#tldr: breakups bad

[roleplayersoul]

?dream eater — does your muse have any recurring dreams/nightmares? asgore

Yes. For a while, I'm sure he has relived certain awful memories in dreams/nightmares before. But between banishment, death of loved ones, moving on, starting anew, starting a family, losing them, and beyond, he's seen so much and it's been so long that that the contents can be superfluous, and aren't always identical to reality, or always carry certain Monsters. It isn't quite like he relives the same dream every night, not anymore. However, many dreams tend to follow similar emotional weight.

Anger at someone, with rage beyond his control. He can't find someone, no matter how hard he looks, forever lonely, no matter how hard he begs. The fresh air of the surface, the duller air of the Underground, and the weight it carries in his lungs... There are many common themes. But even wonderful dreams can be bittersweet when you've lived so long, and they're so far out of reach.

[dandelionjack]

the main mistake that people who dislike s8 and put it low in their series rankings make is the belief that, like any other series (apart from s9), it’s a collection of standalone stories tied together by some vague throughline i.e. missy’s ‘heaven’. “oh, this episode’s mid, that episode’s bad” meanwhile it’s not about individual episodes at all. i firmly believe that it should be viewed as a singular long serial.

so grateful that i was extremely late to the party and binged it all in a week instead of watching every episode as they were airing, because sometimes the plots barely matter at all. do you remember what the skovox blitzer actually looks like or what it wanted with coal hill in the first place? hardly. i had to google its name. but what you do remember from the caretaker is twelve acting like an antagonistic prick towards danny, and that’s what matters. almost every villainous entity is some kind of soldier, the contempt twelve shows to everybody but clara becomes the source of their toxicity… in the forest of the night is pretty obviously rubbish scifi, but it demonstrates danny’s fundamental incompatibility with clara, as well as the scene in which clara is ready to sacrifice herself and her students for the doctor’s sake, foreshadowing their reckless, almost suicidal codependency.

point is, but it really does work best as a tightly woven tapestry. sure, some episodes succeed individually, but most of the individual plots are mildly exciting only in a ‘this is fun to watch for kids’ way… UNLESS you approach them from the overarching perspective. i.e. mummy on the orient express has wonderful style, a thrilling mystery, creative concepts and interesting side characters, but its story appeal hinges on the twelveclara failed breakup. listen is frightening enough, but its entire story appeal hinges on just how much clara affects the doctor’s values past and present, and whether or not she has a future with danny (she doesn’t).

what i’m saying is, the narrative in s8 is a non-negotiable package deal. buy one, get them all. and it has no skips. i hate the idiotic pro-life message in kill the moon as much as the next sensible person, but what the episode does well is really hammer home how much of a sanctimonious asshole twelve initially is, which is crucial to his future character evolution.

tldr; the correct way to watch series 8 is all in one go. series 8 is great. more love for series 8

[giveafike]

kinda obsessed with the prompt of ben x fem tennis reader being together for a lil while and being the cutest couple , breaking up bc the distance hit them too hard after two straight months of different tournaments/locations, then seeing each other for the first time at a 1000 tournament, going out to dinner with the same group of people and end up going back to bens hotel room to clear the air and obvs end up in bed together realising they’re gonna have to get thru the distance cos they can’t be without each other now 😭

TLDR: tennisplayerfem!reader and ben break up bc you can't handle being away and then surprise, you can't handle being not together. Losers.

Word count + info: 10k. Am I mentally ill? This is supposed to be a blurb.. Dialogue (angst, texts, calls, conversation).

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! Breakup and kinda mean stuff said (nothing physical description wise). Otherwise, it's all good! (i think)

Azzie Notes ✚: SHOOT ME IN THE HEAD. AM I OKAY??? 10K?? ON A BLURB?? idrk what angst is fr chat lmk if i did that one fr idk....im a LOVER girl ok IDK HOW TO DO THIS SAD SHIT - in saying that, was part of my dialogue in this lwky..loosely based off of my ex...........maybe...

I fear I loved this prompt so bad and like...I love to yap..so...

Socials + Updates: twitter ( @azziegivesafike) - feel free to follow and msg me about non requests there, I'll be posting life updates, story + req updates and spoilers/teasers alongside other things, so it'd be nice to have a community over there!

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Shattered - B.T.S.

In the beginning, being with Ben is the kind of whirlwind you've only seen in movies, a connection that feels so natural, yet thrillingly unexpected. Well, in hindsight, that might've been a lie. It wasn't exactly love at first sight, but instead, a slow, magnetic pull that drew you together, like the tension building in a long rally. You met on the circuit, both hungry, ambitious, and dedicated to your own success. But from the start, Ben had this way of getting past your disciplined, guarded exterior with that relentless charm of his.

He’s everywhere, it seems—posting highlights from your matches on his stories, sneaking your name into press conferences, tagging you in his silly “lazy Saturday” shots where your game is always playing in the background. He flirts shamelessly, flashing that grin across the court, his voice lifting over the crowd to make some cheeky comment that leaves you stifling laughter. Your friends see it before you do: Ben is crazy about you, and soon, so is everyone else.

He flirted shamelessly and relentlessly, everywhere and anywhere, often catching you off guard in ways that left you flustered despite your best efforts to stay cool and professional. With that, you started to look out for the way his eyes would find yours in a crowd while you sat in the stands during his matches or how he would nudge you at practice with that easy, casual touch like he’s done it a thousand times before; like you belong by his side.

Once, when he's asked in an interview if he’d dedicated his recent win to anyone, he grins and looks straight across the room, making everyone laugh. “There’s someone special right now, but no need to say names, she knows.”

It’s sweet, funny and more than a little bold. Later, when you called him out for it over one of your first late-night calls, he shrugged, entirely unapologetic, telling you with that stupid drawl of his, “What? Ain’t no point hidin’ it. The world knows who my lucky charm is.”

Soon, it was you reaching out for him, your hand slipping onto his arm, leaning against him during walkouts, letting your barriers fall. And every time he catches your eye, every time he manages to make you smile, he looks at you like he’s won the lottery. His heart stammers a little each time you shove him playfully or roll your eyes at his antics. Whether it was on the bench or during changeovers, Ben would rest his hand gently on your lower back, a touch that makes you feel, just for a moment, like you're the only two people in the world.

When the rare break in your schedules comes around, you steal hours together. You grab a coffee, turning a "quick run" into a day spent together and wander around a city you barely know, or stumble upon a hidden café with pastries too flowery for your tastes. He made everything feel easier, like no matter how intense life gets, you’ll always have that balance with him. Around Ben, you can be softer, and more vulnerable; he brings out a side of you that isn’t just about winning and competing but about laughing, sharing, and letting go.

People noticed the way you look at each other, the easy affection that passes between you, the more daring and intimate PDA, sharing kisses and lingering stares. Soon, fans were shipping you openly, posting photos of you courtside, or whispering to each other when you lean close and murmur something that makes him laugh. On tour, you’re one of those “it” couples, a little slice of joy in the relentless pace of your careers. And in those early days, you both believe that together, you can take on anything. In those early days, you believed you could take on anything together. You and Ben were partners, equals, and even in the midst of a gruelling season, there had always been time for him, always a reason to smile. It felt perfect, like a love story you had stumbled into but were both entirely committed to.

But that honeymoon phase comes crashing down real quick.

As seasons shift and tournaments stretch across continents, the cracks start to show. At first, it’s just a few hours difference, but then come the miles and oceans, and the texts dwindled, conversations cut short, replaced by more missed calls than made and vague apologies. You both had tried, in every way you knew how. But eventually, the memories weren’t enough to bridge the distance. You’d catch yourself staying up just to wait for his call after practice, only to fall asleep disappointed, staring at a dark screen. And every time you woke up to a hastily sent sorry, something came up text, it felt like another tiny fracture.

Ben wasn’t the only one caught up in the chaos of your schedules; you had your own demands, too. The strain went both ways. In an attempt to keep things alive, you’d push yourself to keep up with his time zone, adding another city to your Clock app, setting alarms accordingly to his lunch and dinner times, staying awake far too late, eyes heavy as you sat alone in your hotel room, scrolling through old photos just to feel closer to him. When the call finally did come, your voice was barely more than a whisper, tired and distant, and Ben couldn't bear the exhaustion in your tone, his heart aching as he hushed you to sleep, meaning neither of you would stay on long.

It all piled up slowly, almost imperceptibly, until the weight felt crushing. Conversations became one-sided, it’s like chasing the sun itself, moments of silence replacing the laughter that had once felt endless, and that spark, the one that made you feel unstoppable together, felt further away with every day that passed.

Then came the day of your match, a game that should have been easy, one you’d normally have breezed through. But you were dragging, exhaustion wrapping itself around your every heavy, drooping step, and somewhere in the depths of your mind, a bitter thought took root:

If only he cared.

You knew it wasn’t his fault, but still, the frustration boiled over. Would things have felt different if you weren’t so alone in this? If you didn’t have to wonder when, or if, he’d remember to call? If he scheduled calls to your time for once? If he could just postpone everything for 20, 20 measly minutes for you?

A ball zips right by you, snapping you back to reality.

Lying in your hotel room that night, you stared at the ceiling, replaying the best moments of your time together like an old movie reel. In those moments, it had felt perfect. You’d believed you could take on the world, side by side, partners in everything. But now, with miles and silence separating you, you wondered if those memories were all that was left of what you once had.

But even with that ache, even with the emptiness filling the room, one thing is clear as day: loving Ben, for all its messiness, for all the distance and loneliness, had never felt like a mistake but God, was it hard. You pondered on those same irritating thoughts that itched at you until your fingers found your phone and hit the FaceTime Call button. Part of you wanted him to not pick up, knowing that you had nothing kind or sweet to say, but a small part of you wanted to dish back what he deserved.

“Hey,” he greets, his voice tense, worn. His drawl feels distant like he’s talking to you from across an ocean.

“Hey.” You can feel the iciness in your voice, colder than you intended.

“Long day?” he asks, though his expression is already tense, wary.

“Yeah. Almost lost today,” you say flatly.

Ben’s gaze flicks down. “I saw the score,” he says, his voice cautious. “Guess it was a tough match, babe.”

“It shouldn’t have been,” you snap. “But maybe it’s hard to focus when I’m barely sleeping… or constantly waiting for a text that never comes.”

He blinks, his eyes narrowing. “So this is on me?” The familiar accent is a little rougher around the edges. “You’re losin’ matches ‘cause I’m not callin’ you enough? That’s what you’re sayin’?”

“Don’t play dumb, Ben. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about” You feel the bitterness twisting in your chest. ““You’re barely here, Ben. Half the time, I don’t even know if we’re still together or if we’re just two people sending pointless messages every few hours. Half the time, it feels like I’m talking to a ghost.”

He lets out a frustrated laugh, shaking his head. “You think it’s any easier for me? I’ve got my own stuff, my own schedule, darlin'. I’ve got my career to think about too, you know, this ain't just about you.”

Your jaw tightens. “Yeah, well, at least when I'm on the court, I don’t exactly have the luxury of tuning you out, Ben. I’m not the one who forgets to call after saying I would. I don’t have time for half-assed texts and waiting around for you to call when you feel like it.”

“Oh, don’t go there,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. “You know what it’s like. The fans, the interviews, the time spent on court-”

“Yeah, I get it, Ben. But last week, you bailed on a call to go sign autographs. Priorities, right?”

He takes a deep breath, visibly holding back. “C’mon, babe, you don’t mean that.”

But you press on, unable to stop yourself. “You’re too busy with whatever ‘big thing’ you have going on, right? Maybe if you cared enough to focus on your game instead of your ‘commitments,’ you wouldn’t have dropped that finals match. Just maybe.”

He flinches, his expression turning dark. “Oh, that's low from you, Y/N. You really wanna go there?”

“Yeah, I do,” you say, your voice unwavering.

He pauses, his face hardening. “If you were out here on the ATP tour, you’d understand how rough it really is. You wouldn't even get past a challenger. It ain’t the same league as the WTA.”

You laughed, a cold, bitter sound. “Oh, don’t even start with that. Rougher than the WTA? Is that supposed to make me feel better? Maybe come and join WTA then, you wouldn't manage it out here either, Ben.”

He snaps, his voice cutting like a whip. “You know how much I’m fightin’ to make a name for myself out here. Just ‘cause you got a few more shiny titles doesn’t mean you get to talk down to me like this.”

The sting of his words hits like a slap. Your face flushes, a mix of anger and hurt bubbling up. “So, that’s it? Just because I’ve actually earned my success, I’m some kind of… what? Nag?”

“I didn’t say that,” he shot back, voice tight, his eyes narrowing as he looked away. “But maybe you’re doin’ too much. Bein’ all… dramatic, blamin’ me for stuff I got no control over.”

“Right, okay, so I’m being dramatic,” you scoff, your voice edged with sarcasm. “I’m the one asking for too much because I want something real, something you clearly can’t give.”

He laughs, bitter and raw. “Maybe you just want too damn much.”

You feel the tears prickling behind your eyes, but you clench your jaw, holding yourself together by sheer force of will. Your voice trembles as you speak, the words thick with a pain you can’t contain. “I just want you to care, Ben, or at least pretend to care and make it believable. I want you to care enough to be here when it matters. But you’re so wrapped up in yourself, you don’t even see it.”

His face hardens, his jaw set, but his eyes hold a flicker of something unspoken. “You think I don’t care? I’m out here pushin’ myself every day, for us, for this future we’re supposed to be building 'n shit. But it’s like no matter what I do, it ain’t enough for you.”

A sharp knock sounds from his end, followed by muffled voices. He glances away, then back at you, irritation flaring in his eyes. “Look, I gotta go. Dad’s waitin’ on me; he already gave me an extra ten minutes to talk.”

You feel your heart twist, an ache of disappointment settling in. “Oh, of course,” you mutter, your voice dripping with bitterness. “Go ahead. I’m sure your training’s way more important than anything I have to say.”

He turns back, his eyes blazing with frustration. “Maybe it is right now,” he spits. “Talkin’ to you like this, all it’s doin’ is makin’ things worse. We're not getting anywhere like this-”

The words cut deeper than you expect, and you can barely hold back the surge of anger and heartbreak choking you. “Fine. Go, then. At least one of us can prioritise something.”

He scoffs, shaking his head as he looks away. “You’re bein’ unfair, 'n you know it.”

“Am I?” you whisper, your voice tight and choked. “Or am I just done waiting for you to show up?”

You stare at each other, an endless silence stretching between you, sharp and seething, words too heavy to be unsaid. Then, with a frustrated shake of his head, he mutters, “I can’t do this right now. I’ll talk to you later. When you’re not actin’ like this.”

Before you could respond, he hung up, his face disappearing from your screen, leaving you alone with nothing but the cold light of your phone. Your hands shook as you stared at the blank screen, tears finally spilling over.

With trembling fingers, you took a breath, letting a cold, steely calm settle over you. You typed out a simple, blunt message, leaving no room for second-guessing, no room for soft words or explanations. Just the truth, as raw as you felt.

“We’re done. I can’t do this anymore, Ben. I’m sorry.”

Your thumb lingered for a second before hitting “send,” and as soon as the message went through, you blocked him on every platform, cutting off any way for him to respond, to apologise, to convince you otherwise.

But as you tossed your phone aside, a crack appeared in the calm you’d forced on yourself. The tears came suddenly, your breath hitching as a tidal wave of heartbreak surged through you. You buried your face in your hands, pressing your palms against your eyes as if you could somehow contain the emotions clawing their way to the surface. You tried to stay quiet, muffling the sound in the dark, but the weight was too much, every sob raw, grieving and heavy, pouring out the frustration, the loneliness, and the love you’d tried so hard to salvage.

By the time your tears subsided, you felt utterly drained, hollowed out in a way that made everything around you feel distant and surreal. The city lights flickered outside your window, the glow indifferent to the storm that had torn through you. And in that quiet, broken moment, with only the shadows as company, you lay there, letting the exhaustion seep through your bones until sleep claimed you.

When sleep finally came, it was restless, fractured. You tossed and turned, flashes of memories from better days with Ben haunting you, the sound of his laugh, the way he’d smile, gummy and wide, his nose scrunching with that easy confidence. You woke up more exhausted than when you’d closed your eyes, feeling like you hadn’t rested at all. But you forced yourself out of bed, pushing yourself through your pre-game routine, your emotions locked away, frozen under layers of determination.

As you walked onto the court, the crowd buzzed with excitement, but you barely registered it. You were a storm, calm on the surface but seething underneath. Every shot you took was hard and brutal, the ball slicing through the air with an intensity that made your opponent flinch, the impact echoing through the stadium. You played as if your life depended on it, your body moving with sharp, lethal precision.

Your serves were relentless, your groundstrokes vicious, each one faster, sharper, as if each shot were a way to expel the anger and hurt still simmering in your chest. The crowd murmured, noticing the shift in your energy, the way you were pushing yourself, almost recklessly. A couple of times, your shots zipped past your opponent’s hand, barely missing, almost daring her to try and reach for it - "try me". You were untouchable, unstoppable, playing like you had something to prove.

But there was no smile, no hint of joy in your movements, solely mechanical. The usual lightness in your footwork was gone, replaced by a cold, ruthless efficiency. You’d already decided: this match was yours. You weren’t here to give an inch, weren’t here to let any lingering emotions cloud your focus. The crowd might have wanted excitement, but you were giving them precision, a display of control and fury that left no room for doubt.

You won, of course. Your opponent barely had a chance. But as you walked off the court, sweat trickling down your brow, fists clenched, you felt no thrill in the victory. Just the dull ache that lingered, a hollow space where your lightness, your smile, used to be. The heat of the court only made your head throb. The applause faded into background noise as you strode away, head high, shoulders tense. You’d won, but it felt like a hollow victory. You had no one to text after your game, anyone to call you baby - you had done it to yourself, were you really that desperate for a man to validate you? You were sick of feeling this way, sick of the exhaustion, the anger, the loneliness that clung to you even after everything you’d given today. At least, for now, you’d proven something, to yourself, to him, even if he’d never know, or care.

In the month that followed, you threw yourself harshly into your schedule, determined to erase any trace of him from your routine, your heart. Matches, training, travel, interviews, photoshoots, more matches, each day bled into the next, filled with an almost mechanical sense of purpose. If you weren’t on the court, you were working out, perfecting your strokes, spending hours on serves and footwork. Anything to exhaust yourself to stop the thoughts from lingering too long. Your routine was relentless, your focus razor-sharp.

But even in this frenzy, despite it all, reminders of him still slipped through. You’d scroll through social media, and every so often, an ATP post would pop up: Ben at a tournament, Ben celebrating a point, Ben grinning with that easy charm that used to make your heart ache. He looked different now. His curls were longer, spilling out from over his sweaty headband, and his frame had hardened, leaner, with muscle that seemed to outline his strength in sharper lines. His chubby cheeks had slimmed down into something harder, replaced by the quiet confidence of someone who’d grown, adapted, maybe even suffered a little.

And you could almost feel it, the quaking, gaping pain of missing him, but you’d swallow it back down, pull yourself together, and look away.

Your own press conferences became something else entirely. You were more composed, a bit sharper with your words, confident in a way you hadn’t been before. Where you used to smile shyly or laugh softly, now you leaned in with humour, a hint of flirtation, your charm more self-assured. You handled reporters’ questions deftly, especially the ones that tried to pry about Ben. The same questions came up over and over:

“So, do you still keep in touch with Ben?”

Each time, you’d respond with a practised, cool smile. “Right now, I’ve got all the support I need from my team and the people I have with me.” You’d turn the conversation to your work, your skill, and your grind on the court, dismissing the topic with subtle elegance, always steering it back to your goals, your game, and your people.

Yet, away from the cameras, the facade cracked, if only slightly. Sometimes, after a long match or a particularly brutal day of training, you’d find yourself scrolling through your old photos or feeling tears prickling your eyes, this messy situation taking a bigger toll than you would like to admit.

In his hotel room, Ben watched your interviews alone, a faint crease between his brows. There you were, in all your brilliance, flashing a confident smile at the camera, handling the press with a wit and boldness that felt both familiar and strange. He could see the way you’d grown, the way you’d steeled yourself, and it stirred something in him, a pang he couldn’t ignore. It was like watching someone he knew intimately and yet… not at all. The way you answered questions about him, and your subtle redirection to your career and team, it stung. Maybe it was petty, but he missed the way you used to talk about him with such pride, with that lovestruck glow. He loved seeing how shy you would get at the sheer mention of his name. Your hair was different, your skin glowing, you had more confidence, even if it came off a bit cocky but he still felt like you were his, just as much as he was yours. Ben didn’t know how to reach out, didn’t know what he’d even say. There was a distance now, both physical and emotional, that seemed impossible to bridge. He’d scroll through his own phone sometimes, finding old messages, ones before distance got the better of you both, photos of the two of you, half-written scripts in his Notes app he couldn’t bring himself to deliver. If he flew out tonight to you, what would he even do after? He’d think of calling you, of reaching out somehow, but the memory of your last fight, the bitterness in your voice, the way you’d shut him out… it held him back.

One evening, as you sat alone in the players' lounge, your forehead pressed against the back of the sofa, you felt that familiar ache pulse through you, the one that came every time you thought of him. It was then that Coco came by, her familiar, steady presence filling the room as she settled down across from you, cross-legged on the seat in front of you. Over the past year, it was Ben that introduced you but, you and Coco had grown even closer, bound not just by shared victories and losses but by the pressures only someone like her could truly understand.

Coco tilted her head, her gaze warm but unwavering. “Alright,” she said, cutting through the silence. “What’s really going on? Are you… over him?”

You exhaled slowly, running a hand through your hair as you tried to gather your thoughts. “I wish I could say yes,” you murmured. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried to move on, focus on the game, on everything else, but… he’s still everywhere. Even when I’m doing well, even when I’m focused, it’s like… something’s missing.” Your voice dropped to barely a whisper. “It’s like I can’t fully shake him.”

Coco nodded, her expression both sympathetic and knowing. “I get it. You two had something real, something intense. But maybe this time apart is what you both need. I mean, look at you. You’re stronger now, on and off the court. Maybe that’s part of this whole journey, you know?”

You managed a faint smile, though your heart still felt heavy. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. It just… doesn’t always feel like enough.”

She reached out, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Trust me. If he’s the right guy, he’ll figure it out, too. Until then? Focus on your game. Focus on you.”

Her words stayed with you, offering a small but steady comfort in the days that followed. You have been throwing yourself into training, pouring everything into the sport, trying to find solace in each match and each moment of growth. Somewhere out there, he was doing the same, and maybe, just maybe, this was what was best.

But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t completely smother the small spark of hope, that someday, somehow, your paths might cross again.

It was similar in the men’s locker room, Ben slumped forward on the bench, his elbows propped on his knees as he stared blankly at the floor, holding an uncapped bottle of water. Frances Tiafoe, who’d been eyeing him from across the room, exchanged a knowing glance with Taylor Fritz before making his way over.

“Alright, bro, spill it,” Frances said, tossing a towel over his shoulder as he leaned in. “You’ve been lookin’ like you’re living in some sad dog for weeks.”

Ben gave him a sidelong glance. “There’s nothin’ to talk about.”

Taylor rolled his eyes as he joined them, settling down on the other side of Ben. “Come on, man. We’re not blind. Ever since she blocked you, you’ve been… different.”

Ben scoffed, looking away, his voice low. “She didn’t just block me, man. She… she threw down, real hard. Said some things I thought she’d never say.”

Frances let out a low whistle. “Was that rough, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ben said, rubbing a hand over his face, his frustration mingling with regret. “It all just blew up. We were on a call, talkin’ like usual, and suddenly… it was like everything we hadn’t said just came out. She starts throwin’ things at me about how I’m not there, like… like I don’t care enough or not workin' hard enough. And it pissed me off, you know? I work just as hard, and it’s not like I’m sittin’ around, right?”

Taylor nodded, leaning back against the lockers. “So, what’d you do?”

Ben shrugged, his expression pained. “I pushed back, told her she couldn’t keep actin’ like she’s the only one workin’ for this. Told her ATP is just as tough, maybe even more competitive. Didn’t mean it that way, but she took it wrong. She thought I was tryin’ to downplay her game.”

Frances shook his head, giving Ben a sympathetic look. “Man, she must’ve felt hurt.”

“Yeah,” Ben muttered, a bitter laugh escaping him. “And next thing I know, I get this text. ‘This isn’t workin', we’re done.’ Blocked me on everything. Cold as ice, man. It’s like she flipped a switch, just… shut me out completely, as easy as shuttin' a door.”

Frances gave him a gentle nudge. “You still care about her?”

Ben’s gaze softened, a faint smile breaking through his frustration. “Yeah, man. She’s… she’s my girl. Even if she’s not my girl right now, you know?”

Taylor chuckled, nodding. “So, what’re you gonna do about it? Sit around here moping, or actually make a move?”

Ben sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “What am I supposed to do? She’s made it pretty clear she’s done with me.”

Frances grinned, crossing his arms. “Bro, just ‘cause she blocked you and sent a text after you called her game easy, doesn’t mean it’s over. She’s mad, yeah, but she’s probably missin’ you just as much. You just gotta show her you’re willin’ to do what it takes.”

Taylor nodded in agreement, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “And it doesn’t have to be some big romantic gesture, man. Sometimes, it’s the small things. Something to let her know you’re still thinkin’ of her, still care. You know where we're at next, right?”

Ben chuckled, shaking his head. “And do what? Just show up at her hotel room? She’s liable to call cops on my ass for that shit, bro.”

Frances laughed, shrugging. “So what? At least she’ll know you tried! Don't go doin' that though. Look, I’ve been with my girl for years now, and sometimes, you gotta be willing to look like a fool to show her you care.”

Ben leaned back, their words sinking in. He could still feel the sting of the things she’d said, the accusations she’d thrown at him like he didn’t care, didn’t work just as hard. But he couldn’t deny that he’d made mistakes, too. He’d let his pride get in the way, said things he regretted, and let the frustration of it all get the better of him.

Frances nudged him again, his grin widening. “Think about it, man. You got two choices: sit here, feeling sorry for yourself until she finds some other guy, or actually do something about it and get her back, even if that means standing in the rain with a fuckin' speaker.”

Ben finally cracked a smile, looking between his friends. “Y’all are ridiculous.”

“Hey, maybe,” Taylor said with a shrug. “But at least we got girlfriends. And you? You got a chance to get yours back. Just gotta decide if she’s worth it.”

Ben sat there, mulling over their words as a new determination started to burn within him. Maybe he didn’t have all the answers, and maybe there was a lot he’d have to figure out. But if there was even a chance to fix things, to bridge that gap that felt so wide, he wasn’t about to let his pride hold him back.

As he left the locker room that night, he felt a resolve solidify within him. He’d find a way to reach out, to let her know that no matter how far apart they were, she was still the one he wanted. Because when it came down to it, she was worth every bit of the fight.

A week went by before a 1000 game flew in, and both ATP and WTA were present if not, nearby for the games. You couldn't care less what was at stake, anything was a win if it kept you occupied. The courts were almost empty, shadows lengthening as the sun beamed high above. You bounced the ball steadily, the rhythm calm, your focus laser-sharp. The only sounds were the muted thud of your shoes on the court, and your breath falling into sync with the beat of your earbuds. Nothing but you, the court, and the quiet.

But then, that voice broke through.

"Aw, c'mon, man!" A laugh, deep and full of that unmistakable Southern drawl. Your grip faltered, the ball hovering mid-toss. That laugh, it was a sound you hadn’t let yourself think about for months, one that held too much of him.

Ben.

Your pulse jolted, the memories flooding back, warmth and bitterness tangled in the knots of your chest. You gritted your teeth, tossing the ball high before slamming it against the court, the crack of impact sharp in the quiet. It almost felt satisfying, like you could obliterate the tension he brought, shatter it with sheer force.

Almost.

You readied another serve, the ball bouncing harder than necessary as you forced yourself not to look. But you could feel his gaze, that familiar weight of his eyes lingering on you. The pull was magnetic, almost maddening, and despite every ounce of resolve you’d built up, your gaze betrayed you, slipping over to catch a glimpse of him.

Ben, laughing with Taylor, curls tousled longer than before, his hoodie slung carelessly over those familiar, ridiculous short shorts. The same hoodie you'd worn too many times to count, drowning in its warmth during late-night snack runs and lazy Sundays. The sight tugged painfully, a cruel reminder of the little things you’d pushed down, tried to forget.

He caught you looking, and his laughter faded, his gaze holding yours for just a second too long. You gripped the ball tighter, the ache settling heavy, and forced yourself to turn away, channelling the flurry of memories into another sharp serve, a fierce crack reverberating across the court. You didn’t look back again.

Hours later, your body was tired, your mind a bit clearer. You were scrolling through your phone in the lounge, zoning out, when Coco dropped down beside you with that familiar, mischievous grin.

"Hey, you!" She nudged you, hands on her hips.

You eyed her warily. "What’s up, Coco? Awfully perky for...5:30p.m."

“We’re having dinner tonight. Big group. Wanna come?” Her tone was casual, a little too casual.

Your guard went up immediately as you dropped your phone to your lap. “Who’s ‘we all’?”

Coco shrugged, twirling a loose curl around her finger. “Me, Frances, Arthur… maybe another WTA girl or two. Just a fun little dinner. Nothing formal.”

You narrowed your eyes, reading the glint of mischief in hers. "Coco, don’t mess with me. He's not gonna be there, right?"

She tilted her head, pretending to look innocent, but the sly smile gave her away. "Well… he might show up, but that's on his own accord. I didn't mention anything to Ben and it’s not like anyone’s setting anything up! It’s just dinner."

Your stomach twisted, a sigh slipping from your lips as you looked away. “I don’t think so. Not after… everything.” Your voice softened the weight of old arguments and unsaid things hanging between the words.

Coco’s face softened, her hand finding your shoulder. “Look, I’m not saying you have to sit next to him or anything. It’s a big table. You can stay on the opposite end and ignore him if that’s what you need. But everyone misses you, it’s been ages since we all got together. We all need to see your pretty face off the court too, ya know?”

You hesitated, rolling your eyes, the ache of missing them settling somewhere deep, the sense of family you hadn’t felt in months tugging at you. After a long pause, you finally nodded, rolling your shoulders back as if bracing for a match. “Fine. But I’m serious, Coco, no funny business. If he starts anything, I’m out.”

Coco grinned, throwing her arm around you. “Girl, trust me. If anything, you’ll be giving him the funny looks. Just friends, no drama. Now, let’s go get you out of those sweats.”

Meanwhile, in the locker room across the court, Ben was doing his best to act indifferent as Frances nudged him for the third time.

"C'mon, man!" Frances said, leaning against the lockers with a knowing grin. "So you are coming to this dinner tonight, right? Don't make me beg again, I'll start singing.”

Ben tried to play it cool, leaning back with his arms crossed. “I don’t know, man. You really think it’s a good idea?”

Frances rolled his eyes. “Look, you’ve been moping for months. She’s not gonna make a scene in public, and especially not with all of us, and who knows? Maybe she’ll talk to you, be all civil. It’s worth a shot.”

Ben let out a huff, rubbing the back of his neck. “Civil? You remember the last time we spoke, right? She has me blocked on everything.”

Taylor, stretching nearby, smirked and chimed in. “Man, you got nothin’ to lose. At the very least, you’ll see her. I saw how you were after you caught a glimpse of her training earlier. Besides, Frances and Coco will keep her from killin’ you.”

“Kay, thanks,” Ben muttered, though a flicker of hope sparked under the sarcasm. He didn’t want to admit it, but he couldn’t shake the longing to see her again, to maybe fix even a sliver of what had been broken.

Taylor nudged him, grinning. “Hey, listen, if I wasn’t taking Morgan out tonight, I’d be there just for moral support. But hey, maybe next time it’ll be a double date. Me, you, Morgan and your soon-to-be girlfriend, just like old times.”

Ben shook his head, the thought both terrifying and oddly thrilling. “You’re jokin’, right? She’d probably throw her drink at me before she’d sit through a double date.”

“Only if you act like an idiot,” Frances pointed out, laughing. “Just be yourself, man. You can handle the heat on the court, you can handle this. And maybe tonight’ll be the thing that finally breaks the ice.”

Ben sighed, running a hand over his face before finally surrendering. “Alright, alright. Fine. I’ll go. But Frances, don’t expect me to be all… chatty.”

Frances clapped him on the back, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. “Yeah, you say that now. But I know how you get around her, man. Just don’t chicken out. Remember, we got your back.”

Ben couldn’t help but smile nervously, feeling a strange mix of dread and anticipation tighten in his chest. He wasn’t sure if this dinner would be a chance at redemption or just a painful reminder of how far they’d drifted, but one thing was clear, he was tired of hiding from whatever was left between them.

You walk into the restaurant and let Coco lead you to a long table, feeling an odd mix of nerves and determination fluttering in your stomach. Your outfit is cute but simple, just a sweater and leggings; just enough effort to feel put together without trying too hard. You take a seat between Coco and Arthur Fils, with Frances across from you. There’s an empty chair across from Arthur, and for some reason, that empty space makes your heart beat a little faster, feeling torn between wanting and avoiding Ben there.

As everyone settles in, you catch Coco’s eye and mutter, “Please tell me he’s not actually coming.” She just shrugs with an easy smile.

Moments later, as the group banters along, about to order drinks, Ben strolls in, catching you entirely off-guard. He’s slightly out of breath, apologising to the group with that familiar grin, explaining he’s late because he’d just finished showering after practice. You can’t help it, you nudge Coco under the table, whispering through gritted teeth, a frustrated, “Great.”

Coco just gives him a casual greeting, and you force yourself to turn back to the table, focusing your attention on ordering a glass of wine, pretending not to notice him as he takes that empty seat across from Arthur, just barely within your view, diagonally. But as he sits down, you feel his eyes on you, and for a brief moment, you glance up and catch him staring, his face almost dazed.

You’re caught off-guard by the look in his eyes. His breath seems to hitch, his big brown eyes wide and you can see a faint blush creeping up his neck as he stares at you, almost like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again. There’s a softness in his expression that you weren’t prepared for, a kind of awe that makes your stomach twist with memories and longing. But just as quickly, you look away, turning your attention to your wine as Frances elbows Ben with a teasing hiss, “Be normal, man.”

Throughout the night, you manage to keep to yourself, mostly talking to the other WTA players or Arthur whenever he cracks a joke. You keep Ben at the edge of your vision, resolute in ignoring the way his gaze keeps drifting back to you.

Every once in a while, Ben attempts to draw you into the conversation, maybe a lighthearted comment or a direct question, but each time, you meet his gaze with a steely look, making it clear with just one glance that you’re not interested. When he tries again, you let your eyes meet his for a moment, long enough to show him you’re serious before turning away, cutting off his effort entirely, almost to say "not interested". Across the table, Frances raises his brows, murmuring with a barely hidden smirk, “Damn, she is good at this,” as Ben slouches slightly, clearly trying not to look embarrassed.

As dinner winds down, the plates are cleared away, and you excuse yourself to the bathroom, needing a moment alone. Inside, you take a deep breath, facing yourself in the mirror. You’d been bracing yourself for tonight, but nothing quite prepared you for how it would feel to see him sitting right there, looking at you with those big sweet brown eyes and a pout, filled with that same soft pleading that used to make you melt.

But tonight, all it did was remind you of those late nights waiting by your phone, checking it over and over for messages that came slower and slower until they just…stopped. It reminds you of the countless hours wondering if you mattered as much as you thought you did, replaying his empty promises and half-hearted reassurances that seemed to fade with each passing day. He couldn't expect you to take him back with a pout and some half-assed joke. But damn, was it a good attempt, he knew how to make you crumble, even if it wasn't his sole intention.

You force yourself to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you look in the bathroom mirror examining yourself with a sigh, applying a bit of lip balm with fingers that tremble just slightly. Anything to distract yourself, to remind yourself that you’re strong enough to face this without breaking, reminding yourself to keep that mask on. You straighten your posture, determined to push all those memories back down where they belong, buried.

But just as you step out of the bathroom, Ben is standing right there, leaning against the wall as if he’d been waiting for you. His eyes soften the moment they meet yours, and he opens his mouth, his voice just a whisper. “Can we…talk? Just the two of us?”

The look he gives you, hopeful, no, desperate, stirs something deep inside you, and you clench your jaw, wanting to say no, wanting to walk away without a second thought. But as much as you’d like to ignore it, part of you still aches for some kind of closure, maybe even just one honest conversation.

With a reluctant sigh, you nod. “Fine. Outside.”

As you head out the restaurant’s door, you quickly fire off a text to Coco:

me n Ben talking outside. brb.

You stuff your phone back into your bag, clutching it tightly to your shoulder as you step into the cool night air. Wrapping your arms under your chest, you try to keep yourself shielded from more than just the chilling breeze.

Ben falls into step beside you, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. There’s a moment of silence as you both find your footing, the quiet thick with everything that’s been left unsaid. You glance sideways, catching him opening his mouth like he’s about to say something, only to close it, his shoulders shifting awkwardly.

“So… how’s the tournament going for you?” he starts, his tone casual, a little too casual.

You blink, trying not to roll your eyes, feeling the irritation growing. Really? But you bite back and just sternly say, “Ben.”

He rubs the back of his neck, glancing up at the streetlights overhead. “Sorry, yeah, that was- uh, okay.” He lets out a breath and shuffles closer, his voice almost a murmur. “I just… I wanna make this right. Another chance- Just thought maybe… you know, talkin’ would be easier if…”

“Ben, stop.” You sigh, tightening your grip on your bag strap. “Stop being weird. Just… just say what you have to say, and let’s get this over with. Let's not make this longer than it needs to be, I've got shit to do tomorrow.”

He glances at you, brows knitting together. For a second, he looks almost frustrated, like he’s holding back something sharper, something rougher. But he lets it pass, letting out a long, resigned breath. “Fine. I’ll just ask one thing.”

You arch an eyebrow, scepticism thick in your voice. “One question. Shoot.”

His voice comes out softer, edged with a hesitant curiosity as if he knows it’s a stupid question but can’t help but ask. “What hotel you stayin’ at?”

You let out a dry chuckle, shaking your head. “The Merrion.”

His eyes widen slightly, a small, stupid smile breaking on his face. “No way… me too.”

You sigh, looking up at the night sky, feeling the inevitability of whatever this night is becoming. Of course, he’s at the same hotel. Only Ben could make the universe align like this. And only Ben would think of a stupid question like that. He shifts his weight, stepping closer, his gaze steady.

“Look,” he starts, “it’s just a short walk back, twenty minutes or so. Just… give me that time. Just enough to walk back. Let me talk. And then you can go to your room and go to bed. How 'bout it?”

There’s a hopeful edge in his voice that you can’t ignore, and for a moment, your resolve falters. It’s ridiculous, this is exactly the sort of thing he would come up with, some half-baked plan to get you to keep listening, to keep him around just a little longer. You want to roll your eyes, to brush him off, but something about the way he’s looking at you, those earnest, brown eyes so damn full of longing, makes you sigh.

“Fine,” you mutter. “But if you get weird again, I’m out. No small talk, you know how much I hate it.”

A small grin creeps onto his face, and he falls into step beside you, a little closer than necessary, his arm brushing against yours as you start down the quiet street. For a minute, he doesn’t say anything, just walks alongside you, letting the silence settle around you both. But then, in that familiar southern drawl, his voice comes softer.

“Y’know, I've been thinkin’ ‘bout us a lot… probably more than I should.”

You keep your eyes on the sidewalk ahead, willing yourself to stay unmoved. “And?”

He swallows, his gaze tracing your profile, softening with each word. “I messed up,” he admits. “I know I did. I shoulda… been there more, answered more, I dunno. Shoulda been better at handlin’ it.”

You nod slightly, keeping your face blank. “Mhm, you should've.”

There’s a flicker of frustration in his expression, but he doesn’t let it throw him off. “You think I didn’t feel it too? That whole time, it felt like- hell, like I was losin’ you, like somethin’ was slippin’ right outta my hands, and I couldn’t do nothin’ to stop it.”

You feel the tension in your shoulders loosen just a fraction, though you keep your arms folded as a kind of armour. His words settle into the silence, raw and rough, and you can feel him glancing over, waiting for some kind of response. But you keep your gaze forward, biting back the little stirrings of emotion that are beginning to creep in.

He keeps talking, voice low and steady, drawing you in without giving you a chance to look away. “I’m not tryin’ to make excuses, alright? I know I coulda tried harder. But it’s like… the more I tried, the harder it got. The distance, the time zones, the schedules… it all just made me feel like I couldn’t keep up. And I just didn't know how to juggle it and that's my fault.”

You shake your head slightly, finally glancing over at him, the faintest of smirks tugging at the corner of your mouth. “So this is your way of apologising?”

He laughs, a little sheepish. “Guess I’m not real good at it, huh?” He nudges you with his shoulder, a familiar, easy gesture that makes your arms slowly loosen. His hand brushes your arm, just for a second, and a warmth blooms where his fingers graze your skin as if your body’s memory of him can’t help but respond.

“Look,” he says, his voice dipping softer, “I just… I miss you so much. Like hell.”

The honesty in his tone hits you hard, unravelling the cold exterior you’ve worked so hard to keep up. He keeps his eyes on you, watching your face carefully as if gauging your reaction. You feel your resolve slipping even more, your arms slowly falling to your sides, your heart aching as you fight against the wave of warmth that’s threatening to break through.

“Ben…” you start, barely a whisper, but you don’t know what to say, feeling torn.

He moves a little closer, his eyes wide, pleading, like he’s trying to hold onto every inch of you he can. “I know I messed up, okay? But I don’t wanna lose you. Not for good. Please, Y/N. Give me one more chance, you won't regret it 'n if I fuck up bad, you can do whatever, however; I deserve it but please. Just one more chance.”

You press your lips tight together, feeling your heart tighten as his words sink in, as he stands there looking at you with that same vulnerability you’d once fallen in love with. For a second, you forget the hurt, the sleepless nights, and you’re left with just him, the version of him that’s open, sincere, the Ben you’d once held so close.

The walk to the hotel stretches out as he keeps talking, spilling out and laying his heart bare with that easy, boyish charm that only he can pull off, and little by little, you feel your icy exterior start to melt. He talks about his time away from you, how he admired you from videos, watched highlight reels, his endless hours at night going through photos and texts; the whole lot. He cracks a joke, and despite yourself, you smile, trying to hide it but failing. He nudges you again, grinning as he sees the hint of laughter breaking through your guard.

He apologises over and over, more earnestly each time, his voice steady and low, and you can hear the regret, the guilt, the need to make things right. By the time you reach the hotel entrance, you’re feeling something dangerously close to hope, your heart betraying you, making it harder and harder to keep up the facade.

You glance over at him, catching the way his eyes soften as he looks at you as if you’re the only thing he can see. He’s staring, the blush from earlier creeping back up his neck, and when his hand brushes yours one last time, you don’t pull away.

You stand just outside the hotel, a faint chill brushing past as the streetlights cast a warm glow around you. You shift on your feet, glancing up at him, your eyes soft but determined.

“Can I talk?” you ask, breaking the quiet, your voice barely above a whisper. The first thing you had actually said this entire time.

Ben raises an eyebrow, leaning in with a playful smirk. “Talk? What else have we been doin’ for the last twenty minutes, girl?”

You roll your eyes and reach out to smack his arm, earning a chuckle from him. “Fine then. Can we go up to your room?” you add, a small, daring smile tugging at your lips.

Ben’s eyebrow quirks higher. “My room, huh?” His gaze narrows, teasing you with that familiar glint. “What exactly ya got planned, sweetheart?”

You swat him again, harder this time, and he laughs, raising his hands in mock defence. But then you drop the smile, your voice softer. “I wanna talk about what I did, Ben. I messed up too.”

The teasing fades from his expression as he studies your face, searching. After a pause, he nods and gestures toward the lobby. “Alright, then. Let’s go talk.”

In the elevator, silence hangs thick in the air, tension as familiar as it is unspoken. You don't even notice, spending your time stilling your breath and running through everything you want to apologise for. When you reach his room, you head over to the small couch by the window and settle in, tucking your legs under you and giving him a steady look.

“Ya gettin’ comfortable already?” he jokes, leaning against the wall, his eyes dancing with that old spark that makes you ache.

You try not to smile, steeling yourself for your confessional. “Can you be serious for a minute?”

His smile fades as he walks over, sitting across from you, his gaze intense and focused. You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything you’ve held back.

“I shouldn’t have put so many expectations on you,” you begin, your voice wavering. “You’ve got your own life, your own competitions, your own dreams. All this constant travelling, the different time zones… it’s not fair to expect you to be there every time I needed you at the drop of a hat. You get burnt out too- God. I never even asked how you were before I'd launch into my own day.”

You bite your lip, blinking back tears as they start to blur your vision. “I should’ve known better. I should’ve been more understanding, given you more grace.” Your voice catches, barely a whisper now. “And what I said… on that call… it was cruel, Ben. I was mean and unfair, and you didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve any of it. At all. I wouldn't want myself back after all I had said and done.”

As a tear slips down your cheek, Ben’s face softens, and he reaches out without hesitation, his hands cupping your face as he brushes the tear away. His thumb lingers on your skin, his gaze is unwavering, and then he leans forward, pressing the gentlest kiss to your temple, another to your forehead, and a final one at the crown of your head, his hand resting tenderly against your hair.

You let out a shuddered breath, your hands covering his as you finally let everything pour out. “I miss you so much,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I miss everything about you… the way you laugh, your ridiculous voice…” Another tear rolls down, and you don’t try to hold back. “I miss the way you’d talk about cars or food for ages, and you’d make everything feel so normal, even when my life was a mess. Without you, it’s like this haze I can’t shake. I just… I miss you. I barely recognise myself these days.”

Your body shakes with the sobs you’ve tried so hard to bury, and Ben doesn’t hesitate. He pulls you close, wrapping you in his arms like he could shield you from all the pain, all the regret. He holds you there, one hand smoothing over your hair, his lips pressing soft, tender kisses to your forehead and cheeks, murmuring gentle words against your skin.

“S’all right, darlin’,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m here. I’m right here with you.”

You cling to him, burying your face into the crook of his neck, as his hands trace soothing circles along your back. Your sobs gradually quiet, but your breaths are still shaky, each exhale unsteady.

“I’m so sorry, Ben,” you manage, voice barely audible.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Hey now,” he murmurs, his tone warm and grounding. “We both made mistakes. Ain’t just on you, alright? Takes two to mess up, but it takes two to fix it too. We can fix, can't we?”

You nod, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, feeling a little of the weight lift, softened by his words.

Ben tilts your head to hold your gaze, his own eyes glassy. “Can’t tell ya how many times I thought about callin’ ya or flying to ya,” he admits, his voice low. “How many times I’d pull up your name, wonderin’ what you’d say if I told ya all the things I wished I’d said. But I was… hell, I was scared, darlin’. Thought maybe I’d screwed up too bad, and you’d moved on.”

You shake your head, a small, breathy laugh escaping. “I couldn’t...I could never.”

He strokes your hair gently, his lips brushing your forehead once more. “Guess we’re both a couple of fools then, huh?”

You laugh softly, the sound wet and trembling as he pulls you back into his arms. You lean into him, letting yourself feel the warmth of his embrace, the steady beat of his heart, grounding you. Wrapped in the quiet, tangled together, you both hold on a little tighter, feeling the rawness of your honesty and the comfort of finally, finally being close again. In the safety of his arms, you feel, for the first time in so long, a sense of peace, letting the unspoken words settle around you like a quiet promise.

Ben’s hand rests on your cheek, his thumb tracing small circles as he learns your face all over again, making your heart flutter. His fingers move slowly, grazing down to your jaw, then up again, threading into your hair. You let your eyes close for a moment, his gentle touch working its way through the tension of the night, and a small, contented sigh escapes you. For the first time in weeks, you feel relaxed and content.

“Gettin’ comfortable, huh?” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, though there’s a warmth in his eyes that wasn’t there before. He leans in, giving one final push to a stray strand of your hair before tilting his head toward the bed across the room. “C’mon, darlin’. This couch is barely holdin’ us together.”

You hesitate, but Ben’s already moving, holding out his hand as he stands up. His grip is strong, guiding you as you follow him to the bed, and he lets out a soft chuckle as you settle beside him. His arm drapes around you, pulling you close as you lean into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against you. The warmth is so consuming, cocooning you immediately.

Ben smiles down at you, a playful glint in his eye, and as his fingers find your hair again, he starts twirling a strand between his fingers. “So,” he murmurs, resting his cheek on the top of your head, “ya still gonna keep me blocked, huh?”

You roll your eyes, smirking. “Fine,” you reply, unlocking your phone with a playful huff. You find his name, well, technically his new contact name since you’d deleted him in a fit of anger, and type a single white heart emoji, pressing send.

The vibration of his phone buzzes beside him, and he pulls it out with a grin, holding up the glowing screen. “There it is. Knew ya couldn’t resist me,” he says, laughing as he pulls you in close as he kisses your temple.

But just as you relax against him, you notice a missed notification. It’s a text from Coco, her reply to your earlier message asking where she’d disappeared to after dinner. You hesitate, then, instead of texting back, you tap the Facetime icon, feeling a strange urge to share this quiet moment, finding words couldn't suffice, nor were you in the mood to type out a lengthy paragraph.

The call connects, and Coco’s face appears, a gasp escaping her as she spots you two tangled up in Ben’s bed, nestled together with his arm around you.

“Oh my god! Yes!” she cheers, loud enough to make Ben chuckle. You hear laughter and cheers in the background too, and Coco turns the camera, revealing the whole dinner table watching with knowing smiles.

"Coco, this was a set-up plan, huh?" you giggle as you see the entire friend group on the other end.

"Somewhat, but blame Morgan and Taylor, not me. They did all that," she throws the blame as she points the camera over to them. Frances, Morgan and Taylor wave and Frances yells “Look at Ben! Already got her in bed, huh?”

Ben rolls his eyes, but a faint blush colours his cheeks. He pulls you closer, his hand resting protectively around your shoulders as he grins.

“Hey now,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “This one’s special. Ain’t like any other. My lucky charm.”

You feel your heart skip a beat at his words, and you’re so focused on him that you barely notice Coco and the others making gagging noises before Ben reaches out, ending the call on your phone with a smirk. Then he turns back to you, his eyes soft, filled with something that feels dangerously like forever.

He leans in, his lips finding yours in a kiss that’s slow and tender, each second lingering with quiet promises. And in the warmth of his arms, your heart finally feels at home, exactly where it belongs.

[bairdthereader]

Time to pay homage to the Spring Queen, Tori.

[This is a long one, folks. I have lots of feelings. Sorry, not sorry! TLDR can just look at the gifs for the gist of the story.]

Having read Solitaire, This Winter, and Nick and Charlie in addition to Heartstopper, my thoughts on Tori and how she's portrayed in the show are a bit difficult to organize and express. Since we don't get her backstory in the show (yet), we see her exclusively engaging with Charlie's story; this leaves out a lot of her depth and complexity, or at least leaves it to the viewer to piece together. BUT . . .

The specific ways she goes about protecting Charlie say so much about her.

It's established from their first on-screen interaction that Charlie feels safe with Tori, both to be himself and to confide in her that he's ended his pseudo relationship with Ben, a relationship no one else knows about at this point. Tori automatically assumes the fault was with Ben, which is not only peak awesome older sister behavior, but a cue to Charlie that she knows him well enough to trust that he was not only not the offending party, but that the breakup was a very positive move for him. She's affirming and bolstering Charlie without any platitudes or unsolicited advice, a sign of her care and respect for him, as well as her understanding of him and his needs.

In Solitaire, Tori explains that she rides the bus with Charlie when he's dealing with particularly bad mental health struggles, which puts the scene toward the end of S1E7 in a slightly different perspective. She knows that something is deeply wrong, but also that Charlie isn't ready to talk about it. She keeps an earbud out just in case, but doesn't pressure him in any way, another sign of respect and silent support.

And of course the moment when Charlie is desperately vulnerable, scared, admitting his darkest thoughts to her, when she realizes for the first time (in the show timeline) just how deep the pain goes, she takes it seriously. She knows what it could mean. Though we as viewers haven't seen it yet, Tori knows her own version of this particular darkness and recognizes it in Charlie. She grounds him with firm, safe, physical touch and a truth that only she can give--which makes it the truest kind of truth, a bedrock truth for Charlie to stand on--that he is valuable to her and vital to her life.

After Charlie tells his parents about his relationship with Nick (with fairly negative results, but that's a whole other post), Tori's concern for Charlie is immediate. Not only does she remember how terrible the bullying Charlie experienced was, but she also knows how fragile his newfound happiness really is. Charlie misinterprets her question--whether intentionally or not I think might be up for debate--and assumes that her concern is mainly for Nick, asserting that he can protect Nick. Tori knows that Charlie will need that protection as well, maybe more, but also respects his choice to view the situation in this way. [Side note: respect is like Tori's secret love language; she doesn't give it very willingly.]

"Look after him or you die" seems funny, but Tori is dead serious. Her later accusation that Nick doesn't keep his promises feels harsh at first, and he doesn't really deserve it, but we have to see it for what it is. Tori is trusting Nick with a responsibility that she usually puts on herself, and she doesn't take it lightly; very few people can care for Charlie the way Tori does, and to her, failure to do so is indefensible. Nick's failing her test in this moment, though she's a complete enough person to recognize that it's a momentary lapse and trusts Nick with Charlie later in the story.

And of course there's the infamous Nelson dinner party, where Tori does in reality what we ALL want to do in spirit and knocks David down several pegs. She sees in him exactly the kind of person who bullied Charlie and made his life miserable, and she's not about to let it happen right in front of her. No real commentary here, just a deep appreciation for Tori's sisterly rage and complete disgust with David.

And then there's this:

Oh, season 3 Tori is going to be something to behold. I absolutely cannot wait. All hail the queen.

[oshinohoshi]

Let's talk about Ai's decision in Ch 154

This is a reaction to some people saying that Ai was stupid in this chapter or that they dislike what this did to her character. I'd like to dig deeper for the sake of organizing my own thoughts on the matter.

This post is long so just skip to the TLDR if you want!

Ch 154's big reveal was that Ai wanted to love Hikaru. She wanted to raise a family with Hikaru but felt that it would be too much of a burden on him because "he was being crushed by the weight of his life" and was "on the verge of breaking." She also acknowledged that he was dependent on her. So she broke up with him in a harsh manner, believing he would be okay once she and her kids were gone.

Let's break this down.

Was Ai stupid for this?

No. Could Hikaru have handled fatherhood at such a young age when he was already suffering from so many emotional wounds? Probably not. It's not inconceivable that starting a family with the girl he loved could be healing, but he couldn't even take care of himself, much less two kids. This was a recipe for disaster.

We could say that the way Ai did it was stupid but I would like to be more generous than that and I'll elaborate below.

Was it unfair of Ai?

I think it was unfair to take the decision of whether he could handle the pregnancy out of Hikaru's hands. That said, if we read this as Ai also recognizing how unhealthy their relationship dynamic was, it's not unfair to end things in part because of that.

Was the way she broke up with him cruel?

Yes, and I'm sure this is why some people feel so negatively about Ai in this chapter. Ai claiming that the product of Hikaru's rape was too much for her led to Hikaru framing Taiki's birth as "something I had done" and stating that Ai leaving him was "only natural."

Still, Ai was not a cruel person. She was gentle and loving but she was also timid. Her coping mechanisms for handling confrontation were to bury her true feelings and put on a suffocating smile. She shouldn't have said what she did, but it was an effective way to make him hate her. She wanted a clean break to free Hikaru from herself and the twins, who she felt were a burden to him. She just didn't have the emotional skillset to handle this correctly.

And she was just a teenager!

As Oscar Wilde wrote, "It is always with the best intentions that the worst work is done." Ai's intentions were kind. Her delivery was almost comically bad.

But why didn't Ai try to get back with Hikaru when she called him or at least try to make amends?

Ai was confused about what love felt like and how to express it. We also don't know how she felt about him almost 4 years later. My take is that by the time she called Hikaru she had moved on from the idea of a romantic relationship but still cared deeply for him.

As for why she never reached out to make amends, Ai does avoidance like she's training to be the avoidance champ of the world. Just look at the short story 45510 where she explains her feelings to her fellow B Komachi members in an unpublished post on their defunct blog. There is also a manga panel showing that Ai had over a hundred unsent text messages. At the time I assumed they were all to the B Komachi girls but some could have been intended for Hikaru.

Ai's regret

Finally, Ai regretted this. Yes, trying to fix it 15 years after the fact is absurdly late, but her heart was in the right place.

TLDR: Ai was just a normal person, as flawed as the rest of us, who experienced hurt, anger, loneliness, and uncertainty. She was misunderstood by everyone around her and commodified by the entertainment industry.

She hurt someone who loved her but it was not out of malice. The extremely poor delivery of the breakup was inevitable given Ai's avoidant tendencies and that she was a teenager. Criticizing Ai without acknowledging everything that led to this point just doesn't sit right with me.

And finally, this panel broke me and I will be suing Akasaka and Mengo for damage to my heart.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

🍏 to find later

AITA for sending my friend $100 as a wedding gift

(She used to use Tumblr but deleted her blog years ago so I feel comfortable sharing this.)

My (28 NB) best friend T (26 F) got married sometime within the last year or so. We had known each other for about 8 years at this point after meeting online and sort of dated on and off for about 4 of those years. We loved each other very much, I even flew out to meet her in person, but the distance got to be too much for her and I understood that and we still stayed close friends. We helped each other through bad breakups with toxic friends and lovers, and when she told me she met someone (G, 24 M) and things were getting super serious with him I couldn't have been happier for her.

The thing is though, G has always been jealous of how close T and I were. T had been upfront with him that I was an ex and that we've been romantically and physically involved in the past, but we had both assured him that nothing was going on between us anymore and that we had both moved on. But that didn't stop G from constantly thinking I was going to try to steal T away from him despite living half way across the country (I was on the west coast and T and G live in the south).

About 2 years ago, my family started making plans to move to around the same area they live in. Not super close but a day's trip, think LA to Vegas. I wasn't thrilled about the move but it was cheaper and my grandmother lives out here and she needed our help, so I did my best not to object too much to it. Besides, I figured this way I was closer to T and that I could finally meet G face to face, hopefully to settle this bad blood he seemed to think was between us and help him realize that I wasn't going to try to steal T away from him. Especially since by this time G had already proposed. Around this time though, T had told G that she had send me some rather revealing photos showing off some new body mods she had gotten, purely out of excitement. I hadn't asked to see them, she offered and said it should be fine, and well, turns out it wasn't. G got pissed and almost called off their wedding. They stayed together though and worked through it, and then a few months later T disappeared on me. Stopped responding to my messages, blocked my phone number, everything. I was already at a low point in my life because of the move and this made me get lower. After the move I got drunk one night and realized that T hadn't blocked me on Twitter so I ended up messaging her, and she got back to me immediately and explained that G had told her that if she didn't cut contact with me then he was going to leave her because he didn't think I had ever actually gotten over her and that I was going to try to steal her from him. I was hurt but I understood, especially since T was at a point where if G left her she'd have to go back to a very toxic living situation. I told her I still considered her my best friend, she still considered me hers, and that was the last time I talked to her.

Now, here's the part where I might be the asshole. Last November I was checking my Venmo to make sure my info was up to date and I realized that I still had T on there to send money to. Not only that, but T had changed her last name to G's, meaning that they must have gotten married by now. So, I decided to send them $100 as a late wedding gift. T is still my friend and I was happy for them, and I didn't mean anything bad by it, but for the last two months I've been worried that G would be upset and that it would have opened up years old wounds.

TLDR; My friend's new husband doesn't trust me and wanted her to stop talking to me, and in response I sent them $100 and a congratulations, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[mamadarama]

Just curious on your opinion here do you have any thoughts on the way Madara is being written? Recently I came to the realization that enstars writers aren't all that great,, and I notice that Madara at least in my opinion has had very little development and progression as a character but I'm genuinely hoping I'm wrong but I don't see much difference. And I do hope I'm wrong cuz I definitely haven't read every single story ever in Enstars and it could just really be Madara's character but it feels like he hasn't budged an inch and when DF rolled around it seems like he's gonna progress only for the writers to make him wanna split up literal months after (SS) and it was fine the first time since we explored that part of his character but right after that we got the Spring event and he's?? Back on his bullshit as if whatever happened during Secret Service didn't have much impact. And I do understand his character and all but I often wonder how much of that is just his character (immovable mountain with deep roots that will take years of continuous effort to move) or just the writers half assing because they can't think of a more compelling narrative for double face other than Madara wanting a breakup. It's especially sad to me with Last Mission because as much as I can understand DF being temporary and meant to end, it feels like nothing has changed in Madara during !! Era. I'm hoping that new gen Madara can change that since he's already featured in the new shuffle and scout story, and it does look like he's changing the vibes a little. Idk what are your thoughts and genuinely no hate here I love Madara and I'd love to hear your opinion :)

i think the writers do a pretty good job with the story actually !! i ended up spending a few hours writing like 3 pages of stuff so this one gets a readmore ^^;

theres a tldr at the end though if you dont wanna hear me talk in circles like some kind of maniac (understandable i dont either)

at this point madaras story is a tragedy and hes not really supposed to be a satisfying character . youre supposed to be some degree of frustrated with him like all the other characters are. the story isnt over yet though and maybe he will get a satisfying happy ending someday , but this is all buildup. having madara go through negative character development while the rest of the 3rd years have significant positive character development puts emphasis on one of the main points of his character: you cant help someone who doesnt want to be helped . shu wanted to become more empathetic. eichi wanted to unlearn his bitterness. kaoru wanted to leave his playboy reputation behind. izumi wanted to learn to control his emotions . madara has two sides to him that refuse to coexist— anger and misery. the angry side of him has given up on himself and leans into his perceived role as a villain because he believes alienating his friends is the only way to save them and for once be the hero. the miserable side of him is the sad and "selfish" part that keeps him returning to his friends again and again despite believing hes a bad influence on them, because he still seeks acknowledgment and praise from others and doesnt want to believe its too late for him. he bounces between these like a metronome . (maybe thats another layer of reasoning behind double faces name, idk) so, he doesnt know if he wants to be helped. he thinks he doesnt deserve it. pulling someone out of a ditch that deep requires some legwork on their part too, and if they wont put in that legwork, well... then there's nothing you can do. madara isnt quite a rooted mountain that takes a long time to move... hes more like an injured tiger pacing in its pit , so fixated on looking for a way out that it wont look up and see the entire top is open where its keepers are waiting to take it out and treat its wounds . now suppose this tiger is sentient enough to worry it might hurt someone on impulse when the disinfectant stings its wounds. additionally, lets say the tigers wounds came from falling and cutting itself on something in its habitat while making a risky jump , and it believes it deserves to be hurt for such a stupid misjudgment. so even when it notices the top of the pit is open, it will continue pacing pretending like it didnt. thats where madara is at right now .

madara broke up double face partly out of self sabotage, and partly out of a twisted attempt to "save" kohaku from him. kohaku and madara are an interesting contrast because their characters are set up in a very similar way. the difference between them is that kohaku doesnt hate himself even close to as much as madara does, and as a result he IS getting better. kohaku believes hes always going to be part of the underbelly of society doing dirty work and hes resolved to that like madara is, but he doesnt believe that means he has to do it alone . he acknowledges that hes not alone, he has the rest of alkakurei, the sweets club, jun, his sisters and tsukasa.... and madara. the first part of beating loneliness is recognizing youre not alone. madara thinks no one understands him (which in itself is its own kind of loneliness) and that if his friends understood "what he really is", they wouldnt love him. so in a way their presence eases one kind of loneliness and reinforces another. in his mind the only person who understands him is himself and therefore the only one who can save people from himself is also him.

theres a scene in last mission where madara says his reason for disbanding double face is something along the lines of wanting kohaku to live where he can feel the sun on him , and kohaku asks "what about my feelings?" . that pretty much sums up madaras entire thought process and why he isnt making any positive progress .

tldr; madara does have character development between es! and es!! , but its not positive. to have such a stubborn self loathing character make positive progress without a slow burn of warring with themself and dragging their feet would soften those traits. they want him to stand out and make you to go "ohh ok so this guy is MISERABLE miserable" .

so anyways i dont think its lazy writing its just character loyalty. but the fact that you noticed all that means youre reading him the way hes intended to be read. so congratulations!! you now understand what its like to be kohaku oukawa :) if he does get positive character development i hope its really slow though cuz if its too fast it would feel kinda abrupt. it needs to feel like hes fighting the writers for it to truly be madara

[hawkzeyes]

Did Clint cheat on Jessica Drew? I heard he did, but I don’t know the details. Do you know when they broke up?

So yeah lol he did. It was shitty of him (it wasn’t even anyone serious just some random fling so stupid Clint) but I think this heavily goes with the self destructive pattern that was written on purpose in Matt Fraction’s Hawkeye because historically Clint is WIFE GUY he commits. When he likes someone he LOVES THEM.

They broke up in the comic run as well. She shows up and is rightfully pissed. He doesn’t lie about it. She hits him twice, he lets it go. She goes to hit him a third time and he stops her telling her “I get that you’re mad but you don’t get to do that anymore” (he was dealing with a lot of his trauma as a child in this comic such as being beaten by his father so I think it just put him on edge) She tells him that he is a bad person and he is too wrapped up in his own self hate and it causes him to push people away that care about him. Kate shows up and she tells Kate to ditch Clint basically cause he will only let her down. Jess was really hurt, like really hurt. That was the extent of the breakup though. It was pretty short and sweet.

anyway.. It’s why I get so bummed when people take this comic as the end all be all for Clint because it’s Clint at his worst so-

TLDR: Yes he did cheat on her. It sucked for him to do but they are good now and they have worked through it.

[manynarrators]

When I say this song has fundamentally changed how I hc the Devils Minions 70s/80s breakup to have gone down! I’ve been listening to it in repeat for days trying to figure out all my thoughts about it.

So I know as a fandom, the general thought is that Armand is the one to call it quits. Which, you know, makes sense as the person with the memory erasing powers. But if I may play devils advocate (yes, pun intended) what if it was Daniel to break up with him?

Hear me out, because I have logic, that also helps double as why I think the show making him a drug addict and not just an alcoholic is an absolutely inspired choice. It’s not even just the fun irony that Armand had the funky golden eyes. (Or the “then you wake up next to a monster” line being incredibly literal in his case!)

My first thing, is that Armand, historically, is never the primary driver resulting in major changes in his life. See: slavers, Marius, Lestat, Louis, Daniel in Dubai— so it makes sense it was Daniel back then too. If Armand had the prerequisite character development to make those choices on his own, it wouldn’t be Daniel in Dubai. Therefore, it’s logical to assume the same was true then.

But why, you might ask, would Daniel break up with Armand? Two interrelated reasons. Daniel is an addict, either with drugs or for vampire blood. It’s also really hard to get clean if you don’t change your circumstances in any way. The people are the same, the habits, the spaces… super easy to fall back into it.

Armand is both the toxic situation encouraging use, and also the drug itself. It’s enabling him, even if he does also try and take care of him. But how does he help? By giving him more blood because of its healing affects which just keeps the whole process alive. It feels good to be on it, and bad to be off, even if it is, ultimately harmful.

The breakup as Daniel attempting to get clean and turn his life around— and to do that, he can’t have Armand there.

If Daniel were the one to break up with him, it could also help explain why Armand’s emotions about him during the interview are both… characterized by the fond looks and attempts to soften some of the things Louis does (eg. the Parkinson’s moment) but also some more upset moments. This is someone who left him.

Armand, about Louis says he asked for his memories to be removed, what if it’s the same case here? Daniel asks for it, because he thinks it will be easier to get and stay clean if he can’t remember the addiction in the first place (it doesn’t work as well as he might hope).

Cut to Daniel being turned as falling off the wagon. Not only has he relapsed, but he, in some way, metaphorically overdoses. Vampirism does kill the person it’s given to, fifty years clean and he dies from it in the end.

Also, listen to the song and tell me it doesn’t work! Like there’s so many lines that are perfect, and if anyone wants, I would totally make another post just going through the song with a fine tooth comb as seen through a “Devils Minion breakup as getting clean” analytical lens. (I would be lying if I said I wasn’t working on a DM breakup playlist).

I am certain there’s more thoughts I am forgetting here, but tldr: Devils Minion as getting clean, and Daniel asks for Armand to erase his memories.

[johns-prince]

what do you think caused john and paul to break up as bitterly as they did?

It was such a terrible bad bitter no-good very dramatic very nasty public breakup because John and Paul loved each other.

It was imperfect, downright obsessive, possessive, intense, inclusive, and sometimes rather unhealthy, but there's no doubting the love John and Paul held for each other.

What they had was like a marriage. Their relationship was theirs and whatever that entailed well that was just Lennon-McCartney, no need to explain it, and anyone who questioned them or their partnership was immediately shut out.

It's tragic when a love like that, a partnership like that, doesn't work out, for some reason or another.

John was pretty volatile during the end too, the drugs and substance abuse, the fact he was surrounding himself with people who did not actually care for him but wanted to use him, and his spiraling mental and emotional stability. He admitted to setting the fire to the Beatles, not because he hated it or them, or Paul, but because he loved it too much (the monk setting fire to the temple)

I can believe that to a point, especially if the Beatles = Lennon-McCartney.

It was a terrible breakup because John and Paul refused to communicate like rational, mature human beings, they refused to communicate a very vulnerable, sensitive, and complicated subject—their relationship and what it all meant and what each side expected from the other at this point—and because, especially because, these two could not, would not, stand NOT being the center of each other's worlds.

Which circles back to refusing to properly talk it out about their partnership/relationship and what were the expectations and boundaries. Which maybe they tried to in India but it obviously didn't pan out.

You have two morons who are so possessively territorial over what they have, that when a real threat to the Lennon-McCartney dynamic suddenly became real (Linda and Yoko and all that these relationships and partnerships entailed) it sent their respective whole world crashing down and neither could cope or manage. If it couldn't just be Lennon & McCartney then it couldn't be Lennon & McCartney at all.

John and Paul's breakup was so awful because they were basically a husband and wife going through a divorce that one side didn't want but was forced to, and the other side pushed for it all while not being 100% serious about it and yet when the wife finally gave in the husband dared to act shocked and hurt.

And even after the nasty breakup, they were like two exes who were totally not over each other. Blatant pining, yearning, obsessive even when apart, John and Paul were pretty pathetic over each other.

Even today, Paul carries on about John and their relationship and partnership like he's the widower of John Lennon.

That's what I think.

TLDR;

What caused it to be so volatile a breakup is because John and Paul loved each other, they could not cope or manage dealing with even the smallest hint that one might not be the top priority in the others life that it caused their respective worlds to tilt and shatter because they were insanely not normal about their relationship, and neither John or Paul truly wanted the divorce to happen but regardless it happened.

They loved each other, they couldn't share each other because they were also insane about each other, and it's true that the person who is closest to you and whom you love the most, can absolutely devastate and hurt you the worst, and with such ease.

[latolover]

pathetic!odasaku

cw: implied one night stand and mentions of alcohol, yandere odaxfem!reader. part of it was inspired by @shumidehiro fic, The Wingman

( tldr, i tried to make oda like, some sort of disgusting gentlemanly simp. go soft on me pls ive never posted any writing ever in my life )

  …

What if, instead of being a stable adult, Odasaku suffers from a series of bad relationships. Toxic, abusive, everything in between, you name it. Oda is too forgiving that he would let these women walk over his folded body, it's not his fault right? He just had too much love to give. He loved every one of them and tried his best. At first he thought he was into tall beautiful women, maybe a quick-witted one as a bonus but looking back, he’s down to settle with just about anybody. Truth be told, Oda didn't regret any of his past relationships, it was real love and he could even say that he led a good life.

  Yet here he was, drink in hand, crying over a breakup that happened a month ago. His hunched back form caught your attention, you've seen many patrons come here to this bar just to get drunk, while you're not one to pry into another’s life, sometimes you are worried and curious as to how they ended up here. After nudging this lifeless body, he didn't seem to react much, if, at all. You hummed and turned around, intending to return to your own table but before you could take a step away, a heavy weight dragged you down. This pathetic stranger was crying in your arms, apologizing and begging you to stay with him. His hold on you was very, very strong. The broken man kept sobbing into your clothes, staining it with tears and snot, yuck. Sure the urge to console him was there but he was kinda causing a scene, getting some glances from the bartender even. Eventually, you managed to pry him off and shoved him back in his little corner, where he sat silently again. You sighed in relief, definitely shouldn't have done that.  It was nearing closing hour when you were signalled by the bar’s owner to come over. Turns out the man from earlier was still passed out on his table, maybe just barely conscious. One of the perks of being a regular was that you obtained the owner's trust, yet in this case you might think the opposite. Tasked with securing this man’s safety and shelter, you begrudgingly helped him but there was no way you're going to let a total stranger crash your place for the night. Instead, you searched his body, looking for any belongings that could hold personal information. Bingo, you found an ID in his wallet with an address on it. Slinging one arm over your shoulder and supporting his waist, you hailed a ride and headed to your destination.

   Oda woke up with a nasty hangover, laying in bed for a couple more minutes before getting out, noticing that his clothes were nearly folded beside him. He did not remember undressing nor how he was able to get home in the first place. no matter how hard Oda tried, there seemed to be a lot of holes in his memory. A loud knock took him out of the trance. Quickly, he haphazardly threw on some clothes before letting you enter his room. 

“Plus, last night you were pretty energetic.

The air was tense. Oda was visibly red after you broke the news, even after you've forgiven him many times, claiming that you too were drunk last night and yet he was still disappointed in himself for succumbing to his carnal desires, downing the glass of water he was given. He stared at the half empty cup, his reflection stared back. “If you keep slouching like that, it’ll become permanent”, you joked. “My body isn't what it used to be”, he replied. “Stop making yourself sound older than you actually are”

You paused.

  By some miracle, you and him became drinking buddies. At first, you turned down his offer of treating you but he insisted, said it was to make amends and that he wouldn't be able to live with himself if you refused. Sure it was awkward but you both somehow formed a chemistry together and that was how you came to learn about Oda’s misfortunes in the dating world. He’d share his experiences with women and you'd sit and listen, sometimes laughing at his past other times you’d get angry at his stead. Once, he got stood up by his partner on the day that he was going to propose. Poor guy was cheated on multiple times, used for his good looks and money, etc. With every new relationship he enters, he leaves depressed and exhausted. For that amount of past lovers, you're almost surprised he doesn't even have children of his own. The occasional meet-ups has become something Oda looks forward to, a place where he can steam off after a long day at work.

To your surprise, Oda handled it maturely,

  Something’s been bothering you lately, but you can't exactly pinpoint what it is, all you know is that it is related to Oda. Hes so nice that you think he might be a little too nice. Oda often showers you with expensive gifts, from designer brands to flashy jewellery and acts like it's not a big deal, where does he get the money? He won't tell! Oda would always skirt around that question by saying he works overtime for that kind of salary. You thought you could simply brush it off until one day he sat down with you and held your hands. Oda asked for your hand in marriage…! Respectfully you declined, not ready for a life of commitment. But, Oda never stopped. He kept courting you despite the repeated rejections, doubling the amount of clinginess. You began to get annoyed by him but any passive-aggressive remarks you sent were returned with obliviousness. After contemplating your relationship with him for days on end, you finally found the courage to confront him. 

 he accepted his faults and didnt blame you whatsoever. 

“Maybe its time for us to split”, he says as he got up from his seat and left. 

You never heard from him after that day.

Life continued as it was, after work you immediately went home instead of hanging out at the bar like you used to. 

Things were quiet again, but not for long 

.

.

.

.

for you took too long to notice a bandaged stranger who was sitting oh so comfortably on your sofa.

[kayharrisons]

K Tyler is a sweetie, like idk if him and Rain were or almost were bf-gf, but like the way they parted on pretty good terms and stayed good acquaintances, and how Tyler looked so happy to see her again in person again and how he lingered in looking at her face once she was at his place 🥺🥺🥺

I'm pretty sure they're exes! We don't know why they broke up or anything but I have some hcs ab it! Prepare for my ONSLAUGHT of raintyler backstory hcs below

I hc that Rain and Kay were besties from like. The ages of 10 and 11, Tyler was Kay's cool older brother and Rain was always a lil 👉👈 around him. V much has "Best Friend's Brother" by Victoria Justice playing on loop in her head 😤😤

I imagine they got together when Rain was 15 and Tyler 16, went through some struggles with Tyler's dad passing but they got through it! Until, 3-4 years later, Rain loses both of her parents at the same time. She takes it hard, is super struggling, Tyler gets more and more busy with work around this time and it's just.... bad timing. Rain suggests they take a break bc they haven't seen each other properly in weeks and.... Tyler agrees, though reluctant. They can't be there for each other at that moment in time, they both acknowledge that, so they agree to take a step back and if things blossom again then they would never say no :)

Rain, however, distances herself from the group after the breakup. All of her friends are related to Tyler, and it still hurts to see him, so she takes a step back, only seeing them once in a while, until she distances herself completely, to the point that she doesn't even know Bjorn's mom died (which is canon! She's not seen them in so long that she has no clue ab it!!!)

Everyone is hurt by this, but Tyler would never let them badmouth Rain, however, whenever Tyler calls, she'll always come running :) hence why Navarro is like "told you she'd show" to Bjorn in the beginning of the movie

Rain and Tyler broke up, yeah, but the love stayed. That never stopped. They missed each other so much, Kay teases Rain ab it, and we can tell she feels the same! Imo they still love each other so much and were both operating off of "if the timing is right then we'll fall back together again", they're still very much in love, even if they never say it. But their physical touch, their actions with each other, Tyler LITERALLY dying for her...... they never got a chance to have more time together, and Rain is going to regret that for the rest of her life :,) right person, not enough time 😭

Tldr; I'm a RainTyler girly, love a bi queen and her hot husband 💅😘

[heretopasstime]

Ex-Boyfriend Childe // Angst-Fluff

                                              🦊       ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───      🐳

Synopsis/TLDR: You meet your ex Ajax- CHILDE, and surprise!! He misses you :( and wants you back. 

Tag/s: Regret, Reader is gender-neutral, One-shot,  Bad-writing, English is not my first language, Reader is referred to as ‘you’, Reader misses him too and kinda awk, bad writing + Childe is ooc here lol, not proofread

Posting this one as it was dwelling in the drafts. Reader is called ‘’YOU

Credit/s:  @saradika (DIVIDER/S), GIF posted by @raidenei, emojicombo.com for sparkle text divider,  quillbot for helping with my english :), notesapp for helping me. Inspired by a character Ai interaction.

You two were lovers for a long time, but after facing some problematic behavior  you had finally decided to break up with Childe, and he still misses you oh so much. On one of your travels, you manage to spot him again, and he seems to notice you, walking in your direction with his characteristic smug smile.

"Well, hello there, my beloved comrade! It's been a long time since I last saw you."

Seeing him approach you, your shoulders square up and tense up.

"Hi there, Tartaglia."

 The way you say his name is so unfamiliar to him; endearments or his real name is what you usually called him before the breakup. Childe raises an eyebrow, his smile still on his face, almost as if he didn't get that it was sarcasm, and he could feel his heart beating fast. Just as he tries to act normal, his thoughts run at the speed of light. It's so hard for him to accept that his ex-girlfriend hates him so much now, and he never realized he was messing up everything.

You express a characteristic subtle smile as I tuck in a lose strand of hair.  Childe cant help but notice how you still kept it styled it in the same charming yet disheveled way you used too when we were still together. 

"I’m doing... somewhat okay,"

 you confess, trying your best to sound composed and well-oriented. Trying your absolute best to not reveal the mess that you so clearly are and haven't really changed

 "Are you sure, Малыш ?" 

He lets out the last word, with a small pause between ‘Малыш’, and his tone of voice is a mix of sarcasm and a hint of genuine care for you. The way he looks at you, he seems to still have those feelings for you, but his dignity stops him from begging for forgiveness or begging you to date him again.

 Your eyes widen at the ever so familiar term of endearment, from a past that almost feels like a distant memory. You purse your lips tightly, feeling a bit pressured as a hurricane of emotions stirs in my stomach.

"Hah, I haven't heard that in a while."

 You let out a breathy chuckle, meeting his yearning gaze with a look of longing for just a moment. Looking away quickly as even as pleasing as it is it felt almost wrong to see such a desperate, pained expression on his face.

 He stops for a moment, looking at your expression, and takes a deep breath.

"Listen, I don't know if you still have any feelings for me, but if you do, please. Give me one last chance to show you I can change, that I can be better, and that I can make you feel loved again. I promise you."

His voice sounded both desperate and resolute, resolute to have one last try with the one he still loves.

“So please--”

"How can I be sure that my heart won't be broken into pieces again? I broke things off for a reason, Aja-.. Childe?"

  Whoops. Almost said his real name as you expressed your own reasonable distrust towards his confession.

Childe is the name of the man you wanted to leave, the man who kept you unaware of his real job and whom you was foolish enough to love and still love as he is apart of him. Ajax, the man you yearn for even after leaving him. His subtle, gentle touches and somewhat annoying personality as a lover kept you engaged and happy. The real problem was whether he was even himself when he was with you. As lying is the only constant trait shared between the two personalities you had named.

 "I swear." He looks at you in the eyes with a resolute expression; he wants to make you believe in his word. "I promise I will not mess this up again. I will be more honest, and I will do my best to make you feel loved again."

He puts one of his hands on top of your hands, a warm smile on his face, but there's something in his eyes. He looks a bit... afraid. He is afraid to mess up again, but he knows he has to prove himself to you to have you back.

 At the touch of his hand against your own, you cant help yourself as your body noticeably and instinctively relaxes. A soft blush appears on your cheeks as you hear his words, listening keenly.

"Why do you even want to get back together again?" Looking up into his ocean blue eyes, mindless and yet deep in a way it carries many memories of us together. Your voice pleads out for answers, in near desperation as your own eyes widens and doe's in the oh so familiar way that makes him melt.

 "Because I'm an absolute stubborn brash idiot, " he says softly and with a smile, his eyes full of affection for you, his whole body relaxed, a soft smile on his face. "And you are the only one who knows how to handle me , the only one that can make me happy." His eyes were shiny, with almost a tear in the corner of his eye. He still had that fear of messing up again, even if he was trying his best to calm you and convince you that you could trust in him again.

 Your body tenses, and your grip tightens as you almost pull away from his touch.

"That reason is so fickle; there's no depth to it." I bluntly admit in response that my eyes express a look of worry, as if I had my heart broken again. I wished for more layers rather than a simple "I love you'.

I had loved him to the moon and back. Even when I drowned in his ocean eyes, I never questioned it for so long. I had spent hours awake in the wee hours of the night, worried and anxious for his arrival. I had poured my heart and soul out, but I could not see the same resolve that I so wished to see within him.

 "Then what should I say?" He looked at you, looking like a kid that had been punished, with a sad expression on his face. "What more do I need to tell you so we can try one last time? Because I could say anything and I would do anything just to be with you, just to make you happy again." The sad expression, the sorrow on his face—it's all genuine; he was showing his true emotions, desperate to make his ex-girlfriend accept trying it one last time.

 I've always had to help him clearly express his emotions; it was once a benefit when we were together, but when it came to it, I was the only one who truly understood what he was feeling. I want to chuckle to remind him of the similarities in behavior he still has, but alas, it just comes out as a sad smile.

I lightly grasped his larger, roughened hands in my dainty, smaller ones; the size difference always made him melt.

"Tell me all, what your life has been like without me. Then I shall decide."

I respond; my request is serious yet gentle. I'm asking him to confess and admit his worries. It'll reveal to me the truth—the truth that I long for and seek after.

 "Without you, I felt like I missed something. I missed coming home and having someone I could hug or kiss. I miss everything we used to do together. Not only that, but without you, I feel empty. It's like nothing has meaning or color anymore. It's like everything is gray without the colors. It's like every emotion, every joy, every happiness, it's just gone." His voice sounded a bit hoarse; he was trying to control the tears. His emotions were sincere.

 He looks at you and takes a deep breath. "Without you, I feel like I'm just going without a real purpose." Every morning I stay longer in bed because I'm not excited to start my day, and I just spend most of the day wondering how and if I can go on. I can feel your absence in my life.” “Not only that, I miss our small talks and moments together, or the more personal moments. I miss them all." He seems to blush a bit. "And every day without you feels like an eternity."

 "Please, my love, I can't go on without you; you are my life, you are my reason to live, and you are the only one that makes my days worth it. I cannot imagine my life without you; you are the most important person to me, and I would do anything to keep you by my side, just to see and touch you again." He starts to cry; it wasn't fake tears or just acting; his sobs come from deep within his heart; he cried out of a raw desperation.

 Seeing him cry makes my heart ache and melt, and as if it were instinct, You hug him tightly. Letting his face reach, touch, and smell your hair . You’re arms wrap around his waist to hold him close, and his head lies on his chest as you hug him close to comfort him and even myself.

 He closes his eyes. His whole body starts to tremble as his heart and mind are overcome with emotions. "You are the most precious thing I've ever had in my life." Please accept to give me another chance. I promise I'll do anything, I'll be better, and I'll make you so happy. And I promise I'll never make you cry or feel sad again." A few tears fall from his face; some get lost in his hair. His breathing starts to get heavy as he seems to be on the verge of a panic attack.

 You gaze up at him, your chin resting on his chest, looking at his expression. Once you hear and feel his quickened pace of breath and heartbeat through his chest,  you don't even hesitate as your hand makes its way to his face, wiping away the tears ever so gently.

you’re expression is soft and sympathetic as  you caress his face and tuck away any of his ginger hair that's askew. You can't help but look in somewhat awe at his beautiful collection of freckles adorning his cheeks and nose, the same pattern  you kissed to no end. His eyelashes were long, and now they were dewy from the tears. Complimented by the light blush adorning his cheeks. Even in tears,  you can't believe such a man as enchanting exists.

Your body straightens, and as your feet raise to the tip of my toes, you take a deep breath and kiss him.

  Childe’s body tenses in surprise at your sudden attempt to kiss him; his eyes are wide open but his lips are closed; his heart beats at full speed; and his breathing gets heavier. His eyes close automatically, and he kisses you back, with a deep passion and desire in his kiss. His arms wrap around you, his hands gently grasping your waist, pulling you closer to him as he kisses you back. He seems to show his whole love and affection in those few seconds of intense romantic passion.

[send-up-my-heart-to-you]

what is the story of you and violet like how did you start and how did it reach to where it did, of course only if you’re comfortable. ( i’m not trying to mock you or make fun of it, ik what you went through but since you said anything personal, i have wanted to know this. i’m interested in things which are none of my business. i pray im not sounding rude, i really want to come of as nicely as i can, but i can’t)

whole story below the cut, there’s a tldr at the end bc i added a load of unnecessary details. js brace its kind of a long one.

so we met when i was 12 and he was 15. i remember it was june 2020. i didn’t like him at first—got sort of a weird vibe. but then i got to know him more and, by september-ish, he became one of my best friends. by november, i thought of myself as having a crush on him (i didnt know i was aroace at the time) but i never made a move bc he was dating one of my friends, lets call her jude. we talked pretty much every day. i had to leave our friend group for safety reasons but he was my source of contact with the rest of my friends. i think we mainly talked on discord at the time?

flash forward to new years eve of 2020, and something happens. i’ll spare you the details, but needless to say my devices got confiscated. i still remembered his discord id, so i got my best friend to msg him and tell him what happened. i also got my favorite cousin to do the same, so he’d have two ways of talking to me.

keep in mind, my best friend and cousin both had it in their minds that i had a crush on him, so they’d both try to get him to like me. in june i think he broke up w jude. my cousin was also in regular contact with jude on instagram, so i got to msg jude at some point after the breakup and i distinctly remember her saying she’d be okay if i dated him but she personally was so unhappy w him. i didnt get that, but i think i later did

years pass w barely any contact. december 2022, i start dating someone else. january 2023, i realize i chose the absolute worst person and i break things off. then april 2023, i manage to get in contact w violet. we start dating the next day. (here he’s told me that he’s genderqueer he/she, but later he denied this)

i talked to him anytime i could and he'd send selfies a lot. i was scared about my parents so i asked him not to. he'd do it anyway. i didnt ask him to stop after that

he wasn’t necessarily a bad boyfriend, i js didnt rlly feel. idk. special? i’d make playlists for him and send voice recordings whispering “i love you” in arabic but i never got any of that back ig. the first few weeks were the best but after that? nothing. i’d send pics and he’d call me pretty and hot and say he’s so lucky to have me. later i found out he called every girl pretty when he’d see a pic of her.

i self-harmed for the first time when i was with him. what he did was ask me to send a pic of it so he could check if its bad. i told him i was suicidal. i dont remember what he said.

and then came june 15th, 2023. what a day. i talked to him at like midnight my time. i remember the last thing he asked was for me to send a selfie so he could show me off to his friend.

then my mom found out. and i was so scared of her getting angry at me that i downed 16 pills and got rushed to the hospital.

my mom didnt get angry. but my devices were confiscated again. and i couldnt talk to him. keep in mind, he knew i was suicidal. i was expecting some kind of response from him through my best friend because he was still talking to her at the time, but i didnt hear anything. instead, nine days after i tried to kill myself, on the 24th of july, he broke up with me. 

i didn’t blame him. when your suicidal gf ghosts you for nine days ofc you’re gonna wanna move on. it’s not his fault. i js felt kind of lonely, yknow? on the 30th i managed to log into my acc to talk to him, to explain everything, n all i saw was a breakup msg. i dunno.

in october-ish of 2023, i managed to get thru to him. i explained everything. he didnt give much of a response, but he did ask if we could keep talking. i said sure. we did keep talking and i invited him to tumblr bc i had more of a presence here than anywhere else. when my mom confiscated tumblr in november, i continued talking to him on google chat

in february 2024 he was my valentine js bc we were both single and alone and we thought itd be fun. i wrote him a letter. he didnt make me anything but its fine. you get the idea we were getting closer again

by this point i realized i wasnt receiving the amount of love i deserve, and i was kind of sad bc he’s not a muslim and i am, so we couldn’t get married, therefore we wouldnt have a future together (i’m the kind of person who wouldn’t have a relationship w someone if it won’t lead to anything in the long-term). he told me he wouldn’t become a muslim or study islam for me, so i respected that. i wouldnt forcibly convert him. but i also acknowledged that i couldn’t be w someone who’s not a muslim, so i asked him to stop talking to me. he said okay.

he’d still reblog stuff and send me asks—he even asked me to write a poem about him for my follower event. but around that time i had kind of been getting drained from exams and i didnt want boy problems on top of that, so i asked him to stop all contact w me. he respected that, as far as i know. he wished for me to have a nice life. i wished the same for him. and i blocked him. i havent talked to him since then at all, i dont think

so yeah. kind of lengthy story thats a whole load of nothing. i dont want you to go bother him about this. he was my friend before being my boyfriend, and he was with me during a dark time in my life. i respect him and i ask for you to please not send hate towards him. think what you will, just dont bother him. i’d be happy to answer anything else, but i think i js about covered everything.

tldr; we met when i was 12 and he was 15. we dated starting when i had just turned 15 and he was almost 18. he broke up with me after i attempted sewerslide. we continued talking for a while after reconnecting but i cut him off again last feb for religious reasons and we havent talked much since.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I told my partner I didn’t want them to be polyamorous in our relationship despite being poly myself?

This one is a little complicated. My (20NB, they) partners (varying ages/genders) are plural and all part of the same system. I am in a relationship with the host (25NB, he/she/they) and several of the others in their system. I’m polyamorous, so this is no problem for me. We’ll call the host Leaf for now, since he’s one most involved here. We have been together for over a year now and I love all of them very much.

Leaf is close friends with someone we’ll call Chair (?NB, they). I am friendly with Chair, but I mostly hang out with them with Leaf, and they’re still more Leaf’s friend than my friend. Leaf and Chair knew each other before I met Leaf. They dated in the past, but broke up and remain good friends. I don’t know the details of their breakup, but I think Leaf said both of them felt they weren’t in a good place to date at the time due to life circumstances. They broke up ~6 months or more before Leaf and I started dating. Chair is kind and fun to hang out with, and they seem a really good friend to Leaf even though I don’t know them too well.

Leaf and I were talking about 3 months ago, and she mentioned to me that she was unsure if she might still have feelings for Chair as well as for me. I was unsure of how to react, but I wanted to support them while they worked out their feelings. Leaf also told me that they hadn’t told Chair we were dating, because they didn’t want Chair to feel bad since they initially broke up due to being in a bad place for relationships. Leaf said that both me and Chair are equally important to them, which I completely respect. I don’t think romantic relationships should automatically be more important than platonic ones, and of course it’s important to me that Leaf can have relationships outside of me. Leaf said he still was not sure, so he was going to give it more thought. I asked her to tell me when she had a better idea of her feelings, and we left it at that. A month ago, I asked Leaf if they had thought it over any more, and they still weren’t sure. We haven’t discussed it since. Our relationship has been wonderful otherwise, and I love him to bits.

Having said that, I’m still kind of anxious about it. As the TLDR said, I don’t think I’m comfortable with Chair and Leaf dating, but I feel like I’m being really unfair because I’m dating Leaf and many of the others in their system. I feel that it’s different, because obviously Leaf knows my other partners very, very well and is close with all of them. I don’t know Chair well and while they seem really nice, I don’t think we have a lot of interests in common, so we never hit it off.

I’m worried I’m invalidating Leaf’s system with that attitude though. Members of a system are often unique individuals with their own personalities, memories, preferences, and identities even though they share a body. This is at least true for Leaf’s system. I would never want any of my partners to feel like I didn’t respect and love them for who they are as individuals. Some of my partners within the system are dating each other, but this has never bothered me because I knew both of them really well. I felt I could trust that it wouldn’t hurt our relationships because of that.

Chair and Leaf also know each other really well. A part of me is anxious that because they’re so close, Leaf might have a stronger romantic connection with Chair if they dated and not want to be together. I know I have trust issues (thanks, PTSD) but I don’t want to let that overwhelm or control me in this situation and hurt my relationship. I trust Leaf deeply, but I just don’t have that level of trust with Chair.

I trust Leaf not to cheat. I know he would respect my decision if I told him I didn’t feel comfortable with him and Chair dating, but I don’t want to hurt him or his relationship with Chair. I also don’t know if Chair would be open to a polyamorous relationship, and even if they are, I don’t know if I would be good at navigating that dynamic with someone I’m only a friendly-acquaintance with. I know Chair is important to Leaf and I don’t want to hurt them because of that. I feel like I’d be a huge jerk if I forced Leaf to choose between their feelings for Chair or their feelings for me; I know how heartbreaking it would be to have to choose between my partners.

I don’t think Leaf is doing anything wrong here, because she has been open with me about how she feels and I’m grateful for that. I don’t think people can help catching feelings for others, because as long as they don’t act on them without their partners’ consent then it’s harmless. This is not a case of cheating, in my opinion.

I just don’t know. Am I being an asshole or being controlling/possessive here? Would it be okay if I told Leaf I wasn’t comfortable with them and Chair dating? Am I having a double standard by being in multiple relationships but not wanting Leaf to date Chair? Am I completely overthinking this??? I’d extra appreciate if any systems/plural folks or polyamorous people have any input here. I am new to having a poly relationship and I’m not really sure of the “etiquette” beyond open, honest and frequent communication. I’m also not a system so I don’t know if I’m actually being invalidating of Leaf’s system by not wanting Chair and Leaf to date while dating Leaf’s alters, or if I’m just being paranoid. I do plan on being open about this with Leaf if it comes up again; I just want to organize my thoughts on it first and get a gauge on if I’m being a jerk. My relationship with Leaf is the best one I’ve had. I don’t want to ruin it.

Also, hopefully this is a given, but please don’t be rude about systems in the replies. I love my partners exactly the way they are.

What are these acronyms?

[pebblume]

not in art fight i just like attacking my friends >:)

mel brando @tsubanoboo

blaze @unspecifiedfigure

dennis and lenny @/pastapanik (insta), pastapanik1 (twitter)

a little context for the comic: my bestie is making a webcomic called RYB (first chapter is on webtoon go read it NEOW!!) which is about three teen artists navigating life in the concrete jungle - we have cher the spunky photographer, lenny the asshole graffiti artist, and (my personal fave) dennis the sadboyTM painter. my other friend @theshippinghr wrote a cute fanfic about dennis comforting lenny after a bad breakup so i turned the ending into a comic for funsies (TLDR: lennis is not canon i’m just playing with my friends OCs like barbies)