2024

Shubman sat cross-legged by the large window in his flat, the city lights casting a faint glow against his bare chest. 

The cool night breeze ruffled his damp hair as he leaned back against the window frame, his phone cradled against his ear. 

His tone was low and teasing, a devilish smirk dancing on his lips.

"Navya," he said, dragging out her name in a way that made it sound like both a tease and a caress, "you're really going to act like you didn't know that dress today was illegal? I'm filing a case against you for distraction of an athlete."

"Distraction of an athlete?" she repeated incredulously, though her laughter came through clearly. 

"That's not even a thing, Shubman."

"It is now," he countered, his voice dipping into that smooth, cocky tone that made her heart skip. 

"You're officially guilty, jaan. What's your defence?"

"Defense? How about the fact that you were literally the one staring like an idiot?"

"I was appreciating art," he replied smoothly, running a hand through his hair. "Don't blame me if the artist was... breathtaking."

"God, you're so full of yourself," she teased, though her voice held that telltale warmth that betrayed her smile.

He smirked, leaning his head back against the glass. "And yet, here you are, still talking to me."

As their conversation continued, filled with equal parts banter and warmth, the door to his flat creaked open. 

Rohit Sharma, Virat Kohli, Ishan Kishan, and Hardik Pandya slipped in quietly, exchanging smirks as they heard Shubman's low voice.

They moved stealthily through the room, peering into the living area.

There he was—Shubman Gill, the golden boy of Indian cricket, sprawled in nothing but grey sweatpants, sitting by the window, phone in hand. 

His voice carried a sultry edge that left no doubt: this was not an ordinary conversation.

"You're such a tease," Navya said, her laugh carrying through the line.

"Me? A tease?" he said with mock offence. "That's rich coming from you. You're the one with that... that bindi and lip gloss weapon combination. You're the real culprit here."

"Shubman!" she groaned, laughing despite herself.

Virat held up a hand, gesturing for the others to stay quiet, though they all struggled to contain their amusement. 

Shubman, oblivious, continued his spicy exchange.

"I'm just saying, Navya," he murmured, his voice soft and teasing, "next time you wear something like that, just warn me. I need time to mentally prepare. You know, stretch, hydrate, maybe do some deep breathing."

"Stretch? Hydrate?" Navya wheezed on the other end. "What is wrong with you?"

"Plenty," he admitted with a smirk. "But don't act like you don't love it."

Hardik had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. 

Rohit shook his head in mock disbelief, mouthing, This guy...

Just then, Shubman leaned forward slightly, his free hand tracing patterns on the glass. 

"Alright, jaan, if you had to rate me on a scale of one to ten today, what am I getting?"

"Negative five," she shot back, quick as ever.

He barked out a laugh. "Okay, harsh. But I'll win you over. Just wait."

Virat finally lost his composure, coughing to disguise a laugh. 

Shubman froze, his head snapping toward the sound. His eyes narrowed as he spotted the group of them standing there, grinning like hyenas.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, sitting up straighter. Into the phone, he said, "Navya, I gotta go. Some uninvited guests decided to crash my flat."

"Uninvited guests?" she asked, confused.

"Yeah. My amazing teammates," he deadpanned, shooting a glare at the guys. "I'll call you later, jaan. Don't miss me too much."

"Never," she replied, her laughter fading as the call ended.

Shubman turned his phone off and threw it onto the couch. "You guys suck, you know that?"

"Bro," Hardik began, struggling to keep a straight face, "you were literally whispering sweet nothings like some rom-com hero."

"Sweet nothings?!" Shubman spluttered. "I wasn't—"

"'Bindi and lip gloss weapon combination,'" Virat quoted with an exaggerated smirk. "Really? That's your game?"

Rohit wiped a fake tear from his eye. "I mean, it's working for him. Did you hear her laugh?"

Shubman buried his face in his hands. "I'm never going to hear the end of this, am I?"

"Not a chance," Ishan chimed in, grinning.

"Great," Shubman muttered. "Next time, I'm locking the door."

soup rants!!!
the twenty-seventh chapter is here!
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do comment your favourite part1
what do you think will happen in the next chapter?
until then
yours lovingly,
soup <3