#thing is. i REALLY don’t need another social media in my life I already have too many

[thebeautifulfantastic]

i am *this* close to downloading snapchat just so i can keep an eye on my youngest cousin

[thesecretwriter]

how each moon boy would react to an argument with you (sfw) – part 1.  

summary: what the title says!

warning: angsty angst.

word count: 1.1k

a/n: I’m feeling angsty lately, so here you gooo! ALSO, there’s more context to the situation of these headcanons, but they’ll be revealed in part 2. So don’t go hating on the moon boys just yet.

minors/ageless blogs dni.

Masterlists

part 2

Steven Grant:

“Are you really gonna bring this up now?”

His tone had you looking at him as if he grew another head.

“When else would be a good time to bring this up, hmm? Because I think now is the most appropriate time,”

Steven rolled his eyes as he took off his jacket and sat on the couch facing you.

He had come home from significantly late with no explanation. You found out through social media that he went to an event celebrating Layla without informing you.

“Its late and I’m tired,” he said as he rubbed his face and sighed heavily.

Oh, he is tired?

“You don’t think I’m tired? I understand you have a past with Layla, but the way you go about doing things is exhausting me. All you ever do is talk about her. Everything is Layla this and Layla that,”

You explain to him out of frustration.

“She was right about you,” he says with a hint of sass.

“What do you mean by that?” you asked with furrowed brows.

“I mean that maybe Layla was right about you being controlling. Why do you think I never told you where I’m going. You would’ve tagged along and dampened the mood.

Wow, wow. So, Layla and he talk about you.

“I can’t believe the words that are coming out of your mouth. If you have an issue with the way I am then you should address it to me. Not go and talk to your EX-WIFE about it,” your voice had increased towards the end as you glared at him.

“Its not my problem if you’re insecure,” he said with a shrug.

Each word from him added more cracks to your already breaking heart.

You shook your head at him wordlessly and began to look for your bag and jacket around his apartment.

He sat upright on the couch and watched you with confused furrowed brows.

“What’re you doing?”

Once you gathered your things, you walked towards the door with him now trailing behind you.

“I asked you a question,” he said firmer.

You looked at him with unshed tears and saw his expression soften.

“Leaving,” was all you said before unlocking the door and walking away from him.

Steven cursed under his breath and walked after you.

“Y/n, its late. Stop being ridiculous,”

That ticked your off even further. You abruptly turn around to face him.

“I don’t expect you to be concerned about me anymore. Go ahead and worry about your precious Layla and her thoughts on our relationship,”

You left him standing their speechless as you exited his apartment building. Steven was left feeling an ache in his chest and the weight of his actions and words.

Marc Spector:

“Look at the state of you,”

Were the first words Marc heard upon returning to the apartment. He had been gone for days and you had no way of contacting him.

“Y/n, please. I just want silence,” he said tiredly and sat lethargically on the bed.

“You can’t expect me to not be panicked when you come home with a gunshot wound. Did you even go to a hospital?” you ask in disbelief.

“I can take care of these things on my own,” he groaned and moved to face you.

“Marc, I can’t keep seeing you like this,” you admit to him.

Each time he left that door you would say a silent prayer to ensure he would come back to you.

“You knew what this relationship was going to be like-“

“Yes, but I didn’t expect you to be coming home like this,” you motion to his form.

Marc was growing annoyed.

“This is my life y/n, what do you want me to do?”

Your eyes searched his tired ones as he spoke.

“Exactly Marc, this is your life. I want you to take care of it,”

He scoffed at your words.

“I don’t need you to tell me how to live my life,” he said bitterly.

“That’s not what I’m-“

“Save it, okay? I already deal with enough when it comes to Khonshu. I don’t want to deal with you as well,”

“Deal with me? What? Marc, what have I ever done to make you feel like this? Me being worried about whether your alive or not upsets you?” you asked a string of questions as endless thoughts ran through your mind.

“Just go,” is all he said as he turned his back to you and laid on the bed.

You watch his form, waiting for him to take back his words, apologise… do something – but he just lays there.

You nod to yourself and gather your belongings to leave. It was well into the night and significantly late, but you did as he said and walked out that front door.

He laid in bed with his thoughts, thinking whether pushing you away was the right choice.

Jake Lockley:

You walked into the bar to see him stood rather close to an unknown woman.

With anger running through your veins, you walk up to him and see his eyes slightly widen when he sees your approaching him.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked with a monotone.

“I’ve been waiting for you at home for the passed 3 hours,” you said as calmly as you could.

The woman standing close to him looked surprised at your words but made no move to walk away from the obvious situation.

“You should’ve kept waiting,” he said uninterested as he took a sip from his drink.

You watch him with narrowed eyes as he looked back to you.

“Is this how its going to be? You’re going to act like a total stranger in public and my boyfriend in private?” you asked feeling hurt.

He hummed at your words and sat up straight in his seat at the bar.

“You’re clingy,” was all he said, knowing that those words would hit you harder than anything else.

Throughout your life, you always had someone to be around. Your parents, siblings, friends and now in a foreign country you found solace with Jake spent every waking moment with him when you could. It was normal for you, and he didn’t seem to mind it.

“Clingy?” you asked as you choked back tears.

Jake clenched his jaw slightly before relaxing and putting his arm around the shoulders of the woman next to him.

“You heard me,” he said with a chuckle.

You took in a deep breath to compose yourself. Clearly you were not wanted nor needed here.

“Okay, if that’s what you think. You can have all the space you want from now on,” you said and turned to walk away.

“Is she actually you girlfriend?” asked the unnamed woman.

“One of many, hermosa,” he said under his breath.

[reysdriver]

Come Home & We'll Talk | J.P.

part 2 of Behind The Venue; James comes home to ask you to stay with him — rockstar!james x fem!reader angst/fluff

warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of like sexual acts

words: 0.9k

a/n: sorry this took forever lol, y'all wanted a happy ending so here it is

You hadn’t looked at any social media since finding out about James and Lily, nor did you want to. Giving James a chance to tell you everything was better than surfing through a whole bunch of pity, lies, and other crap on the internet. 

You sent James a text—another thing you hadn’t checked since—and told him the only way you were willing to talk about what happened would be if he came home in the middle of the boys’ tour. 

You honestly hadn’t expected him to come back at all—let alone the next day—so when he showed up with a giant bouquet of pink roses, you reluctantly let him inside your shared flat. 

“I’m sorry, my love. I came back so you could hear that.” He told you, putting the flowers down on your kitchen table. 

“No, you came back because you got caught with Lily Evans and I told you I wouldn’t talk over the phone.”

He slumped his shoulders and took off his backpack. Was that all he brought back? He dropped it onto the floor by his feet, but looked hesitant to do anything else. 

“But I promise you I’m sorry. I’ll explain everything.”

Ignoring the flowers, you sat down on your couch and James followed, but stayed on the other side in case you didn’t want him to touch you. 

“How long has it been going on?” You asked sadly. Any preamble or excuses would just be bothersome, you just wanted to know the details. 

“Not long. It was just after a show in Lisbon, I was really missing you and Lily said we should all go out to a bar to cheer me up. We got drunk and did some stuff, but we never had sex.”

He knew that didn’t make it much better, but he was going to drop every detail that could help his case. 

“And how many times have you ‘done stuff’ since then?”

“Since Portugal, we haven’t done anything more than make out. It was only a few times, and I felt like shit every single time.” James admitted. “I should have told you—”

“Yeah, you should have.” You told him firmly. You would have felt strong if it weren’t for the shake in your voice with every word. “Instead, you let it get out to the whole world, and I had to find out through a bunch of your fans.” 

“I know. I was wrong. I’m a coward, my love. I was going to, but I kept worrying that you would leave me. I need you in my life.” 

“So much so that you went and messed around with her?”

“It was bloody stupid, I know. I already told her that anything we had is over, even if you don’t take me back. But, please, I’ll do anything for you to stay with me.”

As much as you hated to admit it, he seemed genuine. Like he really was sorry about what he did, like he really did need you. It wasn’t quite enough, but he was getting there. 

“Was she the only one? This was the only time?”

James sensed that you were starting to accept his apology, but he wasn’t going to smile and celebrate yet. “Yes, I promise. This was the only time it’s ever happened and it’ll be the last too.”

“How do I know that, Jamie?” 

“(y/n), I will let you cut my dick off if that’s what you need to believe I’ll never do it again.” He used his hands to act out the idea he had just described and it made you laugh through your persistent teary eyes. “I’ll let you keep my hands and feet tied any time I’m away from you?”

“Promise?”

“I promise. We aren’t doing any more shows with her band anymore, and I want you to come on the rest of the tour with us. The Marauders don’t need an opener, but I do need you.”

You already knew what you were going to say, but it was fun to tease him a bit after what he did. “And what if I don’t come with you? Then what would you do?”

“I won’t do anymore shows.” James said seriously. “I’ll stay here with you. I’ll make a million gestures to make it up to you—well, I’ll do that anyways, but I’ll just make a million gestures at home.” 

You scooted towards James’ side of the couch and picked up his hand to fidget with it. “Okay. I’ll come with you.” 

James needed to make sure he heard your mumbled words correctly and his ears weren’t just telling him what he wanted to hear. “You will? Really?”

“Yes.” You confirmed. “Mostly because your manager would be pissed and all your fans would be heartbroken if you missed all those shows.” 

You reached up to kiss him softly, thanking him for the apology and explanation. 

“And you’re not mad at me?” He asked as you kissed his cheek. “You forgive me?” 

“I trust that you won’t do it again and I’m staying with you, but you have a lot to do to make up for everything.”

“I’ll do anything.” He leaned down to kiss you again. It was more passionate than when you kissed him; he knew he had a lot more to thank you for than you did to him. 

He let off your lips and gestured to the kitchen with a nod of his head. “And you saw the flowers? You like them?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Yes, James, I saw the flowers. They’re very pretty.” 

“Good, ‘cause there’s a bouquet coming from every tour stop for you.”

[batshaped]

twitter stop fucking up for one second challenge (impossible)

well,

here’s the thing. it feels like social media is changing lately. every social media site seems to be fucking up or getting worse in its own special little way. i recently read and thought a lot about this article which coins the term “enshittification” and describes the process by which every social media platform eventually becomes so greedy as to become unusable. it makes me wonder if the social internet is due for a big shift in the near future. 

for a long time, twitter was the best place for me. for all its issues, it had the audience that i could reach the easiest, that was the most invested in my art. i got (still get) a lot of awesome replies and really great analysis of my work on twitter, which i didn’t receive on any other platform. i was able to encourage those readers by retweeting their comments and theories to show that i liked hearing their thoughts. i could use the Moments feature to organize my art and make my comic easily readable in order. and anyone could look at my twitter, account or no.

ever since the site was bought out, twitter is getting worse. i can’t use the app on mobile anymore because every reply section is drowned out by blue checks and choked with ads. the Moments feature was disabled and people couldn’t easily read my comics in order anymore. and this is without even touching on the bigger/more serious issues the buyout has brought to the app. these are just the ways it has made my personal experience of being an artist on there worse. and now, apparently, you can’t even look at my work unless you have an account.

it’s been pretty common in the past year for the new management to implement a bad feature and then undo it after backlash, and maybe this too will be reversed. but even if it is unimplemented, the platform will continue to get worse. all platforms are getting worse right now. all of them are becoming untenable to use without 7 bespoke browser extensions to block ads, hide specific unwanted content, force chronological order, and so on. on mobile i don’t even bother. apps are unusable. 

on top of that, i have the personal issue of not being the type of creator who is particularly good at staying on top of more than one or two platforms daily. twitter has been my main for years now, so i’m pretty good about updating it very regularly. instagram is trailing behind, i usually remember to post there daily (especially as i’m remaking mine right now and posting my entire backlog) but sometimes i forget. and that’s kind of my limit. every other site falls by the wayside because i just don’t want to spend my whole day or life updating platforms. i know there are tools that can do it automatically for you but i don’t want to do it that way and then i’d have to figure out a new tool and get yet another account on yet another app and install yet another extension to use it.

i just want to draw. i don’t know how we arrived at this place where we need to be 700 other things when we are just artists. i draw and write, isn’t that enough? if i wanted a presence on tiktok i’d also have to be a video editor who pays close attention to trends and makes sure to transform my artwork into something people on that app are interested in. even if i just wanted to have a strong presence on say, twitter/instagram/tumblr/tapas/webtoon i’d have to take on another (unpaid) job as my own social media manager, meticulously managing my uploads across 5+ apps and making sure everything is up to date and tailored to what “works” on each particular platform. i already have a day job—i’m a storyboard artist. the art i post online is supposed to be made and given freely for my own enrichment first and foremost, and for the joy of sharing with others as a close second.

i wonder if we’re due for a mass rejection of this increasingly draining cable-wars-style model of spreading ourselves thin across multiple platforms just to reach the exclusive audience each one provides. i’m starting to feel done with that concept, but i still want to share my art. i want to hear my readers’ thoughts. i want to create things that connect with others. i want to do it without these ever-mounting obstacles.

what i’m doing about it is creating my own website at my own domain that belongs to me. i doubt i’ll be quitting social media when it’s done. social media is still where the audience i cherish lives. but you can bet that when that website is ready to be shared, i’ll be talking about it on every social media account i own. i’ll be telling everyone there’s a place to look at my art where you don’t need an account, you don’t have to struggle through a morass of ads, and you don’t have to line the pockets of a billionaire who bought a social media app on a whim. it’ll just be you and my art. alone together.

by the way, to @whatthehelljake​ i apologize for writing a fucking SAT essay on a screenshot of your reply. any exasperated tone here is not directed at you at all. it’s directed at this sea of obstacles that disrupt the simple concept of “i made art and i want to share it with you.” your reply is how i found out today that twitter made this change. i cherish the fact that you want to connect with my art so much that you alerted me to this. i wish that wasn’t necessary. i want to make my work on my own terms—and want you to be able to experience it on YOUR own terms.

all that to say, i think the website is going to be the main answer to this issue. i don’t see myself having the energy to update tumblr that much more often than i already do, though maybe i’ll try to pick up the pace a little now. we’ll see. holy shit if you read all this go drink a glass of water or something get up and stretch. ok thank you bye <3

[starcrossedxwriter]

Built for Love Part 12 (MBJ x Famous Black OC)

A/N: Our favs are back!! And trying to recover from everything. Enjoy!!

***

“You know you don’t gotta hide looking at it, right?” Michael leaned over to mutter in her ear as he rounded their island to the sink. 

Charlotte’s gaze fell to the side as she bowed her head in slight embarrassment at being caught examining the perfect rock on her finger. 

It had been days since the proposal and she was still unaccustomed to it, the weight of it on her finger and the weight of what it meant to them both. She had spent countless nights fantasizing of what a life with Michael could be and now her fantasies were coming true. She constantly found her eyes drawn to it throughout the day as she questioned whether the proposal was really real or merely a dream. 

They had not told a soul about their engagement yet, not even their families. While they wanted to share the exciting news with everyone, they felt this was not something they wanted to share over the phone. And they planned to go home to LA at the end of the month for Easter weekend as Charlotte had some time off. They also knew once they told their families, there was no guarantee they would be able to keep it secret for long. And they were not ready to tell the world just yet. Charlotte was still healing and reeling from Shaun’s attack and not used to being the center of social media debates and conversation or a hot topic on talk shows. And they knew their engagement would only draw more attention to her and them that they did not want just yet. 

Tomorrow would be her first day back at work, and really her first time leaving their house for more than a walk around their neighborhood. Throughout the entire day, Michael would have been lying if he said a significant part of him had not hoped she would wake up and realize she needed more time to recover. And while skillful makeup and the facade of a performer would earn her praise on social media and in the media for returning to normal so quickly, in private things were still far from normal. 

“Sorry,” she laughed. “I feel crazy but I can’t take my eyes off it, it’s fuckin’ gorgeous.” 

Michael’s face lit up at her praise. He had picked well. “I know, I’ve caught you staring at it nonstop for the last couple days.” 

“Well you did good.” She stood and kissed him on the cheek before walking over toward the couch to grab the remote. “Wanna watch another episode of Housewives before we head to bed? We’re so far behind on this season,” she grumbled to herself as she turned on their tv. 

“Sure but first, we need to talk.” 

Charlotte groaned, those were words no person in a relationship ever wanted to hear. And she knew exactly what he wanted to talk about. She and Michael rarely argued, she could count the number of them on one hand. However, she knew this one had been brewing slowly as her return to work drew closer. She was honestly surprised he let it go this long. Wishful thinking, she supposed, that he would not say anything at all. 

“If it’s about what I think it’s about, then we already talked about it days ago and came to an agreement, Bakari. Hence the very scary former special forces white man that’s gonna play my shadow for months,” she mumbled in annoyance. 

It was not that she did not understand the point of security, she did. But that did not stop her from resenting the fact that she needed it, this human barrier that sat her apart from the masses as if she were too important or too fragile. It felt unnecessary and ridiculous but acquiescing to this request was the only way Michael would agree to let go back to the theater so early. So her frustration seemed to double at the idea that he wanted to revisit this conversation after she already compromised.  

“Well, I’d like to reopen the discussion.” 

Charlotte rolled her eyes as she settled on the couch, her movements were still stiff, her body not fully healed but she felt well enough to perform. Unfortunately, her fiancée did not share her opinions on her healing process. 

“I’m fine and I’m going back to work tomorrow. I agreed to have security at your insistence. There’s really nothing to discuss.” 

“I disagree.” Michael’s arms were folded and his face stern as he perched on the arm of their sectional. “You’re still having nightmares and you’re still in pain. I mean can you even dance?” 

Truth be told, he was shocked he was even having to fight her on this. He just knew she would get to the weekend and see how little her healing had progressed and ask for more time off. That she had taken his concerns for her well being and safety seriously and was going to change how she pushed herself to the limit. However, instead he found that she was dead set on it, rehearsing and preparing for work as if nothing was wrong. But in his opinion, everything was wrong. 

While he would admit she was handling it better than he would have expected, she was still not ok. She was still in pain despite her attempts to hide it from him. She was far more jumpy than she ever was before. And aside from the night he proposed, she woke them both up with nightmares every single night. Some were marginally better than others but they were a reminder that while her physical injuries would heal in a linear fashion, her trauma would not. They were in for months of steps forward and steps backwards. And though he knew she could not realistically take months off, he wanted her to consider, at least, taking another week to get on stronger footing. 

The engagement helped them both, provided some light and hope at the end of the tunnel and they both clung to it for dear life in their own ways. But he knew that was a fleeting feeling, the happiness and joy of the engagement would not be enough to overshadow the trauma and pain she felt forever, no matter how much she focused on that. 

She sucked her teeth. “You know before you, I danced through a hell of a lot worse than a few bruises and a concussion. I’m fine.” 

“That ain’t the sellin’ point you think it is. Your body needs rest. The doctors said you’re lucky he didn’t damage your vocal chords from choking you, you don’t need to be singing for 2 hours a night. Also you don’t even know what effect going back there will have on you.”

Charlotte scoffed. “One, my voice is fine. I practiced last night.” Though she wasn’t going to admit that it was extremely hard and painful to sing. “I’ll be fine! He what? Scared me a couple of times there? It’s not like he attacked me in the theater. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?? You almost dying isn’t a big deal??” 

“You know what I mean! Look, I think I have a bit more experience dealing with PTSD than you do. I feel well enough to perform so I’m gonna. That’s that.”

“So I don’t even get a say? Get to give you my opinion at all?” 

Charlotte crossed her arms like a petulant child, her annoyance at having this discussion again shutting down any opportunity for her to hear his side or perspective. In her opinion, the time for his opinions had passed. “Well, it’s my career, not yours. It’s my body, not yours. I am the victim of a stalking, sociopath, not you. Why would you get a say in it? I know we’re engaged but that doesn’t mean I’m not my own person anymore.” 

“I know you’re your own person. But you also don’t get to make unilateral decisions, Charlotte! You making unilateral decisions is why we’re in this situation!” 

Charlotte scoffed. “And there it is… if you want me to take your opinion seriously, then admit what’s really going on here. This isn’t about me o-or my injuries or any stupid shit like that. You know I can perform just fine. You don’t trust me to take care of myself, you’re pissed that I took away your opportunity to save me and now you don't want me out of your sight.” 

“Well in my sight, he can’t fuckin’ try to kill you again.” 

She threw her hands up in the air. “Well, between the special forces nigga you forced me to hire and the venue security, I don’t see that happening! Also despite what you clearly think, I can take care of myself!” 

Michael’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. “You can take care of yourself? So that bruise on your side? On your face? Your concussion and stint in the hospital, were you just warming up during all those fights? Because I sure as fuck ain’t gonna forgot having to pull him off you while he tried to choke the life out of you any time soon! He’s out on bail and out in the world and I love you but no, you can’t defend yourself against him. You ain’t gonna act like I’m crazy for being worried.” 

“‘I can’t defend myself??’ So you think I’m weak?” For some reason, that struck a nerve so deep in her that she felt herself quickly transitioning from annoyance and frustration to full blown rage. 

“No that’s no-” 

“Well that’s exactly what you just said! I’m weak and defenseless and need you to take care of me. I mean, is that what you really think of me? Because if so, why would you even want to date, let alone marry, someone you think so little of?” 

“That’s not what I think!” He yelled, his frustration getting the better of him as he abruptly stood up from his seat and threw his hands in the air. He turned away from Charlotte to take a deep breath and collect his thoughts. 

However, when he turned around, he felt his heart break slightly as he took in her form. He would take a hundred versions of her yelling at him over the petrified woman who sat before him now. Her entire body trembled with fear as she avoided his eyes and moved herself to the edge of the couch as if she was ready to escape at a moment’s notice. Her ragged breathes filled their living room as she tried to calm down. 

Michael could not figure out what happened until he replayed the last 30 seconds in his own head, quickly realizing that she was fearful that he was going to strike her. 

And these were the moments that made all of this so hard for him. This was not the first time in their relationship that something triggered her, but her reactions were so visceral now that they knocked the wind out of him. He hated himself for letting his anger get the best of him to the point that he forgot to prioritize her healing and health. He never wanted her to think he would ever do something to hurt her, never wanted her to think he was like Shaun in the slightest. 

He desperately wanted to rush to her side and envelope her in a hug, assure her that he would never - no matter what - raise a hand to her. But he had enough experience with this to know that she had to choose to come to him, had to choose to trust that his touch was gentle and safe. That was not something he could force on her. So he steered himself to the cushion of the couch and sat down. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to scare you. You know I’d never hurt you. Just take a few deep breaths and when you’re ready to talk, let me know.” 

Charlotte just nodded as she buried her face in her hands for a few moments. She repeated the same mantra she did after nightmares and when she was feeling like there was no safety or security anywhere for her. Her therapist had told her to make a list of everything and everyone who made her feel safe and the very short list had Michael at the top. 

Michael is safe. Michael is home. Michael is safe. He doesn’t hurt you, he makes you feel protected and whole.

It was a small thing but it had become an anchor after nightmares or when memories flooded her mind. Michael was safe and he would never harm her. She would not claim to know everything but she certainly knew that. It took a few minutes as she repeated those words over and over under her breath, and her fingers twisted her engagement ring on her finger. Another coping mechanism she had turned to. That ring meant so much, representing the depths of his love for her. And that was another anchor to her reality, and a reminder that Shaun could invade her sleep and her mind but he could not take anything away from her if she did not let him. 

“I-I’m s-sorry,” she whispered. “I k-know you wouldn’t… I just…” she struggled to find the words to express the chaotic jumbled up mess that was her own mind. But now, she did not even care about the show anymore, part of her just wanted him to not be upset with her. “I d-don’t want you to be mad. I-If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. Ok? I’ll call Chris and I’ll stay.”

Michael immediately shook his head and moved to sit by her, unable to keep his distance. He tentatively touched her bare knee, rubbing it gently as she relaxed into his touch. “I’m sorry, Els. I’m not mad at you. And I don’t want you not to go just to appease me. I’m just… fuckin’ terrified. If you go back and something else happens to you, I’ll never forgive myself. And security or not, the only person I trust with your safety right now is me and I know I can’t be there every day to protect you. But here? I can protect you, I can…” he sighed. “I’m just having a hard time l-letting go.” 

She wiped away a few falling tears. “I know… I get it. Going isn’t easy for me either,” she clarified. “I just… know I have to. I would happily stay in this house with you forever. But I know I can’t… I h-have to go and prove to the world and myself that he didn’t destroy me… that I’m not weak. I’m terrified he’ll be there o-or pop up somehow. But I might feel that way for a long time and I can’t stay here with you forever. That’s what he wants, power over us and our lives and I can’t give him that. But I can’t do that if the one person who knows me better than everyone else thinks I’m too weak to do it.”

“You’re right. You’re right. You’re strong and if you feel like you’re ready, I don’t get to argue with that. I’m sorry… this is just… harder than I thought it’d be.” 

Charlotte shook her head and turned to him. “No, don’t apologize for being overprotective. You’re dealing with trauma just as much as I am. We got a bit caught up in the engagement and… planning for the future doesn’t mean we don’t have to deal with what’s going on right now. I know it’s hard for you too.” 

“Sorry… I don’t wanna be overbearing. I just want to keep you safe.”  

She chuckled. “You’ve barely let me out of this apartment in a week… the overbearing ship has sailed. But that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it. But I have to do this tomorrow, and I hope you can respect that.”

Michael leaned in and kissed her softly, cupping her face with his hand. He felt her slightly flinch beneath him as he accidentally grazed a healing bruise. However, she did not pull away and returned his kiss earnestly. 

“They’ll go away,” she whispered against his lips, kissing his cheek as his eyes darkened. “I’ve gotten used to them.” It was as if her body was so used to it, the bruises and pain barely phased her. 

“I’ll never get used to seeing bruises on you, baby.” He pushed her wild curls behind her ear. “You’re the strongest person I know, by the way. I don’t think you’re weak and you shouldn’t either. It takes so much strength to survive all you have.” 

Charlotte felt her eyes go a bit teary. She did not know why the words mattered so much coming from him but they did. Perhaps, it was just the way she wanted him to see her and everything they were going through threatened that image of perfection and strength she always strived for, that image of deservedness she felt she had to maintain to keep him. She needed him to see her as the woman he would want to spend the rest of his life with, not a traumatized broken thing he had to put back together. 

“Thank you for saying that.” 

He opened his arms and she quickly settled into them, immediately feeling more at ease than she had before. He leaned back on the couch and turned the tv on to their mindless favorite show, the Real Housewives of Atlanta. It was mainly Charlotte’s guilty pleasure but Michael could not deny that it had sucked him in too. 

“Thank you,” she whispered as they watched the show. 

“For what?” 

She smiled. “For caring enough about me and my health to be overbearing. I w-wouldn’t have survived all this without you.” 

She shifted into his lap to kiss him deeply. However, before she could take it too far, he stopped her and broke their kiss. 

“You have an early day tomorrow. Not tonight.” 

Charlotte opened her mouth to retort but Michael’s attention had already shifted away from her and back to the antics of the housewives. She hoped the night of their engagement had not been some odd anomaly and that they were truly back on track. Sex was not the end all be all of their relationship but she knew how important it was to both of them. And it did not bode well to her that they had only been intimate once in a week, injuries or no injuries. But she also knew she was not up for another difficult conversation tonight and she knew that that was one she would most certainly lose so she merely settled against his chest to watch their show, tucking the information away for discussion later.  

***

“I-I guess I should leave this here?” She mused, a sad expression on her face as she examined her ring. “I can’t wear it on stage.”  

Michael raised an eyebrow as he studied her and the expression on her face. “You don’t gotta take it off if you don’t wanna.” 

She shook her head. “Chris texted, the paparazzi and reporters are already at the theater so it’ll be all over the gossip sites before lunch if I wear it. It just feels weird to take it off.”

“You sure you gotta go this early?” 

She nodded. “Yea I haven’t done the choreo or anything in almost a week. Gotta practice, make sure I can actually move fully and everything.” She glanced over to him and offered him a suggestive wink. “I could be persuaded to go a little later if you help me warm up.” She grabbed his sweater and pulled him in for a kiss. 

He chuckled and kissed her. “You’re still injured.” 

She wrinkled her nose in confusion. “That wasn’t a problem the other night?”

“Well… we both had an emotional day and were caught up in the moment and shit. I’d feel better if we waited till you heal fully. Just like I’d feel better if you take it easy today.” 

Saying no to her was easily the hardest thing Michael ever had to do. But after seeing her last night, seeing her genuinely afraid that he was going to hurt her, he could not risk doing anything that could trigger her again, at least not until he was sure she was healed emotionally and physically. It sucked and it would mean many cold showers in his future but it was for the best. 

However, Charlotte was not a mind reader. All she felt was the cold slap of rejection from the man she loved. Charlotte found his response odd but she decided not to press it. She supposed the night of their engagement was just a heat of the moment sort of thing. This was, after all, not her most attractive state. 

“I’ll be fine, Bakari.” 

“I could come with you?” 

Charlotte bit her lip as she stifled the immediate yes that bubbled to the surface. As she watched him yawn, she suddenly felt the weight of how much of a burden she was to him. All he had done was adjust his life to hers so she could heal. She just wanted to feel like his equal again and that meant she could not rely on him for everything. 

“Thanks for the offer but I’m good. I’ll be fine.” She tried to make her voice sound sure and decisive, despite the doubt on his face. “Besides, let me worry about you for once. You need sleep without me screaming you awake, babe. You’re exhausted.” 

Michael could not disagree more but something in her tone made him want to acquiesce to her words, despite his reservations. She was not wrong that he could use some true uninterrupted rest. 

“You sure? I really don’t mind coming, nothing wrong with needing some extra support.” 

Charlotte stopped herself from taking him up on the offer. “I know… But I got Adam and we’ll be just fine.”

“You sure?” He walked over and tilted her chin up to examine the bruising on her face. 

She had not finished putting on her make up yet. They were looking better and better each day, though they were not healing fast enough for Michael’s liking. His eyes darkened slightly, Charlotte rubbing his bare arm. 

“I’ll be back to my perfect flawless self soon, promise.” She pecked him on the nose. “And yes, I promise. I know you got shit to do.” 

She walked back to their master bathroom to finish her routine. She took extra care to ensure every bruise and cut was adequately covered before she finished getting dressed. It was like riding a bike, remembering all the techniques to hide the damage he caused. By the time she was done, her skin looked unblemished enough to pass the test with any photographer. 

As she walked around their bedroom, gathering all of her things for the show, she forced herself to think positively as images of Shaun flashed in her mind. She refused to give in to them though. He had taken so much, she refused to let him take this too. 

“Got everything? Baby?” Michael called, pulling Charlotte out of her thoughts, putting his hand on the small of her back when she did not register him. . 

She jumped slightly at his touch. She tried to play it off but she could tell he noticed in how his eyes softened slightly.  

“Yea, yea sorry. Was in my own head. I’m ready. Adam’s been waiting for me downstairs, I should go.” 

She kissed him on the cheek and threw him a soft smile before heading toward the door. She grabbed her keys and her bag as she moved through the living room. However, the ding of the elevator as it opened left her paralyzed, unable to force herself to cross the threshold out of her cocoon and into the real world again. A wave of panic washed over her at leaving for the first time alone and going back there, where he was. She tried to remind herself that he was not there but then all the nightmares of the last week came rushing back. She did not talk about them, particularly not to Michael, because she knew he would never have let her leave if she did. But she could not stop herself from thinking of the worst case scenario now. 

Was she a complete fool for leaving her one and only safe space to give him another opportunity to hurt her? She got lucky twice but she had a sickening feeling Shaun would not error a third time if given the chance to finish the job. All week, had she been completely deluded for believing he would not be so foolish as to try to hurt her again? But when had he ever cared about restraining orders or police? The law had not once stopped him for exercising his control, power, and revenge over her when he really wanted to. Why would it now? 

A voice rang out loudly in her head, encouraging her to turn right around and retreat into her bed with Michael where it was safe. But another voice demanded she put one foot in front of the other and face him head on again. She did not cower before, she could not now. It was all just too much, too scary, too much to consider for one person. 

“Els, baby… Focus on me.” 

She glanced up from the floor to find Michael standing in front of her, his face twisted up in concern. She did not understand what was wrong until she heard them, the shallow quick breaths that filled their quiet foyer that belonged to her.

“That’s it, breathe. You’re ok. Just got a little overwhelmed,” he whispered to her as he took slow deep breaths with her. He knew it was too much too fast. But when it came to her career, Charlotte was the first person he had ever met that was more stubborn than him. 

He cradled her head into the space between his neck and shoulder, Charlotte taking deep breaths of his cologne and natural scent. His arms were tightly wrapped around her. She would have thought it would be suffocating during a panic attack but it was grounding to her, his touch, his soft whispers in her ear.

“I-I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I-I can do it… I can do it.” 

“Hey, look at me, honeybee.” He waited until her glossy eyes were on him before he said, “I know nothing I can say will stop you from going today. But it’s ok if you’re not ok yet, Charlotte. Being scared and honest about that doesn’t make you weak and it doesn’t mean he wins. It doesn’t tell the world you're powerless. It tells them you’re human. And it’s ok to need and want extra support. All you gotta do is ask, baby.” He kissed her ring finger, which was now bare as she had taken it off in their room. “You never gotta do anything alone again. Understand?”

Charlotte glanced up at the ceiling to stop the floodgates from opening. “I j-just feel like such a burden to you these last few days. You’ve done nothing b-but take care of me,” she whispered. “I need to go… I know I do. I have to go, Bakari. B-but I don’t think I c-can go without you. With you is the only place I f-feel safe right now.” 

He kissed her temple. “You’ve never been and will never be a burden to me, love. Give me five minutes.” And with that, he disappeared back into their bedroom.

Charlotte sat down in one of their living room chairs and placed her head in her hands. She hated how quickly she caved. She could not even make it out of their house, let alone to work. She choked back a small sob, this was not how she saw her triumphant return going down. She felt ashamed of herself for not being stronger, for not holding it together better. She just wanted to be strong again, herself again, but that felt farther away than she would have liked. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, Els, stop it. You’re going, that’s what matters… not what support you need to do it. This isn’t a bad thing.” 

She wiped her tears away and took a deep breath before nodding. She was doing the best she could. And that would have to be enough. 

“You’re right, you’re right. Let’s go.” 

Michael interlocked his fingers with hers as he led her back to the elevator. With his presence by her side, stepping into the elevator and the ride down seemed for less jarring, though she could feel her heart racing slightly. She was thankful to find their street void of paparazzi and cameras when they exited. 

Michael, a saint, used the car ride to distract her, sharing updates on Black Panther prep he was about to start. She listened intently as he explained the new diet and workout regime he would have to follow to get the build required for the character. He had no insight to the plot but he shared some directions he thought they might go in based on the comic lore. Listening to him talk about work for 20 minutes was the exact distraction she needed and she was thankful to him for it. 

His musings carried them the entire 20 minute ride to the theater, Charlotte not surprised but annoyed to find a crowd of cameras and people right outside the entrance staff used. 

“Shit. Is almost dying really that interesting to anyone??” She remarked to Michael as Adam asked them to pause while he studied the terrain. He had explained to them yesterday that he had already gone to the theater and done his usual recon. Charlotte could not help but roll her eyes at that. She was not the damn pope or Queen Charlotte herself… she was just Charlie. 

“Well, being attacked on the opening night of your show is shocking so it’s newsworthy to someone.”  

“It’s weird,” she decided. Charlotte liked that her star was a small one. She did not want or care for fame, never wanted to be one of those celebrities that called the paparazzi to follow their every move. She wanted to do what she loved but she also wanted a quiet life, one with some modicum of privacy. 

“Ready when you are, Ms. Bennett.” 

She took a deep breath, sliding her shades onto her face. Michael pressed his lips to her hand, which was still interlaced into his. He had only let her go once to get in the car. 

“I’m right beside you.” 

“I know you are,” she responded sweetly. “Ready.” 

Adam jumped out of the car first and opened their door, Michael sliding out before Charlotte. She focused on Michael’s hand in hers as she ignored the loud calls and flashes of the cameras. The only thing that made her pause was a pack of fans that gathered on the opposite side, most of them young women and holding signs of support for her that made her heart swell. She originally had no intention of stopping or talking to anyone when she thought it was just reporters and express. But those girls added a detour to her journey, much to Adam and Michael’s annoyance. 

All of them held bright smiles as she pushed her shades onto the top of her head. Many of them had Playbills from the show, clearly having gone in the last week and others just had pieces of paper and signs that they asked her to sign. She tried her best to sign every Playbill and paper shoved in her face and smile in the direction of every camera for every selfie. 

Charlotte still found the idea that she had fans to be jarring. It was one aspect of her job that she was not used to at all, that people would camp out anywhere on a cold NYC morning for the chance to get a glimpse of her. 

One of the girls standing there asked for a selfie and as she took it, she said, “Could you sign this? We,” she gestured at the girl next to her that carried such a striking resemblance that she had to have been her twin. “Wanted to get tickets for tonight too but…”

“The ones that were left were so expensive.” The other girl jumped in. “Guess we aren’t the only ones desperate to see you on stage.” 

“We’re here visiting our parents and heading back to Yale tomorrow but figured we could try to get a glimpse of you,” the first girl admitted. “I… just want to say thank you.” 

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For showing that leaving is hard but it's never the wrong choice. And that if you’re lucky, maybe you’ll find better,” she glanced at Michael who was quietly standing beside her. 

Charlotte clenched her eyes shut to stop a tear from falling. This girl could not have been a day over 18 or 19. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Chantal and this is my sister, Courtney.” 

She nodded. “Adam,” she called over to the stoic man who had been standing between her and the crowd on the other side of the walkway. “Can you bring Chantal and Courtney around the barrier and inside?” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Both girls were the picture of shock as they made their way around the steel barriers and followed Charlotte and Michael inside. The young woman marched them around to the General Manager’s office upstairs, both girls utterly perplexed and confused. 

“Charlie! It’s so good to have you back! Chris has been a pain in the ass without you,” Simon remarked as he stood up and wrapped her in a tight hug. 

Charlotte laughed. “Thank you, and I can only imagine.” She flashed him her award-winning bright smile. “Your favorite actress needs a favor?” 

“You name it.” 

“Four front row seats for tonight for my friends here,” she gestured to the two girls, whose mouths had fallen open behind her. 

“You got it. What are your names?” 

Both girls stammered out their full government names while Simon tapped away at his computer. 

“Done. Tickets’ll be waiting for you at will call tonight.” 

“Thank you! You’re the best.” She retreated from his office before walking the girls back to the front to head outside. 

 “W-wait, that w-wasn’t a joke right?” 

Charlotte laughed. “No, not a joke at all. I hope your parents enjoy musicals too. Either way, I hope you both enjoy the show tonight at least.” 

Both girls squealed and threw themselves into her arms, causing Charlotte to laugh. She hugged them both before stepping back. 

“Well, I gotta go rehearse. Make sure I can give y’all the best show possible.” 

“Thank you SO much! You’re amazing and we love you.” 

“No thanks necessary at all. See you tonight.” As the girls scurried off, Charlotte turned to stop them. “Chantal!” 

The young girl turned around as Charlotte closed the space between them.

“You will… find better. The road might be long as fuck,” she admitted, causing the two girls to laugh. “And you’ll take a lot of steps back to take them forward. But it’s not about luck. It’s about knowing you deserve it and being… willing to accept it when it comes. I,” she glanced behind her at Michael who was waiting. “I struggled with that. But I deserved better and you do too, no matter what someone else made you believe.” 

She reached into her purse and grabbed a pen and a spare piece of paper from her notebook. She jotted down her name and phone number and held it out to the young girl who seemed like her jaw might completely detach itself from her face. 

“I know how hard it is… and lonely it is at first. If you need anything, don’t hesitate. And I mean that, truly.” 

“Thank you.” She squeezed her hand before rushing back to her sister, both girls leaving with a bit more pep in their steps. 

She walked back over to Michael who was sporting a look of pure shock. 

“What?” 

“I am just constantly in awe of you.” He pulled her into his arms and wrapped one arm around her waist. “How’d I get so lucky?” 

She smiled. “Pretty sure I’m the lucky one, baby.” 

They shared a chaste but sweet kiss when they heard a couple wolf whistles. Charlotte laughed as she took in Chris and Marcus both staring at them. 

“The queen is back! Thank the good lord,” Chris remarked as he closed the space between them. “Between this damn ulcer and the nightmares, Jason and my doctor will be sending you a fruit basket and flowers.” 

“My understudy wasn’t that bad,” she remarked. The young woman was green to be sure but she was good. 

“Yes but she is no you, my dear. You are one of one.”

“How are you feeling?” Marcus asked as he pulled her into a hug, he examined her with the same quizzical eye Michael often did which made her laugh. 

“She’s fine. Been here five minutes and already giving away four of my most expensive seats in the house. Typical altruistic Charlie.” At Charlotte’s shocked face, Chris shrugged. “I know everything that happens round here.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay for them.” 

He shook his head. “Don’t stress about it. We have a block of tickets we budget to give away for one reason or another.” He glanced at Michael beside her. “I see you brought our favorite eye candy back with you.” 

Charlotte laughed and rolled her eyes. “Well, leaving the house was harder than I thought it’d be so Michael offered to come hang out for a bit. Hope that’s ok?” 

“Girl, whatever you need to get your ass back on that stage, I’m fine with. Rehearsal starts in 10.” 

He waved at all of them before leaving Charlotte, Michael, Malcolm and her shadow alone. 

“How are you? Really?” 

While she adored Chris, Malcolm was who she was closest to in the show and was the only one who truly knew her. 

“We’re taking it hour by hour,” she admitted. “And today started off rough but it’s turning around. I’m gonna be ok, I know that much.” 

“That’s what we like to hear.” 

They walked into the theater, the entire company giving Charlotte applause as she walked in. Michael took his seat as she got on stage and did a quick round of hugs to everyone. And then they jumped right into rehearsal. 

Michael spent part of the time doing his own work, answering emails that he had neglected over the last week. He did not regret that but his inbox was abysmal. He knew Charlotte’s was exactly the same. She had talked to her manager once or twice but no work had been accomplished in a week. 

Then he started reviewing the script for his upcoming project. He had been excited originally to play the role but now, he was merely annoyed because it meant he had to return to LA in late June. He did not want a renewal of their argument from the previous night but he knew there was absolutely no way he could convince Charlotte to cut her run short and return with him. And June was Tony’s season and nominated or not, Charlotte would never miss that. However, all of those reasons did not change the simple fact that Michael was fucking terrified. 

This was the love of his life, his future wife, the future mother of his children. Would work ever be more important to him than her safety? And it was not that he did not trust Adam, after all he picked him. But Adam did not love her like he did, did not understand her like he did. Even though it was months away, leaving felt utterly and completely wrong now. And he could not shake the feeling that it was not only a bad idea, it was the worst mistake he could ever make. He knew he could not drop out but he toyed with the probability of getting them to push the filming back, even just a month or two. He decided he’d reach out to his manager and see if it was a possibility. 

He found himself often distracted by Charlotte as she rehearsed. She was a bit stiff at first but she loosened up and fell back into the choreo with ease. This was truly her element, everyone on that stage looked to her for guidance, advice, and support. He could see why Chris was so determined to have her back as soon as possible. She was the glue. 

In between rehearsal and the show, she did interviews that she had not had the chance to do after the premiere. Michael sat next to the young girls they met earlier and their parents and they were utterly in awe of her as she performed. Despite everything, she was better than she was opening night, perhaps because she felt she had more to prove. She left her heart and soul on that stage. 

So much so that she quite literally fell asleep as soon as they got into the SUV to head home. She was utterly beat. She had held it together pretty well most of the day from Michael’s perspective, only having one panic attack when she went back to her dressing room for the first time.

She felt like the ghost of him loomed in the space in a weird way. So much so that she avoided the space until the last possible second and could not enter it alone. She questioned how she would do it every day when Malcolm offered to switch spaces with her. She objected at first, naturally, not wanting to feel like she needed accommodations from anyone. But Michael insisted and she could not deny that it eased some of her panic. 

However, when they got home, she was fairly silent and seemed upset. Michael did not understand why, she had done exactly what she had wanted to today: she had proved he could not take this away from her. 

“You were great today,” Michael offered as they settled into bed. “On all counts.” 

She chuckled humorlessly. “I couldn’t even walk into my own dressing room, Bakari. Couldn’t leave this fuckin’ house without…” She shook her head as she looked up at the ceiling. “I saw him everywhere… like a fuckin’ ghost haunting me every second. And the only thing that stopped me from literally falling apart was being able to look over and see you. If I can’t keep it together on my own, then I can’t…” she clenched her eyes shut. “And then I come here and I try to sleep and he’s there too. J-Just… don’t get a fucking break.”  

She frustratedly wiped a tear from her cheek and flipped onto her side to look away from him. 

Michael sighed and shifted closer to her, spooning her. She tensed up at the unexpected touch before softening into him.

“I know today was hard. But Els, baby… you did it. You left the house, you got on stage, you got a new dressing room, you gave interviews and did everything you needed to do without skipping a beat. That’s not nothing. It’s ok to not be able to hold it together all by yourself. Lean on me, lean on Malcolm and Chris and your castmates to get through the day.” 

“I don’t want special treatment… I don’t want people to see me as their traumatized coworker. I don’t wanna be the weak person he made me forever. It took me years to get over what he did the first time a-and I don’t have years. You aren’t gonna wait years, the world isn’t gonna wait years. I just… want to be ok again now.” 

“Didn’t you tell that girl earlier that it would be a lot of steps back to go forward?” 

She groaned, annoyed that he was throwing her own words back at her. 

“Yes but-“ 

“No buts. You gotta give yourself some grace, baby. You’re gonna have good days when you feel invincible and you’re gonna have days when it feels like you can’t hold it together on your own. And you don’t have to. You’re not broken,” he pressed his lips to her shoulder. “You never were and you certainly aren’t now. It’s gonna be a long road but you aren’t walkin’ it alone.”

“I just…” her words failed her but something in her told her to put on a brave face. She knew she was not walking it alone but she also knew she could not keep bearing all her weight on MIchael. She had to start carrying some of it on her own. Even if he currently felt like she was not a burden, there was no telling how long that feeling would last. 

So she nodded and turned over to face him. “You’re right. It was a good first step and tomorrow’ll be even better. Thanks for today.” 

“Of course. I can come with you tomorrow too?” he offered. 

Charlotte chucked. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I know spending all day in that theater is not fun.” 

Michael shrugged. “Being there for you is fun. I insist.” 

“Bu-” she started to say when Michael pulled her into his chest and kissed her on the forehead, cutting her off. 

“Get some rest. Night, baby.” 

***

“So how are you, Charlie? Really?” Michael’s mom called down the long dining room table as they all enjoyed Easter Sunday dinner.

She was thankful to have a couple days off so she and Michael returned to LA to visit family and escape New York for a bit. Their trip, which had been intended to be an adventure for the pair, had turned into anything but. And there was a safety to returning home, to Michael’s house and to his bed, even if it was only for a long weekend. 

Given that her nieces and nephews were all on Spring Break, it was the perfect time to get the families together. So it was the first time her dad, sister and CJ were meeting Michael’s family. The evening had been perfect so far, she decided, both groups blending as if they were destined to be family. 

“I’m ok… really,” she emphasized at the skeptical glances from everyone at the table, including her fiance. “He’s been out on bail, hasn’t tried anything. He’ll go to prison and that’ll be the end of it,” she assured them. She would never admit it out loud, particularly not within earshot of Michael, but those words were merely for their benefit. Not even 50% of her mind actually believed it. Shaun proved that he was not above biding his time for as long as it took. She would be a fool to believe his obsession with her was over simply because he got caught. But that was not a truth or fear she was in a place to admit to anyone. 

“You’re still havin’ nightmares though…” Michael offered quietly. 

Charlotte cut her eyes toward him with a quick glare that most of the table, thankfully, did not see. It silently said “what the fuck?” to which he merely shrugged as if he did not see the problem with detailing her weaknesses to her entire family. 

It’s the truth, his eyes seemed to shoot back at her.

“Are you ok?” 

“Do you need to increase your therapy sessions?” 

Charlotte immediately groaned internally, overwhelmed by the barrage of questions and concerns. This was exactly what she wanted to avoid. 

“Guys, guys… calm down. Michael is exaggerating,” she answered with a reassuring and calming smile. “I still have nightmares but they are far less than they were at first. It’s progress, but it’s slow. And it’s just been a few weeks. It’s not like last time,” she promised, her eyes trained on Jackson who was most invested in her recovery, aside from Michael. He called her damn near every day twice a day.

“Well, as long as you feel like you’re getting better.” 

“I am, really.” 

“You gonna be ok when Michael comes back this way for his movie this summer?” 

Charlotte nodded immediately, though she was dreading it inside. However, that was not something she could admit either. “Yea it’s gon-“ 

“I actually asked them if we could push filming back,” Michael interrupted. “To the fall when Els’ run is over. Just waiting to hear what they say.” 

Charlotte glanced up from her plate in surprise, that was the first she had heard of this. “What? When did you do that? Why did you do that?” 

“I called my agent and asked her to look into it Thursday before we left New York. Just figured a family emergency and needin’ to be there for you was hard to argue with.” 

Charlotte could not stop the confusion and anger that bubbled under the surface at him. She understood the intention behind his gesture but she did not ask him to do that and to be frank, she did not want it. It was not that she wanted to be alone in New York but she also had worked so hard in the last few weeks to stop burdening him, to heal and move forward. But this was the literal opposite of that. 

“But the summer is several months away. It’ll hardly be an emergency by then. I’m fine.”

He shrugged. “I disagree.” 

“You dis-” she started to say when Jackson interrupted, her sweet but slightly oblivious brother not picking up on the mounting tension between the couple. 

“I think it’s a good thing. Not like you don’t need the extra protection, it’s better this way, Charlie.” 

“Better for who?” She mumbled under her breath before stabbing her piece of ham with her fork. 

“The real question is when are you gonna be free for the bachelorette party?” Jazzmine asked from across the table with a smile. “Lo and I are already starting to plan.” 

Charlotte rolled her eyes as everyone smirked. “Nothing crazy, Jazz… please. I don’t know what time I’m gonna have off so we could legit just get the girls together for a fun weekend in New York. Have the wild NYC nights we didn’t get to have back in the old days,” she teased. 

Lo’s face lit up as she turned to Jazz. “Oh that would be so much fun. I’ll do some research on restaurants and Jazz, can you find us some lounges that we can go out to? Maybe in like July?” 

“You sure you wanna do New York?” Michael asked quietly, pulling Charlotte’s attention away from her girlfriends as they chatted away about her party. 

“Yea, it’s lowkey and easy. Inexpensive for everyone to get to and everything. Don’t need a big fuss. Why?” 

Michael shifted in his seat uncomfortably, Charlotte could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he thought of the right words to say whatever was on his mind. 

“Just don’t think it’s safe for you to be going out to clubs and lounges late like that. You know… least not until after his trial.” His voice was low as to not draw attention to the couple. However, before she could respond, he glanced up at Lauren and Jazz and said, “Plan somethin’ outside the US. My treat, of course. Go wild.”

“God, I love him,” Jazz not-so-quietly muttered under her breath causing the entire table to laugh, except Charlotte. “You sure you wanna marry him, girl? Cause I’ll fight you for him.” 

Charlotte forced a light chuckle from her lips before returning to her food, frustration coursing through her body like a roaring river. She was virtually silent as their families interacted for the rest of the night. She barely spoke, only offering one or two words to Michael’s nonstop chatter when they returned to their bedroom to get ready for bed. 

She wanted to say something to him but she did not know how, nor was she sure which issue to tackle first because for the first time in their relationship, there were several. 

They were still them in the ways that mattered most, still loving and caring and invested in their relationship. But something, or rather several somethings, were simply off track and causing fissures to grow between them. And tonight, she realized that they had gotten too big to ignore any longer.  

Originally, she had thought the lack of physical intimacy was their most pressing issue. Gone were the casual touches and sexual playfulness that they developed in their relationship. They had sex one time since their engagement and it was their worst time together by far. Michael spent the entire time checking in and asking her if she was ok or needed him to stop so much so that Charlotte could not even get into the moment or enjoy the experience. As the incident got further in their rearview, she tried to initiate a couple more times but he always found an excuse so finally, she stopped asking altogether. 

And that was concerning in and of itself, the crumpling of the one area of their relationship that had always been strong. But dinner proved that they were also having serious communication issues that she had been actively ignoring. It was so unlike Michael to make such a giant career decision without consulting her first, without taking into account her own feelings and opinions about her recovery.

Was she completely healed? Were things perfect? Definitely not. But was she moving in the right direction? Was she doing the best she could? Yes and still, she felt like it was not enough to get her fiance to stop treating her like the broken woman he found in that bathroom, battered, bruised and half dead. Even telling her she could not go out in New York with her friends was so on brand for him at the present moment but so unlike anything she was used to from him. And that had not been the first time. They got invited to parties and events and the like in New York and Michael found excuse after excuse for them not to go. She blamed herself for not being more vocal about wanting to go out and be who they used to be so she put all of her efforts into getting better to prove she could handle it, prove she was still the woman he wanted. However, nothing seemed to work. She wanted to move on with their lives and his mind was firmly stuck on who she was on March 1. 

And that made her doubt whether they would. All the things Michael once valued in her, he clearly did not see anymore… why else would he treat her so differently?

“You ok? Want me to make you some tea? Anything hurt?” Michael asked as they got ready for bed. 

Their nighttime routine was typically filled with laughter and conversation but tonight, Charlotte was stuck in her own head, wrestling with why her relationship seemed to be falling apart when they were both so clearly trying their hardest to keep it together. 

“No, I’m fine.” 

“You don’t seem fine.” He sighed, misreading her sour attitude for something else. “I don’t know why you feel the need to pretend like you’re ok with me when you aren’t. It’s just been a few weeks, Els. No one but you expects you to be ok.” 

Charlotte’s knuckles could’ve turned white at the way she gripped the edge of their counter in anger. “You know not every negative emotion I feel is about Shaun, right? Like I’m allowed to just be mad and annoyed at you every once in a while?” 

Michael’s eyes grew wide. “Mad at me?? What did I do?” 

“How about the fact that you made this major decision and didn’t tell me?” 

“What major decision??” 

Charlotte threw her hands up in the air. “Moving your movie schedule, Michael!” 

Michael could tell she was legitimately upset given that she used his first name and not Bakari or another pet name. However, for the life of him, he could not understand the issue. 

“That’s not a big deal tho. I just asked them to push back a couple months.”

“That is a big deal! Asking for an entire movie to be rearranged so you can play the fucking overseer.” 

“That’s not fair. I was tryin’ to help you.” 

Charlotte scoffed. “Help me? Oh and is flashing your wallet around to convince my friends to plan a different party than the one I want helping me too??” 

Michael walked out of their bathroom, the two facing off at the foot of the bed. 

“You aren’t gonna get fuckin’ mad at me for telling you shit is unsafe. No, you don’t need to be fuckin’ around in the middle of the night drunk in New York while he’s still out there. You can be mad all you want.” 

Michael felt no shame or guilt for drawing the line in the sand somewhere. He saw no issue in keeping Charlotte at home. She went to work, they occasionally went to dinner - though he preferred just ordering them take out these days - and that was virtually it. He went to the theater with her almost every day, only leaving around show time and returning with the car to pick her up. It was a sacrifice to be sure. But what did it matter if she was safe and had extra layers of protection? 

“If you had your way, I’d never leave our fucking apartment!” She hurled at him. “You wanna help me? Stop treating me like a fragile doll that’ll break if you aren’t around. Stop… stop denying me affection and love and just admit the truth!” 

“What truth??” 

“You don’t want me anymore!” Charlotte exploded, her own insecurities compounded by her perceptions of her fiancé’s behavior. “You proposed and you regret it and you don’t want me.” 

“That’s the farthest thing from the truth in this world, Charlotte.” 

She closed the space between them as she shouted. “Then why don’t you touch me like you used to? Why don’t you make love to me or fuck me or literally anything anymore? Our relationship is void of physical intimacy that I know both of us need. So tell me. What other reason could it be other than you can’t get the image of what he did out of your head and I’m not the woman you thought I was o-or want anymore? Tell me!” 

Michael’s mouth opened and closed several times, unsure of what exactly to say. He had never seen her so upset, particularly directed at him, over something that was simply not true. However, despite the anger she displayed, something stopped him from telling her the truth. It was foolish to not trust her with his own fears and vulnerabilities but it was unfair to make her healing about him. 

“I promise you it’s not because I don’t want you.” 

Charlotte stared at him, waiting for something… anything to signal to her what the true reason was. But he gave her nothing. 

Charlotte let out a breath that sounded like a cold laugh before nodding and  stalking over to her side of the bed to grab her pillow and favorite blanket, one that Michael used often and carried his scent. 

“I don’t want promises, Michael. I want you to be honest. And until you are ready to admit whatever has you treating me like a patient instead of your future wire, I’ll be in the guest room.” She paused. “Here and in New York.” 

“You shouldn’t sleep alone, Charlotte.” 

“I dealt with nightmares before you, Michael and I can deal with them now. If you really want to help me,” she clenched her eyes shut to stop the tears that welled in them, tears that she knew would not help her case. She was just so tired, tired of everyone in her life and in the media and everywhere she turned fawning over her. She just wanted someone to treat her like nothing had changed and she had hoped that would be Michael. But he could not do it either. “Then start treating me like someone you believe is actually capable of healing. Cause right now, all you treat me like is a woman who's too broken to be put back together again. And if that’s all you see when you look at me, we aren’t gonna make it.” 

And with that, she raced out of their bedroom and down the hallway toward one of the guest rooms, leaving Michael alone. He felt as if he had whiplash, the argument happening so fast over something he felt was so insignificant, he could not fully understand what to do. 

A knock at the door pulled him out of his thoughts. He swung it open to find his father standing in the hallway, two glasses of scotch in his hands. 

“Heard some raised voices. You good, son?” 

“Not really,” he muttered as he took the drink out of his dad’s hand and ushered him inside.

“Feel like I’m tryin’ to do right by Els, give her what she needs and she’s actin’ like it’s too much… or not enough of the right thing… or I dunno. We’ve never,” he flopped down on the edge of their bed, his hand rubbing his head. “We’ve never been like this before.” 

Michael Sr sat down in the arm chair across from his son. “Well, you ain’t been together long enough to be like much. I think you two were made for each other, don’t get me wrong. But marriage ain’t easy ‘n you two are gonna hit more than a couple rough patches where it seems like it just ain’t workin’. And that’s to be expected given what you both went through. You need to talk.” 

“I try to talk to her, pops. Get her to tell me what she's feelin’, how she’s doin’. She just wants to act like everything’s fine when I know it isn’t. I mean, you take care of ma… her health. She doesn’t fault you for being protective. What am I doing wrong right now?” 

His father let out a low chuckle before taking a long sip of his drink. “Bold to assume your momma didn’t cuss me out more than once too. I raised you ‘n your brother the way I was raised. To be a provider, protector, fixer. And I did the same thing you’re doin’ when your momma first started havin’ health issues. Constantly checkin’ in, assuming I knew what she needed or how she was feelin’ better than she did. And just doin’ it cause I thought I knew best. And all I was really doin’ is creating resentment.”

“What you mean?” 

“I mean… your mom didn’t and still doesn’t want a doctor, she has a doctor. She didn’t need a therapist. She wanted her husband, a safe spot to land ‘n know I was gonna treat her like her when the days were good ‘n jump in ‘n pull the extra weight on the bad days. But that I was still gonna let her be her, not treat her like a sick person who can’t take care of herself. But I felt so outta control as a protector and fixer that I went overboard tryin’ to fix somethin’ that couldn’t be. Took a lot of counseling to get outta that.”  

Michael raised his eyebrow in shock. His parents were not of a generation that typically had a positive outlook on therapists and counseling. He also would have never thought their marriage ever required it. His parents’ marriage, in his mind, was the blueprint. 

“Really?” 

“Yea… I mean it was different than what you kids do now with licensed therapists. But yea, we went to counseling with our pastor ‘n it helped. Helped both of us admit what we needed, helped us find common ground. N now, I protect your mother while respecting her boundaries. I know you. You’re tryin’ to fix something that only Charlotte and time can fix. And if you hold on too tight, try to fix too much cause you’re afraid of losing her, you’re just gonna lose her in a different way. This is your first taste of marriage, son. Shit ain’t easy but it’s worth it.” 

His dad stood up and patted him on the shoulder before walking toward the door. However, as he opened it, he stopped and turned. 

“Another piece of hard-earned advice?” Michael nodded for him to continue. “You just learned how short life is, how precious every minute is. You don’t go to bed alone or angry ever. You ain’t gotta fix it tonight, you ain’t even gotta talk about it tonight. But don’t let her fall asleep down that hall thinkin’ you don’t wanna fix whatever this is. Understand?” 

“Yea I gotchu. Thanks pops.” 

“Anytime, son.” 

Michael downed the rest of his drink before grabbing his own pillow and walking down the hallway to the guest room he knew Charlotte would be in. The door was not closed all the way so he peeked through the crack for a moment, studying her form which was curled into a tight ball in the middle of the bed. Her light sniffles reached his ears and immediately propelled him forward. 

He knocked on the door.

“Come in,” she called, her voice broken and small. She forced herself into a seated position, wiping her tear-stained cheeks as she sat up. 

They stared at each other expectantly for a few moments before Michael stepped forward. 

“I know I’ve been… distant in a lot of ways the last few weeks. And probably overbearing and controlling, which isn’t what I want you to feel. And I’m sorry for that. And if I had the right words to explain why, I would. But I don’t. I don’t know what this feeling is o-or how to describe it to you. And I can assure you it’s not because I don’t want you. I’ll always want you. But I know this isn’t what you need and this isn’t the relationship I want for us. I know you’re already working with your therapist but maybe we can try couple’s counseling? For a couple weeks? Maybe we can get back on track sooner rather than later.” 

“Really?” she asked. Michael had never expressed anti-therapist sentiments and supported her journey wholeheartedly but he always said he never considered going himself, never thought he would need one. “I thought about suggesting it for us… after everything. I just figured you wouldn’t be into it.” 

Michael meandered over to her side of the bed and sat down, his hand rubbing her leg. 

“I’m into whatever you and I need to do to get back on the same page. I love you and I want you and I know I haven’t been myself lately,” he admitted. “But I hear you and I’m willing to figure it out so I can support you how you need me to.” 

“Thank you… for that. And I’m sorry for blowing up at you. I just… I just want to be me again. I want us again,” she mumbled, bringing her knees to her chest. 

“I know. And we’ll get there. I promise. I’m in it for the long haul, even if we gotta go to so many sessions we fund a beach house for your therapist.” 

Charlotte let out a cackling laugh. “I mean I’ve definitely already funded her beach house… maybe a like cabin in the woods next… she loves that type of stuff.” Charlotte rolled her eyes with a chuckle before her face returned to it’s more solemn expression. She stared at him for a few minutes before grabbing her pillow. “Will it completely ruin my street cred next argument if I come back to our room? This bed sucks,” she muttered. It was harder than their bed and more uncomfortable but the reality was, she had no interest in sleeping alone even if she was still upset. 

Michael kissed her on the forehead and gestured toward the door. “A very small ding in street cred,” he joked. “But,” he lifted up his own pillow. “I lose some too for coming in here like a lost damn puppy.” He joked, both of them laughing. 

“God, we can’t even do one night mad at each other right.” 

“I think that’s a good sign,” Michael remarked. “Think that means we’re gonna be just fine.” 

“Yea… we will be.”

Tag List: @certifiedlesbianbaddie @bangtanxmegan @reelwriter19 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @hi888888sworld @msniaimani @destinio1 @lynaye1993 @chaoticevilbakugo @blackerthings @pipsqueak-98 @miyuhpapayuh @passionxwrites @gopaperless @injerafiend @ari17

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Drop a comment and let me know what you think and how therapy's gonna go for our favs. This'll be the last update till December!

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

[interestellarprincess]

The 1

Pairing: Lance Stroll x Reader

Summary: After two years, destiny put them together to fix things out.

Warnings: none, just a poorly written english (not my first language) and sad swiftie's drabble. Also some personal words i'd like to say to him.

A/N: It took me some time to finish this one, but when I was writing the part 1, already knew that part 2 would be with this song.

TYSM for being here tolerating my bad writing :)

Now to the good stuff, SUMMONING ALL LANCE GIRLIES!!!!

This oneshot has a part 1

Taglist: @motorsp0rt, @mirrorball-6

2 years have passed since the last time they saw each other. Two years since y/n had her heart broken by one of her favorite persons in the world. She took six months to finally get through what happened at the cafe with Lance. She got back to work and tried to live through it, because deep down, she knew that he was out there living his life with the other girl he took home and it wasn’t fair for her to be the only one frozen in time.

After those six months, y/n’s boss got her a recommendation letter to work as a social media in one of the formula one teams. Later, she found out that the job was at Mercedes and she couldn’t be happier. Y/n thought that her life was finally getting into the right course and nothing could stop her, not even the possibility of meeting him during one of the race weekends.

So it happened. Everything was fine, until Spain 2023.

It was Friday, before FP1, y/n was on her way to the Mercedes hospitality. The paddock was kinda full of people, mostly staff giving the final touches for the weekend, since it was a bit early for the gates to open . Y/n was trying to get through the people carefully enough to not spill her cup full of coffee. She failed her mission. Steps away of her destination, someone bumped her and the only thing she saw at that time was the green blur going through her. “Hey you! pay attention next time!” she yelled, not expecting for the blur to turn and come back close to her, not expecting for it to come back as a ghost that she’d been avoiding since the beginning of the season.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, did you got burn…” Lance’s apologies stopped when he notice who was the person with the white shirt covered in coffee. ‘‘Y/n?, w-what are you doing here?’’ he shouldn’t be that surprised, but for a moment he wasn’t imagining that it was her in front of him, not after all these years.

After a few moments of processing, she finally managed to say something. “I work here, Lance.” She said trying to fix her shirt but it wasn’t worth it anymore. Meanwhile, he was just there, frozen looking at her. “Are you going to stay there looking like a statue or you’re going to apologize? I don’t have all the time and I imagine that you don’t have it too.” She was cold, but she needed to be. He blinked going back to reality.

“ y/n, I- I’m really sorry for ruining your shirt and your coffee… It’s just that I’m surprised by seeing you here.” He said scratching the back of his neck “look, can I get you another coffee? For, you know…” he was still thinking about what to say to her, she had no idea but she also haunted him after what happened. He felt like a piece of garbage for treating her that way and he wanted to apologize some day, but he wasn’t planning that this day would come so soon.

“Fine!” She agreed so fast that anyone would say it was because she was excited for it, however, all she wanted was to finally end this embarrassing and slightly stressing scene and go back to her normal day with not meeting her ex best friend and definitely without any coffee spilled all over her shirt. “Just dm me when and I’ll come, but now i need to go and get all of this coffee away” her hands were floating in front of her stained shirt during the last part of the sentence.

“Okay, see you later then!” he didn’t even finished his sentence when she was already leaving to the hospitality.

When Y/N arrived at the building, her friend Maya stopped her immediately. “Oh my god,Y/N! what happened to you? and why you’re looking like you saw a ghost?” she said already taking her friend to the nearest bathroom to get cleaned “Tell me everything!”

“If the ghost’s name is Lance Stroll, then I indeed saw one” Y/N was trying to dry her shirt with some paper towels while telling the whole thing to Maya, of course it didn’t worked, so the friend went out to get a new shirt for her. While Maya was out, Y/N noticed the notification on her phone.

@Lancestroll: I hope you’re ok and not burned

@yourusername: I’m fine, and the coffee wasn’t that hot

@Lancestroll: again, sorry for the shirt

@yourusername: it’s ok

@Lancestroll: btw, what do you think about today after debrief?

@yourusername:????

@Lancestroll: the “I’m sorry for ruining your morning coffee”? For what I remember, you’re not one of those with a bad memory.

Shit, he was right. Truth is that she just wasn’t ready to face him again.

@yourusername: oh right! After debrief is fine for me, see you there.

Y/N completely ignored his comment, but deep down, it still got her that he still knew her well. Maya came back, Y/N changed her shirt and the day went by as normal as possible.

Later…

Y/N was on her way to meet him at his team’s hospitality, when she finally entered the place covered in the team colors she saw him. He was there already on a table and waiting for her with her coffee, just like he did on the last time they spoke, just like he did on the day she left. For a minute, she felt like it was going to happen again, but the feeling passed when he said her name and waved at her.

“Different times now Y/N, different situations.” she said to herself inside her head.

She sat at the table, he smiled at her and handed her coffee. “I think it tastes better when it’s not all over you, right?” he tried to break the tension between them, because he knew that this meeting wasn’t because of the earlier accident, but because of the accident that happened two years ago.

“yeah sure it does!” she gave him a small smile after noticing how nervous he looked. “So, how are you doing? It’s been a while since we’ve last talked” Lance’s voice while finishing the sentence was almost a whisper.

“Oh, I’m good! On some new shit now as you can see” she chuckled while pointing to the silver star on her shirt.

“Yeah, this is so cool, I’m happy for you.” he took a sip from his cup “Did you started this year? I- I thought I saw you at Abu Dhabi last year.” Lance was nervous about her answer, because he could swear he saw her. Or maybe he was just missing her too much to the point of seeing her everywhere.

“Hm, sorry but it wasn’t me” she stared at her coffee “I started this year, John got me a recommendation letter. Anyways, tell me, how are you doing? How’s Juliana going? I didn’t saw her at the paddock” she knew she was a bit rough the moment she saw him look down.

He got surprised at how direct her words were, it was like ripping off a BandAid. He sighed “I think she’s fine, we broke up before last year’s summer break.” he stared at his coffee.

“oh, I’m sorry, you two looked happy together” she knew that they weren’t happy, but she was trying to be optimistic.

“No need to be sorry Y/n, actually, I’m the one who owns you an apologie.” he looked at her deep in the eyes and, for a second, she felt her body shiver. “I’m sorry for being an ass to you two years ago. You didn’t deserved to be treated that way, especially by someone you liked and who liked you back. I’m really sorry.’’ he said putting his hands over hers on the table.

Y/n sighed and looked at their hands together. " It’s okay now, Lance. If you never bleed you never gonna grow, right?” she gave him a soft smile.

After the apologies, the atmosphere between them got a bit lighter. “So, tell me, how are you doing? You’ve been doing great on the past race weekends.” she gave him a smile.

“If you say so, thanks!” he chuckled “But I know I need to work harder If I want to be quarter the driver that Fernando is.”

“Oh Lance, I guess you still the same when it comes to being too harsh on yourself.” she gave him a kind look " I know the media haven’t been the best with you, but you need to know you don’t need to be quarter of anyone than yourself. You’re still young and there’s plenty of time to improve your driving, and I trust you.”

“I guess I needed to hear that, thank you Y/n.” He smiled at her. “So, how about you…” he was about to finish his sentence when he looked down at her hands and saw the ring. “You’re engaged?” he was surprised.

“Guilty” she chuckled “His name is Travis, he’s one of the Mercedes engineers. My friend presented us last year by coincidence, before I got my job.” she smiled.

“Well, congratulations! I’m happy for you.” he said, but inside, his thoughts were screaming that it should be him. And he couldn’t help being mad at himself for it.

“Oh, thanks Lance” she was indeed happy with her life, but she couldn’t hold the thought that if her wishes came true, it would’ve been him. His ring on her finger, him wanting to spend a life with her. She knew it was wrong thinking this, but deep down she also knew that sometimes it was impossible to defend herself for never leaving well enough alone.

They chatted for a while, before their phones started to ring and they had to say goodbye. They promise to keep in touch because they missed each others friendship.

And in that moment, when they were leaving and following different ways, both of them started to think of what could’ve happened if that one moment had been different. Would everything be different between them now in the present? They felt the need to ask this burn inside their heads, but none of them were strong enough to ask it.

What they knew is that definitely everything would be sweet, if they were each others One.

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

I got a depressing update. I overheard my mom saying they found my cat and she was dead (shot). I really hope I misheard her but can I get another scenario with the same characters (+adam)

Hi Squeezy. I'm so sorry to hear your update. Losing a pet is never easy, especially when it's in circumstances like this. I hope you like the headcanons.

Part 1 can be found here and the "good" ending can be found here.

Fandom: Sk8 the Infinity

Characters: Reki Kyan, Langa Hasegawa, Miya Chinen, Kojiro Nanjo, Kaoru Sakurayashiki, Ainosuke Shindo (Adam) x gn! Reader (separate)

Reki will be easily the most comforting person here. He’s right there for you if you want any form of comfort.

Definitely a bit in shock. He was keeping his hopes up, despite his more pessimistic side suggesting the worst so when he finds out about your cat, he’s definitely saddened.

Will help you in any way he can. Want him to duck out and get your favourite snack? He’s on it. Want him to stay with you and take your mind off things? You got it. Want a hug? He’s already wrapping his arms around you.

He’s furious by the way. How dare someone hurt your cat. But he’s going to hide that anger for now. You don’t need him going off at the moment. Right now, you need someone to comfort you.

Langa is greatly saddened by the news but may have trouble expressing it. It’s not that he struggles with emotions, it’s more that he has difficulty showing those emotions in a way that others can recognise.

He will probably run home as fast as possible to ask his mum for advice and see if she can make his favourite comfort food. If it works for him, it’s sure to work for you, right?

Langa’s not as angry as Reki but that doesn’t mean he isn’t itching to go and find whoever hurt your cat and teach them a lesson.

But in the meantime, he’ll keep you company and do what he can to help ease the pain you’re in.

Miya might be more distraught than you are. After everything he did to help find your furry friend, this happens?

He’ll probably need some comfort as well. It’s mutual. You give him hugs, he’ll give you hugs. Just don’t tell the others about this! He’s got a reputation to uphold.

Once he calms down a bit, he’s going on every social media platform he put posts on about your missing cat and giving the people who helped an update.

He’s probably found out exactly what happened to your cat by this point so he’s doxxing the culprit on those platforms as well. What? It’s not his fault their information was so easy to find…

Joe’s able to do a lot more than any of the kids, mostly because he’s got more life experience. He’s going to contact the authorities as soon as possible so that the culprit is brought to justice.

Then he’s making you your favourite food and sitting with you for a while. He’s happy to talk about anything or nothing, as long as he’s helping you feel even a tiny bit better.

Much like Reki, he’s got a lot of anger building inside him towards whoever hurt your cat but he’ll wait to let it out.

He will let it out though. Whether physically or verbally, is another matter but he’s certainly going to give the culprit a piece of his mind.

Cherry is going to take a far more subtle approach to the situation than Joe. His first priority is making sure you’re okay without smothering you.

Whatever form of comfort you want, he’ll do. Want some space? Need to talk? Want your mind taken off everything? You got it.

As soon as you’re okay though, Cherry’s enacting his revenge plan. He won’t play an active role in bringing the culprit to justice but you can be sure he’s the one orchestrating everything.

He’s calling the authorities so legal justice can be brought about. And then, should word get out around S that someone dared to hurt the pet of the partner of one of their top skater’s? Well, that’s hardly Cherry’s fault…

Adam is seething. How dare they hurt your cat and, by extension, hurt you? He’s going to take revenge as fast as possible.

Of course, he’ll make sure you’re okay first. You are his top priority after all. But as soon as he’s sure you’ll be okay, he’s putting Tadashi in charge of keeping you company and heading off to his office.

While there, he’ll call in a few favours from a variety of different places (both reputable and not) before slipping out of the house.

A mysteriously dressed man with wild blue hair will visit the culprit and deal out some justice before disappearing. Shortly after, the police will arrive to arrest the culprit. What? No, Adam was in his office the whole time…

[polyamzeal]

Public Breakup Post

On my personal Facebook I posted a long post about my recent breakup. I am going to cross-post it here as a record of the rawness of polyamorous breakup. I appreciate all sympathy given but honestly I have talked to people a lot about it already. I honestly hope this is more of the opposite that it can help other people going through a breakup or hard times to have something relatable to connect with. Also totally fine if you skip this one and keep on scrolling.

When I first became polyamorous I came to the realization that my relationships are my business. I don’t need to be public about them. I purposely limit how much I post about partners on social media. That is privileged information that I only share with people I trust. If someone wants to know about my relationships they can message me privately. But this time it feels appropriate to share a bit more than usual, so I am making a conscious effort to share for a number of reasons. One of the worst parts of polyamory I always say is the breakups. The last two breakups I stayed mostly or completely quiet about. Those partners were closeted, and combined with that, most people didn’t even know I was dating them or how much they meant to me. Furthermore the most common response a monogamous person will have to a polyamorous person with another partner while going through a breakup is, “What is the big deal, you still have a partner so you aren’t single.” This is incredibly hurtful and inconsiderate. The other common response is for them to say, “See, polyamory doesn’t work”, as if countless monogamous breakups across history wouldn’t show that monogamy doesn’t work. So most of the time it is best to just keep breakups secret and not talk about them. Which really sucks and hurts a lot. But I had a breakup recently, and it seems fitting to not keep this one secret and make it public. It was hard, painful, and I have questioned it ever since. My ex is a great person who I still love very much and want the best for them. I don’t regret the relationship and I have many fond precious memories of it. But recently it had just felt “off” in ways that are hard to explain and recognize. Plus we have both had a lot of personal stress outside our relationship as well. There was still a lot of happiness and great times mixed in but also just a lot of stress and anxiety. I wasn’t happy like I used to be and I just felt like I wasn���t getting what I wanted out of the relationship anymore. I am also sure what I wanted has definitely changed since the beginning, also in hard to explain ways. It felt like I was asking for too much out of the relationship. I needed to take a step back and breathe. Focus on my own mental health a bit before I could figure out that particular relationship. Get better at communicating all those hard to explain emotions and expectations. Learn about how I have changed and what I want out of relationships has changed. Sadly, I knew I couldn’t do that while still being in that relationship. It feels unfair to them but I needed to put my own emotional health first before that relationship. One reason I am posting all this is because of society overdramatizing breakups. It makes for good entertainment the more of a dumpster-fire train-wreck a breakup is. But not all breakups need to be like that. Society has told us that if a relationship breaks up then it is labeled a “failure”. THAT IS BULLSHIT! A relationship isn’t deemed a success based on how it ends. The Multiamory Podcast has an important saying as part of their relationship advice, “It is okay to break up.” Also ‘The Polyamory Breakup Book’ by Kathy Labriola gives a ton of examples why people might break up without it being all one person’s fault or someone being bad. A lot of times things just change. People change. I treasure and value that relationship so much. I feel so lucky it happened. They had a positive impact on my life and I hope I did on theirs too. I am sorry that our relationship had changed to this but I am also hopeful that this change will be an evolution, not a downgrade. That right now this is what is best for us and hopefully the future will be bright for us.

[w1ldthoughts]

Why Lie?

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Synopsis: Jack and Zoey deal with the aftermath of the confession.

He’d been going through the motions for the last two months. But, he did have Ava to keep him company. And Tyler and Alyssa. Oh and there was Kaitlin for a few nights. There were some names that he couldn’t remember off the top of his head but that was only because he needed someone to sleep next to. It wouldn’t be beneficial for him to be alone with his thoughts for too long. 

Zoey on the other hand went back to her normal life. She went to work and got things done. Then she went back to her place, made dinner and sat alone with her cat. Every night for the last two months. 

Something had to change. She pulled out her laptop, looked for flights and packed her bags to leave that evening. 

Los Angeles was always hit or miss. Her best friend was there, which is definitely what she needed right now, but it also reminded her of everything that happened the last time she was here. They hadn’t spoken since that night in Louisville and she didn’t want to. What she wanted to do was get in her bikini and forget about men for the rest of her life. DK was even in town to spend bye week with Mani and brought one of his teammates Darrell Taylor with him to “cheer her up.” She and Darrell had exchanged a few DMs here and there but nothing really came from it. Maybe this time would be different. 

The four of them were heading out of Nobu when he called the first time. Zoey took a deep breath, her finger hovering over the answer button before she hit decline. He called again as soon as they got to Elevate Lounge and she ignored it once more. The third time she excused herself from their section and stepped outside to answer.

“Jack? Are you okay? Why do you keep calling me?” She felt embarrassed that after everything that happened, she still cared about him. 

He hesitated before he spoke, hearing her voice for the first time in 57 days really rocked him emotionally. Not that he’d been counting. “Um yeah. Yeah I’m fine, I just—I saw that you’re hanging out with some Seahawks and—“

“That’s none of your business.” She spat out. Here she was worried about his safety and all he was concerned with was being in her business. No apology or anything. “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve calling me to press me about who I’m hanging out with. Why don’t you go see what your little carousel girls are doing since you’ve got them spinning around in an endless circle, each of them hoping that one day you’ll choose them.” After two months of radio silence, she wanted, no needed to let him have it. 

She lets out a dry laugh. “I wish you would be more be honest with yourself Jack. You and I are not together because of your inability to commit. Don’t call me, don’t text me, don’t even think about me. You were right, this shit isn’t a fairytale and I’m glad I woke up because I now see you for what you truly are, a self obsessed whore with an extremely fragile ego. Hope it all works out for you in the long run.”

Before he could speak she hung up the phone and it left him feeling worthless. He knew she had every right to be upset with him after his childlike temper tantrum during their last night together. And then the first thing out of his mouth when he heard her voice was to ask about another guy? Zoey was never going to speak to him ever again and he knew it. So he just had to come to terms with it and…look at every single one of her social media platforms on his burner account. 

Urban was over it. He’d allowed Jack to throw a pity party for the first month. Then the second month came and his attitude just got even worse. Things took an even bigger turn the last two days and he didn’t know why. His best friend was extra moody. He had already yelled at Neelam and EJ that morning and now he was about two seconds away from breaking something in the studio because he felt like the sound wasn’t right. 

“Fuck it. Imma take five. I don’t want anybody in my face so please just figure this shit out with the beat and I’ll be back.” Jack mumbled, rubbing his eyes in frustration. 

Now, Urban did give him five minutes before walking into the little room that the man in question had been hiding in. He found the rapper seated on the couch with his head in his hands. With a deep sigh, he sat down beside the dejected figure. 

Jack looks up and rolls his eyes. “Urb, I don’t wanna fucking do this right now. Leave me alone bro, forreal.”

He would have laughed but the way his friend’s demeanor reeked of shame and regret made him decide against it. “We both know there’s nothing wrong with the song man. Did something else happen?” 

Jack looked up at him and scoffed. “I went on a date the other night. And then she went to the bathroom so I was checking my phone and I saw Zoey’s story. She was next to some big ass dude and his hands were on her and I don’t know—I just.” He shook his head and laughed again, like he was two seconds away from being in tears. 

“It fucked me up for the rest of the night. I was balls deep in this perfectly nice, normal and beautiful girl and the whole time I was thinking about someone who is 1000 miles away, probably not even thinking about me because I lied to her and told her I don’t feel the same way she does.”

Urban sighs, feeling a headache of his own coming on. “So what did you do?”

“I told ol’ girl to leave while we were having sex. Couldn’t do it anymore. And I was just sitting there by myself feeling pathetic so I called Zoey. It was stupid and she got on my ass about everything I said and rightfully so.”

His lip starts quivering a bit, “I fucked up Urb. I knew I was going to fuck it up so I just sped up the process and now—fuck.” He pauses, covering his eyes again, his shoulders shaking slightly. 

“What are you so afraid of?” 

Jack takes another deep breath, trying to collect himself. He was really in tears over this girl, again. “I’m scared that I’m gonna fall in love with her and disappoint the fuck out of her. I don’t want her to have this idea of me that’s great and perfect because what if I let her down? I’ve never felt like this with anybody before and that shit terrifies me, hurting her terrifies me. Because seeing the look on her face that night? Seeing her cry knowing it was my fucking fault? I can’t deal with that shit man.”

“So you’d rather be miserable and make her feel like shit than be honest? That’s a pussy ass move bro. Maybe you really don’t deserve her.” Urban begins. “I knew from the moment you saw her at that party that you were stuck. You don’t ever allow yourself to trust people and you gave her your everything right away. I’m not going to tell you how to live your life and you know I’m with you till the wheels fall off but you and I both know that Zoey is special to you. What you need to do is cut the shit, quit being a dick to everybody and go apologize to your girl and pray to God that she forgives you.”

“Cause you sitting here crying and miserable has really been killing my vibe.” 

Jack lets out a genuine laugh, “Oh I’m sorry that me ruining my own life is cramping your style. My bad Urb, I’ll work on it.”

“You fucking better because that girl deserves better. So you need to do better.” He gives him a pointed look, walking out of the room to leave Jack alone with his thoughts once again. 

That night, Urban decided to call and check in on Zoey. If Jack was this bad, he was really hoping that she was doing better. She surprisingly answered on the first ring. 

“Hi Urban Henry. What’s up?” She sang into the phone, earning a short laugh. 

“Well Zoey Elise, just wanted to check in on you, felt pretty shitty for not calling or texting after you left Louisville and I found Jack by himself, attempting to turn the house into a brothel.” He sighs. “I’m sorry I encouraged you to make the first move, I was hoping it would work out but everything just went to shit—”

“Stop.” She interrupted. “I literally was about to combust from the inside out if I didn’t tell him that week. It wasn’t your fault. I actually wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me? What the hell for?”

“For encouraging me to be honest, I needed a push and you were real enough to give it to me. So thanks Urby.”

The photographer shook his head in disbelief. “You’re welcome I guess. Didn’t turn out the way I hoped but that’s because Jack is an idiot sometimes. He’s my best friend on the planet but goddamn. And what he said to you was way outta line, I almost beat his ass for talking to you like that.”

“I’m over it now, I got my lickback a little bit. But I do have a question,” she pauses and Urban gives her the go ahead. “How is he?”

The two continued their conversation for a little over two hours, catching up and promising to see each other at a Seahawks game soon. Urban really did have her back ever since they first spoke and Jack was lucky to have a best friend that told him the truth. Once they said their goodbyes, Urban walked downstairs to get his extra pack of lighters in the cabinet, expecting to find Jack on the couch sulking. He was surprised to find the tv off and the couch empty, so he grabbed his stuff and headed up to his best friend’s room. It was also empty.

“What the hell?” Urban asked himself out loud. He called and texted Jack, earning no response for almost three hours. His usual nighttime activities were a long afterthought and he searched the house for any clues as to where Jack could have gone. Upstairs in the closet, his travel backpack and favorite pairs of shoes were gone and it clicked. 

Urban smiled to himself and headed off to his room after cracking the case. 

Jack was on the verge of throwing up. There were so many things that could go wrong here and he didn’t think that his heart could take any more mental breakdowns this week. After his heart to heart with Urban, he knew what he had to do because there was no way that he could keep living like this and treating the people he loved like shit. In the studio he apologized to Neelam and EJ as well as finishing the song that day with no further issues. Now, it was time for the ultimate stop on his apology tour. He knocked on the door and closed his eyes, praying for her to open it. 

Zoey swung the door open with an unamused look on her face. “You’re not the food I ordered.”

“I’m not,” he gave a shaky chuckle, “but I do have your order if that’s enough for you not to turn me away?”

He was nervous as fuck and she could tell. Zoey stepped to the side to let him in. “What are you doing here, Jack?”

“Just really hated how we left things before on the phone and I wanted to say that I’m sorry for coming at you like that and you were right. My ego is fragile and I had no business being in yours. And I know you’re wondering why I flew all the way here to tell you that but I didn’t want my last image of you to be in tears, walking out my door.” He spoke softly, like he was afraid of saying the wrong thing.

She furrowed her eyebrows a bit, “I appreciate the apology but you flew to Miami to do what? Make sure I wasn’t still crying over you?”

“No Zo, that’s not what I’m saying at all.” He shook his head vigorously, his heart racing at the thought of messing up his last opportunity. Jack cleared his throat after releasing a long breath. “Listen I—I’m a control freak. And you make me feel out of control. I get giddy and red in the face like a little boy trying to impress his first crush on the playground. And I lied to you and I am so sorry for that. Telling you I don’t have feelings for you has been eating me alive and I had to tell you that in person.” 

“Zoey,” he continued, tears brimming his eyes. “Baby, you are excruciatingly out of my league and it scared the shit out of me that you saw potential in me that I didn’t see in myself. So I pushed you away. I said anything I could think of to make you hate me because I would hate myself if I got to be with you and somehow fucked it up. But I—am the worst version of myself since I lied to you. I’ve been mean and impatient and Urban might actually kill me in my sleep soon if I don’t turn my shit around.”

“I was immature as fuck for how I handled your honesty and I just needed to see you one more time to tell you how sorry I am for disrespecting you like I did. It will never happen again.”

She didn’t know what to say. Or how to act. He was just, standing in front of her bearing his soul, telling her what she needed to hear all those weeks ago. “Jack, what are you saying? Because I don’t know if I can just go back to what we were. I mean it’s been months of you doing God knows what with God knows who and—and now you show up here telling me that you had feelings for me all along? What are you saying and what do you want?”

“I’m saying, I can’t promise you I’m always going to know what I’m doing. And I know for sure I’m going to fuck up a little bit along the way.” He closes the distance between them, gently reaching for one of her hands. It took every ounce of self control in his body not to cheer when she didn’t pull away from his touch. “I can’t promise any of those things but I can promise you I’m gonna be the best damn boyfriend you’ve ever had. You have my word.”

She felt the air leave her lungs when he squeezed her hand but she collected herself. “So now you wanna be my boyfriend?”

“I’m tired of lying to myself and everyone else. I wanna be with you, in every fucking capacity imaginable. You are everything I could ever want and I see myself being your husband eventually so yes, boyfriend is a title I’m more than happy with for now…What do you say?” 

“I say..you should come closer. Boyfriends get kisses.” 

The smile on his face was something she never wanted to forget for the rest of her life. “Your boyfriend flew 2.5 hours for this, he definitely wants a few kisses.”

He pulled her in for a long awaited hug, the consistent thumping of their heartbeats were in-sync as he reached down to cup her face in his hands. With their foreheads touching, she let out a soft laugh as their lips met. The kiss was filled with the emotions of longing and forgiveness, he’d dreamt about getting a do-over and she’d thought about how hard it would be to forget him. Jack wasn’t perfect by any means but he was her version of a fairytale, the one person in this world that she wanted to go to battle with, no matter the outcome. And he knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life proving to her and to himself that he could trust someone enough to be his most authentic self, there was nowhere to hide with Zoey because she held his heart in her hands. As terrifying as that was, he’d already gone through the hell that was his life when he had to be without her. 

Zoey took a break from the kiss to take in the moment. “I do hope you know that this is all you’re getting. You’ll need at least a month detox from the sex binging you did after you fucked up. So don’t even think about getting in my pants until all that activity is long behind us.”

“Fair enough,” he laughs, giving her a kiss on the side of the head. “Just know, I will be patiently waiting until the day I’m allowed to inappropriately touch you again.”

“You’re a freak.”

“Yeah but you’re stuck with me now. And I’m not going anywhere stink, so you better get used to it.” He looked into her eyes and gave her a quick peck. 

“That doesn’t sound too bad, actually. Being stuck with you might be fun. Even with all of your dramatics. We could’ve been dating by now.” Zoey states.

Jack begins to caress her cheek with his thumb. “I know I was being really shitty. I like you so much that it actually scares me. But I’m working on it.”

“I like you too, Superstar. And I’m glad you showed up tonight.”

“That’s Superstar Boyfriend to you, sister.” He jokes, earning a light smack on the arm. 

Some things are just supposed to happen.

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@jackharloww

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: I know you’re a royalist and I enjoy your insightful and thoughtful posts on the institution rather than the gossip. However I was wondering if you will be reading Prince Harry’s memoir ’Spare’? What do you make of his public interviews and his Netflix series if you have seen them?

I shall not be reading Prince Harry’s memories ’Spare’ because what’s the point?

Everything we really needed to know has already spilled out across premature leaks of the book and gleeful splashes across the tabloid press. Thankfully I don’t have to read these rags where I live.

But you can’t escape. There seems to be a media blitz by the Duke and Duchess of Sussex in recent weeks. Even out in Verbier where I was enjoying a ski vacation with my family, since my return from Dubai, one couldn’t escape the Sussexes.

I can only blame myself for watching the 6 hour snooze fest that was the Netflix documentary series by Harry and Meghan. Those are 6 hours I can never get back. Now I’ve got chatty aunts who are blowing up my WhatsApp with infuriated texts at Harry and his interview and now the book publication. I’m just glad I’m on this side of the Channel in Paris and able to focus on more important things in life.

I’m actually quite sad rather than mad at Prince Harry and his folly. He’s hurting, he’s hurting badly since the death of his mother. If you comb through my blog you’ll know that I didn’t take a particularly negative stance towards Harry and Meghan because they were constitutionally irrelevant - and these are the things I’m really interested in rather than the daily tittle tattle. I’m more interested in Bagehot than royal bonking.

I also had another reason and that was loyalty to a brother officer. We served in the same Army Air Corps out in Afghanistan but our tours didn’t overlap at all as I was a few years behind him and so what I knew of his service was secondhand. But I’ve met him on a few occasions at regimental gatherings and social settings since our circle of friends have some overlap. I hastened to add that I don’t particularly know him but I liked him a lot. He had a disdain for the typical ‘Rupert’ (male officers of a privileged class) but he was quite down to earth and funny with the rank and file soldiers. He was easy going with me and maybe that’s because I was a female officer and I didn’t quite fit into that dominant male Rupert culture. I don’t know for sure. 

Still, perhaps it’s the way I’ve been raised but I couldn’t bring myself to comment on his personal life choices, even if one had reservations as to the consequences of them.

But I have to say out of all the revelations that irked me the most it was his revelation of how many Taliban ‘terrorists’ he killed out in Afghanistan. He said he killed around 25 Taliban fighters as a gunner on an Apache helicopter.

There is no reason not to believe him. These things can be easily verified to some extent when after a mission you look over the recorded footage. That’s not what irks me. What bothers me is why he chose to say all this.

There is a code amongst soldiers that you don’t talk about this shit. It’s so unprofessional and unseemly. Even amongst soldiers we don’t talk about it. We know about it but we still don’t talk about it. War is mostly tedious, boring, and waiting around for the shit to hit the fan. But when it does you move your arse into gear and get your job done. And when it’s done, come home, crack open a beer with comrades out of shared relief, be thankful you made it out alive, and then shut the fuck up.

I think Harry really has let himself down and his fellow army brothers and sisters. Forget for a moment the security risk because of his disclosure, amongst British veterans I chat with on private social media, they feel a sense of personal betrayal. I don’t feel that but I do feel Harry hasn’t done himself any favours in regaining the genuine respect every soldier had for him for getting his hands dirty in the trenches and not expecting any special favours because he was a royal.

It’s hard not to feel some sympathy for Harry. It can’t be easy being the spare, the younger brother whose role in the royal “firm” started in a position of subordination and has become steadily more subordinate as more direct heirs arrive to dilute his lineage. There are plenty of younger siblings who have suffered in this way although none of us can imagine the particular hardship of being the “spare” to a throne. Add to that the unimaginable repressed pain and grief of losing his mother and to do so in public is something none of us can fathom. No wonder he was happy in the army where he could be himself and achieve things on personal merit, and more importantly, be away from the fierce and unforgiving public glare.

But that was then. That was the Harry before he met Meghan Markle. A very different Harry has emerged. He sounded less British and more American with all this woke gobble gook. I mean this as no slight to my American friends but Harry should really trade in his British passport and become a permanent resident of California.

What I saw made me pity him. I saw a man so seething with resentment, so unaware of his own privilege, that he is eaten up with petty grievances. He complains about his stepmother turning his old bedroom at Clarence House into a dressing room – when he was 28 years old and in possession of an entire house of his own. We see a man so dim he sees no contradiction between expressing hope for a reconciliation with his family, at the very same time as bitching about them on the world stage. A man so lacking in self-awareness he sees no hypocrisy in complaining about the press intruding on his privacy, in the exact same breath as he tells tittle tattle tales about his brother and sister-in-law. A man so self-absorbed he has no notion of duty, service or respect – either to brotherly bonds, the royal family or the ‘code of silence’ among soldiers.

Why would anyone expose themselves to the world in this way?

A common explanation is that Harry is doing this for the money - that in order to fund his Montecito lifestyle he must sell his soul to Netflix and Penguin books. I’m not sure I buy that argument fully. Certainly through the the many interviews and hours of Netflix footage show no sign of a man held hostage, with personal details being cajoled out of him against his will. Another common explanation that Meghan puts him up to it but as popular as that prevailing view is in the UK, I really don’t think he had Meghan Markle by his side to be so insufferable and whiney. Ms. Markle may have given him the ammunition of language (‘unconscious bias’, ‘white privilege’, ‘lived experience’, ‘my truth’ etc) but the thoughts are all his. This is all on him and his repressed resentments towards his own family.

Watching Harry unload is as fascinating as watching a car crash in slow motion. To me Harry is a cautionary tale of what happens when we abandon all boundaries between the public and private spheres of our lives. Harry seems to have lost any sense of a border between his interior world of thoughts and feelings, and the outside world of speech; between the private realm of family and home and the public realm of work, responsibility and social convention.

Call me a stiff arsed Brit but I am not the only one. I feel I reflect the private horror of most British people that someone could be so confessional in such a shamelessly public way. It’s like the staple ending of all romcom Hollywood movies where the guy has to confess his error before the crowd to win back the girl.

We Brits take another approach. Families argue all the time. Siblings fight. We get angry and upset. And in the heat of the moment, we say things we might later regret. Crucially, this takes place behind closed doors, in private. The privacy of the home allows us to behave badly, but also to forgive each other and move on. Making details of private squabbles public imbues them with a permanence that they were never meant to have.

If the late Queen Elizabeth II represented an old set of values, Harry and Meghan best embody the new era. The two generations of royals could not be more different. Out goes the stiff upper lip, in comes public emoting. ‘Never complain, never explain’ has been replaced by a six-hour Netflix ‘pity party’. Service to others has been redefined as sharing mental-health struggles. Where the late Queen spoke of nationhood, the Sussexes speak of victimhood. The late Queen kept her cancer diagnosis secret until her death. We read about Meghan’s miscarriage in her column for the New York Times.

The late Queen’s commitment to serve represented more than just an individual pledge. It captured a generational ethos. Harry and Meghan embody the elite assumptions of their age.

There’s the identitarianism, masquerading as anti-racism. By presenting herself as a victim of racism – on, it must be said, rather spurious grounds of ‘unconscious bias’ a term so beloved of HR corporate departments – Meghan Markle has gained status and authority. And in marrying Meghan Markle, Harry is no longer the soldier who introduced us to his ‘little Paki friend’, but a warrior against racism. He is born again. Hallelujah!

Meghan’s gender supposedly makes her a victim, too. She takes every opportunity to remind us that, as a child, she wrote a letter complaining about a sexist advert for washing-up liquid.

Then there’s the Sussexes’ insistence on proclaiming ‘their truth’. Harry and Meghan claim that the truth is whatever they happen to feel at any point in time. If you feel that you were raised without siblings (Meghan) or that you were ‘literally’ brought up in Africa (Harry), then everyone else better just accept it. Although, as the queen so succinctly put it, ‘recollections may vary’.

Woke advocates like Harry and Meghan insist that truth is subordinate to the political narrative. You don’t need to bring any evidence when you’re railing against a supposedly racist media and a Brexit Britain still not over losing the empire.

This is not just about Harry and Meghan. The values this privileged couple embody and the ideas they articulate are continually affirmed by the cultural elite. Netflix, Spotify and book publishers stump up millions for their output. Just this month, the Sussexes were recognised for their ‘philanthropic work fighting against racism and oppression around the world’ by the Robert F Kennedy Human Rights organisation. Academics and journalists lend credibility to their remarks on the Commonwealth and their criticisms of the media. An army of tweeters and commentators are permanently ready to leap to the couple’s defence.

The late Queen’s death also seems to mean that taking pot-shots at the monarchy has become completely acceptable. In their Netflix series, Harry and Meghan criticise ‘the palace’ frequently. They moan about William’s shouting and Charles’s indifference. They mock rituals like curtseying, and visibly struggle with the notion of hierarchy.

Harry seems to resent his place on the hierarchy within the royal family. His resentment is no different in character from any sibling rivalry or our place in society’s hierarchal social and class structures.

Ideas of resentment and jealousy of course echo through time - all the way back to the Garden of Eden with Lucifer resenting God’s creation of Adam and Eve. They have also played a prominent part in the 19th Century, when philosophers sought to create new theories of morality without God. Friedrich Nietzsche, one of my favourite philosophers, borrowed a French word, ressentiment, to anchor the origins of his moral philosophy. By his estimation, Western moral thinking had its roots in the master-slave relationship.

The weak and marginalised members of society (such as persecuted Christians) resented those who oppressed them (the masters) and inverted the prevailing morality, turning humility, equality and compassion into the highest virtues. Nietzsche, one of my favourite philosophers, put it best, “While the noble man lives in trust and openness with himself … the man of ressentiment is neither upright nor naive nor honest and straightforward with himself. His soul squints; his spirit loves hiding places, secret paths and back doors, everything covert entices him as his world, his security, his refreshment.”

The dominant creed of the resentful for most of the 20th Century was Socialism. As George Orwell pointed out, socialists don’t generally love the poor, they hate the rich. When Marxist materialism became discredited with the realisation of the economic failures of the Soviet Union and the rising death counts of Communists and Socialist regimes around the world, the bearers of ‘ressentiment’ turned to other domains into which to inject their venom. Key targets were the spheres of culture, family life, sex, and race.

And so was born critical theory, the bastard child of Post-Modernism and Frankfurt School post-Marxism. To this conception we owe the hierarchy of victimhood, the one to which we must now all defer; it also spawned the language of the social justice warriors - words such as “my truth”, “lived experience”, “white privilege” (or any other kind of privilege for that matter) “intersectionality” and so on.

The virus of critical theory was smuggled into the American culture via academia (two members of the Frankfurt School - Marcuse and Adorno - actually emigrated from Germany to US universities before the war). And from academia, critical theory (popularly understood as wokery) has infected the media, publishing, newsrooms, Hollywood, sports commentators, public administration, HR departments, and even Big Tech. Perhaps the last place you would expect it to appear is the British Royal family. But here comes along Harry, a Prince in the House of Windsor.

I think deep down Harry’s resentment gives credence to his self-belief that he himself is a victim and therefore a loser in life’s lottery, even if he does come from the most privileged of the privileged. Harry has no doubt been deeply frustrated by his status within the family and the nature of his “spare”ness. There is resentment and there is jealousy. Of course the woke creed appeals. And no wonder Harry adopts its language. Which leaves us, ironically, with a hereditary Prince lecturing us about ‘privilege’.

Moreover, Harry’s conduct says a lot about the prevailing norms of our culture about confessing our ‘sins’, and therefore our souls. Harry has been taught to reveal every last intimate detail of his life. More likely, he has been taught by therapists and mentors that this is the right thing to do.

The popular assumption today is that keeping things private or ‘bottled up’ is bad. Complete openness is the best - indeed, the only - way to safeguard your mental health. Harry has imbibed the message that ‘speaking your truth’ is the route to authenticity. We live in an age when being authentic to our ‘true selves’ is considered the pinnacle of achievement. Where centring our own emotional needs above our work, community and even family members is considered not selfish, but imperative.

Fear-mongering about the dark side of privacy has been a popular pastime of psychologists since the time of Sigmund Freud. Over many decades, such beliefs have moved off the therapist’s couch to take root in our broader culture.

Today, the words ‘private’, ‘secret’ and ‘behind closed doors’ arouse suspicion. Rather than conjuring images of home, or the family, a haven in a heartless world, the private sphere has come to be seen as a site of abuse. Reserve, a stiff-upper lip and stoicism are all now considered negative personality traits denoting a lack of warmth and openness. The compulsion to share, to break down the barriers between public and private, is embedded in every aspect of our culture from primary school circle-time to social media, from the advice dished out in magazines to the platitudes spouted by celebrities.

Well, I say screw that.

The irony, of course, is that our sense of ourselves does not become stronger the more it is revealed – it becomes weaker. It leaves us to depend on others to validate our feelings and desires. This is what seems to lie behind Harry’s emotional incontinence. He is not a man exercising agency, in control, seeking only a fat pay cheque. He’s become a pathetic, fragile creature, incapable of seeing beyond his own immediate feelings, unable to exist without constant public validation.  

Look, there are of course other dimensions to Harry’s story. There is the tragic shadow of his mother and the diva attention seeking influence of his Hollywood D-list wife. But to the extent that he is a victim, he is the victim not only of his family circumstances but also of poisonous philosophers and the prevailing dominance of American cultural colonialism of wokery (in this the French intellectuals and commentators are 100% correct, as both left and right see it as a specific American wokery, but fail to see that they originally gave birth to this bastard of an incoherent and nihilistic ideology). Perhaps his example can be a cautionary tale to the rest of us. Harry shows us the importance of keeping some things private....because not everything is about you or me.

So, Harry, for the love of God or even for your much beloved granny, just shut the fuck up!

Thanks for your question.

[whatisreggieshortfor]

Pretend to Be Desirable

A volleyball player and an idol have to pretend to date. It should be fine… right?

Yaku x gn!reader

“You’ll be presenting a relationship together.” His publicist stated, no room for debate. “We need to give off the impression that there’s a romantic appeal to both of you, it’ll help merchandising sales and boost your popularity with fans.”

“I’m not really sure I understand.” You offered, he ignored the adorably confused pout that was already forming in your face, “Me, I get. I sing a lot about love, yada yada. But why does he need this?”

The publicist sighed, and so did your agent, “I hear you don’t spend a lot of time on social media.” You shook your head no, “Well, one of his high school teammates, someone up and coming in the fashion model world, has shared some… let’s say concerning memories about his behavior back then. It makes him seem unapproachable. To counteract that he needs to be portrayed as capable of holding a relationship.”

“So we just… pretend to date. I look desirable to fans, Y/N looks like their songs are written from their experience. I got that right?” Yaku was annoyed that it was Lev of all people that landed him in this meeting. He wanted to get back to training, the entire team was convinced he was in trouble right now. He was not looking forward to the teasing he would get when he put those rumors to bed.

“Yes.” Your agent nodded, “But it is also important that neither your team, nor Y/N’s band know that it isn’t real.”

Your brow furrowed further, “I can’t tell them?”

Yaku sighed, “I understand why I can’t tell the team. Miya and Bokuto don’t exactly scream ‘I can keep a secret’ when they open their big mouths every chance they get.”

You chuckled, suddenly not looking nearly as confused, “I see why my guitarist calls you prickly.”

He rolled his eyes, giving you a smirk, “That teammate used to refer to me as ‘demon-senpai’.”

“Aw!” You laughed harder, almost clapping your hands in your amusement, “That’s actually kinda cute.”

He absolutely did not blush, looking back at his publicist, “I’m ready to pretend to be desirable. Do you have a backstory or do we make that up?”

“It’s yours to decide. But it needs to be public knowledge for the next six months, so assuming neither of you have an ex or one night stand that might show up, you’ll want to plan an amount of time that made you okay to go public.” She shrugged, standing from her desk, “My office is yours while you work it out. We’ve already sent word to the athletic trainer that you’re here because Y/N is going to be performing at a charity match we’ve arranged for the team. When you make the announcement to them, they’ll think that you were informed separately because that’s the type of information partners share with each other.”

Without another word, the two of them disappeared out the door, and you immediately spun your wheelie chair around.

“Wheeeeeeeee!” Yaku was not a soft person, why did he want to smile at your antics? Your chair suddenly stopped, face to face with him, “Ready to make up some shit?”

Walking into the gym, Yaku was not prepared. He really should’ve been, he played with or against damn near everyone here since high school, but he wasn’t. Well actually… he was prepared to be unprepared. Miya was first, because he just had to be.

“Yaku, why didn’t ya tell us ya had some love in yer life?”

“Didn’t realize it was your business.” Yaku rolled his eyes, just knowing it was going to be a long practice.

Aran patted his shoulder, “He doesn’t have to share things he doesn’t want to, Atsumu.”

“But we’re a team, ain’t we?”

“Which performer are they?” Hinata jumped around excitedly, “Iwa couldn’t tell us.”

Shit, he probably should’ve asked, huh?

“We’re called Little Future.” Yaku spun around, seeing you enter the gym with a gleaming happiness, “Hey… darling?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, what’s up?” Dear god, they both sounded so stiff.

You held up a bento, “I made you lunch! Meant to give it to you during the meeting, but you know how I get.” He jogged over to you, hoping to end the interaction quickly. The less time you spent with the team the better.

“‘Little Future’? Sounds kinda… pessimistic, don’t it?”

“Big word for you, Miya.” Sakusa rolled his eyes, nodding at you when you glanced over.

Aran raised his hands as the two of them started arguing, “Hey now, no fighting. Miya, be a bit nicer. That’s your teammate’s partner and they are doing a free show for charity. They don’t deserve the disrespect.”

“Thank you, uh?”

“Aran Ojiro, team captain.” You shook his hand as it was offered, introduction on the tip of your tongue as a voice called out to you.

“Y/N?” Turning you saw a friend from high school, someone you hadn’t seen much of since idol training started.

“Iwaizumi?” Your eyes went wide, rushing over to pull him into a hug, “It’s so weird seeing you without the annoying brunette cutting in!” You spun around, suddenly feeling on high alert, “He isn’t here, is he?”

“No,” Iwa laughed, “Oikawa plays in Argentina these days.”

Heaving a sigh of relief, you grinned, “Good, some ocean between us.”

“What’s up between you and the Great King?”

“Hinata, no one calls him that.” Iwa sighed, but the orange haired boy wasn’t deterred, looking at you with wide curious eyes.

You hummed, elbow propping on Iwa’s shoulder like you used to in school, “Hard to tell. Could’ve been when I had to lend Iwa class notes and he thought I was a member of his fan club. Could’ve been when I gave Makki and Mattsun tickets to a show and he spent three days blowing up my phone about why I didn’t send one for him- I finally had to threaten to change my number that time. Could’ve been when I received a confession on Valentines Day our third year and he had assumed I brought it to confess to him.” Iwa didn’t look bothered by his best friend’s old antics, only offering you a chuckle before he was introducing the team. “Holy shit!” You exclaimed when he made it to Kageyama, “You’re the kid that used to drive him nuts! The one that was better than him, right?”

Iwa nodded, grinning broadly as he nudged your shoulder under their scrutinizing gaze, completely ignoring the boy going pink in the face with a mix of annoyance and embarrassment, “Remember the other guy he used to complain about? The one that always beat us to go to Nationals?”

“My guitarist actually went there! But honestly who could forget ‘yOu ShOuLd HaVe CoMe tO sHiRaToRiZaWa’?” You asked, making a face like you were being put out.

“That’s the guy.” He pointed to Ushijima.

“No. Way.” You excitedly hugged the tower of a man, even though he just awkwardly patted you on the back in return. “Semi is gonna flip when I tell him I finally met you.”

Iwa looked at you curiously as you continued to talk to the team, glanced at Yaku, and then spoke directly to Aran, “Let me borrow Yaku for a moment, I need to speak to him and Y/N about the training they’ve been doing together.”

“Oooh, training, huh?~”

“Literally fuck off, Miya.” Yaku rubbed his forehead, following the two of you to Iwa’s office.

Leaning against his desk rather than sitting down, Iwa crossed his arms over his chest and quirked a brow, “So, how long are you stuck faking this?”

Yaku almost choked on his spit, but you pouted, “Couldn’t you at least pretend I could fool you, Hajime?”

“Never once have you pulled it off, so no.” He chuckled, directing his gaze to Yaku, “What’s your story for a meet cute?”

“Train.” You offered, no longer looking as bothered that he figured you out so fast. “I figured I’d see his Team Japan sweats and strike up a conversation.”

He nodded, “Knowing you there’d be questions of what sport he plays before bonding over mutual players you both knew, yeah?”

“You got it.” Yaku nodded, he really wished they didn’t need to keep going over the details again as he watched the two of you talk. He didn’t need the reminder that he could never actually get someone like you to fall for him. He’s only known you a few hours, but he saw the way the team had already fallen for your charms. Kuroo used to tell him that people needed to grow used to him, his temper, his tendencies, something about him could always send people running to avoid him. In school it didn’t matter, he had dreams to achieve. Now he just wished someone could look at him and think maybe he was worth it.

Unfortunately, his traitorous heart had the sudden desire for that to be you, part of him glad he could spend the next six months pretending it was.

But as he looked at you and his athletic trainer, Yaku had an unsettling thought. How did he feel like the third wheel in his own fake relationship?

A month had passed in the blink of an eye- with it the charity show where you performed in his alternate jersey while your band wore fan versions of some teammates, and then two months were gone, before suddenly you were halfway through the timeframe you’d been given and life had become a different normal.

“Morisuke!”

He looked up at the sound of your voice, no longer surprised to see you visiting the gym during their breaks in training. Some days you brought him lunch, some days the two of you went out for a quick ‘date’ to be seen by the public. It left an aching in his chest how easily you fell into a familiarity with him and with his team, offering high fives and greetings as you raced over to give him a hug. Ignoring the flush that wanted to erupt in his face, shoving down the fuzzy feeling he got as you kissed his cheek, he directed his attention to you. Your enthusiasm was captivating, something about an upcoming show you had and he was nodding along before suddenly you were thrusting some kind of pieces of card paper into his hands. Tickets. “I think I counted enough out- one for each member of the team, there should even be a couple extra. I can get more if anyone has a significant other, but some would just bring each other, right?”

He chuckled, so you had noticed that, huh? “This is really generous, Y/N. Are you sure you’re allowed to do it?”

You frowned, confusion in your eyes, “Why wouldn’t I be? I bought the tickets.”

His eyes widened, “You bought all these!?”

“Of course,” you blinked, wide and innocent, and so damn beautiful, “I can’t take away the revenue that my musicians or the staff would get from them by using my connections to get them for free, but I can give them to you guys with no charge.”

He’d have to be blind to miss the way half his teammates were not-so-subtly eavesdropping, some of them had never heard your music before they found out the two of you were ‘dating’, but now it was like they couldn’t get enough. He couldn’t get enough. Always had it playing, playlists made of your albums were all over his phone. He’d give a lot to see you perform live again. Heaving a sigh, he nodded, finally taking the tickets you were still pressing into his grasp, “Yeah, okay, I’m sure these idiots will appreciate the effort.”

“What about you?” The question sounded like a joke, your smile and glittering eyes enforcing that, but something in your eyes made him think you weren’t sure how he’d feel about it.

He gave you a smirk, rolling his eyes, “Yeah, I appreciate it, too.”

You didn’t like him, not the way he liked you, but he was able to pretend the affection was real instead of staged as your smile lit up your face and you pressed another kiss to his cheek.

When the team found out you had a televised interview coming, Iwa invited them over to watch- which is how Yaku found himself surrounded by a bunch of grown men crowding a living room. He didn’t understand why they were so invested- he knew he had to watch, regardless that he wanted to, in case anything you mentioned in it was something he needed to know as your boyfriend. But they didn’t have the same stakes in it. You honestly just had them under a spell. He knew some of the players had unwittingly developed crushes on you, and he couldn’t imagine how much it would hurt him when the facade ended and you decided to move on. He would hate seeing one of them pursue you.

The interview started before he could spiral down that train of thought. (Again). He watched as you were asked about your music, influences, inspiration.

Eventually you mentioned his name. It wasn’t a surprise to him, not really, this was part of the plan. You needed to play up your ‘relationship’ for the fans.

But as a question left the interviewers lips, he could also see the way you froze and tried to play it off with a stiff chuckle, “I’m sorry, what did you ask?”

She didn’t seem phased, waving her hand to dismiss the apology, “I asked how your current partner differs from ones you’ve had before.”

Your brow furrowed, hardly noticeable to anyone but him since he had spent weeks learning you, as you tried to process what was being asked, “I’m sorry, I don’t think I follow you. Are you just asking about venturing out a usual type?”

“I’ll simplify,” something in her smile turned almost poisonous, like she was catching you in the wrong, “I have sources that informed me that before your idol training you dated a man named Matsukawa Issei. And you had a brief courtship with fashion designer Azumane Asahi. The differences between them and the man you claim as your current partner are very noticeable.”

You scoffed, the sunny disposition they knew you to have falling away. Yaku had seen this happen before, when ‘fans’ would interrupt your public outings together to offend one of you by saying the other deserved better. But he knew this would shock the team, and more than that he wanted to see how you’d respond. Your polite posture shifted, almost making a combative stance in your seat as you leveled a look at the woman across from you and she seemed to realize her mistake, “I never had a courtship with Azumane Asahi. We were and are only friends, we consistently shut down rumors there was any romantic angle to the relationship between us. As for Matsukawa Issei, as you so graciously pointed out, that was before idol training. We were still in high school, we were kids. We had thought our friendship could be more, and we were wrong. He’s still a close friend of mine.”

Clearing her throat, she still tried to maintain her original point, “You haven’t addressed the actual question.”

Rolling your eyes, you continued, “Your actual question was trash, but fine. The two men in question that you’ve mentioned are fairly tall. You want to address the difference between them and Yaku- fine. He’s on the shorter side, but so what?”

“It raises the question of how he caught your attention.” She offered, judgmental eyebrow raised.

“Maybe because he didn’t expect anything after giving garbage.” You shot back, Yaku could imagine your agent was frantically trying to shut the footage down as soon as your demeanor had shifted, but the producer didn’t seem to be budging as the camera kept rolling. “Yaku- Morisuke didn’t pursue me. I pursued him. I knew a high school friend of mine had applied for the national team, so when I saw him in his team sweats I struck up a conversation. It wasn’t meant to lead to where it did.” Suddenly there was a soft look in your eye, and he had to question how you could fake it so easily, but you were already speaking, “I never intended to develop feelings when I met him, but his height doesn’t factor into that in any way. He’s strong and he’s smart and he’s friendlier than people give him credit for and he’s supportive even when he doesn’t know exactly what I’m talking about. Yeah, he’s short. But he’s my short king. That’s all anyone really needs to know.”

He didn’t pay as much attention as the woman tried to regain control of the interview, only noticing that you called it short before they were cutting to commercial.

He didn’t notice when Iwa took the seat next to him.

Until the man spoke.

“You still think it’s fake?”

He jumped, head jerking to look at him, “I have no idea what you mean.”

Iwa rolled his eyes, “Y/N has never been able to fool me. I know when something is fake, when they’re lying. You’ve seen how they get when someone they care about is insulted. You really think that was play acting?”

“Only for a couple more months.”

Sighing, the athletic trainer patter the libero on the shoulder, “You can’t fool me either, you know that, right? Just admit how you feel.”

Yaku would sooner tell Lev that he wasn’t that bad at receives than tell you he had feelings for you he shouldn’t have.

As in: never.

When the six month deadline hit, Yaku had a sour feeling in his gut. He didn’t want you to become a stranger. Posed dates and staged sleepovers could end, fine. He could live with that. But he didn’t want to go back to never seeing you. He didn’t want to hear your name later, or see advertising for a Little Future show, and have to look back on memories of you rather than send you a text to hang out.

You were uncharacteristically quiet, sitting in the same wheelie chair as before, and he would’ve given up the dream of keeping in touch just to see you smile as you spun around again. But you were stiff. Like you didn’t want this to happen…

Did you not want this to happen?

Yaku couldn’t even listen as they talked, too busy analyzing your body language, until he found the words spitting out like vomit interrupting them.

“Y/N, you wanna catch a movie tonight? Maybe dinner?”

You blinked, shifting to look at him, “You… you wanna go out? Like a date?”

He shrugged, “Not like a date. A date. End the fake relationship, maybe start a real one?”

Yaku wasn’t one to lay things out in the line. But even as he held his breath, just waiting for your answer, he couldn’t feel a single regret lingering on his mind.

Especially when the bright and sunny smile bloomed across your face, grasping his hand in both of yours as you laughed, “Looks like someone doesn’t have to pretend to be desirable anymore.”

Dealing with Iwa’s cocky proven right attitude would be worth this.

Masterlist

[nattinatalia]

Jack Harlow x Reader : ME OR HER PART 2

A/N: Read part 1 here & the Instagram AU here.

Featuring the one and only @hoodharlow 💖

When you left, Jack swore you took his heart with you. It’s been three years and till this day he still thinks about you, and he wonders how you’ve been.

He tried to get you back that night, he really did. But you made it your mission to cut all ties with him the moment you left. He would ask Nicky Jam about you, but had made it clear that it wasn’t his place to say anything concerning you or your music, so Jack just stopped trying to search for you all together.

It’s like you were erased, he tried looking for you on social media but he found nothing, he thought maybe you had changed your name if you decided to continue with your music, so he wouldn’t even know how to search for you.

He’s hurt, rightfully so. He can’t believe you would just walk away from him like that, like nothing mattered. But then again, maybe he should’ve stood up to his manager and set her straight.

He still carries the box with him. He still carries you in his broken heart. Because no matter what, he truly believes you were the love of his life.

“Jack, are you even listening to me?” Neelam breaks him out of his thoughts.

He rolls his eyes “Yes, you’ve been over the plans three times already.”

“Ok so get your shit together, and please, put that thing away.” Neelam points at the box he has in his palm. “It’s been three years, either sell it or throw it away, she’s not coming back.”

Jack glares “Yea because you made it your mission to push her away.”

“I didn't do anything, she chose all on her own.”

There’s a knock on the door “She’s here.” Urban says opening the door to the conference room.

Jack stands and nods “About time, I should’ve done this a long time ago.”

“Hello Jackman, nice to see you again.” A woman’s voice says as she walks into the room.

Jack nods “Blanca, always a pleasure.”

Neelam stands to look at her then back at Jack, she rolls her eyes “I told you, another little Mexican girl, and you’re still crying about the one that got away.”

“Excuse me?”

Neelam waves her hand in a dismissive way “No need to keep a conversation with me, I’ll get you the NDA papers to sign.”

Blanca laughs “Girl you are either stupid or slow, I’m not one of his girls, pendeja. I’m here to take your place.”

Neelam looks confused “I’m sorry what?”

Blanca smiles and extends her hand towards her “Blanca Hood, not so nice to meet you. Oh by the way, you’re fired.”

She laughs “She’s joking right? Jack, tell me this little girl is joking.”

He shakes his head “No, she means that. I should’ve put an end to your crap years ago.”

“Are you seriously still mad about that? Are you really going to get rid of me over the Mexican? Just because I made a few cleaning jokes? Come on, if she wouldn’t be doing music right now, I’m pretty sure that’s what she would be doing, scrubbing toil-“ Neelam doesn’t get to finish her words because she quickly falls to the floor due to someone punching her straight across her jaw.

“You racist bitch.” Blanca says and goes to take the seat Neelam was just sitting on. “You did my girl dirty, and I applaud her for how strong she is, but she should’ve also laid your ass out. Now me? Yeah I’m not taking any form of disrespect.”

“I will press charges against you for putting your hands on me.” She yells, touching her jaw.

“Go for it, I’ll do the same.”

“I didn’t even touch you.”

Blanca smiles “We know that, but the cops won’t. Pack your stuff and get out, unless you want me to bring my dog and have him drag you by your ugly ass hair.”

Urban chokes on his drink and starts laughing “I’ll walk you out Nee.” He says and takes her out of the room.

Now it’s just Jack and Blanca, his new manager, alone in the conference room.

“I don’t know how you or Y/N put up with the disrespect.”

Jack is confused “Wait, you know Y/N?”

Blanca nods “That’s my girl, her little sister is a fan of 5SOS- my husband’s band. I met her a few years ago at one of their shows, We've been friends ever since.”

Jack nods “So she told you about me?”

“No, not really, all she said was that she ran into you once and your manager wasn’t so welcoming.”

“Hmm, we did more than run into each other.” Jack scoffs

“I put two and two, but if she signed then she really couldn’t tell me anything else right?”

He nods “yeah.” He smiles “So how is she?”

Blanca shakes her head “Nope, I’m not telling you, you can ask her yourself when you see her.”

Jack looks up at her words “What do you mean?”

“You’re both performing at next month's festival in Miami. I’m obviously going to watch her set, so I made sure you’re free during and after.”

“Does she know I’m performing there too?”

“I’m pretty sure since your name is the first one on the flier.”

“I looked at the flier, she’s not on it.” Jack says confused.

Blanca smiles “Her manager is a close friend, she managed to book her for it. Now go look at the comment I pinned under your picture.” Blanca tells him as she tosses her phone into her bag and gets up from her seat.

“What? How? I’ve looked for her on social media and ended up with nothing.” Jack says surprised.

“She has a burner account, one which I’m pretty sure she has you and your entire team blocked. She just made that one, so enjoy it. I have to go check on some stuff with Chris, so you do whatever it is broken boys do.”

Blanca heads out the door and not even seconds pass by and Urban is storming into the room “Did you see? Y/N commented under your post.”

Jack nods but is frozen, he can’t believe he’s staring at you even if it’s through a screen.

You barely have any pictures up so he doesn’t know if you’re married or with kids. For all he knows, you’re probably living a married life with the white picket fence.

“She did it.” Jack says proudly, looking at the most recent video you had posted of a performance.

But he can’t help but feel somewhat bitter.

He wished he was there besides you. He wishes he was there cheering you on just like you used to do numerous times for him.

“Well what are you waiting for? You’ve been searching for her non stop, you got your opening. Reach out.” Urban tells him.

“Blanca said we’re both going to attend the festival next month in Miami, I think i’ll just wait until then.”

“What? Are you crazy? You’ve been missing her since she left and you’re going to wait a month to talk to her?”

“I don’t know what to say, my feelings are mixed. I’m happy I got to see a glimpse of what she’s doing but I’m still hurt she left like that. She blocked all of us, she blocked me, she erased me from her life. I’m just supposed to reach out and be happy about that.”

Urban rolls his eyes “So do all that, get mad at her, talk it out with her. But dude come on, she’s finally reaching out because she commented under your picture.”

Jack shrugs, “I just need to get all my thoughts together before I talk to her, get my feelings in order.”

“You’re an idiot, meanwhile I’ll reach out because I missed my wing woman” his best friend tells him and walks out the room.

This was something Jack has been waiting for for sometime now.

He should be happy to finally see what you've been doing. Yes, he’s happy that your music career is up and going but he feels bitter, he should’ve been there alongside you through it all.

He wonders if you struggled, if you felt any type of regret with the decision you took all those years ago.

Do you miss him like he missed you?

Do you still love him like he loves you?

All different thoughts and feelings were being brought up all at once and he doesn’t know what to do.

But he’ll have to figure something out soon because just then a direct message from you comes in and has him freezing up.

Y/N : Hey superstar ⭐️ long time no talk, how are you?

•

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[fernandoswarcrimes]

Lavender Haze x Neymar JR

The one where the haze is all you feel.

Taglist: @morgan108 @diary-of-jj @shea-theodore @pitchandgrid @yourmom-lmao

Word count: 1.9k

Beta read by: @dyingsoundsnice

To be added to the rest of the series click here -> 🌌

Meet me at Midnight

Staring at the ceiling with you

Oh, you don't ever say too much

And you don't really read into

My melancholia

It was a typical Saturday night for you and Neymar, the two of you were laying on the couch staring up at the ceiling as the movie credits rolled on the tv. The two of you could sit in comfortable silence for ages just in each other's presence. He never said too much, or read into how sometimes you liked the silence over talking. It was initially how you met the Brazilian player, at midnight at a park in Paris. You were there trying to clear your head, life had just been giving you the run around lately and nothing seemed to be going right. He had accidently scared you when he sat down on the other end of the bench you were sitting on, because you didn’t think anybody else would be here this late and because you were in the midst of your own pity party and didn’t want this random stranger to bother you or have to listen to your problems.

But when he just sat there, the both of you in silence as you looked at the stars above, seemingly in your own worlds, everything seemed to freeze. You had no idea who he was, which for once was shocking because it seemed like everybody always wanted something from him. Maybe that’s what drew him to you, you didn’t pester him, didn’t ask questions or for pictures or an autograph, you were just in your own little world. “I didn’t figure anybody else would be out this late.” He had said which caught your attention. “Yeah, well, sometimes nature and the stars are all you need.” You replied which pulled a small laugh from him. It was silent for another few minutes before he introduced himself, and you gave him a funny look when he just stared at you as if waiting for some reaction. “Okay?” You didn’t understand what he was expecting. You weren’t inclined to sports in any way, hell, you kept to yourself so much you don’t think you could even name one sports team amongst the different types of sports.

And that’s how something beautiful bloomed.

I been under scrutiny (Yeah, oh, yeah)

You handle it beautifully (Yeah, oh, yeah)

All this shit is new to me (Yeah, oh, yeah)

It was something you weren’t used to but Neymar told you to expect that the second people caught wind of you being linked to him that people were going to start rumors and insert themsleves in the both of you’s relationship. At least he had given you a heads up, which your Instagram was already private, thankfully. You would have deleted social media entirely if you had needed to though. The scrutiny and comments that people were making on twitter, written in articles, and under his comment section were astonishing as they came flooding in. Everything was new to you, you had never had so many people seemingly hating you all because you were dating someone. It suprised you that Ney handled it so well. He told you that it was nothing to worry about, that people would talk. It’s just how things were. He knew how the media and his fans could ruin something good just because they were jealous.

This was something that came along with dating a famous person. And as lovely as Ney is, you were having a very hard time grasping that privacy wasn’t a given anymore. His fans, the media, and what felt like everyone in the world didn’t care that you didn’t want to join him in the limelight. They were going to do or say whatever they wanted. It was a lose-lose situation either way you looked. If you stayed hidden, they’d talk about how you didn’t appreciate Ney. If you were seen together, they’d talk about how you were just using him for your own personal gain. Nothing you did mattered, because someone was always going to have a negative opinion on it. You did it all because if it meant having Neymar, everything would be okay. You finally decided that you weren’t going to be a doormat anymore. You weren’t going to let people dictate your life, your relationship, and your intentions anymore. If they wanted to talk, you’d let them because all they truly wanted to hear was the noise.

I feel

The lavender haze creeping up on me

Surreal

I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say

No deal

The 1950s shit they want from me

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

It felt so surreal to be with Neymar in private. It was like a bubble surrounded you two that nothing could rupture the peace and tranquility that was reinforcing it. The haze engulfed you both, wishing this feeling could last forever and in your heart you wanted to do whatever it took to make it as long as forever took you. You never grieved over the comments made about you, it would accomplish nothing and the battle wasn’t worth the war. Everyone wanted something from you, a reaction at the very least, just to feed into their fantasy of you being a viscous shark ready to hunt. Their satisfaction never came. They finally realized that there were two options left for you, you were either going to marry their beloved idol or you were going to leave him for the next tantalizing person you could sink your teeth into. What they didn’t account for is that it wasn’t the 50’s anymore and you didn’t want to be married and live someone else’s white picket fence fantasies. You craved to be in the moment with Ney.

It’s all you ever wanted out of him.

All they keep asking me (All they keep asking me)

Is if I'm gonna be your bride

The only kinda girl they see (Only kinda girl they see)

Is a one-night or a wife

Headline after headline, their one question remains the same: Were you going to finally be the one to tie Neymar down for good? They thought they had you right under their fingernail, pinning you down as a fickle flame or a stone strapped to his ankle, keeping him grounded forever. Every single article rolled off of your shoulders because only you and Neymar knew the truth about what you both wanted. Marriage isn’t a sudden thing, and you were in no rush to obtain it. You both were riding the waves of your relationship and if things led there sooner or later, you knew it’d be right because it was natural.

Their are the few fans who respected you and you loved interacting with them and growing friendships from it. Most did appreciate that you made Neymar so, so very happy. It made them elated that he finally seemed to have moved on from Bruna. Then, there were the select few who hated your existence because they wanted to be you. The delusions of those fans who would do anything to be beside the man you loved were wild and crazy, but to some degree you understood. You don’t know how you made it to where you are, but you’re glad you’re where you ended up. You wouldn’t wish anyone else the position you’re in right now, never in your wildest dreams.

I find it dizzying (Yeah, oh, yeah)

They're bringing up my history (Yeah, oh, yeah)

But you weren't even listening (Yeah, oh, yeah)

To be quite honest, as time went on you kept feeling like you weren’t quite cut out for this type of lifestyle. It was dizzying, pretending to be alright while every decision or action you did was scrutinized. Neymar’s fans dug into your history trying to find any ammunition they could use against you. They pried into your past relationships, your home life, where you grew up, where you went to school. This scared you to no end, as you didn’t know of any skeletons in your closet but the complete invasion of privacy had you watching your back everywhere you went. Another thing that had been on your mind lately is all the posts comparing you to Bruna. You were always comfortable in your skin, but you know you’d never be the beautiful Brazilian actress. You saw so many of these and how they claimed that what she shared with Neymar was a once in a lifetime love and that true love always finds its way back to itself. It bothered you to no end, but all you could do is smile and pretend like it didn’t bother you.

If there was one person who could ignore anything happening around them, it would have been Neymar. He never listened to what anyone said about you two and he always tried his best to reassure you that what anyone’s opinions were didn’t matter. What did matter was how you and him felt about each other. All of the voices could scream out, but it still wouldn’t matter. He thought of you as a safe haven, some place he could hide inside, a way out of his chaotic world he created around himself. He didn’t get this often, even when he was home and surrounded by loved ones. He was exhausted, but with you? He felt home. Things were slow, safe, and sound.

Talk your talk and go viral

I just need this love spiral

Get it off your chest

Get it off my desk (Get it off my desk)

Talk your talk and go viral

I just need this love spiral

Get it off your chest

Get it off my desk

You’ve hit your limit. The point of no return was moving in together. The hatred, the backlash, the cruelest summer you’ve ever had was when you were with Neymar. Everyone lost their god damned mind over your relationship to the point where you felt the exact same way. They couldn’t believe that the relationship hadn’t fizzled out, that you both were still going strong. All you ever wanted was your relationship to blossom, but every other person in the room wanted it to spiral. You tried, you really did, to brush everything off. To try and follow in Neymar’s direction. It worked for this long, but it seemed like no matter what you both did, nothing would bring this relationship out of the woods.

Rubbing your back, Neymar was trying to ease your mind. “Baby, you know they’re always going to have something else to say, but I’ve told you that all I care about is what you think.” You couldn’t speak, holding back tears that threatened to fall without warning. Facing away from him, you just nod against your pillow as he wrapped his arm around your front and moved closer. The both of you were in your safe space where no one was there to criticize you. You knew that everything couldn’t always be like this, but for the time being, you wished it could last forever. Call it what you want, maybe you were in denial, but you prayed that this would work out. The lavender haze was dissipating quickly and you grasped at it as you realized that the real world was waiting on you to return. You knew when it was time to go, but for now you just wanted to stay exactly where you were, wrapped in the arms of the person you love.

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze…

[farfromstrange]

GUESS WHO FINALLY GOT HER WI-FI BACK!

Me, that’s right.

Which means I can start writing again, and I won’t be MIA for much longer. Thank you all for being so understanding. I can’t wait to catch up on all that I’ve missed and interact with you all again.

Putting a read more now for those who don’t want to read this little life update.

Uni starts in less than two weeks, and I’m pretty nervous about how that’s going to affect the time I have to write because I’ve already got a reading assignment and I’m way behind on that. But anyway, I’ll find time. I’ve been gone for so long, I need to get back into it. And it’ll help me get through Uni if I write a lot in my free time. I’m majoring in English and minoring in sociology, after all.

So, I’m going to watch the Eras Tour Movie tonight, which means I’m obviously not going to be able to write tonight, but tomorrow’s Saturday and I’ve got no plans, so I’m definitely getting back to it then. And I’ll see what I can do about Kinktober because my fingers are ITCHING.

AND I finally finished my wall, for those of you who care. Call me interior designer for fangirls because I really am proud of my own work this time around.

There’s still space for me to continue the wall of fame, so obviously it’s going to grow

And I’ve got another one.

I tried my absolute best to make the apartment 100% ME. And it worked, I think.

Anyway, I’m about to leave, and since I haven’t made any new friends in this city, I hope meeting fellow Swifties and sharing friendship bracelets will get me some contacts around here. It can’t hurt to try and socialize a bit, right?

I made SO MANY bracelets because I had no Wi-Fi and was stuck with the old criminal minds DVD’s I still got lying around here, but I have to say, it’s been kind of refreshing as well. I feel like a caveman, but not in a bad way. I didn’t use as much social media and I got creative a lot more, so that’s a good thing, I guess. It was a forced retreat, but it felt like one nonetheless.

I’ve got a whole ring of friendship bracelets and I hope to a God I don’t believe in that I’m allowed to take them into the theater or I’m gonna be sad.

Anyway, here’s a picture of my outfit because I feel like I’ve slayed with that.

I’ve been gone for so long, I hope you guys appreciated my little life update. And if not, I’m sorry for bothering you with this on your dash.

More news about my writing and everything else concerning this account coming tomorrow when I’ve finished going through all my notifications and drafts, and then I’ll make a post to tell you guys more about what’s to come and when to expect it.

Until then, I love you, take care of yourselves, and I’ll see you soon!

[munsonownsmyass]

Michael Kinsella x reader

Authors note: I have been through the emotional ringer lately and after listening to a Hozier song today, I just felt I needed to put this down on paper.

Sometimes life is hard, but it's important not to lose hope.

Thank you to @e-dubbc11 for ensuring me that the first thing I've written in almost two months aren't shit. Love you hun ❤️

Warnings: Angsty, bad self image, a hopeless romantic feeling anything but love, hopeful endings, a smidge of fluff.

Words: 1.1K

I never really thought I was worth anything and so far, life hasn’t really showed me anything to prove me wrong. This is not a sob story where I go into detail about how my parents didn’t have time for me or how I didn’t have any friends growing up. I won’t force you to sit through pages upon pages of me telling you about my countless wrecked relationships, how I’ve been ghosted more than a haunted house or about all the times I’ve thought to myself ‘This is it. I’ve found it.’, just to be proven wrong again. To once again have my heart shattered.

I know deep down that the problem might be me. I mean, all these things do have me in common. Maybe I’m just not worth it? Maybe I should just move to a cabin in the woods, get a bunch of dogs and live happily ever after as an author, alone and content… Given that my books could even sell, that is…

You see, my problem is that I’ve always believed in true love. Happily ever after. That one day I’d look into the eyes of another and find the missing piece of my soul and finally feel like I belong somewhere for the first time in my life. But I’m starting to believe that true love only exists in fairytales and that it’s never going to happen to me. I remain hopeful, but I wouldn’t bet any money on me finding my one true love.

You know that one person you’d want to look at every night before you go to sleep and can’t wait to see again in the morning as the sun shines through the blinds, falling perfectly on their face. Don’t we all want that all-consuming ‘can’t live without each other’ love? I certainly do and I remain hopeful… Or I try to.

Cause what is life without hope? Would it even be worth getting up in the morning? I go to bed some nights not sure if I even want to wake up the next day, but I still wake each morning, lying to myself that it will get better. That today might be the day that everything changes.

Okay, before I start sounding like I’m a depressed little person, I would want to say you’ve caught me at a bad time. Just got ditched again after thinking he was the right guy. I had already started mentally moving into a little cottage where we could grow old together, but alas… I was again proven that some men are just dicks or that I’m the problem… And I really don’t want to think about the last one.

So yes. Right now, I could curse every single man to hell, but who am I kidding? Give me 5 minutes and I will look into the eyes of a new stranger and fall a little again. As Hozier sings ‘I fall in love just a little bit every day with someone new’, cause I’m weird like that. I always see the best in people, and I always imagine how they might be like, what kind of music they might listen and if they are a cat or dog person.

This is my fault, I’m sure. If I really have to think about it. I fall too easily. So I’ll try to stop. This time I’ve promised myself I will not even look at another guy again. I’m better of alone.

---

So… It only lasted two days. I actually did manage to not even respond to that random dude who sled into the dm’s on my social media or the flirty guy at the counter as I hand him his coffee. I remained strong until he came in.

He’d been coming into the coffee shop for two months now, always the same solemn expression on his face. He’s always lost in thought, like there’s a million things going on in his mind. Whenever he comes in, I want to ask him what he’s thinking. What have caused him to have those haunted eyes so full of unspoken emotions. But I never do.

Today his pattern changes. He comes in, gives me that slight smile as he places his order and waits patiently for it go get done, but instead of going, he sits down in the corner. He’s always so quick to leave again, like he doesn’t want anyone to see him, yet today he sits there by the window, looking out.

He looks lost somehow, like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. Like life hasn’t exactly treated him kindly either. He looks… almost like me. I know I should leave him alone, but I wonder if a small act of kindness from a stranger could lift that veil of sadness. If maybe I could make him smile. I bet he has a beautiful smile.

Damn. I’m doing it again. I should have learned by now not to fall so easily. Cursing under my breath, I try to work and not look at him, which proves hard. He is just so beautiful. Those expressive hazel eyes, his plump lips encircled by that full beard and the tattoos on his arms. And he probably has a nice body under that shirt, considering how it clings to- No… I got to stop this. This is the kind of thinking that always gets me in trouble.

As he gets up from his seat, I already start looking forward to the next time he comes in. Maybe he’ll stay again the next time? Maybe even stay a little longer, so I could conjure up some courage to talk to him? But to my surprise, he doesn’t walk to the door, but comes back to the counter.

“I-” He starts but stops again. His eyes find mine and I feel my heart skip a beat, like it always does when he looks at me. “I’ve been trying to get the courage to ask you out for over a month now.”

The small smile grows into a nervous one, but all I can think is what this man has to be nervous about. Surely, he must know I’d say yes in a heartbeat. Which was almost exactly what I blurt out. Thankfully it makes him smile wider and I was right. A very beautiful smile indeed. ´

“Fine, then. Tomorrow at 8.” He says with a smile and for the first time, it reaches his eyes. The small wrinkles and the shine in his hazel orbs make it impossible not to smile too.

“Tomorrow.” I confirm with a giggle, barely able to speak without stumbling over my words. On his way out he turns to me, giving me a little wave with the smile still adorning his beautiful face. Once he is out the door, it takes several minutes before my breathing is back to normal and my heart is done making backflips.

I have a date. A date with Michael. And in that moment, I don’t even care if he turns out like the others and leaves me broken. But something tells me he isn’t like the others. That this time it will be different, because… We have to keep hoping, right?

Maybe I could fall again… Just a little bit?

Tagging: @mindidjarin @itwasthereaminuteago @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @mattmurdocksscars @theradioactivespidergwen @chvoswxtch @pedrito-friskito @yarrystyleeza @murdock-and-the-sea @saintmurd0ck @boliv-jenta

[winslowat3am]

I need your help, from a bro to another bro‼️‼️ I’m hanging out with a girl but I don’t like her enough to date her but she want to add me on ig but I don’t want to add her for a few reasons: I don’t want her to see all the pages I follow and my privacy and I don’t want to put my energy into a relationship I don’t want, what would you do? Should I just give it to her or no?

If you don't like her that way why would you give her your social media? Cause then she's probably going to bother/stalk you there. & if there are things you share about your personal life there that you don't want her sniffing through just lie, make up some excuse why you don't want her to have it, it's what I've done when people I don't really like/trust or seemed shady asked for mine. Example: "Hey, what's your Facebook?" "You know, I actually don't use Facebook anymore, yeah I accidentally locked myself out, sorry. Bummer." & then you flip it on 'em, you hit 'em with the "give me a way to contact you!" with no intention to follow through. I do that A LOT, I hate to admit it. I'll humor them for a while but then it's like I'm over it & they start to annoy me. 😂 I kind of understand your situation, though, cause earlier this year I ran into a woman in Publix that I used to go to school with that had a crush on me back when we were "kind of" cool (she was friends with my brother), & we got to talking, she eventually asked for my number talking about we could catch up sometime & I gave her my old one that's probably somebody else's now, & I still feel a little bad when I think about it cause I don't like lying, but I'm taken & I already knew her intentions. Would've felt worse saying "no thanks." It's so weird, just imagine. Right after I got married she popped up & another girl I used to date (& could've sworn I blocked) followed me on IG & messaged me asking how I was doing. Lol. I just, I don't know, I generally don't like people, & I don't like people trying to befriend me, that's the REAL underlying reason. I'm an introvert & I'm picky about people I deal with. I'll have a conversation with you & be nice, give you advice to resolve your problems (if I care enough) but I'm not your friend. I'm friendly but I'm not friend-ly, there's a difference. Never understood why people try to get you to move from one app/site to another app/site, UNLESS they're trying to date or scam you or be nosy. It's hella invasive to ask for someone's socials instead of their number when you're just getting to know them, imo. Sometimes you just don't want certain people following you/in your business & that's okay. I curve muthafuckas all the time. My advice is to lie. 😈 *Laughs maniacally* Ah yes, the beautiful white lie. I bet you thought I was going to say something wholesome & be like, "tell the truth, she deserves it!", nope. Not feeling especially good natured today. Good luck, you sexy king.