#i liked it. enjoyed every scene thank you.

[moonstruckme]

MAE!!! I'M HERE TO OFFICIALLY SPAM YOUR INBOX WITH REQUESTS (and no you don't have to answer all of them)

CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR 8K!!!

And first I would like to order a hot cocoa with James Potter and First Snow

Once again, massive congrats, Mae!!! Here’s to even more milestones (and my spam, of course)!

Thank you lovely <33

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 451 words

You’ve been up for hours by the time James rouses. 

You’d woken in the middle of night to peer outside, pulling open the curtains when you saw the snow blanketing your neighborhood. You had every intention of enjoying the peaceful view for a few minutes before you fell back asleep, except the peaceful view proved too exciting for you to drift off again. You’ve been half dozing while you’ve watched, mesmerized, as the pile outside your window has grown and the sun has come up. 

James reaches over and pulls you back into his chest with a warm, sleepy sound. You rub his forearm affectionately. 

His nose nudges behind your ear, cold. “Y’awake?” he mumbles. 

“Mhm.” 

He tugs at your hip, and you roll over, trading one view for another. James’ eyes are squinty and unfocussed the way they always are before he puts his glasses on in the mornings, his dark curls poofy on one side and crushed against his pillow on the other. He draws a line up your side with his palm. 

“It’s early for you, lovie.” 

You smile. You’re so happy your cheeks almost hurt. “It’s snowing.” 

“Oh, yeah?” James props himself up on an elbow to look over you out the window, then turns around to reach for his glasses when he can’t see anything. For reasons unbeknownst to you, watching your boyfriend adjust the bridge with his middle finger will never become less endearing. He blinks, taking in the scene outside. “Woah.” 

“Right?” You’re giddy. “It’s been going for hours.” 

“Looks like it,” James says, but his eyes are on you. He smiles adoringly. You kiss the uptilt corner of his lips on a whim, and it tilts further. “This is weird for me,” he admits. “Usually it’s me who wakes up first and has to try to get you out of bed.” 

“Who says I’m trying to get you out of bed?” 

He cups your cheek, squeezing. “You want to go out in the snow,” he says knowingly. 

You bite down on your lip in hopes of suppressing it, but your smile is unmistakably sheepish. James laughs, kissing you. 

“Give me just a second, angel.” He sits up, raising his arms above him in a stretch. 

“We can cuddle for a while first,” you offer. 

James looks at you. “You won’t be too eager to go?” 

You shake your head mutely. 

“Really? Because I was thinking that if I make cocoa now and let it simmer on the stove, it’ll be hot when we come back in.” 

You throw off the covers, going to find your clothes. “Good point. There’ll be plenty of time for cuddling later.” 

James laughs as he follows you up.

[mercurycft]

𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 - 𝐋.𝐖

## leah williamson/beth mead x teammate-(ex)reader !! MINIFIC

hi pookies!! i wrote this after watching love actually and I'm still fuming about the whole CD situation iykyk. this is roughly and loosely based on that scene, which is HEARTBREAKINGGGG. this kinda has a cringey ending but my little cringe heart loved it. thank you all for the love recently! i hope you're enjoying all the content. love always - RGx

1.8k words.

emotional. beth being the best best friend. talks of a break up. not proof read.

"you know we dont have to watch it, right?" beth spoke lowly and no louder than a whisper, breaking the silence that had stretched out between you both like a tightrope.

you allowed a small and meaningless smile to crack in the corner of your mouth for a beat as you took a sip of the tea in your hands, eyes still glued to the TV screen. only flicking to beth briefly and for less than a second - as if you were unable to bear the contact. "i know," you admitted. "i want to." you spoke with a fake conviction, leaning forward to lay your mug onto the coffee table.

you watched on in silence, heart hammering in your ears when leah finally came on screen. she looked good, and it pained you to realise. to realise that whilst you're at home, curled up on your sofa, she's out doing brilliant things. you watched as leah sat beside her piano teacher, who you recall fondly after spending many evenings in his company. leah's fingers danced over the piano keys, the camera zooming in to capture the intensity of her practice.

you tried to rid your mind of the hurt for a few minutes, attempting to squash them into microscopic parts of you. you could feel beth's eyes burning holes into the side of your head, but you didn't dare look away for even just a second. scared you would miss something important, or miss her on the screen.

you watched as she prepared for her performance and made her way towards the concert piano, you knew her well enough to tell how nervous she was - breathing uneasy and hands fidgety. the camera followed her every step, until she sat down and found her bearings. as the camera pulled out, you saw the full orchestra behind her, tuning their instruments. you watched on eagerly as the anticipation grew in the room, a storm of nerves brewing in the pit of your stomach.

there was a moment of silence from the tv, before you watched the conductor lift their arms and a chorus of instruments began to play - including leah. as they began to play, it was hard to ignore the hurt bubbling up and into your throat. as her keys fell in perfect unison with the accompanying music, it was like you had been transported back in time.

you can recall it as if it was yesterday - being back in her living room, watching her play it for the first time. she had looked up at you from her spot in front of the keyboard, eyes shy yet hopeful, asking if you liked it. "it's beautiful," you had said, not knowing then that it would become so much more.

leah's eyes remained on the keys as she played, her expression serene. her hair fell around her face like a curtain, obscuring her features slightly. the way it used to fall when you held her close, comforting her after a stressful lesson. it was a stark contrast to the sharpness of her posture now, the determination in her hands as they flew over the piano.

you felt the weight of the moment, the gravity of her talent. the sound of her playing filled the room, swelling like the crescendo of the symphony of your past. you could almost smell the scent of her shampoo, feel the warmth of her skin. your chest tightened and your eyes stung with unshed tears. but you didn't look away. you couldn't. because, as much as it hurt to admit, you were bursting with pride.

beth couldn't bring herself to speak, overly aware of the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. instead, she layed a hand gently and slowly onto the leg pressed close to hers. heaving a quiet sigh as she watched you break for the fifteenth time today.

as the final notes echoed through the speakers, you couldn't help but let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. leah's eyes finally lifted and she took in the applause, her face breaking into a smile that was so familiar and yet so foreign. your heart felt like it was in a vice, but you found yourself smiling back at her, even though she couldn't see you.

you felt beth's hand move to your shoulder, squeezing gently. "are you okay?" she asked. you nodded, not trusting your voice.

"yeah," you whispered back, "i'm okay." but you weren't. not really. you were just watching your past play out on live television, painfully reminded of what you could never get back.

the show continued, but you couldn't focus on anything else. the music had left a hollow space inside of you that only leah could fill. you looked at beth, her eyes filled with sympathy and something else. "you know it wasn't your fault, don't you?" she spoke softly.

"what?" you replied, trying to shake off the emotional fog that had enveloped you.

beth squeezed your shoulder again, "everything, i mean. she wasn't herself and she was angry at the world. she shouldn't have taken it out on you." her words stung to hear, but deep down you knew she was right. leah had always been driven, always been passionate about her career. it was one of the many things you loved about her. but seeing her up there, so poised and professional, compared to the person she was not even a month ago when things ended between you, was like watching a stranger.

you nodded, swiping at the tears that had escaped. "i know," you murmured. "but i can't help but feel like i just missed something. like i could've been there." beth didn't respond, she just held your hand, her thumb tracing circles on the back of it, offering silent comfort.

the applause from the audience on the telly grew louder as leah took her bow, her cheeks flushed with excitement. you felt a pang of jealousy, watching her revel in the moment, knowing that she has finally caught up with the feeling she had been chasing.

beth's grip on your hand tightened. "you know you can talk to me, right?" she said. her voice was gentle, like a soft summer breeze, trying to soothe the storm in your chest.

you nodded, "i know," you whispered. "but i don't know what to say. it's just…it's a lot." your voice cracked slightly, and you took a deep, shaky breath.

"it's alright to feel this way," beth assured you, her eyes never leaving yours. "you loved her, and she was a part of your life. it's natural to miss her when you see her doing something that makes her seem okay."

you tried to force back the tears that now are fighting for release, held back by nothing more than your waterline. it didn't take long until they began to litter your cheeks. "i miss her," you stammered through a small sob, collapsing into beth's chest as she stoked your back.

"i know." she whispered into your hair, gently rocking the pair of you back and fourth.

"she's still the one,"

[skzhocomments]

Interview with my Ex - Bang Chan Oneshot Fanfic

General Masterlist

Request me a story

---

Pairing: Bang Chan (Stray Kids) x OC/Reader (Story is written in 2nd person, OC is called Eun-ji)

Genre: light angst, strangers to lovers to exes (to lovers?)

Word Count: 8.8k

Warnings: swearing, non-explicit mentions of mature themes

Summary:

You have been invited to participate in a show titled ‘Interview with my Ex’ together with Bang Chan. Will you go and confront him for breaking up with you one year ago, or will you miss out on this opportunity?

This is just a story that doesn’t describe Bang Chan or other mentioned Stray Kids’ members true characters in any way. It��s just a product of my imagination and should be treated as such.

This story is also on Wattpad (click here) and AO3 (click here)

---

A/N: As any other writer out there, I would appreciate reblogs and your comments on this story. Please let me know if you enjoyed it, and most importantly, have fun!

© all rights reserved by skzhocomments (Tumblr), skzho (Tumblr)/ storminsidemycore (Wattpad), storminsidemycore (AO3)

---

Interview with my Ex

---

What the heck is this?

Your eyes are stuck on the screen, unable to believe the E-mail you’ve just received.

---

“PROPOSAL to Mrs. Eun-ji Park

You have been invited to participate in our show titled ‘Interview with my Ex’ together with Bang Christopher Chan.

The show is scheduled to be filmed on XX.XX.XXXX. You will be able to talk openly to your ex about your relationship and your break-up through a series of questions we’ve prepared.

Please let us know if you are interested in this proposal and if you are available.

Thank you,

The ‘Truth Behind The Scenes’ Team”

---

Reading through the lines, your eyes widen in shock.

You look up the E-mail address the message came from and find that not only is it legit, but they have a YouTube channel with millions of subscribers, which would explain why your ex – Chan – would be invited to it and would want to participate.

Although you haven’t kept up with what he’s been doing, you know that he is preparing to release an album to launch his solo career, and he’d probably want to promote it as much as possible.

But still, isn’t it a bit cruel to invite you to something like this? Would he really promote this album at your expense, after knowing how much he’s hurt you?

It’s been more than a year since you’ve broken up, but still, your heart still hurts whenever you read his name. You don’t think you’d be able to face him without feeling pain creeping in from every crevice of your body.

You miss him terribly, and ever since he left, you weren’t able to fill the hole he left behind. Once in a while, you wonder if he’s ever tried reaching out and you almost unblock his number, but quickly change your mind because the possibility of talking to him again scares you.

You are scared of your heart swelling up with hope in your chest again, you are scared of confessing that he was the best thing that’s ever happened to you, and you are scared he most likely doesn’t feel the same.

Still, you are curious. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to participate in this show – to talk to him more or less openly about the whys and the hows, so you eventually decide to reply to the message, and you clear up your work schedule for that day.

~

As the day approaches, you get more and more anxious about having to see him. Initially, you decide to dress to the nines, to show him what he’s been missing out on, but the more dresses you try on, the more uncomfortable you feel.

Why should you try to be someone you’re not just to try and impress a man who’s left you?

You shouldn’t.

You don’t care to impress him anymore. You should just be you, and you should wear something you’re feeling good in, even if that’s just a plain black shirt and some matching black jeans and shoes.

You decide to do your make-up as you’d usually do for work – a soft glam paired with a glossy lip balm, and glancing once more in the mirror, you sigh to yourself and get out of your apartment, taking the bus until you reach the address you’ve received in the last message the Truth Behind the Scenes team sent you.

As you reach the filming studio, someone takes you inside a room with a table and two chairs, and Chan is already there with his back turned to you, speaking with someone you don’t recognise.

Your heart skips a beat at the sight of him, and you hesitate for a little while, but eventually decide to approach the table with a soft smile.

“Hey.” You say, and seeing you, Chan immediately stands up and smiles brightly.

“Hey! I wasn’t sure you’d show up.” He chuckles, taking you into a hug, and oh, how much you missed his embrace, even if it’s short.

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure either.” You reply honestly. “But here I am. So, how does this work?”

“Well, I thought we would have a conversation of some sort, but apparently there’s some questions on those cards each of us has to draw from those two boxes-” he points towards the table, “and the other has to reply.”

“I see.” You nod and sit down, and he follows soon after.

The team instructs you to draw the first card, and as you do, you begin reading:

“How did we meet?”

“Oh, alright. Well…”

---

Rubbing his tired eyes, Chan looked in the corner of his computer screen and cursed out loud when he noticed how late it already was.

3:52 AM.

“Shit.” He leaned back and closed his eyes tightly, and when he opened them again, they started stinging.

He rubbed them again while contemplating if he should go back to the dorms or just sleep on the sofa in the studio. Although uncomfortable, it would do until tomorrow at 10 when he’d have to be back to the building.

After some more minutes and deep breaths used to try and calm him down, he eventually decided against sleeping on the sofa and getting God knows how many neck cramps in the morning when he’d wake up.

He got up and shut down his computer and his laptop, of course after making sure a million times that he’s saved the progress made on the track in the past few hours of the night. He had a good feeling about this new song, even though it would probably not see the light of day in a few years.

Still, it’s better to work in advance and be prepared, especially in an industry as competitive as the one he works in.

Walking into the hallway, he eventually reached the elevators and called one of them. He glanced one more time left and right, and made his way inside, thinking of how peaceful the company is so late into the night. This was probably the only thing he enjoyed about staying up late cramped in his studio: the quietness, the emptiness, the fact that he can take the elevator all the way down uninterrupted-

“Oh.” A woman’s voice pulled him out of his trance, as he stood bewildered looking at the elevator’s doors that opened on the 6th floor. “Wasn’t expecting someone else to be up and about at this time.” The woman continued, and Chan smiled out of courtesy.

You got in and pressed the button to close the doors, and the elevator started moving again, until it suddenly came to a halt.

The lights followed, leaving you in complete darkness.

“What the fuck…” Chan mumbled, taking his phone out of his pocket.

What a great day to have 2%.

He turned the flashlight on, nonetheless.

“Is this a blackout?” You contemplated out loud. “Ouch.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Chan apologised, putting the flashlight down. He unintentionally blinded the poor woman. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Great.”

“Tell me about it… What do we do?”

“Is there anyone you could call to tell them we’re here? I forgot my phone on my desk. Shit.”

“Yeah, let me try and call my manager. He’ll probably kill me tomorrow morning for interrupting his precious sleep, but he’s our only hope.”

“Okay.”

Chan searched up his manager’s name and dialled his number, but before the call could connect, the phone shut down.

“No more battery.”

“No way. Are you fucking kidding me?” You asked, but despite the harsh words, there was no annoyance in your tone. Instead, Chan was able to hear slight amusement.

“I always charge it.” He mumbled once more under his breath.

“Do you think the power went out in the whole building, or is it just the elevator?”

“Hmm. Not sure. Probably the whole building.”

“So, we’re stuck.” You concluded, and Chris started hearing a slight shuffle. “Might as well be comfortable. I’m down here.”

“On the floor?”

“No, dummy. On the ceiling.” You laughed.

“Okay, okay. It’s 4 AM, be a bit more lenient on me for the stupid questions.” Chan laughed as well and sat down, hoping he wouldn’t accidentally sit on you.

“I’m Eun-ji, by the way.”

“Chris.”

“Nice to meet you, Chris.”

“What are you doing here so late?”

“Same as you, probably. Working.”

“Damn, what department are you in?” He asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

“Financing.” You shrugged, although you knew he wasn’t able to see you.

“I see. I’m from Stray Kids.”

“Yeah, I know.” You chuckled at the absurdity of the situation. Of course you knew, since you were up so late because of this guy and his team’s never-ending resources for their million albums, merch and tours.

“Really? How so?” He asked, as if taken aback.

“Uhm, I mean… you’re one of the stars of the company I work for. It would be kind of weird to not know, don’t you think?” You asked plainly.

“I guess so, yeah…”

“So, do you think we’d be here for long?”

“God, I hope not. I’m so tired I could sleep right here.”

“Do it, then.” You shrugged again. “Do you want to put your head in my lap to be more comfortable?”

“What?”

“I asked, do you want to put your head-”

“No, I heard what you asked.” Chris chuckled. “I was just taken aback.”

“Well, you don’t have to. It was just a solution to the problem.”

“Then, you should be the one to do it and get some sleep, I bet you’re as tired as me.” He countered.

“No, I’m fine. Sure, I’m tired, but I have a day off tomorrow, so I can sleep in once I get home.”

“Oh… do you live far away?”

“Just a couple blocks over.”

“I see.”

“You?”

“Same…”

You hummed and nodded, and the two of you stayed silent for a few moments, until Chris started speaking again.

“So… do you like your job?”

“What?” You chuckled. “That was so random.”

“I’m trying to make conversation!” He retorted.

“I can’t say I dislike it, but I also can’t say I like it. It’s just a means to a way, I guess.”

“Mhm.”

“What about you, Chris? Do you like your job?”

“Yeah, a whole lot.” He smiled, and although you couldn’t see it, you heard it from the tone of his voice.

“Isn’t it stressful, though?”

“It is, but it’s also very rewarding. I wouldn’t pick anything else for the world.” He continued with the same excitement.

“That’s incredible. I wish my job and I had the same relationship honestly.”

“Hey, does your offer still stand?”

“Sorry?” You asked confused, and then realised what he was referring to. “Oh, yeah, of course. Come here.”

You found his shoulder in the dark and raised your hand until you found his nape, guiding his head towards your lap.

“There you go, are you comfortable?”

“Yeah, I am. Sorry about this, I’m just very tired and feel like I might pass out.”

“Don’t worry.”

You placed your other hand on his head and figured out he had a cap on, which you haven’t noticed earlier when you could see him.

“Mind if I take this off?”

“Why?” He asked immediately.

“Just figured I’d massage your scalp to help you sleep better?”

“Oh, no. I haven’t washed my hair.”

“So what?” You chuckled. “You’re such a kid.”

“I’m not a kid! Okay, fine, whatever. Take it off.”

“Good. Now, don’t get worked up and focus on sleeping.” You chuckled again and took off his cap, starting to scratch his head softly, and not even a few minutes later, you heard his steady breathing, signalling that he must’ve fallen asleep.

You wondered how long this power outage was going to last, and time seemed to pass by extremely slowly, and you eventually ended up dozing off as well. The next thing you remember is waking up blinded by the strong white lights inside the elevator, with Chris still sleeping peacefully in your lap.

“Hey.” You nudged him awake, and as he sat up, he looked more confused than ever.

“What’s up? Is the power back on?”

“Apparently.” You smiled softly, yawning.

“Thank you for being my pillow.” He said and stood up, putting his cap back on, then gave you a hand to help you up as well.

“No issues.” You chuckled and accepted his help.

“Need me to drop you off?”

“No, don’t worry about me. I live really close by. Besides, I still need to go back upstairs and grab my phone, so you get going and get some more rest.”

“Alright. Good night, Eun-ji.”

“Night!” You waved as he exited the elevator, unable to believe the interaction you just had, but still way too tired to think too much about it.

---

“That was one of the best sleeps I’ve ever had, believe it or not.”Chris says with a laugh as he recalls the memory.

“Yeah, you mentioned about it a whole lot and always made me scratch your head before sleep whenever you’d come over.” You laughed as well with a shake of your head and watched as he grabbed another card from the deck.

“When was our first kiss?” He asks, and you tilt your head to the side.

“You mean, the date and time?”

“I think it’s more like… if you remember how it happened?” He replies, quite confused as well.

“Ah, I see. Of course I remember.”

“During our first date?”

“No.” You chuckled again. “I told you before that you don’t remember that one time!”

“Ohhhh!” He exclaims. “Yeah, sorry, I think I was drunk out of my mind when that kiss happened.”

“You make it sound like I took advantage of a poor drunk man.” You joke, and Chris laughs as well.

“No, no, nothing like that. But come on, tell the story.”

“Fine.” You playfully roll your eyes.

---

“I can’t believe we’ve been invited to this party!” Your co-worker exclaimed happily as she applied and reapplied her lipstick, making you laugh at her antics.

“Why? It’s literally just a Christmas dinner, babe.”

“No, Eun-ji. It’s not just a dinner, everyone will be there. Everyone.”

“No clue what this means, but whatever.” You chuckled again.

“It means, even the idols! I told you I met Yeji last week and she was such a sweetheart! I wonder if she remembers me!”

“I doubt it, with how much foundation you’ve put on, babe.”

“What, am I not beautiful?” She pouted.

“You are extremely beautiful, but you look very different compared to your day-to-day look. Wait, your lipstick smudged a bit. Here, let me wipe it off.” You grabbed a napkin and carefully worked around your coworker’s lips, making sure the lipstick looked cleanly applied.

“Thank you so much! You’re dressed so plainly, though. You should always dress to impress, Eun-ji! Let’s get you in a dress!” She exclaimed, but you were quick to shake your head.

“No, thank you. I’d much rather feel comfortable. Besides, it’s just a dumb dinner. It’s not like I’ll meet the love of my life or anything like that. I don’t care to impress anyone either.”

“You’re literally impossible. Fine, wear your lame-ass black shirt and jeans, then!” She stuck her tongue out, and you replied in the same manner, before you two ended up making your way towards the elevators.

A few floors up, the elevator stopped, and the doors opened, revealing two men.

One of them, you knew.

“Oh, hello! Eun-ji, right?” Chris spoke, and you smiled slightly.

“Hi.”

“Are you girls going to the last floor too?” He asked, noticing the striking discrepancy between how you and your co-worker were dressed.

“Yeah, we are.” You replied, trying to ignore how hard your co-worker was gripping your arm. You were sure she was freaking out and in dire need of help, since she couldn’t seem to keep her cool in front of these two.

“This is Felix, by the way.” Chris introduced him.

“Hello!” The other man replied in a low tone with a nod and a sweet smile, and you acknowledged him with a short nod.

Of course, you also knew who Felix was, but it was never a big deal to you that they were famous or whatever. They were still people, just like you and your co-worker, who didn’t seem to think the same way, however.

The elevator ride was short, and you got to the last floor in no time, waving goodbye to Felix and Chris and heading towards your assigned table.

“You didn’t tell me you knew freaking Bang Chan!” Your co-worker scream-whispered in your ear, still gripping your arm.

“Because I don’t.” You retorted with a shrug.

“Yeah, you do! He even knew your name! How did that happen?”

“We just happened to meet in an elevator and got stuck for about two hours or so.” You shrugged again.

“What? When?”

“A few months ago, maybe?”

“How could you not tell me? I thought we were friends!”

“Because there was nothing to say!” You replied slightly annoyed, and she rolled her eyes, just as you reached the table.

~

The air was so stuffy in the large room, you could barely breathe. There were too many people – most likely almost everyone in the company, be it idols or mere workers.

It was so hard to hear your thoughts over the loud music, that you decided to simply make a run for it and disappear. It was getting late anyway, and you were tired, and quite honestly sick of the noise.

As you got back to the elevator and reached over to press the button and call it to your floor, your hand collided with someone else’s.

“It appears we meet again.” Chris chuckled.

“Yeah, what’s with us and this damn elevator? I don’t get it.” You laughed as well as you both stepped inside, and you pressed on the ground floor.

Chris also reached out to the buttons and pressed on another floor, but you didn’t pay it any mind.

The doors opened and he got out with a little smile and a “Goodbye!”, but then, just before the doors closed again, he placed his hand in-between them, making them reopen.

“Yes?” You asked in surprise.

“Do you, uhm… do you wanna come see my studio?”

“Why?”

“Might be cool to see.” He shrugged. “I have a bomb song idea and, you know, the creative process and all is quite interesting.”

“The creative process.” You chuckled. “Alright. Why not? As long as it’s quiet.”

“It is, it’s the best room in the building, trust me.” He smiled excitedly and turned around, so you followed him out of the elevator and into the studio.

“It’s so cramped!” You exclaimed the moment you saw it.

“Yeah, but it’s cosy, and it’s mine.” He smiled and offered you a seat on his sofa, which you were quick to accept.

Chris initially sat down at the desk, but after a little while of him pressing buttons and you admiring every corner of the room in silence, he decided to stand back up and come sit on the sofa next to you.

“No more working?”

“No more working.” He shook his head. “I can’t focus.”

“Oh, is it because I’m here?” You replied, slightly embarrassed. Maybe you shouldn’t have come.

“No, of course not! It’s because I’m drunk as fuck and nothing on my screen makes any sense.” He replied quickly with a warm laugh.

“Oh. It’d be best to head home and sleep, then.”

“Eun-ji, I’ll be blunt. Your lips look so incredible right now…”

“Wh- what? My lips?” You immediately put your fingers on top of them. “Must be this new lipbalm I’m using. It’s called-”

“No, it’s not that.” Chris chuckled. “I just wanna…” He grabbed your hand softly and dragged it away, his body coming closer to you, until your lips collided.

For a few seconds, you were taken aback by what was happening, but as the kiss deepened, your hands found the back of his head and you brought him closer.

His tongue was hot on yours, and in no time, you found yourself sitting in his lap, still making out like you were thirsty and his mouth had the only water left on Earth.

One of his hands travelled under your shirt on your naked back, and the other went down to your bum, squeezing it softly, and you let out a moan muffled by his mouth on yours.

---

“Yeah, thinking about it, it was you who initiated that kiss, so you can’t blame me for your drunken mistakes.” You chuckle.

“That was anything but a mistake, Eun-ji.” He replies with a smile that you couldn’t quite read, however, there is a slight longing in his eyes, which makes your heart skip a beat. “And it was quite funny, really. I literally couldn’t remember that we made out, but the next thing I know, I’m looking at my phone and see that we have a date planned in the next few days.”

You chuckle again at the memory, remembering how confused he was when you messaged him to confirm the details about the date.

“Alright, it’s my turn.” You say, deciding to stop pondering on your first moments as a couple and ignore his expression, as you aren’t sure you’d be able to keep a straight face for much longer if he keeps looking at you that way.

He looks at you as if he’s still in love, which makes no sense to you whatsoever. It’s been a year, and even though you are probably still very much in love with him, he is, after all, the one that got away.

You draw a card and read out loud.

“What’s your most treasured memory with us?”

“Oh, tough one.” He replies quickly, his brows furrowing.

“Why? You can’t think of any of them?” You ask, slightly dejected.

“No, it’s not that, Eun-ji. It’s just that… I treasure all of our memories.”

“All of them?” You counter back.

“Yes.”

“Even the fights?”

“Even those.”

As he replies, you don’t know what to say any further. You want to ask some more about it, but before you get the chance to formulate a proper question in your head, he begins talking again.

“If I were to pick only one, however… I think I’d go with that one time you surprised me by coming to our concert in Europe.”

---

“Thank you! You were great tonight, and we can’t wait to come again!” Chris shouted in his microphone before heading off-stage, completely sweaty but still high on the adrenaline from being on stage in front of such a large crowd.

No matter how many times he’s done it, he could never get used to it.

“Good job, boys.” He complimented his team members with a large smile plastered on his face. “Are you ready to party for the rest of the night?”

“Oh, Chris. The manager just informed me that you have to go back to the hotel. There’s apparently something wrong with your room.” Felix frowned slightly as he approached Chris, but was unable to contain his excitement for long, so he made sure to turn around just in time for him not to notice the large smile on his face.

“An issue with my room…?” Chris contemplated with a shake of his head but decided to take the driver anyway and go back to the hotel.

After all, he could always meet up with the boys and the staff later and party, after he fixed whatever was wrong with the room and saw what the emergency was about.

He inquired about the issue at the reception, but they only informed him to head upstairs, and so, he followed suit and went to his room.

As he opened it, however, he noticed that there wasn’t anything wrong. In fact, it was the exact opposite.

There you were, in his room, sitting leisurely on the bed and smiling gleefully at him.

“You’re finally back!” You exclaimed getting off the bed, and Chris just stood silent in the doorway, as if unable to believe his eyes.

“Eun-ji?!” He asked, confusion plastered across his face. “But… how? You told me you couldn’t get off work!”

“Yeah, well, surprise! My co-worker finally agreed to switch shifts with me, so I’ll be here until you leave to the next city!”

“That’s, oh my God, I’m freaking out!” He exclaimed, immediately running towards you and hugging you tightly against his chest, peppering your face with kisses.

“Eww, you’re so sweaty!” You joked and pushed him away.

“Let’s take a shower together! How does that sound?”

“Don’t be lame, Chris. I already filled the tub, let’s have a bubble bath instead!”

“Damn, you’re the freaking best.”

“Damn right.”

You two made your way towards the bathroom, slowly undressing each other in-between kisses, and when you were completely naked, you went into the tub and washed Chan’s back, kissing his neck slowly and hugging him from behind.

“By the way, Chris, you were amazing on stage.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve also seen the concert!” He exclaimed surprised.

“Of course I did! Well, some of it, anyway. But you know what? I’m quite pissed at you. I should be the only one who gets to see these.” As you replied, you moved your hand lower until it reached his abs.

“You’re the only one who gets to touch them, baby.”

“That’s not even true. Your make-up staff touches them all the time.” You pouted, and Chris started laughing at your antics.

Although he couldn’t see you, as you were still hugging him from behind, he knew you well enough to know the face you were making.

“I missed you.” You whispered.

“Me too, baby.” He replied and turned around, making sure to splash a ton of water on the floor in the process, and kissed you again. “Wanna get out so I can show you how much I’ve missed you?”

“Hell yeah.”

---

“That’s a good memory, yeah.” You chuckle, your cheeks growing slightly red remembering the steaming night you two shared, and the morning sex afterwards.

You couldn’t deny that Chris was the best you’ve ever had in every way, and your body already got hot at the thought of him touching you like that.

“So, I guess that makes it my turn.” Chris says with a clear of his throat, and you wonder if he is thinking about the same things as you.

“Go ahead.” You smile and point him towards the cards on his deck.

“Have you slept with anyone else since we’ve broken up?” Chris reads out loud, but before taking his eyes away from the card, he continues by saying: “Wait, you don’t have to respond to this. Can we skip this question?”

He looks at the staff members and places the card down, but you don’t have anything to hide. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway if you slept or didn’t sleep with anyone else. It’s not like it’s any of his business to care and get affected by your reply.

“I didn’t.” You say quietly and reach towards a new card but decide to ask as well. “Have you?”

“Eun-ji…” He frowns.

“Sorry for asking.” You shrug and then turn your card up. “The next questions reads-”

“I haven’t.” He cuts you off and averts his gaze, moment when you look at him confused.

“What?”

“I haven’t… slept with anyone else.” Chris confesses, leaving you utterly speechless.

“Oh. Alright… uhm… the next question says… what was the worst part about our relationship?” You tuck your hair behind your ear, a habit you have whenever you get nervous.

“Oh, that’s an easy one.” He chuckles. “It was definitely me.”

“What?” You frown. “Chris, you know that’s not true.”

“But it is… the fact that I was never there when you needed me…”

---

“So, I went shopping today. What are you wearing on Saturday? If you wear a tie, we need to get one in the same colour as my dress.” You spoke in a breath, kissing Chan's cheek.

“Saturday? What’s on Saturday?” He asked, genuinely confused.

“What?” You chuckled in disbelief. “My childhood friend invited us to her wedding, remember?”

“Oh, right!” He exclaimed. “Wait, let me check the date real quick.”

He stood up from the bed and ran to the living room, picking up his phone and opening his calendar.

“Shit. Babe…?” He smiled sheepishly.

“Don’t tell me you have other plans.” You frowned.

“I talked to our producer, and we are supposed to record some parts from that new song I told you about on Saturday… but it’s okay! I’ll make sure to finish in time so we can still go to the wedding! Don’t worry!” He immediately responded and apologised.

“Chris, the wedding is 3 hours away by car. I promised her we’d be there at 2 for the ceremony as well, not just for the party afterwards.” Your frown only deepened.

“Do we really need to go to the ceremony, though? Aren’t they… I don’t know… boring?”

“Are you being serious right now?” You sat up, annoyance plastered in your tone. “Chris, she’s my best friend. Of course we have to go to the ceremony too!”

“Eun-ji…” He started, and you got even more annoyed. It was like he wouldn’t take accountability for anything.

“I told you six months ago, Chris. How much time ahead do I have to tell you to make sure you’d clear up your schedule?”

“I’m so sorry, baby, but you know that our release schedule is really tight…”

“Why can’t I be a priority at least once, hm?! At least for a weekend!” You felt your eyes watering up. You knew his job was the most important, however, you were getting tired of always being put in second place by your boyfriend.

Hell, you were so disappointed right now. You asked him to clear up one single weekend, and he couldn’t even remember to do that.

“You know what? You’re right. I’m going to call up the producer right now and reschedule for next week, okay?” He pleaded with you, but you were already beyond disappointed with this situation.

He’s already made sure not to prioritize you, so you decided to just stop bothering him about it altogether.

“You know what? Don’t worry about it. I’ll just go on my own.”

“Eun-ji-”

“Besides, you don’t know anyone there, anyway, whereas I’ll just catch up with all my friends from school, so don’t worry. Go record your song.”

You got out of bed and made your way to the bathroom, turning on the water and hopping into the shower, trying to wash all the tears away.

---

“That was certainly… one of the lowest points in our relationship.” You reply, remembering the event with bitterness.

You ended up going alone to the wedding, and despite having fun and catching up with your old friends, having to go there on your own and having people ask you about where your boyfriend was truly hurt you.

“Mhm… I agree. I was such a dick. I’m so sorry, Eun-ji. If I were to turn back time, I would’ve never done those stupid mistakes.” He smiles apologetically.

“It’s fine… it’s all in the past anyway.” You return the same pained expression as he draws another card from the pile.

“Why did you accept to come here today?”

“Is that the question?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm, I guess I was just… I don’t know, even though we’ve broken up on relatively good terms, if you could say that... I guess I just wanted to talk to you again?” You smile briefly and draw another card. “Do you think I was a jealous partner?”

“You?” Chris chuckles. “God, no. If anything, I was the jealous one.”

“You were?” You laugh as well.

“Yeah… You, however, were never jealous, no matter how many people I’d interact with. Even though it was never inappropriate, I really appreciated that you trusted me, no matter what.”

“Of course I trusted you.” You smile. “You never made me doubt you, not even once.”

Which was true. You knew that he truly loved you during the brief two years of your relationship, and he’s never put himself in any compromising position with anyone else to make you jealous.

“Anyway… the next card reads: Why didn’t we work out?” You read out loud and wait a few seconds for Chris’ reply.

“I think the first time I started to doubt if our relationship was fair to you was when you got fired from the company because… because you were dating me. That’s when I knew that something was fundamentally wrong with us being together, because instead of me giving you anything positive, I just ended up causing you pain.” Chris speaks slowly, letting out a long exhale at the end.

“It was… a really tough time for me. Although my job was not ideal, it was something I worked very hard for, and once our relationship became public and suddenly everyone knew about us…” You shake your head.

It was a very difficult time for you to put yourself out there and find another job when the whole country was aware of your relationship with Chris.

“However… no matter how hard it was, I could get through it only because you were there with me.” You frowned. “I never blamed you for my job, or anything like that… ever.”

“I know… But still, how could I not blame myself? I felt so guilty… Heck, even now, a year after we broke up, I’m still sending you money to help you out with rent, even though I know you have a new job and all.” He chuckles.

“And I always send it back.” You smile.

“Wait, you do?” He frowns. “Really?”

“Mhm.” You nod, and he pulls out his phone and opens his bank app, and his expression only becomes more downcast.

“Eun-ji, why?”

“It’s alright, Chris. I really don’t need it. You’d better spend it for something else.”

“But I-”

“Really, stop it. Read the next card.” You blow him off, dismissing his words, and he lets out a sigh.

“What was our worst fight?”

“Hmm… I think the most soul crushing one was when I got that new job…”

“Right, I was also thinking of that one. See? I told you I was the more jealous one in our relationship.” Chris chuckles with a shake of his head.

---

“Thank you for dropping me off.” You smiled sweetly at one of your new co-workers, who offered you a ride home in his car since you were on his way.

Ever since you got fired from JYPE, you were struggling to find a new job, but thankfully, an opportunity came your way, and you didn’t think twice to accept it.

However, the new job was quite far away, and the hours were longer. You missed your short commute home, but you were simply unable to find anything else in the area.

You got out of his car and waved him goodbye, and when you turned around, there was Chris, with an angry expression on his face.

“Who was that?” He asked immediately.

“Is this how we say hi to each other now?” You tilted your head, unable to understand why he seemed so pissed at you.

“Eun-ji, answer the question, please. Who the hell was that, and why is he dropping you off so late? Where were you?”

“At work. I started a new job, remember?” You frowned, not understand what he was trying to accuse you of, or why.

“It’s almost 9 PM, and I see a random man dropping you off home. Do you think I’m stupid or something?” He fired back, angrier than before.

“Excuse me? What are you insinuating?” You retorted.

“I’m not insinuating anything. I’m just asking you a damn question, Eun-ji.”

“And I’m answering!” You almost started shouting but decided to take a deep breath in and ask Chris to talk inside.

He followed you upstairs, but his demeanour was cold, which gave away the fact that the fight was far from over.

“Alright, we’re inside. Care to explain now?”

“There’s nothing to explain, Chris. That was just my co-worker.”

“Just your co-worker. Okay, sure. And why the hell was he giving you a ride home?” He continued to ask in an accusatory tone, which pissed you off to no end.

“I don’t know, Chris. Maybe it’s because my boyfriend is way too busy to make the time to come pick me up or at least send me a damn cab!”

You found it hard to keep your composure any longer, so the way you replied came out a bit too loud, and so began a screaming match between you two, and by far the worst fight you’ve ever had, which ended in Chris leaving your apartment and you crying your eyes out until 5AM.

---

“I am not proud at all of how I acted that night…” Chris closes his eyes and breaths in, and you can almost hear the pain in his voice.

“I can’t say I handled it too well either.” You sigh. “I mean, I always gave you my unconditional trust, and there you were, doubting me because I decided to accept a ride from my co-worker. It was really shitty of you to do that…”

“I know… I’m sorry.” He apologises, and you draw a new card.

“Who broke up with who?”

“It was me... I knew how much I was hurting you, and I just… I guess I decided that breaking up would be better for the both of us.”

---

“Are you mad at me again?” You frowned, hearing the 10th sigh getting out of Chan’s lips in the past 5 minutes.

“No, I’m not mad at you.”

“That’s what it looks like.”

“I’m just so incredibly stressed, Eun-ji. Can’t you understand that?”

“No, Chris, I’m just a child, I need you to spell it out for me.”

“Now you’re just mocking me again.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? It’s like the only thing we do lately is fight.”

“You’re right.” He let out another sigh. “I wish we wouldn’t fight anymore.”

He stood up and cupped your cheeks, pressing a firm kiss against your lips.

“Me neither. I love you, Chris. I really do.”

“I love you too, Eun-ji.”

You continued kissing slowly, your hands exploring the other’s body, and your clothes started disappearing one by one, your naked bodies collapsing on the bed on top of one another.

You made love and kissed each other again and again, until there was no space on your bodies that the other’s lips haven’t touched.

Then, you laid your head on Chan’s shoulder and closed your eyes, almost falling asleep before the sounds of a whimper stirred you awake.

“Hey, you okay?” You asked, concern plastered across your face.

“Eun-ji… I’m so sorry baby.”

“What for?” You frowned.

“I think…” Chris started, his voice immediately cut off by a cry as he separated himself from you and sat up on the bed, not even looking at you.

“What’s wrong?” You sat up as well and placed your hand on his naked back, caressing it softly.

“I think we should break up, Eun-ji.”

As he said this, it felt like your whole world collapsed around you. His words took your breath away, and as he stood up and got dressed, you began shaking your head repeatedly and trying to talk some sense into him.

“Chris… no. No, no, we can’t. What do you mean, break up? No…” You stood up and followed him out of the room and into the hallway, watching helplessly as he began putting on his shoes.

“I’m so, so sorry. But it’d be better for us to break up. All we do is fight, and I… I ruined everything…” Chris cried, and so did you, as you hanged onto him for dear life, hugging his back and trying to stop him for going through that door.

“Please, no. Please stay.” You begged. “We don’t have to break up. We can make it work, hm?”

“No… No, we can’t. We’ve been trying for so long, and yet… I put you through so much… you’d definitely be better off without me, Eun-ji.”

“You’re so fucking selfish!” You shouted, crying your heart out. “I love you so much, and yet…”

“I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you, Eun-ji. But…” As he said this, he chocked on a sob, coughing slightly and wiping his tears away rapidly. “I just think it’d be best to stop this before I end up hurting you more, hm?”

"I'm the one who should decide if you're hurting me, Chris, not you!" You countered back, but he wouldn't hear any of it.

He turned around and hugged you tight, and the only thing you could do was beg him not to go.

He didn’t listen to you, and he left, and the house felt unbearably cold, and your bed was so empty, you loathed looking at it, knowing that just hours prior, you’ve made love on top of those sheets, and he loved you, and you loved him.

You tried calling him numerous times for the next week, but his calls would instantly get redirected to voice mail. At first, you left messaged for him, raging from disappointed, to sad, and even angry as the days passed and he wouldn’t return any of your calls, and after two weeks of no news from him, you understood that his decision was final, so you decided to finally block his number, and you haven’t looked back since.

---

“You were so incredibly cruel about that.” You reply, feeling tears well up in your eyes. However, you swallowed back the lump in your throat and didn’t allow yourself to cry in front of him again.

“I don’t know what I was thinking… To be honest, I’ve been considering breaking up for a while, but… the way I did it was indeed way too cruel, and that’s something I still regret. I just ended up hurting both of us in the process…”

You let out a bitter smile at his confession. You wanted to tell him how much it still hurt, how the break-up was still fresh in your mind even a year later, and how much you wish it never happened, but you couldn’t say anything.

You point him towards the cards, and he draws one and reads:

“Who do you think had the harder time after we broke up?”

“Honestly?” You chuckle. “I’ll selfishly say it was me. Did you have a hard time at all?”

“God, you have no idea.” He chuckles as well.

“Really?” Your eyes grow large. “But you didn’t even return my calls.”

“And when I did, I found out you blocked my number, so…” He scratches his nape.

“Oh.”

“Yeah…”

You don’t know how to react to this new information. You’ve been wondering all this time if he’s ever reached out, and now that you found he did, you heart broke.

Maybe coming to this show was really a mistake, because your heart doesn’t seem to heal at all – it’s quite the opposite. It’s weighing heavier in your chest, and it hurts so much, and it doesn't seem like you'll get any closure.

You draw another card, but the question gets cold on your tongue, and you barely find the strength to ask it.

“Did you… uhm… did you ever see yourself marrying me?” You clear your throat and look at Chris, who’s showing you the most compassionate expression, so full of love, like you haven’t broken up a year ago.

“Yes.” He replies plainly, and this finally breaks you.

You avert your gaze as you feel your eyes swelling up with tears.

“I’m sorry, can I please have a moment? I need a break.”

You take in a few deep breaths and refuse to look at Chris anymore, because you can’t help the growing feelings in your chest and the pain ever-present in your heart.

“Alright… when?” You ask after a little while, trying to wipe away any tears that might’ve fallen on your cheeks.

“I fell in love with you quickly, but… I think I knew for sure that I wanted us to… uhm… to be more than just a couple… when you first met my family.”

---

“I’m so anxious! What if they won’t like me? What if they’d think I’m not good enough for you? Oh my God, Chris, where are the presents I bought??? Did you forget to pack them? I explicitly said-”

“God, Eun-ji, calm down.” Chris chuckled. “It’s just my parents. And I put the presents right there in the bag, just as you’ve asked me to.”

“I’m so anxious, I can’t help it!” You pouted. “Where exactly?”

“Here, let me look for them.” He offered, and you plopped on the bed in Chan’s old room, almost on the verge of crying.

You were thankful that his parents were away for a few hours to some sort of event, which gave you a little time to settle in their house and mentally prepare yourself for the impending meeting.

“What?” Chris asked puzzled.

“What?” You immediately sat back up, watching as Chris looked confused.

“I’m sure I packed them. Is this the wrong bag?” He tilted his head to the right, and you just about died.

“This can’t be true!” You exclaimed as Chris closed the bag and examined it.

“Shit, I thought you said I should put them in the blue one.”

“Chris!” You grabbed a pillow and threw it at him, and he started chuckling.

“It’ll be okay, babe, don’t worry.”

“No, it won’t! I came empty handed and they’re going to hate me, and-” You sniffed and buried your face in your palms, but Chris grabbed them gently and pushed them away, grabbing your face with his hands.

“They won’t hate you. They will see how much I love you, and they will love you too.”

“I put so much thought into those presents, though.” You pouted, thinking of the matching jewellery set you got for Chan’s folks that took you ages to decide on.

Before Chris got the chance to say anything else, you heard the front door open, and your heart stood still in your chest.

“Looks like they’re here. Come on, let’s meet them.” He dragged you up from the bed and you reluctantly followed him, and there they were, in the doorway, with large smiles on their faces at the sight of their son.

Chris introduced you and they immediately made you feel welcomed by taking you into a large hug, and then you had lunch together, when you talked and told them lots of funny stories from work and from your childhood.

Chan’s mother was more than happy to hear these stories and shared some of her son’s growing up as well, with a large smile spread across her face, and you had such a pleasant time together, hours ended up passing by, and day turned to night in no time.

By the time you were back in bed next to Chris, you wondered why you worried in the first place. These people were as lovely as him, and they apparently adored you too.

---

“My mom still asks me about you.” Chris chuckles.

“I also think about them often. How are they doing?” You ask with a soft smile, remembering the good times.

There were a lot of downs in your relationship, but more than anything – bigger than the pointless fights and sleepless nights –, you had some amazing moments together that you’d do anything to relive.

It truly doesn’t feel like a whole year went by with Chris not being in your life.

“They are doing well. Like usual.” He smiles back. “I believe we have two more questions to ask.”

“Yeah, it appears so.” You reply, unable to believe that a whole hour has passed already.

“My question reads: what have you been up to ever since we’ve broken up?”

“Hmm… you know me, just hustling here and there. I’ve found a new job that’s closer to home, I started going to the gym more or less regularly, I made some new friends and tried out some hobbies – which I ended up being too bad at to pursue.” You chuckle.

“Really? Like what?” Chan’s eyes sparkle with excitement as he’s placing his elbows on the table and his head steadily on his palms, showing you that you have his undivided attention, and it feels like no time has passed at all.

If you weren’t totally sure of your feelings until now, if you had the smallest doubt in your mind that you still loved him, watching him look at you like this made it clear.

You are very much still in love with Chris, and despite everything that went down, you wish things would be different between you.

You dread the hour being over and going back home to your life, devoid of his presence.

“Uhm, don’t laugh at me please.” You start, and Chris already lets out a chuckle. “I tried dancing, painting, boxing-”

“Wait, dancing?” Chris immediately erupts into laughter. “Eun-ji, you can’t be serious!”

“And why not?” You frown jokingly.

“I mean, you were always so bad at it whenever I’d try to show you any moves!” He continues laughing.

“Well, that’s your own fault for having hard ass choreos, not mine!” You retort, laughing along. “Besides, you promised me you wouldn’t laugh!”

“I didn’t promise anything!” He raises his hands in front of him in fake defence, a large smile adorning his face.

“Oh, fuck off!” You exclaim with a chuckle, drawing the last card from your pile. “Why did you invite me here today?”

“Oh.” Chris immediately turns serious and scratches his nape in slight embarrassment. “Uhm, you might know that I have a new album coming out… a solo one?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard something about it.” You nod.

So, after all, you were right, and he only invited you here to promote it.

“I don’t know what that has to do with me, though.” You continue, feeling your heart grow heavy.

“The album is about you, that’s why.” He smiles softly. “Would you maybe like to… listen to one of the songs in it?”

“Sure.” You nod again, your heart beating harder.

“It’s called Eun-ji.”

As he says this, he pulls out his phone and presses play on the song, and the calm beats begin surrounding you two, and soon enough, Chan’s pained voice.

It’s a sad song about a missed love, about regret and pain, about every unspoken feeling Chris had ever since you’ve broken up, and you found yourself tearing up and needing a few napkins to go through the whole thing.

Chris also begins crying, wiping his tears away repeatedly until the song is over, and when it is, he clears his throat and places his phone back in his pocket.

“Eun-ji, I… I’m still in love with you. Do you think that maybe... you would ever see us getting back together? Do you think you could ever give me another chance to fix my mistakes, to fix us?”

As he confesses this, you cry even louder and decide against replying. Instead, you stand up and go directly towards him, plopping yourself in his lap and hugging him tightly, and he immediately welcomes you, his arms circling your frame and pulling you tighter against him.

“I love you too, so, so much, Chris.” You whisper as you draw back, and his hands find your cheeks as he wipes away all the tears that are falling.

“My love, I was so, so wrong and selfish.” He frowns.

You shake your head, not wanting to think about it anymore, and press your lips against his.

Your first kiss after a whole year apart is long and sweet, and he hugs you even closer, and oh, how much you’ve missed him and everything about him. How much you longed to have him again…

“I missed you so much.” You confess, and he buries his head against your chest and sobs quietly in your arms for a few moments.

“Do you… uhm… do you want to get out of here and have some lunch? And maybe dinner, too?” He asks looking right in your eyes, and you nod, so he helps you up and grabs your hand, and without a word more, you two exit the studio together with the silent understanding that you’re back together, willing to work on your mistakes and to make it work this time around.

~The End~

[jam3sacaster]

you are INCREDIBLE!!! ✨ Thank you so much for all the amazing Rupert fics 😍

Could I please request a Rupert & reader fic where they are at a New Year’s Eve party and he can’t take his eyes off her. Before the 10 second countdown he walks towards her to make sure he’s the only one who gets to kiss her

thank you ever so much my DAHHLING 🥰🫶🏽 i’m so glad you like them 🩷 what a smashing idea!!!

“Happy New Year, angel.”

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Reader (ft. Lizzie Vereker)

Suggestion by this lovely reader 🥰 / You start the New Year off with a bang, as you encounter Mr Campbell-Black…

18+ FANFIC / Soft Rupert 🥹. Kinda short but hope you love! Reader character aged at 21. 🩷🩷

It was 11:30pm on New Year’s Eve. The residents of Rutshire took it in turns to throw an annual ball and this year was the turn of Rupert Campbell-Black. He had hired a designer to aid him in decorating Penscombe Court and by designer, he of course means Lizzie Vereker. Despite Rupert’s general lack of effort, the ball had an incredible turn out — packed with every resident of Rutshire, both people he hated, and that hated him.

He stood on his own in the corner of the room and surveyed the scene. Drunken couples danced sloppily to the blaring music, and a few stragglers had found their way to the snack bar. A gentle hand placed itself atop Rupert’s shoulder, and snuggled beside him. Instinctively, he wrapped his arm around them — it would definitely be an adoring fangirl. “Enjoying yourself?” The small voice peeped from the crook of his arm. Looking down at them, he spied his tawny-haired friend, Lizzie. “Oh hello, darling. Umm… Yes, I suppose. Boring really, isn’t it?” He sighed. “You’re lonely.” She declared, squeezing herself from under her arm and standing in front of him now — frustrated arms crossed. “What? Don’t be silly.” He chuckled without a smile. Lizzie’s accusatory stare burned holes into his skull. She was the only person that could see straight through his Lothario facade. Softening her expression slightly, she took a big gulp from a champagne flute she had quickly nipped from a passing server and informed him, “New Years is the best time to meet people! Everyone’s full of joy and love.”

“Where’s James?” Rupert quizzed her but she took another swig of her champagne and spluttered through the awfully bitter taste. “Oh, God knows. Probably eyeing up any poor woman that looks his way.” But Rupert couldn’t quite hear Lizzie’s response. In fact, he couldn’t quite hear anything at all. Because, there you were. He had seen you. It’s as if everyone else’s faces had been blurred out and someone had turned down the volume on the entire ballroom. Cascading charcoal black locks, tantalising olive-toned skin and heavenly emerald orbs. A floor-length black satin dress hid your silver kitten heels, and was just low-cut enough to show your cleavage. Crimson red lipstick and mascara-coated wispy eyelashes atop silver jewellery completed tonight’s look. Plain and simple, you looked otherworldly.

Walking away from Lizzie mid-sentence, Rupert approached the bar area and poured himself a pint glass of straight gin. Screwing up his face in disgust, he drank the gin in one and straightened the collar of his crisp, white shirt. Cracking his neck from side to side, he exhaled gruffly and strolled into the middle of the room. Every woman, single or not, turned to stare at him. Of course, nothing out of the ordinary there. You, however, were stood in the centre of the ballroom floor, being serenaded at great length to an improvised poem from Patrick O’Hara. Partway through fighting back a yawn, you were barged out of the way — too hard to be intentional — and yelped in shock, champagne sloshing violently out of your glass and seeping instantaneously into the black satin of your dress. “My God, darling. I’m so sorry.” Rupert fretted over you, trying ineffectively to swipe the bitter liquid from your dress. “It’s okay, don’t worry,” You begin, but drink in the man’s appearance before you can continue.

Jet black hair and an incredibly chiselled face. He must be a good few years older than you, but a few years older meant more experience, after all. “Oh my, you must be…”

“Rupert Campbell-Black.” He interjected. “Lovely to meet you, darling.” He spoke as he raised your right hand to his lips, kissing it softly. “Once again, ever so sorry.” He chimes and walks off in the opposite direction, smirking to himself. He had caught you hook, line and sinker already.

-

“10, 9, 8, 7…” The entirety of the ballroom chimed in unison. Rupert was stood beside Lizzie, eyes affixed on the grand clock placed just below the ceiling. You were stood just in front of them, Patrick essentially glued to her side.

“3, 2, 1… HAPPY NEW YEAR!” Was screamed, followed by the noise of party poppers and blow outs. Rupert watched as Patrick began to pucker his lips towards you. There was absolutely no way he could stand by and watch this. He strode towards you and held the side of your face, intertwining his fingers through your curled hair and planting a soft kiss upon your supple lips. The smell of his oud aftershave filled your lungs and allow you to relax into the kiss. Every fibre of your being wanted this kiss to last for an eternity but, unfortunately, he eventually pulled away.

“Happy New Year, angel.”

[amiableness]

Elina’s 4k celebration ; Positivity Picnic <3

First off, thank you so much for 4k! I can't wrap my head around the fact that so many of you decided to follow me, and I can't say thank you enough for being here. Since most, if not all of you, are following me to read fics, I thought it would be fitting to find ways to spread love to other fanfic writers.

Just as fanfics are free, so is your interaction—and it means more than you know. To show your support, choose a few food items to bring to our picnic:

If you participate, let me know here! Or you can tag me in something <3

🍰 - Leave a comment on a fic you’ve enjoyed. I challenge you to comment what you loved specifically about it, it’s nice feedback for writers!

🥗 - Reblog a fic with a quote that you loved and why you loved it or how it made you feel

🍝 - Send an ask (anon or not!) and ask a writer a question about one of their works

�� - Make a fic reblog account to reblog all your favorites fics. This keeps all your favorite fics organized and means so much to writers!

🍓- Make a masterlist of all your favorite works. I promise you that it makes an authors day when they’re included on one of these lists!

🍒 - Send an ask to a writer about one of their works. These are my favorite to receive because then you can freak out over something together!

🥖 - Get creative with your reblogs! Add memes and/or tell them how their writing made you feel. Reblogs with allll your thoughts about the work is a writers love language!

🍯- Make a mood board for a fic! I’ve seen people in others fandoms make these for their favorite works, so if this is something you’re into, share it!

🥨 - Art of a scene or character from a fic! Same with mood boards, if you’re into it, it might be fun to share it with an author. I promise you that they’ll love it

Why we need interaction:

I’ve noticed so many fanfic writers feeling discouraged due to a lack of interaction with their works. At the same time, I’ve come across polls and anon asks where readers admit they don’t understand why interaction matters—or even find it annoying when writers ask for it. But here’s the thing: writers have every right to ask for interaction.

We spend hours working on every detail—perfecting lines, mapping out scenes, changing dialogue until it flows just right. It’s a lot of work and while we don’t get paid for it, those reblogs, comments, or asks? In an odd way, it’s almost like getting paid. The interaction is the reward for your hard work. And really, it means so much to know that someone took five minutes out of their day to share their thoughts after you’ve spent hours on a fic.

So, if you think interacting with fanfic is pointless or too much effort, maybe fanfiction isn’t for you.

The fanfic community is so much better with interaction. I’ve seen so many mutals leave over the years because of lack of interaction, so if you enjoy someone’s work, tell them. I know many of you have thought, “My comment or reblog won’t make a difference,” but you couldn’t be more wrong. It makes a huge impact.

Now that my rant is over, if you have any more ideas, let me know and I’ll add them! <3

[fishii-writes]

haihaihaii i would like to request a nakahara chuuya friends to lovers for the event hehe :3 also sending u many happy birthday wishes in advance and lots of love mwah/p love you pookie <3

paring: chuuya x gn!reader

contains: headcanons

cw: highschool au implied, dazai + ranpo + yosano are chuuya's friends, just fluff, chuuya's a little clumsy but it ends well ;)

a/n: thank you for entering my event! holy YAP i yapped so hard for this 🥀 HOPE U ENJOY ILYTTT

word count: 810

how you both met

you two were definitely neighbours

“hey, go greet the new negibours’ kid”

and you two awkwardly greet each other

your parents and his parents get close eventually

and have regular meet ups, so you and chuuya get close too

you two walk to school together, walk home

he waits for you if you have extracurricular activities

if you have something till late at night, he goes home then comes to pick you up

who fell first and when?

we all know how friends are

they see you hang out with a pretty dude and suddenly rumours are like newspaper

“are you two dating??” and rumours like “i heard [name] and chuuya are dating!”

the rumours spread like crazy

they reach everyone except said pretty boy

one day, dazai asks him half jokingly “do you like them?”

suddenly, his view on you changes

sure, you’re perfect in literally every way, shape and form but

you were just a friend…! and suddenly he’s blushing at every smile you flash him

he’s covering his face when you look at him

and he’s acting all shy when you offer to clean up his face and bruises after he got into a fight

ugh, stupid dazai. now he’s caught feelings!

and he doesn’t want to tell you. or make it obvious (he is NOT discreet)

because he doesn’t wanna make you uncomfortable or make you hate him :(

when you fell:

i mean it was probably obvious 🤨

who wouldn’t fall for bro…

but the specific moment when you knew it was him.

the right one for you

was when he knocked on your door at about 11pm at night

your parents weren’t at home so you ask who’s knocking

he replies his name, you open the door after confirmation

he stands there. bruised and bleeding

and just collapses in your arms

he wakes up at about 2am, in your arms on your bed

you’re asleep. he usually wouldn’t let anyone (except you sometimes) hug him

especially in a moment as vulnerable as sleeping

so he stays in your arms. he even snuggles closer

and once you wake up, he’s still there

in your arms, eyes closed and a painfully obvious blush on his face

let’s just say, its safe to assume he didn’t wanna leave your arms that day

confession:

“5 bucks he won’t do it” - ranpo to dazai, about chuuya

“10 bucks he’ll back out” - dazai to ranpo, about chuuya

“50 bucks he’ll get the girl” yosano to dazai and ranpo (biggest supporter. ig.), about chuuya

chuuya takes a simple (not in his head though 😹) approach

he asks you at break to meet him at a nearby park after school

but there’s the mistake. his friends heard, and told your friends

so there you two are. the scene’s perfect.

cherry blossoms comically flowing down from the trees

and the wind lightly blowing around your hair

he leans in to tuck a strand behind your ear

he smiles tenderly, moving back to give you a bit of space

and right when he musters that last bit of courage to start speaking

he sneezes. the flowers and weather are against him!

you can’t help but laugh a bit

he finds it endearing (and dazai tries not to laugh behind a tree nearby)

he starts again. he opens the conversation casually

“actually, there’s something i wanted to tell you…”

and that’s when dazai completely loses it

he falls from in the branches of the tree?? onto the floor, laughing like crazy

yosano scolds him and ranpo laughs too

your friends groan, one throwing their shoes at dazai who’s still rolling on the floor

chuuya embarrassedly groans, turning to you

“before i was rudely interrupted. i like you. sorry to ruin our friendship…” he mutters, turning to leave (and shooting a dirty look at dazai)

you stand frozen. i mean, its not every day that your closest friend confesses to you AND your friends watch

without realising it, you follow after him

you reach out for his wrist, stopping him

he hesitantly turns to face you, a somewhat sad smile on his face

“where are you going? who said it ruined our friendship?”

you watch as his smile goes from a sad one to a hopeful one

“so… does that mean…?” he quietly asks

“yep” you smile

but he doesn’t want you to have to make your title? official

afterall, who wouldn’t wanna be confessed to AND asked out by chuuya?

“so that does that mean we can change our ship from “friend” to “relationship”?” he asks, getting a laugh from you

“yeah. did you steal that line from dazai?” and he nods

taglist: @tofumiarchives + open (send an ask if you'd like to be added! :D)

likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated!! <3

© fishii-writes 2024

[ri-writes-if]

I'm usually a Vezmancer, but this time I decided to try all the routes and Laz...my my my what do we have here? I love the Oracle being this morose, hissing wet cat to him, hitting him with the "Why are you doing this I'm doomed to die sooner or later, stop it, let me die in solitude" is just marvelous (I'm a sucker for that sort of thing). (I also love being able to just pick whoever without worrying about always picking that RO in other scenes).

I truly hope at some point we get to circle back to the loneliness conversation (for added angst maybe after Laz fs up and get to hit them with the "should've stayed lonely I guess" and idk turn invisible or into a bird/butterfly so they can't/won't look at us and fly off).

I do have a question, mostly because I can't remember what the warnings were prior to this chapter, but just how dark can we make the story? Cause I noticed that every time the Oracle starts to go dark, they immediately bounce back. Like with Argellan (apologies if that's not how it's spelled, I don't remember assholes' names out of disrespect lol jk I'm just terrible with spelling) they almost start to cry and then just don't. Or they feel helpless and then just get determined even if most options I pick are the passive/I deserve this and "oh well guess I'll die" options. I'm not complaining, mind, I get going down the major depression path is not something everyone wants to do nor is comfortable doing, and that's 1000% ok. Your story, I'm just here for the ride.

I'm mostly curious given the warnings on if those tags are for the other characters? Or if it depends on our sanity or if it can get darker later? To set my expectations if you will. No need for spoilers and if it makes you uncomfortable/upset apologies, please don't feel the need to answer.

Regardless I look forward to confusing all the ROs with my pessimism and chaos.

I’m glad you enjoyed Laz’s route! Thank you for sharing your thoughts 💛

I understand you might want more “depressing” options, but it’s just not the direction I planned for this main character. They can end up in a pretty bad situation if their sanity falls, but overall, their potential tragedy is in misinterpreting what they need to become happy.

The Oracle is someone who wants a better life. It’s at the heart of their character. Every decision they have been making their whole life is pushed by this desire. They might be doomed, but they’re not going down quietly. They will force themselves to get up even when the situation is bleak, and that was the point of that moment—to show that they don’t allow anyone/anything to beat them down easily. They never have, and that’s why they’re still alive and trying to not just live, but live well.

Their developing arc isn’t “I want to live love laugh” vs “I’ll die so everything’s meaningless”, it’s more like “I’ll become a better person against all odds and find my place” vs “I’ll take what I want by any means necessarily even if it makes me miserable”. That’s as much as I can say without spoilering things.

So yeah, they’re not staying in the gutter. We’re actually at the point in the story where they begin to pick themselves up and take control of their life.

For the warnings—it’s mostly for what the Oracle encounters, though some of it will apply to them if you go down a particular path. Let’s just say… they might end up in a worse situation than they’re in now, you know? 🌚 Perhaps you'll enjoy that route! :)

[dandelions-143]

Obsession 4

Part 1 , Part 2, & Part 3

Minho Masterlist

All Member Masterlist

Word count: 6908

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, Sexual content and explicit scenes, Violence and physical aggression, References to criminal organizations, Toxic family dynamics, Emotional manipulation, Possessive behavior, Mentions of abuse of power.

Authors Note: I hope you enjoyed this ending to Minho and Y/n's story. They will likely make an appearance in the next member's story. Thank you all so much for your support! Happy reading!

Summary: Is this the end of Minho and Y/N's story, or just the beginning? Continue reading to discover how Y/N navigates Minho's possessive nature and whether Minho truly captures Y/N's heart.

Minho crumpled the note in his hand, his fingers trembling with barely contained fury. He threw it across the room, watching as it bounced off the far wall and fell to the floor. A sudden burst of rage consumed him, his vision blurring red at the edges. With a guttural roar, he lashed out, his foot connecting with the coffee table. The sturdy wood splintered under the force of his kick, sending books and papers scattering across the hardwood floor.

Not satisfied, Minho turned to the nearest wall. His fist flew forward, knuckles cracking as they met the plaster. Pain shot through his hand, but he barely noticed it, too focused on the hole he had just created. Bits of drywall crumbled to the ground, a physical manifestation of his shattered composure.

Panting heavily, Minho ran a hand through his disheveled hair. He knew he had important matters to attend to for his father - meetings to schedule, deals to close. But in this moment, none of that mattered. His mind was consumed by a single thought, a burning desire that overshadowed everything else. He was going to get you back, no matter what it took. Your willingness was irrelevant; he had made up his mind. With newfound determination, Minho strode towards the door, his eyes glinting with a dangerous resolve. The hunt was on.

---

Minho's heart raced as he sped through the city streets, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. The familiar sight of your apartment building loomed ahead, its brick facade a stark contrast against the darkening sky. He screeched to a halt in the parking lot, tires squealing on the asphalt. Without hesitation, he bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time, his footsteps echoing in the stairwell.

Reaching your door, Minho paused for a moment, his breath coming in short gasps. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he fished out the key he had secretly made weeks ago, a smirk playing on his lips. The metal felt cool against his skin, a stark contrast to the heat of his anger. The lock clicked open with a satisfying sound, and he pushed the door wide, stepping into your studio apartment.

"I'm home, darling," he called out, his voice dripping with false sweetness. The words hung in the air, unanswered. As his eyes scanned the small space, his triumphant grin faded. The apartment was empty, silent save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of a clock on the wall. You were nowhere to be seen. The air still held traces of your perfume, taunting him with your recent presence.

Minho's jaw clenched, his earlier rage threatening to resurface. He stalked through the apartment, his footsteps heavy on the hardwood floor. He checked every corner, throwing open the closet doors with such force that they rattled on their hinges. Clothes swayed from the impact, but there was no sign of you. He even peered under the bed. But it was futile. You had slipped through his fingers once again, leaving behind only the ghost of your presence.

Standing in the center of your living space, Minho's eyes narrowed dangerously. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, knuckles still raw from his earlier outburst. This was just a minor setback, he told himself. His gaze swept over the room once more, taking in every detail, searching for any clue to your whereabouts. He would find you, no matter where you tried to hide. The thought of you escaping him only fueled his obsession. And when he did find you, he vowed silently, he would make sure you never left his side again. The hunt had just begun, and Minho was nothing if not persistent.

Frustration and determination etched deep lines on Minho's face as he stormed out of your apartment, slamming the door with as much force as possible. He raced down the stairs, his expensive leather shoes barely touching each step. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, but one thought stood out crystal clear - the club where you worked. It was his only lead, his last hope.

As he sped through the city streets, the world outside his car became a blur of turned off neon lights and shadowy old buildings. His grip on the steering wheel tightened with each passing second, knuckles turning white with the force of his resolve. The leather creaked under his grasp, a physical manifestation of his inner turmoil.

Screeching to a halt outside the gentlemen’s club, tires leaving dark marks on the asphalt, Minho barely remembered to turn off the engine before leaping out of the car. The cool night air hit his flushed face, but he barely noticed. The pulsing beat of music that usually spilled out onto the street, was replaced with silence. As he approached the entrance, his eyes locked onto the burly bodyguard standing just outside the entrance. The man's imposing figure doing nothing to deter Minho's determination.

Without breaking stride, Minho shoved past the startled bouncer, his shoulder connecting forcefully with the larger man's chest. The bouncer stumbled back, caught off guard by the unexpected assault. "Hey, you can't just-" the bouncer began, but he stopped short once he realized who had just shoved his way into the building.

Inside, the club was a stark contrast to its usual vibrant atmosphere. The harsh fluorescent lights flickered intermittently, casting an eerie glow that accentuated every imperfection. The worn edges of the plush velvet chairs were frayed, their once-rich color now faded and patchy. Scuff marks marred the once-gleaming dance floor, telling tales of countless nights of revelry.

A handful of staff members were scattered around, their movements deliberate as they prepared for the night ahead. Two bartenders meticulously polished glasses behind the bar, the soft clink of crystal barely audible over the hum of the air conditioning. Near the stage, a pair of dancers stretched languidly, their lithe bodies casting long shadows across the floor. In the corner, a janitor mopped halfheartedly, his mop leaving streaks on the already grimy tiles.

Minho's eyes darted frantically around the room, searching for any sign of you. His desperation mounting with each passing second, he called out your name, his voice cracking with emotion as it echoed off the empty walls. "Where are you?" he shouted, his tone a discordant mix of anger, pleading, and barely concealed panic.

He stormed through the club, his expensive shoes squeaking on the freshly mopped floor. With reckless abandon, he threw open doors, the hinges groaning in protest. He yanked aside heavy velvet curtains, sending clouds of dust billowing into the air. The staff members froze in their tracks, watching him with a potent mixture of fear and confusion etched on their faces. Some cowered behind the bar, while others pressed themselves against the walls, trying to become invisible. Minho paid them no mind, his laser focus solely on his desperate search.

As he neared the dressing rooms, the scent of stale perfume and hairspray assaulting his nostrils, a petite waitress stepped forward hesitantly. Her uniform was slightly askew, and she nervously fiddled with the hem of her skirt. "Excuse me, sir," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, trembling with trepidation. Minho whirled around, his intense gaze locking onto her like a predator spotting its prey. She flinched visibly, taking a half-step back, but steeled herself and continued, "If you're looking for her, I think I saw her go into the back office earlier. She seemed... upset."

Without a word of thanks, not even a nod of acknowledgment, Minho spun on his heel and headed towards the office. His footsteps echoed ominously in the quiet club, each step deliberate and menacing. The sound reverberated off the walls, growing louder with each passing moment, as if the very building was amplifying his determination. The hunt was narrowing, the net closing in, and his prey was close. He could feel it in every fiber of his being, a primal instinct guiding him forward. The anticipation of confrontation, of finally having you within his grasp, sent a shiver of dark excitement down his spine.

Minho stalked down the narrow back hallway, his expensive shoes making soft indentations in the worn burgundy carpet beneath. The dressing rooms flanked him on either side, their doors adorned with peeling gold stars and faded names. The musty scent of old perfume and makeup powder hung heavy in the air, but his focus remained solely on the office door at the end of the corridor. It stood slightly ajar, a thin sliver of fluorescent light spilling out onto the dingy floor, casting long shadows that danced along the walls.

As he approached, your voice drifted out, stopping him in his tracks. The familiar sound made his heart race. "Why do I have to be the only one to dance for Mr. Lee now?" The words were tinged with frustration and a hint of fear, your voice trembling slightly on the last word.

For a moment, Minho's heart leapt, thinking you might be referring to him. His pulse quickened with anticipation, only to have that hope crushed moments later. The manager's gruff voice shattered that illusion, his words like sandpaper against Minho's ears. "The man owns this place. You have to do as he says. He told me you no longer dance for anyone else. Only on the main stage and only for him. Not even his son. Just him." Each word felt like a personal insult, stoking the fire of Minho's rage.

That rage boiled up inside him like molten lava, his vision blurring red at the edges as blood rushed to his head. His hands trembled with barely contained fury, and without hesitation, he burst through the door. The wood splintered under the force of his entry, sending splinters flying through the air. The door hinges screamed in protest as it slammed against the wall. In two long, purposeful strides, he reached you, his arms wrapping around your waist like steel bands. With one fluid motion, he hoisted you over his shoulder, the scent of your perfume filling his nostrils.

You immediately began to protest, your legs kicking wildly in the air and your small fists pounding against his broad back. Each impact was like a butterfly's wings against stone - noticed but ineffective. Your silky dress rode up slightly, and Minho's grip tightened possessively around your thighs. But he paid no heed to your struggles, your protests only fueling his determination.

He turned to face your stunned manager, who had stumbled back against his desk, papers scattering to the floor. Minho's eyes blazed with fury and possessiveness, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle twitched visibly. "She quits," he snarled, the words dripping with venom, each syllable sharp enough to cut glass.

Without waiting for a response, Minho spun on his heel and strode out of the office, his movements fluid despite carrying you. Your continued protests echoed down the hallway, bouncing off the walls like a desperate symphony. But he remained unmoved, his grip on you tightening with each step, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your thighs. The rapid beating of your heart against his shoulder only confirmed what he already knew - he had found you, and he had no intention of ever letting you go again. The thought sent a dark thrill of satisfaction through his body, a predator finally claiming its prey.

---

The ride from the gentlemen's club to Minho's penthouse was suffocating in its silence. You sat rigidly in the passenger seat, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, gaze fixed straight ahead through the windshield. The city lights blurred past, casting intermittent shadows across your face. Your jaw was set, lips pressed into a thin line, every muscle in your body radiating tension and defiance. The leather seat creaked softly whenever you shifted, the sound almost deafening in the oppressive quiet.

Minho's knuckles were white against the steering wheel, his eyes darting between the road and your reflection in the side window. Only once did he break the silence, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant as he asked, "Are you okay?" The question hung in the air, unanswered. Your only response was to turn your head slightly toward the window, shoulders stiffening further. The rage that had been simmering inside you was palpable - fury at his controlling behavior, at his presumption, at the way he'd ripped away your autonomy without a second thought.

As they drove through the glittering nighttime cityscape, something shifted in Minho's expression. His grip on the wheel loosened slightly, his shoulders dropping from their tense position. A realization was dawning, seeping into his consciousness like a slow-rising tide. Force, possession, control - none of it would give him what he truly wanted. He could keep you physically present, could surround you with golden chains, but your heart would remain forever out of reach unless freely given. By the time the elevator doors opened to his penthouse, his mind was made up. He would have to try a different approach - gentler, more patient, more vulnerable. He wouldn't let you leave, not yet, but perhaps he could show you a side of himself that might make you want to stay.

---

Once inside his vast penthouse, you went straight to the room he had reserved for you and locked the door. You lay on the bed, stewing in your anger with every intention of staying there indefinitely. Sleep claimed you for a while until your growling stomach woke you. Cautiously, you unlocked your door and crept into the hallway, hoping Minho was nowhere in sight.

The delicious aromas wafting from the kitchen had your mouth watering instantly. As you cautiously approached, you could see Minho moving with practiced ease around the space, stirring something in a large pot while checking what appeared to be rice in another. The domestic scene before you was so at odds with his earlier violent behavior that it momentarily stunned you into stillness.

He must have sensed your presence because he turned, dark eyes finding yours immediately. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the gentle bubbling of whatever was cooking and the soft whir of the overhead ventilation. His expression was unreadable, but somehow softer than before, the sharp edges of his earlier rage smoothed away.

"You must be hungry," he finally said, his voice quiet and controlled. "I'm making kimchi jjigae. It'll be ready in a few minutes." He gestured to one of the barstools at the kitchen island. "Sit."

Despite every instinct screaming at you to turn and run back to your room, your growling stomach won out. Slowly, cautiously, you perched on the edge of the barstool, watching as he returned his attention to the stove. The domesticity of the scene felt surreal, like you had stepped into some alternate reality where Minho wasn't the man who had just forcibly kidnapped you from your workplace.

The steam rose from the bowls as Minho set them down, the rich aroma of the stew filling the space between you. He settled onto the stool beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. For several minutes, the only sounds were the quiet clink of spoons against ceramic as you both ate.

"Why?" The word escaped your lips before you could stop it, barely above a whisper. "Why me? Why... all of this?" You gestured vaguely at the penthouse around you. "What makes you think you can just take me from my life?"

Minho set his spoon down slowly, deliberately. His dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch. For a long moment, he just stared, as if searching for the right words to explain something inexplicable.

"The first time I saw you dance," he began, his voice low and measured, "it wasn't just your beauty that captivated me. It was the way you moved - like you were telling a story only you knew. Like you were somewhere else entirely." His fingers traced the rim of his bowl absently. "I've spent my whole life surrounded by people who want something from me - my money, my influence, my family name. But you... you didn't even look at me. You were completely lost in your own world, and I..." He paused, jaw tightening. "I wanted to be part of that world. I needed to be."

His hand clenched into a fist on the counter. "The more I watched you, the more I realized I couldn't bear the thought of anyone else having that piece of you. The thought of other men watching you, desiring you..." He shook his head, as if trying to dispel the image. "It consumed me. You consumed me. And yes, I know this isn't right. I know I'm being selfish and controlling. But I can't..." His voice cracked slightly. "I can't let you go. Not now. Not ever."

You stared at him, a mix of emotions warring in your chest - fear, anger, but also a strange flutter of something else at the raw vulnerability in his voice. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words and complicated feelings. Finally, you pushed your half-eaten bowl away, stood up from the barstool, and retreated back to your room, leaving Minho alone with his confession hanging in the air.

---

As the days went on a strange routine developed. True to his word, Minho never forced himself on you or demanded your attention. Instead, he gave you space, allowing you to retreat to your room whenever you needed. The penthouse became your gilded cage, but one with surprisingly comfortable boundaries. Every morning, you'd wake to find fresh clothes laid out - designer pieces in your size, each one carefully selected. The kitchen was always stocked with your favorite snacks and drinks.

What struck you most was the consistency of the evening meals. No matter how busy his day had been, Minho would return home and cook. Sometimes elaborate Korean dishes that filled the penthouse with mouth-watering aromas, other times simple but comforting meals. He never demanded that you join him, but you found yourself drawn to the kitchen more often than not, settling into what had become your usual spot at the island.

The dinners were mostly quiet affairs, punctuated by the occasional question about your comfort or needs. He never pushed for more, never demanded conversation or gratitude. But you could feel his eyes on you when he thought you weren't looking, filled with that same intensity from the first night - a mixture of possessiveness and something deeper, something almost like reverence.

You had opportunities to leave - the door wasn't locked, and you knew he wouldn't physically stop you. But something kept you there. Perhaps it was the strange peace you'd found in this luxurious prison, or maybe it was the way Minho's carefully maintained control seemed to crack a little more each time you voluntarily joined him for dinner. Whatever the reason, you stayed, watching as the lines between captivity and choice began to blur.

---

One evening, as Minho was gathering his things to leave the office at his father's business, his movements were unhurried and casual. Despite his recent distractions, he had managed to complete all his assigned tasks, maintaining the delicate balance between his obsession with you and his familial obligations. The fluorescent lights cast long shadows across the empty office floor as he shrugged on his expensive suit jacket.

His footsteps echoed in the quiet hallway as he headed toward the elevator, but the sound of multiple approaching footsteps made him pause. Four men, all wearing black suits that barely contained their muscular frames, blocked his path. He recognized them immediately - his father's personal security detail.

"What the fuck are you guys doing here?" Minho's voice was sharp with irritation. "I'm leaving. The work day is over." He attempted to push past them, but one of the men, a particularly burly individual with a scar across his left eyebrow, grabbed him by his lapels and slammed him against the wall with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs.

The man leaned in close, his breath hot against Minho's face. "Your father wanted us to send a message to you for taking his best dancer from him." The words were delivered with a cruel smile that promised violence.

Before Minho could react, a fist connected with his jaw, snapping his head to the side. Another blow landed in his stomach, forcing him to double over. The men surrounded him, raining down punches and kicks with practiced precision. Pain exploded across his body as they methodically worked him over, their knuckles leaving bloody marks on his face and torso.

But something inside Minho snapped. Years of suppressed rage, of living under his father's thumb, of being controlled - it all came boiling to the surface. With a primal roar, he launched himself at the nearest attacker. His fist connected with the man's nose, producing a satisfying crunch. The sudden ferocity of his counterattack caught them off guard.

Minho fought like a man possessed. He used every dirty trick he knew, every ounce of strength in his body. One by one, the men fell. An elbow to a throat here, a knee to a groin there. Blood - both his and theirs - spattered across the pristine hallway floor. When the last man dropped, Minho stood among them, chest heaving, his expensive suit torn and stained red.

He knelt beside the scarred man who had started it all, grabbing him by the collar. Blood dripped from Minho's split lip as he spoke, his voice a deadly whisper. "You tell my father that if he touches y/n, I will kill him." The words carried the weight of an oath, cold and absolute. Then he released the man, straightened his ruined jacket, and walked away, leaving the groaning bodies behind him. His face was battered and bleeding, but his steps were steady, fueled by a determination that made him look more dangerous than ever.

---

The kitchen was filled with the comforting aroma of simmering soup when you heard the front door open. Your hands were busy flipping a grilled cheese sandwich, the butter sizzling in the pan. You'd gotten more comfortable in his kitchen over the past weeks, learning where everything was kept, settling into an odd sort of domesticity that you tried not to think too hard about.

"I'm in here," you called out, not turning around as you carefully lifted the golden-brown sandwich onto a waiting plate. "I hope you're hungry. I made tomato soup and-" The words died in your throat as you finally turned to face him.

Minho stood in the kitchen doorway, his usually immaculate appearance in shambles. His expensive suit was torn and bloodied, his face a canvas of bruises and split skin. For a moment, neither of you moved. You watched as the tension in his shoulders visibly eased at the sight of you, his dark eyes softening despite the violence written across his features.

"You're cooking," he said softly, as if that was the most remarkable thing about this moment, not the fact that he looked like he'd been through a war. His gaze took in your messy bun and the silk pajamas that whispered against your skin as you moved, a possessive warmth creeping into his expression despite his battered state.

"Minho..." You stepped toward him, hand reaching out instinctively before you caught yourself. "What happened to you?"

He let you guide him to the master bathroom, his usual iron control giving way to an unexpected docility. Your hands trembled slightly as you helped him out of his ruined jacket, revealing more bruises blooming across his arms. The white dress shirt beneath was spattered with blood, and you carefully unbuttoned it, trying to ignore the way his muscles tensed under your fingertips.

Your breath caught as the shirt fell away. Despite the fresh bruises marring his skin, you couldn't help but notice the lean muscle underneath, the way old scars traced paths across his torso telling stories of previous violence. Minho watched you through hooded eyes as you wet a washcloth with warm water, his hands finding their way to your waist when you stepped between his legs to clean the cuts on his face.

The bathroom felt smaller somehow, the space between you charged with an electricity that made your skin prickle. You could feel the heat of his body, smell his cologne mixed with the metallic tang of blood. His grip on your waist tightened almost imperceptibly as you dabbed at a particularly nasty cut above his eyebrow.

"My father," he finally said, his voice low and rough. "He sent his men to teach me a lesson." His thumb traced small circles against your hip, the gesture almost unconscious. "He's angry that I took you from the club."

You found yourself leaning into him despite yourself, your free hand resting on his shoulder for balance. The intimacy of the moment wasn't lost on you - the way his breath ghosted across your collarbone, how his dark eyes never left your face as you worked. It was dangerous, this closing distance between captor and captive, but in that moment, with his vulnerability on display, the lines seemed to blur even further.

He lifted his hand to cup your face, his thumb brushing across your cheek. "So what will you do?" you asked softly, setting the cloth down and pushing his dark hair away from his brooding eyes. "You work for him, right? Doesn't he have all the power?"

Minho's eyes darkened, a flash of something dangerous passing through them. "I'll protect you," he murmured, pulling you closer until you were pressed against his chest. His lips ghosted along your jaw as he spoke, each word a warm caress against your skin. "We can run away together. The possibilities are unending for us."

Your hands trembled where they rested against his bare chest, caught between wanting to push him away and pull him closer. His grip tightened slightly, possessive yet gentle. "Whatever we decide," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion, "I'll take care of you. Be someone you deserve."

Your lips met his in a heated rush, all the tension of the past weeks flowing into that single moment of connection. His response was measured, controlled - so different from his usual domineering nature. His hands remained gentle on your waist, letting you set the pace, letting you take what you wanted from him.

The kiss deepened, and you could taste the metallic hint of blood from his split lip, feel the slight wince when you pressed too hard against his bruises. But he didn't pull away. Instead, he let you explore, let you take control for the first time since this strange dance between you began.

When you finally broke apart, his eyes were dark with desire, but there was something else there too - a vulnerability you'd never seen before. His thumb traced your lower lip, his touch feather-light. "Are you sure?" he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I need you to be sure."

You met his gaze steadily, a slight nod answering his question. Without hesitation, you reached for him, fingers trailing along his jaw. "I'm sure," you whispered, the words carrying the weight of everything unspoken between you.

In one fluid motion, he lifted you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as if you were something precious. Your breath caught at the tenderness in his touch - so different from the violence you'd witnessed in him before. He carried you to his bed, the silk sheets cool against your skin as he laid you down with utmost care.

Minho's eyes never left yours as he slowly began to undress you, each movement deliberate and reverent. The silk pajamas whispered against your skin as he slid them away, leaving you exposed to his hungry gaze. But instead of the rushed passion you expected, he took his time, starting at your ankles with feather-light kisses that made you shiver.

He worked his way up your legs with agonizing slowness, mapping every inch of your skin with his lips and tongue. His hands followed the path of his mouth, leaving trails of fire in their wake. When he reached the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, your breath hitched, fingers clutching at the sheets beneath you.

"Beautiful," he murmured against your skin, his warm breath making you tremble. His touch was worship, each kiss a prayer, each caress an offering. He took his time exploring every curve, every hollow, treating your body like a temple he'd been waiting his whole life to pray at.

Your thighs quivered beneath his touch as his strong, calloused hands slowly spread them apart, his fingertips leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. His heated gaze darkened with raw desire as he took in the sight of your arousal, his tongue darting out to wet his lips in anticipation. A deep, possessive growl rumbled in his chest, the primal sound sending shivers down your spine. He leaned forward with deliberate slowness, his warm breath ghosting across your sensitive skin before pressing reverent, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs, each one moving closer to where you needed him most.

His mouth found your center, tongue tracing delicate patterns that made your back arch off the bed. Each stroke was deliberate, worshipful, drawing desperate sounds from your throat that seemed to fuel his passion. Your fingers tangled in his dark hair as waves of pleasure coursed through you.

Minho groaned against you, the vibrations adding to the overwhelming sensations. "Your sounds," he murmured between kisses, "are the sweetest music I've ever heard." His grip on your thighs tightened as your body writhed beneath his devoted attention.

His talented tongue circled your sensitive bud with increasing pressure, alternating between broad strokes and precise flicks that made your thighs tremble. When his lips wrapped around your clit and began to suck gently, stars exploded behind your eyes. Your back arched off the bed as waves of pleasure coursed through your body, his name falling from your lips in desperate gasps.

He worked you through your orgasm with gentle laps of his tongue, only pulling away when your tremors subsided. Rising to his feet, Minho's hands moved to his belt, unfastening it with deliberate slowness. Your eyes followed his movements hungrily as he stripped off his remaining clothes, his impressive length springing free.

In the dim light, you could see the map of scars across his muscled form - some old and faded, others still pink and new. Each mark told a story of survival, of strength. They were as much a part of him as his intense dark eyes and gentle hands. The juxtaposition of his dangerous past and his tender touch only made him more magnetic, more irresistible.

You rose to your knees on the bed, reaching for him with gentle hands. "Let me," you whispered, and something flickered in his dark eyes - surprise, vulnerability, desire all mixed into one. When you guided him to lie back against the pillows, he complied without resistance, his muscled body relaxing under your touch.

Moving between his powerful thighs, you took your time exploring him, trailing soft kisses down his chest and abdomen. Your lips traced the edges of his scars with reverent tenderness, showing love to every mark that life had left on him. His breathing grew heavier with each touch, his hands fisting in the sheets beside him.

When you finally reached his impressive length, you began with feather-light kisses along the shaft, delighting in the way it twitched beneath your lips. Your tongue darted out to taste him, tracing delicate patterns from base to tip. A low groan escaped his throat, his hips lifting slightly off the bed, seeking more of your touch.

"Y/n," he breathed, one hand coming to tangle gently in your hair. The tension in his body told you he was fighting to maintain control, to let you set the pace. You rewarded his patience by taking him into your mouth, inch by inch, your tongue swirling around his sensitive head.

His sharp intake of breath spurred you on. You worked him slowly, reverently, alternating between gentle suction and long, languid licks. His fingers tightened in your hair, not controlling, just connecting, grounding himself in your touch as pleasure coursed through him.

With practiced skill, you took him deeper, hollowing your cheeks as you increased the suction. His length pulsed against your tongue as you worked him with passionate dedication. Each bob of your head drew increasingly desperate sounds from his throat, his chest heaving with ragged breaths.

When you felt him begin to tremble beneath you, you released him with a final, lingering lick. His eyes were dark with need as you crawled up his body, your skin sliding against his. Positioning yourself above him, you slowly sank down onto his length, gasping at the delicious stretch as he filled you completely.

His hands found your hips, steadying you as you adjusted to his size. The look of pure adoration in his eyes made your heart flutter, even as the pleasure of being so intimately connected threatened to overwhelm you.

You began to move, rolling your hips in a slow, sensual rhythm that had both of you gasping. His hands tightened on your waist, guiding your movements as you found a perfect tempo together. The moonlight streaming through the windows painted silver patterns across your joined bodies, turning this moment of passion into something almost ethereal.

Minho sat up suddenly, pulling you tight against his chest as he continued thrusting up into you. His lips found your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses as one hand slid up your back to tangle in your hair. The new angle sent sparks of pleasure through your body, drawing a desperate moan from your throat as he hit that perfect spot deep inside you.

Your nails dug into his shoulders as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak, your bodies moving together in perfect synchronization. His lips captured yours in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as his thrusts became more urgent, more desperate. The coil of tension in your core wound tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.

You could feel him getting close - his controlled rhythm faltering as passion overtook technique. His movements grew increasingly desperate, hips snapping up with primal urgency as his kisses became messier, more demanding. His fingers dug into your flesh hard enough to leave marks, anchoring you against him as you rolled your hips to meet each powerful thrust. When your name fell from his lips, it was reverent yet raw - "Y/n... oh god..." - the words muffled against your throat between ragged breaths.

This transcended mere physical pleasure. Each touch, each kiss felt like an act of worship, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony. Your heart swelled with an emotion far deeper than desire, threatening to burst from your chest. In that moment of perfect connection, you surrendered completely to the feeling, knowing with absolute certainty that you were irrevocably his.

His thrusts grew erratic, hitting deeper and harder as you both chased your release. When it finally crashed over you, it was overwhelming - waves of pleasure coursing through every nerve ending as your walls clenched around him rhythmically. Your breathless cries of ecstasy mingled with his deep, guttural groans. His hips stuttered as he followed you over the edge, his release hot and pulsing deep inside you as your bodies trembled together.

Completely spent, you collapsed onto his heaving chest, both of you slick with sweat and struggling to catch your breath. His heart thundered against your ear as his hands traced lazy patterns along your spine. Despite your shared state of dishevelment, he held you close, refusing to let go.

Minho's lips found your skin again, pressing tender kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck. Each touch was filled with affection, marking you as his in the gentlest way possible. Wrapped in his strong arms, surrounded by his warmth, you drifted off to sleep listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing and the gradual slowing of his heartbeat beneath your cheek.

---

The next morning you were woken up by early morning light drifting in from the large windows. Your body was a bit sore as you rolled over onto your back, stretching your muscles slowly. As you moved the blankets rustled next to you revealing a very cute and puffy looking Minho. He was still a sleep and you couldn’t help but stare. His hair a mess, his lips pouty and pink.

You couldn't suppress a soft giggle at the sight before you - this dangerous, powerful man now looking utterly defenseless in his sleep. His usual sharp features had softened, making him appear almost boyish. The contrast between his daytime intensity and this vulnerable state made your heart flutter. With gentle fingers, you traced the strong line of his jaw, feeling the slight stubble beneath your fingertips. Your touch wandered up to follow the elegant slope of his nose, admiring how his long eyelashes cast delicate shadows on his cheeks in the morning light. He was devastatingly handsome - the kind of beauty that made your breath catch every time you looked at him. When your fingertips ghosted across his full bottom lip, you felt him beginning to stir beneath your touch.

"Having fun?" Minho's voice was thick with sleep, a deep rumble that sent shivers down your spine. Though his eyes remained closed, a knowing smirk played at the corners of his mouth. His morning voice was deliciously husky, each word dripping like honey. Your pulse quickened as those dark eyes slowly fluttered open, still heavy-lidded but instantly focused on you with an intensity that made your breath catch.

Before you could stammer out a response, his strong arms snaked around your waist. In one fluid motion, he pulled your naked body flush against his, eliminating any space between you. The heat radiating from his skin was intoxicating - he was like your own personal furnace, radiating warmth and comfort. His firm chest pressed against yours as you eagerly molded yourself to him, your legs tangling with his beneath the sheets. You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent as his fingers traced lazy patterns along your spine.

You both lay there in silence for a while, basking in the peaceful morning stillness. The gentle rise and fall of his chest against yours and the soft caress of his fingers along your spine created a bubble of serenity that you wished could last forever. But the weight of reality couldn't be held at bay indefinitely.

Minho's voice, when he finally broke the silence, carried a gravity that made your heart clench. "You know, my father won't stop," he said, his jaw tightening visibly. "He sees you as something I’ve taken from him - a possession, a bargaining chip. He'll never understand that you're not his to claim." His words hung heavy between you, laden with unspoken fears and promises.

You sat up slowly to look at him properly, the silk sheets sliding away from your body. Though the morning air was cool against your exposed skin, you barely noticed it. Minho's eyes remained fixed on your face, his dark gaze intense with a mixture of concern and fierce protectiveness. The vulnerability in his expression made your chest ache.

"Minho," you whispered, reaching out to trace the worried crease between his brows. "I'm with you. Whatever we need to do... whatever battles we have to fight, whatever sacrifices we have to make - I'll do it all as long as I'm with you. Your father, the organization, none of it matters compared to this - to us."

The impact of your words hit him like a physical force. You watched as his carefully maintained walls crumbled, leaving him completely bare before you - no longer the feared enforcer or the dutiful son, but simply a man in love. His hands trembled slightly as they came up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing softly across your cheekbones. The tenderness in his touch contrasted sharply with the intensity burning in his eyes.

He pulled you close, capturing your lips in a kiss that spoke volumes. It was desperate and gentle all at once, filled with gratitude, fear, hope, and above all, love. When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes bore into your soul with newfound determination. "Then we leave," he breathed against your lips, his voice rough with emotion. "We'll disappear, start fresh somewhere they can't reach us. Make a life for ourselves far away from all of this - just you and me."

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[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.

[patrickztump]

So this sucked. This was pretty miserable, I– having to bang around on this thing for, like, so many takes. And like– Just have hot girls grabbing you. Uh, yeah, well that, yeah...

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

You mentioned how actually endearing and compelling Justine/Verity and John/Shaun's bond is, and BOY I so agree with you. I don't see people talk about them often sadly, but I genuinely think it's one of the strongest parts of the game and its narrative (in particular John's character development itself, despite that he appeared pretty late in the story, his involvement in the final sequence was really tasty. "If I kill someone for revenge I'll end hurting people dear to me, so it all will be pointless" hmmm if there isn't a certain samurai guy in another game who needed to learn this as well... but I digress)

Prosecutor's Gambit's parent/child theme is a pretty heavy handed topic, but it's not like there aren't some really amazing parts in this whole deal! I kinda don't even care about the mastermind as much as I care about John (and Kate Hall for this matter)

THEY ARE SO IMPORTANT TO ME!!!!!! I think much of their appeal comes from Justine's shift in personality after her connection to John is revealed (like her joking about smashing Edgeworth's evidence with her gavel), but also every interaction of theirs is so sweet and lovely.

I love how protective they both are of each other, and it makes all the more sense when you take into consideration that Justine wasn't much older than a child herself when she decided to adopt him. I love how they take care to show that, yes, to an extent, they both do look after each other, but Justine is still very much his mother, and she does her job well. The scenes where she's strict with him are so deeply important to me. You know she studied parenting books and did everything she could to prepare herself for this life. And yeah, John is such a great kid!! Genuinely one of the best parent-child relationships in the series to me.

I found it kind of funny how every other relationship in AAI2 involved a dad HAHA It was so much, but I get it. They really wanted to make sure you got what they were going for, and hey, most people seem to like it. I really liked Gregory's segments, which was a welcomed surprise. I didn't expect to love him as much as I did. And, yeah, the mastermind stuff did not work for me. It's probably because I didn't trust Simeon from the moment I met him (their heavy handedness worked against them in his case for me. They were pushing the idea of him being meek and unassuming too hard; I clocked it immediately as a red herring); but even the overall reveal and final confrontation were, like... eh. okay, then. HAHA The best parts of the game for me were those character interactions with the side character. Wasn't really paying attention to whatever was going on with Simeon and the president, but John, Justine, Sebastian, Katherine, Gregory, and Raymond? My actual world.

Also taking this opportunity to share all the screenshots I took of John and Justine <3 :

[ramshitposts]

The flaws with your logic to dating someone being "become friends with them first" is that a) you make it further than you thought and the guy you've been stealing glances at for months is now just this guy you have Conversations with Everyday (insane transition to comprehend) and that b) now you have a friendship to ruin forever if you ask him out and he says no. So that's nice.

[collegeboysam]

Your Lucemond story is the only one I still read ❤️ you are so talented!

Owwwwww 💗💗💗😭😭😭 arrow to my heart type of ask, thank you so so soooo much for reading my fic and sending me such sweet words!! it really gives me a boost to continue doing corrections over the next chapter. Thank you for sticking by my story and giving it a chance, it means a lot! Is there anything particular in the story you are looking forward to? I'm always open to add scenes! :)

I joined the lucemond brainrot quite late but it's been soooooo much fun. (Sorry the update has taken me longer than expected, covid fucked me up for weeks)

Also, as I'm super flattered you picked my fic out of the sea of incredible and amazing lucemond stories out there, i also gotta tell you i still keep finding gems and really good fics I have never read before and absolutely love now. I respect your choice if you dont feel like reading any other stories but also really good fics keep on being posted every week, if you ever want to give them a chance 💗

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

"Squeak, Rattle, and Roll" is clearly one of the highlights of S8.

At the same time I think the Fat Controller should be concerned that two of his, so help me, "Steam Team" were absolutely 100% convinced that he was about to send them to the scrapyard. Within the same season.

While he's at it, he appears to have a third engine who can't seem to break 5 mph, plus the coaches are getting the hell bashed out of them on a regular basis.

So, like. Topham. Get it together. Your railway is kinda in shambles, man.

[blueish-bird]

Chainsaw Man 142 making me go bonkers I had to run around the house to calm down

[transsweet]

what an enjoyable and heartwarming musical nerds chapter with only really one scene that made me sad ! i sure hope the ending isn't completely soul crushing and leaves me dying on the side of the road !