#like….. how do I get across to them that everyone else thinks they’re a loser

[chewwytwee]

It’s so hard to become un-annoyed at unfunny losers so every day in jazz band is a test of my patience, one of these days I’m going to explode

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 4

[chap three] | [all chapters here] | [chap five]

Summary | You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

Warnings & Notes | fem reader, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

Author's Note | Oooh lads, here we are again! I was going to save this chapter for tomorrow, but I'm having a bad day, so I decided to treat all of us with an update today! Not too much happens in this chapter, however, it still charmed me very much, and I'm the one who fucking wrote it lol. As always, enjoy and let me know what you think!

Taglist | @costellation-hunter @daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie @delilaaahhh @kthomps914 @lotrefcp @marrowfrog00 @mewchiili @munsonssweets @no-bueno-writer @rach5ive @sav12321 @steeldaisies

WC | 4.0k

Chapter Four

“What the hell?” Amelia hisses while practically slamming down her lunch tray. You looked up at her with feigned ignorance, your eyes cool as you took both her and Janet in. You’d once again attempted sitting at your new lunch table, the same dorky couple sharing it with you, amongst a few of their friends. Although the group briefly eyed you, they’d been ignoring you for the past few minutes. That is, until your friends showed up.

“What?” You asked before turning your attention back to your food.

“You know what.” Amelia insisted, staying on her feet with an irate look. You were shocked she even dared to come out here in no man’s land to talk to you for a second time. Janet, submissive as ever, stayed back, looking between you both with worried eyes, “Did you hit your head or something? Why are you suddenly so interested in Munson?”

Annoyance jaded your features. You settle your glaring eyes on Amelia, your voice just as accusatory as hers, “Why does it matter?”

She scoffed as if it was the most obvious thing in the word, “Because he’s a loser. What’s everyone gonna think if they keep seeing you two together? You already made a scene this morning, they’re already talking.”

You shrugged, far too nonchalantly for Amelia’s taste, as you spoke around a bite of food, which was actually your way of hiding the glee you felt knowing that people were already talking about you and Eddie, “Does it matter? Does any of this shit matter?”

“Of course it does.” Janet finally chimed in, her voice calm compared to Amelia, “You could get yourself in trouble hanging out with someone like him.”

You rolled your eyes before shooting her a condescending look, “When have I ever gotten in trouble for literally anything?”

“It’s bound to happen eventually.” Amelia countered, and you finally dropped your fork to look at them both, your frustration growing.

“If it bothers you so much,” You start, your tone cold and direct, as non-emotional and harsh as you could manage, “start hanging out with someone else. Start hanging around Duncan, for all I care. We have loads of other friends who I’m sure won’t do something as stupid as talking to a boy.”

Amelia rolled her eyes at the way you mocked them, familiar with the tone of voice you were using. She’s heard you use it at least half a dozen times before when you two had gotten into stupid arguments in the past.

“Look, whenever you’re done PMSing or whatever, you’ll see where we’re coming from.” With a finite look on her face, Amelia picked up her lunch tray again and headed off back to her familiar, comfortable lunch table. Janet gave you an apologetic look before scurrying off a moment later.

You should be upset. And, yes, a part of you was irritated by the conversation, and yet, a large smile spread across your face - you didn’t anticipate that you’d piss Amelia off so quickly and acutely. You two have fought a number of times before considering how easily your personalities could clash, but this felt like you actually accomplished something. Your plan was already working wonders, despite your continued doubts.

As you went back to your quiet lunch, you couldn’t help but watch your group of friends from afar, mostly in irritation, although you felt a mild pang of loss in your chest. They all looked so happy, so at ease with one another, and a part of you suddenly missed that feeling. But you knew you were just being nostalgic, because you wouldn’t feel any of those things if you sat with them - you wouldn’t feel happy or at ease, rather you’d feel annoyed and tense.

Yet you couldn’t help but that bit of sadness you felt at the sight of them.

Even Duncan, that asshole, looked cheery as he shared a laugh with the guys, clapping one of them on the shoulder. You couldn’t help but glower at the sight of him. Diverting your attention, your eyes began to scan the lunch room, wondering where exactly Eddie and his band of rejects sat. You’d never noticed before considering that it didn’t matter in the past, but it was probably a good idea to start keeping track of these types of things. 

You eventually found the gaggle of geeks, watching as they excitedly conversed. The mean-spirited part of you made a judgmental face, assuming they were talking about D&D or the arcade or something else equally as nerdy. After a few moments of taking in the group as a whole, you found yourself studying Eddie’s face, taking in his ever-changing expression; he didn’t seem to notice you watching him, which gave you a better chance at observing him.

Eddie was always theatrical, you realized, always throwing his arms around as he spoke or raising his voice for particular emphasis. You found it strange just how big his communication style was, especially considering how tightly wound you always were. Where he had his exaggerated movements and his dramatic tones, you had your tight motions and controlled voice. Just thinking about how different he was dared to give you a headache, and you caught yourself wondering what the hell you’d be in for once you two moved your fake relationship along.

Eventually, Eddie seemed to sense eyes on him, because his gaze found yours curiously. You raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was able to see the movement from halfway across the cafeteria; when he made a face in return, you figured he noticed. He, too, raised both brows as if in question, nudging his head ever so slightly - it appeared that he was asking you to join him, but you couldn't be sure if that’s what he meant. Nonetheless, you shook your head at him, deciding that you were enjoying your quiet lunch and that you weren’t quite ready to put up with his group of loser friends for even five minutes. Regardless of whether or not you wanted to, you knew you’d get to that point eventually. Eddie gave a shrug of his shoulders, as if silently saying “suit yourself;” and although he turned his gaze back to his friends, you two continued stealing glances for the remainder of your lunch break.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Come Wednesday morning, Amelia wasn’t waiting for you at your locker. No one was except for Janet, who looked tense before she spotted you walking towards her. She tried to put on a brave face once you two met eyes.

You figured this meant Amelia wasn’t planning on talking to you anytime soon. Good. As for the rest of the group, it didn’t matter to you either way. Although, it was still surprising to see Janet here by herself - she must’ve been sent by Amelia.

As you approached, Janet gave you a sheepish wave. You couldn't help the familial smile you gave her - she was a much easier person to get along with than most others in your circle.

“How long before Amelia talks to me this time?” You jested with a mean quality to your voice.

Janet didn’t appear to be amused by it, though, as she responded, “She’ll hold out forever if she feels like it.”

You huffed out a laugh while opening your locker, “Good point. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

You two were silent for a few long moments as Janet nibbled at her thumb nail and you moved belongings between your bag and your locker.

“What’s going on with you this week?” She finally asked, out of curiosity, rather than with judgment. Nonetheless, you shot her a look, to which she quickly waved her hands as if to calm down whatever bitchiness was about to stir up in you, “No no, I’m not trying to be mean. It’s just… you’ve been weird since school started.”

So, Janet noticed. You wondered if anyone else had. Maybe they’d all been ignoring it, but now that Eddie was in the mix they couldn’t keep that up anymore.

You shrugged as the pair of you began the trek through the halls to your respective classes, your answer noncommittal, “‘Weird,’ huh?”

Janet watched you as if she was waiting for you to elaborate, before sighing and asking, “Is there something going on? Like, something you need to talk about?”

You laughed without thinking, a mean and dismissive sound even to your own ears, “Yeah right.”

Hurt flashed across Janet’s face, her tone clearly different than it was a moment before, “Geez, sorry I asked.”

“Just stop worrying about it, alright?” You insisted with harshness, your eyes cold as you looked over at her.

With a resigned expression, Janet dropped her head and sighed, muttering as she walked away, “Yeah, whatever…”

It briefly struck you that maybe you didn’t have to be so bitchy all the time. But, then again, you didn’t really know how to be anything else.

Your day went on as usual from that point. You discussed a boring book in first period, you wasted time in second period, and once third period rolled around, a vague excitement struck you as you remembered that that was the one class you shared with Eddie. You should not have been excited at that thought, not in the slightest, and yet it added something interesting to your otherwise stupid and monotonous day.

When you entered the classroom, Eddie was already there, sitting at his usual desk in the back corner, looking bored despite class not even starting yet, drumming his pencil absently on his desk. As you approached and he spotted you out of the corner of his eye, he sat up a little in his seat, a nearly cute smile crossing his lips. Once you reached his side, the kid next to Eddie glanced up at you curiously, to which you made a face; meanwhile, Eddie just appeared surprised that you were the one to initiate conversation.

“Didn’t see you this morning.” You started simply, crossing your arms in front of you.

“I was late.” He shrugged lazily before giving you a conspiratory look, “What, were you waiting for me?”

You narrowed your eyes a little at his teasing, responding in a flat tone, “Oh, I was absolutely heartbroken.”

“Figured.” Eddie grinned widely, to which you responded with a subtle smile.

You turned away and went to your desk in the second row, surrounded by other students who were part of your usual circle of acquaintances. While waiting for class to start, you looked around the room, your gaze unintentionally drifting back towards Eddie. You studied him for a few moments before a decisive look graced your features and you abruptly stood back up. The movement caused a couple of people to glance your way, but otherwise no one cared.

You walked to the back of the room, turning your attention on the boy sitting next to Eddie, who awkwardly looked between you and his desk as if he were nervous under your gaze, as if he feared looking you in the eye.

“Move.” You say harshly. He looks at you in surprise and confusion, to which you raise a curved brow as if challenging him to defy you, “Move.”

You didn’t have to repeat yourself again. With a surprised scoff, he collected his things and migrated to the next available seat, which was sure to throw off the entire seating arrangement of the class for the day. As you plopped down at the desk next to Eddie’s, he laughed halfheartedly, his expression just as surprised as the other boy’s.

“Jesus, you are mean.” He states, although his eyes seem to show at least a hint of appreciation. You shrug, pulling your notebook and pencil from your bag.

“Well, I wanted to sit here.”

“Ever heard of the word ‘please?’” Eddie teased, shaking his head at you. You gave him a look out of the corner of your eye, refraining from talking back.

As the bell rang and the stragglers migrated in, people began to notice your change of seat. Some people looked at you strangely, others with disapproval, and the rest just didn't seem to notice or care at all. Hell, even your teacher had to pause and search for you during attendance, realizing you weren’t at your usual desk. Her vague hum of disapproval was enough to get a few students to shoot glances your way. As if in response, Eddie stretched his leg across the aisle to rest his foot on the metal basket beneath your seat.

Math class came and went, and as you walked out of the room, Eddie followed right alongside. As you led the way to your next class, Eddie playfully bumped your shoulder with his, which was starting to become a common thing between you two already, a quick way for him to break the rules you laid out for him.

You glanced up at him with a raised brow, “Yes?”

Eddie shrugged, looking falsely nonchalantly, causing you to narrow your eyes in confusion and perhaps mild annoyance. The playfulness wasn’t something you were accustomed to, nor did you think you ever would.

“You gonna sit with us at lunch?” He asked, to which you pulled a face, causing him to laugh without amusement, “I take it that’s a ‘no.’”

“I didn’t exactly factor your friends into this plan.”

Eddie looked nearly amused, but also perhaps a touch critical, “What did you factor in?”

You made a face, but he continued to simply look down at you with a slight grin. You sighed in response, chewing the inside of your cheek with thought.

“I guess we need to come up with some more rules.”

“Do I get to make some this time?” Eddie joked.

You rolled your eyes smally, “I’ll allow it.”

“Then I guess it’s a date.” You paused momentarily to look up at him with narrowed eyes.

“You still have to actually ask me out, that doesn’t count,” The pair of you reach your biology classroom, so you pause outside the door. “I’m expecting those flowers and balloons, you know.”

“I’m sure you are.” Eddie mocked, that damned grin still across his lips.

Students brushed past you to enter the classroom, and you briefly wondered if Duncan - who you shared this class with - was already here, if he had noticed the two of you. But you didn’t dare to look into the classroom, because just your luck he’d figure you were looking for him. But as that thought crossed your mind, you took a small step closer into Eddie’s personal space, putting on your best look of interest as you stared up at him. Eddie first appeared flustered and confused, but he quickly brushed it off as he seemed to slowly realize what you were doing.

“You’re not half bad at this, you know,” Eddie teased, his eyes shining as he said in a slightly lower voice, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost believe you liked me.”

Despite yourself, your cheeks warmed a little, but you hoped that it wasn’t obvious. Or maybe you did want it to be obvious. There was just something about Eddie’s tone that threw you off your rhythm, and you mentally kicked yourself for it.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” The flirty expression on your face juxtaposed your flat tone, and Eddie’s face looked almost wicked in response.

“No, that’s supposed to be your job.”

You had to pull your eyes away from Eddie’s - you had absolutely no interest in him, but this performative flirting was starting to mess with you a little. That’s something you’d have to work on as well, because you didn’t need this plan to confuse you one bit.

You didn’t realize how long the two of you had been standing in the hallway, as the ring of the fourth period bell nearly startled you. You found Eddie’s eyes again, giving him as cute a smile as you could muster.

“Go before you land yourself in detention.” You instructed; Eddie grinned widely while shaking his head.

“I practically run detention.” He, again, brushed his fingers along the small of your back as he moved past you, holding your eyes as you watched him go, “I’ll catch you later.”

You gave a small wave before dipping into the classroom, eyes roaming over everyone as you walked to your seat. You caught Duncan looking at you knowingly.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

By Friday afternoon, Amelia was over your spat earlier in the week, insisting that you sit with them at lunch, to which you begrudgingly agreed after she kept pestering you. Well, maybe she wasn’t entirely over it - her snide little comments throughout the week made that abundantly clear. But, just as most teenagers do, she chose to pretend it didn’t happen and go on with life as usual. She ignored the little glances Eddie would shoot you in the hall, the little knowing looks you two shared, and you didn’t mention your new seat next to him in math class.

After classes ended for the day, you were amongst a group of students lingering in the parking lot, everyone discussing that night’s football game and other upcoming plans for the weekend. You actually managed to hold a half-decent conversation with a couple of the cheerleaders and a boy you once upon a time had a crush on back in freshman year; that never went beyond making out drunkenly a couple times at parties. Nearby, Duncan entertained a group with some story that probably wasn’t as interesting as everyone acted; he hadn’t acknowledged you this entire time, and had made it a point of ignoring you since Wednesday.

The group seemed to be in agreement that they’d all go out after the football game, and of course it was presumed that meant everyone, including you. You avoided saying anything on the subject so you wouldn’t be held accountable for it later.

At some point in your conversation, your former crush made a puzzled face at something past your shoulder. You mirrored his expression curiously, looking behind you to see what caught his attention.

Eddie was approaching the group. You had to give him credit, it was ballsy to come up to a dozen popular kids as the guy who was almost universally hated in this school. In that moment, you appreciated Eddie’s confidence and lack of fear.

You decided you’d rather spare yourself the headache of everyone ganging up on Eddie, so stealing a glance at the group, you slid off the hood of the car you sat on, walking away from them without another word. As you met him halfway, Eddie gave you a devilish grin, his eyes drifting from you to the crowd of kids just beyond your shoulder. You raised your brow challengingly at him, but managed a small half-smile at his presence.

You briefly wondered what they were all thinking, what they were all saying. You hoped it was nothing good at all.

“They sure look happy to see me.” Eddie commented, casually sliding his hands in his pockets with a lazy grin once you two came together.

Just like you’ve been working on, you stood closer to Eddie than you would have liked, giving a performance even as your back was turned to all of your friends and acquaintances. You needed to be convincing at all times, so you tried to think about all the little details that would suggest you were interested in Eddie, even if no one could see your face - leaning in as you spoke, twiddling your fingers, etc.

“So, are you asking me out now?” You tilted your head to one side as you asked in a matter-of-fact tone.

A small huff escaped Eddie’s nose, “You’re a real romantic, you know that, princess?”

“Aren’t I just?” You taunted, eyes narrowing.

Keeping his face cool, Eddie leaned forward so you were nearly eye level with one another, a smirk still resting on his lips as he responded in a prodding tone, “I’m going to ask you out now. If that’s alright with you, of course.”

You made a face at his mocking tone, but nodded nonetheless, staring at him impatiently. Eddie put on an extra charming smile for the audience inevitably watching your interaction as he stood back to his full height.

“Then in that case,” He paused to eye you up and down with an expression you’d never seen on his face before - if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve bought it, and you nearly flushed at that thought. Eddie projected his voice, not so loud that it was obvious, but just enough that some of your friends were certain to hear him, “So, what do you say? Let me take you out tonight, anywhere you want.”

“Tonight?” You asked with actual surprise while Eddie smiled at you with a charming look on his face.

“Unless you have something better going on.” Eddie taunted while stealing a glance at the group behind you, his expression growing almost too cocky considering that you both knew that you couldn’t say “no.”

You were certain the group was watching your conversation unabashedly, if Eddie’s attentive eyes were anything to go on. You traced your tongue along your lower lip as you drew out the moment just as Eddie had done to you before. When it seemed that you were taking too long, his gaze flicked back down to you.

“I really hope you don’t have something better going on.” He added as if he were getting nervous, as if this was real and the feeling of rejection was creeping up on him. You raised your brows tauntingly, your expression a little mean, and Eddie realized you did this on purpose. He just had to refrain from letting his impatience show on his face.

You finally show him mercy, adding a flirty smile despite the fact that your friends still couldn’t see your face, “Anywhere I want, huh?”

You could practically feel the impatient exhale that escaped Eddie, his eyes showing the slightest bit of annoyance at you. But he kept that charming grin in place.

“Anywhere.”

“Then it’s a date.” Your tone is a little brighter as you try to convey excitement.

You turn back in the direction of the group so that you could walk to your car, Eddie coming up alongside you. Your stride is confident despite all eyes on you, and you can see some of them whispering to one another. As you breeze past with Eddie beside you, you see Duncan shaking his head in disbelief, while another friend makes a harsh comment about Eddie.

“Pick me up at 7,” You start to instruct, letting your cool eyes look over the crowd of popular kids, “figure out if any good movies are showing, I’m craving popcorn.”

Once you two reach your car, you lean your rear back against the driver door while looking up at Eddie who now had his back to the group. You almost enjoyed the reversal, as you were able to catch every small glance sent your way by Amelia, Janet, and everyone else; now you could see just how harshly everyone had been staring at you before.

You whispered, forcing Eddie to stand a little closer, “We’re not actually going out tonight, I have something going on.”

“Damn,” Eddie teased with a false grin, “you got my hopes up.”

“But we do need to make plans soon,” You continue, ignoring his sarcasm, “We have to figure out how this is going to work.”

“And it’d be nice if your fake boyfriend actually knew anything about you.” Eddie added, to which you made a face despite knowing he had a point. A curious look crossed his face, as if what you said about having plans just a moment ago was finally setting in, “So… what do you have going on tonight?”

“Not telling.” You answer simply as you give him a wicked grin. Your eyes trail back to the group of your former friends for a split second, and in an impulsive act of defiance, you lean up to kiss Eddie on the cheek, his barely-there stubble tickling your lips. You pulled back with a flirty look, desperately fighting the impulse to make a face at the physical contact that you just initiated, “We’ll talk next week, Munson.”

[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!

————————————————————————

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.

[mvltisstuff]

cowboy like me - e.b

summary: after a night out with the team for “bonding”, y/n and buck are the last two out and find out they’re more alike than they thought.

evan buckley x reader

a/n: i’m on s5 and i hate taylor and buck tgt. like respectfully STOP.

the team was out for drinks after their shift, after a successful day with no fatalities. they sat around a booth and exchanged stories and laughs about each other. y/n was sat between henrietta and chimney, who talked over to each other, and buck sat with eddie and bobby.

most had drinks, dripping onto a coaster. bobby and eddie had non-alcoholic drinks, sipping at the skinny straws. y/n takes sips of her cocktail, her second of the night. she sits directly across from buck, giving a sweet smile at him while he laughs at something eddie said.

the night goes on and they all pick at a shrinking basket of fries. the chatting of everyone else in the bar fades out, and the lonesome people start coming in.

“alright, guys. i think i’m gonna head home,” eddie interrupts after a bit. “told chris i’d be home soon. hen, chim?”

“coming! just let me get one more sip.” chim says, leaning down to take another gulp of his drink. his words slur together quickly and y/n moves out of the booth.

“ok, i think someone’s ready to go home.” hen says. eddie was their driver home, because neither of them were clearly in the position to be behind the wheel.

after a bit of talking with their captain, bobby stands up and grabs his coat. “athena’s probably waiting up for me.”

“ooh, time at home with the sergeant!” y/n jokes and winks at buck, who whistles.

bobby shrugs and laughs, “you kids need a ride home?”

“nah, i’ll just call an uber.”

“me too.” y/n says.

“alright, see you tomorrow.” he walks away, grabbing his car keys and the door slams behind him. the two sigh, trying to conceal the awkward silence between them.

buck has always had eyes for y/n. ever since she came to the station, she was nice but also dominated her space. she was smart and polite. she was able to help others and had the biggest heart at the station. buck didn’t want to get himself back into a bad habit, especially with a co-worker. he figured he’d had enough of the sleeping around and just hoping one sticks. however, when y/n got transferred and walked in asking for the captain, bucks eyes lit up.

y/n saw buck as more than a co-worker as well. she worked well with him, and he always brought in the best energy. every single morning, he walked in with a smile and pure excitement to work. she admired him, but she didn’t think things would end up working out in this line of work.

the two had the same thoughts, too similar and that is what kept them distanced. they worked together a lot, shamefully flirting and everyone saw it. they’d been teased by everyone and still weren’t able to come together.

y/n stands up and goes to order another cocktail at the bar. “i’m gonna go grab another drink, you want something while i’m there?”

“o-oh, you’re not leaving?”

“no, not yet. nothing waiting for me at home, so i’m staying. you?” she gets disappointed, thinking he’s on his way out to follow the crowd.

“wasn’t thinking of it.” says buck. she lets out a wide smile and turns around. buck notices her outfit, admiring her body language and how she carrie’s herself with such grace. her jeans with the leather jacket were his favorite, looking her up and down with impression. she saunters back over and sits down with her drink filled to the brim.

“looks like we pushed the rest of them away,” y/n laughs. “losers.”

buck chuckles and looks around. the lights of the bar are dimmed for the night and people clear out, with a few groups at tables and most people sitting at the stools.

“so,” buck breaks the silence first.

“so.” y/n says, and they both laugh at each others awkwardness. “i mean, i’d talk about work but we do the same thing.”

“well, do you like 118?” he asks. “hopefully we aren’t too discombobulated for you.”

“oh, it’s perfect. so much better than the last.”

“where did you work last?”

“128, hell on earth.” her smile fades away while saying that.

“i’ve heard some things, but what can i hear first hand?”

“just awful people, didn’t do it for the people, just for their own ranking and how they could make an impression. and god forbid you did anything to actually change a community.” she shakes her head in a shame.

“ugh, i’m glad i didn’t have that.”

“you weren’t anywhere before?” he gives her a sly look. “oh god, what is that look for?”

“well, let’s see. NAVY seal, and then peru.”

“peru?” she smiles and giggles. “what did you do there?”

“i was a bartender. made a pretty mean margarita if i do say so myself.”

“huh, i’ll have to try one sometime.” he looks back up, making eye contact with her.

“you got anywhere to be?” she swallows the drink in her mouth and says, “do i look like i have somewhere to be?”

“perfect.” he raises his voice, “can we get a round over here?”

————————————————————————

the two down another tequila shot, squinting at the burn and hissing.

“ok well, you’ve had to had a crazy job like me before this.”

“no, i cant say it…” she laughs out and he tries pulling the answer out.

“cmon! i basically went around the country finding jobs, can’t be that bad.”

“fine. well my first job was scooping ice cream at a shop that was practically falling apart, i walked some dogs, and then i got a job as product tester in high school.”

“a produ- what did you test?”

“you don’t wanna know.” she takes another shot from off the tray and he starts laughing. “it’s not that funny, buck!”

“no it’s just, wow.” he wipes fake tears off his cheek, and even though it wasn’t that funny, his lack of sobriety and complete adoration for her made him smile.

y/n feels her phone buzz in her back pocket and she pulls it out while she mutters something else out. buck notices the fading of her previous smile and frowns at her upset. “you okay?”

“yeah, fine. it’s just my mom.” she says quietly.

“well, if it makes you feel any better, my mom doesn’t text me.” he tries comforting her with his own uncomfortable thought.

“it’s just about her golden child’s birthday. we have to pitch in for a gift and if it doesn’t come in on time, it’s gonna be this one’s fault.” she says, pointing to herself.

“oh jesus, let me guess, you’re not the golden child?”

“ouch, that was forward.”

“no! no, that’s not what i meant,” he tries cleaning up the mess of his words. “i mean i’m not golden child either, was all maddie, really. hell it was neither of us.”

“growing up with brothers, i was always their shadow…”

————————————————————————

downing another shot, they both slam it down on the table at the same time. “it’s just stupid, you know? i get told every day how i saved someone’s life and all i get from them is how i made theirs harder.”

“exactly! everything i did my parents just watched in complete disappointment!” he admits.

“my mom always favorited my brothers at different times, whenever it was convenient for her. i think it was me maybe, one time, for a few days.”

“maddie and i was not the favorite ever, really.” buck says. “we were kinda just there for extra parts. they couldn’t even approve of my job, hated all of them.”

“same here. our parents just seem like they were obsessed with themselves and how we could make them better.”

“preach,” they clink their glasses and shove down another one. “you know, i don’t think any one else at the station knows this.”

“oh, no one else knows this.” she hiccups. “it’s ok though, i’ll tell them everything tomorrow.” she jokes around and slaps his bicep. “you’re just so easy to talk to about this. like i feel like no one ever will understand what it’s like to grow up knowing you don’t mean as much as them.”

“i wish i didn’t understand, but we can’t choose our families, so i made this my family.”

“the bar?”

“no, the station” he breaks out a shining smile at her. “everyone there, bobby, hen, chim, eddie, you.”

she tilts her head at the last one. she never realized he thought of her as family, but she felt the same. they feel accepted at 118, rather than in their own house, it feels like constant scrutiny.

“you are my family, too.” the two look into each others eyes, seeing a new hue of each others colors, reading a new chapter of their story. “i mean, i just told you what i say to a therapist, so you’re stuck with me.”

“no one else id rather be stuck with.” a toothy smile grows on each of their faces and they smile intensely at each other. they lean a little closer over the table, elbows laying on the edge. “can i kiss you, y/n?”

her breaths are shaky and irregular and her heart might burst out of her chest. her hands become a little sweaty, and suddenly, the emotion and sadness from the conversation fades away as she nods.

they connect their lips and her hands make their way to the side of his face, pulling him in. almost like fireworks went off between them, and realizing they were more similar than they thought was the match that set it off. his hand made his way to her neck and they melted into each other.

buck was the first to pull away, placing his forehead on hers. “sorry, i’ve just wanted to do that for so long.”

“don’t be sorry, oh my god.” she exhales. “i’ve wanted this since the second i walked into that station.”

buck smiles for the hundredth time that night, his cheeks felt like they might be sore. the rosy red on both of their cheeks were matching and he finally whispers out.

“y/n, do you wanna come home with me tonight?” she grabs his hand and gives it a light squeeze.

“id love nothing more, buckaroo.”

[witlesswitnesstm]

Hello tumblr, I’m having thoughts.

So, I’ve seen a billion cajillion arguments over Jayvik at this point and I think I have an opinion.

Yes, we need more depictions of intimate male friendships, but we also need more depictions of mlm romances. Most shows still shy away from mlm romances more than wlw romances because it makes men uncomfortable to see male attraction. Wlw romances are deemed to be more “palatable” for the general public because women are perceived as more “innocent and caring” when that’s not always the case. Not to mention those relationships are more easily objectified by men, which is gross. It’s a product of the patriarchy, putting all relationships into boxes just because of people’s genders, both mlm and wlw. I don’t think that’s what the Arcane team intended to do, but it still happens.

At the same time, fandom has always had a bit of a problem with viewing mlm dynamics as strictly sexual and ignoring women in fandom. It’s not fair to focus entirely on mlm ship dynamics within a show while ignoring actual characterization and pushing that belief onto everyone else. Or even blaming women for “getting in the way of mlm ships” (cough cough, looking at those Mel haters.)

This ties into a greater discussion of how men are often written more complex than women, making people want to focus on male relationships. Arcane, I feel like, does a pretty good job at making their women’s writing deeply complex and interesting, but, the finale really rushed over a lot of things to give precedence to Jayce and Viktor. (I love what we got for them, I just wish we had more time for other plots).

Despite a co-creator saying that Jayvik wasn’t romantic, I feel as though the whole team were on different pages as to how they wanted Jayvik to come across. There are so many parallels between Mel and Viktor, and hints that suggest romantic connection, that, I don’t really think you can just turn around and blame the fandom for forming logical conclusions based on what was shown. If they wanted a platonic relationship shown, they should’ve considered carefully what they were putting on screen, and considered audience interpretations. There are good depictions of friendship in arcane, and I especially like the m/f friendships like Jayce and Caitlyn or Vi, Or Vi and Loris, or Ambessa and Rictus. It shows they have the capability to make friendships that don’t have romantic tension at all, despite men and women practically always being shipped, so then, why do all these specific details for Jayvik?

Ambiguously canon mlm relationships are almost a little frustrating to me, because there’s always room for plausible deniability within homophobes. I’ve seen so many people shame others for liking Jayvik and calling them depraved losers and whatnot, and that’s just not, cool. But what’s also not cool is going after aspec people who find comfort in the fact that romance isn’t explicitly shown between Jayvik. I was frustrated at first that they kind of left their relationship up in the air, but I’ve grown to appreciate the different interpretations.

Anyway, something something at least we can all agree that they’re both smoking hot and we as the fandom should share them. Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[miela]

Shattered Memories • Chapter V: The Do-Over • {Peter Parker x Stark!Reader}

Chapter Genre: Comical Angst, Comical Fluff Chapter Warnings: Very dialogue-heavy Masterlist

↪ divider by firefly-graphics

“FRIDAY,” you sighed. “When is a riddle, not a riddle?”

You were at the Avengers Compound in your lab with information about none other than Peter Parker displayed on every holographic screen. You questioned yourself many times when you did this, and you felt like the character in those movies who obsesses over something because they definitely know something but everyone else around thinks they’re crazy or something. You considered stopping and going on living your life but you, your dad in heaven, and everyone around you know that once you set your mind on something, you cannot stop until you fully understand it or are satisfied with the facts that you have. You needed to know this for your own mental and physical health and you just about had it with not having the answers.

“When you have all the answers,” FRIDAY responded.

“And when is a puzzle, not a puzzle?”

“When there is nothing to take apart and put back together.”

“So, whoever Peter Parker is, is both a riddle and a puzzle,” you began with frustration in your voice. “I don’t have all of the answers nor do I have all the pieces. FRIDAY, I think I’m going insane.”

You rubbed your hands down your face slowly to try and calm yourself down. You had another dream last night. A wet dream. A wet dream about the Faceless Boy. 

You couldn't get it out of your mind how…sweet he was. The way he touched you, kissed you, caressed you…he was so sweet and gentle and caring. He made you feel like you were the most precious thing in the world. Though you couldn't see his face, he kept eye contact with you. 

But of course, you woke up once again in a sweat and with a migraine. 

You were at your limit. 

“Incorrect," stated the AI. “You are just showing signs of obsession.”

Your face twisted. I’m not obsessed. I’m just tired. “Way to make me sound like a loser,”

“Also incorrect, you just need to know everything about everything before you are satisfied.”

You deadpanned and took a deep, annoyed breath as you leaned your head in your hands again. You wanted to throw and break something. 

“Trouble in paradise?” You heard a deep voice ask.

You look over to see Sam and Bucky in the doorway. Bucky was holding a brown paper bag that said sweet greens across it and Sam was leaning in the doorway.

It would have to be a fun time to be paradise, you thought.

"Sergeant Barnes. Captain Wilson." You responded. 

“Should we be concerned?” Sam asked, looking at all the Peter Parker content surrounding you. “Because this is not looking good on your part.”

Bucky and Sam were two of the only Avengers that were left after the big battle with Thanos. Since the whole ordeal, they’ve been like big brothers to you since then. You were thankful to have them in your life still because they’ve been nothing but supportive through everything that you have been through and you have done your best to give the same support to them. 

You rolled your eyes softly. “Is that my salad?” You asked.

“Yeah,” Bucky confirmed, walking over and setting the bag next to you on the table you were currently sitting on top of.

“Thank you,” you opened the bag took out the food, and immediately began eating it hoping to get some dopamine and serotonin pumping in your system. 

“How can you eat that stuff all the time?” Bucky asked. “Isn’t too much of something unhealthy?” He looked up at the screens and then back at you.

You paused knowing what he was insinuating and sighed. “Brain food,” you replied. “You should try it sometime.”

He smiled in response and crossed his arms. “Alright smartass, wanna tell us why you're investigating this kid?”

“Not investigating him.”

“So then you're stalking him,” Sam asked.

“I’m not stalking him.”

“Well, you’re either investigating or stalking him. You gotta choose one.” Bucky replied again.

You looked at both men hard. “I’m studying him, thank you very much.”

They look at each other with looks of concern, confusion, and playfulness. 

“Stalking?” Sam asked.

“Stalking,” Bucky repeated but as a statement.

Sam turned his gaze back to you. “Sounds like stalking to me.”

“Yep, I agree.” 

“I’m not stalking him!” you exclaimed in frustration. “I’m trying to figure out who he is. You guys, wanna help? Help me figure out who he is and I can stop obsessing over it and move on with my life and run a company and be a normal fucking human being for once in half a decade, alright? If not, just leave me the hell alone to go insane.”

“Like I said, obsessive behavior,” FRIDAY added.

“Not in the mood, FRIDAY,” you responded as you put your food down harshly and rubbed your temples from the headache that had been forming since you woke up that morning from your dream about the Faceless Boy.

“Hey, kid,” Bucky spoke with a concerned tone. “Are you alright?”

Of course, you weren’t alright. After everything that you have gone through this month alone was making you sick. You had so much on your plate and so much to deal with that you had no idea how anyone made it through this before you. You may be being a tad bit dramatic, but you really didn’t care. Anybody in your position would most likely react the same way. You just wanted to figure this all out and move on with your life. 

“No.” You replied. “On so many levels, no.”

“What’s wrong?” Sam crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back on the table next to you as you sat on top of it. Bucky did the same on the other side. You sighed. How were you supposed to explain this entire situation to them without sounding like what you are appearing to be?  

“Promise me you won’t laugh.”

“Oh god,” Sam replied with a cringed wince.

“I’m serious,” you said sternly, looking at him hard. “I need you to promise me you won't laugh. Because if you laugh I swear to god,” you turned to Bucky. “I don’t care if you’re a super soldier,” You turned back to Sam. “And that your Captain America. I will kick both of your asses and web-cocoon you to the ceiling.”

Bucky snorted.

“Alright, little tough shit, calm down.” Sam smiled. “Promise.”

You looked to Bucky, who also promised. 

You take a deep breath to prepare yourself for what you’re about to say. “I’ve been having these…dreams...about a boy. But they’re more than dreams…they’re like...visions, vivid memories. But the thing is this boy doesn’t have a face and this has been going on for a while now. So when going through the Avengers files this came up.” You pull over the holo screen of Peter Parker’s file.

“So this is the infamous Peter Parker you asked us about.” 

“Famous actually,” You took another bite of your salad. “He’s an Avenger.”

Both of their faces twisted in confusion as they looked from you to the screen to each other searching for answers. 

“I’ve never seen him before,” Bucky stated.

“Me either,” Sam said with obvious confusion in his voice.

“Yeah and me three-ther.” You said as you click on a tab on his file and it pulls up information on Spiderman.

“He’s Spiderman?” Bucky asked but it came out more like a statement.

“Yeah,” You confirmed. “You guys don't recognize him and neither do I.”

They look at you with even more confusion and concern.

“Wait, you don’t?” Sam asked with doubt in his tone. “But y’all were partners in justice. Thick as thieves. The Iron Spider Duo. You two had inside jokes for days and were always with each other. How could you not recognize him or know his identity?”

“How can any of us not recognize him or know his identity?” you crossed your arms over your chest in thought.

“Well, we just figured he only showed you his true identity,” Bucky added. “We just thought he was shy or something.”

“Nah,” you shook your head. “He would trust you guys. He would trust all of us… unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless he did something wrong…or worse.”

“Okay, Like what?”

“I dunno, Bucky.” You replied and pointed your fork at his head. “What did I tell you about Brain Food?”

He deadpanned. 

“So you think that Spidey Parker is the boy with no face in your dreams?” Sam asked and you nodded. “But you can’t remember him.”

“Yes. I’m eighty percent sure that it’s him but I can’t remember that it’s him. So I’m unsure if it’s him. But my gut tells me that it’s him. So whenever I get too close to knowing, my head feels like it’s splitting in half and I end up with a migraine all day.”

“Do you have any clue how this all happened?”

“I have some hypotheses. One, if it is him and he did something bad and if we can't remember him, he somehow did it to cover his tracks. Two, if it is him and he didn’t do something bad and we can't remember him, someone did it to him to ruin his life. Three, Somehow too many people, or all people found out his identity and for his safety and the safety of others, he or someone else somehow made it so everyone doesn't remember him. Four, one of the big three is involved with some other unexplainable shit.”

“So you’re researching him,” Bucky said to no one in particular.

“Those are some good theories,” Sam responded. 

“But.” you started.  “There’s a question I've been brewing in my mind.” You put the bowl of greens down again. “If we can’t remember him are there others we can’t remember as well? Like a memory blip?”

A moment of silence fell between you guys. It was a thought that terrified all three of you. If one person can be forgotten by the world, who can say there aren't others? Who’s to say it’s not a villainous person? The more you thought about it, the more it struck fear in you. Anybody could just be forgotten and go on with their lives doing something. Or someone good in life has to start all over and be lonely.

Suddenly you felt bad for your other arachno-half.

“Have you tried talking to him?” Sam asked, breaking the silence.

You let out a deep sigh as you remember the entire event clearly. “Yeah…”

“And?”

“And, he won’t tell me anything, which is why I formed my hypotheses. But I get the vibe that he’s harmless.”

“How are you so sure?”

“We got bit by the same spider, I can sense his intentions.”

Another silence fell over you all for a moment. 

“We have to go on a mission for a few days,” Bucky stated. When we get back, we can help you figure all of this out.”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

“In the meantime,” Sam added. “Don’t do anything you would do.”

You scoffed and smirked. “Alright, I’ll just do what my dad would do.”

“Nah, you stay put, alright?” Sam chuckled. “Focus on being one of the 1% who actually give a damn about something.”

You smiled at that. “Be safe.”

Bucky put a comforting hand on your shoulder with a smile, “Be good.”

And with that both of your big bro figures leave and you sighed as you looked up at the screens. You thought about the possibilities of your hypotheses, the conversation you had with MJ, and the discussion you just had with Sam and Bucky. You mentally laid everything out and tried to decipher the missing pieces that you didn’t have. 

Then it hit you. A light bulb went off in your mind. 

“FRIDAY, pull up my dream logs and the information about Me and Peter Parker that we have and put them in timeline order to the best of your ability.”

“On it,” The AI replied back and instantly went to work. “This may take a while.”

“Trust me,” you replied. “I’ve got time.”

It’s been a week since you walked back into Peter’s life and he hasn’t heard from you since. He knew why though. You were very busy, especially when you had an entire company to run and a family to attend to. Peter was pretty busy too so he had no idea that the days had come and gone so quickly. 

But he did have you on his mind the entire time. 

He was thinking about all the memories that you two had together that you didn’t have. Or maybe you did and his face just wasn’t there in any of them. He thought about you during class, during work, and patrols. His mind was just filled with you, you, you…

He didn’t mind. In fact, he was wondering how he could contact you again.

After classes ended, Peter met up with Gwen, Miles, and Harry again, He usually walked to the train station with Gwen and Miles to take the train home together. Cindy and Pav lived in the dorms so they would usually just go there after classes and relax for a bit before studying and doing homework.

Miles had his arm around Gwen’s shoulders and she had her arm around his waist. Peter thought the high school sweethearts were a cute pair but it only made him miss you more. He was both happy for them and also jealous of them and he felt very juvenile for it. 

“What are your plans for your day off of work, Peter?” Gwen asked.

Peter adjusted his backpack on his shoulder and shrugged. “Probably just gonna take it easy at home.”

“You’re not gonna just sit there and watch Star Wars again are you?” Harry asked with a playful groan in his tone. “I swear you can quote the script of every movie forward and backward.”

Peter laughed. “You say it like it’s a bad thing.” 

They walked out of the doors and down the steps of the historic building. The campus was filled with students going to and coming from classes in the New York City sun as they walked down the sidewalk. 

“So how are things with you and your girl going?” Miles asked. 

“Uhm…I haven’t spoken to her…in like….a week?” Peter said as he rubbed the back of his head.

“Dude?!” Gwen exclaimed and punched his arm slightly. “A week?! Really?!”

“She’s a busy person!” He defended.

“We’re all busy people!”

Peter turned and started walking backward on the sidewalk to face his friends as he addressed them. “Listen, I just don’t want to come off too strong too fast. I want things to go smoothly.”

That was only half true. In reality, he didn’t have your new number and he was terrified to call your office number at the Avengers Building and Nika answered the phone. 

“Yeah but a week?” Miles asked raising an eyebrow. “You could at least ask her how she’s doing and stuff like that.”

Peter chewed his lip as he stopped walking and his friends followed suit. “I mean…you’re right but…I don’t want to be overbearing and overwhelm her or anything. Especially considering everything happening with her, you know?”

“Yeah, totally,” Gwen replied not looking at him.

Peter noticed that they were looking right past him at something behind him and he followed their view. His face softened when he noticed a figure he wasn’t expecting to see.

There you were leaning up against a black convertible with a red interior. You were wearing your usual leather jacket with a black tee shirt tucked into a pair of fitted jeans and those Ghostface Doc Martens again. Peter concluded that this was your staple look. It was far from your oversized flannels, crop top tees, mom jeans, and Converse that you used to wear most days when you were seventeen. You wore a dark pair of sunglasses while scrolling through your phone. One of your legs was bent as your foot was flat against the door of the car. 

“Hey Parker, your girlfriend’s here.” Harry teased. 

“She’s not-...I mean she is-...I mean-” Peter didn’t even really know what to call you. “She’s not…my girlfriend…right now.”

“Oh? ‘Right now’?” Gwen also teased. “Maybe if you stopped fucking around she would be already.” 

Peter rolled his eyes at Gwen with a small grin. He turned to you and watched you for a moment. Man, you’re so pretty. And he wished that at this moment things were very different.

He wanted it to be that you came to pick him up after class and he would run up to you and pick you up spinning you in a circle and you would squeal and laugh happily. Then you would grab his face and kiss him deeply and show the world that you were his and he was yours. 

“Hey,” Harry elbowed him softly knocking him out of his daydream. “Staring at her like a creep won’t do anything but freak her out. Go talk to her.”

“R-right” Peter stuttered before taking a nervous breath. “Come on, Peter,” He said to himself, “you got this.”  

He started walking towards you and the more he did the more his senses began to pull towards you. You felt it too because you perked up and looked at him. The shaded lenses of your glasses faded to clear lenses and he saw your beautiful (e/c) eyes meet his. He stopped walking when you noticed him. 

“Parker!” You chimed. “Fancy seeing you here.”

He smiled as he stepped closer to you. “I should be saying that to you.”

“I was meeting with the admins about the gala. I plan on doing scholarships for incoming freshmen and offering financial aid to upperclassmen who are running out of money from the government. Same With MIT and the Ivy Leagues,” you explained. “But I thought I might catch you out here, so I stayed to say hello and to give you these.” You pulled a pair of glasses that were identical to yours and held them out to him. “They’re Stark Specs. Dad had blueprints made for them, one for me and one for you, so I decided to bring them to life. I connected EDITH and Karen to them and you can speak to them interchangeably. Don’t use them to cheat on your tests or anything, but I don’t control your life so do what you want.”

Peter chuckled and smiled. “Thanks (Y/N).”

“Don’t mention it,” You reply with a wave of your hand. “Try them on.”

Peter put them on and the glasses automatically began their work of data scan to identify him. Littler blue circles and squares showed up around the lens as they scanned his eyes to identify who he was. Beeping and other computer noises sounded as they worked and loaded information. His eyes darted from each thing that popped up on the screen out of curiosity. Once it finished five seconds later, there was a green bar that flashed in the corner of the screen that said “access granted” and “complete.”

“Hello, Peter,” EDITH Chimed. “Welcome to your new Stark Specs.”

“Uh, thank you…!” Peter replied. 

“Friend detected,” the AI said as it narrowed in on you and your glasses. “Hello FRIDAY.” 

“Hello EDITH,” Peter heard through his glasses.

“Whoa!” Peter replied with wide eyes as he looked at you. “Whoa…”

All of a sudden hearts start forming around your head through his lens. Peter blushed knowing that EDITH knows how he feels about you and with the Bestie Feature, she was messing with him probably just as much as Gwen or MJ would. He noticed that your smile was sheepish and he assumed FRIDAY was doing the same to you. 

“Pretty cool right?” You asked. 

“Yeah,” He smiled softly with hearts in his own eyes as he looked at you. 

“They also will detect whenever you are by any Stark Tech. It will help you on your…y’know.” You said referring to his hero duties.

“Oh yeah for sure,” He nodded understanding as he put his hands in his back pockets.

You smiled and looked behind him. “Friends of yours?”

Peter followed your gaze to his three friends who were looking at both of you eagerly before turning away to look at different things pretending they weren’t just eavesdropping on your conversation. Peter let out a breath of amusement nearly snorting at them before he looked back at you and nodded. 

Oh, those losers?” he responded in a playful tone. “Nah, they’re just whatever.”

“Huh?!” Gwen exclaimed hearing him.

You laughed softly at her outburst as she walked over and wrapped her arm around his neck.

“Hello,” Gwen smiled. “You must be the girl Parker can’t stop gushing about.”

Peter looked at Gwen with wide eyes as Harry walked over and put his arm around Peter’s neck as well with his arm resting over hers. Peter looked at Harry also with wide eyes and an unsure expression on his face. He got the feeling he was about to be tag-teamed by his friends. When Gwen starts some shenanigans, Harry soon follows suit, and vice versa. It’s something Peter had to get used to with them because once they start they don’t stop until they’re satisfied with themselves. It was like they shared a singular brain cell. Usually, Peter just laughs it off, but at the moment he really hoped that he wasn’t about to be the ass end of their lighthearted bullying.

Not in front of you anyways. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that kind of embarrassment as a makeshift first (really second or third depending on how one looks at it) impression.

“Hey Stark,” Harry smiled. 

“Osborn,” You smiled back. “I thought I might run into you here too but I had no idea you were friends with Parker.”

“Oh, this loser?” Harry replied in the same tone as Peter a few moments ago. “Nah, he’s whatever.”

You and Harry had known each other since middle school and spent your freshman year of High school together at Horizon High before you transferred to Midtown Tech your sophomore year. Peter remembered when you told him that you transferred because you didn’t want to go to a genius school when you just wanted to have a normal high school experience. You also couldn’t stand how stuck up a lot of the students were there. He was always thankful that you transferred otherwise your relationship would probably have been very different. 

You hummed in amusement and Peter blushed. He was definitely about the be the ass of the joke here. 

Peter cleared his throat and swallowed hard as Miles joined in by putting his arm around Gwen with a teasing smile on his face. He had a very different vision of how he thought this moment would go. 

“(Y/N),” Peter started before any of the others could attempt anything. “This is Gwen, Miles and…well you already know Harry. Guys, this is (Y/N).”

“Hello, (Y/N),” Gwen chimed. “It’s nice to meet the girl that has Peter so enamored.”

“Th-that’s a bit-”

“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you,” Miles also smiled. “He talks about you like nonstop, always daydreaming in class. Good thing he’s a genius or he would have been falling behind in class with how much he’s a million miles away.”

No not you too, Miles.

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Harry added. “He even doodles your name in his notebook when he should be taking notes. It’s kind of adorable.”

Peter pulled out of his rather annoying friend's grip and looked at them with a face of disbelief and shock. 

“Guys!” He whisper-yelled.

“Uh oh, we’re in trouble,” Harry sang as Gwen and Miles snickered. 

Peter wanted to run. He wanted to escape. He wanted to not be here at this very moment. He glanced at you to see you looking at him with an endearing smile. 

“Aw, you like me, Parker?” you asked.

“No,” he answered as a reflex. “I mean yes, but…I mean…I…”

Harry pat his back. “That’s our cue, guys.”

Gwen and Miles nodded and said little goodbyes before scurrying away with Harry and snickering at their antics to tease Peter to no end. He glanced at them as they left before turning back to you with a blush dancing across his cheeks, nose, and ears. 

“They seem nice,” you smile genuinely. 

“When they want to be,” Peter responded and rubbed the back of his neck embarrassed. “Sorry about them.”

“Nah, it’s fine really.” you chuckled. “They remind me of my friends.”

Peter smiled thinking about Celina, Ned, and MJ and sighed softly at how much he missed them. He loved his friends now but nothing compared to the history he had with all of you. 

“Are you busy?” You asked. “I promise I won’t corner and interrogate you again.”

“I have time,” Peter responded a little too eagerly for his liking. He mentally scolded himself.

“Great,” You smiled and shoved your hands into the pockets of your jacket. “Wanna go for a ride?”

“Sure!” There goes that high-pitched voice again, he noted.

You giggled as you opened the car door. “You’re cute, Parker.” 

Peter blushed and made his way to the other side of the car. He’s pretty sure if you knew how he was last weekend at a party you wouldn’t find it so cute. He was thankful that his friends didn’t bring that up. He didn’t even wanna think about how humiliating that would’ve been if you knew he had a meltdown because his senses were crazy and craving you so badly. He just missed you so much and reacted in a not-so-healthy way. He wanted to put that all behind him and follow his friend’s advice about starting over with you. He got into the car and put his seatbelt on. 

“Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Where do you wanna go?” You asked as you put your phone on a dock that was connected to the dashboard. “It’s on me.”

“No, it’s okay! “I-I can pay for myself, it's fine.”

“Consider it an apology for disrupting your day last week.” you grinned as you turned the car on.

“You could never disrupt my day,” Peter mumbled, not realizing that he didn't keep that thought in his head.

“You're sweet,” you smiled in response. “But I’m still paying. So where do you wanna go?”

Peter smiled knowing how stubborn you can be and looked up in thought for a moment. “I can go for a good sandwich right now,”

“Okay,” You nodded. “I know a place.”

You backed the car out of the parking space and drove off. Peter took the time to notice how customized your car was on the inside with various Stark Tech and a fiery red interior and yet the exterior was of a classic sixties Mustang. Peter figured it was your way of being discrete. 

You turned on the music in the car and to Peter’s surprise, it started playing a song that pulled at his heartstrings. 

It’s our love song.

One of the ways you and Peter communicated your feelings to each other in your relationship was through music. He sent this very song when he first said those famous three words and eight letters to you and gave you the necklace that he still keeps close to him. He decided that when you two got closer, he would give the necklace back to you. 

“Oh my god,” you smiled big. “I love this song.” You started singing the lyrics and glanced over at Peter a few times as you sang the first verse. 

Hey, hey, hey, lover

You don't have to be a star

Hey, hey, hey, lover 

I love you just the way you are

For love is just the same

Without fortune or fame

Just give me

True love and understanding

True love and understanding

Peter watched you and smiled as tears brimmed his eyes behind his shaded stark specs. He was so thankful that they automatically shaded themselves earlier. 

“Come on, Parker,” you giggled. “I know you know this song. Sing with me!”

Peter laughs and wipes his eyes as he begins to sing. 

Hey, hey, hey, lover

You don't have to be a queen

Hey, hey, hey, lover

You don't have to have a thing

For I'll be satisfied

Long as you are my bride

Just give me

True love and understanding

True love and understanding

For the rest of my days

You smile listening to him sing before join in to sing the rest of the chorus together. 

No, you shouldn't have to worry

Love's no problem in my hands

Just know I really, really, love you

And in your heart, I'd be a big man

Hey, lover, won't you treat me right

And be with me tonight?

Just give me

True love and understanding

True love and understanding

For the rest of my days

You both laughed as the song continued to play. Peter looked down at his hands contemplating his next words carefully.

“I…uh…showed you this song,” he said sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. 

“Did you?” you asked. “So I have you to thank for this being in my playlist. Well, you have good taste in music.”

Peter smiled as you hummed the rest of the song to yourself. In this moment, he was truly the happiest he has been in a while and couldn’t wait to create new memories with you. Even if you couldn’t remember the history you had together, at least you were back in his life to create new beginnings.

~

Tags:

@chrisevans-realwife @riordanness @peterdarlingg @thecrystalclarity @brckenmemories @paleprincesssxo @blackcanary130

[lovelytayforce]

THANK YOU for the Oogway defense!!! Villains are fun, especially sympathetic ones, but acting like they’re some poor misunderstood sadbois ironically just takes the fun away from them. It’s really people not wanting to admit they like villains, which is ironic because they claim otherwise. The need for stans to villainize benevolent figures that correctly called out their faves as immaturely evil just comes across as insecure.

Np, I tend to be the dude always saying what needs to be said. I think villain stans here in kfp just want their hcs to be true so badly which is where the insecurity comes from, I can't tell you how many times Tai fans I've spoken to outright forget his animosty toward others and his own damn Father who we watched him do the following; - Throw him against a STONE COLLUMN - Punched him through the roof - Asked him to commit fraud regardless of Oogway's passing - Choked him out and probably would have killed him had Po not arrived. He's just a terrible person and I wasn't shocked Ian (Hia VA) realized that guy was never gonna change, he's like his dad; always thinks he's right but unlike Shifu he never opens his eyes. It's why I love him, he's a loser and an idiot who could be perfect for being a loser like villain no one takes seriously anymore if he was ever revived cause its been years. But everyone wants that Prison Break Tai Lung, overestimating how smart and cool he is, ignoring how he fell apart at the end of the film. So, his fans emulate him in a way, an insecure child who always wants to proclaim they are right and everyone else did them wrong despite the evidence showing otherwise. Which is why they dislike Oogway so much and "distrust" him because he told the truth, there was darkness in Tai lung's heart and he had so much time to change that but never did. And they can't handle the latter part, I mean just look at all the Tai redemption arc fan media we have out here and how many VIEWS they get its wild, No hate cause I read Traces of Spring as purely fan content. It's a funny and sad reality we live in. And don't get me started on the Shen fans, at least the Kai fans are funny and don't make weird art about genocide survivors deaths. But that's a story for another day.

[askgothamshitty]

Hey so when you were a terf, did you watch any like terf youtubers like magdeln burns or content creators outside of tumblr or was tumblr the only space you interacted with terfy content? If so how has deradicalizing change your perspective about those creators and their perspectives?

I was a TERF from ~2013-2014 and I don’t remember many TERF content creators existing at that time. I think Arielle Scarcella was around but this was when she was just talking about lesbian stuff and not yet leaning into the gender critical stuff. So I was getting all my ideas from other tumblr users.

At the time I thought these women were really interesting because they were saying things I had never heard before as someone who was, up until that point, a libfem. They weren’t afraid of critiquing sex or porn or prostitution. Because of this I was very open to hearing their position on trans people. I thought, if they’re right about those other things, they must also be right about this. I saw the hate they got from the mainstream LGBTQ community as dismissible because these women were the “real radicals” who were simply speaking the truth and making people uncomfortable. (Looking back this is a lot similar to how Trump supporters defend Trump lol).

I ended up leaving the community and renouncing TERFism because of two realizations. The first developed slowly, which was that this community never talked about anything else besides trans women. Not Palestine, not Black Lives Matter (both big issues at the time), nothing. Day in and day out, all these people talked about was how terrible trans women were. So I started to question why that was, if these were “the true radicals” as they said.

The second realization was quick and basically shattered the illusion overnight. In December of 2014 a young trans girl on tumblr Leelah Alcorn took her life and posted her suicide note here. It circulated and got a lot of traction, and the whole site was in mourning. Well everyone except for the TERFs. They thought it was disgusting that people were grieving a “male oppressor” and insisted that the most feminist thing to do was to not care at all, or even be glad. This was a 15/16 year old girl! She talked about her parents forcing her into conversion therapy! I was disgusted. I couldn’t believe this was the group of “feminists” I had associated with. I knew I had made the wrong choice listening to them. I unfollowed them all, deleted my radfem sideblog, and stopped calling myself a radfem/GC.

Now I see the TERFs for what they are: hateful bigots who use the veneer of feminism to look progressive. They’re no different from your average conservative in how prejudiced they are. They may hold correct views on some feminist issues but when it comes to gender/sex they have it completely wrong. They use lies and misdirection and misinformation to lure young, ignorant feminists into their community.

I try to interact with them as little as possible. As soon as I come across one, I block them. Even just going back and forth with them on Twitter is exhausting. It’s like talking to a MAGA loser.

[thetriggeredhappy]

Was wondering, over here -- what's your favorite type of Scout characterization(s)? I've been in this fandom for almost a decade, and (imo) everyone's got a slightly different spin on him, ranging from "category 5 annoyance, cartoonishly egocentric" to "earnest but afflicted with Early 20s Brain" to anything anywhere in between or beyond that. Got any specific hallmarks you're fond of? Stuff you tend to disregard?

hrmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

alright so naturally i’m always the type to drift towards characters who, even as you’re reading them, you can kinda see the lenticular way they can be interpreted. you can tell by the author’s tone how the character interprets themselves, and how they’re interpreted by the viewer, and how they’re interpreted by whoever they’re talking to—three-dimensional, in shortform. with grey areas. sort of taking them outside of their trope and giving them the leeway of, at times, even assuming that the media itself is biased regarding them.

which is how i approach tf2, as well—the medium they exist in is, by virtue of being an absurdist comedy, an unreliable narrator.

so when you posit the stances “scout is like if gaston was wicked annoying and 150 pounds max but didn’t notice” vs “earnest, flawed early 20s dude without a ton of perspective on his life”, as if they’re two ends of the spectrum, my answer is, they don’t have to be.

i’m not a huge stickler on interpretations of characters, to be honest, but i do have a few icks with some interpretations of scout. any interpretation that implies he’s one of those dudes who says things for shock value or for a reaction really irritate me, mostly because there’s nothing in the text of canon that would even remotely imply that. scout wouldn’t say some weird shit about a girl going to make him a sandwich or whatever, he’d draw a picture of spy getting hit by a car and then hand it to spy because they don’t get along. giving scout these weird greasy traits just because at a glance you might characterize him that way in the netflix live-action remake, it just comes across as like. like maybe you don’t know what you’re talking about actually. like, the cheapest easiest possible characterization. the wish dot com characterization.

and i know it might seem a little bit like the pot and kettle on this one since i do take such heavy liberties with the characters, but here’s the thing—my argument isn’t that changing the characters in your fanwork is Bad. that’s all fanwork. that’s all interpretation. my argument is that making tf2 characters weirdly bigoted and filling in weird shock value stuff for no reason is fuckin’ lazy.

it’s much harder, and much more vulnerable, and takes way more time and effort, to try to write these characters with good jokes, or with human personalities, or with actual motivations and thought into their behavior, etc etc. and going “scout says [insert alphabetical list of homophobic slurs], because it’s the 70s lol they hate gay ppl” just tells me you’re not capable of writing well.

that’s not to say i even want scout to necessarily be a good person. i think it’s actually kind of funny that he decided to like, learn manners and etiquette and put on a prom for miss pauling, because having a dude who kills people for money do some cute shit like that is weirdly sweet, in a roundabout way. i think the canon of the text would imply that scout tf2 is kind of a sweet dude. but like, y’know. obviously nobody on the team is mentally or emotionally well. mentally and emotionally sound people don’t die and murder for money. writing scout as particularly egocentric, overly concerned with his own life (either in an anxious way or a narcissistic way), loud mouthed, temperamental, a sore loser, unsportsmanlike, those are all takes i’ve seen that have been really interesting spins of his character.

my favorite traits in him are probably things like him being a hugely impulsive talker, way exaggerative of positive emotions (like whenever he or someone else does some cool shit), maybe a little overdramatic and whiny about the small things, him being dude who will see his friend punch someone across the bar and will sprint over to punch them too, a real ride-or-die guy, kinda stubborn. maybe a little catty sometimes, earnest in a weirdly brave sort of way, clumsy or bad luck or both. dude with a weirdly nonexistent sense of shame or embarrassment except about, like, if he finds out he was wearing his shirt backwards when talking to Miss Pauling or something silly like that. and not even necessarily all of these at once! i just like these characterizations in general, and scout tends to get these ones.

this went on longer than i meant it to, sorry. anyways. scout teamfortress my beloathed

[aww-canon-no]

Let The Children Boogie

Hello.  I’m posting my WIP chapters on here from my Ao3.  Sorry to dash flood.

Let The Children Boogie

Prologue/?

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Side ship- Robin/Nancy

Future fic, post canon, fix it everyone (almost) lives, trauma recovery, HoH Eddie, Steve Harrington’s bisexual awakening

on Ao3

Summary: 

A first apartment: Six people, four bedrooms, 533 miles from where the world tried to end.

And they're ready for the rest of what life is supposed to be.

*** 

It starts with a wad of cash, a key…

And a question. There’s a guy mowing a lawn about ten feet away so Eddie has to squint and read Steve’s lips when he asks:

“How would you feel about getting the fuck out of Hawkins?”

Eddie stares at Steve—at his perfect hair and his smile that’s a little more crooked than it used to be, and the dumbass polo shirt that looks so right and so wrong all at the same time. He looks like listens to Donnie and Marie—and honestly Eddie wouldn’t be surprised if he dug around Steve’s room and found a few old albums.

He thinks about the question and then he laughs.

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted. Why are you here tormenting me?”

Eddie’s dreamt of getting the hell out long before he was the serial killing freak who was exonerated, but everyone still kind of hates even though they know all about the curse, and the monsters, and…everything.

Eddie’s wanted to escape since he was twelve and his dad beat the absolute fuck—and hearing—out of him after finding a magazine under his bed that didn’t have naked girls inside. No. It had…others.

And Eddie had no excuses.

He was knocked unconscious and woke up in the hospital with bleeding ears and a doctor writing him a note saying that he was going to live with his uncle and his hearing would return in a few weeks, after the swelling went down. He’d stop being so dizzy all the time, the doctor assured him.

It didn’t happen that way at all, and that was the first time Eddie realized curses were real.

He got by. He made do. He sucked at lipreading so he just let everyone believe he was a useless loser kid who didn’t want to pay attention. He scraped by on pity Cs until high school when his teachers suddenly all decided they wanted to make an example out of him.

Two years and a bunch of murders and he was finally—finally—done.

He was pretty sure that last D was also pity, but at least for that one, he was able to say he helped saved the world.

“Where are we going?” Eddie asks when Steve doesn’t answer his first question, because yeah, it’s a dumbass one. Steve isn’t there to torture him. Steve is the one who holds him together on nights Eddie’s a billion percent sure he’s about to fall apart.

“I got us an apartment in Atlanta,” Steve says, leaning in close. He’s never asked Eddie if he’s deaf but he’s pretty sure Steve figured it out a long time ago.

For a moment, Eddie thinks maybe some cosmic asshole’s playing a trick on him. Steve wants to live with him?

The freak? The weirdo? The mess?

Steve looks like he hasn’t been sleeping well, though. None of them really look okay. It’s been four years and Eddie’s working part time down at Matt’s garage and it’s… not really working out. He has a permanent tremble in his left hand that makes it hard to tighten bolts and shit, and he jumps at every sudden movement.

The kids have all graduated now. Erica’s running Hellfire, and Corroded Coffin broke up when everyone else’s parents moved them across the country and away from Hawkins. Not that Eddie blames them.

He just…misses them.

He swallows heavily. “Steve.” It’s more like a plea than a question.

Steve takes one step higher onto the trailer porch and meet his gaze. “Please don’t make me do this alone.”

As though Eddie has ever—will ever—tell him no.

***

The first time Eddie puts his key into the lock and turns it, he can’t hear it. It’s too faint. But he feels it through his fingertips, a sort of rushing vibration that pools around his elbow and makes his fingers all jumpy. He opens the door and he’s met with the sight of Dustin passed out on a shitty, black vinyl bean bag and Steve unpacking kitchen boxes because of course he’s in the kitchen.

Nancy’s hanging ferns by the window and Eddie’s pretty sure they’re not fake. Robin’s trying to tackle a bookshelf that’s disassembled and looks like it’s partly made out of LEGO.

Max is in the far corner with her back propped up against the wall, headphones on, a fat binder-looking thing on her lap. Eddie knows it. It’s braille. She took her lot in life like a goddamn champ. Better than Eddie ever did.

Steve looks up at him and smiles and jerks his head to the side like he’s beckoning him over. Eddie’s forgotten that he’s holding bags full of sandwiches from a deli down the street, and he tosses them on the counter before walking to the boom box with two tape decks and a CD player that Steve’s parents were going to throw away when they were packing up their house.

They don’t actually have any CDs, but Eddie’s got enough tapes to last them a lifetime.

There’s tiny specks of puffy paint on some of the controls which Eddie knows is Robin’s doing. It lets Max use the thing without having to ask for help.

He feels a weird pulse in the center of his chest as he glances around at the piles and piles of unpacked boxes, then down the hall to the four bedrooms that are waiting to be claimed.

He rummages around and finds Fleetwood Mac, jams the tape in, then turns the volume all the way down before he hits play. He catches Steve’s eye as he surreptitiously puts his fingers over the speaker, then begins to turn the knob up until Steve nods.

Pressing his hand to the counter, he feels the beat in his fingers. It’s not as powerful as he wants it to be, but it’s enough for that moment.

“What’s next?” he asks.

Steve shrugs, then walks around the counter and snags him by the belt loop and tugs until they’re tumbling down the hall and into the furthest bedroom. The largest one. There’s a full sized bed in one corner and a futon in the other, and the dresser Steve took from his parents’ place.

“Robin and Nancy said we can have it,” Steve tells him near his right ear which is the one that has the most hearing. It’s not a lot. It kind of reminds him of listening underwater in the community pool when he was a kid. But it’s something, especially when Steve is standing close and the place is just…

Quiet.

Eddie looks around. Like, properly looks around. Above the bed is Steve’s bat hanging on a bunch of nails.

Below that is an oar.

He’s laughing before he can stop himself, and Steve tackles him to the bed. “Shut the fuck up!”

But he can’t. He physically can’t. He realizes he’s far away from everything that ever made him miserable with the only people that ever really made him happy apart from Gareth, Jeff, and Trey who are…you know. Long gone.

His grin hurts his face as he rolls onto his side, kicking Steve off him but not letting him get far. “Does that shit mean you got dibs on the bed?”

Steve shrugs and props up on his elbow, staring at Eddie for so long, it starts to make him feel all squirmy inside. Steve opens his mouth, then closes it again.

Eddie doesn’t know if he’s saying something and he absently tugs on his ear. Steve reaches for him and pulls his hand away. “There’s room for your guitar.”

It’s a new one. The one he saved the world with—his baby—is long-gone. It got swallowed up when shit hit the town, and a lot of things came back when they sealed the upside down for good…but not that.

Everyone—his own little personal band of freaks—saved up and got him a replica three Christmases ago. Every time he looks at it, his heart beats a little faster. It’s currently sitting in his car, cradled between several blankets in the back seat.

“I’m gonna need a job,” he says, well aware he and Steve are both avoiding each other’s questions and statements.

Steve sighs. “Yeah. We’re all gonna need jobs.”

Eddie flops onto his back and covers his face with one hand. The other one lies between them and it’s not long before Steve takes it. Eddie has never known how to tell Steve how much he appreciates being touched because he spent so damn many years with people avoiding contact with him.

And it wasn’t like he was shy about what he needed. He was always throwing his arms around people and bashing his body into them and they just laughed and pushed him off and gave him space. Like he’d asked for it or something.

But Steve has never…not really. Not since the very beginning.

His palm is warm against Eddie’s, and Steve grips him not too tight, not too loose, and he doesn't flinch when Eddie’s fingers begin to tremble.

“I don’t want to work on cars anymore.” He hasn’t heard his voice properly since he was a kid, but it feels kind of thick in the back of his throat with emotion he doesn’t really want to think about.

“This is our beginning, Munson,” Steve tells him. He moves his thumb so it’s pressing to the inside of Eddie’s wrist, and he pushes. Hard. It makes his fingers twitch for a whole different reason than injury and trauma. “We can do whatever we want.”

Eddie breathes out and lets Steve go so he can stretch his arms all the way above his head. He lays the tips of all five fingers against the wall and pretends like he can push his way through it. “I can’t hear shit.”

“I know.”

Eddie turns his head to look at him. “I want to be a musician.”

Steve smiles. “I know.”

He can’t make money doing that, but maybe he can…do something with it? He hasn’t explored the city yet, but it’s bigger than Hawkins with just…so much. There’s so much more outside the walls of their little apartment. Maybe there's room for him and his shitty, strange little dreams somewhere.

“This is our beginning,” Steve repeats.

Eddie hums and drops his arms and lets himself just feel the sensation of Steve lying close.

[sunnytastic]

I’m very very new to the always sunny fandom and I stumbled across a post of yours about macdennis and your prefaced it with saying rob is a loser and people in the tags were agreeing/saying they’re a rob hater and hate to give him praise/credit. My question is, why does everyone hate rob? Is it because of the offensiveness of the show or something else? When I say new I mean like this week new so I really don’t know anything about the actors/creators. Thank you very much for any information you can give me, it’s greatly appreciated. ❤️

omg hi!!! welcome! sunnyblr is by far the best fandom i ever been a part of. i hope you have as much fun as i do.

something very unique about sunny is how integral the creators are to the lifeblood of the show. rob, charlie, and glenn (rcg) are not simply it's creators, they are the show themselves. sunny was born out of rcg's desire to give themselves the opportunities they wish they were being offered. before sunny, none of them had any major roles or been a part of a hit production. and so they a created a show, written by them, starring them with themselves being the target audience. and it has turned into the longest running live-action sitcom on television, with one of the most passionate and involved fanbases (i can not stand the sunny sub reddit but no one can deny their love for the show).

beyond rcg themselves, sunny is an important part of the lives of their closest family and friends. rob met kaitlin olson, the actress who plays dee, on the show and they are married now. charlie's wife, mary elizabeth ellis, plays the waitress, and jimmi simpson, his old roommate, plays liam mcpoyle. david hornsby, one of the funniest people alive and the actor who plays rickety cricket, was very close friends with rob, glenn, and charlie long before the show started and is also one of the head writers for the show.

also, and, this isn't quite relevant to the rest of this response, but if you do continue down the sunny rabbit hole, you will find that six names repeatedly pop up in terms of episode writers: rob mcelhenny, charlie day, glenn howerton, david hornsby, scott marder, and rob rosell. you will also notice that during seasons 13 & 14, arguably sunny's weakest seasons, glenn howerton, scott marder, and rob rosell were absent from the writer's room, which really speaks to how enmeshed sunny and it's writers are.

ok so here is the thing about rob... i've written about this before but rob is both overwhelmingly confident and deeply insecure, which are two sides of the same coin. funny enough, i think rob would be the first person to agree with me on this statement. he's said many times that he knows he walks around with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove. most times, this attitude works in his favor. he is passionate, determined, and persistent, and every person in his life will speak to how great of a leader and friend he is.

but sometimes, I find it very easy to get frustrated with rob because he will say something and I will be hit with how much he has become the hollywood he was originally very critical about. with charlie and glenn, there is less of the feeling that hollywood "got" them. he is also the most defensive about sunny's use of blackface (& other racial caricatures), a decision I already vehemently dislike made worse by rob's attitude of "whoops, just a little mistake we made."

but then again, he has given one of the most nuanced and heartbreakingly real portrayals of a gay man in television, while also still being very funny in the process. in another of his shows, mythic quest, the only romantic pairing in the entire show is a lesbian couple, who get together very early on and avoid the stereotypical catty behavior seen in most tv lesbian couples.

so my feelings on rob are very mixed. on one hand, i am in awe of his creative talent & artistic direction and grateful for his fight for better queer representation. on the other, he can be so irritating i find myself wanting to bang my head against the table.

i hope this answer is helpful! if you have any more questions, any sunny blog and I would be happy to answer them. if you are looking to learn more about the show, i highly recommend listening to the always sunny podcast. rob, charlie, and glenn talk about the show episode by episode, often bringing in other cast members to join them. while they don't always stay on topic, you will definitely see how much this show means to them and how much of their personalities are reflected in the characters.

[the-firebird69]

Daniel Powter - Bad Day (Official Music Video) [HD]

This guy is a huge ****. He thinks that I'm on his side i'm helping him and every time I tell him you're sitting here screwing around with me all the time threatening me you're **** done the guy can't remember it for any price. Regardless his video means that he's in Japan and she's not and you see that he's right across the street meaning that the max are taking the nukes and they're going to blow them up and a lot of times the **** makes this stupid video like this to dock and saying he lost everything and all that **** and he still is doing that because he's A He's a moron okay this guy is a huge **** he doesn't understand two people can't kill you take you away dismember you and burn you it's all it takes and there's more than two people near you that want to do that too you trump you **** fool so it takes a lot of effort to go after nukes but not that much. They found their devices and they delivered your **** to your cities probably your **** spaceships and your **** bunkers and Tommy F knew about it and I knew about it and we both told you already so I don't see how you could have just suddenly know you're having a bad day. But I do get it you have to have this bunny rabbit in the dog race for you to run after it 'cause you're so steaming stupid you can't even remember what I was saying tommy F is going to get your guys at the pyramids to get the information to take your stuff and he needs to get the **** outta here he really does and you guys are resting in peace just waiting all bent over and they need somebody to fight the max and he's going after it so he had a bad day probably thinking something stupid like you already took the information in your stupid robots are doing it when you can see a robot's leaving in trucks broken in pieces they're not wasting their time 'cause they're crappy I'm sick and tired of explaining that you should leave 'cause you're a **** loser I'm tired of people not doing their job and getting out of here so we're gonna make sure and I'm talking about this so we're gonna make sure and I'm talking about this idiotic realm we're gonna make sure that we use you up what you doing out there is so stupid we have our share of nukes we have your name on it I'm sure you understand a few 100 feet with many of these nukes is not with many of these nukes is not gonna protect you in your **** cities and at some point you can be sitting right on top of one and will threaten the crap out of you until you're all done

Zues Hera

They went ahead and put an APB on me and so what they have had them on you for years for bothering me and none of it matters until you get popped in the head and you will. I certainly understand something i'm running around bothering everyone and they're going after me I understand something else I'm trying to translate the pressure and stuff and he says you have or my army is growing we're going to take over everything go on. Well I'm funny pyramids and said that's great the pyramids are all over the place they've been there for a while people know about them you say you've drained your people of information and that you changed the information so now Tommy F is going to go after you

and thaat was trump and our son and he knows th biz and trump keeps blitehrig and feels better after our son nails it and trump wont stop. is an igrate spoiled idiot and really he is obtuse as hell. tons hear it ok and it is on the radio.  tons.

Thor Freya

Olympus

[benis-chillin]

My Sonic eras(updated)plus canonicity system.

So it’s been a minute since I updated my Sonic eras(which are based in canon rather than arbitrary opinions, like most fan era systems operate in this franchise), so I figured I’d give them a quick touch-up, and explain what systems I use to determine canonicity. Those being:

Objective canon(what happens on screen)

Fair extrapolation(looking at the tiny details to make assumptions, but not outright headcanons)

Behind the scenes info(What the current people at Sega say)

Headcanon(we make shit up with no basis beyond personal opinion)

So, let’s go into detail on what each of these mean.

1)Objective Canon

Basically, if you saw it on-screen in a canon work,  this is irrefutable canon. However, there are some caveats to this, and one of those is that this section doesn’t dictate what works are and are not canon, since those are often decided by outside factors that we’ll explain in a moment. Another is that we usually try to judge a work by its original language. Some works in mainline Sonic canon are written first in Japanese, and others are written in English first. The metric you can use for that is by studying dialogue. If the main differences between English and Japanese are the typical tells of English localization(I.e. Stuff like Shahra’s “Did I change my destiny?” in the English dub of Secret Rings, when in context, this was about her altering more than just HER fate), then it was likely written in Japanese first. However, if the Japanese version has WILDLY different dialogue in the Japanese version(Colors, Lost World, Frontiers, etc), then English came first.

Now, if you still like the other dubs for casual playing, that’s cool. I enjoy some games written in Japanese first with the English voices(and vice versa), but when it comes to this type of analysis, you need to get as close to the original as possible.

If you need a resource for checking into these translations, Windii Gaylord on YouTube is a good one to use. She also came up with the above metric for figuring out which language came first via one of her tweets, btw.

2)Fair extrapolation

So this one is a little tricky, but I think I can get my point across.

One frequent complaint about Sonic canon is that it “makes no sense,” or “contradicts itself” in many instances. Heck, even people up to Ian Flynn would make this argument.

And they’re wrong. 

Beyond a few instances in the Classic era, Sonic canon only doesn’t make sense if you either don’t pay enough attention to it, have multi-media brain rot from Archie and shit, or make up the contradictions in your head. The Sonic fanbase is wont to do that last one a lot, with “All of Classic Sonic was put into another dimension by Forces!” or “Unleashed/Frontiers contradicts the Chaos Emerald lore established in Adventure/Unleashed!” 

This type of thinking comes along when you SEEK contradictions, and it’s a loser way of going about these things. Fair extrapolation goes entirely against this idea. Instead of looking for contradictions, let’s instead assume that everything connects perfectly, you just need to find out HOW, without going on any crazy leaps.

For example, in Forces, Classic Sonic is established as coming from another dimension/world, despite coming from the past in Generations, and other games have shown the pre-1998 games to have taken place in the mainline universe.

A loser would scream, “Contradiction!” and rob everyone else of a cool idea, but fair extrapolation tells us that his previous encounter with the current timeline put this version of Sonic into his own dimension/world, and since that story involved time travel, we can assume this means timeline. Ergo, split timeline.

Or, in another case, the Chaos Emeralds are ancient gems with a lot of power. If a battery still has power, I can still use it in more than one device if I choose to move it, yes?

So, logically, the Chaos Emeralds can power the Ancients’ ships in Frontiers, get placed in the guardianship of Chaos in Adventure, and have been used for the Temple Megazord in Unleashed at different points in the long history of Sonic’s Earth.

Ergo, these games do not contradict each other.

If connecting the dots doesn’t require you to outright make up details, then it’s fair extrapolation, and thus not a headcanon. I’ll explain what that is in a moment, but first,

3) Behind the scenes information

Alright, this section requires some harsh truths, so I’m gonna just rip off the band-aid:

Creators are far less reliable than the on-screen canon.

They may try to claim otherwise, but as far as I’ve observed, their knowledge on details can be fuzzy and swayed by a corporation who has even LESS of an idea of what they’re talking about. It’s okay to pick their brains a bit to use as feelers for canon, but they can and sometimes do contradict what’s actually on-screen, so for MY money, they’re tertiary canon that can easily be ignored.

Death of the author is inherent to any long-running continuity, unfortunately. We just have to accept that.

4)Headcanon

This receives very limited use. It’s mainly deciding what your personal order of events is, what explanation you prefer from fair extrapolation on the rare occasion you can get more than one, and other details you may need to fill the gaps with. It is the most objectionable form of canon, thus why it is at the bottom of the list. Also, every time you cite it, you MUST say something to the effect of, “My headcanon is…” Don’t try to push it as fact, because you know it isn’t.

So, with that all established, let’s get our eras established.

1)Classic Era

1991-1997, 1999, 2023

Both the hardest and simplest to explain. Every game from 1991-1997 is in here, so pre-Adventure.  Sadly, the manuals for Sonic 1-3&K, and CD have been retconned by Sonic Origins(I don’t like this retcon, but as it was done through proper channels, I have to accept it by my standards), but the others remain fair game for now.

Pocket Adventure remains as the end of this era, personal headcanon keeping it in the loop because I doubt Sega is gonna make a work that replaces it, so there’s nothing in the work itself to make decanonizing it necessary.

And yeah, you may have noticed that 2023. Yeah, I’m putting Superstars in the main timeline. This may change in the future, but for now, I am eschewing the “takes place between Mania and Adventure” stuff from the creators to cause less contradictions, unlike Sega who seem to be wallowing in causing a contradiction with the “Mania in the main universe” bullshit. Objectively, from the official material, Mania is from an alternate timeline, and any instances of Mania elements appearing in the main universe are continuity errors out of universe, but can be explained in-universe as non-specific objects and locations that exist in both timelines.

I would prefer that Superstars be a split timeline game, personally, but we’re not allowed good things. If Trip ever appears in a comic with the Hardboiled Heavies, then she just exists in both timelines as a pre-Generations thing. No muss, no fuss.

2)Adventure Era

1998-2006,  2010,  2012

Works relatively the same as before, so I will copy and paste. 

Not named after the Adventure games, but rather after Pocket Adventure, which is our transition into it. This era encompasses everything released from 1998-2006, save for Pocket Adventure, Rivals, Riders, and Rush, the latter 3 being folded into the following era. Sonic 4 Episodes 1, 2, and Metal are also part of the Adventure era as their earliest canonical instances. What ends this era is the reset created at the end of 06, which reboots Silver to his new Rivals origin, and either reboots Blaze to be from the Sol Dimension now, or simply makes it so she never traveled from the Sol Dimension to Silver's future(my preferred theory). Since this is a shift in the timeline caused by canonical events, it transitions us into our next era…

3)Post-Solaris Era

2006-2011

Silver and Blaze receive their reboots in the form of Rush and Rivals, and Riders starts up. Covers every game from 2005-2011 that isn't Shadow the Hedgehog, Sonic the Hedgehog(2006), Sonic the Hedgehog 4 Episode 1, and Sonic Chronicles, since that game is explicitly in the not-canon zone, and will probably never get out of it. The cause of our next era shift will be explained shortly.

4) Post-Time Eater era

2013-present(?)

Caused by the events of Generations splitting the timeline so that one version of Sonic grew up to be the Modern counterpart, and one is having considerably different adventures like Mania and the IDW anniversary comics, this new timeline SEEMS to be our current era, with all post-2011 games, save for Sonic 4 Episode 2  being in it...Hypothetically. And, for the first time, non-game media like the IDW comics and Prime are in it, so that's neat!

(Btw, if you wanna bitch and moan about Prime being canon, I discussed it here)

However, I should note that as all of these eras are formed in retrospect, we will not properly know when we have left this era until WELL after we have exited it. 

I see two possibilities for our next era shift:

1) Another timeline shift that properly addresses the timeline split, and uses that to smooth over some of the extra contradictions leaving post-Gens Classic Sonic in the main timeline would bring. I have the story ready in my head if you want it, Sega.

2) The revelations of Frontiers go somewhere further in the future, bringing us into a “Discovery” era, and making our years for this period 2011-2022, 2022-2024(these are for Prime), and starting this new era with Sonic Frontiers, Murder of Sonic, and Sonic Dream Team, along with whatever IDW comics follow the events of Frontiers.

(a small mock-up)

So that’s my canon system as it stands as of March 2024. Feel free to discuss, and even borrow elements for your own systems, or just to use it outright. I just felt that having this all typed out in one spot was a good idea. See ya, suckers!

READ MY DUMBASS FANFICTION!

[leia-doodles]

Thank you for not thinking I’m a G1 purist 😭, I’m a huge fan of the franchise as a whole and there are things I like about G3, but it missed the mark for me 1000%

And yes honestly you’re right about G3 torelai x clawdeen orz, I’m trying to give the Toradeen fans something lmao. But G3 torelai also just fits into my distaste of enemies to lovers, because like you said she is racist 😭😭😭😭 and idk how or why clawdeen came to trust her at all omg. I get it, she did one selfless act and now you see the good in her, they had to write her out of being a jerk somehow. But it’s just no fun. Torelai this season is more akin to G1 Cleo, she’s vain and bossy and wants to be respected. But G1 cleo wasn’t mean to EVERYONE, she had her ride or die ghoulia, she loved deuce, and she’s like normal vain teenage girl mean, not “ew you dirty human”.

And I didn’t even think of the Twyla stereotyping. Critiquing autism and autistic characters is so hard because it is a spectrum, and not one character is going to represent all. But it becomes a little iffy when it’s supposed to be a spectrum but a lot of characters share similar traits/ stereotypes. I feel like the big 3 in autism traits most characters have are -bad eye contact, needs noise canceling head phones, one special interest(typically in something academic like reading or learning the history of a specific animal. Also the special interest will conveniently line up with said characters job). I don’t think any of these things are inherently bad or wrong or ableist, but i would like to see something new. I head canon G3 Frankie to be autistic. I know it’s because they’re new, so they take everything very literal, but that’s something I see more often with my own friends on the spectrum over them needing noise canceling headphones idk. Also where’s the food sensory issues or clothing sensory issues?

(It didn’t even register to me that they were eating the whole dang tamale omg 😭😭 that’s so unserious)

And the whole talismans thing in general will definitely get a whole rant because they seem so important yet they are scattered across all of monster high. Why wasn’t anyone looking for Selena wolf when she disappeared? No one thought to gather the tailsmen? How new are some of these tailsmen and where do they come from? Like if gorgons weren’t allowed at MH until dueces mom, how is there a talisman? What about a zombie tailsmen? If they hate humans, shouldn’t Frankie feel some kind of way because they’re the child of victor frankenstine? A human??? Lagoonas thirst for human blood is just not fun lmao. It seems like the only way they could think to make her “scary”. And on clawdeens parents…is the mom not going to get any flack for marrying a human?? I think catarina hated it but like no one else even cared 😭😭

Hazbin hotel is a whole different rant 😭. You’re telling me, the DAUGHTER of LUICIFER, is offering a free ticket to heaven, and no one cares?? People aren’t lining up at her door begging to be let in??😭 no one could tell vagatha is an angel? Like you said, no one knew husk was an overlord? No one cared that allistor was back in town?? The angels don’t care when Adam cusses and swears, but when Charlie does it, it’s disrespectful…? So angel dust confides in husk about hating his job after being SAed and husks response is “eh we’re all losers get over it”. Why is Sir Snake Guy in heaven…? Like it makes no sense to me😭😭 that show is a completely different bag of worms. Once again interesting premise but terrible execution

Monster high G3 rant

Watching the TV series and I’m kind of disappointed.

This will be my second watch of season 1, I’m rewatching after the current season 2 episodes.

the show feels very flat in my opinion. They’ve given the characters a lot of cool traits, but they’re used for like one episode and then never brought up, or they only use one specific trait 24/7. Like Frankie in this generation, they have the ability to electrocute, extend their body parts, and they get visions from the people they’re made out of. Specifically they get visions from this one recurring doctor/ scientist. The idea is cool, but the vision literally is there to give exposition about something conveniently. Like when they are trying to solve the puzzle of clawdeens mom, Frankie’s vision just conveniently tells them what to do and how to do it.

In that same episode, we see manny taur. A Minotaur character. And right away we are just told that he’s good at puzzle solving, and so is draculaura! They’re rivals! But this is the first time I’ve ever seen or heard about draculaura being into puzzles, let alone her one sided rivalry with manny. And as the episode ends, she’s like “well you can be the rightful puzzle master” but it feels so flat. There has been no build up to this moment.

Another example is lagoona. In her designated episode, she is rooting for torelai to win the fear-leading captain over draculaura (another thing that has no build up as to why it’s important to her) lagoona explains that torelai is holding a secret over her head, and if it gets out she will lose her status as the fiercest monster in school. But this is the first time we have heard this!! In previous episodes there’s no mention of her being scary or fierce. Or even her super fast swimming skills. It’s just brought up and glosses over with a “be who you are, it’s okay to like what you want! We all have secrets 🥹” but there’s no real character development.

My last example will be the way draculaura is presented in this series. From what she tells us, she has high standards to live up to as a vampire. She needs to look good for her day so she studies endlessly and is striving for perfection. But she also has a love for witchcraft, which is banned in monster high due to its connections to humans. This can be a cute premise, but they NEVER show draculaura compared to any other vampire to show how she’s supposed to act. They never give us episodes where she blows off her friend’s shenanigans because it makes her look bad, and they never really show her dad being so overbearing. They don’t show us WHY humans are hated. And even though witchcraft is banned, whenever anyone finds out about it they’re just cool with it? No push back or anything. The only character to challenge draculaura was torelai.

This all may be very nitpicky, but MH is a character driven franchise. Character relationships with each other and their surroundings are very important to me. I want to feel the so called pressure these characters are being put under. It doesn’t have to be ultra serious 24/7, but issues get resolved within one episode and then rehashed a few episodes later with no further development. Especially with characters like Cleo and lagoona. They have been benched as side characters in this show, and side characters get much worse treatment.

‘The general episode progression is like this - introduce an issue, introduce a high stakes situation that involves the school, have all or one of the main 3 engage in a sequence of fights against this issue(or rapid solving of said issue through convince) - issue is resolved and lesson is told to viewers-characters reset for the next episode.

I know this is a children’s show, but that doesn’t mean it needs to have bad writing, not all kids are high off cocomelon. Kids deserve good writing in their media!

My next rant will be about clawdeen and her story this generation

[bozowrites]

heyy! could u write a insecure camilo one shot/fanfic :)

big leap

camilo x reader : he has insecurities and he's a love struck teenager.

w/c : 1.7k

a/n : i feel like my dialogue doesn't sound like camilo, but here ya go! enjoy :)

masterlist | navigation

camilo couldn’t contain his beaming grin as he spotted y/n on the main floor. they’re minding their business, carrying a basket full of wondrous treats. who for? probably for mirabel. he wishes it were him though. you see, camilo has this crush on y/n. they are shy at first but loud and boastiest once you get to know them.

camilo had yet to break that quiet shell of theirs unfortunately. mirabel though, she did. the two were quite good friends, which is how camilo noticed them and took a liking to them.

he’d hear the two in the halls of la casa mumbling about this and that and all he could think was, “wow, they’re voice is so sweet.”. and now, he finds himself in an unreciprocated love for someone he hardly knows personally. he only knows them from what mirabel says and what he hears and sees between the interactions made from them and others. and the small, very short, talks the two shared, like when they were asking where mirabel was. they hardly ever talked to him otherwise. which was a bummer. he would love to speak to them, though there didn’t seem to be any reason to go and strike up a conversation with them, plus why would they ever talk to some guy like him.

he felt there was no special to him. yeah, he can shapeshift to any person of whom he desires, but that’s all really. his real self was so boring and plain to look at. sometimes, he wished he was someone else, like when he shapeshifts. sometimes, he wished that he was actually that person. like when he changes to be isabela, he feels and looks beautiful or when he changes into his father, he feels handsome and strong.

“casita, am i a loser?” the tiles around the window did a harsh motion of saying no in its own way. camilo looked down at the plates he was putting out for dinner. they were freshly clean and dried, making him see a bit of his silhouette in the reflection. it was blurry beyond recognition and no certain feature of his showed through, but it was enough to make him gulp and look away.

now, normally he had a better handle over his emotions and the feelings of absolute hatred towards his appearance, but it was simply one of those days where things just seemed more worse than they actually were.

“camilo, are you done setting up the table?” isabela turns the corner into the dining room. he nodded and showed off the plates and cups and cutlery he’d put down with a showoff grin. “perfectly of course!” isabela rolled her eyes and called for her mamá to start bringing out the food. as juleita came walking in with plates of food in both her hands, mirabel and y/n came running in behind, both clearly eager for the food. camilo has to turn around to smile bashfully from seeing y/n abruptly.

“camilo, are you coming to sit or what?” mirabel asked with a chuckle. he did so take his spot across from y/n, which he totally did not plan.

“hey, camilo.” y/n greeted and camilo has to do a double take on his hearing. they greeted him first? he usually did the small and simple hellos. again, not much talking was done between the two teenagers, but that didn’t mean he wouldn't say hello at every passing the two had. though it was always him who said the greetings first, not them. that’s progress if you asked him.

“hi, y/n. how,” he cleared his throat. “how are you?”

“um, i’m okay. really hungry though.” they laughed a little. “and you?”

“i’m great!” he smiled brightly to them, hardly containing himself. though they seemed to smile brighter too once meeting his eyes. that did not help the rapid beating of his heart that he wondered if dolores could hear, even if she was over at the guzmán’s place.

everyone started eating and creating their own conversations among themselves. camilo didn’t know who to talk to, usually he’d annoy his sister, but she wasn’t there to annoy. so, he glanced around, trying to think of which topic to join. none seemed interesting, he couldn’t even hear what mirabel and y/n were talking about. “ah, y/n, how is your abuelo doing?”

“he’s doing a lot better, thanks again for the basket of goodies.” y/n answered his abuela’s question. “of course, cariño.” conversations dispersed around the tables again, leaving camilo blank. he couldn’t pull himself together.

“camilo?” he looked up from his food, he’d already eaten most of it. mirabel and y/n were looking at him expectantly. “mirabel? y/n?”

we’re having a sleepover in tonito’s room tonight, you up to join us?” mirabel asked him and by glancing over to y/n, he could tell they were buzzing with excitement, practically jumping in their seat. “i’d love to! i get the feeling this was your idea.” camilo grinned over to y/n. they flushed and looked away with a coy smile. “maybe.”

his insides were burning from his own excitement, seeing as he was finally going to have an excuse to hangout with y/n, and not only so, but they had invited him to the sleepover. albeit, mirabel did the talking. now he had something to look forward to and to rid his mind of his downing thoughts for a few hours. hopefully.

the sleepover in antonio’s room was incredibly fun. his room was amazing on its own and with all the animals, it was easily one of the funnest nights of camilo’s life. he and y/n got more comfortable in each other’s presence. though camilo did stumble over his words on multiple occasions and had to look away a few times because of the blush he knew would be visible on his cheeks and ears.

the four all together made the night loud and fun. played games like hide and seek, which proved to be insanely difficult and they played truth or dare, which was just funny little dares and pranks made on each other.

now they were all asleep. well, all but camilo. as fun as the night was, that looming anxiety was starting to settle back into him. his eyes didn’t seem to shut. rubbing at them, he figured he might as well get up and get a snack. casita seemed to already know what camilo was up to the moment he stepped out of antonio’s room and had a small plate of food waiting for him on the counter of the kitchen. he was so in his head and eating, he didn’t hear the steps of someone coming up behind him.

“camilo?” said boy jumped and shapeshifted only to meet y/n’s stare. they stood now in front of him with a smile. they looked tired, and he thought they were fast asleep. they stared at one another with no words said for a good minute before y/n spoke softly again, “you, um, you’re me.”

he was indeed them. he took his form back with a frown of having to be himself again. he felt pretty in their form. which, of course, he did. y/n was the prettiest thing in the encanto, even the best of isabela’s flowers couldn’t compare. “why are you awake?” camilo finally asked.

“i heard you leaving.” they answered. they weren’t meeting his eyes and despite spending the entire night in his presence, they still seemed nervous to be around him alone. “and…i just wanted to ask if you were okay?”

“what makes you ask that?” camilo is the one to look away this time. “you just seem down and i have this weird feeling.”

“weird feeling?”

“yeah. like a gut feeling. i’m not really sure how to describe it.” they shuffle on their feet, hand rubbing their arm. “y/n?”

“camilo?”

“want some of my arepas?” they smiled at him and took the half he offered to them. standing closer and by his side, camilo could glance at them with a better view. he began to smile. this is the most he’s ever been alone with y/n and he can say with certainty that he fell even more for them. the question that stood now was if he could confide in them. could he tell them how he felt? would they be there for him? after earlier, he felt closer to them and now they had a friendship bigger than small his and hellos. he could go up to them and make conversation. he had reasons to be near them now. they weren’t just two people who knew each other because of familiar friends, they were friends now.

“y/n?”

“camilo?”

“to answer your question…” they hummed. he didn’t look at them, only kept his eyes on the ground. “i’m not.” they didn’t say anything. he had to look up. they were just smiling softly and had eyes that encouraged him to keep going with his confession. “sometimes, i feel like me isn’t…enough.”

he was taking a leap of faith by spilling out his insecurities to them. “what do you mean?” they asked. they had shuffled closer to him, making it shoulder to shoulder. he took in a sharp breath. “i can be whoever i want and sometimes i wish that i really was them.”

“oh…” they go quiet, either thinking or mocking him silently. he gulps. his leap was too big, wasn’t it? “well, i can't tell you how to feel, but i think you’re enough. i think you’re awesome and funny and more people should be like you.”

even if he was feeling rotten and down, the blush still managed to spread across his face. “thanks, y/n.” though it didn’t help immensely, his troubles lying within appearance, what y/n said to help him feel better did the trick in a way. they thought he was funny and awesome. he smiled and looked up to meet their stare. “you’re awesome and funny too.”

“i know,” he chuckled. mirabel always did say they had a narcissistic side. “shall we head back to antonio’s room?”

“one thing first?”

“hm?” camilo took what seemed to be another big leap and hugged them. they were still and tense for just a moment before putting their own arms around him. it lasted at least a minute. camilo’s body melted perfectly into theirs and the comfort he felt in their arms was amazing. “okay, let’s go!”

again, easily one of the best nights of his life. even if he did have a looming cloud of anxiety over him. y/n made it better.

[saffyspirals]

𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖

; with: ran haitani (ft. rindou), mitsuya takashi, and baji keisuke

; warnings: being ditched by boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend

; author’s notes: first tokyorev post!

𝚛𝚊𝚗

your boyfriend had invited you out for dinner, claiming he had something important to tell you.

you go into the restaurant, and order food for the both of you, knowing what he likes.

seven o’clock was meant to be the designated meeting time. when it gets to seven-fifteen, you text him, asking where he’s at.

that’s when he apologises, saying he was meant to come but chickened out at the last second.

he didn’t know how to tell you he wanted to break up in person.

so now you’re stuck with two plates of food, the entire bill, and a broken heart.

you try so hard to keep it together; you’re in public after all, crying would make it clear to everyone in the room that you’d just been stood up.

so, you try to keep a straight face.

this facade manages to fool everyone but one.

ran, who had been sneaking glances at you ever since you’d first come in, notices the moment your face changes.

he tells rindou, who he’s dining with to wait, so he can go and talk to you.

casually slides into the seat across from you, drawing your attention.

“it’s his loss, but at least i get a chance, right?”

he’s handsome (even more than your ex-boyfriend), and the fact that a man like him is admitting to wanting a chance with you makes you flustered.

his face might be pretty, but you don’t know him; he could be a total jerk.

so, rather than flirting back, you say, “i don’t need your pity.”

which only draws him in more.

𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚢𝚊

you are a transfer student, looking to join the home economics club. you were the leader of your previous school’s club, and were confident that with your extensive knowledge and skills, you would become this school’s leader as well.

in order to actually join the club, you have to demonstrate your sewing skills to mitsuya. this stopped admirers of mitsuya from joining the club and bringing down their reputation as a good club.

you, of course, pass the entrance test with flying colours. once you’ve been welcomed by the other members, you challenge mitsuya to a “duel”, if you will.

the winner of said duel would become, or continue on as the leader of the home economics club.

this confidence of yours loses you points with the majority of the club members. they’re thinking something along the lines of, ‘how dare she challenge THE mitsuya??’

however (what’s really important is), you actually score points with mitsuya. he likes your confidence, and becomes intrigued by you. he takes on your challenge.

the details of the challenge are as follows: mitsuya and yourself have three days to make a child’s dress (mitsuya thought it’d be fun to make them for his sisters). whoever’s was better would win.

the judges are people who are neither club members, or mitsuya’s admirers. you worked hard, but mitsuya was the winner.

you’re not a sore loser, so you shake his hand and congratulate him on his victory.

bonus: mitsuya takes you to his house so you can personally give your dress to either mana or luna. both of them argue over who gets to keep your dress, so you make another one lmao

𝚋𝚊𝚓𝚒

on your way to school one morning, you come across a stray kitten, sitting inside a box. scribbled on the box is, “please adopt me!”

after playing with the kitty for a bit, you vow to come back for it after school, and take it home with you.

that had been the plan, but when you return, somebody else is playing with the cat. you identified the person to be baji, an upperclassman at your school.

you knew of him, but had never actually spoken until then. approaching him, you ask what he plans to do with the animal.

“take him home.”, he responds, despite being unsure of why you were wondering.

“i claimed him this morning!” you inform him, which baji doesn’t care about. he picks up the cat from the box, and turns to leave.

you grab his arm, preventing him from going anywhere, which results in an argument.

both of you stand there, in the middle of the street, arguing about who the cat should go home with.

the conflict drags on for about ten minutes, before baji comes up with a solution.

put the cat down between you, call out to it, and whoever it goes to gets to keep it.

baji makes you promise that there will be no hard feelings, or redos, no matter the outcome, which you agree to.

after the cat is placed in the middle, both of you call out to the cat in stupid cute voices, hoping that it would come to you.

you win this little competition; the kitten jumps into your arms.

baji, although he doesn’t dispute your win, starts sulking. you overhear him say something along the lines of, “i have enough strays anyway.”

in an attempt to cheer him up, you give him your phone number, and agree to let him visit your new kitten whenever he desires.

[here’s my masterlist] !