#and exactly the kind of music I want more of

[ikkyfics]

Rings

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: "Well, now that we have the rings... what else is on the list? Invitations? Music? Or can we just run away and get married tomorrow? You know I’d be up for it, right?"

Warnings: none

Part 2 of Marry Me

Masterlist

The wizarding jewelry store was a charming place, almost like a solid dream. Floating chandeliers glowed softly, casting colorful beams of light that danced across the display windows. Each piece on display seemed unique, as if it told its own story, shining in delicate shades of gold, silver, and platinum, with gemstones that pulsed lightly, as if they had a life of their own. You were holding hands with James, his fingers intertwined with yours, as he looked around with an almost childlike excitement.

"Well," he began, gently squeezing your hand as his vibrant blue eyes scanned the shop, "I think we need to find something that’s... perfect. Something that will make everyone know, without a doubt, that you’re mine."

You laughed, but felt the warmth rise to your cheeks. "James, I’m already yours. The ring is just... a detail."

He stopped in his tracks, gently spinning you so you were face to face. "Oh, love, it’s so much more than a detail. It’s the symbol of all this," he said, gesturing between the two of you. "Of me and you. Of all the times you made me laugh, of all the nights I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be, just because you were there. I want it to be the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen."

Before you could respond, a shop attendant appeared, an elderly wizard with a kind demeanor and a silver beard that looked like strands of light. "Ah, young lovers," he said with a warm smile. "Welcome to our shop. I’m sure we’ll find something as unique as your story."

James immediately got excited, beginning to describe what he had in mind. "Something simple, but... special. Maybe with our initials or some detail that has meaning. Oh, and that matches her hands," he said, holding up your hand and lifting it for the attendant to examine.

"Of course," the man replied, picking up a fine wand and gesturing to a nearby display. Small rings began to float, each with a unique glow. Some had stones that changed color slightly depending on the angle, others had small enchantments that made engravings appear and disappear with a touch.

"Look at this one," James said, pointing to a delicate gold band with a small stone that seemed to shine with the light of a tiny star. "It looks like your eyes," he added, smiling at you.

"James," you said, trying not to laugh. "I don’t need something that extravagant."

"Extravagant? This is just the beginning," he teased, pulling out another ring with small carvings that seemed to form a map when illuminated. "Maybe something that reminds us of that trip to Hogsmeade, when you finally said you liked me."

"I said I liked you because you were impossible to ignore," you replied, crossing your arms with an amused smile.

"And it still works today," he shot back, leaning in to steal a quick kiss.

In the end, the attendant suggested a personalized idea: a fine ring, with your initials engraved on the inside, accompanied by a simple spell that would make the initials glow lightly every time you were near each other. When he explained that the rings could also pulse gently, as a constant reminder of each other’s presence, you saw James' eyes light up.

"This is it," he said, without hesitation.

"Are you sure?" you asked, glancing at him sideways.

"Absolutely," he replied, holding your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours once more. "Because that’s exactly what you are to me, love. My constant presence. My reminder that, no matter where I am, it's with you I want to be."

The fitting process was almost magical. As soon as the rings were enchanted and dipped into the finishing solution, the final glow was revealed. James carefully held it, sliding the ring onto your finger just to "test" it.

"See? Perfect," he said with a side smile, his eyes locked on yours.

James held your hand firmly, even more excited after the ring’s approval. He couldn’t seem to hide the smile that lit up his face. "Well, now that we have the rings... what else is on the list? Invitations? Music? Or can we just run away and get married tomorrow? You know I’d be up for it, right?"

You laughed, shaking your head, but the warmth in your chest grew with his comment. "James, you know I want the full wedding. No running away. And besides, you promised you'd pick the music with Sirius, remember?"

He made an exaggerated grimace, letting out a dramatic sigh. "Oh, right. Because everyone trusts Sirius Black's taste in music. You know he’ll suggest something completely inappropriate, right? I bet he’ll want to play some Queen anthem for the entrance."

You raised an eyebrow. "And you wouldn't think that’s amazing?"

James tried to hide it, but the corner of his mouth betrayed a contained smile. "Maybe. But only because I’ll be too busy looking at you to hear anything."

The comment made your cheeks flush, and you turned your gaze away, pretending to study the shop windows around you. James didn’t miss the opportunity and leaned in a little, trying to catch your face again. "Hey, no point in hiding. I’ve said it before and I’ll repeat it until you believe me: there’s nothing in this world that makes me happier than seeing you like this. Than knowing that you’re mine."

You looked at him, a shy smile escaping before teasing him, "You always know what to say, don't you?"

"No," he replied sincerely, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Actually, I get kind of goofy around you. A walking disaster. But somehow, it always works."

He stopped abruptly, gently pulling you to a quieter corner of the street. "Seriously, love... you know how grateful I am for you, don’t you? For every second, every laugh, every moment. You make everything worth it. And these rings are just the beginning of everything I want to give you."

You felt your eyes begin to well up, but before you could respond, he leaned in, his fingers gently gliding to hold your face. The kiss he gave you was delicate, as if trying to convey every word he couldn’t say. When he pulled away, his smile was softer, but his eyes still shone brightly.

"Now," he began, resuming the intertwining of your fingers, "I think it’s time to find an excuse to celebrate this. How about lunch? Or maybe we stop by my parents' house to show them our choice? My mum’s going to want to know every detail, you know that."

You nodded, your heart full. "Yes, but only if you promise you’ll defend the choice if Sirius starts teasing."

James threw his head back, laughing, and kissed your temple quickly. "I promise. But who knows, maybe he’ll give in to the charm of these magical rings."

The two of you walked hand in hand through the busy streets of Hogsmeade, mentally planning the next steps and the visits you still needed to make. Every little detail seemed to bring more excitement and certainty that the future you were building together would be everything you had always dreamed of—and so much more.

[velvetvexations]

Saw your tags on that binder post and I thought I’d share that my first introduction to chest binding was actually through the lolita community! A lot of big name japanese brands are not exactly size inclusive and did NOT cater to anyone with more than an A cup, so I did see quite a lot of safe binding advice and methods on blogs and forums back in the day before more inclusive brands became available, ranging from sports bra to actual proper binders. I’m probably not the only example of the “binding to fit into an angelic pretty dress” to “binding to fit into an angelic pretty dress and gender reasons)” pipeline, but plenty of other lolitas I know are still cis women who just do it on occasion or for specific pieces that aren’t very forgiving on the tits! I doubt that a single niche fashion subculture is the reason for those binders being marketed towards cis women so heavily, but I thought this was a funny anecdote :)

Fascinating!

patricia taxxon shit really fucking hurts. i dont want to be effected by a random internet microcelebrity not liking transdudes, that happens often enough. but god her music and essays got me through really rough shit and it really hurts to see someone i looked up to for well written essays and work fall back on the bullshit arguments used to deny my lived experiences. it really really fucking hurts, especially with how it feels barely anyone will talk about or call it out. i thought trfs were something id have to look hard for, and seeing their rhetoric creep into the fucking music i listen to and tumblrs i follow really truly scares me

I'm sorry, anon. I love you a lot. <3

“You shouldn’t break up the trans community into groups!” The TRFs literally came up with a way to break up the community via TMA/TME. They are actively distancing themselves from the community by baking fearmongering into their ideology. God forbid we create a term about sticking together against a group within the community that’s inherently dividing?

lmao literally

Just had my first time getting sexually harassed by a woman as a percieved cis man and commiserating afterwards with a cis man about how we're all just supposed to be cool with being treated like that. It's a weird experience and somehow going through the same things mostly from women as a girl then nonbinary then a trans guy it feels the same but the flavors change. I know the discourse is literally nothing but it makes me feel like my feelings shouldn't matter because of the male privilege. And I even did my civic duty and took the brunt of it away from the other trans man who was getting it worse because of his percieved feminine traits which people also like to pretend doesn't happen. All of it is just stupid.

It's fine, she was a woman and you're a man so that was praxis sexual harassment.

honestly i think a better predictor of how much autonomy a child is able to have over their presentation is probably whether the child is disabled moreso than agab, like i not only wasn't allowed to have my hair too short, i also wasn't allowed to have it too long for a chunk of my childhood because it took me awhile to understand how to brush my hair (because i was afraid to because i am hypersensitive to touch and my mother would always brush my hair in a way that hurt so much i would cry), and my mother would bitch and moan about how difficult i was about it (because she was hurting me and did not listen when i told her this) and so i wasn't allowed to have longer hair until i could brush it myself. ultimately the biggest factor is always the attitude of the parents though

God, so much of my shit with my mother was over my hair, it still really gets to me.

TRF is like the whole voting for face eating panthers. But it’s like TERFs are the panthers and TRFs are a cheetah, like “I’m a kind of cat too so they won’t eat my face as long as I eat faces too right?” WRONG they see you as prey, they won’t spare you because they see a fellow cat, they’ll eat your face cuz you’re not a panther!

cis women will like me if I explain to them how I'm -taxonomically- a woman

it’s insane to me that ‘it’s bad to hate someone for an uncontrollable part of their identity no matter who they are’ is a controversial take now

we've regressed

when people say ‘um ackshually i can say i want all men to die and if you tell me “men see these things and go far right because they think it’s true” then you are blaming women for men’s bad behaviour’ i just immediately assume that this person is stupid as fuck like. if a teenage boy goes online to see what feminism is about and is bombarded with ‘kill all men’ ‘all men are rapists’ etc then OBVIOUSLY he’s not gonna want to be feminist. it is really not that fucking hard to understand. people don’t wanna be in spaces that are cruel to them for an aspect of their identity that they cannot control it’s not ‘blaming women for misogynistic men’ to say that. it’s just fucking true. people are so stupid it actually pains me

unfortunately radfem juice is addictive

[pdriesta]

CHAPTER ONE

"baby, i'm talkin' crazy, i need you right in my space"

pairing — trentxblack!r&b artist

tropes — fake dating, enemies-to-lovers

warnings — sexual tension, toxic relationships, mature themes (minors dni)

word count — 10k

summary — y/n, a rising r&b star, is stuck in toxic situationships, with tabloids constantly overshadowing her music. to fix her image, her team pushes her into a fake relationship with liverpool’s trent alexander-arnold. both reluctant, they soon realize keeping things strictly business isn't so simple. will pretending to be in love stay a game, or turn into something real?

an —if you're expecting trent from my other works, turn away.

masterlist

trent sat in his living room, staring out the window, his mind still replaying the scene at the café. he had seen his fair share of fiery women, but something about y/n’s reaction had struck him in a way he didn’t expect. the way she stood up, her voice dripping with disdain as she called him "just another guy"—it hit deeper than he wanted to admit. he wasn’t sure who he thought he was when he brushed her off earlier, but she was no pushover. there was a power in her, an undeniable confidence that he wasn’t used to. the women around him usually gave in, smiling or flirting back, charmed by who he was and what came with his name. but y/n? she had no interest in any of that. she didn’t even seem to care that he was trent alexander-arnold.

the memory of her walking out, leaving him sitting there speechless, gnawed at him. maybe it was that she had the guts to talk down to him. maybe it was that she hadn’t flinched when he poked at her about sancho. or maybe it was that, deep down, what she said about him being "just another guy" got under his skin. for the first time in a long time, someone didn’t care about his football career or his fame. to her, he was just another obstacle in her way. it bothered him more than he’d like to admit.

he sighed heavily, leaning back into the couch as his older brother, tyler, walked in with his phone in hand. "you ready?" tyler asked, a raised brow signaling that it was time for their meeting at y/n’s record label. 

trent didn’t respond at first, still caught up in his thoughts about her. what exactly had convinced him to say yes to this arrangement after how the café meeting went? maybe it was her fire, or maybe it was because, despite his stubbornness, he realized she wasn’t the type of woman he could push around. whatever it was, he found himself agreeing to it.

“yeah, let’s get this over with,” trent finally muttered, standing up. tyler gave him a knowing look but didn’t say anything. he knew trent well enough to know something was off, but now wasn’t the time to push for answers.

they walked into the label’s sleek, modern office building, and the tension was thick in the air. as soon as they stepped into the room, trent saw y/n. she was already seated at the table, an iced americano in front of her, her expression a mix of boredom and frustration. she didn’t even bother to look up when they entered, her focus entirely on her phone as she absentmindedly stirred her drink. she exuded a kind of power that wasn’t loud, but it demanded attention. it was in her posture, the way she held herself like she didn’t have time for anyone’s nonsense.

trent couldn’t help but admire that about her, even though he’d been on the receiving end of her sharp tongue. she wasn’t here to play games, and that was clear from the second they sat down. across from them were their respective lawyers, along with tyler and ayesha, y/n’s manager, who greeted them with a polite, business-like nod.

"shall we get started?" ayesha said, her voice calm but firm. "we’re here to finalize the terms of your arrangement. the contract outlines a public relationship for the next six months, though that timeline is subject to change depending on y/n’s upcoming album cycle."

trent’s gaze flickered to y/n, who hadn’t said a word since they arrived. she was still scrolling on her phone, acting completely indifferent to the entire situation. the tension between them was palpable, but he wasn’t sure if it was just from their earlier encounter or something else entirely. either way, she was clearly pissed about being here.

he leaned back in his chair, watching her, waiting for some kind of reaction as ayesha and tyler discussed the details of their agreement. "when will that be?" trent finally asked, breaking his silence and hoping to get some kind of rise out of her.

y/n’s eyes snapped up from her phone, and for a split second, her fiery gaze locked with his. “when it’s done,” she shot back flatly, before immediately turning her attention back to her phone, completely dismissing him.

trent clenched his jaw, trying to keep his frustration in check. she really wasn’t going to make this easy, and he could already tell. tyler and ayesha exchanged awkward glances, clearly sensing the tension, and the lawyers shuffled through their papers, ignoring the exchange altogether.

“right,” tyler said, clearing his throat. “so, as outlined, there will be public outings—dinners, events, and a few social media posts to solidify the relationship in the public eye. everything will be staged, nothing too intimate, just enough to get the media talking.”

ayesha nodded in agreement, then turned to y/n, who was still ignoring trent’s presence entirely. “you can continue to see other people, as long as it doesn’t get out. discretion is key here.”

trent's eyes darted back to y/n, watching closely for her reaction. he knew her and sancho were still a thing, whether they admitted it or not. he half-expected her to flinch or at least react, but she didn’t. she remained composed, her expression unreadable, though her fingers gripped her iced americano a bit tighter. 

ayesha let out a small laugh. “and now, officially, you two will be the new power couple. i’m sure the media’s going to eat this up.”

“lucky us,” y/n muttered, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she stood, abruptly signaling that the meeting was over for her. she grabbed her bag and glanced at ayesha. “i’m leaving. call me if anything else needs signing. thank you,” the last sentiment towards the lawyers and teh older alexander-arnold. 

trent opened his mouth to say something—he wasn’t sure what, maybe to call her out on her attitude or just to get a final word in—but before he could, she was already out the door, leaving behind the faint scent of her perfume and a palpable wave of irritation. 

tyler sighed, shaking his head. "well, that went well."

trent stayed silent, watching the door y/n had just stormed through. something about her made him uneasy, but it wasn’t just anger. it was something else entirely. he wasn’t sure if this arrangement was going to work, but one thing was clear—he was in for a hell of a ride.

y/n lay tangled in the sheets, jadon’s arm draped over her waist as her mind raced. the heat from their earlier encounter lingered, her skin still buzzing from the familiar feel of his lips, his touch. it was a routine, one they’d fallen into easily. whenever the world seemed to press too hard on her—first with trent, then the label's relentless pressure to churn out more love songs—jadon was the one she went to. it didn’t make sense, not when she knew he wasn’t good for her. but something about him had always been hard to resist.

y/n lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the sheets tangled around her bare legs. jadon was still beside her, his arm lazily draped across her waist, breathing softly against her neck. it was natural now—this. their routine. they’d done it what felt like a thousand times before. same bed, same space, same empty words exchanged afterward. she wasn’t proud of it, and every time she swore it would be the last, something about him pulled her back.

her mum’s voice echoed in her mind, words of wisdom passed down in her mother tongue, reminding her that no one was perfect. but y/n knew her imperfection had a name—jadon sancho. no matter how much she tried to distance herself, there was something about him that kept her tethered. maybe it was the charm, the way he always knew exactly what to say, or maybe it was the way he’d smile at her like she was the only one in the room. she wasn’t sure anymore.

slipping out of bed, she began to pull on her clothes, moving with the kind of casual ease that came with familiarity. jadon watched her from where he lay, his arm tucked under his head, eyes half-lidded as he smirked at her.

reaching for her clothes, jadon shifted behind her, his voice low and heavy with sleep. “you leaving already?”

y/n didn’t turn around, pulling her sweats up as she spoke. “yeah, i have to go.”

he sat up slightly, watching her with that knowing smirk that always made her weak. “since when do you rush off after?” his gaze was playful, but there was a question underneath. 

normally, she would’ve stayed. they’d order food, maybe watch a movie or talk about nothing for hours. dates, in secret, where they’d avoid the paparazzi and pretend their situation wasn’t what it was—complicated, undefined, and utterly toxic. but this time, something felt different.

“it’s not like that,” she mumbled, slipping her shirt on and finally turning to face him. jadon’s dark eyes were studying her, the air between them thick with an unspoken tension. 

he chuckled softly, but there was a slight edge to it, one she noticed immediately. “not like that? or is it ‘cause of your new ‘boyfriend’?” he leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows, clearly amused. “you really do have a type, huh?”

y/n froze for a second, the mention of trent hitting a nerve she didn’t expect. “trent isn’t my boyfriend,” she said through gritted teeth, grabbing her bag off the floor.

jadon tilted his head, still smirking. “right. just like i’m not your boyfriend either, huh?”

her heart skipped a beat at his words. he wasn’t wrong, and that was part of the problem. the truth was, no matter how many times she told herself she could stop, she always ended up back here—back with him. and despite the casual nature of their relationship, there were feelings they both danced around, never acknowledging, never pushing past the surface.

“you don’t get to ask about trent,” y/n said sharply, more to shut him up than anything else.

“oh, but i do,” jadon shot back, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing. he crossed the room, his shirt hanging loosely off his shoulders as he moved closer, the playful spark in his eyes now clouded with something else—something heavier. “he and i played together, you know. on the national team. didn’t know you’d end up with another footballer. thought i was your only one.”

y/n rolled her eyes, annoyed at his cockiness. “don’t make this about you.”

“it’s always about me,” he countered, stepping into her space, his voice low as his hand ghosted over her arm. “you’re here, aren’t you?”

she felt a shiver run down her spine, his touch lighting a fire in her that she hated she couldn’t control. “i came here because i needed to clear my head,” she replied, keeping her voice steady. “but we’re not anything, jadon. we never were.”

his eyes darkened, the smug grin on his lips faltering for the briefest moment. “right, of course,” he said quietly. “because you’ll keep telling yourself that until you believe it, yeah?”

y/n exhaled sharply, trying to focus on anything but the way his presence still affected her. “you’re impossible.”

“you always say that, but you keep coming back, y/n,” he murmured, his voice softening as he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “you don’t think i see it? the way you’re always fighting this. fighting us. i know you feel it too.”

she bit her lip, swallowing the lump in her throat. it was true—there was something between them, something raw and unspoken. but it was also messy, confusing, and more often than not, it hurt.

“i don’t know why i keep coming back,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “but i can’t do it anymore. i have to stop.”

jadon’s jaw clenched, the words hitting him harder than he wanted to show. “and what, you think trent’s gonna be different? you think you won’t be back here again, with me?”

her heart raced, the pull between them stronger than she wanted to admit. “i can’t, jadon. not this time.”

“so that’s it?” he asked, stepping back slightly, his voice quieter now. “you’re really gonna walk away, just like that?”

y/n closed her eyes for a moment, gathering herself before she opened the door. “yeah. i have to.”

“you’ll be back,” he said, but there was a hint of doubt in his voice this time.

she hesitated for a moment, glancing over her shoulder. “not this time,” she whispered, and with that, she walked out, leaving him standing there, his expression unreadable.

as she left his apartment, the reality of her words sank in. she wasn’t sure if she was making the right decision, but what she did know was that things couldn’t stay the same. and as much as she hated to admit it, trent had already complicated things in ways she hadn’t expected.

y/n sped down the road, her fingers gripping the steering wheel as her mind replayed the same tired loop of thoughts. she had never been good at keeping her emotions in check—every feeling she had, whether frustration, joy, or heartbreak, found its way into the songs she wrote. the singing came later, a natural extension of the emotions she couldn’t keep inside. despite the confident persona she carried now, y/n had always been shy, even timid as a child. she still remembered being in the choir at her all-girls school, hiding in the back until her teacher forced her to take a solo. if it hadn’t been for that push, she would’ve never discovered the voice that would eventually take her all over the world. 

but now, that voice only seemed to echo with the messy frustrations of her life, and one name lingered in every song—jadon. 

her latest album was a catalog of every high and low she’d been through with him, even if she’d never admit it out loud. the media had no clue, of course, but jadon? he knew. it was all in the lyrics—the tragedy of their situationship strung together verse by verse. they were raw, exposing parts of herself she was still too prideful to confess directly. the way he always knew she’d come back, the way he got under her skin… it was all there, hidden in plain sight.

she groaned, slamming the car door as she parked outside zaia’s house. she couldn’t keep doing this. couldn’t keep falling into the same pattern. the moment she stepped into her best friend's cozy, suburban home, the warmth and stability hit her hard. everything about zaia’s life was so… put together. the complete opposite of the chaotic mess y/n had going on. while zaia was happily engaged to her childhood sweetheart, planning a wedding and living in domestic bliss, y/n was the media’s favorite "mess," the girl who couldn’t seem to keep a man, at least according to every tabloid headline.

she stormed inside without knocking, not bothering with pleasantries. "where’s the wine?" y/n called out, tossing her bag onto the couch before collapsing into it, her face buried in the cushions.

zaia appeared from the kitchen, a bemused look on her face as she poured a glass of wine and handed it over. "bad day, huh?"

"bad week," y/n grumbled, sitting up to take the glass. "i swear, if one more thing goes wrong, i’m going to lose it."

zaia raised an eyebrow, settling into the armchair across from her. "let me guess—jadon?"

y/n rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. she never had to with zaia. "he just… he makes me so mad. and i don’t know why i keep going back. it’s like he knows exactly how to push my buttons, and i fall for it every time."

zaia sighed, leaning forward slightly. "you’re too prideful, y/n. you know you’re in too deep with him, but instead of cutting him off, you write songs about him. we both know ‘girls need love’ was about him.”

y/n scoffed, though she knew zaia was right. "i write about what i feel. it’s not always about him."

"you’ve gotta leave him alone, y/n," zaia sighed, shaking her head. "he's a dead end, and your songs say it all. i mean, come on, you basically spilled everything in ‘playing games.’ you wrote ‘you say you want me, but you act like you don’t’—who else could that be about?"

y/n groaned, sinking deeper into the couch. "that could be about anyone."

"oh, please." zaia rolled her eyes. "and then there’s ‘girls need love.’.’ if that’s not about jadon stringing you along, then i don’t know what is. you’ve practically handed him a whole mixtape of your mess together."

"it’s not that deep," y/n muttered, though she knew zaia had a point. the songs weren’t just vague reflections of her life—they were practically confessions. every line felt like a piece of the complicated puzzle that was her and jadon. 

"girl, it is that deep," zaia shot back. "you’ve got a whole album about this man, and he’s still playing the same games. you need to cut him off."

y/n slumped further into the couch, the truth of zaia’s words sinking in more than she wanted to admit. "it’s not that simple. you don’t get it."

"i do get it. you’re addicted to him. it’s like you love the chaos," zaia said, her voice soft but firm. "but it’s not healthy. you’re wasting your time, your energy, on someone who’s never going to change."

y/n stared down at her wine glass, swirling the dark liquid inside. zaia was right. she always was. but something in her—whether it was pride or stubbornness or something else entirely—kept pulling her back to jadon, even when she knew it was a losing game. "he’s not that bad," she muttered, more to herself than to zaia.

zaia scoffed. "he’s worse, y/n. every time you get close to something good, he reels you back in just to keep you from moving on."

y/n bit her lip, the frustration bubbling inside her again. she hated that zaia could see her so clearly, even when she tried to hide behind the excuses. "it’s just… i don’t know. i don’t know why i can’t stop."

"because you don’t want to," zaia said plainly. "but you need to."

silence hung in the air for a moment before zaia, ever the pragmatic one, switched topics. "so, what’s the deal with trent?"

y/n groaned again, burying her face in her hands. "don’t even get me started on him. i hate him."

"you sure about that?" zaia teased, raising an eyebrow.

"yes," y/n shot back. "he’s arrogant and—ugh. just no. the whole thing with him is a disaster waiting to happen."

zaia leaned back in her chair, a sly smile playing on her lips. "maybe he’s exactly what you need. a distraction. someone to finally get your mind off jadon."

y/n narrowed her eyes. "a distraction? you think this PR relationship is going to help me forget sancho?"

"why not? he’s easy on the eyes, you know, and he’s not jadon. that’s already a win."

"it’s not that simple, zai. we signed contracts, there are rules… and i don’t need another distraction. i need to focus on my music, not some fake relationship."

zaia gave her a pointed look. "maybe you need a break from the music. all it’s been doing lately is giving you more reasons to run back to jadon. maybe trent’s exactly what you need to finally cut the cord."

y/n stared at her friend, unsure of how to respond. she didn’t want to admit it, but maybe zaia had a point. maybe pretending to be with trent, even if it was just for the cameras, was the clean break she needed.

later that week, trent found himself pacing around his living room, phone in hand. it had been days since the meeting at the label, and he hadn't heard a word from y/n. it wasn’t like he expected her to reach out—she’d made it pretty clear how much she didn’t want anything to do with him. but the silence, the radio silence, was starting to get under his skin. she was being petty, and for some reason, that irritated him even more.

he glanced down at the number he'd gotten from ayesha, sighing. "guess i'm the one who has to be the adult here," he muttered, dialing the number.

the phone rang for what felt like an eternity before a soft, unfamiliar voice finally answered.

"hello?" y/n’s voice came through, cautious and unsure, as if she didn’t know who it was.

trent smirked to himself. of course, she didn’t save my number.

"y/n. it’s trent."

there was a brief pause on the other end. he could almost imagine her blinking in surprise, her posture stiffening at the unexpected call.

"trent," she repeated slowly, as if testing the name on her tongue. "how did you get my number?"

"ayesha," he said simply, leaning back against the kitchen counter. "i figured we needed to talk, seeing as you’ve been avoiding me since last week."

"i haven’t been avoiding you." her tone was sharp, defensive. "i’ve just been... busy."

trent rolled his eyes. "right. well, we can’t exactly keep this up. we need to figure this out sooner rather than later."

"figure what out?" her voice was laced with irritation, like she didn’t even want to entertain the conversation.

"the arrangement. the contract," trent said, trying to keep his voice steady, though her attitude was starting to get under his skin again. "we have to be on the same page if this is gonna work."

there was another pause, and he could hear her exhale on the other end. "fine. when and where?"

he raised an eyebrow at her sudden change of heart. "you’re agreeing to meet?"

"didn’t you just say we need to?" she shot back, sounding exasperated. "let’s just get it over with. when?"

"tonight. my place," he said quickly, not giving her a chance to back out. "i’ll text you the address."

there was a brief hesitation before she agreed. "fine. i’ll be there."

trent hung up, a sense of relief washing over him—but also a lingering annoyance. this wasn’t going to be easy, but at least she was willing to meet. 

now all he had to do was figure out how to navigate whatever was about to come next. because if their phone call was anything to go by, this arrangement was already off to a rocky start.

trent tossed his phone onto the counter, the clatter echoing through the quiet room. he ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the strange feeling creeping up on him. it was just business, just a deal they were both locked into for the next six months. but something about the way y/n had been so indifferent, so cold on the phone, kept replaying in his mind.

he leaned back against the counter, staring out the window. his thoughts drifted, uninvited, to jadon sancho. were they still seeing each other? were they still tangled up in whatever mess they had going on? the idea of y/n being laid up with jadon, while pretending to be in a relationship with him, didn’t sit right. it wasn't just about the contract or the public image—it was something else, something more personal. 

he hated the thought of her, in the middle of the night, pressed against jadon’s chest, laughing at something stupid he said. he knew sancho; they’d been teammates. he’d seen the way women flocked to him, the easy smile, the charm he laid on so thick. but y/n —she was something else. she wasn’t just another girl. he’d seen the way she carried herself, the way she didn’t let people, especially men, walk all over her. that fiery tongue, the way she wasn’t impressed by who he was. it had struck a nerve, one that was still stinging.

what did she even see in sancho?

trent couldn't help but scoff at the thought. he’s your type, sancho would joke—like types meant anything when you were faking love for the cameras. but still, the idea of her being involved with him while they carried on this charade made trent’s stomach twist. it wasn’t jealousy, he told himself. no, it was just the optics of it, the idea that they couldn’t have their cover blown because y/n couldn't stay away from someone else.

trent crossed his arms, his irritation simmering as he recalled those nights at the club. he could still picture it: jadon, with that arrogant grin plastered on his face, always clinging to y/n like she was the only thing that mattered in the crowded room. it grated on trent's nerves to see how sancho paraded around her, as if he had it all figured out, as if she was just another trophy to display. 

but the truth was, it was clear to anyone who bothered to look closely: y/n had the upper hand. 

she played her cards with effortless grace, keeping sancho in the palm of her delicate hand. there was a fire in her eyes, a spark that made her untouchable, and yet, there she was, tangled up in a relationship that was anything but simple. while sancho flexed his charm and dominance, y/n stood confidently, unbothered, perfectly aware of the control she wielded. 

trent hated that he was even thinking about this. it was just another reason to keep his distance, to remind himself that they were supposed to be faking it, not getting caught up in whatever drama her past with jadon might bring. but the more he replayed those moments in his mind, the more he questioned whether she had really moved on from sancho or if she was just playing a deeper game, one that trent didn’t fully understand. 

did she only agree to use him to get back at jadon?

he couldn't help but wonder how she would fit into this new chapter of his life, this ridiculous arrangement they were about to start. 

he pushed himself off the counter, trying to shake the thoughts away. he needed to focus on the contract, the arrangement, and how to make it work. but no matter how hard he tried, the idea of y/n and jadon—together, intimately—kept gnawing at the back of his mind.

what kind of game was she playing?

trent couldn’t deny the tension building within him as he stood outside y/n’s condo, waiting for her to join him for the charity event. this was their second public outing together, another step in their carefully curated façade. the night was supposed to be simple: smiles for the cameras, casual conversation with his teammates, and just enough chemistry to keep the tabloids buzzing.

but nothing about y/n was simple, and he felt the weight of that as he stared at her building, checking his phone for the fifth time.

when the door finally opened, he looked up, and his breath hitched in his throat. y/n stood framed by the soft glow of her entryway, draped in a black gown that demanded attention. the corset top sculpted her figure flawlessly, emphasizing her curves and leaving just enough to the imagination. a black fur coat hung over her shoulders, but it couldn’t mask how stunning she looked.

“you’re staring,” she teased as she approached, her heels clicking against the polished floor.

trent blinked, realizing he hadn’t said a word. “just… making sure you’re ready,” he muttered, clearing his throat and shoving his hands into his pockets.

“oh, i’m ready,” she said, her lips curving into a knowing smirk as she brushed past him toward his car.

in the confines of the car, the tension was palpable. the scent of her perfume filled the space, soft yet intoxicating, and every shift of her body drew his attention. the slit in her gown revealed a flash of her leg when she crossed them, and trent gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.

“you alright there?” she asked, her voice laced with amusement as she caught him glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

“yeah. fine,” he replied curtly, focusing on the road.

when they arrived at the venue, the coat check left him momentarily speechless. as y/n slipped off her coat, her gown came into full view, shimmering under the light and accentuating every inch of her. the neckline dipped just enough to make his throat dry, and the fitted corset made her look like a vision of elegance and allure combined.

he didn’t say anything, but his jaw tightened as he noticed the appreciative glances she was drawing from others in the room.

“you good?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she handed her coat to the attendant.

“fine,” he said, his tone clipped.

but he wasn’t fine. not when he spent the first hour of the event watching as his teammates approached her, drawn in by her charm. he had deliberately kept his distance, convinced that avoiding her was the best way to keep his own emotions in check. but when he saw ryan gravenberch leaning a little too close as she laughed at something he said, trent felt his patience snap.

as he approached them, he caught the tail end of their conversation. y/n was smiling, her posture relaxed, and ryan looked equally at ease.

“everything okay here?” trent asked, his voice deceptively casual as he joined them.

y/n glanced at him, her smile fading slightly as she registered his tone. “yeah, everything’s fine. ryan was just telling me about—”

“i bet he was,” trent interrupted, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at his teammate. “you’ve got a girlfriend, don’t you, ryan?”

ryan frowned, straightening up. “uh, yeah. i do.”

“right,” trent said, his gaze shifting to y/n. “you’ve got a type, don’t you? footballers.”

y/n’s smile faltered, the slight stiffening of her shoulders the only indication she’d heard him. but trent could tell. he saw the flash of hurt in her eyes, the way she blinked rapidly as if trying to push it away.

“excuse me,” she said suddenly, standing up and walking away from the table, her posture rigid as she stormed off toward the coat check.

trent cursed under his breath, realizing his mistake. they’d been getting along—she’d even seemed to be enjoying herself—and he’d ruined it. again.

he rushed after her, weaving through the crowd until he finally caught up to her at the coat check. “y/n, wait,” he called, reaching for her arm, but she pulled away, her expression icy.

“don’t,” she snapped, turning to face him, her eyes blazing with anger. “if you’re just going to play into their hand and paint me out to be some sort of slut, we might as well rip up that contract right now.”

trent blinked, taken aback by her words. “that’s not what i—”

“no, trent, don’t even try,” she interrupted, her voice shaking slightly. “you don’t get to slut shame me. you don’t get to make comments like that just because i’ve been involved with someone you know.”

“you really think that little of me, don’t you? that i’d flirt with someone who has a girlfriend? that i’d stoop that low?” she said, her voice trembling slightly with restrained fury.

“i didn’t say—”

“you didn’t have to,” she cut him off, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “you just implied it. because that’s what you think of me, isn’t it? just some girl who’s here for a good time, here to play the part you need me to play.”

trent opened his mouth to respond, but she wasn’t done.

“you don’t know a damn thing about me,” she said, her voice rising slightly. “and you clearly don’t care to. all you see is what you want to see, and that’s on you, not me.”

she turned on her heel, heading for the coat check, but he followed her, grabbing her arm gently.

“y/n, wait,” he said, his voice softer now.

“don’t,” she snapped, pulling her arm free. “if you’re just going to insult me and humiliate me in front of your teammates, don’t bother pretending to care now.”

“that’s not what I meant—”

“then what did you mean?” she demanded, her voice cracking slightly. “because it sure as hell sounded like you were slut-shaming me for talking to someone who was just being nice. god, even jadon—”

her voice broke off, and she shook her head, blinking back tears.

“what?” trent asked, his own frustration bubbling up. “even jadon what?”

“even jadon never made me feel this small,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “and that’s saying something.”

her words hit him like a punch to the gut, leaving him standing there, speechless, as she grabbed her coat and walked away.

-

the next day, guilt clung to trent like a second skin, heavy and suffocating. he was at training, but his head wasn’t in it. every missed pass, every half-hearted sprint, earned him sidelong glances from his teammates and sharp words from his coach. but nothing could pull him out of the haze he was in, the words y/n had thrown at him replaying in his mind like a broken record.

"even jadon never made me feel this small.”

he swallowed hard, his throat dry as the memory resurfaced again. the crack in her voice, the way she blinked back tears she refused to shed in front of him. the way she’d walked out, her coat clutched tightly around her like armor, leaving him standing there, too stunned to follow.

trent scrubbed a hand over his face, dragging himself back to the present as the whistle blew to end the session. he barely registered the chatter around him as he trudged off the pitch, his phone burning a hole in his pocket. he'd already called her twice this morning, only for it to go straight to voicemail. no response to his texts either.

she was airing him, and honestly, he couldn’t blame her.

meanwhile, y/n was at a café with zai, trying to push the events of the night before out of her mind. the warm, buzzing atmosphere should’ve been enough to distract her, but her thoughts kept drifting back to trent, to his sharp words and the guilt that had flashed in his eyes when she’d finally snapped.

“you’re quiet,” zai noted, taking a sip of her iced coffee. “and don’t tell me it’s nothing. i know that look.”

y/n sighed, stirring her tea absently. “it’s just... men.”

zai raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. “is this about trent? or jadon?”

the mention of his name made her flinch, and she hated how easily it still got under her skin. “it’s not about jadon,” she said, a little too quickly. “but it doesn’t matter. it’s just... the same story, different guy. i don’t know why i’m surprised anymore.”

zai frowned, concern flickering across her face. “what happened?”

y/n hesitated, debating whether she even wanted to get into it. but the weight on her chest was too much to carry alone. “he accused me of flirting with someone. like, out of nowhere. and when i tried to explain, he doubled down. it was like...” her voice trailed off, and she took a shaky breath. “it was like i was back there again, with jadon, having to defend myself for existing. except this time, it’s not even real. it’s fake, and it still hurts.”

zai reached across the table, squeezing her hand. “y/n, you don’t have to put up with this. fake or not.”

“i know,” she whispered, but even as she said it, her resolve wavered.

because the truth was, she did have to put up with it. the contract was clear, and the charity event was coming up fast. she had to face him again by the end of the week, had to plaster on a smile and pretend everything was fine for the cameras.

but in the quiet corners of her mind, the cracks were already forming. she thought about all the times she’d been here before, swallowing her pride, her hurt, just to keep the peace. with jadon, with other men before him, and now with trent.

it was always the same pattern. they’d charm her at first, make her believe she was special, different. and then, slowly, the cracks would show. the accusations, the jealousy, the little digs at her character that piled up until she didn’t even recognize herself anymore.

trent’s words from the night before rang in her ears again, sharp and cutting. she’d thought, maybe naively, that because this was fake, it wouldn’t hurt. that she could separate herself from it. but now, she wasn’t so sure.

“i’ll get through it,” she said finally, forcing a smile for zai’s sake. “it’s just one night. i’ve handled worse.”

but even as the words left her lips, she knew they were a lie. because no matter how much she tried to convince herself that this was just another performance, the truth was far messier.

she didn’t want to admit how deeply his words had cut, how much they reminded her of jadon and the way he used to chip away at her confidence until there was nothing left.

but at least with trent, it wasn’t real.

that thought was supposed to bring her comfort, but instead, it left a hollow ache in her chest. because if even something fake could hurt this much, what did that say about her?

that night, trent sat on the edge of his bed that night, phone in hand, staring at her contact. he’d tried calling her again after training, but still nothing. the silence was deafening, and he hated it. hated knowing he’d hurt her, hated the thought of her comparing him to jadon and coming up short.

he typed out another message, his thumb hovering over the send button.

"y/n, i’m sorry."

it wasn’t enough, he knew that. but he didn’t know what else to say. didn’t know how to fix the mess he’d made.

he hit send anyway, tossing his phone onto the nightstand. the apology sat there, unread, like a weight in the pit of his stomach.

the soft glow of string lights hanging over the patio of the upscale restaurant did little to mask the tension simmering between y/n and trent. their first public outing as a "couple" was supposed to be for show, a chance to create a picture-perfect moment for the cameras. but the peaceful evening was long gone, replaced by an undercurrent of bickering that neither of them could quite rein in.

trent sat across from her, arms crossed, clearly irritated as he watched y/n type away on her phone, her attention fully absorbed by whatever message she was sending. he knew exactly who it was. sancho. the very mention of his name was enough to ignite a spark of frustration in trent, and the fact that she was texting him right in front of him? it was pushing him to his limit.

“really?” trent muttered, his voice laced with annoyance. “you’re gonna sit there texting him all night?”

y/n didn’t even bother looking up, her thumb casually swiping across the screen as she typed. “jealous already? we’ve only been ‘dating’ for what—an hour?” she shot him a sideways glance, a smirk playing at her lips, knowing she was getting under his skin.

trent’s jaw tightened as he leaned forward slightly. “it’s not jealousy. it’s just pathetic that you’re still hung up on a guy who clearly doesn’t care about you.”

y/n’s eyebrows shot up, finally looking up from her phone to meet his gaze. “oh, so you’re keeping tabs on me now? since when do you care who i talk to?”

“i don’t,” he shot back, his voice sharper than he intended. “but if we’re supposed to be playing this fake relationship game, maybe you should stop texting the guy who’s making a fool out of you.”

y/n let out a low, amused laugh, clearly unfazed by his comment. “oh, please. jadon knows exactly what he’s doing, and so do i. you wouldn’t get it.”

trent scoffed, shaking his head. “yeah? and what’s that supposed to mean? you think he’s treating you right just because he sends a few sweet texts?”

y/n leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a smug smile. “he knows how to keep things interesting. maybe that’s something you could learn from him.”

trent’s eyes darkened, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth. “yeah, well, from where i’m sitting, it looks like you’re the one doing all the chasing. does he even text you back as fast as you’re glued to your phone?”

y/n narrowed her eyes at him, her playful smirk slipping as his words hit a little too close to home. “funny. but you don’t know shit about what’s going on between me and jadon.”

“i know enough,” trent shot back, his voice low and laced with irritation. “i know he’s got you running in circles, thinking you’ve got him where you want him when really, he’s just stringing you along.”

y/n’s eyes flashed with defiance as she leaned forward, elbows resting on the table as she closed the distance between them. “you think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you? jadon knows exactly what he’s doing, and so do i. i have him wrapped around my finger, not the other way around.”

trent leaned in closer, his eyes locked on hers, the tension between them thick enough to cut. “is that what you really think? because from where i’m sitting, you look like you’re trying way too hard to convince yourself of that.”

y/n didn’t flinch, her smirk returning as she dropped her voice to a teasing whisper. “why? you jealous, trent? does it bother you that i can have him, and you’re just playing pretend?”

before trent could respond, y/n leaned forward even further, deliberately letting the neckline of her top dip just enough to catch his attention. trent’s gaze flickered down for the briefest second—a moment so quick he hoped she wouldn’t notice. but she did. and y/n, ever the opportunist, wasn’t about to let it slide.

“oh?” she teased, her voice dripping with amusement. “you can’t even look me in the eye now, can you? maybe you’re not as unaffected as you pretend to be.”

trent’s face tightened, his expression darkening as he forced himself to meet her gaze again, refusing to let her win. “you really think everyone wants you, don’t you?” he muttered, his voice edged with frustration.

y/n leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, clearly enjoying the game she was playing. “not everyone,” she said with a smirk, her eyes dancing with mischief. “but you do.”

trent scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “you’re unbelievable.”

y/n raised an eyebrow, her smile never faltering. “unbelievable or right?”

trent exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he tried to keep his cool. “this is exactly what i mean. you’re so caught up in the attention, in thinking everyone’s after you, that you can’t see how messy this is.”

“messy?” y/n echoed, feigning innocence. “i don’t think it’s messy at all. i think you’re the one who’s flustered. i mean, it’s cute—your little attempt at being unaffected—but i know when a guy wants me.”

trent leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he glared at her. “you think i’m flustered? please. you’re just pissed because i’m not falling for your bullshit like sancho does.”

y/n chuckled, shaking her head. “nah, you’re pissed because deep down, you’re just as interested as he is. you’re just better at hiding it.”

trent’s eyes flashed with irritation. “if you think i’m interested, then you really don’t know me at all.”

“oh, i know you,” she shot back, her tone teasing but with a sharper edge now. “i know that little glance wasn’t just out of curiosity. you can act all high and mighty, but i can see right through you, trent.”

trent clenched his jaw, the muscle ticking as he forced himself to stay calm. “you’re so full of yourself, you know that?”

“maybe,” she shrugged, her smirk only growing wider. “but you’re still sitting here, aren’t you?”

trent let out a frustrated breath, leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. “yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep you in check.”

“oh, is that what you’re doing?” y/n teased, her voice light and mocking. “keeping me in check? because it seems like you’re the one who can’t handle the heat.”

trent’s eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. “you can play your games with sancho all you want, but don’t drag me into it.”

y/n’s smile widened as she leaned forward again, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. “who says i’m playing games? maybe i just like getting under your skin.”

trent’s gaze flickered to hers, his frustration clear in his expression. “trust me, you’re not getting under my skin. i just think it’s sad you’re still hung up on a guy who doesn’t care about you.”

y/n’s smirk faltered for a split second before she recovered, her tone sharp as she responded. “and i think it’s sad you’re unbothered when you clearly are.”

trent stared at her, the tension between them crackling like static in the air. they were supposed to be putting on a show, a fake relationship for the cameras, but the lines between reality and pretense were starting to blur. and as much as he hated to admit it, y/n was getting to him.

but he wasn’t about to let her know that. not yet, anyway.

they left the café with tension so thick it was suffocating, y/n’s heels clicking sharply against the pavement as she trailed slightly behind trent. he strode ahead, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, barely sparing her a glance. the entire date had been a disaster—if you could even call it a date. trent hadn’t looked at her, let alone spoken to her, during the meal. he barely acknowledged her presence, his eyes fixed anywhere but on her.

y/n bit her lip, her frustration bubbling to the surface. she was tired of his dismissive attitude. “you know, for someone who’s supposed to be my date,” she called out, sarcasm dripping from her tone, “you’re really bad at it.”

trent didn’t slow down. his long strides made her struggle to keep up, but he didn’t care. “i’m not here to hold your hand,” he said flatly, still refusing to turn around.

y/n quickened her pace, falling into step beside him. “clearly. you’re more interested in ignoring me than pretending this is a real date.”

his jaw tightened, but his expression remained cold. “maybe i just don’t feel like playing into your games.”

“games?” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “what games, trent? this whole fake-dating thing was your idea, remember?”

he finally stopped walking, turning to face her with an irritated glare. “yeah, fake,” he muttered, his voice sharp. “but you’re treating it like it’s just another excuse to text him.”

y/n blinked, caught off guard. “what are you even talking about?”

trent’s lips curled into a bitter smirk. “you’ve been glued to your phone all night. let me guess—sancho?”

her stomach twisted at the mention of jadon. “oh my god, you’re unbelievable,” she muttered, shaking her head. “i wasn’t texting him.”

“sure,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “because it’s not obvious or anything. you’re always distracted, smiling at his messages. it’s pathetic.”

her chest tightened, his words cutting deeper than she wanted to admit. “you don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped, her voice rising. “and even if i was texting him, it’s none of your business.”

trent’s expression darkened as he stepped closer, his tone low but biting. “it is my business. we’re supposed to be selling this ‘happy couple’ act, but you can’t even pretend to be here with me.”

she took a step back, her frustration boiling over. “you ignored me the entire night, trent! you barely even looked at me, and now you’re trying to make me the problem?”

he scoffed, his voice cold. “why bother looking at someone who’s clearly not interested in being here?”

“are you serious right now?” y/n’s voice cracked, the weight of his accusations suffocating her. “you don’t know anything about me.”

“don’t i?” he shot back. “every time we’re together, it’s like you’re somewhere else. you’re not here, y/n. you’re always thinking about someone else.”

her throat tightened as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. she refused to let them fall. “you’re wrong,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “this isn’t about jadon. it’s about you.”

trent’s brows furrowed, his confusion momentarily breaking through his anger. “me?”

“yes, you,” she said, her voice steadier now. “you’re so focused on who you think i’m texting, you can’t see what’s right in front of you. you’ve been cold and distant all night, and i’m the one who’s pathetic?”

his mouth opened as if to respond, but no words came out. for the first time, he looked at her—really looked at her—and the guilt in his eyes was unmistakable.

“i want to leave,” y/n said finally, her voice firm. she turned away before he could say anything else, her heels clicking briskly as she walked away.

“y/n—” he started, his voice softer now, but she didn’t stop.

“don’t, trent,” she said, her voice breaking. “i’m done for tonight.”

he stood there, watching her disappear into the crowd, the weight of her words settling heavily in his chest. but his pride kept him silent, rooted in place as she walked out of sight.

the second date was arranged like the first—some picturesque café on a quiet street, perfect for photographs and social media buzz. but this time, y/n wasn’t going to be the one trying. she was done with his cold shoulder, his sharp words, and the way he acted like her presence was some sort of inconvenience. if trent wanted to treat this arrangement like a game, then fine. she’d play it better.

she arrived on time, wearing a sleek black midi dress and a pair of delicate heels that gave her an air of effortless elegance. she hadn’t bothered to look for him when she walked up to the café. instead, she let the hostess guide her to their reserved table on the patio. trent was already seated, casually scrolling through his phone, his jawline sharp as ever, and a faint furrow in his brow.

"y/n," he greeted, glancing up briefly before looking back down at his screen.

she didn’t respond, her lips pressing into a polite smile as she pulled out her chair and sat down. the silence stretched, taut and uncomfortable, but she kept her composure, smoothing her dress over her knees and ignoring the way his gaze flickered toward her once, twice.

he cleared his throat, finally slipping his phone into his pocket. “you’re quiet today,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

she picked up the menu, her eyes scanning the items as if she hadn’t heard him.

trent’s brows knit together. “everything alright?”

still, she said nothing, her attention fixed on the menu. she wasn’t being overtly rude, but her indifference was deliberate, precise.

“y/n,” he said again, more firmly this time. “i asked you a question.”

her lips twitched, a hint of amusement threatening to show, but she kept her expression neutral. finally, she lowered the menu, setting it down carefully on the table. she met his gaze for a fleeting moment before looking away again, pretending to admire the flowers in the centerpiece.

trent let out a frustrated exhale, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. “are you seriously not going to talk to me?”

she tilted her head slightly, her eyes still fixed on the flowers as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world. her silence was driving him mad, and she knew it.

“alright,” he said, his tone sharp with irritation. “what’s this about? the other night?”

she finally looked at him then, her expression blank, save for the faintest arch of her brow. his frustration deepened, the tension in his shoulders more visible now.

“look,” he started, running a hand through his curls, “if you’re mad about what i said, i—”

her phone buzzed on the table, and without a word, she picked it up, unlocking it with a casual swipe and scrolling through her notifications.

trent’s jaw clenched. “are you serious?”

she ignored him, tapping out a quick reply to a text before setting her phone back down. she leaned back in her chair, her hands folded neatly in her lap, and gave him a look that said are you done?

trent leaned closer, his voice low and biting. “you’re acting like a child.”

that earned him a reaction—her lips curved into a small, knowing smirk. “oh, now you care about how i’m acting?” she said sweetly, her voice light but cutting. “interesting.”

he blinked, caught off guard by her sudden words. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“nothing,” she said with a shrug, her tone dripping with mock innocence. “just an observation.”

he sat back, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at her. “so this is payback, huh? silent treatment? acting like i’m not here?”

her smile widened, but she didn’t respond. instead, she reached for her water glass, taking a slow sip, her eyes never leaving his.

“y/n,” he said, his voice firm now, “stop playing around.”

“why?” she asked, setting the glass down and leaning forward slightly. “don’t like it when someone treats you the way you treat them?”

trent’s mouth opened, then closed, as if he wasn’t sure how to respond. she had him cornered, and they both knew it.

“you’ve been impossible,” he said finally, his tone softer but still laced with frustration. “i’m trying here, alright?”

her brow shot up. “trying? really? because ignoring me, snapping at me, and barely looking at me the other night didn’t exactly scream effort.”

his jaw tightened, guilt flickering across his face for just a moment. “i was—” he hesitated, searching for the right words. “i wasn’t in the best mood.”

“clearly,” she said dryly, leaning back in her chair. “but you still managed to make it my problem.”

“i didn’t mean to,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “look, i know i’ve been... difficult. but this whole thing—” he gestured between them—“it’s not exactly easy, alright? pretending like this is real when it’s not.”

“not easy for you?” she repeated, her tone incredulous. “you think it’s a walk in the park for me? dealing with your attitude, your assumptions, your—” she cut herself off, shaking her head. “forget it.”

“no, go on,” he pressed, leaning closer. “say it.”

she met his gaze, her eyes flashing with irritation. “your ego,” she said bluntly. “you act like you’re the only one who has to deal with the pressure, like this whole thing revolves around you.”

his brows furrowed, her words clearly hitting a nerve. “that’s not what i think.”

“isn’t it?” she challenged. “because that’s exactly how it feels.”

trent sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. for a moment, he looked like he was going to argue, but then he just nodded. “maybe you’re right.”

her eyes widened slightly, surprised by his admission. “what?”

“you’re right,” he repeated, his voice more measured now. “i’ve been... selfish about this. i didn’t think about how it’s been for you.”

she studied him, trying to gauge whether he was being sincere. “and?”

“what do you want from me, y/n?” he asked, his voice sharp but tinged with desperation.

she stopped, too, slowly turning back to face him. for a moment, she just stood there, her phone in her hand, her expression unreadable. then, with deliberate slowness, she set her phone down on the small café table beside her and leaned back against the chair with her arms crossed.

that look.

it wasn’t just her posture, though that alone was commanding—poised and unapologetically confident. it was the way her light brown, bone-straight locks framed her face like a halo, each strand catching the golden light of the setting sun. her dark, glossy lips curved slightly, like she was on the verge of laughing at him. but it was her eyes that made his breath hitch, piercing and unyielding, filled with a quiet power that made him feel like she could see every corner of his soul.

trent felt pinned under her gaze, completely enthralled. for a moment, he forgot to breathe. in his mind, she was a force he could never hope to control, and for the first time in forever, he realized he didn’t want to.

“i want an apology,” she said finally, her voice calm but firm, as though the entire world bent to her will.

he didn’t even hesitate. “i’m sorry,” he said quickly, the words tumbling out before he could stop himself.

her brows lifted in amusement, and a surprised laugh slipped past her lips, soft and melodic. “wow,” she said, leaning forward slightly, a teasing glint in her eye. “that was... fast.”

“because i mean it,” he said, his voice steady now, though his heart raced. “you were right, y/n. about all of it. i’ve been selfish and short with you when you didn’t deserve it. this whole thing’s been frustrating, but that’s no excuse for how i’ve treated you.”

her lips parted slightly in surprise, and he noticed how her expression softened, just a fraction. “go on,” she said, though her teasing tone couldn’t quite hide the genuine curiosity beneath it.

trent took a step closer, his hands slipping into his pockets as if grounding himself. “i’ve been taking my frustration out on you because it’s easier than admitting this arrangement has gotten to me. but you don’t deserve that. if anything, you deserve better than... whatever this is.”

for a moment, she didn’t respond, just studied him with that same piercing gaze. then, slowly, she uncrossed her arms and leaned back, her expression unreadable.

“you’re lucky i’m giving you another chance,” she said, though her tone was lighter now, teasing.

“i’ll take it,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “and i’ll do better. i promise.”

she tilted her head, a flicker of something warmer passing over her face. “you’re serious, huh?”

“dead serious,” he said without missing a beat. “whatever it takes to fix this.”

she gave him a long look before finally nodding, a smile playing on her lips. “alright then,” she said, standing up and brushing imaginary dust from her dress. “you can start by buying me a coffee.”

trent chuckled, his frustration melting into something softer, something lighter. “deal.”

“you’re lucky you’re pretty,” she muttered, when he returned with her coffee a small smile tugging at her lips.

trent let out a low laugh, the sound breaking the lingering tension. “that’s all i’ve got going for me, huh?”

“pretty much,” she teased, her tone lighter now. “but don’t push it. i’m still mad.”

he smirked, leaning back in his chair. “noted.”

it wasn’t a perfect resolution, but it was enough for now. as they sat there, the silence between them was no longer cold or uncomfortable—it was something softer, a tentative truce.

as they walked back toward the café’s entrance, side by side, he noticed the way she didn’t pull away when his shoulder brushed hers. it wasn’t perfect—not yet—but it was a start. and for the first time, trent felt like they might actually figure this thing out together.

© PDRIESTA 2024

[dreamyelectronicmusic]

🎄 Hallmark Christmas Movie AU Part 3 🎄

(part 1) ❄️(part 2)

At this point in the script, we need Simon/his family/the town to face some kind of problem that Wille can help solve in a way that doesn’t rely on his royal status, lets him spend more time with Simon and helps him understand what he’s really passionate about. So what I’m thinking is that Simon’s school or maybe the town community centre is putting on a Christmas play. Actually it’s probably a musical so Simon is very involved. It’s an annual thing that the town is completely obsessed with. It’s not Christmas without it, basically. But now there’s a problem: the beautiful hand-painted scenery flats they always use got damaged somehow (Hallmark Force Majeure) and they’re unusable. Everyone is devastated; the flats are a classic and everybody loves them. They can do the play without them but it just won’t be the same. Nobody is available to paint new ones at such short notice. Except a certain prince who is there on holiday so he has nothing to do besides make eyes at his crush and who took up painting some years ago as a way to calm his anxiety.

So Wille offers to repaint the flats. Mostly he wants to impress Simon and spend more time with him, but he also really likes the thought of being actually useful. I don’t know how long it would take in real life but in fantasy world it takes exactly the amount of time they have. Simon keeps him company whenever he can and enjoys watching him paint and the cute little frown he has on his face when he’s concentrating. They talk and joke and flirt and get to know each other better. Wille thinks that he should probably be trying to protect his heart because he knows that this can never be anything more than a little holiday romance – someone as wonderful as Simon doesn’t belong in his dreary life. But he knows that it’s a lost cause. He’s falling hard and fast and there’s no stopping it, so he decides to just enjoy it while he can.

As Wille paints, at first he’s trying to copy the old flats based on photos, but then he gets ideas for changes and improvements. He doesn’t think he should do that, though; it’s a tradition and he shouldn’t break it. But Simon encourages him to be creative and just do what he feels is right, and Wille finds that he’s really enjoying the process. (See, it’s a metaphor! We are not in a subtle genre.)

And you can guess what happens. At some point Wille gets some paint on his face and Simon tries to wipe it off. They were laughing about something just a second ago but suddenly they’re not. Simon’s thumb brushes over Wille’s cheekbone, smearing the paint. Wille’s nose nudges Simon’s, and their lips finally meet in a kiss that’s been days in the making. It’s soft and brief. They break apart to check in with each other, grin, and the next thing Wille knows is he’s dropping the paint brush and pulling Simon closer, closer, closer.

Simon ends up with paint on the back of his shirt and in his hair, but he doesn’t mind.

[pskmonika]

I saw the post you made abt MHA boys’ type and thought it was so cute and accurate (at least how I envision it too) I loved your vision for Shinsos s/o and was wondering if you had any hcs about his type/what he finds attractive? I love this purple haired boy sm you have no idea

-🫐

Shisou's type / him having a crush:

Because of shinsou's calm personality, a lot assume that he'd be into someone who's more outgoing and extroverted that makes him get out of his shell, but i dont think thats true

trying to think of it in a canon way, shinsou is sooo similar to aizawa and we saw that aizawa had no feelings towards the bubbly girl that like him, so thats why i think similar to him, thats simply not shinsou's type

Shinsou wouldn’t fall for someone who blends into the crowd—he needs someone who sees the world differently, someone extraordinary in their own quiet way, shinsou doesn’t crave noise; he craves depth.

well at first You was quite, that all there was in you , that all everyone saw, but shinsou unlike everyone else, pays attention to the smallest details, like the way u loved to draw whenever u got free time, like the way u chase cats outside and always leave a piece of cheese or tuna in ur backpack just in case u found hungry stray cats, or the way u loved to come to class earlier than everyone just to listen to ur fav songs while staring out the window, u loved the sky, he for sure knew that, from the way u stare at it, the way u drew it

maybe it was drawing, writing, making music or even photography.... but you certainly was someone artistic, someone that sees beauty in things, someone that doesnt just look around the world, someone that sees the world, someone that holds so much inside

You were fascinating, just like your quirk: Nightmare. It brought your enemies’ greatest fears to life, turning them into a reality you controlled, it was scary, it made him wonder if people thought you have quite the vaillin quirk, just like they thought about him,

But unlike him, you was quiet but never unkind, and he was curious

So he got closer, started from borrowing a pen, to a random chat in the rooftop to being partners for a school project, and the more time he spent with you, the more, he’s sinking, deeper and deeper, into you.

you made him feel at ease, you were like a gentle breeze on a warm day, he felt like with you he can breath

He loves that no one knows you like he does, Your laughter, your secrets, your vulnerabilities—they belong to him. He’s possessive, and he knows it. its no secret how insecure he is, so knowing that he got to see sides of you that no one else sees, hear a laugh that no else hears, making inside jokes with you, hearing your secrets and discovering all the diff sides of you, it all make him feel so special

But the moment he sees you with someone else, it feels like his insecurities explode, the jealousy start consuming him like gasoline igniting on an open flame, and when the wild fire consumes him, it all came bursting out his chest, as a messy unexpected confessing and a sudden passionate kiss

N.B: i hope u enjoyed this! I always try to keep the character's true personality and stay canon and make the s/o kind of special, so sorry if this wasnt exactly what u wanted! Everyone feel free to request any other characters! This is the previous post and sorry for any grammar mistakes, if u got any other thoughts on shinsou's type comment it down below! Id love to hear your thoughts

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Unspoken Melody p.5

Hi guys, here's a new part of the story, if you've missed part 4 here it is :) If you want to read more of my stories, here's my masterlist.

Two drivers, one unforgettable concert, and a chance encounter with a pop sensation that leaves Oscar questioning everything he thought about music—and maybe even himself.

As the day at the paddock wound down, the energy and noise of the track were replaced by a peaceful calm as everyone began wrapping up. Lando had already left to attend to some media duties, leaving you to wander back toward the exit. Just as you were pulling your phone out to call for a car, Oscar appeared beside you, his hands shoved into the pockets of his McLaren jacket.

“Hey,” he said, his tone casual but his cheeks slightly pink. “Heading back to the hotel?”

“Yeah,” you replied, looking up from your phone. “It’s been a long day. But a great one.”

Oscar hesitated for a moment, then cleared his throat. “I could give you a lift. If, um, you’re okay with that. I think we’re staying at the same place.”

You tilted your head, pleasantly surprised by the offer. “Really? That’s nice of you. Are you sure it’s not out of your way?”

He shook his head quickly. “Not at all. I mean, I’m heading there anyway.”

“Alright,” you said, smiling. “Thanks, Oscar.”

The car hummed softly as Oscar drove, the streetlights casting a warm glow through the windows. After a few minutes of polite silence, you decided to break the ice.

“So, is this your usual post-practice routine? Chauffeuring pop stars back to their hotels?” you teased, shooting him a sideways glance.

Oscar chuckled, his hands gripping the steering wheel. “Not exactly. But, you know, gotta keep things interesting.”

You laughed, settling more comfortably into your seat. “Well, you’re doing a great job so far. Thanks again for this.”

“No problem,” he replied. “It’s not every day I get to talk to someone who’s not obsessed with cars.”

“Fair enough,” you said. “Though I’ll admit, I don’t know much about the sport. Lando’s trying to fix that.”

Oscar smirked. “He’s relentless when he wants to be, isn’t he?”

“Absolutely. But he means well,” you said, pausing. “You and Lando seem close. Do you guys hang out much off the track?”

“Sometimes,” Oscar said. “He’s great, but we’re pretty different personality-wise. He’s more… chaotic, I guess.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” you said, grinning. “So, what about you? What’s life like outside of F1?”

Oscar shrugged. “Not as exciting as yours, I’m sure. I’m kind of a homebody when I’m not racing. I like spending time with my family, though. I’ve got a lot of sisters, so it’s always lively when I’m home.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “A lot of sisters? That’s definitely a green flag.”

Oscar laughed, a slight blush creeping into his cheeks. “Is it?”

“Absolutely,” you said with a nod. “I’ve only got a younger brother, but with touring and everything, I hardly get to see him. I really miss my family when I’m away.”

“That must be tough,” Oscar said, his tone softening. “I’m lucky that my family is super supportive. My sisters freaked out when they found out I’d met you.”

You blinked in surprise, turning to look at him. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “They’re huge fans. When I told them you were at the paddock, they were sending me texts nonstop. I think they wanted me to get your autograph or something, but I wasn’t about to ask.”

You laughed, touched by the thought. “That’s so sweet. You should’ve said something! I would’ve loved to sign something for them or even record a little message.”

Oscar glanced at you, his eyes lighting up. “They’d lose their minds if you did that.”

“Well, let’s make it happen tomorrow,” you said, smiling. “It’s the least I can do for you after giving me a ride.”

Oscar’s blush deepened, and he cleared his throat. “That’s really nice of you. They’re going to be so jealous when I tell them we’ve been talking.”

“I’ll try not to steal their favorite brother,” you joked, and Oscar chuckled, the tension in the car easing even further.

By the time you pulled up at the hotel, the conversation felt natural, as if you’d known each other much longer than a day.

“Thanks for the ride, Oscar,” you said as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

“Anytime,” he replied, his tone warm. “Goodnight, YN.”

“Goodnight,” you said, stepping out of the car and into the quiet lobby.

Back in Your Room

Your suite was a welcome respite after the day’s whirlwind events. You dropped your bag on the chair, kicked off your shoes, and sank onto the edge of the bed, pulling out your phone. Scrolling through your contacts, you called Mark.

The line rang and rang until his voicemail picked up.

“Hey, it’s me,” you said, your voice soft. “Just wanted to tell you about my day. It was amazing—so much fun at the paddock, and the McLaren team was so welcoming. Call me when you can, okay? Love you.”

You ended the call, frowning slightly, and set your phone on the nightstand. A few minutes later, it buzzed with a text notification.

Mark: Out with the guys. Can’t talk.

You stared at the message for a moment, disappointment sinking in. Setting your phone aside, you changed into your pajamas and climbed into bed. The day had been full of new experiences, laughter, and connections, but the hollow feeling of not being able to share it with Mark lingered.

As you closed your eyes, Oscar’s shy smile flashed in your mind, followed by the thought of how easy it had been to talk to him. Shaking your head, you pushed the thought away and focused on the steady rhythm of your breathing, hoping for restful sleep.

[emsroselover]

A Fan Edit

𝘏𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦... 𝘈𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘰 𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘰𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘌𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙉𝙤𝙣𝙚 (𝙄 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙞𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙚 𝙞𝙛 𝙞 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙖𝙙𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙮)

It was a typical afternoon at the Sturniolo house. You have just returned from a long photo shoot, your makeup still fresh on and your hair styled perfectly, though your energy was starting to drip after hours on set. You had a few minutes before you needed to wind down, so you decided to pop in and say hello to Chris, Matt and, Nick

As you stepped through the front door, you heard the familiar hum of cameras and the sound of Chris's voice-low but excited, clearly in the middle of filming. You smiled to yourself as you took off your shoes and made your way down the hallway toward the living room.

The door was slightly ajar, and you could see the trio sitting in front of the camera. Matt was holding a microphone, Nick was fiddling with the equipment, and Chris was sitting comfortably in the middle of the couch, eyes focused on the screen in front of him. The title of the video they were filming flashed across the screen: "Reacting to Fan Edits."

You pushed the door open just as Chris looked up, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. "Hey, babe!" he greeted you with a big grin, though he quickly tried to turn his attention back to the screen as Matt gave him a playful nudge.

"Did you just say 'Hey, babe' on camera?" Matt teased, his eyebrow raised as he looked at his twin. "You know Nick ain't editing that out, right?"

Chris rolled his eyes but chuckled. "Shut up, dude, I don't care."

You laughed and waved at them. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I just got back from my shoot," you explained, tossing your bag onto the couch beside Chris. "What are you guys filming today?"

Nick quickly responded, already looking back at the screen. "We're reacting to some fan edits. You know, the usual. It's actually pretty funny."

You nodded, settling onto the arm of the couch beside Chris. "Sounds fun. What's the first one?"

Chris leaned forward, and you could see the screen where a fan-made video was loading. He glanced at you and winked. "Oh, trust me, you'll love this one. It's a wild edit of my old video."

The video played, and your curiosity piqued as the fan edit began. It was a simple clip of Chris from a past video, where he said, "I'm always ready when you want me," his voice casual and unassuming. But the fan edit had taken it out of context, paired with dramatic music and flashy text, which gave the sentence an entirely different meaning.

The screen read, "Chris, always ready for anything." The music was intense, and the text blinked on screen like some kind of seductive ad, turning the innocent comment into something far more suggestive than Chris ever intended.

You couldn't help but burst into laughter, and Chris, seeing your reaction, immediately turned a deep shade of red. "Oh my god," he groaned, burying his face in his hands. "That was not the vibe I was going for!"

Matt snickered, his eyes glinting with

mischief. "Well, you didn't exactly help yourself there, Chris. I mean, it kind of sounds like you were asking for it."

Nick joined in, his laughter matching Matt's. "Yeah, man, I'm always ready when you want me? You're practically begging for that kind of edit."

You shook your head, still giggling at how the video had been so expertly altered. "I mean, to be fair, Chris," you said, looking at him with a teasing smile, "You weren't exactly wrong. You are always ready when I need you, aren't you?"

Chris turned to you, his cheeks flushed but his eyes twinkling with a mix of embarrassment and affection. "Oh, come on, Y/N. You're making this worse," he whined, though there was no real heat behind it.

You leaned closer, nudging him with your shoulder. "What? It's true! You're always there for me when I need you." You winked playfully, feeling a little mischievous yourself.

Chris shook his head in disbelief, his hand covering his face as he groaned dramatically. "I can't believe you're encouraging them," he muttered under his breath, though he was smiling despite himself. "I was just talking about being prepared for whatever, like… my videos, or whatever. But now look what's happening."

Matt laughed, reaching over and ruffling

Chris's hair. "You're never going to live this one down, bro."

Nick chimed in, "Yeah, the fans are going to have a field day with this one. I bet that edit is already trending."

Chris threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright! I get it, okay? I messed up, and now I'll never live it down." He turned to you, his eyes softening. "But seriously, babe, you're always the one making me look good. So if they want to think I'm being all… that guy, whatever. You know me."

You smiled warmly, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. "I'm just here for you, no matter how embarrassing the edits get," you teased.

The moment you kissed him, Matt and Nick groaned in unison, pretending to gag. "You two are gross," Matt said dramatically. "But I guess that's what we get for having a couple on our channel."

Chris rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the smile on his face. "Shut up, guys. It's cute. And I'm not taking it back."

As the video continued, you stayed by Chris's side, teasing him every chance you got.

Later that week that video was still blowing up with comments. They were full of laughing emojis and playful suggestions.

Sturn.Chris: “Omg, Chris is always ready 😏” Pedals.Sturn: Did anyone else catch that? Lmao 🤣” Y/n's.wife: “Y/N, you’re not wrong though. He is always ready for you.”

Chris could only shake his head. "I'm done. Y/N, I'm going to blame you for all this," he muttered, still grinning as he read more comments filled with more playful comments.

But he didn't mind. The truth was, no matter how embarrassing the edits got, he'd never be anything but himself with you-and that's exactly why he loved you.

[gunslinginnhogtyin]

The last thing Butch wants right now is to become one of those annoying folks who complain and gripe to the bartender about their troubles, especially if this fella was actually set on letting him buy him a drink sometime after work. It’s for this reason that after he grows quiet and Blondie begins to speak up that he’s genuinely taken aback by his words.

While he could safely assume he knew where the man stood on the matter considering the way he shrugged Darlene off so quick she didn’t have the chance to even butter him up, he doesn’t expect him to voice those thoughts or to validate how he might be feeling deep down, beyond the guilt for not being more thankful.

The rockstar is staring up at the man with large blue eyes now, remaining silent as he takes his words in and digests them. Everything he said was rather blunt, each word had meaning, and even more so his tone suggested he felt very strongly about this particular kind of thing. He can’t exactly place why and… does it really matter? Blondie was making him feel like he wasn’t crazy for having his own doubts.

Profit. That’s exactly where it felt his value lied, try as might to suppress the feeling. It’s different having someone tell him what he suspects is going on rather than gawking at him in surprise for being unappreciative of his fame. What does he even say in response? And if there was anything to say, his brain was still catching up, still turning those words over in his head and It’s for this reason that he kind of panics and he resorts to the cherry stem trick for an easy distraction from such a serious topic and he’s thoroughly amused by the reaction he earns himself.

He plucks the stem from his tongue with a lopsided smile and cackles at Blondie’s response. Gosh, he sure was cute painted all red like that, from ear to ear no less!

“Bahahah!” The cowboy busts out into laughter, “Why—did it work on ya?” He quips with a smirk before flicking the cherry stem into the trash can behind the bar table with surprising accuracy. “…Nah, I ain’t busted that ol’ trick out in a long time, heh… not since I used t’pick cherries from a tree on my Pa’s farm, an’ that was—years ‘go….so consider yerself special, I guess.” A wink follows his words, and as much as he wants to keep it all lighthearted, he he feels something needs to be said. Like he needs to address the others willingness to tell him like it is.

He falls silent again as he drinks down some more of his beverage and when he gets it all down, that’s when he’s ready to speak again.

“Ah…mm. I, ah… ‘ppreciate everythin’ y’said jus’ then… y’ain’t gotta make me feel better or nothin. That ain’t yer job. I… don’t wanna talk yer ear off ‘bout it all, but uh. Y’pretty much hit th’ nail on th’ head.“ his eyes have long dropped to his glass by now, him sliding it closer to himself. “Can I be honest with ya..? This’s, uh… still pretty new t’me. Can’t say I s’pected my music t’take me anywhere… my Pa sure didn’t.” A small laugh escapes him. “It’s… somethin’ t’learn t’adjust to fer sure, but… m’jus’ wonderin’ when I’ll feel like…” A lazy shoulder shrug. “I dunno, like I’m s’posed t’be here? S’easy t’act like I b’long but. Tch. Hell, a worked on a farm b’fore all this. Can’t say I’m a fan’f th’ pampered lifestyle as nice’s it can be sometimes. They act like some’f us’ll break f’we get too rowdy an—man, it drives me up th’ wall t’have eyes on me all th’ damn time. S’like… like bein’ treated like a kid again.” He finally voices some of his own grievances but quickly grows embarrassed by all he’s shared.

“U-Uh, y’got one helluva’n eye fer sleazebags. H-How d’ya know? I mean… when Darlene first ‘pproached me, it—heh—it felt nice hearin’ ‘er say all that.” Her opener, ‘Has anyone ever told you that you have a face for the stage?’, he recalls her saying the same thing to him when she had found him at a local event back in his home town. The excitement he felt when she talked up his talent, made him feel special, made him feel like he could have anything he wanted if he had someone representing him all the while. Like she could make it all happen. There was… nothing left on that farm for him anyway, not since his Ma had passed a few years prior to being noticed by the agent.

Artair's mouth thins as he talks but the expression he wears is one of sympathy. Wordlessly, he tops off the glass with more rye whiskey. He returns to leaning on the counter, watching Butch closely.

"Forgive me. Might be oversteppin'. But regardless what she's done fer ya, y've every right t'complain when someone does y'dirty." Artair clicks his tongue. "I know that sort. See 'em more'n enough round here. Some 'r fine enough, but some of 'em..... yer a paycheck t'em. A profit. An' that ain't nothin' t'warrant loyalty."

He sighs, before leaning down to look at him level. "I listen t'yer music. Y'got here because y'got the spark. She might've found ya, but y've probably paid her back an' then some, 'cause yer good at what y'do."

There's a brief pause, And Artair's eyes drop from Butch entirely. "Ah....jus' sayin'. Sometimes y'gotta consider what's best fer ya. Management'll always make y'feel y'owe 'em, 'cause they want y'stickin' 'round. But they ain't t'one writin' yer songs or singin' on t'stage. An' if they're treatin' ya wrong, well... up an' comer like yerself? Anyone'd be chompin' t' bit t' represent ya. Could be yer lucky. But could be if y'think y'are, she can drop last minute changes on ya and yammer yer ear off."

He's said too much, far too much, and he pulls back further, brushing back his hair. He just--- couldn't stand the idea of someone treating the outlaw-- Butch, a very real person, like that. He'd done anything he'd ever been asked until there was just none of him left to give, and it was never enough. He was never enough. Maybe this Darlene was different, but there was an insidious nature in the subtle build of expectations from a foundation of 'owing' someone. It was all too easy to assume if you just did enough, you'd be good enough. But you never would be.

But then Butch offers a trick, and he---- loses any sense of gravity or seriousness. His eyes flick between the stem and Butch's face, his eyes, and that stem and tongue a second time, longer. The longer he thinks about it, the more warm under the collar he gets, and he tugs at one of the lapels of his button-up to adjust it. "Yer---...... yer tongue's very skilled." He says it in a calm tone, but even just saying it has the heat dialed up several notches, even his ears managing to catch color. "D'ya try an' impress all t'bartenders wit' that kinda trick, Mr. Outlaw?"

[chiropteracupola]

The love of the Wanderer is to wanderers.

[fruitcakey]

This is way too hard aauurrghh!! Nirvana and aic (esp aic) were the first bands introducing me to grunge/rock and shifted my music taste since. My dad listens to soundharden a lot so I have a lot of memories sitting in the car listening to their songs when they play

[volivolition]

dude the TOP song you posted (truce) fucking kills me and the way you described the animatic is??? so good???? I'd bawl actually /pos

I need to know if there's any other TOP songs you relate to the furies/any DE character really, or any slower songs even if they aren't by TOP

OH AGREED ABSOLUTELY!! TRUCE MY BELOVED... and THANK YOU!! we are imagining animatics and crying together! /pos :'] <3

ooh!! well, i havent listened to a lot of TOP in a while, so i don't have many recommendations there unfortunately :'] but for other slow, soft songs, let's see... i'll put them under a cut with all my explanations, but ☀️ "See The Day" by The Altogether (Volition song!), 🍃 "Rounds" by The Oh Hellos (Shivers song!), 🦋 "Would You Be So Kind" by dodie (general skills song, Suggestion primarily!) are the best contenders!

Pretty sure you've seen it already, but from a different ask, i recommend "Almost (Sweet Music)" by Hozier! (and "Like Real People Do" if you want to cry and yearn with me, though my DE ideas for it are very loose hkjhg) these are slow ones i like hkjhg <3

"Goodbye" by The Altogether is a Harry and Dora song :0

"Soldier, Poet, King" by The Oh Hellos is one i specifically relate to Volition (my beloved protector/motivator/crownhead blorbo! [picks him up and wiggles him!!!]), but i would make one of those animation memes for it with every skill slotted into a "soldier" "poet" or "king" position.

☀️ "See the Day" is both another The Altogether song and another Volition song! a real "the worst is over. we made it through. we're going to survive this. it might not get easier yet, but we'll come out the other side and we'll be alive" song. it makes me cry hkjgh

🍃 "Rounds" by The Oh Hellos is a soft Shivers song, though the lyrics don't start until halfway in. ough my god listening to it makes my heart ache (/pos) <3 La Revacholiere singing to Harry in the wind. "Will you start when I end? Yeah, I'm long in the wind..."

"Northern Star" by Dom Fera, a song Harry would sing for karaoke and dedicate to Kim, and then they'd waltz a little clumsily on the dim, starlit sidewalk on their way home for the evening... <3

🦋 "Would You Be So Kind?" by dodie BUT SPECIFICALLY THIS VERSION, because i love everyone's crowded but earnest vibes. this one is led by Suggestion ("oooh you wanna fall in love with us so bad right? right???") and makes me grin, you GOTTA imagine all of the skills squished together in the front of Harry's brain all trying different tactics to get Kim to fall in love with them, (rhetoric: "I HAVE A QUESTION..." ency: "let's write a story! be in my book!") at 2:35, after all the skills singing together loudly, it's just Harry himself singing to Kim, with all the skills slowly backing him up. the ending is all of them fucking ECSTATIC celebrating when harry finally kisses kim hkjhg jesus this'd be so cute hold on i have to go plan this out i have so many thoughts hkjdh

"Seven" by Sleeping at Last would be a sweet Reaction Speed song (ironic that im adding react speed to a list of soft, slow songs though hkjgh) "I'm ready for whatever comes next!" <3 Reaction Speed is a fast, restless little fella who can't sit still for long, always loves moving, acting, doing. he's like the personification of a verb hkjhg <3 i would also accept an interpretation for echem <3

"Cosmos" by Jawbreaker Reunion is a song that The Furies recently suggested to me as a jean song and it's so right for that, very soft and i like it very much :'] (you should also ask The Furies if you want to, it's much more musically inclined than me, i feel hkjhg <3)

awuahg thank you for asking and for reading!! i appreciate it!! <33

oh and here's links to all of the songs in the tags: Come Together Now, Two, Four, Five, Six, Eight, Nine, RPG Animation Meme (<- homestuck lmao)

[seaofreverie]

By the way the viral marketing campaign just dropped

[onetrackobsession]

Hey what’s the consensus on how Pokotho/Pokey—“hates every voice that’s not his own”—feels about the other Lords in Black. Because I never see this discussed and I’m thinking about it. CONSTANTLY.

Sure, he can control the world. But once he achieves that, do we not then consider whether or not he’d try to go after his siblings? Because if your one driving motivation is ‘everybody else stop talking FOREVER,’ I can’t see why he wouldn’t feel that way about the other cosmic beings he’s surrounded by. Like sure they’re siblings, but I’m not confident that would stop any of them from going after each other. After all, the Lords DESPISE Webby, their sister. Whose to say they don’t turn on each other when their motives clash?

[mariocki]

Infinite list of favourite lyrics: 229/?

Bobbie Gentry - Ode to Billie Joe (1967)

"And Papa said to Mama, as he passed around the black-eyed peas:

'Well, Billie Joe never had a lick of sense; pass the biscuits, please.

There's five more acres in the lower forty I got to plow'

And Mama said it was a shame about Billie Joe, anyhow.

Seems like nothin' ever comes to no good up on Choctaw Ridge

And now Billie Joe McAllister's jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge"

[...]

"Mama said to me, 'Child, what's happened to your appetite?

I've been cookin' all morning, and you haven't touched a single bite.

That nice young preacher, Brother Taylor, dropped by today

Said he'd be pleased to have dinner on Sunday - oh, by the way

He said he saw a girl that looked a lot like you up on Choctaw Ridge

And she and Billie Joe was throwin' something off the Tallahatchie Bridge'"

[thebeautifulfantastic]

<3

[werebutch]

You should listen to red valley btw . If you like pathetic whimpering men treated like lab rabbits