Ben Shelton - Blog Posts

Will i be WHAT?!

summary: soooooo...You're pregnant, but you don't know how to tell Ben. One day at a family gathering, everyone but him notices, and they start dropping little hints.

warnings: none, this is pure fluff until I start to feel good to make a smut OS on this app. im gonna use (you) for this one since its less complicated to write.

you and ben aren't exactly the "right" age to be parents, its not even allowed to be called an adolescent pregnancy or something like that. it has no name, it was just a pregnant, early pregnant. there were so many things on play due to the situation, ben's career, your college and the relationship. your main preocupation wasnt your college or your parents, it was ben's career just because you believe it would be an obstacle for him, even if he doesn't think about it in that way. the funny thing is, you manage to hide it.

The funny thing was that, you havent told Ben. you havent found the encouragement to do it and your belly was starting to show with the other pregnancy sintoms. of course you manage to hide it, but anything is enough hidden in life. the family meeting was the boiling point and the edge for you and your little big secret. Ben had told you that he wanted you to accompany him to a family gathering at his house, as his grandparents were coming to visit. Of course, the whole family was going to be there, and that made you a little much nervous. It was the first time there had been such a big gathering since you and Ben had started dating.

You dressed up from head to toe, bought a cute summer dress, had your nails done and even got a haircut. You looked beautiful, and of course everyone noticed, but they also noticed your extraordinary glow. Yes, that typical pregnancy glow. Before you left home, you'd been struggling a little with your appearance, thinking your baby bump was starting to show, which obviously made you panic. Ben, in his innocence, assured you that you looked very pretty and not at all "fat" as you'd claimed. Of course, "fat" didn't mean the same thing to him as it did to you.

-Baby, Why do you say you look fat?, you look more perfect than ever.- Ben had a genuine smile and a dopey look on his face as he watched you stare in the mirror. God, you couldn't tell how embarrassed you were right now. -It's okay...its nothing.- Ben looked at me for a few long seconds, unsure of my answer, but he gave in when I smiled sweetly at him. I heard him get up from the bed and, in a few steps, he was standing behind me in front of the mirror. He placed his hands on my waist and leaned down to kiss me on the cheek.-You look beautiful, my love. Never doubt it.- My smile widened and I felt a warm glow in my chest, the kind that only Ben could evoke. I turned in his arms, tiptoed up to him and placed a soft kiss on his lips.-Thank you, Benny. I love you so much.-

After a while, we arrived at Ben's parents' house. Noise could be heard inside, confirming that several relatives had arrived. Emma's bright presence greeted us as the young woman opened the door and threw herself into Ben's arms. She hadn't seen the brunette in a long time, so she was very excited to see him again. She gave me a warm hug and a compliment that I didn't fully understand. 'You look bright, darling,' she said, and it made my skin crawl.-thank you, Em', you look very pretty too.-

We received a warm welcome when we arrived in the backyard of the large house. Ben's cousins, grandparents, aunts and uncles were all there, implying that we had arrived late. We soon got distracted and went our separate ways. Ben's mother had asked me to keep her company while she prepared the side dishes with Ben's aunts. All the women in the house agreed on one thing: I had a different kind of glow. And that was all I needed to know that they already knew. Of course, they weren't stupid; they were mothers too, and they were young women in their pasts. The only one I confirmed to in my own words that I was pregnant was Ben's mother. She was my mother-in-law. Obviously, I should have told her. Her words were simple, though her eyes betrayed the emotion she felt. 'Honey, you've made me the happiest woman tonight… When Ben finds out, he's going to faint.'

When we all returned to the backyard, Ben sensed the slight shift in the energy of his female relatives and the way they looked at him slyly. The last sign came when we were saying goodbye to Ben's parents after a long night of family fun. Ben's father, 'Brian,' gave me a knowing look and a few words that drove Ben crazy. As soon as we settled into the car and hit the road, my gorgeous boyfriend's voice blared over the radio.-Will you explain to me what happened while you were with my aunts and mother that everyone was looking at me in such a strange way?…I really felt scared for a moment.- There was a slight joking tone in his voice but he sounded worried too.

I shifted a little uncomfortably in my seat, adjusting the hem of my dress. I noticed him looking at me out of the corner of his eye, and I knew I had to say something before he got more worried. "I have to tell you something, Ben… and I don't know if it's good or bad." The dark-haired man had to stop the car. If he was going to listen to what I had to say, he'd at least have to make sure I wasn't going to cause a disturbance on the road. When Ben pulled over, he turned around to look at me, his full attention on me. However, I couldn't do the same. My gaze was fixed on my hands, which were moving nervously before Ben's warm hand intervened. "I… I know you're at a high point in your career and that you still have a long way to go. My intention isn't to interfere with your plans, but I really didn't know how this happened…"

My voice began to quiver and I gripped Ben's hand tighter, as if trying to ensure he wouldn't leave. -What's wrong, baby?' I am seriously worried.-I take a few breaths before finally speaking, the expression on Ben's face was a poem that could never have been described, poor man. - I'm pregnant … - Total silence, that was what invaded the car and for a moment I almost burst into tears. - I'm going to be WHAT?! - Instead, I burst into laughter when he hugged me tightly and started covering my face with kisses. - IT CAN'T BE! … I AM THE LUCKIEST MAN IN THIS WORLD!.

-oh...I thought you wouldn't like the news...I was worried.-He shook his head, smiling and caressing my hair with a delicate touch.-why would I be mad when my gorgeous girlfriend is gonna be the mother of my baby?...this is all I had ever dreamed once, babe.- I can't help but kiss him, it's soft and calm, spilling all the love I have for him in a simple motion.

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this took me more than I thought :(( i still couldn't finish the first dash I have.

Morning cuddle with big ben.

(Here is a little drabble since I cant finish my main one shot. :))

Ben had always been a very sleepy boy, so the noise of the alarm clock was so unbearable that it surprisingly managed to wake him up. The girl in his arms seemed to be awake for a while, and the expression on her face did not seem to be happy. She was trapped in her boyfriend's arms, unable to move, just listening to the horrible sound of the alarm clock that was placed on the bedside table that Ben's back was turned to, and the brunette's snoring that was destroying her ears. "What is that noise?" he mumbles, his voice hoarse and annoyed. "The alarm, Ben, it's been ringing for half an hour." "And why don't you turn it off?" The boy's sleepy, confused expression just made her roll her eyes, thinking what a fool her boyfriend was when he was asleep. "Maybe because you've got me trapped in your arms?" the moment she said that, Ben let her go immediately, but she didn't move to turn off the alarm, she ran to the bathroom, her bladder about to explode. "What are you…? ma'am your something." he frowned, confused by his girlfriend's movements. he reached for the clock to turn off the alarm and lay back down, waiting for her to come out of the bathroom. "You need to stop trapping me in your arms, Ben…" she said as she opened the bathroom door. "I almost pissed myself in there." Ben moves to give her some space in the bed as he laughs, she trapped in and lay at Ben's side, resting her head on his shoulder as he passed an arm around her waist. "Always so exaggerated, my love…" She and Ben lay in bed for a while longer, both very relaxed and rested from the busy night before. Ben had played a small local tennis match and then they had gone out to dinner, no matter how tired the boy was, he insisted on taking her out to dinner. They had only started dating a few months ago, but had been too reluctant to make it official due to Ben's busy schedule. What neither of them expected was the arrival of Ben's parents, as both had left the day before to celebrate a small family party that Ben had skipped, and according to Ben's parents' words, both were to return two days later, not the next morning as it was happening now. "Ben...what's that sound?" The boy's face seemed to have gone through every possible color, adrenaline started coursing through his veins and they both jumped out of the bed as if it was on fire. "my parents..." The girl's eyes widened like saucers, her hands began to tremble and her heart pounded in her chest. "what!?...but you said the wouldn't come until tomorrow!" she whispers loudly "I know, I know!...fuck...what do we do?" he turns to look at her, ironically, because the house was his and the parents were his, not hers. "why do you ask me that, shelton!? they are your parents!" To make matters worse, they were both half naked, but their heads were so full of panic that they couldn't even fix that. They only came out of their bubble when Ben's mother's voice echoed down the hall and Ben pushed the girl to hide under the bed. Ben's mother's face peeked through the door of Ben's room and the brunette sat on the bed trying to hide his nervousness. "Hey Mom…"

"Hey honey…im sorry we are this early but there were a lot of people at your aunt's house and your dad and I were so uncomfortable…" The girl under the bed did her best not to make any noise, even though the space was so small. "No, don't worry Mom…I'm glad you're both here" of course Ben's mother noticed the nervousness in her son's voice, and of course she had to ask. "Ben, is everything okay?…why do you seem so nervous?" "No, no, everything's fine, I just…I just woke up and…I had a bad dream," which is the worst excuse you can ever give someone."Oh honey…" Obviously Ben's mom was worried so she entered the room completely, she walked over to Ben and sat down right next to him. Ben's heart rate increased and all he could do was accept his mother's hug. "I'm fine Mom…you don't have to do this…" his voice was muffled and shaky, his girlfriend knew immediately that everything was fucked when she saw the other pair of feet along to Ben's.

So, in just one second, things got even worse: the girl under the bed made a wrong move and his head hit the wood of the bed, leaving only the evidence that someone was in the room. Ben tried to cover it up with a cough, but the damage was already done. "What was that?" "Nothing!" The look on Ben's mother's face was one of suspicion combined with a frown. "Ben…what was that noise?" she spoke slowly and treathningly. "Shit." was all Ben could say as a sneeze was heard…under the bed. "I'll give her 10 minutes to get dressed…and the same for you too." were his mother's words when she realized the real situation. the older woman walked out of the room downstairs and Ben just stayed sitting on the bed as his girlfriend crawled out from under the bed. "We're fucked, aren't we?" Ben just shakes his head and pulls her into his arms to calm her down. "It's okay baby…they'll understand, I'm sure they will" she rests her head on his shoulder as he caresses her hair. The ten minutes passed faster than the thought and they only start to move when Ben's mom's voice is heard again. "You two better get downstairs before I come and get you!" the couple immediately begin to dress with a deep blush and fear running through their veins. Ben's dad had an amused smile on his face as he watched the whole show, he knows his son perfectly.

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Note: hi! this is my first drabble posted and i got to confess that it take me more time than expected. I'm currently making a one shot, which I had planned from the beginning, but the plot got too long, so it won't be ready for now. I decided to make a small drabble to introduce myself and here it is.

ptsd: If you want to make any adaptation or translation, write me to the DM to ask for permission.

BOOOMSHAKALAKAAAAAAAAA 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

are they twin? because i think they are 🤷🏻‍♀️

the commentators of this match are really dragging ben shelton for not being able to break his opponent …. anyways onto another tie break

2 puppies at the doggy daycare

Dear God x Ben Shelton

In-short: lovers-to-exes-to-fwb inspired by Dear God from Tate Mcrae (+ a little angst)

Word Count: 6k bc apparently i have too much free time

Warnings: NSFW

Noties: wrote this when the So Close To What album just dropped and i had Dear God on loop. ngl it feels weird to write about Ben now that he has launched his relationship lol, but i digress! i do this for the girlies and the gays.

the story is in 1st POV bc i can never write in 2nd. wattpad did numbers on my back in the day haha. first time writing in a long time, so pls enjoy and lemme know how you like it <3

Author: my twt is @hyunhocrumbs if you wanna be moots >.<

- Dear God - Ben Shelton -

“You’re really red now.”

Coming from the other side of the net, his voice has a hint of enthusiasm interlaced in it. Dear God. I let out an annoyed breath, while my doubles partner, Arthur, chuckled from the baseline.

European clay court season on a late May afternoon felt like an early summer. Our breath was ragged, footsteps heavy and what was supposed to be a simple hit session with two other players had turned into a full practice match. Arthur had insisted we hit with Taylor Townsend and Ben Shelton, although they weren’t even running for mixed doubles in Roland Garros that year.

So, we did, and it was fine. It was casual. Until I saw Ben and the way his eyes twiddled with amusement every time I had something to say. How he strolled into the court, curls bouncing on his head in the humid heat, and nonchalance rolling off his shoulders. How he flew these little playful comments my way and followed through with deep cross shots. 

To me, this was a simple hit session - clean footwork, clean shots. In and out. To him, it was entertainment, amusement, and even a little competition.

Normal baseline hits turned into strong, deep forehands. He was intentional in the way sent the ball flying, wanted to know how well I would take it. How competitive I could get with it.

Once I ignored it. Twice I entertained it. The third time around I let it fly past me and instead approached the net.

He was already grinning. “Sorry ma bad. Need a little break?”

It was funny how our partners were just there. However, I was the only one he was interested in talking with. “Thought this was going to be a hit session.”

Taylor asked if we wanted to switch it up a little. I could already see Arthur jumping in agreement. Ben’s brown eyes were fixed on mine, observing, anticipating. “C’mon, afraid of a little competition?”

Something about how he had said it, the playfulness resting on his tone. That smirk toying at the edge of his lips. It irked something in me.

A practice match has very low stakes. But I liked a good game.

“It’s on then.”

From there it was always on with him– bumping in the player’s lounge, his curls sticking to his forehead and a coy grin on his face when he would congratulate me on my win. The little smirks he threw here and there while passing on the corridor, playful comments about my game and how he could not stop staring when I was playing. The way he would purposefully lean in closer every time we were talking. How I could feel his breath on my cheeks and see his dazzling brown eyes up close playfully staring at me.

Ben made it so easy to like him. He was charming - so awfully charming that he had everyone wrapped around his little finger. He would flash them his gummy smile or his sassy smirk and people would swoon in a puddle. He was soft, witty, funny and so annoyingly aware of what he was doing.

He would joke I’m his lucky charm and manage to bring me up in interviews I was not even part of. Mid-game when I would raise my eyes to the crowd, it was his gaze that would always be following me. 

Ben would search for me right after his matches, head full of damp curls, and his arms still glistening in sweat. Mid-sentence, his shirt would come off and nothing could make me miss his smirk as he would catch my breath hitching.

“I watched your last set today.”

His toned arms would twist and flex as he searched in his bag. “Oh, yeah?”

I rolled my eyes. Dear God.

“Sorry, pretty hot out there.” He would say and not mean it in the slightest. He would look at me as if to let me know that he wanted me to see, wanting me to gauge at him, to play his game.

“You were playing like shit.” I would raise at him.

Pulling the new shirt over his head, he would flash me a mischievous grin. “Wanna give me some private lessons later then?”  

Before I knew it, we were having dinner, sneaking out of hotels late, calling until the sun met us again. I would watch him drown to sleep, his curls covering his features as they softened, exhausted from the intensive training. Watch him again flex his giant limbs lazily and flash me a witty grin in the morning.

He was ferociously flirty and such an incredible sight to see, it was impossible to deal with him. We would rush to one of our hotel rooms right after gym, mouths colliding and hands rushing to touch, to feel. Chuckles and giggles as he would struggle with my sports bra and then hoist me up easily.

Dear God, how I loved feeling his body pressed against mine, skin to skin. How Ben’s soft lips would find my neck, while his fingers trailed my chest to then hook under my knees. How he’d make me see stars like it came easy to him.

Always afterwards, he would hold me there, pressed against him. I’d smile at his silly jokes and tug at the silver chains resting against his chest just to make him go again, and again and again.

There was always breakfast with him, rushed warm hugs at the player’s lounge with him, late nights at masters’ events with him. Bustling through the cameras as we rushed to his car, dodging questions and comments from all sides. It was the way he’d kiss my shoulders and say goodnight. How he would cross continents on his free time just so he could say ‘I love you’ in real life.

A lot of people loved Ben, but at the end of the day, he would only come home to me. It felt addicting to have his smiles and grins all to myself - his soft teasing comments and his stupid dork moments. To have him obsessed with my scent, trailing behind me in everything I did.

“You look gorgeous today.” He’d say and lean it to capture my lips.

I would dodge, smiling at his failed attempt. He would release an exasperated sigh like it hurt him for me to even consider not allowing him a kiss.

“I’ll beat you today. Then, it’ll be more than a kiss that you owe me.” Always a game with him.

But no matter what, he was always there. I remember when I lost one of my biggest finals and how he held me as I could not stop shaking from crying. Roland Garros was supposed to be mine, my first grand slam victory coming home. Yet it slipped out of my grip, and I watched it happen. I couldn’t stop it.

I sat for the debrief, went to the team dinner, had a call with my parents even. I told them I was fine. They saw me angry and frustrated, but my composure was straight, my shoulders squared up and my chin high, unwavering.

Later that night, Ben found me curled up on my hotel room couch. Crouching in front of me, he reached out his hand to trace circles on my cheek. “Hey, love.” It was so soft, so delicate. His eyes knew, and that broke me.

“You can let go now. It’s just me.”

I did. The first tear fell down and then the other. They kept on coming, pouring violently down my face in streams. Ben hugged me tight in his chest, his hands caging me in as my body kept shaking. Pressing his lips against my temples, he let me have it and kept whispering sweet nothings into my ear as I poured out all my vulnerability.

When the crying and shaking stopped about 3 hours later, he had me still in his arms, drying away the tears with his thumb. All I could feel was the warmth of his solid body grounding me as his voice lulled me to sleep.

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That year’s Roland Garros changed everything. I started chasing another grand slam high, while his ego started dangerously brewing. Ben had more titles under his belt, he was getting greedier, his mindset shifting and his competitiveness growing.

There were fewer late-night calls then. Less joint practices. Sometimes I would not hear from him for days. But his charming voice would be all over social media, his laughter light-hearted, gum smile flashing at interviewers. After his matches, he would wink at the front rows filled with girls who adored him; get the crowds to scream his name.

It drove me crazy. Made me feel as if I had something to worry about.

“Didn’t think you’d be so jealous.” He said and I could almost swear to him this was just teasing.

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head and doing my best not to let my voice rise to levels I would regret. “You were out there forever.”

“I was just signing some stupid tennis balls.” Ben’s hands were already reaching for his tennis bag. His tone unfamiliarly dismissive.

“Well, you could have spent those stupid minutes with me.”

He sighed like this conversation was such a burden to him. “I can’t do this right now; I have to go to physio.”

I heard the door slamming before I could even concoct a retort for him. Ben loved to leave like that. Middle of the conversation, no accountability. Hitting balls was easier than facing responsibilities for him. I’d feel the walls caving in and a tear or two drop. It was exhausting.

He was everywhere on the news, on the court, in the lounges. Just not next to me.

But then he would come around apologising, saying how he would do better, try harder. For us. How his lips would search mine, teasingly at first, but then impatiently, intensely. As if eager to prove that he missed me so much, that he always thought of me. In the shower, in his car, on his bed - moaning my name.

He would pull his shirt off and suddenly I would forget how I cried for hours because he wasn’t there when I won. His lips would trail my neck, and my hands would find their place in between his curls to tug him even closer. As if it would make up for the distance that already existed between us

It grew. It only grew deeper and sharper. We started fighting more. He would lose and we wouldn’t speak for weeks. I would lose and he would be my first target. We would end up slamming the door in each other’s faces after the entire staff and tournament had heard us screaming.

“Can’t you just listen for a moment?” He was pacing in front of me, my legs hurting as I chased him down, the weight of my bags cutting my shoulder.

“I’m not a fucking kid.” Ben hissed.

“Well, fucking act like it then.”  

When he turned around, he was fuming. Chest rising rapidly, his eyes a fire so dangerous. His head dipped as he leaned close to me, and it took all my strength not to push him away.

“You will shut that pretty mouth up right now, Y/N. You’re not my fucking coach, so stop treating me like I’m one of your little projects.”

The door shook from Ben’s forceful impact. A few heads perked around the corner. I couldn’t even blame them for wanting to know. Hot tears streamed down my face and my cries were silent. Muted. I couldn’t even bring my feet to turn away and go somewhere to be alone in peace.

Always, after 15 minutes, he would unlock the door and leave it open so I could shamefully sly into our room. Late at night would be the only times I would feel him again. In all darkness, laying in bed. He would lie down, and I would pretend sleep had already taken me.

The mattress would dip, and his warm breath would send shivers down my spine. I hated it. A beat or two would pass in complete silence. Then I would hear him sigh and feel his lips press tenderly against the skin of my shoulder. I would wait for him to say anything, do anything. Instead, he would roll over, our backs facing each other to wake up to another day fighting.

Not even an ‘I’m sorry, goodnight’ anymore.

Then the Australian Open mixed doubles draw came. Our coaches thought we had a chance at winning. How cruel, to have your distance attempted to be fixed by forced proximity.

Practice started, yet we were still seeing each other less. It was all nerves, fumes, exhaustion. Day in and out. The season was brand new, yet we were already losing it. We would scream at each other like crazy and then fuck numb as if that would fix how fragile our team play was.

R1. Joint effort.

R2. We were tolerating.

The deeper into the draw, the more competitive we started getting. The easier he made it for me to pick at his mistakes, the easier I made it for him to pick apart my confidence. I would savour every moment we were at peace off the court, and that was not a lot – because despite playing doubles, I did not trust him to have my back anymore.

Quarters. We had a close call.

That evening there was no debrief. Just dreaded silence.

There were cameras everywhere on us. Not that they weren’t always, but now there was something special worth watching for them. Two young singles players geared up to make a run for a Grand Slam final. Ben and I were walking on eggshells.

Semis. We had two close calls.

His backhands were hitting the net one after the other. Double faults. He was playing with anger, and I could not tolerate it. I threw irritated glance after irritated glance at him. My volleys marked out. Higher court coverage and we would end up bumping. Moon balls. Dear God, could I not even trust him to play reliable tennis. We barely scraped the last set and yet no one was celebrating. 

Finals.

I breathed his cologne that morning when I walked into the bathroom. I usually let him shower alone now, but today I needed to prove myself something. Ben was lying in the tub, water hiding his body all the way to his chest. His arms spread on the edges, silver chains sticking around his neck. His features were soft, an unreadable expression resting on his face.

His eyes followed me as I closed the door behind and, for a moment, I forgot. The memories, the pain, the screams. The fact that we were aimlessly hunting for a gold trophy. It was just me and Ben. My old Ben.

Crouching next to the tub, I reached out to touch his shoulder.

“Hey there.”

Even now his voice would take my breath away. I stared at him just like I used to stare when he would bump into me on the lounge after my plays. When he would look at me with that stupid grin of his and flirted his way into my lunches and my dinners, my hotel room even.

I sat on my knees and my other hand reached under the water. His breath hitched when he felt me on him. When I started stroking him his eyes were on me. Up and down, feeling him twitch under my touch. His mouth parted a little, his tongue wetting his lips. I looked at Ben as his head leaned back and eyes darted from the ceiling at me.

I would feel him grow hard around my fingers, feel the blood coursing through his length as my pace grew. “God, Y/N.” How I loved it when my name rolled off his tongue like a prayer. He grabbed my other hand, burning my skin with his touch as he brought my fingers to his mouth.

Fuck, how I loved it when he was a mess. When we would do this more often when I would be inside the tub with him, and we would laugh and giggle as I struggled to place my knees somewhere comfortable. How he would look at me like I was the only thing that could fulfil him.

His breath was heavy, chest rising and falling at the pace of my strokes. His moans filling the damp air as with one last stroke, he chased his release with my hand wrapped still around him. Ben relaxed against the tub wall, his body disappearing further underwater. A beat skipped before he moved towards me and gave my shoulder a kiss. “Thank you love.”

He didn’t use to call me love anymore.

I smiled.

He thought this was for him. But this was for me. Because whatever happened on court that day, reminiscing about the past was more secure than worrying about whether we would even survive the future.

Later that night, we lost the Australian Open mixed doubles final. Ending our intense Grand Slam run and together with it, our relationship.

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Two years. In two years, a small knife can turn into a seething sword.

Training, practice, gym, sleep, repeat. There was something so refreshing when your most important point of focus became success.  

Photoshoots, campaigns, new friends.  I was no longer a new kid in the draw. I was a force to be reckoned with.

Porsche, Nike, Cartier.

Glittering image of a new star who cemented her place. Not sharper and reckless. But sharper and brighter. I played with confidence, having conquered the Australian Open a year before. Consistently being in the Top 5. It was ruthless but in a kind way. A motivating way.

I had more control, but less at the same time. Training intensely, practising hard. Then, fooling around. Sometimes.

Two years since the Australian Open mixed doubles final. Two years since I did not see his face, did not hear his voice. This was tennis, a small world, and we were bound to see each other. However, I made sure we wouldn’t.

No social media, no interviews about each other. I blocked not only him but his entire team. When Bryan would walk the corridors, I would only greet and change my way. He understood. There were no mutual friends' hangouts, no funny jokes about getting us back together.

There was no accidental sight in the player’s lounge, at the player’s gym or during hit practice either. My team made sure we wouldn’t even cross paths outside of arenas; far apart hotels, private dinners, and separate transport. The only thing I could not control was the draw. Yet, we found a way to also make that work. Scarcer doubles, and pull-outs when we would be in his and his partner’s quarter. 

He left my life. Yet, we still breathed the same air, and I hated it.

I hated that sometimes his image would burn into the back of my head. How I would curl up after losses and I would wish, even for a little bit, that he was there. How I would sit and think about how he looked now. How his kisses would feel now.

It took only a split second of distraction. Two years and I made no mistakes. One thoughtless decision and we were standing on opposite sides of the net at the US Open mixed doubles semi-final. My team saw us on opposing sides of the draw. We didn’t give it a second thought. There was no way he would make it that far.

But one thing about Ben is that that lucky bastard can crawl his way up in incredibly disadvantageous situations. Next thing I knew, it was afternoon in New York, and I was preparing to return his serve.

I tried not to stare. Not to seem taken aback by how much he had changed. How he had grown bigger, stronger. His shoulders lean and sculpted. His black ON shirt clung to his figure for life, emphasising his every curve, every muscle. His legs moved at a speed I had never seen before.

Ben would hit his cross forehand with a precision that made it hard to even reach for a return. My backhand was spectacular, but he knew how to go deep and fast on a new level. He had gotten quicker, swifter, more intelligent and more precise.

While I was too busy reminiscing the old Ben, this Ben in front of me was hitting winners like it was his pastime. I could not read him. But I decided I didn’t need to. On the second set, Carlos and I started advancing with confidence. While Ben’s forehand might have gotten sharper, so did my backhand and my drop shots.

He would cross and I would return with equal loathing. Carlos would volley back to Iga and we would go into long, intense volley-rallies like psychos. Crazy shots and crazier saves. Push and pull. Running cross-court like every point was a match point for all of us.

The game lasted 2h and 49 min. Three sets, all three tiebreakers. By the end of it, all four of us were breathing like madmen.

Carlos was sprawled on the court floor, while I was resting my forehead on my racket, barely being able to focus. Sweat dripped from my forehead as I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. On the other side of the court, Ben and Iga were equally exasperated. Both panting as they hugged each other for the last time on their run.

Carlos and I had scraped the victory narrowly.

The crowds were roaring. This was tennis, this was fire and passion and high-level performance.

Carlos got up and I followed his suit to the net. I hugged Iga, still unable to regulate my breathing. She had been phenomenal. Carlos then reached for her, and I went behind him. It had been 2 years. I could be civil. I had to be civil.

I looked up at him with my face burning, and my heartbeat drummed in my ears again. Dear God, how much he had changed. Ben’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, his cheeks red and his damp curls sticking all over his forehead. When we shook hands, his fingers brushed against my wrist.

His eyes lingered on me for a second too long. Why was he always like this?

Carlos and I waved at the crowd and approached the interviewer. My eyes were on the camera, yet my mind was holding on to the image of the man I was meeting for the first time in two years. I could only hope his eyes were lingering on me too.

But the adrenaline of the match did not stop there. We had played like crazy, given it our all. I was on the bike, yet I felt like I could go another time. My heart was pounding, my thoughts were racing. Cross backhand, then drop-shot. Carlos’  volleys. Iga’s dunk. Neutral rally. My backhand again.

Ben’s forehand. Ben’s arms. Ben’s curls. Ben’s lips. Volley. Volley. Volley.

I cursed under my breath. Fuck. I was going too fast even on the bike. When we went back to change and debrief, my legs were still restless, my mind still racing, my feet still pacing. My blood was coursing through my veins like I was running in the woods.

I made my way to the players’ lounge for dinner. Another thoughtless decision. He was there - of course, he was there. Sitting next to Iga and across from his team. His hair was still wet from the shower. Someone must have said a joke as he threw his head back grinning.

The morning of the Australian Open mixed doubles finals ran through my brain. Dear God!

Our last time together, and the first time I craved him like a crazy woman.

I was staring at him like a hawk, yet he didn’t even bother to spare me a thought. I even walked directly next to him to get to the food line, yet he did nothing. Didn’t stare, didn’t look. Didn’t even turn his head.

My legs sped past his table. I didn’t hear his breath get caught up like mine did. I didn’t even know what I needed from him - to look at me, to acknowledge me? To tell me he sent all those forehands my way with persistence because he wanted to prove a point?!

It felt infuriating to be upped by a man who did not spare me two cents of his undivided attention.

Back to the hotel corridor, my mind was racing. I was sprinting to my room. Struggling to get rid of this feeling, of this match. I needed to rest. I need to forget this. Pump this out. I had a final coming up and I was going to win it.

Until I saw him. Arms crossed, leaning against the wall next to my room. The dim lights cast shadows on his face as he played with his feet. I stopped dead in my tracks near him. It was 11 pm. Why was he here? 

He was biting his lip as he looked up at me and it took me a second to gather myself. I began walking past him while he silently followed me with his eyes as I made my way to my door.

“Hey.”

I stopped. 11 pm after our mixed doubles semis match. 11 pm after nearly 3h of hell. My heartbeat was up in my ears again. My thoughts were racing like a tornado. One thoughtless decision and we were on opposite sides of the net. One thoughtless decision and he was at my door at 11 pm.

I swallowed and looked up at him. How his shoulders had widened, how his jaw had sharpened, his lower fade and his curls pouring over his forehead.

“Ben…”

His fingers circled against my wrist. The way they did at the end of the match. His eyes lingered on my face and then on my lips. My eyes darted to his silver chains, to the way his chest rose and fell. To his eyes, searching - thinking of a way to stop this.

One heartbeat.

Two heartbeats.

What’s one more thoughtless decision?

His lips crashed down on me. My back hit the door. At first, his kisses were lingering, full but tentative. As if searching to make sure I was here for them, the way he was here for me. He was barely doing anything, and I was already suffocating. My hands reached for his silver chains, and I tugged at them urging him closer.

It sent him feral.

His kisses were not caressing anymore. They were devouring. He was aggressive and confident and rough. Just like he had been on court today. Ben kissed me like I was his last breath, like he had meant it for a long time. His hands were already everywhere, touching, grabbing with intensity. My eyes fluttered shut, my heartbeat rising to my ears again as I could feel the adrenaline pumping through me.

Two years and this man was starving.

We barely made it to my bed before both of us were stark naked. My back tattoo flashed in the mirror, and I knew his eyes caught it. I knew he would love it, would go crazy for it. He traced it with his fingers, his touch burning every single piece of my body like it was hell. I savoured the sight of him like I would no longer see the light of day. 

There was no fiddling, no giggling. Just pure commitment to this. To this bit, to burning whatever this was off.

Dear God, how much I had craved this Ben.  

The one whose lips touched in all the right places. The one whose movements were fuelled, demanding. Hands pushing my thighs apart without a doubt that this is what I wanted. His hot mouth leaving bite marks up my tits and my neck. His breathy grunts filled my ears as my nails dug into his back to pull him impossibly closer.

It was maddening. Whatever this was that we were getting off our chest, whatever we couldn’t say out loud, it was excruciating. Pushing us further, deeper. Dear God, I didn’t want him to stop.

He fucked like a man now. His body all muscle, hard like an anchor. He made me see stars. Fucked me until I went numb. Fucked me like he meant every single thrust.

In. Out.

In. Out

In. “Ben!”

Out. “Oh, fuck, like that yeah.”

Then, we did it again the next day after I won the final. And the tournament after that. And the one after that.

It became our new routine. No commitment, no complications. Just the man I used to be in love with buried deep inside me every now and then. Then, silence. Radio silence. Then he would reach out again. Sex on his car. Sex on my shower.

God knows, I left Christianity a long time ago, but he’d bring me to my knees in one breath.

How I would milk him dry. How he would breathe against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “You take me so good.”

How he would fit in me like he belonged there.

How Ben would go down on me in the middle of the room, let me ride his face until I could take it no more. His pace would tear me to pieces. Stronger. Rougher. Deeper. How he would press his hand against my lower belly while I took him just so he could feel himself in me. 

His name would roll off my tongue like a charm. My name would hitch in his breath like a curse. Dear God, how I hated to admit that I missed him like this. I liked him like this. When he was in between my legs, in the locker room, and we’d grunt as I took him full. When we would sneak out so I could feel his lips on mine. It was almost fun.

No love and it was almost working.

Almost.

Because at times, I’d fall asleep to the warmth of his chest and his arms wrapped around me, and wake up to the coldness of the reality that he was not mine. That this was a temporary fixture. Two athletes pumping out adrenaline. It was convenient.

Yet when he’d stay, I would be lying if I said a part of me was a little bit happier. He’d kiss my forehead like it was second nature and cook us breakfast because now he was not so terrible at it. We would joke around, fool around. I’d even wear his shirts again.

He’d flirt his way into my bed as if I wasn’t already waiting for him to consume me.

No one knew. No one needed to know. There were no cameras because this was no longer a love story. This was meant for the backstage, for the locker room where we would sweat it out, high on the adrenaline of getting caught.

In the player’s lounge, we would not even spare a glance at each other. Tables apart, separate entries and exits. No interactions, no unnecessary shared spaces. I hated him in public and moaned his name in private.

No love, and it was almost working.

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

As the new season started, our old habits stayed. It was hotel room after hotel room. Silence. Sneaking out. But now, there was not just sex. I’d run to Ben whenever things became too much. He’d hide in my arms whenever his losses would weigh his shoulders down.

It became intoxicating, how I would wait for him to show up and wish for him to stay after - stay longer. This was convenience, yet I conveniently wanted him next to me at all times. “No one else makes me feel like this.” He’d whisper into my hair, and I would almost believe him.

It was fine.

Apart from when I would see his face plastered on social media with a new girl he was talking to. Flirting with, charming his way into whatever he wanted with her. It was fine. Apart from the drop in my stomach - how I felt a little sick, a little pissed, and a lot of anger.

So much for someone who wasn’t even mine.

Later when he’d show up to my room, it was ice waiting for him. “Not tonight, I’m not in the mood.”

Ben would raise an eyebrow. Rolling the leather jacket off his shoulders, he’d approach my bed in slow strides. “Is that so?”

I would barely look up from my phone from where I was sitting. “Thought you had company tonight.”

He would smirk, his eyes glinting with confidence. His hands would snake around my bare legs while his lips left an unforgiving trail up my thighs. Slow, measured, tempting. It would stop right before it reached my core. Ben would rest his face in between my legs and look up. “You know…in you is the only place I belong.”

Fuck him. It was the way he would say it, with such ease, with that raspy breath and glinting playful eyes.

“Then show me.”

It was all he always needed. He’d take me like he was starved. Put my panties away and eat me until my body was shaking. I’d fist his pretty curls, and his name would roll off my tongue like a prayer.

After Miami Open that year, we didn’t see each other for long. No sight of him with only a towel, water droplets decorating his glazed skin and tight pecks. Couldn’t feel his back muscles flexing at my every touch. His shoulder was not there for me to cry on when I felt exhausted. His lips could not soothe my nerves away.

It was fine. It didn’t matter. That he wasn’t calling or texting. Radio silence was usual for us.

“You look like you’re about to scream.” My physio said handing me a bottle full of electrolytes.

“I am not?!” I scoffed at her while downing the liquid all at once, almost too fast.

She shook her head. “Has that boy still not texted you yet?”

I shrugged, maintaining a calm expression. “Does it matter?”

“Y/N, do you miss him?”

“What?”

She was looking straight at me. “I said do you miss him? Because last time you told me this was not serious.”

“It’s not.” I answered almost too quickly.

My physio did not seem convinced. I did not like where this was going with her. “Yet, here you are checking your phone every 5 minutes. Make sure that boy does not ruffle your feathers too much.”

“He doesn’t, don’t worry.” I smiled, tight-lipped.

I didn’t miss him. My brain was simply just burning with the memory of us pressed together, his lips smiling against mine. How he’d use to whisper sweet nothings into my ear for me to fall asleep. The faint smell of cologne that Ben would spray right after a shower.

Dear God, I hope it ain’t him I’m missing. Just his body and his touch and his voice. It hadn’t even been that long since…

Strong arms wrapped around me, and I felt the notes of cedarwood in the air. “Hey, baby.”

Fuck.

Dear God, I hope you’re listening.

for #benshelton

hi, im w! unfortunately, tiktok got banned where I live ;( now I’m going to be posting here!

WHO I POST FOR

• ben shelton (dur)

• andrey rublev

• carlos alcaraz

• alexander bublik

• coco gauff

OTHER SOCIALS

twitter: dialedins

i post whatever on there…

INTERESTS

music

• taylor swift

• hamilton…

• olivia rodrigo

• tears for fears

• the smiths

• nirvana

• suki waterhouse

to my refugee tiktok followers thank you

MATCHING HALLOWEEN OUTFITS ~Ben Shelton

Pairings: ben shelton x female reader

Warnings: uhhh...non? Kiss?

A/N: Happy halloween everyone!!! Short but cute, right? Love this one

Special tag: @dialedins luv you

The first thing you tought about when you saw your best friends Halloween costume matching with her boyfriend was to do it with ben too.

So that's why you're here now, 10pm, Paris, on the king size bed in your hotel. Ben exhausted from the season. All the matches he played and the flights. He was resting while hugging your side, his eyes heavy and body sore. You were with your computer on your lap, looking for matching outfits.

“Babe look at these” you ruffle his hair to wake him up.

Two costumes, one, the female one, being Natasha Romanoff, the tight zip on suit and the red wig, the male one being bucky Barnes, suit and sleeve for the metal arm.

His eyes opens wide when he sees the Natasha one. He liked the characters and their love story in the comics, but her suit was exactly like the actual one. Tight and revealing(without all the zip on), so that means part of your, amazing, breasts would show. That's a no-no for ben. He only gets to see them.

“No way babe that's too revealing in not letting you go out with that on” he shakes his head, then put it back on your chest, his other hand coming up to squeeze one of your breasts possessively

“Nobody can see them” he affirms.

He gets back to rest.

“This ones, love?” You call him

It was art and tashi from challengers, you alredy have the rackets and similar clothes, so why not?

“But I'm not blonde, baby” he says

“You can still dress up as Patrick”

“Nah, I'm on team art”

He declines the idea. He alredy thinks about tennis too much. If you give him a racket while going out in matching costumes he'd be practicing with the air all the time.

“These?”

The narrator and marla from fight club.

“Fight club, huh? Good movie (and book!!) But I don't want to dress upppp…i hate ties”

“You're so stubborn! It's just for one night!” You reply, but he doesn't change idea.

“Joker and Harley?” You propose

“Nah, too revealing for you and I don't want any make up”

“No make up??? Whattt…but it's Halloween!”

“Babe I promise you next year well do anything you want, okay? But now I'm tired”

You give up.

Now it's Halloween. You ended up dressing as the couple from subway surfers, you're still upset because it's a cheap and no effort costume and you wanted to do something amazing, something from tim Burton maybe.

You were wearing a white top, blue jeans, air forces and a red cap. Ben was matching but with a grey hoodie and a sleeveless jeans jacket.

“Look at us, babe, we look so good” ben says, you pout. You didn't wanted this costumes.

“Ohhh cmon love don't be stubborn, next year we'll do whatever you want, okay?” He cups your face and take off your sunglasses.

He kisses you, softly, showing his love, and mumbling the promise he just told you, so that it can't be broken

Ben...didn't expect that from you

Ben you are not giving us a good time now....

BIRTHDAY BOY ~Ben Shelton

Pairing: ben shelton x gn reader

Warnings: kiss(is that even a warning?)

Nine of October. Ben's birthday.

You were in your country for one of his tournaments this week.

He was so excited, he wanted to win even more, to give a present to himself. And the fact that you're here to support him lights up in his heart pure joy and pride.

It's almost midnight, almost his birthday. You made him stay up even if he was exhausted after a long and tiring match to wish him a happy birthday the second the clock will say it's the ninth.

You were waiting impatiently with him in your hotel room, with a little protein cake you bought in the afternoon (he'd eat a traditional cake but he needs to stay healthy😭) and a countdown up on your computer.

*11:57 pm*

Ben groans and lays down

“Babe I'm so tired can't we go to sleep and you'll wish me a happy birthday in the morning?” He whines

“No, love. I want to do it at midnight!” You reply, he smiles and chuckles tiredly to your excitement

“You're impossible” he jokes, he loves that you're so determined sometimes you don't listen to everyone. He likes your stubbornness, sometimes.

“You love it” you tease him, you know that if he really wanted to go to sleep he would have. But he wanted you to give him a birthday kiss at midnight too, so he pretended to be too exhausted just to see you annoyed and determined.

*11:58 pm*

He puts a hand on your shoulder and pushes you in a played position on the comfy bed, he lays on his elbow and tries to kiss you

“No, not yet” you scold him and pinch his cheek

“What? Whyyyyy? Then when? Cmon give me a kiss, beautiful” he pleas

“At midnight, handsome” you pop his nose with the tip of your index finger, smiling as he pouts

*11:59 pm*

“Just one more minute and you can kiss me how much you want” you tell him

“Oh yeah? How much I want?” He smirks and teases you, it'll be a long night.

“Yes but since you're so exhausted I expected just a few” you play along

“Oh baby, seems like I'm not that exhausted after all..” He smiles like a child. That stupid smile you fell in love with.

You get up and start to record him with the cake on his lap

*00:00*

He smiles and blow the candles, looking at you, even if he should look in the camera.

“Happy birthday, baby” you say and stop the video. He immediately puts the cake on the nightstand and pulls you by your waist on his lap.

“Thank you, babe, now…where's my kiss?” He smiles and pulls you into a sweet kiss

He cups your chin and deepens the kiss, his tongue licking your lower lip to get access and dance with yours. His other arm is hugging your waist and tracing your side in soft circles.

When he pulls away to breath you can speak “my birthday boy…” you whisper, your foreheads are touching and you're making eye contact, you pull him into another kiss.

I don't need to specify that it will be indeed a long night.

A/N: this Is so short i apologize😭😭 tell me if y'all want a longer version

ALSO I'm so sorry it's taking me so London to write p2 of train with me but I don't have motivation and I forget

WRONG HOODIE ~Ben shelton

Pairing: ben shelton x male reader, carlos alcaraz x best friend reader, team Europe x reader, laver cup x reader

Prompt: you and your bf both plays the laver cup, but in different teams, what happens when you accidentally swap hoodies?

You would love to hang out with your boyfriend in public, go on dates, hold hands, hug, kiss…but you can't. Your relationship is a secret. Tennis isn't as open minded as you'd like, lots of people are homophobic, and will hate on you for being in a gay relationship.

But you love to share hotel rooms and locker rooms on tour, cuddling in the king size beds after getting confused stares from the receptionists asking if it got confused for a two beds room.

this time, you both got selected for the laver cup, him on team world, you on team Europe.

You couldn't book or choose the hotel. Since the teams slept in separated hotels near the arena, already reserved for them with every need.

When you arrived in Berlin, on a private jet with ben, you got the gear, the blue hoodie and your sponsor’s personalized for the event blue shirt and black shorts.ben got the same things, but in red.

You visit the arena, chat with the other players, share looks and smirks with ben, then head to Europe team’s locker room with Carlos alcaraz, seeing ben stare on him, he's jealous.

You're in the locker room with him, joking, he's one of your best buddies, you love playing with and against him

“Man, I'm so excited for this years laver cup!” He says with his strong Spanish accent

“Me too! I actually can't believe I got selected by Björn for Europe team, we'll win, we got this” you say with your accent, the one that drives ben crazy

“I really want to play doubles with you, or Grigor, but Borg alredy told me he won't make me play with him, I hope with you tho, we'd make a great doubles team”

“Me too, imagine me and you against ben and Taylor, crazy” you make up a scenario about it in your mind, alredy seeing ben sticking out his tongue at you when he aces you or pouting like a child when you'll make a winner on his side

“Oh Dios mio, it'd be a show, I hope it'll happen”

“Yeah…there won't be a moment one of us four won't smile”

You start to head out of the lockers, you see ben practicing with Cerundolo, he looks at you and his smile drops when he sees alcaraz putting an arm around your shoulder.

You notice that and smirk, blowing a little kiss to him

“What was that?” Carlos asks

“Nothing, I was just waving at ben”

“Waving, huh? Didn't look that much of a wave for me” he smiles, teasing you

“Carlos, stop. I was just waving at him”

“Whatever you say, man, no te creo” (I don't believe you) he says, still teasing. You came out to him years ago, and he never cared that you liked guys, more girls for him, no?

“Cmonnnn don't be like that now!”

“If I see you sneaking out of the hotel tonight I know why ahaha” he laughs, you were two seconds away from slapping him when ben run to you

“Hey y/n, carlos” he greets and hugs you, secretly squeezing your butt, then bumps carlos “ready to get beaten?” He continues

“Oh cmon, maybe in doubles it'd be a fight, but in singles you have no chance, ben” you say and carlos just laughs

“Then I better train for doubles more, have to get back to practice now, I'm ’bout to kick his ass” ben says, referring to the practice match he was having with Cerundolo.

You say goodbye and head out with carlos

“So…just waving, huh?” He says

“What do you mean?” You ask, confused

“He was holding your waist the whole time we were talking, no eres tan invisible, you know?” (You aren't that invisible)

“Shut up” you say, blushing, and he laughs

After some minutes you get to the hotel and before entering your rooms he looks at you one last time

“I hope you won't let him win if you play against him, we're still a team. And we have to win”

Before you could snap back he alredy closed the door of his room, you enter yours and throw yourself on the king-size bed.

After half an hour you get a call from ben

“Babe?” He says

“Yeah?”

“You got back at the hotel?”

“Yeah, with carlos, you saw us”

“Yeah…” he says, his voice lowering

“Why that tone?”

“What tone, babe? Just my normal voice”

“Don't tell me! You're jealoussss~”

“I'm not!”

“You areeee” you tease him even more

“And what if I am? Can you blame me? I have the perfect boyfriend, don't want you to get stolen from me” he admits

“I won't get stolen from you, love. I'm yours”

“Yeah… that's right…mine. Sorry about my jealously…but I miss cuddling you, sooo much!”

“You do? Awww, me too…but it'd be risky to one of us to go to the others hotel now…”

“Right…but I miss you so much, my enemy”

“Oh you want to cuddle the enemy now huh? You want to corrupt me” you play along

“Mhhhh is it working?”

“No.” you say, smiling, then continue “but I miss you too, so I guess I'll be careful enough not to get caught in your hotel…for tonight “

“Really?! Thanks babe, imma make this a special night, then~”

“Mhh I'm sure you will” you say

“See ya tonight, babe”

“see you later, love”

And the call ends.

That night, you sneaked out of the Europe team's hotel to go in the world team's one. You wore the blue hoodie and grey sweatpants, just saying you were going to give ben some rackets to the receptionist and she lets you go.

You knocked on Ben's room, and he opened right away, hugging you and kissing you softly. He closed the door being you and pinned you against it, not kissing you more roughly, with more passion, his tongue slipping through your lips and fight with yours for dominance.

After you did what you did (iykyk) you passed some hours cuddling, just enjoying each others company and whispering sweet things in each others ear.

At five am, you decided to get back to your hotel before the others woke up and catch you, you kiss ben one last time and leave, picking up your clothes, you didn't realize you picked the wrong hoodie. The red one.

At 8 am you started to get ready to practice at the arena with carlos, you were still sleepy, you barely slept in the time you came back to your hotel. You brushed your teeth, washed your face, put on practice gear and the hoodie, still not realizing it's the wrong color.

You leave the hotel, some people giving you confused stares, but you don't care, still recovering from last night activities.

Entering the arena, some other players where alredy there, having breakfast or doing some reflexes exercises in the gym. Carlos was eating some eggs with grigor, flavio and daniil, when you showed up they just stared at you, confused as hell and carlos with a smirk

“What?” You ask, obvious to the fact

“You changed teams?” Daniil asks

“What do you mean?”

“The hoodie, the world's one”

“Oh shit” when you realize you quickly take it off and put it in your bag. You avoid talking about it and sit at the table, carlos patting your shoulder and teasing you.

*team world's POV*

Taylor and Francis were eating while thanasi and Felix were doing some light cardio, when ben entered, wearing the blue hoodie.

“Dude, what's up with Europe's hoodie? You out of your mind?! Sponsoring the enemy!” Francis says, half joking half serious

“What are you- oh fuck! I'm an idiot” he takes off the hoodie

“Whose hoodie is that?” Taylor asks

“None of your business, assholes”

“Cmon don't be hard ben! Tell us!”

Before ben could talk the door opens, you poking your head in, the red hoodie in your hands

“Hey ben…i think we swapped them”

Taylor whistles and Francis laughs, I ended to give him his hoodie and he smiles, not caring about getting outed anymore, you two did it unconsciously.

He pulled you closer and kissed you right in front of them, a quick but passionate kiss, you were shocked, and when he stop you hide your face in his neck, embarrassed.

“What is it, babe? Embarrassed? I think that everyone realized were dating now…thanks for the hoodie, anyway” he says

You swap them and the images of you in red and him in blue alredy spreading. But the camera catching you to kiss makes the video go viral. So viral.

"didn't know you two were dating, lovebirds" Taylor says

"Yeah you could have told us ,ben" Francis adds

"Sorry guys...but you know how people can be...I guess we don't have to worry about that now tho, don't we, babe?" Ben says

"I guess we don't anymore" you say

*two hour later, Europe's locker room*

You were changing after finishing practice with carlos, he was on his phone, he teased you about the hoodie all morning.

You see him looking at IG, his eyes widening

"Y/n...what's going on with ben, huh? Your kiss is going viral" he says

"Look, in the worlds room"

"What?!"

You see the video, the camera in the room catching your quick kiss

It alredy had fifty thousands likes in only three hours, you're scared to see the comments, some are bad, most are shocked or happy.

You smile, you don't have to hide anymore. A

You now have to fight homophobia, you have less fans, but you're happy you can show your perfect boyfriend to the world, you can hug, kiss and cuddle in public without being scared to get caught.

You're happy and you know it.

A/N: I know I have to write the part two of the long fic but this idea was just too cute not to write. I made it a male reader because the laver cup is played by men but I could make a fem reader maybe in the tie break tens or smtg. Hope you like this! (Also I made a not on c.ai about this)

TRAIN WITH ME ~Ben Shelton

Part 1

Ben shelton x reader

Prompt: you are a tennis player and your father trains you, too much. One day you faint and after you and ben happen to see each other.

Warnings: abuse, overtraining, fainting, mentions of hospitals

You're supposed to be the N1

You're supposed to be a rising star

You're supposed to be in the top 10

You're supposed to train bett

You're supposed to have a perfect technique

You're supposed to win every match, every point

You're supposed to serve better, to never double fault

You are a failure

A failur

A failu

A fail

A fai

A fa

A f

A

These are your thought, slowly fading away as you faint, on the cold floor of the hotel gym. After training for five hours in a row with your dad.

Those thoughts. They were the words your father say to you, every god damn day of your life.

Five hours ago, he dragged you away from the food you were eating, you didn't deserve it, he said. You only need to train, train, and train.

He made you run for three hours, only taking two little breaks, that was more than enough, your father said.

It's 6pm, he went to book a court for two hours for you to train after ‘dinner’, which he won't let you eat.

I will introduce yourself, if you let me. You are the child of a ex-pro player, your father was, twenty years ago, a slam champion and the n1 in the world.

When you were born, he didn't wanted a child. He wanted a prodigy. A pro student and player.

Your family, being rich, always made teacher come to your house to teach you, homeschooling you for years. The only time you would socialize where when your father would take you to elegant events about tennis or introduce you to other rich people. They usually were all adults, and the kids you would befriend in those nights were all spoiled and already acting like adults. They had the latests phones and clothes, they had perfect grades and everything they wanted, you, on the other side, had the things you needed to live when you deserved them. If you didn't train your father won't feed you or make you sleep in the cold and old basement.

At four years old, you were already winning kid tournaments, at 10 you won the national under 10 tournament, at 12 the under 12 one, at 14 the under 14 one, and at 15 your father made you play qualifying in the us open, you played small tournaments before in other countries, some 250 or 500 and a challenger 1000, but never a slam.

That week you won three rounds, but you got another qualifier prodigy at the fourth, which you lost to.

And your father let's say…he wasn't happy. The opposite. He was in the stands when you lost, your opponent celebrating, you shook hands and saw your fathers glare. You knew what was coming. And it was terrible.

That night you got beaten by him. And hard. You still have those scars, and you slept in the basement.

But what does you mom do to your father treating you like shit? Nothing.

She can't do anything. She's dead. A disease, the doctors says.

The truth?

Your father poisoned her slowly, it made her develop a disease. And the doctors? Corrupted by him.

Let's get back to the current time.

When your father left you sat on the floor of the empty gym, your father paid the hotel to have it exclusively for you when you wanted (when he did, just to specify, you had no word on this).

Your heart beating fast, too fast. It feels like it'll explode any second. Your ears were ringing, your vision blurry, your whole body not just sore, but exhausted by the excessive training.

You fainted.

Two hours later, getting shoken by someone made you regain consciousness. It was you father calling you to train.

In the two hours he left you were supposed to get back to your hotel room and study, and he's already mad because you're still in the gym.

“Were you sleeping, huh? Don't lie! I told you you had to study! What were you doing?! Resting? You don't need that!” He slapped you. Your left cheek reddening.

He made you get up and pushed you outside, then to the tennis courts.

You had to train with the strength you didn't had, the only this you looked towards every day was sleep.

You entered the court, there were hard courts divided by two benches and a umpire seat.

You didn't think that any other player would be playing in those courts, since usually your father books a secluded one where there's just you two training, because he has the habit to yell at you when you make mistakes.

But you see a young player in the second court, you recognize him, *Ben Shelton*, you never actually look at others players or chat with them, but sometimes Ben came to you to chat since you started playing professionally.

You wave at him, hoping he won't notice the eyebags under your eyes and the state you're in. More on the other side than on earth.

Ben was training with his father and coach, Bryan, having a parent as a coach isn't a pleasant thing, for you. But Ben seems to love being coached by Bryan. Well, can't blame him, Bryan's a sweet man, not an abuser.

You place your bag on the bench near the one where put his. You father was still at the gate, chatting with another coach, while Ben and Bryan came to you.

“hey! Long time no see, huh? Been some months since we talked, I wonder why you never get seen anywhere other than tennis courts. Anyway, how's it going?” Ben says

“Hey, nice to see you again ben! I'm alright, a bit tired, my old man's killing me. But don't tell him I'm complaining” you joke, still by telling a truth.

“Mine isn't taking back either, I feel like dying every practice ahah”

“That's not true, ben, I train you the right amount. Not too much, like their father does. Are you sure you're not training too much, bud?” Bryan chimes in.

You're eyes widen the much they can because you're so tired to actually make a shocked expression, what do you reply to that? You could tell the truth, ben was the closest thing you had to a friend after all, or you could lie, and if they believed you you'll probably faint again and go to the hospital.

You stay silent for a moment, their eyes locked on your face, concerned and worried about you.

What will happen? Find out in part 2!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote this at school so it might not be that good, but let me know what you think! Should I continue this?? I already have the part two in mind but no spoilers🤭

WHO'S BENNY? -Ben Shelton

prompt: you were scrolling on tiktok when you saw a video of a girl flirting with your boyfriend

Warnings: none? A bit of teasing and dirty talk (not too dirty)

Credits: @b0r3dtod3ath I got really inspired by their fic about a fan calling Ben 'benny' so I wrote this

you have been dating Ben for about a year now, he’s a good boyfriend, kind, sweet, charming, clingy, hot, and the list goes on for at least a whole tennis court…

you aren’t someone who gets jealous easily, and Ben is a loyal partner, he would never imagine going with someone else, who would be saying all the things they want to do to him every time they see him shirtless and sweaty and make him embarrassed trying not to get too excited if not you?

just kidding (maybe not) he loves you so much he would be desperate without you.

after a long day, you finally find some peace, sitting on the king-size bed you and your boyfriend shares in your hotel room and scrolling on TikTok, you look at your FYP, some funny videos pops up, you look at the time, 9pm, ben is still training and you haven’t had dinner yet, you miss him a lot since you didn’t have the chance to see him today.

searching his name on TikTok, some really good edits pops up as the first videos, after his profile of course. you already follow all of the accounts (not with your main, verified, account tho, that’d be risky, so you created a fake fan of Ben account to get freaky drooling with the editors), macaaroonss, mag1.c, sheltixx, clouislxve, and dialedins (with her very bold captions that would send her to jail if you or Ben’d sue her, but you don’t because you, obviously, relate to them).

you like all their new posts, then, scrolling a bit more, a new video of Ben pops up, it was from yesterday, after his training, he was leaving the courts and a bunch of fans asked for photos and autographs. he was happy to do it, of course, he loves his fans, but, while taking the photo, one hugged his arm, and it looked like she was clinging onto him for dear life, as the video continues, the girl keeps trying to ger Bens attention even when he’s talking to other fans.

that angered you, you felt…jealous?

looking at your boyfriend getting hugged and talking to other people usually didn’t bother you, but this time was different, the girl wasn’t just ‘talking’ to him, she was flirting!

the videos show her touching Ben’s bicep, squeezing it, and he looked uncomfortable, but she kept smiling ans said:

“hey Benny! I really like how you play…I’m getting really into tennis because of you…would you be up to some private coaching with me?”

her voice was filled with lust, her tone was flirty, and her lips curled up in a smile filled with hope. it was clear that she wasn’t someone who ever got a ‘no’ as an answer and she wasn’t expecting one now.

she gets even closer to Ben, eager to know the answer.

you were eager to know it too, the tension building up in your body, your heart aching. you trust Ben, you two were in love after all…would he really cheat on you? the girl was pretty, you had to say that, but he was yours and yours only. you felt…possesive, for the first time during your relationship, scared he’d choose someone else over you.

and he says:

“i’m sorry. who’s Benny? never heard of him. but if you want a coach i know a good one who is now teaching in the next court” and heads out of the courts.

a sigh of relief escaped your lips and your head, which you didn’t realized you lifted with eagerness, plops on the soft pillow. you stay like that for a few seconds, enjoying the new feeling of relief that got in your heart.

then you save the video, to watch in case you ever feel insecure and think Ben would choose some pretty person over you.

you decided to take a break from your watching session and lay on the bed in a starfish position, taking all the space, you throw your phone at the end of the bed, hoping it won’t fall, and think about how your life has been much better since you met Ben.

how you met, how he helped you when you needed money, or a shoulder to cry on, how lovely he is even when you’re mad at him, how he treats you like royality, how…perfect he is.

your eyelids felt heavy, you slowly fall in a sleep you needed all day, dreaming of Ben winning the US open, hitting one last winner on the championship point, falling on the ground, racket slipping off his hand and on the humid court, eyes watery, he jumps up to shake his opponents and the umpire’s hand, then he screams and do the ‘phone celebration’, or maybe a new special one he kept for this victory. the he sports you in his box, he runt to you, cups your face in his big, sweaty, hands and kiss you. a passionate kiss, you can feel all his happiness by how his liès are moving. he’s holding back, you know you’ll be getting a needy and cocky Ben tonight.

you wake up, even if you did’t want because it was a beautiful dream, by a weight pressed on your body and two strong arms hugging your waist.

“mhhh hey babe, I’m back” Ben mumbles, his face pressed against your neck, pressing light kisses under your jawline.

“hey, how was practice?” you say in a sleepy voice, your mind still half-asleep.

“ugh…tiring, like always, i really think my dad and physical trainer wants to kill me this week” he complains

“you say that every time you train on clay Ben, they just have to make you run a lot because the ball bounces lower, you know that”

“ugh I know…”

he keeps giving little pecks to your neck and mumbling some ‘i love you’ and other incomprensible words.

“Ben?” you seek his attention

“mh? what is it, babe?”

“why don’t you let other people call you Benny?”

“what do you mean? it has always been my nickname” he lifts his head, confused

“you didn’t see the video?”

“what video?”

“I’ll show you, give me my phone”

he lifts his body and take your phone from the end of the bed and hands it to you, you open tiktok and go to your saved videos, tapping on the right one.

he looks at it, recalling the moment in his mind, a small smile forming on his face and he looks at you.

“of course I didn’t let her call me that, she was flirting, love, she isn’t a friend, I don’t want people I don’t know calling me how the people I care about do. and she was hanging onto me like she was my girl, but nah…i already have the most beautiful partner, don’t need anyone else”

an ‘awww’ escapes your lips and you look in his eyes, feeling the admiration and love he has for you.

“and she asked for private coaching, the only person I’d give that to is you, love. what do you think? i could book a court…only for us…we can play a bit…then what happens happens” he says in a flirty tone

“Ben!” you scold him, this is not the right moment to flirt

“sorry, babe, but you know i can’t hold myself when i see you all painting and sweaty when we play” he nips at your neck

“i know, i know…i learned my lesson the last time, but i don’t wanna talk about it now, my legs are still sore”

“cmon, love, i didn’t go that hard”

“try being in my position next time, then we can talk about it”

he chuckles and kiss you passionately, not a lust kiss, one filled with love, a clingy one.

“Benny…” you aren’t calling him or scolding him, just saying his name, recalling the video.

“your Benny, love”