#but the party wouldn’t have been a success without you lot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theostrophywife · 7 months

Text

azúcar.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader.

song inspiration: baby by madison beer.

author's note: benjamin being active on tiktok is dangerous for my health. i actually feel like i'm about to crawl on the ceiling from how badly i want this man. literally tweaking. anyways, enjoy 😊

There were a lot of quidditch related superstitions you were willing to put up with.

Wearing the same socks during every match. Kissing your boyfriend good luck before every game. Even the rowdy common room parties that you and Mattheo often snuck out of to have a celebration of your own was a tradition you welcomed with open arms.

But this was not one of them.

“It’s absolutely absurd,” Pansy huffed, her sleek black hair grazing her chin as she tucked her legs underneath her on the velvet couch. “Blaise has lost his mind.”

“Sounds like you’re the one losing it, Pans.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “You would too if your boyfriend suddenly announced a sex ban as part of some weird quidditch superstition.”

Since the start of the season, the quidditch team had taken a few hits. Usually, the boys dominated the other houses, but they barely won against Hufflepuff and came to a draw against Ravenclaw during the last game. Ending in a tie was apparently the last straw because the day after the match, Blaise told Pansy that the team had taken a pact of celibacy.

For some deranged reason, the boys believed that abstaining from sex for a week would help them secure a win for the rematch on Friday. For the next five days, they intended to sleep, breathe, and eat quidditch. Apparently, your feminine wiles would have to be set aside for the meantime. As if sex were the problem and not their constant drinking and partying, which probably contributed to their lack of focus as a whole. Not that the boys would listen to common sense at this point.

You scoffed. “Please, Mattheo wouldn’t last a day without sex let alone a whole week.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Pansy said rather bitterly, picking at the cushion in her lap. “The lot of them are taking this entirely too seriously. Blaise won’t even allow himself to be in a room alone with me.”

”Well, Zabini has a surprising amount of self-control. Mattheo, on the other hand, is perpetually horny. There’s no way that he agreed to such a ridiculous pact.”

“Lucky you,” your best friend said with a long suffering sigh.

You nudged her knee with your foot and smiled mischievously. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m more than willing to help. Blaise may be disciplined, but he’s also just a man. What do you say we pop into the village? I think I saw a lace emerald lingerie set that had your name all over it.”

Pansy perked up at that. “I knew I came to the right person.”

Your best friend smiled as you hooked your arm through her elbow. “Of course you did. Now come on, let’s bring Zabini to his knees.”

Sprawled out on Mattheo’s bed, you flicked through the pages of your novel and waited for your boyfriend to return from practice. The trip to Hogsmeade had been a complete success. Just as you suspected, the little set you glimpsed through the lingerie store window looked absolutely stunning on Pansy. Blaise didn’t stand a chance.

As a matter of fact, you’d given the two of them privacy tonight. They were due for a study session at your shared dorm tonight, but you quietly slipped out in the midst of their heated argument about the Goblin Rebellion and happily skipped off to your boyfriend’s room.

Given the late hour, Mattheo was due back any second now. As if summoning him from your thoughts alone, your boyfriend sauntered into the room, looking sweaty and sexy from running though drills all afternoon. Mattheo grinned the second he spotted you on his bed.

“Hi, princesa,” he greeted, his voice low and husky.

”Hi, Matty.” You propped yourself up on your elbows and smiled. “How was practice?”

“Absolutely fucking brutal,” Mattheo grunted as he pulled off his shoes. “Theo clobbered the fuck out of me, but I suppose it’s better him than the Ravenclaws. Mark my words, we’re going to beat those twats come Friday.”

“I don’t doubt it, babe.” You pushed off the mattress and scooted closer to him.

Mattheo licked his lips as you neared, breath hitching as you brushed his damp curls off of his forehead. You smirked and leaned in for a kiss. At the last second, Mattheo turned sharply, causing the kiss to land on his cheek instead of his lips.

“I’m all sweaty,” he explained. You quirked a brow. Sweat, dirt, and grime had never stopped the two of you before, but you brushed it off. He was probably just wound up about winning. Mattheo smiled apologetically and kissed your temple. “Let me shower first and then we can cuddle, okay?’

You made the mistake of looking into those big, brown eyes. Damn him and his chocolate eyed gaze. The twat knew it was your weakness.

“Fine,” you said as you crawled underneath the covers. “But hurry up, I’m getting tired.”

Ten minutes later, you were fully engrossed in your book again. Just as it reached a particularly steamy scene, the door swung open, revealing a half-naked Mattheo. The white towel wrapped precariously around his trim waist gave you a perfect view of his toned chest and ripped abs, beads of water clinging onto his glistening skin like rain drops. You bit your lip as he tugged on a clean pair of boxers over his legs, cocking your head to appreciate the curve of his arse before he slipped into his sweatpants.

Unaware of your ogling, Mattheo climbed into bed and wrapped his arms around you. “What are you reading, mi amor?”

“Nothing that can’t wait,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss your boyfriend.

This time, Mattheo gladly accepted the kiss. His lips slanted over yours, sighing softly as you melted into him. Your kisses were soft and sweet, punctuated by cute little pecks that had your boyfriend smiling against your mouth. You took the opportunity to slide your tongue against his, making Mattheo groan as his fingers slipped through your hair.

“Damn, mami. You missed me that much?”

You rolled your eyes at his cocky smirk while you climbed into his lap and straddled him. Mattheo gripped your hips, moaning as your lips latched onto his neck. His pretty brown eyes rolled back as you left a trail of kisses along the column of his throat. You raked your nails along his chest, dragging red lines down to his abs, and tracing his happy trail as he captured your lips once more. Mattheo let out a choked groan as you tugged at his waistband. To your surprise, he grabbed your wrist and blinked up at you.

“Y/N…” Mattheo said breathlessly. “Maybe we should…maybe we should go to sleep.” His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he tried and failed to swallow his own words.

You raised a brow and settled over his lap, squirming against his hard length as Mattheo bit his lip. “You want to go to sleep? Right now? While I’m on top of you and willing to do whatever you want?”

Your boyfriend looked pained. Conflict was evident on his face. Without a word, Mattheo nodded.

“Oh my god,” you blurted in disbelief. “You agreed to that stupid sex ban, didn’t you?”

Mattheo groaned. “Only for a week, love. We really need to win this match.”

You scoffed. This was absolutely ridiculous. “I know you, Mattheo. You aren’t going to last a week.”

“Hey! Have a little faith in me.”

Rolling off of him, you crossed your arms against your chest. “First of all, you didn’t even ask me if I’d be okay with it.”

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say. With a shit-eating grin, Mattheo cocked his head at you. “It sounds to me like you’re the one who can’t last a week, princesa.”

“Please,” you said with an eye roll. “I have my book boyfriends to keep me company. I can channel all my sexual energy into reading smut. You, on the other hand? You can’t even make it through class without dragging me into a broom closet.”

Faster than you thought possible, Mattheo flipped you onto your back and pinned you to the mattress. A cocky smirk curved against his lips as he trailed them down your neck. “Oh?” he hummed, kissing the sweet spot just below your ear, his hand gripping the inside of your thigh, making you press your legs together to suppress the need. The bloody bastard. “But can your book boyfriends touch you like I can?”

Channeling every ounce of self-control within you, a calm and unbothered expression clicked into place like a mask. You tugged at his curls, forcing him away from your neck. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about me, Matty. I’ll be just fine.” Mattheo released a choked groan when you palmed the front of his boxers. He twitched at your touch, his cock painfully hard. “Looks like you’re not doing too hot, though. Let me know if you need help. You know I’d be more than happy to give you relief, baby.”

Mattheo cursed under his breath as his own plan backfired on him. Blood rushed down to his cock as you squeezed gently, making him harder and hornier than ever. You chuckled darkly as he grinded against your hand. With one last squeeze, you kissed his cheek and peeled yourself away from his bed.

“You know where to find me, papi.”

He watched in disbelief as you gathered your things, cute little ass swaying farther and farther away from him as you hauled your bag over your shoulder. “You’re seriously leaving?”

You smirked and waved at your boyfriend as you pulled the door open. “I have a hot date with my romance novel. Good luck with your pact, babe. You’ll need it.”

Merlin, Mattheo was going out of his fucking mind.

For Salazar’s sake, he was starting to get the shakes and it had only been two days since he last had sex. Granted, it felt like an eternity since you were more than determined to get your boyfriend to break. Could lack of sex actually drive a person to the brink of insanity? Mattheo was pretty convinced that the answer was yes as he gaped at the lacy red bra peeking out under your white blouse.

Had your clothes shrunk in the wash? Mattheo could’ve sworn that your shirt hadn’t been that tight before. You were nearly bursting out of it and the view of your tits pressed together as you leaned across the table to steal a blueberry off of his plate made his mouth water and his dick hard.

“Stay strong, Riddle,” Theo whispered beside him. “We’ve got this.”

Never in his life had he wanted to throttle Theo more. The only thing Mattheo had at the moment was a painful fucking boner. Three more days. That’s all he had to endure before they called off this stupid sex pact.

He could make it. Couldn’t he?

As he looked up at you sucking on a strawberry, Mattheo’s confident wavered. You were truly testing what very little self control that he possessed. You were right when you said that your boyfriend couldn’t last a single class without dragging you into an empty broom closet. You were just so pretty and sexy and hot and that was when you weren’t trying.

Now that you were determined to tease the fuck out of him, Mattheo didn’t stand a chance.

All day, you focused on making his life an absolute living hell. Perching on his lap, fixing his tie, smiling prettily while you brushed his curls back and left glossy kiss prints all over his cheeks. His hands were in permanent fists, fingernails digging into the flesh of his palm so deeply that he wouldn’t be surprised to find himself bleeding. This was torture. Cruel and unusual punishment.

The final straw came when the two of you were studying in the library later that night. Bouncing his leg, Mattheo forced himself to pay attention to the Ancient Runes textbook in front of him instead of ogling you from across the table. It wasn’t working though. Every few minutes, he caught himself glancing up at you. Your lips, your eyes, your hair. There was nothing sexual about you taking notes yet he was so turned on that he felt dizzy.

Mattheo lowered his head, trying to keep cool. When he looked back up, you were no longer in your seat. Instead, you were reaching for a book on the shelves behind you. Whatever you were looking for was on the lowest shelves, so you bent down to retrieve it. When you did, your skirt rode up, revealing that you weren’t wearing any underwear. Mattheo hissed, scrambling to pull your skirt down.

”What in Salazar’s name are you doing, Y/N?” Your boyfriend gripped your elbow, anger and frustration radiating off of him in waves.

You blinked up at him, putting on an innocent smile. “Oh!” you exclaimed, placing a hand on Mattheo’s chest. “Did I forget to wear underwear? Silly me.”

Your boyfriend groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. He muttered something under his breath repeatedly. Breathing exercises. You bit back a smirk.

On his third count to ten, Mattheo finally opened his eyes. Without a word, he gathered your belongings and hauled you out of the library. He didn’t speak until the two of you were back in the dungeons.

“I’m going to study in my room,” Mattheo declared as he handed you your book bag. “You’ll study in yours.”

You grinned. “Oh, Matty. We both know the only thing you’ll be studying is your cock in your hand.” Mattheo tensed as you traced a finger down his jawline. “What a shame. I’d be more than willing to put an end to your misery if you just admit that the pact is stupid.”

For Salazar’s fucking sake. Mattheo was so close to calling this whole thing off. He wanted you. Screaming underneath him. Crying from pleasure. Moaning his name. But he couldn’t. He had to stay strong.

Mattheo sighed and kissed your temple. “Good night, mi amor. I love you. Even though you’re determined to drive me fucking mental.”

You smiled before pulling him in by his tie. Mattheo groaned as you placed a sweet kiss on his lips, barely giving him a taste of what he wanted. “Love you too, Matty. Sleep tight. I hope you dream of me tonight.”

With that, he watched you saunter off in the direction of your dorm, skipping through the common room without a care in the world. Mattheo stared up at the ceiling and counted to ten again.

Friday could not come any fucking faster.

You had to admit that you were impressed. Your boyfriend had miraculously survived an entire week without sex.

Despite your best efforts to thwart the stupid pact, Mattheo stayed true to his word. A pretty impressive feat given the fact that you’d practically thrown everything you had into seducing him. Sitting on his lap, licking your lips while he talked, kissing that sweet spot below his jaw, wearing your clothes shorter and tighter than ever, and even sleeping in his favorite silk red set, which you knew was particularly hard for him if the erection pressed against your back all night was any indication.

Still, Mattheo withstood all of your attempts.

You would’ve been upset had it not been for the fact that Mattheo looked absolutely pained by the whole ordeal. This entire week, his fists were permanently clenched at his side, his jaw locking and unlocking with every suggestive comment you threw his way, his eyes flickering over your body, groaning in frustration as he tortured himself by looking at what he couldn’t have.

It was amusing to watch your boyfriend twitch at your every move. As you predicted, you fared better than Mattheo had. After all, you had a wild imagination and a collection of toys to hold you over. That wasn’t to say that you weren’t needy and aching for him, but you had ways of coping.

“I’m so fucking glad it’s Friday,” Pansy grumbled beside you as she took a swig from her flask.

After the whole bring Zabini to his knees plan failed, she’d been crankier than ever. Neither one of you expected either of your boyfriends to even make it this far without caving at least once.

“Me too, babe. As much as I’m rooting for our boys, I can’t wait for this bloody game to be over. Win or lose, I know the sex is going to be insane.”

Your best friend smirked as she handed you the firewhisky. “I’ll cheers to that, babe.”

Surprisingly, the tension and frustration helped the boys play better than ever. They were ruthless on the field. Theo and Enzo were vicious as they defended the goalposts, giving way for Blaise and Mattheo to chase after the opposing beaters, nearly taking some poor bloke’s head off with a bludger. You almost felt bad for the Ravenclaws.

When Draco caught the snitch, you cheered loudly. You and Pansy screamed until your throat felt raw and hoarse by the time the game was officially called. The two of you swayed as you descended from the stands, slightly inebriated from your generous swigs, but you didn’t mind. The liquor kept you warm and served as preparation for a night of drinking and debauchery for the common room party.

Blaise wasn’t at all surprised that you and Pansy pregamed. In fact, he took the flask and downed the rest before tugging his girlfriend towards the castle.

“Have fun, you crazy kids!”

Zabini chuckled. “Oh, we will. By the way, your boyfriend’s waiting for you in the locker room.”

With a conspiratorial wink, Blaise wished you good luck as Pansy grinned from ear to ear. You chuckled before making your way over to the locker room. The doors opened, revealing a very smug looking Theo. With a frown, you swatted the back of his head.

“Ow!” The brunette exclaimed, rubbing his newly acquired injury. “What was that for?”

“For encouraging my boyfriend to agree to this stupid sex ban.” You crossed your arms and glared at your friend. “I know it was your idea, Theodore.”

“Hey! We won the game, didn’t we? So obviously, my idea was brilliant.”

“It was just dumb luck,” you replied with a scoff. “Honestly, I didn’t think you guys would take it so seriously. Especially you. You’re even worse than Mattheo. Celibacy for a week must’ve been hell, huh?”

Theo shifted his weight, looking abashed. You narrowed your eyes at him as you read the guilt in his body language. “You little weasel! You caved, didn’t you?”

“There was this really hot Ravenclaw…”

“With the opposing team, too? You’re shameless, Nott.”

“Please don’t tell the guys.” He looked genuinely contrite as he pleaded with his eyes. “They’ll murder me if they knew that I couldn’t even stick to my own pact.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine, but you owe me big time.”

Theo smiled before leaning over to kiss your cheek. “You’re the best. I’d say see you at the party, but with how tense and insane your boyfriend has been, I probably won’t see you two for the next few days.”

“I wonder who’s fault that is.”

“The pact was my idea. Teasing him was yours. Honestly, he almost stabbed a fork through my hand because you bent over in front of him.” He smirked as he held the door open. “You’ve got that man on a tight leash.”

You fought a smile. “Leave before I get the urge to hit you again.” Theo nodded, making his way out. “Oh, and congratulations on the win.”

After a cheeky wink, Theo was gone. Leaving you to find your boyfriend on your own. When you rounded the corner, you could hear the sound of water running echoing off the tiled walls. You ventured farther in the stalls and found Mattheo standing underneath the scalding hot shower, tipping his head back against the spray. With a smile, you leaned against the wall and admired your boyfriend. Merlin, he really was beautiful.

Mattheo was a sight to behold; biceps flexing, abs taut, and back muscles tense as he washed away the sweat and grime. Your gaze trailed down to his trim waist, licking your lips as your eyes snagged on his backside. The longing sigh you released gave you away.

Water glistened on his skin as Mattheo looked over his shoulder, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he surveyed you. Your boyfriend didn’t bother covering himself as he sauntered over to you. His chocolate brown eyes roamed over your body, smiling softly when he saw that you were wearing one of his jerseys. Mattheo traced over his surname embroidered right above your heart.

“The Riddle name looks good on you, mi amor,” he whispered huskily, backing you against the tile. “I can’t wait to make it official one day.”

You hummed while you tangled a wet curl between your fingers. “Oh? That won’t be happening any time soon, Matty.” Mattheo frowned as you caressed his cheek. “Not with the way you’ve neglected me this week.”

“Don’t be like that. You know it was hell for me, princesa.”

“I know,” you said with a grin. “I’m just teasing you. In reality, I’m kind of impressed. You didn’t cave once even when I threw everything I had at you. You were so good, baby. You crushed those Ravenclaws too.” Mattheo groaned as you kissed his jaw, nipping at his sweet spot. “Maybe the pact wasn’t so stupid after all.”

Your boyfriend groaned as he gripped your hips and pinned you against the wall. “Oh, I won’t be doing that shit again.” Mattheo rested his hand on the base of your throat, eyes black and filled with lust as he squeezed. “It was torture not to touch you.”

When you spoke, your voice sounded husky and seductive thanks to his possessive hold. “Could’ve fooled me. You seemed perfectly in control. So much so that maybe we should extend it another week. Abstinence really helps clear the mind, doesn’t it, baby?”

Mattheo chuckled darkly. He knew you were baiting him. You weren’t used to not getting what you wanted in your relationship. Your boyfriend was well aware that he spoiled you rotten. You were going to make him work for it tonight, but he didn’t mind. In fact, the idea thrilled him. He wouldn’t have been dating you if he wasn’t up to the challenge.

Without warning, Mattheo tugged you into the shower, making you squeal as the water soaked your clothes. He wasted no time before crashing his lips onto yours, claiming you in a starved and possessive way that had you gasping for breath. Your boyfriend was frantic as he hoisted you up and wrapped your legs around his waist.

Mattheo sucked harshly at your flesh, his dark chuckle a seductive caress against your skin. You groaned as he grinded his cock against your clothed pussy, which was already throbbing and aching for him. “Brace yourself, sweetheart. We have a whole week to make up for and we’re not leaving here until you’re properly punished for teasing me like the little brat that you are.”

You flashed him a saccharine smile. “Do your worst, baby.”

“You’ll regret that, mami.”

With a wicked grin, Mattheo slid your panties to the side and teased along your folds. He hissed when he felt how soaked you were, practically dripping down his fingers as he eased one into your pussy. You bit down on your lip as the delicious pressure awakened a familiar heat in your core.

“Not so brave now, are you?” Your boyfriend taunted as he slowly fingered you. After going without, you were embarrassed to find that a simple touch was enough to set your teeth on edge. “This is payback, baby. Wearing those tiny little shirts with your lace bra peeking out. Bending over in front of me knowing that you had no panties on. Grinding on my lap and making me so fucking hard that I almost sprained my wrist wanking off in the restroom like a madman.”

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” You rasped, groaning as Mattheo picked up the pace. “Not if this is what I get in return. I like when you’re rough, Matty. It makes me wet.”

Your head lolled back as he added another finger, curving them inside of you and reaching that spongy spot that had you seeing stars.

“Good,” Mattheo whispered as he nibbled at your earlobe. “Because I’m about to fuck you until you can’t walk.”

The filthy words sent you over the edge. Mattheo flicked his thumb over your swollen clit and you clenched around his fingers. “I can feel you squeezing me, pretty girl. So fucking greedy, hm?”

You let out a choked moan. Mattheo grabbed your wrist and slid your hand down his front. “Do you feel that, princesa? I’ve been hard as fuck for you all week. Are you gonna be a good girl and help me out?”

“Yes,” you breathed out. “Let me take care of you, papi.”

Mattheo twitched in your hand as you gripped him, tugging as he watched you with lust blown eyes. The intensity of his stare made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“I thought about this while getting myself off this week. Your hands. Your eyes. Your voice.”

“I thought about you, too,” you confessed. “But it doesn’t compare to the real thing. God, you’re fucking sexy.” You rubbed your thumb over his tip, rubbing his precum over his head. Mattheo whimpered against your neck. “I missed you whimpering for me.”

“I don’t whimper,” Mattheo countered.

You raised a brow and picked up the pace, working him until his eyes rolled back. Despite his denial, Mattheo whimpered even louder this time.

“You’re playing dirty, baby.”

“I thought you liked it dirty, Matty.”

“I do,” he said with a smirk before curving his long fingers inside of you. You shuddered as he hit that sweet spot. “Now come on, pretty girl. Come with me.”

You nodded, picking up the pace and groaning as Mattheo pulled you in for a sloppy kiss. He licked the roof of your mouth, shuddering as he bucked into your hand. You tugged at him, coaxing him to cum as he panted against your neck.

“Fuck. Don’t stop, baby. I’m so fucking close.”

“Me too, Matty,” you whimpered, grinding against his fingers to take more.

The orgasm crackled over you like a lightning strike, singing your veins with heat as your boyfriend continued to fuck you with his fingers. Mattheo wasn’t satisfied with one orgasm. He coaxed another out of you, laughing as you greedily bucked against his hand, biting into his shoulder while the second wave hit.

By the time your third orgasm rolled around, you genuinely felt as though you’d left your own body. Mattheo only relented when your eyes rolled back and your legs trembled, cries of his name falling sweetly from your lips.

“Tú eres dulce como el azúcar.”

You opened your eyes slowly and found Mattheo lapping up your cum, swirling and sucking his fingers clean with a smirk. You’re sweet like sugar. Though the words were seemingly innocent, Mattheo was anything but. Your boyfriend knew exactly how much it turned you on when he spoke Spanish and he was definitely using it to his advantage.

“That was just the appetizer, baby. Got you all warmed up for my cock. Think you can take it, Y/N?”

“I’ve been waiting all week,” you responded hoarsely.

“It’s worth the wait,” Mattheo declared cockily as he flipped you over. He stripped you of your clothes, carelessly tossing them behind his shoulder while he positioned your hands on the tiled wall. You groaned as he bent you at an angle, smacking your ass before he lined up behind you. “I promise to fucking ruin you, mi pinche puta.”

Anticipation coiled in your stomach as Mattheo sank in slowly. Both of you groaned as he slid all the way in, twitching as he stuffed you full. It was familiar yet new at the same time. It had always been a tight fit, but given your involuntary break, you could feel yourself struggling to adjust to his size once again.

Mattheo gripped your hips, leaving bruises in his wake as he slid all the way out. You whined at the loss, but it wasn’t long before he thrusted all the way back in, knocking the air out of your lungs as he set a punishing pace. You braced yourself against the tile as he spread your legs further apart, allowing him to hit an even deeper angle.

“Oh fuck, how do you always feel so good?” Mattheo grunted as his hips snapped against your ass, brutally burying himself inside of your pussy over and over again. “You were made for me, princesa. We’re perfect together.”

”Matty, baby, please…”

You keened as Mattheo tugged you by the hair, kissing you sloppily as he continued to ruin you. He cupped your tits, flicking his thumb over your nipples as he squeezed your flesh between his rough, calloused hands. Mattheo kneaded your breasts and used the momentum to drive deeper. His palm trailed down your torso, pressing against your stomach to feel himself moving with each thrust.

Tears streaked your cheeks as your eyes rolled back. “Oh gods. Fuck me. Right there, baby. You fill me up so good. I love being full of you.”

“Yeah?” Mattheo drawled as his hand crawled up your throat. “You like when I fuck you rough? Deep down, you just want to be treated like a slut. Don’t you, princess?”

“I do,” you breathed, groaning as Mattheo squeezed your neck. “But I’m only a slut for you, Mattheo.”

“Damn fucking right, baby.” He said proudly. “This pussy is mine. All fucking mine.”

You clenched, squeezing him so tightly that Mattheo felt like he might cum then and there. “So greedy. Milking me fucking dry. God, you’re perfect. Mi princesa, mi vida, mi amor.” Your boyfriend shuddered as you grinded against him, picking up the momentum as the two of you neared euphoria. “That’s it, baby. Just like that. Fuck, I’m gonna cum—“

”Cum inside me, Matty. I want to feel you. I want all of it.”

Mattheo cursed, his body seizing as he came with a loud cry. The sensation of him filling you to the brim, his hot cum dripping out of you and coating the inside of your thighs was enough to send you over the edge. You trembled as the orgasm hit you all at once and nearly passed out from the sheer force of it.

Fortunately, strong arms wrapped around you before your legs could give out from underneath you. Mattheo pulled you against him, holding your trembling body as you came down from the high. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder as he cleaned you up. Your boyfriend took his time washing your body, taking great care when it came to your sensitive core.

You smiled up at him as he lathered shampoo into your hair, letting you return the favor and sighing in satisfaction as you scratched his scalp. Mattheo grinned, flashing you a lovesick smile as you rinsed the product out of his hair.

“I love you so fucking much,” he whispered softly.

“I love you more,” you countered.

”Impossible.”

After the two of you dried off, you leaned against the wall and allowed Mattheo to clothe you in his hoodie and sweats. He tied your shoes before giving you a sweet peck.

“Ready, princesa?”

You nodded and took his hand. Without the support of the solid wall, your legs wobbled as you struggled to walk. Mattheo caught you around the waist, a smirk tugging at his handsome face.

“I warned you, Y/N.” He looked entirely too smug and satisfied for your liking. “Told you I’d fuck you until you couldn’t walk.”

Your boyfriend chuckled as you rolled your eyes. “Poor baby. Don’t worry, mi amor. Let your Matty take care of you, hm?”

“I take it back. I kind of hate you right now, Mattheo.”

You squealed as he picked you up bridal style. He didn’t even break a sweat as he carried you across the field. “No, you don’t. But you can fuck me like you do.”

“Deal.”

#this came from the deepest pits of hell aka my overactive imagination #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo smut #mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheo x reader

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imaginespazzi · 1 month

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Part 8: The Toxic In Intoxication

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 9 - Part 10

Your mouth is poison (your mouth is wine)

(In which an all over the place writer, writes something that's a little bit all over the place)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff, Jealousy,

Words: 9.0K

TW: Swearing, a little bit of violence, mentions of blood, men being men

A/N: Hi lovelies :) Unfortunately, as I've been warning y'all for a while, the deadline did finally slip through my fingers. However I'm hoping y'all will forgive me for it because I am only one day late and this chapter is quite long. I do wanna warn y'all in advance that there won't be a chapter next week because I am going on vacation and my laptop is staying very, very far away from me. There's a lot going on in this chapter and I'm not sure how I feel about the whole thing but I'm hoping y'all will enjoy it anyways. I did actually edit this time but who knows how successful that was, so please let me know about typos/mistakes. As always, feel free to tell me about what you liked, what you disliked and anything you'd like to see going forward. Have a lovely rest of your weeks my loves <3

August 2025

Azzi Fudd is a spectacular liar. She excels at keeping up a façade of yes everything is perfectly fine in front of her friends and family. She’s quite good at tricking people she can barely stand into thinking oh yes i’m totally enjoying this conversation. But the person Azzi lies the most to, is without a doubt herself. As she steps out of the car into the hot Indiana air, bustling with noises from the growing crowd inside, Azzi internally repeats a lie to herself again: she did not show up to all-star weekend for a glimpse of her ex girlfriend. She’s here, as per Colleen’s managerial advice, to build connections, to further her career and to expand on opportunities in the basketball world. The fact that Paige Bueckers, who Azzi hasn’t seen in three months -the longest period of time they’d spent apart since she’d started at UConn- is definitely also going to be attending tonight’s party, is merely a happenstance.

Taking a deep breath, Azzi puts one kitten heeled foot in front of the other, trying to ignore her heightened nerves. This isn’t her preferred scene by any means. She’d much rather be back in her hotel room, curled on her couch with a book and a pint of ice cream. It’s not that Azzi doesn’t like parties; she has her fair share of fun at Ted’s, but it’s the unfamiliarity of the environment and the lack of that once ever present comforting hand that used to tap out i’m here for you against the back of her own at big events like these, that has her yearning to crawl back into the car and hide away.

“Azzi?” a familiar voice calls from behind her and Azzi lets out a sigh of relief as she sees Aaliyah walking towards her with a large welcoming grin, “Azeray!”

“Li-Li. Thank god you’re here,” Azzi reaches up to hug her former teammate, mentally thanking whatever god was looking out for her. She’d dreaded walking in by herself and now she wouldn’t have to. Really she probably should probably send Coach a ‘thank you’ text for having so many alumni in the league that there was bound to be a Husky she could attach herself to for the night.

“I’m glad to see you too Az,” Aaliyah says, pulling away and looking at Azzi with a semi-concerned look, “but you seem a little extra relieved to see me? You good dude?”

“Just- just a little nervous,” Azzi admits, shuffling her feet uneasily.

Realization dawns on Aaliyah’s face, “cause of Paige?”

“No you know I don’t like big unfamiliar places,” Azzi sighs when Aaliayh gives her a pointed look, “but I guess maybe- maybe a little cause of Paige.”

The Mystics forward shakes her head before linking her arms through Azzi’s, “I swear, I leave y’all for one year and everything implodes-," she bites her tongue, "shit was that insensitive?”

“No,” Azzi grimaces, “that’s pretty much exactly what happened.”

Something hard coils in her stomach at Aaliyah’s words. The truth is they’d been fine. Better than fine even. And then suddenly Azzi was lighting a box of matches she hadn’t even known she was holding and her whole world was on fire; an implosion of everything Azzi had once thought inflammable. She’d burned her hands trying to rescue them and all she has to show for it are invisible red hot pustules that refuse to heal. But perhaps, she thinks, that’s what a pyromaniac like her had deserved.

Azzi cowers under the flashing lights of the cameras, clinging tighter to Aaliyah’s arm as the two of them make their way onto the orange carpet, the cameramen immediately swinging their devices to capture the college basketball player more than likely to be the number one pick in next year’s WNBA draft. She feels herself tense under their piercing gaze, anchored only by Aaliyah's strong and steady presence next to her. And as they pose for the cameras, she’s thankful for her former teammate’s company but she can’t shake the feeling that it should have been someone else.

“And look who we have here,” Lexie Brown says excitedly as the two of them approach the interviewer, “y’all Huskies clean up nice.”

“We try, we try,” Aaliyah answers charismatically, doing a little hair flip to match her tone.

“Aaliyah, it's your first all-star nod, how are you feeling?”

“I feel great, you know it’s always good to see yourself being acknowledged and being an all-star has always been a goal of mine. So, I hope it’s the first of many and I’m just hoping my team gets the W tomorrow,” Aaliyah answers diplomatically.

Lexie turns to Azzi, “I bet you’re really proud of her. I mean you’ve got a couple of teammates who are first-time all stars between Aaliyah and Paige. You’ve gotta be feeling pretty proud of them”

“Y-yeah I mean,” Azzi clears her throat, trying not to flinch at the mention of Paige’s name, “It’s been- it’s been really exciting to watch them and I’m extremely proud-”

She’s cut off by the sound of excited chatter filling up the air and Azzi doesn’t have to turn around to know who’s just entered the premises. Not when she has a whole separate sensory system that flares up just for her. Azzi’s skin prickles as she registers the sound of familiar peals of laughter echoing from the orange carpet. She digs her nails into the palm of her hand, forcing herself not to turn around.

“Speak of the devil,” Lexie says goodnaturedly, getting her hand ready to beckon the blonde over and Azzi feels panic suffocate her lungs, not quite ready to face Paige yet.

“Oh I don’t think-” Aaliyah tries to cut in, glancing worriedly at her friend but it’s too late.

“Paige,” Lexie calls out, beaming over Azzi’s head at the Dallas Wings’ newest star point guard.

The world seems to move in slow motion as Azzi feels Paige getting closer and closer to her. She smells the faint scent of fresh mint weaved with a hint of citrus first. Then she hears the sound of Paige’s breathing, perfectly even to anybody else but Azzi can hear the staggered harshness hidden beneath it. And as the blonde passes over her to settle on Lexi’s other side, she feels Paige’s arm brush against her own and it hurts to breathe. The contact lasts for a second but Azzi swears it’ll last forever, tattooing itself on her bicep as a wretched reminder of a touch she’s no longer allowed to crave.

It’s funny, there’s a hurricane swirling between them and Paige can barely look at Azzi, keeping her eyes firmly on Lexie and Aaliyah as she greets the trio. And yet, there’s a sense of calm -of peace- that seems to wash over Azzi just by having Paige near her again. The older woman seems to possess some sort of magical power that weaves itself into Azzi’s nervous system, soothing away her frazzled nerves with an unspoken promise of and if you give me the chance i’ll make it all okay.

Despite the hectic transition from a full college season to a frantic W season, Paige looks ethereal as always. Her two piece cropped vest top and straight fitted pants match the color of her eyes and a silver chain dangles across her chest. Two strands of blonde hair hide her signature diamond studs, the rest of it pulled back into a slightly messy bun. Azzi gulps at the way the vest top parts right above her midriff, Paige’s toned abs playing peek-a-boo behind it. She lets her eyes roam over Paige’s exposed arms, trying to ignore memories of how they used to go taut under her touch, down to the blonde’s bare fingers and she feels her heart constrict. No rings. It feels wrong. But then again, nothing has felt right for three months.

“Azzi,” Aaliyah hisses and Azzi snaps out of her thoughts, realizing she’d been asked a question.

“Sorry,” she laughs nervously, moving a strand of her hair out of her face; Paige’s eyes intently following the movement, “what was the question.”

Lexie smiles, “I was just asking about your thoughts on Paige’s amazing rookie year so far?”

“Oh um-” Azzi hesitates, shivers inching up her spine as she feels Paige drinking in the sight of the her body like she's a woman parched, “I’m just-” their eyes lock with each other’s and everything else seems to vanish until it feels like it’s just the two of them floating in between remnants of what they used to be, “I’m just really proud of her. I always knew she’d be amazing. She’s just doing what she always does. Being the best player she can be. So yeah I’m just- I’m just really proud of her.”

And Azzi doesn’t know how they got to this point where Paige seems almost shocked that Azzi could be proud of her, to this point where there’s droplets threatening to spill over both of their water lines and they no longer have the right to wipe each other’s tears away.

“Aww,” Lexie coos, oblivious to the tension, “well on that sweet note, off y’all go and we’ll see y’all later.”

The walk into the party is kept alive with Aaliyah’s attempt at keeping a conversation going. While Paige tries to at least entertain some of, Azzi finds herself completely zoning out until they finally make their way inside into the cacophony of music and laughter.

“Y’all wanna get-” Aaliyah begins.

“I see Jewell and Téa,” Paige cuts her off immediately, her legs already moving in a rush, “I’ll see y’all later.”

She gives Aaliyah a tentative grin but barely looks at Azzi as she practically trips over her pant-sleeves trying to get away. It feels like something’s biting against her skin, sharp teeth indenting you did this to yourself as Azzi watches Paige walk away. She watches as the tension slowly leaves the blonde’s muscles as she’s pulled into a hug by Jewell and then by Téa. The fake smile that she’d politely kept on her face the last couple of minutes for the sake of the cameras and reporters is replaced by something far more genuine. Azzi watches as Paige is absorbed into the warmth of the growing crowd, embraced by a league that adores her, and she feels the ice cold pinch of she belongs somewhere without you now start to freeze her own heart.

***

Azzi’s doing fine. She’s gotten through the night with Aaliyah by her side, making small talk with a bunch of different players and she’s managed to keep a friendly smile the whole time. She’d even danced for a little bit, letting loose with some of the other college basketball players that had made the trip to Indianapolis. Sure, she’d occasionally been distracted by her eyes flickering over to the bar and finding a new pretty influencer batting their fake eyelashes at Paige but really she’s doing fine. Her head’s a little dizzy and maybe the third shot of tequila, influenced by a one leggy brunette that had gotten a little too handsy, wasn’t her brightest decision of the night but really, Azzi’s doing fine.

Until she’s not.

And it’s Paige's fault. She had to know that it would be Azzi’s last straw. She had to know that Azzi could live with watching a thousand girls flirt with Paige as long as the blonde in question stood rigidly by the bar doing nothing but smiling politely at them. She had to know that Azzi, after having spent most of their college life watching girls fawn over her girlfriend, could deal with the flirty hands that lingered just a little too long on Paige’s bicep. But it’s when Paige leans into this one girl -whose dark curls and tanned caramel skin are just a little too reminiscent of her own- when Paige’s lips graze just a little to close this one girl’s ear, that Azzi realizes she’s decidedly not fine.

“I need some air,” she manages to bite out, ignoring Aaliyah’s concerned look as she marches out the back door, heading towards the deck.

Azzi buries her face in her hands as she leans back against the brick wall. She knows she’s being unfair; knows she has absolutely no right to feel this way but something burns within her anyways and the light breeze does nothing to cool it down.

“I’m not cheating on you,” a harsh voice interrupts her pity party and Azzi sucks in a sharp breath, “We’re not together and I can flirt or kiss or fuck-” she flinches, “anyone if I want to.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Paige’s voice is laced with accusation, “because the way you just stormed out says otherwise.”

Azzi continues to keep her head in her palms, refusing to look at the blonde, “it’s hot and stuffy in there. I just needed some fresh air.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying,” Paige spits out.

“Well what do you want me to say instead?” Azzi finally looks up, her even cadence in stark contrast to Paige’s fiery tone, “I know we’re not together-”

“Because that’s what you wanted-”

“I know,” Azzi yells, and then quieter, “I know. I know I- I know I did this. But that- that doesn’t make it any easier to see you with someone else,” she swallows, “doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss you.”

Paige scoffs, rubbing her face as she begins to pace, “you miss me? I was at Mohegan when y’all had summer camp. The whole team showed up to the game except for you and you want me to believe that you miss me?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me there,” Azzi confesses in a whisper, “you were so mad at me after-after everything- and I just- I didn’t want to ruin coming back to Connecticut for you.”

“For me,” Paige lets out a laugh devoid of any emotion, “god Azzi there you go again with this fake ‘selfless’ bullshit.”

A thousand and one retorts die on the tip of Azzi’s tongue as she shakes her head and pushes herself off the wall. She can smell the alcohol on Paige, can tell the blonde is itching for an argument but all she feels is pure exhaustion.

“I don’t wanna fight Paige. I’m tired and I just-” she bites her lip, fighting the urge to caress Paige’s cheek, “believe it or don’t but- I really do miss you.”

Sparks of electricity dance their way through Azzi’s veins when Paige curls a hand around her wrist, stopping her in her tracks from going inside. And suddenly she doesn’t feel so cold anymore.

“Dance with me,” Paige whispers.

“What?”

Paige shrugs, tugging on Azzi’s hand to pull her closer, “you said you don’t wanna fight and I- I don’t want you to go,” the confession hangs between them as Paige’s hands fall to Azzi’s waist, “so- let’s just- let’s pretend.”

“What are we pretending?” Azzi asks quietly and despite the warnings ringing in her head, she wraps her arms around Paige’s neck. It feels like coming home.

“We’re pretending that we’re okay,” Paige says softly, holding Azzi’s hips as she begins to sway them gently, “we’re pretending that three months ago you said yes.”

“Paige-”

“Close your eyes Azzi,” the blond waves her hand gently across Azzi’s face, willing both of their eyelids to flutter shut, “we’re pretending that we’re not here- we’re in Minnesota or DC or I don’t know just- anywhere. And our families are here, laughing and talking and some sappy romantic song is playing. It's the best day of our lives and we’re both- we're both dressed in white-”

“Paige,” Azzi lets out a sob, as she begins to understand the picture Paige is painting for them; a picture drawn on a canvas that Azzi had torn up before any color could touch it

“Sshhhh just- let me have this okay,” Paige’s voice trembles as she leans her forehead against Azzi’s, “if I can’t have it for real, please just let me pretend.”

If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Azzi would fight Paige’s tightening grip. If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Paige would let go. Instead Azzi lets Paige play pretend, lets them keep their bodies pressed against each other, moving from side to side in rhythm with the wind.

It isn’t until she hears footsteps approaching them that Azzi hurriedly moves away first and she can see the betrayal of if only you’d just let me hold you in front of the world written all over Paige’s face. They’re both quick to swap their tears for smiles that don’t reach their eyes as they turn to face the intruders. And Azzi wonders if Paige wishes she’d drank a little bit more too. Because maybe if they were both just a little more drunk, then tomorrow they wouldn’t have to remember just how right it had felt to play pretend tonight.

April 2033

“You look so pretty Mama,” Stephie gushes from where she’s perched on the bed as she watches Azzi put the finishing touches to her makeup

“Thanks baby,” Azzi smiles, blowing a kiss in the mirror.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie flips the running facetime call, skipping over to her mother with the phone in her hand, “doesn’t Mama look beautiful?”

Sixteen years later, and maybe it’s because of all the time they’d missed in between, but Azzi can’t help the bout of shyness that flushes across her features when Stephie places the phone, Paige’s face illuminated all over it, against the mirror so the blonde can get a proper look at Azzi’s outfit.

“You look-” Paige clears her throat, eyes dilated as they rake over Azzi’s whole body, “you look phenomenal.”

“Big word Bueckers,” Azzi teases, trying to disguise her blush, “did you just learn it?”

Paige rolls her eyes, “can’t even give you a compliment without an insult Fudd.”

“You guys argue too much,” Stephie says exasperatedly, shaking her head at the two adults who laugh. The younger girl sometimes seems far wise beyond her age.

“We’re not arguing Stephie, we’re just-” Azzi struggles to think of a word.

“Foreplaying,” Paige mutters under her breath and Azzi immediately glares at her.

“Paige!”

Stephie scrunches up her nose at the screen, “what does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says shrilly, “Miss Buecks is just making up words.”

“Why would Miss Buecks do that?” Stephie asks, looking back and forth between her mother and the screen.

“Why does Miss Buecks do anything,” Azzi babbles, as she begins to usher Stephie out of her room, “go grab your things Stephie-bean. Mama’s almost ready to drop you off at Nana and Pop’s house.”

Stephie pouts, “I wanna go to the party with you and Miss Buecks. It’s no fair you both get to go and I don’t,” she picks up the phone, looking at Paige with wide guilt-tripping eyes, “don’t you love me Miss Buecks?”

Azzi has to hand it to her daughter. She’s a smart one to choose Paige as the victim of her emotional blackmail, knowing her wiles had long stopped working on her mother.

“You know I’d take you with me if I could Stephie,” Paige says, “but I’ll make it up to you tomorrow I swear.”

Stephie smiles and Azzi shakes her head at how quickly the five-year old’s plan had worked, “you’ll take me to the park and then we’ll get fries and then get ice cream?”

“That’s a lot of junk food Steph-”

“Ssshh Mama,” Stephie chides, “this is between me and Miss Buecks.”

“The park, then fries, then ice cream it is,” Paige concedes and Azzi rolls her eyes.

Stephie grins brightly, puckering her lips to kiss Paige through the phone and eliciting a laugh from the older woman when she cheers, “you’re the best-est-est Miss Buecks. See you in a little bit. Don’t hang up without saying goodnight.”

“I promise I won’t,” Paige calls out after the little girl as Stepehie hands the phone back to Azzi and starts skipping towards her room.

Azzi gives the blonde a look, “we have got to have a conversation about you learning to say no to her.”

Paige shrugs unhelpfully, “I don’t want to learn how to say no to her.”

“You’re a lost cause,” Azzi remarks, hands on hips, “and foreplay? Seriously? Us bickering is not foreplay.”

“Well it could be if you’d just let me fuck you after,” Paige grumbles and Azzi’s mouth falls open at the bluntness of it.

“You say the most romantic things to me Paige Bueckers.”

They’re both quiet for a second as Azzi moves around her room, collecting her wallet and keys and to put into her purse.

“You know there’s still time for me to come pick you up,” Paige says finally.

“Paige,” Azzi sighs, not wanting a rerun of the same argument they’ve been having for the last week. She knows it’s a touchy subject for Paige; that it veers a little too close to insecurities that stem from their past but she’s not quite ready to take this step yet. There isn’t quite any rhyme or reason to her logic except well, she’s haunted by memories of the last time they’d let the personal mix with the professional. Her phone still holds invitations to countless team reunions that she’d actively avoided and a group chat that she’s long muted. Azzi hasn’t stepped foot in the state of Connecticut since she’d entered the draft; she refuses to lose California too.

“Teammates can carpool,” Paige explains vehemently, “it’s easily explainable.’

“I know-”

“Is this about Clémence?” bitterness tinges the edge of Paige’s voice as she chews her bottom lip. And there it is, the other subject they’d been tip-toeing around since it had been brought up at breakfast a week ago. Paige and Azzi are both excellent at avoiding talking about the harder topics but they’ve never quite managed to let anything go forever.

“Why would this be about Clémence?”

Paige narrows her eyes, sitting up from where she’d previously been lounging against her pillow, “maybe you don’t want her to see us together? Maybe you’re trying to spare her feelings I don’t know.”

“Paige-”

“You know what it’s fine,” Paige huffs, “I’ll see you at the bar Azzi.”

She hangs up before Azzi can say anything and the brunette lets out a litany of curses under her breath, annoyed with Paige’s ability to go from A to Z by skipping everything in between. There’s a part of her that knows Paige deserves an explanation about Clémence, a chance to have her lingering doubts confirmed or denied, but amidst the egoistic thoughts of well she married someone else and the self preservationist urge to prevent a potential fight, she hadn’t been brave enough to approach the topic just quite yet. Azzi’s about to step out of the room, when her phone pings with a facetime call from Paige again.

“Are you calling to apologize for hanging up?” Azzi asks with a frown.

“No,” Paige replies stubbornly, “I called because I hung up without saying goodnight to Stephie and just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I’m gonna miss saying goodnight to her.”

Something wonderful and warm blooms in Azzi’s chest as she silently walks over to Stephie’s room. This is a new chapter in Paige’s storybook that she’s slowly beginning to read; one scribbled with the blonde’s devotion to Azzi’s baby girl. Azzi still has every other chapter memorized; had thought nothing could be more beautiful than the words within the one that had been dedicated to her. But she’d been wrong. Because every day that she watches Paige and Stephie fall more and more in love with each other, she finds herself falling in love with how much they love each other.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie squeals, practically snatching the phone from her mother’s hand as she goofily grins at the screen, “you didn’t hang up.”

“I promised I wouldn’t,” Paige says, the hardness that had existed in her voice while talking to Azzi, dissolving into adulation, “you be good for Nana and Pops okay?”

“I’m always good,” Stephie says matter-of-factly, “can you come over really, really, early tomorrow?”

Paige laughs, “I’ll be there as soon as I wake up.”

“Good,” Stephie claps contentedly as she grabs Azzi’s hand to start walking towards the car, “good night Miss Buecks.”

“Good night Stephie-bean,” Paige echoes, blowing a kiss through the screen.

“Paige,” Azzi says urgently, trying to stop the older woman from hanging up, “can you just hold on a second while I buckle Stephie in.”

“Az-”

“Please.”

“Fine,” Paige says, averting Azzi’s gaze as she sulks.

Azzi lifts Stephie onto the car seat, fastening her seatbelt and pressing a kiss to her daughter’s cheek, before she closes the car door and uses it as a stabilizing structure to lean on as she pulls her phone back in front of her.

“Hey,” she whispers.

“Hi,” Paige says back begrudgingly, “you wanted to say something?”

“I-” Azzi swallows, “don’t go the bar-”

“Oh fantastic,” Paige cuts her off, her voice furious as she glares daggers at Azzi through the phone, “not only do you not want to go to the bar together, you don’t want me to go at all. Fine. Okay. Whatever. I won’t go. You have the time of your life with fucking Clementine or whatever-”

“Yet,” Azzi says loudly, trying to speak over Paige’s angry rant, “don’t go to the bar yet.”

“What?”

Azzi licks her lips, “don’t go yet. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents-”

“What does that have to-”

“Will you just let me fucking finish?” Azzi almost bangs her fist on the car in frustration and she’s glad to see that it makes Paige look just a little bit sheepish, “as I was saying. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents and uh- your house- it’s um- it’s on the way to the bar so I thought,” she shrugs with fake nonchalance, the edge of her mouth turning upwards, “I thought maybe- maybe I could pick you up on the way.”

Paige stares blankly at the screen, eyes blinking as Azzi’s words slowly register, “you- you wanna go to the bar together?”

“I didn’t say that,” Azzi teases, eyes twinkling as she basks in the thrill of eliciting that Azzi smile from Paige’s lips, “teammates carpool right?”

“Teammates definitely carpool.”

April 2029

“You invited Clémence to our movie night?” Jana asks in a whisper, as she walks into the kitchen where Azzi’s making popcorn. Her Saturday nights have gotten rather boring since she’s had Stephie, consisting of alternating between movie nights with Jana and dinner with her parents. It wasn’t the most thrilling of times but she looked forward to them all week, excited to not have to spend a night in solitude.

“She asked what I was doing tonight and I told her we were having a movie night and then she asked if she could join and well I couldn’t just say no,” Azzi explains, sticking the bag into the microwave.

Jana cocks an eyebrow, “do you want me to leave?”

“Why would I want you to leave?” Azzi asks, crinkling her nose as she juts out an ear just in case the baby monitor goes off.

“C’mon Az,” Jana says pointedly, leaning on her elbows against the kitchen counter, “you’re telling me there’s nothing going on between the two of you?”

Azzi grimaces uneasily, not quite wanting to answer the question, “nothing that would require you to leave.”

“If that’s the way you want to play it,” Jana relents, grabbing a soda from the fridge on her way back to the living room, before she pauses in the doorway to look back at Azzi, “but I know what it looks like when somebody’s in love with you. And that girl out there,” she nods her head towards where Clémence is daintily sitting on the couch, “she’s definitely getting there.”

Jana’s a rather observant person but Azzi knows that she’s at least a little bit wrong this time. Because Clémence might be a little bit in love with -even if that’s not a fact Azzi particularly wants to acknowledge- but it's impossible for her to look at Azzi the way Jana remembers someone else looking at her. That had been something completely different; a gaze that saw all the little chinks in her armor, all the imperfections carved against her walls and loved her inspite of them, maybe even because of them. Clémence might love her, but Azzi doesn’t think anyone can be in love with her the way the person she’d been hopelessly in love with, had.

When she walks back into the living room with the popcorn in hand, still plagued by her younger teammate’s words, Azzi’s deliberate to sit on the couch next to Jana instead of the open space next to the francophone. The flash of hurt in Clémence’s eye causes guilt to trickle down her spine but Azzi thinks a flash is better than the tsunami of pain she could cause if she doesn’t start to ease herself out of this right now. There’s a selfish part of her that doesn’t want to, that’s going to miss having somebody who hangs onto her every word. Azzi likes this feeling of being wanted, even if it’s not by the person she wants. But that person isn’t hers to want anymore and she won’t torture Clémence by barricading her in the same jail that has held Azzi’s soul captive for the last four years.

They’re about half way through the movie, awkward tension eased by Jana’s incessant chatter, when Azzi’s phone buzzes. Already confused at the timing of the call, she’s even more perplexed to see Ice’s name flashing on the screen.

“Oooh Iceyyy,” Jana’s eyes light up when she catches a glimpse of the CallerID, “put her on speaker. Ice is one of our UConn teammates,” she explains, turning to Clémence who nods in recognition, “she probably did something dumb as fuck and need Azzi’s advice.”

“Don’t be mean,” Azzi scolds with a grin, knowing that Jana’s probably right as she picks up the call, “hello-”

“I hate you,” Azzi freezes at the sound of the familiar voice, laced with unfamiliar malice. Next to her Jana stiffens immediately while Clémence observes the scene in front of her with a guarded frown.

“Paige who the fuck are you calling?” Ice’s voice is muffled in the background, “oh shit, Paige give me back my phone.”

“No. She needs to hear this,” Paige grits out, her pitch wavering with the effects of alcohol, “she needs to hear how much I fucking hate her. Azzi do you hear me? I can hear you breathing. I know you’re there. Did you hear what I said?”

“Paige,” Ice hisses again.

Azzi swallows the lump in her throat, fingers digging into her bare thighs as she grips her phone so hard, she half-expects it to break into pieces in a reflection of her heart, “I heard you Paige.”

“Good. Because I do. I really fucking hate you,” Paige repeats again and Azzi flinches, “you ruined me Azzi. And now you’re ruining my marriage. My wife is perfect. She loves me. She loves being seen with me. She loves being known as my wife. Everything I ever wanted from you, she’s willing to give me. But she saw that damn hug at the Olympics and she- she’s upset with me. She thinks- she thinks I’m not over you.”

“Az maybe you should-” Jana says softly but Azzi immediately raises a hand to stop her. Maybe she’s a masochist but she can hear the hurt laced underneath the anger in Paige's voice. And if what Paige needs to get rid of her pain is a target to aim all her arrows at, then Azzi’s willing to sacrifice her heart, or at least what little is still left of it.

“And the worst thing about it,” Paige’s voice breaks, “is that she's probably right. I have the perfect fucking woman at home and I can’t seem to get over the one who broke my heart and never looked back. Isn’t that pathetic?”

“Paige,” Ice pleads again and Azzi can hear her former teammate trying her best to wrangle the phone out of Paige’s firm grasp.

“I’m not done yet Ice. I need to talk to her and I need to talk to her now because if I don’t, I’ll never get the courage to say any of this again,” Paige is sobbing now, and her broken whimpers pierce Azzi’s heart deeper than any words could, “why couldn’t you just have said yes Az? I know- I know your reasons but why- why couldn’t you have just loved me enough to look past them? How do you do it Azzi? How do you live without me because it’s been four years and I- I still don’t think I know how to live without you and I hate you, I hate you because you do.”

No, Azzi thinks, I really don’t. But she doesn’t say anything, rapidly blinking back tears as she avoids both Jana’s concerned look and Clémence’s more thoughtful gaze.

“I wish I could just feel nothing towards you Azzi,” Paige confesses, heaving as she struggles to breathe through her tears, “I don’t want to hate you. I don’t want to miss you and I really- I really, really don’t want to love you. Please just make it stop. I’m so tired of this Azzi. I’m so tired of hurting. How do I make it go away? Please tell me how I make it go away? How did you make it go away?”

“I didn’t,” Azzi whispers, so soft she’s not sure Paige heard it; she’s not sure if she wants Paige to have heard it. It’s the kind of pain, she thinks, she’s destined to feel forever. It’s weaved itself into every crevice of body and now it exists as just another innate part of her. Paige thinks Azzi’s learned to live without her but really all Azzi’s learned is how to live with these permanent scars of i think i’ll miss you forever.

“That’s enough Paige,” Ice’s voice is clearer now, having finally snatched the phone out of her teammate’s grip, “Azzi-” she begins apologetically, “she’s just drunk. She didn’t mean-”

“She did,” Azzi clears her throat, sinking into the way Jana's arms wrap around her, “she’s um- she’s gonna be really hungover in the morning. Make sure she- make sure you give her water but don’t- don’t give her coffee. She’ll want it but it’ll only make it worse because she uh- she- when she drinks too much, her stomach hurts and the caffeine- it just- it makes it worse so- don’t let her drink coffee tomorrow morning okay? And make sure- make sure she eats something before she takes painkillers. And Ice?’

“Yeah Azzi.”

“If she doesn’t remember any of this tomorrow morning, please don’t remind her.”

***

April 2033

The bar is buzzing with noise by the time Paige and Azzi finally arrive. It’s an exclusive enough place that they won’t be too bothered by fans asking for pictures and autographs but the size of the crowd still puts Azzi a little bit on edge. She can’t help the small smile that flitters across her face when she feels Paige’s hand resting on her lower back as the blonde guides the two of them through the crowd in search of their teammates. For the last eight years, Azzi has been her own protector and she’s learned to guard herself but it’s nice -it feels right- to have someone else ready to be her shield too.

“You know Bueckers,” Joyce says as the two of them finally approach the table that had been reserved for the Valkyries, “some might say that one should be on time when meeting their new teammates. Just a thought.”

“And some might say Edwards that being fashionably late is being on time,” Paige quips back.

Joyce grins, “alright time for introductions.”

“I’m pretty sure I know-”

“Shut up,” Joyce reprimands, throwing an arm around Paige’s shoulders, “let me introduce these brand new people to you.”

“They’re not-”

“Sssshhh. Let me have my fun. We’ll start over here with Westbeld and Booker. You might know them, their teams kicked your ass during the 23-24 season,” Joyce says with a smirk.

“Oh I do remember that,” Paige says thoughtfully, eyes twinkling with mirth, “what happened the season after?”

“Don’t be cocky Bueckers. It’s unbecoming,” Madison chides as she rises from the table to give Paige a hug.

“Yeah I try not to remember that Elite Eight game thanks,” Laila says, making a disgusted face.

Joyce glares at her, “did I introduce you yet Miss Phelia?”

Laila raises her hands in surrender as Joyce continues to give Paige a tour of the Valkyrie team. Azzi had known that Paige would fit in well with her teammate -really the blonde had the uncanny ability to fit in anywhere- but seeing it realized in front of her, it seems even clearer. Paige feels like the last mosaic piece, slotting in right where she belongs.

“Those two over there are our babies,” Joyce points to Haylen and Jayla, “they’re like five years old but we love them anyways.”

“I’m almost 25,” Haylen protests.

“See,” Joyce remarks, “literally children. And that one,” she points to Jana who beams at Paige, “well you already know her even if you sometimes wish you didn’t probably-”

“Hey!”

“Oh shush Jana,” Joyce says airily, “and I supposed there’s no point in introducing Azzi to you since y’all came together,” she pauses to look between them, “y’all don’t live that close to each other. Why didn’t you just carpool with Jana? I’m pretty sure she lives closer to you.”

Paige opens and closes her mouth a couple of times as Azzi feels her own cheeks heat up at the innocent enough question, “we um- well it's just- you see- my house is on the way from her parents and she had to drop off Stephie so it just- it just made sense you know? For efficiency’s sake.”

“Oh yeah for efficiency’s sake. They’re both very efficient,” Jana smirks, “makes a lot of sense.”

Joyce gives all three of them a weird look, “y’all Huskies are strange. It was just a question but anyways,” she grins as she finally steers Paige towards the blonde in the corner and Azzi stiffens at the way Paige’s body immediately tenses, “a couple of our teammates aren’t here but we do have a former teammate. Paige meet Clémence.”

“We’ve met,” Paige says, attempting to school her features to resemble anything but the discomfort she’s feeling within, “during the Olympics that is. We’ve beat France a couple of times.”

It’s a purposeful word choice, beat instead of played and Azzi's fingers fidget with the hem of her top as she tries to avoid looking at either of the two women.

“Yes. It is good to see you again,” Clémence says tersely, her French accent stronger than the last time Azzi had spoken to her. She shakes Paige’s hand rather formally before her eyes focus on Azzi and she determinedly walks towards the brunette, “and it is really good to see you Azzi. I have missed you.”

“I-” Azzi stutters at the French woman pulls her into a hug; over her shoulder she can practically see steam coming out of Paige’s ears as she hyper focuses on how Clémence makes it a point rub her thumb down Azzi’s back, “it’s um- it’s good to see you too.”

She pulls away and she can feel the disappointment reverberating from Clémence’s body as Azzi practically flings herself on the chair next to Jana, wondering what she’d done to deserve this moment as a punishment for her sins.

“Save me,” she pleads as Clémence and Paige sit as far away from each other as possible, occasionally shooting glares when they think the other isn’t looking.

“Save you from having two hot women fighting over you?” the center teases, “you truly have such first world problems Azzi Fudd.”

“They’re not fighting over me-”

“Azzi you will have your usual rum and coke no?” Clémence asks and Azzi looks over to where the francophone is intently staring at her, “I will go-”

“Oh there’s no need,” Paige says immediately, “you sit Clémence. You already have a drink. I was gonna go get one for myself and I’ll get Azzi’s too. Besides, Azzi's more of a fruity drink girl. Az I’ll get you a piña colada-”

Clémence narrows her eyes, “maybe she liked that when she was in college but Azzi likes something different now.”

“She might like something different now,” Paige counters, standing up aggressively so she towers over the table, “but she’s always gonna love a piña colada right Azzi?”

All eyes turn to look at Azzi who wants nothing more than to cower under the table- or hit Jana who seems to find this very unamusinging situation rather entertaining, “I um-” she swallows, “I think tonight calls for something stronger. Round of shots for the table? On me?”

It placates the situation for a while as the rest of the team cheers on the idea, beckoning over one of the bartenders to orders a round of tequila shots for the table. For a moment, Azzi tricks herself into thinking maybe that’ll be the end of ridiculous situations for the night as the team downs shots to Jana yelling “to the Valkyries” but she should have known it was wishful thinking.

Half the team ends up on the dance floor, swaying to the mixed rhythm of the music and the newly minted alcohol coursing through their bloodstreams. Azzi watches with a smile as despite her protests, Joyce manages to drag Paige onto the dance floor with her, engaging her in some eccentric dance moves as they try to outdo each other on who can look the silliest. And as the rest of the girls cheer the blonde on, it feels like Paige is chiseling out a place for herself in another part of Azzi’s world.

“She is easy to love,” Clémence’s hot breath fans Azzi’s ear as the francophone takes Jana’s empty seat next to the brunette.

“Clém-” Azzi sighs.

“She fits in well with the team,” Clémence continues, something wistful in her voice, “I have seen her play. She will fit in well on the court with you guys as well. She will fit in well next to you.”

“That’s the hope,” Azzi says softly as she tilts her head to look at the other woman, “you fit in well too. I mean it Clém. We’ll miss you at GSV.”

Clémence smiles bitterly, “I would have liked to stay but they needed the cap space so they could sign her. She- she’s quite expensive. I mean considering she is casually wearing swarovski crystals on her neck in a bar on a random Saturday night, I am not surprised.”

The two of them laugh despite the gravity that looms heavily over them. Azzi and Clémence haven’t been anything in a long time but she’d never quite shut the possibility of a potential future done. She can hear the lock ready to click now. It’s bittersweet doing the right thing but as Paige glances over from the dancefloor, eyes darting cautiously between the two of them, Azzi knows that she doesn’t want to keep any other doors open. Not when the one with Paige’s name etched on the door handle, leads to home.

“One last dance?” Clémence asks softly, holding out her hand.

Azzi hesitates, knowing that it would irritate Paige but she thinks she probably owes Clémence this and so she smiles and takes the francophone’s outstretched hand as they join their other teammates. It’s nothing beyond friendly and they both keep their hands to themselves as they sway to the music, but Azzi can feel the annoyance radiating off of Paige from across the dancefloor. She would never admit it, perhaps it’s a little toxic of her, but there’s a certain thrill to making Paige jealous. There’s something about the way the blonde’s blue eyes flare with ice cold envy, the way her jaw hardens as she grinds her teeth. The way she looks at Azzi like if she had her way she’d drag the brunette out of the bar and mark her with a possessive you’re mine you’re mine youre mine. It makes Azzi clench her thighs together as she tries to focus on Clémence.

“I understand now,” the francophone says thoughtfully as Azzi’s peers up at her in confusion, “when you told me that you could not be with me. I get it.”

“I don’t-”

“You are here with me but you aren’t actually. You will always be with her,” Clémence tilts her head towards Paige, “you always have been. I understand now,” she says again simply before her face hardens, “even after all those words she said to you on the phone that night.”

Azzi’s stomach curls at the reminder. She knows exactly what night Clémence is referring to. Sometimes when she closes her eyes, it’s those words, coated in anger and malice, that shower around her like acid rain, seeping into her skin and infecting her bloodstream.

“I told you, you deserved better,” Clémence says and Azzi gulps, “but you said- you said you deserved worse. I hope you don’t believe that anymore Azzi. Just because you hurt her doesn’t mean you need to let her hurt you too.”

“I-” Azzi’s cut off by a hard body ramming into her own and she feels herself going stumbling back into the unwanted arms of a random man, “I’m sorry,” she says tersely, struggling to get out his grip.

“No worries pretty girl,” he says toothily, the heavy stench of alcohol in his breath making Azzi feel nauseous, “but now that you’re here, how about I buy you a drink.”

“No thank you,” Azzi says sternly, trying to push the man away but he’s relentless.

“Aw c’mon don’t be like that sweetheart,” the term of endearment sounds like an insult falling from his lips and Azzi loses her patience, stomping her heel into the man’s foot to finally free herself from his grip and he yelps in surprise.

“I said no thank you.”

“What the fuck,” the man spits out, standing up as Azzi takes a step back. He’s got some muscle and although, despite his bravado, she knows she’s strong enough to take him, she’d rather not create a scene. Her plan is to walk away. Paige seems to have other ideas, suddenly materializing in between Azzi and the man, a furious look on her face as she squares him up.

“Do we have a problem?” the blonde asks menacingly.

“Nothing other than your little friend here being a fucking bitch.”

Paige’s eyes darken as she takes a threatening step towards him, prevented from going further only by the way Azzi immediately laces a hand around her wrist, “what the fuck did you call her?”

“I called her a-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Azzi cuts in, stepping in between a glaring Paige and a man who’s clearly underestimating her strength, “let it go Paige.”

“Yeah,” the man mocks, “let it go Paige.”

“You fucking-” Paige tries to lunge at him but Azzi’s quick to shove her back gently.

“Don’t cause a scene,” she warns.

“Azzi-”

“Paige please.”

“Holy shit,” the man wolf-whistles, “y’all play for the Valks. You’re Azzi Fudd. I know you.”

“Good for you,” Azzi spits out at him before turning her attention back to Paige, who looks like she could kill the man if given the chance, “c’mon let's go back to our tab-”

“It’s funny you’re acting like such a fucking prude when you have a bastard chi-”

An unmistakable crunch rings out through the bar as the man goes flying backwards. Azzi’s knuckles are bleeding as her breath comes out in ragged huffs. She hadn’t wanted to cause a scene; could have walked away from a man being a drunken idiot, could have walked away from being called a bitch or hell, even something worse. But the man had attacked the one part of her that she’d always be ready to go to war for. He’d brought up Stephie and she’d seen red. Her fist had moved of it's own accord.

Paige doesn’t say anything and Azzi can feel the anger still vibrating from the older woman’s body as she roughly grabs Azzi’s unhurt hand.

“Let’s go,” the blonde’s voice is eerily low, “we’re going home.”

***

It’s a subconscious choice to let Paige drive Azzi’s car even though they’ve both sobered up considerably, not that one shot had done much in the first place. It’s a subconscious choice that Azzi reaches over to lace her fingers through Paige’s free hand, resting it on her lap, as the blonde use her other hand to grip the steering wheel. It’s a subconscious choice that they end up driving to Azzi’s house in complete silence. She’s not sure who’s mad at who, if they’re even mad at each other or that man or just the world but she can feel the fury suffocating the air.

“Where’s your first-aid kit?” Paige says gruffly as Azzi unlocks the door.

“Bathroom,” Azzi says quietly and Paige is off towards it before the word has even fully left the brunette’s mouth. Azzi scrambles after her, pausing in the doorway as Paige rummages through drawers, knowing better than to interrupt to help when Paige looks livid like this.

“Sit,” Paige points to the sink once she’s finally found the sanitizer and gauze to clean up dried up blood staining Azzi’s knuckles.

“I can do it my-”

Paige glares at her, “just sit on the fucking sink Azzi.”

Putting away her own irritation at being told what to do, Azzi lifts herself onto the flat surface of the sink, opening her legs slightly so that Paige can stand between them. Despite still quivering with barely concealed rage, Paige’s touch is gentle as she dabs at the remnants of red liquid on Azzi’s hand.

“You should’ve just let me punch him when I wanted to,” she says finally.

“So you could be the one bleeding?” Azzi raises an eyebrow.

“No because he would’ve never gotten the courage to say shit about Stephie if you’d just let me kill him when he called you a bitch,” Paige bites out venomously.

“And let you go to jail? I couldn’t do that to Stephie,” Azzi tries to lighten the tension in the room, “she’d miss you too much.

“This isn’t funny, Azzi,” Paige seethes as she begins to wrap the white gauze around the wound.

“I know,” the younger woman says, trailing her other hand down Paige’s arms trying to soothe her anger, “but it’s fine-”

“It’s not fucking fine,” Paige yells.

“Baby-” the word slips out from Azzi’s lips before she can catch it. She hasn’t used it for someone other than Stephie in so long that it feels foreign on her lips and yet, it fits exactly right.

“Did you call Clémence that too?” and there it is, the real reason behind the volcano erupting as Paige decidedly looks away from Azzi.

Azzi narrows her eyes, “I don’t know Paige. Did you call Olivia that?”

“That’s different,” Paige grits out, “Olivia was my wife.”

Azzi flinches at the word; hates that somebody else had ever had the honor of being called that even if she knows it’s unfair of her to feel that way when she’s the one that had turned it down first.

“Exactly,” she says slowly, “you married someone else-” she holds up a hand when Paige protests, “I know. I know I said no but you married someone else Paige. So you don’t get to be mad at me for having something with someone else too.”

Paige is quiet for a moment and Azzi sees the exact moment the fight leaves her body as she lets out a sigh, leaning her head against Azzi’s shoulder.

“You’re right,” Paige whispers into Azzi’s neck, hands moving to rest against the brunette’s thighs.

Azzi runs her hand through Paige’s hair, brushing it in tandem with the harmony of her breathing, “we can’t keep throwing the past in each other’s face, Paige.”

“I know,” Paige breath tickles against Azzi’s skin and she shivers in spite of the tense moment,“I just-” the blonde lifts her head to look at Azzi, “I need to know who Clémence was to you. You- you know what Olivia was to me and I- I just need to know the same about Clémence.”

“She-” Azzi hesitates, “we hooked up a couple of times,” she squeezes Paige’s hand when the blonde flinches, “but then she- she wanted more but I couldn’t- I couldn’t do that. Partly because I didn’t- I didn’t feel the same- don’t look so smug,” Azzi chides when a small grin forms on Paige’s face, “and partly because we were on the same team. I didn’t want to complicate things, not like last time. Feel like I should probably have a rule not to date teammates.”

“Right.”

Azzi watches the cogs turning in Paige’s brain and she reaches out a hand to ease the creases forming on her forehead, “what are you thinking Bueckers?”

“I just-” Paige bites her lip, “what about me?”

“What about you?”

“I mean we’re gonna be- I mean we are- we’re on the same team too,” Paige says and Azzi can hear the insecurity of will you leave me again weaved through her voice.

“You don’t get it yet do you,” Azzi whispers, reaching up to cup Paige’s face, “baby you are the exception to all of my rules.”

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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ellecdc · 3 months

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elle elle elle can i request something with moon water killer (i think that's with barty?😭) with a reader inspired by the song Matilda by harry styles???

Since i saw you haven't gotten many requests with song inspo

omg! I'd never heard this song before! it's really beautiful, so thank you for sharing! also....I hope I did it justice <3 ** .... fuck ok I posted this and noticed you perhaps asked for reader to be Matilda coded? sorry I didn't catch that at the time

poly!moonwaterkiller x fem!reader who exceed expectations

CW: mention of Barty & Regulus' shitty childhoods and families (but nothing is described), lyrics are in a different font & the lyrics I inserted directly into the fic are in blue

You don’t have to be sorry for leaving and growing up. You don’t have to be sorry for doing it on your own.

Being born a Black came with a lot of expectations.

A young Black was expected to be well-groomed at all times, to be quiet, obedient, well-mannered, and have proper etiquette training.

They were expected to be dutiful sons and daughters, driven and successful students, and to keep up the family’s good name.

They were expected to grow into robotic adults, find a partner who was probably not too distantly related from them, and raise the next generation of Black children who would then wash, rinse, and repeat.

Regulus Black expected the same for himself.

He expected to be a dutiful son, a diligent student, a successful heir to the Black family name, and produce a suitable offspring who would amount to much the same.

And by some brilliant stroke of luck, he did not meet those expectations.

Though he tried to be a dutiful son, and he was indeed a diligent student, it hadn’t seemed to be quite enough for Orion and Walburga Black.

And it wasn’t until Sirius left that Regulus realised that it would never be enough for them.

So he left, too.

You can let it go.

And when Regulus believed that there was lingering Darkness that flowed through his veins, he had found three people who saw the Light in him… even when he couldn’t.

And Regulus won’t bore everyone with the details; but somehow that Light brought him here, to this day, with these people.

And though both you and Remus were privy to the life Regulus lived growing up, neither of you truly understood it; and Regulus was happy for it.

But Barty did.

Barty knew what it felt like to never live up to the expectations that came with your Name, to be perpetually wrong and disgraceful, and unfortunately that the consequences of such were really quite high.

But they made it. They made it out.

Though it was not without scars.

Birthday’s had always been somewhat touchy for Barty, which may seem strange for the boisterous, egotistical, cocky son-of-a-bitch that everyone knew Barty to be.

A whole day? Dedicated to you? Where people were obligated to shower you with love and gifts? What self-absorbed, high-performing only child wouldn’t like that?

Barty didn’t.

Though Regulus supposed it was less that Barty didn’t like the idea, and more that birthday’s had never been a positive experience so he never quite knew how to handle them.

But - God love you both - you and Remus were determined to change that; and Regulus thought you might actually be succeeding.

Because Regulus stood in the backyard of his small, cosy, modest townhouse with string lights hanging between beams and bannisters, basking the space in a golden glow as the small fire crackled and music played softly from Evan’s sound system that he brought for the event.

The event being Barty’s birthday.

Everyone Barty loved was crammed into the small space; and the people Barty claimed not to love but rather tolerate (read: Remus’ friends) had shown up too.

Throw a party full of everyone you know.

Regulus had the prime view from where he stood leaning against the wooden fence; some drink in his hand that Potter insisted was “so sodding good, mate, you’ll love it” - that Regulus could admit wasn’t horrid - as he watched Remus twirl you around in sloppy circles that the two of you seemed to think was a dance (years of proper etiquette and dance training would have Regulus saying otherwise). You threw your head back in a laugh that echoed in Regulus’ rib cage as Remus dipped you low; his honey brown curls glowing ethereally in the golden glow of the string lights as he pulled you back up to your full height to press a kiss to your lips.

And Regulus’ prime viewing location also allowed him to watch Barty as he, too, watched the two of you.

Barty always talked of the pain like it’s alright; ever the comedian, he was always able to play off some of the most traumatic stories from his childhood as funny. And Regulus understood that; nothing about the way either of them had been treated had ever seemed especially alarming until now…until they saw that it could be better, that it should be better.

Barty had been laughing and chatting with Evan, Pandora, Dorcas, and Marlene from the deck, but he had since opted to lean against the bannister as he watched two of his lovers enjoy the party; his party.

A party that Barty likely never imagined…expected for himself, a party that would have seemed impossible years ago.

If the subtle glisten in Barty’s eyes and the mystified look on his face was enough to go by; the sentiment was not lost on Barty, either.

Their eyes met then; two boys whose families never showed them love who moved on to find freedom in love and a family that they started all on their own.

It should have been impossible for Barty’s face to soften anymore than it had been as he watched you and Remus dancing, but it seemed to do just that when he shot Regulus a wink.

Regulus raised his glass to his boyfriend then; to growing up, to moving on, to showing love, to their little family.

And to exceeding every expectation either of them ever had for themselves.

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moviestarmartini · 6 months

Text

ella es mi fiesta — jude bellingham x hispanic!reader

es la favorita, la mujer más buena / la que más me gusta de todas las nenas / es la mamacita, se me agua la boca / que no más las miro y todo me provoca.

summary: jude has completed his move to madrid, and while you watch him shine, you've got a wedding to plan.

wc: 3.1k

warnings: wedding!! tried not to specify much so it adapts to everything (methinks), good mother/daughter relationship lol, short nsfw but still 18+, brief female masturbation, unprotected sex (not endorsing it!!!), lots and lots of sappy crying, smau at both the beginning and the end, sentences in spanish, a paragraph in spanish will be translated at the end hehe

previous part

A bigger, brighter spotlight started to shine on your fiancé.

You knew Jude deserved that and more, and you were more than satisfied with his success. If college wasn’t occupying your nights, you saw him at the Bernabeu whenever you could, preferring to sit outside than inside the VIP boxes to feel la afición you grew up with. Feel that passion and support surrounding you, coursing through your veins.

Nothing had really changed; you still supported him through thick and thin. You cried when he scored a brace against Barcelona, and held him close after the endless recovery hours when he was injured. The fact he was physically closer only improved your relationship further.

You never knew how much you needed to have him close by.

But being at Real Madrid had its disadvantages. You barely got to hang out around campus to avoid people asking too many questions, wanting to know more about your relationship with the golden boy. But most of this chatter wasn't even questions about you or him, they were directed towards your relationship.

The same comments you’d read on Twitter and his Instagram Posts— not yours, considering you decided to keep your account private for the time being. Things ranging from your age, the time you’ve been dating before the proposal to downright wishing you wouldn’t even make it to the wedding and just cancel the engagement.

You’d discussed these comments with Jude, and his reassurance was more than enough to keep you at peace about your relationship. But the criticism only made your body burn with the necessity to prove everyone wrong. So you kept your head down, concentrating on your studies and planning the wedding on the side. You had bimonthly reports to Jude about the progress of everything, though Denise had been a godsend this whole time. Any decision you needed an opinion on, she was there to provide the most helpful insight when Jude wasn’t able.

As he settled into the team, the teammates he grew closer to got to meet you, all of them absolutely adoring you and the pair you made with the englishman.

“When are we getting our wedding party ask? Cama here wants to be the flower man.” Tchouameni joked, elbowing his fellow french national on the ribs as the group exploded with laughter.

During one of the international breaks Jude surprised you with his return by joining you during a cake tasting. He wasn’t fully recovered from the injury and was sent back, having taken a few hours off to be with his ‘best girl’— he said himself.

“Shoo, or I’m going to report to the mister that you’re playing hooky.” You stuck your tongue out while dropping him off at Ciudad Real Madrid for his recovery training. The truth was, you had a dress fitting that afternoon. Your mom, Denise, your cousin and your best friend were in attendance.

You’d find your dream dress at a boutique in the city center, the streets crowded enough for people to recognize you and snap a few blurry pictures entering the shop. None of those wearing the dress, thank goodness, but by the time you found out people started to realize you and Jude were actually getting married that year, you were too elated to care. The dress fit like a glove, and your mom couldn’t help but sob by seeing you in it. She bought it on the spot without much consideration, and considering you were the only girl in your nuclear home, your mother was going all out for her little girl’s wedding.

As the temperatures dropped, the planning became more frantic. You had fifty calls to make every single day confirming everything, keeping Jude updated and checking one last time for the RSVPs. As November edged in, you only felt more and more nervous.

“Are we too insane for this? We should’ve waited for two years from now maybe…” You wondered out loud to Jude as you finished the engagement photoshoot. Brunch was your thing, so it was a playful twist on the theme.

“Look at me,” He incited, taking your face in his hand. His eyes were full of reassurance, and it always surprised you to see how he never doubted anything for a second. “I’ll do whatever you ask of me. If you want to delay it for fifteen years I’ll wait patiently.” The photographer was already packing up his things, but perked up when he noticed the intimate moment going on. He didn’t interrupt, just taking a few candids.

His understanding just melted away any doubts instead of reinforcing them. You scooted closer in your chair. “I’m not moving anything. The wedding’s in a month, and I couldn’t be happier.” You cooed, your fiancé humming happily as he kissed your forehead.

When you received the pictures you came to notice those candids turned out to be your favorites. Not that the others looked bad— on the contrary, you both looked stunning— but they transported you back into that moment full of reassurance and love.

Before you knew it, the last game of the season transpired, along with your last class before exam season took place in January after your Winter vacations.

After your wedding.

For your bachelor and bachelorette parties respectively the two of you decided to celebrate during the day so that night the rehearsal dinner could take place at the same cozy chateau the wedding was taking place the next day. It was more of a mixer than anything else, considering Jude had guests come from all over to the event. All of them you knew, since you both agreed to keep it tight knit on both sides. There had also been a sworn secrecy, you’ve giggled for hours reading Twitter threads speculating when your wedding was taking place when it was literally happening right under their noses.

It had been an hour or so since the last of the guests either drove home or crossed over to stay at the boutique hotel nearby. Both of your families were sleeping in the other rooms in the venue, but the matrimonial bedroom was left for your solitude.

“Can’t sleep either, eh?” You turned to Jude’s husky voice from the bedroom door. You got up with a nod, watching as he closed the door behind you. “Anxious?”

“Definitely.” You agreed, pulling him down and into a hug. “Young bride was not something I ever pictured in my resume but that was before I met you.” You muttered, cupping his face and kissing his forehead.

Jude observed your movements slowly, feeling the cold white gold against his cheek. He turned his face and kissed your palm before taking it in his hand, kissing your fingers, never breaking eye contact. He inched in, nose brushing against you and you knew well enough his intentions.

“In twenty-four hours we’ll consummate the marriage, Belli-bear; don’t.” You warned him with a playful smile, noticing how he leaned down and kissed your neck slowly. You couldn’t resist, tilting your head back. With all the planning involved, you barely got to see anything of each other, even less intimately.

“I don’t care.” He grumbled, sliding his hands on your thighs as you stumbled over to the edge of the bed. He sat first, drawing you over to his lap. “I’ve barely seen you in the last two months.” Jude linked your lips together, and you melted right into his lap. It was slow, taking your time. He pulled down the straps of the soft cotton pajamas, letting the top roll down and pool at your waist.

Your bare chest heaved against his clothed one, and he removed the shirt before his hands cupped your breasts. The tension building up in the room was something you’ve never experienced before; it was mind numbing, almost.

“I love you.” You muttered something you’ve said so many times previously, but it felt like the first time. You noticed how he swallowed hard, his eyes looking up at you with utter admiration. Instead of replying right away, his hand sneaked under the matching shorts, past your underwear. Your breath hitched, his middle fingers drawing circles slowly.

“Yo también te amo.” He replied, licking his lips. You slightly raised your brows in surprise; it was usually the other way around. You said it in Spanish and he replied in English. Now his tongue spoke your language with ease each day. Your mouth twitched lightly into a smile, interrupted by a moan as he gathered the slick pooling around his fingers.

“Let me take you, please.” His begging was sincere, knowing you could easily decline and follow traditions. Not that you hadn’t done it before, but maybe right before your wedding was pushing it. “I’m too eager… I don’t think I can wait until tomorrow.

You have been feeling his boner pressing against your thigh for a while now, yet again adding to his honesty. Your thoughts were racing a hundred miles per hour, but you concluded there was nothing traditional about this in the first place. The two of you were bending the rules over backwards from the day you met. A smile still rose to your lips, pulling him into a kiss and pushing him onto the bed.

“Take me now. Tomorrow you’ll do it forever.” You brushed your nose against his, and he switched places to lay on top of you. Without wasting any time he pulled your pajama shorts and underwear down, his own following soon after.

“Uh, fuck— I forgot,” He looked around the room, trying to figure out if you’d brought any condoms. You pulled his face towards yours, cupping his jaw in your fingers.

“I’ll take a pill tomorrow.” You noticed how his eyes shone in a way you’d never noticed before, and he caught your lips in his once more, brushing his tip against your entrance. You mewled, feeling the stretch and embracing it warmly. Your fiancé held you against his chest, kissing the top of your head.

“You feel so warm,” He practically whined, starting to draw out long thrusts. You could barely reply to the praise, trying to keep your moans muffled by hiding your face in his neck. “So perfect for me, my girl.”

He knew those strained moans like the back of his hand, the kind where you seemed to be choking on air. The way your cunt squeezed him was enough indication. “Yes, baby. Do it, cum for me.” You exhaled in a way it was apparent the permission lifted a weight off your shoulders. He held you closer to his body, allowing your moans to leave your mouth more freely without escaping those four walls.

The stutter of his hips that came soon after, followed by a string of curses gave away that Jude was close too. You kissed his strong shoulders, giving him words of encouragement as he perched your legs over his shoulders and started a painful pace to find his release. Still, he looked down at you with a fondness that made your heart melt, leaning down for a final kiss as he pulled out and shot ropes of white to cover your lower tummy.

“How about a warm bath?” He proposed tenderly, and you couldn’t have said no, even if you wanted to. Without even noticing you fell asleep curled up in his chest, the light steam surrounding your bodies.

You woke up the next day to the empty bed, haven’t felt so well rested in a while. There was some chatter going on downstairs, and you peaked from the bedroom window to notice staff being led by your mother and soon to be mother-in-law assembling the ceremony venue in the vast backyard. The reality soon dawned upon you, and you wanted to throw up from the nerves and scream in glee.

But that was the last time you were left alone with your thoughts, as a soft knock rang through the room. “Coming! Denme dos minutos!” You sprung up from the bed, quickly fixing the bed and slipping into the silk slip dress you bought for the whole ‘getting ready’ part of it. The house had a great heating system from the dropping temperatures, but you still got a matching bolero in cashmere. Upon opening the door you were greeted by your small wedding party, consisting of your cousin and best friend. Your other female family members were getting ready with you with the same team of hair and makeup.

The greeting hugs everyone gave you were so different. They were full of warmth, positivity. You had to hold back tears when your mom hugged you, easing up all your nerves. It was as if they were confirming to you that they were there for you, sending all the well wishes for the years to come with a simple embrace.

You had your favorite breakfast with mimosas before getting ready. Music was blasting, everyone was chatting it up and helping each other. It felt as though you were getting ready for a regular party, until your brother came knocking at the door. “Delivery for the bride.” He smiled, and the room full of women squealed. You were done with your hair already but you were going to be the last to get your makeup done.

With a smile you kissed your brother on the cheek before ushering him out the door, taking a hold of the large box and placing it on the bed. Upon removing the lid, you gasped at the delicately placed bouquet, the one you were going to be walking down the aisle with.

“You like it? I helped him choose. He assembled it himself last night after everyone was gone.” Denise came up to you with a warm smile, and you couldn’t help but give her a tearful nod, setting the flowers aside to give her a tight hug. You figured this whole thing was a big change for her, considering how much of a mama’s boy Jude was.

But that embrace felt just like the others; full of support and well wishes.

In no time your makeup started and the women got dressed, only leaving your mum to help you with the dress and the veil. “Ay mi princesa.” She exhaled, fanning her eyes as you took a step back to look at yourself in front of the mirror. You took a deep breath in, having to hold back the need to start crying. Your dream wedding dress fit you as perfectly as it did on the first fitting, and the lacy veil was as perfect as it was on your mother all those years back.

“I think we should head downstairs. Get some pictures of our family together. Jude should be waiting outside already, so there would be no peeking.” She laughed, carefully cleaning away the tears right at the edge of her eyes.

The following reactions were similar. Your father looked as though he was about to pass out, and your brother was left speechless. But you only cared about one reaction, and you stood perfect for the family pictures as you could only imagine how Jude would react.

Still the anticipation couldn’t have prepared you to see him shedding real tears as you walked down the garden, unable to stop looking at you. And for a second there, you swore it was just you and him in the entire planet.

You couldn’t stop looking at each other throughout the whole thing, no matter if you were supposed to look at the officiant. You said your vows first, eyes brimming with tears. “Most importantly, I love how you make me think I’m the brightest star in the world, no matter how bad either of us are feeling. And I promise I’ll drive you everywhere for the rest of our lives, don’t get that license, amor.” You finished with a bitter sweet chuckle. But you couldn’t have expected what Jude had to say next.

“Uh, I’ve been practicing my vows for the past six months. If there’s any mistakes, just… keep it to yourselves.” The audience chuckled lightly, but they were as intrigued as you were. He started out by saying your name, almost breathless, “Siempre te he dicho que eres la razón por la que creo en el amor a primera vista.” You choked out a sob, as people in the audience gasped.

Jude had written and learned his vows in Spanish. Without telling a soul.

He apparently grew more confident, sucking a big breath in. “Y hoy, puedo decir con toda certeza que creo en el amor sincero y eterno. Todo por ti, preciosa,” His bottom lip quivered, noticing how you were made a mess, eyes full of tears.

“Eres la estrella que alumbra mis días. Mi chauffeur que me lleva a todos los lugares sin que se lo pida.” He cleared his throat, inhaling the tears in. “Gracias por confiar en mí y en nuestro amor para llegar aquí hoy. Te amo.”

You smiled at him warmly, and knew he would tease you later for having matching vows without knowing. The rest of the ceremony flew by, and Jude really took the ‘you may kiss the bride’ part too seriously.

“I can’t believe you copied me…” He huffed as you made way inside the mansion, waiting in a separate room for your entrance. “…Mrs. Bellingham.” He practically giggled, and you laughed from the mirror as you were retouching your makeup.

“You’re the one that copied me! I said my vows first, idiot!” You joked, finishing the lip combo before getting to his side, holding his hand to do your entrance to the dining hall. The nerves filled you up and he noticed from the way you shifted your weight from one side to another.

He kissed your hand and winked, and you knew everything was going to be alright.

You found out that night most of your guests were hefty drinkers, or at least they had decided to be so for that particular occasion. But you also found out later that night that thank God you ‘consummated your marriage’ the previous night, considering you had to ask for a few of his fellow athlete friends to carry him up to the newlywed couple’s bedroom. You later laid there staring at the ceiling, stomach churning from… anticipation? The drinks?

But even as Jude was snoring right next to you, you knew deep down everything was going to be alright.

For the rest of your lives together.

judebellingham mr. and mrs. b 🤍

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A/N: my bf still says we can't get married so enjoyyy this delusion i'm using to cope KFDSKLSDFKLV lowk did my dream wedding here but it wasn't at the same time. hope everyone enjoyed this sappy sappy short series !! the translation to jude’s wedding vows are in that lil note in the smau !!!

#𓈒ㅤׂ 𓇼✽ — writing !#jude victor willliam bellingham #jude bellingham #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagine #football x you #football x y/n #football x reader

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yan-lorkai · 21 days

Note

Hello! :) I just really love all of your works for Hellsing and an idea popped into my mind. Could you write an Alucard x darling!Reader where Integra sends them on a mission to Brazil in disguise as a newlyweds on their honeymoon? I'm just sooo obsessed with his Riocard look, I thought it would be so fun to imagine! <3

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: To be honest I get you anon. He is so handsome in his RioCard form, with his little glass full of blood and wearing that suit 🤭💕💕. @marieisaghost

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, reader is unsettled by Alucard but both of them keep flirting with one another lol, mention of killing, gn!reader

"Lulu, you travel a lot, don't you?" You turn your face to stare at him, gorgeous smile already on his lips as soon as that little nickname left you. "What is it like in Brazil? How are the people?"

He thought about. Ancient as he was, Alucard was present to see or hear about all major events from humanity. And later on, to visit those same countries, as you two are doing now - hunting for a potentially dangerous vampire who climbed the stairs to the success, he was so important now, so powerful but Integra had her way of getting you and Alucard into one of his big parties.

After a few seconds pondering, Alucard glanced at his glass full of blood, long, dark hair hiding his eyes from you as he chuckled.

"The air smells like golden hour and the birds sing so loud, as if they wish for you to sing among them. The Brazilians are like fairies, if you will, as they can't lie but contour whatever promise they made with polite words and jokes. And the common folk are very affectionate." He sipped from his glass, little trinket of blood running down his lower lip before he could lick it. You laughed at that. "And their words sounds like a gentle song, so familiar yet so distante you can't quite remember where you have heard it."

The gentle hum of the plane's engines filled the cabin, the dim lighting casting soft shadows against the sleek leather seats. You sat beside Alucard, watching the clouds drift by through the small window. A moment goes by before you answer him.

"Quiet poetical, don't you think?" You mused, imagining the country based on his description. "Well, I'm looking forward to see it. We will be able to sightsee after the mission is done, right?"

Alucard turned his head slowly, he was still sipping from his glass, sometimes just shaking it to see the red liquid sway gently. His crimson eyes glimmered with amusement, lips curling into a slow, knowing smile. He always found your mortal, innocent optimism endearing — if not a bit naive. But he never discouraged it outright. No, he enjoyed watching you dangle the idea of freedom, without realizing he was the one holding the string.

He was the one who chose you for this role. So beautiful and all his, pretending to be his cute little spouse.

“Sightseeing?” Alucard repeated, his voice low, filled with the silky cadence you knew too well. He leaned back further into his seat, fingers steepled together as if considering your words. “That all depends. If the mission goes well and... if you behave, darling.”

You shifted uncomfortably, pretending to be preoccupied with the view outside. Sometimes Alucard took his jokes too far, the line between truth and joke unclear.

“Well, I just thought… if we’re pretending to be newlyweds, we might as well enjoy the facade a little more!” You explained your point of view, trying to sound casual. “A little sightseeing wouldn’t hurt. Husband.”

Alucard’s chuckle was soft but dark, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. It was a beautiful sound yet terrifying in other circumstances. “Oh, you’ve been enjoying this facade more than you admit, darling” He teased, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. “Playing the role of my beloved spouse… It suits you.”

His words were laced with a possessiveness that you couldn’t ignore. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding as you tried to maintain composure under his piercing gaze. Alucard thrived on your uncertainty — on the way you balanced between curiosity and frustration in equal measures. He loved seeing you struggle. You knew that. He was an asshole like that sometimes.

“Maybe,” You replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper and your face heating up. Ultimately it was better to let him have this little win or he'll pout and throw a tantrum the entire time. “But it’s hard to keep up the act sometimes, you’re very convincing. I fear I won't be as convincing as you are.”

Alucard’s smile widened, a dark, predatory gleam flickering in his eyes. He leaned toward you, his cold fingers brushing against your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw with a delicate yet possessive touch. He seemed like he wanted to say something, a secret passing through his eyes, black long hair hiding his face like a curtain, and then he pulled back.

“Rest now, my love,” Alucard said, his voice softer as he reclined back in his seat but the command was clear. "We still have a few hours until we get there. And perhaps, I’ll indulge you with that sightseeing you’re so fond. There's so very interesting places that are open at night.”

You rolled your eyes. "Aye aye captain."

Yoou reached out, your hand sliding around his arm and tugging him toward you. His eyes widened slightly, not in surprise but in curiosity. You didn’t say a word, there was no need. All that mattered was the closeness, the warmth, even if it came from the cold embrace of a vampire. Without a word, you rested your head against his arm, and he allowed you to whatever you wanted, his lips curling into a soft smirk as he watched you for a few seconds.

/⁠～⁠♡

The private plane had landed hours ago, and the sun now hung low on the horizon, casting the hotel room in a warm, golden glow. You stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the fabric of your outfit, a carefully chosen disguise for the next phase of the mission. The luxurious suite you were in felt almost too extravagant, too different from what you were used but trying to argument with Alucard was near impossível. And he wanted to stay at the most expensive place just for the sake of it.

Greedy vampire, you thought, he wouldn't even be able to sleep. After all, he's used to sleep at morning and you, as a Hellsing soldier, is more than used to sleep in whatever you can lie on during night. Extravagance was not your style.

Behind you, Alucard moved with quiet grace, his eyes fixed on you in the mirror. He had already shed his coat, his shirt untucked slightly, looking every bit the devilish rogue he was. He stepped closer, slipping a gloved hand around your waist, guiding you as you fumbled with the buttons on your collar.

"Let me," He asked, his voice low and smooth, as he brushed your hands away and began fastening the buttons for you. His fingers worked skillfully, but his touch lingered a bit too long. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips.

"You know, I can dress myself," You teased him, raising an eyebrow at him through the mirror.

"Of course you can," Alucard replied with a smirk, not missing a beat. "But why would I miss the chance to enjoy this view?" His hands slid up to adjust the collar, his eyes flickering with amusement.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

Alucard chuckled softly, his breath warm against your neck as he leaned in just a bit closer. "I’m many things, love. Impossible is only one of them." He finished with the last button, his hands lingering on your shoulders, fingers tracing the fabric as though he couldn’t help but touch you. You turned slightly to face him, a playful glint in your eyes.

"So husband, what's the plan?" You teased him, emphasizing the word, adjusting your sleeves as he watched you with that ever-present intensity. "Or you're just want to take care of everything alone while I stay helpless by your side, like a damsel?."

Alucard raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. "Playing the damsel role certainly is fun but not safe. Besides it's counterproductive. I'II catch our target while you search his office for those documents."

You nodded, trying to think of ways to enter the target's office, but the warmth in Alucard's eyes made it impossible. His thumb traced small circles against your waist, and though you hated to admit it, his presence was comforting in moments like these, when the mission loomed large and the stakes were high. He knew how you soothe your worries and fears with just a few gestures.

"Focus, Alucard," You said, but your voice lacked any real conviction.

"I am focused," He replied smoothly, his lips dangerously close to yours. "Just… not on the mission right now."

You felt your heartbeat quicken, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned into him just a little, your fingers brushing the fabric of his shirt. "You’re incorrigible."

His eyes gleamed as he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice a low, teasing purr. "And you love it."

You laughed softly, shaking your head again as you turned back toward the mirror. "You’re lucky you’re helping with this mission. Otherwise, I’d leave you to flirt with yourself.

Alucard chuckled, stepping back slightly, though his hand never left your waist. "Oh, I can flirt with myself just fine. But it’s much more fun with you."

You met his gaze in the mirror, your reflection showing the playful tension between you two. Despite everything, the danger, the complexity of your relationship, moments like this felt oddly natural. Easy, even.

"Fine," you said, adjusting the last piece of your outfit and putting your weapons in their proper places. "After this mission and you taking me to sightsee, you should really take me on a date, Alucard. I wouldn't say no."

Alucard’s smirk softened into a more genuine smile as he pressed a kiss to your temple, his hand squeezing your waist lightly. "Whatever you want, darling. But until then…" His eyes sparkled mischievously. "We make quite the team, don’t we?"

You couldn’t argue with that. Despite the chaos, despite the danger, there was something undeniably magnetic about being at his side. Even if he drove you crazy half the time and acted strange sometimes.

"Yeah," You said with a sigh, a smile tugging at your lips. "We do."

The night air was crisp as you stepped out of the grand hotel, the city’s lights reflecting off the polished black limousine waiting at the curb. The distant hum of life in the city created a soft backdrop of noise, but here, in front of the sleek vehicle, everything felt quieter, more intimate. Alucard, as always, had his hand lightly resting on your lower back as he guided you toward the car.

“After you, love,” He said smoothly, his voice laced with amusement as he opened the door for you. His crimson eyes gleamed under the streetlights, and even in the dim evening, he looked effortlessly sharp in his tailored suit, dark and dangerously handsome.

You gave him a playful smirk before slipping into the limousine’s spacious interior. The leather seats were cool against your skin as you settled in, and a faint, luxurious scent lingered in the air. Alucard followed, closing the door behind him as he took the seat beside you.

As the driver began pulling away from the curb, the city lights blurred past the tinted windows, creating a dreamlike atmosphere. Alucard stretched his arm along the back of the seat, his fingers lightly brushing against your shoulder in a way that felt casual yet intentional.

“Excited?” hHe asked, his voice low and teasing as his eyes flickered to yours. “Or is it nerves I sense?”

You glanced at him, rolling your eyes slightly. “Excited isn’t the word I’d use. This is a mission, remember? Focus, Alucard.”

He chuckled, his hand sliding down to lightly squeeze your shoulder. “I’m always focused. It’s you who seems to be on edge, dragul meu.” His voice was a playful murmur, but there was that undercurrent of seriousness you knew all too well. He thrived in these high-stakes situations, while you, well, you preferred a little less danger and a little more simplicity.

You preferred a better plan, you preferred having more allies. Yet, you had to make it do with just Alucard by your side. Either way, you knew he wouldn't let you hurt yourself.

“I’m not on edge,” You retorted lightly, turning to face him fully. “I’m just thinking about the plan. We’re supposed to be subtle, blend in, gather intel. You remember the whole ‘don’t draw attention to ourselves’ part, right?”

Alucard’s lips curled into that familiar, devilish smirk. “Subtlety isn’t always the most fun, but I suppose I can behave for one night.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Of course, if things get boring, I might have to… stir the pot a little.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I prefer the term ‘charming,’” He corrected you, eyes gleaming mischievously.

The limousine cruised through the city, the lights outside glowing brighter as you approached the heart of the bustling nightlife. The party you were heading to was in one of the city’s most elite venues — a towering glass building that loomed in the distance, sparkling against the night sky. The event was exclusive, crawling with high-society types, all hiding secrets beneath their polished exteriors. You and Alucard were here to uncover one of those secrets.

As the limousine neared the grand entrance, you adjusted your clothes, making sure everything was in place. Alucard watched you with an almost predatory gleam in his eyes, though there was a softness in the way his gaze lingered.

“You look stunning,” He murmured, his voice softer now, devoid of the usual teasing edge. “They won’t know what hit them.”

You met his eyes, feeling a flutter in your chest despite yourself. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”

He smirked, leaning in just a bit closer. “Just ‘not so bad?’ I think I deserve more credit than that.”

You nudged him lightly with your elbow. “Let’s just get through this without any chaos, alright? Then I’ll give you all the credit you want.”

The limousine came to a smooth stop in front of the towering venue, the driver stepping out to open the door for you both. Alucard was out first, offering his hand to help you out, his grip firm but gentle. As you stepped out onto the red carpet, the flashes of cameras and the murmurs of the crowd were already starting.

He pulled you close, his arm slipping around your waist as you both made your way toward the entrance. You could feel the weight of his presence beside you, commanding and magnetic.

“We’ll be the perfect couple tonight,” Alucard whispered into your ear as you ascended the stairs, his breath warm against your skin. “Just follow my lead.”

You glanced up at him, your lips curving into a small smile. “I’m used to that by now.”

With that, you both stepped through the grand doors into the glittering party, where the real game was about to begin.

#alucard x you #hellsing ultimate alucard #hellsing alucard x reader #alucard x reader #yandere alucard #alucard #yandere alucard x y/n #yandere alucard x you #yandere alucard x reader #alucard x y/n #soft yandere #male yadere #lorkai drabble

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tinytennisskirt · 2 months

Text

Rematch

ex situationship patrick x reader

summary: you and patrick used to be the epitome of casual. aside from a few things... he was cheating on his girlfriend with you and all you could do from then on was hate him. eight years later, you work together. you're forced to share transportation and stay at the same hotels. The close proximity isn't much good for two people who have gotten by on avoidance. And it only becomes harder to avoid certain words. and certain actions.

warnings: smut! mentions of sex, unprotected sex. enemies to lovers- hateful words, slight miscommunication (through hating so much), a lot of swearing. somewhat edited...

“You’re hitting on my sister?” You said, overhearing him as you approached the outside gate of the tennis court. You walked over, knocking Patrick in the chest with your racket. That sly son of a bitch didn’t budge an inch. “You know she’s only nineteen? And she’s a fucking lesbian you absolute idiot.” You followed up. He just grinned.

“I didn’t know she was any of those things,” he shrugged, hands up in surrender. “You don’t look alike. She’s actually pretty.”

You rolled your eyes. You knew he didn’t mean what he said but still said it. “Fuck you, Zweig.”

“You used to like that, you know,” he said, grin widening to something evil. You didn’t know how he could stand in front of you and say the stupid shit he was saying, seemingly unabashed.

“That’s enough,” your sister said to both you and him. Your racket didn’t waiver from the place it rested against his chest. You kept that warning in your eyes. “Y/N, he didn’t know. And he wasn’t inappropriate. He just said my swing was good with a weird tone.”

“Weird tone?” Patrick repeated.

You smiled just a bit at that. “It’s better than good. You know- you are the same guy you were eight years ago somehow. Grow up and go away, Zweig,” you said, glaring at Patrick. And to think you were the sweet one in your family. It was all fun and tennis until Patrick was around. He wasn’t exactly an ex, but someone who frequented the bed in your dorm room eight years ago at Stanford. He was a drug of choice, a situational type of person who when visiting his friend Art Donaldson, would also visit you, a few dorms down.

It was hot. He’d be sneaking around with you at parties, finding unoccupied rooms to kiss you with a force that usually winded you, wide hands on your waist, holding you close against a wall, a door, and sometimes the floor. If he saw you in the cafeteria all it took was a glance at you to communicate exactly which stall in the bathroom to meet him in while he excused himself from Art and Tashi Duncan. He’d be in your room late at night making you finish in three different ways and walking back to his friend’s room at four in the morning.

Sometimes you’d make out for hours on end with only touching, but all of it, every action, every trace of his finger, every word was all traced with lust. Sometimes you swore he liked you, lingering after you both had finished, still grazing his hands over the curve of your hip, kissing your forehead, tucking your hair behind your ear… It was supposed to be casual, you reminded yourself. He was too attached.

The funny thing was, you’d been in Stanford tennis too, a hometown prodigy with a father successful in the tennis world. Tashi called nepotism and you never got along, but you and Tashi never hated each other more when she found out you were fucking her boyfriend. If you had known you wouldn’t have been doing it, but the damage was done and there was no apology for a girl who fucked her knee up after a big fight with Patrick. No apology could include the extent of how sorry you were without telling her what for.

And you met with Patrick just to yell at him. He was a shitty person with shitty morals and you made sure he knew that. And even in all the yelling, you still fucked him in your car. But that was the last time. The second your lips disconnected for the last time, it was supposed to be the last time you spoke to him. And it was simple. “Fuck you. You’re an asshole, I never want to see you again.” His eyebrows furrowed as you collected your clothes and disappeared back home.

It went well, not seeing him again. He stopped visiting his friend who had sided with Tashi, he had no reason to come around. But he picked up a job coaching in the area you moved to seven years later. Your boss was a powerful woman and the pay was amazing, so Patrick became your coworker and you put up with that. And it was awful, but you scheduled yourself away from him and your paths only crossed at meetings and maybe once every few months, but it was still too much. You made do with the few words you had to give him, but other than that you stayed far away, and rightfully so. The only conversations you’d had in all of the year you’d been around him again were easy jabs, quips, argumentative things. But for the sake of your job, it didn’t go farther than easy insults. You still hated him for what he did, for how he used you when he was seeing Tashi. For how he treated you when he had a whole girlfriend waiting for him after hours. You weren’t proud of what you did and he was just a living reminder of something that haunted you.

He was this adult douchebag-type now- you swore you saw him with two different women at the cafe you passed on your way to work. You could mind your business, but it was fucked to know he hadn’t changed. Eight years and no change. So yeah, Patrick talking to your sister, granted- step-sister, was something you had to nip in the bud.

Patrick nodded, his jaw tensing. “Your sister here is my student today.” He said, gesturing to the split court. Sometimes split courts happened, but you’d only been paired with him on one once. “The list here says so.” He uncrumpled a piece of paper from his pocket and pointed at her name.

“So you’ll switch me. Easy,” You stated, trying all you could not to hit him with another insult. Your sister picked up her rackets, moving to your side so Patrick didn’t have a say. It was your turn to smile. “You’re lucky I don’t fucking report you.” You added.

“You’d miss having me around too much, I don’t think you have it in you,” He replied.

You narrowed your eyes, “Get a grip.” You said, turning away from him. You heard his low chuckle as he called your student over. You rubbed your face while you walked to the other side, trying to wipe away the feeling you’d lost brain cells just talking to him. This was why you didn’t engage with him- it never went well. “Sorry.” You apologized to your sister.

“It’s fine, honestly. He’s such a dick.”

“I know,” you sighed. “I’m unfortunately cursed with knowing when Patrick has the intention to flirt. He’s fucking obvious.” You said, grabbing a ball.

Your sister laughed. “He was coming on a little weird. To be fair I think he thought I was some random girl outside the court. But this is why I don’t date men.”

You were glad you didn’t have to see him for another two months. You continued to train your sister as the other girls you were training had all fallen off. Your company made sure to only train the most competitive of girls and that was your sister for sure. She was amazing- not better than you- but amazing. When the time came for another Junior US Open, she was the perfect candidate for it. Your company, your boss, she usually sent two, booked them and their trainer a room at an amazing nearby hotel, paid for travel and food and gave a spending bonus for the hard work and you were hoping to god that it was your sister. You’d lost the Junior US Open to a twisted ankle- and Tashi Duncan and it would be amazing to see your sister go and win.

She had worked so hard for it. And finally, your boss called all the trainers in for a meeting. There were ten of you, some with two students, most with only one, but you all sat in the fluorescent-lit room in front of the projector that projected the logo of the company on the white wall. Your boss thanked you all for coming and congratulated all of you on all your amazing seasons and work coaching the students. Talking about the best of the best. Eventually came to the portion where she would name the two students who were going to the open, the two that were going on the trip.

And she said your sister's name. Your chest filled with excitement and happiness and pride and obviously you had to contain it. You were going back to the Junior US Open, it was an amazing way to get her name out there as a player and make everything all worthwhile. You started thinking up creative ways to tell her, thinking about the company limo on the way up, thinking about how to increase training all crossing your mind. “-And Simon Abernathy.” She added. For the boy's division. His name was familiar.

And it was no wonder. Patrick clapped once out of success and you felt your eye twitch just a bit. It was his student, it was Patrick’s student, which meant you’d be with him this entire trip. He would be one of the only people you knew out that way- and it would be just him, you, and your students. There was only one word and it slipped out of your mouth quietly enough to go unnoticed. “Fuck.” You avoided Patrick’s gaze, but you just knew he had that big stupid grin on his face.

When the car pulled up outside of your apartment, you insisted on putting your own bag in the trunk. It was just how you were. You were first to be picked up and it was always fun to be in a limo. A road trip was still a road trip, two days to be specific and it would have been something to look forward to if it wasn’t for him. Thank god you picked up your sister next, then Simon, then Patrick. You and your sister were far too engaged in your conversation to think about the boys on the other end. You talked about training, and game day, and you went over what it was like when you competed.

The day passed by, book in hand, iPod on, and earbuds plugged in. You stopped once for lunch and another for gas but at the end of the night you were at a nice motel. Nothing like the motels you knew when you were in the Junior Open. In this motel, everything worked properly, smelled nice, and was actually clean. Patrick, unloading his bag for the night passed you yours and you said the only word you’d said to him all day- “Thanks.”

You and your sister hung out in your motel room, two-bed, talking about the day. She lay like a starfish on her bed, but she rolled over to face you as you pulled on your pajama shirt. “You never told me why you hate Patrick so much.” She said, eyes wide. You just groaned and rolled onto your back. “Come on. You obviously know each other from something.”

“I will be so honest with you, I am too tired to get into it,” You said. “I just… ugh.”

“It’s fine- like you don’t have to give me all the details, I just want to know why.” She replied, moving to sit on the edge of your bed. “You guys dated, right?”

You covered your face, “Not exactly.”

“Okay, so? What happened? I’m nineteen, Y/N, come on.”

You hated talking about it, you hated admitting it. Knowing that he was one of the few men in the world to ever touch you but the only one who had left impact, left you wanting in his wake, the only one to make you finish… It was crazy, it was despicable. You hated remembering it had only ever been him to touch you right. And now you were admitting it to your sister. “Casual… sex. Friends, almost. Mostly the benefits.” You said, trying to keep it simple. Her eyes widened even larger. “Turns out he was cheating on his girlfriend with me.”

“He’s just a dick,” she nodded, understanding. “I’m so sorry, that must have put you in an awful position.”

“I felt awful, I still feel awful,” you told her. “One of the worst things I’ve ever done.”

“I get that,” she nodded. “Was he any good anyways?”

You hated the question. “No.” You lied. “Awful.”

She laughed, “Makes sense.” You knew she had more questions but didn’t want to pry. Besides, you were both tired. She showered before bed and by the time she got out, you were asleep, waiting for the next day of the road trip to be over. In the morning you showered, tied your hair up, and got into the car again with your sister. Patrick and Simon were doing their own things as the car got back onto the road.

You continued listening to music, looking out the window, shutting out the sounds of the car. Your sister watched you change the song three times, but when her gaze shifted back to the conversation with Simon, she noticed Patrick’s eyes on you. Knowing what she knew now, she hated him just a little bit more. She watched him for a bit and he didn’t look away, so she addressed him to take his attention off of you before you noticed.

That night at another motel, your sister was much too tired to stay up watching the motel television bullshit with you and passed right out on top of her covers. You fixed that, obviously, but after getting into bed yourself you let an hour pass with no sleep. You just couldn’t, no matter what you tried. At that point, you said fuck it and put your bathing suit on. The motel had a hot tub and a pool and maybe a quick swim could tire you out. You wrapped yourself in a towel and headed out to where the motel pool was. The lights from within the pool gave off a sort of aquamarine tint to the things around it- it was the only source of light aside from the ones lining the wall of the motel and the shining motel sign that flashed gold and red. It was perfectly dim and the night was perfectly still, just as the empty pool was. You put your towel to the side and waded in, pulling your hair up into some lazy updo so it wouldn’t get soaked in pool water. You were barely up to your shoulders when his voice spoke up, “It’s a bit late to swim, don’t you think? Isn’t it your thing to get an early sleep for an early start?” He asked. Patrick was in the hot tub, you’d completely missed him.

“Maybe when I was playing or when I’m coaching, but we’re in the middle of nowhere with no court in sight.” You replied. “Can I just enjoy my swim, please? I won’t bother you if you don’t bother me.”

“Fair,” he replied. You could hardly see him in the dim of the pool lights, but you could make out his figure, arm draped over the edge of the hot tub like he was reversing a car. “Since you said please.”

“Uh huh,” You replied. You didn’t stay for as long as you intended. Being alone anywhere with him was too gross for comfort. Neither he nor you said goodnight when you went back to your room, showered, and fell asleep.

The next stretch of road was the last before the hotel. You were set up nicely and you thanked the concierge boys who helped you with your bags as you went to the front desk to retrieve your room keys, everything dealt with already by your boss. You handed the keys out. “Here’s how this is going to work. There’s a week before the Junior Open and this hotel, even if it comes across as luxury, it’s here so you can get a good, safe, comfortable rest on the days leading up. If Patrick and I have nothing on the schedule for you, you’re free to roam around the local area, however, curfew is 11. Please check your emails for the daily schedule.”

Simon nodded and Patrick looked like he didn’t pay any attention- why would he anyway? “Sounds good,” Your sister smiled. “And we get our own rooms?”

“We have the second-to-top floor suite. It’s like four hotel rooms joined into one, attached to a main bathroom, living room, place to eat, and a kitchen. Kind of like a house with a four-person hotel hallway built in.” You said. You were so excited to finally lock yourself away in your hotel room with a book and not have to sit in a car with Patrick for hours at a time. Sure, he’d be nearby but the hotel and its amenities would make for an amazing way to keep yourself far from him. He plucked his key card out of your hand and as he passed, you could smell his cologne.

The room was amazing and the view was even more beautiful. There was a balcony in the suite as well as in your room, but the joined balcony beat that one out for a better view. You curled up in your super comfortable hotel bed with your book and finished it before dinner. Your sister came in and out wondering what she should wear to the Junior Open, already stressing about that because she didn’t want to stress about the actual game. You helped for a bit, then you went out to the main room.

“Simon, do you have dinner plans?” You asked him. He was on the couch playing with some portable video game device.

“Nah, I was thinking room service. My parents gave me a hundred to spend.” He said.

You nodded, “I was thinking the same thing.” Your sister agreed, busy going through her schedule. So you ordered room service for everyone, sending Simon to go see what Patrick wanted. You were surprised he even stuck around the room and wasn’t at the casino downstairs or out at some club already. Dirtbag activities.

The next day was a late start, but you and your sister went down to the hotel gyms to work out a bit before going to the hotel courts to practice. Three days until the game. You practiced all methods, swings, serves, and Patrick and Simon practiced in the next court over. Then you went separate ways for lunch just to meet back after at the court. You were done around four so you didn’t overdo it and the rest of the night was free. You and your sister continued to talk strategy and gossip over cranberry juice in the main room of the suite and you were vaguely aware of Patrick sitting in the corner going through his phone, his hand on his head, elbow resting on his knee. He looked up at one point, meeting your eyes and you looked away. The price you paid for being curious. Your sister and Simon, both tired from the day went to their rooms a little early. You decided to get dressed properly and head downstairs to the casino and play a few hands of whatever games they had going.

You adjusted the length of your skirt as you sat down at the table and took part in everything happening. You were dealt in and in only a small amount of time, you had a good amount of money owed to you. You were definitely on a roll. “Didn’t know you gambled,” Patrick said, sitting beside you on the empty stool. You groaned out loud, rolling your eyes. “You're good, too, what is this, around $400?”

“$700, and what are you doing here?”

“I can’t enjoy the casino?”

“You couldn’t enjoy any other game?” You asked, not even caring to look his way. You raised your hand to signal the dealer to let you out of the game.

Patrick waved the dealer off and turned to face you better, “Don’t stop just because I’m here. And I like this game- my favourite one, actually, and the only table that has it.” He told you. You looked at him, hoping your eyes would burn through him. But he looked maybe half genuine, aside from the smirk. It was your favourite game too.

“You’re just going to lose to me, you know that, right?”

“I’m okay with that,” he smiled and his eyes met yours. “Or, I’m okay with you thinking that. Say goodbye to your $700.” His grin slowly crawled up his face.

“Uh-huh?” You laughed at him as he got himself dealt into the game. It was a laugh of disbelief- one, that he thought he could win and two, that he was really that sure. “You’re really still that sure of yourself?”

“Still? You think I’m sure of myself?”

“It’s not a compliment, Zweig.” Your laughing at him died down just a little, you couldn’t maintain it when he was just such a fucking loser.

“I am that sure of myself.” He replied. “You don’t think I can?”

You shook your head and spoke firmly. No. I don’t think you can.” Your tongue pressed against your cheek and you pushed all your winnings to the centre, eyes not leaving his. “Try me.” Anything to put him in his place, truly. You could taste the win in your mouth the way it handed itself to you on a platter. And Patrick put a little extra money in on top of yours and the other player’s, eyes not leaving yours. But he did end up looking away first and the hand began.

He had good cards and knew how to play them, but yours were better and you knew how to use them to their fullest potential. You placed yours down and they were better and the hand was about to go to you, but at the very last moment, unexpectedly, another player had a card just above yours and it was over, just like that. The man swept away your winnings and you just scoffed.

“You were that sure of yourself?” Patrick replied. “Nice.”

“Nice? Asshole.” You got up from your chair and grabbed your purse, ready to move on to another game at another table and let him enjoy his ‘favourite’. “My cards were above yours anyway.” You said as your face passed his. He just grinned as you walked away.

You were good at other games, thank god. It wasn’t all lost money. You won another $350 by midnight and decided to stop and leave behind the men who had been hitting on you during the last few hands of poker. You were happy with the winnings and the fact Patrick hadn’t been seen the rest of your night. It was a good distraction either way.

You bought yourself a bottle of iced tea with your winnings and walked over to the elevator, pressing the button to go up to the suite and using your key card to confirm it. It was just your luck that Patrick walked into the elevator. “You have your own keycard, you know that, right?�� You sighed, turning away from him and pulling out your phone to pay attention to anything else as the doors closed, locking you in there with him.

He held it up, then shoved it into his pocket. “So did you end up winning your money back? I watched your games, you’re not all that great at poker. I don’t think a career in gambling is in the cards.”

“I think I missed the part where I asked, Zweig.” You stated, folding your arms. “And I think you missed all of the context clues that tell you that I don’t want to talk to you.”

“You’re so angry,” he remarked, leaning against the metal elevator wall. “Isn’t it exhausting?”

“Not as exhausting as talking to you.”

“Fuck you,” he replied.

You turned to look at him, pausing a beat just to look at him in disbelief. “You used to like that, you know?”

“You’re not better than me for anything that happened after. You knew I cheated and you still fucked me after, you remember that one?”

“It wasn’t very memorable,” You chuckled to yourself even though it was one of the biggest lies you’d ever told anyone. He’d put you in a corner. Of course, you knew you weren’t better than him for that last time. It haunted you, but not much more than the entirety of it haunted you. His lips against your lips, his lips against your skin, his lips between your thighs, they were memories that acted like ghosts. All of it was wrong, every kiss, every touch. It was sickening to remember that it wasn’t just you- and that it wasn’t just Tashi either. It was memorable, all of it, but for all the wrong and right reasons, and those right reasons were ten times more haunting because it was so wrong that it felt right. You knew Patrick sensed the lie but you couldn’t act like it. “I can be civil with you, Zweig, if you leave me alone like you have the past year or so. I don’t want to talk to you, why can’t you get that through your head?”

He was silent, just staring at you, no grin on his face, not even a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. And as soon as the elevator doors opened, he funneled out and right up to his room. You let out a breath and blinked a few times to recalibrate. You took your melatonin, changed, washed up, and headed to bed.

The next day he kept up exactly that. He didn’t address you, he hardly even looked at you and even if he did, you didn’t notice, you were far too busy. The Junior US Open was tomorrow. You woke up your sister at dawn to go to a hotel aquafit class and then dry off and hit the court. Patrick was there with Simon running east swing drills and you got your sister working hard. She was more than ready, you knew that, but you also knew that giving her any break would make her believe that you didn’t think so, so you kept her going.

Simon called to you and your sister. “Doubles? For fun, before lunch?” He asked, walking over. Patrick stared at the ground as he walked over just a few steps behind. Poor guy didn’t know the vendetta both you and your sister had against Patrick. She nodded, so you nodded. You hadn’t played in a match in a while, honestly. It was all training and hitting the ball back and forth.

You stood opposite Patrick on the court and it reminded you of a time when you had played him and Art next to Tashi, for fun. How you didn’t know they were together was beyond you, but you did remember how Art looked at her. You had to blink a few times to get the imagery out of your head as Simon served the ball. You were lucky your sister was on it.

Patrick still played rough, swinging hard just to challenge your sister a bit. You appreciated the push from him if you were honest. She needed it. It was a good game and there were a few flop swings from you and Patrick that were laughable. You laughed more at him than yourself but he didn’t seem to mind it at all. He just dribbled the ball and served it back to you to hit it over to Simon, etc.

Your sister watched how Patrick’s eyes stayed on you when the ball was over with Simon being served. She couldn’t help but think it was a little weird how he seemed to be fighting a smile and she followed up with wondering why. And you didn’t notice at all.

Lunch was good, but you were back to it until dinner, then at the gym after dinner doing a bit of yoga. Your sister turned to you, “He knows that you don’t like him?” She asked. You hated knowing who ‘he’ was.

“Mhm,” You hummed, stretching upward.

“He doesn’t act like he cares very much.”

You looked over at her, “I don’t care if he cares. And he’s had around seven years to not care about any repercussions, so that’s just on the passage of time.”

She moved into downward dog, “Have you talked about it?”

“No.” You answered. “Kind of. When it had just happened. But that was all I ever said to him about it.” You disregarded last night. “He knows what he did was wrong and I don’t let him forget.” Your mind slipped back to what it felt to lay in his arms afterward, the way he kissed your hair and still cupped your face, the way all of it was wrong, the entire time. And how it felt to feel his hand trail against your skin as you pulled yourself away from him that very last time in your car.

She clicked her tongue, “I can’t believe you have to work with him. Couldn’t you get him fired for so many things?”

You nodded, but it hadn’t ever occurred to you why you hadn’t. It would have been simple, a collection of evidence and a complaint and surely he’d be out, but you hadn’t done anything like it. “I could.” You replied. “But I’m not that much of a bitch.”

“You’re never a bitch,” your sister laughed. “You only become one when he’s around.”

It was true. And later that night the only hint of Patrick there was, was the eye contact you made with him on the way up to your room. He sat on the couch on his phone while you exited the balcony with your cup of tea. Then it was early bed- the Junior US Open was tomorrow.

That rolled around all too quickly. You got your sister up early for a massage and a stretch, you ordered her a protein shake as she stressed the entire time. You only spoke in affirmations all morning as you double and triple-checked that she had everything she needed, rackets, water, food, etc. The day was warm with a perfect cool breeze that was gentle enough to play tennis in. You tried not to let the stress of the day get to you as you were driven to the courts. You reminded your sister of all she trained for and she was more than excited, she was bouncing more than the tennis balls were around the court as she warmed up. She wasn’t on until later, so you hit the ball back and forth to pass the time outside.

Game in game out she was a winner and she knew it, winning her games consecutively.

In between, you watched Simon’s games and he did well until he didn’t, falling behind. Your sister continued later and by the time she was on the very last game, you knew she was a winner. You were on the sidelines cheering her on. She won, of course, she won.

She came right to you and hugged you tightly, thanking you for everything. It was an amazing victory and nothing could ruin it.

The car ride back to the hotel was your sister just yapping uncontrollably about the details of her game to poor Simon, who had not won. She was so excited about it, she was talking endlessly. Patrick was engaging with her at her own speed and you were tired, it was a good thing someone could do with all that she had to say.

She had the biggest nap of her life when she got back to the hotel room. She was almost asleep in the car and she was lucky she made it to bed. You had a nap on her hotel room couch, that’s how tired you were as well. It was a big day. You woke up around seven pm, but she was still dead asleep. You snuck out quietly and into your room. You’d finished your book, your phone was boring, and Simon honestly wasn’t the best company so you showered the day off, dried your hair, put your makeup on and got dressed again.

Just a black skirt and a comfortable black long-sleeved shirt, some jewelry you liked, and a bit of sparkle to your eyeshadow. You deserved it. All that and some easy kitten heels and you headed downstairs to the restaurant and bar. It was beautiful, warmly lit and dim, stained glass between the bar and the kitchen casting the light through the panes in different colours across the bar. You ordered a vodka cranberry and ate the lime out of it first.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?” A man said. It wasn’t any man you knew, but a stranger. He came from behind you, old, but not too old, and a little bit handsome aside from the obvious aging. “I’ve never seen a pretty woman alone at a hotel bar. Hotel bars are for the straggling men, lost in the city. Like that one over there,” he said, pointing to the other end of the bar. You weren’t sure why your stomach flipped when you saw it was Patrick. He didn’t seem to see you, but he sat there at the bar with a short glass of what you knew was whiskey, swirling it around, his head resting against his fist. He was wearing a black t-shirt and black pants, having changed from earlier as well. “Now what’s your story, I’m curious.”

You turned your attention back to the handsome older man. “Tennis,” you told him. And it sparked up a conversation that was really more insightful than the being hit on that you were expecting- not that you weren’t bought drinks by two other men at the bar who smirked from where they sat at a booth. The man seemed to be in his early sixties with some good things to say and you listened intently, not noticing Patrick’s eyes on you from where he sat.

It was good to talk to someone so removed from the tennis world who had so much to say about investing in stocks and surprisingly, you didn’t hate it. You sipped your drink, getting a little surprised at the attention you were getting and it was something new. The night continued with more men hitting on you, trying to sit with you… You weren’t the most beautiful woman ever but you weren’t ugly… this was a lot either way. The night continued to pass.

When Patrick got up, you noticed it, he locked eyes with you, raising his eyebrows and chuckling. At what? At you? You watched his tongue press into his cheek before he pointed at you on his way by… it took a moment to realize what exactly it was he was pointing at until you looked down. Your shirt with only a few buttons at the top, had all of the buttons undone and you had somehow not noticed. Your bra was on display like a hooker or like some common whore and you knew Patrick’s chuckle was at exactly that.

“Fuck!” You said, turning away from the man and getting up without explaining a thing. You must have looked a little crazy. Patrick laughed out loud as he passed you; your anger and embarrassment got the best of you. Your voice became genuine, “Did you know the whole time?”

He looked at you, looking at the hand that covered the undone buttons, “Almost, yeah.” You didn’t want to be angry, instead, you just stayed humiliated, your eyebrows furrowing. You couldn’t be mad, not now. So many paid-for drinks you didn’t even drink and so many compliments you’d taken so graciously and you didn’t know and he did? “I thought maybe it was on purpose, though. Maybe if I haven’t changed, you haven’t either.” He said. And now you could be angry. He couldn’t be unaffected, he couldn’t be normal. What he meant by what he said was that you were a slut. And that wasn’t fair.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that and let it go because you’re drunk.” You said, straightening yourself out, trying to shake him off. “Not because you’re just an asshole who can’t mind his own business.”

“I know my business- it’s you who came to the bar after me, today. If you wanted space so badly, why follow me?”

“Follow you? Don’t flatter yourself, Zweig.” Your conversation moved just a few steps outside the hotel bar and into a corner of the vast lobby. You chuckled at the fact he really thought so. “I wanted a drink so I got a drink, like an adult who goes to a bar, I didn’t know these are your moping grounds.”

He shook his head, rolling his eyes, “And you wanted civil?”

“Everything you say is so completely self-absorbed. You’re obsessed with yourself, honestly get a fucking room. It’s disgusting how much you want to fuck yourself, pardon my reaction to it.”

He just grinned, “Yeah, okay, have fun with your senior citizen, how’s the bra thing working out for you?”

You shook your head, tone changing again, “That- I didn’t know. I’m mortified.”

“I’m sure. You know most women who are trying to gold dig go for a more subtle route.” He said, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes.

“That’s enough,” You snapped. “That’s enough. You’ve been drinking, I’m not arguing with you over something so stupid as the buttons on my shirt. You’re not worth it. You’re not worth a second of my time, you are so beneath me, I am so past you. You are so pathetic, thinking I still give a fuck about what you think of me.”

“That’s what you think of me? I’m pathetic. You say you don’t care but you seem to care an awful fucking lot.” That terrible fucking grin was so aggravating.

“Then you’re delusional. Grow up, honestly. I asked you to leave me alone, not slut shame me for some stupid buttons. How much would it have cost your ego to have told me that my buttons were undone? I hate you but I would have had the decency to tell you if this was you in this situation. Fuck!” You ran your hand through your hair and the argument paused for a beat, then two. You breathed out heavily, turning, your hand still on your chest. And you just started walking toward the elevator. What else could you do but just walk away? He was the problem but you became one too when you were with him. It was almost unavoidable when everything he said upset you for reasons both explainable and inexplicable. You had no control over it all, you just had too much to say, so much internalized rage for what you’d done, for the position he’d put you in all those years ago. You were glad the elevator was empty as you scanned for the suite and the doors closed, but the elevator didn’t move, it just made a clunking noise and you knew, as the doors opened again, that there was no escape from this personal hell. Thank god you only had a day and a half left here with him, you thought, as the doors let him into the elevator with you.

“Walk away like you had no part in that, yeah,” he said, moving to his side of the elevator. You groaned out loud, rolling your eyes so far back it hurt. “Reminds me of the other time you did the same thing.”

“Was last night not enough?” You laughed in genuine disbelief. “You put me in a disgusting position that nobody should have to be in. You cheated! On your perfect girlfriend! With me, over and over and over and I had no idea because you didn’t have the decency to tell either of us.”

“I was also nineteen years old!” He retaliated. “You expected me to have my shit all sorted out? I’m sorry I wasn’t a five-year-plan type of guy!”

“That’s a crazy take when not cheating is one of the easiest things to do.” You laughed, scoffing when you caught your breath. “You used me.”

Another beat, his eyes softened just in the slightest. “I didn’t use you.” He replied. “For what? For sex?”

You guessed he didn’t need you for that. The elevator became uncomfortable as it rose between floors. Both of your hands fell to your sides, the top of your shirt falling open again unnoticed. You just blinked at his words, looking away. But no, what? You went right back into it, “Then why? Tell me that you weren’t just selfish, keeping two girls around to satisfy yourself beyond the regular needs of a man. Tell me that you weren’t only thinking about yourself and not the feelings of both your own girlfriend and the girl you’d sneak out to see. You made me some fucking mistress! The other woman, I didn’t know I was the other woman, can you imagine what finding that out feels like? The guilt? The shame? Tell me you weren’t just selfish.”

“Not everything comes down to that. You’re seeing this how you want to see it. You are at fault, you are not innocent in this. You knew and you still fucked me and-” Patrick hit the pause elevator button and you just glared. “No matter what you said to me afterward, you still did it. None of this is linear or organized, it just fucking happened. You are not the victim you say you are, you deserve a good portion of that guilt because you fucked me, even after, no matter what you’ve done to shut that part out.” He said. You felt the fire behind your own eyes.

“I haven’t shut it out, I’ve grown past it. What you did is still wrong.”

“I know that! I know that- I ended up with nothing when it was all said and done. I was fine with not having Tashi, but-” he paused and pressed a hand to his temple for just a half-second. “You’re still so angry! It’s hard to believe you’ve grown past it when you’re still reminding me of one of the biggest mistakes I’ve made constantly.”

You scoffed again, “I’m sorry you can’t deal with your own problems and the shit you put on me still haunts me. How is it you get to live it down and I don’t?”

“I haven’t fucking lived it down.”

“Pathetic.”

“Fuck you. Honestly.” He said. “I made a mistake as a teenager, I don’t know how to go back and fix how I felt about you. I can’t take anything back so I don’t know what you want me to do here. Was I selfish? Yeah, I was. You’re right. Does that make you feel better about yourself? Do you feel like less of a victim now? I’m so sure of myself, yeah, okay, at least I haven’t tricked myself into believing I disliked how wrong it felt.”

You blinked hard and hit the elevator button again so it would begin to move once again. “You think I liked it?”

“I think you did. I think some part of you hated Tashi and you liked the fact you could have me once more for good measure. I think that is what ‘haunts’ you. That you liked it.” He said. And the elevator doors opened to the empty main room of the suite. You stepped out the second you could, trying to get away from this so desperately. “I admit I’m selfish so you can admit that. Or at least try and admit it to yourself.”

At those words, you tossed your purse on the couch and turned on your kitten heel. You walked right back up to him and pressed your pointer finger to his chest. “You are still so fucking self-absorbed that you think I liked being your side-chick or whatever the hell I was to you? You think so highly of yourself- you’re presenting yourself as a thing to be had between girls? Some trophy? A prize?”

“You weren’t so special either.” He lied. As if he didn’t like you, truly like you, more than he liked Tashi, unfortunately. His mistake was trying to balance things while he figured out how to tell you that he wanted you. Tashi loved tennis more than anything, she was mean and she was cold and she was hard to please but you in his bed, you were warm in more ways than one and you always listened and you weren’t all about tennis the way she was. And he liked you- genuinely liked you. But he went about it entirely wrong. He told you that you weren’t special but you were. You always were. He watched your eyebrows furrow at his words and more bitter things came out of his mouth, “And you said you couldn’t give a fuck what I thought of you.”

“You’re not worth my time. Fuck you, Zweig. Fuck you and your self-obsession. Get a grip, get a life, and get over yourself.” You pressed your finger hard into his chest and let your hand fall to your side, eyes meeting his, the fire in your eyes reflecting in his own. “Fuck you. You’re an asshole.” The stare lingered before you shook your head, just disbelieving in this entire stupid conversation. It felt like talking in circles. Pointless. You’d never see his point and he would never see yours. He just looked at you like nothing you said meant anything and was only to provoke him when it wasn’t. He made it feel pointless. And you were fuming, so fucking angry. He matched that as well, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. So you just turned and walked right into your hotel room, shutting the door behind you.

What a fucking waste of time and breath, you thought. He wasn’t worth it. Any of it. You just breathed out, hearing his hotel room door shut next to yours. You pressed your hand to your forehead, letting out a second sigh as you thought about just how stupid he was, deflecting, avoiding. You were glad you were out of the heat of that moment. If you’d been out there any longer yelling at him who knows what you would have done? Or said. The number of times you’d said ‘fuck you’ were uncountable and you hated who he made you. You weren’t this person he made you- you were kind and sweet and gentle and patient but right now all you knew was this person he turned you into. He was just so disgusting and so self-centered and you couldn’t get past what he’d done and he never elaborated on what he meant by ‘I don’t know how to go back and fix how I felt about you’. Fuck, he just made you so fucking angry and it really was exhausting being around him. Dredging these things back up. Him and his fucking ego, really.

You weren’t exactly sure just what you were going to say to him, the conversation felt final, but there had to be some reason you opened the door to your hotel room again. Took your back off of the door, turned again, buttons on the shirt still very open, and you opened the door by some possession of the mind and it was just coincidence that when you looked up, Patrick stared back at you, standing outside your door like he was about to knock. Your eyes met his and it was easy to see that there was still fire in his eyes the same as there was in your own. It was only a few seconds, maybe ten, maybe fifteen and he stood there and so did you, wordlessly. Silence, empty, just blinking and breathing and silence. Before the mutual crash of him stepping toward you, grabbing your face, and kissing you hard. You had met him in the middle just between your doorframe, and your hands immediately found themselves flat against his back, fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt. No other thoughts.

He kissed you like he meant it, with all of the hateful things that you had said still very much on the tongue that swiped past his own. And it was desperate, the way you kissed- hot, heavy, so passionate, too passionate. Your back was against the stretch of the wall just inside your room as he pressed you to it and him against you. The door shut beside you and it was a good thing. So much feeling, so much hate and so much time, so much weight in his kiss but it was as easy as breathing.

He held your face between large hands that slowly slid down to your jaw, one of them down your neck, his body pressed so closely to yours that you thought maybe you’d start sinking through the wall against your back. His hand traveled downwards and you let it as his hand went around your neck, not pressing, not squeezing, just placement. It sent chills through your whole body though your bodies only radiated pure heat. Small sounds escaped both of your lips, small hums, as his hand slid down and over the exposed bra from your undone buttons. His hand cupped your chest, not too rough, but definitely without being gentle. None of this was gentle.

You popped your knee out just a bit as he pressed himself against you so that when he did, he felt it. He groaned just a bit as you then took a step off the wall, pressing him to the wall opposite the small entrance to the hotel room. Still so desperate, still so in need, his hand still on your chest and one of your hands traveling to rest on his jaw while- as he began to take off your shirt- your other hand slid down his chest to break the waistband of his pants, just gently rimming it with your pinkie finger before undoing the button of his pants. His lips didn’t leave yours even as you slid your hand down into them. He was hard, he was so hard and in this desperation even you didn’t have the time to think. You didn’t want the time to think as your shirt was pulled over your head between the sound Patrick made into your mouth.

All of this hatred just seeped out of your skin at a scalding temperature as you pressed yourself against him, your hand gripping him harder, he didn’t waste another second gaining back his leverage, kissing you as you walked over to your bed. He kicked off his pants and in seconds he was on you, really on you, over you. Climbing over you in your bra and little black skirt. Your hand left his boxers and you began to pull at his t-shirt, all of your actions desperate and wanting and his lips were on your neck, his hand resting at the base of it again, moving your hair aside. Gentle, but starving. His skin against yours, hands trailing all over your body, one of them deciding to drop down between your legs. With only a touch of his finger against the inner of your thigh, you opened them just a little so that very same finger could gently press against you where you needed it. This was too gentle, in a world that wasn’t gentle, so when you kissed Patrick harder he knew to cut the bullshit. You weren’t delicate, he didn’t need to act like it. He pulled your underwear to the side to gently rub circles into your clit and easily slipped his other finger inside of you, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from you.

You hated how it was almost familiar, his pattern of heavy breathing and his fingers pumping inside of you with that careful curving middle finger hitting that perfect spot inside of you. You hated how it sent a flush over your whole body and made you feel almost euphoric like he was some sort of drug. His fingers curled inside of you, moving up and down as he went half in, half out, his thumb on your clit like it was the easiest thing and it probably was- he had good practice. You were moaning as quietly as you could, breathily against his skin before without warning, he cut that out too, just to pull your underwear down from inside the skirt and you kicked it off somewhere far away. His fingers went to resume his actions, but he wasn’t so lucky to go back to something so easy.

With a swift rocking motion, you were able flip yourselves over so now you were on top of him. You pulled your hair to the side as you bent down to kiss him now, feeling his hard dick against you, still hidden by his boxers. You kissed him, still fast, still hot, still in need as you slowly rolled your hips against him, causing him to groan out into your mouth just the same way you just had when his fingers were inside of you. And in seconds he was getting rid of his boxers and his dick was standing, waiting. He was so hard, still so in need, he almost pushed you down onto it but you didn’t want to waste any time either, moving down just a bit while his hands began sliding down your bare waist, resting on your hips, his eyes meeting yours for what felt like the first time since you’d crashed against each other at the door. His mouth was just a little open, eyes on you like you were everything, and it felt like a pause but it was only half a second.

He kissed you again, just as hungry, his lips meeting yours in such a sickeningly sweet way but it was all so fast, his tongue in your mouth in a way you had not forgotten. A kiss only broken by the moan that slipped between both of your lips as you sank down onto him. His fingertips dug into the flesh of your ass, pushing just gently as he filled you entirely. You hated that with all the men you’d been with since, none of them had ever filled you the way he did. And that hate was momentum enough to begin to move up and down, hips rocking with his guiding force. “Fuck…” he said through his heavy breathing as you rode him, moaning in response as the rocking turned to a slight bounce, his hips lifting to meet you halfway.

It was so all-consuming, the feeling. Like some hot flush in your body every up and down was worthy of the extreme rush of the perfect feeling of him. Fucking yourself on him, his hands tight on your hips, pulling you up and down harder, faster, as your hair fell into your face time and time again. This desperate sex got more desperate as Patrick made a move to regain his control, flipping you onto your back without even pulling out. You grinned breathlessly as his hands moved back to your jaw to kiss you all the same, not letting up on how hard he kissed you while he began to fuck you harder than before. Your legs wrapped around his body and his arm propping him up rested just beside your head and you needed each other more than anything it was violent, the way his body met yours rapidly, perfectly. It was a mixture of breathing hard, whispers of ‘fuck’ and ‘god’ and skin and the moans you tried to suppress along with his own.

Your eyes rolled back as he fucked you. It felt like nothing had ever compared, like nothing could even come close to this feeling. It felt like you were losing all sense of the world outside the bedroom, being fucked truly dumb and numb to any other part of this, not the morals, not your principles. Nothing else mattered aside from this violent show of passion. His hand now on your waist, yours around his neck and his eyes met yours again.

Barely open, in this world of lust, he looked back at you through his eyelashes like none of this was happening. You couldn’t see fire in his eyes anymore. His eyes were more showing water, still, calm, despite his actions and despite it all. Things slowed. And he kissed you again, slower, as his thrusts continued with the same power and the same force. Your hands slid into his hair and there was nothing you wanted more in this moment than the kiss… Somehow ignoring the outside world for sex became ignoring the sex for the kiss. You wouldn’t breathe if you didn’t have to. “Mm- I’m so close, fuck,” he mumbled over your lips, mouth opening just a bit as he picked up the pace and your fingers closed in fists of his hair as a new wave of pleasure completely overtook all of your thinking.

“Uh huh,” You nodded, using your hands to kiss him again, to keep him close to you as his thrusts got sloppy and more spaced but still hard as finished. His moans mixed with your own as he slowed to a stop. “Fuck…” You sighed heavily. It was over, it was over, it was over and you were a mess underneath him. Your makeup all fucked up, your hair ruffled, your body sticky from the sweat of it all. Nearly-naked, almost entirely, under Patrick, of all people. You would have to deal with the high and it’s comedown, its consequences.

The consequence seemed to be not having anything witty or hateful to say to him as he moved to lay next to you, rubbing his face, obviously thinking this over the same way you were. You propped yourself up on your elbow and looked at him, really looked at him. And all he had for you was that stupid, arrogant grin. But it made you laugh. And for the first time in all of the times he had ever fucked you and left after dating back eight years- he reached over and pulled you into another kiss, silencing your giggle. A real kiss, hands staying put on your jaw, your hand gently pressed again his bare chest. The high was gone but the comedown was cushioned in a way you had never felt before. You couldn’t hate someone who kissed you this way with nobody waiting for him at home. Like pieces falling into place, after eight years, there was the first kiss with no intention of sex.

You couldn’t hate how right it felt with nothing about it having to feel wrong. It was surprising, how different it felt. The consequence was that you liked it.

And on the way home, your sister knew something had shifted. You sat closer to him than you ever allowed, he addressed you when he had something to say and it was just all too normal. There was another night at the motel where you’d ended up talking everything out with Patrick, finding out how he really felt about things without the need for argument. He confessed to just about everything before the night of conversation ended with you both a little bit too close. Your eyes met his in the glow of the motel pool you sat next to and before any other words were said, his hand slid around the back of your neck and he kissed you again. You didn’t have sex that night. But you ended up in his arms, your hair being tucked behind your ear, his fingers tracing patterns over your thigh.

Your sister knew something was up for sure when you returned to the motel room around 4am, but she didn’t question it. The biggest tell was that you were your regular, sweet self again. That and you had stopped calling him Zweig. There wasn’t any need to dwell on the past, you’d both decided. He was forgiven over a few cups of coffee. And your past actions felt less like something haunting... more like a mistake from the end of your teenage years.

It truly was exhausting feeling so much and not letting it serve a true purpose, you both found. You began to recognize that not everything formed in the fires of lust stayed on fire forever. It was better to succumb to the still waters that his eyes reminded you of. You liked this rematch, it was one of the best games you'd ever played.

#patrick zweig #challengers #challengers x reader #challengers fic #tinytennisskirt #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig enemies to lovers #patrick zweig angst #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x you

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twstgarden · 10 months

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❀ ❝ 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗯𝗶𝘁 ❞

━ riddle rosehearts x gn! heartslabyul! reader x trey clover (separate) ━ you would have never thought that your precious childhood friend would have a crush on you. (f/n means first name)

requested by: anonymous <3 request type: oneshot requester's message: Hello! I see your request are open🌱🌱 May i request oneshots or scenarios romance with Trey Clover and Riddle Rosehearts, with crush [Reader] who was their childhood friend and based on white rabbit from alice in wonderland. The Reader are in Heartslabyul dorm as well! Feel free to ignore this request if its make you uncomfortable or breaking the request rules. I hope you have a good day💙💙 florist's note: hello, dear anon! i wasn't sure if you wanted them together or separately, but here it is! apologies for the wait~

this work does not contain spoilers for chapter 7, diasomnia’s arc.

do not steal or translate without my permission.

— 𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙨 —

painting the roses was always a regular task, but painting one with your dearest childhood friend and crush made the task even better than usual.

riddle’s recent incident was a lot to handle. you were there when riddle lost control and overblotted right in front of your very eyes, and you had to fight hard alongside the other involved parties to make sure he comes back to his senses and stop the mess he was creating.

the attempt was successful, save for the fatigue you and the others felt right after battling a magician in their overblot state. since then, riddle has been getting the medical attention he needed to ensure his entire state is well and healthy, and things in the dormitory were starting to return to its usual joyful chaotic state.

it has been a few days since that incident, and you were all preparing for the unbirthday party once more. you stood alongside trey with a clipboard in hand as you checked out all the required items, “white tablecloth, check; pastries including the tarts, check; tea set, check; chairs, check. okay, what else?”

as you continued to mumble under your breath, trey laughed a little as he spoke, “you’ve been going back and forth with the preparations for hours ago. everything is all set now. no need to be nervous.”

“well, yeah, but… it’s my duty to make sure all is well and done,” you spoke with a sigh as you glanced at your vice leader, making him hum in response. “your sense of duty is always admirable, but take it easy, f/n. riddle wouldn’t have your head if one spot goes wrong… i hope…”

trey mumbled the last two words under his breath, but you were well-aware of the words he said, causing you to grow even more nervous as you spoke, “aaaahhh… i better recheck everything!”

before he could say anything else, you ran off and inspected the venue.

“…and there they go.”

…

after assessing the venue, you checked on your pocket watch to see the time, realizing the party starts soon. you quickly went back to where the venue was and held your trumpet, blowing it as you announced, “make way for our leader, the red ruler: prefect riddle rosehearts!”

right after announcing, the crowd started cheering, “three cheers for prefer riddle!”

riddle then came into view as his eyes scanned the entire area, nodding his head in satisfaction, “perfect. the roses are red and the tablecloths are white. truly a perfect unbirthday party. i assume the dormouse is inside the teapot as expected? …well, i guess it doesn’t really matter now.”

“you don’t have to change so suddenly, you know?” spoke trey, “and we can use the jam on the scones, if you’d like. we don’t have to stop altogether at once. we can take things slowly.” riddle hummed in response as he glanced at trey, “yes, you’re right.”

you sighed in relief, causing riddle to glance back at you as you quickly straightened your posture and kept quiet. riddle smiled at you before looking around, “…wait!” he then pointed at one rose that was white in the sea of red roses, “that white rose…”

immediately, cater panicked and started questioning ace and deuce if they forgot to paint the other roses. at that moment, it seemed like chaos was about to erupt and trey was quite ready to console riddle, but unexpectedly, riddle smiled.

“i’m joking~ i won’t get mad over every little thing now,” spoke riddle, causing you to smile a little in response, “and it will be quicker if we painted it all.” the other heartslabyul students were relieved and thrilled to know their heads won’t be chopped this time.

you and riddle stood side by side as he held his staff and used his magic to quickly colour an entire rose bush red in a blink of an eye, making your eyes twinkle in admiration. “woaah~ you were always so cool when it comes to magic!” you stated as you painted the roses with him, “hehe, i remember when you tried to make a tart appear out of the blue, but you couldn’t!”

your giggles were met with riddle’s embarrassed huff as he spoke, “i was not as advanced as i am now, n/n…”

“but you’re still cool!”

riddle blushed lightly as you kept complimenting him, ‘and you’re beautiful…’

you two continued painting the roses as he grabbed one red rose and took off its thorns, making you pause your painting as you looked at what he was doing to the flower.

before you could speak, he tucked the rose behind your ear with a small smile – you could sense how nervous he was at that point.

“there… you look nice…”

— 𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙮 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 —

losing your precious pocket watch is actually a blessing in disguise.

“where is it? where is it?!”

you fumbled around your belongings in search for your pocket watch that you lost earlier. you had remembered placing it on the lounge as you were working on something over there, then you went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and came back with no pocket watch beside your study notes.

“i can’t lose it, no. maybe i was imagining things…” you told to yourself as you rushed back to the lounge and started taking off the cushion and even lifting the flower vase settled atop the table. during your search, the vice leader came across the lounge and feigned curiosity, “what are you doing, n/n?”

hearing the familiar voice made you look up as you sighed, “i lost my pocket watch. can you help me find it?” you were frowning as you said those words, and he immediately agreed to your request. you spent a few minutes in the lounge until trey suggested some other place, “maybe you left it outside and you did not remember? let’s check the tea garden.”

you were a little hesitant.

“i had it in my possession when i was in the lounge, though… it would be impossible to see it in the garden…” you spoke, causing him to smile at you reassuringly. “trust me, n/n,”

and so, you did.

you were quick to reach the tea garden as you were naturally a fast walker and runner. upon arrival, you saw a single table that was set up so perfectly as if someone was about to have tea with a partner. the tablecloth was laid perfectly along with the flower vase, the plates, the utensils, and of course, the sweets for dessert.

and right there, beside the sweet platter, was your precious pocket watch.

you gasped and immediately rushed to the table, grabbing your pocket watch before looking at the table. from your side of the seat, there was a folded piece of paper that had a smiley face on, making you glance back at trey to see him smiling at you.

you instantly knew what he was doing. you laughed a little as you crossed your arms, “you sneaky little guy.”

he laughed in response as he spoke, “sorry, n/n. i initially wanted to properly ask you out, but i… kind of chickened out. i didn’t mean to make you anxious, though!”

light-hearted laughter was heard from you two as you replied, “don’t worry, if anything, i like the way you executed this. it gives me a sense of adventure and the result was sweet. well then, shall we?”

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earthtoplum · 2 years

Text

sincerely yours... // eddie munson.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!ballerina reader (she/her pronouns)

summary: Untouchable, is what he called you. Dating Jason, the captain of the basketball team, most would call you the same. Living your holier than thou life, something else he said, you can't seem to swallow the need to prove him wrong.

word count: 11k

warnings: a lot of sex talk, this is for mature audiences only, mentions of marijuana, mentions of alcohol, slight insinuation of mean parenting on eddies end.

a/n: hi, thanks for being here :) i have been sitting on this for a while and have decided to let it be free. this is set up for a fic, all of my work seems to be *eyeroll*, i'm sick of myself, can never do something SMALL. how many high school 80s fics can we make of eddie... lets find out.

A fluff of dirty blonde hair brushes against your chin, a sweet musky scent flooding your senses, his favorite shampoo. The locks of hair were soft, you could get lost in them for hours, whether you were burying your nose in the thick tresses or dragging your fingers through them. Tonight they were tickling your skin, caressing the smooth curve of your jaw as the boy they belonged to pressed chaste kisses to your neck.

“Think you’ll be able to stay over?” He mumbles, lifting his chin to meet your eyes. Releasing a breath, you raise an eyebrow at your boyfriend and shake your head.

“Jason, I told you,” You say, repeating yourself for third time, “I’ve got a really important rehearsal this Saturday,” Glancing away, Jason bobs his head, “I don’t miss them for anything,” You smile, bringing a hand beneath his chin to make him look back at you, “Not even pretty boys like you.”

“Pretty boys like me,” Jason smirks, playfully rolling his eyes, “I’m flattered… Even if my feelings are hurt.” His pink lips that fit perfectly on his face pulled into a pout.

“No!” You giggle, cupping his cheeks, making his lips squish out, “They won’t be when you get to see the show.” He tries to smile, squishing his cheeks further.

“I can’t wait,” He sighs, then shifts over top of you, “Now keep kissing me.”

Giving him a grin, you slide your arms around his shoulders and pull him close, pressing your lips to his slowly, yet innocently.

It was all too sweet and careful. That’s all it ever was, all of the time. You’d begun to pray for time away from him so you wouldn’t grow bored of this, though some part of your subconscious, the part you ignored, was telling you that you already were.

The way your body reacted to him was enough of a sign. Kissing him was nice, he was good at that, it was everything else where he gave a subpar performance. Unlike his success on the basketball court, most times you were reaching, praying for a buzzer beater, but got left with nothing.

On the court the boy could score, many times, however, between the sheets, nothing.

This weekend his parents were going out of town which left him with an empty house. Jason was notorious for throwing rager’s, and now that you were seniors it was without a doubt they’d be bigger and better than they’ve ever been. The basketball team already knew how they were going to get their hands on three different kegs, and Jason’s dad already kept one in their basement, so this party was going to blow a hole through their roof.

On top of you, Jason slides a gentle hand over your blouse, just barely grabbing your breast, like he was nervous. That expression never showed elsewhere though, his face always read as confident, and sure of himself.

The soft touch was far from satisfying.

As his hand slipped lower, never spending enough time anywhere to rile you up, he peppered kisses to the side of your neck like he once was, using just his lips in a quick, staccato motion.

“Jason,” You whisper before his hand has the chance to slide beneath your skirt. He picks his head up with a smile.

“You have to go,” He says, half disappointed, looking at the clock on his nightstand, “Eh, it’s only eight thirty, we have a half hour,” And before he pecks at your skin again, you stop him, placing both your hands to his shoulders.

“I know, but, I never finished my homework for O’Donnell, and she’s been up my butt because I’ve been barely making deadlines because of rehearsal, and I need-“

“Okay,” Jason laughs softly, leaning down to kiss your lips to shut you up, “I get it,” He nods, then the air falls quiet for a few seconds before he shrugs, “Feel like it’s been hard to catch you recently, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry,” You whisper, taking in his deep blue eyes. With a subtle shake of his head he crinkles his chin.

“Don’t be sorry, baby,” He says, dipping his nose down to touch yours, “I just miss you, that’s all, like… miss you.” He raises his brows, making your cheeks blush. Even though he wasn’t talented, his charismatic aura sure had a way of making up for it.

Plus, sex wasn’t a topic the two of you spoke openly about, it was something that just happened.

The first time you and Jason went through with the act was the first time either of you had done anything with anyone. So, in a way, you really had no clue if he was bad at it, you had nothing else to compare it to. Maybe that’s just how sex was, for the guy to get off while the girl laid on her back for seven minutes and kind of enjoyed it.

“I’m sorry,” You repeat yourself, unsure of what else to tell him. Jason’s smile grows.

“You’re cute,” He says, then rolls off you carefully so he can stand on his feet.

Reaching a hand out for you to take, he helps you up and gives you another kiss before you hurry to slip into your shoes. Smoothing down your shirt and adjusting your skirt, you look over to your boyfriend who’s leaning against his dresser with his arms crossed, wearing a curious expression.

“What?” You ask quietly, freezing under his gaze, your fingers dancing along the hem of your skirt.

“You think you can ask your dad to extend your curfew?” He cocks his head to the side, “It’s been nine o’clock since you were fourteen, we’re eighteen. Nine just seems… A little immature.”

Pointing your eyes down to the floor, you feel your stomach churn at the question. Your curfew was nine o’clock for a reason, Jason knew this.

“I- I can- I dunno,” You stammer, “Jason, you know how he is.”

“I know, I know,” He slightly raises his voice, pushing off the dresser with his shoulder, taking slow steps toward you. His tone brushes off the seriousness in yours. “You’re just… We… We’re adults now.”

Standing in front of you, arms still crossed, there’s a persuasiveness peeking through his eyes that’s incredibly chilling. Gulping, you nod your head and look back down to the floor at your feet.

“Hey,” Jason’s entire being softens as he reaches for your shoulder, “Look at me,” He’s wearing a smile when you obey his command, “I love you.”

Painting a smile onto your lips, you whisper, “I love you, too,” Confidently enough so that he’ll let you go.

“C’mon,” He gestures to his bedroom door, “I’ll drive you home.”

Walking the fuzzy carpet of his long, grand hallway, the two of you trot down the stairs hand in hand to greet his parents in the kitchen. His mother, who he so closely resembled, was finishing up the dishes from dinner while his father sat at the table reading the newspaper from this morning. Amongst the dark blue cabinets and striped wallpaper, they truly painted the perfect cookie cutter picture.

Your and Jason's footsteps announced your arrival, cutting off his father who was complaining about whatever he was reading, something about the government probably. That’s what all dads in Hawkins seemed to talk about anyway.

“Heading out?” Jason’s mother asks, wearing a red lipstick smile to go with her sage green stretch pants, a matching sweater and her tightly permed curls. Every time you saw Ms. Carver she was done up like she was ready for her picture to be taken.

“Yes, I’m gonna drive her home,” Jason answers. His father lays the newspaper down and clears his throat.

“Son, she wasn’t talking to you,” Raising an eyebrow, Mr. Carver straightens out his glasses as Jason composes his posture. You give him a small smile, one he returns.

“I have homework to catch up on,” You turn to Ms. Carver and sigh, amping up the act. Tossing a dish towel beside the sink, the poised woman turns to face you and props herself against the counter with a hand on her hip.

“You are just too busy, my dear,” She copies your fake exhaustion with a shake of her head, “When is this ballet show of yours?”

“Soon,” You smile, “We perform over spring break, so, a couple weeks.”

“That’s too darn exciting,” Ms. Carver grins, “Jason, you need to stop keepin’ her here! This girl is doing big things,” Jason’s mother leaves her place at the sink, moving closer to you so that she can cup one of your cheeks, “I’m so proud of you,” She says, then looks over to her son, “I’m so proud of both of you. You’ve grown up so much, you’re hard workers, and you’re committed to your faith.”

The reason Jason was allowed to have you upstairs, in his bedroom, with the door closed. You both wore a thin silver band on the ring finger of your left hand.

“Thank you,” You say, without a falter to your exterior, even though on the inside you were sweating.

Jason, an impeccable liar, leans over to give his mother a kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll be back in twenty,” He says, then leads you out to his car as you call out goodbyes to his parents, thanking them for dinner.

The drive home is everything ordinary. If one was to imagine a vanilla version of taking someone home, it was Jason driving his black Jeep Cherokee to your house, walking you to your front door and giving you a kiss on the cheek before saying goodnight to you and your father who met you at the doorstep.

After your fathers hand is shaken, Jason backs away from the door with a smile, then whispers, “Ask him,” with widened eyes. Giving him a small nod, you blow him a kiss and step inside.

“That boy knows all the right things, don’t he?” Your father asks, having found a comfortable spot on the aged living room couch.

Once the door is closed, you take a deep breath before turning around with a smile.

“He does!” You joke with him, taking a couple steps toward him. Eyeing you curiously, your dad sends a crooked smile your way and taps the cushion beside him, hoping you’d sit down with him. With a frown and a head tilt toward the stairs you tell him you have to get to your room.

“Now hold on,” He chuckles, “Just a couple minutes.”

“Okay,” You sigh, “But I’ve got homework, so don’t start any stories.” Mulling toward him, you plop next to him and relax back into the couch.

“Homework for who?” He questions, raising a brow.

“Oh, uh, Miss Click,” You say, your eyes dancing about the homey living room. Your father nods, humming in interest.

“Sure, sure,” He says, “You’re ready for Saturday’s rehearsal?”

Whipping your head at lightning speed, your eyes nearly bug out of your head, “Are you kidding? I’m overly prepared, I’m too prepared, I’m three months past prepared.”

Your father laughs, “I know you are.”

“This show is the make or break moment for me, Dad,” You begin, and his expression shifts to a serious one, “The show has got to be perfect, or I’m in huge trouble”

“Huge trouble?” He asks. You hold up a hand.

“With myself,” You explain, “This spring show is what’s going to get me that scholarship. If I screw it up? I’ll never forgive myself.”

Furrowing his brow, your father hums again.

“I’ve prepared every moment of my life for this,” You begin to speak with your hands, “Everything I’ve done has led me to this performance, and this performance will lead me to my future.”

“And it will take you… where?” He asks happily.

Sucking in a quick breath, you speak loud and clear, “New York City.”

Holding up his hand, you slap your palm against his with a smack.

“Since you were five years old, that’s where you’ve always dreamed of going,” Your father says, “Your mother swore she was going to take you there herself.”

Glancing down to your lap, you sigh at the thought of a dream cut entirely too short.

“No matter how I get there, she’ll be with me,” You say quietly, then look up at him with a small smile, “Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime, kiddo,” He nods, “You aren’t being too hard on yourself are you?” He asks, “Your workload is alright?”

“My teachers all know what my life is like, they’ve been working with me all year,” You reassure him.

“Right,” He shrugs presumptively, “Just making sure. How about physically? You doin’ okay? That ankle been alright?”

Lifting your left foot you give it a couple rolls, feeling the strain on the joint, then press your lips together.

“Nothing to complain about,” You lie, though living a dancer's life you’ve become accustomed to dancing through injuries.

“Okay,” Is the last thing he says before, “Goodnight.”

And once you say it in response, you’re barrelling up the stairs for your bedroom to listen to some music and get ready for bed.

Waking up the next morning is a breeze, it typically always is. With an alarm set for six, you’re leaping out of bed and into the shower for five minutes exact, eight if you had to wash your hair. Today you were pulling it back into a tight, neat bun, so there wasn’t a need to tack on three pointless minutes.

After the shower you’re whizzing back to your room to slip on your clothes for the day, settling for a long sleeved, light blue sweater tucked into a calf length, darker brown maxi skirt, like the one Molly Ringwald wore in The Breakfast Club.

Even though the movie’s been out for a year, every female everywhere clung to the new it girl, especially the girls here in small town Hawkins, Indiana. They all nearly tore down the department stores searching for that outfit, and a John Bender to go with it.

When you and a couple of girls from your dance company went out a week or so after seeing the film, you got your hands on a skirt your size and charged your fathers credit card without even asking to buy it. You’d repay him somehow, eventually.

Finishing your outfit off with a pair of boots that matched, you took care of your hair, preparing it for tomorrow's early morning rehearsal, and then you were off down the stairs to meet your father in the kitchen twirling his keys.

“Swear, each day you get earlier and earlier,” He smiles at you, glancing at the clock hanging on the wall above the stove, “It’s six thirty three, I swore I just heard you get up.”

Stepping beside him, you pick a banana up from the basket on the kitchen table and laugh under your breath.

“I’m a dancer, Dad,” You say, peeling the fruit and taking a bite, “I coul’ be rea’y in under uh min-uh if I wan’ed to.” Your father blinks a couple of times, then smiles.

“Would that make you practice better manners?” He jokes, gesturing to your mouth full of banana. Slumping your shoulders, you roll your eyes theatrically even though you know he’s kidding.

With a hard swallow you clear your throat and say, “Are we wasting time talking about my table manners, or are we leaving?”

“We’re leaving,” He snickers, tossing the keys in the air, only to catch them a millisecond later, “Did you finish your homework?” He asks as you follow him through the front door, looking over his shoulder to find you picking off the weird strands that are inside the banana peel, flicking them to the ground.

“I didn’t have any,” You mumble, partially listening to what he was saying. Six thirty in the morning, though you knew how to get ready fast, did not mean your brain was as awake as the rest of you.

Locking the front door, your father frowns, creasing his brow. Like you were his shadow, you waited for him on the step just off of the porch, focused on your makeshift breakfast. He smiles to himself when he turns and finds you standing there without a reason.

“Thought you said you had some work to finish, no?” He tries to ask again, eyeing you curiously while you now walk beside him to the car.

“No, I always make sure I finish assignments days before they’re due when it’s a tech weekend,” You scrunch your face, giving your dad a funny look because he knew this about you. Once you meet his ominous eyes and silly smirk, your brain catches up to reality.

Sliding into the front seat, your eyes are wide, and judging by your fathers laugh, he was two steps ahead of you.

The car doors are pulled shut at the same exact time, and for the first couple of minutes the two of you ride in silence, aside from the radio.

“Y’know, I thought it was funny, last night, hearing you say you had work due today,” The conversation had finally sparked once you were driving through the heart of Hawkins, passing by the tall, beautiful library. The streets this morning were littered with men and women alike, bustling to get to work, or going for a morning jog now that the weather encouraged them too.

“You believed me,” You mumble, focusing on the trees that were finally turning green, giving the drab town a pop of color. Your father peeks at you with a funny look, one you don’t see.

“Eh,” He sneers, “For a second, maybe,” Shrugging, he turns down a long street, one that will take you straight to the campus that was Hawkins High and Middle School, “But, I’m not the one you had to convince.” He gives you another look, one you reciprocate.

There’s another silence, a gap of dense air growing so large it could suffocate both you and your father, and the only thing that was going to save either of your lives was if you explained why you had lied to Jason.

“I… I wanted to go home,” You admit quietly, scanning the groups of people that had suddenly come into view now that you were over the hill in the road.

“You wanted to go home,” He repeats, “Okay, why couldn’t you have just told him that? Instead of making things up?”

“Because,” You snap, turning your chin to shoot him a sharp glare. Frowning once more, your father slows down and waits for a couple of kids to cross the street, then pulls into a parking space by the front of the school.

“Because, why?” He asks, egging you on, building up a resentment within you, one that's making you feel guilty for having the thoughts you were.

“Because, Dad, I wanted to go home,” Leaning forward in the chair, you unbuckle and open the visor to check yourself out in the tiny mirror, “I don’t always need a reason.”

“Well, I know that, that’s totally fine, I just want to make sure everything is alright that’s all,” He says, resting his hands on his lap, “Jason’s always a respectable young man when he’s at our place, I mean, I never get to see how he acts at his, so, I’m only being a dad and checking in,” Seeing that you were ignoring him, but not getting out of the car yet, gave him the impression that you had something you wanted to share, you just weren’t ready.

“It’s… fine,” You mutter, pulling a clear lip gloss out of your bag, smearing it on thick. His eyes flicker to the silver band on your left hand, a tiny accessory he had no part in deciding for you to wear.

“Alright,” Your father nods, “Have a good day.”

“Thanks,” Tossing the tube back into your bag, you take a deep breath, flash him your best smile, and jump out of the car to let him get to work.

For years it’s been you and your father against the world. Both of you had a strong bond, a deep connection that was strengthened by the open line of communication you practiced. The man wasn’t high strung in the slightest, he lived a life of peace and ease as best as he could. A majority of your talks end with him telling you, “I’ve been your age before…” or, “When I was a teenager, this was what we’d do…”

A lot of his memories and stories were blamed on all the marijuana he used to smoke with his friends. It shocked you the first time you heard him say it, you had to have been about thirteen years old, but since that day you’ve both shared almost everything with one another. If you were stuck, if you needed assistance with a project, a shoulder to cry on, or boy advice… You knew you could count on your father.

Lying to him last night, and just now in the passenger seat of his car, wrecked your heart. You haven’t told him a lie since you were eight years old, and even then it was you trying to convince him that you didn’t eat a cookie before dinner.

This Jason situation, that stemmed from your issues in the sack, was not going to be discussed with your father. At least not yet, not until you’ve had a proper amount of time to think things through.

Hopping up onto the sidewalk beneath the awning of the schools pavilion, you keep to yourself though your eyes stay vigilant, searching for a face of familiarity. A smile graces your lips when every other girl you walk by ogles at the skirt that you’re wearing. Normally they’d take a peek at you because you were the girl that was dating Jason Carver, captain of the basketball team. It was a comforting feeling to know that this time, they were seeing you instead of somebody’s girlfriend.

Crossing over the threshold of the double doors, the halls of Hawkins High welcome you with white brick walls and debilitating overhead lighting. Decorations and posters were hung up where it was appropriate, attempting to jazz up the place while ultimately looking like a sad birthday party.

On the bulletin board by the doors, there was a poster for your spring show. You made sure to look at the beautiful print everyday as a reminder to keep yourself going, to keep working hard no matter how tough it seemed. In just three short months you’d be graduating from this prison, and set free in the real world to live your dream… If the show goes according to plan.

Just as you return your focus back down the hall, a human being of average height with short, light brown hair collides into your side, catching you with one of their arms.

“Jesus, Robin!” You exclaim, nearly jumping a mile. Laughing with pride, Robin situates her arm around your shoulders and bites onto her bottom lip.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” Her voice was smooth, and easy on the ears, though it had the tendency to sometimes sound a bit deep fried, “I know you look at that thing all the time, daydreaming about your future,” She sing-songs, falling into another fit of giggles.

“I do,” You groan, side eyeing her, “Don’t make fun of me.” Pulling your lips into a small pout, Robin copies you, turning up the theatrics and gives your cheeks a squeeze.

“Oh, my sweet honey bun,” Robin coo’s sarcastically, making you smile, “I’m so sorry.”

“My sweet honey bun,” A green Hawkins High Varsity Basketball jacket appears beside you, slipping an arm around your waist, wedging you between him and Robin. The girl you’ve called your best friend since fifth grade drops her grasp, pulling her arms behind her back, assuming a very well structured stance.

“Jason,” Robin states.

“Robin,” Your boyfriend sends back an equally professional tone.

Smiling as your best friend gives you a sarcastic glare, she taps you on the arm once, glances at the poster on the bulletin board and nods her head.

“I know it’s important to you,” She says, “Steve and I will be there, he’s able to buy the tickets that night right?”

“Yeah, just tell him to bring change, the company’s not known to have any,” You say, and she flashes you a thumbs up before giving Jason a salute and taking off down the hall.

“She’s still hanging around Harrington?” Jason asks, pulling you into his hip tighter as he starts to walk with you to your first class, “I don’t get how they don’t date.”

“Boys and girls can be friends,” You say, looking at your boyfriend for the first time this morning. His hair was slicked back perfectly, and underneath his jacket he wore a white t-shirt and light denim jeans that hugged him in all the right places.

“I know that,” He chuckles, “It’s kinda hard though, someone falls eventually.” Holding back your grin, you simply nod your head.

There were a couple secrets you’ve been sworn to keep, ones that you wouldn’t even share with your father, which means Jason didn’t get to know either. A couple Robin leveled secrets that only you knew, and now Steve, apparently.

“How’d the work go?” Jason returns your look, smiling the second he sees your face, “Hope you weren’t up too late.”

Everything about him screamed attraction. From his smile, to his hair, to his sparkling eyes, down to the toned body he knew how to keep up with… He was a dreamboat, and every other girl that skipped down these halls wanted a piece. Freshmen came into this school knowing who he was, like the girls your age once knew of Steve Harrington. Jason was a star amidst the solum white brick walls of Hawkins High, a star that, once upon a time, knew how to make your heart skip a beat.

“Something on my face?” He asks you, pausing by your locker. Blinking twice, blankly, he pulls you from your thoughts.

“Oh, uh, no, sorry,” You sigh, starting to toy with the lock, pulling it open after three fancy twists.

“Guess I was right, not much sleep?” He raises a brow, leaning his back against the locker beside yours.

Pulling out two books while Jason gives a wave to a couple of people who said hello to him, you close the metal door with a slam and shake your head.

“Uh, not really,” You manage to choke out another lie. Last night you slept like a rock.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Jason says softly, turning to face you. Lifting a hand he drags the back of his fingers daintily across your cheek, placing one beneath your chin to beckon you closer for a kiss.

Closing your eyes, you drift into the comfort, the familiar feeling, the normality of it all, and for a second it feels good, with the potential to feel great, until a six foot tall being is thrown into the mix.

“Gareth!” Comes out of the long, curly, brown haired boy's mouth in a screech as he catches himself on his feet so he doesn’t dive into you and Jason head first.

“Watch it,” Your boyfriend sneers, holding up an elbow to protect you from a collision.

Laughter sounds from across the hall pulling your attention. It’s coming from three boys, a shorter one with light hair, a tall, lanky one with black curly hair, and one that fit right between them in height with a baseball cap on his head.

The one who was almost tossed into you stands up straight with his back facing you, flipping his messy mop backwards.

“I’ll kill you, I will,” He grills his friends from behind his teeth.

Turning around quickly, the boy four inches taller than Jason presses his lips together and acknowledges your boyfriend first.

“My sincerest apologies,” He says, seemingly not sorry at all, “I did not mean to interrupt thou, please, continue,” His deep brown eyes meet yours for half of a second, “Ma’am,” He bows his head and turns away, until he whips body back around, “Wait a sec… I know you,” And before you can process any of it, the tall boy with the curly bangs and leather jacket who was blessed with beautiful brown eyes three shades too deep with absolutely no concept of personal space, your boyfriend was slapping a hand to his shoulder to shove him away.

“Get out of here, freak,” Jason curls his lip in disgust, marking his territory with a cold glare toward the four boys across the emptying hallway. You can feel his hands touch you again, you aren’t too sure where though, your gaze is fixated on the boy who looks like he’s straight out of a movie, who’s own gaze hasn’t left you yet as he tumbles backwards into, you assume, Gareth’s arms.

A jumble of the boys saying, “Let’s go,” to one another can be heard at the same time as Jason asking you if you were alright.

“…Eddie has nothing better to do than prowl the hallways looking for…”

Eddie. That was his name.

Your boyfriend's voice was going in one ear and out the other as you watched Eddie shamelessly check you out, head to toe, ending on your hooked stare he picked up on fast.

“See you in O’Donnell’s, princess,” Eddie glances down to the skirt you’re wearing and follows his friends without a second look back. With one use of the word, Eddie unknowingly sets you up for disaster.

“Hey, what the hell!” Jason shouts after them.

“My skirt, Jason,” You say, shushing him by grabbing the sleeve of his jacket with the hand that wasn’t balancing your books.

“What’s your skirt have anything to do with what he just called you,” You could almost see the steam blowing out of his ears, “Freaks got some nerve, I swear if I-“

“Jason,” Sighing heavily, you lift your empty hand to slide it around the back of his neck, “The Breakfast Club, the movie? The one with Molly Ringwald?”

“Yeah?” He shakes his head angrily, not following.

“She wears a skirt like this,” You explain softly, feeling like you were calming a toddler’s temper tantrum, “They call her character a princess.” Jason knits his brows together.

“I really didn’t like that movie,” He says, then looks down to your skirt, “And I wouldn’t have picked up on that, that’s a lot of attention to detail, I’m surprised the freak’s got that much mental capacity.”

Jason's arm snakes around your waist like it was a little while ago, and as if on cue, the conversation had shifted to the party tonight, putting your boyfriend in a much happier mood than droning on about movies and Eddie Munson.

Pausing in front of the door of your first class, he finishes what he needs to say, gives you the fastest smooch, then scurries away to the gym.

Watching him hurry off until he’s out of view, you look down at your skirt and take a long deep breath. Personally, you loved the movie, and this skirt was your everything, it made you feel good- no, it made you feel great.

Jason didn’t notice it.

Eddie, the boy you’ve seen vaguely around the halls and in different classes noticed it.

Eddie, the boy who seemed to stir things up within you with a simple look, things your boyfriend couldn’t seem to awaken even if he was actively between your legs.

Standing up straight, adjusting your books on your hip, you take another deep breath and slip inside the door, right into Ms. O’Donnell’s.

Keeping your gaze fixated on the floor while keeping your chin held high, you beeline across the front of the classroom, turning into the last row of desks that were lined against the windows. Eddie was in this class, a fact you were already aware of. Now aware of another fact, he was going to be somebody you wanted to ignore. Big time.

Your desk was third from the back leaving you wedged between Nancy Wheeler in the desk in front of yours, and Chrissy Cunningham in the one behind.

Passing by Nancy you share a civil smile, something of routine. She wasn’t someone you’d engage in regular conversation with, but every time you’ve had the chance to chat she was nothing but nice.

Robin’s shared facts about the girl with big, owl eyes and permed hair, adding in that she’s got a teeny, tiny crush on her. Those are the words Robin uses, teeny and tiny, though whenever Nancy is the topic, Robin takes an unforgiving form, babbling and droning on and on about how smart she is, or how nice her hair looks.

You paid no mind to your best friend's rants, you knew you were the only one she could talk to, at least about Nancy… She wasn’t a girl she was able to share with Steve.

Just like Nancy, Chrissy Cunningham was another female in Hawkins High you’d avoid voluntary conversation with. The cheerleader had eyes for Jason, so much that sophomore year when your relationship began, you weren’t sure you and Jason were going to make it.

With a high pony and bangs that framed her baby face, she was the one cheerleader everybody wanted, getting to spend hours upon hours with the basketball team. Surely anyone could see why your relationship had such a rocky start, thus creating a deeper meaning for the ring on your and Jason’s left hand.

About to flash her a smile, pettier than the one you gave to Nancy, you find that she’s absent for the day leaving her desk up for grabs, which inevitably enough had to have been snatched up pretty quick.

Sliding your books on the desk, you press your lips firmly together and release a quiet sigh.

Deep brown eyes, three shades too dark are gazing back, kicked back in the chair with his lengthy legs stretched out underneath yours.

“Morning,” He says, smug as anything.

“Morning,” You nod with a slight eye roll, doing your absolute best to keep your eyes on him to assert some type of dominance, not because you were dying to check out the rest of his appearance.

You saw him in the hallway, you got a good look at him. Eddie is the utter opposite of everything you know.

Dressed in ripped jeans and a leather jacket with a denim vest thrown overtop, he was intimidating. The boy wore rings on nearly every finger, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had some sort of piercing somewhere as well. He has tattoo’s… Multiple.

Jason once mentioned not too long ago how he cannot believe anyone would want to mark their skin permanently, for life. Partially in agreement, half of you sweats at the idea of making an enormous commitment like a tattoo, but the other half finds it exciting, and just plain cool. It probably had to do with the artist within you, your creative heart longing for another form of creation and inspiration.

In passing, like how you knew he was in this class, you’ve seen one of Eddie’s tattoo’s, the bats on his arm that were each completely blacked out. Barely remembering his name then, you thought of asking him how it felt, and what he endured during the process, just to have the knowledge, not for any other reason… Obviously you’d never gotten around to that.

“Might wanna take a seat, it’s an hour long class,” Eddie says, cocking his head to the side, catching onto you and your curious eyes once again.

Scoffing, you tear away your gaze embarrassingly fast, hang your bag on the back of your chair and slip into your seat just as Ms. O’Donnell steps inside the classroom.

“Good morning students,” Her monotonous voice carried across the tiled floors, greeting you in a way that everyone felt at half past seven in the morning.

Flipping your textbook open to the last chapter the class had left off on, you lean to the left to pick out a pencil from your bag and find Eddie tapping the bottom of it with his sneaker, making it rock side to side.

“…To chapter twelve, we’ll begin review…” Ms. O’Donnell drones on in the background as you shoot Eddie a cold glare over your shoulder. He maintained a face, wearing the calmest, slyest expression without a smile.

Shoving a hand all the way to the bottom beneath your wallet, under the make up, next to the oval compact mirror you’ve had for years, you finally grab a pencil and slip your hand out quick so you can face forward and ignore Eddie.

Normally he’d be sitting across the room in the last desk in the row, sometimes sleeping. You couldn’t understand why he’d want to sit closer to the windows where the sun would blaze down on him when he could be across the room in the shade like a sleepy little vampire.

Immediately shaking that thought out of your brain and the use of the word ‘little’, you refocus and take a long deep breath, exhaling at the same time as your bag sliding off the back of your chair, hitting the floor in a clobber.

At least four heads turn toward the commotion, including Ms. O’Donnells.

Shutting your eyes momentarily, you compose your being before turning around to pick it up, meeting Eddie’s little smirk.

His feet were now tucked under his own chair, balancing on the toes, creasing the front of his white Reebok’s.

“Apologies,” He says quietly, lowering his brows a bit.

“Don’t worry about it,” You mumble, whipping forward with a vengeance, hoping he’d sense your frustration so he’d leave you alone, but the boy seemed to be relentless.

Leaning toward his desk to get closer to you, he rests his chest on the wood and whispers, “I have a question.”

You open a notebook to jot down the things Ms. O’Donnell had started to review, putting the new notes below the ones from yesterday. As you scribble as fast as she’s speaking, you hear Eddie tap his fingers on his desk.

With another deep sigh, you stay zoned in on your notes, but whisper, “What?”

He answers right away, waiting somewhat patiently.

“Did you do the homework?” He asks. With a roll of your eyes you nod your head to answer him. That would be what he wants, you’re very prompt with your work and it’s not something you tend to hide.

“‘Course you did,” He seems to snicker.

Turning your chin toward your shoulder, you glare down to his feet and mutter, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“No talking, please!” Ms. O’Donnell cuts in, stopping her sentence about the lesson short.

Shifting around, you resume your note taking and active listening.

About ten minutes pass in peace, but as you raise your hand to answer the third question your teacher has asked, you hear another sound of a quiet laugh from behind you.

Snapping your hand back down to your side you let another student answer this one, using the time to turn around to address the situation you were in.

Staring out the window, nibbling on the nail of his thumb, Eddie is smiling, shaking his head the slightest bit.

“Can you shut up?” You sneer, keeping your volume under control.

Dropping his hand to his lap, he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip and looks at you. Like sweet caramel, his eyes were truly a sight to get lost in, and when they shift over to your angry brows the way they make your stomach flip riddles you with nerves.

“I can’t help it,” He says.

“Well, get it together,” You finally glance down to the shirt he’s wearing under his jacket- a white Motley Crue tour t-shirt from 1983, with big orange letters and the four members of the band in the center. Your dad went to that concert, you remember spending the night at Robin’s so that he could go.

Eddie glances down at his tee, flickering only his eyes up to you.

“You like them?” He asks, his demeanor changing to much nicer than before. Looking at him, you part your lips to speak but struggle to find the words.

“My dad went to the- I mean, yeah, they’re cool, my dad, listens,” You manage to whisper.

“Do we have a problem back there?” Ms. O’Donnell calls out to the two of you. You would have broken your neck with how quick you turned to her.

“Sorry, no,” You say, obtaining the third condescending laugh from behind your back.

Telling yourself you were going to ignore Eddie and his immature pestering for the next fifty minutes, he whispers four words that send a shock down your spine, “Such a good girl.”

There wasn’t a soul in Hawkins who has ever said such a thing to you. It was a simple sentence, one that people everywhere say in a meaningless, innocent matter. You’ve heard people say it to their pets, their cars even, those four words, specifically the two at the end, were not supposed to make you sweat.

Eddie oozed sexual energy, that much was clear. A cocky, confident aura was alluring, you were with Jason for god's sake, but Eddie was also self aware, and that turned the sexiness up to the nth degree. There wasn’t ever a moment he seemed to be pretending, he was who he was, and it didn’t look like he had a problem with that.

For all you know, he could say those things to anybody. He’s never been spotted with a girl, or guy, whatever he may like, you don’t know a thing about his life, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t exactly getting any action either.

Walking the halls of Hawkins as if he owned the place, looking like the bad boy heartthrob of any movie, it was impossible to not think about, or at least be intrigued by his sex life, if he had one.

Someone who uses words like ‘good girl’ in such an easy manner had to have one. That type of sentence doesn’t come out of thin air. It comes from practice.

Ms. O’Donnell’s voice fades into the background, your thoughts now clouded because of the boy sitting behind you.

Shifting in your seat, crossing your legs, you glance up to the clock momentarily and find fifteen minutes have passed. Fifteen minutes of the teacher talking that you haven’t heard, and a quarter of an hour of missed notes.

Tapping the eraser of your pencil on the desk, you look to it as your lips part in surprise. The pink, rubber end was covered in teeth marks, completely chewed up.

“What the…” Tumbles from your lips, lifting the pencil for a closer look.

“You were going to town on that thing,” Eddie whispers. Uncrossing your legs to cross the other on top, you shift in your seat again, blinking what seemed like a trillion times to help you ignore the distraction that should not be a distraction.

Eddie should be easy to ignore, he’s the type of guy you want to ignore. You grow up hearing stories about people like him, and how they’re the kind of people you shun out of society because they don’t do it any good unless they shape up and become better citizens.

Conditioned to ignore and shun, you cannot begin to imagine, or logically think why you have the deepest urge to turn around and engage with the jerk.

That’s what he is, a jerk. He saw you kissing Jason in the hallway, that has to be the reason why he’s chosen to suddenly taunt you when he’s been sitting in the same class with you all year. Eddie and your boyfriend have some unexplained rift between them, probably the clashing of societal values or something, you're sure Jason has mentioned it before, so that’s got to be the reason why.

It’s a part of the feud. Eddie is trying to get to him through you.

With a deep breath, you place the pencil on your book.

“I’ve never seen you this fidgety before,” Eddie eggs on, “Everything alright?” The stealthiness can be heard in his voice, like you were already aware of, he knew what he was doing.

“Just totally annoyed,” You mutter over your shoulder. Eddie laughs.

“Oh, yeah,” He smiles, “I’m sure you are.”

At the front of the classroom, Ms. O’Donnell places stacks of paper on each desk in the first row to be passed backward. Nancy stretches a slender hand behind her, not bothering to turn around to deliver the sheets face to face. Accepting them with a soft, “Thank you,” you take one and hand the remainder to Eddie, copying Nancy’s technique, unintentionally flashing the ring on your finger to the boy.

“What is that?” He asks with grandeur as the class falls into a quiet chatter while everyone begins their work.

“What is what?” You sigh, writing your name at the top of your paper.

To your left, a hand is held out to you. Eddie wiggles his ring finger when you look down to it.

The sight of his boney, callused fingers strikes a bolt of lightning through your chest. All four fingers were adorned with chunky, silver rings of different shapes and creatures you didn’t dare to ask more about- though you wanted to.

Swallowing hard, you peek at him and raise an eyebrow, “My ring?”

“Yeah, that,” He says, nodding, stretching his neck to catch another look.

Holding up your left hand, you widen your eyes and slightly curl your lip.

“What about it?” You ask, your tone flat.

Eddie stares at the silver band, taking it in for a second before he starts to smile.

“You and the jock married or something?” He jokes, looking at you, leaning further onto his desk so he was just about laying on it. His hand was still stretched out beside you, dangling next to your torso.

“Not married,” You state with persistence, making Eddie snort.

“Damn,” He chuckles, “Someone better warn him to take his time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t sound too happy about marrying him, that’s all.”

Scoffing, you say, “I’m eighteen, we’re eighteen, we have plenty of time to think about getting married.”

“So, it’s what, a promise ring, or something?” Eddie continues to dig.

“Why do you care?” Turning around, you sit sideways in your desk and choose not to pay attention to his hand that’s now hanging above your lap that didn’t even flinch as you twisted.

Resting his head on his arm, his bangs swish to the side, the new angle making his eyes appear even larger, more soft.

Eddie shrugs his shoulders and glances around before planting his gaze on you, saying, “You both wear them, everybody talks about it.” You stop yourself from widening your eyes.

“Ev… Everybody?” You ask, hushed. Eddie nods.

“Your lover boy feeds off the energy of everybody else in case you haven’t realized,” Eddie smirks. Snapping your eyes to your lap, and evidently Eddie’s hand, you take a breath.

“I’ve realized,” You roll your eyes, to which Eddie picks his head up.

“Ah, hah,” He grins, “You aren’t happy.”

“I never said that,” You grill, giving him a cold stare. Eddie nibbles his bottom lip, sitting back in his chair, moving his hand from in front of your body.

“You didn’t have to,” He winks.

Groaning loud enough that Nancy gives you a look, you twist forward in the chair and hunch over the worksheet you’ve yet to start.

Sure, you weren’t thrilled about where you were in your relationship with Jason right now, but it was only due to the fact that you were under immense pressure in every aspect of your life.

When the spring show was over, when finals had passed, when the light of graduation could be seen at the end of the tunnel- That’s when things with Jason would get better. You’d have the proper time to care for and nurture your relationship.

You weren’t about to let Eddie Munson find all of this out, then your business could be spread to everyone in these halls.

“Hey,” Eddie says, reaching a hand out to tap your shoulder, startling you.

“What?!” You furrow your brows and whip your head around, “Don’t touch me.” Lifting a hand, you hold the spot he tapped.

“Right,” Eddie’s eyes go wide like you’ve frightened him. Tucking his hand to his chest he nods, “Shit, you’re right, I’m sorry.”

Relaxing your shoulders, you watch his entire demeanor change before your eyes.

“It’s… It’s fine,” You say.

“No it’s not,” Eddie narrows his eyes, “I should’ve had your permission,” The two of you share a few moments of quiet, Eddie seeming like he was trying to read your mind, “You know that right?” His softened gaze returns, wide puppy dog eyes. It draws you in, shifting your body halfway around. Incredible, how the boy could shift between both personas at the drop of a hat.

“Know what?” You question, and he sighs, folding his hands on his lap.

“Jesus Christ, he’s more of a twat than I imagined,” Eddie mumbles, barely audible.

“Excuse me?” You ask genuinely, not having heard half of what he said, only ‘he’s’ and ‘twat’, which was almost enough to piece together who he was talking about.

Thinking to himself, Eddie ponders over his response with care. Sitting forward once more he presses his lips together tight and exhales subtly.

Inches apart, you can make out every little spot on his face, every line, and every scar that held incredulous history. A faint squiggle beneath his curly bangs that almost slices through his left brow catches your eye.

“He’s nice to you,” Eddie pauses, watching you study his imperfect complexion, “Right?”

“Who?” You mumble, drawing your eyes across his forehead to a freckle on the side of his jaw. The corners of Eddie’s lips threaten to perk up under your surveillance.

“Uh, your man?” He chuckles.

Right, Jason.

Clearing your throat, you turn your attention to your knees and nod. Really fast.

“He’s nice to me?” You blurt out.

“I’m asking you, sweetheart,” Eddie smiles. Squeezing your eyes shut, you sigh and shake your head.

“Jeez,” You whisper, then pop open your eyes to give him the best sure of yourself smile you could, “Jason’s nice to me, of course he is.”

Nodding slow, Eddie raises his eyebrows, “Course he is.”

“He is,” You restate, insisting on the matter further, “Treats me like a saint.”

Eddie scoffs under his breath, “Yeah, I’m sure he does.”

“Shut up.”

“Just saying,” Eddie shrugs, “No one wears rings like those,” He glances to your hand, “Unless they’re not having sex.”

Gasping aloud, you throw a look around the room to see if anyone had heard him, but everyone was focused on themselves, even Nancy Wheeler. Feeling your cheeks warm, you take your time to face his smug little smirk.

“Promise ring,” Eddie says, then shrugs again, “Purity ring, what’s the difference, huh?” His tone is nonchalant, all too calm to be discussing this topic with a blatant stranger.

“It is not a purity ring,” You whisper, leaning toward him, lowering your brows above your eyes. Eddie copies you.

“Oh, okay, then why do you both wear them?”

“Because they’re… promise rings, for each other.”

Eddie pulls a face of disgust, “You could’ve picked nicer rings if that’s really what they are.”

“We didn’t get to choose them,” You grit your teeth.

“Why not?”

“Why does it matter?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “Why wouldn’t you get to pick out your own promise rings?”

“Because!”

“Because why?”

“Because! His parents-“

Cutting yourself short, not realizing that both of you were leaning further into one another, you zip your lips shut and sit straight up. Eddie doesn’t move, instead, the smile that's gracing his lips grows.

“Finish the sentence,” He says. Ripping your eyes from his for a second, you shake your head. “Come on, finish the sentence.”

“No,” You mutter.

“Interesting,” Eddie squints, still grinning like a fool, “Is it ‘cause I’m not of importance that you won’t listen to me? Finish the sentence.”

“What do you mean by that,” You say, locked onto his gaze.

“I mean, that you listen to everybody when they tell you to do something. You do the homework, you participate in class, you follow the rules, you’re-“

“A good student?”

“A good girl.”

There were those words again, the ones that chill your spine. The words that definitely came from practice, because you watched them as they tumbled from his lips with ease in real time this time, they weren’t muttered from behind you. He said them with his chest.

They make you feel funny, almost uncomfortable, but only due to the fact that this was how Jason was supposed to make you feel.

Every intimate night you’ve spent with your boyfriend, he reached and reached for this feeling unsuccessfully.

Eddie did it in two words.

Stupidly self aware, Eddie brings his bottom lip between his teeth and gives it a nibble, happily watching your eyes follow. As the sound of what seems like a laugh leaves him, you look up into his disgustingly sweet brown eyes.

“Finish the sentence,” He says, lowering his chin a bit.

Obliging to his request in a heartbeat, you speak quietly, “His parents got them for us, they were blessed at the church with the promise we’d… remain loyal to our faith and wait until we were married to engage in any sexual behavior.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie laughs, “So you’re a liar, it’s a purity ring.”

There was no need for you to prove yourself to him, there wasn’t a reason for this conversation to be had. Deep down inside of you, a small part of your conscience was screaming at you to turn around, to utterly ignore Eddie and anything he tried to do to you, but for some unforeseen, goddamn reason, you were feeling masochistic, and enjoying this.

“It’s a purity ring to his parents,” You say.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” He sings, “Hold on.”

“Holding,” You nod, a bubble of confidence manifesting within you. Not that you cared a lick if Eddie Munson knew you were having sex.

“Are you telling me you lied to his parents?” He asks. You nod in response. “You made them believe that you’re wearing rings blessed by the Gods, promising that you won’t engage in sexual behaviors, only to do the opposite, and betray them, and all of the Gods and their royal subjects.”

“There’s only one God.”

“Who says? Jason?”

“Eh, kinda-“

“Doesn’t matter,” Eddie shakes his curls as if to shake away the matter, “You have sex, and all this time I thought you and Jason were going celibate for life.” Laughing for half a second, you wipe the smile clean off of your face and raise an eyebrow.

“Why do you care?” You question.

“Cause… you’re you, you’ve been untouchable for as long as I can remember, living your holier than thou life comfortably. It’s just interesting,” It’s Eddie’s turn to study your face, bringing the warmth back to your cheeks.

“Holier than thou,” You whisper, “What?”

“Right, since you’ve been living so comfortably you may not have realized that we live in two different worlds,” Eddie smiles sarcastically.

“Is that what this is?” You scrunch your face as a thousand different emotions shuffle through your mind, “You’re- You’re messing with me, when you’ve never once paid any attention to me, mind you, because you’re- you’re… pissed?! Pissed that I live my life, what, differently than you live yours?”

While you spoke Eddie sat up completely, pressing his back flat against his chair. Folding his hands together on the desk in front of him, he clears his throat dramatically and eyes his rings.

“Wrong, and wrong,” He looks up at you, keeping his chin pointed down.

Placing a fist on his desk you tilt your head with a glare, encouraging him to explain without needing to ask.

“You really are wrapped up in your life,” He says, lowering his voice drastically, “You are so clean cut, so precise about things that it boggles my mind. When was the last time you did something off schedule?”

You shrug, and Eddie chuckles.

“Exactly,” He nods, “Walking around this place, you’ve got, like, hyper focus or some shit, not giving anyone else an ounce of attention. Well, except for the boyfriend,” Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Can we get to the point?” You grill.

“You sound like my dad,” He jokes, cocking his head sideways. His bangs brush away from the scar on his brow again, drawing your gaze toward it.

“And you sound like you’re jealous of my work ethic,” You say quietly.

Eddie raises a hand to adjust his hair, muttering, “Stop,” in the process, causing you to snap your eyes back to his and reach out your hand.

“Sorry, I just-“

The hand he tousled his soft bangs with rests on top of yours, but not on purpose. His fingers are warm, and coupled with the coolness of his metal jewelry, the touch is borderline electric.

At the same time, you and Eddie glance down to where your hands met and jump apart as if the gentle graze was radioactive.

Tucking your hands into your lap, you stare down at your shoes, the boots you chose to wear with the infamous skirt that caught Eddie’s attention. Following your lead, Eddie pulls his hands under his desk, wedging them beneath his thighs.

There’s a minute of quiet between you while the class radiates its own subtle chatter.

It should feel awkward, having touched one another in total innocence on accident while only being acquainted, but it’s not.

Everything about this situation as a whole should be awkward, but it’s not.

Thinking about what he said before he planted his palm over yours, you admit to yourself that he was right. You were uptight about the way you maneuvered school, but it was all for a reason he knew nothing about. It was obvious why it seems like you ignored others and kept pushing through, you had an entire other life Eddie didn’t know you lived.

He doesn’t know your father, doesn’t know it’s just the two of you at home, doesn’t know how important your dancing is, and doesn’t know about the pressure hanging over your shoulders because of the upcoming show.

Your future, your college decision and scholarship opportunities were riding on how well the show goes. So, if you appeared uptight to other students in the hall, you weren’t too sure you cared all that much.

Though, that doesn’t mean the pressure wasn’t becoming too much to handle. As right as Eddie Munson was, part of you wished he wasn’t.

Part of you also wishes to tell him that you’ve noticed him before this moment, just like he’s been hinting at noticing you.

He’s always been hard to ignore.

Eddie’s way of life appealed to you like no other. Laidback, relaxed, no anxiety about the future- just purely living in the moment and enjoying it with the people he cared about.

Every moment in your life has felt like a brick to get you to the next step, like life was a game of chess and each move was calculated with precision for ultimate success. It was… precise, like Eddie said.

“Y’okay?” He mumbles, knocking you out of your thoughts, bringing you back into reality. Giving his concerned brows a quick glance, you take a breath and nod, then turn around to face the front of the room, picking up your pencil.

“The bell is about to ring,” Ms. O’Donnell shouts above the noise, “I need these papers on my desk as you walk out, double check your work, please!”

Darting your eyes up to the clock, your heart rate skyrockets. The entire hour of class, gone.

“These quizzes are important, I let you use your books and your friends, they should be complete.”

“Oh, shit,” You whisper, skitzing out as you hunch over your paper to start the work assigned to you ages ago, but the second your pencil begins to scribble, the bell rings.

Your classmates leap from their desks as the noise grows louder and the door swings open. Wide eyed, and probably in shock, you look up to Ms. O’Donnell sitting at her desk staring right back at you. She presses her lips together, firm, and sends a disappointed look to you- and the boy behind you.

“Guess we fucked up,” Eddie sighs. Standing up in ease, he slaps a hand on his quiz and snatches it off the desk, mulling up to the teachers desk. His sneakers slap on the tile floor to every third beat of your racing heart.

“Can I please see both of you,” Ms. O’Donnell takes the blank paper from Eddie, sending you another glare.

Gathering your belongings, sliding your bag over your shoulder, you hold the quiz between your fingers tight to keep your hands from shaking. Approaching Eddie’s side, you hand over the incomplete work with a worried frown.

The woman before you snatches the paper with vigor, eyeing you from behind the glasses that were perched on the tip of her nose. She takes a look at the quiz you’ve given her, and sighs, seeing only your name written at the top.

“At least you had the decency to write your name, Mr. Munson didn’t even give me that,” Ms. O’Donnell perks up a brow, glancing to Eddie momentarily before redirecting her attention to you. “I expect this behavior from him. Not from you,” She says, her tone laced with disappointment, “This is Eddie’s everyday, not yours.”

Looking over at the boy towering beside you, you find him staring at her desk with an emotionless, empty gaze.

You wondered how many teachers said this about him, he didn’t even seem surprised. He appeared as if he’s heard this about himself for ages, like… he was entirely self aware. You guess that talent was apparent in every aspect of his life.

That part of you, the one that wanted to interact with Eddie while he was causing this problem, started to feel bad for him. Teachers can be such assholes, this much you know, but to belittle someone in front of themselves, and another, is a different type of assholery.

“I’m so sorry,” You say, your voice wavering with every syllable, “Ms. O’Donnell, you know me, I didn’t do this on purpose I was just-“

Pausing, you turn both of their heads, Eddie and Ms. O’Donnell.

“Just what?” She asks, exhaling heavily.

“Uh,” Stammering, you glance up to Eddie once more, shaking your head, “Distracted,” You mutter, looking to your teacher for some sympathy, and like you did with your father this morning, you lie your ass off, “With my spring show coming up, and rehearsals happening more often, I think my brain needed… needed a second of distraction from the stress, I think it even happened subconsciously, you know I wouldn’t do it-“

Maybe you weren’t lying.

“Okay,” Ms. O’Donnell holds up a hand, cutting you off abruptly, “I get it, but this is an important grade, I don’t want you to miss this assignment.”

“I don’t want to miss it either,” You say.

“Eddie, you should make it up as well,” Your teacher nods her head once, gesturing a hand toward the boy, “Would do you good to have a completed grade? Yeah?”

Slightly shrugging, Eddie nods, and mumbles, “Course.”

“Here’s what we can do,” Ms. O'Donnell begins, “You both can meet me here tomorrow, at this time, and I will let you take the quiz together with the same amount of time as everyone else,” Your heart sinks to your knees.

“No, no,” You speak up, “I have a rehearsal tomorrow, it’s going to be running all day, I can’t do that.” Eddie gives you a curious look.

Folding her hands, your teacher smiles, “It’s fine. Why don’t you take this home with you, finish it tonight, or this weekend, and return it to me Monday morning.”

“Deal,” You blurt out, making Eddie laugh, “I mean, yes, please, yes. I’ll have it done tonight.”

“Wonderful,” Ms. O’Donnell’s eyes switch between you and Eddie as she says, “And maybe you should work on it together,” You and Eddie snap your necks to look at each other, “Everyone worked with some type of partner today, it’d only be fair if you did the same.”

The thought of Eddie Munson coming to your house, or vice versa, twisted your stomach in knots. It’s not that you were worried something would happen, or that he would try to make something happen… It was the fear of telling Jason.

He would absolutely, one thousand percent, request to be in attendance, and if that were the case, no work would get done. Your boyfriend would spend the entire time ridiculing the boy who didn’t seem all too bad.

Eddie knew how to push buttons, but he didn’t have a problematic energy to him.

Looking at him now, his eyes are just as wide as yours.

“Uh, that’s, uh, up to you,” Eddie clears his throat, shifting in his sneakers a bit, “I can be here tomorrow, we don’t have to do it together.”

He was giving you an out. Self-aware of the fact that you two didn’t belong hanging out with one another, or reading the fear on your expression, letting you make the decision.

You had a Jason. A Jason that caused Eddie a lot of problems. It made sense why he wouldn’t want to do the assignment with you, but the deepest piece of you wished he would’ve taken initiative and agreed with the second option Ms. O’Donnell gave you straight away.

It was wrong. There’s no way in hell you and Eddie would get along outside of these cinder block walls, he said the words himself, you live in two different worlds.

Your perfect, pristine way of life was no match for his lap of luxury.

But it was so, so, enticing.

Turning to Ms. O’Donnell, you give her a small smile and say, “We’ll figure it out, thank you,” and brush by Eddie to start for the door.

“Uh, thanks,” Eddie mumbles to your teacher, then scrambles after you. Ms. O’Donnell watches the exit with an eyebrow raised, the unlikely pair hurrying out of her classroom, one she would’ve never seen coming. Eddie Munson never thanked a teacher before in his life.

“Hey, wait, hey,” Eddie calls after you as he pushes past people in the hall.

“I can’t be late to my next class,” You mutter, peering behind you as he trips over his own foot, stumbling beside you, “You really can’t stay on your feet can you?”

“Nope,” Eddie sighs, “I wasn’t born with spacial awareness like you, okay Miss Perfect?”

“You gonna follow me all the way to English?” You question snarkily, side eyeing him.

“Mm,” Eddie hums, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Don’t think so, you're not the stalking type.”

Your jaw drops, “Excuse me?”

Eddie laughs, “You're predictable, that’s all.”

“I am not predictable,” You state, and watch Eddie weigh the possibilities, tilting his head side to side making his curls go astray, “I’m not!” Pausing your speed walk, you turn to face him, the other students parting around the two of you.

“You kinda are,” Eddie raises his eyebrows, speaking carefully, “I know exactly what you’re gonna do for the rest of the day, and no, it’s not weird, because I could stop any one of these soulless assholes and they’d be able to tell us the same thing.” He gestures to your surroundings, encouraging you to take a peek.

Taking a deep breath, you try to not let him get under your skin, that seems to be his aim of the game.

“Well, I’d rather be predictable than unreliable,” You sneer, looking him dead in the eyes, “I could also stop anyone of these soulless assholes and I’m sure, without a doubt, they’d tell us the same thing.” Narrowing your eyes, you're surprised to see a fire ignite in his.

Wearing a crease in his brow, Eddie represses a smile. Your intent to hurt him, or bruise his ego, has only done the opposite. He’s impressed.

“Are we doing the assignment together, or not?” He asks, glued to your glare.

“That depends,” You deter, stepping closer to him, “If I’m so predictable, what do you think I’m going to say?”

Eddie’s smirk leaks onto his lips, “You want to say no,” He begins strong, and you can feel your defeat on the rise, “And you think I expect you to say no, but now, in this case of predictability and being worried you’re becoming a stereotype… You’re gonna say yes.”

A sharp inhale from you makes him laugh.

“Oh, and I think your panties are in a twist for two reasons. One, you have to tell your boyfriend where you’ll be, and he hates my guts, and two, I’ll be proving you wrong… Twice.”

Your cheeks warm, fueling your annoyance for the boy you have to look up to. At least Jason was nearly eye level, talking to Eddie this way made it all the more condescending.

“Did I get it?” He asks cockily, “Did I win?”

Gritting your teeth, you say, “Meet me in the middle school parking lot after the last bell. Then we’ll see if I’m the one who’s right.”

Storming away from the imperfectly alluring boy, you point your nose forward and hurry toward your next class.

“Good luck breaking the news to your boy toy!” Is called after you, spurring your feet on to move faster.

You wouldn’t see Jason until lunch. That gave you at least another two hours to come up with a convincing story as to why you’d be missing his party. Eddie’s name wouldn’t even be mentioned, it’d be a little white lie, something you were excellent at creating these days.

What you didn’t see coming was the uncountable times you’d have to come up with one because of Eddie, and it was only a quarter past eight in the morning.

thank you for reading, I hope you’ve enjoyed this piece!

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ilyrafe · 1 year

Text

𝒂 𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒓 | 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰 ✧ 𝒂. 𝒘.

pairing: august walker x f!reader

warnings: angst, heavy talk

word count: 1k

a/n: read sleepy, three words and a bleak and barren moor for context! sorry it took so long! i rewrote the whole thing!

taglist (i’m tagging the people who commented on the first part!): @summersong69 @alexlupij @identity2212 @shotgunbunny @rebelangel1102 @chrisevansismysworld @fluffonlyplease

you dangle your foot anxiously as you wait for august in a hotel room. all your dates were a hotel room.

it’s been almost a week since that party. after much thought and reflection, you thought it would best to end whatever you have with august. you’re not happy about it, but you also know that it’s the best thing to do because at the end of the day, nothing but sex is going to happen on his part.

maybe if you and cassandra hadn’t met, you wouldn’t have that awareness. even if she is lying, you understood that being involved with someone like august is simply not good.

the most ironic thing is that he’s not even your type. how did you fall in love with someone you wouldn’t normally be interested in?

after only a week without august you realized that your life had started to revolve around him and his needs.

a bleak and barren moor. that’s how you feel about yourself.

that must be why you’re so nervous, because chances are this is just another “fun night”, and you’ll stick with him even though this is nothing more than a sex contract for him.

you don’t mean anything to him.

you’re so in your head, you don’t hear the door opening. it’s only when you feel his lips against the skin of your neck and his arms around you that you realize he’s there. you melt in his arms instantly.

“what a lovely surprise.”

indeed. it takes everything in you to free yourself from his grip, which makes him frown.

“uh... this is not why i called you here today.” you start, and your voice is already shaky. it’s impossible to contain your nervousness, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

as always, he is very well dressed. august doesn’t skimp on clothes. on nothing, actually. his clothes are expensive and of great quality, his cars are the best one out there, his shoes and watches cost fortunes. you are successful and have a few luxury items such as bags and jewelry, but you have to work a lot to afford them.

truth is, you will never be on the same level, and that saddens you, because deep down, you look for reasons to continue with him, and you never find one that is valid and plausible. you want to feel equal to him somehow, but the reality is that you both could not be more different and far apart.

when you look at him, everything you’ve heard about him and everything you think about everything goes out the window. the feeling of actually believing that you understand and know him behind the tough facade he puts on is very real, and it leaves you ten times more confused and regretful.

“so, why are we here?”

“i called you here to say that i don’t want to do this anymore.” you state, and august is still clueless. “i’m terminating this contract.”

saying those words don’t bring a sense of relief, at least not now. you can only feel like throwing up and crying. should’ve done this on the phone, you scold yourself.

“why are you saying this now?“

“it doesn’t matter.”

“no, it does matter. last week we were fine, until you left me-”

“there is no we. the contract states that if either party verbally expresses that they want to leave, the contract is automatically and effectively terminated. i’m expressing that i want out, so it’s over.”

august takes a step back, visibly intrigued and upset. you can nearly see the engines inside his head working, as he clearly tries to analyze you.

“is there someone else?”

oh, how you wish you had someone else. it would all be so much easier.

“this doesn’t concern you.”

“why are you acting like this, y/n? what did i do?”

you sigh as you sit on the bed, trying to avoid his gaze. it all feels like a game, and you feel like you’re losing. indeed, if this was a game, it was not a fair play. you entered the field as a loser.

“it's not about what you did, it’s about what i did.” you admit, feeling the bitter taste of truth in your mouth. “i made a mistake.”

“what mistake? what the fuck are you talking about?”

“i fell in love with you, august,” you finally confess. “it wasn’t supposed to happen, so i’m terminating this fucking contract. i don’t know what the fuck i was thinking when i accepted this, it’s just ridiculous and sexist, ‘cause all i was to you was a cum dumpster, and every single time i remember that, i truly feel like dying.”

it’s hard to shock him, but you did it. august is transfixed by your unvarnished, unfiltered confession. it’s really appalling to hear you use profanity to refer to yourself.

how can you be in love with someone you clearly despise?

“you can’t be serious... we were fine a week ago!” he protests, evidently disappointed and frustrated.

“i guess i came to my senses.” you shrug. “you thought i was going to be your personal fuck toy for the rest of my life? you clearly don’t know me, august.”

when you get out of bed, you hand him the contract, but it is torn into four parts. instead of picking up the pieces of paper, he gently grabs your wrist, forcing you to look at him.

your eyes are genuinely sad, and it affects him somehow. it’s just that august doesn’t really care that people are sad. but you were the person he wanted to spend time with the most, even on the basis of a stupid contract.

“what do you want me to do to make you stay?”

“nothing,” you shrug in defeat. “there is nothing to be done.”

you free your wrist from his hand, grab your purse and head to the hotel room door, but first, you feel like you should tell him one last thing.

“i know i don’t have the right to meddle in your life, but if there’s still some conscience in there... you should get professional help. people are not objects, august. you can’t control everything.”

he remains motionless, unresponsive. perhaps the advice was in vain. he’s out of your life anyway, and you want to die for it, but you know you’ll survive.

you go away, and leave him for good, hoping never to cross his path again.

let me know iwhat you thought and if you want to be tagged on the third and final part!

#my writings #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill oneshot #august walker #august walker x you #august walker x reader #august walker oneshot #august walker imagine #mission impossible fallout

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auspex · 4 months

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VtM Fangfest 2024 Prompt 7: The Lovers

Hello! Here is my seventh fic for Fangfest 2024 :)

All my fics will be about characters that are previously established, so you might not have context for everything mentioned or hinted at within :( Feel free to reach out to ask I love explaining!

I've never really posted my writing before so be kind!

my first fic is here

my second fic is here

my third fic is here

my fourth fic is here

my fifth fic is here

my sixth fic is here

This fic is about Mark and Cassidy, of course!!! Art of them here

They've done quite a bit together which I reference but could not fully explain below... so apologies for things mentioned without context!

I love them so much though <3 this is set just before they become a couple officially :)

Mark found himself overthinking his outfit as he walked down the endless stairs to the chantry entrance. Was wearing a whole new outfit, the one that he had picked out no less, too much? He hoped not. Surely it makes sense. Yeah. It didn’t matter, probably. Or maybe it did. Cassidy did seem to care about taste. Mark attempted to reason with himself though; one outfit wouldn’t make-or-break this. Either he was reading things correctly, and Cassidy was simply playing coy by not initiating things, or he didn’t like Mark, and nothing he did at this point would change that.

Such were Mark’s thoughts as he made his way all the way to Cassidy’s haven. He took a deep breath before knocking. He will definitely be able to tell I’m nervous.

Cassidy was already smiling when he opened the door. Mark couldn’t help but smile back and his nerves eased a bit.

“Hello, Mark. I am glad you could make it. Come in.”

“Ah, of course. I’m glad things are settling down.” Cassidy’s haven was as put-together as always; the blue couch he had helped Cassidy pick out was neatly decorated with matching pillows, and the bookshelves were finally both filled and organized. It was odd to see the room only lit by lamps; Mark missed the artificial sunlight previously provided by Gaius. He looked around and listened for anyone. “No Lillian?”

“No, she is making her report to Dr. White soon and so when I mentioned you were coming she went to her laboratory to focus.” Cassidy sighed. “I will have to make mine to him soon as well. Though it will be a successful report, I am not looking forward to the loss of free time.” He slumped onto the couch as he finished the sentence.

Mark went to sit next to him. “Oh, yes, that makes sense. Erm, how often do you think we’ll be able to see each other, after that?”

“It’s hard to say. I only know that it will be less.” He gave Mark a sad smile. “When I have time, I will certainly reach out to see if you are available.”

“I would like that a lot, Cassidy. I should have a predictable schedule. Things have changed for me lately.”

There was silence for a moment before Cassidy hesitantly spoke. “Ever since your sire met final death, yes?” He opened his notebook.

Mark raised an eyebrow at the notebook but answered anyway. “Yes. He was, well, he asked a lot of me. And obviously entirely uh, changed my life, for the worse, I suppose. But there was a level of direction, and even of safety in a way, that I don’t have now - no one is telling me what to do, or asking what I’ve been doing, so. There’s a lot to figure out.”

“I understand. What’s the phrase - ah, things have been turned upside down for you. And I know you said you were doing just fine, but sometimes, one’s emotional response to such a large change is delayed, so please remember, you can always talk to me.”

“Thanks Cassidy. I’m doing ok though, really.” Mark attempted a smile.

“Hm. I had asked you before what you wanted, Mark. Remember, after we were investigating that supposed Anarch party? At that time you said safety, and people you could talk to. Has that remained the same since your sire’s death?”

Mark pursed his lips in thought; it was a question he had asked himself already yet still had difficulty answering. Before he got to that though: “Well actually, at the time of answering, I did want those things, but what I was really working towards was freedom from him, though as you might guess I had mixed feelings about it even then.”

“This makes sense, and it is wise to keep such things close to your chest.” Cassidy made a note. “And what do you want now, then?”

“I’m still not sure.” He made eye contact with Cassidy as he continued. “I have found people to talk to. And I’m finding some measure of safety, especially considering I won’t be asked to complete deadly tasks by my sire anymore. But I don’t know, Cassidy. I had a whole, uh, living life just a year ago and so much has changed. I know I sound like a broken record, but I’m still struggling to find my footing.”

Cassidy was writing quickly now. “And the sudden breaking of the bond didn’t help with this, as well as losing his direction, I am sure.”

Managing a weak smile, Mark replied. “No, it did not. I’m managing okay though, I think. Still, a lot changed. There are people and things I miss.”

“Certainly. It will get better with time.”

“Yeah, I guess so. You uh, help too.” Cassidy’s pen pauses for a moment.

“You as well.” Cassidy replies quietly. “I appreciate you sharing all of this with me. I find it interesting, yet I am sure it is hard to talk about.”

Mark scratches his neck as he speaks. “Well, like I said, you help. What do you mean by me helping you too, though?”

Cassidy pauses first, and then speaks deliberately. “I suppose, I meant that there are things I miss too, and you remind me of them, in a good way. How is Bartholomew, also? Has he scratched up and destroyed any of your new furniture yet?”

Mark adjusted his glasses, somewhat taken aback by the shift in topic. “Oh, not yet, but he does enjoy hiding under things. If you would like to see him, I am sure I’d be able to invite you somewhat soon, I would just have to discuss it with my roommate.”

“Yes, I do remember you mentioning a roommate; I am curious. What is his name?”

“Erm, JP.”

“How did you come to live with him? Is he someone you are perhaps considering to allow into your coterie as a new member?”

“Ah, I don’t want to go into it too much, but it really just makes sense. We both are in basically the same situation and I wanted to help him out. There aren’t any issues, he just wanted some alone time and I should let him know if you’ll be coming over.” Mark smiled. “Unlike Lillian, he doesn’t have another private space to go to.

“That certainly makes sense, then. Shall we watch Fight Club now?” Cassidy was already moving to set the movie up.

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Dammit. Mark had wanted to ask him before the movie started, but despite wracking his brain, he could not figure out how to ask.

“You haven’t explained this movie to me yet. What is it about? Or is it intended to be a surprise?” Cassidy placed the movie in the player, and sat back down on the couch.

Was he sitting a bit closer or am I just hoping he is? Mark roused the blood to make his skin warm just in case as he replied. “It’d be better not to spoil it. I really do think you’ll like this movie, though it's not as, erm.” Mark shook his head from side to side and adjusted his glasses as he sought the right words. “Well, the themes are not as… explicit as the previous two we saw.”

“I see. Will that be made up for in other ways?” Cassidy’s voice was entirely deadpan.

“Oh, I’ll let you judge that for yourself.” Mark glanced at Cassidy’s notebook, which was in his lap as usual. His pen was poised to take notes.

This time, Mark struggled not to sneak glances at Cassidy to see his reactions to the movie. Last time they watched a movie together, Mark hadn’t seen it before and had found it engrossing, making it much easier to focus. Since Mark had already seen this movie, he was much more interested in Cassidy than the screen. It didn’t help that they were sitting so close this time. Maybe he really had sat closer intentionally?

Cassidy made notes frequently, and overall Mark observed that he appeared quite interested. He adjusted how he was sitting periodically, seemingly lost in thought, and tilted his head towards Mark. In these adjustments, most brought him closer to Mark - he still couldn’t tell if it was on purpose, but it was becoming harder to deny that it was.

During a quiet scene, Cassidy caught Mark looking at him. By this point, Cassidy had maneuvered himself quite close to Mark, close enough for Mark to make out his eyelashes behind the reflected light in his glasses.

They held eye contact for a long moment before Mark abruptly stared straight ahead at the movie. He felt the sleeve of Cassidy’s shirt brush against him as Cassidy then also turned his attention back towards the movie. If Mark just sat back a bit…

And now they were touching, sitting with their arms against each other’s. Cassidy’s arm was cold for only a moment before he reciprocated Mark’s warmth.

Mark tried to relax, and failing that miserably, attempted to be very still instead, which was not so hard since he did not need to breathe. The positioning was awkward, but moving would either move Mark further from Cassidy, or require him to more overtly hold him, neither of which he wanted to do.

Some time passed, and then, without looking at him, Cassidy spoke in a neutral tone. “Is this comfortable for you?”

“Um. N- I mean, uh, I don’t mind.”

“Hm. Is this better?” Cassidy shifted both forward and then closer to Mark; he was now somewhat leaning into his shoulder, with Mark’s arm almost around him. Without saying anything, Mark then moved to change that ‘almost’ to an ‘actually.’

Cassidy’s head was now close enough to Mark’s where it was in his peripheral vision even if he looked at the screen. Both kindred made slight adjustments until they were quite comfortable.

“Yeah, that’s better. Th-thanks.”

Cassidy did not reply, seemingly focused on the movie. Eventually, he pulled his legs towards his chest, placed his notebook in his lap, and leaned fully into Mark, crossing his arms. It was quite comfortable, really.

This meant Mark had to shift to look at him again, which he did, unable to suppress a smile. Cassidy was right there; Mark could not have told you what was happening in the movie. He gave in to a sudden urge to touch Cassidy’s hair; tucking it behind his head, smoothing a strand, while being careful to not actually touch his face.

Cassidy was still at first, then leaned into him more, so his hair almost brushed Mark’s cheek. Mark wished he could see his face, even if he knew he likely wouldn’t be able to read his facial expression anyway.

Soon, the end of the movie came. As “Where Is My Mind?” played over the end credits, neither kindred moved. When the song was ending, Cassidy reached for his notebook.

Still being essentially held by Mark, he started their customary discussion of the movie. “I quite enjoyed that, though unfortunately I do think some cultural references may have been lost on me. If anything, I should study this film further. I am curious, were you able to predict the ending the first time you watched it?”

The credits had long since finished rolling and Cassidy had run out of questions about the movie. Fight Club had been the only thing they had discussed, neither giving any acknowledgment of their intimate position. Once they both had stopped speaking, Mark was very conscious of himself and his movements, no longer occasionally playing with Cassidy’s hair. The pair was sitting still in silence, faced by only a blue screen.

Mark mustered his courage to say something and turned to Cassidy’s head, who at the same time turned to face him. Cassidy’s face was illuminated by the bluescreen, and his eyes looked directly into Mark’s. Their faces were closer than they had been before, in heavy silence.

“You look handsome in this light.” Mark managed to choke out just above a whisper. “Though, you always do.”

Cassidy’s eyebrows furrowed in a look of surprise and almost disbelief; vulnerable. He opened his mouth as if he was about to respond, but instead turned and buried his face in Mark’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around him in a hug. Mark felt Cassidy’s glasses press into his shoulder as Cassidy essentially nuzzled into him.

“Oh.” Mark found himself holding Cassidy and slowly rubbing his back, unsure if he should say something else.

They sat like that for a minute before Cassidy pulled away and made eye contact with Mark once again. His face was composed, though his hair had gotten somewhat tangled, when he finally replied. “Mark, I share the sentiment. I.” He closed his eyes for a moment, apparently recomposing himself. “I appreciate you sharing that. You, ah, probably will not be surprised to hear that I am not very experienced in this.”

“This?” Mark raised an eyebrow, slightly teasing.

“You know.” Mark felt Cassidy’s arm strain for a moment as if to gesture before Cassidy realized it was pinned behind Mark’s back. “Um.”

“Yes?”

“Well, what would you call it?” Cassidy gave a surprisingly awkward smile, slightly showing teeth even, which Mark had only seen him do once before when he first offered him a TV. However, this smile looked more anxious than happy.

“Wha- Cassidy. You’ve said it yourself that you’re not experienced in many things. How am I supposed to guess which you mean now?” Emboldened, he reached around to fix Cassidy’s hair.

Wait, hang on, was he about to cry? Mark got a glimpse of Cassidy’s composure breaking once again before he quickly set his glasses aside, and returned to Mark’s shoulder, face hidden. It was more comfortable than before without the glasses digging into him.

“Oh, um, it’s alright. It’s ok.” Mark tried to make his voice reassuring; he wasn’t sure exactly what was wrong but clearly Cassidy wanted comfort. He checked his watch as he went to start rubbing his back again. Good, it wasn’t even 11 yet. “I, I like what is happening right now, if you do too. We can just do this for a while.”

Mark felt him nod and hold him more tightly. Resolving to go at Cassidy’s pace for the rest of the evening, he refrained from teasing him further and returned to stroking his hair. He really loved Cassidy’s hair.

The room was quiet save for the low buzzing of the TV. Mark continued for several minutes before Cassidy sat up again. This time, he sat up a bit straighter, took Mark’s hands into his own, and looked down at them.

Cassidy took a long, slow breath, seemingly just to steady himself, and finally spoke. “What I mean to say is, I suppose, is that I am not used to…” he trailed off. “To any of this.” He closed his eyes as he took another breath he didn’t need, and continued. “I don’t know what I’m doing, so once again, I will follow your lead.” Cassidy slowly started to run his thumb across Mark’s knuckles, but stopped himself, as he waited for a reply.

“Right. Uhm, this is nice. But we should be clear on where we uh, stand.” Mark cleared his throat, prompting Cassidy to look up. Mark wasn’t used to seeing him without his glasses, nor Cassidy looking so wistful, or maybe worried, or maybe even hopeful - he had managed a trace of a smile. He stumbled over his words. “Uhm, right. Cassidy, I, well, I am, glad that I’ve met you and that we can spend time together. I uh, I like you. I’m romantically interested in you, is what I mean. Which I’m sure you can tell. God.” Mark’s voice lowered. “You know, it’s hard to confess when you’re looking at me like that.”

Cassidy said “oh” in a very soft voice. He swallowed, but managed to maintain eye contact after a quick glance down at Mark’s lips. “I feel the same.”

The two just looked at each other for a few moments, before Cassidy continued. “What now?”

“Whatever we want. I can stay for longer.” He started moving closer to Cassidy’s face as he whispered, “a lot longer.”

Cassidy tilted his head and closed his eyes.

Mark felt his nose brush Cassidy’s own, and shifted to meet his lips. He started kissing him slowly, and was able to tell that Cassidy was mirroring his own movements - following his lead. Mark held Cassidy’s head with one hand and his waist with the other to shift him to a better angle; Cassidy similarly held Mark, though did not change his position.

Mark enjoyed being able to almost teach Cassidy, in a way - the thought that this may be Cassidy’s first kiss, or perhaps first kiss with a man, or at the very least his first kiss in decades, rang in Mark’s head and he did everything he could to make it a good one, while not going too far. He kept his mouth mostly closed, only using hints of tongue.

Cassidy whimpered softly, very nearly overwhelmed but not quite.

Mark smiled as he kept going, maintaining the same mild intensity, holding Cassidy close, enjoying the feel of his lips and shy reciprocation of everything Mark did. This was his first time kissing anyone since his embrace, and it felt odd that his breathing remained steady despite his intense nerves. God, he couldn’t believe this was really happening.

He pulled away briefly to look at Cassidy. He looked beautiful, staring up at him.

After only a moment though, when Mark leaned in for another kiss, Cassidy leaned away. Seeing Mark’s look of concern, he took a breath and spoke. “That was wonderful, Mark.” Cassidy’s voice was full of emotion for a moment, making Mark’s heart hurt, before shifting to his moderate tone. “However, it’s… not something I’m used to. I need some time. As always though, I enjoy our time together, and I am sure I will even more in the future.” He stood up, and waited for Mark to follow him towards the door.

“Ah, what? Um, I mean. Ok.” Mark was not able to hide neither the surprise nor disappointment from his voice. “We- we can go slow I guess. We have eternity, after all.”

“Indeed. I will see you soon, before I return to a formal schedule, hopefully.” He held the door open for Mark.

“Right, uh, I will see you soon.” Mark paused in the door. “Goodbye?” He gave an awkward wave.

“Have a good evening, Mark.” Cassidy’s face was a mask.

It was very awkward leaving Cassidy’s haven. Sure, it had been awkward in the past, but it was different this time - Mark wasn’t sure why Cassidy wanted him to leave so early, even though they just admitted feelings for each other, and even kissed. Why did eternity have to wait? Why did Cassidy have to be so formal, after all of that?

The walk up the stairs back from the chantry entrance felt like it took hours.

Bonus:

Cassidy closed the door after Mark’s final wave goodbye. He stayed there for a moment, resting his head against the door, leaving his hand on the handle.

Looking at his hand, Cassidy thought about how it had looked holding Mark’s. It was something he had only been able to imagine; now, it was something he could remember. He kept thinking about the sensation of Mark’s lips on his own, how his facial hair felt against his own face. The warmth of another pressed up against him - how badly he had craved that and how it was just as good as he half-remembered from over a century ago.

Speaking of, he should write all this down.

That thought brought him back to reality.

The notebook was left abandoned on the couch; his attention had focused elsewhere and it had been left half open. This negligence concerned Cassidy. Even if it was in code, in the privacy of his own haven, on principle it should never be open and visible to others.

Looking at it, Cassidy knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from crying for much longer. He quickly took the notebook and retreated into his private study, so that if Lillian got back early (against his wishes) she would not see him.

Cassidy grabbed a cloth he normally used for cleaning and slumped into his new armchair. He missed his old one, but that had been destroyed when Lillian’s chimera got out of control.

Now it was safe for Cassidy to let himself break.

He started smiling and crying at the same time. The tears welled slowly, and Cassidy wiped his face deliberately each time; he knew it was healthy to cry, but it still did not come easily. He hadn’t wanted Mark to leave, though he was more patient than the fledgling and didn’t mind waiting to spend more time with him. But he could not cry in front of Mark, however, he could not have stopped himself from doing so much longer.

He should have predicted this would happen. Perhaps he could have prepared himself better, or asked Mark to go slower, so he could keep his composure. Too late now.

Steadying himself enough to write, he took out his pen and began recording, in his customary way, what had happened. The familiarity of it was calming.

What did Mark say, exactly? ‘I’m romantically interested in you’, or something?

Of course he would phrase it like that.

#vtmfangfest24 #WHY DOES THIS FEEL LIKE POSTING A PIECE OF MY SOUL LMAOOO #ugh i wish i could explain context for everythihgn i promise some odd htings make sense if you KNow them sadlkjfsdlakjf #mark vtm oc

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majesty-madness · 2 years

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"Liquid Grief" - Bucky Barnes x reader (sfw)

Summary: Parties were never her thing, especially when alcohol is involved.

Word Count: 3700+

Warnings: angst, crying, panic attack, anxiety, alcohol consumption, mentions of being drunk/tipsy, past trauma, mentions of family problems

a/n: I won’t say too much, but I will say that this is based on a bit of my own experiences. So I just want to say that if you’ve been through something like this you are not alone, and because it’s difficult to bring up this topic with people I know, writing it out in a story helps me process through it. And if this helps you in some way, I’m glad you found comfort in it.

Also, I know the title is a little weird; it was kind of an ironic twist on the whole “liquid courage” phrase. Not proofread.

Main Masterlist

She couldn’t believe she agreed to be here.

This was the absolute last place she wanted to be right now, and yet here she was; on the top floor of the Avengers base in New York, probably Tony’s most ritzy floor in the entire building.

Tony decided for one reason or another to have a small party to celebrate their successful missions as of late, and that was fine but eventually people who had nothing to do with the Avengers showed up until it was packed.

That was just one of the downsides to having Tony as a friend, he invited way too many people.

Tony had invited Bucky as well despite their history, seeing as how he was a friend to Steve and Tony considered Steve his friend so to each his own.

Y/N could tell the moment they arrived that Bucky had been slightly nervous as well, and it was because of his nervousness that Y/N was adamant in staying. Not to mention that her best friend, Natasha would also be there.

No matter how uncomfortable Y/N was at the party, she felt that since she was such a homebody that she should try to enjoy something she didn’t usually participate in.

A whole lot of good that turned out to be.

As soon as Y/N got there, Natasha had been distracted by a retired SHIELD agent who she knew but Y/N did not.

And while she originally stayed with Bucky, Sam quickly dragged him away once he saw the man.

It left Y/N to fend for herself, which meant talking to people she barely knew.

To make matters worse, every single person there was drinking. Wine, beer, whiskey, vodka, you name it, someone had it.

The sight of any kind of alcohol made Y/N anxious. It reminded her too much of her family.

When they began to drink they acted like completely different people, people she didn’t recognize and while her family had never done anything to hurt her, in some way it still pained her seeing how they could barely get through one day without a drink in their hands.

She remembered the countless times she timidly admitted that she was worried because they drank so much and acted like…well not themselves. Sadly after saying so she’d be met with anger or frustration at the fact that she pointed out their unprecedented behavior.

They would go on to say she didn’t know what she was talking about and that she was judging them, trying to tell them she thought she was better than they were.

Though once they’d sober up, they apologized for how they behaved and the guilt was clear in their eyes, but the damage was already done.

So nowadays, alcohol (no matter the form) put her on edge.

However, Y/N wasn’t going to prance around telling people they were wrong for drinking alcohol because in small doses, drinking was okay. It wouldn’t kill you to have an occasional drink, but when someone needed it every day, that was a problem. A problem she didn’t know how to deal with.

Was it a problem though? Was she being dramatic? Maybe too sensitive or emotional? Perhaps a prude for her grudge against the fermented beverage?

That’s what Y/N thought at least.

Her brain rationalized that she was a weirdo, an odd duck because she refused to drink.

I mean if everyone else was such a big fan of it, then why wasn’t she?

Quickly, Y/N shook her head out of the creeping thoughts that entered without her permission.

Her ears suddenly tuned back to the receptionist that had been talking to her for the majority of the night, not missing the glass of wine in the lady’s hand.

“Do you think that a date to a cafe is boring?” The young woman asked her.

Y/N blinked a few times, trying to get her head back to reality. “Uh, no I don’t think so. Bucky and I go to the cafe all the time.”

The girl tilted her head to the side, eyes squinting in confusion. “Bucky?”

“Oh! I’m sorry, you probably don’t know who that is, um…it’s that man over by the bar. The one with gloves and black leather jacket.” Y/N quickly explained while she pointed to Bucky talking to Sam at the bar.

The lady turned to look over her shoulder immediately seeing him and expressing that she saw him. “Oh, yeah! James Barnes, right? The guy who used to be the Winter Soldier. How is he? Ya know, adjusting to the modern times.”

The mention of the name HYDRA gave him, caused Y/N to pause and slowly process what she was asking.

God, she needed to get out of here. Her anxiety was short circuiting her brain.

“Uh.. he’s fine I guess, things are still a bit new for him so it's a work in progress.”

She watched the lady nod, cheerily, a little too cheerily when another woman walked over. Someone Y/N, yet again, did not know.

“Hey, Christine! How are you?”

The receptionist beamed with a smile. “I’m doing great, Nicole, how are you? Did you get that new job?”

The two ladies began to chit chat amongst themselves, side stepping Y/N’s existence entirely. Not that she really gave a shit since she didn’t know these girls personally.

Though she decided to stay for another ten minutes in case one of them did want to talk to her, but once the topic of the woman, Nicole's dog came up, Y/N ditched the conversation all together.

Her feet subconsciously carried her to the man she desperately wanted to be beside.

Y/N heard the familiar sound of Bucky’s laughter at something Sam said, causing the slightest of smiles to appear across her face.

Unfortunately, the smile vanished when her eyes caught the shape of two shot glasses sitting beside them on top of the bar.

Don’t freak out. She scolded herself, putting on an act as she stepped beside the two men.

“Hey.”

Bucky met her gaze first, his hand coming up instinctively to rest on her back. “Hey, Doll.”

“What are you guys up to?” Y/N asked while faking a casual attitude.

“Just trading stories.” Bucky said, grinning from ear to ear.

Clearly, he was completely relaxed, and Y/N knew that was thanks to Sam. He definitely had the lighthearted aura that Bucky needed, someone who let him look forward to the future.

“And playing an old drinking game.” Sam added loudly over top of the music that was playing.

Suddenly her throat felt dry like she just swallowed sand. It was beginning to get hard to breath, to think, to calm down. The familiar rush of panic began to rise from the pit of her stomach to her heart causing it to thump harshly.

Oh no.

Y/N gulped. “Oh yeah…”

“Yeah, so how about you join us?” Sam suggested, already pouring liquor into another shot glass. He held it up in front of him, toward Y/N.

She felt her heart rate spike right then as she eyed the brown-ish colored liquid with an all too familiar smell.

“No thanks, I’m good.” She declined politely, trying to keep her voice from cracking.

Sam pushed it closer to her. “Oh come on, don’t be like that. Just one.”

Sweat began to fall from her pores, her throat felt tight, and her tongue was heavy. For a second, she doubted she could speak at all.

“I said no, Sam, I-I don’t want it.” Her nerves caused her body to tremble with anxiety, the recipe for a panic attack.

Her brain knew exactly what was happening, making her repeat the same phrase in her mind.

Don’t freak out.

Don’t Freak Out.

DON’T Freak Out.

DON’T FREAK OUT!

“One shot, that’s it.” Sam persisted.

Then she snapped. “I SAID, I didn’t want it, Sam!”

As quickly as it came the shocked expression on both Bucky and Sam’s face, cleared away the anger and what washed over her was an enormous amount of guilt.

Her eyes darted between the two men, sight becoming clouded with tears. “I- I’m so sorry…”

She actually whimpered before turning on her heel, and sprinting right out the door on that floor.

Y/N barely made it into the hallway when the tears rolled down her flushed cheeks. She sobbed as she ran down the empty space, hoping to get out from the four walls as soon as possible.

Luckily, she was aware of a balcony just around the corner.

On the first day that she visited the inside of the Avengers base, she had found a little balcony tucked away a few floors below the very top. When at the vase, she spent a lot of time on that balcony just taking in the city view.

It was the perfect spot to go unbothered for long periods of time and now she desperately needed that.

She took a sharp right turn down another hallway, breaking off into a section that was the balcony. She pushed past the glass door, and stumbled outside until her body collided with the railing.

Her hands gripped the railing, body hutching over, and breaths coming out in hurried huffs of air.

Knowing that no one would hear her from below or above, Y/N let herself openly cry into the night air.

Every little memory of her family drinking, every thought of frustration or sadness, every time she’d been rejected came to the forefront of her mind. Despite all the years that passed, the despair still felt fresh.

She selfishly wished they would’ve stopped drinking, stopped acting like idiots, stopped promising they’d stop then do it again, stopped betraying her trust, stopped dismissing her when she expressed her concern.

Just stopped.

Y/N knew that they were only human, and humans were inherently flawed; of course she knew that. She had largely forgiven the times they hurt her, as she was sure that they forgave her when she hurt them, but she could never shake the sorrow of this ongoing problem.

How many times did she have to go through this before it stopped hurting?

What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to solve this?

Had she not done enough? Too much?

What did she do wrong?

That last thought caused her body to go slack against the railing, and fall to the balcony floor. She sat on her knees with her hands planted to the floor, tears dripping from her cheeks as her face looked down.

It had been a long time since she last cried so hard, and she already could feel her eyes swelling from the pressure.

Y/N continued to cry for several minutes, heavy pants escaping her mouth even as she attempted to calm her breathing. It just wasn’t happening.

Nothing pulled her out of her broken state until she heard the sound of someone stepping out onto the balcony.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice gently spoke.

She might’ve stopped crying had it been anyone else, but not Bucky. However, she made no attempt to speak, instead she shook her head.

He stepped even closer to her, pausing just short of a few steps then crouched down. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Finally, she found her voice. “I just don’t understand. I don’t understand why they drank so much because all it does is make them act like fools, act like people I don’t know.”

The confession left Bucky a little confused as he wasn’t sure who she was referring to, but he stayed silent, simply letting her get it out.

“They didn’t used to, they used to have fun without it, used to live without it. But once they started, they never stopped. And it was always so much, but when I told them I was worried for them they got angry with me, like I was attacking them.” She paused as a sob stuttered out.

Bucky placed both hands on her shoulders, fully sinking down onto the floor with her.

“I just wanted them to take care of themselves, I wanted them to go back to the way they used to be, be the people I know instead of being these entirely different people.” She brought one of her hands to cover her mouth to somehow silence the gut wrenching cry that hurt her throat.

That time Bucky wrapped his arms around her, bringing her inside his warm embrace. She reciprocated by doing the same, tucking her face into his shoulder, and blind to the tear marks she left on his jacket.

“I love them so much, and I just wanted them to be okay, to be healthy. But all I ever got was rejection, especially whenever I said that it made me uncomfortable when they drank. It’s like they didn’t care! No matter what, it just-”

She didn’t finish opting to cry and hold Bucky as if he were her lifeline. In a way, he was.

He cradled the back of her head, the other arm securing her body against him. “Shh, shh it’s okay, sweetheart it’s okay. I’m here.”

Bucky felt Y/N shake her head on his shoulder. “I feel so stupid for being so upset, because I know that a lot of people drink, it’s me that’s the weird one.”

“No, darling, you’re not.”

“They made so many promises, saying they would stop but they never did and I tried to be understanding. I really did, but it didn’t matter. We ended up right back to where we started. I don’t know what to do or how I’m supposed to feel. I hate this!”

Y/N was breathing hard, so much so Bucky thought she was on the cusp of hyperventilating. “Darling, I know that this is hard, but I need to take a deep breath. On three, you’ll breathe through your nose then out through your mouth okay?”

“I can’t..” She shook her head, making a gasping like sound when she sobbed again.

“You can, I promise. Just breathe with me, listen to me. One..two..three, breath in.” Bucky then inhaled through his nose, hearing Y/N do the same albeit a little shaky. “Breathe out…”

Both of them exhaled through the mouth, and he noticed that she trembled a little less now.

“That’s good, let’s try it again okay? Breathe in….”

She closed her eyes, following his instructions.

“Breathe out…”

They did that together several more times, and Y/N eventually came back to the present and calmly took in the world around her. The warmth of his embrace, the sound of his breathing, his heartbeat, the hand rubbing her back up and down, all of it.

Instead of being forced back to the real world, it felt as though someone had gently grabbed a hold of her hand and guided her back to a place of serenity.

Bucky carefully pulled back, letting his hands stay on her back. “Are you okay? Feel a little calmer?”

Y/N gave a slight nod, wiping away a few of her tears.

“Tell me what’s wrong, I promise I’ll listen, I’ll do whatever you need.” He reassured as he kept his voice low and soft so he wouldn’t overwhelm her.

So she told him.

She told him about how when she was a kid, her family began to drink and had never stopped. How irresponsibly they acted, how mad they got at her for bringing it up, their apologies while heartfelt didn’t change anything, and how much it had impacted her over the years as well as how silly she felt for being so panicked about it.

In her mind, alcohol was something that everyone in the entire world had and took part in and so she thought perhaps she was the inconvenient one for choosing a different way of life.

“That’s a lot to deal with.” Bucky said hushedly, sitting on the floor beside Y/N.

She resorted to pulling her knees up to rest her chin on top of them. “I know.”

There was a lul of silence between them, the sounds of the bustling city way down below the only thing they could hear.

Then Y/N sighed, throat still thick from crying. “The thing that kills me is that they’re good people, I mean they gave me a great childhood and everything. I just want better for them.”

Bucky shook his head in her defense. “But Y/N you can still love them and not agree with the choices they make. And even if drinking is something a lot of people do, you’re not stupid for wanting nothing to do with it.”

“I know that too. It makes me sad though, they can’t seem to live without it; that’s not who they used to be.”

Y/N felt the slightest bit of tears return to her eyes causing her to lift her head up and look toward the sky.

Bucky noticed right away so he wrapped one arm around her shoulder, and tugged her toward him. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s alright to be sad about it, but listen: you are not responsible for what your family decides to do. They have the freedom to make those choices, that’s not something you can control.”

She looked over to the love of her life, all teary eyed and despaired. Bucky lifted his hand up to wipe a lone tear that managed to escape.

“If what you said is true, then your family does care about you. That’s a good thing, but they can’t expect you to be alright with the actions that make you uncomfortable and they’ll have to accept that you're not okay with it.”

Y/N laid her head on his shoulder, face tucked into his neck. He then brought both of his arms around her, beginning to slowly rock back and forth. “What’s important is that you focus on trying to live your life, and not letting them take over your’s. Yes, continue to love them, but ultimately they gotta own their own decisions and not rely on you to tell them.”

He felt the familiar movement of her nodding as she pushed herself further into his side. He was a bit convinced that if she could disappear into him, she would.

Most times, he felt the same.

“Bucky?” Her small voice made its way to his ears.

“Yes?” He whispered back to her.

“I love you.”

The super soldier smiled that time. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry too.”

“No, no, no. None of that.” The man quickly interjected. “You don’t let me apologize for the problems I have so I won’t let you.”

For the first time that night, Y/N laughed. “Okay, okay, I won’t apologize. Sorry.”

Bucky sighed. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Love me.” Y/N said, pulling back from his shoulder to kiss his cheek.

“I believe I already do that, Doll.” He smirked then leaned into kiss her cheek too.

Suddenly, Bucky jerked back a bit and immediately went to his back pocket and he pulled out his phone.

“It’s Sam.” He clicked the answer button then held it up to his ear. “Yeah, Sam?”

Sitting next to him, Y/N made out some of what was being said, but not all of it. All she could gauge from the conversation was what Bucky said aloud.

“I’m with her right now. She’s okay now, why?”

He paused for a moment before pulling the phone away from his ear. “He said he wants to talk to you, are you okay with that?”

“Yeah.” Y/N took the phone from his hand and held it up. “Sam?”

“Y/N, I just want to say I’m sorry for being like that. I am a little tipsy, and I know I can be a bit much when I’m tipsy so I’m really sorry.”

Y/N managed to smile. “It’s okay, Sam. And I’m sorry for yelling at you, I wasn’t really mad at you, it's just I let some…personal stuff get to me and I took it out on you.”

“No, it’s alright. I was being pushy, so next I promise I’ll tone it down.”

“Thanks, Sam. I appreciate that. Have a good night.” As soon as she heard him say good night, she handed the phone back to Bucky. He quickly said his goodbye then hung up.

After he put his phone into his pocket, he looked to Y/N. “What do you say to some Chinese food and a movie back home?”

“I’d like that.” She eagerly agreed, her once saddened expression turned delighted.

“Alrighty then.” Bucky breathed, clapping his hands together briefly like he was gathering his thoughts before getting up off the ground. He held his hand out to Y/N who took it without hesitation, letting him pull her up from the floor.

When she got to her feet, Bucky pulled her against his chest, eyes staring lovingly down at her. “You ready?”

“I’m ready.”

He pecked her lips, taking pride in her slightly embarrassed expression coupled with a bashful grin.

Bucky grabbed a hold of her hand, intertwining their fingers together and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Y/N did the same, giggling when he looked back at her while heading back inside the building. The entire time, from the base to the Chinese restaurant to their apartment, Y/N’s mind kept returning to the moment she panicked to the moment Bucky found her and helped her.

That always happened whenever the shit hit the fan, however, she realized this had been the first time she had someone to tell about what was going on inside her head. He was the first person to listen and not get upset because she admitted what was bothering her.

She couldn’t tell her family about this problem because they were the problem, so she kept it inside.

Having Bucky by her side reminded her that she didn’t have to live life alone, stuck in her head, but instead could work through these problems without being judged.

For that, she was grateful. Unyieldingly grateful.

a/n: If you’re reading this, thanks for making it all the way through. Sorry if this was a convoluted mess, things were really tough for me yesterday and it’s kind of difficult to explain and kinda makes no sense, but writing in this form helps a little. Regardless, hope you guys are having a good day. Looking forward to finishing the next chapter for “A Past Encounter,” so keep an eye out for that.

#marvel #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes angst #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader

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