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ladykailitha · 8 months ago

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The Harrington Pattern Part 8

We have finally got to the part that started this whole story. Steve being validated by a professional.

Robin gets a pretty dress. And Eddie gets a little jealous.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

MY TAG LIST FOR THIS STORY IS CLOSED!!!!

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

Eddie joined them at the shop just as they were finishing up. Will used the extra ten he had to buy Steve a pretty little dagger that was mostly a letter opener, but Steve fell in love with it.

The dagger was silver with a moon in the hilt, the cross guard had moonstones on either side. It was nestled in a black velvet box that he was told he had to leave the dagger in and not pull it out while at the fair.

Steve promised he wouldn’t and turned around to nearly run right into Eddie.

“Whoa!” Eddie said, putting out his hands to steady Steve. “I didn’t realize I was that close to you.”

Steve blushed. “You get your schedule sorted for tomorrow?”

Eddie grinned. “Sure did, sweet thing. Will get his staff?”

“I don’t think I’ve seen anyone so happy,” Steve said with a smile. He jutted his thumb behind him to where Will was happily chatting with the seller.

Eddie peered around Steve to see where he was pointing and sure enough, Will was talking to the guy about magical users in DND and how they should expand it to include other types.

Will spotted Eddie and said goodbye to the seller. He rushed over to where Steve and he were talking.

He held out the staff for Eddie to look at. “What do you think?”

Eddie and Steve shared a fond smile. “It looks great. Will the Wise has finally got a staff worthy of him.”

Will blushed.

“We should put it in Eddie’s van,” Steve suggested, “so it doesn’t get stolen.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “Why my van?”

“Because it won’t fit in my car,” he replied with a blush staining his cheeks and creeping up his ears.

Eddie cackled. “Fair enough, Stevie!” He looked around and spotted Gareth with an arm full of all sorts of wares, from swords and armor, to decorative goblets and boxes that no doubt held jewelry.

“Hey Gare!” he said following an ear piercing whistle.

The younger man lit up and jogged over to the trio.

“Hey, Ed!” Gareth said with a shit eating grin. “You like my haul?”

Eddie shook his head. “Sometimes I think your parents have more money than sense, but I’m not about to begrudge a well plotted haul.”

Gareth grinned. “Oh, they absolutely have more money than sense. I just know how to use that to my advantage.”

Will and Steve laughed with them.

Eddie pulled out his keys. “Since you’re clearly in need to be relieved of your loot or grow three extra arms, you should take Will to stash your stuff for later.”

Will’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s a great idea!”

Steve just shook his head fondly as he watched the two boys walk off chatting about their prizes.

“It’s nice to see Will come out of his shell around new people,” he said to Eddie. “He really needs friends outside of the Party.”

Eddie nodded. “And it helps that I forced them to be read in with Wayne because there was no way I was going to keep a secret that big with the people who are my family.”

They began their stroll through the other stalls, stopping here and there.

Steve spotted a clothing shop and armory and he sided eyed it longingly. There was no way he would the money for anything in that shop. He chewed his bottom lip and was about to move along, when Eddie grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward a black leather cloak.

Steve was admiring the construction when he heard a voice behind him say, “That’s a neat tunic, but you do know that you’re supposed to wear a chain shirt under that specific kind, right?”

Steve turned around to see a buxom red head in a bodice and flowing red dress. Her hair was piled messily on her head, but Steve could tell it was artfully done as the structure seemed too sound to be accidental.

“Can’t afford the see the armorer,” he said with a wink and a half shrug.

She laughed. “I guess I deserved that.”

Eddie smirked.

“I like your tunic,” the red head said, looking Steve up and down. Eddie bristled next to him. “Where did you get it from?”

Steve grinned, placing a comforting hand on Eddie’s elbow. “I made it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “No shit. Really?”

“Yes, he did,” Eddie defended. “He’s amazing.”

Steve flushed with pleasure at his praise. “I dabble. I’ve been sewing for about a decade now.”

She walked up to him and admired the stitching on the hem on the tunic. “That’s really impressive.”

“Thanks, I was admiring your work on the construction of the cloak here,” Steve said. “Was it hand sewn?”

“Fuck no!” she said, rolling her eyes. “I wouldn’t have time to breathe if I did that.” She smiled to have him join in on her joke. But when Steve continued looking at her in awe. “Wait...” she said, as it slowly dawned on her. “You did all of this by hand?”

She brought the hem of his tunic up to her face. Steve blushed and Eddie batted her hand away.

“Oi! Don’t get fresh!”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“I think a name would be a good start before you go and get grabby,” he growled.

“Oh!” she said slapping her forehead. “Right, sorry! I’m Katie. I run Damsel in this Dress. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Steve and this is Eddie,” Steve said.

Eddie looked only slightly mollified and Steve rubbed his lower back soothingly. Eddie preened, leaning into the touch.

Steve cleared his throat. “But anyways, yeah I stitched it all by hand. My parents didn’t think a boy should ‘play’ with a sewing machine.” He put play in air quotes.

Katie’s eyes went wide and she looked back at the tunic hem in her hand. “But it’s so tight and even...”

Eddie grinned. “Isn’t he amazing?”

She looked over at him. “He do yours too?”

Steve shook his head. “No, not his.” He spotted Robin walking by. “But I see someone else’s outfit I worked on.”

“Robin!” he called out.

His soulmate came to a...well stop wouldn’t be quiet accurate as she kept in motion, flailing around a bit trying to regain her balance from her aborted step.

“Steve!” she called back and hurried over to him.

Katie looked her up and down. “You did her costume too?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow at Steve.

Robin grinned. “Hell yeah, he did! He’s awesome!”

Katie looked back and forth between them. “May I look?”

“Oh I know!” Eddie said cheerfully. “Why don’t they try on something of yours so that you can take a look at their costumes without you having to get all handsy.”

Robin raised an eyebrow at Eddie but turned gleefully to Katie. “That sounds like a great compromise.”

Katie cocked her head back and forth. “Could do, I suppose.”

Steve immediately went for the chain shirts, while Robin wandered around some.

“You’d look pretty in one of my corsets,” Katie said waiting for Steve to get out of the tunic to hand it to her.

Robin blushed. “Aren’t they like painful and gross?”

Katie laughed clear and bright. “Not really. For centuries they were the only form of support a women had. Now, there were tight lacing bodices and corsets, but that wouldn’t happen until much later.”

Robin chewed her bottom lip. She really liked the blue dress and the blue and gold corset. “Can I try on those?” She pointed to the ones she liked.

“What’s your bra size?” Katie asked pulling out the right size dress.

“Uh...” Robin said with a blush. “It’s not very...”

Katie nodded. “It’s fine. I think I’ve got the right one for you anyway, but if it’s too tight or too loose let me know and I’ll find a different size.”

Robin nodded and Steve came out of the dressing room to hand her his tunic.

Eddie let out a low whistle. “Looking good, Sir Stephen.”

Steve did a slow turn and both Eddie and Katie gave him appraising glances.

Robin peeked her head out form behind the curtain. “Um...help?”

Katie was immediately by her side. “What’s up?”

Robin walked out with the laces in her hands and corset not tied.

“Oh!” Katie said. “God, the heat must getting to my brain today. Odd’s Botkins!”

She grabbed laces and showed Robin how to lace it properly.

“How does fit?” she asked stepping back to admire her creation on Robin.

Robin grinned. “I never realized how much I slouched until just now.”

“Yeah,” Katie said with a laugh, “I hear that a lot.” She spun Robin around causing the skirt of the dress to billow out like water rippling in the breeze.

“Wow, Robbie,” Steve said in awe. “That’s gorgeous.”

Eddie hummed his agreement. “Looking good, Buckster!”

Robin squeaked and then dashed back into the dressing room. She came back out with the shirt Steve had altered for her.

Katie took the shirt and tunic and laid them both out on the counter where the cash box was.

“It’s literally seamless,” she said in awe. “And you did this by hand?”

Steve nodded. “But I’ve been doing it for years so...” He half shrugged.

“Hey, man,” Eddie huffed, “don’t diminish your awesomeness. This is hell of a job.”

Steve nodded, blush creeping back up on his cheeks again.

“What’s this?” Katie asked, tapping the embroidery on the hems of both pieces. It was a lovely little floral pattern that was off white on Robin’s shirt so that it blended in, but was a striking silver on Steve’s tunic.

Eddie leaned forward. “Oh, I never noticed that before.” He smiled widely at Steve. “It’s cute.”

Steve flushed even deeper, the red now covering his whole face. “It’s a little something I add to all of my designs. It’s a little signature if you will, so you’ll always know I made it.”

“A Harrington pattern?” Robin asked, leaning over to inspect the embroidery, too.

Steve nodded.

“Have you thought about selling your pieces?” Katie asked. “You could be making bank with these.” She lifted up the shirt to emphasize her point.

Steve shrugged. “Sure, but I wouldn’t have any idea where to sell them or who to sell them to.”

“I’ll sell them for you,” she said, “for a cut of the profits, of course. I sell at gaming and comic conventions, Ren fairs, sci-fi and fantasy conventions.”

Steve chewed on his lip. “I don’t make them very quickly. With them being all hand sewn.”

“Which makes it all the more valuable,” Katie insisted. “A hand sewn dress from a major clothing designer would be worth thousands, sweetie.”

Robin mouthed the word ‘thousand’ in shock.

Eddie pounded Steve on the shoulder. “Hell yeah! Just sell a couple of pieces every once in while and you’ll always having spending money.”

Steve thought it over and then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

Katie and Robin cheered while Eddie and Steve shared a warm smile between them. A smile that sent butterflies through Steve’s chest. Eddie was always there for him.

Always.

Katie pulled out a business card. “Give me a call when you’ve got pieces you want to sell. And don’t leave off that signature either. Your Harrington Pattern as your friend called it.”

Steve took the card frowning. “But won’t that make it harder to sell? Especially the male stuff?”

She shook her head. “The people that buy this sort of thing are the last people that would care about a floral design, particularly since it would make it more authentic.”

He blinked and mouthed ‘oh’. She was right. “Yeah okay.” He lifted the card. “Thanks for this. I guess Robin and I better go change out of these so you can have them back.”

Katie shook her head. “Think of them as an investment in Steve Harrington’s clothing venture.” She lit up and dashed over to the cloaks. She grabbed the leather one that Eddie had been admiring and held it out to him.

“For you too.”

Eddie blinked, he wanted to turn it down and would have, had Steve not taken it and draped it on his shoulders.

The inside had a soft almost fur like material that was a slate grey. It would be too hot to wear in the summer, but in winter he would be outright toasty in it.

“Thank you,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure if he was thanking her or Steve, but it didn’t really matter. He was grateful to both. He looked up at Robin.

“You’ll probably want to change out of yours, Robbie,” he said, carefully removing the cloak and draping it over his arm.

“Why’s that?” she asked with a pout.

A grin took over Eddie’s face. The mischievous one that always sent a lance of heat in Steve’s gut every time he saw it. “Because you’ll want to look rocking for the joust tomorrow.”

Katie grinned too. “That is an excellent idea, good sir!”

Robin seemed to agree because she grabbed her shirt and dashed back into the dressing room.

Steve was surprised she remembered the shirt, if he was honest.

Katie and Eddie helped him get the tunic over the chain shirt without snagging the cloth on the metal.

Robin came out mere seconds later with her prizes clutched to her chest.

“Thank you!” she squealed. “I can’t wait to wear it tomorrow!”

They all went to the parking lot to put away Eddie and Robin’s prizes. The cloak in the van, and the dress and corset in the trunk of Steve’s car.

Steve was grinning from ear to ear and couldn’t stop.

****

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Damsel in This Dress is an actual Ren Faire staple from where I'm from.

Yup, still on my Gareth lives in Loch Nora agenda.

And while I don't ship Will/Gareth Will needs friends who aren't trauma bonded, you know?

MY TAG LIST FOR THIS STORY IS CLOSED!!!

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1@zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @thespaceantwhowrites @paintgonewrong @mogami13 @beelze-the-bubkiss @croatoan-like-its-hot @retro-vagabond @sani-86 @pansexuality-activated @y4r3luv @dauntlessdiva @vampire-eddie-brain-rot @lololol-1234 @nightmareglitter

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #steve is a history nerd

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giveafike · 8 days ago

Note

kinda obsessed with the prompt of ben x fem tennis reader being together for a lil while and being the cutest couple , breaking up bc the distance hit them too hard after two straight months of different tournaments/locations, then seeing each other for the first time at a 1000 tournament, going out to dinner with the same group of people and end up going back to bens hotel room to clear the air and obvs end up in bed together realising they’re gonna have to get thru the distance cos they can’t be without each other now 😭

TLDR: tennisplayerfem!reader and ben break up bc you can't handle being away and then surprise, you can't handle being not together. Losers.

Word count + info: 10k. Am I mentally ill? This is supposed to be a blurb.. Dialogue (angst, texts, calls, conversation).

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! Breakup and kinda mean stuff said (nothing physical description wise). Otherwise, it's all good! (i think)

Azzie Notes ✚: SHOOT ME IN THE HEAD. AM I OKAY??? 10K?? ON A BLURB?? idrk what angst is fr chat lmk if i did that one fr idk....im a LOVER girl ok IDK HOW TO DO THIS SAD SHIT - in saying that, was part of my dialogue in this lwky..loosely based off of my ex...........maybe...

I fear I loved this prompt so bad and like...I love to yap..so...

Socials + Updates: twitter ( @azziegivesafike) - feel free to follow and msg me about non requests there, I'll be posting life updates, story + req updates and spoilers/teasers alongside other things, so it'd be nice to have a community over there!

————————————————————————

Shattered - B.T.S.

In the beginning, being with Ben is the kind of whirlwind you've only seen in movies, a connection that feels so natural, yet thrillingly unexpected. Well, in hindsight, that might've been a lie. It wasn't exactly love at first sight, but instead, a slow, magnetic pull that drew you together, like the tension building in a long rally. You met on the circuit, both hungry, ambitious, and dedicated to your own success. But from the start, Ben had this way of getting past your disciplined, guarded exterior with that relentless charm of his.

He’s everywhere, it seems—posting highlights from your matches on his stories, sneaking your name into press conferences, tagging you in his silly “lazy Saturday” shots where your game is always playing in the background. He flirts shamelessly, flashing that grin across the court, his voice lifting over the crowd to make some cheeky comment that leaves you stifling laughter. Your friends see it before you do: Ben is crazy about you, and soon, so is everyone else.

He flirted shamelessly and relentlessly, everywhere and anywhere, often catching you off guard in ways that left you flustered despite your best efforts to stay cool and professional. With that, you started to look out for the way his eyes would find yours in a crowd while you sat in the stands during his matches or how he would nudge you at practice with that easy, casual touch like he’s done it a thousand times before; like you belong by his side.

Once, when he's asked in an interview if he’d dedicated his recent win to anyone, he grins and looks straight across the room, making everyone laugh. “There’s someone special right now, but no need to say names, she knows.”

It’s sweet, funny and more than a little bold. Later, when you called him out for it over one of your first late-night calls, he shrugged, entirely unapologetic, telling you with that stupid drawl of his, “What? Ain’t no point hidin’ it. The world knows who my lucky charm is.”

Soon, it was you reaching out for him, your hand slipping onto his arm, leaning against him during walkouts, letting your barriers fall. And every time he catches your eye, every time he manages to make you smile, he looks at you like he’s won the lottery. His heart stammers a little each time you shove him playfully or roll your eyes at his antics. Whether it was on the bench or during changeovers, Ben would rest his hand gently on your lower back, a touch that makes you feel, just for a moment, like you're the only two people in the world.

When the rare break in your schedules comes around, you steal hours together. You grab a coffee, turning a "quick run" into a day spent together and wander around a city you barely know, or stumble upon a hidden café with pastries too flowery for your tastes. He made everything feel easier, like no matter how intense life gets, you’ll always have that balance with him. Around Ben, you can be softer, and more vulnerable; he brings out a side of you that isn’t just about winning and competing but about laughing, sharing, and letting go.

People noticed the way you look at each other, the easy affection that passes between you, the more daring and intimate PDA, sharing kisses and lingering stares. Soon, fans were shipping you openly, posting photos of you courtside, or whispering to each other when you lean close and murmur something that makes him laugh. On tour, you’re one of those “it” couples, a little slice of joy in the relentless pace of your careers. And in those early days, you both believe that together, you can take on anything. In those early days, you believed you could take on anything together. You and Ben were partners, equals, and even in the midst of a gruelling season, there had always been time for him, always a reason to smile. It felt perfect, like a love story you had stumbled into but were both entirely committed to.

But that honeymoon phase comes crashing down real quick.

As seasons shift and tournaments stretch across continents, the cracks start to show. At first, it’s just a few hours difference, but then come the miles and oceans, and the texts dwindled, conversations cut short, replaced by more missed calls than made and vague apologies. You both had tried, in every way you knew how. But eventually, the memories weren’t enough to bridge the distance. You’d catch yourself staying up just to wait for his call after practice, only to fall asleep disappointed, staring at a dark screen. And every time you woke up to a hastily sent sorry, something came up text, it felt like another tiny fracture.

Ben wasn’t the only one caught up in the chaos of your schedules; you had your own demands, too. The strain went both ways. In an attempt to keep things alive, you’d push yourself to keep up with his time zone, adding another city to your Clock app, setting alarms accordingly to his lunch and dinner times, staying awake far too late, eyes heavy as you sat alone in your hotel room, scrolling through old photos just to feel closer to him. When the call finally did come, your voice was barely more than a whisper, tired and distant, and Ben couldn't bear the exhaustion in your tone, his heart aching as he hushed you to sleep, meaning neither of you would stay on long.

It all piled up slowly, almost imperceptibly, until the weight felt crushing. Conversations became one-sided, it’s like chasing the sun itself, moments of silence replacing the laughter that had once felt endless, and that spark, the one that made you feel unstoppable together, felt further away with every day that passed.

Then came the day of your match, a game that should have been easy, one you’d normally have breezed through. But you were dragging, exhaustion wrapping itself around your every heavy, drooping step, and somewhere in the depths of your mind, a bitter thought took root:

If only he cared.

You knew it wasn’t his fault, but still, the frustration boiled over. Would things have felt different if you weren’t so alone in this? If you didn’t have to wonder when, or if, he’d remember to call? If he scheduled calls to your time for once? If he could just postpone everything for 20, 20 measly minutes for you?

A ball zips right by you, snapping you back to reality.

Lying in your hotel room that night, you stared at the ceiling, replaying the best moments of your time together like an old movie reel. In those moments, it had felt perfect. You’d believed you could take on the world, side by side, partners in everything. But now, with miles and silence separating you, you wondered if those memories were all that was left of what you once had.

But even with that ache, even with the emptiness filling the room, one thing is clear as day: loving Ben, for all its messiness, for all the distance and loneliness, had never felt like a mistake but God, was it hard. You pondered on those same irritating thoughts that itched at you until your fingers found your phone and hit the FaceTime Call button. Part of you wanted him to not pick up, knowing that you had nothing kind or sweet to say, but a small part of you wanted to dish back what he deserved.

“Hey,” he greets, his voice tense, worn. His drawl feels distant like he’s talking to you from across an ocean.

“Hey.” You can feel the iciness in your voice, colder than you intended.

“Long day?” he asks, though his expression is already tense, wary.

“Yeah. Almost lost today,” you say flatly.

Ben’s gaze flicks down. “I saw the score,” he says, his voice cautious. “Guess it was a tough match, babe.”

“It shouldn’t have been,” you snap. “But maybe it’s hard to focus when I’m barely sleeping… or constantly waiting for a text that never comes.”

He blinks, his eyes narrowing. “So this is on me?” The familiar accent is a little rougher around the edges. “You’re losin’ matches ‘cause I’m not callin’ you enough? That’s what you’re sayin’?”

“Don’t play dumb, Ben. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about” You feel the bitterness twisting in your chest. ““You’re barely here, Ben. Half the time, I don’t even know if we’re still together or if we’re just two people sending pointless messages every few hours. Half the time, it feels like I’m talking to a ghost.”

He lets out a frustrated laugh, shaking his head. “You think it’s any easier for me? I’ve got my own stuff, my own schedule, darlin'. I’ve got my career to think about too, you know, this ain't just about you.”

Your jaw tightens. “Yeah, well, at least when I'm on the court, I don’t exactly have the luxury of tuning you out, Ben. I’m not the one who forgets to call after saying I would. I don’t have time for half-assed texts and waiting around for you to call when you feel like it.”

“Oh, don’t go there,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. “You know what it’s like. The fans, the interviews, the time spent on court-”

“Yeah, I get it, Ben. But last week, you bailed on a call to go sign autographs. Priorities, right?”

He takes a deep breath, visibly holding back. “C’mon, babe, you don’t mean that.”

But you press on, unable to stop yourself. “You’re too busy with whatever ‘big thing’ you have going on, right? Maybe if you cared enough to focus on your game instead of your ‘commitments,’ you wouldn’t have dropped that finals match. Just maybe.”

He flinches, his expression turning dark. “Oh, that's low from you, Y/N. You really wanna go there?”

“Yeah, I do,” you say, your voice unwavering.

He pauses, his face hardening. “If you were out here on the ATP tour, you’d understand how rough it really is. You wouldn't even get past a challenger. It ain’t the same league as the WTA.”

You laughed, a cold, bitter sound. “Oh, don’t even start with that. Rougher than the WTA? Is that supposed to make me feel better? Maybe come and join WTA then, you wouldn't manage it out here either, Ben.”

He snaps, his voice cutting like a whip. “You know how much I’m fightin’ to make a name for myself out here. Just ‘cause you got a few more shiny titles doesn’t mean you get to talk down to me like this.”

The sting of his words hits like a slap. Your face flushes, a mix of anger and hurt bubbling up. “So, that’s it? Just because I’ve actually earned my success, I’m some kind of… what? Nag?”

“I didn’t say that,” he shot back, voice tight, his eyes narrowing as he looked away. “But maybe you’re doin’ too much. Bein’ all… dramatic, blamin’ me for stuff I got no control over.”

“Right, okay, so I’m being dramatic,” you scoff, your voice edged with sarcasm. “I’m the one asking for too much because I want something real, something you clearly can’t give.”

He laughs, bitter and raw. “Maybe you just want too damn much.”

You feel the tears prickling behind your eyes, but you clench your jaw, holding yourself together by sheer force of will. Your voice trembles as you speak, the words thick with a pain you can’t contain. “I just want you to care, Ben, or at least pretend to care and make it believable. I want you to care enough to be here when it matters. But you’re so wrapped up in yourself, you don’t even see it.”

His face hardens, his jaw set, but his eyes hold a flicker of something unspoken. “You think I don’t care? I’m out here pushin’ myself every day, for us, for this future we’re supposed to be building 'n shit. But it’s like no matter what I do, it ain’t enough for you.”

A sharp knock sounds from his end, followed by muffled voices. He glances away, then back at you, irritation flaring in his eyes. “Look, I gotta go. Dad’s waitin’ on me; he already gave me an extra ten minutes to talk.”

You feel your heart twist, an ache of disappointment settling in. “Oh, of course,” you mutter, your voice dripping with bitterness. “Go ahead. I’m sure your training’s way more important than anything I have to say.”

He turns back, his eyes blazing with frustration. “Maybe it is right now,” he spits. “Talkin’ to you like this, all it’s doin’ is makin’ things worse. We're not getting anywhere like this-”

The words cut deeper than you expect, and you can barely hold back the surge of anger and heartbreak choking you. “Fine. Go, then. At least one of us can prioritise something.”

He scoffs, shaking his head as he looks away. “You’re bein’ unfair, 'n you know it.”

“Am I?” you whisper, your voice tight and choked. “Or am I just done waiting for you to show up?”

You stare at each other, an endless silence stretching between you, sharp and seething, words too heavy to be unsaid. Then, with a frustrated shake of his head, he mutters, “I can’t do this right now. I’ll talk to you later. When you’re not actin’ like this.”

Before you could respond, he hung up, his face disappearing from your screen, leaving you alone with nothing but the cold light of your phone. Your hands shook as you stared at the blank screen, tears finally spilling over.

With trembling fingers, you took a breath, letting a cold, steely calm settle over you. You typed out a simple, blunt message, leaving no room for second-guessing, no room for soft words or explanations. Just the truth, as raw as you felt.

“We’re done. I can’t do this anymore, Ben. I’m sorry.”

Your thumb lingered for a second before hitting “send,” and as soon as the message went through, you blocked him on every platform, cutting off any way for him to respond, to apologise, to convince you otherwise.

But as you tossed your phone aside, a crack appeared in the calm you’d forced on yourself. The tears came suddenly, your breath hitching as a tidal wave of heartbreak surged through you. You buried your face in your hands, pressing your palms against your eyes as if you could somehow contain the emotions clawing their way to the surface. You tried to stay quiet, muffling the sound in the dark, but the weight was too much, every sob raw, grieving and heavy, pouring out the frustration, the loneliness, and the love you’d tried so hard to salvage.

By the time your tears subsided, you felt utterly drained, hollowed out in a way that made everything around you feel distant and surreal. The city lights flickered outside your window, the glow indifferent to the storm that had torn through you. And in that quiet, broken moment, with only the shadows as company, you lay there, letting the exhaustion seep through your bones until sleep claimed you.

When sleep finally came, it was restless, fractured. You tossed and turned, flashes of memories from better days with Ben haunting you, the sound of his laugh, the way he’d smile, gummy and wide, his nose scrunching with that easy confidence. You woke up more exhausted than when you’d closed your eyes, feeling like you hadn’t rested at all. But you forced yourself out of bed, pushing yourself through your pre-game routine, your emotions locked away, frozen under layers of determination.

As you walked onto the court, the crowd buzzed with excitement, but you barely registered it. You were a storm, calm on the surface but seething underneath. Every shot you took was hard and brutal, the ball slicing through the air with an intensity that made your opponent flinch, the impact echoing through the stadium. You played as if your life depended on it, your body moving with sharp, lethal precision.

Your serves were relentless, your groundstrokes vicious, each one faster, sharper, as if each shot were a way to expel the anger and hurt still simmering in your chest. The crowd murmured, noticing the shift in your energy, the way you were pushing yourself, almost recklessly. A couple of times, your shots zipped past your opponent’s hand, barely missing, almost daring her to try and reach for it - "try me". You were untouchable, unstoppable, playing like you had something to prove.

But there was no smile, no hint of joy in your movements, solely mechanical. The usual lightness in your footwork was gone, replaced by a cold, ruthless efficiency. You’d already decided: this match was yours. You weren’t here to give an inch, weren’t here to let any lingering emotions cloud your focus. The crowd might have wanted excitement, but you were giving them precision, a display of control and fury that left no room for doubt.

You won, of course. Your opponent barely had a chance. But as you walked off the court, sweat trickling down your brow, fists clenched, you felt no thrill in the victory. Just the dull ache that lingered, a hollow space where your lightness, your smile, used to be. The heat of the court only made your head throb. The applause faded into background noise as you strode away, head high, shoulders tense. You’d won, but it felt like a hollow victory. You had no one to text after your game, anyone to call you baby - you had done it to yourself, were you really that desperate for a man to validate you? You were sick of feeling this way, sick of the exhaustion, the anger, the loneliness that clung to you even after everything you’d given today. At least, for now, you’d proven something, to yourself, to him, even if he’d never know, or care.

In the month that followed, you threw yourself harshly into your schedule, determined to erase any trace of him from your routine, your heart. Matches, training, travel, interviews, photoshoots, more matches, each day bled into the next, filled with an almost mechanical sense of purpose. If you weren’t on the court, you were working out, perfecting your strokes, spending hours on serves and footwork. Anything to exhaust yourself to stop the thoughts from lingering too long. Your routine was relentless, your focus razor-sharp.

But even in this frenzy, despite it all, reminders of him still slipped through. You’d scroll through social media, and every so often, an ATP post would pop up: Ben at a tournament, Ben celebrating a point, Ben grinning with that easy charm that used to make your heart ache. He looked different now. His curls were longer, spilling out from over his sweaty headband, and his frame had hardened, leaner, with muscle that seemed to outline his strength in sharper lines. His chubby cheeks had slimmed down into something harder, replaced by the quiet confidence of someone who’d grown, adapted, maybe even suffered a little.

And you could almost feel it, the quaking, gaping pain of missing him, but you’d swallow it back down, pull yourself together, and look away.

Your own press conferences became something else entirely. You were more composed, a bit sharper with your words, confident in a way you hadn’t been before. Where you used to smile shyly or laugh softly, now you leaned in with humour, a hint of flirtation, your charm more self-assured. You handled reporters’ questions deftly, especially the ones that tried to pry about Ben. The same questions came up over and over:

“So, do you still keep in touch with Ben?”

Each time, you’d respond with a practised, cool smile. “Right now, I’ve got all the support I need from my team and the people I have with me.” You’d turn the conversation to your work, your skill, and your grind on the court, dismissing the topic with subtle elegance, always steering it back to your goals, your game, and your people.

Yet, away from the cameras, the facade cracked, if only slightly. Sometimes, after a long match or a particularly brutal day of training, you’d find yourself scrolling through your old photos or feeling tears prickling your eyes, this messy situation taking a bigger toll than you would like to admit.

In his hotel room, Ben watched your interviews alone, a faint crease between his brows. There you were, in all your brilliance, flashing a confident smile at the camera, handling the press with a wit and boldness that felt both familiar and strange. He could see the way you’d grown, the way you’d steeled yourself, and it stirred something in him, a pang he couldn’t ignore. It was like watching someone he knew intimately and yet… not at all. The way you answered questions about him, and your subtle redirection to your career and team, it stung. Maybe it was petty, but he missed the way you used to talk about him with such pride, with that lovestruck glow. He loved seeing how shy you would get at the sheer mention of his name. Your hair was different, your skin glowing, you had more confidence, even if it came off a bit cocky but he still felt like you were his, just as much as he was yours. Ben didn’t know how to reach out, didn’t know what he’d even say. There was a distance now, both physical and emotional, that seemed impossible to bridge. He’d scroll through his own phone sometimes, finding old messages, ones before distance got the better of you both, photos of the two of you, half-written scripts in his Notes app he couldn’t bring himself to deliver. If he flew out tonight to you, what would he even do after? He’d think of calling you, of reaching out somehow, but the memory of your last fight, the bitterness in your voice, the way you’d shut him out… it held him back.

One evening, as you sat alone in the players' lounge, your forehead pressed against the back of the sofa, you felt that familiar ache pulse through you, the one that came every time you thought of him. It was then that Coco came by, her familiar, steady presence filling the room as she settled down across from you, cross-legged on the seat in front of you. Over the past year, it was Ben that introduced you but, you and Coco had grown even closer, bound not just by shared victories and losses but by the pressures only someone like her could truly understand.

Coco tilted her head, her gaze warm but unwavering. “Alright,” she said, cutting through the silence. “What’s really going on? Are you… over him?”

You exhaled slowly, running a hand through your hair as you tried to gather your thoughts. “I wish I could say yes,” you murmured. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried to move on, focus on the game, on everything else, but… he’s still everywhere. Even when I’m doing well, even when I’m focused, it’s like… something’s missing.” Your voice dropped to barely a whisper. “It’s like I can’t fully shake him.”

Coco nodded, her expression both sympathetic and knowing. “I get it. You two had something real, something intense. But maybe this time apart is what you both need. I mean, look at you. You’re stronger now, on and off the court. Maybe that’s part of this whole journey, you know?”

You managed a faint smile, though your heart still felt heavy. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. It just… doesn’t always feel like enough.”

She reached out, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Trust me. If he’s the right guy, he’ll figure it out, too. Until then? Focus on your game. Focus on you.”

Her words stayed with you, offering a small but steady comfort in the days that followed. You have been throwing yourself into training, pouring everything into the sport, trying to find solace in each match and each moment of growth. Somewhere out there, he was doing the same, and maybe, just maybe, this was what was best.

But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t completely smother the small spark of hope, that someday, somehow, your paths might cross again.

It was similar in the men’s locker room, Ben slumped forward on the bench, his elbows propped on his knees as he stared blankly at the floor, holding an uncapped bottle of water. Frances Tiafoe, who’d been eyeing him from across the room, exchanged a knowing glance with Taylor Fritz before making his way over.

“Alright, bro, spill it,” Frances said, tossing a towel over his shoulder as he leaned in. “You’ve been lookin’ like you’re living in some sad dog for weeks.”

Ben gave him a sidelong glance. “There’s nothin’ to talk about.”

Taylor rolled his eyes as he joined them, settling down on the other side of Ben. “Come on, man. We’re not blind. Ever since she blocked you, you’ve been… different.”

Ben scoffed, looking away, his voice low. “She didn’t just block me, man. She… she threw down, real hard. Said some things I thought she’d never say.”

Frances let out a low whistle. “Was that rough, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ben said, rubbing a hand over his face, his frustration mingling with regret. “It all just blew up. We were on a call, talkin’ like usual, and suddenly… it was like everything we hadn’t said just came out. She starts throwin’ things at me about how I’m not there, like… like I don’t care enough or not workin' hard enough. And it pissed me off, you know? I work just as hard, and it’s not like I’m sittin’ around, right?”

Taylor nodded, leaning back against the lockers. “So, what’d you do?”

Ben shrugged, his expression pained. “I pushed back, told her she couldn’t keep actin’ like she’s the only one workin’ for this. Told her ATP is just as tough, maybe even more competitive. Didn’t mean it that way, but she took it wrong. She thought I was tryin’ to downplay her game.”

Frances shook his head, giving Ben a sympathetic look. “Man, she must’ve felt hurt.”

“Yeah,” Ben muttered, a bitter laugh escaping him. “And next thing I know, I get this text. ‘This isn’t workin', we’re done.’ Blocked me on everything. Cold as ice, man. It’s like she flipped a switch, just… shut me out completely, as easy as shuttin' a door.”

Frances gave him a gentle nudge. “You still care about her?”

Ben’s gaze softened, a faint smile breaking through his frustration. “Yeah, man. She’s… she’s my girl. Even if she’s not my girl right now, you know?”

Taylor chuckled, nodding. “So, what’re you gonna do about it? Sit around here moping, or actually make a move?”

Ben sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “What am I supposed to do? She’s made it pretty clear she’s done with me.”

Frances grinned, crossing his arms. “Bro, just ‘cause she blocked you and sent a text after you called her game easy, doesn’t mean it’s over. She’s mad, yeah, but she’s probably missin’ you just as much. You just gotta show her you’re willin’ to do what it takes.”

Taylor nodded in agreement, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “And it doesn’t have to be some big romantic gesture, man. Sometimes, it’s the small things. Something to let her know you’re still thinkin’ of her, still care. You know where we're at next, right?”

Ben chuckled, shaking his head. “And do what? Just show up at her hotel room? She’s liable to call cops on my ass for that shit, bro.”

Frances laughed, shrugging. “So what? At least she’ll know you tried! Don't go doin' that though. Look, I’ve been with my girl for years now, and sometimes, you gotta be willing to look like a fool to show her you care.”

Ben leaned back, their words sinking in. He could still feel the sting of the things she’d said, the accusations she’d thrown at him like he didn’t care, didn’t work just as hard. But he couldn’t deny that he’d made mistakes, too. He’d let his pride get in the way, said things he regretted, and let the frustration of it all get the better of him.

Frances nudged him again, his grin widening. “Think about it, man. You got two choices: sit here, feeling sorry for yourself until she finds some other guy, or actually do something about it and get her back, even if that means standing in the rain with a fuckin' speaker.”

Ben finally cracked a smile, looking between his friends. “Y’all are ridiculous.”

“Hey, maybe,” Taylor said with a shrug. “But at least we got girlfriends. And you? You got a chance to get yours back. Just gotta decide if she’s worth it.”

Ben sat there, mulling over their words as a new determination started to burn within him. Maybe he didn’t have all the answers, and maybe there was a lot he’d have to figure out. But if there was even a chance to fix things, to bridge that gap that felt so wide, he wasn’t about to let his pride hold him back.

As he left the locker room that night, he felt a resolve solidify within him. He’d find a way to reach out, to let her know that no matter how far apart they were, she was still the one he wanted. Because when it came down to it, she was worth every bit of the fight.

A week went by before a 1000 game flew in, and both ATP and WTA were present if not, nearby for the games. You couldn't care less what was at stake, anything was a win if it kept you occupied. The courts were almost empty, shadows lengthening as the sun beamed high above. You bounced the ball steadily, the rhythm calm, your focus laser-sharp. The only sounds were the muted thud of your shoes on the court, and your breath falling into sync with the beat of your earbuds. Nothing but you, the court, and the quiet.

But then, that voice broke through.

"Aw, c'mon, man!" A laugh, deep and full of that unmistakable Southern drawl. Your grip faltered, the ball hovering mid-toss. That laugh, it was a sound you hadn’t let yourself think about for months, one that held too much of him.

Ben.

Your pulse jolted, the memories flooding back, warmth and bitterness tangled in the knots of your chest. You gritted your teeth, tossing the ball high before slamming it against the court, the crack of impact sharp in the quiet. It almost felt satisfying, like you could obliterate the tension he brought, shatter it with sheer force.

Almost.

You readied another serve, the ball bouncing harder than necessary as you forced yourself not to look. But you could feel his gaze, that familiar weight of his eyes lingering on you. The pull was magnetic, almost maddening, and despite every ounce of resolve you’d built up, your gaze betrayed you, slipping over to catch a glimpse of him.

Ben, laughing with Taylor, curls tousled longer than before, his hoodie slung carelessly over those familiar, ridiculous short shorts. The same hoodie you'd worn too many times to count, drowning in its warmth during late-night snack runs and lazy Sundays. The sight tugged painfully, a cruel reminder of the little things you’d pushed down, tried to forget.

He caught you looking, and his laughter faded, his gaze holding yours for just a second too long. You gripped the ball tighter, the ache settling heavy, and forced yourself to turn away, channelling the flurry of memories into another sharp serve, a fierce crack reverberating across the court. You didn’t look back again.

Hours later, your body was tired, your mind a bit clearer. You were scrolling through your phone in the lounge, zoning out, when Coco dropped down beside you with that familiar, mischievous grin.

"Hey, you!" She nudged you, hands on her hips.

You eyed her warily. "What’s up, Coco? Awfully perky for...5:30p.m."

“We’re having dinner tonight. Big group. Wanna come?” Her tone was casual, a little too casual.

Your guard went up immediately as you dropped your phone to your lap. “Who’s ‘we all’?”

Coco shrugged, twirling a loose curl around her finger. “Me, Frances, Arthur… maybe another WTA girl or two. Just a fun little dinner. Nothing formal.”

You narrowed your eyes, reading the glint of mischief in hers. "Coco, don’t mess with me. He's not gonna be there, right?"

She tilted her head, pretending to look innocent, but the sly smile gave her away. "Well… he might show up, but that's on his own accord. I didn't mention anything to Ben and it’s not like anyone’s setting anything up! It’s just dinner."

Your stomach twisted, a sigh slipping from your lips as you looked away. “I don’t think so. Not after… everything.” Your voice softened the weight of old arguments and unsaid things hanging between the words.

Coco’s face softened, her hand finding your shoulder. “Look, I’m not saying you have to sit next to him or anything. It’s a big table. You can stay on the opposite end and ignore him if that’s what you need. But everyone misses you, it’s been ages since we all got together. We all need to see your pretty face off the court too, ya know?”

You hesitated, rolling your eyes, the ache of missing them settling somewhere deep, the sense of family you hadn’t felt in months tugging at you. After a long pause, you finally nodded, rolling your shoulders back as if bracing for a match. “Fine. But I’m serious, Coco, no funny business. If he starts anything, I’m out.”

Coco grinned, throwing her arm around you. “Girl, trust me. If anything, you’ll be giving him the funny looks. Just friends, no drama. Now, let’s go get you out of those sweats.”

Meanwhile, in the locker room across the court, Ben was doing his best to act indifferent as Frances nudged him for the third time.

"C'mon, man!" Frances said, leaning against the lockers with a knowing grin. "So you are coming to this dinner tonight, right? Don't make me beg again, I'll start singing.”

Ben tried to play it cool, leaning back with his arms crossed. “I don’t know, man. You really think it’s a good idea?”

Frances rolled his eyes. “Look, you’ve been moping for months. She’s not gonna make a scene in public, and especially not with all of us, and who knows? Maybe she’ll talk to you, be all civil. It’s worth a shot.”

Ben let out a huff, rubbing the back of his neck. “Civil? You remember the last time we spoke, right? She has me blocked on everything.”

Taylor, stretching nearby, smirked and chimed in. “Man, you got nothin’ to lose. At the very least, you’ll see her. I saw how you were after you caught a glimpse of her training earlier. Besides, Frances and Coco will keep her from killin’ you.”

“Kay, thanks,” Ben muttered, though a flicker of hope sparked under the sarcasm. He didn’t want to admit it, but he couldn’t shake the longing to see her again, to maybe fix even a sliver of what had been broken.

Taylor nudged him, grinning. “Hey, listen, if I wasn’t taking Morgan out tonight, I’d be there just for moral support. But hey, maybe next time it’ll be a double date. Me, you, Morgan and your soon-to-be girlfriend, just like old times.”

Ben shook his head, the thought both terrifying and oddly thrilling. “You’re jokin’, right? She’d probably throw her drink at me before she’d sit through a double date.”

“Only if you act like an idiot,” Frances pointed out, laughing. “Just be yourself, man. You can handle the heat on the court, you can handle this. And maybe tonight’ll be the thing that finally breaks the ice.”

Ben sighed, running a hand over his face before finally surrendering. “Alright, alright. Fine. I’ll go. But Frances, don’t expect me to be all… chatty.”

Frances clapped him on the back, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. “Yeah, you say that now. But I know how you get around her, man. Just don’t chicken out. Remember, we got your back.”

Ben couldn’t help but smile nervously, feeling a strange mix of dread and anticipation tighten in his chest. He wasn’t sure if this dinner would be a chance at redemption or just a painful reminder of how far they’d drifted, but one thing was clear, he was tired of hiding from whatever was left between them.

You walk into the restaurant and let Coco lead you to a long table, feeling an odd mix of nerves and determination fluttering in your stomach. Your outfit is cute but simple, just a sweater and leggings; just enough effort to feel put together without trying too hard. You take a seat between Coco and Arthur Fils, with Frances across from you. There’s an empty chair across from Arthur, and for some reason, that empty space makes your heart beat a little faster, feeling torn between wanting and avoiding Ben there.

As everyone settles in, you catch Coco’s eye and mutter, “Please tell me he’s not actually coming.” She just shrugs with an easy smile.

Moments later, as the group banters along, about to order drinks, Ben strolls in, catching you entirely off-guard. He’s slightly out of breath, apologising to the group with that familiar grin, explaining he’s late because he’d just finished showering after practice. You can’t help it, you nudge Coco under the table, whispering through gritted teeth, a frustrated, “Great.”

Coco just gives him a casual greeting, and you force yourself to turn back to the table, focusing your attention on ordering a glass of wine, pretending not to notice him as he takes that empty seat across from Arthur, just barely within your view, diagonally. But as he sits down, you feel his eyes on you, and for a brief moment, you glance up and catch him staring, his face almost dazed.

You’re caught off-guard by the look in his eyes. His breath seems to hitch, his big brown eyes wide and you can see a faint blush creeping up his neck as he stares at you, almost like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again. There’s a softness in his expression that you weren’t prepared for, a kind of awe that makes your stomach twist with memories and longing. But just as quickly, you look away, turning your attention to your wine as Frances elbows Ben with a teasing hiss, “Be normal, man.”

Throughout the night, you manage to keep to yourself, mostly talking to the other WTA players or Arthur whenever he cracks a joke. You keep Ben at the edge of your vision, resolute in ignoring the way his gaze keeps drifting back to you.

Every once in a while, Ben attempts to draw you into the conversation, maybe a lighthearted comment or a direct question, but each time, you meet his gaze with a steely look, making it clear with just one glance that you’re not interested. When he tries again, you let your eyes meet his for a moment, long enough to show him you’re serious before turning away, cutting off his effort entirely, almost to say "not interested". Across the table, Frances raises his brows, murmuring with a barely hidden smirk, “Damn, she is good at this,” as Ben slouches slightly, clearly trying not to look embarrassed.

As dinner winds down, the plates are cleared away, and you excuse yourself to the bathroom, needing a moment alone. Inside, you take a deep breath, facing yourself in the mirror. You’d been bracing yourself for tonight, but nothing quite prepared you for how it would feel to see him sitting right there, looking at you with those big sweet brown eyes and a pout, filled with that same soft pleading that used to make you melt.

But tonight, all it did was remind you of those late nights waiting by your phone, checking it over and over for messages that came slower and slower until they just…stopped. It reminds you of the countless hours wondering if you mattered as much as you thought you did, replaying his empty promises and half-hearted reassurances that seemed to fade with each passing day. He couldn't expect you to take him back with a pout and some half-assed joke. But damn, was it a good attempt, he knew how to make you crumble, even if it wasn't his sole intention.

You force yourself to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you look in the bathroom mirror examining yourself with a sigh, applying a bit of lip balm with fingers that tremble just slightly. Anything to distract yourself, to remind yourself that you’re strong enough to face this without breaking, reminding yourself to keep that mask on. You straighten your posture, determined to push all those memories back down where they belong, buried.

But just as you step out of the bathroom, Ben is standing right there, leaning against the wall as if he’d been waiting for you. His eyes soften the moment they meet yours, and he opens his mouth, his voice just a whisper. “Can we…talk? Just the two of us?”

The look he gives you, hopeful, no, desperate, stirs something deep inside you, and you clench your jaw, wanting to say no, wanting to walk away without a second thought. But as much as you’d like to ignore it, part of you still aches for some kind of closure, maybe even just one honest conversation.

With a reluctant sigh, you nod. “Fine. Outside.”

As you head out the restaurant’s door, you quickly fire off a text to Coco:

me n Ben talking outside. brb.

You stuff your phone back into your bag, clutching it tightly to your shoulder as you step into the cool night air. Wrapping your arms under your chest, you try to keep yourself shielded from more than just the chilling breeze.

Ben falls into step beside you, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. There’s a moment of silence as you both find your footing, the quiet thick with everything that’s been left unsaid. You glance sideways, catching him opening his mouth like he’s about to say something, only to close it, his shoulders shifting awkwardly.

“So… how’s the tournament going for you?” he starts, his tone casual, a little too casual.

You blink, trying not to roll your eyes, feeling the irritation growing. Really? But you bite back and just sternly say, “Ben.”

He rubs the back of his neck, glancing up at the streetlights overhead. “Sorry, yeah, that was- uh, okay.” He lets out a breath and shuffles closer, his voice almost a murmur. “I just… I wanna make this right. Another chance- Just thought maybe… you know, talkin’ would be easier if…”

“Ben, stop.” You sigh, tightening your grip on your bag strap. “Stop being weird. Just… just say what you have to say, and let’s get this over with. Let's not make this longer than it needs to be, I've got shit to do tomorrow.”

He glances at you, brows knitting together. For a second, he looks almost frustrated, like he’s holding back something sharper, something rougher. But he lets it pass, letting out a long, resigned breath. “Fine. I’ll just ask one thing.”

You arch an eyebrow, scepticism thick in your voice. “One question. Shoot.”

His voice comes out softer, edged with a hesitant curiosity as if he knows it’s a stupid question but can’t help but ask. “What hotel you stayin’ at?”

You let out a dry chuckle, shaking your head. “The Merrion.”

His eyes widen slightly, a small, stupid smile breaking on his face. “No way… me too.”

You sigh, looking up at the night sky, feeling the inevitability of whatever this night is becoming. Of course, he’s at the same hotel. Only Ben could make the universe align like this. And only Ben would think of a stupid question like that. He shifts his weight, stepping closer, his gaze steady.

“Look,” he starts, “it’s just a short walk back, twenty minutes or so. Just… give me that time. Just enough to walk back. Let me talk. And then you can go to your room and go to bed. How 'bout it?”

There’s a hopeful edge in his voice that you can’t ignore, and for a moment, your resolve falters. It’s ridiculous, this is exactly the sort of thing he would come up with, some half-baked plan to get you to keep listening, to keep him around just a little longer. You want to roll your eyes, to brush him off, but something about the way he’s looking at you, those earnest, brown eyes so damn full of longing, makes you sigh.

“Fine,” you mutter. “But if you get weird again, I’m out. No small talk, you know how much I hate it.”

A small grin creeps onto his face, and he falls into step beside you, a little closer than necessary, his arm brushing against yours as you start down the quiet street. For a minute, he doesn’t say anything, just walks alongside you, letting the silence settle around you both. But then, in that familiar southern drawl, his voice comes softer.

“Y’know, I've been thinkin’ ‘bout us a lot… probably more than I should.”

You keep your eyes on the sidewalk ahead, willing yourself to stay unmoved. “And?”

He swallows, his gaze tracing your profile, softening with each word. “I messed up,” he admits. “I know I did. I shoulda… been there more, answered more, I dunno. Shoulda been better at handlin’ it.”

You nod slightly, keeping your face blank. “Mhm, you should've.”

There’s a flicker of frustration in his expression, but he doesn’t let it throw him off. “You think I didn’t feel it too? That whole time, it felt like- hell, like I was losin’ you, like somethin’ was slippin’ right outta my hands, and I couldn’t do nothin’ to stop it.”

You feel the tension in your shoulders loosen just a fraction, though you keep your arms folded as a kind of armour. His words settle into the silence, raw and rough, and you can feel him glancing over, waiting for some kind of response. But you keep your gaze forward, biting back the little stirrings of emotion that are beginning to creep in.

He keeps talking, voice low and steady, drawing you in without giving you a chance to look away. “I’m not tryin’ to make excuses, alright? I know I coulda tried harder. But it’s like… the more I tried, the harder it got. The distance, the time zones, the schedules… it all just made me feel like I couldn’t keep up. And I just didn't know how to juggle it and that's my fault.”

You shake your head slightly, finally glancing over at him, the faintest of smirks tugging at the corner of your mouth. “So this is your way of apologising?”

He laughs, a little sheepish. “Guess I’m not real good at it, huh?” He nudges you with his shoulder, a familiar, easy gesture that makes your arms slowly loosen. His hand brushes your arm, just for a second, and a warmth blooms where his fingers graze your skin as if your body’s memory of him can’t help but respond.

“Look,” he says, his voice dipping softer, “I just… I miss you so much. Like hell.”

The honesty in his tone hits you hard, unravelling the cold exterior you’ve worked so hard to keep up. He keeps his eyes on you, watching your face carefully as if gauging your reaction. You feel your resolve slipping even more, your arms slowly falling to your sides, your heart aching as you fight against the wave of warmth that’s threatening to break through.

“Ben…” you start, barely a whisper, but you don’t know what to say, feeling torn.

He moves a little closer, his eyes wide, pleading, like he’s trying to hold onto every inch of you he can. “I know I messed up, okay? But I don’t wanna lose you. Not for good. Please, Y/N. Give me one more chance, you won't regret it 'n if I fuck up bad, you can do whatever, however; I deserve it but please. Just one more chance.”

You press your lips tight together, feeling your heart tighten as his words sink in, as he stands there looking at you with that same vulnerability you’d once fallen in love with. For a second, you forget the hurt, the sleepless nights, and you’re left with just him, the version of him that’s open, sincere, the Ben you’d once held so close.

The walk to the hotel stretches out as he keeps talking, spilling out and laying his heart bare with that easy, boyish charm that only he can pull off, and little by little, you feel your icy exterior start to melt. He talks about his time away from you, how he admired you from videos, watched highlight reels, his endless hours at night going through photos and texts; the whole lot. He cracks a joke, and despite yourself, you smile, trying to hide it but failing. He nudges you again, grinning as he sees the hint of laughter breaking through your guard.

He apologises over and over, more earnestly each time, his voice steady and low, and you can hear the regret, the guilt, the need to make things right. By the time you reach the hotel entrance, you’re feeling something dangerously close to hope, your heart betraying you, making it harder and harder to keep up the facade.

You glance over at him, catching the way his eyes soften as he looks at you as if you’re the only thing he can see. He’s staring, the blush from earlier creeping back up his neck, and when his hand brushes yours one last time, you don’t pull away.

You stand just outside the hotel, a faint chill brushing past as the streetlights cast a warm glow around you. You shift on your feet, glancing up at him, your eyes soft but determined.

“Can I talk?” you ask, breaking the quiet, your voice barely above a whisper. The first thing you had actually said this entire time.

Ben raises an eyebrow, leaning in with a playful smirk. “Talk? What else have we been doin’ for the last twenty minutes, girl?”

You roll your eyes and reach out to smack his arm, earning a chuckle from him. “Fine then. Can we go up to your room?” you add, a small, daring smile tugging at your lips.

Ben’s eyebrow quirks higher. “My room, huh?” His gaze narrows, teasing you with that familiar glint. “What exactly ya got planned, sweetheart?”

You swat him again, harder this time, and he laughs, raising his hands in mock defence. But then you drop the smile, your voice softer. “I wanna talk about what I did, Ben. I messed up too.”

The teasing fades from his expression as he studies your face, searching. After a pause, he nods and gestures toward the lobby. “Alright, then. Let’s go talk.”

In the elevator, silence hangs thick in the air, tension as familiar as it is unspoken. You don't even notice, spending your time stilling your breath and running through everything you want to apologise for. When you reach his room, you head over to the small couch by the window and settle in, tucking your legs under you and giving him a steady look.

“Ya gettin’ comfortable already?” he jokes, leaning against the wall, his eyes dancing with that old spark that makes you ache.

You try not to smile, steeling yourself for your confessional. “Can you be serious for a minute?”

His smile fades as he walks over, sitting across from you, his gaze intense and focused. You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything you’ve held back.

“I shouldn’t have put so many expectations on you,” you begin, your voice wavering. “You’ve got your own life, your own competitions, your own dreams. All this constant travelling, the different time zones… it’s not fair to expect you to be there every time I needed you at the drop of a hat. You get burnt out too- God. I never even asked how you were before I'd launch into my own day.”

You bite your lip, blinking back tears as they start to blur your vision. “I should’ve known better. I should’ve been more understanding, given you more grace.” Your voice catches, barely a whisper now. “And what I said… on that call… it was cruel, Ben. I was mean and unfair, and you didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve any of it. At all. I wouldn't want myself back after all I had said and done.”

As a tear slips down your cheek, Ben’s face softens, and he reaches out without hesitation, his hands cupping your face as he brushes the tear away. His thumb lingers on your skin, his gaze is unwavering, and then he leans forward, pressing the gentlest kiss to your temple, another to your forehead, and a final one at the crown of your head, his hand resting tenderly against your hair.

You let out a shuddered breath, your hands covering his as you finally let everything pour out. “I miss you so much,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I miss everything about you… the way you laugh, your ridiculous voice…” Another tear rolls down, and you don’t try to hold back. “I miss the way you’d talk about cars or food for ages, and you’d make everything feel so normal, even when my life was a mess. Without you, it’s like this haze I can’t shake. I just… I miss you. I barely recognise myself these days.”

Your body shakes with the sobs you’ve tried so hard to bury, and Ben doesn’t hesitate. He pulls you close, wrapping you in his arms like he could shield you from all the pain, all the regret. He holds you there, one hand smoothing over your hair, his lips pressing soft, tender kisses to your forehead and cheeks, murmuring gentle words against your skin.

“S’all right, darlin’,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m here. I’m right here with you.”

You cling to him, burying your face into the crook of his neck, as his hands trace soothing circles along your back. Your sobs gradually quiet, but your breaths are still shaky, each exhale unsteady.

“I’m so sorry, Ben,” you manage, voice barely audible.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Hey now,” he murmurs, his tone warm and grounding. “We both made mistakes. Ain’t just on you, alright? Takes two to mess up, but it takes two to fix it too. We can fix, can't we?”

You nod, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, feeling a little of the weight lift, softened by his words.

Ben tilts your head to hold your gaze, his own eyes glassy. ��Can’t tell ya how many times I thought about callin’ ya or flying to ya,” he admits, his voice low. “How many times I’d pull up your name, wonderin’ what you’d say if I told ya all the things I wished I’d said. But I was… hell, I was scared, darlin’. Thought maybe I’d screwed up too bad, and you’d moved on.”

You shake your head, a small, breathy laugh escaping. “I couldn’t...I could never.”

He strokes your hair gently, his lips brushing your forehead once more. “Guess we’re both a couple of fools then, huh?”

You laugh softly, the sound wet and trembling as he pulls you back into his arms. You lean into him, letting yourself feel the warmth of his embrace, the steady beat of his heart, grounding you. Wrapped in the quiet, tangled together, you both hold on a little tighter, feeling the rawness of your honesty and the comfort of finally, finally being close again. In the safety of his arms, you feel, for the first time in so long, a sense of peace, letting the unspoken words settle around you like a quiet promise.

Ben’s hand rests on your cheek, his thumb tracing small circles as he learns your face all over again, making your heart flutter. His fingers move slowly, grazing down to your jaw, then up again, threading into your hair. You let your eyes close for a moment, his gentle touch working its way through the tension of the night, and a small, contented sigh escapes you. For the first time in weeks, you feel relaxed and content.

“Gettin’ comfortable, huh?” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, though there’s a warmth in his eyes that wasn’t there before. He leans in, giving one final push to a stray strand of your hair before tilting his head toward the bed across the room. “C’mon, darlin’. This couch is barely holdin’ us together.”

You hesitate, but Ben’s already moving, holding out his hand as he stands up. His grip is strong, guiding you as you follow him to the bed, and he lets out a soft chuckle as you settle beside him. His arm drapes around you, pulling you close as you lean into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against you. The warmth is so consuming, cocooning you immediately.

Ben smiles down at you, a playful glint in his eye, and as his fingers find your hair again, he starts twirling a strand between his fingers. “So,” he murmurs, resting his cheek on the top of your head, “ya still gonna keep me blocked, huh?”

You roll your eyes, smirking. “Fine,” you reply, unlocking your phone with a playful huff. You find his name, well, technically his new contact name since you’d deleted him in a fit of anger, and type a single white heart emoji, pressing send.

The vibration of his phone buzzes beside him, and he pulls it out with a grin, holding up the glowing screen. “There it is. Knew ya couldn’t resist me,” he says, laughing as he pulls you in close as he kisses your temple.

But just as you relax against him, you notice a missed notification. It’s a text from Coco, her reply to your earlier message asking where she’d disappeared to after dinner. You hesitate, then, instead of texting back, you tap the Facetime icon, feeling a strange urge to share this quiet moment, finding words couldn't suffice, nor were you in the mood to type out a lengthy paragraph.

The call connects, and Coco’s face appears, a gasp escaping her as she spots you two tangled up in Ben’s bed, nestled together with his arm around you.

“Oh my god! Yes!” she cheers, loud enough to make Ben chuckle. You hear laughter and cheers in the background too, and Coco turns the camera, revealing the whole dinner table watching with knowing smiles.

"Coco, this was a set-up plan, huh?" you giggle as you see the entire friend group on the other end.

"Somewhat, but blame Morgan and Taylor, not me. They did all that," she throws the blame as she points the camera over to them. Frances, Morgan and Taylor wave and Frances yells “Look at Ben! Already got her in bed, huh?”

Ben rolls his eyes, but a faint blush colours his cheeks. He pulls you closer, his hand resting protectively around your shoulders as he grins.

“Hey now,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “This one’s special. Ain’t like any other. My lucky charm.”

You feel your heart skip a beat at his words, and you’re so focused on him that you barely notice Coco and the others making gagging noises before Ben reaches out, ending the call on your phone with a smirk. Then he turns back to you, his eyes soft, filled with something that feels dangerously like forever.

He leans in, his lips finding yours in a kiss that’s slow and tender, each second lingering with quiet promises. And in the warmth of his arms, your heart finally feels at home, exactly where it belongs.

#azzie asks #ben shelton #benshelton #ben shelton x reader #atp tennis

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euphoricfilter · 5 months ago

Text

regret:

pairing: jungkook x gn! reader

genre: non-idol au || angst ||

summary: regret is the worst emotion

tags/ warnings: kinda just angst… the ending is ambiguous so you can try make it happy if you want

notes: a little ramble based on how i feel at the moment as a little treat before bed <3 i feel very rusty because i haven’t written in so long

☆ where you can find the rest of my stuff!!

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

the knowledge that the thing you want to say is going to hurt someone you care about is the worst feeling. a strange sinking in your chest, malleable guilt that chews away at your mind and your heart.

words tacky on your tongue as you rehearse them in your head over and over, a well practiced script. because ending something with someone you like a lot hurts. really, truly, hurts.

it hurts knowing you’ll hurt them and it hurts not knowing how your relationship will be after you utter the miserable set of words stuck in your mind.

jungkook was your first.

jungkook was your everything.

he was perfect, within whatever limitation human perfection has. he treated you like you were the best thing on the face of the earth. you were the light of his eyes, perfect in all your imperfect ways. a piece of you tucked away in his mind all hours of the day.

quick to message back when you text about your day. always on the other end of the phone. always there. the one person in the universe who loved you for who you were, the one person who loved to spend time with you all hours of the day. just the silent comfort of knowing you were there enough for him.

gentle as his fingers would run through your hair, legs tangled together and breathing soft as you linger between the waking world and gentle sleep.

his love for you was all consuming.

which is why you didn’t understand why it felt like your world was crumbling. a phantom hand wrapped around your delicate neck, constricting every breath you took.

a constant spiraling anxiety, tugging you further and further into this abyss of worry and self loathing.

the strange self loathing you have when you don’t know yourself anymore. unsure why. what reason there is to your existence. why people even liked you when it felt like you had nothing else to offer.

and at the time you thought you needed a break.

palms sweaty as you hold the phone to your ear, boyfriend understandably concerned by your recent lack of communication.

“hello..?” jungkook answers.

you swallow, “hi” it comes out quiet, throat already lodged, eyes glossy.

“what’s wrong, baby?” he hums, you hear him shuffle on the other end of the phone.

your lungs inflate as you take a deep breathe

“i..” you start, all that practice getting you nowhere as your mind stops, guilt clawing it’s way up your throat.

“baby?” he presses on, worry evident in his voice.

“i don’t know if i can do this anymore” the bitter words slip off your tongue, “you don’t deserve this”

and of course jungkook had been baffled. though maybe a small part of him knew that this was coming, how you’d slowly started to creep away from him. the unintentional distance scratching the surface of what was rattling around your mind.

“if this isn’t what you want… then that’s okay” he breathes, “i just want you to be happy”

you feel the tears trickle down the mounds of your cheeks, “no” you huff, “god, jungkook please don’t be nice right now”

“what do you want me to do?” he laughs, though you can feel the lack of humor, laugh dry as it’s pushed past his lips.

you wipe your wet cheeks, “call me a bitch or something”

“i’m not gonna call you a bitch” he sighs.

“but you don’t deserve this… i should have at least come in person or… i don’t know” you cry, “i feel like such a horrible person”

“you’re not a horrible person” he hums, “i don’t want you to feel bad”

“too late” you murmur, “i feel like shit… you’re just so nice and i really like you…. but i don’t think i can do this anymore”

the fact he has been so nice had made it harder. the sadness in his voice as he reassured you as you cried. the moment sinking in when you finally put your phone down. you’d shattered something so lovely. you’d ripped away the only person who made you feel seen.

and the week after was no different. he didn’t message you. so you never tried reaching out, how could you when you’d broken his heart.

it felt selfish missing him. wanting any sort of contact you could get.

and when he messaged about bringing some of your stuff over back to your place, that wasn’t enough. you knew that the small exchange wouldn’t be enough because you missed him, and asking for friendship after you ended the relationship chewed away at your mind.

sometimes missing someone is a strange feeling. knowing that the dynamic you once had is totally different, that it might never be the same as it was.

and sometimes missing someone hurts a little less than the guilt that eats away at you for what you have done. or missing someone can hide that slither of regret you have, wishing you knew you’d hate life without them as much as you did with them.

the world is lonely when you don’t feel seen.

dread wrapping around your mind. slowly sinking further and further into the darkness. nights spent thinking about the moments you’d shared together. that maybe you want what was once there.

you missed jungkook more than you’d like admit and it was eating away at your heart.

all it took was a week. a week of silence. a week of being alone and figuring out life by yourself.

you tip your head up, full moon shining down on the street as you stand outside jungkook’s apartment building, feet shuffling against the ground as you hold your phone to your chest. you’d written a message, rewritten the message, thought about what you’d say.

and that selfish part of you wants to send it. that selfish part of you wanting him to be there, for you to touch him, know that he’s really there and you can change what had happened.

#bts fanfic #bts #bts x reader #bts fic #jungkook #jungkook fic #bts angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook angst #bts non idol au

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grandlinedreams · 1 year ago

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hello!! i absolutely adore your stories so i was wondering if you could do one with zoro, and the reader falls down the stairs (but yknow survives, sorry kuina💀) and the reader gets like a broken nose or sprained ankle or something and zoro is just like super worried

i understand if you don’t want to do it but have a great day/night 🫶🏻🫶🏻

I'm going to resist making a "down d. stairs" joke but wkdnd absolutely, I can do that!! I hope this is to your liking!!

"I don't see why you're the one carrying this stuff. Didn't you say the old lady had a son? Why can't he do it?"

"Because, Zoro," you sigh as you adjust your grip on the box of carefully wrapped bottles, "Her son broke his arm last week. And it's nice to do things for people when we can." A smile tugs at your lips. "Makes us not seem so bad for a bunch of pirates."

Zoro scoffs. "We're pirates, [name]. We're not supposed to be nice."

"Says the man who ate onigiri off the ground for a little girl," you say, snickering when he aims a glare your way.

"Who told you about that?"

"Who do you think?" You shake your head, amused. "Who knew Roronoa Zoro could be such a softie?"

"You're gonna think softie in a minute," Zoro grumbles, ignoring the fact that his threat makes little to no sense as he trails after you. You're not even sure why he's chosen to tag along ㅡ boredom, perhaps.

"Ah, there you are." The older woman who'd asked for your help in the first place ㅡ Nina, she'd introduced herself as ㅡ pushes away from where she'd been resting on a crate near the door to her home. "I was afraid you'd gotten lost."

"My apologies," you say, "I was joined by one of my crewmates, I hope that you don't mind."

Nina looks at Zoro, her silent assessment making him bristle at the scrutiny before Nina says, "You look like you could use a good meal, the both of you. Why don't you stay for lunch? It's the least I can do."

Zoro frowns. "No wㅡ"

"We'd love to," you interrupt, silencing him with the hard jab of your elbow into his ribs. When Nina turns and heads down the hallway, you hiss, "Zoro, don't be rude."

He opens his mouth to say something, only to halt as Nina returns. "Could you take those downstairs for me, dear? And would your friend mind helping me with lunch?"

Part of you balks at the idea of Zoro helping Nina with food ㅡ after all, there's a reason he isn't trusted in the kitchen ㅡ but Zoro is answeing for you before you can stop him.

"I'm on it. Whatever gets us out of here faster." Nina seems unphased by his attitude, and he dodges the kick you aim at the back of his leg with a smirk.

"Brat," you huff, then peer around for the aforementioned stairs. There's a solitary door nearby, and you prop the box on your hip to open it, finding a set of stairs descending down below.

Given the dim lighting, your descent is slow. Taking it step by step, you shiver at the draft of damp, musty air that sweeps up towards you, tightening your grip on the box.

It happens when you're about two thirds of the way down the steps. The stairs are undeniably damp now, slick with condensation ㅡ and then you're losing your footing and tumbling down the last handful of steps.

Reflex can only do so much and with both arms occupied by the box of bottles, you have no way to brace yourself. Your shoulder slams into concrete first, followed by the crack of your head bouncing off it as well, making your vision blur with the searing pain that follows.

"Fuck," you breathe as you push yourself upright, hissing at the throbbing of your shoulder before you freeze at the slow slip of something from your nose. Bringing your hand up to swipe your fingers against it, you don't need good lighting to know what the sticky warmth is. "Well, shit."

You take a minute to assess the damage. The box of brown paper wrapped bottles is unbroken ㅡ you wish you could say the same for yourself. There's the deep throb of pain from your shoulder that all the way down into your fingertips, then the blood oozing from your nose.

Nothing is broken ㅡ you hope, anyways. It takes a minute to ease yourself onto your feet, closing your eyes against the way it makes your head spin for a second before you head back up the stairs.

You grip the railing as tight as you can, half-pulling yourself up the steps. By the time you reach the top your other arm is straddling somewhere between pins and needles and being completely numb, and you're certain blood from your nose has dripped onto your clothing.

Opening the door, you shut it behind you and rest against it for a moment before moving towards the faint sound of voices coming from Nina's kitchen.

"Oi, what took you so long?" Zoro asks, teasing in his tone as he turns from where he's picking up a plate of sandwiches (made by Nina, who hadn't really needed help so much as wanted company) ㅡ and freezing when he spots you.

You've clapped a hand over your nose to hide most of it, but there's nothing to be done for the limp weight of your arm or the mess you've made of your shirt.

"Oh dear!" Nina hurries forward, concern clear on her face as she stares at you. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"I slipped on one of the stairs," you say, "Nothing in the box broke, though."

"That's hardly important right now," Nina huffs. "I've told Luke we need to fix things downstairs before somebody gets hurt, and now look at you."

"I'll be okay, don't worry," you tell Nina and look towards Zoro in silent plea for him to help back you up, only to find that he's still staring at you with an unreadable expression.

"Poor thing," coos Nina. "I know I have a first-aid kit around here somewhere, and I can make you an ice-pack..."

"That's really not necessary, Miss Nina." Her fussing is starting to make you a little uncomfortable, especially given that you've had far worse than this. "I'll beㅡ"

"We're leaving." Zoro's tone is sharp as he strides towards you, ignoring the way your brow furrows.

"What aboutㅡ" You yelp as Zoro lifts you up, all but slinging you over his shoulder and leaving you to prop yourself up against his back. "Zoro! Put me down!"

"Sorry about this, but we're leaving." Zoro opts to completely ignore you, arm locked against your legs and undeterred by the way you squirm. "We have a doctor back on our ship who can patch them up."

Nina looks like she wants to argue for a moment before she nods, slipping ahead of Zoro to open the door for him. You struggle harder, smacking your good hand against Zoro's back.

"Stop treating me like I'm a sack of potatoes!" Zoro waits until he's a good bit away from Nina's before he halts, and your hope that he's going to listen to you is crushed by the way he simply adjusts so that now he's got you in a princess carry. "Zoro!"

"Quit complaining," Zoro bites back, "you want to drip blood everywhere?"

You quiet for a moment. "...Sunny's to the left." Zoro turns, and you groan. "Your other left." Zoro grips you a little tighter, but otherwise doesn't snap back as he follows your instructions. "I don't get what the big deal is, anyways. So I fell down the steps a little and now I have a bloody nose, but I'm fine."

Zoro's grip tightens to the point that it almost hurts. "Kuina."

Your head tilts. "Kuina? Your childhood friend?" He'd mentioned her to you once or twice before, the fact that she was part of his driving force to become the world's best swordsman. He'd gone tightlipped when you asked what had happened to her, and you knew better than to press.

"...she fell down the stairs," he says, voice uncharacteristically soft. "And...she died."

Oh. Guilt pools in your stomach, sinking feeling flooding your veins as Zoro walks. No wonder he'd given you that look at your flippancy of your situation. "Zoro, Iㅡ"

"It's fine." His tone is flat. "It was a long time ago."

You know that it isn't fine, that Zoro's too stubborn to admit when something bothers him like this ㅡ so you sigh, letting the tension in your muscles ease. "I'm not going anywhere, you know. Not any time soon."

Zoro says nothing at first and you think maybe you've said something wrong in trying to comfort him ㅡ and then his grip softens on you, just a little. "Good," he says, and you can hear the relief in his tone. "It'd be boring without you."

#ㅡmine.#one piece x reader #one piece scenario #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x reader #–ml: zoro.#ㅡanswered.

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gatheredfates · 4 months ago

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How To Win Friends and Influence People: Dawntrail Edition ☀️

I swear the title is a joke.

Listen, we all know I'm one to furiously and viscously encourage people to venture outside their box and meet people, and today is no different! With the launch of Dawntrail, we're likely to see a lot of cool new people in the community, so these are a couple of affirmations I employ to myself when reaching out. Feel free to use them to your benefit!

That little voice telling you the person will think you're annoying is probably a liar. In all the time I have reached out to people in this community, I have never once heard a complaint about being annoying, overbearing or too much. As long as you're not inappropriate, respect boundaries and go in with pure intentions, it is likely to be reciprocated.

If people don't want to interact with you, that is their loss. Rejection sucks, but you cannot let the fear of it rule your intentions. Don't hyper-fixate on the loss; simply block (if needed) and move on. Not only will you foster healthy relationships with people who reciprocate your efforts, you will avoid drama by respecting and enacting your own boundaries. Trust me when I say this will improve your whole experience.

You don't need to message people right away! Start by leaving nice tags on their gposes, writing, etc.; make conversation and comment on their posts. Work up to a message first if you're shy.

I don't know what kind of comment to leave, you say? Easy! Find one thing about what they've done that you like. For example, I'm often like 'wow the x colouring in this is amazing! i love how it makes the character pop'! It shows engagement with their work beyond the superficial. Trust me, when i get these kinds of tags, it makes my day.

Remember you get out of a community what you put into it. If you have a cool idea for a space/event/roleplay concept, promote it! If you think your character's story would bolster another persons', offer to write with them! Reach out to other places with similar or adjacent concepts and see if you can work together. You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, so they say.

If it's within your blog's scope, reblogging other people's outreach posts/commissions/gposes/etc is a great way to engage with the community in a low-stakes way. If you need to make a sideblog for promotional stuff, do it! I prefer tags, personally, but you do you. The more approachable you look, the more people are going to contact you first.

Befriend people because you earnestly want to get to know them. "Popularity" is a farce. There are amazingly talented people who have a small group of friends because they're shy.

Eat food, drink water and take your medication before you do any of the aforementioned. Actually, just cover all those basis before you do anything. If you start dooming and glooming your efforts, have a nap (trust me, it worked for me last night!).

A couple of things to keep in mind on the other side:

You are not obligated to reciprocate someone's efforts.

"No." Is a full sentence. It's always preferable to be kind, but know your worth.

If that shit don't stick, hit da bricks!! You can leave!!

Always try to assume the best intentions of people.

Tools of moderation are not drama-mongering or nasty; they simply tailor your experience to what you want to see/experience. You don't need to justify your reasonings, you don't need to explain yourself to anyone; block and move on!! You don't need to make a big deal about it.

If anyone has anything else they want to add, please do! But this how I operate and it's never done me a disservice. ✨

#｡･ﾟﾟ･ — sea speaks

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dotster001 · 2 years ago

Note

I would very much like a gn version of the type of person they woukd like pretty please!

What Kind of Person they Like

Summary: gn! reader. What kind of person they say they want versus the one they end up with

CW: some of the boys are assholes with their answers, it's explained away in the who they end up with section, so take it with a grain of salt, also these are just my opinions. If you don't agree that's ok! Also, if you read the Fem/masc versions some of this is different but some of it is the same. Sorry if you were hoping your fave would have a different opinion.

A/n: putting the tag list in here as well in case some of you are gn. If you're Fem or masc! My bad guys! Also now that I finished the trilogy I'm so done 😭 formatting on this app takes so fucking long

Masc Version Fem Version

Heartslaybul

Ace Trappola

What he says

"hmm, a great bod and an ass you can't resist the urge to smack. Why are you giving me that look? Sevens, fine! Okay they're kind and have an ass that- hey don't throw stuff at me!"

Who he ends up with

Ace is going to be naturally attracted to a person that holds him accountable. He's also looking for someone who he can tease at all hours of the day. He wants someone he can have fun with, but who will also give him the cold hard facts. But they also take care of him when he's down. He's hiding a lot of insecurity under his cool guy exterior, so if they lets him snuggle, and let him whine, and then whisper how much they love him, he'll be a happy man. And he's really big on them not knowing anything about basketball. He's a fucking show off.

Deuce Spade

What he says

"Huh, I've never really thought about it. Um, I guess they're nice and funny, and aren't scared of my past. I'd also want them to be a little like you, Y/N….not that I like you! Well, I like you, not like like you, shit I'm sorry! This isn't sounding any better…"

Who he ends up with

He really means it when he says he wants someone like you. You're one of his first friends, and, in his mind, the person you date/marry should be your best friend. But if it's not you he ends up with, he will probably be attracted to someone who's book smart, but less street smart. A little "dumb" like him, in a cute kind of way. He likes a cuddler, and maybe someone who is shorter than him so that he can feel like he's swallowing them whole when he wraps his arms around them. Also, someone who encourages him and helps him with his homework/paperwork.

Riddle Rosehearts

What he says

"I don't have time for a relationship right now….but I think I want someone well behaved who follows the rules- what are you smirking at? Just because you're a rule breaker doesn't mean everyone is. And maybe someone smart. No, definitely someone smart."

Who he ends up with

As much as he hates to admit it…he's attracted to rule breakers. Not as bad as Ace obviously, he's not trying to go gray early. But if they say something like "let's have a non herbal tea" when it's time for only herbal tea…damn what a rush. By the time he gets serious with someone, he'll be confident enough in himself to cut ties with his mother, so they have to be strong willed, and willing to live off of a low budget for a while. He'll need someone understanding, who knows he'll have relapses and be too much and too angry sometimes, and they have to be understanding of that, and encouraging of improvement, or he'll live with guilt for the rest of his life.

Trey Clover

What he says

"Someone who's willing to settle down and grow fat and old with me. You're laughing, but I'm going to be running my parents bakery, and feeding people is my love language. Speaking of, you better finish off that slice of cake before the others steal it."

Who he ends up with

Trey isn't that picky. He really means it when he says he wants someone to get old and fat with. That's his dream. Running a bakery with his spouse by his side, and growing old together as your own kids grow up and bring home their own spouses. But he also wants someone he can blindside with his sadistic side. Someone who'll enjoy that side of him, but also someone who easily forgets it's there. It makes things more fun for him.

Cater Diamond

What he says

"Ha ha someone trendy and totes hot. Someone totally cammable. Aw, are you jealous? Don't worry, you'll always be my fave, even if you're not my otp."

Who he ends up with

Cater wants someone who won't disappear when he looks away. Yes, if they're "cammable" that's the first thing he's looking for, but when all is said and done, if they seem like they're going to be flaky, he won't take it too seriously either, as a defense mechanism. He needs a person with mental endurance, because he's going to spend the beginning of the relationship trying to scare them off. Not that he wants to, he just needs to know he won't be left alone like he usually is. He is going to be attracted to someone who humors his trends and magicam addiction, but who also sees through him. Someone balanced. They see the real Cay Cay, but they're also willing to be his "trophy spouse" online.

Savannaclaw

Jack Howl

What he says

"Oh, I uh, well someone who can keep up on a run with me I guess…"

Who he ends up with

Jack says he wants someone who can work out with him. And he would really be happy if he had a partner who was as active as him…but he'd also be happy with a soft squishy partner. He gets blushy thinking about holding someone soft and plush against his firm muscles. But he's flexible. In the end he won't choose his future spouse based on appearances. Wolf beastmen mate for life, so the main thing he is looking for is loyalty. Loyalty, and someone who would want to raise lots of kids with him. As long as you have those two traits, nothing else really matters to him.

Ruggie Bucchi

What he says

"Relationships are expensive, shihihi. Tell you what, you find me someone with sticky fingers, and we'll eat the rich together."

Who he ends up with

This is a deflection.If you're asking about a specific gender, Ruggie has two drastically different responses, mostly due to the large and in charge hyena women. But if you take that aspect away, deep down he longs for someone who he can settle down with, who will call him a good boy and pamper him (whether he is the breadwinner or they are), and who he can just live a happy life, slowly rising up to middle class, with. He also is looking for someone to snuggle the night away with. He gets lonely at night.

Leona Kingscholar

What he says

"Body pillow"

"That's not-"

"Body pillow"

Who he ends up with

Like Hyena's, lion women are the boss. So take the gender aspect away, and what he's searching for is someone who will make him feel loved. Whether it's through shouting and dragging him to therapy or soft caresses and whispered praise, he doesn't mind. He wants to feel loved and first in someone's life. He doesn't care how it happens. He's a surprisingly flexible guy.

Also, they have to accept that nighttime is when they're a body pillow. That's an absolute must.

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto

What he says

"Why do you wish to know? Are you attempting to reach my standards? Ha ha, let's see. Someone who is mysterious, who is willing to dress stunningly, and sit in my lap when I make deals, so that competitors can see what a high value man I am."

Who he ends up with

If that didn't make you want to throw up 🤢. He'll be attracted to someone who makes him feel beautiful in subtle ways. He knows how easy it is to spin a verbal web of lies. But there's some things you can't fake. Like allowing someone to rest on your lap, and caressing their hair. Or squeezing someone's hand gently when you have to let go. Or pressing a kiss to someone's cheek after you help them straighten their outfit. It's the soft romantic moments that'll speak to Azul when he finds his love. Aside from that, he's not looking for anything in particular. Just someone who makes him feel loved and beautiful.

Jade Leech

What he says

"Fu fu who's to say? Perhaps you are the lover of my dreams. Or not."

Who he ends up with

They're someone who can see through him. Someone who never compares him or confuses him for his twin. They're smart. Very smart. They eat his mushrooms and go on hikes with him. They are patient with Floyd. What Jade is looking for….is Jade. Someone like that is the only one who can truly keep up with him.

Floyd Leech

What he says

"Aw Shrimpy! Are you worried? Don't worry, whoever they are, I'll still squeeze ya!"

Who he ends up with

He's looking for someone fun. That's his only criteria. At least that's what he says. He can't be sure if he loves them because they're fun, or if they're fun because he loves them. In that sense, it's sort of a soulmate situation for Floyd. Whatever will be will be. He'll just know.

…

Also they have to be squeezable.

Scarabia

Kalim al Asim

What he says

"I love everybody!"

"But-"

"Have some of this ice cream, it's amazing!"

Who he ends up with

He wants someone he can spoil, but he doesn't know that. It's something in his subconscious. He doesn't want things back either. So they have to be someone who is okay with being spoiled, and doesn't feel guilty about it. He's going to be attracted to someone who loves life like him, but also helps to keep him grounded. And if they have a spark of danger in them, oh man, he'll be simping so hard.

Jamil Viper

What he says

"I'm not going to even think about it until my freedom is assured. Kalim has promised, but it would be irresponsible to force someone into servitude with me."

Who he ends up with

Jamil will fall for someone who truly appreciates him. Someone who will offer him help with his work (it doesn't matter if it's good help or not, he appreciates it either way). Someone who will pamper him. Someone who gets excited about the prospect of dropping everything and seeing the world with him. Someone who will be his partner, but who will also be willing to take turns ruling the house, so that they both can pretend to be the royal who is getting served from time to time.

Pomefiore

Epel Felmier

What he says

"Um, someone buff who knows I wear the pants in the relationship. Don't laugh, I like the idea of being surrounded in a hug of muscles! Stop laughing!"

Who he ends up with

Epel wants someone he can provide for, who he never has to prove his masculinity to. Someone who supports his ambitions, and believes in him. Someone who he doesn't have to change for. And if they want to be a cutesie house spouse for him…he won't complain.

Rook Hunt

What he says

"Mon Trickster, I can find beauty in everyone."

Who he ends up with

What he says is actually true. He can and will fall in love with every kind of person. It's hard to say who he will tie himself to, in the end. It'll be someone who he heavily bonds with and imprints on. It's a lot like with Floyd. Essentially a soulmate situation.

Vil Schoenheit

What he says

"Hm. Why do you want to know, potato? I suppose they're professional, and beautiful, and care about their image enough that they don't cause a scandal."

Who he ends up with

The thing about Vil is, he's not that far off from Rook in his take on beauty. He doesn't so much believe in conventional beauty, or societal beauty standards. He knows everyone has an individual definition of health and beauty. When he says he's looking for a beautiful person, he's looking for someone who's willing to reach their full potential. Or, more accurately, to allow him to help them reach they're full potential. Vil never admits it, but he adores pampering and styling people. His love language is helping people look their best. So if they're someone who knows themself enough to know what style they like, he'll appreciate it, and take up the mantle of doing the hard work, ie making outfits, styling hair and makeup, formulating skin care etc. TLDR, he wants a confident self possessed lover he can dress like a doll, and show off.

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud

What he says

"-------------" mutes ipad.

In his head, he doesn't think any man would ever love him. But his dream lover is a sexy anime cat person.

Who he ends up with

What he'll be attracted to is someone who is patient, speaks at a reasonable volume, and is assertive enough to make him leave his room. Essentially, winning Idia's heart is a siege. You'll have to starve him out. That's the patience bit. The reasonable volume comes from him being easily scared by loud noises. Assertive enough to make him leave his room…well that speaks for itself. He wants to believe he can be part of the outside world, and the one he will fall for will be willing to show it to him.

Diasomnia

Sebek Zigvolt

What he says

"They are someone of noble bearing, who shall help me defend my liege!"

Who he ends up with

He'll fall for a someone who is stronger, mentally, physically, etc., than him. A person who can put him in his place. A lover who speaks, and it makes him shut up, and sit pretty. They're assertive, and can come off as abrasive to others but to Sebek? Sevens, he'd die for a smidgen of their affection.

Silver

What he says

"I don't think it's worth it to try and define the one I'll fall in love with. There are so many wonderful people, and my father always told me that love is the greatest mystery in this world. Who's to say who I'll fall in love with?"

Who he ends up with

Silver will fall for someone soft. The entire romance will be soft. Soft caresses in the moonlight. Soft kisses in the morning. Soft fingers gently intertwining. They'll be empathetic about his sleep condition, never blaming him since it's not his fault. They'll be gentle with his animal friends. But they'll also be strong in some ways. They'll be someone who will fight the metaphorical (or literal, Silver lives an interesting life) dragon for their sleeping Prince Silver. They'll be sweet and kind. Like a hybrid of Prince Philip and Princess Aurora.

Lilia Vanrouge

What he says

"Fu Fu Fu wouldn't you like to know."

Who he ends up with

Lilia can and has fallen for every kind of person. He's lived a long time. He's had the time to romance lots of lovers. What he'd probably fall for in this stage of his life, is someone he can tease, and play around with, but who is also ready to settle down a little bit. Someone who enjoys the little things in life. He's getting a little old. He wants to build onto his family that he already has. Silver can stand to have three or ten more siblings, right?

Malleus Draconia

What he says

"You."

Who he ends up with

You.

....

Tag list-@shytastemakerthing @stygianoir @leonia0 @lleoll @eccedentesiast-sapphic

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wormswurld · 9 months ago

Text

forced feminization ollie with felix! (pt. 2) 🌟

i am a man of the people! here’s more forced fem! ollie cuz the world needs ittttt :3

- the first time felix shaved ollie’s stubble he “accidentally” knicked him on his jaw,, it’s ollie’s fault he was so shaky and nervous right? i mean felix did have a blade near his jugular…so what does fucked up felix do? lick the blood off his face. obviously. “there all better, yeah?” and ollie just nods softly as he slowly exhales a shuddery little breath

- first time felix gets ollie in a pretty babydoll dress he asks for a spin,, forcing ollie to tell him Who dressed him up and How pretty he is 😵‍💫 probably ends with felix asking ollie “what are you wearing underneath?” with the most shit eating grin and ollie just embarrassingly bends over showing felix his pink lacy panties that say “property of felix catton” in cute swirly cursive letters with a bow sitting right above his tail bone 🎀

- when ollie gets really into his role of being felix’s girlfriend he calls him “sir” 🤤 ie: “are you gonna be a good girl for me? be my pretty little arm candy when we go out?” and ollie with his eyes all glazed over look up at felix responds with a breathy “yes..sir” and felix wants to FUCK HIM ON SIGHT.

- whenever they are super super fucking drunk felix insists on ollie (messily) dancing on a stripper pole,, poor ollie babe just twirling himself around giggling and feeling all warm and fuzzy cuz he has felix’s attention on him though when they leave the club shitfaced ollie trips cuz of his heels and felix’s says “okay that’s enough” and just carries him bridal style to his dorm 🤗

- felix probably gets venetia & farleigh in on the “joke”… venetia making comments about how ugly ollie’s nails are so she suggests to paint them for him, making sure to choose the girliest color & designs,, whereas farleigh is just more catty with ollie, easily provoking him and stuff like that one day ollie snaps back and farleigh goes “awwww looks like oliver’s on her period everyone” and poor ollie just stomps off

- next to felix venetia probably gets the most into it LOL,, “y’know i’ve never seen felix bring around girls like you before..” & “i know you’ve never kissed another girl before, felix told me.” and she just gets all up in his personal space making it quite literally IMPOSSIBLE to get away (trying not to think about dom! venetia and fem! ollie….)

- holy fuck thinking abt felix sending venetia and ollie into town to go shopping for bikinis…..oliver just blushing the entire time he’s dragged around by venetia ultimately losing it when she holds up the skimpiest bikini up to his body “this would look good on you don’t you think?” & obviously before they check out ollie gets a text from felix asking him to try it on 😵‍💫

- whenever felix’s is feeling nice he eats ollie out (literally just hearing felix saying that melts him completely….)

- felix’s controls what ollie eats 😊 always ordering for him whenever they are at a fancy restaurant

- ollie’s favorite pet names consist of: pretty girl, my girl, darling, princess, and love (his favorite..)

hope y’all enjoyed this one! wanted to go more in depth with it hehe i know felix is a major asshole but he softens up from time to time,, especially when it comes to his pretty girlfriend ollie 😵‍💫💖✨

tag list for my amazing freaky ppl that understand the vision: @mcr-and-coffee, @fuckingwoodfuckingpaneling, @pr0fessional-cunt, @ollieapologist, @island-in-the-shadows, @coldblooded-angel, @dylandaydreams, and @icarusamica !!

#saltburn #oliver quick #saltburn posting #felix catton #cattonquick #felix x oliver #lgbtqia #cw forced feminization #wormswurld brainrot 🌟#wormswurld posts 🌟#venetia catton #farleigh start #farleigh catton

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videovamptramp · 2 years ago

Text

love’s never been much to me (but i’ll come with you if you’re sure that’s what you need)

// wednesday hates the new girl. //

warnings: minor character death (not that important) wednesday being mean, wednesday being a jealous asshole, sensitive reader, crying, harsh words. angst but happy ending <3

when your parents first sent you and your sisters to a boarding school in vermont, you tried your hardest not to be upset about it. you understood your mothers death impacted your father in ways you couldn’t imagined. you were sure it impacted you in ways he could never fathom as well— but you couldn’t help but feel like an outcast on the first day. your older sister elise was fitting in great, as soon as she showed up. her high grades put her in honors classes, and her contagious smile along with that charming, intelligent intellect caused people to migrate to her quickly. your younger sister sabrina was no different, she was beautiful, and had the best style out of anyone you’ve ever met. it wasn’t hard for either for them to make friends.

you however, tugged at the longsleeves of your tight black cropped top, and you kept your eyes open and aware of your surroundings. everyone at the school looked like they were either rich, or smart as hell. “hey i really like your jeans.” a tall, dark haired brunette tells you as she approaches you. you smile, “thanks! i love your cardigan.” you compliment her, and she smiles back at you. “i’m yoko. i think your my new roommate.” she admits, and your eyes widen. “oh shit, seriously? i haven’t even gotten a chance to see my roommate yet. i just put my stuff on the empty bed… but the rooms nice. you’ve kept it clean!“ you begin to ramble, and yoko laughs. “you seem nice. i think we’re gonna get along great.” she proclaims, flashing you a grin.

yoko was your first friend at nevermore academy. she was bright, generous, gave great fashion advice, and was someone you knew you could trust right away. it didn’t take long for you both to become nearly inseparable. that’s when you begin getting close to enid, divina, and even bianca; some of yoko’s other close friends. you and enid have the most in common. you find yourself hanging out with the blonde whenever your roommate is busy with nightshade society. it isn’t until you and enid have plans for the mall one afternoon, that you end up in her room. that’s when you see her. wednesday addams. her long braided black hair, her long lashes, and that all black outfit. you had barely seen her in the halls, but had no classes with her at all.

“i hope you and your friend aren’t planning on staying here. i’m working on my novel.” wednesday states, barely looking up from her typewriter. you look at her with pure interest, “you’re a writer? what are you writing about?” you ask curiously, and she rolls her eyes. “things a peabrain like you wouldn’t understand.” she mutters, and you giggle at her cattiness. “ignore wednesday, she’s allergic to color and all things nice. let’s go y/n, the mall closes at 6 today.” enid says, as she grabs her coat. “okay! sabrina’s tagging along, she said she needs some new shoes.” you explain, and enid smiles, “that’s fine! i love her! i heard she has a crush on joey from physics.” enid admits, and you gag. “ew! he looks like one of those guys that doesn’t wash their ass.”

enid bursts into fits of laughter as you both make your way to the door, “bye wednesday, it was nice officially meeting you.” you wave at the raven haired girl, who doesn’t even spare you a glance. “i wish i could say the same.” she grumbles, and you can’t fight the smile that tugs on your lips as you and enid make your way out. as you two walk down the hall, and towards sabrina’s room, enid pipes up; “hey, don’t take anything wednesday says personally, she’s like that with everybody.” enid explains, and you shake your head. “oh it’s fine! she’s pretty cute.” you admit with a blush, and enid shakes her head in disbelief. “wednesday and cute don’t belong in the same category. maybe violent, or irritable; even sassy fits.” enid jokes and you laugh. “well, she’s still pretty. even if she doesn’t quite like me.” you say as you walk into your younger sisters room.

“who doesn’t like you?” sabrina asks, as she looks away from the mirror where she was fixing her make up in, and over to you and enid. “wednesday.” you say, and sabrina furrows her brows, “who?” she asks. “my roommate. she’s in our grade, super grumpy, wears all black.” enid explains bluntly as she takes a seat on sabrina’s bed. “is she short?” sabrina asks and enid nods eagerly. “yup that’s her!” the blonde exclaims. “oh god, y/n/n, you like her? she’s emo.” sabrina points out, and you pout, “what’s wrong with that?!! she’s totally cute!” you declare, and enid flashes you a pointed look. “and totally hates you.” she reminds you, and you blush sheepishly. “hate and love are two very similar things.” you joke causing enid to groan and throw a pillow your way.

you start seeing wednesday a lot more after that. you always go out of your way to say hi to her, or even talk to her. even though she never seems excited to talk to you, she doesn’t ignore you, and you take that as a good sign. sabrina and you have always been the closest out of your siblings; she was only a year younger than you, yet you two were more like best friends than sisters. that’s exactly why she’s the first person you confess to about having a crush on wednesday.

“you can’t be serious, y/n/n. she hates your guts!” sabrina points out as you two eat lunch under the old oak tree. you had just admitted it to her, and the brunette was staring at you as if you had three heads. “i know! but she’s so hot! and have you heard her voice? ugh… i got it bad, the other day i asked her if she came her often… to school!!” you groan, and she shakes her head, chuckling softly. “damn… i for sure would have thought you would’ve fell for yoko… or even enid. but wednesday? seriously? have you guys even had an actual conversation that didn’t involve you trying to awkwardly flirt with her?” sabrina asks, and you nod.

“i was talking to her about her novel the other day… she’s a smart ass, but she’s definitely smart. like probably smarter than elise.” you admit, and sabrina laughs. “damn, maybe you should ask elise how to tutor you in the art of being a bitch.” she jokes, and you giggle. “maybe. she’s definitely too busy with jake. have you seen the way she gets when he texts her?” you inquire as you eat a cookie off your sisters tray. “yeah, it’s disgusting.” the younger girl says after rolling her eyes. “she still hasn’t talked to me because i stained her flannel. i got her a new one and said i was sorry!” sabrina exclaims, and you laugh. “she’s taking it personal. you’re gonna have to gravel. or just buy her food after her debate club. she’s always hungry after arguing.” you retort, taking a sip of your chocolate milk.

“ugh, she was made for debate. i’m thinking about joining the soccer team.” she reveals, and your eyes widen. “awww that would be awesome! you’d be great!” you say honestly, and she flashes you a smile. “thanks y/n/n.” she says softly as she finishes her sandwich. “hey that reminds me! my friend xavier was saying something about a book club on thursday’s at the library. you should check it out!” she says as she opens her backpack and pulls out a flyer. she hands it to you, and you take it, skimming over it. your eyebrows raise slightly, “huh, i actually think i’m gonna check it out. i need new book ideas. i’m tired of re-reading ‘black house’.” you tell her and she beams. “i thought of you as soon as he showed me the flyer!“

unbeknownst to you and sabrina, wednesday also received the same flyer from xavier. that’s how the two of you both ended up in the library on tuesday. you’re a bit early, and so is she, along with a few other students. you take a seat right beside her, and she glances at you. “are you lost? this isn’t the romance novel book club. they meet on tuesday’s.” she cattily remarks, and you chuckle. “i didn’t even know they had a club for that.” you admit, ignoring her comment. wednesday can’t help but continuously glance at you; you’re wearing baggy jeans, a tight fitted top, along with a pair of gray converse. wednesday is wearing an oversized black knitted sweater, fishnets, and a pair of black doc marten boots. her hair is braided and she looks gorgeous as ever.

“i actually don’t enjoy romance novels. it makes me feel like i’m reading really cheesy fanfics. my little sister gave me the flyer for this club. i need new book recommendations.” you say simply, and wednesday purses her lips, “this is a book club for thriller and horror novels.” she points out, and you nod. “i know. i read the flyer, addams.” you joke, and she looks at you. “what’s your favorite book?” she asks, and you blush sheepishly as you reach into your bag and pull out your old copy of ‘black house’ by stephen king. “i know it’s a bit basic but he really does have wonderful novels. i really enjoyed ‘she’s gone’ by david bell as well. the ending was a plot twist. poor girl.” you ramble slightly, and you blush as you realize she’s staring at you. you tuck a strand of curly hair behind your ear, your eyes meet hers, “what’s your favorite book, wednesday?” you ask her, sounding genuinely curious.

“the original frankenstein book is unmatched. but i suppose the haunting of hill house is good as well.” she answers curtly and you smile at her as she avoids your sweet gaze. “i too carry a copy of frankenstein around because it’s my favorite.” she confesses, making you grin. “you’ll have to lend it to me sometime. if that’s okay of course.” you say so gently she nearly grimaces at how soft your voice is. she reaches into her backpack, and pulls out the old copy, before handing it to you. you reach for it, but she pulls it away abruptly. “black house. i’d like to read it.” she declares, taking you by slight surprise. you nod vigorously, “sure! here!” you say happily, as you shove the copy of your favorite book into her free hand. you gladly take the original ‘frankenstein’ copy, and flash her a smile that makes her nauseous.

“hello everyone. i see we have quite a few eager readers. i’ve picked out a few good reads, and we’ll all have a vote on which one you all wanna read this week.” one of the teachers you hardly know interrupts your moment with wednesday, as she sits down in front of the group. wednesday doesn’t say a word to you during the rest of the session. though, she cannot seem to stop thinking about you as she reads ‘black house’. the little side notes you wrote— the highlighted parts you thought were important. she finds herself enjoying the book, and she can’t believe someone like you actually has good taste. perhaps wednesday misjudged you.

she’s pulled out of her thoughts one evening by your giggling. you’re laughing at something sabrina and her friends were saying. that’s when wednesday sees you take a hit of one of their wax pens, blowing the smoke in your younger sisters face, and giggling wildly. she shakes her head, prying her eyes away from you. nope. you’re still an idiot, she thinks. an idiot who seems to be interested in good books. but that’s your only redeeming quality in wednesday’s opinion.

“hey wednesday, are you enjoying the book?“ you ask as you approach the raven haired girl. wednesday looks over at where you were just sitting with your group of annoying friends and little sister. they seemed to have scattered, and she hadn’t even noticed you making your way up to her. “it’s not terrible. i truly enjoy the way he doesn’t shy away from the gruesome details and thoughts.” she explains, and you nod in agreement as you sit next to her. she doesn’t tell you to get lost even though she should. your girly perfume fills her senses, and she sticks her nose in the air as she looks away from you. “yeah, stephen king is already not afraid to cross any lines, but peter straub is totally fucked in the head. i like it.” you confess in a dorky way that makes wednesday turn her head and stare at you for a second.

“what?“ you ask curiously, wondering what she was staring at. “how did i never notice how much of a dork you are?” she asks, and you roll your eyes, blushing deeply— you pull your knees up to your chest, and you stare at your shoes. “maybe because you’ve never bothered to get to know me.” you joke, before looking at her. the sunlight is hitting your hair, and the way your bangs falls just above your eyelashes— wednesday never noticed how brown your eyes are. they change in the sun and she’s never noticed that about anyone. “well, you are insufferable… but i suppose i don’t mind speaking to you.” wednesday mutters, and you smile widely. there’s that nauseating feeling again. she wants to kiss wipe that smile right off your face.

“oh! i finished frankenstein! it was so fucking good but so fucking sad— i almost don’t want to read ‘black phone’. i know i’m gonna end up crying again.” you admit, and wednesday shakes her head. “you cried? i understand frankenstein is tragic, but crying is a bit dramatic don’t you think?” she asks, and you shrug. “i’m a sensitive person. here’s your book, thanks for lending it to me. if you have any other book recommendations i’d really appreciate them.” you confess shyly, and wednesday takes note of the rosy pink blush coating your cheeks and nose. she doesn’t understand why you’re so adamant on getting to know her and talk to her. shouldn’t she have scared you off by now like she usually does with everyone else?

“thomas harris. silence of the lambs. i have a copy in my room, i’ll lend it to you tomorrow.” she states, and you smile widely. god she wishes you’d stop doing that.

wednesday begins to notice everything you do. the way you laugh, or mess with the holes in your jeans when you’re bored. you heart your ‘i’s’, and chew on your bottom lip when you’re nervous. you’re kind to everyone, and she hasn’t encountered a single person who has spoken badly about you. wednesday finds herself at a loss because she actually wants to talk to you, but she realizes she never wants to talk to anyone. she can’t for the life of her figure out what’s so different about you. or how she went from hating you, to thinking about you nearly every hour of the day. she even catches herself thinking about your giggle in the middle of class.

in december wednesday finds you sitting alone in the garden; a spot she enjoyed coming to be alone. just when she was about to tell you to get lost, she got closer, and heard the sniffling. “y/n?” wednesday’s voice causes you to jump a bit. you weren’t expecting anyone to be here and see you like this. you look up at her; those bambi eyes are red and full of tears, and your cheeks were stained, as if you had been crying for awhile now. wednesday forgets who she is and immediately feels concern wash over her. did somebody make you cry? was she going to have to commit murder? “what happened?“ she asks demandingly, before she takes a seat on the bench beside you. “i-it’s my moms birthday today…” you trail off, trying to hold back tears but failing miserably. “oh. did you call her?“ wednesday questions, and you shake your head, “she— she p-passed away last year.” you explain, and wednesday looks at you intensely.

“i’m sorry.” she sounds sincere, and it takes you by surprise as you stare at her with those vulnerable eyes. “she probably misses you as much as you miss her.” wednesday adds, and you feel your heart flutter in your chest. “y-you’re sweet. thanks for sitting with me.” you thank her gently, and she responds with an eye roll, “i’m not sweet, and if you tell anyone i sat with you, i’ll cut all your pretty hair off.” she threatens, and you sniffle as you blush, an inevitable smile creeping onto your face. “you think my hair is pretty?“ you ask, and for the first time since you met wednesday addams, the heat rises to her cheeks causing them to turn a shade of crimson red. “shut up, y/n.” she says warningly, shooting a murderous look your way. instead of lookinh terrified like anyone else would, you stare at her with an expression of pure adoration.

things change after your encounter with wednesday in the garden. you catch her staring more than she normally would, and whenever you approach her, you notice she doesn��t seem as annoyed as she used to. sure, she’s still as grumpy as ever, but your presence didn’t annoy her anymore, and that was strange. she normally gets irritated with everyone, but you somehow have become an exception. wednesday was not only okay with you coming up to her and talking her ear off, she was also looking forward to it. thoughts of you and even your voice would plague her mind. she thought of you before she fell asleep, and as soon as she awoke, there you were on her mind like clockwork.

it isn’t until wednesday sees you talking to aaron from botany, he seems to be staring at you with a glint in his eyes. you’re smiling at him in that way that always makes wednesday’s stomach flutter. but you’re directing it at him instead, and that nauseating feeling she usually gets, turns into a burning sensation in the pit of her stomach. suddenly she has never hated anyone more than aaron jeffery. she glares at him; she’s certain if he notices he’ll probably shit himself. but he doesn’t notice; you do. you turn your head, and your eyes lock with wednesday’s tenebrous orbs. you light up at the sight of her, and now your smile is directed at her. you wave cutely, “hey wednesday!” you greet her from across the courtyard before looking at aaron. “i’ll see you next period!” you exclaim, and he nods with a smile as you rush over to the raven haired girl.

“hi.” you giggle as you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. wednesday tenses up, “hi. what were you talking to jeffery’s about?” she asks, trying to sound as uninterested as possible. “we got assigned to be partners earlier this year in botany class, and we just sort of became friends that way.” you shrug, and wednesday has an uncomfortable knot in her stomach. “oh.” is all the shorter girl responds with, causing you to furrow your eyebrows. “is there a problem between you and aaron? like some sort of secret beef i don’t know about?” you ask half jokingly, and she shakes her head. “i don’t like him.” wednesday answers quickly. “he stares at you like he’s never seen a girl in his sorry little life. don’t get me started on the way he dresses.” wednesday rants a bit, and all of your confusion seems to dissipate as a wave of realization washes over you. wednesday addams is jealous of aaron, because she thinks he likes you.

“but aaron is crushing on stacey mathew’s.” you remind her and wednesday scowls. “i don’t care. since when does that stop boys?” she mutters, and you tilt your head to the side, like a confused puppy. “wen… are you jealous of him?” you ask her, and the way you’re smirking makes her shoot a murderous glare your way. she’s not an idiot. she’s completely aware she’s jealous of that tall boy and his kind smile that wednesday doesn’t have. but to admit she’s envious of him, would be to admit how she feels about you. wednesday would rather die before admitting that your voice is something she looks forward to hearing every single day. or even how every time she reads a stephen king book she thinks of you.

“jealousy is a feeling, y/n, and we both know i don’t do feelings.” she declares trying to sound serious. you raise your eyebrows, “then you wouldn’t care if i said he was cute?” you question, clearly just trying to get a rise out of her, and it obviously works because she glares at you. “he looks like a burnt chicken.” she hisses, and you giggle wildly. “no feelings my ass.” you retort sarcastically, and the raven haired girls expression stays firm. “i don’t have feelings, y/n! much less any regarding you and that fried roach.” she snaps in that usually harsh tone she always saves for other people, and never you. yet today her stare is harsh and it’s directed towards you. the trace of softness you usually see in her big brown-black orbs is gone; instead there’s something inscrutable in her gaze and you can’t quite figure out what it is.

you frown, “no feelings regarding me at all? is that your polite way of saying you don’t care about me whatsoever?” you ask uncertainly, and she rolls her eyes. “i don’t care about anybody. everybody at this school is a dimwitted, supernatural moron with no concept of reality or the real world. if that bothers you, maybe you should just go run along and follow aaron jeffery around everywhere like a lost, pathetic puppy. the same way you follow me around.” her tone is so cold, and so unlike whenever she speaks to you. she sounds the same way as when you first met her. you blink a few times, and then, something terrible happens to wednesday. not the good kind of terrible that she loves— no, the terrible that makes her stomach twist and churn… your bottom lip begins to tremble and the heart she’s been so intent on hiding from everyone, falls into the pit of her belly.

tears well up in your eyes, and suddenly she’s replaying every cruel word she just said. they were all because you were right. she was jealous of aaron. “you could’ve just said you didn’t want to hang out with me. or that you don’t like me… you don’t have to be so cruel just because you know how i feel about you.” you manage to say while your voice shakes and wednesday can see the look of hurt in those chocolate brown eyes. you turn around and rush off, leaving wednesday alone with her thoughts and unwanted emotions. that interaction hadn’t gone as she planned, but what could she do about it? chase you and beg for forgiveness? admit that what you said was not only true but spot on? she was jealous, and she did know about the way you feel about her. though you weren’t aware of what she was feeling for you. the more she got to know you, the more she realized she liked. even the things she was supposed to hate, she found made those dead butterflies in her stomach resurrect and flutter around with pure life.

she found herself having to pretend to dislike your presence, but it seemed as though you could see right through wednesday and her grumpiness. you even dealt with it just to hang out with her. though, there were undoubtable moments where you just knew wednesday returned all those feelings she claimed she didn’t have. you would ramble on and on about a book or show, and when you’d look up her eyes would be on you, taking in every word. even when she wasn’t looking at you, she was listening. you knew because she remembered every detail, down to the silliest thing. though it was never silly to you, it always made your heart skip a beat. almost everything wednesday did for you, made your heart rate pick up. you noticed everything when it came down to her; the way her gaze would soften up whenever looking at you, or how she let you hug her and hold her hand.

yet, wednesday’s words sounded so serious and cold. you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, wednesday addams has hated you this whole time. maybe everything was in your head, and she really didn’t like you or anyone else at this school for that matter. maybe wednesday really was as heartless as she claims to be… but you don’t believe that. you can’t. there’s too many things she does that prove her wrong, yet if you ever called her out on them, she would most likely deny everything. if she didn’t want to like you, wasn’t that just as bad as not liking you? she knew she liked you, and she still didn’t want you. that hurt you more than anything else regarding your love life has.

when enid sees you crying she rushes in your direction, excusing herself from ajax and their mutual friends as she follows you towards your dorm. “y/n, what happened!?” she asks in pure concern as she follows you into yours and yoko’s shared bedroom. “did— did wednesday make you cry?” she asks cautiously, and you sniffle, nodding. enid feels a wave of nerves hit her. if wednesday was in a bad enough to mood to snap at you, maybe that meant everyone should stay clear from her today. there’s no telling what she’d do to people she actually hated. “what happened? did she say something to you?” the blonde asks patiently, and you look down at your converse. “dimwitted, supernatural moron… and a pathetic puppy. that’s what she thinks of me.” you whisper, and enid frowns.

“you’re none of those things, y/n. you’re a great friend and i know wednesday didn’t mean what she said. she’s just a grump.” enid points out and you shake your head. “i think she did, enid. i can’t keep trying so hard for her to like me. i should’ve taken the hint a long time ago and just left her alone.” you mutter, looking up and meeting enid’s eyes. her eyes are empathetic and sincere, “no, y/n, wednesday loves you! she just doesn’t want to admit it! she’s changed since she started hanging around you… she’s been nicer in her own little wednesday way. there’s less threats, and hate towards color or people. it’s because of you.” she insists, and you look at your fingers that you’re playing with nervously.

“i’ve seen the change, but until she apologizes or tells me how she feels herself, i think it’s best to keep my distance from wednesday…” you trail off, and enid can see the words hurt you to say. she frowns, but nods, “i understand and respect your decision, even it means i will have to deal with a very grumpy wednesday.” she murmurs and you flash her a sad smile. “sorry, enid…” you trail off, you thoughts immediate going to the raven haired girl you’re so helplessly in love with.

wednesday notices the change right away. it’s been a week since she said those mean things to you, and she couldn’t stop thinking about you. wednesday went from being the only person you’d seek out to talk to, to being the only person you’re avoiding. she feels like she’s been hit with the plague, because you won’t even look at her anymore. it drives her crazy when sees you and you don’t light up the way you used to, or even smile in her direction. she never thought silence (one of her favorite things), would drive her this mad when it was coming from you. she hated to admit she missed your voice, and all the things she thought she hated about you… like the way you talk too much, and practically shower in that girly perfume that tickles wednesday’s senses in the worst way. when she smells it in the halls her belly burns.

“she’s been miserable without you.” enid cuts into wednesday’s thoughts one lunch period, as she notices her roommate staring at you from the other side of cafeteria. you were sitting with elise and her friends today, looking absolutely miserable. it was no secret your older sister often was one of your biggest bullies, though it came from a place of love, the things she said still affected you. much like wednesday, she said things bluntly and honestly, not caring if she hurt anyones feelings. “she’s the one that decided to stop sitting here.” wednesday says back, her tone harsh and abrasive. enid rolls her eyes, “because you called her a dimwitted, supernatural moron, wednesday!” enid points out, causing everyone at the table to look at the two.

wednesday shoots daggers at the blonde, “i said it in regards towards everyone at this school!” wednesday hisses, and enid shakes her head in dismay. “it’s the same thing. not to mention you called her a ‘pathetic puppy’, don’t you have any idea how much your words hurt? especially to someone who has feelings for you.” she states sternly, and the raven haired girls careless expression falters. a trickle of silence passes, and wednesday speaks. “i didn’t mean it.” the shorter girl mutters, and enid raises a brow as she reaches for her fruit cup. “then why did you say it?“ the werewolf questions curiously, causing the short girl sitting beside her to sigh in frustration.

“because she was gushing over aaron jeffery!” wednesday snaps and enid raises both of her eyebrows in amusement. “and why did that bother you? i thought you and y/n were just friends; didn’t you say you hated the idea of love and romance because of your parents?” enid inquires, and wednesday grips the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles change in color. “this isn’t romance or love, i merely believe that y/n can do better than someone like that gross ogre.” she declares simply, and enid smirks, clearly not believing wednesday. “she can do better? as in someone like you?” enid asks with a shit-eating grin on her face, and wednesday glowers at her roommate.

“you may be my roommate, but i wouldn’t think twice about ripping your tongue out with my bare hands.” wednesday threatens the blonde, causing enid to giggle. “oh my god! you really do have feelings for y/n!” enid whisper/yells excitedly. “you have to tell her!” she exclaims, and wednesday keeps a straight face as she looks back down at her open book, deciding to simply ignore enid’s presence. “i mean, sure, you may have royally messed up by saying those things to the only person who’s genuinely not afraid of you, but she’s a sweetie. she’ll understand if you just tell her you were jealous.” enid rambles, and wednesday snaps her book shut, glaring at the blonde.

“call her a ‘sweetie’ again and i really will rip your tongue out.” she hisses as she stands up and walks out of cafeteria. enid gulps, and she looks over at you who’s watching wednesday walk away. wednesday’s head is plagued by thoughts of you. she goes to her room and tries to work on her novel, but she can’t concentrate long enough to get anything done. her homework got done later than usual because of how much she’s thinking about you. the raven haired girl sighs in frustration as she looks over at thing who’s sitting on the corner of her desk.

“i messed up.” she says aloud, making thing perk up at the sound of her voice. he makes his way towards her, and she looks at him with eyes of vulnerability. she’d never let anyone see her like this, but thinking about you and your face of hurt makes her feel enormously guilty. “what did you do?” thing taps, and wednesday purses her lips. “i… god this is embarrassing… i was jealous of aaron jeffery.” she says his name with disdain, curling her upper lip in disgust. “i know, i know. why should i, a superb young woman, who is by far the most amazing person at this awful place, be jealous of a burnt chicken like him? well, because y/n thinks he’s cute. can you believe that? she thinks he’s cute.” thing is silent while wednesday rants, finally allowing all of her feelings to come seeping out in her rushed words. “what was i supposed to tell her? that i think she has the most soul crushing smile on the planet and i would die to see it over and over again? that when she smiled at him it made me want to add him to the list of murders? she makes me sick every time she looks at me, like there’s a bunch of moths in my stomach that are about to fly out of my mouth. i can’t tell her any of that.” wednesday hisses, and thing taps, “you are in love.”

wednesday viscously glares at thing, “love is for morons!” she snaps, “you are a moron.” thing taps back, and wednesday goes silent. “yes. i suppose i am. i mean, i did let her get a way.” she whispers, and thing taps again. “talk to her. say sorry.” he insists, and wednesday purses her lips. “i’m not saying i’m going to, but hypothetically if i were to apologize, how would i do that?” she inquires curiously.

you rub your temples tiredly after you finish revising your essay for botany class. you had been doing homework all evening and were finally done. though, your homework was slightly prolonged due to the way your thoughts would trail off towards a certainly pig tailed addams. you would think about the way her eyes would pour into you, or the way her lips would twitch into the faintest of smiles as she would listen to you go on and on. yet, you can’t help but think about what she said. truthfully, you wouldn’t be so angry if she’d just apologize. sure, the words hurt, but you’d forgive her if she just said she’s sorry.

but she hasn’t even tried to speak to you, and that’s what hurts the worst.

*knock, knock*

the light knocks on your door cause your head to snap in its direction. an envelope flies under your door, and you furrow your eyebrows as you stand up and make your way towards it. you pick it up, your name is written on it and you recognize that handwriting anywhere. wednesday. you open the door, but there’s no one there; you can see thing thumping down the hall towards wednesday’s room. you can’t fight the smile that tugs at your lips as you open the envelope, and pull out the letter inside.

“y/n,

please excuse how late this is. i understand if you don’t read this, but if you do, would you do me the favor of coming to my room whenever you can? i wish to say a few things to you in regards of our last conversation. if you don’t come, that’s alright too. i’m deeply sorry for what i said. you were right, and i was jealous. you aren’t a moron, or pathetic. you aren’t like anyone at this school. — w.a”

your heart flutters in your chest as you read the letter. wednesday wants to apologize? was this some kind of trap to hurt your feelings again? you chuckle at the absurdity of this, but you can’t help but feel your cheeks heating up at the sincerity of the letter. you take a step out of your room, and close the door behind you. you hold the letter in your hand the entire way to wednesday’s room. when you knock the door flies open, and there’s wednesday standing in front of you with an unrecognizable look on her face. “you came.” she states observantly, had she really thought you wouldn’t? you were crazy about her after all. “you asked me to.” you respond softly, and there are those butterflies in her belly again

“i didn’t mean what i said. i’m sorry i hurt you.” she says, and her usual monotone is laced with vulnerability. your eyes often as you pull her in for a tight hug, “oh wednesday.” you gush as you squeeze her tightly, and she feels a wave of heat wash over her. she immediately feels okay as soon as you embrace her. “do you… forgive me?” the raven haired girl asks carefully, and you pull away, nodding eagerly. “of course! i… i guess a part of me knew you didn’t mean it. i know you’re not good with feelings, and that’s why i try my hardest to understand your reactions to everything i do. but i really hope from now on, you try your hardest to understand my feelings as well.” you explain timidly and she reaches for one of your hands cautiously. you gladly accept and interlock your fingers with hers.

“i promise i’ll do better. i’m barely starting to understand my own feelings for you, and they’re a bit overwhelming.” wednesday reveals, causing you to blush. “well, if you ever need help sorting them out, you know i’m here right?” you ask, and she looks at her for a moment. thing taps on the desk, “invite her in, moron!” and wednesday blinks as the back of her neck gets coated with a crimson blush. “would you like to come in right now and help me sort through them?” the goth asks smoothly, and now it’s your turn to blush. “i would like that.” you respond and she lights up as she steps aside, allowing you entrance into her shared bedroom. a wave of relief hits her, as she realizes you’re back and she doesn’t want to ever lose you again. that’s when wednesday realizes she may be in love with you, and that terrifies her.

though, losing you terrifies her even more… so if making you hers and keeping you by her side forever is what you need, then she’ll be content with doing so.

///////////////////////////////

a/n: this was my first fic on here!! i’ve never seen the netflix series so excuse me if i get anything wrong, i’m just crushing sooo hard on jenna ortega rn 😂

#wednsday addams #wednesday addams x fem reader angst #wednesday addams x fem reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x you #lgbtq #this is my first post #be kind #lesbian fanfic

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