#(that's a lie i 1000% am not surprised)

[silencedglaive]

❛ if i have to think about one more thing today, my head will explode. ❜ / throws brandon your way

( an assortment of dialogue prompts. / accepting ! )

hotaru tries ( fails, really ) to stifle the grin trying to form on her features. it's obvious that the decision fatigue is starting to wear down brandon - not that she can blame him. but she knows his theatrics are simply that; this is for stella, of course he'll see it through to the end. 

❝ is this why you wanted me to come along ? for moral support ? ❞ she teases, tone light. going from one store to another across magix hardly sounds ideal to her either, but if it's for the princess of solaria’s surprise birthday party … well, she could certainly make an exception. she takes the wrinkled list from brandon’s hand, quickly scanning through flora's impeccable, if flowy, handwriting. there's only a few more stops they'll need to make. ❝ have you already gotten a gift for stella ? or should we add that to the list, too ? ❞ 

[giveafike]

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.

[citruslullabies]

Trigger warnings: none

Romantic/platonic?: romantic

Requested by: no one!! Just a fun lil thing

Category: heavy fluff

Ship (romantic or platonic): prewar!Cooper Howard x female!reader

Word count: 1000

He's a Doll

The apartment had been so quiet, so calm and peaceful. It was almost suspicious just how calm it had been.

It was a nice saturday evening and you were home alone while your spouse was out doing odd jobs, sipping on a cup of tea while reading an article about the war. It was always a topic your partner avoided but you found it interesting, always keeping up to date on the new information coming out.

Cooper Howard, while at one point a well known and beloved actor, had fallen back into the bottom after his divorce with Barbara. A woman you had never met - nor cared to. You honestly were about to give up on the dating game since you were getting older, and age certainly wasn't kind to anyone. You were a 36 year old woman who already had bad back problems and creaky knees, who would want that??

But he did. You both had met when out grocery shopping, with you trying to reach something on the second to highest shelf and trying to regrettably monkey climb and remembering your age in the process.. when all the sudden hearing a chuckle from behind you. And there he was, a very exhausted looking Cooper Howard chuckling at your dispense before helping you out.

The both of you had met when his divorce was still being finalized and custody as well, it seemed like everything was going south for Coop until he fortunately went down the right aisle at the right time. He couldn't even remember how it happened, meeting and then talking and it somehow took off from there. You'd be lying if you said you understood how it happened either.

The radio was playing in the background of the calm little apartment, legs tucked into your side as the hot cup pressed against your lips and a soothing sweet liquid spilled down your throat. With a smile, you continued to read while humming along to the radio station.

“Everyone tells me he's no good

He doesn't love me like he should

I would forget him if I only could

He's a demon, he's a devil, he's a doll”

The lyrics rung out of the little box, causing you to hum along to the beat and drift off into your own little world inside of your head. The song oddly enough reminded you of Cooper, well, besides the whole cheating aspect.. the lyrics were so sweet and reminded you of the sweet devil you fell in love with.

“That man can look me in the eye

And tell the biggest, sweetest lie

And I forget the lipstick on his tie

He's a demon, he's a devil, he's a doll

Sometimes I make up my mind

That I'll stop being so blind

And tell him off real bad

But then he turns on those charms, and there I am in his arms

And I forget why I'm mad”

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you continued to listen, while the song wasn't necessarily about a good relationship it reminded you of yours in a good way. You and Cooper have fought, but he always somehow manages to calm you down before you blow your top off.

The door opened and Cooper was greeted with the sound of music and your humming, which was a pleasant surprise. He closed the door behind him and put his keys up, looking at you in the living room completely off into your own world.. a devious idea sparks in his head.

Quietly, he walked up behind the couch and leaned over just enough to be hovering. He stopped and admired you for a few moments.. the way you seemed so relaxed and at peace, despite that god forsaken news report on the nuclear fallout and war being in your hands. He chuckled quietly and then grabbed your shoulders abruptly earning a startled yelp and a quick swat to the arm.

“No need to get your panties in a twist darlin, ‘m sorry.” The southern cowboy said with a laugh as he saw your irritated gaze, his pearly whites on full display as his eyes were crinkled up. Oh you couldn't stay mad at him no matter how hard you tried.

Your gaze softened in almost an instant when seeing how joyous his face appeared, rolling your eyes playfully as you folded up the newspaper and tucked it into your arm. He smiled when he felt a delicate hand on his cheek from the one he adored, chuckling and placing his larger and rougher head atop your smaller and softer hand. Your hands had callouses, but they were like buttermilk compared to his sandpapered skin. He leaned down and captured your lips with his own, hands sliding down to your hip dips and squeezing softly.

With a content hum, he snaked one hand over to that pesky paper you had rolled up and took it away from you while you were distracted. He was glad to see you after a long day of work, your lips tasting like sweet sun tea with a bit too much sugar but he still accepted the flavor on his tongue happily since it was you. You pulled away and smiled at him, before pressing your cheek against the cushion.

“Well, I'll just accept it as a heads-up that you're sleeping on the couch tonight.” You chuckled as he gave you a fake offended look. He nuzzled his nose against yours with a chuckle, before pouting. “Oh sugar cube, you're so cruel to a poor cowboy down on his luck.”

You both stayed like that for a while, just adoring each other with playful jabs.. the music continuing to be sweet as it filled the room and danced around the both of you.

“He's a palooka, he's a brute

He drives me crazy but he's cute

Why do I love a guy I ought to shoot?

He is a demon, he is a devil, he is a doll~”

Thank you for reading!

Oh my god this is so old, I might rewrite it - I just realized I never posted it!!

[ikeromantic]

Wind-Burnt

Ikemen Advent prompt featuring Harrison! approx. 1000 words.

“There you are.” Harrison’s voice drawled from somewhere behind her. 

Kate spun on her heel, trying to keep the surprise from her expression. “I was looking for you! You said you’d be at the cafe this afternoon!”

“Did I?” His lips turned up in a slight, mocking smile. 

“You did. And when I couldn’t find you there, I went by the publishing house, the tavern . . .” She sighed, sagging for a moment. “It’s fine. I get it. Lying Fox curse. Anyway, thanks for coming to get me, I guess.”

Harrison could see how weary she was and felt a little flicker of shame for lying to her. Her lips were chapped, cheeks ruddy and wind-burnt, hair tousled from the tight bun she kept it swept up in. The sight of her tugged at his heart uncomfortably. “Come on.”

Her expression lit up with a bright grin. “Where are we going?”

He couldn’t face her pleased smile. It did things to his chest, made it hard to breathe. “You’ll see,” he replied a little more gruffly than he meant. It didn’t seem to bother her though. She bobbed along behind him, still grinning.

“Ooh this is an apothecary!” Kate came to a stop just a beat behind Harrison. “Are we here to pick something up for -” her voice lowered to a whisper, “Crown?” 

Harrison couldn’t help but chuckle at her intense look.

“Or is this a case? Like . . . poisoners or - or drugs? Are they killing people to use their spleen in diabolical -”

His eyes sparkled. “Yes. This apothecary is accused of creating creams and ointments that steal a person’s beauty. That’s why I brought you to help me investigate.”

Kate’s eyes widened and her cheeks heated. “I . . . am? Umm . . . so how - how does it work?”

“We don’t know. But you’re going to help me figure it out. Be brave.” He opened the door and ushered her in before she could question the lie. 

Inside, the ceiling was hung with drying herbs and there were racks of unguents and solvents in ceramic pots. An older woman sat behind the counter using a mortar and pestle to crush some sharp-smelling ingredient. 

Harrison leaned down, his lips brushing the cup of her ear. He relished her little shiver at his touch. “Go ask her about beauty creams,” he whispered. “Get as much information as you can.”

She turned a serious look on him. “I can do this.” Then she hurried to the counter, lips curving up in a false smile. 

He watched her for a moment, his heart beating faster than it ought to. Kate was so adorable, he thought. Taking everything on with such determination, such intensity. It made him want to kiss her. Except that was a lie. 

It wasn’t just in moments like these - he wanted to kiss her all the time. When she smiled at him in greeting. When she pouted after one of his lies. When she made notes in her little journal, nibbling at her lower lip while she wrote. There was no version of Kate that he didn’t want to kiss.

Harrison shook himself, back to the task at hand. There would be no kissing. Thinking about it helped no one. He turned to the shelves, eyes moving over the small, handwritten labels. It took only a moment to find what he was looking for. 

At the counter, Kate was still doing her best to pump the apothecary for every detail about her beauty creams. She was chewing her bottom lip, taking notes. “Mmm. Ok, and can you tell me more about your ingredients?”

The apothecary laughed. “Only if you plan to work for me. Can’t go around giving out all my secrets, now can I?”

“I suppose you can’t.” Harrison interrupted, placing the balm onto the counter. “How much?”

“Let’s see.” The apothecary checked the label and gave him the price. It took only a moment to pay, and then they were on their way.

Outside, Kate paused. “Did you get what you needed? I’m afraid she didn’t tell me much, but I wrote it all down!” 

Harrison smiled. “I did.” He took the balm out and spread a little on his fingertip. “Hold still.”

“W-what are you doing with that?” Her eyes went wide.

“We’re going to test it out now.”

Kate let out a squeak. “But - but -” She swallowed. “I guess it’s the only way to be sure?”

Harrison nodded. 

“Alright.” She squeezed her eyes shut and balled up her fists. “Do it.”

He smoothed the balm over her cheeks, relishing the excuse to touch her. His palm cupped her chin, unnecessary but the closest he could come to holding her. Harrison felt himself leaning closer to her as if drawn. “How does that feel?”

“Mmmm. Nice? It feels really good.” 

“Good.” He murmured. He brushed her lips with the pad of his thumb, applying the balm to her chapped lips. Imagining what her soft, warm mouth would feel like pressed to his. He imagined she would taste sweet, velvety. Warm. 

Her lips parted with a soft, surprised exhalation. 

Harrison let his thumb caress her lips, drifting lightly over the part between them. The satin heat of the tip of her tongue sent a shock through his limbs. The want to kiss her became a need, a force like magnetism. Like gravity. 

Kate’s eyes opened. “Is it - am I - oh!” Her eyes went wide as she realized how close he was. “A-are you checking the-the effects?”

“I was lying.” He forced himself back, away. His heart was hammering in his chest. “There’s no apothecary case. I just noticed your lips were chapped.”

“Oh.” She looked away, her hand going to her mouth. “I - I guess they are.” Kate cleared her throat. “Well. Thanks.”

“Sure.” He popped a peppermint candy into his mouth, letting the cool sweetness of it wash over his tongue, a poor substitute for the sweets he truly craved. “Let’s get back to the castle. Victor’s cooking tonight.”

Kate nodded, her breath trembling. “That’s good. I guess.” Her fingertips lingered on her lips.

Harrison held the tin of candies out to her. “Want one?” 

She plucked a candy from the tin. “I think these are growing on me.” Her eyes were on him though, and the slight smile she wore had nothing to do with peppermints.

@candied-boys @queengiuliettafirstlady

[earako]

Will probably flesh these out later buut rough outline of the aftermath of my Queen Valerin lives au

- Ballister and Nimona forgets to tell Ambrosius about Valerin. He goes to see if Ballister's at the tower, shouts in surprise when he sees Nimona and almost runs into the board game table when he sees Valerin

- "QUEEN VALERIN? A-AND...wait actually I am so sorry but I forgot your name-" "It's Nimona gold dick." "Val, please stop laughing." "VAL?!"

- Ballister catches Ambrosius up, Valerin sees some of Ambrosius injuries too and demandsnto know where he got them from

- "It's no big deal-" "Ambrosius Goldenloin, neither you or Ballister could ever succesfully lie, especially to me."

- accompanied by mom glare and Ambrosius finally admits he tried to stop the director and got shot with the same laser that supposedly killed Valerin

- "Never mind, you're grounded as well." "WHAT?!"

- A week passes, Valerin has fully stepped intk the mom role and helps mediate the tension between her 'kids.'

- "Nimona, Ambrosius isn't Gloreth." "She was my friend, you know. Then her mom said I was a monster." "Well she was wrong. We all were." "You sure about that, Goldendick?" "How we lived made someone like the director. Anyone- the paranoia- we need to change."

- Eventually Nimona helps Valerin get a new identity, change up her hair, change her name officially to Val now

- Although more and more often they find themselves calling Val "mom"

- Anyway, scarred, traumatized trio heals with the help of their Mama Val

- Nimona also gets grounded

- "I SAVED THE REALM?! AND AM 1000 YEARS OLD?!" "Yes, and you weren't evem certain if you'd come back. Don't pout now, it's just a month without energy drinks- Don't look at Ballister and Ambrosius they're not going to help you"

- Ooo or would Auntie Val be better...hm. Could always have them call Val auntie but when Bal and Ambrosius say auntie they mean it in a mom way while Nimona means it more in a grandma way...

[aria0fgold]

CaiOwe ship headcanons? enemies to lovers is great.

GASP!!! YEEES! That's so true though, enemies to lovers <3 I'm not really a headcanon enthusiast but there are some stuff I like to think about for em!

Owen becomes a knight in the future. Please, please, please. I want that to happen so bad.

Why do I love Owen as a knight? It's just reeeeaaally nice to see him be the protector he's own child self needed. In a way, it's like healing his inner kid. Like sending the message of, hey look! I'm one of your heroes now!

In that same breath, I want Owen to do some knightly prowess on Cain. Cain has been a knight long enough, it's time for him to know how it feels to be spoiled.

Honestly though, contrary to popular belief and as one whose entire belief system bout caiowe got recalibrated by this One Fan I know of in twitter. Owen does the fixing. Cain is like to Owen: (guy who is worse) I can fix him. Meanwhile, Owen who is surprisingly doing better than Cain??? actually does the fixing. On Cain. And on himself by relation.

I reeeaaaallly love it when Cain Still holds some anger towards Owen. It's not easy to forgive a guy who ripped out the endless web of lies and entire facade Cain created to be able to live as peacefully as he can. In fact, Cain is still 6 feet under the lie of a life he has and boy is he in danger of drowning in it.

Also not really easy to forgive a guy who stole your own eye and replaced it with his. But Cain is willing to look past that anyway.

Never getting over Owen practically pulling Cain outta messes he himself sinks into. It's not really a headcanon but it's still unbelievable either way.

To be honest, most of the insane caiowe moments are Canon (in one way or another) so there isn't much for me to headcanon at this point when they're already Like That.

Anyway, disorganized rambling time cuz I really can't think of much to headcanon so I'm firing all cylinders of whatever idea came to mind whenever I think about them. But honestly, I LOVE it whenever Owen hits Cain in such a lighthearted manner that I wouldn't even be surprised if it ends up being a small habit of Owen at this point. Whenever Owen gets irritated, he either kicks Cain's leg or hits his arm and if Cain is too far away for that: throws a shoe at him.

Owen in general has mixed feelings towards Cain honestly that yeah, these two are gonna end up taking 1000+ years to officially be a couple at this rate. Never mind, Cain's problems, there's Owen's problems piled onto it. Although the same can be said to Cain, they both have mixed feelings towards one another that it's going to take YEARS to unpack it all.

Am I allowed to be slightly unhinged here? Not really headcanon territory but more of AU territory but I love thinking of AUs where Cain is so insane enough he'd rip his own heart out and give it to Owen-- I mean-- WHO SAID THAT!

My domestic headcanons for them though when they finally get together cuz I love cozy domestic life <3 Is that they live in a small cabin in the forest nearby a river. Cain and Owen both being knights with Cain being a Captain instead (like before), Cain... Cain is gonna need to take cooking lessons.

Actually before these two can even get their domestic cozy life, there's the hurdle of: Owen WILL NOT COOK. He will not. He does the eating here, he is Not Cooking at all! So that leaves Cain, problem is that... he isn't a good cook... Cain is an expert at frying things though! Cooking? Not so much... These two won't even be able to get their domestic cozy life cuz of Owen and his princess tendencies despite working as a knight. He's there to be spoiled (and help out if he feels like it from time to time), and Cain actually doesn't mind having someone to spoil but also: "Owen will you please help out a little?" "No."

I can even see Cain taking cooking lessons from Nero if he ever wants a peaceful life living together with Owen cuz Owen will NOT BE HAPPY EATING FRIED MEALS EVERYDAY! Owen needs a full course meal where dessert makes up about 70% of that otherwise he's gonna get Cranky. And Cain would rather deal with a happy Owen (during their cozy life together cuz honestly right now, he feels Alarmed when Owen is in a good mood) than an irritated Owen.

[maze-of-my-design]

1, 2, 3, 4 for Sumi !! I know you have many a thought <3

(The ask game in question)

That i do bestie, that i do <3

I'll try to do different things for every repeated question but don't be surprised if i reiterate myself at some point :p

1- Back when i first got into the game, it was because she was like me, personality-wise! Maybe not exactly the same, as i was a little more introverted and downtrodden back then, but she reminded me both of myself and also my frustrated dream of doing gymnastics like my mother once did. I also just liked her design a lot :) Currently though, it's how much of her arc resonates with my own experiences and personal goals. Simply put, i am grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her and saying "i get it. i get you. we should kill them"

2- Her metaverse outfit. Listen, I am 1000% aware that her getting a new outfit would've been thematically the best choice they couldve made (along with letting her keep her hair down in the overworld sprite but that's another story) since she starts being her own person after reawakening to Cendrillon – hell, she starts being so after her rank 10!! they could've changed her after that!! – but. ugh. I cannot get mad for the life of me. The red and black? The leotard with the rose chain? the JACKET???? literally iconic to me i would not change a thing. ...ok that's a lie i would at least change the gloves to be violet and whatever other red in her outfit to the same color AND keep her hair down (like @/hoshihime98 did in this post with her PT outfit) BUT ALL THE REST?? she slayed with that. Served, too. kid named evacu during a fire.

3- How rushed her recovery felt in the 3rd sem. I get finding the strength to start doing progress and getting better, but realistically speaking she would NOT be ok after January 9th. She'd be a mess, cry, feel angry, resentful, she'd probably also want to scream at Maruki herself because How Fucking Dare He. I should know. I was 16 once.

4- Persona 3, no question. It's literally THE game (that i know) about dealing with death and grief, memento mori and all. She lost her sister and was told to deal with the following anguish in the worst way possible. She should've been at Gekkou high... I'm here to solve this, however :) Though if you want a different answer, I feel like she'd have fun with a Keyblade

I'll be answering the rest of these shortly, i love ms blorbo from the dumbass game and i am so full of insight about her specifically

[presidentofthelipglossclub]

Hello, since you are literally BEGGING for someone to ask you about Transformers, I’ll happily do it. Besides, it’s been a while since I shared my opinions on Transformers with another Transformers fan.

So here I am, asking you to share every detail you like about Transformers RiD2015, I would also rant for hours about but no one ever listened to me about it. So yeah, start talking, give me everything you love about RiD2015, which characters you like, what episode you enjoyed the most, did you like the Insecticons? What about the Bee Team? Did you hate it when one of your favorite ‘Cons got put into stasis? Because I sure have. Are there any characters you absolutely DESPISED and felt internally salty about? Do you think Fixit is baby man? Would you like to be teleported into the RiD2015 universe some day? Start talking.

THANK YOU OMG I HAVE BEEN DYINGGGG TO TALK ABOUT THIS

first off, i am 1000% an unironic fan of rid2015. i loved every second of the whole show, and i wouldn't change a thing. except i would add more rescue bots references/crossovers bc those guys are my faves too, but the writing, characters and pacing all felt really good to me.

i liked all the characters. like, every single one, except steeljaw. he's a great villain and a well written character. his role as villain was so good, in fact, that i hate his guts. that furry pisses me off with his condescending attitude and his shifty schemes. i hate people who lie to others, and people who betray others, and ESPECIALLY people who are smug about these two things: all of which applies to him. i feel personally avenged when bad things happen to him.

my favorite is strongarm i think. she's so cool to me, and i really respect her work ethic, and the fact that we're getting more girl (used loosely bc i think that bots don't have feelings on gender) bots. also the fact that her design breaks away from the whole "the guys can be bulky and buff but the girls with the same experience and training can't" thing that tfp did. it bugged me, so i'm glad strongarm was allowed to be bulky and strong. i mean, she drags grimlock's trailer, and they've acknowledged that it takes a lot of brute strength. i loved that, and the fact that we get to see more girls who are strong instead of just agile or fast.

i don't know if i can pick a favorite episode. i really did like all of them, but episodes that i tend to really love are the episodes that focus on drift and the minis, anything where strongarm is the main focus/has a lot of screen time, and the episodes where we see more of denny and russel. i like the humans in rid, which is kinda surprising because i tend to kinda not care. i also like to see the subtle development they get, and how their relationship improves.

Fixit is hilarious, and i love him. he would not approve of being called baby man i believe, but it sums him up pretty well. i appreciated being able to see a character like him, where he was less of the fighting type and more of the helping from the sidelines. it's important to remember that the people we see in action can only be there because of the people behind the scenes, and i liked seeing a character represent that and be thanked/appreciated as an equal.

anyways long story short i really love rid2015, it's a great show with good humor, fun plots and interesting characters!! and once again, thank you so much for the ask!

[raptorsaurusmelain]

Let me show you... Youtube - chapter 12

Little chapter by chapter, the story is following the game. (Am I reading the manga in parallel to be sure I miss nothing ? Yes.)

Anyway, today I pre-ordered Vil's figurine, I can't wait to be in december and receive it.

Warning : no proof reading, English is not my mother tongue.

If you are interested in reading this fic, the tag "#twst lmsyy" will give you all the chapters.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

After her day, the brunette went to the school store to prepare for the overblot after care.

She was browsing through the shelf of the shop when Sam interpelled her. “Hello Dr Devi ! What can I do for you today ?”

[Of course he knows. But time to lie.] “Hello Sam, I am preparing for… My periods.” She said, whispering in his ear the last part.

Sam was a little embarrassed (as if it was possible). “I do not have everything prepared for ladies hygiene… Do you wish to order ? Like this I will have stock next time !”

[Actually… It wasn’t a bad idea.] She thought. Her basket was mostly full with cakes and chocolates, but she didn’t think about what would happen if she really needed pads or tampons. Damn, what a clever lie. What a smart woman.

That’s how she was at the counter, with a catalog on feminine products. She was very entertaining to watch, her face morphing from a simple surprise to an horrified expression reading the list of products that could be purchased.

She gave her list to Sam, with the brand and quantity on it. She also purchased wax stripes and razors because she was doing a chase of body hair. She added a headset to listen to music while doing her job. It was a Wony wireless sh-1000-xm5 with active noise balance, like the one she had on Earth.

Sam did a little chit chat with her, to get to know her better you know ? “So you have a thesis in artificial intelligence ? You should speak with the Ignihyde little imps, they would be thrilled to have a young woman understanding their craze for technology !”

She smiled “I know I should speak with them, I need to buy a gaming computer and some games !”

Sam’s eyebrows rose. “You are a gamer ? What a woman ! You will become popular with the boys.”

The woman pondered. “Well, I hope it is not masculine toxicity here too. I had a lot of misogynist men when I played online… Plus I am an old lady for them, I doubt they will be a ��Victoria’s fanclub’.” She laughed at the second part.

Sam dared to ask. “How old are you ? You don’t look a day over 22 !”

Victoria's laugh doubled. “Oh boy, I am 29. Don’t flatter me too much !”

Sam was astonished. “What’s your beauty secret ?”

She winked. “Anti-aging cream, moisturize, sleep and not have infants. The holy quartet, my dear.”

The man laughed. “I love you already.” 

With her order ticket and her aftercare basket she went to the dorm. She prepared a dish of bolognese pastas with parmesan on the side, since she didn’t know if Yuu liked cheese. While waiting for her children, she finished setting up the old TV to see if it was still working under the eyes of the 3 ghosts. She cursed a lot seeing that the rats had eaten the alimentation cord. Well… Tomorrow she will order a new TV apparently. She needed a source of information and with this the children could watch movies and series on the weekends. They needed to blend like they could so they wouldn’t be bullied.

She was cut in her thoughts by a “We’re home ! We have a gift for you Victoria !”

The woman was surprised. “Oh ? What it is ?”

Yuu opened a box and revealed a slice of Mont Blanc tart. “Tadam ! We made them earlier !”

Victoria, put a hand on her heart, melting from the cuteness. “Ooooh Baby, you shouldn’t have…”

Grim interrupted the moment. “So I can eat it ?”

Victoria answered in 0.5s. “No, it’s mine. How was the afternoon ? The supper is ready.”

Grim began his eventful story of how they went to the dorm that morning with Deuce, met Cater, had a meal with Trey and Cater, met Riddle, got to gather chestnuts and…

“And we made the tart with magic !! Aren’t I cool ?” Finished Grim.

Victoria clapped “You are the best Grim. You will be a great mage if you continue like this.”

Grim puffed out his chest. “Of course, my underling. I won’t forget you !”

The Child finished their pasta. “We can get dessert now… Tell us if it tastes good !”

The woman could see that Yuu was borderline praying for it to taste good. She took a bite and hummed. “It is very good ! Very chestnut-y ! I like it.”

The adolescent exhaled, cheered up. “Trey did most of the baking but..”

Victoria placed her finger tip on Yuu’s lips. “Shhh, you participated in the baking and it is enough for me. I hope tomorrow will go well.”

Even if she knew it wouldn’t go well…

Tag : @boba-tea-fish @hipsterteller

[citruslullabies]

I'm still not used to writing for Cooper, so any constructive criticism is welcome!!

Trigger warnings: none

Romantic/platonic?: romantic

Requested by: no one!! Just a fun lil thing

Category: heavy fluff

Ship (romantic or platonic): prewar!Cooper Howard x reader

Word count: 1000

He's a Doll

The apartment had been so quiet, so calm and peaceful. It was almost suspicious just how calm it had been.

It was a nice saturday evening and you were home alone while your spouse was out doing odd jobs, sipping on a cup of tea while reading an article about the war. It was always a topic your partner avoided but you found it interesting, always keeping up to date on the new information coming out.

Cooper Howard, while at one point a well known and beloved actor, had fallen back into the bottom after his divorce with Barbara. A woman you had never met - nor cared to. You honestly were about to give up on the dating game since you were getting older, and age certainly wasn't kind to anyone. You were a 36 year old woman who already had bad back problems and creaky knees, who would want that??

But he did. You both had met when out grocery shopping, with you trying to reach something on the second to highest shelf and trying to regrettably monkey climb and remembering your age in the process.. when all the sudden hearing a chuckle from behind you. And there he was, a very exhausted looking Cooper Howard chuckling at your dispense before helping you out.

The both of you had met when his divorce was still being finalized and custody as well, it seemed like everything was going south for Coop until he fortunately went down the right aisle at the right time. He couldn't even remember how it happened, meeting and then talking and it somehow took off from there. You'd be lying if you said you understood how it happened either.

The radio was playing in the background of the calm little apartment, legs tucked into your side as the hot cup pressed against your lips and a soothing sweet liquid spilled down your throat. With a smile, you continued to read while humming along to the radio station.

“Everyone tells me he's no good

He doesn't love me like he should

I would forget him if I only could

He's a demon, he's a devil, he's a doll”

The lyrics rung out of the little box, causing you to hum along to the beat and drift off into your own little world inside of your head. The song oddly enough reminded you of Cooper, well, besides the whole cheating aspect.. the lyrics were so sweet and reminded you of the sweet devil you fell in love with.

“That man can look me in the eye

And tell the biggest, sweetest lie

And I forget the lipstick on his tie

He's a demon, he's a devil, he's a doll

Sometimes I make up my mind

That I'll stop being so blind

And tell him off real bad

But then he turns on those charms, and there I am in his arms

And I forget why I'm mad”

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you continued to listen, while the song wasn't necessarily about a good relationship it reminded you of yours in a good way. You and Cooper have fought, but he always somehow manages to calm you down before you blow your top off.

The door opened and Cooper was greeted with the sound of music and your humming, which was a pleasant surprise. He closed the door behind him and put his keys up, looking at you in the living room completely off into your own world.. a devious idea sparks in his head.

Quietly, he walked up behind the couch and leaned over just enough to be hovering. He stopped and admired you for a few moments.. the way you seemed so relaxed and at peace, despite that god forsaken news report on the nuclear fallout and war being in your hands. He chuckled quietly and then grabbed your shoulders abruptly earning a startled yelp and a quick swat to the arm.

“No need to get your panties in a twist darlin, ‘m sorry.” The southern cowboy said with a laugh as he saw your irritated gaze, his pearly whites on full display as his eyes were crinkled up. Oh you couldn't stay mad at him no matter how hard you tried.

Your gaze softened in almost an instant when seeing how joyous his face appeared, rolling your eyes playfully as you folded up the newspaper and tucked it into your arm. He smiled when he felt a delicate hand on his cheek from the one he adored, chuckling and placing his larger and rougher head atop your smaller and softer hand. Your hands had callouses, but they were like buttermilk compared to his sandpapered skin. He leaned down and captured your lips with his own, hands sliding down to your hip dips and squeezing softly.

With a content hum, he snaked one hand over to that pesky paper you had rolled up and took it away from you while you were distracted. He was glad to see you after a long day of work, your lips tasting like sweet sun tea with a bit too much sugar but he still accepted the flavor on his tongue happily since it was you. You pulled away and smiled at him, before pressing your cheek against the cushion.

“Well, I'll just accept it as a heads-up that you're sleeping on the couch tonight.” You chuckled as he gave you a fake offended look. He nuzzled his nose against yours with a chuckle, before pouting. “Oh sugar cube, you're so cruel to a poor cowboy down on his luck.”

You both stayed like that for a while, just adoring each other with playful jabs.. the music continuing to be sweet as it filled the room and danced around the both of you.

“He's a palooka, he's a brute

He drives me crazy but he's cute

Why do I love a guy I ought to shoot?

He is a demon, he is a devil, he is a doll~”

I'm working on requests!! Thanks for reading

[hagsgate-gazette]

Love is a Golden Bell

Read it on AO3!

Summary:

The cat notices that Amalthea and Molly have feelings for each other, and decides to do some matchmaking. This is around 1000 words of cute, wholesome, melodramatic, lesbian fluff. Enjoy <3 The cat notices that Amalthea and Molly have feelings for each other, and decides to do some matchmaking. This is around 1000 words of cute, wholesome, melodramatic, lesbian fluff. Enjoy <3

She hated looking at herself. 

That was the truth, Molly had hated looking at herself from the moment she became too old for unicorns. But what was there to be done? One could not turn back the hands of time, not without some cruel curse to come with it. What’s gone is gone, afterall. But Amalthea broke that rule. When Molly looked into Almalthea’s eyes (human as they currently might be) she didn’t see herself, in fact she didn’t see any one thing. What she saw in those dark eyes was everything she had ever dreamed of, reflected in the world’s smallest ocean.

The cat purred, rubbing against Molly’s leg. It brought her out of her mind and back to the cold stone pantry which she was kneeled in. “Don’t act so surprised that I found you,” the cat said, adding ‘s’ to the end of every possible word, “afterall, never a cat was born who couldn’t tell what is what, meow.”

“And what do you suppose you mean by that?” she said, looking straight ahead of her.

“Ah, it is blatantly obvious from those touching words that ye put in the good princes love poems. Those are true words they are, true true words.” The cat licked its paw, so sure of what it had said that it infuriated Molly. But she kept still.

“I do not love the lady Amalthea any more than I love the ocean,” Molly said, “or the forest.”

“That is a lie,” his meow slipped into a growl, “cat’s can not be deceived by lies, so don’t you even try, purr.”

“Damn you!” Molly pushed her palms into the stone, crying, “damn you, damn you. Why do you have to be so persistent?”

“Because the unicorn, or what once was a unicorn, feels the same way, meow. I can tell, meow.”

Molly stopped crying, she fell silent. Do you know the surreal lifting of your heart that sighs when the impossible may be truth, but is not sure enough to be happy? “That can’t be. Unicorns seek out virgins. Girls that are young and pure…”

“Ah, but as I remember you telling me,” the cat smirked, “this unicorn ignored the virgin you crossed. She saw one who held a golden bridle calling to her and she walked straight past, did she not?”

“That’s… true,” Molly said.

“And if she is bored of virgins, perhaps the old maid who she seeks more?”

“Don’t call me old,” the cook said, but she smiled. Behind her, there suddenly was a pressense; reminiscent of the weight of the moon hanging on her shoulders. She had felt that presence when the magician first arrived at her camp, but she now knew that the magician had not been the cause. “...my Lady,” Molly sighed, “what is your name?” She always wondered about that question.

“None now,” Amalthea said, “I am a unicorn without a unicorn’s body. Who is that at all? A noone has no name.”

“Still a unicorn,” Molly turned around, “and don’t you think anything different.”

“My heart is changing,” Amalthea’s voice dropped to a whisper, “I’m scared of who I will become.” The woman brought a pale hand up to her face, shivering. 

“Don’t hide your face,” Molly said, taking Amalthea’s hand and pulling it down, “your face is so new so don’t hide it. You may not stay that way for long.”

“I am dying…”

“I have been dying all my life, it’s not that bad!” Molly said, louder than she expected, “no that’s not what I mean. I meant that we’ll get you back to normal, you get to experience dying without death at the end, while Schmendrick is undying but he will die. I think that you have a better deal.”

“I am so scared,” Amalthea cried, “and the days keep slipping by… time isn’t crawling over me or passing me by, it’s running from me and I can’t catch it!”

“I know exactly how you feel,” Molly whispered. She focused on those eyes, “time stands still in your eyes. I wish I could be enveloped by your eyes.”

Amalthea collapsed suddenly, falling into Molly’s arms. She was not thin but her body was oddly light. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Molly said, lowering to the floor. She lifted Amalthea’s chin to look at her, “you’re okay.”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” she croaked, “it’s… your eyes that are special. They hold so much time. I want to see it all, but it is locked away,” she brushed her pale hand across Molly’s tanned face. “Let me spend my life with you.”

“I can’t let you do that,” Molly decided, although she so wanted to accept “you need to go back to your forest eventually and I can’t come with you.” 

“Then can I be with you right now?” she said, with her head now slumped over Molly’s lap, with fine white hair splayed over her thighs. 

“I told you so, meow,” Molly imagined the cat’s voice. She raised a finger across Amalthea’s features, which were close to but not exactly human. They were still beautiful. 

“What do you want from me?” Molly asked. Unicorns were often after something.

“You don’t have anything I can take,” Amalthea murmured, “you are no virgin. But could you share some memories with me?”

So, Molly told the unicorn about her childhood. How she had been outcast for her anger, and punished, but one friend always stuck with her. How Captain Cully rescued her from the bandits that murdered her family, and how she learnt how to feed twenty men with a single rat when the gold on the roads dried up, and how one time, under a veil of moonlight while the outlaws slept, she believed she saw a fairy, but it ran from her; and how she was so secretly scared that the unicorn would also run. She soon realised that Amalthea had fallen asleep, and was snoring softly.  “Goodnight, love,” Molly sighed, giving the strange woman a new name.

After all, if Shmendrik could make up a name, why couldn’t she make up one of her own? 

[onlyswan]

Hi arttttt❤️🫶❤️🫶❤️🫶

How are youuuu??? I missed you sm😭❤️😭❤️

How have you been omg!!! I feel like I missed on a lot of stuff lol

I LOVED THE NEW DRABBLE😭 it’s so fucking cute ahh jungkook and oc are the cutest!!!

AND???? THE END ??!??!??!!!!! ART???

What the fuck is going on!!!!!😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

I am so excited for whatever that beautiful mind of yours will bring next!!

I’ve been busy with uni (when am I never busy with uni smh) and I finish this long ass term on the 28th of December ugh I’m so excited to just be done with these 6 courses that I am taking.

As for the year-end survey I’m going to answer the questions (even if they’re a bit hard😠)

what is your favorite/s from the drabbles i've put out this year (second in which collection)?

I’ll give you my top 5 drabbles from this collection:

1. in which jungkook wants you all to himself (and bam) and you buy him flowers

This one never fails to make me smile

2. in which jungkook is giving up on you but you have so much love left to give

This one^ killed me but I love it

3. in which you make jungkook’s world spin and you tend to… make him a little too dizzy.

I read this like 1000 times I love it so much

4. in which jungkook can’t sleep, and he can’t stop kissing you either.

This one made me giggle and kick my feet

5. in which a shameless ex-lover makes your bad day worse and jungkook can’t help but to go wherever you are.

me 🤝 oc

themes, lines, paragraphs, or scenes that stood out to you?

art i’m not gonna lie to you these type of questions are the ones that I get on my exams 😭

For the themes ? Idk I just like soft fluffy things 🫶 so soft it makes me wanna throw up

and I like angst (ONLY SOMETIMES PLEASE)

I think this line from in which a shameless ex-lover makes your bad day worse and jungkook can’t help but to go wherever you are. is cute

“aigoo, why are you so messy?“

for scenes I think this one is funny

“ow- ouch- baby! what the hell? what was that for?”

with doe eyes struck by headlights, he gapes at you in surprise as he rubs his poor shoulder that was slapped without warning.

and if it is not too much to ask- who is your favorite character, oc or jungkook?

Not answering because I love them both DONT TRY ME😠

which year/s would you like to see more of from 2017 to 2023?

I really dont mind anything! But I feel like 2019 jungkook is just ❤️‍🔥 and 2022 too oof.

and which season (spring/summer/autumn/winter)?

I’m a winter girlie so obvi winter

I think that’s all of the questions! I had fun answering them haha (even though they reminded me of my literary criticism course 🥲) I am so excited for what the new year is going to bring!! I love you art I hope you have a wonderful Christmas and a happy new year!!!! I hope that 2024 will be an amazing year for you!

Love, 🥨

PRETZEL ANONIE MY BABY LOVE I MISSED UUUU SO MUCH 🥺🥺🥺

i’ve been doing much better since my break from school started !!! i really needed this for the sake of my sanity. hehe this is why i love the holiday season :P

AND THE NEW DRABBLE YESYESYHDJSHDFJJD IHHH IM SO GLAD YOU LOVED IT 🤭

as for the ending… no comment for now bcs it’s so fun seeing y’all freak out <3

goodluck with the rest of your term plssss don’t forget to take care and enjoy your well deserved break after 🥰

OOP YOU SAW THE SURVEY

your top 5 i loveeeee 🥹 also you’re so real for the #5 i think this is the first answer it was mentioned. i’m blushing and giggling just thinking about it rn likejsjdhsjdf

i had to search for which drabble is the scene with the ouch and IM LAUGHINGDHDHFH I FORGOT ABT THE LIP PIERCING DRABBLE. oc’s humor >>>

Not answering because I love them both DONT TRY ME😠

i’m sorry for my fault 😞 i bow my head down again

I had fun answering them haha (even though they reminded me of my literary criticism course 🥲)

this is so funny i’m sorrydhdhsjdhjshf 😭😭😭 i’m a literature girlie through and through i fear. but fr thank youuuu so much for answering i had fun reading your answers too :") hehe you made me smile a lot. i love you sm and i hope 2024 treats you well and brings you an abudance of everything nice in life 🩷 happy holidays!!!! please eat lots of yummy food too hehe :")

[sillylotrpolls]

No surprises here. Everyone loves Sam, and "There's some good in this world..." is everyone's favorite quote by Sam. No wonder it took first place with 20.5%, and was probably all over your dash in motivational poster fashion besides.

"I wish it need not have happened..." came in second at 15.8%, which A) legit, I am also exhausted, and B) is actually indicative of the overall hope present here on Tumblr.

If you combine all the non-hopeful options, you get 15.8% + 7.8% + 1.8% + 14.2% = 39.6%. That's nowhere near a majority, and if we remove the votes by people sick of the quotes entirely, is only 29.6% of the total (15.8+7.8+1.8 / 100-14.2). Less than a third! Galadriel was absolutely right; hope does indeed remain.

If you take the time to peruse the ~1900 replies and comments (which, good lord, that's a lot for this blog), you can find many more messages of such hope, plus thankfulness for Tolkien and suggested quotes that didn't make it into the poll. Two of my favorites:

@thevillainofthisstory #i will be a healer and love all things that grow and are not barren#let us cross the River and in happier days let us dwell in fair Ithilien and there make a garden

@cleanfreakandshittyglasses #in place of a dark lord..you wOULD HAVE A QUEEN#not dark but beautiful and terrible as the dawn!!!#treacherous as the seas!!!#stronger than the foundations of the earthhh!!!#all shall love me and despairrrrr….

Not gonna lie, that second one hits especially hard given, you know. The possibilities. First woman US president when?

Last, I want to get into the performance of "If I see one more quote..." This option started at around ~10% of the vote, climbed to ~12% by day four, and eventually finished at 14.2%. That might not seem like a big difference, but as you may know if you pay any attention to the aftermath of an election, it's quite difficult to make up ground as votes are counted. A detailed explanation of how this works is under the cut below.

Let's say Blorbo and Shitto are both running for Mayor of the Shire. It's election day and the votes are being counted. When 1000 votes have been counted, Blorbo has 60% of the vote, because this is convenient math land (home of the friction-less plane and spherical cow!). Shitto has 40%, because in this example there are no third parties and no one left their ballot blank or filled in two bubbles or anything else.

Let's also say that 3000 votes total were cast in the election. It's the end of the day and the polls are closed, so the total number of votes is known. It's only the contents of those votes that's still being tallied.

The timeline then looks like this:

Zero votes counted Blorbo needs 1501 votes to win (50% + 1) Shitto needs 1501 votes to win (50% + 1)

Local hobbit reporters are hanging around polling places and doing exit interviews, but nothing is yet known.

1,000 votes counted Blorbo: 600 votes (60%) Shitto: 400 votes (40%)

Blorbo needs 901 more votes to win, ~45% of the remaining votes Shitto needs 1101 more votes to win, ~55% of the remaining votes

Shitto's campaign manager says "It doesn't matter; the votes from Buckland aren't even in yet!"

2,000 votes counted Blorbo: +500 = 1100 votes (55%) Shitto: +500 = 900 votes (45%)

Blorbo needs 401 more votes to win, ~40% of the remaining votes Shitto needs 601 more votes to win, ~60% of the remaining votes

Shitto's campaign manager says "We're trending in the right direction!"

All 3,000 votes counted Blorbo: +450 = 1550 votes (~52%) - WINNER Shitto: +550 = 1450 votes (~48%)

Shitto's campaign manager sends out text messages asking for donations to pay for a recount (that, mathematically, is extremely unlikely to succeed).

As you can see, once you have a deficit, it's extra-hard to gain ground in an election (or tumblr poll) where what matters is not the number of votes but the percentage of votes gotten. Given infinite time and votes, Shitto could potentially have pulled out the win, but there was a very finite number of votes cast with a very specific deadline.

Similarly, Tumblr polls may not have a cap on votes, but they do run for a limited amount of time. And when you reblog a poll for "awareness" or a "bigger sample size" or to try and propagandize in favor of your favorite, yes, you might get more votes for your preferred choice, but at the same time votes are still coming in for the other option(s).

Anyway, given the large number of votes (for one of my polls) and the clear pro-Tolkien leanings of most voters (who were also the most likely to see this poll), not to mention the 12-way race, it's actually very impressive that "If I see one more 'inspirational' Tolkien quote on my dash today I might hurl" made up as much ground as it did.

However - and this was not intentional, but you better believe I'm gonna remember it - at least some people who voted that they were sick of the quotes still reblogged the poll. They did so with a comment or tags that indicated their irritation, but - they still reblogged and shared the poll, spreading the inspirational quotes they themsleves were so sick of.

When I create poll options, I usually try to cover as many bases as I can (unless it's funnier not to). Frequently, I'll throw in an "other" as a catch-all. This is because I'm trying to capture the electorate (so to speak) as best I can and am genuinely interested in the results and what voters think. But, if I simply wanted a poll to spread as far as possible because I had delusions about the advantages of going "viral" on tumblr, there's clearly a case to be made for including an option that boils down to "actually, I hate this poll and everything about it." A hate reblog is still a reblog, after all.

Use this information as you will.

[maguro13-2]

Downfall ~ Origins of Ink Demon : Demon Days Pt.8

Ruby : So what's this about being friends with us?

Lucina : Yeah, tell me why did you combine your efforts with us?

Maka : Apparently, that was Shinra telling me this.

*flashback to Maka's memory*

Shinra (Devil Chao) : Maka, I've decided that you still have friends that needed to let go. I heard that the new girl Lucina is coming to this country real soon, she would be wisley of seeing you in person.

Maka : Make new friends...? You mean, to let go of everything I held from Soul Worls, the story that created. What new story am I gonna be part of...

Shinra (Devil Chao) : A new story, an alternative where you never met Crona or fought alongside by Both Black Star and my Grandson Death the Kid.

Maka : You mean I'm never going to see them again?

Shinra (Devil Chao) : Indeed. You and everyone will never be the same.

Maka : Like let go of everything...my efforts, my love for Crona, is that what I wanted...

[Old Homestar Theme by Teruhiko Nakagawa plays]

Maka : To renew a brand new story that was ever made.

*changes back to present*

Maka : A new story, a story about you and I.

Ruby : Well, that makes common sense. Not only that much sense.

Lucina : So then Shinigami is also a lie riddled by Shinra.

Ruby : Is this what you wanted, Ruby?

Kimial : Ruby...

Tsubaki : I get it now. The Ohkuboverse was actually magical painting created by the brush of Drawcia.

Maka : Drawcia, that witch who owns science corporation, it was her brush that created the Ohkuboverse.

Tsubaki : Not only Shinra the Devil Chao who knew about our world and story's creation, but also the brush that is responsible for giving birth to the sun and moon. If my calculations are correct, Soul Eater was created about 1000 years ago, Shinra's story ended 1000 years before our story. It all makes sense, he manage to create a new story, a story about as heroes...

[Cylce of..by SEGA Sound Team]

Tsubaki : Aha...!

Kimial : What got you so surprised?

Tsubaki : I finally knew who created Soul Resonance, the Kusakabe's did it. Shinra, Shibusen, the madness, everything, Soul Eater was Shinra's legacy the entire time!

Maka : Which means I've been protecting Shinra's legacy entire time, that painting is was originated our world and story. Heard about them in Mario's world. The painting was called the Legacy of Shinra.

Kimial : I see what this all means. So the evangelist was never a god at all, but three-eyed entity in the 4D universe. It released the contents, If this could be the final piece of the puzzle, we finally knew what the Legacy is about, the legacy was Shinra's final wish bringing the world of Soul Eater back together with the creator himself Shinra Kusakabe.

Kimial : This is was the creation of his world, and over here there are three Chaos Chao that might be the representatives of the Ohkuboverse's past and future. And look, in that painting, there is my accursed ancestral relative whose heart was corrupted with her desires for darkness. This is all her fault

Tsubaki : Oi, Kimiko-san, I mean Kimial or both whoever you are. Inca Kasugatani the reason she created the witches of our world and story because she betrayed humanity for corrupted desires, for the powers of darkness itself.

*flashback to Shinra's New World*

[Professor's Fault by Yutaka Minobe]

Inca Kasugatani : *facing with despair* What kind of human being am I? What have I done? Shinra, I can't believe you are gone from this world. I am atoning for my sins of what I did. I just wanted to bring my platonic love to you, to everyone, and this entire story... Everyone is dead from the Time Eater.

Inca Kasugatani : (voice breaking) Gomenasai...Gomenasai...Shinra...Yuruse wo...

*cuts to Inca summoning to Keyblade*

Inca Kasugatani : My future relative, Kimiko. When I die as a magical being called a witch, you must avenge my spirit and our people.

*attempts to commit suicide using the Keyblade*

Inca Kasugatani : Sayonara...Shinra-kun.

*DBZ SFX : Energy Blast*

*back to the present*

Kimial : So that's why I was given bad blood, my ancestor killed herself because it's all humanity's fault.

Kaworu : Yes indeed. It was humanity's fault, because they wanted corrupted desires to seek the powers of darkness like whether it could be despair that is the key, or a change of pace for one's corruptive wish.

Kimial : Hey, you're that silver-haired playboy of Shinji.

Kaworu : Indeed. The three eyes symbolizing that Kishin your world, it does not give you madness, it gives you wickedness. The symbol of this so-called Kishin originated here from this portrait or should I say a malicious misdeed from this man...over here.

*shows the portrait-form Kishin Asura*

Maka: It can't be... That's...

Kaworu : Excellent. I never thought that the Kishin had been imprisoned inside this portrait, or the Grandson of Shinra Kusakabe.

Kimial : Shinra never had a grandson before. When did he said he had a grandson.

Kaworu : Look at the name. This is the portrait of Kishin Asura, but that was his name from Adolla since Demon Vibe's appearance. This is his real name.

[Flowers Fall by Yutaka Minobe]

*Portrait name : ASURA KUSAKABE*

Maka Albarn : *realizing* Asura Kusakabe?!

*everyone is in shock*

Kimial : That guy was right! He is Shinra's grandson!

Homura Akemi : So the so-called god of Soul World was the grandson of Shinra Kusakabe, the hero who created her own world. Than that means... Shinra's man made son was hiding something all along.

Maka : *stuck with realization* Shinra...was lying to me all along, lying to me with using his lies to be riddled.

Lucina : Then that means the Kishin...Is a heartless?

Ruby : *Realizing in horroe* Oh my God...!

Kimial : What's wrong, New Girl?

Ruby Rose : I just realized something

[Revelation by Fumie Kumatani]

Ruby Rose : Now I know what all this means about putting the Kishin to his place, Asura has been the prisoner to a portrait all along! Shingami, the founder of DWMA is actually Shotaro the Dokeshi, the father and true creator of the weapons, and the Gorgon Witch Sisters, are facades to the heartless Seeked by Xehanort!

Maka : What how did you know that?

Ruby Rose : We know who imprisoned Asura, He helped King Boo to imprison his own son and manages to hide the truth from the witches, which comes to think that the Kishin isn't him.

Maka : What do you mean by that?

Ruby Rose : What were saying that Lord Death of Soul Eater isn't him, his real name is Shotaro the Dokeshi, he was in human form! While the other Lord Death is the true menace!

*Radio Buzzing*

Sora via Communications : Maka! Maka! Can you hear me!

Maka : Sora. What's happening? What is saying that you're telling me the truth? What could that be the problem.

Sora via communications : We all come in sudden fruition with a major shock in my opinion, the lord Death you knew isn't Lord Death, It's darkside! Maka Albarn, the Shinigami you all know and love is a traitor!

*drops radio*

Maka : (buries about her head) ...No! No, no, no, No!

*collapses*

Maka : AAAAAAAAAHHH!!!

"meanwhile...9 years ago"

*Whistling to Smile omb*

Botan : Ahh, the good old days of occult. Being a Shinigami is a number one priority to the multiverse. So no holding back, while I'm unshod and stylish, I could lean in and do about business, out of sight and out of sound.

*she stretches and flexes*

Botan : I haven't felt this alive since the Dark Tournament, it wasn't a pleasant since the Demon King Arc... although it was a wasted potential since Yusuke lost the fight against that guy. But oh well, it was fun while last. This quite feels amazing without to wear shoes. Get a good Stretch.

*sound : door opening+stomping*

[BGM : Message by Michiru Yamane]

Botan : Hmm? Get away Yusuke, not now. Can't you see that I'm giving myself a good stretch while being unshod in this uniform back at the tournament? Honestly, d you have any idea-*YELPS*

*Sees Lord Death's face*

Botan : Ah, Shinigami! Sorry about that, sir. What brings you here? Hello...Shini, what's the matter. You're gonna give me the silent treatment again or are you just hitting the sauce is what I mean?

Darkside Death : That's not my face, you clod. Up here.

Botan : *looks up at something* Ehh...?

*DBZ SFX : Surprise*

Botan : Sh... Shinigami. What happened to you? How did you get so big? Gain so much weight?

Darkside Death : I need to dispose of these wretched who have served under me the whole time, your friend is still with his lover. Shotaro the Dokeshi needed me to buy sometime to regain my powers. Or perhaps Shotaro the Dokeshi is that Shinigami that you all knew about is my eternal slave. It was I who killed renegading son who became the mad-dog.

Botan : Wait a sec, it was you the entire time? You're behind all of this?

Darkside Death : Indeed. I never thought that you were the one very first Shiningamis to witness the truth, I never thought that Death Weapon, a subsidiary of World Heroes Force, would lead to it's own downfall. It was a capable facade for all heroes to come to.

Botan : So you're behind all of this! You've ordered all of this to make Maka Albarn look like a fool!

Darkside Death : No not me, well perhaps. I'd like to thank someone for helping me riddling my creator's lies.

Botan : Your creator? Wait, you mean Shinra don't you? Shinra the Devil Chao's your creator. Who did you helped with?

Darkside Death : Someone with a dark and dangerous personality, Mephiles is his name.

Botan : The Black Shadow. You've been working with a villain from SEGA? What the heck is going on here?!

*evil shadows laughing*

[BGM : Unknow Alarm by Fumie Kumatani]

Botan : You coward!

*Battling sounds*

Botan : (growls with anger) You...You lied to us all! I trusted, we gave our hearts, and this is how you repay us!?

*Pushes Botan back*

Botan : You're gonna pay for that in hiding the truth! Soul World, the lies from Shinra, it has always been you, you acting alone!

*Battling sounds*

Darkside Death : Well, for a Shinigami, I was the one who put the fault on the witches, Ashley's kind for getting into conflicts, because the power of darkness suited them well, and Mabaa thanked King Boo turning the renegades into portraits, which resulted in the creation of their doppelgangers...the Gorgon Sisters.

Botan : Witchkind's true enemy, the Gorgons... You got them involved of their crimes just for that?!

Darkside Death : But the original Snake Witch who died, claims to be Orochi, known as the True Snake Witch Medusa Gorgon.

*shows portraits of the Gorgon Witch Trio*

Botan : It can't be... That's the real Medusa Gorgon...and so are the gorgon sisters! They're not dead, they are dead being imprisoned inside the portraits the entire time! lies... all lies... EVERYTHING IS LIES!!!

Darkside Death : Yes, all thanks to you and the children that meddled with the truth behind my plans. (Snickers) You and the other will prolong your life in the real world. But it's not like you can escape the inevitable death.

Botan : Oh really? The only thing inevitable is me kicking butt, straight my unshod lifestyle! So long, Traitor!

*Instant mission*

Botan : Hey, be just-*instant transmission* Ehh?!

*Strong Kick*

Botan : YAAAHHH!!! *Crash*

Darkside Death : Hmph.

[You Have Nowhwew to Go by Fumie Kumatani]

Botan : Darn...not bad for a big guy like you. But I won't let you get away with this!

*Battling sounds*

Botan : Some Death God you turned out to be. You only care about for the sake of Shinra's lies to rub it down on all our faces? You only care manipulation our hearts to darkness? Well, you can take these lies from Shinra Kusakabe and shove it up in your cocyx!

*Strong Punch*

Botan : WOAAAHHH!! *Thuds* That smarts!

Darkside Death : This game of charades is over...Die, Reaper! *Summons Keyblade*

*struggles to fight off*

Botan : *in mind* This is all my fault, if I hadn't let anyone told the truth to the world, I could've sworn that Shinra the Devil Chao was behind all of this. This could be fate, or even worse...if he takes my heart out, I could lose a life forever and then I will go back to the spirit world forever.

*Knocks keyblade out by Gunshot*

Darkside Death : Grrr!

Botan : Oh thank goodness a time traveler.

Darkside Death : Well it seems the Time traveler is still alive.

Homura Akemi : Nice to see you to drop dead Mrs Botan. You almost had yourself killed.

[BGM : Mystery G by Sota Fujimori]

Darkside Death : You're so lucky, that you have the Chaos Emeralds to rewrite history. But just your luck, you will be the ones to witness the power of a death God. But it's not like you can be unshod.

Botan : Hmph. I don't have to. But just you wait you renegade, we're gonna teach you for giving the world such fiddles you play.

Darkside Death : Noted. Farewell! *Teleports away*

Yusuke : Botan! Are you alright! You're not hurt are you? Well that's a downer?

Kuwabra : Hey, guys. What's going on heard. There was a fight going on.

Kurama : It appears that one of the renegades have escapaded away.

Hiei : Just your luck. This is the time traveler that Maka Albarn knew about from the future.

Botan : Future? Hey, young ma'am. You wouldn't happen to be from the future, right?

Homura Akemi : Well...you guessed for it. I am from the future, eight years from beyond this point of time. Allow me to introduce myself, I am a hero, I go by the name... Homura Akemi.

Botan : Homura Akemi...? What a weird way for the name of a...girl.

Yusuke : You expect me to believe a time traveler that came from the future to save you.

Honura Akemi : So this is the year Maka becomes hero. If this witch name Drawcia can make me find out that I could rewrite, I'm gonna rewrite one's story with the powers of the Emeralds, blessed to me. But first, I will select the Unshod hero as the first of my opponents.

Yusuke : Alright, Botan. You heard her. She's yours to fight with.

Botan : Whay?

Homura Akemi : Let's see what you got. Time to meet your history maker.

Botan : (stoically) Oh boy. I'm gonna be history alright. I better be careful when I'm going into battle with no shoes. Alright, time traveler. Give it your best shot.

From a climatic moment, Death and Time once again fought each other in both timelines. The battle between time and death begins now.

~ Stage 8 : The Unveiling Reveal ~

[kmp78]

"He couldn't go after VK cos...Well, he would have lost face and Jared Leto CANNOT lose face. 🫣🙅‍♂️He would have had to admit that he actually needs and loves a woman, and that's just an unfathomable notion! ⛔️Jared Leto does not need ANYONE!It's THEM who have to need HIM! 💯"

Love makes us do crazy unthinkable things!! Even the most proud aren't too proud to keep those they love!

I do believe NNLY is about VK. But not in the pining after a girl who left sort of way. I don't think he kicked her out. I don't think she gave him ultimatums. I think that the time living together made it very clear to BOTH of them that their wants and needs and views of the future were not aligned. They agreed that they cared for each other but that it was over. One was already in deeper than he'd like, and one wasn't getting as much as she was hoping for.

So it's NNLY because their time together will always mean something and NNLY because they'll always care about each other. But not NNLY as I weep into my pillow and can't ever look at another woman.

If he was truly IN LOVE with VK, he would have given her what she wanted. But he wasn't. He was in love with his life, his career, his freedom. And that's OK!! That doesn't mean he didn't love her. And that doesn't mean that it didn't hurt them both to cut the other out of their lives. He let her go...because he loved her and wanted her to find someone who would choose her.

And I think that's where LTD comes in. Not because she left him for some other dude. Not because she didn't come running back. Because they both ended it, and it hurt to see her move on so quickly. If someone had said they had been in love with you for the last 8+ years and moved on to something so serious so quickly, it would hurt you too. He's not immune to pain.

But it being painful to watch still didn't change the fact that he wasn't in love with her and ready to make a life or a family with her. Living the life he chooses didn't work for her. Both songs very much fit their breakup, but I wholeheartedly believe it was a mutual thing they've both come to terms with and moved on from.

It's never not going to be awkward bumping into each other. They aren't going to want to be best friends who go on double dates. They'll be strangers who used to be lovers. It's unfortunately quite common. But it's normal. Neither of them are broken because they don't "want" the other as part of their new lives. 💔

He absolutely would have been gobsmacked when he realized VK had actually moved on - and even more so when he realized the guy that followed him turned out to be the Prince Charming she had been hoping JL would be. 😰

"And I can't lie it kills me to see... that he gave you what you wanted from me..." 💔

In his 50 years on this earth, he has been in the lucky position where he hasn't had his heart crushed too many times.

He was always the one in charge and doing the crushing.

But this one...

This one must have come as a surprise even to him. 😦

I am 1000% sure that he would have happily let VK sacrifice her own dreams and goals for him and he wouldn't even have flinched - and when she didn't, he was served a cold wake up call. 😐

[clowncalvary]

Reading All of Garfield (Up Until This Point) The 1980 Post

I have done it again folks. I have managed to be too overambitious in my endeavours. I really watched The Garfield Video and went "pssh, weak, only 1000 Garfield comics? They are three panels! That isn't too much, why wouldn't he just read all of it? I can read all of it!"

Ya know, like an idiot. So, now I am here, and by god I refuse to bend, I can and WILL read all of Garfield (up until 5/1/2024, when I started this fool journey). I have read all of Homestuck TWICE, and the Crowstrider AU (ALSO TWICE!! Sidenote: If you like Homestuck or even just have a base understanding of the events of Homestuck, but felt is was missing something, check out The Crow Strider AU, it is a really good and a well written story!)

I Refuse To Be Defeated by Garfield.

Unlike Jon who isn't even trying to save his food at his point. ALSO! LYMAN HAS BEEN SPOTTED!! Always weird to be reminded that Odie is not Jon's dog.

I know the joke is that his head swelled up because of the cold, but for a moment I thought his body just strank. Peak Garfield right here.

Oh we love a good Lyman living his best life right here~

Hey, Jon, you aren't supposed to be questioning things like that!

I am so pleased that Jon is actually a country boy that moved out to the city. I recommend this little arc because Jon's parents are hilarious.

Okay, now this one is a little interesting because it is the only one that I've seen that is black and white. Apparently this is because all the original comics were in black and white, but Jim Davis went back and colorized all the old strips! This must have been one of the few that wasn't translated to color, very cool!

I'm surprised that Garfield even cared, I myself have been known to eat myself some raw biscuit dough.

I'm including this because this is such a weird thing to say to anyone, let along your cat. Jon, please do not go onto Rule 34....

AWE, GARFIELD SHOWING SOME ACTUAL LOVE AND AFFECTION TO NERMAL IS SO NEAR AND DEAR TO MY HEART!!!!

Jon is the most accurate cat owner that I've ever actually seen. Me too, Jon, me too.

Imagine your cat calling you a bimbo for giving you a bath 10/10

Lyman has shown up again! There was a three month hiatus, but he hasn't been edited out of the story yet!

This is exactly how my moirail acts after they seek out shit they KNOW is going to frighten them! This series of comics is absolutely so fucking cute too and absolutely how cats act when you make eye contact with them too long.

I think if a thug was dressed like this and tried to rob me I'd think they were doing a bit at first.

WHEN WILL YOU LEARN!? WHEN WILL YOU LEARN YOUR ACTIONS HAVE CONSIQUENCES!?!?

I'm not going to lie, Garfield deserves this for all the shit he gives Odie. And if this entire arc is just Odie fuckin' with him, I support it!

:0 Garfield's family!? His grandpa is so scrunkly and I love how much Garfield is so excited to see him, and his grandpa is just so over everything,,,, After further reading I have decided that his grandpa sucks actually.

God, me too, Garfield. If I could get out of every awkward conversation by revealing new information about myself I absolutely would.

Oh, oh I know logically that Garfield's last name would have to be Arbuckle, but it has always been "The Cat" in my mind's eye. This was such a rude awakening to the psyche. And on CHRISTMAS too!?

I mean, he is using less power this way?

How....how did he fit in that bowl???? Like, the demensions are not demensioning! Either that or Jon Arbuckle is secretly The Doctor.