#Rich Shelton

[giveafike]

i need a jealous ben fic NOW‼️

TLDR: just normal girlfriend!fem reader x Ben Shelton until you get hit on...

Word count + info: 5.1k! Whole lotta dialogue (lots of jealous/sassy ben and teasing). Mentions of Carlos Antagonist Alcaraz (NO HATE ALL LOVE! I HAD TO PICK SOMEONE, SORRY DONT CRUCIFY ME) Also, lwky wanted to fight y/n in this, idk stop being a bitch lwky.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW, jealous ben, possessiveness, neck kisses mentioned - that's about it!

Azzie Notes ✚: WOAH! NO "PLEASE" ANON??? hehe, I'm kidding, you got it. Made a twt btw (azziegivesafike), find me on there. I'll add anon asks there in my bio if you still want to ask stuff without feeling bad <3 but we can talk and yap over there! spoilers on there too.

When this goes up, i should be wrapping up the next Benny post (NSFW)... so keep an eye out! Halloween special coming out on Halloween too! Sorry for starving u guys for so long, but there's stuff on the way!

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Yours - B.T.S.

It's a perfect day in Monte Carlo. The Mediterranean sun blazes bright over the red clay courts and a salty breeze from the sea drifts in on the warm air. The tournament grounds are buzzing with energy, with players, coaches, and friends milling about. You’re seated in the empty stands, overlooking an outdoor practice court as Ben works through his drills. The clay glows a rich terracotta, and each of Ben’s serves echoes powerfully across the court, every stroke executed with his usual, intense focus. Sweat beads on his brow and neck, tiny rivulets rolling down his face, yet his focus never wavers. His damp curls cling to his forehead as he catches his breath between points, his shirt sticking in faint ripples across his torso. You smile, watching him move, not just admiring his talent but also the way he pours himself into every swing, even for a practice session.

You and Ben have been dating for just over a year, and despite both your schedules, you make time to see him, even if it’s only during practice rounds and training. He’s always been strong, both in his love for you and in his commitment to his sport. Having you there seems to centre him; he stands a little taller, pride filling each swing as he puts on a show to make you smile. You, of course, are always proud of him. You see the work and dedication he brings to everything, especially to you. To him, you’re a calm anchor in a sea of intensity, the one he confides in, his steady rock.

Ben’s love for you feels inevitable. Your humour, your intelligence, and your quiet confidence make you a magnetic presence. You’re not just his girlfriend; you’re his best friend, his advisor, the one who helps him open up. You’re his partner in every sense. However, your natural magnetism does bring on many others, and today was no different.

As Ben finishes a rally, you hear the scuff of trainers approaching. You glance up to see Carlos Alcaraz strolling toward you, hands casually tucked in his pockets, his grin as easy as ever, a small bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hey,” he starts, his warm Spanish accent wrapping around the word like a charm. He gestures to the empty seat beside you. “Mind if I join?”

You nod, shifting over slightly. You kept your tone light, you had caught his eye and made small talk before, you weren't one to be starstruck or dazed by now. “Of course, plenty of room, Carlos. How’s your day been?”

Carlos settles in, leaning back with a relaxed sigh. “Just finished my session. This weather’s amazing, a bit warm, no?”

You laugh softly. “It is, isn’t it? I’ve been trying to hide in the shade, I don't know how you tennis players handle the heat.”

Carlos chuckles, casting a look toward Ben as he drills. “Ben’s looking strong out there.”

“He is,” you reply softly, eyes trailing back to Ben with a soft gaze, who, you know, can feel you watching him. Ben's tongue pokes out the side of his mouth as he squats, rocking from one leg to the other as he waits for the next serve, his eyes narrowed across the court. You couldn't help but stifle a small laugh, adoring the image ahead of you.

Carlos leans back, draping his arm casually along the back of your chair, not in a suggestive way but one that feels natural. At least, it doesn't feel like anything. You can't help but notice the closeness but brush it off. Carlos has always been friendly.

“So,” Carlos starts, turning slightly towards you, his dark eyes examining your face, “do you ever get bored watching all this tennis? Being around it every day?” There’s a playful tone to his voice, his dark eyes sparkling.

You laugh lightly, shaking your head as you look back to Carlos. “No, not when it’s Ben. He keeps things interesting and exciting. I love seeing him play”.

Carlos gives you a knowing smile, his eyes holding a hint of mischief, lingering a moment longer than usual. “Ah, yes. Lucky guy,” he says with a grin. “Must be nice to have someone always in your corner.”

“Yeah, I'd like to think so,” you say lightly, shrugging off the comment.

Carlos is charming, but it’s likely just friendly banter. You turn back to Ben, watching as he powers another serve into the clay, the impact sending a cloud of dust into the air. Both you and Carlos take a sharp inhale at the unexpected force of the hit.

You notice Ben’s shoulders tense, his jaw tightening as he catches sight of you watching. He wipes his brow with the back of his hand, and for a moment, his next few shots come off harder than usual, landing dangerously close to the lines, his movements more forceful, even a bit reckless, for a practice session. The ball slams into the ground with a fierce intensity, almost as if he’s competing, trying to prove something. You blink, then shake your head with a small smile. Maybe he’s just having a moment of intense focus.

Carlos clears his throat before returning his eyes to you. “So, will you be staying for long here?” Carlos asks, his tone conversational, yet you feel the conversation lingering on the edge of something more.

“Oh, we’re not sure. Might play it by ear,” you respond, glancing over at him. “How about you?”

“Depends,” he says with a playful shrug. “I may stick around if there’s something interesting keeping me here.”

You giggle politely, assuming he’s talking about tennis, but something in his tone gives you pause. You feel a flicker of unease but push it aside, convincing yourself it’s just your imagination.

Ben, however, is clearly catching on. His next few serves are downright explosive, practically booming throughout the court as the ball hits the clay with an almost competitive edge. When he looks over again, his eyes narrow slightly, his lips pressed into a firm, tight line. His hands are at his sides as he mutters to himself quietly. Between points, he glances your way, brows drawn slightly, muttering to himself just loud enough for you to notice. You catch the faintest pout tugging at his expression like he’s quietly vying for your attention. Between shots, he meets your eyes with a raised brow as if to say, 'Are you watching me?' You stifle a smile and arch an eyebrow back, letting him know you are.

Carlos leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, casually closing the distance a little. “You seem like you’re used to this lifestyle. Like travel, tournaments, attention ..all of it.”

“Yeah, I’ve gotten used to it. It’s a different pace, but I only get to see glimpses of it when I-” you start to say, but your attention is pulled toward Ben, whose movements are starting to change.

Without warning, the ball cracks loudly off his racket, and he sends a blistering forehand down the line with an intensity that seems to echo across the court. His jaw is clenched, his brows furrowed, as he wipes his upper lip with the back of his hand. You blink, momentarily thrown, and struggle to refocus on Carlos, though Ben’s shift in mood has left you a bit unsettled. Is he just having an intense moment of focus, or did something happen to set him off? Whatever it is, his gaze shifts to you more often, dark, narrowed and brooding. You offer a small smile to yourself, more confused than amused, and turn back to Carlos, finishing off where you had left off, though Ben’s presence looms larger than ever.

On the drive back to the hotel, tension sits heavy in the air. Ben tosses his bag into the back seat with more force than necessary, shutting the door a little too hard as he slides into the driver’s seat. You scroll through messages and check in on group chats, but the quiet storm brewing beside you isn’t lost on you. His hands grip the wheel tightly, his jaw is clenched shut, his gaze locked on the road with an intensity that’s hard to ignore. With a sigh, you set your phone on your lap and glance over.

“You know, your forehand was on fire today,” you say, trying to lighten the mood.

He side-eyes you, his tone sassy as his lips pressed in a faint scowl. “Mmm. Sure.”

You raise a brow, undeterred. “Did you enjoy training? You seemed extra… um, focused.”

Ben lets out a sharp exhale, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. “Focused,” he repeats, almost to himself. He’s quiet a moment longer, then shakes his head with a scoff. “Yeah, you could say that.”

You tilt your head, giving him a look. “Alright, spill. What’s up with you?”

Ben’s jaw tenses, and he keeps his eyes forward. “You really didn’t notice?”

“Notice what?”

He kisses his teeth with his tongue, clearly annoyed. “Carlitos,” he says finally, voice clipped. The name practically rolls off his tongue like a curse.

You blink, caught off guard. “Carlos?”

“Yeah. Sitting all close, leaning in, making you laugh,” he grumbles.

“Like he’s some kind of…” He shakes his head, muttering to himself. “Honestly, baby, you couldn’t see through that?”

A small lopsided grin tugs at your lips. “Ben, he was just being friendly.”

“Friendly,” he repeats with a scoff. His voice raises a bit as he glances over to you. “I know exactly what that kind of ‘friendly’ means. That's the kind of 'friendly' I was before I had my hands round you and I-”

"Ben! God, you can't be serious" You stifle a laugh, your jaw dropped as you look at him. Sassy Shelton came out strong today, clearly.

He sighs, running a hand over his face quickly. "Baby, he's not 'friendly'. That’s what he wants you to think. I know guys like him. Hell, I was a guy like him before you gave me a chance. Now he's trying to get your attention-- right in front of me, mind you -- and-”.

“Are you jealous, Ben?”

He gives you a look, eyes narrowed, though the blush creeping up his neck gives him away. “I’m not jealous. Like, the way he was actin’ around you, leanin’ in close, smilin’ too much. He was flirtin’, and you didn’t even notice - I just don’t like seeing some guy try to cozy up to you like that. ” He hesitates, then mutters, “Especially not while I’m right there.”

You chuckle softly, reaching over to place a hand on his arm. “Ben, I think you’re overreacting. Carlos is just... Carlos. It’s nothing.”

Ben shakes his head, still frowning. “You don’t get it. I’ve seen him pull that charm on other girls. He gets all friendly and sweet and cool, but it ain’t just for fun.”

“Well, I’m not other girls,” you say, squeezing his arm gently. “And I’m definitely not interested in anyone else but you.”

He stays quiet for a moment, his jaw working as he chews on your words. Finally, he exhales, his grip loosening slightly on the wheel. “I know… it’s just… I don’t like him thinkin’ he can try somethin’. I didn’t like the way he was lookin’ at you.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly amused now. "You’re really worked up over this, aren’t you? Were you pouting out there on the court?”

He huffs, looking away, a hint of a smirk breaking through as he rolls his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

"I wouldn't but here you are, pouting, right in front of me." You tease, your voice lilting as you inch over to his face.

He lets out a deep breath, turning back to the road, his anger melting a bit but still lingering in his words. “I just think he should’ve backed off,” he mutters. “Especially when he knows you're mine".

“Ben, no one’s got my attention like you do. You know that. I'm yours.”

He finally lets out a reluctant smile, though he tries to hide it. “Yeah, well,” he mutters, his tone softer, “good. ‘Cause I don’t plan on sharing.”

The rest of the ride goes by easier as you talk about your own life, people and things, taking Ben's mind off of the court.

Later that evening, as you’re finishing up your skincare routine. The day's events have already faded from your mind, but you know Ben hasn’t completely shaken it off. He’s been quieter than usual since practice ended. Now he’s standing in the doorway, freshly showered, his hair damp, his grey t-shirt hanging loosely on his frame, and pyjama shorts slung low on his hips.

His hands are in his pockets, but his eyes are focused intently on you. He’s got that familiar look, pouty lips, eyes narrowed, the kind of look he gets when he wants to ask something.

You glance at him in the mirror and smile softly. “What’s up?”

Ben doesn’t respond right away. He pushes himself off the doorframe, stepping closer. “So...what did Carlos actually say to you today?” he asks, his voice quiet and soft.

The question catches you a little off guard, surely he can't still be on this. “Carlos?” you echo, frowning slightly. “You mean… earlier, at practice?”

He nods, but there’s no humour in his expression. “Yeah, baby. What’d he say?”

You chuckle softly, turning to face him. “Ben, come on, it was just a friendly chat. It wasn’t like that-”

“I didn’t say it was like that,” Ben cuts in, his voice sharper than usual, his tone still soft as he folds his arms over his broad chest, looking down at your face, almost with pleading eyes. “Just… tell me what he said.”

You hesitate, realising that he’s serious, the playfulness you expected absent. “He was just chatting. You know, we were talking about tennis, the match, practice…” you start, unsure why he’s so worked up. “At one point, he was asking if we, or was it just me? Whatever, asking if we were staying here and I said we haven't decided and then he said something about he might be sticking around. Like, if he found something ‘worthy,’ he’d stay longer or whatever.”

Ben’s jaw clenches, and he shakes his head slowly, bringing a hand up to wipe his face. “Worthy?” he mutters to himself, his expression hardening. His hands are still buried in his pockets, but you can see the tension in his shoulders. “He said that? Like, right to you? Exactly like that?”

You shrug, still not fully understanding why this has him so riled up. “Yeah, but I didn’t think anything of it. He didn’t mean anything-”

“Didn’t mean anything?” Ben interrupts, his voice climbing slightly, his hands waving exasperatedly. He steps closer again, almost looming over you. “He knew what he was sayin’. He knows how he sounds, baby. And you laughed at him.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Wait, you’re mad because I laughed?”

Ben huffs, looking down at you with frustration evident in every line of his body. “No, but babe- I’m mad ‘cause he pulled your attention away from me! You’re there to watch me, not talk to him. But he just slides in there, all smooth, and suddenly you’re caught up in some conversation with him, while I’m bustin’ my ass on court, looking over to see my girl caught my shot only to see some guy leaning over, making eyes at her!”

You bite back a smile at the raw honesty in his voice. He’s not playing games, not teasing, just genuinely upset. “Ben, I wasn’t ignoring you-”

“Well, you weren’t exactly watching me either!” he exclaims, cutting you off again. “I saw you, baby. You weren’t even lookin’ my way.” His voice softens, but it’s filled with frustration, his hand reaching for yours as he holds them, running his thumb over your knuckles. “You’re supposed to be there for me, and he’s over here making you laugh, takin’ your attention like it’s no big deal.”

You sigh, reaching out to rest your hand on his chest, trying to soothe the tension. “Ben, I’m always there for you. He was just making conversation.”

Ben’s eyes narrow and he drops your hands softly. He closes his eyes like he's mulling over everything before he suddenly opens his mouth to mimic Carlos’s voice, clearly irritated. “‘If you find somethin’ worthy, no?’” he says in a poorly executed accent, making you almost burst out laughing. “‘Maybe you’ll stay longer, si?’” He huffs, shaking his head. “What kind of friendly talk is that? He knows what he’s doin’. He talks like that on purpose.”

You can’t help but chuckle at his attempt to copy Carlos, even if you know he’s genuinely upset. “Ben, baby, stop. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?” Ben stares at you, a pout forming on his lips again. “I’m ridiculous for wantin’ my girl to be there for me? For not likin’ that some other guy’s got your eyes on him when they should be on me?"

Your gaze softens as you look up at him and bring a hand up to his face, your thumb tracing a line along his jaw. “Ben, I was paying attention to you. Maybe not in every single moment, but trust me, you had my attention. You always do.”

He still looks unconvinced, his lips pressing into a tight line. “It didn’t feel like it,” he mutters. “Not when I saw you smilin’ at him. Like, really smilin’. I didn’t like it.”

You let out a soft breath, wrapping your arms around his neck, and pulling him closer. “Ben, I don’t care about Carlos. I only care about you.”

His hands finally find your body again, this time resting on your waist as he looks down at you, his eyes still stormy with frustration. “Yeah, well, he’s smooth, babe. And I don’t like sharing your attention with anyone. Not him. Not anyone.”

“Ben, you never have to. I’m all yours,” you reassure him, smiling as he finally relaxes in your arms, nestling himself into your neck as you feel a small smile against your skin, breaking through his earlier frustration. After a few seconds, he pulls away and stares at you for a long moment, then sighs deeply, the tension slowly leaving his body.

“Yeah… I know,” he mutters, sounding defeated but still a little stubborn.

You press a kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering against his skin. “Why don’t you let me help you relax, huh? Come here.”

He reluctantly follows as you guide him to sit on the vanity stool. His pout is still present, but the frustration is starting to ebb away. You grab one of your serums and start gently applying it to his face, massaging it into his skin. He closes his eyes, letting out a quiet sigh as you work on his stress.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” you tease softly, fingers working in small circles along his jawline.

“Yeah, but you love me,” Ben mumbles, his voice soft, his head leaning into your palm.

You smile, brushing your thumb gently over his cheek. “I do love you. But you’ve gotta stop worrying about Carlos. He’s not worth your time.”

Ben doesn’t say anything for a moment, just lets you continue massaging the cream into his skin, the tension slowly draining from his body. After a while, he murmurs, “You think Carlos would wanna try this skincare routine?”

You roll your eyes, chuckling. “Ben, I don’t care what Carlos would want.”

He cracks a smile, his eyes still closed, clearly pleased with your response. “Good. ‘Cause I don’t wanna share that either.”

You laugh softly, pressing a kiss to his lips, his hand finding its way to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. When you finally pull back, you see a small, content smile on his face.

“Feel better?” you ask gently, running your fingers through his damp curls. You gently place yourself on his lap, both of you sitting in front of the vanity mirror, skin glazed and soft.

“Yeah…” he admits quietly, nuzzling into your neck as his arms wrap around your waist. “I just… I just want you all to myself, baby.”

You press another kiss to his forehead, feeling him relax further as you gently play with his hair. “You already have me, silly.”

Ben hums softly, his lips brushing against your neck as he murmurs, “You’re all mine.”

And at that moment, all the jealousy melts away as he buries his face in the crook of your neck once again, smiling softly as your hands work their way through his curls, your touch easing all his frustrations into nothing more than soft, happy sighs and sweet murmurs.

The next day at the court, thinking maybe things have settled. After all, Ben had gotten everything off his chest last night, or so you thought. But the moment you take your seat near the sidelines, you see Carlos already lingering nearby, his eyes lighting up as soon as he spots you. His confident stride brings him over with the same swagger as yesterday, but this time there’s a shift. He’s more deliberate.

“Good morning,” he says, leaning casually on the railing. “Back to watch Ben again, eh?”

You nod, offering a polite smile. “Looking forward to it.” Ben's words and frustrations spin around your head, he wasn't one to overreact or be quick to be jealous, so seeing how upset he was yesterday, you knew this meant a great deal to him. You also felt more suspicious of Carlos, finding lingering undertones in his actions and words.

Carlos leans in, just close enough that you feel a flicker of discomfort. “You know, it must be hard, watching your boyfriend all day in this heat no? You must get so bored. Why don’t you come down to the lounge, we can grab a drink?” His tone is light, but there’s no mistaking the undertone. It’s flirty, persistent, and more than friendly. You can feel it, and it makes you shift in your seat. Ben might've been right to have been so built up about this.

“I’m good, thanks. I'm here for Ben,” your voice firm but still kind. You don’t want to cause a scene, but it’s clear he’s not taking the hint. You look across the court and see Ben shaking his racket a bit, his gaze leaving yours as he stares at the clay under him, his jaw clenched tight.

Carlos chuckles, ignoring the brush-off, his arm lingering along the back of your chair. “One drink can’t hurt, I promise I won’t steal you for too long.”

As he leans closer, you shift in your seat. At that moment, you catch sight of Ben, watching intently from across the court. He’s looking directly at Carlos, his expression sharp. There’s an intensity in his eyes you haven’t seen before, more than competitiveness, it’s protective.

Without hesitation, Ben strides over, his southern drawl thicker than usual. “Carlitos,” he says, each syllable measured, almost mockingly. “She’s with me, man.”

Carlos raises his hands, feigning innocence as he raises his eyebrows and smirks. “Relax, we were only talking.”

“Yeah? Then talk to someone else, she's not interested” Ben replies, his tone leaving no room for debate. Ben steps up onto the ledge, leaning over the rails, facing Carlos eye to eye.

“Alright, no harm. See you around.” Carlos smirks but backs off, tossing a wink your way before he leaves. Ben watches him retreat, his expression firm, his hand gripping the rail. His eyes are still trained on the Spaniard’s back, and you can see the fire in them.

“Ben,” you murmur softly, reaching for his arm, trying to calm him. “I told him I wasn’t interested.”

His gaze softens as he looks down at you. “I saw him, babe. Too close.” His accent draws out each word slowly, his voice still tight with frustration. “I don’t like the way he was lookin’ at you.”

“I handled it,” you say gently, standing up to face him. “And besides, I’m not interested in anyone but you. He was just trying to get under your skin.”

Ben’s gaze softens slightly, but there’s still that protective edge to him. His hand moves to your waist, pulling you a little closer. “I don’t care what he was tryin’ to do. He doesn’t get to talk to you like that. Not when you’re mine.”

You smile softly, resting a hand on his chest, feeling the tension slowly drain from him. “I’ve always been yours, Ben. You don’t have to worry about anyone else.”

He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours for a moment, eyes closing as he exhales a shaky breath. “I know… I just hate seein’ anyone think they can….” His voice trails off, and he sighs, pulling you closer. You can feel his body start to relax, but there’s still an underlying frustration there. His hand tightens on your waist, the rail holding distance between you two and before you can say anything else, he sighs.

“I don’t want you sittin’ there no more,” he mutters, “You’re gonna stay with me.”

It’s not up for debate, he’s made his decision. And honestly, you don’t mind. He helps you come onto the court, holding you tight as he presses a kiss to your temple. Being by Ben’s side feels right, especially when he’s feeling this protective. You settle next to him, his arm draped over your shoulders, as he goes through the rest of his training. “Come on,” he murmurs. “Stay by me on my bench today, baby.”

After practice, Ben takes you to the player lounge. He’s quieter than usual, but you can tell he’s still stewing over Carlos. His leg bounces nervously as he sits beside you, his arm never leaving your waist. The lounge is almost completely silent, but all Ben can focus on is making sure Carlos doesn’t come anywhere near you again.

“Ben,” you say softly with a gentle smile, resting a hand on his bouncing knee, trying to ground him. “It’s over. He’s not gonna try anything. You made yourself clear.”

He lets out a frustrated breath, biting the inside of his cheek. “He better not.”

You tilt your head, watching him with a small smile. “You’re so worked up over this, huh?”

Ben glances at you, his lips tightening for a second before he sighs. “I just….” He trails off again, clearly struggling to find the words. “You’re mine, baby. That's all.”

You bite back a smile at the possessiveness in his voice. It’s extremely rare for Ben to be this openly jealous, but when it happens, it’s kind of adorable. You lean closer, your fingers brushing over the curls at the nape of his neck. “You don’t need to get all worked up. I only have eyes for one man.”

His body visibly relaxes at your words, the tension in his shoulders easing as you play with his hair. Ben’s cheeks flush slightly at the softness of your touch, and his eyes flicker to yours.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

“Yeah,” you whisper back, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth softly. “Only you, Ben.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, a small smile tugging at the edges of his lips before it breaks into that gummy smile you know and love, his cheeks tinting a slight shade of pink. His hand comes up to cup your cheek gently, and he leans into the kiss, pressing his lips against yours in a way that’s sweet and slow. It’s like he’s pouring all of his emotions into that one moment, letting go of all the tension that’s been building up.

After Ben pulls back from the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, you smile and gently run your fingers through his curls. He looks so at peace, the tension from earlier melting away, but you can’t resist teasing him a little.

“I didn’t know you could get so jealous,” you say with a playful grin.

Ben huffs a soft laugh, his eyes narrowing playfully as his cheeks flush. “I wasn’t that jealous,” he mumbles, but the way he bites his lower lip, the slight embarrassment in his voice, tells you otherwise.

“Oh really?” You arch a brow, leaning in closer so your lips brush the shell of his ear. “You didn’t sound jealous at all when you called him ‘Carlitos,’ like you were ready to throw him onto the court.”

Ben's blush deepens, and he buries his face in your neck, hiding his smile as you giggle. “Okay, maybe a little jealous,” he admits, his voice muffled against your skin. “But I don’t like guys like him hangin’ around you.”

You laugh softly, your fingers still toying with his curls as he nuzzles deeper into your neck, clearly flustered. “You’re so possessive, Ben,” you tease, your voice warm and affectionate. “It’s kind of cute.”

At that, Ben lets out a breathy, almost bashful chuckle, his lips brushing against your neck as he tries to stifle his own laughter. “Stop,” he mumbles, the smile evident in his voice. “You’re gonna make me blush even more.”

You tilt your head slightly, giving him better access to your neck, and he takes the invitation, pressing the softest, sweetest kisses against your skin. His lips linger there, warm and tender, as his arms wrap tighter around your waist. You feel his breath hitch as he tries not to laugh again, but his amusement bubbles up, and he giggles softly against your neck.

The sound makes your heart melt. Seeing Ben, so often confident and fiery, acting like this, soft, almost giddy in your arms, is a side of him that you absolutely adore and could never take for granted. You smile, feeling his giggles vibrate against your skin as his face stays tucked into your neck, hiding the full blush on his cheeks.

“Who knew the big, tough Ben Shelton could be so shy,” you tease gently, kissing the top of his head.

“Only around you,” he murmurs, his voice low but filled with affection as he pulls you even closer. His lips graze your neck again, lingering longer this time, and you can feel the smile still tugging at his lips.

He nuzzles further into the crook of your neck, his breath warm and steady now, no longer trying to hide his soft laughter. “I guess I do get a little jealous,” he finally admits, his voice quieter now. “I just don’t want anyone else thinkin’ they can have what’s mine.”

You smile and lean your head against his, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I’m always yours, Ben,” you whisper softly.

His body relaxes even more at your words, and he lets out a contented sigh. “Good,” he murmurs, still nestled into your neck, his face still rosy but his heart at ease. “Because I’m not lettin’ go.”

[ruewrote]

ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡.

PAIRING: merriell 'snafu' shelton x fem!reader WARNINGS: reunion, no use of y/n GENRE: fluff SONG INSPIRATION: love you like that by dagny WORD COUNT: 1.7k

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you’ve set the table perfectly, each plate and glass precisely aligned. the silverware shines, reflecting the warm glow of the candles you lit on a whim. the house is spotless, the floors swept and mopped, every corner dusted, every item placed just so. 

the air is filled with the rich aroma of your cooking. roasted vegetables, gravy simmering on the stove, and his favourite dish in the oven, almost ready. it’s the kind of meal he always loved, simple but hearty, something that tastes like home.

you glance around the room, surveying every detail one last time. this homecoming has been a long time coming, each moment leading up to it feels heavy with anticipation. you want it to be perfect for him, for merriell.

it feels strange calling him that in your head after all this time. he's ‘shelton’ in your letters, the same as he was before he left. but today, finally, he’s coming back to you as your merriell.

you want everything to be just right.

you’ve been waiting for this moment ever since you heard the news. about his return, the end of a stretch of weeks that seemed to last forever. all the quiet nights spent hoping and praying, every letter read and reread until the paper was worn thin, all leading up to this moment. and now, all that’s left to do is wait.

you try to busy yourself with little things, straightening the flowers you placed in the vase by the table, adjusting the curtains, double checking the kitchen. anything to keep your hands from fidgeting and your mind from racing. but every creak of the house, every passing car, sends your heart leaping, wondering if it’s finally him. 

you try to steady your breath, but you can already feel your pulse racing. he’s so close now, just a street or two away, a few minutes more, and you’ll finally be able to see him.

then, through the window, you catch sight of a familiar figure, and your heart skips a beat. it’s him. you can barely make out his face in the fading light outside, but you’d know that stance anywhere. his shoulders, broader than you remember, his stride, a little slower but unmistakable. your love, coming back to you at last.

without thinking, you rush to the door, flinging it open as he steps onto the porch. he’s still in uniform, the faintest dust of travel clinging to him, and there’s a tiredness in his eyes that makes your chest ache. but when he sees you, his face lights up in a way that chases away every worry, every fear that once lingered in your heart. 

in that instant, every moment of waiting fades away, leaving only him.

you don’t even realise you’re moving until your feet are already carrying you across the threshold, out into the cool evening air. the sound of his voice calling your name barely registers as you break into a run. before you know it, you’re in his arms, everything else falls away.

he catches you with a soft “oof” as you leap up, his arms wrapping around you and holding you steady, grounding you. you cling to him as if afraid he might vanish, your arms tight around his neck, your hands buried in his hair. without a word, you press your lips to his, a kiss that’s both fierce and tender, all your relief and love pouring into this one moment.

he kisses you back with a hunger that matches your own, his hands gripping you firmly as if he’s been waiting for this just as long. you can feel his fingers curl gently at the base of your neck, grounding you, his lips soft but insistent, saying everything you’ve both been aching to say without words. 

for a moment, it’s as though nothing has changed, as though the war and the months apart never happened, and it’s just the two of you here, together, like before.

when you finally break the kiss, you rest your forehead against his, your breath mingling, eyes locked in a gaze that holds every unspoken word between you. “i’m home,” he says, his voice rough with emotion, his eyes soft and full of a tenderness that makes your heart swell. “i’m really home.”

you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as you gently cup his cheek, your thumb brushing along the rough line of stubble. “welcome home, handsome,” you whisper, barely able to keep your voice steady.

his eyes flicker over you, as if drinking in every detail. he reaches up to run a thumb along your cheekbone, his touch warm and familiar. 

he’s here, in front of you, solid and real, and the weight of it nearly takes your breath away.

he glances past you, taking in the room, the candles on the table, the food you spent all afternoon preparing. his lips curve into a small, almost bashful smile as he takes it all in, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “did you do all this? for me?”

a soft laugh escapes you, the sound filled with nothing but love. “for you? i’d do anything.”

he chuckles, pulling you close again, his arms wrapping around you as if he can’t bear to let you go. he dips his head, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, then another to your forehead, his lips lingering there as he inhales, like he’s committing your scent to memory. 

you close your eyes, sinking into the moment, letting yourself be surrounded by him, by the very comfort you’ve missed so desperately.

“come inside,” you murmur, tugging gently on his hand as you lead him toward the table. he follows, and for the first time since he left. everything feels normal again, like home. you sit down across from each other, sharing a smile as you begin the meal, laughter and conversation flowing easily between bites. 

he tells you stories of his friends, memories he’s gathered, moments that shaped him, and you listen, hanging onto every word, feeling closer to him with each one.

after the meal, you clean the dishes together, your hands brushing in the soapy water, each touch sending a thrill through you. the simplicity of it, the ordinary tasks you once took for granted, feels sacred now. you savour every moment, every gentle touch, every quiet laugh.

the last of the dishes are set to dry, and you wipe your hands on a towel, turning to look at him. he’s watching you with a smile, something subtle now, less of the bright, laughing grin from dinner, more like a gentle curve of his lips. he looks at you in a certain way. it’s the kind of look that makes your breath hitch in your throat.

“come on,” you whisper, your voice hushed. “let’s go to bed.”

he doesn’t need any convincing. he follows you willingly, his fingers still entwined with yours as you lead him upstairs, each step creaking softly under your combined weight. it’s familiar, the way you move through the space together, it strikes you just how much you missed this. the quiet, domestic moments, the easy comfort of sharing a home with the person you love.

in your room, the light from the lamp casts a warm, golden glow over everything, bathing the walls in a soft, flickering light. you can feel the tiredness settle into your bones now, but it’s a good kind of tired, one that comes from the relief of having him here, safe and sound.

you turn to face him, your hands coming up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. he leans down, brushing a kiss against your temple, you shiver slightly at the feeling of his lips on your skin, his beard tickling you in a way that’s both familiar and new all at once.

you slip out of your clothes and into something more comfortable, watching as he does the same. there’s a moment where he pauses, standing at the edge of the bed, just looking at you.

“hey,” you murmur, reaching out to tug him closer. “stop staring and get in here.”

he laughs quietly, the sound of a low rumble in his chest, before he climbs in beside you. you both settle into the bed, as soon as you’re under the covers, he’s pulling you in close, his arms wrapping around you in a way that’s almost desperate, like he can’t bear to let you go, even for a second.

you curl into him, your head resting on his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat a soothing sound. his thumb begins to trace gentle circles over your shoulder, a repetitive, comforting motion that makes you sigh in contentment. your legs tangled together, a mess of limbs under the covers, but neither of you mind. it’s how it always was, how it always felt right.

you close your eyes, letting the sound of his heartbeat and the gentle rhythm of his breathing lull you into a peaceful haze. you press a soft kiss to the bare skin of his chest, just over his heart, feeling the warmth of his skin against your lips.

he dips his head to press a kiss to the top of yours, his breath stirring your hair as he murmurs, “i missed this. missed you.”

you nuzzle closer, your hand splaying over his chest. “i missed you too,” you whisper back. “so much.”

there’s a long, quiet pause, filled only with the sounds of the night outside, the distant chirp of crickets and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. his thumb keeps stroking your shoulder, you feel him press another kiss to your forehead, gentle this time, lingering.

“i’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, his voice rough but sure. “i’m here. i’m home.”

you smile against his skin, feeling a wave of peace wash over you, the last of the tension you didn’t even realise you were holding onto finally melting away. you breathe in the scent of him, something warm and familiar and entirely merriell, you let it fill your lungs, your heart, your whole being.

“home,” you repeat, your voice barely more than a breath.

you let your eyes drift shut, lulled by the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heart, and the comforting darkness of the room. you feel his arms tighten around you, holding you even closer.

you fall asleep like that, wrapped in each other, knowing that you have all the time in the world now. 

knowing that everything is exactly as it should be.

[coldasyou]

I’m sorry I think it’s totally fair to be critical of Taylor’s wealth and impact on the environment but I don’t think a good 90% of people spewing shit about her and her fans actually care about that bc 1) most of them like OTHER super rich out of touch celebrities and 2) I have never seen this amount of hatred towards any other artist who is on those lists of private jet owners like can yall go bother blake shelton or something now

[sir-gio22]

TRAIN WITH ME ~Ben Shelton

Part 1

Ben shelton x reader

Prompt: you are a tennis player and your father trains you, too much. One day you faint and after you and ben happen to see each other.

Warnings: abuse, overtraining, fainting, mentions of hospitals

You're supposed to be the N1

You're supposed to be a rising star

You're supposed to be in the top 10

You're supposed to train bett

You're supposed to have a perfect technique

You're supposed to win every match, every point

You're supposed to serve better, to never double fault

You are a failure

A failur

A failu

A fail

A fai

A fa

A f

A

These are your thought, slowly fading away as you faint, on the cold floor of the hotel gym. After training for five hours in a row with your dad.

Those thoughts. They were the words your father say to you, every god damn day of your life.

Five hours ago, he dragged you away from the food you were eating, you didn't deserve it, he said. You only need to train, train, and train.

He made you run for three hours, only taking two little breaks, that was more than enough, your father said.

It's 6pm, he went to book a court for two hours for you to train after ‘dinner’, which he won't let you eat.

I will introduce yourself, if you let me. You are the child of a ex-pro player, your father was, twenty years ago, a slam champion and the n1 in the world.

When you were born, he didn't wanted a child. He wanted a prodigy. A pro student and player.

Your family, being rich, always made teacher come to your house to teach you, homeschooling you for years. The only time you would socialize where when your father would take you to elegant events about tennis or introduce you to other rich people. They usually were all adults, and the kids you would befriend in those nights were all spoiled and already acting like adults. They had the latests phones and clothes, they had perfect grades and everything they wanted, you, on the other side, had the things you needed to live when you deserved them. If you didn't train your father won't feed you or make you sleep in the cold and old basement.

At four years old, you were already winning kid tournaments, at 10 you won the national under 10 tournament, at 12 the under 12 one, at 14 the under 14 one, and at 15 your father made you play qualifying in the us open, you played small tournaments before in other countries, some 250 or 500 and a challenger 1000, but never a slam.

That week you won three rounds, but you got another qualifier prodigy at the fourth, which you lost to.

And your father let's say…he wasn't happy. The opposite. He was in the stands when you lost, your opponent celebrating, you shook hands and saw your fathers glare. You knew what was coming. And it was terrible.

That night you got beaten by him. And hard. You still have those scars, and you slept in the basement.

But what does you mom do to your father treating you like shit? Nothing.

She can't do anything. She's dead. A disease, the doctors says.

The truth?

Your father poisoned her slowly, it made her develop a disease. And the doctors? Corrupted by him.

Let's get back to the current time.

When your father left you sat on the floor of the empty gym, your father paid the hotel to have it exclusively for you when you wanted (when he did, just to specify, you had no word on this).

Your heart beating fast, too fast. It feels like it'll explode any second. Your ears were ringing, your vision blurry, your whole body not just sore, but exhausted by the excessive training.

You fainted.

Two hours later, getting shoken by someone made you regain consciousness. It was you father calling you to train.

In the two hours he left you were supposed to get back to your hotel room and study, and he's already mad because you're still in the gym.

“Were you sleeping, huh? Don't lie! I told you you had to study! What were you doing?! Resting? You don't need that!” He slapped you. Your left cheek reddening.

He made you get up and pushed you outside, then to the tennis courts.

You had to train with the strength you didn't had, the only this you looked towards every day was sleep.

You entered the court, there were hard courts divided by two benches and a umpire seat.

You didn't think that any other player would be playing in those courts, since usually your father books a secluded one where there's just you two training, because he has the habit to yell at you when you make mistakes.

But you see a young player in the second court, you recognize him, *Ben Shelton*, you never actually look at others players or chat with them, but sometimes Ben came to you to chat since you started playing professionally.

You wave at him, hoping he won't notice the eyebags under your eyes and the state you're in. More on the other side than on earth.

Ben was training with his father and coach, Bryan, having a parent as a coach isn't a pleasant thing, for you. But Ben seems to love being coached by Bryan. Well, can't blame him, Bryan's a sweet man, not an abuser.

You place your bag on the bench near the one where put his. You father was still at the gate, chatting with another coach, while Ben and Bryan came to you.

“hey! Long time no see, huh? Been some months since we talked, I wonder why you never get seen anywhere other than tennis courts. Anyway, how's it going?” Ben says

“Hey, nice to see you again ben! I'm alright, a bit tired, my old man's killing me. But don't tell him I'm complaining” you joke, still by telling a truth.

“Mine isn't taking back either, I feel like dying every practice ahah”

“That's not true, ben, I train you the right amount. Not too much, like their father does. Are you sure you're not training too much, bud?” Bryan chimes in.

You're eyes widen the much they can because you're so tired to actually make a shocked expression, what do you reply to that? You could tell the truth, ben was the closest thing you had to a friend after all, or you could lie, and if they believed you you'll probably faint again and go to the hospital.

You stay silent for a moment, their eyes locked on your face, concerned and worried about you.

What will happen? Find out in part 2!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote this at school so it might not be that good, but let me know what you think! Should I continue this?? I already have the part two in mind but no spoilers🤭

[werecreature-addicted]

Have you read any of the monsterfucker Regine Abel books? Or there is any monsterfucker book you would recommend?

I've definitely seen those books before but I've never read them, I used to read a bunch of werewolf/ vampire romance books when I was younger but most of them were like "Chad Shelton has been alive for 600 years, and a womanizer for all those years until he meets 19-year-old Marry Kein, his fated mate, can she change him for the better or learn to love him for how he is???" and they all start to blur together and get boring after a while. mostly if I want monster fucker stuff I go to Tumblr.

the only books I really remember sticking out would be the Undead and Unwed series. girl boss becomes a vampire queen and is fated to kill her hot, rich, vampire husband. I think??? it's been years I don't remember much but I liked it a lot.

and then of course. Twilight.

[ourpickwickclub]

Does anyone have a subscription to twincities dot com? I would love to read their review of B's show.

"Sunday night’s show at the Minnesota State Fair Grandstand showed that his rich baritone and gift for selling a song are still strong."

Grandstand review: Blake Shelton’s collection of country hits proves he’s still of strong voice

https://www.twincities.com/2024/08/25/grandstand-review-blake-sheltons-collection-of-country-hits-proves-hes-still-of-strong-voice/

I don’t, but I hope someone can access it!

— M

[happinessismusic]

Gwen Stefani recently announced a new album, Bouquet, which is slated to drop in November. The full-length marks her first non-holiday collection in eight years, and she’s been quietly promoting the project for months now.

The pop singer scores a new hit on one chart this week, as the latest single from Bouquet debuts. As her latest focus track launches on one radio ranking, Stefani makes 2024 her busiest year on the list in nearly a decade.

Stefani’s new single “Somebody Else’s” debuts at No. 39 on the Adult Pop Airplay chart this frame. The latest cut from her forthcoming full-length barely breaks onto the list of the most successful tunes at the pop format in the U.S., which features 40 spaces. Now that it has arrived, it marks a special appearance for the singer.

The Grammy winner has now scored a pair of new hits on the Adult Pop Airplay list in 2024 alone. Before “Somebody Else’s” debuted, she and husband Blake Shelton pushed their latest duet, “Purple Irises,” to No. 16 this spring.

2024 marks the first time in eight years that Stefani has landed more than one new hit on the Adult Pop Airplay ranking. In 2016, both “Make Me Like You” and “Misery” reached the tally, peaking at Nos. 17 and 34, respectively.

Stefani has only managed to score several wins on the radio list in four different years, including both 2024 and 2016. She snagged a pair of hits in 2007, with both “The Sweet Escape” with Akon and “4 in the Morning.” The former song missed out on becoming her first leader by just one space.

2005 remains Stefani’s biggest year ever on the Adult Pop Airplay chart. Nearly two decades ago, several singles taken from her debut solo album, Love.Angel.Music.Baby, hit the tally. That lineup included “Rich Girl” with Eve, “Hollaback Girl,” “Cool,” and “Luxurious.”

[shefanispeculator]

On her new single “Somebody Else’s,” Gwen Stefani makes it clear that the only man she’s ever deserved is her country-singing husband Blake Shelton. The song arrived a day following the GXVE Beauty founder’s announcement for her fifth studio album, Bouquet, out November 15.

On the pop-rock anthem, Stefani candidly opens the first verse singing, “I don’t know why a heart like mine was doing in a love like that.” She continues: “I don’t know why a woman like me was doing with a man like you.” 

When Stefani released 2016’s This Is What The Truth Feels Like, she was feeling the heartbreak and pouring her heart out. Fast forward eight years, she’s beyond over it and never looking back. “You’re somebody else’s, and it doesn’t even break my heart,” she sings during the chorus.

As she brags about herself continuing to blossom, she realizes her past life is no longer a concern. In fact, if she were able to, she’d remove her ex’s existence entirely. “If I could go back in time, I would erase you,” Stefani sings. Referring to Shelton as the “real thing,” Stefani recognizes her ex-lover doesn’t compare.

Co-written alongside Madison Love (Lady Gaga, Selena Gomez), Stefani admits that the song is lyrically different to the rest of the album.

“I get a text from Madison with a start of a song called ‘Somebody Else’s,’ after a bunch of sessions that we’d done, and in those sessions there’s a lot of confession and just talk about life and where we’re at now, where we were,” Stefani tells Rolling Stone.

“She came with the idea of this song, and I was like, ‘Uh oh, I don’t even know if I want to give that any energy.’ What I kind of realized was, after writing the rest of the songs, it felt you needed to see a little bit of the dark to see the light and see where I’d just come from originally.”

Sonically, the song is a slight departure from Stefani’s early solo material and more in the direction of some of her recent offerings, “True Babe” and “Purple Irises,” the latter being a collaboration with Shelton and the 10th and final track from her upcoming album. With a guitar-driven production, Stefani, so far, has yet to go full country like many have been assuming. Posing on the official album artwork with a cowboy hat and eight other tracks still yet to be heard, Stefani reveals Bouquet is “not a country record.”

“It’s all the stuff I listened to in the station wagon on the way to church,” Stefani says of the album’s sound. “Yacht rock, though it wasn’t called yacht rock then. The music I listen to now, I wanted this album to reflect that.”

The same month Stefani drops her long-awaited fifth studio album Bouquet, she will also celebrate the 20th anniversary of her debut solo record, Love. Angel. Music. Baby. — the pop classic behind some of her biggest hits, “What You Waiting For,” “Rich Girl,” and “Cool.”

[naturesfirstgreenisgold]

Childhood lovers with Jake ‘H_ngm_n’ Seresin

All the Pretty Girls- Kenny Chesney

American Kids- Kenny Chesney

Are You Gonna Kiss Me Or Not- Thompson Square

Austin- Blake Shelton

Beautiful Crazy- Luke Combs

Buy Dirt- Jordan Davis, Luke Bryan

Carrying Your Love With Me- George Strait

Chicken Fried- Zac Brown Band

Cover Me Up- Morgan Wallen

Cowboy Take Me Away- The Chicks

Crash My Party- Luke Bryan

Craving You- Thomas Rhett, Maren Morris

Diamond In My Pocket-Cody Johnson

Die A Happy Man-Thomas Rhett

Dirt On My Boots-Jon Pardi

Dirt Road Anthem-Jason Aldean

Do l- Luke Bryan

Drunk On You-Luke Bryan

Even Though I'm Leaving-Luke Combs

Fast Car- Luke Combs

Feathered Indians- Tyler Childers

Fire Away- Chris Stapleton

Footloose- Kenny Loggins

Forever & Ever Amen- Randy Travis

Galveston- Glen Campbell

God Gave Me You- Blake Shelton

Greatest Love Story- LANCO

Hard To Love- Lee Brice

Heading South- Zach Bryan

Head Carolina, Tails California- Jo Dee Messina

Heartache On The Dance Floor- Jon Parti

Heart Like A Truck- Lainey Wilson

He Could Be The One- Hannah Montana

Hold My Hand- Lady Gaga

Home- Blake Shelton

Hometown Girl-Josh Turner

Honey Bee- Blake Shelton

Hotel California- The Eagles

I Ain’t Worried- OneRepublic

I Don’t Dance- CHAD, Ryan, Disney

I Don’t Dance- Lee Brice

I Don’t Want This Night To End- Luke Bryan

I Drive Your Truck- Lee Brice

If I Didn’t Love You- Jason Aldean, Carrie Underwood

If I Was Your Man- Blake Shelton

I Like The Sound Of That- Rascal Flatts

I’ll Name the Dogs- Blake Shelton

I’m Comin’ Over- Chris Young

I’m In A Hurry (And I Don’t Know Why)- Alabama

I Wish Grandpas Never Died- Riley Green

The Kind of Love We Make- Luke Combs

Last Night- Morgan Wallen

Life in the Fast Lane-Eagles

Life’s a Dance- John Micheal Montgomery

Like I Love Country Music- Kane Brown

Love Like Crazy-Lee Brice

Lovin' On You Luke Combs

Meet In the Middle-Diamond Rio

Must Be Doin' Somethin' Right-Billy Currington

My Maria-Brooks & Dunn

New Kid In Town - Eagles

Night Shift- Jon Pardi

Nobody But You- Blake Shelton, Gwen Stefani

ONE BEER- HARDY, Lauren Alaina, Devin Dawson

One Of Them Girls- Lee Brice

One of These Nights -Eagles

One Thing At A Time- Morgan Wallen

Playing with the Boys -Kenny Loggins

Play It Again- Luke Bryan

Renegade- Styx

Rhinestone Cowboy-Glen Campbell

Rumor- Lee Brice

Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)-Big & Rich

She Got the Best of Me- Luke Combs

She Had Me At Heads Carolina-Cole Swindell

She's Country- Jason Aldean

Sixteen-Thomas Rhett

Slow Dance In A Parking Lot-Jordan Davis

Small Town Boy- Dustin Lynch

Sold- John Michael Montgomery

Somebody's Problem-Morgan Wallen

Something in the Orange-Zach Bryan

Song of the South-Alabama

Southern Nights- Glen Campbell

Stay-Florida Georgia Line

Strawberry Wine-Deana Carter

Sure Be Cool If- Blake Shelton

Take It Easy -Eagles

Take My Breath Away -Berlin

There Was This Girl-Riley Green

Things a Man Oughta Know-Lainey Wilson

Thought You Should Know-Morgan Wallen

Til You Can't- Cody Johnson

Two Dozen Roses- Shenandoah

Unforgettable- Thomas Rhett

Wagon Wheel- Darius Rucker

The Way I Talk -Morgan Wallen

What Ifs- Kane Brown, Lauren Alaina

Why Don't We Just Dance-Josh Turner

Write This Down-George Strait

You Should Be Here-Cole Swindell

[cinemaocd]

Wolf Hall casting info: who is new and who is returning...

So we have more detailed casting info and an imdb page for The Mirror and the Light.

Mark, Damian, Jonathan Pryce, Thomas Brodie Sangster, Lillit Lesser, and Kate Phillips are all returning for MATL.

Different actors for the following parts:

Norfolk, will now be played by Timothy Spall Lady Pole, will now be played by Harriet Walter Stephen Gardiner: Alex Jennings Lady Jane Rochford: Lydia Leonard Gregory Cromwell: Charlie Rowe Call Me: Harry Melling Richard Riche: Tom Mothersdale Lady Shelton: Lucy Russell Eustache Chapuys: Karim Kadjar Edward Seymour: Will Tudor Hans Holbein: Thomas Arnold

New characters (click through to imdb to see the actors):

Bess Oughtred, CHRIStOPHE Mary Fitzroy, Martin the Gaoler, Lady Margaret Douglas, Nan Seymour, JENNEKE, Thomas Howard the Lesser, Geoffrey Pole, Thomas Avery, Lady Margaret Seymour, DOROTHEA, Olisleger, Catherine Howard, Anne of Cleves and

*airhorns"

Thomas Wyatt (will be played Amir El-Masry)

[posttexasstressdisorder]

Music

How Bob Dylan Viciously Cut His Competition Down to Size

THINK TWICE

In this excerpt from “Talkin’ Greenwich Village,” veteran journalist David Browne revealed how Dylan could make his fellow folk singers shrink with a “withering gaze.”

David Browne

Published Sep. 16, 2024 5:00AM EDT 

Michael Ochs Archives/Getty

The below has been excerpted from Talkin' Greenwich Village: The Heady Rise and Slow Fall of America's Bohemian Music Capital ©2024 David Browne and reprinted by permission from Grand Central Publishing/ Hachette Books /Hachette Book Group.

As the scene was growing more amped up, in every way, its unofficial clubhouse remained the Kettle of Fish. But with Bob Dylan’s success and the pressure and attention that came with it, the dynamics at those gatherings began to shift. In 1964 Robert Shelton of the Times watched—with a sense of wonderment rare for such a fixture on the scene—as Dylan entered the Kettle one night with the Supremes and members of the British band the Animals, whose sulking, electrified makeover of “The House of the Rising Sun” had given the ballad an audience far beyond the coffeehouse crowd. Those pop stars were a departure from the small, insular posse Dylan generally preferred, one that protected him and, many thought, egged him on as he dissected the peers and strivers at the Kettle on any given night. For extra privacy, Guido Giampieri would close and lock the front door at a late hour.

Dylan’s gang was usually led by Bob Neuwirth, his road manager, side-kick, and would- be bodyguard. An artist by trade and education, the Ohio- born Neuwirth had attended art school in Boston, where he learned to play guitar and banjo and eventually made his way into the Village; Dylan would recall first seeing him in the audience at the Gaslight. Neuwirth’s barbed-wire gibes and hipster persona were also of a piece with Dylan’s. As a source told Rolling Stone a few years later, regarding Neuwirth’s arrival in New York in 1964, “Dylan started to change at that time. Part of it was Neuwirth; he was a real strong influence on Dylan. Neuwirth [was] stressing pride and ego, sort of saying, ‘Hold your head high, man, don’t take shit, just take over the scene.’ He was the kind of cat who could influence others, work on their egos and support those egos.” Neuwirth’s striped pants would soon be seen behind Dylan on the cover of Highway 61 Revisited, the album that announced, as much as any, that the folk revival had passed its expiration date.

Thanks to his work with Dylan on records and on stage, including playing with him at the chaotic Newport Folk Festival, Kooper was often at Dylan’s table and saw how perilous it could be for anyone in the vicinity. “If Dylan focused on you, you were in trouble,” he said. “He could out- think anybody.” David Blue was a recurring member of the posse, although, as Ramblin’ Jack Elliott would recall, he was rarely if ever the brunt of Dylan’s withering gaze or comments. “Blue had a certain kind of stature,” said Elliott. “He was a large guy, way bigger than Bob, and he had a certain composed personality.”

Talkin' Greenwich Village: The Heady Rise and Slow Fall of America's Bohemian Music Capital

Hachette Books

To Dylan biographer Anthony Scaduto, Van Ronk theorized that Dylan zeroed in on particular targets for a reason: in Van Ronk’s mind, they all wanted to “get rich,” too. Whatever the motivation, the atmosphere could be fraught. “The level of ‘rapping,’ as we called it, was tough,” said Arthur Gorson, the manager who sometimes found himself amid the Kettle gang. “People fell by the wayside. They would talk about songs and someone would say, ‘Hey, man, you can’t use that word—I used that word.’ Eric Andersen was slightly damaged by Neuwirth’s taunts.” Andersen would later pen “The Hustler” about Neuwirth and those times in that bar. In the fall of 1965, Dylan him-self would unveil “Positively 4th Street,” a stern single that sliced and diced someone—or some group—who hadn’t supported him. He never specified who, but some in the Kettle posse wondered if it were one of them.

One especially tense evening, Andersen witnessed Dylan lacing into Phil Ochs. As Dylan drifted from topical writing, Ochs fully embraced it—and was being lauded for it within their world. Reviewing Ochs’s performance at Newport in 1964, Shelton opined that he was “rivaling Bob Dylan as a pro-test spokesman.” Broadside also weighed in, commenting, “Ochs is much more deeply committed to the broadside tradition.” With one album under his belt and a second, I Ain’t Marching Anymore, due in the early months of 1965, Ochs was primed to be an even more socially conscious voice of his generation than Dylan was, and the two men had a “love- hate thing,” as Paxton put it.

At the Kettle one evening, Dylan and Ochs got into a verbal match that ended with Dylan dismissing Ochs as merely a singing journalist (which, in Dylan’s defense, wasn’t too far from the truth at that point in Ochs’s career). Andersen, who had grown close to Ochs (he had encouraged Andersen to add more verses to “Violets of Dawn”) and would often crash at the apartment where Ochs lived with his wife, Alice, was suitably offended. As Andersen observed (and Scaduto also reported), Dylan turned on Ochs another night as well: “You oughta find a new line of work, Ochs. You’re not doin’ very much in this one.” As an appalled Andersen recalled, “He said it right to Phil’s face and really insulted him, and I said, ‘Stop picking on him. Cut it out.’” Dylan, said Andersen, retorted, “Look, I’m buying all the wine here. I can say whatever I want to say. What do you want me to talk about, the sunset over the Hudson and the deep blue sea?”

For a brief period, Ochs and Dylan were both managed by Albert Grossman until Ochs felt he wasn’t receiving the attention he deserved, and late in 1965 he asked Gorson to take over. (In a poke at the name of Grossman’s company, ABG, Ochs asked Gorson to use his initials for his own management firm, which became AHG.) But Ochs had an emerging star power of his own: cov-ering his January 1966 debut at Carnegie Hall for the Times, Shelton felt that Ochs still needed some seasoning and admonished his melodies and guitar playing but noted that the audience was “predominantly teenaged.”

Later that year, in preparation for recording Pleasures of the Harbor—a lavishly produced record intended to be his moment of arrival as a full- on record-ing artist—Ochs introduced songs like “Outside of a Small Circle of Friends” and “Flower Lady” at Carnegie Hall. The latter—seemingly about a mysterious middle- aged woman who would walk into Folk City and sell bouquets of flow-ers, supposedly purloined from cemeteries—was set to one of his most sumptu-ous melodies. He and Dylan weren’t far apart in some ways: they’d both grown up with rock and roll and eventually turned to acoustic music. With Kooper adding one of his recognizable keyboard parts, Ochs even recorded a plugged-in remake of his antiwar rouser “I Ain’t Marching Anymore.” But he and Dylan remained mirror images of the Village, the acoustic and the electric, the old world and the new world, circling each other and staring each other down.

David Browne is a senior writer at Rolling Stone--and author of eight books, including ‘Talkin' Greenwich Village: The Heady Rise and Slow Fall of America's Bohemian Music Capital,’ who moved to New York to attend NYU and never left. He started covering the city's music scene long ago for the New York Daily News.

David Browne

[sea-owl]

I don't care which season it's in, and I know it's unlikely, but I a deep primal NEED to have a version of a country romance song in either polin's season, philoise's season, or franchael's season, or all three but I know I'll be lucky to even get one.

The songs I would offer up? Bless the Broken Road by Rascal Flatts, God Gave Me You by Blake Shelton, Lost in this Moment by Big and Rich, Speechless by Dan + Shay, Wanted by Hunter Hayes, and I know I'm missing more but these are top contenders I can think of right now without going through my music library.

Which couple I specifically would put some of these songs with?

Polin:

Philoise:

Franchael:

Lost in this Moment can work as an every couple kind of song.

Another song but particularly aimed at Violet and Edmund is Remember When by Alan Jackson. I can see Violet sitting by Edmund's grave talking about old memories.