boobearymuch · 3 days ago
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Their Habits —♡ LADS Scenarios
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—♡Summary: Everyone has habits, but not everyone enjoys having you point them out... —♡Tags: gender-neutral, pure fluff —♡A/N: Silly thing I whipped up after being told I bounce my leg too much lolll —♡ masterlist
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—♡ Zayne
Zayne squints so much without his glasses. He insists he only needs them when his eyes get tired—but clearly—that wasn’t the case. “Zayne, look!” You eagerly pointed out a flyer posted on the door of his favorite boba spot. They were hosting an event next weekend, it read, and encouraged customers not to miss out on the opportunity. You watched his hazel eyes sharpen into a squint.
“Event…?” He still had trouble reading it, though, and absently tugged your clasped hands forward as he leaned in for a better look. After a few seconds, his eyebrows relaxed, and he hummed appreciatively, “They’re introducing new flavors. Perhaps we should…what?” 
You failed to conceal an amused smile. “You need your glasses, old man.” The nickname was not received well, by any means.
“The text is small.” He answered coolly, “The average person would also have difficulty reading it.” Then he slipped his hand around your waist, eyes narrowing, “And I’m not old.”
You couldn’t help yourself, you laughed, “Have you considered contacts?” The look he gave you was deeply unamused, “No, no, you’re right. You look cuter in glasses, anyway.” Zayne's ears tinted pink under your playful stare. 
“...Let’s go inside before they close.” You pinched his flustered cheeks.
“Are you sure? The menu is so tiny. What if you can’t read it and order the wrong thing?” Your mouth promptly shut after his grip on you tightened in a warning. Zayne remembered to bring his glasses on your next outing (and the one after that).
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—♡ Sylus
Sylus hums nonsense when it’s too quiet. It’s like he constantly needs to fill silences with some kind of noise. Even his humming is off-key…
“What song is that?” 
Sylus barely spared you a glance, “What song?” His fingers worked a microfiber cloth into the metal of his pistol. 
“The one you were just humming.”
He huffed, “Didn’t realize I was humming, sweetie.” Then he removed the cloth to admire his handiwork, “Don’t you recognize it?”
You almost felt bad for saying this but, “...No?” Sylus finally glanced up from his work to shoot you a look. A concerning one.
“Really? You had it on repeat all day, yesterday.” Horror dawned on you at the realization, “The chorus has been stuck in my head since morning…” And then a laugh sputtered from your lips. 
“Oh my god, that sounded nothing like it.” Sylus glared and returned his focus to his pistol with what you could only describe as a pout. 
“What a picky kitten.” You bit your lip to stop the smile threatening to break loose. He was a god awful singer, but the room felt emptier without his noise. Gently, you padded over to where he sat, and invited yourself onto his lap. Despite his mood, a hand wrapped around your waist without hesitation.
“Sing it again.” Sylus’ hold on you tightened, “I think I like your version better.” A soft chuckle left him, and quietly, he hummed once more.
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—♡ Rafayel
Rafayel taps. All. The. Time. Taps his legs, hands, pens, pencils, anything and everything within reach. And he’ll deny the hell out of it when you ask him to stop. “I wasn’t doing anything,” The candies on his phone screen lit up and exploded with color as he scored another combo. Too engrossed in his phone to realize the arm slung around your shoulders was still tapping you. You leaned into him with a huff.
“You’re doing it now.”
Rafayel gave you a sidelong glance, frowning, “I dunno what you’re talking about, cutie.” You suddenly captured his hand to still it, and Rafayel gave you the most scandalized look, “If you wanna hold it that badly, I’m not stopping you.”
“You’re not even aware you’re doing it,” You blinked incredulously, “Are you?”
Rafayel threw his head back and groaned dramatically, “Doing whaaat?” Then he lifted his head to press his forehead against yours and huffed, “Is this your way of telling me to get off my phone?”
You couldn’t help but laugh. “You look like a fish up close like this.” Rafayel pulled away to roll his eyes and clicked his phone off.
“Alright, fine, you have my attention.” Then he began tapping his foot, “You know, that’s a little offensive to say to a Lemurian. You could get cancelled for that.”
Your hand drifted to his bouncing knee, and you watched as both your hand and his leg now jumped up and down. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?!”
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—♡ Xavier
Xavier is always chewing on something, and it is almost always never gum. It’ll be something random, like a straw from a drink he’d long since finished. The strings of his hoodie, a toothpick. Once, it was a plastic tie. He reminded you of a teething puppy; he’d probably chew on wires if you left him alone long enough. Today, though, his chew toy of choice looked a lot like…
“Xavier, is that my pen?” 
He blinked, eyes floating from his comic book to your frown, “Yours…?” His jaw froze mid-chew. 
“Yeah,” You scooted closer on the couch, “the one from my desk at work.” 
A blush crept along his cheekbones, but he didn’t drop the pen like you expected him to, “...Are you sure?”
Your eyes fell to the pen trapped in the corner of his mouth, “The one with little stars on it? Yeah, that’s mine. I thought I lost it at work, why do you have it?”
The comic book shifted in his hands, “I found it, that’s why.” This explanation would be more convincing if he hadn’t shifted his gaze sideways. His blunt fingernails picked nervously at the corner of his book, curling the edges.
“Xavier,”
“Okay, I borrowed it.” You bit back a chuckle, and he guiltily removed the pen from his mouth. It shined with his spit, and the cap bore teeth marks, “You can have it back.”
You couldn’t hide your grimace fast enough, “...Actually, you can keep it.” Xavier merely blinked before bringing the tip back to his mouth. Then a smile curved the corner of his lips.
“My pen now, hm?”
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katiefrog217 · 2 days ago
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My piece for the 2024 Good Omens Spooky Bang, in collaboration with the always lovely @quoththemaiden !!
Read their story HERE!!
Thank you to the Bang organizers @eviebane , Mason, Milo, and Acey! (I couldn't get all the tags to link them, but they can be found on the Spooky Bang Blog!)
I kinda got to work on this last minute, and it was quite the challenge for me perspective and color wise, but I'm really happy with how it came out!! I hope all of you enjoy this piece and the wonderful story that goes with it!!
Also, sorry for not posting in a long time, can't promise I'll post more frequently or even if it will be Good Omens related, as life is kind of in the way right now, but I'll try!
Vgen | AO3 | RedBubble | KoFi
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lebanesetoaster · 16 hours ago
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the common fanon is that they met over the eight dead bodies of agatha's original coven. and it makes as much sense as anything else
I know this wasn't a prompt but. I'm feeling fic-ish after all the unfinished questions. I'm not fact checking anything against canon, buckle up and come along for the ride if you please. How did they meet.
Agatha is reeling. She's sobbing. She feels like she can't pull enough fresh air into her chest. She's on her knees, surrounded by the mummified corpses of her coven. Of her mother. Of the only family she has ever known. The only thing she can see through her tears is purple light. It's cracking around her, popping and sparking and warm against the cool New England night.
And when she lifts her head, there's a soft green glow in the distance. She blinks once, twice, and her vision goes from purple to green, with a face alarmingly close, wide eyes peering at her curiously. Surrounded by calm green light, she can finally pull in a full breath of the cool night air, and another, and another. And suddenly, she's breathing rather than sobbing. And the dark eyes are still on her, brow furrowed in concern.
Moments pass, maybe seconds, maybe hours, with both of them breathing in unison. Just... breathing. Remembering how to breathe. Learning, perhaps. For a moment, she thought she might have forgotten how. But it's coming back to her. She's coming back to herself.
The purple has calmed too. It's dancing quietly along her fingertips now. Her vision is clearing. The woman's eyes are still on her.
Agatha knows all the women in town. This one is different. Unfamiliar. Clothes of moss and bark that almost appear to be growing from soft flesh. The woman tilts her head curiously, and Agatha mirrors the gesture. "Who are you," falls, unbidden, from her lips.
The woman startles, as if crashing back to reality, the soft calm in her eyes giving way to something else, something, for a moment, almost skittish, as her gaze flicks to the bodies. But Agatha shivers, and sways, exhaustion catching up to her. How long have they been here?
All at once, the ground seems to be rushing up to meet her, but not as quick as the woman. Her landing is soft.
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redwinelew · 1 day ago
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joyride | lewis hamilton
social media au. female!east asian!reader.
summary — in which the internet goes wild when the seven times formula 1 world champion co-wrote and stars in his girlfriend's music video for her comeback single after a long hiatus.
face claim — rina sawayama | song — joyride by kesha
warnings — swearing, suggestive content, one kms joke
author's note — first fic on tumblr !! pls be kind and lmk what i can improve <33
all pictures taken from pinterest. credit to owners.
instagram!
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liked by arianagrande, carlossainz55 and 489,273 others
tagged lewishamilton
ynln enjoying life 💙
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user1 "enjoying life 💙" as if u don't have an album to write like ok 🙄🙄
user2 user1 ???? she doesn't owe u anything — liked by ynln
user1 user2 omg it was a joke chill 😭😭
user3 user1 well tell that to her now we're def not getting that album
user4 HOLY SHIT MOTHER JUST POSTED
yourbff my girl is glowing!! — liked by yn
ynln yourbff 💙💙💙💙 ilysm
user5 ever since she started dating him she rarely posts anything anymore :(
user6 user5 does it matter? like she said she's enjoying life and she looks happy with him so what's the problem
user2 lewis being in this post twice oh she's so in love with him
user2 user2 god when is it my turn to be happy
user5 idec about the album anymore 😭😭 she looks so content and that's all that matters
rachelzegler the cutest!!!!
naraaziza beautiful ❤️❤️
lewishamilton when did you take the last picture i didn't even notice?
ynln lewishamilton when you were too busy staring at other girls
user6 ynln LMFAO
user7 ynln do u want me to fight him
lewishamilton ynln baby please
ynln lewishamilton 🙄🙄🙄🙄
user8 ynln GAG HIM
user8 if i was dating sir lewis hamilton i would abandon my career too
user9 user8 ikr who needs a job when your bf is a millionaire
ynln user8 nothing's abandoned babe :)
user8 ynln WAIT WHAT
user10 ynln YN WHAT DOES THIS MEAN
user11 ynln EVERYBODY STAY FUCKING CALM
user12 ynln not her teasing us 😭😭
user13 ynln not the ":)" is everything a joke to u
user14 ynln STOP PLAYING WITH MY FEELINGS PLS WE NEED THE ALBUM
user15 user14 FR IT'S BEEN 84 YEARS YNLN PLEASE 😭😭
instagram!
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liked by charles_leclerc, michaelbjordan and 1,028,462 others
tagged roscoelovescoco and ynln
lewishamilton a much needed gateaway
view all 4,927 comments
ynln 💙💙💙💙 i love u
lewishamilton ynln i love you more baby
user1 ynln lewishamilton god idk how many me and who i got left in me
user2 user1 if they ever broke up i will never believe in love again
user3 user2 the standard fr
mercedesamgf1team do u guys need a third
user4 merdecesamgf1team HELP 😭😭
user5 mercedesamgf1team ADMIN??????
user6 mercedesamgf1team admin is just like me fr
user7 mercedesamgf1team dont u guys have better things to do like idk, fix those fuck ass cars? — liked by ynln
user8 OMG ROSCOE
user9 hey sir lewis is your gf single
danielricciardo did you guys try the restaurant i suggested?
lewishamilton danielricciardo yes! the food was incredible mate thank you
user10 danielricciardo lewishamilton 344 interaction in the years of our lord 2024 this was not on my bingo card
user11 can you pls tell yn to get her ass to that studio her fans are starving 🙏🏼 — liked by lewishamilton and ynln
user12 user11 yk what else we need? a xnda comeback 🙏🏼 — liked by ynln
user13 user12 OMG YES
user11 user12 LEWIS LIKED YOUR COMMENT OH MY GOD????
user12 user11 AND YN AS WELL WHAT IS GOING ON
twitter!
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instagram!
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liked by livkatecooke, chappellroan and 3,837,930 others
ynln "joyride" single and mv out 11.2 co-written and featuring the one and only xnda aka lewishamilton 🧡🧡 told u guys i'm not abandoning anything ;)
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user1 JESUS FUCKING CHRIST I JUST WOKE UP
user2 YN WHAT THE HELL
user3 FINALLY
user4 QUEEN OF POP IS BACK
user5 CO-WRITTEN AND FEATURING WHO??????
lewishamilton you're fucking killing it babe 🧡
ynln lewishamilton ilysm baby thank u for agreeing to be part of this 🫶🏼🫶🏼
user7 SCREAMING CRYING SHAKING THROWING UP
user6 WE ARE SO MF BACK
rkive can't wait!
ynln rkive i love u!!
user8 rkive ynln bts x yn ln collab when
user8 she's coming for her third grammy already i can feel it
alex_albon ready to have it on repeat!
georgerussell63 let's go!
twitter!
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instagram!
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liked by iamhalsey, megantheestallion and 7,638,927 others
tagged ynln
lewishamilton joyride by ynln feat. xnda is out now 🧡 me and yn have always wanted to make a song together but my own insecurity halted us from releasing it. we got the idea for joyride while on our roadtrip in italy and i originally did the demo and was only supposed to co-write with yn but my lady convinced me to fully be part in this and how could i say no? thank you for believing in me, my love. i am so proud of you 🧡
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ynln baby 🧡🧡🧡🧡 i love u so much thank you for agreeing to be part of this it means a lot to me
lewishamilton ynln anything for you sweetie 🧡
user1 lewishamilton ynln i'm gonna sleep on the highway tonight
ynln user1 pls don't do that the album is coming out in three months
user1 ynln EXFUCKINGSCUSE ME@!-!&!#;#!
user2 ynln WE'RE ACTUALLY GETTING AN ALBUM??????
ynln user1 user2 ;)
georgerussell63 banger!
lewishamilton georgerussell63 thanks mate!
user3 yn could ask lewis to jump into a volcano and he'd do it
ynln user3 don't tempt me
user3 ynln HELP
user4 we love a supportive boyfriend
user5 god i've seen what you've done to others
user6 love the bonnie and clyde theme and roscoe cameo 🙏🏼
user7 "my lady" "my love" "sweetie" god i'm so painfully single
tomcruise amazing!
maxverstappen1 i still can't believe you can sing
lewishamilton maxverstappen1 believe it
twitter!
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— thanks for reading! reblogs are highly appreciated 🫶🏼🧡
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aroaceleovaldez · 2 days ago
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Can u please post sum pjo oc content the tag's been runnin dry
🫡 you've got it boss. uhh let's do these ones for now -
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these are all some misc rough doodles thinking about potential Big 3 kids pre-the current modern set of Big 3 kids in the series. There's not a ton of hard concepts in here, mostly just fiddling around. elaboration for these guys below the cut:
- Poseidon twins i imagine were already at CHB when the oath was taken and died relatively soon after (smited for prophecy-avoidance reasons).
- The girl i imagine went unclaimed her entire stay at CHB but strongly suspected that she was a daughter of Poseidon and everybody else kind of had an inkling. She was mysteriously smited without explanation (prophecy avoidance) before she turned 16.
- Zeus cabin gang (forgive my outfit anachronisms i didnt feel like getting deep in the weeds about 1930s+ camp attire for doodles) - first row i think perhaps is the Zeus kids that were already at CHB when the oath was made and were all killed before they turned 16. Second and third rows I imagine gradually cropped up over time and ended up at chb at some time or another. Half of them probably went totally unclaimed and all got smited/killed pretty quickly after arriving. I dont have a ton of thoughts for each individual, though I did pick out some themes each of them are based off of relating to Zeus' aspects. I imagine the first girl in the first row is very wolf-themed and was cabin counselor for awhile. Second kid is a huge flirt. The last kid in the first row is based off of Zeus as youngest of Kronos' children/young Zeus and is cabin 1 baby. etc etc.
And then the Romans!
- My personal hc is Hades/Pluto just absolutely does not have demigod kids much at all, and when he does there's like a 50% chance or more Persephone will have kids around the same time, if not with the same mortal(s). So Hades & Persephone siblings are not uncommon when they do crop up. I also like to think that because they're so uncommon, these guys are pretty much the only time a Hades/Pluto kid has cropped up at either camp at all (at least so far as being recorded) before Bianca/Hazel/Nico.
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archie-sunshine · 3 days ago
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you absolutely do Not have to answer if you dont want to but is there a reason why you dont like tfp request? too frequent? not your cup of tea? i know its super popular among fans but i was just curious-
I'm a good. and kind person. and i can tell you that because i had a very mean thing to say to this ask, but i didn't say it.
here's my faq that i told you to read so you'd understand before you sent this ask
and heres my completely honest answer:
I don't mind getting tfp asks, because i know its my blog and I don't have to answer.
i don't like TFP requests because then when i politely say no, I am demanded to tell you why.
It's easy to find on my blog that i don't like it and all my reasons why, but you don't bother looking for that. Because my time doesn't matter to you! I said 'my reasons are in my FAQ' on all the posts where i said i dont like it in the past day. and in my pinned post, you can find the faq. and in the tags you can find my faqs. and in my rules you can find my faq. But you didn't look for it. just like they didn't look for my rules, just like they didn't read through my faq.
I don't like tfp asks because the fact that i get them means there are people who only see my pen and not the person attached to it. it makes me feel sad. It makes me feel discouraged from drawing altogether.
I feel an obligation to answer because I'm a nice person, and i know 99% of the time nobody means anything about it, but its not enough to point to the sign. It's never enough to just gently state a boundary. you have to know why. and its not enough for you to know why, you have to ask WHY i felt like that. and its not enough to know WHY i feel that way, you have to have EVIDENCE as to where i formed my reasons. and that there is a whole day of me explaining. I have my reasons and I explained them. and none of you take the time to look for them.
you can understand how upsetting that is, can't you? i've had to do this like 8 times now! you'd be frustrated just as much as i am.
Because when I explain it to you, im not being mean, I'm being as nice as i possibly can. And I still get mysteriously reported, and my posts still get mysteriously flagged every time I express an opinion.
Because I don't want to have to block people that ask, because i WANT to give you all the benefit of the doubt. But I'm sick of it! it makes me tired.
I don't want to have requests open if people don't care about me enough to read my rules. i don't want to just be a porn printer. you understand how it makes me feel that way don't you? I was supposed to spend my evening drawing so people could have art they liked and i spent it answering this ask AGAIN because i thought maybe, MAYBE people will get it this time.
I'm not answering these anymore. I'm not giving this my time anymore. I've tried to be nice, i've tried to be funny, I've tried to be gentle, I've tried to be firm, I've tried to be honest, but it doesn't matter. It's the simplest boundary I could give, and you all still don't care enough to do that one thing. you can think this hill is stupid to die on, but you won't stop shooting arrows long enough for me to get off the hill.
requests are now closed until i feel like taking new ones. I'll answer whatever else is in here that i feel like drawing.
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genevievefangirl · 2 days ago
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Gen's Top 100 DBDA Fics - PART 9
For all caveats/rules/backstory, please read the Master Post
The Manuscript of Real People By: paraph @paraphwrites Rating: M Tags: AU - Boarding School, Angst, Slow Burn, Pining, Unfinished Summary: Britain, 1976. Three years into boarding at Saint Hilarion's School, Edwin Paine is assigned Charles Rowland as a roommate. - Featuring: mistakes better made, days hidden in libraries, and no rafter left unwandered. also featuring: charles doing sport and edwin being gay for it, edwin being a nerd and charles being gay for it, and me pretending i know what boarding schools are like! My Notes: The darker boarding school that is universally beloved! This fic is honestly publish worthy. I love every word, sentence, and chapter. When it updates I RUN to read it and gush about it on the DBDA Haunt server with everyone else who is equally obsessed. When a new chapter drops, it is an event! (Also this is one of 2 unfinished fics that made the list, if that doesn't show how much I love it I don't know what will!)
The Many Forms of Phantoms By: thegirlofthorns @edwinspaynes Rating: T Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Orbs Summary: Suddenly, there was a blast of light where Edwin was sitting. Charles dropped the comic to look at his friend, but Edwin was gone. In his place was a ball that glowed white, with some blue undertones reflecting off the surface. “Edwin!?” Charles threw the comic and ran over to the desk. “Edwin!” He picked up the little glowing ball in his hands and assessed it. It was odd – Charles could feel the orb, smooth like a perfect stone, and… warm. He had not felt temperature in over a year, and the orb was distinctly radiating warmth. “Edwin?” His voice was soft now. “Is that… you?” - Or, it's 1990, and Edwin involuntarily becomes a spirit orb for the first time. My Notes: Orb lore! Orb lore! Edwin turning into Orbwin unexpectedly and Charles and him trying to figure out what is all means is very entertaining.
the phantoms here will never have their fill By: ahyperactivehero (ahyperactiverhero) @ahyperactivehero Rating: T Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Protective Charles Rowland, Protective Edwin Payne, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Hurt Edwin Payne, Slow Burn Summary: Poltergeists are created when a ghost experiences extreme emotional distress. Poltergeists are notoriously hard to reign in, and they almost never gently move on. Neither Edwin nor Charles ever imagined it would happen to them. Basically, five times where the Dead Boy Detective Agency dealt with the threat of a poltergeist. XXX “Once you choose to go down the poltergeist route there is no coming back,” Edwin said. “And I will have no choice but to follow you.” “You can’t do that mate,” Charles said. His voice had cleared up some, his form less wavy. “Then do not go where I cannot follow,” Edwin said. My Notes: This was one of my first fic obessions when I joined the fandom. The ideas that it poses about poltergeists have been referenced by many other authors and are truly foundational fanon at this point. Plus it has Charles protecting Edwin many times which I love!
The Problem of Forever By: RB (BlueflowersandWings) @writerofstuff Rating: T Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Protective Charles Rowland, Case Fic, Kind of Summary: At first, it is subtle. — Or: a ghost couple comes to them with a case. Unfortunately for all parties involved, it does not go well. My Notes: I love how both the boys have to address insecurities to grow in their relationship. Charles being worried he's going to hurt Edwin and be like his dad hurts me deeply and Edwin worrying about being annoying hits too close to home.
The Seventh Circle of Hell By: chewingrocks Rating: G Tags: Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Soulmatism, Protective Charles Rowland Summary: Charles goes down to Hell to rescue Edwin, however he ends up stumbling across one of Edwin's many corpses. My Notes: Is it bad that Charles crying over one of Edwin's dead body stuck with me so much? I don't think so! Sad Charles thinking Edwin is dead makes me *feel things*.
the taste in your mouth By: greenaerie Rating: M Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent. Hurt/Comfort, Protective Charles Rowland, Protective Edwin Payne Summary: An unexpected attack from Esther shocks the Dead Boy Detective Agency, taking Charles out of commission. Edwin solves this the only way he can. A good detective does what they must, after all. My Notes: Basiclly what would have happened if Edwin decided to take the Cat King's original offer. The complicated consent issue here is really well addressed and I like how confused Edwin's feelings are about the whole interaction.
The Veil Between Our Love By: Mayarenerose @acediscowlng Rating: G Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Charles Rowland Summary: “Edwin,” he calls out. There’s a ball of anxiety knotted deep in his gut. It’s stupid. Edwin probably just went into the other room or something. Ghosts don’t have feet, not really. And Edwin does his best, but his default is still to be as quiet as possible and not make a single sign that he exists at all. Back then, it had been fine, yeah? Just one of Edwin’s quirks that Charles had gotten used to. After Hell, though, it’s one of those things that drives Charles absolutely mental that he could never ever mention to Edwin ever. “Edwin mate, where have you gone? I promise I haven’t touched anything.” No answer. Charles is alone. Charles touches a cursed veil that makes Edwin disappear. He does not handle the separation well. My Notes: This is a recent addition to my favorites, but DAMN did it break my heart the first time. Seeing Charles freak out about not seeing Edwin initially was great, but then the angst continues and scratches the itch in my brain perfectly.
The Warmth of you By: Superfriki Rating: NR Tags: Sickfic, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Protective Charles Rowland Summary: “Normally it’s me who gets us in dangerous situations by tripping on something. Don’t steal my thing, mate” Edwin weakly chuckled, sounding raspy “Excuse me, next time I will make sure I ask your permission before I fall face first into a toxic plant” - Aka Charles takes care of Edwin when he is sick and realizes some things along the way. My Notes: Features Edwin passing out and Charles using books to help him! Plus all the usual sick fic things that we all love (blankets, caring, reading, etc!)
The Way Back Home By: Author_By_Many_Names @steampunk-dandy Rating: M Tags: AU - Star Wars, Edwin is Force Sensitive, Charles is a piolet, Protective Charles Rowland, Protective Edwin Payne Summary: Whilst on a routine mission that slowly becomes less and less routine, Edwin realises he can't hide his feelings for Charles any more. Meanwhile, Charles wants Niko and C to get off the ship so him and Edwin can go back to their blissfully domestic lives. My Notes: Star Wars AU! The worldbuilding here is so well done and I love what the author did with each of the characters. Edwin being force sensitive in particular makes me very happy!
There's No Fixing Some Things By: qwanderer @qwanderer Rating: T Tags: Angst, Post-Canon Summary: "Stop that right now," Charles snapped. "You can't say that, Edwin, you can't." Edwin blinked at him, startled. "You said I could talk to you about anything," he said, quietly confused. "Well, not that," Charles said, standing up and hefting his bag. My Notes: The reason why Edwin can't say what he said will knock you over. It certainly made me have so many *feelings*
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harrywavycurly · 6 hours ago
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Lonely request!! Bachelorette instagram posts that make Harry not only miss his bestie turned fiancé but also kinda concerned because what exactly are they doing in Miami 😂❤️
Hiiii babes!!! So I combined both of these into a little something and I hope you enjoy it! 💖
Find all things Lonely here✨
CW: Mentions of drinking
Tag List: @blckburd @fangirl509east @ell0ra-br3kk3r @youngpastafanmug @mattieshattuck1
A/N: Harry misses you and if he’s being honest he’s just curious what all you’ve gotten up to while in Miami, enjoy some fluff and if you squint you’ll see some jealous Harry✨
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Harry lets out a sigh as he runs his free hand that’s not holding his phone through his hair, a small smile creeps its way onto his face as a photo of you quickly flashes across his screen in a pair of heart shaped bedazzled sunglasses that say “bride to be” on them as you lay out next to a pool. It’s only been two days since you left for your Miami bachelorette trip with Niall and the rest of the bridesmaids and he’s been glued to his phone checking instagram what feels like every five minutes to see what you’re doing, like right now he’s on Niall’s instagram story and can see you’re having a themed lunch of some sort while yesterday all you really did according to your social media was have a pool day and went to a nice little dinner. Niall made it quite clear to Harry that while you were off in Miami his communication with you was to be limited, it’s your bachelorette trip and to quote your bestfriend you “don’t need your future husband up your ass the whole time” so Harry is trying his hardest not bother you and he’s done well so far but it’s only day two and he’ll be honest, he already misses you terribly.
Normally Harry has things like studio time or if he’s lucky a tour to prep for to help distract him in situations like this, but he’s not currently working on anything at the moment so he has nothing but time to sit on the couch and scroll through everyone’s Instagram for even the smallest little crumb of a detail of what you’re up to. He doesn’t expect you to be doing anything too scandalous because that’s just not who you are, but still it’s your bachelorette trip and Harry’s been privy to a few of those types of parties so he knows how wild those can be. But really Harry simply wants to know what that Irishman planned for you because he kept most of it to himself not even telling you the majority of the plans besides what you needed to know in order to know what to pack. And Harry knows if there’s one thing Niall can do, it’s plan one hell of a party so to turn it into a full blown trip only makes him even more curious what he has up his sleeve for you. So when Harry is scrolling on your page and sees you’ve posted a few new photos he feels his eyes go a bit wide before he runs a hand over his face and lets out a laugh as he shakes his head.
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He likes both photos and starts to scroll but before he gets far he feels his phone begin to vibrate and soon your name and photo is filling up his screen making a grin take over his face. Harry quickly hits answer and brings the phone up to his ear and is met with the sound of laughter making him wonder if you didn’t mean to call him.
“Harry?” You mumble as Harry hears what sounds like a door closing making the loud laughter turn into a muffled sound in the background. “S’that better? I can’t hear you.” Harry chuckles as he begins to realize what kind of call this is.
“Hi my love.” He can practically hear you smile into the phone as you let out a long dramatic sigh as he hears a ruffling sound making him think you probably just plopped down onto a bed.
“I can hear you now-oh did you know m’gon a be a wife? Like someone’s actual wife.” Harry just grins as the slightly mumbled words fall from your lips and he wishes he was there because he’s always loved being around you when you were a little drunk, you always tended to be more cuddly.
“Yeah? You getting married baby?” He asks sweetly as he gets comfortable on the couch, you let out a giggle that makes his heart feel like it’s going to actually melt due to how adorable you sound.
“Yes.” You answer with a smile on your face as you roll over into your back. “T’you silly.” Harry lets out a scoff as he playfully rolls his eyes as if you could see him making you laugh. “Did you forget about me? I’ve only been gone two days.” You ask with a huff and Harry knows there’s a good possibility you’re pouting and he can’t help but want to laugh because if you only knew how he’s been essentially cyberstalking you since the moment you left the house two days ago, you wouldn’t feel the need to ask him this question.
“You still want to marry me then?” He hears you let out a groan and he smiles to himself because he knows you’re rolling your eyes at him. You always act so annoyed when he asks you this question but he knows you kinda love to hear him need the reassurance that you still want to be his wife in a few months.
“Yes and I even-oh my god I forgot to tell you!” You sit up and Harry hears what he knows is the sound of your slippers padding across the floor as you walk towards the bathroom that’s attached to your bedroom. “We had a brunch thingy and guess what was on the napkins next to the cheese and crackers.” You reach over and grab your drink off the vanity just as Harry is about to answer. “Dicks. Like little tiny cute-”
“Tiny and cute? These are words you use to describe dicks often or just the ones on napkins?” The grin that takes over Harry’s face makes his cheeks hurt as your laugh comes through the phone and he knows it’s the kinda laugh that’s going to leave you with pink cheeks and watery eyes.
“Don’t worry I don’t use those words to describe yours I use-”
“Who the bloody fuck are you talking to?” Harry rolls his eyes at Niall’s loud voice in the background and he knows he only has a few minutes left on the phone with you.
“Uh my lawyer?” Harry bites back a laugh at your sad attempt of a cover up. “He uhm needed my signature on a-a uh prenup thing-thingy.” If Harry was there he’d have the hardest time taking what you just said seriously because your words are slightly slurred and your tone makes it seem like you just asked a question instead of explaining yourself, so he knows Niall is more than likely staring at you with a raised brow and a glare.
“He called you did he?” Niall asks and Harry knows right then that you’re done for. “Babe your lawyer is a woman named Janet.”
“Oh fuck Harry he caught me.” Harry laughs and can only shake his head at your admission, he hears Niall let out a laugh and then hears him tell you something along the lines of hurry up. “I gotta go back to my party.”
“You called me in the middle of your party?”
“I did. I miss you.”
“I miss you too baby. I love you.”
“I love you too but I have to go now before Niall comes back and steals my phone.” Harry knows you’re not kidding, Niall would very much enjoy barging into your room and taking your phone for the remainder of the trip so he just lets out a soft sigh and clears his throat before telling you goodbye and that he loves you one more time before the two of you hang up.
The next two days seem to drag on as Harry does as much as he can to busy himself as an attempt to give himself a break from checking on you via social media every few minutes. Even going as far as inviting Mitch over for an impromptu writing session that lasted a few hours, and while it helped for a bit but as soon as he was waving bye to his friend as he backed out of the driveway Harry couldn’t help but slide his phone out of his back pocket as soon as he was back inside the house. He lets out a sigh as he paces the length of the couch in the living room, chewing on his bottom lip as his thumb hovers over the icon of the app he’s become very familiar with the past several days. Giving into his desires Harry lets his thumb hit the app bringing him to his home page of his Instagram, he pauses his pacing as he places a hand on his hip and looks off towards the kitchen with a raised brow.
“Have I always been clingy like this?” He mumbles to himself as he contemplates going straight to your profile or looking through one of your friend’s first. “No certainly not? It’s because she’s my fiancé now right?” Normally Harry would feel a bit odd talking to himself but at the moment he can’t be bothered because he needs to have some sort of dialogue going in order to help him not feel as clingy and obsessed with you as he begins tapping his way through Emily, one of your bridesmaids instagram story.
“It’s normal to want to see what your fiancé is doing while away and-what was that?” Harry is caught off guard by what he sees on his screen and it’s gone much too quickly for his liking so he simply taps a few times and brings his phone up closer to his face so he can get a better look at the slightly blurry boomerang on Emily’s story.
Now Harry knew that one of the major things planned for this trip was a boat day, it was the main detail that Niall actually let you help him plan because he didn’t want to pick something to do that you’d be miserable with and honestly who doesn’t enjoy a day relaxing in the sun on a giant boat with a few friends? But what Harry didn’t put together in his mind was that with a boat day comes boat attire, which means he wasn’t at all prepared to see a blurry boomerang of you in what appears to be a white and silver bikini with the word “bride” printed in black on the bottoms in a pretty cursive font while you dance around with a drink in your hand and a bedazzled headband that has a mini veil attached to it. He has no shame in admitting he watches the blurry boomerang about ten times before he finally moves on through the rest of Emily’s story, hoping to see more of your outfit but he’s disappointed when he reaches the end and the only other photo he sees of you is just of your hand holding a drink that showcases your engagement ring with the words “blinded by the bling” and while it makes Harry chuckle it’s not exactly what he’s wanting to see, but that’s when he notices someone familiar in the background and instantly goes to her profile.
“Don’t let me down Gem.” He whispers to himself as he goes to his sister’s Instagram and he smiles when he sees she has quite the long story and most of it is for her close friends meaning it’s probably of the trip she’s currently on with you.
His sister being invited to your bachelorette trip wasn’t shocking, the two of you get along great and she’s in the wedding but Harry won’t lie and say he’s not a little jealous that she gets to be around you right now while he’s stuck at home, hell even his mom is going to be there on the last two days so she can celebrate you agreeing to spend forever with her son. So the least Gemma could do in Harry’s opinion is post some shots of you enjoying your boat day in your lovely little bridal bikini.
“Holy shit.” He reaches down and grabs the back of the couch for support as he finally gets exactly what he’s been looking and hoping for. It’s a photo of you laying out on a lounge chair with a grin on your face and the same heart shaped sunglasses on that he saw you wearing a few days ago and the sun is hitting your swimsuit just right causing the silver bits to shine and you have a slice of watermelon in your hand that isn’t holding a drink and Gem has written “The Watermelon Sugar Bride” and included the song in the background of the story as well. Harry taps through his sister’s story and smiles when he gets to a video of the two of you singing along to one of his songs until you spot Niall and Tammy in the background making funny faces making you tell them to fuck off resulting in Gem saying “excuse me! This is a family show.” And without missing a beat you turn to face her camera and wiggle your eyebrows as you go “or is it?”
“That’s my future wife right there.” Is all Harry says with a grin as he goes through the rest of Gem’s story laughing at the random photos of Niall who constantly looks a little worried as he’s looking at you or one of the girls. He decides to go to Niall’s profile to see what he’s posted recently and he laughs at the captions before liking them.
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It feels as if you’ve been gone for months when really you’ve been gone for five days but Harry can’t hardly contain the excitement he feels knowing you’ll be home tomorrow. He knows you’ve had a great time and really enjoyed yourself, his mom FaceTimed him last night while at dinner so he could see everyone and you looked almost like you were glowing with how adored Harry knew you felt in that moment. You had a smile on your face and a certain sparkle in your eyes that made Harry’s heart swell because you just looked so happy, and since you were coming home tomorrow Niall wasn’t as strict with his rules on communication so it didn’t shock Harry at all when he saw your name flash across his phone screen while he was making coffee.
“Good morning sweetheart.” He says with a smile as he reaches for the sugar next to the coffee maker. He hears you let out a little yawn letting him know you’re probably still tucked in bed, he puts you on speaker so he can spoon some sugar into his mug and stir it in without having to mess with holding the phone up to his ear.
“I can practically smell the coffee through the phone and it’s rude.” You whine making Harry chuckle as he brings the mug up to his lips to take a sip to see if it needs anything else.
“Where’s that bestie of yours hmm? Isn’t he on coffee duty while I’m not around?” He asks after taking another sip and he hears you let out a groan as you roll over to your back.
“He’s so bad at making coffee.”
“I beg your pardon? I make it how a normal human is s’posed to drink it you caffeine goblin.”
“No you make it all watered down and-”
“Watered down? I add two scoops for every four cups of water that’s the proper way to make it.” Harry just goes about his business and pops a bagel into the toaster as you and Niall argue over the right way to make coffee, it doesn’t shock Harry that Niall is with you in bed at such an hour because he’s always been an early riser so of course he’s going to go to your room for some morning cuddles before everyone else wakes up especially since Amelia sadly wasn’t able to stay the whole trip and had to leave a few days early he doesn’t like having an empty bed.
“I’m the bride Niall you’re supposed to just make it how I like it.” Harry raises a brow at your statement and not even a second passes before you’re in a fit of laughter and he can’t help but just shake his head because he knew you weren’t being serious.
“Harry you ready to have her back mate?” Niall asks as he takes the phone from you and Harry just smiles to himself as he takes the bagel from the toaster and puts it on his plate. “Because I’m ready to be rid of her.”
“Oh please you’re going to miss me the moment you drop me off at home and you know it.” Harry laughs at your accusation because if Niall is anything like him then it’s true, he’s going to miss you the moment you’re away from him especially after spending so much time with you on this trip.
“I’m very ready to have her back yes.” Harry answers as he picks up the phone after taking it off speaker. “I’m never letting her go on a trip without me again.” He teases making Niall laugh while he hears you mumble something about him being clingy.
“Well I gotta go make some shit coffee so here’s your missus but make it snappy yeah? We have plans for today.” With that Niall gives you back your phone and Harry hears the sound of a door open and close letting him know you’re alone in your room now.
“I get to see your face tomorrow and I think I might cry because I really have missed you so much and I don’t know why but this trip just-it just made it all feel so real? We get married in just a few months as in you’re going to be my husband and I’m going to really be your wife.” Harry does his best to hold back his emotions as your words hit him, he had a feeling that this trip was going to be a big deal for you because just a few weeks prior you had found your dress and had your first bridal moment so being surrounded by your friends and loved ones all celebrating the fact you’re a bride to be he knew was just going to be a lot. “You really love me enough to want to be with me forever.” He clears his throat and blinks a few times to help get himself in order before he can respond.
“I love you so much that I don’t think forever is actually long enough but it’s a start.” He knows you just rolled your eyes at how corny he sounds but he also knows your cheeks are pink and you have a smile on your face because you love it when he says things like that to you. “I can’t wait to be able to call you my wife. And honestly baby I’ve missed you so much I’ve been stalking you on Instagram all week and I’m probably going to cry the moment I see you get out of Niall’s car because I can’t help it.” He admits with a sigh as he runs a hand through his hair and he smiles when he hears you let out a small chuckle.
“You’re like obsessed with me aren’t you?” You ask with a slight tease to your voice but Harry just shrugs as he grabs his coffee mug and brings it up to his lips.
“Just a little bit.” He answers without hesitation making you smile because even though you don’t say it, both of you know you’re just as obsessed with him.
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temporarywelcome · 18 hours ago
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Devil's Night, 1946 - James Patrick March
Word Count: 2.7k
Summary: Many years have passed since you and March have split up, meeting again in the Hotel Cortez when you need him to do a simple task he's been procrastinating on for years... distractions happen
CW: smut, porn with WAY too much plot, fingering, angry sex, p in v, possessive!james, dom!james (kinda), sub!reader (kinda), a slap to the cooter
A/N: they're both vampires it's mentioned like twice it really doesn't matter lmao. Pretend women have some more rights in 1946. I WAS SUPPOSED TO POST THIS ON HIS BDAY BUT ALAS... life.
________
The Hotel Cortez hasn’t changed in the slightest since the last time she saw it.
It still was bustling with guests and patrons, with loud chatter at the bar and silent gossiping in the sitting area. There was a couple seated in one of the love seats, holding hands, whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears.
The sight made Y/N grimace. 
It reminded her of how things used to be. How things were between Y/N and James Patrick March, the owner of the establishment. They were practically glued at the hip, her painted black nails always gazing his skin, his hand always firmly on her lower back. Always together. In love.
That was long in the past. 
Striding towards the front desk, Y/N eyed the little receptionist up and down, “Hello, is Mr. March in tonight?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the receptionist, her name tag reading Laura, replied. “He’s currently in a meeting in his office. How may I help you?”
“I wish to see him. Now,” 
Laura raised a brow, awkwardly clearing her throat, “He’s in his meeting, ma’am, he might take some time. If you’re in a rush, you can write him a message?”
Y/N rolled her eyes in annoyance, lips curling into a sneer, “Tell him to wrap it up. His wife would like to speak to him,”
____
Within minutes, Laura was ushering her into the office of James Patrick March. 
Like Y/N expected, as soon as James was aware of her presence, he had kicked everyone out of his office, eager to see her. He was seated at his desk, a cigar between two long fingers, wearing his usual white button down, black suspenders, dress pants, and shoes combo. To accompany it was his carefully gelled hair. Y/N remembered doing it for him every morning, a little bonding experience the two of you used to have. 
“It’s been a long time, my dear,” he finally said after a moment, his usual James March smirk appearing on his annoyingly handsome face, “I was beginning to miss you,”
“Hello, James,” Y/N replied, making no move to step closer to him, “It has been a very long time,”
“You haven’t aged a bit since the last time I saw you, dearest,” he complimented, rising up from his seat, “Just as ravishing as ever,”
“How can I age, James? You took that from me,” Y/N laughed bitterly. She adjusted her large black fur coat, eyeing the room. It was practically the same as before, “It’s been twenty years, James. Possibly time to renovate,”
“You’ve always been so kind, darling,” he strode towards her, taking her hand, “Now how may I assist you?” he brought her hand to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss to her knuckles. 
“Take a guess,” she snatched her hand back, slipping a hand into her designer purse and pulling out a neatly piled stack of papers. She walked to his desk, and being, well, a man, James’ eyes travelled to her ass, admiring the way her tight black dess esentuated her curves. He was snapped out of his thoughts when she slammed the papers down ont the desk. “Sign the papers,”
“Excuse me?” 
She looked at him over her shoulder, “Sign the damn papers,”
“What papers? I believe I don’t know what you speak of, my love,” he placed his finished cigar in an ash tray.
“Cut the act, James,” Y/N hissed, taking a pen from his desk. She turned to face him, holding it up, “It’s been twenty years. What’s the point of doing this any more?”
“Doing what?”
“James,” she clenched her fists, “It’s been twenty years! I want a fucking divorce!”
A laugh left him, a dark chuckle, “That’s what this is about? The silly divorce? And for a second I thought you missed me,” he opened up a cabinet and grabbed a bottle of scotch and two glasses, “You came to me on this day just to harrass me? On such a special day?”
“Special day?” she scoffed, “What’s so special about it?”
“Oh, my dear,” he brought an arm around her, leaning in,” It’s Devil’s Night,” he whispered into her ear, breath tickling her skin. 
“Ugh,” she rolled her eyes, “I remember. However, I don’t give a damn. Just sign the papers and I’ll be out of your hair,” 
“But I don’t want you to go,”
“But I want to go,” she shot back.
James shook his head, taking a drag of his cigar, “You really want to end a twenty year marriage like this?”
Y/N barked out a laugh, “We were only together for a month of it,”
“Yes, till you left me,” he snapped, sudden venom in his tone, “You didn’t even say goodbye. Didn’t leave even a note. Just some blasted divorce papers.”
“So you did get them?” she mused, digging into her bag and plucking out a cigarette, bringing it to her lips.  Despite his anger, James still immediately brought his lighter to her cigarette, like he always did when they were together. She glared at him, dropping her lighter back into her purse and taking a puff, “From that letter you sent fifteen years ago, I was quite confused.”
“Ah, what did I write in that letter again?” 
“Hm,” she pretended to think, “First, I had wrote you telling you to sign the damn papers. You then wrote back saying you never got any papers. You said I would just have to meet with you to sort this out.”
“And you never did,” he pointed out the obvious, politely holding out a glass of scotch for her, which she dd not take, “So why now? Why not continue on with how things have been?” 
“Because I don’t want to!”
“Well why?” he pressed, stepping forward, “What’s so different now than fifteen years ago? Ten years ago? One year ago? What’s so different? What is so-?” “I’m engaged!” 
There went the scotch.
It fell from his grasp immediately, the glass shattering onto the floor like little puzzle pieces, “...Excuse me?”
Y/N groaned, holding up her left hand, revealing an golden engagment ring with a modest diamond, “I’m engaged,”
James gripped her wrist, examining the ring closely, “How pathetic! You don’t even like gold, you love silver. And this diamond! It’s practically microscopic! How could you settle for a man that not only can’t tell your taste but is poor?”
She rolled her eyes, “How materialistic, James,”
“It’s true! It doesn’t even compare to to the ring I proposed to you with,” To Y/N’s surprise, James yanked up his necklace, revealing the charm that was neatly tucked under his dress shirt. Two rings, one silver with a dark trim and a comically large ruby in the middle, a diamond on either side. The other ring was more modest, still silver, with small diamonds embedded into it. Her engagement and wedding ring. 
“You… you kept the rings?”
“Of course I kept the damn rings!” he scoffed, raising his left hand now. He was still wearing his wedding ring. “Of course I kept the only remembrance I had of the wife who left me!” 
“You turned me into a damn vampire!” she shot back, shoving him angrily, “Did you expect me to be happy with you?” 
“I wanted us to spend eternity together-”
“I didn’t even know you were a vampire!” she shot back, “And you just turned me without even asking me! F-Forcing me to drink your blood, I thought it was some devilish ritual!”
“It was practically a ritual to declare our love!” 
Y/N rolled her eyes, “Yeah, I felt so loved then. I was terrified! I didn’t know what you were going to do! You… You could have been planning some sacrifice or God knows what, I-”
His lips were then on hers, his body pushing hers against the desk. She gasped, feeling the sharp sting of the hard wood hitting her back. His hands went firmly on her hips, blunt nails digging into her flesh as he kissed her hungrily, her burgundy lipstick smearing all over both of their lips. 
She should have pushed him away. She really should have. Should have pushed him away and just fucking kill him to end this nonsense once and for all, but she couldn’t. Instead, her arms wrapped around his neck, kissing him back just as feverishly. 
“You made me wait twenty years for you,” he growled, lips leaving hers to find her jaw, then her neck, kissing and sucking on the skin with need. “Twenty years without you,”
“N-Not like you missed me,” she panted, fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. 
“How could you say such a thing? I have been patiently waiting. Have you ever seen any reports of the famous James March with a new mistress?” He tugged up her ebony dress till it was at her waist, pushing her onto the desk. He plucked the cigarette out of her shaking hand and discarded it into the ashtray. 
“Well, no-”
“Because there has not been any.” He said firmly, beginning to rub her through her lace panties. She whined out, grip on his hair tightening. “I have not touched a single other woman in twenty years while you've gone around whoring it up with all these other men who mean nothing compared to me,”
James took it upon himself to relieve her of her undergarments, his large fingers rubbing her swollen clit in tight circles, “Well? Who is he? Tell me about this bastard,”
“His n-name is William,” she choked out, hands going to his shoulders to ground herself, “He loves me very much,”
“Yeah? What does this William do for a living?” one of those long fingers slid through her wet folds and into her awaiting heat.
She bit her bottom lip, not just to stiffle her moans but to prolong her answer. “Um…”
“What does he do for a living?” James repeated, pushing in a second finger and curling them inside of her.
“Ahh! He's… A hotel owner…” She trailed off.
He stopped his movements, looking at her with wide eyes, “He's a what?”
“Hotel owner,”
His eyes darkened, “So my replacement is just some cheap copy?” he hissed, utterly offended, “For that you might of well have just stayed with me!” His fingers left her cunt, causing her to whine with need. “Shut up,” Next thing she knew, a large hand was delivering a harsh slap to her sex. 
She cried out, “James!”
“I said shut up,” he grumbled, hastily undoing his belt buckle and suspenders, pulling down the front of his pants and boxers, his leaning cock springing free. With one hand on her hip, he began to stroke himself, “Once I'm done with you, all thoughts of your cheap new fiance will be out the window.”
How the hell did they end up like this? She came here to demand for him to sign the damn divorce papers so she could marry the man she supposedly loved, yet here she was about to get her back blown out on her ex-lover’s desk.
James lined himself up with her entrance, slowly pushing in. He always started off gentle and romantic, but Y/N knew better. This was just the beginning.  “How does that feel, my love? Still thinking about that bastard William?” he said the name venomously. 
“N-No, James,” she whined out, legs wrapping around his waist as he began to thrust in and out of her, tantalizingly slow. He was teasing her, doing it on purpose. 
“Can he fill you like I can? Hit just the right spots like I do?” he continued, nipping at her earlobe, “I bet you don’t get this wet for him, bet he struggles pushing into you because he just doesn’t get you excited enough,” James smirked, both hands grabbing her waist as he sped up his pace, sliding in and out of her clenching walls with ease, “That’s never been a problem with me. You’ve always come to me with open arms… and open legs,”
“Oh, shut up, you bastard,” Y/N grumbled, nails beginning to dig into his back as he found a steady pace, hips snapping repeatedly against hers with each thrust. “We were never able to have normal sex, huh?”
“Well, you never stopped cursing me out,” he replied cheekily, hands going to her large fur coat, and sliding it off of her shoulders, “I think I got used to you berating me while I kindly pleasured you,”
“You got off on it, don’t lie,” she shot back with an eye roll, until he hit that perfect spot and she gasped, “Oh James do that again James please do that again-”
“Ah, that’s what I like to hear,” he mused, angling his hips to hit her G-spot over and over again. His hands went to the zipper of her dress, bringing it down so that the entirety of the garment was bunched up by her waist. “Much better,” he said smugly, leaning down to take a nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. 
“Ahh!” she whined, playing with her other nipple in pleasure, “Right there right here!”
He began thrusting into her faster, a groan leaving his lips as he plunged deep into her warmth, “Look at that, darling, your cunt is taking my cock so deeply, how greedy,” he teased, admiring the way she involuntarily clenched around his thick length with each thrust, swallowing his dick. 
“Greedy for your cock only, you damn bastard,” she cried out. Couples give each other such endearing or powerful names in the bedroom, but of course that had to be her favorite for him. Bastard. Even when they were madly in love, that was what she called him. “It always filled me up so w-well,”
“Really, darling?” he grinned, reaching a hand between their bodies and gently rubbing her clit. Her eyes snapped open and she whined, lips parting into the perfect “o” shape. “Filled you so perfectly? Then why did you try to replace me, huh? With some cheap copy? Sounds like we know who the real bastard is here,” 
The combination of his dick pounding into her and his fingers expertly rubbing her clit had her seeing stars. She dug her nails into his shoulders, head falling back as she moaned out in pleasure, giving him the perfect view of her breasts bouncing every time his hips met hers, skin slapping against skin. She wasn’t hearing a word he said at this point, digging her heels into his back, ankles locked, urging him deeper into her. Knowing she was still in her blood-red high heels turned him on even more, he used to always love seeing her in heels. 
“Damn you, you bastard, I’m going to cum!” she gasped, biting her bottom lip, “Damn you, damn you,”
James laughed, leaning his head down to bite her pulse point roughly, “You’re gonna cum all over your ex-lover’s cock, my queen? Cum all over my cock and make a mess of yourself? Do it, I dare you,” he lifted his head to survey her facial expressions as he continuously snapped his hips forward, drilling into her in abandon. He then reached out, his large hand going around her throat, and he didn’t even have to squeeze, she was cumming. 
“I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” Y/N squealed, cunt clenching around him one last time before he felt her thick fluids coat his length. 
“That’s it, my love, cum all over my cock, it’s my turn now, gonna fill you up, make you mine again,” he buried himself inside of her as he came, painting her walls white. Hips sputtering, he came to a halt, arms going around her waist, “All mine, no one else can have you but me,” he nuzzled her nose with his own, waiting for some movement. Signs of life. 
And then her gorgeous eyes opened, looking up at him tiredly, “I came here for a divorce,”
“Damn that divorce,”
“Damn that divorce,” she repeated, leaning her head on his shoulder. 
“Dramatic girl, leaving me all by my lonesome for twenty years just to come back to me,” 
Y/N hummed in response, closing her eyes, “Take that as punishment,”
James let out a soft chuckle, stroking her soft hair, “Have I been punished enough?”
“I suppose,” she pulled away from his neck to look him in the eyes, “Happy birthday, James,”
_____
how tf does one write dominate men sorry I usually like subs
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yellowrabbitfurry · 3 days ago
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Sup losers! /silly
This is my blog! Pretty neat, huh?
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My name is Oliver, but I also go by Ollie, Killer, or Kills. My pronouns are He/him and it/its
Fandoms I’m in:
UTMV, FNaF, VotV, Subnautica, Dredge, Hermitcraft, Hazbin Hotel, Indigo Park, Poppy Playtime, Gravity Falls, Steven Universe, Digital Circus, Pokemon (more things to be added)
I’m a furry, obviously lol
Theriotypes:
Wolf, Lynx, Irish Setter dog, Fox, Brown British longhair cat (a mouthful, I know)
Fictionkin types:
Killer Sans!
Things I do:
*I write fanfiction!! Mostly for UTMV, and I’m kinda slow, but apparently I’m really good! Anything I’ve written eventually be linked below, somewhere (as soon as I figure it out lmao) I don’t TECHNICALLY take requests, but give me them anyway! If I get inspired, I might write something (no nsfw)
*I make Therian masks! Only for me, but I will definitely be posting whatever I get finished with.
*I make things out of cardboard! So far I’ve made Sundrop, Glam Freddy, and Vox!
*I’m also teaching myself to draw! I’m not very good, so don’t expect anything- buuut if I make something I’m proud of you’ll definitely see it.
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Fanfic Masterpost:
Nest (Bad Sans Poly)
Alive (VotV)
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You can chat to me about anything you want, as long as you don’t make it weird (you know the kind of weird) I’m kinda bad at keeping conversation at first, but I’m a really good listener if you wanna ramble or vent! You can chat to me about anything you want, as long as you don’t make it weird (you know the kind of weird) I’m kinda bad at keeping conversation at first, but I’m a really good listener if you wanna ramble or vent!
And please, don’t get upset if I never answer your asks or reblog something I’ve been tagged in. I get nervous sometimes and put it off (or sometimes Tumblr breaks and won’t let me) and then I get even more nervous after a while cause I feel like it’s too late ;-;
That should be all for now! Thank you for taking the time to read this! (I hope I did it right lol)
(Credits for the divider used in this post goes to @/Killerssideblog, go check them out if you want!)
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mostly-imagines · 2 days ago
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i’m just going to answer all the asks about it in one go:
the other account exists for the purpose of minimizing the amount of people seeing my posts to a ‘controlled group’. whether or not i do add you isn’t personal and is not reflective of whether or not i like you or anything like that. it’s shaping up to be a very small group with people that are known for being encouraging and leaving kind words. keeping the group small and controlled is how i plan to prevent less-than-supportive users from consuming my work for free.
i’ve said it a million times and i’m really beginning to lose my patience about it: my writing is not free. the bare minimum fee is reblogging and those lovely things some of you leave in the tags/replies are like tips. same goes with all other curated content on tumblr. it’s not a matter of preference, that’s how this app works.
i’ve been incredibly disheartened by the amount of people that blatantly ignore any messages i or other creators post about this, in favor of tearing through my masterlist that i’ve been working on for 9 months in thirty minutes or less without a single reblog. i tried blocking people for it, it only made me dwell and feel worse, so this is my final solution. not to mention the hate asks and demands for more ‘free’ work from me.
no, it is not a permanent replacement for me writing on this blog. i will still post fics here—eventually—but right now that’s something that’s been more taxing than rewarding.
anyways
i’ll be back later ✌️
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sampsdoessims · 2 days ago
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favorite cc collections (maxis match) p1
here is a list of my favorite cc collections available right now! these are mostly clothing/hair, and mostly for female sims (not to say you can't use these for any sim-- i just mean it looks feminine/girly!)! NEXT POST will be favorite male sims cc! stay tuned <3
@joliebean's HIGH TIDE COLLECTION has 14 items, with some gorgeous, feminine swimsuits, jewelry and cover-ups. it's beautiful for summer, or if you like to play in sulani!
@simcelebrity00's Yes, And? Set is technically, well... a set LOL. but it has six ADORABLE items, so I thought i'd include it. If you love Ariana Grande's aesthetic, your going to love this! it includes jewelry, a dress, a hairstyle, and a gloss!
i've already posted this one here, that's how much i love it! if you love kpop, you will love this too. @trillyke's HOT MESS collection is inspired by Aespa. trillyke describes it as "grunge" and "y2k", which is true! but the items (imo) are super versatile if you are into making alt sims from so many aesthetics! i personally am obsessed with the MANY accessories, my favorite being "melody's headphones"!
switching gears, if you are into the "model off-duty", "clean girl" look. you are going to OBSESS over @twisted-cat's OVERRIDE COLLECTION. the items are super classic and elegant, and work beautifully together. but they are also basics, so they can work with other items in your collection as well! i wish these were part of my irl wardrobe, that's how much i love them.
@arethabee is probably one of my favorite cc creators ever (and to be fully transparent, i am a member of her patreon!). her ritual collection is INSANE, especially if you are into 90s fashion, or whimsigoth imo. if you are obsessed with charmed or phoebe from friends (if she was a witch), you are going to fall for this cc as much as me! my personal favorite items are the cordelia (beetlejuice reference maybe???) cardigan and the aradia (so many possible references, i'm having a hard time) skirt. btw, i think she really succeeded with her goal of being "witchy" but "casual". let me know if i missed anything, but there will definitely be a part 2! i really love downloading collections to make cohesive looks for my sims. i like them to kind of stick to an aesthetic, and collections are so good for that. AND i have tested all of these in-game and they look wonderful! lmk if you want to see my sims <3 and if anything isn't working for you, update me! all creators are tagged! please check them out and support them!
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drdemonprince · 1 day ago
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This is a dumb question and I’m high so it might be incoherent - but would it be strange or a bad idea to join fetlife as someone who is pretty inexperienced, and completely so with kink? I’m a 25 yr old repressed dyke late bloomer and I’ve been trying lex because I appreciate the post format there where you can explain bluntly what you’re looking for, but I live in a smaller city and it’s tumbleweeds and crickets. What I appreciate from the discussions I’ve sought out from ppl in kink scenes is their comfort talking abt / negotiating sex earnestly and openly - I wanna get over my fear of gay dating too etc etc but I also just wanna fuck and the dating apps available to me (banned from tinder, tme so not gonna act like a chaser and use grinder dykishly) seem pretty inhospitable to profiles tailored towards hookups / fwb. And I am notttt smooth enough to cruise at bars to be frank and real 😩 any place on fetlife for a baby dyke service top looking for girls to show them the ropes?
First, let me just tell you that if you're horny and looking to fuck you should absolutely get on Grindr to chat with the dolls are you fucking kidding me!!! Grindr is now officially an "all genders" app, but it has always been utilized by trans women & trans men alike, and a 25-year-old dyke seeking hookups could do real fuckin numbers over there with the girlies. As long as you are okay with having to ignore a lot of messages from dudes and block people as needed, you should ABSOLUTELY get on the platform and message some hot trans women.
As for your main question: Fetlife is a great place to start looking for hookups, too. It's not as fast-paced as Grindr, say, but you should be able to find local groups and events through there, and perhaps see some local cuties on the dashboard that you can slide into the DM's of. The more complete your profile & active you are as a poster on there, the more eyeballs you will get in front of, but generally it's a far more self-directed app than most social media apps of today. That means you'll have to search the tags, events, groups, etc that interest you and put yourself out there.
I've had some amazing hookups and relationships off that app, attended some sex parties, and gotten more plugged into the existing kink scene, and you can too! Even friends of mine living in more remote areas like distant exurbs of Winnipeg and shit have been able to find dungeons, local hypnosis munches, play partners, and Dominants on there. Kinky people have a way of making shit happen! You might even be surprised how many spaces are quietly all around you right now.
You may even be able to use a local queer kinky personals type group to mention that you're an aspiring service top looking for some helpful bottoms. I think you'll have no problem finding some eager beavers on that front -- lots of wlw are looking for dykey top, and some of them are actually communicative, generous bottoms who will help show you the way and value your topping for the gift that it is. Again, be prepared to ignore messages from people who don't interest you or squick you out, and to block men/couples looking for a unicorn/anyone else who ignores your preferences on your profile and messagesyou, as that kind of thing will happen. But personally, I consider that a fair tax to have to pay for getting to use a free-flowing, openly sexual platform where hookups can be secured relatively quickly and you can post nudes.
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aromanticofficial · 5 hours ago
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Hi, it’s the aroace from a few days earlier
Thank you so much for your patience, support, and kindness. Browsing the aroace tag for the very first time only to immediately come across a post about how I wasn’t wanted in aro spaces definitely tanked my mood and confidence, but looking back I think I overreacted a little bit. Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria sucks, but you were really kind and patient about it, and everyone in the comments was as well, so thank you so much. Sorry I got so stuck in my head!
(And thank you, all the aroallos who explained everything further! I totally get it, now, or at least I think I do.)
So, thanks again, and sorry again for being so sad in your inbox 😅
anon you are so welcome. I'm happy we could help because everyone deserves to have a community
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giveafike · 20 hours ago
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kinda obsessed with the prompt of ben x fem tennis reader being together for a lil while and being the cutest couple , breaking up bc the distance hit them too hard after two straight months of different tournaments/locations, then seeing each other for the first time at a 1000 tournament, going out to dinner with the same group of people and end up going back to bens hotel room to clear the air and obvs end up in bed together realising they’re gonna have to get thru the distance cos they can’t be without each other now 😭
TLDR: tennisplayerfem!reader and ben break up bc you can't handle being away and then surprise, you can't handle being not together. Losers.
Word count + info: 10k. Am I mentally ill? This is supposed to be a blurb.. Dialogue (angst, texts, calls, conversation).
Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! Breakup and kinda mean stuff said (nothing physical description wise). Otherwise, it's all good! (i think)
Azzie Notes ✚: SHOOT ME IN THE HEAD. AM I OKAY??? 10K?? ON A BLURB?? idrk what angst is fr chat lmk if i did that one fr idk....im a LOVER girl ok IDK HOW TO DO THIS SAD SHIT - in saying that, was part of my dialogue in this lwky..loosely based off of my ex...........maybe...
I fear I loved this prompt so bad and like...I love to yap..so...
Socials + Updates: twitter ( @azziegivesafike) - feel free to follow and msg me about non requests there, I'll be posting life updates, story + req updates and spoilers/teasers alongside other things, so it'd be nice to have a community over there!
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Shattered - B.T.S.
In the beginning, being with Ben is the kind of whirlwind you've only seen in movies, a connection that feels so natural, yet thrillingly unexpected. Well, in hindsight, that might've been a lie. It wasn't exactly love at first sight, but instead, a slow, magnetic pull that drew you together, like the tension building in a long rally. You met on the circuit, both hungry, ambitious, and dedicated to your own success. But from the start, Ben had this way of getting past your disciplined, guarded exterior with that relentless charm of his.
He’s everywhere, it seems—posting highlights from your matches on his stories, sneaking your name into press conferences, tagging you in his silly “lazy Saturday” shots where your game is always playing in the background. He flirts shamelessly, flashing that grin across the court, his voice lifting over the crowd to make some cheeky comment that leaves you stifling laughter. Your friends see it before you do: Ben is crazy about you, and soon, so is everyone else.
He flirted shamelessly and relentlessly, everywhere and anywhere, often catching you off guard in ways that left you flustered despite your best efforts to stay cool and professional. With that, you started to look out for the way his eyes would find yours in a crowd while you sat in the stands during his matches or how he would nudge you at practice with that easy, casual touch like he’s done it a thousand times before; like you belong by his side.
Once, when he's asked in an interview if he’d dedicated his recent win to anyone, he grins and looks straight across the room, making everyone laugh. “There’s someone special right now, but no need to say names, she knows.”
It’s sweet, funny and more than a little bold. Later, when you called him out for it over one of your first late-night calls, he shrugged, entirely unapologetic, telling you with that stupid drawl of his, “What? Ain’t no point hidin’ it. The world knows who my lucky charm is.”
Soon, it was you reaching out for him, your hand slipping onto his arm, leaning against him during walkouts, letting your barriers fall. And every time he catches your eye, every time he manages to make you smile, he looks at you like he’s won the lottery. His heart stammers a little each time you shove him playfully or roll your eyes at his antics. Whether it was on the bench or during changeovers, Ben would rest his hand gently on your lower back, a touch that makes you feel, just for a moment, like you're the only two people in the world.
When the rare break in your schedules comes around, you steal hours together. You grab a coffee, turning a "quick run" into a day spent together and wander around a city you barely know, or stumble upon a hidden café with pastries too flowery for your tastes. He made everything feel easier, like no matter how intense life gets, you’ll always have that balance with him. Around Ben, you can be softer, and more vulnerable; he brings out a side of you that isn’t just about winning and competing but about laughing, sharing, and letting go.
People noticed the way you look at each other, the easy affection that passes between you, the more daring and intimate PDA, sharing kisses and lingering stares. Soon, fans were shipping you openly, posting photos of you courtside, or whispering to each other when you lean close and murmur something that makes him laugh. On tour, you’re one of those “it” couples, a little slice of joy in the relentless pace of your careers. And in those early days, you both believe that together, you can take on anything. In those early days, you believed you could take on anything together. You and Ben were partners, equals, and even in the midst of a gruelling season, there had always been time for him, always a reason to smile. It felt perfect, like a love story you had stumbled into but were both entirely committed to.
But that honeymoon phase comes crashing down real quick.
As seasons shift and tournaments stretch across continents, the cracks start to show. At first, it’s just a few hours difference, but then come the miles and oceans, and the texts dwindled, conversations cut short, replaced by more missed calls than made and vague apologies. You both had tried, in every way you knew how. But eventually, the memories weren’t enough to bridge the distance. You’d catch yourself staying up just to wait for his call after practice, only to fall asleep disappointed, staring at a dark screen. And every time you woke up to a hastily sent sorry, something came up text, it felt like another tiny fracture.
Ben wasn’t the only one caught up in the chaos of your schedules; you had your own demands, too. The strain went both ways. In an attempt to keep things alive, you’d push yourself to keep up with his time zone, adding another city to your Clock app, setting alarms accordingly to his lunch and dinner times, staying awake far too late, eyes heavy as you sat alone in your hotel room, scrolling through old photos just to feel closer to him. When the call finally did come, your voice was barely more than a whisper, tired and distant, and Ben couldn't bear the exhaustion in your tone, his heart aching as he hushed you to sleep, meaning neither of you would stay on long.
It all piled up slowly, almost imperceptibly, until the weight felt crushing. Conversations became one-sided, it’s like chasing the sun itself, moments of silence replacing the laughter that had once felt endless, and that spark, the one that made you feel unstoppable together, felt further away with every day that passed.
Then came the day of your match, a game that should have been easy, one you’d normally have breezed through. But you were dragging, exhaustion wrapping itself around your every heavy, drooping step, and somewhere in the depths of your mind, a bitter thought took root:
If only he cared.
You knew it wasn’t his fault, but still, the frustration boiled over. Would things have felt different if you weren’t so alone in this? If you didn’t have to wonder when, or if, he’d remember to call? If he scheduled calls to your time for once? If he could just postpone everything for 20, 20 measly minutes for you?
A ball zips right by you, snapping you back to reality.
Lying in your hotel room that night, you stared at the ceiling, replaying the best moments of your time together like an old movie reel. In those moments, it had felt perfect. You’d believed you could take on the world, side by side, partners in everything. But now, with miles and silence separating you, you wondered if those memories were all that was left of what you once had.
But even with that ache, even with the emptiness filling the room, one thing is clear as day: loving Ben, for all its messiness, for all the distance and loneliness, had never felt like a mistake but God, was it hard. You pondered on those same irritating thoughts that itched at you until your fingers found your phone and hit the FaceTime Call button. Part of you wanted him to not pick up, knowing that you had nothing kind or sweet to say, but a small part of you wanted to dish back what he deserved.
“Hey,” he greets, his voice tense, worn. His drawl feels distant like he’s talking to you from across an ocean.
“Hey.” You can feel the iciness in your voice, colder than you intended.
“Long day?” he asks, though his expression is already tense, wary.
“Yeah. Almost lost today,” you say flatly.
Ben’s gaze flicks down. “I saw the score,” he says, his voice cautious. “Guess it was a tough match, babe.”
“It shouldn’t have been,” you snap. “But maybe it’s hard to focus when I’m barely sleeping… or constantly waiting for a text that never comes.”
He blinks, his eyes narrowing. “So this is on me?” The familiar accent is a little rougher around the edges. “You’re losin’ matches ‘cause I’m not callin’ you enough? That’s what you’re sayin’?”
“Don’t play dumb, Ben. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about” You feel the bitterness twisting in your chest. ““You’re barely here, Ben. Half the time, I don’t even know if we’re still together or if we’re just two people sending pointless messages every few hours. Half the time, it feels like I’m talking to a ghost.”
He lets out a frustrated laugh, shaking his head. “You think it’s any easier for me? I’ve got my own stuff, my own schedule, darlin'. I’ve got my career to think about too, you know, this ain't just about you.”
Your jaw tightens. “Yeah, well, at least when I'm on the court, I don’t exactly have the luxury of tuning you out, Ben. I’m not the one who forgets to call after saying I would. I don’t have time for half-assed texts and waiting around for you to call when you feel like it.”
“Oh, don’t go there,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. “You know what it’s like. The fans, the interviews, the time spent on court-”
“Yeah, I get it, Ben. But last week, you bailed on a call to go sign autographs. Priorities, right?”
He takes a deep breath, visibly holding back. “C’mon, babe, you don’t mean that.”
But you press on, unable to stop yourself. “You’re too busy with whatever ‘big thing’ you have going on, right? Maybe if you cared enough to focus on your game instead of your ‘commitments,’ you wouldn’t have dropped that finals match. Just maybe.”
He flinches, his expression turning dark. “Oh, that's low from you, Y/N. You really wanna go there?”
“Yeah, I do,” you say, your voice unwavering.
He pauses, his face hardening. “If you were out here on the ATP tour, you’d understand how rough it really is. You wouldn't even get past a challenger. It ain’t the same league as the WTA.”
You laughed, a cold, bitter sound. “Oh, don’t even start with that. Rougher than the WTA? Is that supposed to make me feel better? Maybe come and join WTA then, you wouldn't manage it out here either, Ben.”
He snaps, his voice cutting like a whip. “You know how much I’m fightin’ to make a name for myself out here. Just ‘cause you got a few more shiny titles doesn’t mean you get to talk down to me like this.”
The sting of his words hits like a slap. Your face flushes, a mix of anger and hurt bubbling up. “So, that’s it? Just because I’ve actually earned my success, I’m some kind of… what? Nag?”
“I didn’t say that,” he shot back, voice tight, his eyes narrowing as he looked away. “But maybe you’re doin’ too much. Bein’ all… dramatic, blamin’ me for stuff I got no control over.”
“Right, okay, so I’m being dramatic,” you scoff, your voice edged with sarcasm. “I’m the one asking for too much because I want something real, something you clearly can’t give.”
He laughs, bitter and raw. “Maybe you just want too damn much.”
You feel the tears prickling behind your eyes, but you clench your jaw, holding yourself together by sheer force of will. Your voice trembles as you speak, the words thick with a pain you can’t contain. “I just want you to care, Ben, or at least pretend to care and make it believable. I want you to care enough to be here when it matters. But you’re so wrapped up in yourself, you don’t even see it.”
His face hardens, his jaw set, but his eyes hold a flicker of something unspoken. “You think I don’t care? I’m out here pushin’ myself every day, for us, for this future we’re supposed to be building 'n shit. But it’s like no matter what I do, it ain’t enough for you.”
A sharp knock sounds from his end, followed by muffled voices. He glances away, then back at you, irritation flaring in his eyes. “Look, I gotta go. Dad’s waitin’ on me; he already gave me an extra ten minutes to talk.”
You feel your heart twist, an ache of disappointment settling in. “Oh, of course,” you mutter, your voice dripping with bitterness. “Go ahead. I’m sure your training’s way more important than anything I have to say.”
He turns back, his eyes blazing with frustration. “Maybe it is right now,” he spits. “Talkin’ to you like this, all it’s doin’ is makin’ things worse. We're not getting anywhere like this-”
The words cut deeper than you expect, and you can barely hold back the surge of anger and heartbreak choking you. “Fine. Go, then. At least one of us can prioritise something.”
He scoffs, shaking his head as he looks away. “You’re bein’ unfair, 'n you know it.”
“Am I?” you whisper, your voice tight and choked. “Or am I just done waiting for you to show up?”
You stare at each other, an endless silence stretching between you, sharp and seething, words too heavy to be unsaid. Then, with a frustrated shake of his head, he mutters, “I can’t do this right now. I’ll talk to you later. When you’re not actin’ like this.”
Before you could respond, he hung up, his face disappearing from your screen, leaving you alone with nothing but the cold light of your phone. Your hands shook as you stared at the blank screen, tears finally spilling over.
With trembling fingers, you took a breath, letting a cold, steely calm settle over you. You typed out a simple, blunt message, leaving no room for second-guessing, no room for soft words or explanations. Just the truth, as raw as you felt.
“We’re done. I can’t do this anymore, Ben. I’m sorry.”
Your thumb lingered for a second before hitting “send,” and as soon as the message went through, you blocked him on every platform, cutting off any way for him to respond, to apologise, to convince you otherwise.
But as you tossed your phone aside, a crack appeared in the calm you’d forced on yourself. The tears came suddenly, your breath hitching as a tidal wave of heartbreak surged through you. You buried your face in your hands, pressing your palms against your eyes as if you could somehow contain the emotions clawing their way to the surface. You tried to stay quiet, muffling the sound in the dark, but the weight was too much, every sob raw, grieving and heavy, pouring out the frustration, the loneliness, and the love you’d tried so hard to salvage.
By the time your tears subsided, you felt utterly drained, hollowed out in a way that made everything around you feel distant and surreal. The city lights flickered outside your window, the glow indifferent to the storm that had torn through you. And in that quiet, broken moment, with only the shadows as company, you lay there, letting the exhaustion seep through your bones until sleep claimed you.
When sleep finally came, it was restless, fractured. You tossed and turned, flashes of memories from better days with Ben haunting you, the sound of his laugh, the way he’d smile, gummy and wide, his nose scrunching with that easy confidence. You woke up more exhausted than when you’d closed your eyes, feeling like you hadn’t rested at all. But you forced yourself out of bed, pushing yourself through your pre-game routine, your emotions locked away, frozen under layers of determination.
As you walked onto the court, the crowd buzzed with excitement, but you barely registered it. You were a storm, calm on the surface but seething underneath. Every shot you took was hard and brutal, the ball slicing through the air with an intensity that made your opponent flinch, the impact echoing through the stadium. You played as if your life depended on it, your body moving with sharp, lethal precision.
Your serves were relentless, your groundstrokes vicious, each one faster, sharper, as if each shot were a way to expel the anger and hurt still simmering in your chest. The crowd murmured, noticing the shift in your energy, the way you were pushing yourself, almost recklessly. A couple of times, your shots zipped past your opponent’s hand, barely missing, almost daring her to try and reach for it - "try me". You were untouchable, unstoppable, playing like you had something to prove.
But there was no smile, no hint of joy in your movements, solely mechanical. The usual lightness in your footwork was gone, replaced by a cold, ruthless efficiency. You’d already decided: this match was yours. You weren’t here to give an inch, weren’t here to let any lingering emotions cloud your focus. The crowd might have wanted excitement, but you were giving them precision, a display of control and fury that left no room for doubt.
You won, of course. Your opponent barely had a chance. But as you walked off the court, sweat trickling down your brow, fists clenched, you felt no thrill in the victory. Just the dull ache that lingered, a hollow space where your lightness, your smile, used to be. The heat of the court only made your head throb. The applause faded into background noise as you strode away, head high, shoulders tense. You’d won, but it felt like a hollow victory. You had no one to text after your game, anyone to call you baby - you had done it to yourself, were you really that desperate for a man to validate you? You were sick of feeling this way, sick of the exhaustion, the anger, the loneliness that clung to you even after everything you’d given today. At least, for now, you’d proven something, to yourself, to him, even if he’d never know, or care.
In the month that followed, you threw yourself harshly into your schedule, determined to erase any trace of him from your routine, your heart. Matches, training, travel, interviews, photoshoots, more matches, each day bled into the next, filled with an almost mechanical sense of purpose. If you weren’t on the court, you were working out, perfecting your strokes, spending hours on serves and footwork. Anything to exhaust yourself to stop the thoughts from lingering too long. Your routine was relentless, your focus razor-sharp.
But even in this frenzy, despite it all, reminders of him still slipped through. You’d scroll through social media, and every so often, an ATP post would pop up: Ben at a tournament, Ben celebrating a point, Ben grinning with that easy charm that used to make your heart ache. He looked different now. His curls were longer, spilling out from over his sweaty headband, and his frame had hardened, leaner, with muscle that seemed to outline his strength in sharper lines. His chubby cheeks had slimmed down into something harder, replaced by the quiet confidence of someone who’d grown, adapted, maybe even suffered a little.
And you could almost feel it, the quaking, gaping pain of missing him, but you’d swallow it back down, pull yourself together, and look away.
Your own press conferences became something else entirely. You were more composed, a bit sharper with your words, confident in a way you hadn’t been before. Where you used to smile shyly or laugh softly, now you leaned in with humour, a hint of flirtation, your charm more self-assured. You handled reporters’ questions deftly, especially the ones that tried to pry about Ben. The same questions came up over and over:
“So, do you still keep in touch with Ben?”
Each time, you’d respond with a practised, cool smile. “Right now, I’ve got all the support I need from my team and the people I have with me.” You’d turn the conversation to your work, your skill, and your grind on the court, dismissing the topic with subtle elegance, always steering it back to your goals, your game, and your people.
Yet, away from the cameras, the facade cracked, if only slightly. Sometimes, after a long match or a particularly brutal day of training, you’d find yourself scrolling through your old photos or feeling tears prickling your eyes, this messy situation taking a bigger toll than you would like to admit.
In his hotel room, Ben watched your interviews alone, a faint crease between his brows. There you were, in all your brilliance, flashing a confident smile at the camera, handling the press with a wit and boldness that felt both familiar and strange. He could see the way you’d grown, the way you’d steeled yourself, and it stirred something in him, a pang he couldn’t ignore. It was like watching someone he knew intimately and yet… not at all. The way you answered questions about him, and your subtle redirection to your career and team, it stung. Maybe it was petty, but he missed the way you used to talk about him with such pride, with that lovestruck glow. He loved seeing how shy you would get at the sheer mention of his name. Your hair was different, your skin glowing, you had more confidence, even if it came off a bit cocky but he still felt like you were his, just as much as he was yours. Ben didn’t know how to reach out, didn’t know what he’d even say. There was a distance now, both physical and emotional, that seemed impossible to bridge. He’d scroll through his own phone sometimes, finding old messages, ones before distance got the better of you both, photos of the two of you, half-written scripts in his Notes app he couldn’t bring himself to deliver. If he flew out tonight to you, what would he even do after? He’d think of calling you, of reaching out somehow, but the memory of your last fight, the bitterness in your voice, the way you’d shut him out… it held him back.
One evening, as you sat alone in the players' lounge, your forehead pressed against the back of the sofa, you felt that familiar ache pulse through you, the one that came every time you thought of him. It was then that Coco came by, her familiar, steady presence filling the room as she settled down across from you, cross-legged on the seat in front of you. Over the past year, it was Ben that introduced you but, you and Coco had grown even closer, bound not just by shared victories and losses but by the pressures only someone like her could truly understand.
Coco tilted her head, her gaze warm but unwavering. “Alright,” she said, cutting through the silence. “What’s really going on? Are you… over him?”
You exhaled slowly, running a hand through your hair as you tried to gather your thoughts. “I wish I could say yes,” you murmured. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried to move on, focus on the game, on everything else, but… he’s still everywhere. Even when I’m doing well, even when I’m focused, it’s like… something’s missing.” Your voice dropped to barely a whisper. “It’s like I can’t fully shake him.”
Coco nodded, her expression both sympathetic and knowing. “I get it. You two had something real, something intense. But maybe this time apart is what you both need. I mean, look at you. You’re stronger now, on and off the court. Maybe that’s part of this whole journey, you know?”
You managed a faint smile, though your heart still felt heavy. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. It just… doesn’t always feel like enough.”
She reached out, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Trust me. If he’s the right guy, he’ll figure it out, too. Until then? Focus on your game. Focus on you.”
Her words stayed with you, offering a small but steady comfort in the days that followed. You have been throwing yourself into training, pouring everything into the sport, trying to find solace in each match and each moment of growth. Somewhere out there, he was doing the same, and maybe, just maybe, this was what was best.
But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t completely smother the small spark of hope, that someday, somehow, your paths might cross again.
It was similar in the men’s locker room, Ben slumped forward on the bench, his elbows propped on his knees as he stared blankly at the floor, holding an uncapped bottle of water. Frances Tiafoe, who’d been eyeing him from across the room, exchanged a knowing glance with Taylor Fritz before making his way over.
“Alright, bro, spill it,” Frances said, tossing a towel over his shoulder as he leaned in. “You’ve been lookin’ like you’re living in some sad dog for weeks.”
Ben gave him a sidelong glance. “There’s nothin’ to talk about.”
Taylor rolled his eyes as he joined them, settling down on the other side of Ben. “Come on, man. We’re not blind. Ever since she blocked you, you’ve been… different.”
Ben scoffed, looking away, his voice low. “She didn’t just block me, man. She… she threw down, real hard. Said some things I thought she’d never say.”
Frances let out a low whistle. “Was that rough, huh?”
“Yeah,” Ben said, rubbing a hand over his face, his frustration mingling with regret. “It all just blew up. We were on a call, talkin’ like usual, and suddenly… it was like everything we hadn’t said just came out. She starts throwin’ things at me about how I’m not there, like… like I don’t care enough or not workin' hard enough. And it pissed me off, you know? I work just as hard, and it’s not like I’m sittin’ around, right?”
Taylor nodded, leaning back against the lockers. “So, what’d you do?”
Ben shrugged, his expression pained. “I pushed back, told her she couldn’t keep actin’ like she’s the only one workin’ for this. Told her ATP is just as tough, maybe even more competitive. Didn’t mean it that way, but she took it wrong. She thought I was tryin’ to downplay her game.”
Frances shook his head, giving Ben a sympathetic look. “Man, she must’ve felt hurt.”
“Yeah,” Ben muttered, a bitter laugh escaping him. “And next thing I know, I get this text. ‘This isn’t workin', we’re done.’ Blocked me on everything. Cold as ice, man. It’s like she flipped a switch, just… shut me out completely, as easy as shuttin' a door.”
Frances gave him a gentle nudge. “You still care about her?”
Ben’s gaze softened, a faint smile breaking through his frustration. “Yeah, man. She’s… she’s my girl. Even if she’s not my girl right now, you know?”
Taylor chuckled, nodding. “So, what’re you gonna do about it? Sit around here moping, or actually make a move?”
Ben sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “What am I supposed to do? She’s made it pretty clear she’s done with me.”
Frances grinned, crossing his arms. “Bro, just ‘cause she blocked you and sent a text after you called her game easy, doesn’t mean it’s over. She’s mad, yeah, but she’s probably missin’ you just as much. You just gotta show her you’re willin’ to do what it takes.”
Taylor nodded in agreement, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “And it doesn’t have to be some big romantic gesture, man. Sometimes, it’s the small things. Something to let her know you’re still thinkin’ of her, still care. You know where we're at next, right?”
Ben chuckled, shaking his head. “And do what? Just show up at her hotel room? She’s liable to call cops on my ass for that shit, bro.”
Frances laughed, shrugging. “So what? At least she’ll know you tried! Don't go doin' that though. Look, I’ve been with my girl for years now, and sometimes, you gotta be willing to look like a fool to show her you care.”
Ben leaned back, their words sinking in. He could still feel the sting of the things she’d said, the accusations she’d thrown at him like he didn’t care, didn’t work just as hard. But he couldn’t deny that he’d made mistakes, too. He’d let his pride get in the way, said things he regretted, and let the frustration of it all get the better of him.
Frances nudged him again, his grin widening. “Think about it, man. You got two choices: sit here, feeling sorry for yourself until she finds some other guy, or actually do something about it and get her back, even if that means standing in the rain with a fuckin' speaker.”
Ben finally cracked a smile, looking between his friends. “Y’all are ridiculous.”
“Hey, maybe,” Taylor said with a shrug. “But at least we got girlfriends. And you? You got a chance to get yours back. Just gotta decide if she’s worth it.”
Ben sat there, mulling over their words as a new determination started to burn within him. Maybe he didn’t have all the answers, and maybe there was a lot he’d have to figure out. But if there was even a chance to fix things, to bridge that gap that felt so wide, he wasn’t about to let his pride hold him back.
As he left the locker room that night, he felt a resolve solidify within him. He’d find a way to reach out, to let her know that no matter how far apart they were, she was still the one he wanted. Because when it came down to it, she was worth every bit of the fight.
A week went by before a 1000 game flew in, and both ATP and WTA were present if not, nearby for the games. You couldn't care less what was at stake, anything was a win if it kept you occupied. The courts were almost empty, shadows lengthening as the sun beamed high above. You bounced the ball steadily, the rhythm calm, your focus laser-sharp. The only sounds were the muted thud of your shoes on the court, and your breath falling into sync with the beat of your earbuds. Nothing but you, the court, and the quiet.
But then, that voice broke through.
"Aw, c'mon, man!" A laugh, deep and full of that unmistakable Southern drawl. Your grip faltered, the ball hovering mid-toss. That laugh, it was a sound you hadn’t let yourself think about for months, one that held too much of him.
Ben.
Your pulse jolted, the memories flooding back, warmth and bitterness tangled in the knots of your chest. You gritted your teeth, tossing the ball high before slamming it against the court, the crack of impact sharp in the quiet. It almost felt satisfying, like you could obliterate the tension he brought, shatter it with sheer force.
Almost.
You readied another serve, the ball bouncing harder than necessary as you forced yourself not to look. But you could feel his gaze, that familiar weight of his eyes lingering on you. The pull was magnetic, almost maddening, and despite every ounce of resolve you’d built up, your gaze betrayed you, slipping over to catch a glimpse of him.
Ben, laughing with Taylor, curls tousled longer than before, his hoodie slung carelessly over those familiar, ridiculous short shorts. The same hoodie you'd worn too many times to count, drowning in its warmth during late-night snack runs and lazy Sundays. The sight tugged painfully, a cruel reminder of the little things you’d pushed down, tried to forget.
He caught you looking, and his laughter faded, his gaze holding yours for just a second too long. You gripped the ball tighter, the ache settling heavy, and forced yourself to turn away, channelling the flurry of memories into another sharp serve, a fierce crack reverberating across the court. You didn’t look back again.
Hours later, your body was tired, your mind a bit clearer. You were scrolling through your phone in the lounge, zoning out, when Coco dropped down beside you with that familiar, mischievous grin.
"Hey, you!" She nudged you, hands on her hips.
You eyed her warily. "What’s up, Coco? Awfully perky for...5:30p.m."
“We’re having dinner tonight. Big group. Wanna come?” Her tone was casual, a little too casual.
Your guard went up immediately as you dropped your phone to your lap. “Who’s ‘we all’?”
Coco shrugged, twirling a loose curl around her finger. “Me, Frances, Arthur… maybe another WTA girl or two. Just a fun little dinner. Nothing formal.”
You narrowed your eyes, reading the glint of mischief in hers. "Coco, don’t mess with me. He's not gonna be there, right?"
She tilted her head, pretending to look innocent, but the sly smile gave her away. "Well… he might show up, but that's on his own accord. I didn't mention anything to Ben and it’s not like anyone’s setting anything up! It’s just dinner."
Your stomach twisted, a sigh slipping from your lips as you looked away. “I don’t think so. Not after… everything.” Your voice softened the weight of old arguments and unsaid things hanging between the words.
Coco’s face softened, her hand finding your shoulder. “Look, I’m not saying you have to sit next to him or anything. It’s a big table. You can stay on the opposite end and ignore him if that’s what you need. But everyone misses you, it’s been ages since we all got together. We all need to see your pretty face off the court too, ya know?”
You hesitated, rolling your eyes, the ache of missing them settling somewhere deep, the sense of family you hadn’t felt in months tugging at you. After a long pause, you finally nodded, rolling your shoulders back as if bracing for a match. “Fine. But I’m serious, Coco, no funny business. If he starts anything, I’m out.”
Coco grinned, throwing her arm around you. “Girl, trust me. If anything, you’ll be giving him the funny looks. Just friends, no drama. Now, let’s go get you out of those sweats.”
Meanwhile, in the locker room across the court, Ben was doing his best to act indifferent as Frances nudged him for the third time.
"C'mon, man!" Frances said, leaning against the lockers with a knowing grin. "So you are coming to this dinner tonight, right? Don't make me beg again, I'll start singing.”
Ben tried to play it cool, leaning back with his arms crossed. “I don’t know, man. You really think it’s a good idea?”
Frances rolled his eyes. “Look, you’ve been moping for months. She’s not gonna make a scene in public, and especially not with all of us, and who knows? Maybe she’ll talk to you, be all civil. It’s worth a shot.”
Ben let out a huff, rubbing the back of his neck. “Civil? You remember the last time we spoke, right? She has me blocked on everything.”
Taylor, stretching nearby, smirked and chimed in. “Man, you got nothin’ to lose. At the very least, you’ll see her. I saw how you were after you caught a glimpse of her training earlier. Besides, Frances and Coco will keep her from killin’ you.”
“Kay, thanks,” Ben muttered, though a flicker of hope sparked under the sarcasm. He didn’t want to admit it, but he couldn’t shake the longing to see her again, to maybe fix even a sliver of what had been broken.
Taylor nudged him, grinning. “Hey, listen, if I wasn’t taking Morgan out tonight, I’d be there just for moral support. But hey, maybe next time it’ll be a double date. Me, you, Morgan and your soon-to-be girlfriend, just like old times.”
Ben shook his head, the thought both terrifying and oddly thrilling. “You’re jokin’, right? She’d probably throw her drink at me before she’d sit through a double date.”
“Only if you act like an idiot,” Frances pointed out, laughing. “Just be yourself, man. You can handle the heat on the court, you can handle this. And maybe tonight’ll be the thing that finally breaks the ice.”
Ben sighed, running a hand over his face before finally surrendering. “Alright, alright. Fine. I’ll go. But Frances, don’t expect me to be all… chatty.”
Frances clapped him on the back, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. “Yeah, you say that now. But I know how you get around her, man. Just don’t chicken out. Remember, we got your back.”
Ben couldn’t help but smile nervously, feeling a strange mix of dread and anticipation tighten in his chest. He wasn’t sure if this dinner would be a chance at redemption or just a painful reminder of how far they’d drifted, but one thing was clear, he was tired of hiding from whatever was left between them.
You walk into the restaurant and let Coco lead you to a long table, feeling an odd mix of nerves and determination fluttering in your stomach. Your outfit is cute but simple, just a sweater and leggings; just enough effort to feel put together without trying too hard. You take a seat between Coco and Arthur Fils, with Frances across from you. There’s an empty chair across from Arthur, and for some reason, that empty space makes your heart beat a little faster, feeling torn between wanting and avoiding Ben there.
As everyone settles in, you catch Coco’s eye and mutter, “Please tell me he’s not actually coming.” She just shrugs with an easy smile.
Moments later, as the group banters along, about to order drinks, Ben strolls in, catching you entirely off-guard. He’s slightly out of breath, apologising to the group with that familiar grin, explaining he’s late because he’d just finished showering after practice. You can’t help it, you nudge Coco under the table, whispering through gritted teeth, a frustrated, “Great.”
Coco just gives him a casual greeting, and you force yourself to turn back to the table, focusing your attention on ordering a glass of wine, pretending not to notice him as he takes that empty seat across from Arthur, just barely within your view, diagonally. But as he sits down, you feel his eyes on you, and for a brief moment, you glance up and catch him staring, his face almost dazed.
You’re caught off-guard by the look in his eyes. His breath seems to hitch, his big brown eyes wide and you can see a faint blush creeping up his neck as he stares at you, almost like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again. There’s a softness in his expression that you weren’t prepared for, a kind of awe that makes your stomach twist with memories and longing. But just as quickly, you look away, turning your attention to your wine as Frances elbows Ben with a teasing hiss, “Be normal, man.”
Throughout the night, you manage to keep to yourself, mostly talking to the other WTA players or Arthur whenever he cracks a joke. You keep Ben at the edge of your vision, resolute in ignoring the way his gaze keeps drifting back to you.
Every once in a while, Ben attempts to draw you into the conversation, maybe a lighthearted comment or a direct question, but each time, you meet his gaze with a steely look, making it clear with just one glance that you’re not interested. When he tries again, you let your eyes meet his for a moment, long enough to show him you’re serious before turning away, cutting off his effort entirely, almost to say "not interested". Across the table, Frances raises his brows, murmuring with a barely hidden smirk, “Damn, she is good at this,” as Ben slouches slightly, clearly trying not to look embarrassed.
As dinner winds down, the plates are cleared away, and you excuse yourself to the bathroom, needing a moment alone. Inside, you take a deep breath, facing yourself in the mirror. You’d been bracing yourself for tonight, but nothing quite prepared you for how it would feel to see him sitting right there, looking at you with those big sweet brown eyes and a pout, filled with that same soft pleading that used to make you melt.
But tonight, all it did was remind you of those late nights waiting by your phone, checking it over and over for messages that came slower and slower until they just…stopped. It reminds you of the countless hours wondering if you mattered as much as you thought you did, replaying his empty promises and half-hearted reassurances that seemed to fade with each passing day. He couldn't expect you to take him back with a pout and some half-assed joke. But damn, was it a good attempt, he knew how to make you crumble, even if it wasn't his sole intention.
You force yourself to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you look in the bathroom mirror examining yourself with a sigh, applying a bit of lip balm with fingers that tremble just slightly. Anything to distract yourself, to remind yourself that you’re strong enough to face this without breaking, reminding yourself to keep that mask on. You straighten your posture, determined to push all those memories back down where they belong, buried.
But just as you step out of the bathroom, Ben is standing right there, leaning against the wall as if he’d been waiting for you. His eyes soften the moment they meet yours, and he opens his mouth, his voice just a whisper. “Can we…talk? Just the two of us?”
The look he gives you, hopeful, no, desperate, stirs something deep inside you, and you clench your jaw, wanting to say no, wanting to walk away without a second thought. But as much as you’d like to ignore it, part of you still aches for some kind of closure, maybe even just one honest conversation.
With a reluctant sigh, you nod. “Fine. Outside.”
As you head out the restaurant’s door, you quickly fire off a text to Coco:
me n Ben talking outside. brb.
You stuff your phone back into your bag, clutching it tightly to your shoulder as you step into the cool night air. Wrapping your arms under your chest, you try to keep yourself shielded from more than just the chilling breeze.
Ben falls into step beside you, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. There’s a moment of silence as you both find your footing, the quiet thick with everything that’s been left unsaid. You glance sideways, catching him opening his mouth like he’s about to say something, only to close it, his shoulders shifting awkwardly.
“So… how’s the tournament going for you?” he starts, his tone casual, a little too casual.
You blink, trying not to roll your eyes, feeling the irritation growing. Really? But you bite back and just sternly say, “Ben.”
He rubs the back of his neck, glancing up at the streetlights overhead. “Sorry, yeah, that was- uh, okay.” He lets out a breath and shuffles closer, his voice almost a murmur. “I just… I wanna make this right. Another chance- Just thought maybe… you know, talkin’ would be easier if…”
“Ben, stop.” You sigh, tightening your grip on your bag strap. “Stop being weird. Just… just say what you have to say, and let’s get this over with. Let's not make this longer than it needs to be, I've got shit to do tomorrow.”
He glances at you, brows knitting together. For a second, he looks almost frustrated, like he’s holding back something sharper, something rougher. But he lets it pass, letting out a long, resigned breath. “Fine. I’ll just ask one thing.”
You arch an eyebrow, scepticism thick in your voice. “One question. Shoot.”
His voice comes out softer, edged with a hesitant curiosity as if he knows it’s a stupid question but can’t help but ask. “What hotel you stayin’ at?”
You let out a dry chuckle, shaking your head. “The Merrion.”
His eyes widen slightly, a small, stupid smile breaking on his face. “No way… me too.”
You sigh, looking up at the night sky, feeling the inevitability of whatever this night is becoming. Of course, he’s at the same hotel. Only Ben could make the universe align like this. And only Ben would think of a stupid question like that. He shifts his weight, stepping closer, his gaze steady.
“Look,” he starts, “it’s just a short walk back, twenty minutes or so. Just… give me that time. Just enough to walk back. Let me talk. And then you can go to your room and go to bed. How 'bout it?”
There’s a hopeful edge in his voice that you can’t ignore, and for a moment, your resolve falters. It’s ridiculous, this is exactly the sort of thing he would come up with, some half-baked plan to get you to keep listening, to keep him around just a little longer. You want to roll your eyes, to brush him off, but something about the way he’s looking at you, those earnest, brown eyes so damn full of longing, makes you sigh.
“Fine,” you mutter. “But if you get weird again, I’m out. No small talk, you know how much I hate it.”
A small grin creeps onto his face, and he falls into step beside you, a little closer than necessary, his arm brushing against yours as you start down the quiet street. For a minute, he doesn’t say anything, just walks alongside you, letting the silence settle around you both. But then, in that familiar southern drawl, his voice comes softer.
“Y’know, I've been thinkin’ ‘bout us a lot… probably more than I should.”
You keep your eyes on the sidewalk ahead, willing yourself to stay unmoved. “And?”
He swallows, his gaze tracing your profile, softening with each word. “I messed up,” he admits. “I know I did. I shoulda… been there more, answered more, I dunno. Shoulda been better at handlin’ it.”
You nod slightly, keeping your face blank. “Mhm, you should've.”
There’s a flicker of frustration in his expression, but he doesn’t let it throw him off. “You think I didn’t feel it too? That whole time, it felt like- hell, like I was losin’ you, like somethin’ was slippin’ right outta my hands, and I couldn’t do nothin’ to stop it.”
You feel the tension in your shoulders loosen just a fraction, though you keep your arms folded as a kind of armour. His words settle into the silence, raw and rough, and you can feel him glancing over, waiting for some kind of response. But you keep your gaze forward, biting back the little stirrings of emotion that are beginning to creep in.
He keeps talking, voice low and steady, drawing you in without giving you a chance to look away. “I’m not tryin’ to make excuses, alright? I know I coulda tried harder. But it’s like… the more I tried, the harder it got. The distance, the time zones, the schedules… it all just made me feel like I couldn’t keep up. And I just didn't know how to juggle it and that's my fault.”
You shake your head slightly, finally glancing over at him, the faintest of smirks tugging at the corner of your mouth. “So this is your way of apologising?”
He laughs, a little sheepish. “Guess I’m not real good at it, huh?” He nudges you with his shoulder, a familiar, easy gesture that makes your arms slowly loosen. His hand brushes your arm, just for a second, and a warmth blooms where his fingers graze your skin as if your body’s memory of him can’t help but respond.
“Look,” he says, his voice dipping softer, “I just… I miss you so much. Like hell.”
The honesty in his tone hits you hard, unravelling the cold exterior you’ve worked so hard to keep up. He keeps his eyes on you, watching your face carefully as if gauging your reaction. You feel your resolve slipping even more, your arms slowly falling to your sides, your heart aching as you fight against the wave of warmth that’s threatening to break through.
“Ben…” you start, barely a whisper, but you don’t know what to say, feeling torn.
He moves a little closer, his eyes wide, pleading, like he’s trying to hold onto every inch of you he can. “I know I messed up, okay? But I don’t wanna lose you. Not for good. Please, Y/N. Give me one more chance, you won't regret it 'n if I fuck up bad, you can do whatever, however; I deserve it but please. Just one more chance.”
You press your lips tight together, feeling your heart tighten as his words sink in, as he stands there looking at you with that same vulnerability you’d once fallen in love with. For a second, you forget the hurt, the sleepless nights, and you’re left with just him, the version of him that’s open, sincere, the Ben you’d once held so close.
The walk to the hotel stretches out as he keeps talking, spilling out and laying his heart bare with that easy, boyish charm that only he can pull off, and little by little, you feel your icy exterior start to melt. He talks about his time away from you, how he admired you from videos, watched highlight reels, his endless hours at night going through photos and texts; the whole lot. He cracks a joke, and despite yourself, you smile, trying to hide it but failing. He nudges you again, grinning as he sees the hint of laughter breaking through your guard.
He apologises over and over, more earnestly each time, his voice steady and low, and you can hear the regret, the guilt, the need to make things right. By the time you reach the hotel entrance, you’re feeling something dangerously close to hope, your heart betraying you, making it harder and harder to keep up the facade.
You glance over at him, catching the way his eyes soften as he looks at you as if you’re the only thing he can see. He’s staring, the blush from earlier creeping back up his neck, and when his hand brushes yours one last time, you don’t pull away.
You stand just outside the hotel, a faint chill brushing past as the streetlights cast a warm glow around you. You shift on your feet, glancing up at him, your eyes soft but determined.
“Can I talk?” you ask, breaking the quiet, your voice barely above a whisper. The first thing you had actually said this entire time.
Ben raises an eyebrow, leaning in with a playful smirk. “Talk? What else have we been doin’ for the last twenty minutes, girl?”
You roll your eyes and reach out to smack his arm, earning a chuckle from him. “Fine then. Can we go up to your room?” you add, a small, daring smile tugging at your lips.
Ben’s eyebrow quirks higher. “My room, huh?” His gaze narrows, teasing you with that familiar glint. “What exactly ya got planned, sweetheart?”
You swat him again, harder this time, and he laughs, raising his hands in mock defence. But then you drop the smile, your voice softer. “I wanna talk about what I did, Ben. I messed up too.”
The teasing fades from his expression as he studies your face, searching. After a pause, he nods and gestures toward the lobby. “Alright, then. Let’s go talk.”
In the elevator, silence hangs thick in the air, tension as familiar as it is unspoken. You don't even notice, spending your time stilling your breath and running through everything you want to apologise for. When you reach his room, you head over to the small couch by the window and settle in, tucking your legs under you and giving him a steady look.
“Ya gettin’ comfortable already?” he jokes, leaning against the wall, his eyes dancing with that old spark that makes you ache.
You try not to smile, steeling yourself for your confessional. “Can you be serious for a minute?”
His smile fades as he walks over, sitting across from you, his gaze intense and focused. You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything you’ve held back.
“I shouldn’t have put so many expectations on you,” you begin, your voice wavering. “You’ve got your own life, your own competitions, your own dreams. All this constant travelling, the different time zones… it’s not fair to expect you to be there every time I needed you at the drop of a hat. You get burnt out too- God. I never even asked how you were before I'd launch into my own day.”
You bite your lip, blinking back tears as they start to blur your vision. “I should’ve known better. I should’ve been more understanding, given you more grace.” Your voice catches, barely a whisper now. “And what I said… on that call… it was cruel, Ben. I was mean and unfair, and you didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve any of it. At all. I wouldn't want myself back after all I had said and done.”
As a tear slips down your cheek, Ben’s face softens, and he reaches out without hesitation, his hands cupping your face as he brushes the tear away. His thumb lingers on your skin, his gaze is unwavering, and then he leans forward, pressing the gentlest kiss to your temple, another to your forehead, and a final one at the crown of your head, his hand resting tenderly against your hair.
You let out a shuddered breath, your hands covering his as you finally let everything pour out. “I miss you so much,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I miss everything about you… the way you laugh, your ridiculous voice…” Another tear rolls down, and you don’t try to hold back. “I miss the way you’d talk about cars or food for ages, and you’d make everything feel so normal, even when my life was a mess. Without you, it’s like this haze I can’t shake. I just… I miss you. I barely recognise myself these days.”
Your body shakes with the sobs you’ve tried so hard to bury, and Ben doesn’t hesitate. He pulls you close, wrapping you in his arms like he could shield you from all the pain, all the regret. He holds you there, one hand smoothing over your hair, his lips pressing soft, tender kisses to your forehead and cheeks, murmuring gentle words against your skin.
“S’all right, darlin’,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m here. I’m right here with you.”
You cling to him, burying your face into the crook of his neck, as his hands trace soothing circles along your back. Your sobs gradually quiet, but your breaths are still shaky, each exhale unsteady.
“I’m so sorry, Ben,” you manage, voice barely audible.
He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Hey now,” he murmurs, his tone warm and grounding. “We both made mistakes. Ain’t just on you, alright? Takes two to mess up, but it takes two to fix it too. We can fix, can't we?”
You nod, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, feeling a little of the weight lift, softened by his words.
Ben tilts your head to hold your gaze, his own eyes glassy. “Can’t tell ya how many times I thought about callin’ ya or flying to ya,” he admits, his voice low. “How many times I’d pull up your name, wonderin’ what you’d say if I told ya all the things I wished I’d said. But I was… hell, I was scared, darlin’. Thought maybe I’d screwed up too bad, and you’d moved on.”
You shake your head, a small, breathy laugh escaping. “I couldn’t...I could never.”
He strokes your hair gently, his lips brushing your forehead once more. “Guess we’re both a couple of fools then, huh?”
You laugh softly, the sound wet and trembling as he pulls you back into his arms. You lean into him, letting yourself feel the warmth of his embrace, the steady beat of his heart, grounding you. Wrapped in the quiet, tangled together, you both hold on a little tighter, feeling the rawness of your honesty and the comfort of finally, finally being close again. In the safety of his arms, you feel, for the first time in so long, a sense of peace, letting the unspoken words settle around you like a quiet promise.
Ben’s hand rests on your cheek, his thumb tracing small circles as he learns your face all over again, making your heart flutter. His fingers move slowly, grazing down to your jaw, then up again, threading into your hair. You let your eyes close for a moment, his gentle touch working its way through the tension of the night, and a small, contented sigh escapes you. For the first time in weeks, you feel relaxed and content.
“Gettin’ comfortable, huh?” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, though there’s a warmth in his eyes that wasn’t there before. He leans in, giving one final push to a stray strand of your hair before tilting his head toward the bed across the room. “C’mon, darlin’. This couch is barely holdin’ us together.”
You hesitate, but Ben’s already moving, holding out his hand as he stands up. His grip is strong, guiding you as you follow him to the bed, and he lets out a soft chuckle as you settle beside him. His arm drapes around you, pulling you close as you lean into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against you. The warmth is so consuming, cocooning you immediately.
Ben smiles down at you, a playful glint in his eye, and as his fingers find your hair again, he starts twirling a strand between his fingers. “So,” he murmurs, resting his cheek on the top of your head, “ya still gonna keep me blocked, huh?”
You roll your eyes, smirking. “Fine,” you reply, unlocking your phone with a playful huff. You find his name, well, technically his new contact name since you’d deleted him in a fit of anger, and type a single white heart emoji, pressing send.
The vibration of his phone buzzes beside him, and he pulls it out with a grin, holding up the glowing screen. “There it is. Knew ya couldn’t resist me,” he says, laughing as he pulls you in close as he kisses your temple.
But just as you relax against him, you notice a missed notification. It’s a text from Coco, her reply to your earlier message asking where she’d disappeared to after dinner. You hesitate, then, instead of texting back, you tap the Facetime icon, feeling a strange urge to share this quiet moment, finding words couldn't suffice, nor were you in the mood to type out a lengthy paragraph.
The call connects, and Coco’s face appears, a gasp escaping her as she spots you two tangled up in Ben’s bed, nestled together with his arm around you.
“Oh my god! Yes!” she cheers, loud enough to make Ben chuckle. You hear laughter and cheers in the background too, and Coco turns the camera, revealing the whole dinner table watching with knowing smiles.
"Coco, this was a set-up plan, huh?" you giggle as you see the entire friend group on the other end.
"Somewhat, but blame Morgan and Taylor, not me. They did all that," she throws the blame as she points the camera over to them. Frances, Morgan and Taylor wave and Frances yells “Look at Ben! Already got her in bed, huh?”
Ben rolls his eyes, but a faint blush colours his cheeks. He pulls you closer, his hand resting protectively around your shoulders as he grins.
“Hey now,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “This one’s special. Ain’t like any other. My lucky charm.”
You feel your heart skip a beat at his words, and you’re so focused on him that you barely notice Coco and the others making gagging noises before Ben reaches out, ending the call on your phone with a smirk. Then he turns back to you, his eyes soft, filled with something that feels dangerously like forever.
He leans in, his lips finding yours in a kiss that’s slow and tender, each second lingering with quiet promises. And in the warmth of his arms, your heart finally feels at home, exactly where it belongs.
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lemotmo · 1 day ago
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Will never not baffle me how they don't understand this yet?
Q. I guess I just don't understand how publicly intentional it is that Oliver has a camera on him everyday and is constantly snapping pictures when he's not filming and yet not a single glimpse of Lou has been found in anything. He's posted pictures of Brad and Brian so it's not a main vs guest thing. It's a clear and obvious choice to deliberately exclude him. There's no other explanation. And it's just so unprofessional and seems so unlike everything we have heard about Oliver.
A. It's not unprofessional. Let's establish that right away. He's not obligated to take pictures of anyone or anything. He does it because he loves it. Therefore he can take the kinds of pictures he desires. It's that simple. He doesn't do it out of obligation. He does it because he genuinely loves to do it. He doesn't owe anyone any kind of picture at all. And I'm sorry, anon, but the fact that he has chosen to include Brad and Brian, and not the other says way more about the other than it does about Oliver. No one ever has anything bad to say about their experience working with this cast. If they are 'excluding' him from things then there's probably a reason. We know that Kenny included him in some stuff last year. We know that Jennifer followed him on Instagram last year. We also know that neither of those things are true this year. That's not because Oliver forbade them from having anything to do with him. That's not because they're scared of evil Buddie fans and the power you all say they have one day, but don't have the next day. None of us knows the actual reasons for the clear distance the cast keeps from him when not filming. But we can make educated guesses. His behavior during the off season was entirely unprofessional. The cameo videos were a gross miscalculation on his part. He also said some troubling things. Chances are none of the cast appreciated or approved of that behavior. Especially considering the way his choices were then used by you all as a weapon against Oliver and Ryan, in particular. Again, we don't know that for sure, but those are probably pretty safe bets.
And this is entirely like Oliver. He has never, outside of an official interview, spoken about or promoted any canon relationship Buck has been involved in. He made is feelings regarding the BuckTaylor relationship very clear without ever saying an actual disparaging word about it. He did it entirely through Instagram and the way he answered certain interview questions. The exact pattern he is following now with his current canon relationship. He is a Buddie shipper. He doesn't hide it. He doesn't fake it. He doesn't apologize for it. And he's not obligated to pretend otherwise. He's not unprofessional. He loves Buck, and he has every right to believe certain things are better for Buck than other things. There's absolutely nothing wrong with his behavior. He doesn't owe you or Lou or any of us, for that matter, any explanation. He takes beautiful pictures. He's insanely talented. I'm just glad he allows us to see them. We have no right to dictate what or who his subject matters should be. And he absolutely doesn't care that you all notice who's not there.
Thank you Nonny! Much appreciated as usual.
Thank you Ali for taking the time to answer this frankly insane ask. I wouldn't even have bothered anymore. I'm so over this.
Nothing more to add here. Everything that needed to be said has been said... for the millionth time. 🙄
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