#i want to post more about them in general tbh like I really should bc I put a lot of effort into them

[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?

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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.

[fierce-stream1]

I really wanna post art of my Downtown sims but for some reason it feels so embarrassing 😭

[saturninemartial]

Hi I'm back again with more mushy future zosan business. This is post-zosan marriage, about a decade in the future; Loof is the pirate king, but the gang has stayed together to make sure everyone achieves their dreams (and also bc they're family).

They're sailing past a smallish island with no plans to stop, until they see worryingly big plumes of smoke, too big for bonfires or cooking fires, so they divert course for a possible rescue. When they land, they find a village that's just been decimated by some outside force. It's a somber moment as they're surrounded by bodies and crumbled buildings, as whatever invaders laid waste to this mostly-defenseless society.

The gang searches for clues as to who could have done this, any weapons left behind, really anything distinct that Robin could research and help them exact revenge for these helpless people. While digging around, Usopp finds something—or someone: a baby, hidden away for safety, not far from her deceased mother, who was obviously hoping for someone to find the infant. It makes everyone even more angry and sorrowful, wanting revenge for this baby.

They take the baby onboard and let Chopper check her over for injury and general health. Zosan both immediately take to the baby (several nakama point out that they both have a protective/nurturing instinct), and it's pretty much left up to them to figure out what to do with the baby. And, um, here's a little scene about it from the fic I'm gonna write:

(Spoiler alert: they end up keeping the baby as their own.)

In this scene, they then have a conversation about what to name her; and Sanji immediately tosses out naming her after a dead family member (so no Kuina, Sora, or even Tera) bc according to him, that's a lot of weight and expectation put on a child, and she should be able to live free of expectations and do as she pleases. They end up naming her something that Zoro liked from his childhood/from Wano (so basically a Japanese name). The next morning, at breakfast, Sanji announces their decision to keep the baby with, "Introducing the newest member of the Straw Hat Pirates: Roronoa Firstname!" And everyone cheers bc tbh they've all been loving on this baby and love being aunts and uncles (and also still have revenge in their hearts).

The crew has a little "break" planned soon at Syrup, so Usopp can spend some time with the wife, and everyone gets some time to chill: and Dr. Kaya is overjoyed to see the baby and buys all kinds of supplies and clothes and books to help.

(The Straw Hats do end up figuring out the perpetrators of the attack, and exact revenge on them for their youngest member.)

(I don't have much figured out about this baby/child OC except that she has peach-colored hair. I also like Spanish-speaking Sanji bc of Taz and his accent, so Sanji calls her duraznita or duraznaja—little peach—bc of her hair. 🥰)

[featureenvyproductions]

here’s a bird’s eye view of my comic Eyan Eternal

For people who don't know what it is. Bc I think some of you might find it's right up your alley. Well this is an updated one anyway. I do actually have a volume of this out in print right now, but the low def, basic version is online and complete, and tbh, I just want people to read it. I took almost two years to complete this and quite literally poured every waking moment (after work and when I wasn’t fixing stuff in my house) into this to try and finish it.

Ahem

Here is one of these at a glance things! 

If that’s enough to intrigue you, take a look at my chapter masterpost which has convenient links to every chapter post so you don’t have to go figuring out where they are and what order they go in!: https://www.tumblr.com/featureenvyproductions/717516139934154752/eyan-eternal-tumblr-chapter-masterpost?source=share

If you like it and want to support me you can also buy a copy of the first print volume, which collects chapters 1-5 and has a smidge of bonus content (only available in the US right now, but that’s not going to be forever, and I’m working on an e-book as well): https://www.etsy.com/FeatureEnvy/listing/1447399615/eyan-eternal?utm_source=Copy&utm_medium=ListingManager&utm_campaign=Share&utm_term=so.lmsm&share_time=1683565699335

And now here is a more detailed break down if you need more info than that...

*Jonathan Frakes asks you things meme voice* have you ever wondered what you’d find if you REALLY lived forever?

Well, meet Eyan, an immortal vampire.

He’s slowly finding out the answer to that question...

...And it appears to be unbearable isolation.

Eons into the distant future, when most stars have faded in the night sky and the cosmic event horizon has confined any remaining beings to an isolated pocket of the universe, Eyan roams interstellar space in a repurposed generation ship in search of anything that could be considered alive/sentient in the way he is.

So far, he’s out of luck.

That is until he runs into an unexpected former rival on a remote planet - Zero, a sentient android he never expected to be the only other person left alive.

Well. That is, if either of them can really be considered “alive”. What does that mean anyway, when the humans who defined what it means to be alive are all gone?

This is something they’ll have to explore and define for themselves as they attempt to set aside their myriad of differences and try to work together on one of the few ways left to escape the dark fate of ultimate isolation - The Grand Encoder, a machine that can upload minds to a special medium - if it even works for them anyway. In the process, they slowly come to accept that maybe they’d had each other all wrong and weren’t seeing the bigger picture.

You may not find any action-packed Star Wars like escapades here in this sci fi drama. You also won’t find ponderings about the origins of vampires or what gave rise to robot sentience - It’s integral to the plot that these things just ARE. But you will find a thoughtful exploration of identity and how it can cause us to define ourselves and relate to (or abandon) each other depending on the framework within which we are doing that exploration and within which we are compelled to exist. It asks the question, what if the frameworks within which we defined our existence and purpose no LONGER existed...Where would we go from there?

And as two immortal guys who are the only folks left in the universe (as far as they know), Eyan and Zero are just the right people to mull over that.

There is both textual and allegorical queerness in this story - both main characters should be considered gay men, even if it’s The Future TM and terms/exact scopes of identities may not be EXACTLY 1-1 with today’s...But I want to be perfectly clear that it was my intent to make them gay because I wanted to see more gay guys in sci fi and I don’t want anyone erasing that. As for the allegorical stuff - I myself am a trans gay man in my late 30s, so this act of re-exploring and re-framing myself and evaluating how and why queer folks interact with each other the way we do is something I’m very familiar with, and I feel like other folks might relate. (I also peppered in some neurodivergent-person-in-a-neurotypical-world moods tbh.)

Of course it’s not all serious. I do have a bit of fun with some old school vampire tropes, tossing Eyan around and putting him in Situations.

Anyway if this all sounds interesting to you, take a look at my tag and site (above)! I’d appreciate it! I also like to hear from people and see if there’s anything about it you related to! :)

I also do everything. Every last monotonous step (well, aside from literally loading up a printing press to churn out volumes lol - BUT REST ASSURED IF I HAD $10K TO PISS INTO THE WIND I WOULD DO THAT TOO). So if there’s ANYTHING you want to know about my process, I’m happy to tell you so please ask, especially if you’re like trying to get started on your own comic or trying to go to print :) 

Edit before I go ahead and blaze this: I want to say, to be honest, the creation of comic was initially motivated almost entirely by the isolation/loneliness I’ve felt in my life. It’s not as bad as some folks’ and I know that, but it is a really prevalent thread throughout my life and sometimes is almost unbearable, and my comic began as an exploration of that loneliness, as well as a narrative exercise to try and express the depth of it at its worst point. I’m putting this out here because ultimately I don’t know...maybe someone will catch my drift and understand the feeling I’m trying to illustrate, and maybe they’ll want to see the plot that came of those feelings. I am not above the need to feel seen lol, especially if other people out there feel like they can resonate with this experience as well.

[irrealisms]

btw I know I’ve been repeatedly (& pointedly) reblogging void’s post abt ppl hating kab today so. um. here’s some actual take. I know i said i would listen to bacon and complain less but im gonna try to keep this constructive.

it’s not about any individual person who doesn’t like kab or her style of lore. an individual not liking a character or storytelling style is normal and fine and demanding that someone SHOULD like this character and swallow down their emotional reactions or dislike bc shes a WOMAN is also very uncomfortable to me tbh! kab is not in fact one of my favorite characters by any means. in an ideal world life steal would have more women and i’d post about them more but like … there aren’t in fact many women in life.steal & not every character is for everyone & no one is obligated to like a character solely bc she’s a woman, yk? it’s not misogynist to dislike or even complain about female characters (although if you Never like female characters and find a reason to dislike all of them you, uh, should maybe be considering that!)

what makes me uncomfortable is the Pattern. and the Pattern is that women get hit harder & more universally by fandom criticism and hate than men do, without the corresponding positivity and appreciation their male counterparts get. what makes me uncomfortable is when ppl are getting intense abt how much she sucks in the twitch chats of ppl who, ultimately, are her friends ooc. this is all uncomfortable bc it is familiar, i have seen this pattern play out across different fandoms and different characters. it’s not just “this specific person doesn’t like this specific character”. it’s “fandom in general disproportionately dislikes female characters & has a tendency to harass the irl women playing those characters”. esp in spaces as sexist and male-dominated as mc.yt, that makes people justifiably sensitive.

I don’t really have a solution to this; like i said, I’m not interested in forcing people who don’t like a character to like her. (Especially since that doesn’t actually, you know, work.) But… I dunno, be a little nicer, especially places CCs can see (twitch chats especially; also twitter; to a lesser extent tumblr, esp if you’re maintagging or know they follow you)? Tag your neg/crit on tumblr so that ppl who don’t want to see it can just filter it out? (Honestly, this would go a long way for me—part of why I’m so bothered is just how inescapable the negativity is rn!) Think of how you’d feel if people regularly responded this way to lore you really like of your male fave, think about how you’d want them to handle their dislike or frustration, and then just … try to be considerate and fair.

[utilitycaster]

Well now im curious, what are your top 10 etiquette violations

I'm not actually sure there are 10 tbh in that these are relatively broad - you could split them up more finely if you wanted but they cover a wide range of behavior. Also this is...a bit stream of consciousness. I do stand by 1 as the absolute Golden Rule of D&D in that it's really just so Me Me Me (more so than main character syndrome) that it's inexcusable, but like...rules 2- 6 are kind of all in the same nebulous position in my mind as are rules 7-10. 2-6 are "really bad, have a talk and be prepared to kick this person out if they don't shape up and honestly I would probably not want to hang out with them irl much if they don't shape up" and 7-10 are "maybe don't invite them to game nights but they could be okay otherwise."

Deliberately going against the general vibe of the table. This is the broadest but also obviously worst trait. If everyone else is here to play a serious playthrough of Curse of Strahd and they're all vampire hunters and whatnot and you're playing a clown in a hawaiian shirt named Jeff you are not funny; you are an asshole. I think that person who made the post of like "I'm playing D&D with my dad's friends and they're all fighters with tragic backstory and I'm a neon firbolg who resurrects our enemies and runs therapy sessions" should be beaten with hammers. Like, be unique, but if everyone else is going for a lighthearted vibe it's not time to bust out your darkest PC and vice versa. (This also goes deeper, like, if your table has decided PC death in-game is okay, you can request a change, but if you've never spoken up about this and then your character dies and you pitch a fit, that's on you.)

"Um actually my rich family solves this" and similar circumventing of obstacles in a way that cuts off all story avenues. It's fine to offer your services to help - sometimes the party will want it! But the worst player I've played with (who still did not violate Item 1) did this and short-circuited like 75% of the plot by being like "well my wealthy merchant family can probably smooth this over" and I wanted to, well, beat them with hammers. Brian Murphy of Naddpod calls this "showing up and trying not to play D&D" and he's right.

Closely related to/overlapping with item 2 but Main Character Syndrome. If you're a wizard and there's a nonurgent trial of strength? that is for the barbarian. If they ask for help, go for it, but don't just do everything. Share the table. Self-explanatory but man do some people not get it. I'm also grouping this with "my character wouldn't help" behaviors. Like to be clear, forgoing your turn as a roleplay thing is fine, but another Naddpod D&D Court regular topic is like "the player for whatever reason would not join combat bc their character wouldn't, and we nearly had a tpk because the encounter assumed our fucking cleric would be there".

Actually violating player agency. Closely relating to 2-3. Conflict is great and good. I think it's fine to lie, cheat, and steal from your party members if your table agrees on that. There are spells or abilities that lead to possession which is also valid if your table has talked through that. But you do not get to otherwise like, force another player character to do your bidding (unless your table has, again, decided this is okay). You cannot persuasion check other PCs into going against their desires unless that's a very specific conversation you've had out of character as a table. Even in game, like, the DC on persuasion checks can be arbitrarily high - even impossible - if someone would simply never do it.

Noncombat/non-violent D&D. There are other TTRPGs that are not heavily based on war games with character classes that aren't like 90% battle abilities and you should check those out. Anyone who plays noncombat/nonviolent D&D and is proud of it is dumb as the bag of hammers I'm beating the people of items 1 and 2 for and I don't respect them. I guess this isn't so much an etiquette violation in that if your entire table wants this you can all be terrible together, but it is kind of a dick move, especially since I both love D&D and find the anti-D&D crowd to largely be the most sour grapes-ass losers of all time, but also believe passionately that there are many things D&D does not achieve well because it is in fact a specific game with specific objectives. You should, if you want to play a game that is all social encounters and skill checks and no fighting, play the many indie games that would love your patronage and suit you admirably, not the most neutered, milquetoast, unsalted margarine version of D&D. I genuinely believe that people playing murderhobos or hardcore metagamers are VASTLY preferable.

Not making a good faith effort to know the rules. You do not have to be good at D&D. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting for not knowing every rule of D&D. You only have to let the soft animal of your body have at least read the rules of your character's class, subclass, and race, and show up prepared, instead of being like "tee hee I listened to 5 episodes of TAZ Balance and am going to twirl my hair at the DM and hope they help little old me." The DM is BUSY and has SHIT TO DO. Read the fucking manual. It's okay to be wrong! It's not okay to be clueless on purpose.

Rules for Thee and Not For Me. Mostly a DM thing, and to be clear, the DM does have special rules bc they are the special one and this is obviously not about that. There are also rules that apply to NPCs/stat blocks and not PCs, and those are inherent to the balance of the game and are fine because NPCs have different abilities. But if, for example, you are requiring an athletics check of PCs to climb up on a ledge and don't permit acrobatics, your rogue NPC villain can't do acrobatics either unless they have some specific pre-written ability.

Metagaming pt 1: excessive metagaming: Part 2 will reveal the "excessive" but like. If you know trolls regenerate because you've been playing D&D for years but you are a level 4 INT 8 sorcerer in-game? you do not know trolls regenerate.

Metagaming pt 2: refusal to engage with the fact that this is a game: Sometimes you get the reverse, when people are like "well my character wouldn't realize that this magic item was important to your character" despite the other person RP-ing everything or "would I notice you were knocked out directly in front of me? It's a pitched battle!" Like. don't cheat but come on bro. This is, ultimately, a game. I will once again bring up Naddpod both because D&D Court exists AND they will do rule of funny shit (as Murph once pointed out, if you want to say you go to Ruby Tuesday's as a joke, great, if you try to use it mechanically, no, which is a healthy attitude towards immersion) AND Murph understands the concept of kayfabe.

Really extensive indecision that doesn't involve the whole party. This is mostly me but like. it's not fun, and I am impatient. If you're not an actual play livestream, you should take a break and in fact talk out of game and resume because god this drags. If everyone's on board obviously go for it but if it's one person's choice...babe the spotlight is on you, sing your solo or leave.

Basically: remember you are at a table with other people and you are telling a collaborative story in a system that is combat-heavy. I'm not bothered by (for example) someone stealing another character's item so long as they understand that this may lead to consequences for them! If you can dish it out but you're prepared to take it and your table trusts each other? Great! The problem is when people try to win against the other players, ask for special treatment they do not grant others, waste everyone's time unnecessarily, or skip to the end of the story; that's against the fundamental nature of the game. It's inconsiderate AND it misses the point.

[gold-rhine]

For the ask game :tell me why you love nuevi or kaeya! Feel free to talk A Lot I like your long posts

i also love reading my long posts, i wish i wrote them more asdfghjk its hard for me to just talk unspecifically about character without like pointed theme bc to me it feels like everything is obvious and everyone understands same things, why am i spelling it out.

anyway, KAEYA. my prettiest cursed princess. noble daughter of the fallen aristocratic family with generational curse coded. jon snow AND daenerys targaryen vibes at the same time. why noble daughter? bc instead of how heirs of nobles are kept close and taught to rule, his family treats him like pawn, like currency, his fate determined at his birth with no agency, sent away to another family he has to fit in. he's not a bastard, but he is half blood, and he cannot return. he's brother to diluc, but not equal, no matter how much they get along, like jon to robb stark. dawn winery is not his home, he's only welcomed conditionally, when diluc allows it. told to be "last hope", but what he's last hope of is a rotting cursed shambles of hubris. but even with how badly he was treated, he's still torn with loyalty to them, with duty, he still tried to ran away to khaenriah as a kid, just like dany wants to go to westeros. terrible prophecy hangs over him and he knows it. we don't even know if alberichs were really regents or if clothar is just delusional and sees himself forming abyss order as "regency"! he wants to walk off the stage, but he can't. and even if he could, he won't, not in the end, because against his will he still cares about people left on that stage who do not know what they are in

and he's coping with all of that by not letting people close even though he's lonely bc that curse and prophecies hang over him, bc he learnt from diluc he will not be accepted unconditionally no matter how loyal he is, no matter how good of a friend and brother he is, no matter how much punishments he takes for diluc and how he follows him like a shadow. he tried so hard to be a perfect child in dawn winery, polite and sweet and it didn't matter in the end. and now he's hating himself for secrecy and underhanded ways he was forced into as a child and deeming himself bad, finding ways to blame himself even for doing good deeds bc he's such a manipulator, treating relationships as transactions of favors to keep score, to keep in control.

mask worn for long, it grew into him and is impossible to take off now. "and they say my charm is fake" he IS naturally charming, he just had to learn to use it as a weapon. he IS sweet and interested in people, he just had to learn to get profit out of it. the worst thing he could be is himself. sad adult with a fake smile. and at the same time he's proud, he's talented, he's funny and sarcastic, he likes goofy jokes and slipping clever metaphors into silly stories, he likes writing books for people he cares about with advises on how to solve problems and deal with people, and also likes telling stories and can improvise a monologue on a stage. he should have been an actor and a writer, but duty to one father threw him into mond and duty to the other locked him into knights, so now he's just miserable, he's a hedonist, a cynic, he can't have real connections, so he will take pleasure and attention and use it for his greater means, he's coping with substance abuse, but he is so paranoid he will not be caught actually drunk bc that's weakness. he wants to belong so much, but think he's not allowed to. traveler finding him in the shadows after he tries to leave community event HE organized and dragging his reluctant ass by hand is THE theme for them tbh.

[stanlunter]

i have an honest question for you. this is not meant to be a gotcha or accuse you of homophobia, just based on observing your post history of wlw vs wlm ships out of curiosity.

are there any wlw ships in cartoons that you actually do like the portrayal of?

Thanks for a question!

And yes, obviously. Actually, I posted a lot about them, so It's strange if you haven't seen it, but yeah. I understand where your answer is coming from since I do critic some wlw media and made a post about a wlw dynamic I don't like. Tbh, It's a problem for me too, bc I don't get enought of my "wlw ships type" in media and that's basically why Im complaining about it, bc every It's either bad-written or is so cliche that's it even boring. Also the problem is that I do love wlm ships as well and a lot of people say that "wlw is always better than wlm" even tho there are many good and bad examples of both of them and I think It's wrong to say smth is better just bc It's queer, even tho I am wlw myself. The "critic" wasn't towards wlw, but towards the most popular dynamic (sun x moon) that I don't like and the way people ignore others dynamics just for this one is sad to me, since bc of it I don't have enought representation of wlw ships I love, bc all of them either don't become a couple, or break up, or one of them dies (or all of these at the same time) and almost all ships that became canon have that dynamic I dislike. And at the same time it was also a joke bc It's actually true that like 80% of all wlw ships are basically the same, so It's funny to hear from their fans that all wlm ships are the same

"Are there any wlw ships in cartoons that you actually like the portray of?"

Do you mean canon or fanon?

As someone who generally in like 90% of the cases prefers fan ships over canon ones, regardless of if it's wlw, wlm or mlm, I obviously have much more fanon or half-canon favourite wlw ships, including those, where one of the characters is dead, there are some I like:

My favourite wlw ship and spop otp of all time is Scorptra. I absolutely adore everything about it and I really think they should have been stayed in Crimson waste. Some years ago I had a huge fixation on it and tbh, if I've discovered Tumbler to myself at that time, my acc would definitely be full of them and I would call myself "stanscorptra", lol. And the fact that they didn't become canon for the sake of the ship I hate - catradora, makes it even worse to me. (Scorpia x Catra from She-ra and the princess of power)

Yumihisu. That's my favourite ship from aot, Im actually glad It's popular in the fandom. I really love everything about them and the way they ended up is actually heart-breaking. In the finale of s2 I actually wanted to start killing people just bc Ymir decided to help Rainer and Berth instead od staying with Historia. And every time I rewatch it, I feel the same, bc they did have a chance to be happy together at least for some years.

It's basically canon and it was confirmed that they both love each other, but since Ymir died, I'm not sure if it is considered as actually canon since they werent actual dating (Ymir x Historia from Attack on titan)

Nanichiru, or whatever name they have, bc the fandom still hasnt decided it.

That was one of my first anime ships, I even thought It's canon and basically when I saw them together, I thought Nana is canon lesbian, which was so clear to me when I compare her with men and her with Michiru. Idk if they supposed to be "just friends", or wlw-coded, but I do consider them as a half canon anyways, bc, let's be real, if one of them was a guy, everyone would know It's canon. I absolutely love their dynamic and the way their relationship affected Nana and made her doubt her goal and actually understand that some of the people with talents are good people. Michiru changed everything for Nana and was her light in the dark, but ofc, how it always is, they didn't develop relationship and one of them died. (Nana x Michiru form Talentless Nana)

Mitsunoa. I am not obsessed with its depth, bc, ngl, they don't have such deep relationship as others, but I do love their dynamic and all of their interactions. Their homoerotic friendship and all the hints make me giggle and if we consider Mikayuu as "basically canon", than I will consider Mitsunoa as basically canon too (especially after the bath scene), bc these girls deserve the best things and they are the best things for each other. (Mitsuba and Shinoa from Seraph of the end)

Togachako. I still haven't finished the manga, so I'm not sure about what heppend with them in the end, I've only seen some spoilers. But I do love their enemies to lovers dynamic, which, unlike some other ships of this trope, isn't a romantization of abuse, but actual enemies to lovers. I doubt it has chances to actually become canon. But I still love the way their relationship was written. Uraraka is the only one who thinks Toga is cute and a pretty girl, not just a crazy monster. I absolutely love the line when she says Toga that she's the cutest girl in the whole world. I love that Toga says her feelings for Uraraka are real and that she made her happy. Toga sees her as basically a comfort person (??), someone who's love and appreciation she wants to get, someone who can save her from the hateness to herself and the world. I just want Toga to be happy with someone who can see her. Also, have you seen how mangaka draws them together?? He's either their biggest shipper, or a queerbaiter, Idk (Toga x Uraraka from My hero academy)

Also Ruby x Penny from Rwby, Webby x Lena from Duck Tales, Perfuma x Huntara from she-ra, Anne and Sasha from Amphibia, Sunset x Sci-Twi from Equestria girls, Sae-Byeok x Ji-Yeong form Squid game and others

As for canon ships, there are fewer ones, but yeah, I do have favourite wlw ships that are canon:

Menokari. Their relationship is really beautiful, It's actually similar to Nanichiru, but is gayer. I found it thanks to Talentless Nana as well, and Im glad I did. It may be seems too cliche for some people, but I think It's adorable, dramatic and well-writen. Definitely my favourite wlw anime (Menou x Akari from The Executor and her way of living)

Ellieriley. Unfortunately there are not enought scenes with them, but those we have is enought for me to love them. Riley was Ellie's first love and probably her lesbian awaking. I love their dynamic so much and I want to see more of them and I wanted them to live a happy life. I do like Ellie x Dina too, but I love her relationship with Riley much more. Riley's death has broken my heart. But at least I'm glad that they did have a kiss scene before it, that's why I do consider it as canon, unlike Yumihisu, since a lot of people for some reason are still arguing over it (Ellie x Riley from The last of us)

Spinetossa. Even tho this ship is far not the main one, I love it much more than the main canon ones. Netossa cares about her wife so much. They know each other for so long and still love each other so much. They're so cute and so sweet, that I was worrying for their relationship during s5 the most. And It's funny how Chaggie fans use "they're together for a long time" to justify the fact that Vivziepop has written them so poorly and that they look more like just friends, just bc of that, since these two exist and they actually do look like a married couple, not like just friends (Spinerella x Netossa from She-ra)

Harlivy

I ship these two in every universe. Even tho the Harley Quinn show has flaws, I still love their dynamic, yeah, even despite it being "one of those I have brought up in that post", I still ship them and think they're cute. I love that Harley has fully recovered from her relationship with Joker and that Ivy has found her true love, someone she can spend the rest of her life with (Harley x Ivy from Harley Quinn show and DC comics/cartoons)

Korrasami

I never was one of those people who say Korrasami was rushed. Yeah, the creators couldnt fully show them in the show, but they did in the comics and I haven't seen anyone who has read them and said they're bad-written. The comics show them so well, It's amazing, healthy and one of the best wlw representations I've seen! (Korra x Asami from The legend of Korra)

Obviously, that's not all of them, but those I love the most. Some of other canon wlw couples I love are: Bubblegum x Marcelin from Adventure time, Apple x Darling from Every after high, Haruka x Michiru from Sailor moon, Utena x Anthy from Revolutionary girl Utena, Kirari x Sayaka from Kakegurui, Ruby x Sapphire form Steven Universe, Vi x Caitlyn from Arcane, Sara x Nyssa from Arrow and Jennifer x Needy form Jennifer's body (I know the last two are not animated, but I still wanna include them)

So, yeah, there are a lot of wlw canon and popular ships I dislike or critic, which isn't because I hate wlw, but bc I love it and want it to be written better and be more various, than just "sun x moon", since there are a lot of so different wlm and mlm dynamics, while for wlw It's almost always either the same, or is just problematic, like Catradora. Tbh, as far as I remember, the only wlw ships I wrote bad things about were Lumity and Catradora, besides that post, so I don't know why exactly you thought it means I dislike all or most of the wlw ships, but I don't anyways

[iinryer]

long post abt women and fandom. good morning

sorry this is a little bit ramble-y, and I don’t normally post stuff like this but bear with me, i am processing gjfhdhffh

first of all: this is NOT directed at anyone in particular. this is not about anyone or anything anyone has done. this is me, a lesbian, having some dialogue with myself about representation and the way people think and talk and engage with fictional lesbians! this is not a blast on anyone, just general mindfulness, and wanting to work through some of my own hesitation abt things.

im having a difficult time engaging w the grander audience turning the boys into dykes, because i can never be sure where they’re coming from, yknow? like why i was hesitant to post before (it took me over a year to post my butch buddie silhouettes) and why im not sure if i want to post some other for-fun doodling ive done…

bc there Are lesbians on the show. there are specifically Black Lesbians, canonically, on the show

and like. idk. i dont want the things i say or post to be fuel for anyone being weird yknow? My Fake Lesbians Are Not Better Than The Real Lesbians Already On The Show

and i know that, and i know my friends know that but. I don’t have control over how people take the things I make. and i don’t want that to inadvertently make someone get enthusiastic in the wrong way that makes like, for example, black fans of the show, or specifically maybe black lesbians who watch, see an influx in people being 10x more delighted by these white boy reduxes than the real actual lesbians on the show. and yeah, sure, we could say “it’s just because they’re like a shiny new toy!” but we all know that isn’t all of it.

LIKE. MAYBE THIS IS IRRATIONAL. but. idk i have a sizable audience, i get a lot of traction, the things i say and post travel sometimes! people see what i post. people engage with and build off of things that i post. and, historically, this fanbase is Really Fucking Weird About Women And People Of Color

for the most part, playing in this sandbox is just a fun exercise for me, a lesbian. don’t get me wrong, i LOVE blasting characters with my Dyke Laser Beam and making them into women who love women. I’ll do it all day every day. i had soooooo much fun drawing butch buddie. i live for that shit. but! idk! im happy kicking around my own funhouse, but i feel like i need to take all of that into account if i make any of that public. yknow? community responsibility or whatever. i know it’s not on me if someone takes it in a bad direction, but! if i was the one who inadvertently facilitated that! i will feel awful! and tbh, there’s no guarantee that I haven’t done that already!

im just having fun, and you should be too! but this stuff makes me nervous! i don’t have any control over other people, and i just don’t want to be the cause of easily avoidable discomfort for others.

this isn’t some great declaration, and I don’t really have a moral or a call to action, there’s not a real solution in this stream of consciousness post—in the grand scheme of things, this is all make believe and for fun! im just. idk. it feels really important to me to acknowledge that this could spiral in a way that’s actually kind of awful for Real Life Fans who have to see the way other fans engage with and talk about lesbians and black women.

this is something I’ve been thinking about for a while, and it’s been on my mind recently, but with the influx of chatter about it i just felt like it was maybe worth talking about.

anyway. i love u lesbians. im drawing more henren soon <3

[the-lonelyshepherd]

What made you ship lottienat? :)

TYSM FOR THE ASK‼️‼️ i love asks (this is a hint)

oooh silly question okay

-honestly i was never really into shipping in the first place like i don’t go into a show being like hm. who should kiss.

-nat and lottie as individuals were my faves (along with shauna) through season 1. nat as a main i was more invested in at first but i really loved lottie in saints and all the lottielee shit plus her little comments and fun animal facts. and her weird girl swag. and nats whole demeanor in general she’s just SO INTERESTING. so i really liked the characters before the ship (which is why the mischarectarization pisses me off so bad, sorry not sorry)

-i never really saw them as a pair at first (i even kinda missed the doomcoming knife scene bc i was like what the FUCK is going on just in general. doomcoming was.. something) season two CHANGED IT

-i watched both seasons in rapid succession  for my first time through so i feel like i had a diff experience. s2 solidified lottie as my fave of all time, and i liked how they turned around from the edge they were approaching w demonizing her (schizophrenia). we got a lot more time w her character + time w adult lottie (im still figuring out adult lottie tbh. how does she work)

-i feel like their position as narrative foils was a lot more prevalent in s2 as we got more time w lottie as well as nat. you have the travlottienat scene in edible complex. which just GUH. i wrote smtn on that too. but like just in general a lot of emphasis on the physical vs the spiritual. hope vs the realist. 

-but above all what shines through is the SIMILARITIES in their characters. they’re different in so many ways but it just makes the ways they’re similar shine through so much?? they’re both general loners that have always been a little out of place. they both struggle with mental health. they both have issues with their parents. and above all they are both providers for the team. they don’t want to be leaders but they are almost called to it. lottie wants to be a martyr but they won’t let her. nat has never been one for the spotlight and now shes in charge. lottie cares about the good of the team nat cares about the good of the individuals in the team. something about the bleeding heart and the self made cynic. but they both just CARE SO MUCH!!! the parallels drive me insane

-onto them as actual characters and not their function in the narrative. the scene that SOLD ME was (of course) the bathtub scene. now this scene serves several purposes for sure and it’s a very important scene narratively/thematically as well as for my silly shipping purposes. it definitely hints at some kind of loose friend?ship before crash imo (supporting my party loners theory). lottie, who “only talks shit when someone really deserves it” talking shit playfully. nat, who’s words usually carry some kind of sting turning light. this is after they both (more lottie but ykwim) nearly died because of each other. it shows that there was something there before this “betrayal” of trust, the betrayal of lottie going on this path so different from nats in the wilderness.

-so now after that and the rest of s2 i went into my second watch curious on what i missed and DAMN did the pilot feed me. 

-lottienat dancing in the beginning lottienat hugging after the goal gets scored lottienat leaving together after the “freeze her out” argument LOTTIE GRABBING TAI TO DEFEND NAT AFTER SHE SAYS “"Don't you have a bong to hit or a dick to suck?". lottienat standing together at the party. et cetera. 

post pilot, you have scenes like the one in the middle of the night where lottie’s just staring at the attic. who comforts her? nat. so there was clearly some kind of trust in place. and as we go deeper into the free fall that is saints, flight of the bumblebee, doomcoming, and onward, you can see nats betrayal and animosity in this trust being

broken AND lottie’s confusion because she honestly is just trying to help. just, god.

doomcoming is a whole situation that’s honestly its own post but i wanted to touch on the knife scene because this is one of the first times we see nat actually really fucking scared of lottie. she can’t brush off the fact that there is something actually wrong anymore. and it scares her (and logically so. they did FUCKED UP SHIT. obv it was under the influence, off meds cold turkey. but it doesn’t excuse or erase what they did)

so then you have all the s2 stuff i went over and then the bathtub scene comes as this… return to the past? return to the energy of them from the pilot. it’s a gentle white flag in their horrible fucking world and it’s just so tender and idk. i fucking love bathtub scene. 

i yapped a bunch about other stuff previously and i don’t wanna talk too much about teen timeline (looking back i think i already did but wtv. i went “hm i’ll just go off the top of my head it’ll be fine”) bc im planning on doing a full analysis sometime soon. but wtv. 

adult timeline!!! keeping this one shorter for now bc looking back i typed sm wtf

immediately “you were always its favorite” “there was no it it was just us” “is there a difference”

also “she’s my friend” and then “is that what we are”

also the SCENES WHERE IN THEIR MOST VUNERABLE MOMENTS THEY SAW EACH OTHERS YOUNGER SELVES??? i did NOT come up with that it’s in the show. the flashlight scene and nats death scene (nats death scene def had several meanings but im talking shipping right now). i just think…. idk tho e closest we have to that is shauna hallucinating jackie when she’s an adult. and we all know jackieshauna as basically fucking canon. plus also lottie hallucinating laura lee which again. basically fucking canon. 

anyways basically summarized. i love the way their characters contrast each other and are so different and yet so fundamentally similar. i love their hinted at precrash friendship and the way there’s just this air of.. betrayal? around it later. i love the way they have one of the most tender scenes in all of the dark horrible thing that was season two. i love the interesting way their adult counterparts interact that hints at.. so much more? and i love how above all they care so much but are basically the narrative punching bags. i think they should kiss it would not make things better at all but i would be happy 👍

and honestly idgaf if you don’t like lottienat bc i get it. they’re not for everyone and that’s okay. plus their fanon sucks sm ass ugh. and the most vocal people who ship them are so toxic and weird and annoying :// i just think they’re silly and i like to microwave them in my head. peace and love

[xx-slug-xx]

Hiii so I just saw ur post and ask reply about proshipper antis and ocd and I wanted to give my two cents because idk I'm like self important or something? But I do think I have a good perspective as someone who's never truly affiliated with proship or anti proship (I'm also not a huge poster or anything so.)

I've been diagnosed with OCD for most of my life and also have been a victim of sexual violence, which is only relevant because when I was younger I had a debilitating obsession with being "found out" as someone who consumed noncon and proship content. I was really disgusted with it while simultaneously consuming and writing it myself, albeit privately which I thought made it "more okay". It took me a long while to leave this mindset because, as most ocd obsessions are, it was not congruent with reality. I feel the trap that a lot of people fall in to is within the labels of pro or anti, that there must be one or the other. Mainly people will label themselves as anti because it's, to me, an elitism of morality that only serves to detriment their own values. (Ie if you're pro-morals then you should seek to understand and rehabilitate, if you rlly think some kinks are so horrible that anyone who enjoys them needs to change.)

I've found that in the real world, among my friends who are on irl kink communities or who I just candidly discuss these sorts of things with, most don't have starkly pro or anti mindsets. I think it's strange that the very common mindset of "I'm really not into it but it's none of my business" is labeled as proship online. Ive never heard an incredibly anti sentiment be expressed as outwardly as it is online, because it's really just socially inappropriate to judge people's personal thoughts like that irl..? All that being said, I believe that if there wasn't this loud anti proship discourse online, I would have not been so distressed with my private thoughts before I was in recovery, and really the intensity with which these "thought crime" ideals are expressed only serves to make more people label themselves as proship. People generally don't like being judged for intimate things, shocker.

Valid experience and good opinions, anon :D

Tbh, my experience is kinda similar, though not exact. I always felt guilt for anything I enjoyed in fiction and that includes virtually all my kinks since they are mostly all fiction due to me being aspec! I think my guilt stems from religious trauma tbh. It’s a sin to be happy after all! Must be the devils temptation /j! Growing up in fandom, seeing people online saying all these things I enjoyed actually made me a bad person caused me feel like I was dirty. That there was something wrong with me for actually really mundane things. And my OCD fed off of that like a leach. I still to this day can’t let people borrow my phone bc my OCD tells me that people will do or say nasty things to me if they find out. “Find out” meaning that they see the fanart and fanfics that aren’t even on my device that I looked at somewhere in the past (not even recent!). Wasn’t until the last four-ish years where I realized that was dumb lol. It was a long journey of self acceptance that I still struggle with today. It’s hard to get past mental illness, but you can live with it and still be happy! It may never go away, but you can absolutely learn to tell your brain to stop being dumb as fuck!

Like, why would I be kicked out of my house for watching South Park as a child? I wouldn’t have been, but my OCD brain told me shit like that all the time! I’m not bad for having fun! Neither is anyone else!

I absolutely agree with you that labeling the normal response to seeing something you don’t like, or meeting someone who likes that thing, as “ok not my thing but good for you ig” shouldn’t be a “proship” thing. I don’t like the pro vs anti divide all that much. But in reality, that’s how this internet argument is taken and seen. It’s rooted in it from a fandom history perspective (as lame as it sounds when I say it lmao). Normal people in real life don’t care about internet drama, and they don’t care what a proshipper or antishipper is. I honestly feel like a lot of people forget that, but I see a lot of people on the anti side of things applying their internet opinions to the real world. That’s why I’m concerned. I see a lot of antiship people dropping irl friends and spreading label against them too, and it’s not a healthy mindset or way to live. It’s fine to not have the same tastes, even being uncomfortable with someone else’s tastes. But I don’t think it’s healthy to worry so much that it affects your real life like how I see a ton of antis doing. Life is uncomfortable and it’s full of people who can make you uncomfortable. But life isn’t black and white, and people/things that make you kinda uncomfortable with certain things can also be things you could care less about. I know so many people in my life at least who I just don’t talk about certain subjects with for that very reason, but we are still great friends regardless of our differences! And they aren’t “bad people” either lmao

Proship vs antiship never should have been a thing. Imo, you’re either an asshole towards others for stupid reasons, or you aren’t and just agree to disagree unless someone’s causing real harm! Proshippers can be assholes just like antishippers sometimes lmao, so those aren’t synonymous!

[swiftfootedachilles]

you wanted more asks, so I'm here to deliver!

-favorite gallavich canon scenes?

-what are some favorite headcanons for them that you have? missing scenes, what ifs, etc.

-favorite characters besides gallavich?

-storyline you would have liked to seen/favorite storyline that the show did well?

-favorite fic tropes that make you just go fuckin feral?

-five things you think needed to be fixed/changed/improved about the show? gallavich related or just in general, dealer's choice

😘😘😘

rubbing my greasy paws together getting ready to type out an essay

ummmm uh okay lemme think.... the s1 juvie scene (CLASSIC!!!), all their scenes working at the kash n grab together, mickey finding ian and taking him home, club kiss, like all of South Side Rules pre-sammi fucking everything up, dock scene, literally all of their s7 scenes tbh, prison reunion scene, "I WANNA BE WITH YOU" "you dont get to be," mickey wasting his break getting noodles in the food court for ian instead of making ian get his own lunch, fiance shenanigans, "i only make toast for husbands with jobs," STEALING THE AMBULANCE AND MICKEY GETTING SO TURNED ON THEY IMMEDIATELY HAVE TO FUCK AND MICKEYS KNEES BUCKLES WHEN IAN PUSHES HIM AGAINST THE AMBULANCE, coworker husband shenanigans, "youre such a fucking barbarian" "thank you☺️," being SOOOO cute at their anniversary party together. so honestly all of their scenes

i love all the deleted scenes i literally need the show editors to go to prison for what theyve done. i especially love the original scripts for the s5 deleted sex scene/ians dream and their s5 breakup. favorite headcanons are autistic!mickey, casual D/s dynamics, not-so-casual D/s dynamics, 🏳️‍⚧️trans gallavich🏳️‍⚧️, hobby artist!mickey, ian becoming the new vee of their neighborhood (ghetto nurse!ian), annoyingly clingy codependent!gallavich being gross in front of everyone, s6 canon divergence where mickey doesn't go to prison bc wtaf was that, s5 canon divergence with no breakup bc that literally made no sense

ummm i love liam hes the true golden child. mandy. uh ethel i would've LOVED to see more of, and the other milkovich siblings. sheila. karen was a REALLY complex character that never really got more than surface-level analysis from the show writers. debbie and her journey as a child obviously struggling with bpd. i do like carl turning his life around and kinda fulfilling many of the dreams ian had growing up. i kinda wish they did more with kev than just "haha kentucky appalachian guy is stupid" like that whole family reunion arc of his was so fucking weird and honestly embarrassing of the writers. also we..... never really learn about vee's family? theres a whole episode dedicated to meeting kevs stereotypical family, and vee gets.....becoming a believer in the american voting system??? and of course svetlana. missed opportunity after missed opportunity with her character - but hey at least they didnt kill her off like isidora wanted⁉️⁉️🥴

really really wish the writers gave a fuck about showing ian coming to terms with his trauma of being groomed and abused. he never learns that what he experienced was abuse. i feel like if caleb can call mickey abusive, then surely ian wouldve mentioned something about literally any other relationship hes had and caleb or trevor wouldve been neen like "uhhh you should see a therapist about that thats really super fucked up that you were victimized like that as a CHILD"

ohhhh the fic tropes. my #1 is always bdsm i am a bdsm gallavich truther until i DIE!!!! um i like canon divergence fics (sometimes). domestic fics. post-s11 married life. learning to grow together as a couple after being off-and-on for like a decade, autistic!mickey!!!! trans!mickey and t4t gallavich!!!! aus where ian and mickey are actually dating starting s1-3 and are out to the gallagher/mandy. uncle!gallavich shenanigans. taking liam on adventures shenanigans

OK SO. FIRST AND FOREMOST I WOULD FIX THE FUCKED UP JUDICIAL SYSTEM IN SHAMELESS fionas/mickeys/ians court shit was so fucking unrealistic and BAD. how the FUCK did fiona get like 60 days in jail + house arrest for possession of a schedule ii drug and attempted manslaughter AND STILL KEPT CUSTODY OF THE KIDS.

literally what the FUCK did mickey get charged with. did he plea? what the fuck kind of plea is 16 years when the person you assaulted ALSO ASSAULTED YOU and is also a COMPLETELY unreliable witness/victim. youre telling me he wouldnt take his chances in court? as if debbie wouldnt be the perfect witness to prove his INNOCENCE? and bianca was dead and frank wouldnt even give half a fuck to testify to seeing mickey lock sammi in the trailer. literally no proof that ever happened. no proof he drugged sammi because it was FAR too late to test her blood and see how much of each drug she had in her system. just her testimony that she drank soda then fell asleep lmao. any defense lawyer would have an easy time getting him acquitted entirely, at most getting a refusal to comply with officers and disturbing the peace for running from sammi and then trying to kick her when the cops showed up to arrest them

literally what the fuck is ians trial. HE PLEADS NOT GUILTY BY REASON OF INSANITY (WHICH NO LAWYER WOULD EVER DO BECAUSE OFC HE WOULD BE FOUND GUILTY WHEN HE CHOSE TO STOP TAKING HIS MEDS) AND IS FOUND GUILTY. OF ARSON. A CLASS X FELONY IN ILLINOIS. IN THE COMMISSION OF ANOTHER FELONY (KIDNAPPING.) AND HE GETS LIKE 2 YEARS IN PRISON YOUVE GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME. he could have gotten LIFE for that shit in the real world. i hate this shows pisspoor attempt at a legal system SOOOOO BAD. i stand by my belief that it wouldve made much more sense if he pled guilty and got put in the Chicago-Read Mental Health Center for mentally ill offenders. like he literally thought he was the gay Messiah what do you mean hes in a regular prison. plus it would've been much more interesting to see mickey in this environment - IF everything up to s9 was kept canon. otherwise he would only be able to visit ian like in s5, unless he found a way to get himself committed ?? idk it just makes much more sense than ian in regular prison

the attendees of their wedding. who the hell were those people. people from ians club ing days?? trevors friends???? i mean maybe. i assume sandy just went to every gay bar and passed out flyers saying there was a big gay wedding. it would've made much more sense if mickeys siblings were there especially mandy but what the hell ever. it's not like iggy literally has multiple scenes where he's supportive of mickey being gay and dating ian. WHATEVER. IT'S NOT LIKE THE GAY JESUS FOLLOWERS SHOULDNT HAVE EVEN BEEN THERE AT ALL SINCE THEYRE SHOWN LITERALLY ABANDONING IAN AFTER HIS ARREST AND IT WOULDVE MADE MORE SENSE FOR THE MILKOVICH BROTHERS TO BE OUTSIDE TO KEEP TERRY OUT. FUCKING WHATEVER I GUESS!!!

throw away the shitty homophobic gay man writer and let those 2 bi ladies write s11 gallavich. they were the only ones who wrote decent storylines. fr that gay guy needed to be fired SO BAD i can't believe he wrote the dumbass "who's the wife/bottom/submissive of our relationship" 11x3 plot AND the 11x7 orgy. HE SUCKS SO BADDD??? get rid of that stupid shit. give me more of ian and mickey in the growing pains of their relationship looking for jobs and dealing with the death of terry and trying to find common ground of their plans for the future and mickey being stubborn and scared without being "accidentally" an egregious stereotype of autistic people. LET HIM STIM AND GO NONVERBAL AND LET IAN LEARN TO GIVE MICKEY HIS SPACE WHEN HE'S OVERWHELMED GOOD LORD

[gebbys-pokeblog-library]

gebby's pokereality hub

other names: gabriel, gabi

pronouns: she/her

birth year: 2004 (so that I don't have to keep editing this every year)

time zone: pacific (gmt-7/8)

non-pokereality rp hub: @gebbys-rp-hub

rules, some other important details, and sideblog list under the cut

rules:

1. no ooc hate (that's honestly just common sense tbh)

2. ic anon hate is situational, but generally you should set it up with me first, like agreeing ooc that our characters are enemies or something

3. no nsfw

4. pretty much any type of rp blog is allowed to interact. eebies, sapient pokemon, legendaries, fallers, crossovers, hybrids, pokehumans, etc. are welcome and encouraged

5. don't drag me into any ooc conflict /srs

6. don't nitpick at my hc-heavy intepretations of canon characters. ik they're canon-divergent, and I honestly couldn't care less.

aside from people who are picky about post length standards (my absolute longest posts are typically between one and two paragraphs), perfectionists about canon accuracy are my least favorite roleplayers.

7. when you send me ask games, always include the question itself in your ask, bc I won't be able to look back at the original post every time

disclaimer: I'm extremely averse to criticism due to a mix of trauma and disorders, and I tend to start thinking I'm boring and not worth others' time if my ideas don't pique their interest.

I am working on both of those, though, so I honestly don't wanna hear about it from anyone besides my therapist /nm

more rules (mobile-friendly)

my pokeblogging universe:

other important details:

my pokeblogs' pinned intro posts will have lots of tags just so that people can find them. every subsequent post after that will only have a few tags (mainly just #ic and/or #ooc).

if I reblog any ask games or other rp invitations, it'll be on here and apply to all my sideblogs

I don't interact with "reblog if you support xyz" posts or talk about politics (that anti-elon musk post was an exception)

pokeblog list:

(might be outdated sometimes since I'm forgetful. the most currently active ones have stars next to them)

@vxran (crossover faller)

@catbirds-pokeblog (still not entirely sure what she is yet. she might end up being a faller?)

@no-ones-pokeblog (faller)

@verityandzeke (pokehumans)

@teamsocialism (joke evil team run by verity and zeke)

@her-name-is-teri (crossover au faller)

@cg-johnson (crossover au faller)

@ultra-spacey (pokehuman) ⭐

@ubcore - pokehuman / sleeby (I'm still deciding which one I want him to be)

@sylvxtte (pokehuman) ⭐

@flying-type-artist (spiderverse au faller)

@students-of-ruin (pokehumans)

@nikowa (pokehuman) ⭐⭐

@futuristicheroine (eeby)

@mailcarriercore

@god-is-a-retail-employee (pokehuman)

@gcsharp (fankid)

@miss-calla-lily (faller from hisui)

@suz1e-and-su2ie (pokehumans)

@julie-dalton-nico-calico (fallers from a book)

@cptmarquez

@no-ones-pokeblog (faller)

@sancia-pereira (pokehuman) ⭐⭐

@broke-bba-student ⭐

other rp blogs:

@selinatamariz (wizardblr / general fantasy rp)

@not-really-anyone-in-particular (general rp)

my carrd:

[trashogram]

More scattered weasel things:

• I can’t decide if I like the idea that the weasels knew Doom was a cartoon or if they thought he was an actual human. The novelization apparently has Smartass aware of Doom being a toon, but I’m also partial to the idea that the gang took up orders from a human bc they thought it gave them a higher status among their fellow species. • Also wondering if the Toon Patrol, or any of them singular, has also killed a human — or even if they were able to participate in murdering other toons with Dip. In the Disneyland ride, they deploy dip without the help of Judge Doom, so it’s possible. • I debate over if I should start on the theory of toons having free will or not. That requires a lot of time and its own post. And then just general Reader/Toon Patrol stuff:

• Tbh I feel like Reader learning that laughing too much/nonstop can kill the weasels breaks her heart. Her poor little guys :(

• I feel like it would actually take Reader the longest to get used to Greasy bc he’s an overwhelming skirt chaser/sex pest

• Trying to figure out how Wheezy would get attached — I imagine him as a silent guard dog type. You’re not even sure if he likes you, but then he takes on 10 men to protect you one night and you’re stunned with that answer.

• Psycho steals your shit. He’s a hoarder when it comes to obsessions. Don’t @ me.

• Smartass fantasizes about being the mayor of Toontown and Reader is always his secretary/wife. He and Greasy have to have a ✨Complex✨ concerning being toons, I just feel it in my bones.

• Reader cannot point that out or she risks angering them, but treating them as equal to human men or stroking their egos about how they’re “even better” than human men gets them going.

• Considering Snow White-inspired reader becoming corrupted when she’s around the gang too much and helps them out with their schemes. And maybe they actually accomplish stuff with her around lol.

• I have an odd line with the explicit/nsfw stuff in that I feel comfortable with coming up for ideas with it if Reader becomes a toon herself. Like with Roger/Jessica — I’ve made shitposts about their sex life out of spite, but it really doesn’t bother me to imagine that between them. Idk why. It would be the same with the Toon Patrol. • Also on that note, including Stupid in any of it makes me go “eughhhh maybe not”. I think the most risqué thing I could ever include him in is literal pattycake. • Why I would be fine w/ including Psycho — I think he’s a stealth/hidden genius personally. It’s just a funny idea to me, but because he was made to be, well… psycho, he’s still incompetent/not the leader. • If you want NSFW toon patrol, lemme know lol

[irrealisms]

for the character ask game to match/complete the others: ItzSubz?

took me a while to get around to this but!! yes!!!! 3/3 eclipse fed ask game babyyyyy

How I feel about this character

i am less insane abt him than i am about vitalasy & zam but this is a low bar. i care a lot about him. i think a lot about how fucking lonely he is, and how .. fundamentally all he wants in s4 is to live happily with his friends and for them to not hate each other. and instead everything falls apart. and he doesn't know how to fix it but he figures it must be his fault and he kills himself about it and this ... looks like it might fix it, for a bit, but that. really does not fix it either. he makes me sad :( in other seasons he . exists i guess. sorry im not a subzguy (void chara voice Some crimes can never be forgiven (not true void would never say this bc theyre too polite))

All the people I ship romantically with this character

vitalasy. zam. uhhhhhh. yeah that's kind of it

My non-romantic OTP for this character

not sure i have one tbh. the vitalasubz relationship is so romantic & i feel like i dont have a great grasp on subz's relationships outside of eclipse? which tbf for s4 at least this is bc. he is in fact very isolated for a lot of it! and i know his s4 better than his other seasons lol

My unpopular opinion about this character

this is going to be a bit of a reiteration of several of my other unpopular opinions abt other characters I WANT TO READ HIM BEING MORE ABLEISTTTTTT IN FIC like i dont think it's unpopular per se to go "i think that subz is ableist". i think this is an extremely popular opinion. but the general outlook on this is that when fans write him they write a version of subz that isnt ableist. which is like. fair. not everyone wants to write the amount of ableist that subz is, especially because the thing with subz is that c!subz is only ableist bc cc!subz is irl ableist and gets defensive about overly triggered snowflakes when people call him on it. no one should. like. feel obligated to write characters being ableist if they dont want to lol. but also. c!subz is ableist! i want fic that is in character & that includes wanting portrayal of subz being ableist, and as a crazy person i like fic that is willing to explore ableism. i also understand that some ppl probably dont want to write it if they ~cant reclaim~ it but as a certified schizo i am giving everyone who reads this post permission to write subz calling people schizo esp if you're writing canon/non-au. he does that! in canon! a lot! and tbh i feel weirder abt ppl erasing subz's ableism than i do abt ppl writing fictional characters who use the word schizo lol

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

i wish that in the vitalasy stream today we had gotten a conversation between subz&zam&vi or even subz&zam instead of subz and zam only ever talking to vitalasy one-on-one and otherwise politely avoiding each other....we could have had it aaaaallll (eclipse federation screenshot in 2024)........

(ask game, give me a character)

[atopvisenyashill]

i think the problem with hotd is that people are expecting asoiaf levels of writing or early got levels of writing but they're just not built like that lol martin is a generational talent but f&b is not that good and some changes are needed

okay so-

f&b is bad

objectively yes. i think it has better world building than a lot of other fantasy out there but the concept of “hiding my hints about the main series through world building with an unreliable narrator” is not done particularly well with f&b. i think it just doesn’t fit george’s gardening writing style and i wish he’d let it go or at least rework the concept.

some changes are needed

again, yeah objectively, and that’s not even just an f&b thing. adapting a series with this many characters and this many moving parts is monumentally difficult and that’s not even getting into how moving from book to film is always a challenge bc something that works on paper won’t work visually. but also, with how all over the place f&b is, it makes sense to tweak things to be more thematically resonant.

people are expecting better writing but these people do NAWT have that dog in em

again objectively right. it’s not just that no one can stand up to george’s writing, it’s that d&d just fundamentally misunderstand or don’t care about a lot of the main themes and characters in the books. they specifically spoke derisively about fans of the books who were “moms” (what the fuck does that even mean!) and nerds who like to analyze themes, because d&d are fake nerds, they are NOT fantasy lovers and they are NOT good writers. then you get condal, who imo buys way too much into the idea of the divinity of nobility in fiction (which is a very common thing in american fantasy. i think i’ve talked about this before, but mia from btb had a really great thread basically saying that divine nobility is so common in american fantasy bc we’ve never culturally HAD a monarchy & therefore don’t have that cultural memory of “this system sucks and we should be guillotining these freaks post haste” and this is something george is specifically critiquing!) which is why he’s so willing to cut lowborn or what i like to call “middle class nobility” like jeyne poole, beth cassell, and nettles (and tbh i think there’s shades of this in why sandor is written so abysmally too) and i do think ryan UNDERSTANDS that monarchies are Bad but he has this preoccupation with Exploring Divine Right that eclipses a lot of the class analysis. and hess is just like. idk what that woman’s problem is tbh i think she has a preoccupation with women being victimized and while i think understanding the ins and outs of what Being A Woman In The World is incredibly important to have in the writers room, i also think what she wants is catharsis and that’s just not something this series is ever going to offer anytime soon.

all of that to say, condal & hess may have a better understanding of the series and less weird hang ups about gender, race, and sexuality than d&d, they’re already kind of fucked bc the og show is such a bad adaption and they have their OWN hang ups that they seem completely unaware of, and no one to tell them no bc this ip is hbo’s cash cow.

the problem

HOWEVER. i feel similar about like, the last jedi for example in that i think that was a deeply flawed and annoying movie that misunderstands the entirety of lucas’ skywalker saga and is way too focused on kyle ron’s whiny bitch baby tantrums over his parents getting divorced when it should have been focused on THE MAIN FUCKING CHARACTERS in rey & finn, ntm the incredibly weird racial dynamics of how rian wrote finn, poe, rose, and tio benicio’s character who i forget the name of. BUT. i also think a lot of the good, necessary, and CORRECT criticism of tlj gets lost in the misogynistic racist nerdboy backlash to Women And Brown People Existing, and then further buried by Disney running the IP into the fucking ground (as well as, unfortunately, queen carrie fisher dying before production was finished).

So IMO i think there’s a non zero chance that HBO does some meddling with hotd bc it’s expensive and a big ip, and because tbis is a series that means a lot emotionally to a lot of people, including some of the most annoying illiterate assholes on the internet, a lot of the really good, necessary, and CORRECT criticism gets lost under the sheer amount of people with nicola-or-holliday-as-rhaenyra-icons bitching about how they don’t let rhaenyra look girly enough and never mind that outside of like two scenes where she HAS to wear trousers, she’s ALWAYS WEARING DRESSES AND JEWELRY??? it’s like, yeah i DO think the way they write daemon’s interactions with his daughters & laena is stupid & bad & makes him less interesting as a character and i think part of that is hess’ preoccupation with victimization and catharsis but do NOT put me in the same goddamn conversation as people unironically saying that targaryen problems started when they started fucking andals, it’s not MY fault the h particles go craaaazy in this fandom!