#couldn't be more opposite characters tbh

[cann1bal-kitt3n-x]

my fave girls in horror this year...Lee Harker and Skye Riley!!

[avatar-of-the-web]

still thinking about "[if you got matching hannibal and will alters] that will be the gayest shit u will have ever done" and my partner system my sweet my husband and i exchanging metaphysical [conversation was in text] glances. smiling laughing.

She has no idea how gay this shit gets

[busket]

I understand personal preference and that some people just don't like ships with men, and that's ok! but I'm annoyed at the implication from some fans that labru has less depth as a relationship than farcille or any other wlw ship in dungeon meshi, and the idea that people are only shipping it as a joke, or because they're horny, or because they're misogynistic and don't want to look at female characters, etc etc. I've seen people call it like, "bloodlust obsession that turns to horniness" and it made me realize that the people who don't ship labru don't understand their dynamic at all. labru shippers didn't just pull this out of our asses lol

a lot of the story around kabru involves how he and laios are perfect opposites of eachother. NARRATIVE FOILS, if you will. everywhere kabru thrives (social interaction, charisma, the surface) laios completely fails. and everywhere that laios is most successful (in the dungeon against monsters) kabru keeps getting killed. not only that but their desires are mirrors of each other too: laios grew up bullied by humans and wanted to become a monster, kabru grew up dehumanized by his villagers and then the elves, so he wants to affirm his identity as a human being.

despite how kabru should be repulsed by laios due to his hatred of monsters, he's drawn to him instead. kabru spends the entire story trying to get to laios to talk to him and to get to know him. firstly he knows laios is closest to defeating the dungeon lord and needs to sus out if he's a good person, but he admits that he really wants to be friends with laios too, not just to determine his virtue but to see what value laios sees in monsters. he wants laios to share his interest in people, he wants laios to be interested in him back. kabru never had any true bloodlust or desire to kill laios, he was prepared to go that far if laios wasn't a good person, but once finding out that he has good intentions kabru spends all his energy trying to help laios instead. and when you consider that kabru spent his childhood believing he was half monster because of how he was ostracized in utaya, his curiosity about how laios could possibly love monsters feels so much more personal.

and for laios, he's not used to anyone taking an interest in him. people are constantly telling him he's weird, and the person he believed to be his best friend told him he couldn't stand him. he misses falin so dearly because she thinks he's the coolest man on earth, so meeting someone and being told "I hate monsters but I still want to know YOU" would have an impact on him, I think. in postcanon they become good friends, kabru becomes laios' right hand man to help him with more of the dicey social aspects of being a leader. laios asks him to stay by his side and help him, and kabru says "yeah, that's what I've been doing this whole time"

I wouldn't claim that a romantic relationship between them is CANON, but I wouldn't even say that about farcille either tbh (and I love farcille just as much so don't come for me lol) this isn't a comedy crackship that yaoi fans just made up. laios and kabru are really multi dimensional characters and they're made to reflect eachother in every way, even down to their physical design. so it's not out of nowhere that people ship them

[lexishoney]

i might be the only one but i couldn't care less about frenchie and colin tbh. i had the same problem with maeve and elena but they eventually grew on me with later seasons but i was still dissapointed that we never get to know elena. and idk for me kimiko and frenchie's relationship took a very strange route this season. at first two seasons they had been written as possible love interests, then in season 3 they both decided that they are the secret third thing which was so cool and original and completely different take on love between characters that can't be categorized in simple words like: *"platonic""romantic""erotic"*. frenchie and kimiko were always intimate with each other and don't get me wrong i have nothing against the new drama that just dropped but i do think that writers wanted to have a cake and eat it and instead of admitting that kimiko and frenchie ended up in the relationship, they wanted to experiment with frenchie's bisexuality and they threw his relationship with kimiko out of the window. the last thing that i'm about to say might be controversial. i think it would be more interesting for writers to write bi frenchie in the relationship with kimiko and do the commentary on the topic of people under bi umbrella not being taken seriously because they are in long term relationship with person of opposite gender. and before someone decides to put some words into my mouth that i hate gay men or whatever: i won't cry if colin and frenche become endgame i have more interesting things to do than worrying about some ship from tv show (i'm so uninterested in those shipping wars or love triangles or anything). it just seems a little bit weird choice made by writers and completely strange for plot sake

[giveafike]

Hi can you write Ben Shelton x fem reader where reader is also a pro player and her and Ben are like close friends and team up to play mixed doubles in like the us open and it's kinda like friends to lovers and they being all flirty on court and eventually admit feelings to each other?

TLDR: STORY! Tennisplayer!fem reader x Ben Shelton friends to lovers. Sort of took them flirty on and off court. Tried to build it up. Mention of Bryan Shelton and Tommy Paul cameo, thanks for stopping by, kings.

Word count + info: 17.6k! SUPER LONG STORYTIME w dialogue! (over an hour's worth of reading, ouu you're well fed tonight)

Character Inspo: Just a sweet girl, like "girl-next-door" girl. Listened to "After the First Kiss" - Faye Webster writing this (cried on first listen, enjoy the link), if that helps you envision sweet, cute, pure vibes. No specifications are mentioned (except a general "shorter" height than Ben).

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW - no warnings - slight mention of cheating and gaslighting.

Azzie Notes ✚: Hi my sweet munchkins! I'm so sorry anon, this took so long to come out but life got busy + then tumblr had this unavailable for me when I queued to post which tbh was a miracle bc I was rlly unsure while writing this, and I took my own time to reread and rework it, but idk guess I have writer's block, sorta? It doesn't feel like my best work... be brutally honest w me in ur feedback when u finish reading.

And then also there's a part that was just v vulnerable for me to write, but I couldn't really imagine the scene playing out any differently. Essentially, Y/N's dialogue about her ex - that's my lived experience...erm, so I was just tinkering of ways to rewrite it but I just couldn't think of anything else to fill it with.

Anywho, boy do I have a lotta requests coming up! Be patients w me pls! Also anon, "d" you are a genius, I'm so excited to write ur prompt hehehehe, but sorry if it takes some time :(. I got a Holiday surprise coming up, I'll lyk by the end of the month what that is, but OOOH, SFW Shelton nation, prepare urselves! How are we doing otherwise? Let me know! Are you taking good care of your health in these cold months + wrapping up? Make sure to get your vitamins in! Also, is my tumblr ugly? Should I make a colour theme and redo my masterlist properly? Help?

————————————————————————

Beyond the Baseline - B.T.S

The relationship between you and Ben Shelton was like watching day and night play tennis. Seriously, how could you be friends? What did you even have in common? What would you even talk about?

You, polished, textbook perfect, poised. A steady player who never lets emotions show on the court. Confident but never loud about it. After a win, you’d offer a graceful nod to the crowd, maybe a modest fist pump, but never more. Your game was a masterclass in precision in every shot calculated, every movement on and off court methodical. Fans admired how you dismantled opponents with strategy and patience, and your flawless form made it look effortless. Off the court, you were polite and kindred, smiling, making everyone feel at ease without even trying.

You were the embodiment of calm, pristine tennis. If anyone wanted an example of “playing by the book,” they’d point to you.

And then there was Ben Shelton.

Ben, who was your complete opposite. Loud, unpredictable, made waves and was unapologetic, and yet, utterly captivating. His game thrived on power and chaos, booming serves, fast sprinting bursts across the court, and reckless dives to the net, every point celebrated with fist pumps and wild energy. He lived for those moments that made crowds roar, he basked and riled the stands. When you calmly shake hands with your opponents, Ben chats effortlessly at the net, teasing, joking, and slapping his opponent’s back with that infectious grin. Impossible to dislike, even when he was cocky. Off the court, he was just as loud, just as alive when socialising. If you were a quiet, steady river with your course set, Ben was a wildfire, impossible to contain or predict.

Yet, somehow, despite your differences, you clicked.

It all started that first year on tour at a crossover event where the tours shared a venue. After a long day of matches, you found yourself in the players' lounge, neatly perched in a plush chair, legs crossed, posture upright and as perfect as ever. You still had that composed, in-control air about you, ready to handle anything gracefully.

Then, in strolled Ben Shelton.

He collapsed into the chair across from you, manspreading like it was his personal throne, slouching so far down it was a wonder he didn’t slide onto the floor.

He glanced at you with a lazy grin, his curls messy and unruly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Y'always sit like you’re posing for the cover of Tennis Monthly?” he asked, amusement laced with that accent of his, no intention of introductions or small talk.

You blinked, taken aback for a few seconds. “I-...what?”

“Yeah,” he continued, sitting up a bit as he waved a hand at your upright posture. “We’re off the court. Y'know, you can relax, right?”

You stared, completely thrown off by his audacity. Who starts a conversation like that? And how do you even reply to that? You didn’t even know him well, yet here he was already challenging you. Your lips broke into an awkward, tight line as your mouth was still agape, trying to find words to respond - not that you needed to, it seemed like Ben had more to tease you about, clearly enjoying your confusion with a wider, gummy smile.

“Don’t tell me you play tennis like this too, all tight 'n rigid. That's so boring.”

It took a moment, but when you finally brought your eyes up to his, you burst out laughing. His nerve! “You did not just say that,” you managed between giggles, shaking your head in disbelief. “My tennis form? Really? You want to talk about form and play?”

He shrugged, not even a little apologetic, enjoying the riffing as his feet rested against the coffee table filling the gap between you two. “Just sayin' loosen up. This isn’t a press conference. I mean, d'you even know how to slouch?”

You shot him a playful, mock-serious look, tucking a strand behind your ear as you leaned forward, your arms resting on your folded legs. “I can slouch.”

His eyebrows shot up in mock surprise, folding his arms over his chest. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”

You paused, narrowing your eyes at him in a challenge. Slowly, way more dramatically than necessary, you leaned back in your chair, gently scooting down an inch on the chair, still keeping your legs crossed but allowing just enough of a slouch to break your normally perfect posture. You looked more uncomfortable than anything, your back now curved, while every other inch of your body remained proper.

Ben snorted, shaking his head, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Wowwww,” he said, barely holding back a laugh. “Look at you. A real rebel huh?”

You rolled your eyes, bringing yourself back up to sit properly, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “I’m not trying to impress you, you know.”

“Oh?” he cocked his head to the side like a puppy, his grin turning into something softer. “Too late. You already have.”

Your heart skipped a beat, his words catching you completely off guard. There was something about the way he said it, teasing, but with an undertone that made butterflies dance in your stomach and your skin buzz. You found yourself opening your mouth to respond, but just like the other attempts, nothing came out. You just stared at him, feeling completely disarmed by his effortless charm. He didn’t push, just grinned and waited, like he was used to leaving people speechless.

How much confidence could a guy have, and how could he play it off so casually that you don't even mind it?

And in that moment, there was no awkward silence, no need for formalities. Just easy, unexpected banter that flowed naturally and lingered in your mind for longer than you'd like to admit. It wasn’t what you’d expected from someone like Ben, but somehow, it felt right. He opened a side of you within a few conversations, a side that took years of coaxing from some of your closest friends. You couldn't even explain it, for everything you both were and were not, somehow ying and yang, a mountain and a streaming river, you were opposites and yet fit together like a landscape. He’d broken through your perfectly composed exterior, making you laugh and talk without even trying, and for some reason, you didn’t mind at all.

And now here you are, present day, strolling through an Australian mall at midday, looking the ever-polar opposites.

You strode in your knitted cardigan top and straight-leg pants while Ben towered over in a casual t-shirt and his signature stupidly short black shorts. Your arm was casually linked with Ben’s, your steps in sync like this was second nature. It wasn’t unusual for you two to walk like this; in fact, it would be strange if you didn’t. Over time as you both got to know each other, it had started as a joke but became a habit, something along the lines of Ben not wanting you to get "swept away by the crowds". You shared this easy closeness, the kind that people would easily mistake for a couple, but it was just the way you were.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourselves.

“Hey,” Ben’s voice interrupted your thoughts. You blinked, realising he was watching you, that knowing grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. His finger was pointing at a poster right beside a warm small shop.

“Didn’t you mention that necklace before on call a while ago? Wanna go in and have a look?”

You shook your head, brushing it off. “Oh, no, I was just-”

Before you could finish, he was already steering you toward the small store, his hand warm on your shoulder. “C’mon, just looking, right? Besides, you need to get somethin' while we're here. Not like you can't afford it.” He flashed you a wink that made your stomach flip.

The two of you stepped into the warm-lit shop, drawing a few amused glances from the few other customers and the shop assistant. It only really occurred just odd you two looked, Ben in his usual casual attire, slouched with his hands in his pockets, striding while examining the glass displays and you, neat and polished, hands folded and shy.

Ben leaned close, glancing over the cases as if he actually knew what he was looking at. “So you’re gonna match with me and get one of those silver chains, right?” He tugged at his thick metal chain with a smirk, raising an eyebrow at you.

You rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile. “Yeah, Ben, because that would look so ‘me,’ right?”

He snorted. “What, scared of a little edge? Imagine the next headline: ‘Good Girl Gone Bad’ ”

“Or,” you retorted, arching a brow, “it could just read ‘WTA Pro Loses It With a Clear Cry for Help.’”

He chuckled, his laugh low and genuinely amused. But then his expression softened as he caught sight of the delicate rose-gold necklace you’d been admiring. “Alright, alright. Let’s see the one you’re actually into.”

You glanced at him, surprised he remembered the specific piece. And the next thing you knew, he had the case brought out by the sales assistant. The delicate rose gold chain necklace with its beautifully intricate pendant sat in front of you. It wasn't long before the cool metal met your fingers as you gently hauled it out from its bed and into your hands, your breath hitching as you studied it dozens of times, trying to engrave it into your memory. Before you could think twice, you broke your trance and handed it to him.

“Help me put it on?”

Ben’s brows shot up, but he didn’t hesitate. “Turning this into a whole trust exercise, huh?”

“Shut up,” you muttered, turning around and sweeping your hair aside.

“Turn around,” he said, his voice quiet with a flutter of nervousness.

Obediently, you turned, holding your hair up and out of the way, feeling his hands slip around to clasp the necklace at the back of your neck. His fingers brushed your skin, surprisingly gently, and suddenly it was hard to focus on anything else but the feel of his hands there. His fingers trembled ever so slightly, his large digits fiddling with the small dainty clasp. You couldn't help but feel hyper-aware of his touch as you let out a small gasp, only for you to hear; the way he just barely grazed your neck for fleeting milliseconds, how his breath was ghosting over your ear in steady, focused breaths, how his tongue stuck out ever so slightly as he focused, his eyes honed in on getting this one thing right just for you - it was far too much.

You swallowed, realising this was the first time he’d ever been this close in this way, this… tender. A part of you wanted to step forward, break the tension, take the necklace and put it on yourself, the burning, buzzing sensation being oh so overwhelming to the point where it felt you might evaporate on this spot, right here right now. But realistically even if you really wanted to, you couldn't force or make yourself move, the feeling was like a drug, coursing through you and this was your euphoria, your high, something you hadn't felt in a long time, or maybe ever and you had no intention of cutting it short.

You gently bring your gaze up from your shoes, to the mirror and stare at him, running your eyes over his face. It's just a necklace, he's just helping you, c'mon get it together!

“There,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, and you felt the clasp fall onto your skin. But he didn’t step back right away. His fingers trailed down, skimming the nape of your neck, and for a second you thought - no, you knew - he was about to say something else, he took a sharp intake but then hesitated and remained in his silence. You look up in the mirror, seeing him still staring at your neck, and your hair, slowly meeting your eyes in the mirror before he realises he's been caught. He stepped back, his familiar grin slipping back into place, and the moment passed like a puff of smoke.

“How does it look?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, breaking free from the dizzy haze you've created in your head.

“Looks good,” he said lightly, and you hated the way your heart twisted at the easy casualness of his tone. He flashed you that infuriating smile, the one that made you both want to slap him and pull him closer at the same time.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice tight, almost irritated that you felt this intense pull that didn't seem to affect him nearly as much as it affected you. “Thanks.”

Your hand delicately took the pendant between your fingers, toying with it as you both stared at each other in the mirror entranced for a few moments, something shifting. You turned back to the display, focusing hard on the jewellery cases even though you could still feel the phantom warmth of his hands on your skin. You forced yourself to breathe evenly, to ignore the way your heart was racing, to pretend like everything was fine.

But as you looked at your reflection in the store’s mirror, the delicate gold resting against your collarbone, you couldn’t help but wonder if he knew, if he could feel it, too. The slow, insidious shift between you, the way everything had started to mean something when it was supposed to mean nothing at all. It wasn't the first time that Ben had done or said something that froze you, but it seems as though every encounter grows in its intensity, and worse, builds more confusion and haze inside of you.

“Guess that means you’re getting it, right?”

You gave him a shy smile breaking from your thoughts, turning around on your heel, still feeling the heat lingering on your neck. “I… think I might.”

As you admired the necklace in your hands, Ben flashed you a grin and excused himself, slipping off towards the main counter. You assumed he was just idly browsing or looking for something to keep him occupied while you made your decision. But when you turned to check on him, you saw him whispering something to the cashier, glancing over at you with a suspiciously wide grin.

You squinted, realising too late what he was up to. Just as you started toward him, the assistant who’d been helping you gently tapped your shoulder.

“Miss?” she said, her voice sweet but carefully practised. “We actually just got a similar collection of rose-gold necklaces in. You might want to take a look.”

You shot her a polite smile, still watching Ben out of the corner of your eye. “Oh, I think I’ve found the one-”

But Ben was already flashing his card to the cashier, sending you a playful wink and sticking his tongue out between his smile, before your assistant intercepted you again with a dazzling necklace display. By the time you returned to the counter, Ben was leaning casually, arms crossed, the structured paper bag already in his hand.

“Ben!” you hissed, reaching for it.

He laughed, holding it just out of your reach as he leaned in, his grin bordering on smug. “You don’t remember mentionin’ it twice, right?” he drawled, dripping with his usual playful tone, the same one that had you engaged from the day you first met. “Couldn’t risk lettin’ ya walk away from somethin’ you actually like.”

You smacked his arm lightly, only making him laugh more as he ducked away, looping his arm casually around your waist to draw you into a side hug. The warmth of his touch lingered, his hand resting comfortably at your hip. It was the sort of touch that should’ve felt natural by now, but somehow, it left you flustered. He was supposed to be the loud, obnoxious friend who made everyone laugh. So why did it feel like every touch, every sideways glance in your direction, especially today, held a weight that left you breathless? You hated that it was him, the one person you thought you’d never lose your cool around, who could make your composure slip so effortlessly.

“Don’t go gettin’ all mad,” he said, that easy grin still in place, his accent softening in a way that had your stomach fluttering. “It’s just a little token of your winnin's.”

You mumbled something about unfair tactics, even as your hand settled into his. He finally laughed, still holding your bag and chuckling as he looked around the mall. His gaze landed on a clothing shop just ahead, and his face lit up.

“Alright, you got your shiny new necklace. Now you’re helpin’ me pick out a hoodie,” he said, giving you a grin that could only be described as downright cocky. “Let’s see if I can look half as put together as you.”

“Fine,” you replied, barely suppressing a smile, “but don't expect me to return the payment favour, that's on you.”

Ben just laughed, letting you walk in first before he strolled in behind you. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Once inside, Ben beelined for the hoodies, pulling out everything he could get his hands on without checking the tags or sizes. He held up a dark blue one with a shrug, grinning as he tossed it in your direction. “This one’s a classic, right? Nice and oversized?”

“Ben,” you said, giving him an exasperated look as you held the fabric up, it's nowhere near his size, way too small. “This wouldn’t even fit you like a sleeve. This would be a corset for you. Besides, since when do you need an oversized anything?”

He chuckled, looking down at his broad shoulders and long frame. “Point taken. Let’s see, you’re gonna have to help me find somethin’… refined. Like me.”

You rolled your eyes, but reached for a khaki cream-coloured hoodie, holding it up in front of him. “This one’s got ‘actually dressed himself’ written all over it.”

Ben took it from you and pulled it over his head without bothering to even look for the changing rooms, letting it settle over his broad shoulders and across his arms, the fabric fitting perfectly. He adjusted the sleeves, smoothing out a crease as he caught your eye with a playful smirk.

“So, how do I look? All cleaned up, or just half?”

You stepped closer, straightening the hood and smoothing the fabric across his chest and shoulders. “Not bad,” you said, nodding approvingly. “Maybe the best-dressed you’ve ever been for casual attire.”

Ben cleared his throat, a small blush creeping up his neck before he made a funny face at you and pushed your face away with his palm, making you laugh. You reached up and tugged the hood down over his face in response. “Stop it! Do you ever act normal?”

From underneath the hood, his face was hidden but the smile in his tone gave him away. “Normal? C’mon, that doesn’t sound like me at all.”

He yanked the hood off, reaching for another hoodie, examining a grey one this time. He pulled the cream hoodie up over his head, and just as he tugged it up, you realised his T-shirt was trying to come with it. Without thinking, you reached over and tugged his shirt back down, cheeks warming as he slipped into the hoodie with a cheeky grin.

“Good save,” he said, finally adjusting the fit with a little salute. “Now I really gotta make you my official stylist.”

“Oh, if it means I get to stop you from embarrassing yourself in public, I’ll do it,” you replied with a grin.

Ben just rolled his eyes sassily as he watched you inspect the look as he pulled the grey one on. “Don’t go givin’ me too many compliments now. Might go straight to my head.”

You laughed, giving his chest a final pat. “I’d say we’ve got it just right.”

After a long day of shopping and conversing together, the last thing you needed was more conversation, you couldn't wait to take yourself to your hotel room and sink in everything that had happened and everything that had been felt. As you took your small bags from Ben's hands you stood in the elevator, engrossed in the gossip Ben was subjecting you to, something to do with car dealers. Somewhere along the way, Ben had even pressed the button to your floor himself.

By the time you unlocked your door, it was almost automatic; you turned to face him, assuming he’d say goodbye and let you get some rest. But he strolled right in, still mid-sentence, as if he had every right to be there. You stood in the doorframe, breaking your smile and shaking your head, mouth agape as you realised what just happened.

“Ben... did you just follow me into my hotel room?” you asked, crossing your arms as you watched him plop down on your bed like he owned the place.

“Pfft,” he scoffed, “don’t flatter yourself. You ain’t got nothin’ in here worth followin’ you for - ‘cept maybe more of that wild fashion sense you got.” He shot you a teasing grin, his eyes flicking over to the small shopping bags you’d set down on the dresser.

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, so now you’re a fashion critic too? I didn’t hear you complaining when I helped you pick out those hoodies.”

He laughed, that easy, familiar sound filling the room, and leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. But I still think you coulda gone a little crazier. All that walking around and y' bought tiny, little things like that necklace. Real tame, you know?”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the urge to smile. “It’s called being tasteful, Ben. Not everyone can rock 'big and bold' like you.”

He gave you a mock-offended look, his drawl growing thicker. “Well, we can’t all be boring, now can we, darlin'?”

You felt a flicker of something under his words - the teasing words hung in the air longer than you expected, and you felt a jolt of something, nothing you could name, but enough to make you look away first, pretending to busy yourself with the bags again as you cleared your throat.

“Right,” you said, voice light, “because you’re the definition of exciting. The guy who almost bought a novelty koala mug for fifty bucks.”

“Hey, c'mon now, that mug was a steal,” he shot back, eyes glinting with amusement. “And besides, who’s gonna stop me? You?”

You giggled softly, flopping down beside him on your stomach, your elbow brushing the bedspread as you kept a careful inch of space between you. The gap between you felt electric, buzzing with that familiar charge you both pretended not to notice. “I already did, remember? I’ve saved you so many times from a lifetime of tacky souvenirs. You’d be drowning in cheap tourist mugs if it weren’t for me.”

Ben’s face softened, his smirk fading into something almost thoughtful as he rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand. “Guess I owe you, then,” he said quietly, his tone lower, like he was sharing a secret.

The room seemed to hold its breath, and you swore the sunlight dimmed just a little, softening the angles of his face. For a heartbeat, you thought he was going to say something more, something that would change everything between you. You caught the scent of his cologne, warm and fresh with a hint of spice, and your eyes flickered down to his lips, wondering if he’d noticed the way you’d frozen like a deer in headlights, caught between teasing and leaning in, unsure if you were daring him or daring yourself.

His gaze dropped, almost imperceptibly, to where your fingers played with the loose thread on the edge of the bedspread, and it was like he saw right through you. The air crackled, the tension stretching out like a taut string, ready to snap making you feel all sorts of woozy. You knew if you moved, if you even breathed too deeply, it would shatter whatever fragile moment this was. He was watching you so closely, noticing everything, the angle of your face, the way your hair fell, the way your breath caught just a little too fast, the tiny smile you couldn’t quite hide.

And then he grinned as he caught your smile; a lazy, crooked grin that made your heart skip. The vulnerability in his eyes flickered and was gone, hidden behind that familiar playful charm. It was safer that way, easier to laugh it off than to admit there might be something real between you.

You nudged him gently with your shoulder, letting out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding, aching from the sincere moment but almost glad it passed. Almost.

“You definitely do,” you said, your voice deliberately light.

Ben chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound that made you feel both safe and entirely off-balance. “Deal, you got it. How about some snacks? But, if I’m buyin’, you can’t go pullin’ that health-nut stuff on me. It’s gotta be a proper snack run, none of your boring, practical choices.”

“Oh, I’m so there,” you replied, half laughing, half trying to mask the flush that was still heating your cheeks. “Just don’t get all whiny if I veto your terrible taste.”

He sat up, giving you a mockingly serious look, his expression exaggeratedly grave. “Whiny? I don’t whine. I’m just... persuasive.”

“Sure you are,” you teased, feeling the tension still lingering about in the air.

You reached out to push his shoulder playfully, but he was faster. His hand caught yours, fingers curling around yours in a way that sent a spark racing up your arm. For a second, everything went still, the noise from the street outside faded, and the weight of the bed shifted beneath you, but all you could feel was the heat of his palm against yours.

It was Ben who let go first, his eyes gleaming with that familiar mischievous spark. “9, don’t be late,” he said, pushing himself off the bed with a careless grin.

You watched him head for the door, your pulse still racing in your chest. “I’m never late,” you shot back, trying to sound unaffected despite the way your voice wavered, light and teasing.

He paused in the doorway, throwing a look over his shoulder, his eyes softer than usual, almost expectant. “We’ll see about that,” he said with a wink before disappearing into the hallway, leaving you staring at the closed door, still lying on the bed, with a strange, buzzing feeling beneath your skin. You couldn't help but feel the heat rise to your face, your hand on fire from the interaction as you stared around, dumbfounded from the passing moments.

Later that night, you headed to the hotel lobby, the low hum of late-night travellers and the clinking of glass doors filling the space. You spotted Ben before he saw you, leaning casually against a column in a purple hoodie, scrolling through his phone with a barely-there smile tugging at his lips.

He looked up the second the elevator doors opened, and whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t you in a simple top with the sleeves pushed up and cargo pants, like you were trying too hard to look like you weren’t trying at all.

His eyebrows lifted, a grin spreading slow and wide. “That’s what you’re wearin’?” he said, not even bothering to hide his amusement.

You scoffed, furrowing your brows, shoving your hands in your pockets before muttering, “Yeah... what’s wrong with it?”

He rolled his eyes, but you caught the way they softened, something playful and gentle mingling with the mischief. Without saying a word, he dug into his bag and pulled out a well-worn hoodie, its cuffs fraying slightly and the colour slightly faded from too many washes. “Here,” he said, thrusting it at you. “You’re not goin’ anywhere with me like that.”

You gave him a long, unamused stare. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he shot back, voice dropping lower, teasing. “Don’t make me beg.”

You snatched the hoodie from him with a huff, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the fabric as you slipped it over your head. It was massive, swallowing you whole, the sleeves dangling well past your hands. You tugged at the cuffs, rolling them up clumsily and folding the bottom into your waistband so it didn't completely swallow you up as Ben watched with a satisfied smirk.

“Better,” he declared, like he’d personally fixed a crisis.

“Happy now?” you asked, your voice sharper than you’d intended, but you couldn’t help the way your heart picked up speed when he looked at you like that like you were more than just some friend he dragged along on a whim.

He just grinned and nodded. “Let’s go.”

The grocery store was nearly empty, the white-lit aisles stretching out like pathways to nowhere. The two of you wandered slowly at first, examining small differences side by side, until you found yourselves in the snack aisle, surrounded by walls of bright, neon packaging. Ben was in his element, zeroing in on the loudest, most ridiculous options like a kid in a candy store.

He plucked a bag of neon-orange chips from the shelf, shaking it lightly. “Alright,” he said, his tone suddenly all business, “What’s your stance on cheese puffs?”

You glanced at the bag and back at him, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not food, that’s...radioactive material. Nothing should be that orange.”

He gasped mouth agape before forming a pout, side-eyeing you. “Loud and wrong, but okay...”

You snatched the bag from his hand, tossing it into the cart anyway. “Fine. But we’re getting something that won’t kill us on the spot too.”

“Oh, here we go,” he groaned, watching as you added a box of granola bars to the mix with a self-satisfied smile. He shook his head, grabbing the cart handle and steering it down the aisle with a flourish.

“You’re no fun.”

“Somebody has to be the adult,” you said lightly, your shoulder brushing his as you walked.

The cart squeaked slightly as you rounded the corner, stopping to examine a box and before you knew it, Ben had snuck up behind you, his hands on your waist, lifting you off the floor in one swift movement. You barely had time to react before he dropped you, albeit with a slightly abrupt drop, laughing into the cart like it was the most natural thing in the world. You gasped, grabbing at the edges of the cart to steady yourself as he pushed forward, his laughter echoing off the empty shelves.

“Ben, what are you doing?” you demanded, half-exasperated, half-laughing as the cart picked up speed.

“Shoppin’!” he said nonchalantly, his voice lilting with barely suppressed giggles. “What’s it look like?”

You tried to glare at him, but the sound of his laughter, the way he moved so easily beside you, pulling you into his orbit, made it impossible to be mad. He flipped the hood over your face without warning, almost like payback from your antics earlier and you yelped, fumbling to throw it off your face as he made a dramatic show of spinning the cart around in circles in a wide arc, as if he were doing doughnuts in his car, laughing as you swayed and clung to the sides.

“Ben, you’re insane!” you shouted, but it came out more like a giggle, and you knew he’d hear it for what it was; a thrill you couldn’t quite hide.

“Yeah, but you love it!” he shot back, slowing the cart and landing it to face him, just enough to meet your eyes, the world narrowing down to the space between you. His smile was softer now, more intimate like he’d forgotten you were in a brightly lit grocery store at all.

For a second, you forgot too. Forgot about the shelves stacked high with candy and cereal, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead as your world came back from spinning and went straight into those puppy-dog brown eyes that always invited you so warmly. It was just him, and the warmth in him, the way he was looking at you like he could see straight through all the walls you’d built up.

Then he blinked, breaking the moment, and you cleared your throat, holding your sides tighter like it was armour. “C’mon,” you said, your voice a little too casual. “We still need to get some popcorn.”

His smirk returned a flash of teeth and mischief. “Only if I get to pick.”

“Fine,” you said, hopping out of the cart in a not-so-gracious way, almost tripping and falling over before you found your feet, while he squeezed his eyes shut and stifled a laugh. You ignored him and nudged him aside as you led the way, leaving him and the cart behind. “We’re not getting any of that sugar-loaded nonsense.”

“Deal,” he said easily, falling back into step beside you, close enough that his arm brushed yours with every step as he leaned onto the shopping cart's handle. It was comfortable, this back-and-forth, like a dance you’d both practised without realising.

The rest of the trip was a blur of bright colours and easy laughter, you vetoing his most ridiculous choices and him sneaking them into the cart when he thought you weren’t looking. There was something electric in the air, a charge that made you feel light and breathless. Every time your eyes met, it was like the world shrunk just a little more, leaving just the two of you standing there, suspended in a moment that neither of you wanted to end.

By the time you left, the night air was cool and crisp, and the city lights blurred into a haze of gold and blue. You carried your small, modest box of granola bars easily while Ben lugged a full backpack and a crinkling, overstuffed plastic bag of brightly coloured chaos, bumping your shoulder with his as you walked.

“Y’know,” he began, adding a lazy warmth to the night air, “if you think for one second that’s the last time I’m gonna put you in a cart, you’re wrong.”

You huffed out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Oh yeah? You're planning on carrying me around as part of your personal grocery haul from now on?”

He shot you a playful grin, his smile wide and easy. “Might just make it a habit. You fit in there pretty nice.”

Rolling your eyes, you bumped his arm with yours, but the warmth lingered longer than you expected. “You’re a menace, you know that?”

“Hey, I don't hear nobody complainin’ ‘bout bein’ chauffeured around,” he shot back, his eyes glimmering in the low streetlights. “And don’t pretend you didn’t love it. Saw you smilin’ the whole way.”

You tried to hide your grin, biting down on your lip. “I was not smiling.”

“Sure you weren’t,” he said, his voice dipping into a teasing drawl, and you knew he saw right through you. He always did, with that irritating, endearing way of his.

He kept walking, and you fell into an easy stride beside him, the silence that stretched out feeling warm, and comfortable, the kind that made you feel like you didn’t need to fill it with words.

As you cross the street, your fingers accidentally brush his for a split second, and you both tense up, the smallest contact sparking between you like static. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he shot you a quick, almost shy smile before looking up at the half-lit sky.

“I’ve got an idea,” he said suddenly as if the thought had just hit him. “There’s this café I saw online, right? Said they’ve got the best breakfast sandwiches in Australia. And it's like, a 15-minute walk from the hotel.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Yeah? And what, you’re planning to drag me out of bed before dawn just to try a sandwich?”

“Exactly! You read my mind!” he yelped excitedly without missing a beat, clearly not hearing your sarcasm. “We’ll beat the crowd! No lines, best seat in the house. Plus,” he added with a wink, “you look like you could use a proper breakfast after that grocery store workout.”

You gave him a sceptical look, though a smile tugged at your lips. “Fine. But if it’s some overhyped, greasy thing, you owe me.”

“I’ll take that bet,” he said, flashing that confident grin that made it impossible to say no. The walk back to the hotel was quieter, the playful back-and-forth giving way to a comfortable, unspoken understanding that neither of you wanted to break. After many attempts at trying to close the door on Ben only to be interrupted by "Wait, one last thing before I go"'s and many, many awful jokes, you finally found yourself drained as you collapsed onto your bed. You quickly set a reminder for his ridiculous plan, and a dreadful 5am alarm was made, leaving you with not nearly enough time to rest after the day's antics.

The alarm dragged you out of a deep sleep way too soon, feeling like you had just fallen into slumber. You groaned, fumbling to silence it, barely managing to swing your legs over the side of the bed before realising you were still wrapped in Ben’s hoodie, the fabric heavy and warm, smelling of cologne and well, him. Blinking blearily, you forced yourself to move, your mind foggy with sleep, the hotel room still wrapped in low shadow. The chill of the early hour made you pull the hoodie tighter around yourself, the soft material a comfort against the cold.

When you finally stumbled downstairs to the lobby, he was already there, leaning casually against the doorframe, one hand shoved into his pocket, the other holding a steaming ceramic cup of coffee. He looked up at the sound of your footsteps, and you noticed the way his eyes went wide for a second before he quickly masked it with a crooked smile. His hair was messy, and he looked like he hadn’t been awake for long, but the sight of him made your chest feel oddly light. You were still half-asleep, your hair barely brushed, eyes slightly open, and wearing his hoodie like it was a shield against the early morning chill.

"Hey, sleepyhead," he said, his voice rough and deep with sleep, the sound of it washing over you like a warm wave. There was a hitch in his tone, something unsteady and unguarded, and it made your stomach flutter in a way you couldn’t quite explain. "You look... cozy."

You tried to rub the sleep from your eyes, barely registering his words. “What?” you mumbled, blinking up at him.

The lights in the lobby were harsh, making you squint, and you fumbled with the hood, pushing it back slightly. Your fingers felt clumsy, too heavy, and you knew you looked a mess. No makeup, hair lazily brushed, the sleeves of his hoodie falling over your hands like a second blanket.

His gaze lingered, and he cleared his throat, glancing away quickly like he’d seen something he shouldn’t. “I, uh... you’re wearin’ my hoodie,” he said, a slow smile tugging at his lips despite the awkwardness in his voice.

“Didn’t think you’d be, y’know, sleepin’ in it.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you shrugged, still too groggy to care much. “It’s comfortable,” you muttered, your voice muffled with sleep. “I just… forgot to take it off.”

He was quiet for a beat too long like he was turning your words over in his mind, and you noticed the way he was looking at you, really looking, like he was seeing something he hadn’t expected. You wanted to say something, to break the strange heaviness of the moment, but your brain felt slow and thick with exhaustion, and all you could do was yawn and shift your weight from one foot to the other.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice softer, a bit hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he should keep pushing. His eyes were bright despite the early hour, lingering on the way his hoodie hung loose on your frame, the oversized fabric almost swallowing you. “Well, it... looks good on you. Real good.”

You ducked your head, a sleepy laugh escaping your lips, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped at his words. “I’m sure it does, c'mon let's get going if we want to beat the queue or whatever,” you teased, though there was no bite behind it. You didn’t have the energy for anything but honesty, and you were still caught up in the warmth of his hoodie, the way it felt like a shield against the morning chill.

His grin softened, and he rubbed the back of his neck, looking suddenly self-conscious. “Nah, I mean it,” he said, his drawl slow and unsteady. “Didn’t know you’d make my old thing look that good.”

You shrugged again, feeling your face flush as you ducked your chin deeper into the collar of the hoodie. “Guess I’ll take that as a compliment,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, your eyes still half-closed, struggling to focus in the dim lighting.

“Yeah, you should,” he said, the words coming out a little too fast like he couldn’t quite control the way they slipped out. He was still watching you, his gaze almost tender, his usual confidence faltering in the face of your sleepy vulnerability.

You felt an odd sensation bloom in your chest. Something soft and unsteady, and you weren’t sure if it was the early hour, his deep, sleep-rough voice, or the way he couldn’t seem to look away from you. You fumbled to roll up the too-long sleeves, your fingers barely managing to fold the fabric back, and Ben’s gaze followed the movement, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite name.

He hesitated, then stepped closer, his movements careful and unhurried, like he was testing the boundaries of whatever this was between you. He lifted his coffee cup, its warmth radiating outwards as he held it just inches from your face. “Here,” he offered his voice still that deep morning rumble that made your stomach twist. “You look like you could use this more than I do.”

Ben handed you the mug, and as you took a sip, your fingers barely brushed his, such a small, fleeting touch that it might as well have been an accident. But the warmth of it lingered, and Ben’s eyes, still sleepy but more awake than yours, didn’t stray from your face. You were too groggy to notice as you took a deep gulp of the warm coffee. It was rich and comforting, exactly what you needed to get moving, and you barely caught the way Ben's gaze softened as you closed your eyes and sighed contentedly.

You held the mug back out to him, half-smiling as you blinked against the morning light spilling through the windows. “Okay, I'll admit, it’s good,” you admitted, handing it over with a sleepy grin.

Ben grinned back, his tone suddenly lighter as he accepted the mug again. “Mhm, damn right,” his drawl thick in the early hour, the kind that always made you feel just a bit more awake than you were ready for. His voice was deep, still rough from sleep, and you felt a strange flutter at the sound of it, so different from his usual light-hearted teasing. He looked like he wanted to add something further, but instead, he raised the mug to his lips, pausing for the briefest moment before taking a sip from the exact spot where your mouth had just been.

“Let’s go,” he said softly, his voice a little rough, almost hesitant, and you nodded, letting him lead the way out into the slowly illuminating streets.

The walk to the café was quiet, but it was a different kind of quiet now, one that felt heavy with things left unsaid, with the strange intimacy of the moment lingering between you like a secret. Your footsteps echoed against the pavement, and you felt more awake with each step, the chilly air biting at your face and the faint light from the rising sun glinting off the windows above. Ben was walking a little too close, his arm brushing yours every now and then, and you noticed the way he kept sneaking glances at you as if he was trying to memorise every detail, the way his hoodie pooled around your hips, the faint shadow of sleep still lingering in your eyes and on your pouted lips, the way you hadn’t bothered to fix your hair or hide the bare honesty of your face.

“Don't think I’ve ever seen you this early before,” he said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence, low and rumbling like distant thunder. “No makeup, no fancy clothes. Just... I don't know, man, just you.”

You looked up at him, squinting a little against the first light of dawn, and tried to muster up some kind of retort, but all you could manage was a half-hearted, sleepy smile. “Disappointed?” you teased, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Not even a little,” he said, and the sincerity in his voice hit you like a punch to the gut. He smiled, the edges of his mouth curling up in that familiar way that made your heart skip, and you found yourself smiling back without even realising it, feeling lighter and warmer than you had in a long time.

The two of you arrived at the café, footsteps slowing as you got closer. But when you reached the door, your heart sank. Not a single person lined up. The café was dark, the interior shrouded in shadows, and there, taped to the inside of the window, was a handwritten sign that read: Closed. Opens at 7 AM.

You blinked at it, still half-asleep, your shoulders slumping as disappointment settled in. “Ben,” you dragged a hand over your face before narrowing your eyes at him, “you’re telling me I could’ve slept for two more hours? I thought it'd be open sooner!”

“Hey, who needs sleep?” he said, shrugging without a hint of regret. He gestured to the empty curb across the street with a grin. “C’mon. Let’s sit it out. I’ll make the time fly right by.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Despite the chill in the early-morning air, you settled beside him on the curb, arms wrapped tightly around yourself as you rested your chin atop your knees. The street was quiet in the way only early morning can be, just the two of you and the distant hum of a waking city.

Ben stretched his long legs out in front of him like he owned the street. There was something so easy about sitting there with him in the silence, the air crisp and the sky just beginning to lighten with the first hints of dawn. You watched the horizon, focusing on the deepening shades of indigo and pale gold, the familiar comfort of the city awakening inch by inch. It was strange how easy it was to be around him, how your guard dropped without you even noticing. His presence was effortless, and the way his eyes rested on you every now and then, like you were someone worth seeing, made you feel something you didn’t quite want to name yet.

“You know,” he murmured, a hint of his usual humour in his tone, “you’re not half bad at relaxin’ after all.”

You shot him a soft glare, lips twitching. “Are you trying to say I’m fun?”

“Hmm...I’d say a little more than fun,” he replied, his smile widening. “But let’s just leave it at that for now. At least no one’s in line, so we’ll get the best seat in the house when they do open” He glanced over to you as he leaned back on his palms.

You chuckled, glancing at the empty street. The entire street was silent, just the two of you in the quiet stillness of dawn. You relaxed a little, sinking further into the oversized hoodie that smelled like him, comforting and familiar.

After a while, he nudged you with his shoulder, his eyes up to the sky but his voice low. “You ever notice how I always seem to get you roped into these side quests of mine?” he asked, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Errands, random snack runs, you name it.”

You shot him a sideways glance, fighting back a smirk. “Oh, I’ve noticed. You have a knack for it, Ben. You’re lucky I can keep up. You nominated me for laundry duty last week too.”

He let his head back with a laugh. “Well, you’re good at it.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to help the smile that pulled at your lips. “Or maybe you’re just lazy.”

“Nah, it’s ‘cause you’re the only person who’ll actually come along for the ride,” he admitted, his gaze settling on you with a softness that made your heart skip. “Anyway… why don’t you ever bring a boyfriend along on one of these little errands? Not like you're short on admirers.”

His question caught you off guard, and you looked away, staring out at the sunrise as your thoughts turned inward. It was a topic you rarely touched, one you hadn’t even realised you’d been avoiding until now.“I don’t know,” you said softly, your voice distant and hesitant. “I guess, maybe… it’s just easier this way?”

“No one special you’re hiding from me, huh?” Ben’s tone was gentle, almost teasing, but his eyes held a genuine curiosity. He wanted to understand.

You swallowed, feeling a lump form in your throat. This was a part of yourself you rarely shared, a shadow you’d kept hidden for a long time. But the stillness of the morning and the warmth in his gaze tugged at something deep inside. “There was someone,” you admitted, barely above a whisper. “A while ago.”

He didn’t say anything, just watched you, the usual teasing gone, replaced by quiet patience.

“He... he liked that I had my life together, y'know? Like I was this 'go-getter,' always calm and composed,” you said, slowly letting the words surface. “Or at least, that’s what he told me. He said he liked that I wasn’t flashy and that I didn’t draw too much attention to myself. I think he appreciated my quiet confidence, and how I could go with the flow. Looking back, I think it was because he thought it made me easier to control...” You let out a short, hollow laugh that didn’t reach your eyes.

“I didn’t even realise when things shifted,” you continued, voice more firm now. “When he went from showing genuine interest to making all the decisions. It must've been gradual, but it felt like it just happened one day; I don’t know when it started. Suddenly, he was calling all the shots, and I thought I was just being a good partner. Compromising. Making space for him. Letting him be himself. But I didn’t see that, bit by bit, I was putting myself away.”

Ben’s jaw tightened, but he remained silent, his attention urging you to go on.

“He’d ignore my texts for hours, sometimes days, and then act like I was overreacting when I brought it up. But God forbid I missed one of his calls during training or when I was away on tour. If I couldn’t stay up late to talk, he’d make it into a huge deal. We’d set times to call, but he’d never follow through—and always with some lame excuse.”

You paused, drawing a deep breath, eyes fixed on a point in the distance.

“And then there were the arguments,” you said, voice tightening. “About the most impossible things—like how I didn’t spend enough time with him. How could I when I was half a world away? Or how my career always came first. He said I was boring, that I wasn’t spontaneous enough. But whenever I tried to change, there was always something else wrong. No matter what I did, it was never enough.”

Ben’s expression darkened, a flicker of frustration tightening the corners of his mouth. His hand was on the curb next to yours, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his skin—grounding you.

“Maybe he was jealous,” you said, the words almost to yourself. “That’s what my mom said. Jealous of my success, or of the fact that I had something I loved that wasn’t about him. He knew exactly how to make me feel small. Every victory, every career milestone, he’d twist it, make me feel like I was failing him. Like I was always letting him down. I thought... if I could just balance it all if I could make him happy, he’d love me the way I needed. But honestly? I don’t even know what I needed anymore, not when he was the one telling me how to feel.”

You swallowed, the bitterness of those memories heavy on your tongue.

“No matter how much I shifted or tried to be the girl he wanted, it was never enough. There was always another criticism, another reason why I wasn’t good enough. I was too selfish, too focused on my career, too indecisive, too... everything. And I believed him. I thought I was the problem. That I just couldn’t make him happy.”

A light breeze swept through the street, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, pulling your knees close as if to shield yourself from the weight of those memories.

“He was... God, Ben, you should've heard him. He was so relentless when he wanted to be. It felt like every part of my life was under a microscope, every single decision, every single choice; it was all wrong. All the things I loved, the things that made me proud, they just started to fade away, like they’d been drained of colour.”

Your voice cracked slightly, but you pushed on, finding strength in the words you’d never fully voiced before.

“I started to lose myself in a spiral. Everything felt so ... grey, so heavy like I was wading through water. I thought... isn’t this what relationships are? Compromise, sacrifice, working through the rough patches? That’s what I kept telling myself. I thought if I just tried harder, if I carried the weight for both of us, then maybe he’d be happy again, like how he was in the beginning. But I started wondering if I was even cut out for love. I mean, what does it even mean to love someone, really? All I knew was that I kept losing myself in the process, and it still wasn’t nearly enough.”

You exhaled, as the quiet of the morning felt almost too peaceful, the faint chirping of birds contrasting with the heaviness of what you were saying.

“And then he cheated,” you continued, your voice flat. “When I found out, he didn’t even try to deny it. He just looked at me, fatigued, and was like, ‘What did you expect with the way you treat me? Don’t be so naive.’ But you know what?”

You paused, a strange light creeping into your voice.

“It was almost a relief. Him cheating... it was my way out. For the first time, I had a solid, undeniable reason to leave. I didn’t have to keep convincing myself that I needed to try harder, or that it was all my fault.”

Your voice softened, carrying vulnerability.

“I don’t even know if I ever really loved him, or maybe, I don't know how to love. Maybe I just loved the idea of being loved or being enough for someone. But the truth is, I don’t think I even know what love is supposed to feel like. I gave everything I had, and it still wasn’t right, I felt so drained like a vampire had me. Maybe I’ve never felt real love, or maybe... maybe I’m just not meant for it.”

Ben’s silence was heavy beside you, his gaze unwavering, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. The shame and rawness of your words made your throat tighten, but you kept going.

“I stayed until I had nothing left to give until I got cheated on, and even then, I couldn’t tell you why. It was like I was trying to win a game I didn’t even understand. And in the end, I realised... I never even had him, not truly. I was always chasing something that wasn’t there. It was always a losing game, and I was the only one playing.”

Ben’s gaze was steady, the weight of your words hanging between you. Then he spoke, his tone warm and sincere. “You don’t deserve someone treating you like that. Not ever. I-"

He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment before he continued.

"I can’t even imagine doin' that to you. You’re more than enough, you always have been. You don’t need to change a single thing for anyone. Man, I like you just the way you are because I know you, and I know you’re worth so much more than what you settled for with that dick.”

A tear slid down your cheek, carrying all the hurt you’d kept buried for so long. You weren’t crying, not really, but his words had found their way past all your defences, and something inside you softened and broke open.

“Do you really mean that?” you asked, your voice small, almost scared, your eyes searching his.

Ben’s eyes locked onto yours, and something in his expression shifted. For a moment, he seemed almost stunned, his face softening, his features melting with a tenderness that made it hard to breathe. He reached out slowly to cup your face with his hand, as if afraid you might pull away, and when you didn’t, he gently wiped the tear from your cheek. His fingers lingered, brushing against your skin with a touch so careful it made your heart ache.

“I mean every word,” he said, his voice low and steady, barely more than a whisper. “I see you, Y/N. I’ve always seen you.”

His words hit you like a wave, and the tears came faster, though still silent. Ben’s expression softened even further, and he pulled you into him without hesitation, wrapping a strong arm around you, and holding you close. You pressed your face into his shoulder, feeling the warmth and solid comfort of him, and slowly, you let yourself sink into his embrace. He didn’t speak, just rubbed your back in gentle circles, his chin resting on top of your head.

After minutes had passed when the tightness in your chest had started to fade and the early morning warmth grew warmer, you felt him smile against your hair. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, and he said with a playful grin, “If this is all it takes to get a hug outta you, I should’ve asked sooner.”

You couldn’t help it, you let out a small, breathy laugh, rolling your eyes even as you stayed close to him, nestling your head before you lifted it up.

“Oh, shut up,” you said, smacking his shoulder lightly. “If I knew you were gonna use emotional blackmail for free hugs, I would’ve kept my distance.”

He chuckled, the sound low and comforting, and the warmth of the moment settled between you. You pulled away, wiping your face with the oversized sleeves of his old hoodie, the one that had become yours. The quiet returned, peaceful now, the sun creeping higher in the sky and washing everything in shades of soft orange and pink.

You sat together in silence, shoulder to shoulder, the pain slowly ebbing away as the world woke up around you. There was something different between you now, a shift that neither of you said out loud but both of you felt. For the first time in a long time, you felt a weight lift, and you let yourself relax against him, the silence and small conversation comfortable as you felt relief and warmth flow through you.

By the time the café finally opened, you and Ben had spent two hours huddled together as the sun began to bathe you two, and sharing quiet laughter as the world slowly woke up around you. The anticipation of the legendary breakfast had both of you giddy and a little loopy from the early start, making the time fly by.

But when the doors swung open and you finally got your hands on the much-hyped breakfast sandwiches, reality hit. The sandwiches were mediocre, wayyy too salty and the coffee was disappointingly weak. The "famous" breakfast sandwiches that Ben’s TikTok video had promised would be life-changing were, frankly, a letdown. Yet, it didn’t matter at all.

The two of you slid into a corner booth, expecting to sit across from each other, but Ben surprised you by scooting in right beside you, his thigh pressing lightly against yours. He stretched his legs out under the table, claiming the whole space as his own. You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning into his warmth as you sipped your disappointing coffee.

“This is the most underwhelming breakfast I’ve ever had,” you said, crinkling your nose as you picked at the sandwich.

Ben chuckled, flashing you a mischievous grin. “Guess I owe you a better one, next time” he teased, nudging your shoulder with his.

“Damn right, you do,” you shot back with a smirk.

Ben’s arm rested casually over the back of the booth, his fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder, sending shivers down your spine. Every small, careless touch, his knee nudging yours, his fingers grazing your hoodie, made it harder to ignore the fluttering in your chest. With each laugh and shared smile, you felt something shifting between you, something that made it impossible to see him as just a friend, especially after being so vulnerable earlier.

As the café started to fill with the morning crowd, you remained on the same side of the booth, your legs tangled comfortably under the table. There was an easy closeness between you now, a kind of unspoken understanding like you were sharing a secret that only the two of you knew. When he reached over to brush a crumb from your lip as you talked, his fingertips barely grazing your skin, you felt your cheeks heat and words stutter, but you didn’t pull away. The sun rose higher, streaming golden light through the café windows, and the warmth between you felt softer and more real than any disappointment over a bad breakfast. Ben’s presence was grounding, and for the first time in a very long time, you felt genuinely at ease, like the weight of your earlier conversation and all your own personal baggage had lessened, transformed into something lighter by his easy smile and gentle touch.

By the time you both decided to leave, you were still laughing over the overhyped “legendary” breakfast. As you stepped out onto the sun-drenched street, Ben’s hand slipped into yours with a light squeeze, like always, as if to say, I’m still here. I’ve got you. The simple gesture left your skin tingling, and your heart racing just a little faster.

You walked together down the slowly waking street back to the hotel, shoulder to shoulder, arms looped together, a warmth lingering between you that had nothing to do with the sunrise. The world around you was coming alive, but it felt like you were still living in that quiet, private space you'd created in the early morning hours, a small bubble of warmth and closeness that was just yours. Of course, it couldn't last long, not with training and matches coming up alongside personal commitments and whatever else, but having this quiet time together was more than rewarding.

As the café faded into the past, so did the warmth of those golden moments, but the echoes lingered. It wasn’t just the memory of his hand brushing yours or the way his laugh had chased away the lingering shadows of your conversation. It was the way he lingered, so effortlessly, so relentlessly, in the quiet spaces of your life.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him as your tour carried you to different cities. The way his hand had slipped into yours so naturally that morning replayed in your mind at the oddest times: during practice serves, mid-flight naps creeping into your peaceful dreams, even while unpacking yet another suitcase in yet another hotel room. It wasn’t like you wanted to be distracted, but Ben was everywhere, his presence stamped into your routine as if he’d always been part of it. And it seemed as though he had no intention of loosening that grip he had on your mind. Calls and messages were frequent as days blurred into one another, conversations that felt simultaneously too much and not nearly enough. Ones that'd have you squealing in bed as you reread over the texts or have you clutching your phone tight minutes after hanging up, savouring the small moments. The banter was still there, as effortless as it was grounding, but now it came with an undercurrent you couldn’t name, something unspoken threading its way through the pauses between your words. Ben became a comforting constant amid the chaos. He was always just a call or a text away, his presence a steady anchor even when everything else felt transient. And while you were grateful for the familiarity, it didn’t stop the butterflies that erupted every time his name lit up your phone.

Like tonight.

After a gruelling match and a hurried dinner that barely counted as a meal, you finally collapsed onto the hotel bed. The quiet of the room felt foreign after the noise of the day, but it was a relief until your phone buzzed on the nightstand. The call started with Ben’s face filling the screen, eyebrows raised and a smirk already in place.

“Hey, stranger,” he smiled in a sing-song tone.

“Oh, spare me,” you said, rolling your eyes but smiling despite yourself.

" 'Spare me?' ” Ben scoffed, kicking back and grinning at the screen. “Girl, you’re acting like you’re the only one with a rough schedule. What’ve you been up to? Post-match feast, or just a sad granola bar?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Neither. Quick and quiet dinner after the match, some bland pasta with a wilted salad, the usual. Real glamorous stuff.You already back to your hotel?”

“Hours ago,” he said. “Caught the highlights of your match, though. That backhand winner down the line? Chef’s kiss.” He mimed a dramatic kiss to the camera. “You’re out here stealing the show.”

“Please,” you said, rolling your eyes, and shrugging. “It wasn’t even my best match. I’ll take a win, though.”

“Don’t be modest,” Ben teased. “Meanwhile, my highlights reel was probably just me sweating buckets with my shirt clinging to me and yelling after missing a forehand.”

You smirked. “Nah, you’re too busy being ‘America’s tennis heartthrob.’ I’m sure your fangirls don’t even notice the double faults.”

Ben groaned, throwing his head back. “Not this again.”

“Oh, come on,” you grinned, teasing him. “Tall, built, All-American golden boy? I’m shocked they haven’t made you into a wax figure yet! ATP should get on that, the more I think about it.”

He leaned forward, raising an eyebrow. “Is the golden boy charm working on you?”

You blinked, caught off guard, furrowing your brows. “What..? No. Shut up!”

Ben chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “Hey, I was just checking. You're the one who brought it up.”

“Yeah, well…” you said, flustered, fumbling for a comeback. “I mean, I guess it’s a little funny. The way they’re all obsessed with you, I mean.”

He smirked. “Smooth save.”

“Whatever,” you muttered, looking away. “At least you’re not lonely on tour. You’ve got Bryan. Built-in travel buddy.”

Ben scrunched his face up. “Oh yeah, great idea! Let me just grab dinner with my dad after a match so he can spend two hours lecturing me about footwork and his ‘good ol’ days.’ ”

You laughed, before breaking into a pout. “Poor, poor Bryan. He just wants to hang out with his son, and you’re out here running from him.”

“I’m not running,” Ben said defensively. “I’m…um, strategically avoiding.”

“Sure you are.”

“And anyway, no one here’s like you,” he added, his tone casual but his gaze steady.

That caught you off guard. “Yeah-w-what?”

Ben’s smirk deepened. “Don’t choke now. Where’s that quick wit of yours?”

“Shut it,” you groaned, your face heating up as you pressed your face into the mattress.

“Aw, you’re blushing,” he teased, leaning closer to the camera. “Cat really got your tongue this time, huh?”

“Ben, I swear to God,” you said, groaning and burying your face in your hands and dropping the phone.

He laughed, clearly triumphant. “It’s okay, you’ll get me back at the charity doubles event in a few months. I’m counting on you to carry me.”

“Carry you?” you said, grateful for the change in topic. “I thought you were the unstoppable Ben Shelton. 'Big serves, big shots.’ "

“Yeah, yeah, but doubles is different,” he said with a shrug. “Doubles is all about teamwork. I’ll take your instructions. Like Federer and Mirka, except, y’know, cooler.”

You laughed. “Cooler? That’s a bold claim.”

“Why not?” he said, spreading his arms wide. “They’re classy, they’re unstoppable, and they look good doing it. That’s us, right? Total power couple energy.”

“Power couple?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“On the court,” he clarified with a wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep it professional.”

“You’d better,” you muttered, shaking your head, though you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling.

As the call ended and the screen faded to black, you lingered in the quiet of your room, your pulse still racing in the aftermath of his teasing grin. Your fingers traced the necklace at your throat, the metal cool under your touch, but the memory it carried, the warmth of his hands, the way his eyes had softened when he fastened it, made your chest feel full and tight all at once.

You had to admit, Ben Shelton was infuriatingly good at leaving you in this liminal space, caught somewhere between wanting to roll your eyes and wanting to let yourself fall completely into whatever this was becoming.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself off the bed and rifled through your suitcase, finding his hoodie tucked neatly inside. It was a lifeline, an anchor to him when the distance felt like too much. The fabric was soft against your cheek as you hugged it to your chest, his scent faint but unmistakable, as if he were still there, filling the room with his easy laughter and ridiculous charm. It was almost maddening how easily he got under your skin, how his words lingered long after the call had ended, tangling themselves with your thoughts and leaving you guessing.

Was he just being Ben? The not-knowing was intoxicating in its own way, a thrill and torment that made your stomach flutter and your mind race long into the night until you could fall asleep, and even then, he graced your dreams with his warmth that you could never get enough of.

For Ben, the feelings weren’t any simpler. He leaned back against his hotel bed, the phone still warm in his hand, the smile he’d worn during the call refusing to fade. You always had this way of leaving him grinning like an idiot, proud of his one-liners that caught you off guard but tonight felt different. He loved catching you off guard, how you’d try to fire back some clever retort only to stammer and fall silent, just like the first time he met you. It wasn’t just funny to him; it was endearing, that quiet vulnerability you didn’t even seem to notice. And God, you were beautiful, even in that post-match haze, hair damp and face free of makeup, exhaustion softening your edges in a way that only made you look more real, more you. He wished he could've seen you in person; he could stare at you like that for hours and still turn back for a second glimpse, never getting enough.

He sighed, rolling onto his side as his fingers hovered over a photo on his camera roll, the one where you weren’t looking, too focused on a menu, brow furrowed like the decision was life or death, another one of you in his car, casually on your phone, followed by another photo and another. He couldn’t help it; his chest tightened at the memory of moments like that, the way you made the chaos of his life feel lighter. Then there were the little things: the protein bar with your teasing note that you threw in his bag during a practice one time, or the way you seemed to know exactly when to check in when you could read how he honestly was.

It scared him sometimes, how easily you crept into his thoughts, how much he wanted to be the reason you smiled the way you had tonight. And yet, even as the thought tightened in his chest, Ben smiled again, already counting down the days until he’d see you at the charity event, knowing it just couldn't come sooner.

The atmosphere at the event was electric, a blend of effortless fun and star-studded tennis. Neon lights pulsed along the edges of the court, casting playful shadows on the buzzing crowd as a DJ spun upbeat tracks that thrummed in your chest and made the ground pulse. It was far from a serious tournament, more like a party on a tennis court, where fans and players mingled, indulging in casual games and champagne-laced banter.

You smoothed down your navy skirt, the silky white bow in your hair fluttering lightly as you stepped into the tunnel, the buzz of conversation growing louder. A little blush, a sweep of mascara, and a touch of concealer made you look radiant but understated; the only jewellery you wore was the rose-gold necklace Ben had gotten you, gleaming softly against your collarbones under the venue’s lights.

“Ready to dazzle?” another player teased as she passed by, her racket slung lazily over her shoulder. You shot her a grin, zipping up your bag as you mentally prepared for the night ahead. But before you could take another step with your bag now slung over your arm, a hand wrapped gently around your wrist, tugging you back into the shadowed corner of the tunnel.

You turned quickly, your startled expression melting into a mixture of exasperation and amusement when you saw Ben. He was leaning against the wall, grinning like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

“Subtle as always,” you teased, arching a brow, even as your chest tightened slightly at the sight of him. It had been months, and somehow, he looked the same but different, more confident, more composed, yet just as unmistakably Ben.

He tilted his head, his grin spreading slowly. “What can I say? I like to make an entrance.”

“By sneaking up on me?” you quipped, folding your arms but unable to stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

“Better than yelling, don’t you think?” He pushed off the wall, stepping closer, his presence filling the space between you. For a moment, the noise of the crowd outside felt distant, the thrum of music fading into the background.

He let his eyes roam, taking in the bow in your hair and the soft gleam of the necklace he’d picked out weeks ago. “You look…” He trailed off, his voice softer now, tinged with something he wasn’t saying. “I mean, wow.”

You felt your cheeks flush, the warmth crawling up your neck as you shifted on your feet. “Don’t start, Shelton,” you muttered, though your voice lacked any conviction.

“What? It’s a compliment.” His tone dipped, quiet but teasing, as he leaned just enough for you to catch the faint scent of his cologne. “Guess I forgot how good you clean up...y'know while still bein' all proper.”

You tried for a quick, witty comeback, but the words stumbled and caught in your throat when his eyes met yours again, warm and intent. It was like he saw through the polished image you’d carefully put together for tonight, straight to the version of you he knew best: messy hair, sweat-soaked, exhausted after a match.

“Ben...” you started, voice faltering as he smiled.

“Missed this,” he murmured, stepping even closer as he studied your face, his gaze lingering on your lips. “Missed you.”

The simplicity of it hit harder than you expected, your breath catching as he pulled you into a tight hug without hesitation. His arms wrapped around you with a sure, steady strength that made your chest ache, one hand splayed against your upper back, the other resting lightly at your waist, rubbing up and down with his thumb. Your cheek pressed into his shoulder as you let yourself lean in, your arms slipping around him.

You had to stand on your tiptoes to reach him properly, your nose brushing the soft skin of his neck. He smelled faintly of cologne and something clean, and when he bent slightly to press his face against your hair, the warmth of his breath sent a shiver down your spine.

Neither of you said anything at first; the hug lingered just long enough to toe the line between friendly and something more.

“Alright, lovebirds,” a voice called from behind, breaking the moment. You glanced over to see Tommy Paul strolling by with a smirk, holding a tennis racket slung over one shoulder. “Save it for the courts.”

You pulled back quickly, a small laugh spilling out despite yourself. Ben groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Ignore him,” he muttered, his other hand still resting lightly on your waist.

You shook your head, biting back a smile as you looked up at him. “Guess I should’ve known you’d bring your fan club with you.”

Ben chuckled, his thumb brushing against your side before he let his hand drop. “They’re just jealous,” he teased. Then, his grin turned sharper, more mischievous. “Besides, you’re Mirka tonight, remember? That makes me Federer.”

You rolled your eyes, already turning back toward the tunnel’s exit. “Then let’s hope you’re half as good on the court as he is.”

His laugh followed you, rich and unbothered. “Careful, Mirka, I might just have to prove it to you out there.”

You smirked, stepping forward toward the light of the court. “Right. I'll see you out there, Federer.”

Ben chuckled low behind you, the sound carrying as he followed. “Better bring your A-game, Mirka.”

You both stepped into the event space, the pulse of music and hum of voices a vibrant backdrop. A waiter with a tray of champagne flutes passed by, and Ben grabbed two, handing you one. “For courage?” he teased, raising a brow.

“Or patience,” you countered with a cheeky smile, clinking your glass against his before taking a sip. The bubbles tickled your throat, a pleasant warmth settling in your chest.

The two of you drifted toward the edge of the court, lingering for a moment to take in the scene. Fans were scattered around, some waving excitedly as they noticed you both, others engrossed in their own games. The energy in the air was contagious.

“You nervous?” Ben asked, glancing down at you, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned closer.

You scoffed lightly, tilting your head toward him. “Pfft, not even a little. You?”

“Only about carrying you,” he shot back with a teasing grin.

You laughed, a genuine, carefree sound that had him grinning even wider. “Big talk for someone who hasn’t even warmed up yet.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said, taking a sip from his glass, his eyes never leaving yours. “Trust, I’m plenty warm now.”

The look he gave you was so direct, so warm, it sent a shiver down your spine. For a second, you almost forgot where you were, his gaze holding you in place. Then, with a soft laugh, you shook your head. “Careful, Shelton. I might start to think you’re flirting with me.”

“And if I am?” he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

You didn’t answer, the sudden heat in your cheeks making you glance away. But Ben stepped closer, his voice dropping just enough to make your pulse quicken. “You’re kinda cute when you’re quiet, you know that?”

“I’m not quiet,” you retorted, though the slight stumble in your voice only made his grin deepen.

He shook his head before he got pulled into some conversation, the night stretching out with laughs. It wasn't long before it was your turn on the courts with Ben for mixed doubles with fans. The game was as lighthearted as the crowd’s energy, every point a mix of banter, champagne-fueled laughter, and effortless coordination between you and Ben. You didn’t know if it was the bubbly coursing through your veins or just the sheer ease of being around him, but the nerves that usually gripped you on a court had dissolved into something bolder, something exhilarating.

“Hey! Didn’t know you could slice like that,” Ben teased, coming up beside you after you returned a tricky serve with a clean, low shot. His grin was wide, boyish, and entirely too charming.

“Didn’t know you cared enough to notice,” you quipped back, tossing him a look over your shoulder.

His laugh was low, his eyes sparkling under the court lights. “Oh, I notice. Don’t worry about that.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away as he moved to stand closer, his shoulder brushing yours. A fan on the opposite side sent the ball flying long, and you let out a small cheer, reaching up for a high five. His palm smacked yours, but instead of letting go, his fingers lingered, curling slightly against yours to hold your hand in his big one as he leaned down just enough for only you to hear.

“Careful now,” he murmured, his voice dipping, his thumb grazing your palm. “Don’t make me think I need to keep you around full-time.”

Your stomach flipped, and you blinked up at him, thrown off by the sudden softness in his tone. “Keep up the compliments, Shelton, and I might start thinking you’re sweet.”

“I can be sweet,” he said, his grin turning a little cocky as he finally released your hand. “But only when you’re around.”

You were saved from having to respond by the start of the next point, though your heart was far too distracted to focus properly. Ben, however, didn’t seem fazed, his energy casual and relaxed as he sent a gentle lob to the next fan on the rotation. Between rallies, he wandered back to your side of the court, resting his hand briefly on the small of your back, rubbing it softly. The touch was fleeting, but it left a trail of warmth in its wake.

As you finished another easy point, Ben jogged toward you. “So, is this your strategy? Win them over with that slice and then charm me into doing all the work?”

You laughed, spinning your racket in your hand. “Oh, puh-lease. I’m doing most of the carrying here, Ben. Admit it, you’d be lost without me.”

“Lost? Nah.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping just a fraction. “Distracted? Definitely.”

Your breath caught, the weight of his gaze lingering longer than it should have. But before you could respond, another cheer from the crowd broke the moment. He stepped back, grinning as though he hadn’t just thrown your heart into overdrive.

By the end of the set, the champagne had smoothed the edges of your usual reserve, and the energy between you both crackled with something unspoken but undeniable. When you reached for another high-five after the final point, he caught your hand and tugged gently, pulling you just a step closer this time.

“We got a nice win,” he murmured, his eyes flicking down to yours.

“Mhm, and I got a nice partner,” you replied, the words falling out before you could think better of them.

His grin softened, his hand brushing lightly against your lower back again. “Careful. I might start thinking you’re trying to charm me.”

“And if I am?” you shot back, your eyes coy and big as your newfound confidence was fueled by the buzz in your veins and the way he was looking at you as if no one else in the world mattered.

Ben’s laughter was warm and rich, a blush spreading across his cheeks that wasn't just from the game. The way his eyes stayed locked on yours said everything. “Then I’d say it’s working.”

As the event wound down, you and Ben exchanged a few last high-fives with the fans. The laughter and excitement of the crowd hung in the air, but as the noise began to settle, there was a familiar, charged silence between you two. The playful teasing, the flirty glances, it was all still there, but now it had a weight to it as if the evening had somehow shifted to a different gear.

Ben caught up to you as you started to make your way toward the exit, his smile flashing as he fell into step beside you. "So, what do you think?" he asked, voice low and teasing. "Pizza? Just us? The rest are going to a restaurant downtown, but I thought we could hang out n' catch up."

You raised an eyebrow, the suggestion making your heart skip a beat. There was something about the idea of more time with him, just the two of you, that sent a rush through your chest. “Pizza?” you repeated, the buzz from the champagne still swirling inside you, but now mixing with a touch of curiosity. “After all that, you want to drag me to some random pizza joint?”

Ben grinned, his eyes full of mischief. "It's not random. It’s a little hidden gem, just a few blocks away. Trust me, it's worth it. You won’t find better pizza around here, Ben approved.”

You glanced at him, your internal struggle between teasing him and playing it cool warring inside you. There was something in the way he said it, an undeniable charm in his voice that made you want to go. The idea of quiet, easy conversation with him, without the crowd, the friends and the noise, felt too good to pass up.

"Alright, fine," you said, rolling your eyes but giving in. "But if this place turns out to be some dive with soggy crust, I’m blaming you.”

Ben laughed, his grin widening. “Deal. You’ll love it, though. I wouldn’t steer you wrong.”

The two of you began walking down the street, and the air between you seemed to settle into something new, something more intimate. The world around you felt quieter now, each step taking you farther from the noise of the event and closer to something more personal. With every step, the liquid courage from the champagne seemed to melt away, leaving behind a fluttery, almost nervous feeling in your chest. Maybe it was the lingering heat from the flirting, or maybe it was just that you were walking with him, alone.

“So,” you asked, trying to keep it light, but your curiosity bubbled through, “how many people do you drag to these random pizza spots, Ben?”

He chuckled at that, his eyes flicking over to you for a brief moment, amused. “Honestly? Not many. You’re the first one, I think.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Really? I’m the first person you’ve brought here?”

Ben shrugged casually, his grin widening with the playfulness that was so typical of him. “I don’t usually do this kind of thing. But when I find a place this good, I kinda want to share it with someone who'd 'ppreciate it, someone who's... worth it.”

His words hung in the air, and for a split second, everything between you seemed to be still. You could feel the warmth in your chest, the closeness between you suddenly feeling charged. You fought the urge to let it show, instead meeting his gaze with a playful grin.

“Well, lucky me, huh?”

“Lucky you,” Ben echoed, and his voice softened just enough that you noticed. He turned slightly toward you, his pace matching yours, steady and relaxed.

By the time you reached the pizza place, the small talk had faded into a comfortable silence, both of you still trying to make sense of whatever was happening between you. You hadn’t crossed any line yet, but with every moment, it felt more inevitable that something was to change. As you walked inside the tiny pizzeria, the smell of fresh baked goods hit you immediately. The cozy, intimate atmosphere felt like a world away from the high-energy chaos of the event. Ben led you to the counter, and even though the tension between you was still palpable, it had shifted. It was no longer the playful, teasing kind of tension, it was something else. Something unspoken, but undeniable.

You had no idea where this was heading, but with Ben by your side, you were curious to find out.

You walk back toward the venue, the buzz of the event now a distant memory, stomachs full from the pizza that somehow tasted better than it had any right to. The tiny pizzeria, tucked away in a quiet corner, had been the perfect escape. The laughter that had flowed freely while you ate had washed away the tension and the drunken buzz that had clung to you both all night. It had been easy, lighthearted, comfortable, like nothing had changed, even though everything had.

As the two of you strolled back under the glow of the streetlights, a comfortable silence settled between you. The air was cool, a light breeze weaving through the night. The only sound was the rhythm of your shoes on the pavement. Yet, inside, you both felt the weight of what hadn’t been said.

Ben’s hands were stuffed in his pockets as he kept pace with you, his easy stride matching yours. But something had shifted in him, his smile softer, his eyes more attentive as he glanced at you. “You look really good tonight, you know that?”

You laughed lightly, rolling your eyes as you shook your head. “Ben, you keep saying that,” you teased, “What’s the deal with you tonight? You want something?”

He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners, genuine and unguarded. “Nah, I'm just sayin' 'cause it’s true,” he said, a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

Your stomach fluttered, the compliment hitting you harder than you expected. You’d heard him say things like that before, but tonight? There was something different in the way he said it. Something quieter, more sincere.

“Okay, okay,” you said with a grin, trying to mask the effect his words had on you. “I get it, I look good. Thank you.” You laughed at yourself, but Ben’s gaze never wavered from you.

Ben chuckled, his tone light but steady. “I mean it,” he repeated softly, then added, “And that necklace we got... It’s perfect for you, made for you. Looks really good on you.”

You touched the pendant on the necklace, the one he had picked out for you earlier, and it felt foreign now. Warmer, more meaningful, like it was holding a piece of the night with it. “I think you’re just saying that to flatter me,” you teased.

“I’m not,” he said seriously, his voice dropping slightly. “You really do look good. I mean you’ve always looked good, but tonight... I dunno, it’s sumn' else.”

You caught the sincerity in his words, and your heart thumped a little harder. Ben, usually the jokester, was being serious now. “Well,” you said, your voice almost breathless, “Thank you. I’ll take it.”

He smiled, a playful glint in his eyes still there, but it was softer. “Of course.”

There was a long pause as you walked side by side. The city’s lights flickered around you, the hum of the night settling into a comfortable silence. But then, something shifted. You couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“So, Ben…” you started, your voice tentative. “Are you like this with every girl you meet?”

His stride faltered for just a second, and he turned to look at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean, like ‘this’?”

“Flirty,” you let out a breath at your boldness, a teasing edge in your voice. “Like making everyone feel like they’re the only one. Are you always so... charming?” You paused, gathering your courage. “You do this with every girl?”

Ben stopped walking, his hands sliding out of his pockets as he processed your words. He tilted his head, studying your face before shaking his head.

“What girl do I have around me or talk to, besides you, Emma and my mom?” His voice was calm, but there was an honesty in it that made your chest tighten. “You’re the only girl I ever talk to like this, spend time with. So no, not every girl.”

You blinked, surprised. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah, really.” He looked at you like you were asking the most obvious question. “You think I’m like this with every girl I meet? I only talk to you like this.”

That honesty hit you harder than you expected, your breath catching. You hadn’t realized how much you’d assumed about him until now. His words made your heart race.

You glanced up at him, trying to make sense of it all. But his expression said everything you needed to know.

“Yeah, duh, c'mon, Y/N” he grinned, a sincere, slightly confused smile spreading across his face. “What makes you think I’d mess around like that? It’s only you.”

You stopped walking, your mind racing as his words sank in. “Wait,” you said, a disbelieving smile spreading across your face, though your brow furrowed. “You’re telling me, you don’t talk to anyone else like this? You don’t hang out with other girls?”

Ben chuckled softly, his hands back in his pockets, but his eyes serious as he looked at you. “Nah, you’re the only one I ask to hang with. You’re the only one I text first when I’m on tour. You’re the one I call to mess around with.” He smiled like he was telling you the simplest truth in the world. “So yeah, it’s just you.”

You swallowed thickly, your heart pounding in your chest. Every word Ben had said felt like it was pulling you under, a current that you could no longer fight. You hadn’t realised how much you needed to hear him say those things until the weight of them hit you, until his words finally opened the floodgates in your chest, making your heart pound. Could it be that he valued you just as much as you did him? You let out a slow breath, the air feeling heavier now like you were standing on the edge of something monumental.

“Ben…” you whispered as you halted in your tracks, your voice unsteady but determined, a sigh escaping your lips.

It didn’t make sense. You’d always assumed Ben had people around him, always figured he was surrounded by fans or other girls, but hearing him say that you were the one, the only one, hit you in a way you hadn’t expected. You opened your mouth to try to verbalise the swirling thoughts in your head, but the words stuck, so instead, you let the silence sit between you. Then, Ben took a slow step closer, his tone shifting from casual to something more serious.

“Can I be honest with you?” His voice was lower now, the playful edge that usually made everything feel light gone.

You nodded before you could even stop yourself, feeling your heartbeat thud in your chest. There was no going back now, not with the way he looked at you.

He took a deep breath before he began, looking down the street before turning to face you.

“I like you,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “Like, I really like you.” His gaze held yours, unwavering. “I know it’s probably not the best time to say it with everything going on, with our tours and us barely seein’ each other, but I can’t just let this hang on. I can’t just let it pass and regret not saying somethin’ later. I’m not that dumb.”

He exhaled like he was trying to shake off the weight of what he had just confessed, looking at you like he was unsure whether you would run or stay.

“You’ve got this way of, like... pullin’ me in, y’know? I don’t even know what to do with myself most of the time. I try to act like it's all cool like I’m just messin' around, but I can’t stop thinkin' about you, ever. And I never thought I’d be the kind of guy who gets wrapped up in somethin' like this. But here I am.”

You blinked, not sure if your heart was beating too fast or too slow. His confession hung in the air, heavier than anything either of you had said before. It was raw, and it made your chest tighten.

“I know we got months apart, and I know you probably think I’m crazy for sayin’ this now, but I had to say it.” He took a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just... It’s just you.”

You stood still for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. The weight of his confession settled over you, his words still hanging in the air, thick with meaning. Your heart raced, and you could feel your pulse at your fingertips as you tried to process everything he had just shared. Ben took another step closer, inches away from you, his eyes never leaving yours. There was an intensity in his gaze that made everything feel surreal like you were the only two people in the world. His voice softened as he spoke again, this time with more emotion than before, his words raw and unguarded.

“You know,” he started, his drawl even more pronounced now, “ever since we first met, I wanted to be in your circle. I wanted to be around you, be close to you. But when I saw you with that necklace, and my hoodie, laughin’ and lookin’ up at me like that, God, Y/N, swear I could feel my heart meltin’ right then. I don’t even know how to explain it. It just felt like... I dunno, like everything clicked.” He paused, his breath catching as if he was just now realizing how much those little moments had meant to him.

“And when you told me about your ex, Jesus, I wanted to-” He cut himself off, a flash of anger flickering in his eyes, but he quickly controlled it. “I wanted to kill that son of a-” He stopped himself again, shaking his head as if shaking off the anger.

“Not that it matters. But what matters is that I want to show you what real love is. What real care feels like. What a real man’s like, y’know?” His voice dropped even lower, barely above a whisper. “What you deserve, and then some.”

He leaned in slightly, his hand instinctively reaching for yours, fingers brushing lightly, but lingering longer than necessary.

“Hell, if you gave me a chance, even, just, like, 20 minutes?” He let out a breath, a slight chuckle escaping his lips, but there was no humour behind it, only sincerity. “I’d give you the world, and more, in that short time. Until you told me enough. But I need you to know that... it’s real. It’s all real, Y/N. I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t.”

You stood frozen, your mouth slightly parted, trying to catch your breath. His words hit you like a wave, each sentence making your heart race faster, your chest tightening as the weight of everything he said settled into your bones. You couldn’t speak for a second, lost in the gravity of what he had just revealed. The vulnerability, the truth in his eyes, the way his words laid bare a side of him you hadn’t seen before, it was all too much, and yet everything you hadn’t realized you wanted.

A sigh escaped your lips as the words came tumbling out of you.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” You shook your head, a soft laugh escaping you, but it was one of relief, one of release. “You drive me insane, Ben. Every time you’re around, every time you look at me like that, like I’m the only one in the room, it makes me feel things I’m not sure I know how to handle. I can’t even explain it to myself, let alone to you. It’s like I’m constantly trying to push it down, but every time you smile, or, God, when you do that thing with your eyes when you look at me like you’re the only one who really sees me…” You trailed off, the words too big to say all at once. You exhaled, shaking your head, but the relief was already washing over you. “I’ve never felt like this before. Not even close.”

Ben was quiet for a moment, his gaze softening as he listened. You could see the understanding in his eyes, the way he was holding back, yet completely tuned in to every word. It was different now. You felt his grip on your fingers tighten just slightly as if grounding both of you at this moment, a silent assurance that you weren’t alone in this confession.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and gentle. “You don’t have to hold back with me.” He stepped closer, his other hand lifting to gently cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a slow, deliberate motion that made your breath hitch. “I’ve felt it too. All of it. Every damn time I’m with you, I can’t stop thinkin’ about how much I want this. Want you.”

Before you could respond, before you could even process the depth of his words, Ben pulled you in, unable to hold back anymore. His lips found yours with a sudden, overwhelming intensity that took the air from your lungs. His kiss was deep, full of everything that had been unspoken between you two for so long, full of everything you needed and more. His hand at the back of your neck held you steady as his other arm wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him, the warmth of his body sending a wave of heat through you.

The late night wrapped around you like a blanket, the streetlights casting soft pools of light across the footpath, but it was the brick wall behind you that grounded you. Your back pressed against it, your hands instinctively finding his shirt, tugging him closer as if you couldn’t get enough. You felt his heartbeat against yours, steady and strong, in sync with the way your pulse quickened in response to him. Ben’s lips moved against yours with a kind of desperate gentleness, his kiss unhurried but passionate and purposeful, as if he was trying to pour everything he hadn’t said into this single moment. The world felt far away, all that existed was him and you, the weight of his confession still settling in the space between you, the understanding, the desire.

When he finally pulled back, it was only enough for your lips to part, breaths mingling between you, your chest rising and falling as if you had just run a marathon. His forehead rested against yours, and his hands slid from your face to the small of your back, holding you steady as you both tried to catch your breath.

You were still tangled up in the magic of his kiss, in the rawness of this moment, where everything finally made sense. The world seemed to slow down as you both stood there, foreheads pressed together. The air between you was thick with something unspoken, your breaths were still heavy, your heart racing, but there was also a quiet sense of relief as if you’d both been holding your breath for the longest time.

Ben leaned in slightly, his smile playful yet soft, his gaze locking with yours as the quiet of the night settled around you. "You know," he said, his voice low and teasing, "for the first time, you’ve got me completely speechless."

You couldn’t help but giggle at the silliness of it all, the way he always knew just how to make you laugh, how to make everything feel lighter. The sound of your laugh made his gummy smile widen, and before he could say anything else, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, your heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with the night or the streetlights around you. It was just him.

Everything felt right at that moment, the electricity in the air, the warmth of his touch, and the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world. Maybe you and Ben didn't make much sense together to everyone else, but to the two of you, it was clear as day.

[kawareo]

The bg3 community has a big problem with not thinking the characters are pansexual, when they clearly are, here's all the bad takes i've heard (this from queer people) on tiktok/twitter/etc "Minthara is a lesbian and HATES men" "Gale only like women, and only feminine ones" "Wyll is a gentleman, he would only date women" "Karlach clearly only has dialogue talking about men because of her heteronormative upbringing" These people are insane

Where is that post about how bitchy or mean women in media are always headcanoned as lesbians

Minthara hating men is funny to me though because ingame she openly admires and respects both Ketheric and Gortash for their leadership and/or war mindset

Gale 'i quite enjoy your musk' Dekarios suuure likes only femenine women

I'm standoffish around Wyll so I might be reaching here, but to me it sounds like calling him a Gentleman is just a nicer way of calling him boring. (Also, why couldn't a gentleman date a man??) But also Wyll openly fawns over how pretty Astarion is and about Halsin, more than once, and that's just from the top of my head

Oh wow, a big muscular lady is a lesbian? Call the news, we have something groundbreaking. (I'm still playing a Wylach romance so I do have a bias but cmon) Idk what heteronormative upbringing they're talking about though. Having a mom and a dad? In a world where homophobia doesn't exist and never has? It's so stupid, especially with Karlach whos whole thing is being open and honest about her feelings; but sure, make up straws to reach for that explain away her straight up stating that she wants to fuck a specific man

Headcanons are one thing (like personally, i see Minthara as being slightly more into women than she is into men, and opposite with Karlach) but ffs I don't get it why people need to argue about canon so much when it's literally spelled out for them

Tbh I didn't know this was such a big problem, but i guess it just means I'm happy here in my oblivious corner where people make sense

[raayllum]

Dark Magic, a Brief Dissection

There are four scenes in the series I think best embody the pitfalls of dark magic from an ideological standpoint, even if you don't touch on the fact it's just a malevolent magic system + the harm it does to the user. Two are in season two, and two are in season six.

The first is the infamous reservation from Sarai in 2x05 that dark magic is too ideologically easy, because it is always easier to dehumanize and to strip away the fact that someone or something might be a person than it is to recognize it. The "you keep calling it a monster" and "there's no shortcut" are things that other episodes echo as well (6x05, 1x02), highlighting key take aways. The biggest one, though, is the idea that

We see this directly happen with Viren even before the events of 2x05, as we see him go from necessary horror to necessary horror in order to save Soren. He coins Kpp'Ar to get the staff, yes, but also to preserve his status; doing so alters his appearance both literally and emotionally in the eyes of his wife; when she's frightened and denies him her tears, he takes them by force; and then when she leaves, he blames the son he saved. He thought dark magic would give more than it would take, and when confronted with the opposite that Harrow had also learned ("We may not pay now but we will pay the bloodprice eventually"), he couldn't handle its lesson of accountability, because it's usually easier to blame others rather than yourself.

Viren fell down that slope in quick succession, climbed the mountainous Storm Spire twice, and it took falling off that mountain for him to get his head back on straight, to realize that rather than having no choice, he was continually making bad, harmful choices. This likewise ties back into 1) using his wife as spell parts leading to the dissolution of their marriage, because being treated as a thing is not something you can come back from and 2) rejecting using Soren as spell parts, and instead using himself in S6. And also ties into what S6 makes plain for Claudia in terms of the mindset that dark magic encourages:

I don't know if there's much to say about this aspect that the screencap (and earlier paragraphs) don't already say on its own tbh. Dark magic "shattered" her family forever (6x06) and Claudia refuses to "let anything break" them apart further (3x09). She treats dark magic as a glue to hold things or people together, but in doing so treats everything around her as parts, including herself (her blood, hair, leg, and even her body taking on more animalistic forms through spell consumption). And that leads you to breaking things, including yourself, your relationships, even without necessarily realizing it. (Doesn't mean that it can't be put back together in some true form, though.)

But if dark magic is so bad, then why do it? I think Callum's arc answers this perfectly in terms of what it offers and why people (at their best and operating best they can under terrible circumstances) take it:

Dark magic offers unlimited power with the promise of control and desire, but this agency is an illusion. It took time for Callum to learn the truth and other characters (Viren, Claudia) didn't/don't know how tangibly true it is, but dark magic robs you of your agency by making you vulnerable to Aaravos. The Startouch elf didn't have to possess Claudia to make her do what he wanted, and doing so might've thrown a wrench in needing her to perform the quasar diamond spell with love if she wasn't on board with him as is. Viren, despite having no knowledge that Aaravos can possess him, is terrified of being used again (6x05) and mandates that saying no to Aaravos and dark magic is "the path of freedom" (as opposed to fate).

Callum of course gets this promise of power ripped out entirely from under him even after he rejects it (2x08) as he learns the full extent it lets Aaravos control him (4x04), and continues to engage with dark magic under duress even past that point (5x08). It's one of the ways arc 2 and him as a character recognizes false binaries and reconciles dualities: the choice isn't between "powerless human" or "powerful dark mage," but that you can become a powerless human by being a dark mage.

At the same time, 6x08 finally makes it truly, clearly explicit that dark magic can be used morally under extreme circumstances and through self-sacrificial methods (particularly for a character with a very complicated relationship towards sacrifice). This is doubly so considering that it required using the Staff of Ziard, which others have thought was extremely dangerous (Ibis, Kpp'Ar) and worth sacrificing for (Ibis killing Claudia, Kpp'Ar being willing to let Soren die), and it was still seen as the right thing to do, not only for Viren. Whether we'll see another instance of dark magic use in this way is unknown, but I could see perhaps Callum being allowed to have it in his back pocket (light and dark inside him and all that, and idk if they'd clean slate him again) as continued proof. If anyone can navigate the pitfalls appropriately (and same with primal magic), I think he's in the best position to do so.

[toomanyideasandfandoms]

Idk if you're still taking requests but imagine one day Kazuha finds Creator's death note diary and finds a bunch of names. Realizing those are the people who killed the Creator before, he went "Ykw, I'm giving Our Holy One some therapy with the help of my friends" and kidnaps grabs Fischl, Mona, Xinyan, and finally you for an adventure-therapy or something something-

*cutely inserts Tomo breakdancing in Celestia*

PFFT that would be obviously hilarious and adorable.

I can definitely see the group having so much fun, probably telling stories of their lives that aren't mentioned in game. Maybe the creator also gaining information on how these specific characters views others. Like Mona's views of Fontaine or something.

Bonus if where they went was towards those summertime event islands.

But if we're considering Death Seeking Creator (I should probably make it known if those who send in asks don't want me to talk about Death Seeking please just tell me cause otherwise I'll just assume and we know what happens when assuming) though I don't think it would be possible considering he also was someone who killed the creator. Now I don't think he did it out of pure religious reasons, he's more level headed than that. He's someone who only kills "imposters" out of mercy, like Kaeya actually.

He makes it as quick and painless as possible, sometimes having done sneak attacks (so in the diary, the entries would only mention what the day as like before they write about them suddenly seeing darkness and then waking up in another nation). Not too mention the creator would use every single opportunity to experience another death.

They definitely would question Kazuha on why he's doing this, maybe even have some small breakthrough of where they're screaming at him and hurling insults that were thrown their way. Just absolutely trying to beat a dead horse essentially of why they have to die and that they don't understand why everyone is suddenly saying the opposite.

Tbh this makes me think of how confusing any therapy would be for Death Seeking Creator, because I can imagine them as this childishly stubborn person who refuses to see it as any other way purely because everything they did, they tried to do to change the outcome, always resulted in death no matter what. Peaceful talks? They couldn't get a word in before being sliced down. Fighting like a wild animal? Like they could defeat a god with their bare hands. Hiding and never greeting another person? They're always found out somehow, it's like the characters are drawn to them. Disguises? Even that doesn't work. Nothing they did work. So it had to be destiny right? They had to have this role of constant death? Why? Who fucking knows? They're not a god, they were never supposed to be a god. Why question the ways of a being they have no comprehension of how they think? It would be better to just play the role given, to be the the target every hunter wants. To be that white rabbit that gets chased by Alice throughout the story. But how they go? Well that'll be up to them, if the gods want some sick entertainment, why not make it more interesting?

[fanfictiongirlie]

X-Men: The Chase Chapter Three

Click here for masterlist

Parings: Logan x (First Person) Female Character (No use of Y/N)

Description: Being a mutant with the power to create electricity is dangerous, the X-Men think so. So running away from them, specifically Logan, seemed like a good idea. A game of cat and mouse ensues, until one day, running gets boring. And finally, Logan catches up with her.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Swearing, silly plot tbh, eventual smut

He didn't say anything for a moment, stunned by my request. 

"Uh, sure. I could eat" He answered, shrugging slightly. I smiled and started walking towards a diner I knew of nearby. He followed me not saying anything. Once we reached the diner he stepped forward first, taking the door in his hand and opening it for me. 

"After you sweetheart"

"Thanks old man" I answered with a smirk, stepping into the diner first. I find a small booth in the back, sitting and getting comfortable. He slid into the booth opposite me, it gave me a chance to really look at him for once. He was rugged, that was for sure, he looked old, but his eyes, they looked at me with a softness. 

"Can you even remember why you're chasing me?" I ask as I look over the menu. He pauses for a moment, a frown coming over his lips. 

"I... well, no" He admits. 

"Didn't think so, that old man brain kicking in?" I ask, smirking. He scowls again, raising his eyebrows at my comment. 

"I ain't that damn old, watch yourself"

"How old are you?" I ask, curious. He pauses again for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing again. 

"A lot damn older than you, that's for sure" He said, obviously avoiding the answer. 

"Dickhead..." I muttered "What is your name then?" I asked, this entire time, I had never asked, obviously, this was new ground. Not chasing one another. 

"Logan" He answers. 

"Logan...cute" I smirk. 

Finally someone brought our food over and I begin digging in, I couldn't remember the last time I had eaten, so I completely immersed myself into the meal. 

"Slow down there, sweetheart" 

"I haven't eaten in days" I answered, mouth full of food.

"Days? How come?" 

"It's kinda hard to eat when you don't have money" I say with a shrug. He fell silent for a moment. "Plus, maybe I'd have more time to eat if you weren't chasing me"

He rolled his eyes, and leant forward on the table, resting his forearms on the table. 

"Alright, fine...If I stop hunting you down, will you promise to look after yourself?"

"Wow, that easy?" I asked smirking. 

"Yeah, that easy. Believe it or not I'd rather you not starve to death, darlin'"

"Wow, and here I thought you hated me" I bit back, feeling a little strange inside from his words. "I'll be back...need a bathroom break"

I stand up and quickly rush from the diner, luckily the door was to his back. I walked across the path alongside of the diner, knocking on the door and waving to him as I walked past. 

I ran pushing my body a little too hard running towards the edge of town were a beach stood. A happy place of mine, it was night so it was dark and empty. Exactly why I liked it as such. 

"Run all you like, darlin'. There's nowhere you can go that I won't find you" I heard his voice after a short while of walking along the waterline. I looked up to see him, that funny feeling happening again, I sighed and tried to push them away. 

"You sure you wanna be near someone who can manipulate electricity?" I ask, the water hitting my ankles ever so slightly. "Especially since I'm so close to water"

I watch as he pauses his movements for a moment, the realisation hitting him. He let out a short annoyed growl. 

"Stop running from me, dammit" 

"Why should I? What will you do if you catch me?"

"Oh, there's a lot of things I'd do with you once I've got you, darlin'. And they'd be a lot more fun than chasing you"

Old man, are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" I ask, smirking. 

"Maybe I am, sweetheart. Do you want to find out?" He asks, taking another step closer to me. 

"I don't have daddy issues, I'm good" I smirk, letting my electric pulse through my body, it surged from me and into the water, sizzling across the waves. 

"Who said anything about daddy issues? But you'll be saying daddy soon enough, sweetheart" He said scowling. 

"Fuck" I mutter to myself. 

He chuckles, the smile growing on his face at my response. 

"Ah, you don't sound opposed to the idea"

"Shut up" I mutter. "Maybe if you showed me your powers I wouldn't have to keep pushing you with mine" 

"You sure you want to see my powers, sweetheart? I can get pretty brutal" He growls, I roll my eyes playfully. 

"Scary" I giggle. 

He then lifted his hands, letting metal claws come from his knuckles, and as he retracted them, the skin healed over. I grimaced slightly. My thoughts going to dark, but fun places at the thought of his claws against my skin. 

"Sexy" I mutter without thinking. 

"Oh yeah? You like the look of my claws, darlin'?" 

"Pfft whatever" I laughed. Feeling a little silly. "So it's the claws, and what else? You must have some kind of healing power, my electric doesn't bother you like it does others"

"You're a sharp one" He said, taking another step closer to me. Without thinking, I fled again. I ran across the beach and off onto the main street, running further away from town to an abandoned house I had been using. I didn't run as fast as usual, knowing Logan would follow me, I had set up a trap and hopefully it would work. I climbed into the ruined house through the window and then waited. 

Logan walked in, he didn't see the trap, so as he saw me and stepped forward, the rope twisted around his ankles and pulled him up into mid-air, I smirked as he dangled from the ceiling. I laughed loudly and stepped closer to him. 

"Didn't think you'd fall for that one, old man"

He growled and wiggled through the rope. 

"Shut up, you little trouble maker" 

"If it makes you feel any better, I always thought you'd look good all tied up" I smirked, looking him up and down. I watched as he rolled his eyes, but I was sure I could see a slight blush on his cheeks. 

"Really?" He asks, his voice gruff. and low. 

"Really, really enjoying it" I smirk. 

"You're enjoying this too much, darlin'"

"I can't help it, it's been a while" I say, giggling slightly, I reach over tracing my finger over the rope, he growls again and moves his body again, though he was still unable to set himself free. "What would happen if I untied you?"

He chuckled slightly, his gaze on mine, his arms were still tied to his side, the rope going from his ankles to his elbows, I was proud of the trap I had set, took me a few days. 

"Knowing you, you'd start running again" 

"I'd love to keep running" I say with a shrug. 

He smirked at my response, still struggling a bit against the rope. 

"How badly do you like having me chase after you, huh? It it just a game to you?"

"Everything's just a game baby" I teased. He laughed lightly, the smirk still present on his lips. 

"Yeah, I bet. And you especially like playing the game with me, don't you?" He asks. 

"You could always stop chasing me, yaknow?" I say, though a small part of me, a small part I didn't want to acknowledge just yet, enjoyed the chase. 

He paused for a moment, seeming to consider my words. 

"What, and give up this little game we have going? Let you go and never get to see you again?"

"Aw Logan...are you saying you have a crush on me?" I teased, giggling. "Sorry, I'm not into older men, remember?" 

"Liar. You seem to enjoy being around me way too much sweets" 

"Sure, whatever you say. You definitely have a crush on me" I say, smirking "Here's what I'm gonna do, I'll leave this knife here, so you can free yourself, but I'll be long gone, how does that sound?"

I watched as his rolled his eyes, letting out a scoff at my offer. 

"So you're going to leave me here, alone? You wouldn't at least untie me first, before you run away?" 

"Not confidant you could catch up to me?" I ask, placing the knife on the table next to me. 

"Of course I could catch you, princess"

"Let's test that" I smirk, I turn away and leave the house, I could hear him yelling after me, calling me a brat, which only made me laugh harder. I run in a random direction, cackling. 

Sooner than I thought, Logan was running behind me, I was running, stupidity not looking where I was going, I threw a smirk behind me. I ran fast into a flow of traffic, thinking I had enough time to run through the moving cars, I didn't. I groaned loudly when a car went into my side, I tried stumbling backwards, but I failed, falling to the ground. 

I suddenly hear Logan calling me name, I groaned again, making sure I was out of the way of other oncoming cars. 

"Lo..Logan, here" 

He soon rushed over, crouching over me on his knees. 

"Sweetheart, can you hear me?" He asks, his voice panicied. 

"I'm not your sweetheart, dickhead" I stuttered, holding onto my side as it sent pain through me. 

"Can you shut up a moment? You just got hit by a car" 

"Stating the obvious" I mutter. 

"Can you just stop being sarcastic for two seconds?" He asks, his hands touching my shoulders. 

"Sorry no can do, old man" I say as I fade into the blackness, passing out. 

[foreignswaggersession]

there are definitely iwtv fans who love acting like they care about racism when it comes to fictional characters, but have no issue with being condescending towards actual black and south asian people in this fandom.

Btw making "brown man has mid dick" jokes to prop up lestat is also clownery and it's even more stupid how some people would choose to double down on it after hearing about why it's degrading and uncomfortable. like i couldn't believe the bullshit i was reading from some of these so called "fandom anti racists", but they're clearly not mature enough for this discussion.

sorry for taking so long to respond anon - i wanted to make the posts with screenshots first so i could show my work and not be accused of merely reaching to support my ship. i think most the condescension from these fans comes from their selective memory of the show as filtered through their long-held headcanons, and i wanted to respond by citing the show itself. the fans started claiming louis was never attracted to armand as plainly evident, when the show clearly says the exact opposite, repeatedly. i watched the "armand has mid dick" joke/theory develop in real time and snowball within the pro-louis section of the fandom. it got twisted up in the 'louis hates topping' + 'lestat's dick is uniquely amazing' + 'armand can't satisfy louis' takes, all of which i disagree with. i understand your discomfort anon, it's part of why i started posting in the fandom - 'louis only wants pink dick' also became a thing this season and it broke me (louis didn't get it up for jonah while eating rats for y'all to act like pink dick does anything for him but sure, believe what you want).

to give some credit, i think some of these fans you're talking about started making these 'jokes' in reaction to the overwhelming (and undeserved) sympathy towards armand that dominated the fandom at the time (probably still does tbh). it's fair to point out that armand is not just any brown man but is in fact an extremely manipulative abuser who threatened to kill louis, set him and his family up to get killed, killed his daughter/sister, lied to him about it for years, sadistically let him suffer after a suicide attempt he instigated, erased that memory and covered THAT up for years, and to also suggest that those acts negatively affected louis's attraction to him. and yeah, i too am tired of reading takes about how loving armand was (girl when?) and how louis wasn't nice enough to him 🙄. that said, armand is attractive as fuck in universe and in our reality, so it's weird to pretend louis would not be attracted to him, despite his off-putting nature (see season 1).

most importantly, louis's desire for armand is a key plot point essential to the breakdown of his and claudia's relationship. claudia didn't say "picked another one over me" and "you were lestat's, now you're armand's" out of ignorance - she understands louis better than anyone. it's wishful thinking to suggest that louis suffered in silence for claudia through eps 11 and 13 and only stayed with armand for 70+ years to protect claudia/punish lestat and no other reason. it would have been really great if louis kept his commitment to claudia, probably would have saved several lives...alas, tragedy.

like i keep saying, just say you don't see the chemistry in / can't support loumand, or prefer the chemistry / want to support loustat. but claiming that louis never fell in love with armand prior to claudia's murder - that just is not supported by the show's text.

just fyi, i think saintarmand has a great answer to a similar ask, so i will also refer you to her response here.

[littlespoonevan]

what's the unpopular opinion about the diaz parents?

i'm putting this under a cut because i genuinely do not think anyone agrees with me like i have seen NO ONE share this opinion askdjfh

but basically

when i was watching the ep my main thought was 'wow this is pretty much the first time eddie's parents have been somewhat understanding and supportive' and then i came online and all i saw was 'eVIL HELENA LOOKED GLEEFUL TAKING CHRIS AWAY!!!11!!!1' and that was just.............not how i interpreted it At All?????

like okay. should there have been more of a discussion??? absolutely. should there have been a set time frame for chris' trip to texas instead of it being indefinite? 100%. (though i would honestly put that down to tim leaning into the drama as opposed to it being like, a character decision) do i think a part of helena still believe she knows better than eddie when it comes to chris? yes. i'm not disagreeing with any of those facts!!!

BUT. i do think this was the first time we didn't see helena belittling eddie or criticising his ability as a parent. when ramon repeats what chris told them she literally says 'which obviously isn't true' like she believes eddie!!!! and she only seems sympathetic when eddie shows her the picture of kim rather than angry. when i saw the stills before the ep i expected a huge blowout argument and what we got couldn't have been further from that.

i honestly think their role in this ep was supposed to show that they're trying with eddie. and that while things aren't perfect still, they are improving. it reminded me a lot of the buckleys' during the lightning strike where they were obviously trying to tell us their relationship had improved even if we didn't have much to support that.

but tbh this felt more believable to me just bc of what we've gotten between eddie and ramon since 5x17 and because i have always believed helena and ramon loved eddie beneath all their awfulness (they smothered and stifled him whereas margaret and phillip did the opposite by ignoring and dismissing buck)

overall i just really don't buy that this was some secret evil ploy to take back custody of chris or that they'll fight eddie when chris is ready to come home. i think it was tim minear asking 'what is the most dramatic way eddie could hit rock bottom?' and then taking the idea and running with it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[deeplovelydark]

kiradax doesn't really appeal to me as a romantic relationship but that's because I don't see them being close at all tbh. colleagues and friends–yes, but not really close. which doesn't mean that I wouldn't kill to see more of their interactions especially in work-related situations.

kira is no stranger to violence but to her it is a means to an end, a necessary evil, something she's neither proud of or ashamed of, as I see it. to jadzia violence holds a certain fascination. I don't think she's violent but violence interests her, not necessarily the bloody act itself but maybe the philosophy that surrounds it, martial arts, the rituals, the violence of a friendly fight. at times of stress dax can be flippant and coarse and not at her most controlled, slightly childish even, she can act out. kira can get incredibly angry when she sees injustice or stupidity but she never lets fear faze her. she can't afford to be childish. she hasn't been a child for a very long time (which is ironic considering how old dax is, but jadzia is both a young girl and an ancient creature). so we have two–in many ways–opposite people: kira, who can handle stress and actual violence but doesn't understand and disapproves of warrior culture and the cult of war, and dax, who's not very good at violence but finds its attributes fascinating.

I also maintain that jadzia is a bit equivocal as a person. not in a bad way, it actually gives her the ability to appreciate various world views and interact with extremely different cultures fruitfully. but I just don't think that she'll ever be able to fully grasp what it means to be so committed to a cause as kira is or what it means to believe in something as kira does in the prophets. and kira couldn't ever fully understand jadzia's passion for everything that is frivolous and pleasurable.

these are contrasts that would be very interesting to explore, they could learn a great deal from each other, and I would especially love to see them fight and argue–I love conflict as a way of exploring characters–but, once again, I just don't see them becoming a couple.

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

It's interesting how the themes of love and duty are presented in the histories of two characters who couldn't be more different from one another: the last hero and the Night's King. When presented with the choice of doing your duty or loving, the answer seems obvious—do our duty to the end, for it seems like the right thing to do. Maybe you'll even be rewarded for it. But then the last hero and the Night's King present a grey area. The Night's King followed his desire and the result was a tarnished reputation and his name being blotted out of history for all eternity. He was punished for it. So you'd think that the last hero, having done the opposite and followed his duty to the end, would fare better. But his name has been blotted out of history as well! He picked the "right" thing, but his reward is uncertain; almost nonexistent. No matter what you do, you lose—well, you lose if your name means something to you. The resulting dichotomy then is fascinating—the Night's King actually feels human where the last hero does not. He loved and he lost, but as old Maester Aemon said, the gods fashioned man to love, and love is sometimes the bane of honor (Ned Stark could tell you as much). Old Nan can speculate on who the Night's King was, but she doesn't even bother to try and name the last hero. Almost like he did his duty and was forgotten as was expected; as he should have been. And that's a sad state of affairs. Dehumanization vs a tarnished reputation.....I don't really know if the choice is all that clear tbh :/

[16ciggy]

types of piercings the jjk characters would get (wlw included, some sex scenes a lil, i kinda got carried away and wrote an entire story for sukuna bc i love him.... mb guys)

reader is in love with piercings btw

[ NOBARA , YUJI , MEGUMI , GOJO , TOJI , GETO AND SUKUNA INCLUDED ]

SATORU GOJO

i think bro wouldn't really wanna 'mess' up anything much and would go for normal ear piercings (if he wanted it) and that's that. "piercings? on my face or body elsewhere??? why would i do that?" he'd say, his face turning sour when being asked if he would pierce his face or body in any way. he doesn't want some metal pierce through his body or face at all, he'd definitely feel grossed out too by knowing something is within his skin and staying in there FOREVER. you both had a conversation about how gojo might enhance his appearance if he were to get piercings and he immediately said 'no'. buuuuttttt that doesn't mean he disregards your passion and love for piercings either, he has come by your shop to watch you pierce your clients or discuss with them on the desired piercings your clients wants. some of them even ended up becoming your friends too–gojo is in awe when he sees on how much of a social butterfly you are, he's proud of your work and he is in love with the way you do things with piercings too. he always asks on how were the piercings that you've done for your clients and you'd always give a full on detail on how it went, sometimes he can't even believe his own ears on what types of piercings you did—let alone, them even existing...

TOJI

hmmmmmm.... eyebrows piercing for SURE. i can imagine it,, he would even like it too. he'd grin at himself as he admire his piercing through those eyebrows of his. he'd probably have a king's crown piercing too (a ring pierced through the head of the dick) and he'll talk so much of it, but why? he just wants to add some extra feeling for you when he fucks you down on that ol'rotting couch of his—you could feel it too and it felt a bit weird at first to experience your boyfriend's ring inside of you but you gradually got over it and agreed that it helped to spice up the sex.

SUGURU GETO

he never really thought too much of having piercings but he wouldn't mind more. one day he decided to get a tongue piercing to reduce the taste of the cursed spirits he swallows because he couldn't falter the taste of them, the tongue piercing did help somewhat but he was also afraid that he might end up swallowing the piercing too—but you reassure him that nothing bad will happen, he smiles and kisses you, "god, your lips are the best to taste after every cursed spirit."

NOBARA

either snake or spider bites tbh (two rings either pierced by the side or opposites by each other on the lips) she says that it makes her look cool and she HATES IT whenever men are like "no one is gonna want you with those piercings.. it makes you less ladylike.", she HATESSSS IT. because, shes's doing it for YOU because you liked them. even though she seems like a heartless jerk, she loves like a golden retriever. you can't count how many times she has done these cute things like building a house for you in minecraft or buying your favourite desserts when you're on your period. "baby, im going for a mission, i'll be back later. love you, my angel." she kisses your forehead so gently before walking out the door and only for her lip piercings to be returned back to you. you were never given a reason on what happened, not even one ounce of word spoken by these random group of sorcerers. one shibuya night turned into a nightmare and you never saw your girlfriend ever again.

YUJI ITADORI

he'd have his tooth pierced with your initial on it and he lets everyone know it by flashing a big smile almost all the time. you warn him of smile lines and he'd simply just grin at you and laugh, "at least these smile lines were mostly by you!", you ruffle his hair as he laid his head on your shoulders before pulling your waist in closer to his body. he was never a big fan of piercings either—until he met you, an individual whom was fond of piercings and he decided to just have your initial pierced right on his tooth; his strongest appearance happens to be his smile too.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

ooooohh..... hot take.. but he'd definitely be a quiet punk when hes not a sorcerer in the day time. he has nipple piercings, ear piercings, eyebrow, lips—you name em. there's no specifics too because he has a LOT of them. he defo paints his nails black too. when you both bumped into eachother in shibuya at night you did not expect to see gojo's son just having those amount of piercings and even hid it perfectly WELL. your hormones were suddenly RAGING when you saw him, you just had to fuck him so badly otherwise you'd go feral. megumi didn't mind tho because he kinda had a major big crush on you and he wasn't worried about his dick but thats when you got even surprised. because.... well... he got piercings on them too, he really did follow his biological dad. "aw, you scared im gonna eat you or sum'thing? cute." he smirks, getting closer to you and your heart racing even more when his cock is just getting nearer to your face—next thing you know, you were getting choked on it with the metal piercings just gauging down your throat as it hit every walls within it. "fuck— never knew you could suck dick—" he grunts, trying to hold in his moans with his hands clutching on to his mouth for dear's life.

SUKUNA RYOMEN

ear piercings + septum piercing. his face is already scary enough and with that nose piercing already adds in a whole'nother fear when people glances or even looks in his direction. "tsk. it's just a nose piercing, why does every human gotta act like a brat?" he sighs. heavily. he's deeply annoyed in how everyone is afraid of him, he's trying to be a bit nicer now because of you. but that isn't anyone's fault to be afraid of the king of curses either. he sits up from his throne and walks down the flight of stairs to look for you. when he spots you cleaning the hallway with a half assed broken broom, he walks towards you quietly and calls out your name loudly which scared you, "(Y/N). My room, now.", you nodded quickly and thought he just needed to relieve himself. when you arrived into his room, you locked the door behind you and got to undressin— "stop that. that's not what i asked you to come here for." he states, clearing out his throat while he prepared what to say next, "Am I terrifying?" he asks. you just stared at him and the corner of your lips started to curl into a smile, then slowly a giggle. "is this why you asked me to come? yes, you are terrifying." you smiled and he grumbled in annoyance. "then??? how am i suppose to become 'gentle'?!" he roars, jolting up from the edge of the bed, "gentle? why do you want to be gentle?" you asked confusingly, staring into his dull eyes until it clicked. you told him a few weeks ago you were into men who were gentle and not rough, was this why his sex style changed too? this is the man who pounded your back everyday of the week until you were crying from pleasure, now he's kissing your neck and gently holding your thighs up as he's thrusting into your pussy until you're soaking wet when you are getting fucked lately. "it's because on what you told me!" he cocks his head in annoyance, his feet slapping the floor constantly while his arms were crossed. you laughed non stop until he felt embarrassed, you touched his arm and he quickly jerked away from it. "don't be like that, you can still look scary but be gentle, my love—", you wheezed, trying to get a hold of your breathing but you just.. couldn't. this shit was too funny. "people looks at me differently with the septum piercing. do i look more scarier with it??" he asks, he looks so serious—you can't- no way, no way in hell he is acting like a kid over what you said. you comforted him in the end after you stopped laughing but he was still mad at your reaction.

[pip-n-chips]

my misgendering kink has been going brrrr lately so here's some thoughts that involve it

How some DoL characters would react to PC coming out as trans

(CW/TW for transphobia for most of these! these guys are not nice)

Avery is against it if you're anything less than passing in public. They will make a point to make you appear as your birth gender as much as possible (i.e. controlling your clothing). What would it say about them and their reputation if word gets out that they're dating a tr***y?

Harper acts supportive when you come out to them during one of your friday therapy sessions, and is relatively indifferent for the most part, but they start to make comments asking if you're sure? Maybe this is stemming from something else? But it doesn't escalate until the asylum where they gaslight you into questioning if you really are trans, maybe you're making it up for attention. Their whole thing is getting you to accept your ""real"" self and make a point to misgender you very often. Constant gaslighting and hypnosis molds you into how they want and their goal is to get you to forget about this silly little phase <3 (extra note: if they find out you're taking hormones, they'll make sure the pharmacy refuses to sell it to you anymore for some bullshit reason)

Bailey is, well,, you might as well have just not told Bailey at all because they couldn't give any less of a shit. As long as you use it to your advantage and get them money, they won't bother you about it

Briar is fine with it, there's plenty of people into shit like that. They are similar to Bailey, in the sense that all they'd care about is if it gets you money. They'd see it as an opportunity and set up special shows, using all the fetish names for it they can while advertising

Eden is EXTREMELY against it. You're their wife/husband and nothing will change that, your gender is your genitalia when it comes to them. If you try to correct them, they will ignore you. If you push, they will have no hesitation beating the ideas out of you. (I can also imagine them putting you in the cage as an attempt to get rid of the ideas Society put into your mind). At higher love they might try to gender you correctly, but they still grumble about how it's Wrong

Kylar is probably supportive unless it means they find out that you guys have the same genitals, then you're in deep shit. They have a meltdown because now y'all can't make the babies they've always dreamed of. How could you trick them >:((( I feel like they'd have to grow on it though because you're still you, and that's all they could ask for (and if the opposite is true and they learn you guys can make babies,,, then prepare to fuck like rabbits because Kylar is not gonna waste a single second more)

Pure!Sydney thinks it's a sin and that you should spend more time at the temple, tries to guilt you with religion and has troubling thoughts of their own about being friends with/dating someone like you. Corrupted!Sydney would be full-on supportive, I'd think

Robin is also full-on supportive, and maybe your open-ness to them would help them come to some conclusions about themself

Whitney is Whitney. Telling them is a mistake because you've just given them a new thing to bully you about. If they gender you correctly, they do it in a mocking tone. Personally they don't really care though, as long as you're still their slut

Leighton doesn't misgender you, but they fetishize the shit out of you. Also blackmail blackmail blackmail (that's all I have to say for them tbh lmao)

Remy would scoff, but not think much of it. What silly ideas, you're just a cow, cows can't be trans. Go eat some grass.

[fakeusernamelol]

Stan has to finally give in that yeah if he doesn't help Ford with this then Ford is going to get so arrested because he is Not playing this smart At All and yeah Stan is extremely pissed Ford made him give birth in the back of his car but if he doesn't die of sepsis then Ford isn't allowed to die in prison, they're doing this Stanley's Way Now and that means Stanford Pines is going to be the name of a character they both play (the news played Stan as a scared little girl that got raped and kidnapped by her unnervingly smart brother, so no one expects "her" to look just like him) and Stanford Pines is going to be cartoonishly evil. Except. He's robbing two banks in different towns within the same hour? He was spotted in a mugging and at an underground casino at the same time? An arson and a murder two states apart in the same afternoon? Then news outlets start getting tips on these descrepencies and a headline is issued: "Stanford Pines Isn't Real". It becomes a huge conspiracy, the government took a random double homocide of Constance and Stanford Pines but didn't release it to the public so that they could use the idea of a lower-class Jewish teenager suddenly becoming deranged and doing every crime in the book for no apparent reason to sway voter opinions. It takes a few years but Stanford Pines becomes a myth and Clifford (Ford) Forrester and Stanley Forrester move into gravity falls with a mysteriously large amount of wealth so that Ford can take breaks between degrees studying local wildlife while his "roommate" runs tours of the creepy shack they live in with Ford's two children

Anon, im going to be honest with you i dont know if you are different people or the same person but YOU, YOU ARE NOW MY PARTHER IN CRIME BECAUSE YOURE LITERALLY SOLVING HOW TO CONTINUE THIS SHITTY AU (that i called kidnapper ford for giving it a name..) I LOVE THE IDEAS YOU ARE GIVING ME, I LOVE YOU 😘😘💖💓💖💓

I love so much that (as always..) Stan is the one who has to save Ford's ass, even if he's really mad with him now for basically denied him the opportunity of marrying the girl of his dreams and have a fucking normal family and instead making him give birth in the most hurtful and unsafe way in the back of his car in middle of the woods for nobody to hear his screams and being considered dead for his family and almost everyone he ever knew, Stan couldn't let his brother be screwed up. (They both are very toxic for the other tbh, Ford for wanting more and more of Stan being fully dependent on him and Stan for letting Ford doing anything even if it was a serious shit with no more issue than being annoyed about that but no more.) Luckily he has Inheriting his mother's ability to lie and fool people, so the teen kidnapper «Stanford Pines» soon went from being a criminal on the radar screen to being questioned by the public eye as someone who even existed. Was it really someone or just an aliases given by the police to various unidentified criminals?, even the police was confused now, Sure, There was one Stanford pines over there existing and they knew it but exactly of all the criminal around the country who were called like that who was the real Stanford Pines? They didn't even know where to start searching, he could be on some part and just hours later be on the opposite side of it! Soon the case became way more complex that it was and now «Stanford Pines» was just a pseudonym for what was believed to be a group of organized criminals from different parts of the country.

About the real Stanford and Constance Pines, they were still considering missing because the law couldn't declare them as dead until five years to happen but everybody who once knew them was sure they were dead. instead, A family of two young men no more than 20 years old was moving to a small town in the woods of Oregon called Gravity Falls: Clifford and Stanley Forrester along the two twin babies of the first one.

Who or why they were there was a complete mystery to the inhabitants of the town, The mystery around them gave Stan the idea to turn his shack into a creepy tourist trap while Ford resumed his studies and do his thesis about all the creatures he has seen in the woods. They took turns to take care of their babies so while ford studies Stan is taking care of them and vice versa when Stan's running the shack 😁😁

Now, another aspect I'm kinda curious about is how their relationship would be after stan accepted he won't see their family nor Carla again, honestly dear anon i would really like to know your perspective because you basically created all this beautiful idea and im just giving my views so don't want to talk so much for you again, more that i could see it wouldn't be as strong as it used to be before?

Like, something i couldn't denied is that stan sure gain a little of grudge to Ford for making him abandon a life that he was excited to live but not sure how he would feel now after almost two years living with ford while escaping from the law. Also im curious you said Ford's children, and i mean they are lol, but like do they present them as that? Stan finally accepted ford as a dad of his kids or do they switch? Because i don't think they could say they were of them both since you know 70's and adoption was illegal for same-sex couples at the time lol.

Anon again idk if you're just one or many with me on this but I appreciate you so much...🥹💖💓💖