#maybe paul got inspo off of it??

[moonage-dancer]

(The Pity of the Leaves - Edwin Arlington Robinson)

Hear me out-

[pha55ed]

Painfully Oblivious || F2/F3

type :: crack/angst tw/cw :: none contains :: ollie, kimi, paul, dino summary :: reader is completely oblivious to the guys' crush on them, no matter how hard they flirt - made as driver!reader in mind but can be ignored - inspo: glue song by beabadoobee f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || more here!

Ollie Bearman | 03

Flirting is already hard enough for Ollie, but you make it 100x times harder

He literally has no clue on how to get you to understand that HE LIKES YOU

Ollie usually flirts in subtle ways, like slightly lingering touches, complimenting your outfit, doing small acts of service, etc

Only problem is, you don't notice them at all

And when you do notice them, you just assume he's a super nice and friendly dude! :D

One time you were complaining about how cold it was, especially since you forgot your jacket

Ollie instantly took off his jacket and gave it to you, not saying another word out of shyness

But your dumbass thought he just wanted him to hold his jacket...

So you and him were walking side by side, with you carrying his jacket in your arms whilst still complaining about how cold you are

Ollie looked at you, dumbfounded, how could you not piece together to wear his jacket???

So he had to explain to you to wear his jacket,,, and that he was giving it to you on purpose,,, not for you to carry around,,,

You literally went:☝️😲💡 OHHH!!!!

He laughs it off, helping you put on his jacket (which was extremely oversized on you)

Yet still, you have the audacity to jokily say: "Haha this is so rom-com! It's just like those movie scenes when the guy likes her and then gives her his jacket hahaha"

Ollie looks at you deadpan,,, he regrets liking someone who oblivious...

But he's fallen too deeply to back out, so he's stuck pining after someone who's dumb as shit

Maybe one day he'll confess, but not yet, not for a very long time

Kimi Antonelli | 04

Getting a crush on someone is kind of new territory for Kimi

He's extremely realistic, and he knows that relationships most likely won't work when being so busy with racing

But for some reason, his brain completely malfunctions every time he sees you, it's as if you rewired his entire mind

He hates it, but he can't help but smile every time he's around you

Following old traditions and media is basically what he tries to do to get you to understand his feelings

But you're so blinded and naive that you can't piece it together

One time he got pole position after a super exhausting race, giving him such an adrenaline boost that he got the balls to ask you out

He asked you out to dinner, which you said yes to eagerly

And he was on top of the world, he’s never felt luckier: to not only win a race but to win over his crush???

He gets dressed super nice, does his hair, and even gives himself a pep talk

The dinner between you both goes amazingly, and he’s over the moon

That is, until you say: “Where’s everyone else? No one else came to your Winner Dinner? :(“

And he literally wants to strangle you…

A great dinner that lasted almost two hours of chatting and eating great foods

Connecting on so many different topics, relating to each other

So he face palms, making you confused as hell? Cause what you asked wasn’t odd in your eyes???

But he gets so frustrated that he just says, “No one else came because this is a DATE!!!”

And instantly you’re like 😧, blushing even. You had zero clue and were too dumb to piece together that all of this was a date

He can’t even be mad at you because he finds your obliviousness kinda cute - but he does hope you get the hint that he likes you from then on

Paul Aron | 17

Everyone knows Paul is a bit of a player, but contrary to popular belief: it’s not on purpose

Ladies just throw themselves to Paul, which is super understandable

But Paul literally has no clue how he has so much rizz despite him doing literally NOTHING to earn their affection

(It’s because he’s gorgeous and flirty on accident)

Despite how many girls like him, for some reason he can never get you to like him,,, or at least acknowledge he likes you

He’s been pretty forward with his crush on, the most forward out of all of the guys by far

Giving you flirty compliments, always searching you out in crowds to talk with you, being possessive over you when anyone else tries to get your attention, even remembering what you said you liked so he can buy it for you

He’s basically already your boyfriend, just without the title and without you knowing

And he kinda likes it? But also hates it?

He loves not having the complete title of a relationship so he’s not fully committing

But he also hates it since he can’t stop feeling jealous when others hit on you or when others crush on you

So he decides to just blatantly ask you out, hoping you’d finally understand that all this times he’s been trying to pin after you

He sets an entire day dedicated to you. Giving you a beautiful flower bouquet, taking you to your favorite restaurant, and even taking you on a night walk on the beach

It’s extremely cheesy, but he doesn’t even care

So at the end of the day, when he’s dropping you off - he goes for it

He kisses you in his car, right in-front of your house, exactly like every rom-com movie to ever exist

He does it because he knows there’s no way words will get through you dumb pea brain that he actually likes you

So when he gently removes his lips off yours and looks at your shocked face, he’s hoping you say you like him back

Or even better, he hopes you kiss him again

Dino Beganovis | 01

You two are kinda in the same both, you’re both insanely oblivious to your feelings to each other

Dino only realizes he likes you after Ollie and Kimi point out how much happier he is with you: as if he’s on cloud 9 the second you’re in his vicinity

He’s in denial at first, he asks Paul and Paul straight up says: “I thought you two were dating already???”

And now Dino is having a crisis because OH MY FUCKING GOD HE LIKES HIS BEST FRIEND??? THIS WHOLE TIME??????

So now he’s super nervous around you, he can’t even mutter a word to you without looking away

Your eyes have suddenly gotten 10x times prettier, as if they were a black hole sucking his soul in

Your hair is suddenly so much shiny and soft, making everything else in the world seem rough and coarse in comparison

Everything about you is stunning, and he can’t get you out of his head

He wants this crush phase to be over, but you won’t allow that since you’re too blinded to see that he likes you

It makes him go crazy because he’s so anxious of you not liking him back and possibly ruining your whole friendship

But every driver encourages him to make a move and test the waters - which takes him weeks of planning of how he’s gonna do it

So, while you two were having your usual movie night: he made his first move

He stretches his arm and rests it on your shoulders, basically side hugging you

But you confuse his action as wanting popcorn, you shove a handful of popcorn into his hand and smile at him

He smiles back, kinda disappointed his flirting didn’t work but he tries again

Being super risky, he decides to put his hand on your thigh

And you look at him like: 🤨 what? meh,

And go back to watching the movie without caring at all

All he does is just sigh and take his hand back, he decides he'll just try again a different day

f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || more here!

[ladylooch]

Odds were against us - John Marino

A/N: My submission for @wyattjohnston Winter Fic Exchange 2k24! This is the first time I have participated in a fic exchange and wow has it been really fun for me! Thank you so much, Demi, for being a gracious host and your rockstar organization!

@pcttymcrlecu I hope you love this as much as I enjoyed creating it for you. Also, I am IN LOVE with the song inso for this. I listened to it on repeat the entire time I was working on this. Thank you for sharing 🥰

Song Inspo: Solider by James TW

Word Count: 2.5k

The odds were against you. 

Well, maybe not right away. You did grow up two houses down from each other. 

But once you moved away for college, the world seemed to keep you apart as much as it flirted with the idea that you two could be together. 

Growing up, it was the Masschusettes version of the three musketeers: John, Paul, and you. There was never a Marino brother around without you. Living on the same street had great perks, like a hockey net to shoot at, a ton of legos, and endless nights spent on their backyard play set.

From the beginning, John and you had a connection. Even as his twin brother was supposed to know him the best, you always seemed to be on the same page with your buddy. For years growing up, you and John had been tango-ing with will they, won't they, before he went to Harvard and you went to theUniversity of Pittsburgh. The next three years, every time you were both home, the tango continued. Both dating other people, never wanting to ruin the friendship, finding excuses for why you could never talk about the elephant in the room. 

Then, John left Harvard after his junior year to play for the Pittsburgh Penguins. You were thrilled to show him the city! You took him to your favorite restaurants and introduced him to your college friends. It was you sitting next to his brother and his parents, in a freshly pressed Marino jersey, as he did his solo rookie lap in black and yellow. 

It was you who left Pittsburgh a year later.

While others in your major wanted to be at Google and Microsoft, you wanted to use your computer science degree for good. When the call came for your dream job at the National Renewable Energy Laboratory in Golden, Colorado, you knew you had to decide. You loved John, but he didn’t know, and it was hard to imagine a life where you stayed on the sidelines for potential. So before you decided, you nudged the situation to see what John would say when he was faced with the possibility of losing you.

“I got a job offer!” You exclaimed to him at happy hour. 

“Whoa! Of course you did! You’re so cool.” He puts his chin in his hand, giving you googly, heart eyes in admiration. He is joking, but it puts a silly smile on your face. He sits back up, taking a sip of his beer, waiting expectantly. “So tell me everything. Will you get an office? How close will you work to the arena? And can I come to have lunch with you every day because that is a requirement. We have spent too much time apart.”  Your stomach drops out of your body. You look away, taking in a heavy breath. 

“That is the one downside.” You bite your lip, then continue. “It’s not here.”

“Oh? Is it like out in the boonies or Philly?”

“No. Like Colorado.”

Surprise slaps across John’s face. Then he looks away, trying to gather himself quickly.

“But you just got here and maybe I shouldn’t go...” You trail off. You hold your breath, wanting John to say something. You know this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. But a yearning inside of you begs for John to tell you to stay with him in Pittsburgh. 

“You should go. This is everything you’ve been wanting. You deserve this.” John’s words are everything he should say, but they fucking sting. Tears build in your eyes and you nod. “I’m proud of you.” John finishes with a dainty whisper. He licks his lips, looking away. “Look at us.” He tries for a laugh but it comes out like a cough. “Both of our dreams are coming true.” 

You want to ask him why it feels like your chest is imploding?

But you don’t. 

Instead, you hug your childhood best friend while telling yourself how selfish it would be to confess you’re in love with him before you go

- - - 

Three years later, so much has changed since you hugged John on that bar stool. You have been promoted twice and received national recognition for your work in solar energy. John had rough seasons in Pittsburgh, but has found a new, comfortable place in New Jersey. Paul is with the L.A. Kings in California. You make it a point to meet up with John and Paul when John visits on his West Coast road trips. John and you connect when he is in Colorado. When you’re back home, you make the commute to Jersey and fly home out of Newark. Otherwise, you’re texting daily, sending GIFs and memes and tiktoks back and forth while keeping each other abreast of your busy life. 

You’re closer than ever. More in love with him than ever too. But how would it ever work? 

The repetitive thoughts consume you as you stir the queso you had been making for your taco night at your new home in Golden. It has been a long, competitive process to get this house, but you are so proud of it. A dream home to match the dream job that the dream boy will see tonight. 

A knock sounds on the door. The dream boy waits for you on the other side of the wood.

“Hi!” You squeal when you see John. “Welcome to MY home!”

“Uh, Ma’am, where is the owner of this home? You’re too young and single? It couldn’t be you?” He jokes, then pulls you in for a tight hug. “Thought we could celebrate.” He tilts the bottle of wine at you. It is nothing fancy. In fact, it's Cook’s, the bottle you two had stolen from your parents’ bar to have after prom on the beach.

“Let’s get this expensive gal in a nice lil ice bath.” 

“There is nothing nice about an ice bath. Or that wine.” He snorts, shrugging his coat off. 

“You can put that in the closet right there.” You point to his right. He opens the door, settling his jacket between two of yours. A warmth spreads through your body at his clothes mingling together with yours, gathering each other's scents.

“Don’t dawdle in the doorway, Johnny. Come into my kitchen!” You’re giddy as John's sock covered feet slide across your wood floors to join you in the open, modern space. 

“Gas range?” John oos and aws at all the fixtures you show him. He hypes and gasps at all the right moments. Your cheeks hurt from grinning as you become Vanna White against your refrigerator. 

“Go best friend!” He cheers as you do a little spin and dance for him. You laugh at the end.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” You tell him honestly.

“Me too. Glad we got in early.” He opens his arms for you. The weight of you settles against his chest, creating a bonded connection. John squeezes tight, his chin on the top of your head. He works you both into a sway, enjoying the weight of each other’s arms. This version of John is your favorite. The one who blurs the lines between best friends and lovers. You breathe in the fresh scent of his cologne, then wait, making him be the one to break your embrace. 

“So is there an upstairs?” He wonders. 

“There is! They gave me two whole levels!” 

“What! Scam. It’s all a scam.” 

“Look at my wall of pictures.” You point out as you head up the stairs. There is a whole gallery wall of frames and people, many of which John is in. Paul too. 

“I know these people!” He grins, looking at their decades of memories. “My favorite night.” He points to a picture. It’s the New Year's Eve you were pretty sure you almost kissed. 

“Mmm, it’s up there for sure.” You agree, waiting for him. His eyes trace the memory like he wants to burn it into the membrane of his brain. Then he turns to you, grabbing your hand and leading you up the stairs, becoming the tour guide. 

“So up here we have uh…” He looks around. “An office!” 

“Oh! And a standing desk?! She works on her fitness.” You fill in. 

“We have very different definitions of fitness.”

“I hope so, NHL player.”

“And over here,” He tugs you by your fingers. “We have a guest room. You would never have blue as your color. It is not boring enough. This can’t be your room.”

“Shut up! I love neutrals! They’re in!” You shove at him as he howls with laughter. 

“Paul’s room for when he comes to visit. Your parents and sister too.” You can’t help but notice John doesn’t include himself in that.

“Oh here we go.” He gets to your room, pushing the cracked door open to expose your favorite space in the house. He pauses in the doorway, taking it in.

Two lamps on either side of the bed illuminate the room as the sun sets behind the mountains outside. Your white walls are warmed by their dim light. The bed is made with a plush, white comforter and a light tan blanket draped along the foot of the bed. The walls had been painted the faintest of olive green. Various shades of cream and tan pillows create the look of a bed you want to jump into to mess it all up. A black and white picture of waves sliding onto a Nantucket beach is above the headboard. 

John has gone still and silent. You are nervous as he continues to look around the comfy oasis you have created as your escape from the world. You were meticulous in your quest for homey, comfort items that would dull the sometimes harsh world out there. Does he hate it? 

“What do you think?” You finally ask.

“Honestly?” He murmurs.

“Yes!” You giggle, trying to cross the distance you feel separating you.

“I wish this was our house.” 

You freeze. John keeps looking at the bed, eyes ravenous over the clean bedding like he is seeing something else. 

“I wish this was our bed.” He sighs. “I wish I was the one who got to sleep here with you because this is so clearly your dream house and I wish I was your dream man.” He stands there with his hands in his pockets, still not looking at you. This is when you realize he really doesn’t know. How does he not know?

“You are.” You whisper. 

It’s John’s turn to be still and dumbfounded. 

“You’re my dream man, Johnny.” 

You bite your lip and John rushes towards you. His hands grip your face, tugging you into his lips. Your head falls back, delirious at his mouth finally being on yours. He holds your head up, working his lips to an angle so his tongue can devour your mouth. You never want to breathe again. His tongue and lips on yours are everything you’ve ever wanted. How will you stop? 

Need takes over and you break apart begrudgingly. John rests his forehead on yours, thumbs delicately stroking your cheek bones. 

“I’m in love with you, Johnny.” 

“Good. Cause I am deliriously in love with you. And I’m sick of not telling you that every day.” You grin, inhaling heavily as tears fill your eyes. 

“How are we going to do this?” 

“I don’t know.” John sighs, gripping your face tighter in his fingers, like that will stop the rest of reality from intruding on your moment. 

“I’m scared. We live so far apart. I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

“We’ll have to be brave, sweetheart.”

Being brave is your second act.

The next 6 months you navigate the journey from friends to lovers while trying to mitigate the 1,700 miles that separate you. A 2 hour time zone difference weighs heavily on your relationship, along with two careers that threaten to ground you before your relationship even has a chance to take off. Then the off-season comes and John decides to train in Colorado with local NHL players at altitude, convinced it will give him that next step in his game. 

The season begins again and your bed is as empty as it was before. You’re miserable. Lonelier than you’ve ever been and it spews mean thoughts in your brain at all hours of the night. John feels the same. You both discuss it openly, but neither of you have solutions for this next roadblock. Something will have to give, you both know it, but neither of you can speak it.

Right before Thanksgiving, your fist feels heavy against his Jersey City apartment door. He isn’t expecting you, but the relieved sigh when he has you in his arms tells you how welcome you are here. He ushers you in, pasting his lips against your skin as you try to set your bag down. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Accepting my job offer.” John bolts up.

“No.”

“Yes.” 

“No, babe. Don’t do this for me.”

“I’m not going to pretend it isn’t because of you. Of course it is. But this is a really good career move for me too. We can have it all.”

“Your house-” 

“-will always just be my house. I’m ready to upgrade to our house.” You lock your hands around his neck, fingers guzzling up every bit of warmth from his skin. “I know what I want to do in my life and it’s to be where you are.” John groans then hugs you into his chest desperately.

In another month, you cut those 1700 miles down to 0. You and John move into your new place together. While you’re unpacking the neutral bedroom decor he makes fun of, John walks in then pops down to one knee. 

“Can’t wait another minute.” He confesses. “I’ve been downstairs trying to talk myself out of doing it and why? For what? Because there isn’t an audience? There isn’t a photographer? Your nails aren’t done? That’s not us. This is us. So, marry me?”  Your bottom lip quivers. A blink sends tear tracks down your face as you nod enthusiastically, telling the man, who is still your dream boy, “YES” you will marry him!

The wedding is a fast plan, you need to do it in the off-season and neither of you care for anything super fancy anyway. It’s a quaint ceremony on a similar Nantucket beach that hangs above your now shared bed. You and John stare in awe as you take turns reciting written vows that may as well be a decades long love letter to each other.

“Let’s keep betting on us, baby.” John finishes. You laugh, nodding vigorously. 

When it’s time to seal the deal, John winds his hand around your waist, then tilts you down, kissing you so fully that you’re dazed when he brings you back up. 

Like it has for thousands of years, a kiss between two lovers seals your fate. 

It’s been decided.

A forever commitment.

One that binds you and John as partners, who keep bending the odds and winning anyway.

[giveafike]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

————————————————————————

Beyond the Baseline - B.T.S

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

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

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

And then there was Ben Shelton.

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

Yet, somehow, despite your differences, you clicked.

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

Then, in strolled Ben Shelton.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Help me put it on?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ben!” you hissed, reaching for it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re no fun.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You paused, a strange light creeping into your voice.

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

Your voice softened, carrying vulnerability.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smirked. “Smooth save.”

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

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

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

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

“Sure you are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, lucky me, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked, surprised. “Wait, really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[gl1tchr]

Do you think Paul Dano’s riddler is going to die in this universe? And or any of the other rogues (joker Penguin etc.) ?

That is a TOUGH question. I've tried to think about how Reeves used death in Batman, and how death is used in The Penguin to figure out who's *heading* towards it, and it's hard! Death in the Reevesverse is very indiscriminate. It takes the good, the bad, those trying to get better, those actively choosing to be worse. Is Edward's path leading him towards death, or is the more apt narrative punishment for his crimes being forced to continue living in his own mind? I think I lean towards the latter. I've always held firm that Arkhamverse Riddler is HEAVY inspo for Dano Riddler in terms of his narrative decline he will experience over the course of the movies. Beginning as a (still unethical and frankly delusional about his motives) well-intentioned vigilante genuinely doing what he thought would fix things (Early Riddler YO when he's still trying to go thru conventional routes to uncover corruption), to a more overtly violent and vindictive antagonist (End of R:YO and Batman 2022), and finally, into a severely deluded, broken man with very little self awareness because every moment he spends in introspection is painful. He must reckon with his actions and it is brutal, and THAT is his punishment. The quieting of his mind through death is a mercy for Riddler, AND MAYBE with the themes Reeves is going for, giving the Riddler PEACE could be a possible choice depending on what is set up in the second movie! Though, I'm leaning towards his narrative punishment being to live with who he is; Edward Nashton, The Riddler.

WARNING: I mention suicide by explosives ahead

AN ADENDUM; This is just something cool my brother thought of when we talked about Ed's future in the narrative and he agreed that killing him off isn't the move, HOWEVER, we explored some ways in which that could be done in and I really enjoyed his. I've talked about how I think Joker is rearing up to really HARDCORE manipulate Edward. I can't tell you how they'd pull this off, but let me paint you a picture.

Movie II, as we now know, will seem to largely focus on more of the mob and gang violence aspect of Gotham and how Batman will be applying his new philosophy of Hope-Above-Vengeance philosophy. So we don't *see* Ed or Joker for 99% of it. Batman's doing his thing when he gets a call from Gordon, Riddler has been acting strangely and has implied he has information that could give Bruce some insight (See: when he went to Arkham for Joker's perspective on Edward - he seems to know when to use these Rogues for his own purposes just as much as they use too) into whoever it is he's trying to find. A familiar scene, Edward across from Bruce in the interrogation room. He looks *horrible*, but he's elated. Bruce is biting back anger - the last time he saw Edward he was *pissed*, and that hasn't settled, but he's trying to be better. He's trying to have hope. Maybe they exchange some words, but that's not really why Edward called him here. Edward tells him that nothing can save this city. If his cleansing didn't save it, if hope isn't saving it, nothing will. So go down with me, Batman. He's got an explosive, rigged to blow, and while he smiles, he kills himself and attempts to take Batman with him. But he fails. What he does do, though, is cause a massive break-out, which Joker takes full advantage of - because he set it up. He wormed his way onto Eddie's fragile mind and convinced him death would be a release AND his vengeance against Batman. But Joker knew this wouldn't kill Batman, be that through some intuitive hunch or maybe he's familiar with how resilient he is. Either way, he will have convinced Edward to take his life if it meant taking down who he both despises and craves so desperately, but it would be a lie. It would just be to get him out. And he would tell Bruce as much - "I did that guy a favor - he was a *mess*, he'd shake my hand if he could but - I think I saw those on the ground when I left". Edward, always someone's punching bag, months very end. So, in that way, even though death is still mercy for Edward, it's still cruel. NOW I DONT THINK THIS WORKS NARRATIVELY ON A LOT OF LEVELS, it was just a REALLY chilling thought to imagine Edward's manic joy as he accepted he was going to die, but would finally hurt someone as much as hes been hurt. I liked it a lot and thought I'd share just for funsies :]

[noliaert]

NOLIAERT'S IWTV WIPS

Okay so I thought to show off some of my WIPs for IWTV (amc), especially since I've not managed to finish off most of my WIPS regardless of how excited I have been for them :/ IWTV in 2022 was like a muse to me! I had so many wips! But little or nothing to show for it (cause extensive projects got overwhelming) 😔 I have however finished off 2 loumand pieces since S2 started off, 1 that had too been a wip from 2022 (I'll edit in a link once I post it, I've done so on twitter, but I feel the need to fix on some things... majorly is the issue one of the louis-es as it was a 3, initially 4,-in-1 piece :/ was rushing cause of the looming loumand divorce and doom, otherwise known as S2 "trial" finality, was approaching... and I was feeling 😅 about the reception of softer loumand kisses at the time. Like- timing!)!

1. Batnight: I worked out this timeglass composition to symbolise Louis' transformation into vampirism after he entered that church one fateful night. The trifecta of the vampfam, the time encapsulated by death and by blood, something which Louis seemingly has a different relationship to than most living vampires as the "tortured vampire". All focusing on the drop of blood, but with different expressions. Idk if i should do anything with the background of the bottom half of the timeglass though 🤔I'm meant to sketch out Louis' family and community from the wedding on the top half, as the sun sets (or rise...) behind the family home (sorry), a life now closed off to him. Vampires and bats- uncontested. The church? It is one from New Orleans S1 and I remember asking for the ref, but I am uncertain that it is the correct church when thinking back on it. Which is 🧍 Also as I started on this late 2022, I had only Bailey!Claudia to go off of, which I'll probably stick to for this one. Would be cool with both! But idk if I can extend that energy. I do need to figure out which of her hairstyles to do though 🤔 and I've been learning more about how to draw black hair so that's fun too

CLAUDIA WIPS! (Both from late 2022)

2: For the first one? Something about the tragedy of claudia, for S1, leaning towards the middle, Claudia the child, the eternal teenager, but a breaking into maturity and adulthood, on... the child witnessing the troubles of their parents, and of the child failed by their parents. Claudia standing in ashes alone (oh not the born from ashes turned to ashes 😭 at least she wasn't entirely alone by the end but had someone choose to face the same fate with her over her own living ♡), looked down upon from our pov to showcase her continued positions of disadvantage. Not the most thought out composition or anything, just wanted to draw Claudia, but these were the things I was thinking about while doing so. Also just really want to try make more dynamic compositions. Try that is.

3: The second one is me wanting to either do a 3-piece with smaller edits, or a 3(+?)-in-1, showing off a little vaguely different stages in Claudia's life back in S1. Or maybe a combined 1 if I figure it out. Combining the cutesy and the horror ✌️ Since these were majorly just sketches, I should be able to try draw Delainey!Claudia! And though S2 makes for SO MUCH inspo too, I'm scared to start on more new things. An irony. But I'd like to finish some more ideas.

4 & 5: Lestat wips! First one is really just a sketch trying to capture his face, buuut the second one? My attempts at a gorier more horrific looking corpsestat since I was feeling robbed by the S1 finale? Oh certainly 🙏 gotta figure out how best to pose Claudia and Louis though, to make sure I make the right impression I wanted 🤔 may have to flip him over too... idk just... extensive work, but I've been especially excited about this one as well as batnight (and the soon-to-be-posted loumands)!! Both from late 2022.

6: St. Paul! Ah the brothers! 🙏 the impact his family, and specifically Paul, has on Louis cannot be understated (S2E8 final dubai scene 😊). Kinda get so emotional when I've been rewatching S1E1 too ;-; another wip from 2022! I so rarely have seen pieces of Louis' family, or human family, which is a shame. I really wanted to do one for Louis and Paul though, and so I ended up with this wip meant to symbolically (far from vague though hah) capture some of that "confessional relationship" (can't escape the catholism) they had, but in a more playful youthful setting. Lowkey pointing towards an elevated sainthood of the future dead too. Paul being Louis' closest confidante, and someone who wanted to be a priest. Many thoughts on Paul really. Paul practicing I suppose, during their teenage years, Louis happily entertaining him and then glancing over his shoulder at- I am thinking Grace, their sister. I found the angle of Louis' head challenging though (been feeling intimately on my limitations), and as it is, I need some refs of Jacob to actually capture HIM too, and not just the angle.

Now unfinished iwtv wips from 2024...

Armand wips! But yea, I already had ideas, but I've felt prompted during S2 to draw more Armand due to the whole Assad Zaman fanbook thing that I thought could be nice to join in on. I've struggled to draw though, even if I have finished the 3-in-1 loumand thing and the spontaneous loumand cig-kiss piece, so I was really damn rushing 😅

7: It's possible I'm mixing ideas... different intents. So I'll have to review it again. I wanted one more bitey one, I was thinking of the "easeful death" scene of E5, but with a different angle. Was initially thinking active feeding I think, with half-lidded eyes or direct eye contact... to put emphasis on the darkening of his eyes in those moments. It's funky and I really wanted to draw it, though I guess this is getting too distant to really see it much. Something something generally about vampirism, a general victim, putting emphasis on the blood that they provide. First by extended blood dripping down the throat, now by the body being the blood fully visually. Something classy, yet... I want to reposition the arms and have the head burrowed further into the neck to actively feed as first intended. I also think I am certainly thinking about an intimate art piece for the whole gentlemanly death feel, so maybe i should try actually find the piece for reference. Also, it's not exactly in this sketch, but I too want to have him in that E2 or E3 coven suit, with vague coven/cult figures in the background. We never really see him feed (properly, of a human), but I've been thinking about the... parent providing food for his children thing (motorbike scene E2), or the "let me teach you" of E3... So a "lead by example" sort of thing, like pre of the picture of the mountain lion and her cub feeding of a carcass sort of thing XD leant too much into the whole typical romantic imagery as I kept going and finally got some of that posture right (and so I tought). But these are the ideas ✨️

8: Armand too got ahold of a switch btw <3 Armand and electronics huh, or... not necessarily only electronics and technology. There's a general almost manic curiosity, which is especially found in that one DM chapter that I kind of adore (smh to private island and blabla tho). A mood, though I'm not making ratshakes 🫢 Assad was talking about it too in an interview though, relating to that fascination, so I kinda wanted to make a piece leaning in on that. Had a few vague compositions, some with more of that almost cold intensity of E5, but here he's more just chilling (doesnt mean it doesnt get intense) ^^ I also wanted to display an evolution of technologies, at least within a certain timeframe, so physically stacking a room with different stuff? Like that works XD because I was rushing for the deadline, I fear I only got to send in the wip (one in an even earlier stage than this one)... which is a real shame 😔 I am excited to finish it though!

Anyway 👍

[guess-my-next-obsession]

i'm a little (A LOT) late to this, but i still wanna wish you a HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY!!!!! i wish you get all the experiences you crave this year and all the creative energy to do the things you love the most! i hope it's the most magical one yet! 💜 also, i've seen your reblog so now the interrogation starts. i hope you're prepared. the overhead lamp is on, as well, just so you know. we're all professionals here. no messing around. my questions for you, dear kat, are: 1) what is your most favourite thing that you've ever written? 2) if you could live in one of the worlds you have created in your beautiful writing, what world would you choose? 3) what inspires you to write? 4) do you have a comfort song? or a movie? what about a painting? 5) how does it feel to be ridiculously talented and incredibly kind and such a cutie?

first off—I LOVE YOU. 🫶🏼

now onto the interrogation! and i’m glad we’re being professionals about this, detective. everyone knows how strictly business i am …

1) my favorite thing i’ve ever written is probably Ivy & Stone or my current WIP Starlight !! both, at least in my opinion, are the only series that i’ve walked away feeling 100% proud of. i think they show the most of me in them, and it’s the best writing i’ve ever done (and i lose sleep over whether or not it’s good enough to try and publish)

2) i love this question !!!! okay so ideally i’d live in a happy little warm domestic bubble with Elementary!Joel, but in reality i’m too dark and twisty for all that so maybe Starlight as long as i have some sick ass magic?? maybe Plastic Hearts as long dieter and i don’t destroy each other entirely?? maybe Ivy & Stone as long as i don’t get typhoid fever staying cramped up in frankie’s cottage??

3) all the little characters and scenes and my endless stream of thought and my need for escapism!! if i didn’t write, i think i’d actually plunge into insanity 🥰 but inspo wise, music does a lot for me! i’ve always deeply associated music and my writing, and there’s always a couple easter eggs thrown in courtesy of whatever playlist i’ve made for the story.

4) i have all three! my comfort movie’s vary but the rotation is usually the Twilight saga, anything with Paul Newman in it, and Stepbrothers for the nostalgia. my comfort songs are seven by Taylor Swift bc ✨ trauma and girlhood ✨, You’ve Got to Learn by Nina Simone because HEARTBREAK, and He Stopped Loving Her Today by George Jones because (sad warning) it always reminds me of my mom and i like to play it when the grief hits me because it makes it feel like i’m five again sitting on her lap. and my comfort painting is always always always Monet’s Water Lillies and i’ve never known why, seeing it just feels like a warm hug.

5) the imposter syndrome/self-deprecation is SCREAMING right now but thank you, i adore you, i am glad to exist here in this space with you, and believe deeply in my core that everything you believe i am you are that multiplied by infinity.

thank you for this message, thank you for existing, I LOVE U I LOVE U I LOVE UUUUU 🤍🤍🤍

[infernalodie]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓 || 𝐉𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐎𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐚

“𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘐'𝘮 𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘮𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘶𝘱, 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘶𝘱“

Inspo: Macklemore - CHANT

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x F1Black!Male!reader

Summary: You knew the impact you had on the world.

Warnings: Just angst

Words: 1420

Your life had always been on the track. Your sanctum of tranquillity had been inside that car. It was where you felt yourself. It was your safe haven. And after dating you for 3 years, Jenna knew this like the back of her hand. She knew the way your mind worked and what kept you going, and it was being inside that. Going over 200 mph and feeling that adrenaline running through your body. The way your mind always calculated the turns and overtakes of your fellow drivers. You were truly special and it was that knowledge that made you continue to drive.

“Baby, it’s like any other race. They aren’t going to take that fighter from me.”

You were prideful in everything you pursued. If it was racing or being a fiance to Jenna. Nothing could stop you from succeeding and Jenna loved you for it. But that didn’t change how humble you were to have gotten to where you are and achieve anything you set your mind to. Never forgetting the people who helped you rise to the position you were in.

Starting from F2, all eyes had been on you from the masterful driving you performed for crowds. Many F1 drivers praised you and told you how excited they were to face you themselves. And when you did make it to F1, you sure as hell gave them a run for their money. Winning Grand Prix after Grand Prix for Redbull and showing that you would be the next Niki Lauda and Lewis Hamilton. Even making friends with the racers after most of them have been your idols. Every day, you had fought to get where you were and there was nothing stopping you from exceeding that.

Race after race, you performed and showed the world what was possible. Standing up on those podiums with Lewis, your mentor, and sharing bottles of champagne like you two won the entire race together. Showing a kid like you that grew up in the East End of London that they could get to where you were. You were a national icon around the world. Kids had pictures of you on their walls and people representing you everywhere. Songs were made with you mentioned and in tribute to you. All of it constantly made you question, “Is this real life?”

The best part was that Jenna got to see it all. She got to be there before you even made it into F2 and got to see you quickly rise in the ranks in some of the best drivers. Able to recall the moment when you came out of the Redbull racing HQ with a big silly grin on your lips. Being able to see your plateau and rises. The hard times and the brightest times. It was beautiful, to say the least.

There was one thing that you had told her that had stuck with her. It was such a heartbreaking thing to hear but was able to understand it to some sort of degree. Remembering you pulling her into the barracks where the pit crew and rest of the team were and saying, “I will rise up even after death. I’ve made the impact I needed to on this world. So, promise me you will if that day comes.”

If she’d known how true that was, then maybe she would’ve stopped you from racing months ago.

“Oh, Y/n going down the inside on turn one. Overtaking Sergio Perez and Albon right off the start.” Paul Di Resta stated as you took the turn with ease.

Jenna sat in the barracks, staring up at the screen with worried eyes and hands clasped over her mouth. She’d always felt anxiety when you raced. Even after countless wins, she couldn’t help it.

But she watched as you took position after position in each turn and straightaway. You were showing that no matter what, your skills were something supernatural. God-given talents that made you shine out to the rest of the roster of drivers.

“Y/n is now in third with Max Verstappen and Lewis Hamilton ahead of him,” Anthony Davidson announced.

“Well, Anthony, the two Red Bull drivers have always been neck to neck with one another,” Paul said. “A friendly competition of course. As we have seen many times through the year so far.”

And everyone watched the two of you race each other. Overtaking one another each turn you two could, and the whole time you wore a smile. A joyful one that most were surprised was possible on a race track where it was only competition to exist. But you and Max had hit it off the moment you two met. Sharing jokes frequently and knowing that the match you two put up for each other was nothing more than friendly. If there was a chance for you two to be on the podiums, then you two would take it over anything else.

But all it had taken was one turn. One person to steer a little too far to the right or left for things to stop. For time to become non-existent as one person is put in a state of danger. Unfortunately, that had been you. Verstappen tapped you just barely and it had been enough to send your car out of control into the barriers. And in a moment, everything went dark.

The sound of your car exploding was heard from the barracks where Jenna’s body flinched upon the sound and the incident from the broadcast. It took a moment for her to truly understand and see what had just happened. Believing her eyes to be deceiving her until she finally saw the looks on your team's faces. The pure shock and horror that had plagued their expressions and that was when reality set in.

Hamilton, who had seen in his rearview your car go up into flames, had slammed onto the brakes and veered his car off to the side. Not listening to his crew to stay in and bring the car to the pit lane. Instead, hopping out of his car and sprinting back to where you were. Screaming out your name as he ripped off his helmet and tossed it to the side. Arriving at your car that was halfway through the metal barriers. Flames reaching out at an alarming volume. 

And no one had any control over Jenna who had sprinted out of the barracks and into the direction she could see the orange glow. Able to hear Hamilton's screams over the roaring engines of the cars and crowd. But stopped when she saw the crash and your body.

That night haunted her every day, but here she was at the Le Mans Grand Prix. Standing in the centre of the track with the drivers all around with their heads bowed. Tears streamed down her face as she stared down at your helmet. The intricate details that you had her craft herself. When they tried to give her a brand new one, she denied it and asked for the one that you wore in your last race. Able to see the scratches and burns along the sides of the once sleek surface. Pressing her head to the helmet, she sighed in contentment.

She knew that if you were here with her, you would tell her that everything happens for a reason. You would console her in every way you knew would help. But now that you weren’t here, she wasn’t sure what to do. She wasn’t sure what to do without your kind heart to guide her through the darkness. Or your warm embrace would ever feel like again. She hated you for leaving her like this.

But what broke her heart was that you were right. People in the stands wore your colours and held posters of you. Everyone understands your backstory and uses that as the motivation to improve their lives. You were the birth of a new generation of people to strive for the best in themselves despite the cards dealt to them.

The countless hours you dedicated to this sport. All of the tears you shed for it. Every friend and fan that you had made. No one could take that away from you. There was no one else you could impress. You had made the impact you needed to and no one would be able to do it again. And for years to pass on, people would chant your name as one of the best drivers to ever live.

“Even after death, my message will inspire the next.”

And she would join them.

[knoxfms]

#𝚃𝚁𝙸𝙶𝙶𝙴𝚁𝚂      :      mentions   of   addiction   ,   alcohol   abuse   ,   drug   use   &   infidelity   .

*      𝙷𝙴𝚈   𝙰𝙻𝙻   𝚈𝙾𝚄   𝙲𝙾𝙾𝙻   𝙲𝙰𝚃𝚂   &   𝙺𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙴𝙽𝚂   hehe   .   the   name's   sydney   ..   i'm   a   twenty1   y/o   ,   residing   in   the   est   timezone   &   i   use   she   /   her   pronouns   !   it's   been   a   hot   min   since   i've   been   in   a   group   setting   ,   i   was   in   the   indie   world   for   quite   some   time   &   took   a   break   so   apologies   in   advance   for   the   piece   of   cr*p   you're   about   to   read      ⸺      fr   ,   don't   say   i   didn't   warn   ya   .   anywho   ,   let's   get   on   with   it      ⸺      down   below   ,   you'll   find   out   more   about   my   troublesome   son   ,   rafe   !

(   xavier   serrano  ,  cis   man  ,  he/him  ,  25   )    $$$   —    i'm  pretty  sure  i  just  saw  RAFAEL   '   RAFE   '   KNOX    headed  out  of  the  estate  .  it's  weird  though  …  i  didn't  see  them  with  their  HANGOVER   SHADES  .  i  didn't  know  they  left  the  house  without  it  .  i  feel  like  i  can  never  catch  them   ;   they're  always  so  busy  …  guess  that  makes  sense  since  they're  an  ACTOR  .  have  you  met  them  yet  ?  they  live  in  MAGNOLIA   LANE  ,  so  you  might've  missed  them  .  i  think  you'd  like  them  a  lot  ,  actually  .  i  swear  their  aura  is  RED  ,  and  that  seems  like  your  vibe  .  maybe  you'll  get  lucky  and  run  into  them  sometime  .  i  can  always  tell  when  they're  coming  up  the  hill  ‘cause  they're  constantly  blasting  THE   HILLS  by  THE   WEEKND  …  it's  pretty  much  their  anthem  at  this  point  ,  so  if  you  hear  it  ,  you'll  know  they're  around  .  y'know  ,  the  other  day  ,  i  saw  a  tabloid  with  them  on  the  front  page  that  said  "   TROUBLE   FINDS   HIM   YET   AGAIN   :   ACTOR   RAFE   KNOX   IS   IN   HOT   WATER   AFTER   ALLEGEDLY   ENGAGING   IN   BAR   BRAWL   .   “ …  do  you  think  that's  true  ?  guess  we'll  see  what  the  neighborhood  watch  thinks   !   (   zac   efron   +   paul   wesley   )  

*      𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰𝘀      .

full   name   :   alejandro   rafael   cotillo   .   nickname(s)   /   alias(es   :   just   goes   by   rafe   !   will   respond   to   d!ck   ,   manwh*re   ,   asswipe   .   age   :   twenty5   . zodiac   :   gemini   . date   of   birth   :   june   8th   (   bday   twins   w/   ye   )   ,   1997   .   nationality   :   american   . ethnicity   :   white   (   spanish   on   dad's   side   ,   sicilian   on   mom's   )   . height   :   6'2"   . gender   +   pronouns   :   cis   man   +   he   /   him   . language(s)   :   obv   fluent   in   english   &   d*mbass   ,   knows   some   phrases   in   italian   &   spanish   .   sexual   +   romantic   orientations   :   heterosexual   (   ?   )   +   aromantic   . occupation   :   actor   . career   claim(s)   :   zac   efron   +   paul   wesley   . character   inspo   :   damon   salvatore   +   silas   hybrid   ,   draco   malfoy   ,   james   kennedy   ,   sean   cameron   (   with   a   dash   of   craig   manning   &   jay   hogart   ,,,,   the   chaos   )   ,   sebastian   valmont   ,   tristan   dugray   .

*      𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸𝗴𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱      .

family   ;   it's   a   touchy   subject   for   you   ,   isn't   it   ?   you   keep   your   private   life   separate   from   your   work   life   ,   often   waving   off   questions   that   pertain   to   family   or   rather   lack   thereof   .   what   you've   left   behind   in   the   past   .   documents   containing   any   personal   information   surrounding   your   true   identity   have   been   tucked   away   &   sealed   .

you've   got   your   father's   looks   ,   charisma   &   even   name   .   he   was   once   an   actor   ,   a   heartthrob   from   the   '80s   ..   turned   washed   -   up   after   hitting   his   prime   &   no   longer   receiving   any   work   .  this   caused   him   to   turn   to   alcohol   ,   drugs   ,   which   later   led   to   addiction   ..   he   became   the   laughing   stock   of   the   media   .

this   caused   issues   for   the   young   couple   &   would   become   the   topic   of   every   fight   ..   it   wasn't   until   carmen   moretti   ,   your   mother   ,   gave   him   an   ultimatum      ⸺      it   was   either   get   clean   &   sober   or   he'd   lose   his   family   .   he   chose   sobriety   ,   enlisting   himself   into   therapy   &   rehab   .   for   a   while   ,   he   was   doing   good   ..   he   even   started   getting   back   into   acting   ,   but   it   seemed   old   habits   died   hard   .   between   his   relapse   &   the   discovery   of   an   affair   with   his   sober   coach   ,   carmen   kicked   his   ass   to   the   curb   .

like   most   children   when   their   parents   split   ,   they   find   someone   to   blame   ;   you   blamed   your   mother   for   your   father   leaving   .  you've   said   some   pretty   hurtful   things   over   the   years   ,   things   you   can't   take   back   .   you   were   the   cause   of   every   relationship   that   she   had's   destruction   .   men   didn't   seem   to   stick   around   too   long   due   to   your   tactics   .   i   think   part   of   you   was   hoping   there   would   be   some   sort   of   reconciliation   between   your   parents   .

there   was   one   (   1   )   man   that   you   couldn't   manage   to   scare   away   ..   prescott   holbrook   ,   a   business   magnate   &   investor   (   think   el*n   m*sk   but   ..   tolerable   &   handsome    )   .   you   can't   remember   the   details   ,   but   apparently   ,   they   met   at   a   gathering   hosted   by   mutual   friends   &   it   was   love   -   at   -   first   -   sight   ,   v   much   giving   wattpad   story   vibes   .   anywho   ,   they   ended   up   eloping   after   a   month   of   knowing   each   other   &   just   last   year   ,   they   celebrated   fifteen   years   .   you've   never   seen   eye   to   eye   ,   but   you   can   tell   how   much   happier   your   mom   is   &   he   does   seem   to   care   about   you   ,   as   if   you   were   one   of   his   own   ..  

at   the   shy   age   of   seven   ,   a   casting   director   was   scouting   the   area   for   a   young   boy   to   play   young   simon   tam   &   plucked   you   from   the   crowd   .   you   were   said   to   be   a   natural   &   after   doing   just   that   one   project   ..   you   decided   that   this   is   something   you   want   to   do   for   the   rest   of   your   life   .

you've   done   small   roles   here   &   there   for   the   next   seven   years   up   until   the   age   of   fifteen   ..   when   an   opportunity   of   a   lifetime   came   ,   your   shot   to   fame   ,   your   breakout   ;   you've   been   casted   as   troy   bolton   in   the   upcoming   high   school   musical   trilogy   .

because   of   your   affiliation   with   disney   ,   it   was   difficult   getting   casted   for   roles   .   no   one   really   wanted   to   take   a   chance   on   you   ,   no   one   quite   took   you   seriously   as   an   actor   .   though   ,   luckily   ,   you   managed   to   prove   people   wrong   ..   17   again   was   your   first   movie   after   your   disney   departure   .   from   there   on   ,   you   slowly   grew   to   become   one   of   hollywood's   new   it   boys   .

 *      𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘀      .

rafe's   first   two   roles   were   left   uncredited   .   because   of   that   ,   many   seem   to   think   his   debut   was   summerland   .

he's   not   really   sure   how   rafe   knox   came   to   be   ..   i   guess   ,   it   was   when   he   realized   what   a   pos   ,   deadbeat   his   dad   really   was   &   he   opted   for   a   name   change   .   he   switched   his   middle   name   to   his   first   &   knox   seemed   to   have   a   ring   to   it   .

originally   auditioned   for   the   role   of   damon   salvatore   but   casting   felt   like   he'd   be   a   better   fit   for   the   other   brother   🤦🏻‍♀️   ..   (   why   ?   idk   idk   🤷🏻‍♀️   pester   j*lie   pl*c   abt   it   )   .   the   show's   first   season   premiered   in   the   winter   of   this   year   ,   they're   currently   wrapping   up   season   two   ,   which   is   set   to   air   in   the   fall   .   

 relationships   never   seemed   to   work   out   ,   not   because   he's   afraid   of   commitment   ,   but   because   he's   always   working   .   its   caused   quite   some   issues   in   the   past   ,   his   past   partners   have   mentioned   they've   felt   neglected   ..   which   is   why   he   tends   to   refrain   from   jumping   into   anything   too   serious   /   long   -   term   .   he   very   much   prefers   flings   ,   playing   the   field   .

biggest   fear   is   probably   ending   up   like   his   dad   ,   which   is   funny   (   not   really   )   because   with   the   rate   that   he's   going   at   ,   he's   slowly   morphing   into   him   .   this   is   actually   one   of   the   reasons   why   he's   estranged   from   his   mother   ,   he   hasn't   communicated   with   her   in   years   ..   he's   partially   embarrassed   because   he's   basically   his   dad   2.0   &   he   doesn't   want   to   face   her   ,   disappoint   her   . 

he's   never   been   keen   on   talking   about   his   feelings   ..   he'd   rather   bottle   them   all   up   ,   drink   them   away   ,   literally   do   anything   other   than   spill   his   guts   out   to   another   being   .   he   doesn't   like   people   seeing   him   vulnerable   ,   it's   encrypted   in   his   mind   that   it's   a   sign   of   weakness   .  

deep   down   ,   despite   what   the   media   /   tabloids   say   ..   rafe   does   have   a   good   heart   .   he   often   donates   to   many   organizations   /   charities   ,   usually   under   anonymous   .

rafe   does   have   a   scar   under   his   left   collarbone   ,   a   result   of   a   scuffle   between   him   &   one   of   his   mom's   past   boyfriends   .

while   he's   made   comments   in   the   past   that   could   be   considered   as   disses   ..   he'll   always   be   grateful   for   his   time   on   disney   &   hsm   will   always   hold   a   special   place   in   his   heart   .   i   think   a   part   of   him   was   embarrassed   back   then   but   he's   embraced   it   &   honestly   ?   he's   not   sure   if   he   would   be   where   he's   at   today   ,   had   he   not   have   gotten   the   role   of   beloved   troy   bolton   .

everyone   that   has   ties   to   disney   /   nick   seems   to   have   come   out   screwed   up   ,   whether   it's   dealing   with   mental   health   battles   ,   addictions   ,   etc   ..   rafe   ,   like   most   kids   ,   got   lured   in   &   did   drugs   during   the   hsm   era   .   he's   been   very   open   about   the   effects   of   peer   pressure   &   regrets   even   indulging   in   substances   .   he's   currently   on   the   path   of   sobriety   ,   but   it's   a   struggle   .. 

as   of   2021   ,   roughly   12%   of   the   world   is   a   leftie      ──      rafe   is   included   in   the   population   !

love   language   :   bullying   .

knows   how   to   play   guitar   ,   taught   himself   actually   .   he's   definitely   not   by   any   means   a   pro   ,   despite   saying   /   thinking   otherwise   !

*      𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗿   𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲      .

firefly   (   2004   )   |   young   simon   tam   . ER   (   2005   )   |   bobby   neville   .   summerland   (   2010   -   2011   )   |   cameron   bale   . csi   :   miami   (   2011   )   |   seth   dawson   . high   school   musical   (   2012   )   |   troy   bolton   . ncis   (   2012   )   |   daniel   austin   . the   suite   life   of   zack   &   cody   (   2012   )   |   trevor   . high   school   musical   2   (   2013   )   |   troy   bolton   .   hairspray   (   2013   )   |   link   larkin   . high   school   musical   3   (   2014   )   |   troy   bolton   . 17   again   (   2015   )   |   mike   o'donnell   . charlie   st   .   cloud   (   2016   )   |   charlie   st   .   cloud   . new   year's   eve   (   2017   )   |   paul   . at   any   price   (   2018   )   |   dean   whipple   .   the   lorax   (   2018   )   |   ted   wiggins   (   voice   )   the   lucky   one   (   2018   )   |   logan   thibault   .   the   paperboy   (   2018   )   |   jack   jansen   . neighbors   (   2019   )   |   teddy   sanders   . that   awkward   moment   (   2019   )   |   jason   . we   are   your   friends   (   2020   )   |   cole   carter   . dirty   grandpa   (   2021   )   |   jason   kelly   . mike   &   dave   need   wedding   dates   (   2021   )   |   dave   stangle   .   neighbors   2   :   sorority   rising   (   2021   )   |   teddy   sanders   .   the   vampire   diaries   (   2022   -   )   |   stefan   salvatore   .

upcoming   projects   :   baywatch   ,   the   disaster   artist   ,   the   greatest   showman   ,   the   beach   bum   ,   extremely   wicked   ,   shockingly   evil   &   vile   ,   scoob   !   ,   gold   ,   firestarter   ,   tell   me   a   story   ,   roll   bounce   ,   the   oc   .  

[hockey-x-imagines]

Made to Last || Tyler Seguin Pt 2

Note: This is part 2. There may be a few times you is used instead of I. I tried to get them all but I could've missed a few. Feedback is always welcomed.

Song Inspo: Made to Last by Issues

Warnings: Drinking, and cussing. (I pretty sure that's all)

Paring: Tyler x Reader

P.O.V: Tyler

Word Count: 1282.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The amount of effort Y/N put into everything she had done for my birthday I'll never be able to express how much it means to me. She has been the only girl that has even put effort in to planning something for me. Hell, she's the only person I've been with that has ever done anything more than maybe taken me to dinner. Her effort is one of the many things I love about her. I've never had anyone do half of what she does for me, I really don't know how to act. The feelings I have for her scare the actual shit out of me, I've never felt this strong about anyone. The closest thing I could relate my feelings for Y/N to is hockey, I love her just as much if not more than I love for hockey.

I had taken a few shots with the boys, but I had mainly stuck to beer. I hadn't realized that I drank too much, until I woke up with no memories of most of last night. I woke up on the grass in my backyard with a killer hangover. I was taken back to my party days of Boston. There were people everywhere, literally people everywhere.

I got up and put coffee on before I went back to my room looking for Y/N. I heard her phone going off from the laundry room, so you followed it hoping she'd be with it. She wasn't, so I picked it up.

"WHY HAVEN'T YOU ANSWERED YOU FUCKING PHONE?!?" the voice of her best friend yells.

"What do you mean she hasn't answered her phone?" I ask just a little confused.

"Do you have any fucking idea what you've done, or how fucking bad you've fucked up?" she snaps.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I ask, "I literally just woke up."

"I'm sure there's plenty of videos or pictures from your party last night, go find them. And I swear to fucking God, if Y/N ends up dead in a ditch, you will be following her," YN's/BF/N snaps hanging up on me. I can't really comprehend what just happen.

"TYLER PAUL!" An angry Russian accent yells. I freeze, it has been a very long time since I've heard Rads yell, and even longer since he's yelled at me.

"Rads calm down," I hear Jamie try to stop Rads. Nothing is said as an angry Rads lunges at me. I wasn't able to move fast enough and ended up getting tackled. I shift to my back and try to push him off me.

"Wha-" is all I'm able to get out before Rads fist connects with my jaw.

"Dude stop," Jamie sarcastically tells Rads. What the fuck is everyone's problem? Rads throws another 2 punches before getting off me. Jamie helps me up off the ground and he to decides I need to be punched again; he decides to hit me square in the nose.

"Why the fuck are you both hitting me?" I question as I rub my jaw. Alex glares at me and mumbles something in Russian and walks towards the kitchen. I'm still at a loss as to what is going on. Jamie pulls his phone out and hits play on a video.

"Aren't you in a relationship with Y/N?" Someone had asked.

"I'm Tyler Fucking Seguin. I don't date, I don't commit. Y/N was just a nice piece of ass for the minute, shit got old, and I got bored," I slurred. I look at Jamie in horror. That sure as shit explains why everyone is pissed at me. I have absolutely no recollection of last night, let alone saying that.

"Please tell me she's here somewhere," I ask my panic rising. I can't fucking lose her; I know I'd be completely destroyed.

"No. She's gone and she left her phone," Jamie runs his hand through his hair, "no one has seen her, heard from her, knows where she is or where she's going," he snaps. I try her mom from my phone several times with no success. So, I try to get a hold of her from Y/N's phone.

"I didn't answer your calls for a reason," she snaps, "stop fucking calling me. I don't think you'll ever understand how bad you fucked up. I want nothing to do with you. Do not fucking reach out to me again," her mom yells before ending the call. I wasn't able to get a single word in, so I call her little sister.

"What do you want Seguin?" She spits.

"Where is Y/N? Please tell me I've got to make things right," I plea, and I'm met with a dial tone. She also hung up on me. Shit. I walk to our room looking for her things, but it's all gone, there's not a trace left of her. I slide down my wall as I break out in sobs, this can't be happening.

For the last 2 years I've tried to find her. It started out with a constant attempt to get her mom, sisters, or best friend to tell me anything, after the first few weeks they had blocked my number. I was able to fake being okay from just looking back through all of our pictures, texts, and memories, that was short lived. After 6 months of her being gone I had turned back to partying. I tried my best to find any information on social media, but kept coming up empty handed. After a year I had gone back to my playboy days trying to fill the void in my chest. Nessa being the flavor of the week. I wanted to be someone different for Y/N but here I am, running around and fucking anyone willing to spread their legs for me. I swear that made it worse, when I was with someone else all I could think about was her. I couldn't play worth shit anymore. I was on the verge of losing everything. I'm not one to give up, that being said after 2 years of looking and constantly coming up empty handed, I need to pull my shit together for my team at least.

I can't breathe without her, I don't know how to function without her, I don't know how many times I've tried to pull the pieces she left and put them back together. Without her, I haven't been successful in the least bit. I can't deny the fact that I still love her more than anything, and the last 2 years you have been miserable and I would do just about anything to get her back.

The amount of time I've played over the last few years has gone down drastically. Her family and friends refuse to acknowledge I even exist, my mom and sisters, along with every member of the team who knew her is still pissed at me to this day, and she's completely disappeared.

"Do you mind if I bring Nessa out with us tonight?" I ask Jamie. There is no response, only a death glare. Nessa happened to be the blonde in my lap that night 2 years ago.

"Sure, you can bring her a long, I can't guarantee me or anyone will still come or stick around," he shrugs. I roll my eyes. No one in my life likes or tolerates Nessa, me included. She's a filler as horrible as that sounds, but she will never be Y/N. She's the one, and I know it, there is no replacing her. No matter how hard I try. I lost the best thing to ever happen to me, and I fear there's no going back to normal without her.

[love-dreams]

thinkin’ about you

woozi/reader | predebut!au, idol!au, boyfriend!au | fluff, angst

synopsis: just another day in the studio for jihoon. except he now has the inspiration to create.

content: light cursing (use of the word “damn”), pre-debut! woozi/early debut!woozi, a weird time transition, very bittersweet memories, crying scenes, fluffy ending

wc: 2.6k

inspo: woozi in the recording studio, 《hello》by seventeen, 《247》by seventeen, 《empty》Paul Kim [here’s my playlist link]

It was evening. Or morning. Jihoon didn’t really know at this point after working consecutive days and nights at the studio without leaving.

Glancing sideways at his luminescent phone screen, Jihoon saw multiple text messages and a few missed phone calls. Reaching for it, he quickly dialed your number, waiting for the sound of your voice after the ringtone. 

“Jihoon?”

He sighed in relief, carding his fingers through his messy locks. “Hey baby. I’m sorry for missing your calls. My phone was on silent.” 

You don’t respond, instead Jihoon hears the sound of car horn in the background and the bustle of footsteps. “Baby? Where are you right now?”

Jihoon could hear your light heavy breathing and the phone being tossed around in the air before you quickly responded, “I’m on my way to the studio right now with food. I’ll call you back!”

“Wait, Y/N, stay safe-”

Click. 

Jihoon let out a breath as he leaned back into his chair, exhaustion, followed by hunger, creeping into his body. Cracking his knuckles, he turned his attention back to the music program he was using to work on a new track, long fingers flying over the keyboard. 

Today was a long day. Long and exhausting. No matter what he did today, Jihoon just couldn’t seem to get the right sound or feel that he was imagining in his head. Known for being a notorious workaholic, Jihoon often worked days on end in the studio, pumping out new tracks and mixtapes, like “a music factory,” you jokingly once called him. 

Jihoon placed his headphones snug over his ears to try and focus, music flowing freely into his eardrums.

Just when he was about to get into his zone before he felt a hand on his shoulder, immediately jerking him back to reality. Jihoon looked up to see your flushed face holding up the slightly transparent, flimsy plastic bag. You were panting, heavy breaths coming from your chest.

“I got you takeout, sorry it took so long. There was traffic so I tried to run here on foot which was definitely not a good idea now that I think about it.”

Jihoon’s lips curled upward at your rambling, glad at the distraction you provided for him instead of work. He took the bag from you and set it down on the ground, peeking inside to see what you had brought him. Grabbing the multiple containers of takeout, he moved away from the desk to another table in the studio.

You turned, flopping onto the studio’s couch to take a cursory, quick look at your boyfriend. 

At first glance, the first thing you noticed was that Jihoon’s hair was all over the place. Even under his cap, you could see the stray strands of hair floating around his face. His face was sullen, a sign that he hadn’t been eating very well, with slight dark circles under his eyes. 

Feeling the weight of your stare, Jihoon turned around to face you, mumbling through a mouthful, “Thanks for the food.”

You grinned for a second before huffing, arms crossed exasperatedly, “Yeah, ‘cause you weren’t going to get some yourself now were you?”

Jihoon snorted, ignoring your comment and went back to eating. After a couple minutes, Jihoon had already scarfed down one container of take out and was back at trying to fine-tune his music track. 

Stepping closer to Jihoon, you placed your hands on his shoulders, kneading softly while he ate. Resting your chin by his head, you lowly murmured, “What’s going on? You seem...stuck.” 

Jihoon swallowed thickly, fingers pausing slightly on the keyboard. He leaned back into the mesh of his chair, trying to feel more of the magic from your fingers. 

“I don’t know..I just can’t seem to find any inspiration. Nothing sounds right.” 

You hummed, fingers digging slightly deeper, eliciting a soft groan from Jihoon. “Maybe you just need a break, Jihoon. Get some fresh air. You’ve been working nonstop in this studio. No wonder you don’t have any inspiration.”

Jihoon threw his head back and sighed, eyes shut as he ran his fingers through his hair again. “I can’t, Y/N...I really have to pull this for the members, for our future, y’know.” 

You smiled bittersweetly, fingers halting their movements causing Jihoon opened his eyes to stare at your own. 

“Y/N? Are you okay..”

Then, you pulled away from him, standing awkwardly by yourself away from the desk. “I know, Jihoon. I’ll do my best to support you too. And when you succeed, I promise I’ll be your biggest fan. I’ll always be here for you, even when I’m not. I promise that I love you.”

Jihoon smiled, slightly flustered at your sudden love confession, and stood up as well, chair squeaking at the absence of his weight. He wrapped his arms around you, warmth against warmth, trying to mark in the memory of your frame against his body. 

“I know, and I love you too.”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Jihoon looked up from his program, eyes widening at your sudden statement. “Y/N? What do you mean?”

You couldn’t look up at him, eyes staring straight down at the ground. “It means that I’m breaking up with you. I’m sorry, Jihoon.” 

Jihoon couldn’t breathe for a second out of shock; his heart was trapped in his throat and he couldn’t bring himself to say something to you. Say something! his brain screamed at him, Make her stay. Just don’t let her go.

He swallowed and refused to reply. 

“Are you not going to say anything?” 

Jihoon stared at the empty take-out package in the studio trash can, just the other day you had said that you would always be there supporting him. “What more is there to say,” he mumbled. 

You nodded shallowly, whispering out: “Goodbye, Jihoon,” then turned on your heel and left him alone in the quiet, dark studio.

Jihoon had never written so much music in his life. After you exited out the studio that day, Jihoon cried. Cried in the first time in years. He wrote song after song after song until every last memory he had with you was in music. 

Y/N..you’re such a liar, Jihoon thought, you said you’d be there for me. Dammit, you said you love me. 

Every raw emotion he had within him was pouring out of his heart into music. Jihoon couldn’t leave the studio because the inspiration was endless. Another trace of you in the dorms would have Jihoon back in the studio writing. No matter where he looked, where he went, Jihoon was reminded of you. 

Sometimes music wasn’t enough. Sometimes Jihoon just wanted to feel the warmth and security of your arms around him. Sometimes he just wanted to see your face again. 

Even when life got turbulent, you were there for him.

And now you weren’t.

“You’re writing even more amazing songs, Woozi, where’d you get the sudden burst of inspiration?” commented Bumzu one day. 

Jihoon just stared at his teacher, surprise written all over his face. Inspiration... he thought. Bittersweetly, Jihoon remembered what you had told him that day:

“No wonder you have no inspiration.”

“Yeah,” Jihoon muttered brusquely, not bothering to give a coherent response to Bumzu’s question. After staring off at the computer screen, Jihoon finally stood up. “I’m going out,” he called before pulling his cap down lower to cover his face and walking out of the Pledis Entertainment building. 

Stepping out into the sunlight, Jihoon stared at the empty street, stray cars littering the side of the road. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Jihoon walked a few steps and let out a long, held-in breath breathing in the cool, fresh air contrasting the studio’s. He sighed and squinted at the bright sunlight, the concrete sidewalk emulating a microwave. 

Jihoon decided to go for a walk by the Han River. He hadn’t visited there since the two of you broke up, it was too painful for him to go there. 

Looking at the river, Jihoon realized that nothing had changed. The river was still as beautiful as the day he met you here and there were still people enjoying its beauty. 

Only Jihoon had changed. 

Seeing the natural beauty of the river evoked another powerful emotion.

Guilt. 

Jihoon guilted himself over and over again after you had left, wondering what he had done wrong. He always wanted to ask you, his own pride trapping him in the confines of the studio. Even in Jihoon’s turbulent life, you had been the stable thing that brought him back to reality every single damn time. The two of you were resilient against the tides of life. 

And now you were gone and Jihoon didn’t even have the guts to ask why. 

While strolling beside the river, he found a lonely bench on the side of the trail. Sitting on the hardwood bench, Jihoon sighed, maybe this walk wasn’t that good of an idea. Now he was cold, lonely, and miserable. 

Drifting back into his own thoughts, Jihoon wondered what you were doing in the moment. Were you also thinking about him? He remembered that you would derive great pleasure in taking walks. Were you happy?

“Jihoon?”

Jihoon shot up at the sound of your voice, eyes searching frantically for your face. 

“Hello..?” you waved your fingers in front of his face. 

Startled, Jihoon stumbled backward toward the bench, clumsily falling down onto the hardwood. It was you. 

You were bundled up in a coat and a scarf around your neck, cheeks a soft pink. Breathing out a white, puff of air, you gingerly greeted him once more, “You were just sitting by yourself so I wanted to say hello. We haven’t seen each other in awhile, how are you doing?”

Jihoon fumbled for an answer, his mouth unable to form coherent words. “I-I..I’m doing fine, I guess. And you?”

You smiled that bittersweet smile again, the same one in that studio that day. Turning your head sideways to look at the glimmering river, you drifted off, “I’m not really sure these days.” 

Jihoon followed your gaze to the river. Before he could respond, you muttered something under your breath. 

He leaned forward, “What’d you say?”

You took a deep breath in. “I said you seem to be doing fine these days. I saw SEVENTEEN’s comeback..you’ve really improved, huh? I’m proud-”

“I still love you,” Jihoon blurted out. 

You stopped your ramble, head still turned away from Jihoon as you averted your gaze. 

Your heart fell at his words whereas it felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off of Jihoon after he had blurted out. He felt as if he could finally breathe properly after all these months without you. 

Softly, Jihoon whispered out, “Y/N..Please look at me? If you’ve moved on, please just tell me. Tell me why you left me. Please..” His voice broke at the end. 

All these months of pent up emotion, silent tears, and lonely nights without you. Jihoon finally wracked up the courage to ask you for closure. 

Your heart just felt so heavy to hold by yourself, chest aching in heartbreak. You succumbed to your own emotions; hot, heavy tears were rolling down your cheeks, falling, one by one, onto the ground. Raising your head, you could slightly make out Jihoon’s blurry figure. 

“I’m..so sorry, Jihoon.” Without a warning, you broke down, hiccups wracking your figure. You covered your eyes with one of your hands, trying to rub away the waterfall of emotions pouring out of you. It was like a dam had broken, months of sleepless nights and guilty thoughts eating away at you and you had finally broken. 

Jihoon was surprised, so surprised he just stood there for a few moments in shock. You never cried. In the years that Jihoon had known you, you were always the strong one, there for him when trainee life was too difficult. It was you who had held him on the nights he couldn’t sleep. It was you who had brought him food when he didn’t take care of yourself.

Jihoon lurched forward to hold you, arms wrapping around your shaking body. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered into your hair, one arm secured around your waist. “I’m here, Y/N. Breathe, breathe.”

You leaned in closer to Jihoon, wet tears soaking the front of his shirt. Regardless, Jihoon didn’t let you go, arms securely fastened around you as you gripped onto him, crying endlessly until the tears wouldn’t come out.

When you were finally able to even out your breathing, you loosened your grip, shaky breaths coming out. 

Jihoon, sensing you had calmed down, asked the question that had been plaguing his mind the entire time. “Why did you leave me?” 

You shook your head and buried your head back into Jihoon, no words coming out of your mouth except sharp intakes of breath. 

Jihoon pushed, “Why? Did I do something wrong? Did you stop loving me? I loved you so damn much, Y/N, I would’ve done anything-”

You pushed away from him, “I did it for you!” you bursted, panting slightly after your outburst. You sniffled a little afterward, fingers still trying to rub at your red eyes. 

Jihoon was in complete, utter shock. He opened his mouth, then closed it, unable to form words with his stricken lips. 

“Me?” he finally sputtered, incredulously. Then, a rush of anger came over him, “Don’t blame this on me, you’re the one who-”

“I wanted you to have the future you dreamt of!” 

He swallowed his retort, the rush of new information too much for him to handle at the moment. 

The distance between the two of you felt like a brick wall, separating and full of tension. You sniffled, loose tears escaping once again. “I..I didn’t want to be a distraction for you..I didn’t want to be a burden.” 

You sucked in a breath, trying to keep tears from flooding out of you again, but instead of tears, all the memories came flooding back to you. Every single “I love you” was a mountain of rocks, pressuring you to tell Jihoon the truth. Your lips quivered, trying to figure out a way to phrase your mistake. 

Taking a sharp intake of breath, you tipped your chin upward to make eye contact with Jihoon. He was also crying, eyes turning pink as he quickly tried to rub tears out of sight. His cheeks and nose were a blush scarlet, eyelids swollen. 

“You were..always so passionate about music. About debuting and being an idol, and I just thought, that maybe if I left..you would be better off.” 

“How could you say that?” Jihoon spat out, tears openly rolling down his face. He swallowed, hiccuping slightly. “I loved you, I was willing to make sacrifices..if it just meant that we could be together. Was our relationship not enough for you to stay? Was I not enough for you?”

You shook your head fervently, leaning forward into Jihoon. “I still love you,” you whimpered into the fabric of his jacket. “I never stopped, never. I wanted the best of you, the company said-”

“I don’t care what the company says. I need you with me,” Jihoon choked, a lump sitting in his throat. “These past few months...they’ve been horrible. I can’t focus without you. You’re my inspiration, Y/N. I’m always thinking about you when I’m songwriting.” 

When you stayed silent, Jihoon continued, “Please come back, Y/N. You said you still love me, is that true? Please, I’m begging you, come back to me.” 

You nodded into him, quiet sobs dying down as guilt finally rose off your shoulders. 

“I’m here, Jihoon. I’m here and I won’t leave ever again.”

[vanchlo]

The Assistant / Chapter Thirty-Nine, “Another Day”

Clickable Links: 

- Masterlist feat. all chapters and Character Surveys

- Inspo tag

- Hecky Playlist

- Read Becky’s FULL dream here

- Read on Wattpad 

Music Inspo: Another Day by Paul McCartney (click to listen)

WARNINGS: Some Smut

                                  SNEAKYYYYYYYY PEEK

A soft ‘thank you’ leaves me in reply, and I think for the first time the silence isn’t awkward. I wonder if for him too it’s full of so many unspoken words that I’m dying to say, or if that’s just me. So often, I doubt that he feels the same way about me, but God, when he looks at me like I’m the only person in the world, I can’t remember what doubts are. And I swear he looks at me that way every single time.

Standing here before him, I remember the plan I made, and like he keeps his promises, I decide to keep this one. No matter if it’s the hardest one I’ve ever made in my entire life, and I know it’ll be the hardest one to keep.

                 “It’s still you, it always has been you, it always will be you.” 

                                                     - B.D.

His eyebrows knit into a question and I finally return to devouring his lips once they fall from the confines of his teeth. Hurried breaths escape us as I nudge my hips against his, sighing when his hand returns home to its place on my ass. He echoes my groan when my dripping center brushes against his warm tip, and I whimper when it tickles my clit. Goosebumps crawl across my flesh at the sensation, and at the sounds he makes. A smirk grows on my lips as I drag myself over him again, a high pitched sound leaving him. 

“Becks,” he sighs before I quiet his lips with a kiss, moving my own with his. 

The remnants of his morning coffee tickle my tastebuds while I massage his top lip between my own. I hum a question back to him, letting my fingers wander from his unshaven cheeks and down to his toned chest. My name leaves his lips once more while my wet folds drag over the slope of his cock below me. I try to replace my lips on his, but he won’t let me, and instead I find his dark eyes with mine. 

“What?” I huff, searching his eyes for an answer as I grind down onto him again. A giggle flies from my mouth when his bottom lip comes between his teeth, accented by a roll of his eyes. 

My laughing is forgotten when he presses down on my hips as he thrusts upwards, and his cock enters me suddenly. Now, it’s his turn to laugh as a surprised moan escapes me. 

“Not so funny bein’ teased, ‘s it, Becks?” Harry purrs, a smirk curling into his cheeks while my insides stretch around him. His breathy laugh tickles my neck as he leans forward to plant whispery kisses above my mother’s necklace he had gifted me. “Now, fookin’ ride me already, babe, befo’ I lose me patience and flip ya ova.” 

“I’d like to see you try,” I tease, feeling his warm breath waft over my face when he exhales while clucking his tongue. 

“Becks, Becks, Becks. I thought we were way past this ‘playin’ hard t’ get’ shit.”

“What, it’s fun?” I giggle, leaning forward slowly as I stare into his eyes before his lips meet mine. 

“Ya, fer you it ‘s.” My laugh dances across his lips as I lift my hips before letting them fall, feeling his groan against my mouth while his cock slides back into me. “Y’know jus’ what t’ do with me, dontcha, bug?”

I nod with a ‘shhh’ against his cheek where I trail kisses, whining when his thumb presses against my clit to draw circles. Curses fall under my breath when his hips meet mine in a thrust. 

“Fook, Becks, I love y-.” 

Bleeeeeeeeep! 

Flying to a sitting position, heavy breaths rack my chest as my bedroom comes into a blurry focus. Swallowing against my dry throat, I cough as I try to come back to reality, but that’s easier said than done after what just happened. Anything and everything is going to be difficult after that dream. 

“Holy fucking shit,” I mutter under my breath, letting my hands relax where they grasp at my sheets. With an attempted deep breath, I move back to sit up straighter in bed, the images from before burned into my brain. Harry’s face. The blush suit. His naked torso. His coc-

“Okay, Becky, it was just a dream. Just a stupidly amazing dream. Oh my God,” I whimper into my hands, letting my fingers card through my hair as I try to collect myself. “God, that dream was so amazing. Ugh, Harry,” I sigh sadly, a long whine spilling into the air as I recall every detail of the dream. Our made up daughter, the blissful feeling of his lips upon mine, and our naked bodies so close and then meeting. 

It was a dream indeed, because as if I wasn’t sure of it before, I know now that I want that more than anything. I want to be able to steal a kiss from him whenever my heart desires. I want his hugs whenever I need one. There’s a sharp pang in my chest when the next thought hits me. I want to have a family with him, and to have mini Harry’s running around, both girls and boys. 

“There’s so much that I want with you, Harry,” I murmur aloud, the floral design on my comforter growing hazy as tears fill my eyes, but nothing could ever cloud the dreams that sit behind them. The multitudes of dreams that all take place with him, and that my heart yearns for so badly. I want to finally be able to call him mine, and even if he doesn’t know it, I’ve been his for longer than I’ve known.

The churning sound of the percolating coffee pot rouses me from my bed where I’ve been stuck, unable to leave for far too long. Belatedly, my feet touch the floor as the images sting inside of my head.

“You’re just getting up? You’re gonna be late, Ree,” Skye scoffs when I finally drag my feet into the kitchen, limbs heavy with tainted dreams and sleep. “Aren’t you going to have any coffee?”

My head goes from side to side in answer, hopefully scrambling the ideas and images that ache within my mind. I had already slid on something decent looking and ran a brush through my hair, stuffing any makeup I could find into my purse for a later time today. Grabbing a banana and a muffin from the box on the counter, I make my way for the door, feeling like a zombie, after all that’s already happened this morning.

“Ree, are you alright? You won’t be late, you know, you still have ten minutes before you need to leave. I was joking,” she calls after me, but when I don’t reply as I pull my black Chelsea boots past my black jeggings, I hear my name again. “Hey, what’s the matter?”

I refrain and push away for as long as I can, but when I reach for the closet door, her fingers painted three different colors stops me. Again, that nickname I’ve had for almost my entire life falls from her lips as she guides me over to the sofa.

“What is it? Did something happen?” she implores, but with my eyes glued to an unraveling tassel on the rug, I continue to ignore her until I can’t any longer.

“I had the weirdest dream of my entire life,” I confess softly, surprised at the sound of my own voice, and how much it sounded like that of the voice in my dream. The continuity of it all, as well as the numerous discrepancies only confuse me the more.

“Tell me about it, it must have bothered you. I can tell,” she encourages softly, running a hand through my wavy curls.

“I was at the firm with Harry, working with him,” I begin, soon hearing her question of how that was so weird until I shake my head, eyes still elsewhere. “I had just come back after a maternity leave, because we had a baby together. A girl. Her name was Iris, and I don’t know why because I don’t even like that name. I must have been working there again for a year or so, and his mum was taking care of her while the two of us worked. He got mad at me for not finding a good client for a new case, and then he said I could have anything I wanted to make up for it. I told him I wanted to play Strip Scrabble and we did in his office, and then we had sex on that very sofa in his office, Skye. Sex, like every single detail of it was in my dream. How could I know what his dick looks like if I’ve never seen it before? And we were talking about our daughter together so casually, and we were kissing, a-and-,” I come to a sudden stop, the words expiring from my lips as my eyes widen.

“Holy shit, that’s one intense dream, Ree. But, why was it so- Oh,” Skye replies, her hand falling to my arm that she runs her palm along soothingly. “Sorry, I haven’t had my coffee yet this morning either, so I’m a little slow to the punches.”

“It’s what I want, well besides naming my daughter Iris, because that was the name of the bully in our third-grade class who kept stealing my favorite erasers. I’d never name my daughter that. And ugh, how do I get there? I don’t even start for another five days, and I already miss him even though we’ve been texting. Now, I miss him even more because of that stupid wet dream,” I sigh, letting my head fall into my hands as my heart aches, another chip falling from the disintegrating armor within my chest.

“It sounds like to me that maybe you should pay a special visit to see a certain somebody today,” she suggests cheekily, her words lifting my head and turning it to her. “Come on, it’s not that hard, Ree. Make up an excuse to go and see him! Oh, you were just in the neighborhood, or you had to drop off a document that you didn’t actually have to do, or-.”

“Or, I could bring Asher lunch,” I suggest feebly, extending a hand forward in question.

“Yeah, make him jealous! Make him think that you’re there to bring him lunch and eat with him, but really it’s for Asher! He’ll go nuts, please do it or else I’m not talking to you for the rest of the day,” Skye squeals, hands coming together in a prayer-like fold. A shy giggle escapes my lips as I nod, the idea knitting together within my head, soon pushing away the dream. It’s not that easy though, because I know it’s going to take a long time to remember that vivid as fuck dream. Oh yes, a very long time, indeed.

“Who knew that four hours could feel so long,” I huff, standing to my feet and quickly sliding on my coat, hugging Skye as I begin to count down the minutes until my lunch break at one o’clock. I just hope to God that he’ll be around at that time. My monstrous doubts are silenced when I remember from last Friday that he waited until around that time to eat lunch, keeping his entire hour free to do just that.

Here I come, Harry. Well, Real Harry, not Dream Harry, but maybe one day he’ll be both of them. I can only hope, very hard. Maybe one day soon, it’ll finally pay off, all this hoping and dreaming.

+

“Since when do you bring me lunch?” Asher questions, confusion painting his face in waves as he stares dumbfounded at the brown paper bag in front of him.

“Because you’re one of my best friends, and I’m nice,” I answer feebly, shrugging my shoulders as I unwrap the greasy paper around the burger. An unsure laugh escapes his grinning lips as a golden chip disappears between them.

Soon, my burger is gone and so are my chips and drink. Meanwhile, Asher is still crunching away on his as I steal nervous glances at him. Wringing my hands in my lap, I nibble at the inside of my cheek anxiously.

“Okay, go already,” Asher sighs, waving a hand at me to shoo.

“What?”

“I know you’re not here for me,” he begins firmly, but when my eyes narrow at him, his face relaxes. “And it’s okay. I appreciate the lunch, but go see him already, Becky. I’m sure he’s dying to see you too.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, get out of here already,” he grins while picking up another chip dotted with salt.

“Thanks, Ash!” I exclaim with a beaming smile. “You’re the best!” I finish on the way out his door.

“I’ll remember you said that!” he laughs in return as I already trek down the hallway, failing to ignore my heart hammering against my rib cage. There it is again, Asher speaking for how Harry feels, as if he knows him when I thought they’ve spoken like three times in total? Hmm, weird, again.

Like it so usually is, his hallway is empty, and I just hope that I won’t be interrupting something. An important phone call. A meeting. A consultation with a potential client. Or that all of this is for nothing and his office is empty, because he’s at one of the courthouses around town. God, I really hope it’s not that last one.

Again, like so many times before, his door is closed when I arrive in front of it. Somehow, it sends a tingle down my spine reading his name etched into his door, and the boasting title below it. Something I can’t remember doing very much, and I can’t recall why. It catches me off guard, which is rare, because most of the time he’s just Harry. My Harry. Then, I remember that he’s this insanely successful and well-known lawyer who co-owns this law firm, and it throws me for a loop. Not to mention the stunner that he’s my boss, again.

With a deep breath, I bring my fist to the glass and knock. I straighten my black Columbia opened to my floral blouse and smooth down my black slacks. I just hope I look more than decent after swiping mascara onto my lashes before coming here. But after waiting a few moments, I realize that I’m worried about it all for nothing when there’s no answer. I did this all for nothing.

Turning around, my chest falls with a sigh and my head hangs low, until I hear a sound. My name. Glancing up, a smile breaks it way onto my lips at the sight in front of me.

“Dunno if I can trust me eyes. ‘s that Becks I see waitin’ at me door?” he rasps with that adorable breathy laugh, walking towards me with the ancient messenger bag strewn across his chest. “Hullo, darlin.’ T’ what do I owe tha pleasure?” Harry asks, stopping just a step away as a smile clings to his lips, its exit nowhere in sight. Yeah, my smile feels rather eternal as well.

“Hi, Harry. I almost thought I had missed you,” I shrug, realizing too late the irony in my words, but all of a sudden, I don’t really care what he makes of them. After all of this time, I’m so sick of hiding my secret.

“Yer right on time, bug. I jus’ got back from me mornin’ in court,” he murmurs, the honey sticking to every word he speaks. He nods his messy head of chestnut curls towards his office as he unlocks it, and I gladly follow him. “Seems tha last thing we were talkin’ ‘bout in our texts was what food we’ve been cookin’. Do I get any o’ those brownies yet?”

“Not quite yet,” I grin, keeping my hands hidden behind my back as I observe his movements.

“Shucks, ‘ve really been lookin’ forward t’ ‘em, ya make ‘em sound so good,” he giggles softly, draping his North Face over the back of his office chair.

His long legs clad in a pastel purple suit carry him over to his sofa where he drops his messenger bag with a plop, and it all comes rushing back to me. The sofa. That baby pink suit. The Scrabble game board and tiles that I don’t know the next time that I’ll be able to touch without that dream ruining it for me. The stupid name, Iris, that funny enough doesn’t seem too bad now. That confusing dream, and all that it entailed.

“Alright?” Harry says, his deep voice pulling me back to the present. I blink hard and focus my eyes back on him, soon nodding. “Good. How ya been since yer orientation last week? Sorry we haven’t spoken much, ‘ve been busy with this case ‘m finishin’ up.”

“It’s okay and I’m good, maybe this will help,” I answer, setting down the striped white and blue paper bag. His eyes fall to it and his smile grows, reaching all edges of his blushing face.

“Becks, you didn’t,” he chuckles, reaching forward and prying open the bag. “Aw, love, ya rememba’d. Thank you, ‘s been too long since ‘ve had one o’ these muffins, they’re me favourite,” Harry finishes, setting down the bag smelling of croissants and sugar cookies.

His favorite muffin in the entire world sits inside wrapped in waxed paper, a lemon poppy seed muffin with a powdered sugar glaze. It took, let’s just say a lot in me to not eat it myself in the lift, because after he introduced them to me, I became addicted to them too. They have to be the most delicious and light muffins I’ve ever had, and not to mention incredibly flavorful and yes, moist.

“I hope ya got yerself one, I know ya like ‘em too.”

“Don’t worry, I couldn’t resist. I ate a little bit on the way here, and then I’m going to save the rest for later,” I tell him, clasping my hands together and twirling the ring around my finger anxiously.

“Jus’ how I taught ya, ‘atta girl,” he nods with the happiness consuming his features - eyes, cheeks, and all. “Thank you, Becks . . But I hope ya didn’t make a special trip jus’ fer a muffin.”

“It’s okay,” I reply with a shrug of my shoulders, my attention lingering on the sincerity held in his thank you, and in his eyes during those three simple words. Not simple enough. “I picked up burgers to have with Asher, so I was uh, in the neighborhood.”

“Ah, I see,” he nods, rolling up the lip of the bag to keep it fresh. Scratching at his cheek, he avoids my gaze and sure enough, Skye is right.

Is he jealous?

Oh, girl, he is jealous indeed. You better use it to your advantage.

I just might, but I don’t know if I have it in me for those kinds of games, anymore.

Becky, you better.

“‘m glad ya stopped, ‘s good t’ see you. Are ya on yer lunch break or sumthin’?” he wonders aloud, bare nails tapping along the head of his chair his hands drape over. Why oh why, does he have to stand so far away? It’s killing me. He receives his answer when my head rises and falls with a nod. “Mmmm, I figured.”

“I should probably go, I don’t want to take up too much of your time,” I announce suddenly, lies laced through every single syllable I regrettably speak.

The heaviness in my gut at having to leave grows another few pounds when I watch the disappointment leech the happiness from his face. I’m sure Sophie wouldn’t mind if I was late returning after my break if I told her who I was with. This is due to during each free moment we have, I may or may not be telling her all about him. She may or may not be loving every second of it, and so do I.

“Yer neva a botha, Becks. I dunno why ya’ve always thought that. I love seein’ ya, but if ya hafta get back t’ work I undastand,” Harry mumbles, fingertips pressing into the black leather quickly. “But hey, next week this will be yer place o’ work again, kinda mad t’ think. Inn’a good way, tho.’”

“I know, I can’t wait,” I smile, his echoing mine already as the dimples live in his cheeks covered in more dark stubble than the last time I saw him. Holy hell, am I not complaining about it. “I like the stubble by the way,” I blurt out, ghosting a hand over my cheeks to refer to his.

A buttery laugh flows from his lips as he runs his long digits over his cheeks, suddenly turning me into the jealous one within seconds. “Thanks, I dunno what ‘m doin’ with it really. It doesn’t make me look too old or anythin’, does it?”

“No, it looks really good on you. You look great, Harry,” I confess, waiting for that hot embarrassment to cover me in waves, but it doesn’t. Instead, a sense of contentment washes over me, and I’m grateful for finally telling the truth, however insignificant.

“Thank you, bug. You do as well, in yer uh, courthouse outfit. I shoulda stopped t’ say hi this mornin’ when I was there, sorry I didn’t think o’ it. This case has jus’ been mad, I can’t wait fo’ it t’ be ova.”

“I guess it’s okay, as long as you say hi the next time,” I tell him, hands clasped behind my back again. Another titter sings from his lips as the words hit me, knowing full well that that would be tomorrow, and boy, do I want to show him off to everybody. Even if he’s just my new boss and my friend right now. For now.

“Ya have me promise on that one, and I like yer hair longa again, y’know. Ya look like me Becks again, it was different bein’ all short befo’. Still pretty, jus’ different,” he comments, nodding his head at me once again, helping him talk. Yeah, I’d probably have to do the same thing if it was me, because I would undoubtedly be struggling for words after what he just said. Man, oh man.

A soft ‘thank you’ leaves me in reply, and I think for the first time the silence isn’t awkward. I wonder if for him too it’s full of so many unspoken words that I’m dying to say, or if that’s just me. So often, I doubt that he feels the same way about me, but God, when he looks at me like I’m the only person in the world, I can’t remember what doubts are. And I swear he looks at me that way every single time.

I wish I could do it all right now, or even just one something. One kiss, but I need to wait. I should wait until he comes back from that case, and things are established with my new job. Standing here before him, I remember the plan I made, and like he keeps his promises, I decide to keep this one. No matter if it’s the hardest one I’ve ever made in my entire life, and I know it’ll be the hardest one to keep.

“I’ll leave you to your muffin and your case then, Harry. It was good to see you, I’ll um, text you,” I announce finally, feeling the weight in my words. The longing. The anticipation. The regret. The excitement. The everything.

“Thanks fer stoppin’, Becks, I enjoyed yer li’l surprise visit. ‘s always so good t’ see you. Have a good rest o’ yer day, and I can’t wait fer tha muffin. Thanks again. ‘ll talk t’ ya soon, bug,” he smiles before I return it with a breathy ‘bye’ and then turn around, and wonder why this was so hard.

I wonder why I was nervous about this all morning, and also why I never took Skye’s advice before in the last two years and stopped to say hi to him. Lastly, I soon realize why, because it even hurts to walk away from him now when everything is so close. I know now if I had done the same thing all of those times Skye had told me to, I don’t think I could have handled leaving him and not being able to come back in just a few more days, like I get to do now. I have so much ahead of me, and he’ll be there every day, just as he promised.

Finally.

+

For some godawful reason, my department is always the busiest in the middle of the week, and two years after working here, I still don’t know why. The number of forms I’ve had to distribute, collect, and then do the job of submitting already this morning boggles my mind. Finally, I found a gap in the craziness to grab a cup of tea and a chance to catch my breath. Unfortunately, the fancy teas that I had been enjoying my few moments of peace and quiet with have since disappeared, and nothing but green tea and English Breakfast remain.

“It looks like I need to do some shopping, I’m sorry for the depressing tea drawer, love,” a voice murmurs from behind me as I linger there with the drawer open.

“It’s okay, I don’t have English Breakfast enough, anyways,” I comment, feigning complacency because I was really looking forward to a refreshing fruity cup of tea. I craved something exciting to break up the monotony of today, and training my replacement in. An experience I’ve never once enjoyed.

“You only have a few days left, love. How’re you feeling about it?” Sophie questions, arriving at my side with a pat to my arm. “Wait, I dunno why I asked. If I were you, I’d be itching to get out of here too after the shit storm this morning was,” she laughs as she opens the fridge, muttering about the lack of anything good to eat or drink around here. Our laughs mingle with the other’s during the next few minutes as I debate whether or not to make a cup of tea, finally deciding the need for caffeine is greater than that of my stubborn taste buds.

The rest of the day was rather steady with the flow of people in and out, making it unfortunate for my ‘browsing lawyer outfits’ time, and fortunate for my replacement’s training. Thank God, they dipped out a few hours before we closed, so I could stop feeling like somebody was breathing over my shoulder. At least by now, they seem to have mostly everything down pat, and I soon got to take over the role of ‘the breathing over the shoulder.’ Not soon enough, though.

The tea hadn’t quite done the job, and my lunch was rather unfulfilling as well, but I had gotten used to that sensation recently. With only a few hours left of the work day, I saw my end in my sight, and yet every time I looked at the clock, only a few more minutes had passed. Then of course, we had run out of copies of a certain form, leading moi to have to make more. Yipee!

It was just one of those days, because next thing I know, a stranger is almost biting my head off for telling him he needs his birth certificate for a form, as if I made the rule or something. It all only kept reminding me of how happy I was to be leaving this job soon, no matter how good it had been to me over the last two years. I couldn’t leave soon enough, I was on my last straw.

“Becky, you’re being requested,” a coworker of mine tells me from over my shoulder. I hurriedly slide the new copies of yet another form onto the shelf behind the front desk.

“What now?” I grumble under my breath, trying to turn around without bumping into her behind the front desk where we handle all of the customers, if you want to call them that. The public, the people, the clients- the whatever.

A huff passes my lips and by now, I’m done slapping on a cheery smile for a stranger, because it doesn’t even pay to do it anymore. But when I find the smiling face that awaits me, I don’t even have to think about putting on a happy face, because a smile is already claiming my lips.

“Harry, h-hi,” I say, the words tumbling clumsily from my lips.

“Hi, Becks. How are you?” he asks adamantly, lips settling into a content smile with one corner greeting his cheek. I could never see enough of those dimples, I really couldn’t.

“I’m okay,” I sigh, my eyebrows touching my forehead before falling.

“Rough day, love?” he hums softly, and I nod in response, somehow hearing all of the extra words inside of his. “‘m sorry, seems we’re both havin’ a shitty day, but I hope this’ll help,” he finishes, bringing forth an arm draped in his familiar warm gray blazer, setting down a tall white Starbucks drink in front of me. I know without needing to taste it that it’s my favorite drink, my drink. I already know that he remembered, and soon the name of the drink falls from his lips.

“Thank you so much, it’s much appreciated. You’ve always had a good memory, it’s something I know you for.”

“‘s it now?” he titters softly, his thumb and forefinger finding a distraction with his bottom lip for the twentieth time, not at all to my dismay. “‘m glad it’ll help, bug. I jus’ got in a few minutes ago fer anotha day o’ arguin’ me case.”

“Oh, well thanks so much for thinking of me, it was sweet of you.”

“‘Course, Becks, I couldn’t not come and say hi t’ me favourite person here at tha courts,” he smiles, and the combination of that grin and those words light that fire inside of me that was rekindled when I got to see him yesterday.

My oh my, two days in a row now. I am one lucky girl.

Only a few more days, Becky, and you get to be lucky every day!

Maybe you even get to be a certain kind of lucky, hehe.

Stop.

“Are those blushin’ cheeks, I see?” he teases, setting down his arms to rest them on the space where people usually lay down their forms and the like. Yet, here he is standing there in that warm gray blazer he wore for my class lecture, a suit I’ll never forget.

“Stop,” I laugh, trying to fix my hair, and soon remembering the embarrassment that is my lack of makeup. Once again, I didn’t even try this morning, and I admittedly spaced that I told him to come and say hi today.

And here he is, just as he promised he would be.

Yes, just he like he promised. God, can he get any better?

Yeah, if the two of you fucking kissed already.

Tell me about it.

“Ya look even prettier when ya blush, y’know that?” he snickers, that familiar song leaving his lips and finding its way to my heart, just like it so often does. I have a feeling he’s not letting up on the brake either in the honesty department, and I’m so surprised I don’t know what to do with this onslaught of feelings.

My glowing smile that couldn’t grow any bigger doesn’t get a chance to let any words out, because we probably look like idiots just staring at each other. Yet, I wouldn’t have it any other way, and I think that’s becoming my tagline for this whole entire thing. Sure, I wish things could have been easier from the get go, but I’ve come to peace with not being able to change the past. Especially, when I’m so excited about the future and all of the multitudes it holds.

“So do you, you know,” I reply mischievously, suddenly wishing I could pull off a wink like he can so effortlessly as he does that very thing.

“Good one, Becks,” he tsks, shaking his head as he wags a finger at me. What I would do to be able to touch it and to hold that hand. Wow, I need to get myself under control, but I really don’t want to. “Ah, ‘s this yer lovely boss I spoke t’ on tha phone?” Harry says, turning his attention to Sophie who had slipped behind the desk to grab something, but now her eyes are on him.

“Hi, I don’t believe we’ve met,” she announces, taking his hand that he holds out. Silently, I applaud how she pretends that she doesn’t know who this is, as if I haven’t shown her a few pictures of him already. It may have been a few, or enough that she’s decided she prefers him with the longer hair from before. “I’m Sophie Waters, Court Administrator here, and you are?”

“Harry Styles, Attorney at Law, from Styles and Lawson. ‘m uh Becky’s former boss, and well, new boss now. I jus’ stopped t’ say hi befo’ continuin’ me case t’day down tha hall,” Harry replies with a warm smile, once again any hand shrinking in comparison to his massive one. There are very few things that surprise me about him anymore, and yet I’m still surprised by the attentiveness, kindness, and professionalism he carries every time I’m present for him meeting somebody. I’ve witnessed it a handful of times now, and it still makes me melt as if it could never grow old.

“Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Styles. I’ve heard a lot about you from Becky,” she responds gently, faking the brightness in her eyes at the realization of connecting the dots. I think we have him fooled, Sophie. Yes!

“Please, call me Harry. I get enough o’ ‘Mr. Styles’ as it ‘s,” he tells her, lifting a hand into the air to accentuate his words. “Oh, has she now? Should I be worried?” he wonders aloud to Sophie, peeking an eye over at me with a raised eyebrow, stroking his hairy chin. The dimple sits in his left cheek again, and he surprises me with another wink before returning his attention to Sophie. It continues to amaze me how he always devotes his attention to whoever he’s speaking to, and yet he still seems to be fully present with me.

“No, not at all, it’s all been very nice. She’s quite fond of you as well, and I know she’s excited to come back and work with you, even though I’ll miss her.”

My eyes dart from Sophie’s bittersweet smile to that of Harry’s whose eyes linger on me without my knowing, and I wonder what they hold. As if I haven’t asked myself this question time and time again, I wish I could know what he’s thinking. I wish I could ask, and that he would tell me.

“I can’t wait t’ have her back with me at me firm next week. Thank you fer takin’ such good care o’ her here tha last two years. I know she’s enjoyed it, and tha experience will help her loads fer when she comes back t’ work with me as my mentee,” he continues, and I swear that somehow he manages to be sexy while talking about him being my mentor. I think he knows, and that perhaps he has some inkling that it’s my favorite part about this whole thing. I could never hear too much about it.

“You’re very welcome, and I trust you’ll take good care of her again. I’m certainly looking forward to seeing what our little Becky will do, and running into her in the halls here. Speaking of which, why don’t you walk him to the courtroom? I think things are dying down here as of now,” she encourages, goodbyes soon bid between the both of them. A tight lipped smile plays on my lips as I look at her over my shoulder while he leads the way. She just shrugs her shoulders with the tiniest of waves, and I silently thank her repeatedly.

“She’s very nice,” he comments once we reach the hallway, and it all feels new. Then again, it’s hard to tell when there are so many new things going on in my life as of late.

“Yeah, she is. She’s been a really great boss and friend,” I respond, clasping my hands together as our footsteps follow the other, both in sounds and in distance. “But you’re my favourite boss of all time.”

“Am I now?” he boasts, flitting his eyes to mine with a effervescence behind them as his dark eyebrows dance overhead. I only nod, but it’s soon captured by a giggle when his arm comes around my shoulders and pulls me against him. “Good. I better be yer favourite, Becks.”

“Don’t go messing it up now!” I squeal when I feel his fingers on my side, finding my ticklish spots that he still remembers.

“Don’t worry, I neva would, Becks. Neva again will I mess it up with you,” he whispers, long fingers drifting to my shoulder that he squeezes. Glancing upwards, I find his sincere eyes waiting for mine and they take away another chunk of the wall around my heart. There’s not much left of it now.

“Am I your favourite, too?”

“Favourite what, bug?” he inquires, eyes darting away at times to watch where we’re going, but by now we’ve wandered to the side of the hallway and stopped. I too wonder where I’m going with this.

“I don’t know, maybe-.”

“Ya, yer me favourite one,” he answers, interrupting suddenly.

“I didn’t even get to say what,” I protest, but it all collapses into a giggle that he soon copies.

“Doesn’t matta, ya still are, no matta what it ‘s. Oh hey, looks like we’re in tha right place, this ‘s me courtroom fer tha afternoon.”

Although painstaking, my eyes leave him to find the wooden doors of Courtroom #3 just across the way. The confession that just fell between us and the reminder that he has to leave combine into a tragic concoction. In the same breath, they fill me with something I haven’t had for a long time. Bravery.

“I should let you go then, literally,” I giggle, stepping away and letting his arm fall from my shoulder, a triumph in itself. “Good luck with your case today, I hope everything goes well. You’ll do great, Harry, I know it,” I tell him, taking hold of one of his hands like I’ve wanted to do for the last ten minutes, and possibly much, much longer.

“Thank ya, bug. Maybe ‘ll do good afta seein’ me good luck charm,” he mumbles, a warm pink filling his cheeks as his eyebrows lift with a nod to me. “Hopefully ‘m all finished t’day, or at tha latest t’morrow. Then I get some time t’ relax and plan ahead befo’ you come along next week.”

“Hey!” I scoff, and he surrenders with that delightful song his lips create as I squeeze his hand.

“I didn’t mean it like that, jus’ gotta get ready fer t-this new beginnin’, bug. That’s all. Y’know ‘ve been lookin’ forward t’ it . . eva since ya got tha job,” he insists, but I was never upset. He was right that one time, I can read him as good as anybody else I’m close to. His expressions, his tics, and the words he doesn’t say.

“I know, I’m just giving you a hard time, which you better get ready for, Styles. You won’t need it, but again, good luck today, Harry,” I announce, the syllables shaky as they fly from my lips. I just hope he can’t feel the trembles devastating my body in this very moment as I stand on my tippy toes and press my lips to his prickly cheek. “You’ll have to let me know how it goes.”

“I will, Becks. Promise,” Harry says, the two dimples alive and well in his reddening cheeks when I dare to look him in the eyes after that. A gentle squeeze from his hand accentuates his words. A short breathy laugh escapes his happy lips as he looks back at me, and even though we again look dumb staring at the other, I think we shared a few more words in that moment. Ones we weren’t sure of how to say or when to say them, but we still did. “Have a good rest o’ yer day. ‘s always a treat t’ see ya, bug.”

“You too, Harry, thanks for saying hi. You may have made my day.”

“May have, hmm? ‘s that right? I wonder what I could do t’ actually make it,” he ponders aloud, doing that dorky thing again where he strokes his nonexistent beard. Dorky or not, I love it more than I could know. An eyebrow nears his forehead wrinkled in his quizzical expression that’s dissolved by another breathy laugh, all while his thumb draws circles onto my knuckles. “Maybe I should take one from yer book, hmm?” I barely have the time to think about what he means or for the emotion to play on my face, because he dips down and places a kiss on my cheek. To top it all off, his other hand comes to cup my head as he presses another kiss there, his fingers affectionately tickling my hair as he does so.

“Bye, bug. It made me day two days in a row gettin’ t’ see you. I dunno what ‘ll do gettin’ t’ see ya e’ry day next week, and two weeks afta that, and e’ry week afta that,” he reveals in a whisper against my hair, giving my hand a gentle squeeze before letting go.

If there weren’t theoretical butterflies in my tummy before now, they’re surely alive and well now as I watch him walk away, and give me a wink over his shoulder before disappearing into the chambers. All because of the words he just said, and the proximity of his lips to mine just a few moments ago. I think he just might know how I feel about top of the head kisses, and it’s all thanks to him. I have so very much to thank him for.

I think I know what I’m going to do about it, Harry. Oh yes, I do and you’re making this waiting game all the harder when you do things like that.

+

The next few days until I started back at the firm sometimes went painstakingly slow, and at other times, they flew by like a breeze. I think the long texting conversations with Harry helped the time pass. It went by with the speed of molasses when I sat at my desk during my last few days wishing I was sitting at another desk, longing to be somewhere else. More than once, a random text from Harry brightened my day, whether it was a song he thought I’d like, a recipe for a baked good, more often a mixed drink, or something about the show FRIENDS.

Now, with shaking knees I reverse my steps until my back runs into the little rest on the wall of the lift. As I watch the number climb higher, the thrashing of my heart quickens as it nears the one I wait for. Quickly, the pan held in my hands and the jade-colored blouse I wear both feel stupid and inadequate. I’ve been dying for this day to come, and yet here I am, feeling as if I’ll die from my overactive nerves, now that it’s here.

The doors soon part with a ding, and Seventeen comes back to me, too quickly and at the same time, not quick enough. I can’t get my legs to move as the anxiousness attempts to consume me, but as the doors begin to slide shut, I make it out just in time. Few people linger in the lobby this morning, seemingly waiting for appointments and trekking back and forth from the printer and other places. The very person my eyes, and perhaps heart, search for this morning is nowhere to be found. On my way down the hallway, my feet stray to my office that beckons for me, and it’s like the first time all over again.

It’s cozy and the lights inside of it are warm and mellow. The natural light seeping in through the window to London might be my favorite part, although there are so many good features to it. I say hi to the succulent as I set down my handheld laptop bag, over the chest purse, and the covered pan. The sight of it all and what it means, brings tears to my eyes that I knew were coming, but I weakly attempt to whisk them away. Sniffling, my lips greet my cheeks as I take another look around. This is all mine, and all thanks to Harry whose touch I can see in so many places.

“Alright?” a voice murmurs from behind me, and I don’t need to turn around to know who it is. But I do, and there he stands, waiting for me with a smile brimming with warmth. Slowly, this all feels too good to be true, and yet it feels so right and so overdue. “Come and give yer new boss a hug, will ya?” I don’t need to be told twice and within moments, his spicy vanilla scent engulfs me once more, welcoming me home.

Finally, oh finally, I’m home again.

“Jus’ gonna assume those are happy tears,” he hums from above me, and I nod into his shoulder with a giggle that matches his own. “Good, I may have shed some o’ my own, but ‘m not revealin’ all o’ me secrets t’day.”

With dried tears on my cheeks and a song inside of my chest, he squeezes me before I pull away to find his sparkling green eyes.

“Hi, Harry.”

“Hiya, Becks. Ya ready fer yer first official day as a lawyer at Styles and Lawson?” Harry beams, brushing his thumb across each of my cheeks briefly, lastly tapping my nose.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Sure? I was expectin’ mo’ excitement outta you. Why dontcha sound so confident ‘bout it, bug?”

“I’m just nervous. I don’t want to screw anything up, or do something wrong,” I reveal slowly, feeling the weight of my words that hold more meanings than I can accept. I can’t even fathom the thought of him reading into all of it, knowing how well we know the other.

“Deep breaths, Becks. Ya did wondaful on yer orientation day, and I know you’ll do bloody amazin’ t’day. ‘m here t’ help with that, t’ guide ya and help ya learn. We’ll start off slow t’day - we have a team meetin’ in half an hour at nine-thirty. There, ya can meet e’rybody ‘gain properly and they can meet you. I know they’ll all love ya too, bug,” he explains with a gentleness to his speech, and yet it doesn’t help me relax, and only makes my heart slam against my rib cage harder. “Hey, relax ‘kay? Then tha rest o’ tha day we’ll start t’ work on me case I have next week. Afta some o’ that, we’ll take a break, and prolly play some cribbage while we eat lunch. Durin’ all o’ this, ‘ll introduce ya t’ some stuff, and tha processes we have t’ use. I know we went ova ‘em durin’ yer orientation, but this will all be a refresher. We went ova most o’ tha legalities and borin’ proper rubbish last time, so we can dive in this time. Ya ready?”

I nod and begin to turn away, but then I feel his hand squeeze my arm. Looking back, he winks at me with a few encouragements behind his eyes. I try to hold onto them after they disappear when his eyes dart to my desk.

“Becks, are those what I think they are?” he almost groans through gritted teeth, but happily. His hands escape from his wine colored pockets and slowly reach for the pan sitting on my desk.

“Mmmhmm, but you can only eat one right now.”

“Yer no fun,” he pouts as he brings a dark, chocolatey square to his lips. The war being fought within my gut, or so it feels, rages on as I wait for his reaction. “Fook, these are incredible brownies, and ya made ‘em from scratch? Yer bloody amazin’, Becks.”

“You’re welcome, I’m relieved you like them. I forget to ask if you like cakey brownies, or fudgey brownies.”

“Fudgey, all tha way. ‘m no pussy,” he cracks, picking up the pan and plopping onto my sofa with it held possessively in his lap.

“Oh good, I’m so glad you said that. If you had said anything else, I don’t think we could be friends anymore,” I reveal sarcastically, falling onto the pillow cushions beside him.

“Bloody hell, ya’d neva break up with me ova sumthin’ as stupid as that, although brownie preference ‘s very important,” Harry scoffs, his eyes falling to the pan where he plucks another small square from, handing it to me. “Alright, afta we’re done with our brownies, are ya ready t’ start this thing, bug?” he wonders aloud and earns a nod from me, knocking his knee against mine casually. I try not to freak out when he leaves it resting there, or when I have to pull away to use the bathroom.

After taking my time in the bathroom, noting the extensions of the remodel to even this part of the firm, I wander into the break room with the same intentions. Memories are thrown at me from every direction, and I try not to dwell on the negative ones, but they overwhelm me. All of the shared lunches with Asher venting about Harry. Hiding from Harry in here when he had gotten mad at me for whatever ungodly reason it was that day. The pathetic cold lunches I would bring. I especially feel the sting when I remember that time I walked in on Harry kissing Amber, and he came here to look for me afterwards. That one perhaps hurts the most, because it brings up all of the others that revolve around her and what she did to me. She was the real reason I left in the first place, because she got the dominoes falling.

“How’s your first day been so far? I hope it’s off to a good start,” somebody comments from behind me, curiosity behind their words. Looking over my shoulder, I find Myles strolling in with an empty cup that he sets down by the electric tea kettle on the counter.

“It’s going good so far, thanks. I just got here a few minutes ago, but it’s a little daunting, I must say.”

“Yeah, it can be, but don’t let it get to you. Harry will be there every step of the way, and I know he’s over the moon about having you back, and working with him on top of it all,” he assures me with a gentle smile as he rinses out the mug. There it is again, him and Asher keep doing it, and it’s not helping with this whole ‘trying not to go crazy over Harry thing’ all over again. Well, too soon, that is.

“Thank you, really,” I nod appreciatively. “Hey, while I have you here, I was wondering if you have any plans for his big birthday on Friday?”

“Eh, not really, he doesn’t want anything. He’s already upset about turning thirty.”

“What, how come? I tease him about getting old, but it’s just a number, and it’s really not that old,” I comment, watching his shoulders rise only to fall as he rips open a packet of tea I didn’t catch the name of.

“Yeah, I know, but I dunno. He said he thought he’d have more to show for being thirty, and that it’s depressing to him, or something.”

“Oh, so co-owning a renowned law firm, and being one of the most successful lawyers in London isn’t enough for him at thirty?” I scoff, observing the smile bending his lips upwards while the hot water gurgles into his mug.

“I told him the same thing and I’m sure you know him well enough to know how swimmingly that went. It seems you know him better than me in some rights,” he tuts, jigging the bag of tea up and down in the steaming water.

“Sometimes I think so, and other times not so much,” I comment, the words getting the better of me as my voice falls to a melancholy whisper. “We should do something for his birthday, though. We could at least do a cake and lunch.”

“That would be perfect. I’ll order pizzas from that pizzeria he likes over on Juniper Street, and we can have some drinks too.”

“Sounds great, I’ll take care of the cake. I remember he loves chocolate a little too much sometimes,” I laugh, and he nods while one sits at the edges of his mouth. “All we have left to do then is to tell everybody, well except for Rory, because I don’t know, he seems like he can’t keep a secret. I hear he has a big mouth, so that’s probably why, and he’s also too flirty.”

The laugh finally explodes from Myles’ lips as he adds a fresh spoon to his aromatic mug, fitting a finger through the handle as his lips part, “Right you are, Becky. I knew I was right to let Harry convince me to hire you, because you’re as smart as a whip.”

My own chuckling soon matches Myles’ and it continues for a few more moments, before we part our separate ways, and soon I get to meet the entire firm. It was overwhelming, which seemed to be the word of the day for me. I had recognized only a few of them from when I had worked here before, but a few more of them I’d never met, even though they’ve worked here for years. I was sure I wouldn’t be able to memorize the names of the dozen or so lawyers that make up the legal team at the firm, but with Harry by my side, I could breathe a little easier.

“How d’ya think yer first day went, Becks?” Harry hums, playing with his bottom lip from his perch across from me.

“Good, I think I’ll feel better now that it’s done. There’s so much pressure on having a good first day,” I answer, exhaling when I place my last card down. “Twenty seven for six.”

“Ya did bloody great per usual, and a go ‘s seven, which makes you tha winna,” Harry tsks, shaking his head while he tosses the rest of the cards down in a huff. “Looks like ya got some luck from yer first day right there. I thought I had ya at tha beginnin’, but I reckon yer gettin’ good at this game. Beginner’s luck right there, beatin’ me in our first game in years.”

“Thank you, boss,” I reply, trying to forget the connotations of that word from that confusing dream I had. When I lift my eyes to his, stretching out my hand of cards, his grin grows a fraction as his hand surrounds mine. “Good game.”

“Good game, love. Ya should head out now, ‘s already five-thirty, unless ya’d like t’ grab a few celebratory drinks with me. Again.”

“I’d love to. Did you drive the bike to work this morning?” I inquire, letting the expectant happiness loose on my face as I watch it unravel on his.

“Perhaps, and I may have packed an extra coat in case sumbody gets cold again.”

Once again, words escape me as we pack up the cribbage game while laughing, setting the board and cards on the bookshelf above us on the sofa. A few words suffice an escape to my office where I pack up, realizing I never touched my laptop, glancing over to the brand new rose gold Macbook Pro he surprised me with. I swear he can pull a tear from me like no other person can, in a good and bad way, and it didn’t help when he explained he chose it over a cheaper iMac. The tears came harder when he ended it by telling me that it’s because I’ll be spending so much time with him in his office, and it’s easier to tote around.

“Ready t’ go, bug? I found this new shot called a B-52 that I want us t’ try, sounds like sumthin’ we’d like coz it’s a creamy coffee type o’ one,” Harry says, catching me off guard from his stance leaning against my doorway. Once again, I swear he knows the things he does to me, especially in that wine colored suit hugging his trim body. My favorite color, and he knows it too. I murmur a short response as I slide on my coat, placing my back to him as I drape my purse over my shoulder. “Figured we could grab dinna befo’ if ya wanted, me tummy’s makin’ all these weird noises tellin’ me ‘s hungry.”

“That sounds great,” I hum happily, peering down to fasten the buttons on my coat. I wonder where that melancholy went from all of the times I dreaded the end of our visits, unsure of when I’d see him next. A thought finds its way up my warming cheeks when I realize that it’s here at last, the end of that and the beginning of getting to see his smiling face every single morning. Again. It grows bigger when another thought rushes on by.

It’s one more day of keeping my promise, and the end of it is in sight. It’s just another day, and one just like it will be here tomorrow and all of the tomorrows after that.

[burntwingsandwarpaint]

randomly generated drabbles characters: 8. daryl, aaron, & jesus tropes: 98. Curses & 84. Married to the Job

So this is a loose interpretation of the prompts, more like a general inspo. Also, warnings that this is 1) definitely not a drabble, and 2) definitely not completed. might pop back in with a part two if i’m feeling inspired, but the point of this exercise is to get myself writing again, not to get myself stuck trying to force something, so i’m just gonna post what I have so far. hope you all enjoy nonetheless 😘

In the span of a whisper the blade sank through skin, and the world shattered for all of them.

.-

Paul Rovia was a whirlwind of revelations in Daryl Dixon’s life. Infuriating, frustrating, fucking intoxicating in the span of the first few hours. Daryl’d been hooked in the second their eyes met and Paul had known it. (Hell, Rick had probably known it.) Daryl hadn’t been ready to know it then, though, and so Paul (goddamn Jesus, his salvation and damnation all at once, felt like) had twisted through Daryl in those early days like a thorn in his damn side.

Aaron’d crept up on him slower. Where Jesus had been fire, danger, frustration, Aaron’d always been comfort. From Daryl’s first days at Alexandria Aaron’d melted his way into Daryl’s life, slipping past his walls and filling all the cold empty spaces inside him with endless patience and easy acceptance. Where Jesus had lit him up, Aaron’d soothed him down, a safe space for Daryl to fall into.

If Daryl’d ever thought of himself as someone deserving good things, he’d have thought it was inevitable they’d all find their way to each other. As it was, even if he couldn’t quite wrap his head around what they were getting out of it, he was just grateful they did.

It happened slow, in the aftermath of the war. The years after. They took their time with it. Toeing their way toward each other. Skirting in and back over old wounds. And when they finally did, all three of them for the first time together, it’d felt so damn much like inevitable that Daryl halfway hated every second they’d wasted finding it.

He hated them more the instant that blade slid in, and the fire faded from Paul’s eyes.

.-

There were things you learned, spending years living out in the wild. There were things in the wild that learned you. Daryl’d seen glimpses of Her in flutters and lingering shadows, in shapes of trees warped into the semblance of faces, there and gone the next time he went through. He knew the swamps were Her territory, but he’d never bothered Her much and the things that did seemed to go quiet soon after. So they’d spent the years in a comfortable sort of coexistence. Understanding, distant respect.

Until She came to him in the lonely dark of Paul’s grave.

One hundred dead each day, she’d offered, voice a rustle of leaves through winter forests, a groan of branches in the wind. One hundred dead souls each day for a hundred days, in exchange for your lover’s life.

She’d held it out to him, tempting, like a needle for a vein. A sweetness and a promise of salvation that’d kill him slow in the quest for it. 

And that night, curled against Aaron on their too-empty bed, feeling his lover’s already battered soul breaking a bit more on the pressure of choked, brittle sobs, Daryl knew his answer.

Outside the window, the leaves burst into a rush of laughter, and Daryl curled Aaron closer.

And the next morning, he set to work.

.-

Aaron wouldn’t understand, was the thing. Couldn’t. People who hadn’t lived in the wild, who didn’t have it singing through their veins, they didn’t get shit like Old Ones and Bargains and the things that were possible if you were willing to risk worse things than your soul dealing with Them. Daryl slipped out in the morning after Paul’s death and started tracking fresh Walkers. Found a trickle of them, then a herd, and by mid-afternoon he’d reached his kill count. Felt the caress of a twig nicking the back of his hand –– a deal struck, marked in blood –– and made his way home to Hilltop.

Aaron hadn’t said anything, but there’d been a glint of pain in his tired eyes when Daryl’d found him. A hesitation. And then he’d brought Daryl some food and wiped the blood and filth off him, and dragged him back to bed where they’d tried and failed to learn the shape of the world with just the two of them living in it.

.-

On the fifth day, Aaron parted his lips to talk about it. Said “I know you’re hurting, I get it, but––” And Daryl’d shaken his head, a little frantic, and caught Aaron in a too-rough kiss.

He wouldn’t understand, and Daryl couldn’t stand to hear him say the words on the edge of his tongue.

.-

Sixteen days, and Daryl didn’t make it home that night. The sea of dead around them felt endless sometimes, but even they had their limits. Every day he needed to venture further out to find them. Try new paths, weaving deeper into the wild. Every day he had to work harder to find fifty, then eighty, and by the time he’d hit a hundred he’d been scrabbling frantic, tossing himself too deep into danger, close to midnight.

He’d kept working straight through, fighting his way through the night and past dawn. Found his way back to Alexandria halfway through the next day in a daze of bloodied exhaustion.

“We need to talk about this,” Aaron’d told him, eyes stern and voice achingly soft. And Daryl’d nodded, grunted “in the mornin’” and passed out between that and the next breath. In the morning there’d been no words to begin to explain it and Daryl’d left a still-sleeping Aaron with a back soon scrawled on a strip of paper and a kiss cooling his brow.

.-

Twenty days, and She tripped Daryl with the subtle shift of a root as he dodged back from a Walker’s grasp. Twenty-six and She caught at the dead’s flesh with thorny fingers as a horde chased close on his tail. Her whims shifted with the weather, but as far as Daryl could tell he was paying his way by entertaining Her.

He did his best to give her a show.

Thirty-one days and he killed a mass of dead in an explosion. Felt like a hundred-fifty, easy, ‘til a rush of doubt set in and he spent the rest of the day killing another sixty in a panic and praying to whatever blessed damn Old One might be listening that there’d at least been forty in that first blast.

Midnight came and went, and She didn’t appear to tell him he’d failed his task. After that, though, Daryl killed them by ones.

.-

Two months and Daryl was spending more nights away than with Aaron, tracking herds and then hordes for miles. Picking them off slow where he could, counting kills under his breath like a mantra. And when he couldn’t get ‘em slow... hell.

Then he fought.

He collapsed onto Aaron’s couch (their couch, still didn’t feel like theirs) after eight nights gone. Nearly dozed off ‘til he felt a shadow standing over him.

“We need to talk about this.” Aaron’s tone was all stern this time, that soft understanding of the past weeks scorched out of him. Daryl thought about pretending to be asleep. His aching body begged him to.

He slitted his eyes open.

“I know you’re grieving,” Aaron said, and Daryl’s throat choked on a growl, denial tightening it to something painful. Grief was an aftermath. Grief was acceptance. Daryl hadn’t been grieving.

“I know this is what you do, how you process, but––”

“What I do?” rolled out, and it was clipped, aggressive. Exhausted. Daryl’s body was a wreck of bruises and strained muscle and every inch of it wanted to crawl against Aaron for comfort. But there was a chasm in their chests keeping them separated and Daryl hadn’t even noticed himself digging it.

Aaron didn’t flinch.

“Hide. Run.” He answered plainly. “Cut yourself off, like you did after Rick––”

“This ain’t that.” It wasn’t. Rick had been a hunt. This was a quest. This was different. Rick was blind hope, but this? There was a clear end in sight. Forty-two more days –– not two months, even –– and the whisper of the wind would hand Jesus back to them.

Aaron was riling, though. Tensed tight, his infinite patience worn to rags as he stalked in a step and hissed, “So what is it like, then? You looking to die? Looking to go out like he did?”

It hit like a blade sinking through. That notion. ‘Cause Jesus wasn’t. Wouldn’t be. Not unless Daryl fucked up here.

But... hell. To Aaron he was.

The thought stalled Daryl’s righteous rage in its tracks. To Aaron, he was. Daryl hadn’t been grieving all this time, couldn’t be, but Aaron had been. Alone.

Daryl pushed to his feet, ignoring the protests of his wrecked body. For the first time in weeks or longer, he took in the worn lines of Aaron’s face. How much older he looked now. Exhausted. And that’s how the gulf had gotten there. All these weeks Daryl’d spent chasing the lover they’d lost, he’d lost track of the one standing next to him.

“Hey...” His hand lifted to catch Aaron’s cheek, but Aaron wasn’t ready to be calmed. He catted out of the contact, caught Daryl’s shirt. Held him for an aching beat, then shoved back.

“Paul’s gone, Daryl. He was reckless and restless and went out looking for a fight and it got him killed.” The words were blades. They were wrong. But... they weren’t. Jesus’s soul had been born for the wild, same as Daryl’s. Maybe that was why She’d been willing to deal for him in the first place. But Aaron didn’t know that. And he was all balled up exhaustion and anger and still-bleeding wounds as he snapped: “I can’t deal with you doing that too.”

It was an ultimatum. A wall building. In or out, and Daryl could feel the pressure of it hitting him straight through the middle as he dug for some loophole, some door.

“Ain’t what this is,” he managed, and Aaron looked at him, every bit as wrecked as Daryl felt as he asked plainly: “Then what is it?”

But what could he say?

A second dragged past, then another, in frozen quiet, broken finally by Aaron’s tired sigh.

“I can’t do this again, Daryl. Eric, then Paul... we lose people in this world, I get that. But I can’t just wait around watching you chase it. So you either give up whatever the hell this is, whatever revenge mission you think you’re on out there... You either stay here and figure this out with me... grieve with me... or you go.”

A branch rustled the side of the building. Daryl’s lips parted and shut. Forty-two days left, and Aaron would understand.

Daryl went.

.-

Seventy-six days and Daryl was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, wrapping gauze along his stitched arm. He’d been slow, stupid. Clumsy. Running on fumes. Tripped straight into the edge of a rusted car door and split his skin open.

He’d thought about going to Hilltop. Getting stitched up by Enid, safe and far from the still-bleeding wounds left behind here.

But Alexandria’d been closer. And gods knew he didn’t have time for damn detours.

A lanky shadow fell over him.

“Heard you were here.” The voice was soft. Soft enough Daryl almost forgot the last, brutal words he’d heard from it. When he looked up, Aaron’s eyes were carefully cold.

“Got cut,” Daryl said, like that was any kind of an answer. He watched those eyes shift to the wound, caught the flicker of something in them. Pain, frustration, aching want.

Or maybe that was Daryl, projecting.

“Still fighting, then,” Aaron said, and Daryl wondered when they’d become the kind of people who’d communicated in two and three words. Seventy-seven days ago, whispered through him like the slice of a blade, but he wasn’t sure that was right. The estrangement, the coldness, the endless gulf and the wall Aaron’d built to ward it... all that’d come after.

Daryl wondered for the first time, vague and distant, if this wasn’t the true price he was paying. Not a hundred a day to win Jesus back. Just one. Lover for a lover. Gain one back, but lose another along the way.

It had Their kind of sick humor in it.

And Daryl’d never thought of himself as someone deserving good things. Lived a lifetime of bloodied teeth and hope ground out under cruel, careless heels. He’d dealt with it all ‘cause he could. ‘Cause what the hell else could he do but take his losses and keep moving forward? But now, watching that worn, resigned look in Aaron’s eyes, feeling the gulf stretching seemingly endless between them... that didn’t feel like an acceptable loss anymore.

“He ain’t dead.” It fell out on a breath, barely a rasp of sound. But it was enough to break through Aaron’s apathy. He froze, his furrowed brows pinching deeper. Confusion bleeding past the cold. His lips pursed, a shape of a what rising and fading. And Daryl sighed, pressed his eyes shut, and spoke.

.-

Aaron couldn’t understand.

They were back in their house now. (His house... or was it?) Stood at opposite ends of a too-long couch, squared off. Daryl could see the panicked spin behind Aaron’s eyes the second he’d started explaining. Slow swirl of confusion speeding to something else. Concern. Doubt. He said “Daryl,” just that, and the careful pitch of that tone nearly broke him.

Daryl flinched.

“Don’t say it ain’t real.”

A careful pause. The coldness was gone like it’d never been there, but the thing in Aaron’s eyes now was so much worse.

“I... know you want it to be real.”

“Don’t.”

“Daryl, you just told me the wind whispered to you.”

“Ain’t the damn wind.” Aaron couldn’t understand. Daryl couldn’t explain it. How could a person explain the kind of shapes Old Things took, the subtle ways they let you glimpse them? Daryl’d had a sense of them his whole life, seen shadows and signs since he’d stepped into his first forest. Learned lessons on his mama’s lap back before he’d been old enough to have the rules of real and fantasy drilled into him. Daryl knew, deep in his bones, but there was no way of describing it.

Aaron’s eyes were the eyes of a rational man faced with the notion of a loved one’s madness. Worried. Heartbroken. Eyes of someone debating calling the loony bin on him, if there’d been a loony bin left to call.

“Month left,” Daryl tried, grit and a ragged plea laced through the words all at once. “Twenty-four days, that’s it. Then call me crazy.”

“I’m not calling you crazy,” Aaron said, soft. His eyes begged to differ. He took a step, then another, to close the gulf between them. His hand lifted to brush Daryl’s cheek. “I’m... Daryl. That’s two thousand, four hundred Walkers. That’s over two thousand risks you’re taking.”

Daryl’d never bothered doing the math. What the hell’d math ever done for him but try to stick him up, thinking on it. He pressed his eyes shut, leaned into the achingly sweet warmth of Aaron’s hand. Said, clear as he could manage: “S’one shot to get him back.”

Aaron didn’t answer, but when Daryl opened his eyes again he saw a sickly understanding in Aaron’s own. Lips parted, an argument rising and dying as Daryl watched, and then Aaron was leaning in to press his forehead to Daryl’s.

For the first time in seventy-six days, it felt like coming home. They lingered in the contact for a few seconds, savoring. And then, soft, comforting, Aaron kissed him.

“Your life’s worth something too,” Aaron murmured, and Daryl felt some fractured piece of his soul mending. A smile ghosted his lips. He pressed it into Aaron’s bushy jaw.

“Ain’t gonna get myself killed. Can’t finish savin’ his ass then.”

It was half a joke, reflexive brush-off of those heartfelt words, but he felt Aaron’s body unclench at them. Like he’d really been terrified, all this time, all these kills... really were just a suicide mission.

Daryl led Aaron to bed and kissed him soundly ‘til the last one of those notions left his head.

.-

In the dawn light, as Daryl dragged himself out of bed and dug around for his scattered boots, Aaron offered: “I could come with you.”

“Couldn’t,” Daryl answered, not glancing up from the knot in his lace. “S’my deal. My kills. You takin’ some’s just gonna make it harder.” He could feel an argument building, sleep-fogged but passionate, in the way Aaron shifted against the sheets. And Daryl half-wanted to let him. Wanted to be talked into it. Into the company, at least, or the sensible head on Aaron’s shoulders. Into having someone to watch his back when a herd caught his scent, or flash a grin at after a narrow escape.

God, the loneliness had seeped so deep inside him these past months. He just wanted something to lean on.

He set a hand on Aaron’s knee. Dragged it down his shin, soothing. “And you got Gracie to think of.”

That settled it. Daryl felt the fight go out of him, the tired sigh. Winning didn’t mean Aaron liked it. When Daryl looked over, he saw a helpless war fighting through him. Ache of an almost-plea in those eyes. Stay.

It wasn’t anything to do with Jesus. Aaron still couldn’t believe that, even if he was trying. He was too rational. Too solidly set in what the world was supposed to be like, not what it was. He was looking at Daryl, saw someone grieving. Saw someone sick in the head, probably. Was just trying to figure out what Daryl needed to keep him from snapping harder.

Your life’s worth something too, he’d said the night before.

Daryl let his boot drop, turned to lean over Aaron.

“Hey... You trust I ain’t gonna get myself killed, out there?”

There was a heavy pause. Aaron sighed.

“No one plans on getting themselves killed, Daryl.”

And there was truth in that. Painful, bitter, and too familiar on the back of both of their tongues. If planning to live meant any damn thing at all, the world’d be full right now and Daryl’d have no walking corpses to fill his deal with. Hell, Jesus would be here, wrapped up safe in this bed, and Daryl’d have no need to fill it.

His gaze softened. He leaned down, kissed Aaron. Raw and quiet against the brush of his lips, offered: “Trust I love you?”

Eight years, probably, of that being true, and Daryl’d never managed to utter it. Sure as hell never braved those words to Jesus, before he fell. Aaron stared up at him, eyes a watery gleam in the dawn light. He wet his lips, bobbed a nod.

“I trust that.”

“Good. Hold that, ‘til I come back and say it again.”

.-

[dykereid-moved]

Okay but I would absolutely love a rockstar!Matt au please

y’all only love me for my matt content bye /lh

insp. n insp. (stream rockstar taec road to 10k!!!!)

so basically. the bau is a rock band i havent fleshed out who is who Yet other than matt who is lead guitarist (v sexc)

he definitely gives off pop punk vibes

first ever east asian fronted band to Ever chart #1 on the billboard 100 so like super duper popular

matt?? absolute heartthrob all the teenage girls Love him

the most insanely talented guitar solos Ever like something u would hear straight out of a queen song

his signature guitars are a red fender stratocaster guitar n a red les paul both red bc i said so n i think red is such a good colour on matt

he dabbles playing bass too

which means all his fans go nuts whenever he starts playing the bass during their concerts

he’s still married to kristy n has 500 kids in this au bc he’s a great dad n a sexc dilf

for every tour stop he n the band makes, he makes sure to bring kristy n the kids a souvenir which means he always goes home with So Many gifts n cool souvenirs

he has way more tattoos than canon n has dedicated tattoos to kristy n the kids

imaGine matt with his hair down like all sweaty like people get after a whole ass concert n they’re high on adrenaline. yeah.

u kno how rockstars model on the side?? yeah matt models on the side (think machine gun kelly magazine shoots)

he has a voice to Die for but he doesn’t sing a Lot which is just :(((

he definitely wears a lot of shirts with the sleeves cut off

multiple ear piercings n definitely a nose piercing mayb a tongue/eyebrow piercing???

he climbs stages. n i mean Climb.

he wrote songs dedicated to kristy n the kids AND they’re the highest charting songs of his band bc his fans are suckers for how much he loves his family

i’d like to think that matt sets Boundaries with his fans and i mean Boundaries

like his fans aren’t allowed to do the crazy ppl things that they do for celebs n he’s publicly spoken out about their behaviour

when he got married he Told his fans publicly to back off n to either respect kristy Or stop listening to his music. that’s it.

Skinny Jeans bro he has model legs he’s gonna use the model legs like sex appeal man

matt defers from the “normal” rockstar behaviour in that he’s just. a Normal guy who happens to be world famous rockstar matt simmons

his coffee order is an iced americano with 3 extra shots of espresso n oat milk bc he’s lactose intolerant LOL

he’s sponsored by monster bc i said so n he only consumes the ultra flavours

matt always always wear his wedding rings during concerts as the same in canon bc he’s sappy lol

yeah i’m sorry it’s kinda short lol n i took inspo from like most of the artistes i listen to it it’s basically just a lot of pop punk but yeah rockstar matt simmons u r v important to me

[watchoutforthefanfics]

Kiss Me, You Fool

It's been ages, but I've decided that the best way to do this is just to do it.

Sorry for the wait K.A., but I got overwhelmed. And now, we're here.

INSPO: Put Your Head On My Shoulder - Paul Anka

TWS: Unrequited love (not for the main pair), food mention, light crying/angst.

Word Count: 5,192

|//◇♡◇\\|

'Alright, this is... idiotic,' Roman huffed, staring at himself in the mirror, '-you are so much better than this, Prince Roman.'

Roman ran a hand through his unkempt hair, quietly cursing the visible nervousness in his body language. He needed to be as confident as ever because after all, he was confidence.

"This is easy," Roman rolled his eyes, "-you confess to things every day! To the townspeople in the Imagination, you are as honest as you possibly can be."

He hummed, adjusting his sash slightly, and clearing his throat. Lying wasn't so hard, right?

"But, of course, it isn't."

A new voice echoed through the forest, as Roman nearly jumped into the lake that he had once looked serenely into. As always, the voice was buttery smooth and Roman could feel it all the way in his toes.

Deceit's voice was heaven-sent, Roman could give him that. And the black-suited him really well. And he had skills in the way of flattery. And-

"Oh, dear Roman... Have you been, dare I say it, heartbroken?" Deceit spoke, as smooth as the rivers flowed just to their left.

Roman didn't speak, all he truly felt was a sort of shame; he had fallen in love with his best friend, who was claimed. Betrothed. Loved.

By someone else.

"Surely," Deceit hummed, his fingertips dancing over his shoulders, "-a breathtaking prince such as yourself has options, no?"

Roman finally uttered, composing himself, "I appreciate the flattery, Dee, but truly, don't pity me. I'm not worth the extra thoughts. This is my own fault, I..."

Deceit skimmed his fingers over Roman's collar, pulling it to perfection, "We can't have such a dreamboat so down, now can we?"

"Dece-" Roman began, perfectly fine to suffer by himself.

"Roman," Deceit tugged at his collar, drawing Roman's direct attention to the side just before his eyes, "-I'm here to help you."

Roman scrunched his eyebrows, "You... want to help me?"

Deceit rolled his eyes, tugging Roman ever closer, "Not only light sides deal with unrequited affections, dear prince~"

Roman opened his mouth briefly, almost asking him who he'd had unrequited affections for, but shut it at the idea of finding out.

He had too much going on right now, anyway.

"What do you get out of this?"

Deceit feigned offense, holding a hand to his chest, "You expect so little of me, Roman."

Roman perked a brow, not second-guessing his decision, awaiting a response; Deceit made deals, not favors.

Deceit sighed, rubbing his hands on his temple, "Prince, I know I'm not always honest. However, from a side to a side, I'd like to help you."

Roman pursed his lips, a little confused, "Out of the generosity of your heart?"

The snake-like side grinned and shook his head, "No, more like our of the logistics of your situation, your highness."

Roman debated whether or not that was sarcastic, all the while noticing that Deceit hadn't stopped touching him during this entire enco-

NOT THE TIME.

"Logistics?" he asked, following Deceit as he ventured out into the forest -- to touch a tree, he guessed.

"Ah, yes-" Deceit hummed, almost a little defensively, "-you're in love with Virgil, no? Patton is currently dating Virgil, knocking him out of the equation, and both Logan and Remus are absolutely... useless in this situation."

"So..." Roman answered, "-you're my best bet then?"

"Yes," Deceit spun around to meet Roman's eyes, "-and I think with this... particular situation, I can help you. Do you wish for it, prince?"

Roman paused, lulling over the ideas in his head; at this point, Deceit knew. And he was particularly... skilled in this area, so... who could it hurt? Right?

"Okay, fine. If you wish to help me, I suppose you can."

"Well," Deceit bowed, taking his hand and pressing it gently to his lips, "-it'll be my pleasure."

《◇◇◇》

Roman stared at Virgil and Patton from across the room, silently chastising himself for letting himself slip. Letting himself fall for someone who was happy.

It wasn't fair to either Patton or Virgil that he had been too careless, that he couldn't be in the same room as them without feeling sick to his stomach with guilt.

"Roman?" Virgil raised a brow, with a questioning glance, "Everything okay, buddy?"

Roman blinked, shaking his head out of his thoughts, "Of course! You two are just... plain adorable! I wish I could have such a mighty romance as that."

Virgil flushed bright red to the tips of his ears, as Patton giggled just beside him and, like Roman had always wanted to, kissed him right on that rosy cheek.

It wasn't fair that he had done this to them.

"Hello boys," a familiar voice hummed, one that Roman froze in his seat for, "-I'm here for the prince. Don't mind me, truly."

Roman watched as Virgil and Patton looked at him confused like they didn't expect the two to be associating.

"Well," he stood, approaching Deceit with a plastered on but brilliant grin, "-that's my curfew, lovebirds! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

Deceit had a bright smile on his lips, as he extended his elbow towards Roman; which he had seriously debated taking, and ended up doing so... because well, what's the harm?

His skin was cold and it definitely sent a sizzle down his veins, but he'd hardly paid it any mind. After all, physical touch was his comfort. He didn't mind who it came from.

《◇◇◇》

"You know," Roman spoke, at a late at night meeting with Deceit on how to cope, "-you never told me who you had an unrequited love for?"

"That's-" Deceit sputtered, his skin flushing a bright pink (that Roman would love to see again) "-that's not important... What does that have to do with this conversation?"

"Hey!" Roman sat up, pulling himself upright on the bed, "You know all my secrets, do you not trust me enough to know yours?"

Deceit sighed, "What am I going to do with you, prince? You weren't even listening! My go-"

Roman fell into a sort of silence, watch Deceit as he rambled. It was a lot like Logan's rambles, full of concerns and knowledge beyond belief, but it wasn't boring.

He liked watching the way Deceit's face twisted when he was trying to get his point across, the way his eyes fell to the ground when he was truly honest, and the way his hands flew all around the room trying to stress each word he had let his mouth speak.

Speaking of hands, Deceit seemed to be so flustered... his other arms had come out, each flying in a different direction. One rubbing his temples, another fidgeting with his hair, and one was reaching for.. something.

He wasn't sure what brought him to do so, but in a breath, Roman had grabbed the hand.

It was extended in his direction, so he probably wasn't far off. It was just odd to immediately think to just grab his hand, rather than just leave it hanging.

Deceit blinked, all of his hands freezing in their places, and Roman was immediately tensed. Maybe he had read that wrong?

Maybe he had violated some sort of boundary and now, Deceit hated him? Did he mess this up? He couldn't do this without hi-

"Are you... Are you holding my hand?" Deceit asked, with an oddly uncertain voice and Roman -for the first time- could tell it was an honest reaction.

"Uh..." Roman glanced at his hand that was laced with Deceit's with a guilty grin, "...yes?"

Deceit paused just for a moment, his eyes speaking volumes of panic, yet his face... He was blushing.

Virgil's was a light pink, scattered across his face and at the tips of his ears, but Deceit's?

His was a ruby rose and flushed down to his collar bone. It was a storm, a bright red storm, and Roman couldn't have been... more proud.

He had caused those clouds to rumble, and the ever so gorgeous Deceit was melting in his fingertips-

Wait a minute.

"I-" Deceit cleared his throat, "I have to... go and reign Remus in. Yes."

And with a blink, Roman was left in his room, alone. All he could think about, however, was oddly... Deceit.

He had been excited to get that kind of reaction out of him, and maybe... maybe, he wanted to do it again.

《◇◇◇》

Roman was currently... deep within his thoughts. Not even sparing a passing glance at Patton and Virgil, who sat just across from him.

It was odd.

He normally, couldn't stand being in there for even a second; his heart would clench and his eyes would water, and-

That doesn't matter now.

Because he's been sitting there for 45 minutes, without a single issue curling up inside of him. No bitter taste in his mouth, no poetic pain at all.

It had been a few months... since the whole predicament. When Deceit had proposed to help, that is.

And now, he found himself putting himself in situations with the two... just for Deceit to step in.

Roman couldn't really fathom it, well... he could. He'd known the buzz that would shoot through him, when Deceit would brush his fingers against his shoulder or when Deceit would just smirk in his direction.

Roman could melt at the flash within his eye when he smiled like... that.

And it didn't help that he was looking at his mouth eith-

"Roman?"

Speak of the devil, he glanced up at the half-scaled figure in front of him, "Ah yes, Dee. I'm coming at once."

Roman grinned, as bright as a beacon, and spun to the pair, "Goodbye, friends! Next night, I choose the movie, no?"

Patton grinned, "Of course!"

Virgil was looking at him a bit odd though; to be fair, Roman hadn't spoken to him one on one in months... and they used to be best friends.

Roman needed to work on that, he noted somewhere deep in his head; as all thoughts were whisked away with Deceit's hand lacing with his.

He felt like he was floating, so calmly across the floor, as his stomach flipped and his lips couldn't help but smile.

"Roman!" Deceit hissed, "Are you even listening?"

Roman blinked, "Yes, sorry. I was... lost in thoughts, I suppose. Um, what were you saying, sunshine?"

Deceit quirked a brow, pursing his lips, "Dear Prince, you know you can't fool me. Don't you?"

"I would never."

"Then," Deceit hummed, squinting at him, "-what's troubling you, my prince?"

You can't faint, you can't faint. Roman, you are better than this-

"I just-" Roman sighed, slumping his shoulders, "-I miss my best friend, Dee. Virgil... I haven't talked to him since all of this got... weird and I don't feel right without my best friend, you know?"

Deceit paused, his face unmoving and his posture unflinching, "Why not talk to him?"

"Well, I-"

"If Virgil is really your best friend-" Deceit hummed, straightening Roman's sash with a quick brush of his fingers, "-I don't believe it'll be an issue, will it?"

"I-" Roman bit his lip, "I suppose not."

"Exactly," Deceit spoke, with a tinge of pride in his tone, "-I don't see why you can't, but..."

"Yeah," Roman paused, as they stopped in front of Deceit's door as comfortable in the habit as probably possible, "-I just... I wish I hadn't made everything so complicated."

Deceit hummed, his eyebrow twitching at his want to say something -an odd thing Roman had noticed- but he hadn't exactly formed it in his head yet.

The two fell into the comfort of Deceit's room, he was probably more comfortable than he should be at this point, but he didn't mind.

Deceit pulled him into a black leather couch, each sitting on their respective cushions. Roman ached to touch Deceit again but didn't wish to be uncomfortable, so he sat.

Just until he felt a head lean on his shoulder with a hushed movement, and he placed his head on top of his in a swift gesture.

He was cold, yes, but it was oddly soothing.

"Roman?"

"Yes?"

"You know... you know I'm always here if you need me, don't you? No matter what the others say about me... You mean a lot to me, and I wouldn't want you to deal with anything alone... when I could be there too."

There was a pause, a breath of silence that Roman found such comfort in. He just wanted to curl up into it until he could no longer.

"Thank you."

《◇◇◇》

Roman would definitely say this was a low point in his life. It was currently 3 AM, and he couldn't sleep because of how much his head was buzzing, as the sizzle of a frying pan, except all he could think about, was Deceit.

Deceit's eyes and hair and fingers and arms and lips and clothes and smile and cheeks and scales and god-

So, he was making his way to a familiar room that he'd once avoided like a plague. The mind palace was quiet, as he crept down to the purple door with drawn in cobwebs and the smell of lavender. (Probably something Patton got him.)

He held up his fist with a dash of uncharacteristic hesitation, but in this... situation, it made sense.

With a gentle tapping, Roman realized there was no turning back and this was one step into something he'd avoided for... months. Hopefully, Virgil wouldn't kill him.

It had been quiet for a while, and Roman almost stepped away from the door, afraid of interjecting on something that wasn't his place.

But, in a sudden fit of confidence, he stood his ground.

"Virgil?" Roman whispered, "I... I know it's been a while, but I just... I need my best friend right no-"

The door swung open, and there stood his best friend, shaggy hair and all. His eyeshadow was... smudged though, and his cheeks were flushed and his nose was stuffy-

Before he could even speak, Virgil tackled him into a hug that he... honestly did not expect.

"You're a bitch-" Virgil muttered into his shoulder, and Roman decided not to comment on the sniffle, "- you know that, right?"

"I'm a bad bitch, but-" Roman spoke, "-that's irrelevant. Are you oka-"

Virgil groaned, dragging him into his room with the tug of the sleeve of his robe. His silky, just washed robe, that he'd kill Virgil for matting up-

"Princey," Virgil tsked, his tone concerned but all the while stern, "-you been avoiding me for..."

He turned around, as black hash marks evaporated onto the wall, and he seemed to briskly scan them for a second.

"For," he regained, turning back to Roman with a flare in his eyes, "-five months, two weeks, three days, four hours, t-"

"No, no-" Roman huffed, "-I get it. It's just... a bit complicated, and a really long story."

"Well," Virgil fell into a bean bag chair, pretending to check his "wristwatch", "-good thing I've got time then, huh?"

Roman bit his lip, "Are you sure? This may get a little w-"

"Princey." Virgil's eyes flared a purple tone, as his eyebrow raised and Roman suddenly knew he meant business.

"Okay," Roman crossed his arms, falling into the red beanbag just beside his newly seated friend, "-fine! You asked for it."

Virgil nodded, "Now, continue."

Roman wrung his hands out in a quiet huffing of breath, "Are you sure you wanna do thi-"

"PRINCEY, I swear to... If you don't start talking, I'll-"

His head was pounding as Virgil kept talking, and he just wanted to say it. Get it out of his brain, and finally be finished with such dumb feelin-

"I WAS IN LOVE WITH YOU! I realized it when you got with Patton and I couldn't do anything. I wanted you to be happy and I'm sorry-"

The silence was... deafening and Roman could feel a weight lift from his shoulders, so easily lifted. Yet, his stomach was churning at the thought of his best friend... never wanting him in his life again.

God, he messed this all up, didn't he?

Virgil was sunk into his beanbag with a flushed face (to the tips of his ears), he eventually squeaked out, "Y-You... what?"

Roman sucked air through his teeth, "See, I knew this was a bad idea. Listen, let's just not go there. I'm here for a separate reason, ok-"

"Roman," Virgil spoke, steadying, "-it's okay, I'm just... shocked is all... You said was, right? Because Patton is probably the light of my li-"

"Yes," Roman began with a faded smile, "-I guess I did say was. That's the entire reason I'm here."

Virgil leaned backward, in his beanbag with much-changed demeanor (maybe to just avoid the topic), "Let me take a stab, no?"

Roman opened his mouth, but decided against it and nodded. What's the harm, right?

"You came to me at... let's see-" Virgil tapped the side of his beanbag chair, "-about 4 in the morning because... you have fallen in love with Deceit and can't get him out of your head."

"I don't-" Roman sputtered, his face getting hot with a nervous laugh, "-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't-" Virgil teased, with a smile, "-but you're the one who came to my room at 4 in the morning. Sounds like Princey is a little lovesick to me."

Roman paused, "Okay, y-you've got me. I'm just... This is so unlike me, and I'm not sure how to handle this situation. Because I think I'm in love with him, but how do I know if he's in love with me? And how do I confess to Deceit? He's so much more than I'd ever imagi-"

"Woah, woah," Virgil grabbed his shoulders, "-Princey, calm down. You're starting to sound like me!"

Roman pursed his lips, as Virgil kept his eyes focused on him in concern, this was not the usual Roman he knew.

"I'm not..." Virgil started, a little unsure, "I'm not the romantic one here, but... if there's anything I know about Deceit... It's that you need to be genuine and... probably over the top. Because he's a dramatic bitch."

Roman laughed, and Virgil brightened slightly (sometimes he didn't know he was helping), "But so are you, so... I know this advice is... repeated a lot. But... just be yourself, okay? And follow your gut."

Roman nodded, solidly, "You know, Emo Nightmare, you are much more helpful than you think."

"Eh," Virgil shrugged, falling back into his beanbag chair, "-I try."

The princely side smiled, "Well, shouldn't you be off to bed? It's incredibly late, and I imagine Patton would be upset if you were up any longer."

Roman watched his face morph at the thought of Patton, and for the first time, genuinely thought that it was adorable.

"Well," Virgil laughed, scratching the back of his neck, "-this might sound stupid... But, who cares? I stay up because Patton sleeps in his own bed, and he gets nightmares, you know? He comes into my room, and... I gotta be awake to comfort him, so... yeah."

Roman grinned, "That's incredibly sweet of you, Virgil; I honestly didn't know you had it in you."

"Shut up," Virgil flushed to his ears again, throwing a pillow at him in a swift movement.

"Alright, okay!" he chuckled, adjusting his sash, "I should probably get back to my realm, start brainstorming, I assume."

"Or sleeping?" Virgil added, with a finger gun awkwardly.

Roman left and stepped towards the door. A little hesitantly as he felt like something had been, left in the air there. Something needed to be said-

"Oh, and Roman?"

"Yes?"

"Don't you ever ignore me like that again... okay? We're best friends, no matter what we're going through."

And if later that night, Roman cried in his room at the pure thought of getting his best friend back... Only his posters saw such a sight.

《◇◇◇》

Roman hummed along, as he gently planted each pancake with perfection. They didn't technically have to eat, but it was a simple pleasure in the mind palace.

Plus, it was a big day. It was the day. The day that Roman would confess to Deceit.

Logan, unsurprisingly, was the first one in the kitchen with a roll of the eyes, "We don't need the food; however, I thank you for the effort."

"You're welcome, Nerd."

In next, was oddly enough Remus, but Roman wasn't that surprised because well... his brother had a thing for Logan. He'd probably been watching him and timed it perfectly to walk in after him. He was weird like that.

"Hello, brother! You're up... early?"

"Good morning, Roman! I've got havoc to reek, I'm very busy, you know."

Roman sighed, trying to reach out to him, "Remus don't-"

Then, there he was. The man of the hour, and he looked rather... adorable.

Every side knew that Deceit was the shortest, mostly because when he stood next to Patton... he was itty-bitty. Usually, this was evened out by his composed nature and classy outfit, which Roman adored.

Yet, here he was... tiny Dee with messy hair and the fuzziest pajamas Roman had ever seen. Roman was not going to make it, he truly was not-

“Hello, darling-“ he managed out, with his knees weak and surely face flushed, “-uh, would you like some pancakes?”

Deceit raised an eyebrow and Roman chose to ignore the scarlet tint to the human side of his face, “Yes, thank you, Roman.”

Roman paused, faltering for just a second, as he gave a charming grin and held out a plate of pancakes. And god, Deceit was smiling at him, like a sweet, warm, genuine, little smile... and he almost melted to the ground.

Like a pathetic little puddle.

“Roman?” Deceit hummed, in a hoarse morning voice, “Did you hear me, prince?”

Roman shook his head, “My apologies, I was just, um... Can you repeat what you said?”

Deceit smirked -making his knees wobble-, “The syrup?”

“Oh, yes-“ Roman cleared his throat, letting their fingers brush and almost fainting in the process, but that was normal.

Deceit grinned, shaking his head and making his way into the kitchen, “Until, I see you again, dear prince.”

Roman swallowed, waving because he truly did not trust his words at this point; as the couple of the hour waltzed in for breakfast. He could finally calm down, thank goodness-

“Aww,” Patton smiled as bright as the Sun, “-Roman, this looks so delicious! Thank you!”

Virgil winked at him, with a smirk, “At least you can do something right, Princey.”

Roman rolled his eyes, “Emo Nightmare, don’t even.”

The two trailed off into the dining room with lovesick grins, which Roman couldn’t wait to get his own of.

He imagined in his head how Deceit's would look, with wistful eyes and a small... yet genuine smile.

Just as he was about to whisk away his own plate, he peeked over the corner, and stared at Deceit with his tired eyes and holding back a grin. His Dee wouldn't be caught dead laughing at one of Patton's horrendous puns.

You know, he could probably end up loving him for the rest of his life.

《◇◇◇》

The rest of the morning was uninteresting, and Roman was... uncharacteristically nervous. Like foot bouncing, temple sweating, thick swallow, nervousness.

This could not be a good sign.

"Roman," Patton assured, in the hushed shadows, "-you are the bravest prince of all the land, you've got this. Okay? We're all here for you."

Virgil added, a bit nervous but he always was, "If there's anyone in this world who can romance Deceit, it's you Princey."

Roman nodded, his hand shaking a bit, and calming himself silently. It was easy when you had the power of creation at your fingertips, he'd simply imagine a meadow and it'd be there.

"Flowers," Roman spoke, slowly and surely, "-do you think flowers are a good bet? I mean Deceit, he's kind of unclear and I just want this to be perfe-"

"Yes," Virgil spoke, a distant look in his eye, "-we were... the others. Deceit had his own garden, it was oddly pretty and he cared for it quite well; he seems unlike it, but he loves nature. Might just be the snake talking but..."

"No," Roman smiled, standing and wringing his hands together, "-no. I think you're onto something, Virgil. I appreciate your help, very much so. I believe I must depart to my beloved now, stay in love, losers!"

Patton stood on his tippy toes bouncing up and down, "Keep us updated, Ro!"

Giving them a salute, Roman sunk into the hallway of a place he knew well. Too well in recent months, actually.

He stood outside a door, that was dark with yellow snakes painted all in weaving patterns amongst each other. It was oddly a beautiful sight to see, and Roman had memorized them.

Deceit had told him their names, and for a second, he couldn't remember them at all. It was the nerves, clogging up his brain and he couldn't think straight at this point.

This was it.

He had to do it, he wouldn't regret it.

Even if Deceit would hate him-

Oh God.

Just as Roman felt the urge to spin around, the door opened, wide and welcoming.

And, there he was.

"Roman," Deceit hummed, "-uh, hello?"

Roman grinned, wringing his hands and almost forgetting the sunflowers he held tightly in his right hand, "Can I come in?"

Deceit paused, a gleam in his eye that Roman didn't recognize. But, it seemed cold... unlike the ones he'd seen just earlier.

"Sure, Prince. Is something... wrong?"

"Uh," Roman bounced his leg, "-no! I'm just... I got these for you, I didn't know what kind of flowers you like. So, I just got a safe bet of yellow flowers? And I-"

Deceit smiled lightly, "Thank you, prince... But, what's the occasion? Like I said you don't have to thank me for helping you, it was-"

Roman exhaled, holding Deceit's hand gently and considerately, "It's uh, not that."

Standing randomly in the middle of his room, Roman found it hard not to tell the truth. He was deception, after all; so, he guessed that was normal.

"Deceit," Roman spoke, carefully but without hesitance, "-I've... I've fallen in love with you."

The sly side paused, eyes widening and his human face flushing.

There was a breath, and suddenly, Deceit pulled his hand back from Roman with a bit of disgust.

"This-" Deceit shook his head, and hugged himself, "-this isn't funny. Who... who out you up to this? Was it Remus? I knew I couldn't trust him, but he was all I had."

Roman kept his distraught at bay, "What do you mean? I... I love you."

"No," Deceit answered back, his eyes glassy and Roman wanted everything in the world to reach out, "-you don't."

The princely figure stepped back, a little startled, "How would you know? I'm speaking from the depths of my heart, and I love you. I love you."

Suddenly, Deceit straightened -discreetly wiping the tears from his eyes-, "Second boys will be first choice. Especially if the first one rejects you, no?"

"Dee," Roman added, desperately, "-no, that's not what this is about. I swear-"

"Then..." Deceit hummed, faltering a bit, "-why did you go to Virgil's room? A few nights ago. I heard you, y-you... you told him you were in love with him."

Roman chuckled, inching closer to Deceit, "What? Oh, oh... I... I needed to talk to someone about you. He's my best friend, he wanted to know why I'd left him out of my life for so long. I had to tell him."

Deceit was turned around, and silence ensued after a few beats. It was quiet, and Roman hated it.

"I'll-" Roman began rambling, "-I'll get Virgil, he can explain if you need it. I will drag him by his emo bangs as quick as you say the word-"

Deceit spoke, breathy, "I... I believe you, Roman. It's just... you're not in the right mindset. You're not... thinking straight, you just got your heart broken. And I was there, that's why you think you love me, you can't-"

Roman cleared his throat, breathing in through his nose, "It's been months, Dee. Months, of spending time with you. I don't know how to-"

He scrambled, just for a second relying on his brain to come up with a plan, an idea, anything-

"I-" Roman started, trying to recenter himself, "- love that you'd do this whole thing for me. I love how selfless you are, even though, Thomas thinks you're the villain. I love your rants about the societal issues and pressures on people these days, and how if you get really frustrated, all of your arms will start to flail. I love how you flush a red down your collarbone, every time I smile at you. I love that you can listen to anyone with so much respect, and stay tuned in. I love that... I love that you are so, honest, even though you are literally the embodiment of lies. I love you, I love you so much. And I just want you to see that."

Deceit was quiet, and the air in the room was so thick, Roman could hardly breathe.

This was it, he'd poured his soul out and if Deceit didn't reciprocate... Well, he didn't want to think about it.

"Do you remember-" Deceit sniffled, "-in the beginning, when you asked me who I had an unrequited love for?"

“Oh, yes-” Roman faltered, “-if you want to be with him, I get it. I didn’t mean to be pushy, I just needed to get this off my chest-”

“It was you.”

Deceit was facing him now, his nose red and Roman had never heard him be so honest in his entire life.

Roman squeaked, “Pardon?”

Deceit grinned, a gleam that sent a tingling feeling all the way to his toes, and stepped forward, “I still love you, but are you sure this isn’t some plan to get over Virgil or hurt my feelings-”

“Never,” Roman practically fainted, “-god, I’d never do that, darling.”

Deceit smiled, and in a fit of emotion, simply wrapped his arms around Roman and just held him there. It was a little shock, but quickly enough, the prince had his arms wrapped around him too.

“So,” Roman muttered into the top of his head, “-does this mean we’re dating now? Are you my boyfriend?”

Deceit chuckled, a deep rumble against his chest, “Yes, my prince.”

With a bellowing laugh, Roman swept his new boyfriend into his arms and kiss every inch of his face he could, until Deceit stepped in.

“Kiss me, you fool.”

[alrightinbed-betterwithapen]

Clever Little Things — Part One — David Dobrik x Reader

A/N: hey guys so this one’s based off an awesome ask! I’m writing my asks a little slower at this time (and taking sometime away from Datalie until inspo comes back) to ensure better quality. I’m also turning this one into a series. Lemme know if you have any ideas of where you want this story to go. Anywho, thanks for taking the time to read, love ya!!

Masterlist

Summary: You don’t like David, and he plans on changing that.

Anon Asked: Hey !! Love you're writing, nobody ever does my requests so hopefully u can break that pattern :-), can u do a david x reader where it's an enemies to lovers sort of thing, where he's really charming and smug to her and like a huge flirt and she kinda just rolls her eyes and tells him to fuck off (maybe it could be a series??) Thanks !!

——

David fucking Dobrik.

Fuck that guy.

Yeah, you said it. Repeatedly and sometimes out loud. You couldn’t give a fuck about YouTube’s resident golden boy. You have lived in California far too long to be impressed with young, ridiculously wealthy men and their expensive cars. David seemed like a guy who fell face first into a vat of luck and wore humbleness like a cloak, hiding who he was underneath.

You were bound to run into him around Hollywood, your job as a freelance editor had you working with a ton of people in the industry he dominated. You had once preferred working in TV and film, but when a girl named Gabbie reached out to you, getting your info from a colleague, you were yanked into the YouTube world. Gabbie loved your work and had given your name out to all her influencer friends. The calls came rolling in.

Hey, it was a paycheck. These viral sensations actually made bank, and you were getting a more steady source of income from them than you did at any other job you’d worked in the city of angels. It even led to a pretty long contract job at a decent media group. Where you had to attend events and mingle and really learn about the world you were working in. It was mostly good.

But David, he fucking annoyed you. Whether it was hanging all over Instagram models for clout, or holding up the entrance line at a club to take paparazzi around his car, laughing and playing it up to an extreme, he fucking irked you. You had made the mistake of following him on Snapchat, one of his stories accidentally rolling over from a friends; he had two bleach blondes screaming about merch and then the camera flips around to his smug face telling you to swipe up. Yeah. Fucking. Right.

In your mind there were the Paul’s, Ricegum and David Dobrik: the premier fuckboys of YouTube.

So, there is no way you’re actually going to call Jason Nash about becoming his steady editor. You tell Gabbie as much over coffee.

“But, it’s a job, like long term and well paying... and he asked me about editors I knew the last time I saw him. Plus, if you last for a while, you can put that shit on your resume. And he’s great, like the coolest, chillest dude ever,” she’s explaining, trying to win you over. She had told you all about his kids and ex wife, how stressed he was. And that he could pay big money because he was racking in the revenue from his relationship with Trisha Paytas. Still, working for one of the vlog squad basically meant working for David, and you weren’t interested in that at all.

“Yeah, no. I’m sure he is, but the vlog squad? C’mon. Why would I do that to myself when you noped the fuck outta that mess years ago,” you tell her, sipping on your latte.

“Because I’m not an editor, (Y/N). It’s not like you have to hang out with them. You just hang around Jason and edit his shit. It’s not that complicated,” Gabbie says, looking at you like you’re dumb. You roll your eyes at her.

“Maybe I don’t want to be associated with David Dobrik and his loyal servants when their party comes crashing to the ground. You know it’s coming. He’s the next Shane Dawson expose for sure,” you ramble, “Like, Dobrik is the next Jake Paul. At least that’s what I get from his Snapchat’s, does he do anything but try to sell his shitty hoodies? And prank people until they cry?”

“Yeah. He gives people cars all the time.”

“PR move!” You yell, a little too loudly for nine in the morning at a coffee shop. Gabbie jumps a little and brings her hand to her mouth, shushing you. Ignoring her, you continue, “Yeah, it’s sooo genuine, Gabs. ‘Hey guys, I sent my friend to the hospital last week for a poorly thought out, unfunny stunt. This week I’m buying my assistant a car! No motive, no PR team screaming at me from the sidelines. Nope, I’m just a super awesome, humble guy who appreciates the people who obediently follow me around like a puppy so I can make content that’ll have 16 year olds everywhere buying my shitty merch!’ Gimme a break.”

“Holy fuck, I know you’re a cynic, but you have gone full pessimist lately,” Gabbie laughs at your impression, shaking her head. “They aren’t bad people, (Y/N). David isn’t either, he’s just young and rich and a little dumb. And Jason is probably the most down to earth one of them. Just think about it.”

“Ugh, fine. Fine, just no more talk about it. How’s your book coming?”

You change the subject, firm that the phone number she programmed into your phone will never get any use.

——

Then Defy Media goes under and Clevver, the main source of your rent lately, is done. You are out a decent paying job and next months check, you are royally fucked. Staring at the number in your phone, bent over on your couch, your thumb hovers.

You need the job. You want work, being at home with nothing to do all day makes you stir crazy. But all your points listed out about this still stand.

Fuck it.

You type out a quick message to Jason about Gabbie and his need for an editor with a link to your reel. You press send before you can talk yourself out of it. Then, it’s a waiting game. You’re scouring the internet for job postings when you get a message in return.

Hey! I’m so glad you hit me up. I desperately need help and would love to have you as my editor. Your reel is great! Can you meet for coffee in like 2 hours? I’m behind already and we can talk logistics.

You’re shocked. He must be desperate if he’s hiring you sight unseen and already getting you to work. But it’s a saving grace and more than you could of wished for. You’ll get a paycheck sooner and not have to worry about eviction. You let him know that’s fine and arrange a place.

The meeting goes well, Jason is a cool dude who doesn’t seem as wound up as your usual content creators were. You agreed on a wage (like 35% higher than your last gig, fuck yeah) and got to understand Jason’s edit style and post dates.

What didn’t shock you about the job, but you were hoping you could circumvent, was that you would be working closely with Trisha and David, as Jason often traded footage with both of them. And unlike Jason, they both edited their own vlogs because they had either, fewer responsibilities in their lives (Trisha), or were anal about their edit and wanted to do them personally (David). Great, great, great.

A jobs, a job though. You’ve survived working with some shitty people in your time and honestly didn’t think you’d have any problem on your hands.

——

There are problems though.

Yeah... there are a couple.

——

The first is Trisha. Well, she wasn’t a huge problem, but an obstacle. She was super insecure (you knew this going in) and the first time she came over to Jason’s and you were chilling on the couch, finishing up a vlog, things got tense. She knew you were hired, but she hadn’t met you before. You’d introduced yourself and shook the woman’s hands, wearing your usual editor getup of jeans and a giant hoodie, no makeup, hair not really done up but presentable enough for the public and giant headphones, to tune out the world around you.

You think that helped you because Trisha made a comment about how you were at least not trying to look good for Jason. You laughed at that, and looked her straight in the eyes with meaning behind them, and maybe a little intimidating,

“You couldn’t pay me into retirement to sleep with Jason.”

She’s taken a back for a second and you both look over to the man. You say no offense softly as the man shrugs, but don’t apologize or try to take it back. Trisha just snorts and says she likes you, claws retracting and a calmness returning to the room. Jason looks like a bomb’s been defused and ever grateful for you.

Bullet dodged... hopefully.

——

The next problem is David...

He’s actually the rest of the problems you have with your new job.

See, Trisha got over her bullshit pretty quickly and began texting you once a week for specific footage with Jason. She would describe them well and stay on the phone while you found and verified the clip, and then you’d send them to her. No muss, no fuss. She was an editor’s literal dream.

But, David fucking Dobrik was a nightmare.

Constantly texting you about clips from things that weren’t recorded, but he’s “sure they were because Jason was holding his camera like it was recording”, or waking you up in the middle of night to make sure you weren’t using a certain song for a montage or outro because he was going to use it in the next week.

And that was besides the ridiculous amount of times David was reminding you not to post certain things that were gonna premiere on his channel first. Like, yes, it’s fine to tell you. If it makes David feel better that you’re hearing it from him and not Jason, FINE. But to text you every post day, over a dozen times? It was a fucking joke and has been going on through week four of your new job. And you’d had enough. You’d mentioned it to Jason, but he’d just shrugged it off as David being David.

Well, fuck David.

You’d never even met the man in person at this point in time, but he was living up to every one of your terrible expectations. That’s when the 14th text comes in, as you’re exporting Jason’s latest vlog and just leaning back to relax on the older mans couch. That’s also when you snap, hitting the call button on the text and calling the douchebag.

“Hello? (Y/N)? Why are you callin-,” he starts after a few seconds of waiting for it to connect.

“Hey David! Nice talking to you finally and not just reading your utterly demeaning and demanding text messages!” You start in, just letting loose all the irritation he’s caused you over the last month. “Super appreciate the literally DOZENS of messages you leave me on post day, not to mention in the middle of the god damn night the rest of the week. I’m glad you understand what an invalid I am and how the constant texts actually do help me! It’s absolutely not a slight to my four year education and years of experience in my profession. Or the fact that I do heed your words the FIRST time I hear them, because it’s my literal job. A job I have that actually doesn’t revolve around you. Crazy, I know!” Your voice is just dripping with sarcasm at this point. In your brief pause you can hear a soft, amused breath from his end of the call. It doesn’t stop you at all.

“Anyway, I just wanted to call and let you know how productive you’re making me, and thank you! I really don’t know how I would function in my chosen career without your undying, unrelenting, un-asked for guidance. Hope the vlog that just posted meets your standards! Leave a comment if it doesn’t. Just please, please don’t text me about it.”

And you’re slamming the end button before he can respond. You look up and Jason is standing in the entrance way to his living room, jaw dropped. And all he can say after lifting it off the ground is,

“I didn’t know he was texting you in the middle of the night! Yeah... fuck him.”

You’re glad this ends with you both laughing and not you being fired.

——

“Your editor’s got some mega fucking attitude, dude,” is the first thing David says to Jason, picking him up in the Tesla the next day. Jason just starts cackling at that.

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t text her in the middle of the night. Most people’s work schedule doesn’t extend to 3am, Dave. And I thought she had quite a few points. Like, she works for me. And she does in fact know how to skillfully edit my shitty vlogs,” Jason’s laughing this out and is glad to find David just as amused.

“I wasn’t expecting to get ripped a new asshole is all. I was in an Uber to some event and Natalie heard the whole thing,” David replied, kinda sheepishly.

“You’re just butt hurt that there’s someone in this world that doesn’t give a fuck who you are and is willing to talk shit to your face. And that now Natalie and I know someone put you in your place,” the older man retorts, pointing at him accusingly before going on, “I’m not reprimanding her for having enough of you. She’s doing great AND Trisha likes her. Fuck off dude. Just text her less.”

“What do you mean she doesn’t give a fuck who I am?” Of course this is the part of what Jason was saying that David focuses on.

Shaking his head, he explains, “Well, she knows who you are and is absolutely comfortable enough to basically call you a dick within the first month of being my editor. Also, Gabbie told me the first time we talked about her that (Y/N) hates working for the bigger creators on the platform, and that she thinks they’re all materialistic and out of touch assholes. So, you know, I thought she would be a perfect fit for me. I’m basically nobody. But you? There’s no love lost there from the beginning, but she’s obviously professional enough to keep from snapping on your ass for like a month. I don’t know, Dave. What? You want me to force her to care who you are?”

“No! That’s not what I meant. I guess I just figured-“

“Sorry, dude. Not everyone loves our golden boy. But she’s not a mean person. She’s never even mentioned it. This is what Gabs told me forever ago. Either way, she doesn’t have to be blown over by you to be my editor. Right?”

“No, yeah, right. I guess I didn’t think I was bothering her. I’d always hit you up the same amount.”

“Yeah, but we’re friends. She works for me. It’s different,” Jason’s explaining as David nods along, eyes on the road, thinking.

(Y/N) doesn’t like him? Everyone likes him! YouTube world or not, David was charming as shit. It perplexed him, stirring uneasiness in his chest. This was just going to be a challenge in his eyes now.

She doesn’t like him? That’s fine. She will though.

David guar-an-fucking-tees it.

——

David Dobrik sends you an apology Edible Arrangement. The good kind, all chocolate covered fruit.

There’s a card attached that says,

Jason’s last vlog def met my standards, so you obvy don’t need my help. I’ll stop being such a dick.

(See? I didn’t text you.)

-D

It makes you laugh fucking hard.

You find it a little endearing but also, yeah, you deserve an unhealthy Edible Arrangement. He probably has a contact at the fruit company for appeasing all the people he steps on to run his empire. You’re not special, but the thought is at least there. Whatever. He had stopped bombarding you with texts and had been much more polite in general, so you were more than fine with the whole situation now.

You had hoped this was the end of it.

——

It wasn’t.

——