in my heart.

Fuck, I hate Niall Horan with a passion.

[raleighcarrera]

falling

platinum | raleigh carrera x mc (cadence dorian)

a little while ago i posted about the idea of a soulmate au where the first words raleigh & cadence say to each other are tattooed on them their whole lives, and this... is that. (for @platinumweekend ❤️)

tags: @choicesarehard ; @empressazura; @emomoustache ; @natesewell ; @zigtheeortega ; @pixeljazzy ; @brycemaloliver ; @grigori-girl ; @dulceghernandez ; @bitchloveskcbaseball ; @withbeautyandrage 

~10.5k words | T

i.

the words appear in looping script on his thirteenth birthday, right on time. they curve along the inside of his bicep, innocently punctuated. what’s your name?

“you got lucky,” one of his older cousins tells him, later, when everyone in his family comes by for cake and to ooh and aah over his new tattoo, “you’ll be able to hide that with a shirt or a jacket easily.”

but raleigh sleeps shirtless every night for the next two years, even when it’s cold, so that the words are the last thing he sees with his head pillowed on his arm before he falls asleep, dreaming of the nameless, faceless person who will one day say them, wondering what their voice might sound like when they do.

ii.

she has a more difficult go of it.

being a thirteen year old girl would be miserable enough without the added pressure of the words that practically feel broadcast across her forehead, most of the time. everyone at school teases her constantly and ruthlessly: say something funny, cadence. go on. tell us a joke!

so it’s difficult not to resent the two words scrawled lazily across her collarbone and the person attached to them, especially in the mornings before school when she’s angrily rearranging her neckline and jewelry in the mirror while the bus idles outside.

very funny. she isn’t, really. she’s plenty of things -- determined and passionate and sensitive, definitely, but... no one’s ever found her particularly funny, before.

and no one seems to understand just how much the expectation of having to be funny, one day, is weighing on her, not even her parents, when she finally works up the courage to squeak out, “but how am i supposed to know what i should say?”

her mom laughs indulgently, like she’s already said something funny. her stomach sinks further.

“oh, sweetheart,” she tells her, “don’t worry, it won’t matter. you just will.”

iii.

people ask him about it. a lot.

it gets difficult to keep it a secret as things change around him, but raleigh’s careful to avoid slip-ups and paparazzi photos and he doesn’t say a word about it in interviews, even when he’s asked directly. he’s never seen without short sleeves on, at the very least, and he doesn’t even tell blair and cameron about it.

he sort of wishes he had, though, because as his life turns upside down and he adapts to a new country with a new set of rules and an industry that makes his head spin most of the time it starts to feel more and more confusing, those three words -- what’s your name?

everywhere he goes, thousands of girls blocking the street scream it at him. so how is it possible that whoever’s waiting to meet him doesn’t already know it?

and what does that mean for how the rest of his life is going to turn out? 

what if all of this -- the fame and the money and the notoriety -- is fleeting, and he’s only a few short years from being completely washed up and irrelevant? what if the day he’s meant to meet his person is so far away that he’ll be completely out of the spotlight, by then, with sunset skatepark playing reunion tours and him having spent most of his life alone?

it’s a lot of pressure, for someone who’s already working their way through such a serious adjustment, and most of the time it’s dizzying, thinking about the fact that there’s someone out there who’s supposed to be perfect for him, when everyone he meets seems determined to forget every word they know other than yes, so they can suck up to him as much as possible.

his teenage years fly by in a whirlwind of mistakes and regrets. there’s things he would’ve never dreamed would come his way, like world tours and more money than he can count and so many girls who know everything about him before they even sit down to dinner, but there’s more than that, too.

there’s all the ways the industry weakens his trust until it’s gone, all the people who try to use him for what he can do for them, all the times he stumbles until he finally learns to distance himself by cultivating a persona, by leaning into all the expectations of raleigh carrera and creating something so outlandish it doesn’t hurt as much when disaster follows him around because it’s supposed to.

he watches everything that surrounds him turn fake and plastic and puts his energy only into his music, coasting on the rest. the days are less exciting than when he first joined the band at fifteen; he’s a solo artist, now, and most of the time, he’s just trying to get through.

but chaos continues to follow him and eventually his notoriety is inescapable. his first solo album is self-titled and he somehow manages to get a trademark on the word raleigh, as if the name is now more his than anything that ever belonged to the state of north carolina, and part of him sort of expects the words stamped on his arm to change, once he hits one-hundred million followers on his social channels.

they never do, though, and when he’s alone, and the veneer he’s built up for everyone else fades away, he can’t help but to be fascinated by this person who just wants an answer to the question no one else would ever dare ask him.

iv.

college isn’t exactly the fresh start she was hoping it’d be.

she was a loser in high school and things don’t get much better for her even now that she’s with ‘her people’ at a performing arts university she can barely afford, even with two part-time jobs. 

shane is across the country at a proper state school with parties and a social life and lots of friends who aren’t her, and she’s failing her improv class, proving that she isn’t actually very funny at all. 

boys continue to not notice her and patrons in bars continue to turn away from her one-woman performance, her old acoustic guitar the only constant in a life that feels utterly, unbelievably pointless, most of the time.

it’s like she’s drifting through the days, putting her time in at college in the hopes that it’ll fortify her for what’s next -- her big break, the discovery that’ll get her out of that shitty small town she’s been trying to escape her entire life. she writes hundreds of songs about how lost she feels and hates every single one, dreaming of a time when things might be different and she doesn’t have to second-guess every single one of her decisions.

she doesn’t have much of a love life and tries not to think about that, either.

the person on the other side of those two words stuck on her collarbone is probably looking for someone self-confident, who knows who they are and is comfortable with that. they’re probably expecting to meet someone who has their life together, who, at the very least, has a plan.

they’re probably not expecting a talentless nobody screwup like her, someone who tries as hard as she can yet never seems to make anything work.

things don’t turn around after graduation, either. sure, she manages to find an apartment in a building that’s nice enough and uses the last of her savings on the deposit and trying to furnish it, but it’s only a few weeks of trying and failing to secure a regular paying gig performing before she’s back at smoothie star again, begging for her old job back.

and there’s nothing that makes her feel more like a failure than working the same shifts she had in high school. 

as she hums along to the radio on a random tuesday afternoon when the store is dead and there’s nothing to blend, she wonders what mr.-or-mrs. very funny would think if they walked in and saw her here -- twenty-three years old and flat broke, with a dead-end job and a one-bedroom apartment all she has to show for her very expensive and very useless bachelor’s degree.

that, and a notebook full of half-finished songs about relationships she could only ever dream about and an escape from the miserable small town she lives in that feels farther away with every day that passes.

she can’t imagine they’d be very impressed.

v.

raleigh’s life gets monotonous very quickly. the music takes a backseat to the scandals and for a while there’s a predictable pattern of cause trouble, clean up image, rinse and repeat.

there are girls in between the cycles to help him pass the time. some he likes well enough and some he despises, but for the most part his management gives their recommendations and he agrees and makes awkward conversation for an hour or two over brunch until it’s time to go trash something again.

things get particularly bad after one minor cruise ship hijacking incident. 

but in his defense, no one ever told him that breaking into the harbor and joy riding was a first-degree felony, worsened by the fact that he’d just so happened to crash the boat into the pier while he was trying to dock it. 

at least he’d been sober.

though a monumental fuck up like this felt sort of inevitable; everyone who knew him probably figured it was only a matter of time before he went too far. how could he not when he was always chasing the next high?

still, the image rehab tour that follows is far from what he’d call enjoyable. he has to cut off all his hair and play nice at industry parties and waste time standing around being seen at charity events he winds up just cutting checks for instead of helping out at.

on top of the miserable community service comes the pr bullshit his team so loves -- dozens of tv appearances back-to-back where he’s herded around all day like cattle, in and out of green rooms with crappy coffee and bad catering.

he has no idea that showing up to be a judge on one in a million is going to change his life. hungover and running late, he barely even makes it to the taping of the semi-finals, slinking inside the concert hall in middle-of-nowhere, usa with a headache and some choice words for whoever thought this was the best way to clean up his image.

fortunately, raleigh manages to make his way inside virtually unnoticed. his phone is buzzing angrily in his pocket -- undoubtedly his manager trying to encourage him to hair and makeup or some other absurdity -- but he ignores it in favor of ducking back behind the line near the auditorium doors, only barely catching the last few words of some catty confrontation between two contestants as he goes.

as one of the girls stomps away, he sees the other’s shoulders slump from behind. “guess i’m not making any friends,” she mutters.

it’s clearly said to no one -- not even to herself, really -- yet for some reason, he can’t stop himself from responding. “where i come from, that’s a good thing.”

the girl’s shoulders straighten, but she still doesn’t turn around. “i’m not trying to succeed at the cost of others.”

raleigh smirks, leaning back against the wall beside his guitar case. “you do realize you’re at a competition show, right?”

“of course, but...” her hair ruffles with what sounds like a huff. she’s still not facing him, staring off at where the other girl she’d been talking to had run away. “that doesn’t mean i’m not rooting for everyone here to share their music with the world.”

“what a sweet sentiment,” raleigh drawls sarcastically, almost feeling a little bad for her and her naivety. this poor girl is going to be eaten alive. “it won’t last.”

her body tenses, her shoulders tightening again. he can almost see smoke start to pour from her ears before she spins suddenly on her heel to face him. 

whatever sharp retort had been on the tip of her tongue gets swallowed with a blink as soon as their eyes meet. something like electricity crackles in the space between them, strengthening the invisible pull he’d felt when he first stopped behind her. instead, she only asks, “what’s your name?”

vi.

the man in front of her snorts. “very funny.”

a smile tugs at her lips. “very funny, that’s a weird name.” this is unlike her -- the quick comeback, the flirting. usually being face-to-face with a guy as good looking as the one talking to her now made her want to wither away and die, but something about the stranger standing before her sets her instantly at ease. “so, are you gonna tell me, or not?”

now it’s his turn to blink at her. a hand lifts to rub at his jaw. “huh. you really don’t know who i am, do you?”

cadence’s eyes narrow as she assess him. there is something vaguely familiar about that crooked grin, she’s sure of it. 

at the very least, it’s an excuse to stare at him, and she does, moving her eyes slowly over the tattoos poking out over his jacket collar, the line of stubble on his sharp jaw, the glint of mischief in his eyes.

her helpless gaping is interrupted by a sudden shrill scream. “oh. my. god! is that raleigh carrera?!”

everything clicks at once. as a wild group of girls corner him, she realizes where she’s seen that smile before -- on just about every tabloid cover known to man, plastered all over convenience stores and the internet with headlines about his latest bender. in fact, she’s pretty sure he was just in the news for something similar -- crashing a yacht or something else ridiculous like that, something that only someone as rich as raleigh carrera could have accomplished. 

then she realizes what he’d said to her, as soon as she’d turned to look him in the eyes. very funny. 

her heart stops. all she can do is stare wide-eyed at him as he dispels the girls clamoring for a selfie, snapping back to the present when he waves one large hand in front of her face. 

“sorry -- what?”

“i said, what’s your name? it only seems fair, now that you know mine, and all.”

“cadence,” she answers numbly, “i’m -- um, i’m used to your hair being longer.”

“cadence,” raleigh repeats, smiling at her, “so you do know who i am.”

“what do the magazines call you again? r&b’s time bomb? puerto rico’s hottest export? you’re kind of notorious.” she blinks at him, then admits, “i’ve heard your songs.”

“seen the tabloid covers too, eh?” the expression on his face suggests he’s almost proud of them.

this is surreal.

“didn’t you crash a yacht or something?” she asks, brain whirring into overdrive as she tries to process what’s happening. he doesn’t seem to have realized it yet, which gives her a moment to gather her thoughts, something that feels impossible when she can’t push the way he’d scoffed very funny out of her mind. 

“or something. insurance paid out a couple million in property damage, but...” raleigh trails off, brow suddenly furrowing. he stares at her silently for a beat too long, then slowly turns a dull red. “hey, what’d you say earlier, again?”

cadence wets her dry lips, trying not to panic. stay calm, she silently coaches herself. raleigh carrera is not your long-awaited soulmate and you are not doing this in line to audition for one in a million. “i said -- what’s your name? and then you said...”

oh god, this is happening. her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she fidgets with the neckline of her top, tugging it to the side so raleigh can see the two words on her collarbone. 

“very funny,” he mutters, “oh, jesus fucking christ. you can’t be serious.”

“me?” she demands, “you’re the one who --”

“next up,” calls a voice suddenly, cutting sharply through their argument, “contestant #9,276.”

her blood runs cold as she realizes that’s the number she’s wearing pinned to her shirt. she can feel herself start to sweat; how the fuck is she supposed to perform like this? she wants to throw up. why did this have to happen to her now? this was her shot -- her one fucking chance --

“hey, easy.” there’s suddenly two strong hands on either side of her shoulders, and she startles as raleigh stares at her from up close, closer than he was just a moment ago. “relax, okay? you’re gonna be fine. you’ve got this.”

“but --” she starts, then realizes her mind is racing too quickly to even articulate what she wants to say. she settles for shaking her head, eyes wide and panicked. “i can’t just -- oh my god, i’m going to throw up.”

“here,” raleigh directs, “take my guitar. prince gave it to me as a birthday present.”

prince?! she mouths hysterically to herself, as he flips the latch on his case open and pulls out the instrument. “how is this supposed to help me?”

“just trust me,” he says, giving her a gentle nudge towards the auditorium, “now go.”

she does, stumbling forward with the most expensive piece of equipment she’s ever held in her hands in her life alongside her, drawing in a deep breath as she makes her way onto the stage.

she can do this.

everything else will have to come after.

vii.

the thing is -- she’s talented. exceptionally so. 

he can tell she’s a little nervous, but maybe that’s just because he’s used to looking out for that sort of thing; he could probably recognize it more easily than the average person would. it probably has nothing to do with who they are, how he notices the nuances in her body language...

her belt is impressive. her voice is stunning, clear and uniquely melodic. his guitar looks spectacular in her hands, and cadence plays it like she’s been practicing on it her entire life. 

he tries his best to look nonchalant, feet kicked up onto the seat in front of him, but when she locks eyes with him from the stage he knows he hasn’t succeeded. raleigh’s breath catches, and he stares back at her, transfixed by the way her dainty hands cradle the neck of the guitar and strum the strings, how her lips purse around the long, emotional high note at the end of the song’s chorus.

she’s really very pretty. 

he’d probably be lying to himself if he said it doesn’t make him a little bit jealous and uncomfortable, watching how she and avery fawn over each other when she’s finished. he’s probably a much better suited match for her, clean cut and pristine as he is. 

he wonders if she’s disappointed that it’s him -- that it’s now, when she’s clearly on the cusp of something great all on her own.

it’s a lot to think about, and so he dips out of the auditorium before she finishes up, rushing outside with his heart pounding. it’s not until he’s halfway through the crumpled pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket that raleigh starts to relax even an iota, and of course that’s when the stage door he’d left propped swings open wide and cadence’s sneakers hit the asphalt beside his boots.

“uh, you can’t just leave me with this thing,” she says, apropos of nothing, and as he stares at her he realizes she’s talking about his guitar, which she’s holding in one hand like it’s a dead fish. “this costs more than everything in my apartment combined, i’m sure.”

he shakes his head at her, laughing as his fingers flick ash from the cigarette he’s holding. “no way -- you should keep it. you two looked perfect together.”

she hesitates, looking down at the instrument again. he can see in her eyes that she’s torn; it’s obvious she knows the right thing to do is to refuse a generous gift from a stranger, but she wants to keep it, and already his mind is racing as he considers what else he could give her that would excite her like that -- a private flight, a tour of his penthouse, a million dollars. 

“are you sure?” cadence asks, without looking at him, and the hesitancy in her voice makes him realize how unsure she really is. she’s the one who’s wondering if he’s disappointed in her.

he licks his suddenly dry lips and drops what’s left of his cigarette to the ground, finding he doesn’t actually need the rest of it, anymore. “positive.”

viii.

they don’t actually get to spend a lot of time together, while she’s filming. she has to focus and it seems like she’s always busy, somehow -- not that she sees raleigh very often in the first place.

the days are spent rehearsing with avery and cramming in as much mentoring as possible, and when she can pull herself away from fiona’s lessons on image to get home at a reasonable hour she collapses into bed pretty much immediately, out like a light from the whirlwind of the day and hardly even aware enough to dream.

but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t think about him. she does, especially on the rare occasions she manages to catch a glimpse of raleigh walking around in the studio, or on one memorable evening she stays late in the auditorium to bang on the piano keys of the beautiful, enviable baby grand on set and startles to find him leaning in the doorway, watching her play.

it’s all a blur and wildly difficult to process; just when she thinks she has a grip on things she remembers the private moments she’s had with raleigh and her emotions tumble to pieces again as she lets the weight of the implications of what’s going on between them crush her completely.

one moment sticks out on her as being particularly worrisome, insofar as how it bodes for the rest of her life. 

it feels like something significant from the moment raleigh offers to help her warm up; they’ve hardly had a moment alone together in days and she still has absolutely no idea how she’s supposed to talk to him or what she should say, but for some reason the conversation flows easily and she hardly has to think about the (no doubt incredibly stupid-sounding) words coming out of her mouth.

“you’re going to kill it,” raleigh says finally, once they’ve worked through all the exercises in his arsenal, “you really don’t need my help.”

never in her wildest dreams did she ever imagine someone like him would say something like that to her. “you think?”

“i know it,” he answers confidently, shrugging his shoulders like it’s that simple. “and you should, too.”

there’s a moment of silence where they just stand there staring at each other, ignoring the restless murmuring of the crowd outside that’s waiting for him to slip into his seat at the judge’s table. she’s effortlessly lost in raleigh’s eyes, so fixated on the intensity of his gaze that she doesn’t realize he’s leaning in closer until it’s too late.

“insurance policy,” he mutters, before he kisses her, hands cupping her face gently. 

for a split second, she stands frozen, shocked totally still. then, her brain reboots enough to propel her into motion, and cadence gets with the program enough to wind her arms around raleigh’s waist and pull him closer and kiss him back, until her heart’s lurched up into the throat she’d just been warming up, pounding relentlessly.

they make out until the roar of the crowd is deafening -- until it’s impossible not to acknowledge it any longer. 

of course raleigh’s a life-ruiningly good kisser. why wouldn’t he be? why should any of this be easy?

it’s only a few simple touches, but raleigh’s mouth leaves her dizzy and lightheaded when she’s supposed to be concentrating on performing, and, independently of the way she’s blinking at him in stupid shock, cadence already knows she’ll never be able to kiss anyone else ever again without thinking about him.

“i have to get out there,” she gasps between desperate presses of their lips against each other, grasping ineffectively at his clothes while his fingers tug her hair out of shape.

“be late,” he suggests, “it always works for me.” 

but she’s not him. she’s not like him -- they have nothing in common. they come from different worlds; they’re two completely opposite people.

and yet every minute with raleigh is like coming up for air after being underwater for years, like the knots of guilt and shame and awkward embarrassment she’s carried around for her entire life without understanding why she has them are slowly starting to undo themselves, unlaced by his careful fingers.

they make it out there. eventually.

before she knows it, confetti’s raining down from the ceiling and falling all over her, and she locks eyes with raleigh from across the room to find his lips pulled into a genuinely affectionate grin -- lips that she’d just kissed for the first time a fucking hour ago and, seriously, what is her life now -- his eyes bright and excited. 

things just keep getting weirder and weirder, but the way they’re beaming at each other like idiots in a room full of thousands, broadcast on national television, too, makes her think things might be pretty great, too.

ix.

it sort of takes them a long time to getting around to talking about it -- the soulmate thing.

it’s not that he doesn’t try. he does, but she’s got a lot going on, these days: a big move and a new record deal and days filled with songwriting and nights out being seen. he’s still on his image cleanup tour, while she’s at it, so his fake smile stays fixed on his face throughout another boring week of restaurant openings and charity events and talkshow appearances before he finally gets the chance to spend some time with her again.

they text here and there, but nothing pans out until the stars align and they manage to slip out of the back door of a nightclub unnoticed together after a night of dancing too close for the comfort of her publicist while avery and the others cause a commotion at the front entrance to distract the press.

she goes back to his penthouse with him. he can’t remember the last time he brought a girl back to his apartment just to talk, and especially not one who spent the better part of the evening in a sparkly minidress grinding against him. 

but here they are.

“so -- how’s the city treating you?” raleigh asks, pouring them both a drink he doesn’t want from the bar cart in the corner of the room for something to do with his hands.

cadence shrugs from where she’s perched on the edge of his sofa, tugging at the hem of her dress. “good, i guess. it’s honestly all kind of overwhelming.”

“yeah,” he nods, passing her one of the glasses in his hands and taking a seat on the ottoman in front of her, close enough to see her face in perfect clarity but still maintaining a distance that he hopes is respectful. “i know what you mean. when i first came here after joining sunset skatepark everything felt so... huge.”

“totally,” cadence answers quickly, nodding in a way that’s almost aggressive. “i mean, there’s so much pressure to deliver an album right away, but i want it to be perfect, and the studio is so different from, like, writing songs in my room at home, and i... i guess i feel kind of homesick, but -- not for my hometown. i hated that place.” there’s hesitancy in her gaze when she asks, “do you know what i mean?”

“yeah,” raleigh says again stupidly, because the truth is -- he knows exactly what she means. cadence has just articulated something he could never quite put into words better than he’d even thought the sentiments to himself. “it’s like... nostalgia for something you don’t even want.”

“exactly,” she breathes emphatically, and then they’re kissing again, and she’s in his lap on the ottoman and he definitely brought her here to talk, for sure, but is it really so terrible if they get a little sidetracked on the way to their destination?

well -- they wind up making out for hours. so, there’s that.

it’s not part of the plan but it’s a hell of a side quest, memorizing the shape and feel of her with his hands while her lips pull every last bit of breath from his lungs, until he’s lightheaded and dizzy in a way no other girl has ever made him, before. it’s to the point where when he finally finds it within himself to push her away, he’s uncharacteristically nervous -- something that’s never happened to him before, not even on the night he lost his virginity.

“i really did ask you over to talk,” he says, voice hoarse.

cadence licks her lips and then beams at him, eyes sparkling. “i know.” she shuffles delicately back onto the couch, lingering in his lap for only a moment before pulling away entirely. he stuffs his hands under his thighs to stop himself from reaching out for her again. “sorry i haven’t been around more.”

“you don’t have to apologize.” raleigh shakes his head. “i should be apologizing to you, i feel like... i should be the one who’s around, to help you with all of this. or at least -- i want to be. i don’t know if i’ll be any good at it.” 

he blinks, surprised by his own honesty. he hadn’t meant to say all of that, but the words came up before he was cognizant of them and now they’re out there, and there’s no taking them back -- especially with the way she’s looking at him, all soft and sweet and happy.

“well, you don’t have to be good at it,” cadence murmurs, reaching out for his wrists and tugging his hands free so she can interlock their fingers effortlessly. they fit together like puzzle pieces. “you just have to be you.”

x.

her budding relationship with one of the biggest names in r&b doesn’t have much time to bud at all before it’s rudely plucked from the plant and stepped on.

she finds herself blinking at fiona in confusion as the words take some time to process. “you want me to do what?”

xi.

raleigh balks at his manager, shaking his head emphatically. “no,” he spits out, “absolutely not.”

xii.

“cadence, it’s not a big deal,” fiona tells her, very nearly rolling her eyes. “everyone does it. you go on a few dates, play up the relationship for some photos, social media eats it up -- boom, you’re a star.”

“i don’t know,” she answers hesitantly, mind drifting back to the photographers that have already been following her around, screaming about avery when she ducks into the car with him. things with raleigh are... new, and complicated, and do they really need to add public scrutiny into the mix as well? “i just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“it’s a great idea,” fiona sighs, shaking her head. “all our focus groups agree. the label thinks it’s best, what with your single taking so long to put out.” she opens her mouth to protest -- it’s not like she’s dragging her feet on purpose -- but barely has a second to get a word out before fiona continues, “besides, raleigh does this all the time.”

her teeth bite at her bottom lip uncertainly. “he does?”

“of course. chantal clearwater? she was a pictagram model when they met, and now she’s opening shows at paris fashion week. it’s just business.”

it’s not, though. it could never be just anything, for reasons no one else knows about except the two of them, for reasons she’ll never tell. “well... what did raleigh say about it?”

xiii.

“i said no, frank.” he’s annoyed, now, and his manager knows it, raleigh’s arms folded across his chest and his eyes set into a glare. “n. o. no.”

“and i hear you, but is it really the end of the world? she’s exactly what we’re going for, and i know you already get along --”

“which is exactly why i don’t want to do this. so pick someone else. anyone else.” he’s not going to let his label turn her into one of the girls he has to be seen with for fake photos and mutually beneficial positive press. 

for so many years, he’s watched people fake feelings and use each other -- willingly participated in the using himself, too, more times than he can count. he never cared about any of it before.

but being with cadence doesn’t feel fake, and he doesn’t ever want it to. and he knows that if he agrees to this, everything he enjoys about spending time with her will disappear in favor of the ugly, plastic decay that’s eaten away at so many of his personal and professional relationships before. organic, genuine time with her will become strolls near celebrity hotspots, angling just right to help the cameras get the perfect shot. he’ll show up to support her at shows because her publicist called him, and their time together will become some manufactured narrative meant to push their labels’ agenda, until six months down the line they don’t even recognize themselves or what might’ve been if they’d done things a different way.

“look, there isn’t anyone else. her team’s already agreed to it, and i’ve got brunch set up for sunday. all you have to do is play nice for two fucking months, raleigh. is that so impossible for you?”

yes. already he feels a deep-seated desire to go somewhere and break something, to tear through the flower beds in central park with his motorcycle and wink at the cameras when they catch up to him.

instead, he storms out of the office he’s in, and into the sunlight, tugging the hood on his jacket up and melting into the crowd on the corner so he can be as anonymous as possible when he picks up his phone and calls cadence.

“hey raleigh,” she chirps as soon as she picks up, sounding far too cheerful for someone who’s likely had an equally as miserable early morning meeting on a friday. “guessing you heard the news?”

“can’t i just call you to say hi?” he grumbles, ducking his head as he strolls through the intersection with the mob of people crowded along fifth ave, turning down the next side street so he’s alone again, with no one following, just like that. 

“well, you can,” she teases, and some of the anger he’s carrying around with him fades, dissipating into nothing and evaporating like smoke. “but you’re not.”

“no, i’m not,” he agrees with a sigh, shaking his head. “you sound surprisingly cool with it, though.”

“should i not be?” cadence laughs, but he can detect a thread of nervousness in her tone. “i already want to hang out with you. we have the same friends and work in the same industry. we’re... probably going to go on dates anyway, so... how hard can this be?”

god. she has absolutely no idea. part of him thinks it’d be cruel to burst her bubble, but he should warn her, shouldn’t he? 

she sounds so optimistic about it, though. it’s hard to feel anything but hopeful when her voice turns up like that at the end. in the back of his mind, there’s a voice that’s not his suggesting maybe this time, things will be different. 

surely he knows better than to think something as ridiculous as that, though, right? 

“well, i guess it’ll be interesting, at least,” he muses, slowing his steps by the entrance to the subway. 

he’s going to lose his signal just as soon as he heads underground, and he’s not quite ready for that, yet.

xiv.

time with raleigh flies by. 

it doesn’t feel like they’re fake-dating -- they do everything she hopes he’d want to do with her anyway, like go out to eat at fancy restaurants and take walks through the park and bounce melodies for songs off of each other, facetiming late at night from their apartments or on the days he visits her and micah in the studio. 

he’s by her side for the release of her first single, and her first music video, and through it all, raleigh plays the role of the doting partner perfectly, holding her purse on the red carpet and feeding her paella at a strategically-placed outdoor table and fetching her coffee order when she’s too busy to stop writing for even just five minutes.

in the blink of an eye, it’s time to put out her album -- just like that. 

raleigh’s perfectly charming through that process, too. he shows up on time, says all the right things, and keeps a drink in her hand all evening long, so that when she’s finally done making the rounds and can enjoy herself after the entertainment and the networking and the schmoozing she’s giggly and touchy, doing her best to steal him away from the crowd.

“what were your other relationships like?” she asks, half expecting him to brush her off, though he’s always indulged her before. they’ve never really gotten this personal. “fake or... otherwise.”

“they’ve all been fake,” he shrugs, “and i can say with confidence that you’re the best one i’ve ever had.”

“really?” cadence smiles, chin propped up on her hand as she leans over the bar. “be honest. what did you really think, when you realized it was me?”

“what?” he asks, pushing the empty rocks glass in his hands around on the bar top, “you mean this thing?” he gestures at his arm, covered in expensive, custom tom ford, and the tattoo laying innocently beneath it.

“uh huh,” she confirms, “‘cause i was totally like oh shit.”

raleigh laughs, loud and wild, the sound swallowed up by the noise of the party around them. no one nearby is paying them even an ounce of attention, and it’s fun, to be anonymous at her own party, invisible to everyone in the room except for him. “i can imagine. i wouldn’t want to be stuck with me either.”

cadence shakes her head -- that’s not what she’d meant. but before she can protest, he rolls his glass between his palms and thoughtfully continues, “i guess i was a little surprised. it felt like i’d been waiting forever to meet you, so part of me was like, fuck, we’re doing this now? and i never thought it’d be someone so...”

“boring?” she suggests, eyebrows arching when raleigh’s expression immediately twists into one of disagreement, his nose scrunching up with distaste.

“no,” he huffs, “so... good, i guess.” she stares at him as he reaches for one of the waiting tequila shots on the bar, pulling it away from the line he’d set up for the crowd he’d been with before she’d tugged him to the side to talk, leaving the drinks untouched. raleigh knocks the shot back -- no salt, no lime. he’s had twice as many drinks as she has, and she’s definitely feeling them -- she has no idea how he’s even still upright, no worse for wear other than a few slurred words here and there. “but you just are. it’s like every song i’ve ever written was about you, and i just didn’t know it yet.”

the noise of the party fades in favor of the pounding of her heart, loud like a kick drum in her ears. she bites her lip and stares at him, watching as raleigh shakes his head at himself, dazed. “you okay?” she asks quietly, leaning in a little across the bar. 

raleigh’s quiet for so long she has to wonder whether or not he actually heard her. just as she clears her throat and opens her mouth to repeat herself even louder, he nods, reaching across the bar and squeezing her hand before dragging her back over to the line of tequila shots waiting for them to enjoy.

the night is a blur after that, and there’s patches of the evening that are fuzzy in her memory the next morning, but she knows she’ll never forget the gentle kiss goodnight raleigh gives her when he helps her stumble into the car back to her apartment at dawn.

xv. 

things go really well, until they don’t. 

they have a blissful six months together with more fun than he’s ever had with anyone. slowly, he learns every single thing about cadence and returns her openness with honesty of his own -- honesty that feels strange and unfamiliar but weirdly thrilling, in a way, made easier every time one of his stories pulls a laugh or smile from her. 

it seems unnatural, having a honeymoon period that goes on for so long. in the entire time they’re dating, he doesn’t destroy a single thing -- doesn’t even want to, which is the weirdest part of it all. 

there are some moments that catch him completely off guard. more than a few times, he hardly even recognizes himself, she turns him into such a different person. 

he doesn’t hate it, though -- just the opposite, in fact. raleigh realizes he’s really starting to like the carefree, far from jaded person he is when he’s with her, though it only hits him for real when he’s watching her storm away from him on liberty island, eyes fixed on the angry sway of her hips.

he stews on it on the long ride back to his penthouse; the game had, admittedly, been starting to wear on him. but he’d gone along with it because it was supposed to benefit her -- he’d agreed to the stupid public breakup and following the rules and not seeing cadence in public for the foreseeable future because it was what she wanted, and -- frankly, it felt like a stupid fucking decision.

not that it lasts long. he starts texting her just as soon as he’s done washing electralite out of his hair and doesn’t make it more than twenty minutes when they first see each other again at the moda gala before he’s sneaking off with her, ducking under the velvet rope that demarcates the planetarium as ‘off limits’ with her hand tucked neatly in his.

“maybe this is better,” cadence muses between sips of her drink, her eyes on one of the stupid glass exhibits he couldn’t possibly care less about. “now we can just be together -- no pressure. our relationship is ours again.”

their relationship. is that what this is? they’ve spent a lot of time talking about who they are and what they like and don’t like, kissing and touching and holding hands. throughout it all, he’s done his best not to buy into the ‘soulmate’ bullshit too heavily, but over the last few months it’s been hard to deny that there’s a reason he was meant to meet her, that she’s been changing him from the inside out.

“what’s on your mind?” she asks, turning towards him with an open look of genuine curiosity on her face, like she really wants to know. 

“it’s nothing,” raleigh answers at first, reflexively, like he has so many times before. no one has ever really wanted to know. but cadence’s eyebrows arch, and she waits, patiently silent, and then the words tumble out of him. “it’s just that -- my whole life, i’ve watched other people use each other. so many people are just interested in the concept of celebrity status. so i played the game. never trusting anyone.” 

he shrugs. a hand lifts to rub his jaw, and he looks back to meet her gaze just in time to see the little smile playing at her lips, like she already knows what he’s about to say. “but it’s different, with you. you make me not want to be that person anymore. when i’m with you, it’s the only time i feel anything real.”

“raleigh,” she murmurs, her expression flickering before her face does something that cracks his chest wide open. her eyes go all shiny and sparkly and her cheeks crease with a grin, and the way she laughs is so ridiculously joyful the hand he has stuffed in his pocket curls into a fist to stop him from doing something stupid. “i feel the same way. i just... this whole thing, i know it doesn’t always -- work out, but... with you i really want it to. i’ve never felt this way before about anyone, and i think...” 

there’s a pause as her lips purse thoughtfully, and then she says the words that make it impossible for him to do anything but close the distance between them and kiss her over and over again: “i think even without this tattoo it’d be you, anytime, anywhere.”

xvi.

being raleigh carrera’s (real, confirmed, 100%-authentic) girlfriend feels almost too good to be true.

raleigh is... everything she never knew she wanted in a boyfriend, wrapped up into one tall, dark and handsome package, with a loud, goofy laugh and a deep, sexy voice that sends a shiver down her spine whenever his mouth so much as lingers near her ear for too long. 

it turns out that, despite their differing status in the industry and her initial assumptions that they came from two completely different worlds, they’re actually on the same page about pretty much everything. she finds that the pressure of the word she’d held in such high regard for so long -- soulmate -- disappears entirely where he’s concerned because being with raleigh is just fun. 

there’s motorcycle rides and boat trips and hours up late talking about everything and nothing; facetime calls with his mom and shopping trips where the stores are kept open late for them so they can shop alone, in an empty boutique, like every teen movie she’d ever watched growing up.

there’s late nights in the studio and either of their apartments where they both noodle around on their guitars and improvise half-hearted duets, content to just work in the same orbit as each other for as long as possible.

raleigh’s texting one night on the couch in her living room when she plucks out the melody to who i’ll be on her old acoustic, sitting on the floor in front of the tv.

he looks up before the first verse is over. “what’s that one? it sounds good.”

“oh -- just a song i wrote in college,” cadence hums, already downplaying it as she lifts her shoulder in a shrug. “i got stuck, never finished it. ellis made me sell the progress for some other writer to finish.”

he frowns, pushing up onto his elbow. his phone is tossed carelessly somewhere among the couch cushions. “why?”

“because i was taking too long with the odyssey,” she sighs. “it was kind of my only option. it’s weird, though -- thinking about someone singing something that was so personal to me.”

“play me what you had so far,” he says, and so she does, hesitating for only a second before strumming the chords, singing the lines she had slowly. 

when she’s done, she looks up to find that raleigh’s slid to the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees as he leans in as close as he can get with the coffee table in his way. “okay -- that was beautiful. you should finish it.”

she shakes her head, setting her guitar down. “i can’t. they already sold it. and even if i wanted to... i don’t know how it ends.”

raleigh’s legs spread in invitation and she stands to walk around to the couch, slipping into his lap and leaning back against his chest. his hands are tender as he rubs them across her shoulders, sliding up her back before one lifts to brush a lock of hair back behind her ear, his pointer finger pushing her glasses up her nose affectionately. “maybe one day you can write something else with the same theme,” he suggests, and she tries her best to smile even though it feels like a dream lost, somehow -- a ridiculous thought, given that she pretty much has everything she ever wanted, but the way she feels all the same.

“maybe,” she sighs, the kiss he drops to her forehead a bandaid on a wound that’s been doing its best to heal for what feels like her entire life.

xvii.

he’s never brought a date to the vinyls before. 

there’s been plenty of after parties he’s stumbled out of with a girl on his arm, sure, but cadence is the first person to sit by his side during the ceremony, and he’s surprised by how much he likes having her next to him.

then again, he’s self aware enough to realize he’d like being pretty much anywhere, with her.

still -- the awards are a lot less boring with her around to kiss and stroke his hair and make snide commentary about the rest of the attendees with, and when she squeezes his hand goodbye to rush backstage and get ready for her performance he misses her instantly.

what happens next makes him endlessly regretful of the fact that he’s not backstage with her.

he rushes around just as soon as he can, pushing his way through security and frantically scrambling technical assistants to find her exactly where he thought he might, between ellis knight and fiona, looking lost with her head in her hands.

she seems equal parts broken and pissed in a way that tugs at his heartstrings and makes him a little bit proud. raleigh shoves through the crowd to get to her and slips an arm around her waist. he’s only caught the tail end of the conversation they’re all having, but he knows enough to know that “you can’t bench her. that’s bull.”

ultimately, though, it doesn’t matter how much they stomp their feet. she’s under contract, their hands are tied, and he walks away seething at the unfairness of it all, this shitty industry that’s turned on her when all she ever wanted to do was make music.

she cries in the car back to her apartment to pack her things. there’s no way he’s letting her go home to iowa or idaho or indiana without him, and he barks at his team over the phone until they agree to move his appearances around so he can make that happen, his free hand clasped tightly in hers until he physically has to let her go so she can unlock her front door with trembling fingers.

cadence tosses clothes haphazardly onto the bed and he silently and precisely moves to folds each piece for her, until she gives up and sinks down onto the edge of the mattress, defeated. 

wide eyes filled with tears lock onto his, and he watches her bottom lip wobble before she says, “you really don’t have to do this. come with me, i mean. i know i messed up, and -- you have so much else going on. i don’t expect you to --”

“i’m coming,” he states firmly, setting the sweatpants in his hand down and stepping closer to her, sitting beside cadence on her bed. “what happened tonight was fucked up, cadence -- it shouldn’t have happened at all. i’m not going to let you go through this alone.”

“but --”

“but nothing,” he says, and before the words have even left his mouth she’s falling into his arms with a soft sound of gratitude, mashing her face into his chest as she sniffles.

“thank you,” cadence mumbles, sounding so unsure of herself it makes him wonder if she’s ever had anyone show up for her when it mattered most before, or if that’s yet another thing they unfortunately have in common. 

xviii.

raleigh tries his best to cheer her up, but it’s still hard, feeling like she’s let the entire world down. her fans. herself.

there’s something embarrassing about showing raleigh her apartment back home and the person she was before she met him -- all the places she felt most uncertain and where she experienced some her worst self-doubt, the room that still has the smoothie star apron hung up in the closet.

but there’s also something exciting, about being totally off the grid with him. no one knows they’re here and there’s no paparazzi waiting to snap photos of them -- especially given the fact that they don’t leave her building for the first three days she spends moping around while raleigh orders all the takeout he can get his hands on.

it sort of reminds her of when they first met, and there was nothing to do but learn about each other, though now there’s a familiarity to him she relies on, a unique raleigh-ness that feels more like home than this shitty apartment ever did.

still, she struggles, and the weight of the world doesn’t let up until zadie shows up with her fanmail and avery does his best to make her smile with a beach trip and some fancy new toys and a day in the sun with a drink in her hand.

eventually it’s just her and raleigh again, out by the fire after everyone else has gone to bed. her stomach is full of s’mores and her cheeks hurt from smiling for the first time in weeks, and it’s a shock when she realizes she feels content, even after everything that’s happened -- almost as though things will all work out for the better no matter what happens next.

“oh my god,” she gasps suddenly, cutting off what raleigh had been saying as her eyes light up and she hastens to stand. “i’ve gotta -- i need to -- oh my god.”

just like that, she knows how her song ends.

recording it is a process, but raleigh calls in some favors and gets them studio time and agrees to be featured on the song even though she knows he’s still working through a sound change that he feels unsure about.

but it means a lot to her, having him crammed in the booth at her side, singing into the same mic. they sound almost unbelievably good together, too, raleigh’s harmonies on the words that finally resolve that lost feeling she’s been harboring her entire life making something deep within her wriggle up happily, wagging its proverbial tail.

the fact that raleigh remains by her side throughout the entire fight with her label, the long nights of despair agonizing over what her next move is going to be and even the moment where they decide to break into indio, of all places, means more to her than she can ever say. she feels markedly less nervous about the entire thing every time she turns her head to the side and sees him, right there next to her -- right where he’s been this entire time -- smiling encouragingly and squeezing her hand hard in his.

though it’s not until they’re up at the top of the ferris wheel that she realizes how precious what she has really is. it’s not until he looks her dead in the eye and says, with that same soft earnestness he’s awarded her since they first met at the one in a million auditions that feel quite literally like a hundred years ago, “cadence, everything you want is on the other side of fear. and i want you to have everything you want,” that she truly understands that’s what between them is special and rare.

not because of any tattoos, or any preconceived destiny. not because of who they are and their status and the fact that people take pictures of them when they’re out in public together.

but because of this -- all these real moments of genuine connection they’ve been fortunate enough to share since fate threw them into each other’s paths.

“raleigh, i love you.” the words are said easily, not a moment’s hesitation behind them. 

just before she crosses over in the cart to kiss him until they’re both breathless, raleigh gifts her the brightest smile he has and says, “i love you, too.”

xix.

the night is a blur from the moment he first takes the stage with his old bandmates to when he finally finds himself alone with cadence in a rundown old motel a few miles out from the festival in the desert.

he can’t recall ever being so happy, so of course he doesn’t remember every agonizing detail of the evening, though he does know he doesn’t feel the need to have a single beer with cadence around, twirling barefoot in the grass and giggling when she leads him up to the room they’ve borrowed.

afterwards, when they’re sitting on the roof together in the blanket they dragged off the bed, he reflects on the wild year they’ve had with her in his arms, fingertips tracing the delicate very funny scrawled across cadence’s collarbone.

he feels... free. completely liberated. like there’s absolutely nothing and no one that can get to him, now, like he’s untouchable, like he doesn’t care about a single thing that happens after today and how perfect things have been. 

“i think i’m actually freer than i’ve ever been,” he muses, where his lips are pressed into her hair, “i can take my sound in any direction i want.”

“i’m so happy for you, raleigh,” cadence returns genuinely, tilting her head back so he can see her upside-down smile. 

his arms tighten around her. “i’m so excited for what you’re gonna be doing, too. i’m excited for us.”

“yeah,” she sighs, “who knows what’s next, right? now that ellis let me out of my deal...”

he can hear the thread of worry undercutting the words. he shakes his head, hands rubbing up and down her arms. “you can worry about that tomorrow. for tonight, just enjoy the comeback. what you did out there was amazing.”

“what we did,” she corrects, and he blinks up the stars as he realizes she’s right -- they’re a we now. he’s part of a we again, after being on his own for so long.

the phrases bounce around in his head, unfamiliar and foreign. me and my girlfriend, he thinks to himself, cadence and i. we’re going to be late. we’ll be away that weekend. we just started watching that show. we, we, we. 

“what we did was amazing,” raleigh amends, the words slow to come out but feeling right all the same. “whatever we do next will be amazing.”

“absolutely,” cadence confirms, with conviction, like it’s something she believes wholeheartedly.

and though he has no idea what to expect or what it might be, a large part of him is inclined to agree with her -- she’s been right about everything else so far.

xx.

one year later, she’s finishing a set in berlin, the last stop on a sprawling european tour that had taken she, avery, micah and raleigh across the continent for dozens of performances to sold-out crowds of thousands screaming her lyrics back to her. 

if her contract with overknight had been a dream come true, signing to wilshere records is heaven incarnate. cadence’s trip through the u.k. with her new label is proof enough, and the chance to meet new fans with new stories to share that she could connect with is one she’s taken to with enthusiasm, the experience made all the sweeter by the fact that her favorite people get to be by her side throughout it all.

berlin’s crowd is one of the best, and she fully expects to end the tour on a high note, head banging to the last few notes of ‘knockout’ before raleigh’s planned entrance for the last song of the night, so they can sing the duet that’s closed out every show they’ve had on the tour together. 

when he struts out with his guitar, waving and grinning at the crowd, she can’t stop herself from smiling stupidly at him, just like she does every time she sees him join her on stage, every time she realizes that this is their life, that this is something they do every night, now.

though her grin falters when raleigh pauses in front of his microphone and asks, “berlin, do you mind if i talk a little bit before i start the song? no? cool, because i’ve got an important question to ask.”

her eyes widen. cadence’s mouth drops open and doesn’t close throughout the entire speech raleigh gives her, even though thousands of people in the crowd are filming every moment of her gaping like an idiot, snapping close-ups of her shocked face.

the arena practically vibrates with screams when he drops to his knee, popping the box in his hand open so she can see the giant diamond ring nestled inside of it. 

“so?” raleigh asks, and cadence can just barely hear him in her in-ears with the way her heart is beating frantically up into her throat, as wild as the crowd’s raging around them and then some. “whaddya say, babe? will you marry me?”

as if the answer could ever be anything but yes. she nods, laughing as she launches herself into his arm for a kiss that’s too grand to be given on stage, though that’s hardly going to stop her -- not tonight, at least. tonight, she’s okay with the whole world watching their every move, just one more time.

“oh, i don’t know if it’s going to fit,” raleigh jokes as the ring slides easily onto her left hand, amping up the theatrics for the fans still watching them avidly, even up in the cheap seats.

cadence rolls her eyes playfully at him. “very funny,” she praises, and the grin he offers her in return is so loving -- so knowing, with the secret that only the two of them share and every weird piece of their history included in it -- that it takes everything she has to shove him away so they can perform instead of dragging him down to the floor to kiss him over and over again.

clumsily, she flubs a few notes of love who i’ll be on her guitar. from across the stage, between the bridge and the chorus, raleigh jeers, “someone hasn’t learned to play with the extra weight on their left hand, yet, i see,” and when she flips him off while belting out the last lines of the verse, his raucous laughter is all the harmony the final few bars of the song needs. 

[luvlyrv]

Second Place (Joy x Fem!Reader)

Genre: Enemies to lovers, fluff

Summary: As a passionate swimmer, everything was going amazing for you until she came into your life. Since then things haven’t been the same and you can’t help but to feel frustrated and defeated. What will happen to this unresolved tension?

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: My first proper post, I truly hope you like it. I tried hard to make it a believable enemies to lovers dynamic and for it to be high quality. My draft ended up being 4 pages on google docs on size 11 tnr font haha. Please get back to me with any feedback you can and I apologize if there are any grammatical issues. Dedicated to my friend Kat :)

Date: 6/25/2020

You ready yourself at the edge of the pool as you turn to look at her. Your face began to heat with anger and your chest was pounding. How could she be so perfect? She was seemingly always a step ahead of you. It felt like she took everything away from you. She took your friends, your teammates, she swam like a goddess, all while being so gorgeous and... 

Oh god? What were you thinking? You shook your head and turned away to focus on the water gently swaying in front of you. You steady your breathing and dive into the water. The familiar and welcoming cool feeling enveloped your body. It was usually in the water that you felt at peace, yet this time the only thing you could think about was her. Your only thoughts were about your recent built-up frustration. Sooner than you expected, you felt the wall of the pool and lifted yourself up. Your breathing was heavy as you looked at your coach with a stopwatch in her hand. “Good work Y/N! You managed to shave off a couple seconds on your PR. Keep working hard and you might beat Joy over there!”, you only managed to chuckle a bit in response.

That seriously pissed you off.

Ever since that girl transferred, you’ve been in second place. Knocked off the pedestal you’ve kept for so long. When you used to be the best on the team, she stomped on you. All of a sudden nearly all your ‘friends’ paid no mind to you. Instead favoring to focus on the new girl, who’s infectious smile garnered her the nickname Joy.

What hurt the most is that you understood why people were dying for her attention. While you excelled in your studies and sports, she somehow did even better. The very little free-time Sooyoung seemed to have was fought over by everyone.

Ever since then, you silently declared her as your rival.

You make your way towards the locker room when you feel a smack on your shoulder. Sooyoung passes by and you see her annoying little smile as she says, “Maybe you’ll beat me next time”.

Since the moment she walked into your life it felt like she had her eyes on you, that she was out to get you. You try to shake off your anger and continue making your way. Inside, you hear the murmurs and giggles of some of the girls joking around, as well as the praises your teammates would give Sooyoung. You ignore it and mind your own business. As practice is wrapping up and everyone says their goodbyes, your coach pulls you and Sooyoung aside. 

“Now girls, I’m sure it’s quite obvious that the both of you are the top swimmers we have on this team,” your coach begins to quietly speak to the both of you. “The other girls on the team have made their opinions of you quite clear. When the season officially starts I need you guys to help unify the team and do even better than last year,” you start grinning. You already knew where this conversation was going, having heard iterations of the same speech before. You were glad to know that your coach still viewed you highly.

“Sooyoung, the team needs you to be their captain. Y/N, you need to work to help co-captain this team into victory.”

Your smile seemed to slowly fade.

“Ah, thank you so much! I’m so honored to be in this position. You know I’ll do my best for the team.”, Sooyoung said with her iconic smile, bowing to show her appreciation. You try not to show the disappointment on your face. You thought that even though Sooyoung was a better swimmer than you, you’d still the get the position of captain. After all, you’re the one who’s been on the team longest, who’s worked with your teammates for longer than Sooyoung has. Even though in a sense the position of co-captain was the same, you couldn’t help but to feel upset with the #2 label being stuck on you. All you could do was put on a small smile as you say in a meek voice, “Thank you coach. I accept this responsibility and will work hard.”

Your coach smiled at the both of you and patted your backs. “I’m so incredibily proud of what you’ve both accomplished. Now, I’m asking that the both of you try to be friendlier with each other. I see the kinds of looks you give. Just lighten up, okay? We need strong pillars for the team this year. Maybe try practicing with each other more and learn from each other.”

Coach sends the both of you out as she get’s caught up doing her own work. You quietly walk out of the building and to the parking lot together. Even though you were walking next to a person you felt like you despised, you couldn’t help but also feel amazed. Sooyoung was certainly one of the most hardworking and talented people you’ve ever met. You snap out of those thoughts though when all of a sudden you hear her voice.

“Hey, about what coach said... “

“Yeah?”

“Let’s swim together. For practice, I guess. Coach would like that.”

You weigh the matter in your head for a few seconds. Keep your friends close but your enemies closer, they say. Perhaps this was a wonderful opportunity being presented right in front of you. If you two swam together you would get to observe her technique. Maybe you could impress or intimidate her. Really, you wanted to keep tabs on her, and if she’s by your side all the time, if she’s the one you’re competing against day by day... what else would be a better motivator to improve? You sigh before talking.

“Sure.”

⁑

Weeks pass by and you spend nearly everyday with Sooyoung. Although you originally thought that it would be a good idea, it ended up being hell on Earth. When you thought that you could motivate yourself, which was true to some extent, you ended up being more frustrated. Every time you practiced together Sooyoung couldn’t help but to make snide remarks.

“Slipping up? Ah geez, and I thought you were finally beginning to improve.”

“God, You’re like a fish out of water. Flapping your arms like that.”

“How’d you even make it this far?”

Every time she made one of her comments you would ball up your firsts and count to ten. What made it worse was that you felt horrible seeing her improve so much. It made you feel like you could never catch up.

One night when practicing late together your feelings had boiled over. Both of you were in the locker room and had just finished changing clothes. You look at her as she has that stupid smirk on her face and she begins opening her mouth. Before you could spew another hurtful comment you slam your fist next to her, a loud banging noise erupting as your hand came in contact with the metal of the locker. You’re face to face with her as your eyes begin to water.

“God! Why are you so insufferable? You’re everything I want, you know. You have absolutely everything and you have the audacity to rub it in my face. Do you know how much that hurts? Ever since you transferred here my life has been so different. You make me feel so isolated and useless, how can I ever catch up to someone like you? Tell me, how? Are you happy now?”

You knew your face was reed as wet tears streamed down your face. 

“Are you...? Now can you stop... stop saying such hurtful things to me. Please.” 

Your voice cracked during your last few sentences.

You feel like a fool as you stand there, looking at Sooyoung’s lost face. You turn around and head for the exit. “Forget it.” you say. Before you make it far you feel a soft tug on your hand and you turn back around.

Sooyoung gives you the biggest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen. As much as you hate her your heart broke when you saw the pain on what was usually a radiant and happy face. Her mouth opens up a little bit.

“I’m sorry.”

“Is that all?” you ask and begin turning around again. Once again you feel that soft tug. You felt grateful for it, because as soon as you dismissed her apology like that your heart broke again. You face her another time and let her speak.

“That was out of hand. I’m so sorry. I’ve been so rude to you... I should’ve known better. Look, Y/N, why do you think I transferred here in the first place?”

“I-I don’t know... I mean we’re known for our academics I guess.” you felt dumbfounded and startled from the strange question.

“There’s that, but there’s also you.”

“What?”

“Yeah, you.” Sooyoung gives a soft smile to you. “I guess you never noticed me since we did different events at the time, but I saw you and noticed you before I ever came here. I’ve always loved swimming, but when I got to see you swim, you were on a completely different level. I saw a passion I never saw or felt before. You inspired me a lot, Y/N. To be a better person, to be a better swimmer. I saw that charming smile on your face, I saw your affect on your teammates, and I wanted to be like you.”

You stand there as the tears going down your face were appearing for a different reason. Sooyoung takes a step closer to you.

“I trained so hard. Hours and hours of swimming daily, every part of me being sore. I wanted to be here with you because I thought if I was right next to a star, I’d shine brightly too. I just wanted your attention so bad I didn’t think hard enough about how all my actions would affect you, and that’s my shortcoming.”

“Sooyoung, I-”

“What I’m trying to say is I’ve admired you for a long time.”

You don’t know how to feel. You couldn’t tell if the warm budding feeling in your chest was from surprise or something else. How could she of all people admire you? The perfect Sooyoung who brings joy to all of those around her. How could she ever view someone like you so highly? Every ounce of anger you had felt since she arrived began to melt away.

You hug her tightly and feel her arms warp around your waist in a way that fit perfectly. You softly whisper into her ear.

“I think I admire you too.”

Suddenly she pulls away from the hug and before you could react she placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

“I can give you one for every mean thing I’ve said.”

[arcticdementor]

Amid the blood-spattered horrors of Kabul, perhaps the most startling response has been an outpouring of warlike passion from disaffected young Western men. But they’re not backing Western soldiers. They’re cheering on the Taliban.

Far-Right groups are gloating. One user on an online message board called the toppled Western-backed Afghan government ‘globohomo-clownworld’. He characterised this as powered by ‘liberalism, consumerism, secularism, usury, democracy, global capitalism… and most of all, feminism/women’s rights/women’s liberation’.

Such men consider abhorrent this value system that an America-led coalition spent trillions of dollars trying to instil, via two decades of Afghan ‘nation-building’.

These alienated men hate all of it – the whole woke world view, from racial tolerance to LGBT rights to feminism. And they’re lionising the Taliban as heroic anti-woke freedom fighters.

One meme circulating on social media as Kabul fell depicted barefoot Taliban fighters next to a photo of American soldiers wearing high heels for a PR stunt, mockingly connecting Western support for gender-bending to a failure of military competence. And, above all else, these angry Western men detest feminism.

…

A small minority of young Western men, then, see the West’s enemies as heroic freedom fighters against a despised regime.

The Taliban are lionised not just in homophobic, antisemitic and misogynistic terms but as icons of manliness. One common image is the ‘Chad’, a stereotypically hyper-masculine man. And with the fall of Kabul, ‘Talichad’ images began to appear, adapting the ‘Chad’ with an Afghan-style turban and beard.

…

I’ll be the first to condemn this swamp of hatred – and, of course, there is a danger that in discussing it, the noxious opinions reach a wider audience. But just think for a moment about what it implies. Far from feeling a patriotic love for their own culture and nation, a minority of fighting-age Western men viscerally hate it.

They’re looking at images of gun-waving men in a violent, war-torn wasteland where women can be beaten with impunity. And they’re not horrified. They’re envious.

So how did we get here?

…

Even the American military industry is now run by women. Defence manufacturing behemoths Lockheed Martin, General Dynamics and Northrop Grumman all have female CEOs. It’s difficult to find mainstream cultural imagery that doesn’t at least superficially support the ‘girlboss’ consensus.

Gillette faced a backlash in 2019 for lecturing its (male) customers on ‘toxic masculinity’. Nike, a company that (according to its own reports) makes twice as much money from selling menswear as womenswear, ran a campaign that featured a pink-haired teenage girl sneering at ‘patriarchy’.

If you’re a middle-class white woman, as I am, this is all greatly to your advantage. But clearly not everyone is on board.

…

The shootings prompted an outbreak of Nice White Women on TV, talking about ‘toxic masculinity’ and the poisonous bigotry of ‘radicalised’ far-Right online cultures.

But the only cure usually available to deal with such disaffection is a mixture of therapy and repression. As one feminist cartoon put it, more mental-health resources plus a redoubling of efforts to ‘strangle misogyny at the root’.

But if education was the answer to creating egalitarian young men, we wouldn’t be where we are.

De-industrialisation has driven an increasingly feminised education and employment landscape. Traditional sources of male employment have been replaced by service-economy and caring roles, where physical strength and camaraderie take second place and soft skills are all-important.

To meet these changing employment needs, schools turned away from teaching knowledge in a disciplined, competitive environment in favour of teaching soft skills. Teachers are 70 per cent female – 82 per cent so at primary level.

And yet somehow this isn’t translating into universal male adoption of a more feminine – or feminist – mindset. Instead, boys are tuning out: girls now consistently outperform boys at school.

Meanwhile, as the youth unemployment rate has soared over the pandemic, it’s hit young men far harder than young women.

Amid rising unemployment, these alienated, embittered young men spend their days marinated in violent, misogynistic pornography and violently sexist computer games. They see shrinking opportunities, contempt for masculine role models, and a world that appears to hate them. Small wonder, perhaps, that such men look enviously at Afghanistan, the one place in the world where a cartoonish woman-hating machismo looks to be winning.

Just as they tried in Afghanistan, our Moral Betters have sought to impose liberal democracy and woke feminism from the top down here. And like in Afghanistan, they’ve failed to win hearts and minds. Instead, they’ve created a paper-thin fake consensus over a boiling pit of angry resentment.

[bisluthq]

What really bugs me about certain Kays insisting Ts a lesbian is how selective they are in their ‘proof’. They go on about her wearing rainbow stuff or saying ‘gay pride makes me me’ but ignore how often gay is used as an umbrella term or the fact that she’s worn bi colours as well (particularly in YNTCD). The cynical part of me thinks it’s cause that group only cares about their ship and if T is bi it means her relationships with men (Joe) could be real which ruins their Kaylor narrative

I mean part of the problem is a lot of the very noisy voices in Kaydom have been straight people and baby gays so I think they really do see or really want to see sexuality as like a y/n thing. Like “is she straight? No? TO THE LESBIAN MOBILE!” and that’s just... not how it works for most of us. Like I think it’s comforting to project that certainty onto other people, hence baby gays resonating with it as an idea, but it’s just... super unlikely for anyone, and especially for someone who is both femme and extremelyyyy ambitious to have never tried to make it work as a heterosexual. Like even if - humor me - she were Kinsey 6, I feel like she would’ve OBVIOUSLY tried dating boys/men. For real. Not “for PR”. But because society and heteronormativity and internal pressures and internalized homophobia would have made her want to be “right” and like “all other girls”.

Also personally she really seems broadly queer/bi rather than lesbian to me because she has very straight girl energy songs as well and I despise the “het plant” explanations with a burning passion because as I’ve said I don’t think the songs are necessarily play-by-play accounts (many really really aren’t) but they are all accessing real emotions she has felt. And if I, as I do, believe she has accessed sapphic pining then I also have to believe she has accessed that very righteous straight girl anger she belts out in songs like Should’ve Said No lol. The music - emotions wise - therefore leads me to my biclusion.

But I think you’re right there is a group of people who only care about the ship (and are open about that actually). So yeah she has to be a lesbian because then Joe HAS to be fake and every single dude she has dated or rumored to date HAS to be gay too to remove the possibility that they bumped uglies (even tho, again, if you’re gonna beard it makes more sense for one person to be straight but whatever) and Dianna Agron HAS to be a manipulative bitch and Taylor HAS to have broken Emily’s 🤢 heart and and and it all leads to the glorious love story that is everlasting Kaylor.

And if you’re always working backwards trying to prove something (in this case, everlasting Kaylor) you’re likely to succeed because our brains are wired to look for patterns and clues but you’re also not following actual clues you’re finding clues that support your argument and intellectually that’s unsound.

[oknerd3]

Princes and Balls- Logince

Warnings: Misgendering. Rivals to lovers.

It started, well it seemed to start the moment they were born, as that was the time they were told of the arrangement. In hushed whispers as they were rocked to sleep, they listened to their fathers and mothers explain to them that they would be married to another and join their kingdoms together in harmony and love and passion and things they did not comprehend yet. Perhaps, it was out of spite of being told such alien things that they resented the decision they were to marry before they even met. Well, that or the rude comments they sent to each other through letters until they met, on one of their fifteenth birthdays.

Roman dreaded the day to high hell like no other day. He even insisted to his father that he was incredibly ill to get out of the occasion, then his father told him he was to stay the night with his arranged partner for doing such a thing. Roman dropped attempting to run from his problems at that point and resolved to suck it up and continue. He went through the motions of getting dressed for such an event as to the one he was addressing, putting on his white royal attire with his red sash to represent his kingdom. Roman packed a bag since he was being punished by being forced to stay at the witch’s home, then got in the carriage and set upon his destination, the kingdom of Lovell, where his arranged partner ruled as a princess.

Roman arrived to the kingdom of Lovell with loud trumpets that made himself, and someone else he could barely see outside of the carriage, grip their heads and close their eyes from the incredibly loud and painful sound. He stumbled out the carriage while the barrage of loud loud trumpets continued to flutter with wings and cries of a falcon. He stepped to the front steps where two men and one woman stood, all smiling so brightly and fakely, except for one of the men, dressed in a suit of lapis and ebony, while the kingdom was of cornflower and paper, but the man was the youngest of the three, possibly the princess’s brother, if his luck would have it.

Perhaps they would run off together, using the magic of the kingdom the other prince was born in, they could escape all of their responsibilities and run far far from this horrible patch of land called the two kingdoms they were born to. They could leave and never return again, free to choose who to love and who to marry, not to have it chosen for them, but Roman was stuck here, having to marry this witch of a princess, who was not even batting on the same team, so he was cursed to simply gaze at this beautiful prince while being married to a witch who wrote him so many demonizing letters that Roman had snuck into the fire pit. He just wished this dashing prince in front of him would be the man to marry him, not the witch he was to marry.

“Dear, prince Roman.” The fellow prince spoke, bowing with a tight frown on his lips that ever suited his features, “I would like to meet your acquaintance as Lo Lovell, pr-”

The queen, as Roman now realized by her age and shimmering crown, cleared her throat in an attempt to stop her son, “Miranda Lovell, the princess,” she spoke like she was reminding a young child, making Roman’s stomach churn at the disrespect and with the realization of who this dashing prince was, his fiance. The man who called him the lowest of names and never hesitated to do so, was standing before him, still beautiful, but that beauty was far too tainted to give reason to fantasize.

Lo glared at the ground, continuing from where he was interrupted, “prince of the Lovell kingdom.” He stood up and folded his arms behind his back, “I hope for you to enjoy your stay tonight.” Then, he turned and walked all too gracefully up the stairs.

Roman scowled at the brief interaction, then sighed in relief at the fact he didn’t have to talk to such a vile man for so long. He smiled just as fake as the king and queen, introducing himself and making their acquaintance. He made certain to refer to Lo as his pronouns, which upset the king and queen slightly, but it was worth it to put doubt into their minds about if this was the right boy to marry theirs while also rebelling against his father through acts of respect.

Roman was rushed to a guest room, which was across from Lo’s.

Lo’s and Roman’s eyes met on the way to their rooms. Lo glared in that elegant but cold method that let Roman’s heart almost burn with disbelief.

In retort, Roman stuck his tongue out at Lo and made it clear he did not care for dancing around the subject of despisal.

Lo sighed, “go back home and play with the other knights.” He rolled his eyes, then went into his own room, slamming the door.

Roman was left, staring at the door, his tongue still out, trying to think of a reason to what just happened. At least he knew one thing: the hatred was very mutual.

—taglist—

@ambersky0319

@bexxbeauty

@royalnerd829