#seriously you should have listened to her

[typicalopposite]

WIP Wednesday

thank you thank you @bidisasterevankinard for the tag! 🫶🫶🫶

take me back - Tommy amnesia fic - from ch 3

Evan: Hey! Hope you have a great first day back! Be safe! 🙂

Tommy’s heart skips a beat… he said– he said their thing… Be safe / Of course. Like Bobby and Athena’s Home Safe, or Howie and Maddie’s Miss you already / Miss you most or Han and Leias I love you / I know. It floods his brain with memories of what feels like just last week; him telling Evan the same thing when he called to let Tommy know they were going on a pretty serious call. It stabs him in the chest, and tears sting at his eyes that he quickly blinks away because, no… Evan is allowing him a friendship when he doesn’t deserve one. He will not screw it up this early in because he has a giant sack of unresolved emotional baggage that he filled himself. He replies: I will be he hits send, reels at the sting of making it different, then he sends and thank you :) to balance it out.

The messages are instantly read, and Tommy waits for a moment to see if he’ll say anything else. He doesn’t, so Tommy grabs his keys and heads out the door to his truck. The engine roars to life and he turns his music up loud enough to make his ears hurt— from the volume and the fact every song reminds him of Evan— as he drives the miles to Harbor Station. 

He is actually pretty surprised at the effort his team put into their welcome back, complete with a banner and cake. (If Tommy is being honest he is just about cake’d out from his birthday… but he appreciates the gesture… Especially if— unless they changed a lot in the span of last year to now— this isn’t usual for the 217. This is more of the 118’s style of celebration. He’ll take it.) “Thanks everybody,” he says humbly. 

“Good to have you back,” his captain says, shakes his hand then excuses himself to his office. 

He is approached one by one by his other coworkers ending with Lucy. She grins widely at him, and throws her arms around his neck; a gesture he was used to from her… but things are supposedly different between them now, so it’s an unexpected surprise.  

“How’re you feeling?” she asks. Her– usually sharp, ready to give as much sass and shit as she receives among a crew of mostly men– eyes are soft and sincere. 

“Better… I– I guess,” Tommy replies. “Doc said as long as I don’t crack it open again, staples can come out next week.”

“You still don’t know how that happened?” 

Tommy pulls his lips down into a frown and shakes his head. “That garage is a mess… Evan is always– or… was always–” he stops and sighs, running a hand over the back of his neck, wondering if one day talking about Evan will stop hurting. He doubts it’ll be anytime soon. “He always said I needed to organize my stuff better– guess I should have listened.” 

She gives him a sympathetic smile, hooking an arm around his arm and leading him through the hangar. “Well at least you have plenty of paperwork to keep your mind off of… everything, until you’re cleared to get back in the sky!” 

“Oh, great…” He groans at the piles of unorganized files left for him to keep busy while he is on temporary light duty, and drops into his chair to get started. 

Or rather try to get started… except everything reminds him of Evan– of the accident– of what he lost— of how miserable he is. 

Calls where their stations worked together. Calls with people named Evan, or Tommy, or even worse Dylan. Calls involving head injuries, and memory loss, and extreme depression, and anxiety– a call involving a person giving a statement so filled with regret and despair Tommy has to stop what he’s doing and walk outside for some air. 

“You okay?” Lucy asks, sticking her head out of the helicopter she is running a safety check on. 

“Fine…” Tommy lies, still unable to suck in a deep enough breath that it will stop feeling like he’s being suffocated. 

Lucy sighs and turns the helicopter off. She hops down and walks over to him, face determined. “Seriously, Kinard… I’m not saying you have to be an open book; hell you never were, even before— But don’t start shutting everyone out again. We’re a team and if you’re going through it and your mind is not clear it’s not safe– you could get hurt… again. So we’re not going back there, okay?” Tommy slowly lifts his eyes to hers and nods. 

Lucy calls out for Melvin to finish the inspection and she tips her head towards the side of the hangar. They walk down alongside the metal wall towards the water’s edge. She picks up a rock and flicks it out onto the water; it skips three times before dipping under the surface. She glances over at Tommy, giving him the floor to start the conversation. Tommy doesn’t speak and instead repeats her action– picks up a rock and skips it across the lake. Seven skips before it disappears and Lucy scoffs, calling him a show off. 

“I don’t know why I broke up with him…” is Tommy’s reply. 

Lucy stares at him for a second, like she’s trying to formulate a response. “I– I mean… I’m sure once the amnesia–”

“It’s not because of the amnesia, Luce…” Tommy interjects. “I–” He exhales, long and deep. “I don’t know why I broke up with him because I don’t want to break up with him.” She furrows her brows and he continues before she can speak. “Lucy I woke up thinking it was our anniversary. Just a few days before I dumped him, for– for the stupidest reason!”

“Wait, you know the reason?”

“Ye– Yeah. Evan told me.”

“You spoke to Evan?!”

Tommy sighs. “That’s not the point. The point is that I don’t— or— or I didn’t… I still don’t want to not be with him. I– I was ready Lucy. Ready for the next step– granted the next step was telling him I loved him… whereas his was moving me into his loft–”

“Wait…” Lucy pushes forward from where she had been leaning against a tree and starts to pace. “He asked you to move in– into the loft?”

“He did.”

“But you have a house…”

“Yes but– dammit Lucy this is still not the point! I love him! I- I would have said yes. I s- should have said yes! I don’t–” His voice breaks, he covers his face. Then Lucy’s arms are around him, tugging him down to her level, allowing him to hide his face in her shoulder instead. 

No Pressure 🏷️ (even though I know it’s late 🫣) : @30somethingautisticteacher @sunnywithachanceofbi @nine-one-wanton @herrmannhalsteadproduction @judymarch15

@onthewaytosomewhere @lavenderleahy @bangpop91 @hyperfocusthusly @weewookinard

@beanarie @leashybebes @somethingaboutfirefly @silversky9 @bucksxkinard

@sweaters-and-silly @quintessenceofdust88 @sierrarreads @saibowtie @kinardsevan

@unhingedangstaddict @portinastorm @ladyeyrewrites @rubydaiquiri

@mmso-notlikethat @a-mel0n @rdng1230 @fenrirscarsback

(I am so sorry if I missed someone! Let me know if you want to be added or removed)

[pinkiemachine]

What are some timsteph headcanons you have? And what couples or ships u like outside of dc remind u of them?

That she’s really clingy and her love language is physical touch. Like, she’s always coming to him wanting a hug, or to hold his arm, or snuggle up next to him, just burry her face in his hoodie… but she can be a bit oblivious about the fact that she can be a biiiiit… intrusive at times. If Tim is busy with something, she might not recognise it and just come on in, trying to talk to him, and then Tim gets frustrated that she’s not reading the room, and has to remind her that sometimes he has things to do and can’t get distracted. She usually makes up for it by doing something nice for him later when he has more free time.

Tim can be a bit oblivious about her emotions sometimes, so every now and then he makes an oopsie in the form of accidentally neglecting her emotional needs—usually by working on a case too long and not realising she needs time with him—and then has to go make up for it. His love language is personal time, and he just enjoys being in the same room as Steph. They don’t even have to be doing anything, just cuddling on the couch is enough. Or sitting in the Batcave on their phones. Talking late into the night.

She definitely loves the fact that her bf is loaded with cash and Tim loves to spoil her. Not in overly fancy dinners to french restaurants or Louis Vuittons, but in trips to places she’s never been before, going on hikes through the Italian countryside, bungie jumping in New Zealand, or boating on the Nile.

They both geek out, but over different things and in slightly different ways, and they happily listen to the other ramble on about the thing they’re excited about currently. For Tim it’s usually some random information rabbit hole he’s stumbled down—like the history of Roman gladiator food, or medieval cutlery. For Steph it can be literally anything. A cute dog she found that she wants to adopt, why do superheroes wear the undies on the outside of their uniforms? Damascus steel forging, a new TikTok trend, a new tv show she’s just gotten into, interior home renovation and DIY stuff, knitting… waffles…

Tim struggles with depression. It’s not surprising. A study done once showed that intelligent people are often more likely to be depressed (perhaps there’s something to being “blissfully ignorant”) but in Tim’s case, there’s also the trauma of having to go through everything he’s gone through as a vigilante. Because of his depression, it can make it difficult to find the will to want to hang out with people, or go do things outside of work. That’s where Steph comes in. She’s hurt too, but remains stubbornly optimistic. She’s able to talk with Tim about things they can’t talk about with anyone else, and she helps him get out and do things, talk to people, see the sun every once in a while. She is his sunshine. Literally. She makes him happy. And for Steph, she can sometimes have a hard time living in reality. Because of her trauma, she tends to fall into escapism to cope. She can day dream for hours if left to her own devices, and often romanticises things or doesn’t take them seriously. That’s where Tim comes in. When she’s getting too carried away or not acknowledging a situation like she should, he brings her back down to ground level and helps her through it. Facing reality is easier with him, she’s found out. ❤️💜

[local-crying-boy]

HEY ITS YOU KNOW WHO!! Please can you write a fic for young Silco and reader who are pining desperately for each other but despite how obvious it is to everyone else (especially Vander and Felicia who have to put up with their lovesick shenanigans) they are still oblivious to the others feelings??? Please also have a fluffy conclusion where they confess I beg THANK YEWWW

🅂🄸🄻🄲🄾

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𝕆𝕙, 𝕞𝕪 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙿𝚊𝚜𝚝!𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚌𝚘 𝚇 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙾𝚗𝚎-𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝, 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝𝚢

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙻𝙸𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙰𝚁𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙴 𝚂𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙾𝙽 2 𝙰𝙲𝚃 2, 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚌𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚓𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚅𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 <<𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛'𝚜>> 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙, 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝𝚢 ( 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 ? )

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚊 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚅𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚏𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 *𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚘* 𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚌𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍 <<𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛>> 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚗-𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍. 𝚅𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚖, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚍𝚘.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 4.4𝚔

𝙰/𝚗: 𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚞𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊 𝚢𝚊𝚙 𝚜��𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚌𝚘 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖 (𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚌𝚘 𝚊𝚝 8𝚊𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐)

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"I swear if I have to hear <<Reader>> swoon over Silco again!" A particular royal blue haired woman groaned out, her head thrown back for a moment before she slumped against the bar counter. "Honestly, does that woman have nothing else to talk about?

There was a rough and low chuckle heard, a large, muscular man setting out drinks for himself and his friend. "You should hear Silco talk about her."

The slouched woman spoke up again. "You know what she did the other day? Vander, not even a 'hello' or ' how are you', straight to 'Felicia, you'll never guess what Silco said to me today!'. I had to listen to her bloody rant for half an hour!"

"I'll tell you what's worse, yeah?" Vander said with an amused scoff, his forearm leaning against the counter as he looked down at Felicia. "Silco's poor attempts at covering any liking towards <<Reader>> ."

That gained a spit of laughter from the woman, she shook her head while she straightened herself up. "God, Silco loves to try and make out he doesn't have any emotions like the rest of us, doesn't he?"

Vander gave a small tilt of the head, almost a nod, but almost like he was shrugging his shoulders. "Can you really blame him? How much has he and <<Reader>> been through together?

She grew silent for a couple of short moments, before she gave a quick nod of acknowledgement as a sigh escaped her lips.

"You seriously don't think either of them are going to risk throwing that away?" The bigger man asked, while his words held their own weight to them, he held a small smirk on his face - as if the fear the two held were amusing to him - though it had faded quick. "Neither of them want to lose each other, admit it or not, they rely on each other like they do with air."

"But that only makes them work better together!" Felicia was quick to perk up, throwing her hands out in exaggeration. "They are more on the same page then you and Silco! It's like.... like they move in sync, like they read each other's mind!"

"I'm not denying that." Vander laughed out, holding a hand up in surrender, as he poured himself and the blue haired woman each a drink, placing the bottle down beside the two glasses. "But, you have to admit, you'd be scared of losing a connection like that, right?"

She sighed, shrugging her shoulders lightly. She grasped her drink and brought the glass to her mouth, and she did not respond.

A smug, victorious grin pulled on Vander's lips, but he covered it up as he, too, brought his drink to his lips.

∘₊✧──────────────── ✧₊∘

It was another cold, dark night in the Undercity and Silco, Vander and Felicia were all inside the *somewhat* warm bar. For the hundredth time, Felicia was standing near the jukebox, deciding on what song to play, while Vander was stuck cleaning up The Last Drop.

Silco, however, was as silent as a mouse, scribbling away in his notebook. He wasn't exactly focused on his two friends in the room with him, no, no, he was more so waiting for another familiar face he'd found growing himself attached to.

Whatever the man was thinking of, whether it be that one familiar face or the work he found himself constantly drowning in, he was too lost in thought, too much in his 'own world'. He didn't even realize as footsteps neared from behind, and as mischievous giggles were heard.

Rather suddenly, a pair of hands planted themselves firmly on each of the now startled man's shoulders with a loud 'rah!' sound, causing him to flinch and swiftly snap his head round to see who the hell decided to ambush him like that.

"What are you-" He immediately went to bark out, but when he was met with your innocent laughter, he couldn't help but soften his tone. " <<Reader>> ."

"That's me!" You said with a toothy grin, moving to slump down onto the bar stool beside him.

Silco faintly chuckled to himself, how absurd that he had gotten so startled from you of all people. He shook his head lightly, letting out a small tut while he turned back to his endless writing.

"You're stuck in your head too much." You declared with a huff, leaning your elbow on the counter and resting your chin on the palm of your hand. "You didn't even hear me come in!"

"I've got work to do, <<Reader>>." Silco mused gently, looking up for a moment with a grin on his face, his hand waving around subtly, but you really only noticed how quickly he had picked up his pen to continue his seemingly never ending work.

"Ah, yes," You rolled your eyes, though you weren't able to deny the little pit in your stomach when you realised that he was, in fact, a busy man. "Your work."

You turned your head to Vander who was already shaking his head at the absurdity of Silco never taking a break, this time you tutted, muttering under your breath to the man on the other side of the counter. "Work, work, work."

"Leave the man to his rambles, if that's what he wants so badly." Vander teased, which only caused Silco to shoot him a glare, not that Vander cared all that much. He only looked back at you. "Want anything?"

"You're telling me you don't know my usual yet?" You joked, spinning your head to look over at him, head still resting in your palm.

From anyone outside of your inner circle, you almost looked... enamoured by Vander, with your chin propped up comfortably by your hand and a bright grin plastering your face. Damn, the sight made Silco force his head away with a scowl he couldn't be bothered to hide away. He had to fight an audible scoff escaping his lips, he didn't want you to look back at him though, not when you obviously so busy talking with Vander.

You noticed the little side eye from Vander, no doubt checking on what Silco was doing after your attention diverted from him. Though, Vander couldn't help but letting out an entertained snigger as he poured out your usual drink. You didn't head much attention to it, assuming that it was just to check up on what he was doing.

Vander's eyes moved away once he had pushed the drink closer to you, looking over at Felicia who had been staring from across the room. The both of them could only share a certain look to the other, Silco, as much as he may deny it, was not good at keeping his emotions at bay when it came to you and it was safe to say that the two were starting to get bored of it.

As amusing as it was, and it was very amusing, Silco was becoming repetitive in his behaviour. He'd brush off any interaction with you and claim he was 'busy' with 'work', his face would contort into a scowl if Vander every talked to you - made you laugh, then he'd be in a mood until you spoke to him again, but, in truth, it was all just an endless cycle.

The whole endeavour was extremely confusing, for everyone involved! You were stuck believing Silco never had time for you, Vander was stuck believing that he was simply too afraid to lose you to let you in and Felicia was stuck believing that the two of you were just two annoying lovebirds who needed to rip the band aid off.

Then there was Silco.

Well, Silco was... who can really say what Silco was? He was a closed of man to everyone, just not so much to his three closest friends. Regardless of being close or not, it took too much observation to actually realise what Silco wanted to say - especially when it came down to confessing this new-found love for you.

And, really, who really had the time to look so deeply into Silco’s true character?

A familiar song started to echo throughout the room, a faint chuckle escaping Vander as he lightly shook his head. Felicia and ‘her’ song.

You turned your head, you had your own smirk on your face as you glanced over at the blue haired woman who was now swaying in her place. This whole scenario seemed to happen a lot of late, with Vander and Silco constantly trying to find ways to improve the Undercity, the for of you found yourselves in The Last Drop frequently.

"Again, 'Licia?" You asked with a laugh, turning your seat so that your back was leaning against the bar counter. "I basically know this song off by heart because of you!"

She shrugged light, swinging her arms and hips in tune to the music, eyes closed as if she was losing herself in the beat of it. You couldn't help yourself, she was having so much fun, so you pushed yourself off the bar stool and started to dance alongside her.

Her eyes had opened when she heard you laughter, somewhat matching her movements, which only caused her to start laughing alongside with you. She eventually grabbed your hands and started to jump around together.

"Why are you in a mood?" Vander asked Silco when you had moved away from the two men. "You were fine two seconds ago, then <<Reader>> comes over and you have that stupid scowl on your face again."

The seated man only let out a breath, rolling his eyes as he shook his head from side to side for a couple moments. "I am not in a mood."

Vander only laughed for a moment, leaning his hands on the counter. "Yes, you are."

"I am not." Silco repeated, refusing to look up at the ignorant grin that he knew that Vander would have.

"You are."

Now, that earned a deathly glare.

"For the love of-" Silco groaned, tutting under his breath once more, but this time it seemed out of genuine irritation - unlike when he was interacting with you. "I am not in a mood."

"Say what you will-" Vander said with a shrug of his shoulders, but was quickly cut off by Silco.

"You mean the truth?"

Vander ignored his old friend's comment and continued. "Say what you will, you're upset now. Why?"

Silco shook his head again, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he brought a hand to his face and rubbed the side of his head. It wasn't long before he was subconsciously looking bad at you, dancing along with the royal blue haired, music obsessed woman.

"You like her." Vander stated, it wasn't a question he needed answered, he would be able to see it even if he lost his sight.

Silco turned back, tutting again, as if the whole idea was a ludicrous idea, he picked up his pen again, looking down at his notebook - usually it was a sign to back off and leave him be. "I don't know what you're talking about, Vander."

"Yes, you do." Vander said, scoffing.

"I'm not playing this back-and-forth game again." Silco frowned over at Vander, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration.

"Of course, of course." Vander laughed lowly, putting his hands up in a mock surrender. "But, you're lying to me. Again."

The smaller man didn't reply this time, he couldn't be bothered to continue this unbelievable conversation. You were you, and he was him. There was no you and him, not in the way that Vander was talking about, and there never would be. Silco had to be focused on the future of Zaun because, if he didn't, what would be the point in even attempting to live in the shit-hole?

The silence that Vander got only caused him to sigh in defeat, he leaned both his forearms against the counter, trying to look at Silco's face, even when it was faced downwards. "Fine, you don't know what I'm talking about, but if you keep acting distant towards <<Reader>>, she's going to move on from you."

"Not a problem." Silco spoke with an almost cold tone. "She doesn't like me in the way you're suggesting, so, there's no moving on to do.

Vander didn't have much to say in response because, really, Silco thought that?

Over on the other side of the room, similar to the conversation Vander had with Silco, Felicia was planning to talk to you about you, not so, subtle attraction towards your mutual friend.

"Sooo..." The blue haired woman started in the midst of your dancing. "What's going on, hm? You and Silco?"

"What about me and Silco?" You asked, your movements faltered slightly, but you didn't want the two men by the bar to notice your change in demeanour.

Felicia laughed out faintly, shaking her head. "Don't play stupid now, what just happened? Scaring him like that?"

You rolled your eyes at her clear suggestion, it was harmless fun, a small trick to scare him for a moment while he was off in his own thoughts. You couldn't let it be anything more than that. "I just scared him?"

She made a noise that was clear that she disagreed with your statement. "C'mon! You don't seriously think you're going to convince me that that's true."

"C'mon, 'licia, there isn't anything between me and Silco, you know that." You said with a small sigh, shaking your head, you had completely stopped moving now.

Felicia raised her eyebrows, she still wasn't buying it, she couldn't - she wouldn't.

"Seriously." You sternly spoke, crossing your arms over your chest. "Don't you see he's too busy for me?"

The navy haired woman's eyes narrowed at that, she was sure she didn't hear you correctly. He... didn't have time for you? Since when? From her perspective, he was constantly looking over his shoulder to check up on you, sure, you didn't see it all the time, but it was happening.

"Too busy? What the hell are you on about?" She quickly said, her tone a little harsher than she intended, but that was purely because of how taken aback she was from your statement.

"The fuck you mean, what am I on about?" You tutted quietly, a hand going up to your face to pinch the bridge of your nose. "It's pretty clear, no? He cares too much about Zaun. Rightfully so, of course, but..."

You cut yourself off with a sigh, moving your hands back to cross over your chest, but it was different from before. The time before felt like a protective shield, whereas, this time, it was almost like a comforting sort of action.

Your friend in front of you didn't push you to explain further, she never needed to previously, but when you didn't continue on with your sentence she started to speak.

"<<Reader>>..." She spoke softly, her tone gentle and welcoming to you so that you would actually speak your mind.

"Oh, leave it." You hissed, you head snapping up to meet her grey eyes.

She was stunned. She could only stare at your for a few silent moments, where did that anger and aggression come from? Why did it rise so suddenly from the topic of Silco? Surely it would be the opposite, you like him, she and Vander could see it and, yet, you voice had turned as cold as ice.

"What's goin-" Felicia tried, but was quickly cut off again.

"I said leave it!" You snapped, your voice was raised and you felt all three pairs of eyes on you, which caused you to sink a little n your stance.

You glanced back over at the two men who were staring at you, soon shaking your head as your eyes fixated on your boots. You didn't remain standing there, you couldn't face those confused stares from Silco and Vander and that pitiful, sorrowful look on Felicia's face.

"Whatever." You muttered.

With that, you turned and walked away from Felicia, heading straight for the door to leave.

You swung open the door and breathed in, the Undercity's heavy air filling your lungs, but the suffocating feeling was nothing new and your version of fresh air, one that had started to become comforting when you got out of heated situations.

You were planning on walking home, going straight to bed or to the bottle - whichever called your name first when you walked into the comfort of your house.

However, just as your turned into one of the many dreary, notorious alleyways in the Undercity, you heard quickly paced footsteps from behind.

You were in no mood for one of your three friends to come running after you, so you ignored it, head down - like you would usually do when passing a stranger in the streets, pretending like you could easily slip away into the shadows.

"<<Reader>>!" You heard a familiar voice yell.

For fuck's sake, your heart swelled at his voice. Silco.

"Silco, I'm not in the mood." You called out from behind, you should have known that, out of everyone there, Silco would be the one to run after you.

He would never let you slip away into the shadows.

Never.

"Wait." He groaned in frustration, jogging up next to you so he could grab your arm. "Wait."

"Leave me alone, Silco." You hissed, giving a poor attempt at pulling your arm away from his grasp.

"If you really wanted me to leave you alone," He started, his fingers tightening around the skin on your arm. "You would've gotten me off you.

You scoffed, this time ripping your arm away from his grasp. "How about now? You think I want you to leave me alone now?"

His face contorted into a look of confusion, eyes narrowing as if he was prying into your soul to get some sort of wordless answer. Then he finally spoke up. "What is going on with you?"

"Nothing." You quickly said, crossing your arms over your chest again.

Ah, there goes that protective shield again. Silco would be able to recognise that anywhere, but he couldn't pinpoint why the hell you thought you needed to keep up with defensive nature when it was him.

"Stop lying." He huffed, his eyes didn't falter from staring deep into yours, but you weren't about to look away from his disturbing gaze - you weren't about to lose to the man who clearly implied to you that he had no time of day for you.

You should have been able to lower you guard with him, like you had done every single day before this. You were being to clear, transparent. He was going to start putting things together and you couldn't lose him, just like he couldn't lose you because Vander was correct, he always was.

You rely on each other like you do with air.

"Talk to me." Silco commanded.

No, he didn't command. There was a hint of... desperation in his tone, like he was begging you to talk to him, explain what was going on like you used to do so often.

"Now you have time for me?" You spitefully laughed, your hands moving to rest on your hips. "Now you can talk to me?"

Silco's eyes narrowed further, what the fuck were you going on about?

"What do you mean by that?" He asked slowly. Warily.

"You know what I mean by that."

Did he? Because he was sitting there with a look on his face that infuriated you, or was that because he thought that he could get away with playing dumb? You knew that he was a smart man, he knew it and he knew that you knew it, so why even attempt it?

"You act as if you're too busy for me!" You quickly called out, your arms extending outwards to empathise your statement. "Always scribbling away in that notebook, never even looking at me- at... at us when we talk to you!"

This time, Silco's face changed from the confused puppy look. His brows furrowed, his lips turning downwards into a frown.

You've triggered something.

"Oh, I haven't got time for you?" He questioned, taking a step towards you - something he would do to intimate others, but to you? It meant nothing. "What about how you always seem so focused on Vander, huh?"

Now it was your turn, face contorting into one of your own confused expressions, your hands dropping to your sides. You stared at him silence for a couple of seconds, just as he had done for you.

"You know how that feels?" Silco continued, holding at hand near his chest before extending over to where The Last Drop was. "Watching as you laugh and joke with him, right next to me?"

"What?" You breathed out, your voice thick with utter and sharp confusion. "What do you mean by that?"

The man's face softened, but not really into an expression of caring towards you, he was simply mirroring your bewildered look. The two of you were stuck staring at each other, both trying to pull out answers from the silences shared.

"Why are you being so strange?" You asked, shoving your hands into your pockets now.

"I could ask you the same thing." He quickly retorted.

He got you there, you couldn't lie now. You could lie about the feelings you ahd towards Silco, about how every time you saw him checking up on you over your shoulder sent butterflies in your stomach, about how every time his fingers glided over yours when passing your something it sent shivers down your spine.

But this? Yeah, no, he got you stumped.

A grin pulled at your lips finally, looking down for a moment as you shook your head. "Damn you."

"Are you going to tell me what's going on now?" He asked, his tone a lot more gentler now that you weren't in such a downer mood. "Or am I going to have to start guessing?"

You made a small face, eyes squinting as your nose scrunched up. "I just told you what's wrong."

"No, you didn't." Silco argued, crossing his arms over his chest again. "You just accused me of not talking to you."

"Because you're not." You scoffed.

"I am-!" He groaned out, his voice getting a little louder, before he took a deep breath and lowered his voice. "I am talking to you, what are you on about?"

You looked away for a moment, you didn't know to phrase it without seeming like a complete jerk who didn't care about his dream to better Zaun. "You.. you're focused on Zaun, an-and I can admire that, really, I can. but... Silco, I've been trying to-"

You cut yourself off, you noticed that intensive look he had, hanging onto every word you said, as if he was trying to memorise what you were saying as you said it. "I've been trying to show you that..."

Dear Janna, you couldn't do it.

"What?" He aske, he took another step forwards, it was different than before, his mannerisms more personalised for you - reserved for you. "What have you been trying to show me?"

You shook your head, moving your arms to hug your abdomen, looking down at the ground. You were behaving like a little child at this point, refusing to tell their parent something in fear of getting lectured at.

Before your eyes could even focus on what he was doing, his hands reached out your your arms, long fingers trailing down your arm to grasp your hands and bring them outwards. The action, catching you off guard, caused you to swiftly move your head upwards, eyes locking with his green ones.

"Talk to me." This time there was no mistaking this with a command, he was aching for you to speak up, his heart was racing in his chest so fast simply because he was scared for once in his life.

"Silco..." You whispered faintly, he could see the look of hurt in your eyes, fear, almost.

"<<Reader>>..." He responded with, his voice as quiet as yours. "Come on, please."

"You don't like me as I like you." You finally said, your voice barely over a whisper, barely even audible to Silco's ears and he was standing a few inches away from you.

One of his hands withdrew from yours, leisurely moving up to the side of your face. Your head slowly moved up in time with his hand when you realised what he was doing, shivers going down your spine as he pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear.

But it didn't end there.

Your heart pounded in your chest so much so that you were sure that your breathing was picking up, his hand cupped the side of your face, thumb delicately caressing your skin as if you were a fragile piece of glass - any touch too hard would shatter you.

Even this was too hard though, you could feel yourself breaking down every second he remained with his hand cupping your face.

He was breaking you.

"Now where did you get that impression, hm?" He spoke in a hushed tone, his head moving down slightly so that he was more level to yours.

Your eyes were locked onto his like some sort of hypnotising spiral that was forced into your eyesight, one that you were forced to stare at until your got dizzy.

He was careful in his movement, careful. His eyes darted down to your lips, then up to your eyes, then back down to your damned lips. You could feel his breath hitting your skin, even his breath was picking up. The slow pace was killing you, but you knew he wasn't going to move in fully until he was certain that you were going to as well.

So you did.

You felt your body, even if it was a conscious decision, lean a little closer to his, your head tilting upwards so that he didn't have to lean down anymore than he already was.

The breath from your lungs disappeared the moment your felt his lips touch yours, eyes snappy to close. His lips pressed against yours for a somewhat brief kiss, before he pulled away quickly. Too quickly.

His eyes were wrapped up in your tranquil gape, but his was far away still, stuck with searching for answers. Why couldn't he just see you wanted him more?

This time, you leaned up, ramming your lips into his. The unexpected action caught him in surprise, a shocked hum being muffled by your kiss, but he was quick to return the affection. His eyes closing while his hand on your cheek got a little more possessive, his other hand moving to your waist to pull your closer into his body. Instinctively, your hand moved to his shoulder, just barely on the crook of his neck while the other firmly planted itself on his chest.

When the two of you parted from the kiss, your faces remained close together, his nose brushing against yours, half-lidded eyes still eyeing your lips.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that..." He finally whispered against your lips. "And, here you are, thinking I have no time for you."

"And here you were thinking I was trying to get with Vander." You muttered back, a faint laugh coming from you.

You could hear Silco huff. "Don't ruin this now."

You rolled your eyes a little at that, but you didn't move away. You'd let him have the last word, you got the last kiss, after all.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Masterlist

[girlwithwolftatoo]

What is chained -Chapter 1

Summary: There was a dream named Rome, and saving it doesn't always mean to chop heads off.

Words: 1677

Characters: Marcus Acacius, emperor Geta, emperor Caracalla and others.

Chapter 1: Taraxia -Disturbance

Any man who has been to sea knows that, when a storm approaches, it is preceded by a shivering calm where silence and stillness are only the desperate cry of an inevitable terror. The air becomes salty, suffocating, the sails hang lifeless, the oars are stowed. And so Acacius thought of his own ship as the slaves loaded their belongings into a wide cart, pulled by a beautiful Gaul steed with its shaggy ankles and curly mane. Lucilla watched, paralyzed with anger from the porch, her hands wringing a sprig of lavender as she struggled not to cry. Her father said that what a free man earns should not be taken from him without cause, but her brother would have sadly agreed with his successors, those two little red-haired devils. Acacius turned away, once he had signaled to the servants that they could retire, and approached the woman with what he considered a reassuring face, which he well knew was not going to do much good. It broke his heart to provoke her to so much distress, but he knew, for that is only learned through years of iron and blood, that refusal would have been worse. “I'll be fine,” he told her, reaching out a hand to stroke her face. Lucilla closed her eyes, bowing her head over the powerful hand that tried to comfort her “Listen, give me a week, two maybe, I'll send messages in the meantime and then… I'll negotiate with the senate. They'll be reasonable, once they see results.”

Lucilla sighed, looking at him defeated. “I never wished this for you, and look at you…you're being sent into the jaws of wolves.” “I'll be able to handle them, you trust, don't you trust me?” he said it lightly, smiling, but his wife didn't play along. “When you raise your sword I do not fear for you, but these… enemies… how will you defend yourself if…?” “With the senate. One word from me and they will regret it. Please…” he added in desperation, giving her a kiss on the cheek, "trust, I know what I'm doing, or at least Gracchus does.’ It was all part of a defensive plan, Acacius said to himself after saying goodbye to Lucilla, riding with his things in the wagon that was taking him to his destiny, was that destiny? he wondered as he left his villa back to the scandal of the city. No celebrations, no making the matter public, that was the decision of the good Gracchus, a great and loyal friend of his wife and her father, so as to avoid angering the demons. It was true that in any case, the demons were already angry. Thraex was still trying in vain to reassure them when the cart stopped at the palace stables, so that Acacius barely set foot when he had clear duties to perform.

“General, I thank the gods you made it” whined the man, exiting through a double door from which could be heard shouts of two men fighting loudly. Acacius looked with exasperation at the door.

“They didn't take kindly to the news, I'm afraid.”

“No way, they're a wild beast, when I told them I thought they were going to kill me.”

Acacius was already used to Thraex hypersensitivity, so he didn't take it so seriously either, and walked through the double doors as if he had just entered an enemy barracks.

On one side, there was Geta, using one of those platters for exotic meats as a shield, and at the other end, his face so reddened that it showed under the heavy makeup, Caracalla, whose raging voice had become so high-pitched that Acacius thought he was going to summon bats.

“You can't tell me what to do!” he shrieked, waving a narrow-mouthed vase varnished in gold.

“I know, I know, I just want you to listen to me, if you keep going on like that...!”

“Do you think I care, I've never been insulted... like that...!”

Geta turned his head and met Acacius, his expression soured but he did nothing but clench his jaw, Caracalla instead dropped the vase - which shattered - and went running towards him, his brother unable to stop him; the older one clenched his muscles in case he rammed him, but the little twin was reduced to stopping a good few feet away, pointing a finger at him as he groaned:

“Et tu, Justus?”

“Calm down, you're embarrassing yourself,” Geta warned him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Acacius relaxed, he detested them both in equal parts, but ruefully admitted that the older twin was a bit more reasonable. “Your Majesties… I see the patrician Thraex has already informed you of the news in the senate.” “News? You call that news?” shrieked Caracalla, wincing ”They have mocked us, that's what they did, and you participated!” “If it wasn't me, it would have been someone else, my lord, and perhaps someone less sympathetic and more… interested in the privileges to be obtained than in the good of you and Rome” continued the general. “I don't know if you haven't noticed but we are no longer children, general” Geta rebuked him, still holding his brother ”We have ruled this empire for years, since we were very young, back then no one cared about our decisions and suddenly…” “You must understand, your majesties, that the people of Rome are no longer as they were in the time of Marcus Aurelius” at the old emperor's mention, Caracalla grimaced and Geta rolled her eyes, ”when the common people were… easily satisfied because they had all they could ask for. The empire is larger, yes, but not stronger or more prosperous.” "How are they not satisfied? We give them parties, shows, military victories, what more do they want?” hinted Geta, supported by his twin who nodded vigorously. Acacius made an effort not to change his expression, that was worse than talking to an infant.

“Yes, but none of it brings food to their tables or fire to their homes. Not all of them are nobles, or wealthy dynastic providers. That's why... that's why the senate has decided...”

“Yes, yes, we know! A curator...” The tone of contempt was not lost on the general.

“See this better as a... advisor in the face of the people” he tried. Acacius regretted not knowing how to speak with the astute finesse of politicians, just now a little lip service would do him good. “If I am always at their majesties' side and... advise them on matters of the people, nothing more, then the people will perceive you as... more... approachable.”

His brain was struggling to find the right words, and he wished he had Lucilla with him, she would surely know how to explain them better. Meanwhile, on the twins' faces there was an identical internal struggle. It was Caracalla who spoke first:

“Who was the idiot who suggested this plan? It couldn't have been you” He said it as if the very idea mortified him.

“No, I certainly don't know, the senate communicated to me only the decision... and that they voted for me as your... advisor.”

“And well, will you be glued to us at all hours? Will you follow us everywhere to tell us how to do our work, general?” asked Geta.

“Their majesties know that I don't know about politics. Of war, on the other hand...”

Yes, he thought suddenly, now that he could explain.

“Come, please, I want to show their majesties something” he requested as politely as he was able, approaching one of the exquisitely narrow windows. The twins followed him, wary. “See out there? Beyond those marble statues and those white steps…that's Rome, your subjects. Tell me, if you were down there, like them, arguing in the marketplace over the prices of a bit of garum and taking your boots to be darned for the third time in the year, how would you feel?” None answered, it seemed too existential a question for their brains. “The enemy can become an ally, if conquered…and it must not always be through violence. You want those people at your feet? You will have to win them back. That's what I'm here for.” The thought brought a strange smile to the twins' faces. Geta, the sharpest, nodded. “Ah, I understand… you'll make them love us, won't you? They adore you, how they get when they see you marching in your chariot! They almost deafen us, don't they?” he asked, turning to Caracalla. “Oh yes, good General Justus, they would make you emperor if they could…” he added with venom.

"Well then, if your majesties would offer your help, I could… well, I would take this matter very seriously. My duty…” he felt a shudder as he said it, "is for Rome to love you once more." That seemed to be enough for Geta, at least he was calmer. Caracalla however continued to insist. “What's in it for you, general? You already have a beautiful house, a noble wife, a superb horse… what more could you want?” Acacius thought it was amusing that the boy spoke to him as if he could bargain. “I do it for Rome, the people I swore to protect and glorify. Nothing more.” “Well… they certainly haven't announced the matter with fanfare” Geta commented, thoughtfully ”We would have expected you to arrive with full honors, a little party for your appointment…”

“No way, I'm not doing it for my own benefit and besides, it would be improper for me to have a party for such a thing. Too many parties would anger the people.”

“Especially since they are not invited” reasoned Caracalla with a silly chuckle ”Yes, yes, that's all very well, I think we can survive this. Don't overdo it, General, and I don't see why we shouldn't get along.”

“Excellent.”

Acacius took his leave, in order to go to his assigned quarters. Part of being curatormeant that he had to live in the palace, the one thing he abhorred most about that job; if Lucilla wasn't so friendly with Gracchus he would punch him in the face for getting him into that mess, but he would have time to ruminate on his frustration, perhaps later in the bath when he could relax as well. For now he had to go back to being the general, and come up with a strategy for this unequal war.

[mar3ggiata]

professional help, c33. Liquid dinner.

BIG ANNOUNCEMENT AT THE END, LOVE YOU!!

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, EDs and death.

song to listen to when reading this: Like it tends to do, Lizzy McAlpine

abstract: This is a very sad chapter honestly. Close to the end also, don't get your hopes up cause I'm telling you, it's not ending well. I should know, I'm from the literal future. So yeah, messed up things. Jude's a liar man, I've always told ya. She might seem all confident, smart, sexy, funny… whatever...

'I fucking hate you so much'.

She spun in her chair, covering her face with her hands, while Honey giggled from his seat. It was three in the afternoon, the day after her chat with Simon. She was at the listening post, they had lunch together, her, Roman and Honey after working at the code all morning. She had to reveal she had a look at it the night before, they argued for the first ten minutes asking why she got to see it before the others. 'It's because I'm privileged, let it go.' She admitted, a small smirk on her lips. 'No seriously, why didn't we know you had it, how did you get it?' Honey asked. She bit her lip, thinking of what to say to make the matter sound somewhat legal. 'You know the guy with the mask?' She said.

'Yes, unfortunately I have seen him.' Honey.

'Scary dude, what about him?' Roman.

She crossed her arms in front of her. She was wearing a comfy sweater under her very elegant blazer jacket. 'He gave it to me yesterday.' She explained. 'We worked together before, we're friends.' She said. All true, no? They're friends.

Honey mumbled something under his breath. 'That's not fair!' argued Roman, he went on some more saying how unfair it was she could see evidence before them just because she was friends with that scary soldier. They resumed their tasks, trying their best at cracking the code. It took longer than anticipated. They removed all the letters from the paper and examined the back, what would have been at the back of the newspaper page. They moved them around in the large table that once was Roman's desk, trying to make out a message. After lunch, she felt tired, she wanted and deserved a nap. Her contact lenses burned her eyes, plastic wrappers and boxes of Chinese takeout were scattered all over the place. Roman was yawning from his side of the room. That was when Honey figured it out. 'I fucking hate you so much'.

She spun in her chair, covering her face with her hands, while Honey giggled from his seat. She approached his desk. 'I found it I think', he said. 'I divided the letters in diagonal like this…' He drew a line with his finger and parted two sections of the original code. 'And I switched them…' She helped him move the letters, until she started to see it too. Words were starting to form. They found a pattern in the setting of the letters, which resembled the choice of cutting capital letters and lowercase letters. They found some of the words were already in English, some needed translation. They were written in English letters, but were Serbian words. 'Novo…' she mumbled while setting the four letters aside. It meant 'New'. It was Roman who was sent to call Price this time. He ran through the corridors of the base, saying sorry to every person he bumped into while trying to get to Price's office.

Unfortunately for him, he found Ghost first. 'Oi!' He called out, making Roman stop in his tracks and turn around. 'You in a rush?' He asked, taking a few steps in his direction. The young linguist looked up at Ghost, his eyes piercing through his soul through the skull plate mask. He mumbled something about the listening post, which clearly interested Ghost in the conversation. Listening post meant Alba. 'We need Price, we figured it out. The code, you know...' He was able to breathe out while regaining his composure. 'She with you?' The other man asked, before starting to walk towards Price's office. 'What…' Roman struggled to follow Ghost's fast walking pace, 'Oh Jude? Yeah, why?' He was given no answer. They both urged Price to follow them and, once in the listening post room, they found Honey and Alba at the desk, hunched over looking at the characters scattered around.

'It makes total fucking sense!' Alba shouted at the door, before awkwardly covering her mouth with her hands, realising Price and Simon were there. Roman let out a loud laugh, joining his two colleagues, even Honey seemed happy and joyful more than Simon ever saw him. He watched Alba smile at her friends, moving one more letter on the table, writing the message on paper. 'S… T, E and R…' Honey whispered. Once they were done, Price and Ghost were allowed to look at it and read it. Alba's eyes encountered Ghost's. Just for a second. She was happy, she was proud. She was gorgeous, he liked how the blazer jacket fell gently on her hips, he liked the strands of hair that were covering the sides of her cheeks, rosy cheeks. He liked the fuzzy sweater she was wearing, a warm beige sweater. He could touch it, feeling the softness.

The message made, indeed, total fucking sense. It said Novo Groblje, which meant new cemetery, it said 'twenty one, one, two two three', which they supposed meant 21st of January of that year. Novo Groblje was a cemetery complex in Belgrade. She stood by the table while Price and Simon examined their work. She patiently waited for them to read the message and ensure they were satisfied with what they saw. It was Simon's look that gave it away. His eyes, his gaze immediately rose to meet hers, he looked at her with dilated pupils, his kind, chocolate brown eyes. He was amused. Price told them they did a good job and to keep up with the listening post for a few more days, just in case they needed any more information about the trafficking, but other than that, they were done.

She went out that night. She put on a dress for the first time in ages. There weren't many bars open too late, Honey suggested drinks to celebrate, Roman said yes, Gaz overheard and took it as the best opportunity to ask her to go out with them. She said yes, she went home and went on a run with Jinx. She was so happy she could't even manage to sit still. She was ecstatic, she had a drink before going out, she had gin hidden somewhere in her kitchen. She wore a dress, just below the knee, it was cold out. It was tight around the waist but fell gently on her hips. Black lace adorned her ribcage, a pattern that looked like flowers on the skin of her breasts. She curled her hair, she put on earrings that looked like pearly rain drops. She wore heels, and got a cab, she didn't want to drive. She intentionally arrived twenty minutes late, she found Roman and Honey at a table in the corner, they were drinking beer. Kyle and Soap were at the counter speaking to a man she didn't know. Kyle whistled when he saw her walking in. 'Look who finally decided to stop working…' He gave her a quick side hug, which she reciprocated, then said hi to Soap. 'What are you drinking?' She let Kyle buy her a beer, she didn't bother choosing, whatever he was having was fine. She noticed his eyes travelling on her figure as she leaned on the counter, she allowed it. They sat for an hour at the table with her two other colleagues, she dragged the soldiers towards Honey and Roman so they could be all together. The conversation was simple and easy, anecdotes and funny stories. She was hiding a yawn with her hand and debating on going home when Johnny gasped. 'Look who showed up…' He whispered, causing her to turn around in the booth, looking towards the entrance of the bar. At eleven in the evening on a Saturday, Simon Riley made his way inside the bar, a crowded bar even. Black mask, leather jacket and, something she had never seen before on him, sneakers. He looked in their direction, a nod of the head to signal that he saw them. He approached the counter to order a drink. Alba got up a minute after, trying not to make it seem too obvious. She said she was gonna get another beer, she asked the boys to watch her purse.

Her heart started beating at a much quicker pace upon seeing him. Did the others invite him, was he there by himself? Maybe he didn't want to be bothered. Was he there to see his friends? She approached him, walked behind him and stood at his right. He turned towards her, his eyes not even reaching her face, slowly making their way up from her naked calves to her chest. 'I wasn't expecting you to come', she crossed her arms in front of her chest, forcing him to look her in the eyes. 'I can leave if you don't want me here.' He replied, to that she smiled. 'Can I buy you a drink?' She offered, making his heart skip a beat. 'To thank you for stealing classified evidence for me.' She said. He allowed himself to stare at her for a few more seconds before replying. Her hair was wavy, falling gently on her shoulders, her makeup shiny on her eyelids. She had some kind of eyeliner on that made the emerald green colour of her pupils stand out. Her cheeks were warm from the alcohol. 'How many have you had?' He asked. He realised he was flirting without even trying, he felt like he was giving in this kind of sin. She was the sin. He felt like the setting, the bar, the fact they were surrounded by strangers, dressed differently from their day to day… It made him feel like he could speak to her that way. 'Just one!' She sat on the stool behind her, reaching his eye level. 'Do I look drunk?' He smiled and shook his head. While he ordered their drinks, she gave their friend's table a look, finding Soap and Kyle staring. 'You guys celebrating?' She concentrated back on Simon. 'I told you Honey would figure it out.' She replied. He didn't have a balaclava on, he had a black surgical mask and the hat she gifted him for Christmas. He partly took off the mask, letting it hang on his right ear, so that his uncovered side faced the wall. She watched him take a sip of his drink.

'They know you're Alba' He said. She nearly choked on her beer.

'I told them you're Alba… by accident.' He corrected himself, like he needed to get that off his chest. She went pale under the lights of the bar.

'What…'

'I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking and I let it slip. Johnny and Gaz...' He looked at her, suddenly apologetic, like a lost puppy. She swallowed a lump in her throat, her blood rushing to her ears. What a way to ruin the night. 'It's fine.' She managed to mumble.

She was still recovering from that information when he spoke again. 'How are… hum.. how are rehearsals going?' He tried to change the subject to make her forget about his terrible revelation. She looked at him appalled, her eyes wide. 'Uhm… good.' She replied awkwardly. He was terrified his attempt to change the subject didn't work. His expression made her giggle, that awful silence between them made her facade crumble. 'Sorry, I'm gonna have to stop speaking to you, you're terrible at keeping secrets', she commented. He seemed to relax, his shoulders less tense. He was really afraid he'd upset her for a moment.

'That's not true…'

'Ah, you told everyone my one secret...' She was smiling at this point, dimples forming in her cheeks. Her left canine teeth was chipped. He drank some more. 'So… rehearsals?' He asked again. Her chest tightened, he really wanted to know? 'It's been hard, there's this one lift which is pretty intense with my dance partner', she fidgeted with a napkin on the wooden counter… 'But the hard part is Snow Queen really, there are 16 fuettés at the end of my first entrance which I can't seem to get right, cause I jump a lot during that part and I get tired, I don't think my left foot is strong enough for those many turns, you know, 16 fuettés is kind of a lot…' she rambled, maybe talking more to herself than to him at this point. But he was there, and you best believe he was listening. 'And then I can kinda relax in the second entrance, but still I got very embarrassed the other day cause I could only get five or six before getting dizzy…' she seemed to suddenly realise he was there. She covered her mouth with her hand, almost self conscious she might have said too much.

'What is a fuetté….' asked Simon.

She smiled, she giggled. 'Sorry… it's a turn on pointe, you turn and then you open your leg to spin again, and again…'

'16 times?'

'16 times, yes.'

'Sounds like a lot. Can't you do less?'

Her smile grew bigger, she felt giddy talking about her dance routine with him. 'That's the choreography…' He nodded. 'Are you getting deployed to Serbia?' She asked, her tone soft, he almost didn't ear her over the music and the noise of chatter in the bar. He shook his head. He explained they had soldiers there already and him and his task force were getting ready for another mission, they were going to get briefed the day after. 'Maybe they'll call you for this one as well… help us out.'

'You finally admit I was helpful then', her pure, proud, cheeky expression made him smile a bit.

'I never said you didn't help us numerous times.'

'What's the mission?' She asked. He said he didn't know yet. They heard a whistle coming from the table where their colleagues were sitting. It was Kyle urging them to go sit with them.

'I made it pretty obvious I left them there to come talk to you…'

He felt like the people around them disappeared, the noise, the smell of booze. She sat beside him or rather in front of him, her heels propped up on the stool, her lacy dress flowing, she looked like a lily, the flower. It could not be real, he couldn't even remember the last time he felt like that, drawn to someone, wanting to get close, touch her arm, feel her skin against his own. And be touched, and be hugged by her, he wanted her attention, he wanted her to look at him, acknowledge him at all times, he was special to her and he deserved her special treatment. He got chosen, over all the others, she just said it, there it was on paper. He didn't imagine it. 'You wanted to talk to me?' He asked, a breath. She leaned into the counter, she heard him cause she was closer. She nodded. 'Why?' He asked.

She smiled. Without putting on a show, she let her hand travel on the counter, until the tip or her pointy acrylic nail poked his finger, wrapped around the beer glass. 'Is it so strange that I want to?' It's not? Did she see past it? The mask, his appearance, the scars, the trauma, his attitude? Or was he never really Ghost when he was around her? Of course he was, she was just so strong and clever to just… see Simon as well. 'I'm not really…', he tried. He didn't push away her hand, his fingers slowly intertwining with hers. Her hands were cold.

'I don't really do this? I don't know when was the last time I actually… you know…', he didn't need to finish, she nodded. She didn't look pitiful. 'Do you want me to tell you why?' She murmured. He didn't really think she had a reason. When he nodded, she started to speak. She looked down at their hands, her fingers brushing his, not really holding his hand, rather exploring the patterns in his skin, tracing them with her nails. 'I think you're kind. You've always been nice to me, considerate. I can tell you care. You know, after last year and Arash and all…' she stopped to take a deep breath, '...it felt nice to have you.' He felt faint. She wasn't done. 'At Christmas and New Years…I think we're different and there are many things you experienced I can't comprehend and stuff about me that you wouldn't get, but… I don't know, I like spending time with you. And speaking to you.' She looked at him with the end of the sentence. His mouth was dry, he felt a strange ringing in his ear. He debated getting out of there, it all sounded absurd, it sure didn't apply to him. She spoke again. 'Was it too much?' She asked.

He was quick to shake his head, but words were just not coming out of his mouth. She let go of his hand, taking a sip and finishing her half pint. He imitated her. 'I guess…', he began, terrified waiting too long to reply would make her think he didn't somehow feel the same. 'I don't know, would you want to… I…' he stuttered and stopped, like he was checking his surroundings, like he was bracing for impact, '…would you like to go out maybe, to eat…' She had this adorable upside down smile on her face, her eyes glistening. 'Yes, sure.' She said.

He stared at her for a few more seconds, to ensure she wasn't gonna spontaneously combust after saying yes to that date. A date. She looked even more heavenly now, like he saw her under a different light. A date. He heard Gaz's voice behind him, probably coming towards the bar to ruin the moment. There were two women dancing to the music and laughing loudly. He heard the noise fo glass shattering on the floor, as someone dropped his drink. He watched her fix a strand of hair behind her ear, he thought he didn't really care at this point. She was his date.

'Want another beer?'

notes: so so late at night for my standards, apologies if you see any mistakes!! happy chapter, I feel full of love after writing this, too bad I'm gonna start writing the last chapter soon... as I promised hell, hell I will deliver. I feel like now is a good time to announce the follow up series to professional help, THE NIGHT OF THE TARANTULA, which will be posted in the next few months, featuring alba, simon and many others!! can you guess what I will be about?

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[sturnswrites]

the couples menu

Chris Sturniolo x Fem!Reader

⤳ fluff

⤳ you and chris have been best friends for forever, but after an unexpected comment at your favorite diner, you both start to question how you really feel for each other.

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

The diner buzzed with its usual evening crowd, the clinking of utensils and hum of conversation creating a comforting background noise. You and Chris had been coming here for years, ever since high school. There was something safe about this place—the worn vinyl booths, the sticky tabletops, the flickering neon sign outside that read “Best Pie in Town.”

Chris sat across from you, lazily stirring his Pepsi with his straw, his head tilted as he listened to you recount the latest chaos from your day.

“And then,” you said, waving your hands for emphasis, “he just walked away! Like he didn’t just spill an entire coffee on me. No apology, no offer to help. Just gone.”

Chris leaned back in the booth, shaking his head. “That’s wild. Honestly, I think you scare people sometimes. Maybe he thought you were gonna yell at him.”

“I do not scare people,” you protested, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Oh, you definitely do.” He smirked, a teasing glint in his eye.

“Chris!”

“Hey, I’m just saying. You’ve got that whole fiery thing going on. It’s intimidating.”

You huffed, crossing your arms, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you as they twitched upward.

“Anyway,” he said, leaning forward, “did you at least get a new coffee?”

“Of course. I wasn’t about to let him ruin my day and deprive me of caffeine.”

“That’s my girl.”

Your heart stuttered at the casual endearment, but you quickly brushed it off. Chris had always been like this—teasing, affectionate, comfortable. You had been best friends for, well, forever. It didn’t mean anything… right? 

Before you could spiral too much, the waitress appeared at your table with a laminated menu. She was probably in her forties, with kind eyes and a warm smile that felt like an invitation to trust her.

“You two are just the cutest,” she said, placing the menu between you.

You blinked, glancing at Chris, who looked equally confused. “Uh, thanks?”

“I thought you might like to see our Couples Special,” she continued, gesturing to the menu. “It’s perfect for lovebirds like you.”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh, we’re not—”

“Couple,” Chris finished quickly, holding up his hands. “We’re not a couple.”

The waitress looked between the two of you, clearly unconvinced, but she just smiled knowingly. “Well, if you change your mind, let me know.”

She walked away, leaving you both sitting there in stunned silence.

Chris was the first to break it, a laugh escaping his lips. “Well, that was… something.”

“She thought we were a couple,” you said, your voice tinged with disbelief.

He shrugged, leaning back in his seat. “Can you blame her? We’re here all the time, we’re laughing, having a great time. We probably do look like a couple.”

You stared at him, your heart doing that annoying flutter thing it had been doing lately whenever he was around. “You’re not seriously saying we should just go along with it.”

“I’m saying,” he said, picking up the menu, “ten bucks off dessert isn’t a bad deal.”

“Chris!”

“What? It’s practical. Plus, free dessert.”

You groaned, but you couldn’t help laughing. He always had a way of making things light, even when your stomach was doing anxious flips.

The rest of the meal went on mostly as usual, though you couldn’t shake the lingering tension from the waitress’s assumption. Every so often, Chris would catch your eye, a small smile tugging at his lips, like he was amused by the whole situation.

When the bill came, the waitress gave you another warm smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Hope you two have a lovely night.”

Chris thanked her, his voice smooth and easy, but you felt like your face might catch fire.

Outside, the evening air was cool against your flushed skin. You walked side by side toward Chris’s car, the silence between you heavy but not uncomfortable.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, stopping just short of the car.

You turned to face him, your pulse quickening at the serious look on his face. “What’s up?”

He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, his gaze flicking to the ground before meeting yours. “Can we talk about tonight? The whole ‘couple menu’ thing?”

Your stomach twisted, heart beating faster and faster. “What about it?”

“I don’t know,” he said, letting out a small laugh. “It just… it got me thinking. About us.”

Your heart was pounding now, but you tried to keep your voice steady. “What about us?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, don’t you think it’s weird? Like, why does everyone always assume we’re together?”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I guess we spend a lot of time together. People just assume.”

“Yeah, but I mean, I think it’s more than that,” he said, stepping closer. “It’s the way we are around each other. We laugh, we tease, we’re comfortable. I don’t blame people for thinking we’re a couple because… sometimes, I think about it too.”

You froze, his words hitting you like a tidal wave. Your voice came down to a whisper from the shock you were feeling. “You… what?” 

He sighed, his breath visible in the chilly air. “Y/N, I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. Years actually. And tonight just made me realize I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel something for you. I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time.”

Your breath caught, your heart hammering in your chest. “Chris…”

“I get it if you don’t feel the same way,” he rushed on, his voice tinged with nervousness. “I just… I had to tell you. Even if it messes things up, I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I can’t keep moving on wondering what could be between us.”

You stared at him, your emotions swirling in a confusing mess of shock, joy, and fear. Finally, you took a shaky step forward. “Chris, I’ve been trying to ignore it, but I feel the same way. I think I’ve been in love with you for years, and I was just too scared to admit it. I’ve tried so hard to move past it because I never wanted it to be the reason that I… lost you.” as you swallowed hard unsure of what he was going to say next. 

His eyes widened, hope flickering across his face. “You mean that?”

You nodded, a small laugh escaping your lips. “Yeah. I mean that.”

Relief washed over him, and before you could say anything else, he pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you like he never wanted to let go.

“I was so scared I’d ruin everything,” he murmured into your hair, placing a soft kiss on top of your head.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” you said softly, pulling back just enough to look at him. “If anything, you made it better.”

He smiled, his eyes shining as he leaned his forehead against yours. “So… are we a couple now?”

You grinned, your heart feeling lighter than it had in years. “I guess we are.”

“Good,” he said, his voice steady. “Because I don’t think I could ever let you go.”

And just like that, everything between you and Chris fell into place, as if it had been waiting for this moment all along.

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

still don’t really know what I’m doing but this was fun to write 😛

⭒ margot

[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.

[dontcallittimetravel]

On This Day: Anita Hill tells everybody in congress what a piece of shit Clarence Thomas is, and look where he is now!

What a country

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

I played romance Louis/save Violet for the first time (and last) in my life some days ago and I really didn't expect the game to feel so different without him. Not is his absence only extremely notorious but to quote one of your old posts, the game won't shut up about him.

EVERY SINGLE TIME. They didn't mention Violet even half the times they did with Louis, and it just feels. Awful. Constant reminder that you left him get taken, that he's being tortured and traumatized. It really did hit different, I wanted to think about all the details for Violet's route but I couldn't. THEY KEPT BRINGING HIM UP LIKE OK !! I GET IT !! I KNOW, IM COMING TO HIS RESCUE

and in the end I ended up getting mad Violet suddenly forgot about his existence. I remember you talked about that a lot but since I hadn't experienced it I hadn't realized how bad it was.

When she didn't mentioned him even ONCE, not in the cells, not in the walk home back to Ericson, nothing.

But back to Louis– the game says Louis' name over and over and it makes me feel guilty and I don't like it

That route haunts my nightmares.

When I used to stream, we called the romance Louis/save Violet [+don't trust AJ] route The Despair Route.... you can probably guess why. You're right, the whole thing hits differently when you've built up Clementine's romance with him, only for him to be taken away. Plus, when you do that, your relationship with Violet isn't as strong so not only do you miss out on a lot of Louis content, you miss out on Violet content for not romancing/best friending her.

And yeah, the game will not shut up about Louis when he gets taken. It's actually so fascinating, because Violet doesn't get mentioned nearly as much, so that begs the question of why? Y'know? I mean, we can look at Louis getting captured and conclude that they keep reminding us about him so that we're extra hurt and guilty when we find him in the cells.

But then with Violet? Louis is the one who brings her up most of the time, except when Ruby pulls out her file. But it's odd that the others don't make more comments like they do with Louis. I think we are kind of meant to forget about her? Well, okay, not forget about her but like... The fact that they don't talk about her as much makes her feeling pissed off, forgotten and abandoned all the more powerful, no?

As for Violet forgetting about him, in my opinion that's just a genuine flaw with the writing... because Violet would ask about Louis. I've played her romance route. I believe that in my heart of hearts that she would, and when she doesn't, I'm like ?????

Sure, you can say she's got her mind on other things, or that Aasim already told her what happened to Louis so she doesn't ask when they're in the cells... except she would ask if he's okay.

They're different characters who react to things differently, and that's not inherently good or bad.... but you're seriously going to tell me that the only thing Violet's says to Louis is a sad little, "Lou..." when meeting up with him on the beach? and then she only makes a minor mention of him when talking about pushing people away on the walk home?

No, sir. I think not. I think that's an oversight, especially if you're trying to sell their friendship in her route.

But I suppose in her defense, if you're a Louis fan, you're more likely to be angry about it. We're used to Louis mentioning Violet and then to see her not do the same isn't great. Whereas a Violet fan who prefers her route is more likely to justify why and how it makes sense, y'know? In fact, if a Violet fan plays Louis' route, they probably get mad that she's "forgotten" about a lot prior to the cells so I suppose it balances out?

Also, can I add for both routes how much I side eye the fact that captured Louis/Violet say nothing about the other if they died on the bridge? I get they didn't want to be a downer on the happy ending, and that time has passed so they probably already mourned......... but c'mon. I know Louis can't verbalize but he can write, he can stand by Violet's grave, something. Violet could've said something. Listen, if you're gonna make me suffer through that, give me some of the angst I actually want.

[sluttyten]

personal rant

[isfjmel-phleg]

[

[asthe-crow-flies]

Hospital Bed - Lolina: Origins

i am obsessed with this concept album its on bandcamp please go listen to it i need to not be the only person who cares about this

[id: a digital comic consisting of three pages, in grayscale and red.

the first page is four panels, each the width of the page. the first is all black. four beeps go diagonally down across the panel. the second panel is mostly black, with a somewhat fuzzy light in the middle left of the panel. it reads "what is this pain? what is this place?" in the third panel, the fuzzy image of a person is visible, the edges of the panel are still dark. it reads "am i alive? am i awake? what are these scars across my face?" in the fourth panel, a woman in a lab coat and a mask, the doctor, leans in. the right side of the panel is still dark. a speech bubble from the woman says "you are home". the narration interjects with "they say". the woman continues "you are safe."

the second page is three panels, the first one taking up most of the page, with the other two next to each other under it. the first panel is a birds-eye view of a room in a hospital. in the center is Lolina, a woman laying on a hospital bed. she has black hair, a bandage wrapped over her eye, and a red cut down the side of her face. the doctor stands next to the bed. sideways, in large letters, it reads "hospital bed, I'm back on mars." the second panel is a close-up of the upper half of Lolina's face, focusing on her left eye, which is red, and the bandage covering her other one. it reads "but i am wounded." the third panel is a close up of the lower half of her face, focusing on the cut on her cheek held together with butterfly bandages, and the large bandage on her other cheek. it reads "I feel the scars."

the third page is a drawing of the doctor standing by the bed, from Lolina's point of view. across it is dialogue interspersed with small panels. the doctor says "we can regrow your cells," and next to it is a small panel showing cells dividing. then she says "we can restore," and next to it is a panel showing the right half of Lolina's face, with her eye and cheek healed. then she says "you will go back," and next to it is a panel reading "Sandy's Place" in glowing red letters. the narration interjects with "they say." the doctor continues "to the life you had before." under it is a panel divided diagonally into four sections, the first showing red lips, the second showing black hair swishing, the third showing a pair of legs wearing red high heels, and the fourth showing a body from neck to hips, wearing a strapless red dress. under that the narration reads "to the life i had before". end id.]

(I've never written an id for a comic before and there was some visual stuff that was really tricky to describe so if I've messed something up or if something should be clearer please tell me and I'll try to fix it)

[blizzardfluffykpop]

You sent me an ask so I shall return the favor! What is the most recent Kpop group you’ve gotten into and how did you find out about them? I always love hearing fan “origin stories” lol

Thank you for returning the favor~ That would be The Boyz 🥰💖 I love hearing fan "origin stories" too hehe (This is gonna get long I love them sm)

Anyways I've known about them since debut? I loved Bloom Bloom Pow with my whole heart when it came out and tried to fall for them then- It didn't work. The next time was when The Stealer (TS) came out~ I had watched them perform for Road to Kingdom- because ptg was on the show too- But I really loved TS cb- sm so that I bought the album about 6 mos later with my favorite members as inclusions at the time (Eric, Kevin and Hyunjae). But nothing came about of it even after watching the weekly idol episodes... Then came Whisper era and I ended up biasing Changmin (Q) and loving that song but again nothing came out of it.

(A little backstory is that Changkyun (I.M) got me into Dominic Fike's music-) Thus, when tiktok showed me Juyeon, Changmin, and Sunwoo dancing to Babydoll earlier this year as a dance cover: I fell. And then I finally checked out Watch It~ But Hui had his solo and it distracted me completely from falling further. Then I had gotten sick and decided 'well, what if I watch their content?' And I did... I watched their hello82 interview and their reaction to fanart of them, and lastly their mafia dance. And I loved each sm that I decided to check out more.

It was the first time I had watched their content and wanted to see more. And now, I watch their content almost daily. It's kind of like they revived the joy of kpop for me? My (old) ult of ults has been on hiatus due to the military so it's been stagnant content lately for me. But then they came in like a breath of fresh air- and I simply can't get enough. This month will be 3 mos and I honestly hope I'll follow them for a long time. (I think they're my new ult of ults tbh)

And lastly now here I am as a Younghoon and Juyeon bias (with bias wrecker: Changmin... he's doing everything to be bias again). And with them having a comeback I loved with my whole heart this past month, I think it really solidified them with me. Honestly, I'm so happy with them.

[aloysarrow]

I wish GI wasn't trying to push people (kinda specifically longer players) away from the game, like damn. I really hope new players are watching closely and not just deciding "there are haters" or "complainers." Some of the things, like the age old where's the end-of-game road map, have been actual game needs that haven't been addressed for years. Game needs, guys. Idk, if you still call some people haters/complainers, then I'm probably gonna call you a bootlicker lol

[wind-becomes-lightning]

I have an on-off crush on my best friend and have had so for at least 6-ish years now. Currently it's back on. :(

:C sucks man, I'm sorry I'm the worst person to talk to about this because im veryyyyyy firm believer of "dont date your best friends" so my advice to you would be DONT, just dont! and that I'm very sorry its back on that sucks.

[inkskinned]

the tradwife movement is the same as it has always been - back in the kitchen, back to breeding - it just has better branding.

when i was younger, i hated pink. i was not like other girls. this is now something i'm embarrassed of - this was not me being a "girl's girl."

but it was expressing something many of us felt at the time: i literally wasn't what girlhood was supposed to be. this is a hard thing to explain, but you know when you're not performing girlhood correctly. it isn't as easy as "i liked x when girls liked y" - because there were other girls that liked x, too - but i never figured out exactly the correct way to like x, or to be interested in y.

now there is the divine feminine. this is the same rhetoric it has always been: women are biologically driven to like pink and ribbons and submitting to our husbands.

the problem is that the patriarchy found a better PR team. because yes, actually, i want every woman to have the choice to be a homemaker. i also want her taken seriously for her legitimate home-making labor. i want her to be recognized as also having a job, just unpaid. i want men to have this opportunity, too.

but it is no longer "i made this choice and I love it." instead it is a sixteen-paragraph rant about how selfish it is that my generation isn't having kids. instead it's long videos about how if you feed your children processed foods, you're going to kill them. instead it is "this is what womanhood is supposed to be. i feel bad for any other choices you're making."

the shame spiral is just prettier. it is large houses devoid of personality. it is the implication: if you don't have this, you aren't happy. the solid, everlasting assurance: women are actually supposed to be submitting. this is the default. this is the natural state of things. all other attempts inflict suffering.

but you can no longer say i'm not like other girls. you can no longer reject this image completely. you cannot find it revolting, even if you know that the underbelly is toxic and festering. sure, it is the same repackaged patriarchy. but the internet does not have shades of grey. you should support and reward other women! your disgust is actually internalized misogyny. not because you are seeing a vision of yourself the way they're trying to train you to be. not because you feel her ghost pass within an inch of your earlobe. not because your father will eventually ask you - why can't you be like her?

because they figured out how to make it beautiful: women will sell other women on this idea, and we will find the singular loophole in feminism. sure, she's shaming you in most of her videos. sure, she implies that a different life is obscene. but she just wants you to be happy! you'd be happier if you were listening!

and the whole time you're sitting there thinking: i'd actually just be happier if i had that kind of money.