#3 years late to the party or whatever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inuyashaluver · 2 months

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Hi bestie, woso-vida here to formally request Alexia x Jenni x Reader 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

I'm thinking (playful) jealousy?? I'm thinking them both arguing who you'll be sitting beside on the bus?? I'm thinking them constantly trying to one up eachother in terms of romance??

Or yknow, whatever you'd like. I'll read everything from you 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

three’s a party - alexia putellas, jenni hermoso

alexia putellas x jenni hermoso x reader

description: in which your girlfriends are incredibly jealous of one another when it comes to your attention

warnings: i am not shipping - this is PURE FICTION, polyamory, let's pretend jenni is in barcelona for the sake of this, slight swearing - spanish is in bold italics!

a/n: i got excited to write this i won't lie, HAPPY AUGUST YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE!! enjoy, my lovesssss, thank you so much for your support, love! this is so meh

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

if there was anything to know about football players, they’re incredibly competitive. they are so competitive that it can sometimes develop into jealousy, envy and even bitterness.

and the two girls that embodied these qualities the most, just so happened to be your girlfriends.

the jealousy was playful most of the time, but sometimes it could really push your buttons.

—

jenni and alexia, your girls. they were obsessed with you. the two spaniards were so obsessed with you in fact, they don’t know how they went through life without you.

in the beginning stages, they were together for a relatively long time, and it was incredibly unexpected when you joined the equation.

the three of you just made sense. it was easy, familiar and just felt so right amongst all of you. it was your own little bubble, the way you all liked it.

it was private, not a secret, with no confirming nor denying when the question came up. you were all happy and that was all that mattered.

you’d now all been together for a little over 3 years and they were probably the most special and fun years of your lives. and within these three years, you learnt how competitive these girls really could be, especially when it came to you.

—

“this is unbelievable, we are basically late” jenni curses under her breath, walking back and forth past a sleeping you and alexia as she attempted to find all your belongings needed for the day.

you and alexia’s fronts were pressed against each other, your head tucked under her chin, “you can’t sleep all day” jenni points out, much louder this time in attempts to wake you both up.

alexia’s arms were wrapped around you tightly, you were still sleeping against the older girl as alexia drifted in and out of her slumber.

“niñas (kids), we have training” jenni says pointedly, fighting the smile playing at her lips at how cute you both looked in this moment. you slowly stir against alexia, pressing your nose into her neck.

the other girl is fully awake now, her hands on instinct rubbing up and down your back soothingly. she chuckles in your ear tiredly as you curse out jenni.

“no” you grumble, holding onto alexia tightly as she tried to sit up, “yes” jenni mocks with a laugh, her hands on her hips as she watches you from the end of the bed.

“jen, she’s sleeping” alexia coos, leaning down to kiss your cheek repeatedly, you smile at her sleepily, “yeah, jenni” you giggle, letting alexia cup your cheek with one hand and pull you into a sweet kiss, waking you up even more.

jenni gaws at both of you, “no, that’s not fair! why does she get a kiss first?” she frowns, growing angry at seeing alexia smile into your mouth before she slips her tongue in.

you pull back for a moment, pecking her lips quickly, “because she’s in front of me” you grin, that’s when jenni loses it. jenni leaps onto the bed, quickly spinning you around and straddling your hips with hers, a wolfish grin making you chuckle, they were like children when it came to sharing.

“buenos días, mi amor (good morning, my love)” she sings out, winking at you cheekily, you can’t help but laugh at her, returning the greeting.

you look over at alexia next to you who just shrugs, shaking her head amusingly, clearly she wasn’t in the mood to fight over sharing just yet.

she kisses both of your foreheads, moving past both of you to the adjoining bathroom to begin getting ready for training. “it’s my turn” jenni says as she squeezes your cheeks, directing your head to look at her. you breathe out exaggeratingly, “come on then” you puckered up your lips jokingly, though, jenni is jenni. everything is serious.

she wasted no time pressing her lips to yours, making a quick effort to slip her tongue into your mouth and relished in the fact she pulled a hum from the back of your throat. someone was clearly trying to prove a point.

it was a lot easier now in your relationship ever since jenni returned to barcelona, she hated the short time apart when she was in mexico.

“calm down, hermoso!” you breathe out a laugh, she hops off you with an accomplished smile, holding both your hands to pull you out of bed. “okay, get off me” she says cheekily, pushing you gently into the awaiting arms of alexia, the blonde currently brushing her teeth.

you laugh as alexia pulled you to her with one strong arm around your middle, you hug her back tightly around her waist.

she smiles down at you, brushing her teeth with her free hand, swaying you gently from side to side, you could honestly fall asleep against her. “ale, tell her to get ready” jenni calls out from the kitchen, making you all a protein shake.

alexia chuckles again, letting go of you for a second to give you your toothbrush.

she now hugs you from behind, both of you smiling in the mirror as you look at each other through it. alexia is done first so she takes advantage of it.

she kisses your shoulder sweetly, loving the way your cheeks filled with pink over her. “my beautiful bebé (baby)” she grins brightly, continuing her trail of kisses from your shoulder to your jaw, making you squirm from the ticklish sensation.

“did you give jenni a kiss?” she mutters against your temple, absolutely loving to watch you get ready in the morning. “more like a make out” you chuckle, you spot alexia’s eyebrows furrow and that’s when she spins you around, pressing your back into the sink as she smiled at you.

“then i should have one too” she wastes no time pulling you into a kiss, humming against you happily as your arms wound around her neck to pull her even closer, her hands finding home on your waist.

“are you joking?” jenni groans, coming behind alexia to pull you both apart, “that’s not fair!” alexia exclaims, pushing jenni away from you as she tried to pull you into another kiss.

—

situations like that were a daily occurrence, but they only grew tenfold when it came to national camps. the bus was your nightmare, and it wasn’t even an exaggeration.

“sit in the window seat” alexia tells you, taking your bag from your hands as you all awaited to get on the bus. “ah, she’s sitting with me” jenni points out, pulling on your arm to launch you into her chest.

you sigh heavily, you knew this would happen. “you said you would sit with me” alexia pouts slightly, gently pulling your other arm. you smile, “my loves, it’s a 20 minute bus ride” already knowing this would turn into a playful argument.

“but 20 minutes is 20 minutes” jenni scoffed,

“you got to sit next to her on the way there last time!” alexia frowns, her arms crossed over her chest intimidatingly, “i did not! that was you, ale!” jenni defends, staring at alexia.

you stand of the middle of both of them, clearly unimpressed, you look between both of them with a deadpan expression

“bebé, who did you sit next to last time?” alexia asks you sweetly, her tone completely changing for you, jenni scoffs a laugh, though smiles at you gently awaiting your response.

“i sat next to jenni” you think, nodding at your response, alexia’s face brightens, looking at jenni smugly, the other girl frowning.

“princesa (princess), why did you tell her?” she groans, though smiles when you look at her in offence. “i’ve had enough of this, sit together, i’m sitting with leila” you tutt, walking over to the smiling girl waiting for you. this was clearly preplanned by you.

“you fucked up” alexia slaps jenni’s arm, “i did not!” jenni scoffs, picking up her back and walking to the bus. they walk past a laughing you and leila, slightly sad they weren’t the ones making you laugh. jenni plops down in the window seat and stares at you longingly, it takes everything to not look at her.

alexia suddenly remembers something, rummaging through her bag and finding one of your favourite protein bars she always kept for you. she smiles, rushing over to you before the bus moves off, tapping your shoulder sheepishly.

you smile at her sweetly, taking it from her appreciatively before pulling her down for a quick kiss, she pinches your cheek softly, winking at you before moving back to her seat.

jenni looks so grumpy when alexia comes back, “sit down” alexia says sternly, squeezing her knee when she was about to get up to go over to you. "that is so unfair" jenni grits out, though leans her thigh to press against alexia's.

they both bicker quietly back and forth before you turn around to wave at them, both of them perk up quickly and return to normal almost like nothing happened a few seconds prior.

—

during training, you three returned to your regular selves. during a small break, your sat with your back against jenni’s front, talking back and forth with misa and irene. you play with one of jenni’s hands, laughing brighting in the conversation with the other girls.

when alexia plops next to you both, she smiles at you when you make eye contact and you already know she wants to cuddle with you. you turn around and kiss jenni’s cheek, she looks up at you confused, still in conversation. you make your way over to alexia, wrapping your arms around her shoulders from the back, kissing her cheek sweetly.

her hand comes up to hold your arm and she smiles brightly, though a little pink in the cheeks at how quickly you read her mind. “jealous?” you whisper in her ear in your knelt position, she chuckles lowly, hushing you with a pinch to your thigh resting on her side.

“look how sad she got” misa chuckles, pointing at jenni, jenni makes an effort to get up slightly and flick her on the forehead, moving over to you, kissing you and alexia softly in turn before she got up to get some water.

“go with her, bebé (baby)” alexia smiles, squeezing your arm reassuringly, you laugh, they really knew each other so well. “what a treat, mi amor (my love) is here!” jenni exclaims, cupping your cheeks and kissing your lips repeatedly, you both laugh into the kisses, so childish but really just so cute.

alexia watches you both with a smile, shaking her head fondly as she gets up to walk over to the both of you.

“happy?” alexia questions, jenni nods, giving alexia a kiss before picking her up and running around with her. alexia curses her out harshly, though laughs brightly when she saw you basically in stitches laughing at your girlfriends.

—

“princesa! (princess), look, i’m doing the dishes”, “bebé (baby), look i’m folding the laundry”, they both yell out when you come through the door with breakfast one morning.

“why are you both acting like i told you to do that? we all live here” you laugh, letting alexia help take the groceries and drinks out of your hands. "it is not a competition, i am both of your partners, and so are you" you remind.

“tsk, you should have let me come with you” alexia scolds, bringing you into a quick hug, “you’re so stubborn, hermosa (beautiful)” jenni scolds as well, patting the top of your head affectionately as you sit at the kitchen island.

“because i can do it myself” you roll your eyes, smiling when alexia presses a kiss to your cheek. “you’re around this one too much” jenni says smugly, winking at alexia with a flirty smile.

“and you’re not stubborn?” alexia springs into action, moving her chair closer to yours as jenni looks at you both from the other side of the island. “do not even start on me right now, putellas” jenni laughs, alexia turns to you immediately, “bebé- (baby)”.

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you know the drill - pretend it's you! ily oni

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alexiaputellas: she just always has to come into the hug

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jennihermoso: how funny, i was thinking the same about you!

↳ alexiaputellas: watch it

yourname: my girls!!

↳ alexiaputellas: my girl

↳ jennihermoso: my girlll

↳ marialeonn16: you are all ridiculous xxxx

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso imagine #alexia putellas x reader #jenni hermoso x reader #alexia putellas x jenni hermoso x reader

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phas3d · 2 months

Text

Fake Dating | Slytherin Boys

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: none

contains :: draco, tom, mattheo, theodore, lorenzo

notes :: fake dating is the FUEL TO MY LIFE AHHH slightly inspired by "please please please" by Sabrina Carpenter because ofc it is

DRACO MALFOY

He's bullied you for ages, literally making your high school years hell

But after his father and mother pressure him with questions about a girlfriend

He gets sick of it and wants to shut up for ONE NIGHT just one fucking night

So he gets you to pretend to be his partner, because you're the only girl willing to say yes (because ur scared of him)

Corners you and threatens you, "If you don't give me an Oscar worthy performance I will literally burn all of your uniforms and books"

Now you're at his house, eating expensive steak under 3 chandeliers

No one knows why he has 3 chandeliers,,, not even his parents

But instantly, his parents love you for your nerdiness and cuteness

They see you as a sweet and innocent little partner for Draco :)

But uh oh... you were TOO perfect for his parents

Now Draco is asking you to go with his parents to Germany for a "little trip"

Except their idea of a "little trip" is a week vacation in the most expensive hotel and meeting German celebrities

You can't speak German, but Draco can so he helps answer any questions asked towards you

But for some reason, he gets super agitated as you keep attending parties and people keep coming up to you

He gets so mad on the second-to-last-day of the week vacation to the point he grabs some random guys collar and shouts at him

You pull try to pull them apart but it's too late...

Draco gets his ass whooped... Badly... Embarrassingly bad...

You leave the party early, going back to the hotel alone as you patch his wounds

That's when you ask why he was so upset

But he refuses to answer, saying it's just that the guy was annoying

It's obvious that he's lying, so you keep pushing him and pushing him

So he angrily blurts out: "Because people keep fucking asking for your number!!! GOD!!! You're so dense!"

He says as he lightly flicks your forehead before staring deeply into your eyes: conveying everything he's been feeling for you for these past weeks of "fake dating"

TOM RIDDLE

Mattheo is Tom's worse enemy, despite being brothers

Yet again, Mattheo teases and mocks Tom for being a loser with zero "rizz" or whatever that means

He's sick of Mattheo's stupid ass slang, everyday he hears "you're a beta" "ur aura is so low" "zero rizz bruh"

He's literally going to kill him

But sadly he can't do that, so he comes up with a different solution

He chooses you, a random kid he did a project with once, to pretend to be his new partner

You were hesitant but he then threw in an extra bonus, he would do all your homework for two classes of your choice

So obviously you had to take it

He had to prepare you for the worse: Mattheo

Tom forced you to visit his dorm to study how to reply to Mattheo when you finally meet him

He also made you study how to act like a couple in public

Which he knew nothing about... He was technically right about hand holding and matching clothes

But his version of hand holding was very uncomfortable, the type where you don't interlock fingers

And the clothes he picked were ugly as hell, no way you'd ever wear that stuff

So you had to help him a lot with learning how to act natural in relationships

When he feels that you're finally prepared, he lets you meet Mattheo

Mattheo is super sus at first but is too dumb to question harshly

But now, you're stuck as pretending to be Tom's girlfriend for the rest of the year

He's painfully unaffectionate in public which makes you slightly embarrassed because he makes you look like a clingy girlfriend

But in private, when he's teaching you what to say and doing your homework: he's surprisingly sweet

He gets better at being a boyfriend over time and even takes you on full dates, not just fake photoshoots to post online

But he's still insisting to keep this relationship as just beneficial, no string attached

You can't help but start to fall for him, it's literally impossible to not

He gifts you everything you've ever wanted, takes you to fancy places, making him chuckle under his breathe feels more rewarding than any A+ ever, and those small private moments where you can feel a soul behind his eyes instead of the ice cold make you love him

So you cut it off with him, lying and saying you don't need the benefits and it's too hard to keep lying

He accepts this and lets you go

You end up being really popular once you're single

And that pisses him off ENDLESSLY

He found you first! He basically made you! You're still his, he can't let someone take all his hard work

And for some reason,,, he felt hollow after you left - as if he lost something dear to him

He's not sure how you brought out these emotions, but he wants it back ASAP

MATTHEO RIDDLE

Oh my god double trope: because Mattheo started dating you because he was dared to

You're seen as a kinda bitch in Hogwarts because a group of girls said so

But in reality, you're really chill and grounded, which surprised Mattheo when he went on your first date

You made him laugh a few times (a lot, he's too cocky to admit it)

And you also were really similar to Mattheo, you liked the same games and shows

As he kept pretending to date you, he started to actually like you and your presence

But he's still not too attached because he knows he needs to break up with you in about 2 months

As the weeks pass by, you accidentally read a message for Mattheo

It was from Theo, saying "Jesus dude, you two almost seem like a real couple. You should try acting haha"

You froze but started to plot your revenge on him

You kept acting like everything was fine and normal, and then broke up with HIM

Mattheo was shocked, because not only has he completely fallen for you but he's also never been broken up with

He unsure of what to do, but all he knows is he wants you back

THEODORE NOTT

Pulling girls has almost never been a problem for Theo his entire life

He even pulled grown women while being 14 years old (he's a victim...)

But his main problem is pulling a girl that would be approved by his parents

Theo surrounds himself with heavy drinkers, partiers, and dumb jocks: meaning there's not many partners that are "marriage material"

So he asks you, the Head Girl of your house, to pretend to be his girlfriend for family events

You agreed due to the large sum of money he was paying you, it's insane how rich he is

Every time Theo had a family event, he would just call you up and BOOM his family loves you

But as you keep coming to these family events, acting as a couple becomes less and less awkward for you both

You both agreed to not kiss each other due to this just being acting, plus kissing at family events is weird

But God, Theo really wants to break that rule when you and him are alone on the balcony at night while you ramble about the struggles of being Head Girl

He never thought he'd fall for the super nerdy, responsible, and awkward Head Girl - but he did, and he fell super hard

Theo wants to straight up ask you to be his real girlfriend, but he's so scared

He's scared of making you uncomfortable for catching feelings or making you think he planned this all along

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

Enzo's best friend is Blaise, almost everyone knows that

But what everyone also knows is that Blaise has the FATTEST crush on your best friend, Pansy Parkinson

And even more well known is that Pansy liked him back

There was literally no reason for these two to not get together, they were just too scared to confess

Which is odd since they're both so head-strong and confident, you guess it's just because they're scared of rejection

So Enzo reaches out to you, asking you to help come up with a plan to set them both up on a date

You two are complete strangers, only ever talking once or twice whilst in a group

So you both create a lie: that you and Enzo are going on a first date and need them to tag along to make it a "double date"

Obviously, this works on them because they're great friends

So now you and Enzo are on an awkward fake date while your best friends basically make out next to you

The original plan was just to tell Pansy and Blaise that there was no spark between you and Enzo

But due to you both spending an entire 12 hours together with Blaise and Pansy, you guys got comfortable with each others

He makes you laugh a ton and you do the same

You both love really niche topics and shows, even sharing the same favorite sports teams

Your bond only grows stronger after Blaise and Pansy ask for another double date

But you and Enzo take it slow, having the most sexual tension for months because you both were just claiming to be "friends only"

You finally broke that after about 4 months, thank God

#slytherin x reader #slytherin headcanons #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #harry potter #harry potter x reader #slytherin boys

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moonlit-imagines · 2 months

Text

Headcanons for being Johnny Lawrence’s daughter

Johnny Lawrence x daughter!reader

warnings: alcohol, underage drinking, classic johnny sexism <3

a/n: WHAT! ME write a fic thats not gn, i know. im shocked too but its just bc i feel johnny is so gender-stereotypey that doing this gn wouldn’t work very well but very open to a son!r or nb!r if anyone is interested (bc seriously. johnny cannot help but bring up genders). also i just want to say that a lot of this (not all!) honestly reminds me of or are actual things that have happened w my dad bc johnny is literally my dad if my dad was like 8 years older i think also i wrote this all in one sitting ALSO NO COBRA KAI SEASON 6 SPOILERS

prompt:

GIRL DAD!

you always kinda just gravitated toward living with your dad

“y/n, i’m so proud of you. i never have to worry about you. you can take care of yourself. robby on the other hand, i worry about him. i think girls are just more self sufficient” -johnny, a little drunk

“thanks dad” -you, also a little drunk (hes a “cool dad”)

he was the type of parent that “prefers that if you’re gonna do something stupid at least do it while he’s around” aka underage drinking

whenever he stays out late you fall asleep in his bed. and lock him out

“y/n! open the door!” -johnny, banging on the door

“no! your bed is more comfortable” -you

he thought it was sweet honestly but he did want to sleep in his bed

sort of like a lesson not to come home late all drunk and gross

he was VERY against letting you drive his car

“dad, i need my license!” -you

“no woman is getting behind the wheel of my firebird” -johnny

“why do you have to make it about women? i’ll fight you” -you

“you’ll lose that fight” -johnny

“oh, so you’d fight a teenage girl? wow, real classy, dad” -you

“no, but i’d fight my teenage daughter. i brought you into this world and i’ll take you out” -johnny

you honestly had a great sense of humor with johnny, but you’d check him if he said anything too messed up

“dad, it’s not the 80’s anymore, you can’t say that” -you

“dont tell me what i can and cant say! the 80’s were awesome, i wish it was the 80’s again” -johnny

“so i’ve heard” -you

he helped you with your homework as a kid until like, 2nd grade when multiplication and division got involved

he did teach you karate growing up! but mostly the basics, for self defense purposes

“hey, never let any guy try to impress you with his karate skills. he’s probably a douche” -johnny, pausing “i sure was”

late night movie marathons (70s/80s classics for sure)

he took care of you during your first hangover (high school parties, ya know)

“didn’t i teach you better than to mix liquors” -johnny

“ugghhhh” -you

yes, you have heard about daniel larusso. enough said LMAO

robby and you had a kind of sweet but distant relationship

occasional check-in texts

robby: are you doing okay with dad? he’s actually buying food and shit?

you: yeah! he’s fine right now, how’s mom? new stepdad yet? is he rich?

robby: mom’s not going anywhere she’d find a rich guy, but keep dreaming

you wear a lot of your dad’s old t-shirts. usually band tee’s

oh and he made sure you got into the “right music”

he used to drive you around in the firebird when you were a SMALL CHILD (front seat, no car seat!) and blast his old cassettes

for YEARS he’d pull the “who is this” “what song is this” game with the reasoning:

“if you wear a band shirt and some asshole asks you to name three songs, i want you to name ten” -johnny

listen. you were still “daddy’s girl” or whatever used to be a cute little saying and is now ruined but whatever

“dad, can i have twenty bucks?” -you

“for what” -johnny

“for fun. pleaseeee” -you

*johnny pulls out his wallet and gives you $40*

could he afford it? no. can he say no? also no.

the absolute fear he felt when you got your first period

“it’s fine, i can call mom” -you

“no, it’s not fine! i’ve had girlfriends before, i got this. stay here, i’ll be back” -johnny

he went to the store and bought the most random assortment of period products and pain meds and snacks and a heating pad

A for effort

when the diaz family moved in across from you guys, miguel took one look at you and johnny said:

“stay away from my daughter”

when the karate fuss got started you tried to keep your distance but sooner or later you joined the dojo and proved to your dad just how “badass” you could be

“take notes everyone, y/n’s gonna be the next all valley champ!” -johnny

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @retvenkos // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @an4aaa // @summersimmerus // @xoxobabydolls // @sapphireplums // @petersgroupie // @ravenhood2792 // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 // @elemental-of-magic //

#johnny lawrence #johnny lawrence x reader #johnny lawrence imagine #johnny lawrence x daughter!reader #lawrence!reader #cobra kai #cobra kai x reader #cobra kai imagine #karate kid #karate kid imagine #karate kid x reader

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pellucid-constellations · 1 year

Text

My Everyday

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes was aggressive, annoying, and—worst of all—a hockey player. Not your type. At all. But, unfortunately, your roommate.

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: Minor injury, idiots in love <3, some angst, pining

a/n: My first fic in a century!! Thank you so much for reading if you’re still here. Depending on how this does I hope I’ll have motivation to write more! College athlete Bucky never fails to get me inspired :)

Masterlist

“What’s this punks name again?”

The breath you let out was long and excruciating. “I am not repeating myself.”

“C’mon, y/n,” Bucky whined, knocking his head back on the couch. He watched you bustle around the kitchen from his inverted vantage point. “How the hell am I supposed to swoop in and save the day if I don’t even know the kid’s name?”

“Okay, well, first of all—” the fridge door clicked shut with a swift motion of your hips “—he’s not a ‘kid’. I’m pretty sure he’s a few months older than you.”

“Semantics.”

“And second of all,” you stressed, pointing a butter knife in his direction. “There will be no ‘swooping in’. I’m going to have a nice date and you are going to go hang out with your puck rabbits or whatever they're called. There will be no thinking about me and no swooping in my vicinity.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, kicking up from the couch and rounding the kitchen counter to pick at your sandwich. You knocked his hand away several times, but you both knew it was futile. In the months you’d been living with the hockey player—who was far too big for the small, shoebox of an apartment you leased—you’d learned that food was non-negotiable for Bucky Barnes.

There were many other things you’d learned about him as well. He sang in the shower, but only when he thought you weren’t home. He had an annoying penchant for using your $30 lotion—again, when he thought you weren’t home. And he loved to throw his massive, smelly gear just about anywhere it would land right when he got home from every practice.

He didn’t really care if you were home for that last one.

Bucky was the last person you thought you would be rooming with when you posted that ad last summer. A small, quaint room previously occupied by your now engaged (and traitorous) best friend, you assumed someone like-minded to yourself would have taken you up on your offer. The price point wasn’t egregious and the building was relatively close to campus.

But weeks ticked by, and you started getting desperate. Your landlord wasn’t a nice lady, something you were positive she took pride in, and she decided that a rent increase was the perfect way to ring in the new school year. You were on the verge of destitution, and as it so happened, the only other person as desperate as you was the starting center for your college’s hockey team.

You hardly got along. It had taken weeks for your eye to stop twitching every time he tumbled through the front door at three in the morning, and even longer for you not to feel an infuriating aggravation at his random, nighttime smoothies. You supposed he probably felt the same about your cleanliness rules and your incessant reminders about trash days. Because Bucky was in charge of bringing the trash down those long, apartment steps. Not you.

But you’d be lying if you said things hadn’t gotten easier as of late. Conversation flowed more smoothly, things that made you seethe before were only mildly annoying, and Bucky was being… considerate? You weren’t quite sure what to call the random cups of coffee he brought home on occasion. Or his sudden urge to warm up your car when he had a morning class before yours.

There was also the case of that party last weekend. A frat party with far too many drunk men and not enough common sense, you had had the urge to leave the second you got there. But Wanda had dragged you along for the sole purpose of driving her home after she got hammered, so you were essentially stuck.

It was fine at first. Hot and crowded and loud, but fine. You kept a general eye on Wanda and scrolled aimlessly on your phone in the armchair you claimed. And then it wasn’t fine, because a man twice your size was encroaching on your space and unrelenting.

“What kinda girl comes to a party and doesn’t even wanna talk to anyone?”

“You want to come up to my room and watch a movie or something?”

“Hey, I’m talking to you, bitch.”

You weren’t even aware that Bucky had been at that party. It wasn’t surprising—the line between fraternities and sports was blurred at your college—but the space he took up as he intercepted the man in front of you was.

“There a problem here?” Bucky posed, crossing his arms over his chest, his presence looming above your seated position. His weight shifted to his toes.

The man didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, you. Move.”

“Wanna fucking tell me what to do again?”

“Fuck you, man.”

A harsh shove to Bucky’s chest was all it took for a right hook to echo in the living room of the frat house. There was chaos. Grunts and screams from the drunk people surrounding the unnecessary fight created a cacophony of unpleasant sounds that seemed to get the attention of someone in charge. The man—Brian, you had now learned based on screams—was pulled back from Bucky and getting chewed out by some president or manager of something.

And Bucky was seething, chest rising and falling laboriously as he wiped at the new bruise forming on his face.

Fights were not uncommon. But this one had been about you. For you.

“Bucky?” you asked when the crowd calmed and Brian was no longer in the room.

You watched his back release its tight coil. He turned. “Are you okay?”

The words were almost lost in the noise of the crowd, but he was close enough that they created a tactile vibration across your skin. His pupils were dilated and he looked so disheveled it would have been charming if there wasn’t also a cut forming on his brow.

“Y/n.”

It took you a moment to realize that you hadn’t answered him. Your response fell out of you as if you’d been shoved. “I’m—I’m fine.”

He grunted, but it was more of a puff of air. “The fuck was that guy?”

“I don’t know,” you replied, realizing by the way you swayed that you had stood up at some point. “He just—”

“We’re going home.”

“What? I can’t, I’m here with Wanda. I’m driving her, Bucky, I can’t just leave.”

He grabbed your wrist, the grip achingly soft compared to the blows he was landing minutes before. “She left with that British guy she’s been on and off with. Asked me to tell you.”

That explained his random appearance. Your brows pinched as you took in the information, eyes cast down to the angry red marks marring Bucky’s knuckles. He’d been in fights before. So many fights. On the ice.

This was different.

“I haven’t been drinking—I can drive myself home. You don’t have to leave,” you shouted over the music now bumping in the room.

He didn’t respond, not verbally. He pulled you to his front instead, leading you through the impossible crowd until cool night air began melting into your skin. His silence was strange. Bucky’s favorite activity was talking your ear off until you told him to shut up, but right now… nothing. Even his earlier words had been clipped.

You felt responsible for easing the tension in the air as Bucky continued to guide you to your car. You hadn’t told him where you parked, but he seemed to know the exact location anyways.

“You really don’t have to leave with me,” you mumbled. “It wasn’t a big deal or anything.”

“It was a big deal.”

The drive home had been silent. The walk to the door had been as well. Bucky spent a few minutes appraising you in the overhead light of the living room when you got inside, but after that there was nothing. He went to his room and you went to yours.

There was no discussion about it the morning after, either. Bucky apparently wanted to pretend nothing ever happened, so you respected that. Even now, you ignored the fading cuts on his hands as he shoveled food into his mouth.

Bucky’s next words were muffled by a mouthful of bread. “Well where’s this dude taking you at least?”

“Ice skating.”

The cough and sudden exasperation was very expected out of the man next to you, Bucky’s next words hardly containing syllables. “Huh?”

“We’re going ice skating,” you reiterated. You picked up your lunch and headed for the living room, ignoring the slightly heaviness in your chest. “It’s winter and ice skating is festive. The rink on campus has decorations.”

“Without me? Y/n, you’re gonna let some guy who probably doesn’t even know how to skate—”

“Bucky—” you attempted to interrupt.

“—drag you around the rink like a rag doll?” he continued, holding his hand up to mute your incoming speech. “I’ve asked you to come by the rink, like, a ton of times. You’ve never shown any interest.”

You rolled your eyes and shot him a cross look as he picked your feet up from where they rested on the couch and dropped them into his lap. He went on with his rant for a little while longer, knocking his head back against cushions and accusing you of being a bad roommate. You had a few rebuttals of your own, but there was a reason you had never accompanied him to the rink.

A good reason.

You didn’t date athletes.

It was true that simply going to visit Bucky at a practice, or letting him be the one to drag you around the ice like a rag doll, wouldn’t mean you were in a relationship by any means. But it would be an extra step. And if you were being honest with yourself, it would only take a few of those extra steps for the irritation you felt towards Bucky to melt into something else.

And you didn’t date athletes.

You did not.

You didn’t have the time, nor the patience, to put up with the cheating, the anger issues, or the crazy schedules. And there wasn’t a single athlete you’d met at your sport-centered university that was willing to compromise on any of those subjects. Especially the cheating. You’d learned that the hard way after dating a lacrosse player for approximately one month before receiving the dreaded DM from a girl you had never met.

The man hadn’t even given you the courtesy of pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about. He just admitted to his wrong-doing and shrugged. Shrugged.

So athletes were not exactly in your good graces when it came to dating.

“Are you even listening to me?” Bucky cut through your thoughts, patting your shin in impatience.

You blinked and reoriented yourself, focusing on the hairs that fanned across Bucky’s face. “Of course I am,” you lied. “But my answer is still the same. I’m going on my date and you are not going on my date.”

He groaned, apparently giving up as he cradled your legs closer to him to lean over and grab the remote from the coffee table. He flipped the channel to ESPN—typical—and you ate your sandwich, silently cursing him. He had a TV in his room.

“When is it?” he suddenly asked, breaking the silence that had knitted itself into a comfortable blanket over the room.

“Tonight,” you answered plainly.

The arms atop your legs tensed.

The dichotomy of the man sitting beside you was impressive. On one hand, he was so full of himself that he had missed almost all of your conversation starters due to being so transfixed by his reflection in the rink’s glass. He had yet to ask you a single question about yourself and had insisted that the four other girls skating tonight were in love with him.

On the other hand, he was, quite possibly, the most uninteresting person you had ever met. You were usually very quick to laugh, but every word out of his mouth was almost painful. He wouldn’t stop talking about his ex-girlfriend, gave you one word answers about anything other than baseball, and was honestly really terribly at ice skating. You were no pro either, but you found yourself on your back every time he tried holding your hand.

The tumble five minutes ago had you seeking out the penalty box on the side of the rink. You needed a break, you had told him, hoping he would continue on making a fool of himself and give you a moment alone. But he followed you instead, and was now sitting beside you, talking about baseball.

You supposed that was better than making you fall while talking about baseball.

“I bet we could do that,” he remarked, pointing out onto the ice and catching your attention. A couple who clearly had more experience than you was twirling each other around. “We definitely could. I pick up good speed.” You cringed. “I really don’t think we should try, Sean. My tailbone is already pretty bruised.”

“Oh, c’mon! I won’t try the throwing part, just the twisty stuff.”

“We are literally on rental skates. You will kill me,” you deadpanned. You were tired at this point and seriously questioning why you thought ice skating was a good first date idea.

Well, there actually was an answer for that. But you were not going to think about the hockey player that popped into your head when Sean asked you on a date in the dining hall last week.

Definitely not.

“I’m not going to let my date think I’m boring,” Sean groaned, yanking you up from your seat.

You gave a few tugs and words of resistance but they were ultimately useless. You figured it would be just as useless to tell the guy you already thought he was boring. He probably wouldn’t even hear you.

On unsteady skates, Sean guided you to a mostly cleared corner of the rink and gripped your forearms. He squinted as he surveyed the area, the corner of his mouth turning up in a way that made your stomach roll. This entire date had been a bad idea.

“Maybe we should just watch them do it,” you tried, words wavering.

“No!” he grinned. “No, we got this. It’s gonna look so cool.”

And then you were spinning. You’d never been spun against your will before, but it sucked. Your skates kept getting stuck in the divots in the ice and the grip on your forearms was close to bruising. You were starting to get dizzy and Sean showed no signs of caring. God, he really was dragging you around the rink like a rag doll. Bucky was going to get a kick out of this.

“Okay, ready?” Sean called, an unwarranted jubilation in his tone.

“What?” you yelled.

He didn’t answer you. Instead, he let go, and you went flying in another direction without a clear path. It only lasted a moment, but the sound of your head smacking onto the ice signified the end of that movement. You landed on your arm next, and then your back. Again.

This time felt different though. Your head was spinning and there were muted pinpricks trailing up to your wrist. The ache there was dulled compared to the biting iciness in your back, but as soon as you tried leaning on it to get up, it became sharp.

“Oh shit!” came Sean’s laughter-filled gasp. “My bad. I really didn’t mean to let go.”

You blinked a few times to clear the blurriness from your vision but it proved unhelpful. “I think… I think my arm’s broken.”

“Wait, seriously?” he asked, wobbling down to a seat beside you.

“Yeah, it’s—”

“Everything okay over here?” a voice interrupted. You tried blinking again to take in the man that towered over the two of you, but the lights overhead washed him out.

You recognized him…maybe? You felt like you were going to throw up.

Sean answered for you. “Yeah, man, we’re fine. She just fell.”

“Y/n, are you okay?” the man asked, ignoring your date completely.

“Do I know you?” you slurred.

You thought you heard a curse. “What made you think throwing her around was a good idea?”

“Dude, it wasn’t even that fast. Or my fault. She just couldn’t keep her feet under her.”

“Well, dude, maybe you should go home.”

Sean scoffed. “Right, and who’s going to take this one home?”

Your head was starting to hurt with all of the back and forth. The man that just joined, the taller one, kneeled down beside you. His blonde hair cast a harsh glare that had you squinting again.

“You want me to call Bucky?” he asked.

Bucky? How would he know Bucky? Blonde hair began morphing into a man in your memory, and you reached for the material of his shirt, looping it between your fingers.

“Steve Rogers?” you mumbled.

The man, now identified as Steve, sighed. “I’m calling him. Go home, Sean. Her roommate is coming to get her.”

There was more discussion, something about Steve having the authority to kick him out and Sean not understanding what all of the fuss was about. Steve warned him about something and Sean scoffed as if the situation was beneath him. And then he left.

Steve was then in your line of sight again, brows pinched together and a bright orange vest covering his shoulders. His hands hovered in front of you as if you’d break if he touched you and you almost found it funny. Steve was a huge guy with a lot of authority on Bucky’s team, but right now he looked like a scared animal.

“Why are you dressed like a construction worker?” you asked.

A small smile graced his face. “I’m working at the rink today. Everyone on the team has to take shifts during the holidays.”

“Hmm,” you hummed. “I think my arm is broken.”

“I know. I’m pretty sure you have a concussion too. Let’s get you off the ice, yeah?”

You tried to nod, but that hurt too much so you let Steve assist you in shakily standing up. He guided you to the seats by the rental skate counter with a soft but sure hand on your back, asking some guy named Antonio for an ice pack. Everything around you felt like a fever dream.

Gentle touches rolled the sleeve of your sweater back to reveal a swollen wrist that Steve immediately covered with an ice pack.

He cursed again. “Well he’s gonna be pissed.”

“Who?” Your head swayed with the question.

Steve looked up to meet your gaze, lips parting to answer, when he was replaced by a different face. Your brain was having trouble keeping up with everything, obviously, because Bucky was in front of you now. He was kneeling between your legs with his hands on your face and you had no idea where Steve went.

“What the fuck?” you blurted out.

“Hey, y/n.” Bucky spoke your name low and soothing, his fingers moving to your eyes where he pried them open one at a time and looked for something you couldn’t see. His next words were directed over his shoulder. “Maybe a concussion. Tell me what happened again?”

“Sean Marcus was being an ass. Flung her all over the place,” Steve replied.

“Why are you here?” you interjected, trying to focus on one thing at a time. “I told you not to come on my date.”

Bucky moved his assessment to your arm next, shifting the ice pack. “Never really agreed to those terms.”

He turned back to Steve after that, having another discussion that you barely understood. Bucky absentmindedly fiddled with the material of your jeans as he spoke, and you put all of your energy into not face planting on the ground. This past week had truly been a series of terrible events with terrible men.

After some amount of time elapsed, you were walking to the parking lot with a jacket thrown over your shoulders and Bucky continuously jutting a hand out each time you took a step. He was very well versed in concussions, apparently.

“Okay, in you go, killer,” Bucky prompted, opening the passenger door.

You eyed the front seat, scrunching your face up. “My arm hurts.”

The man in front of you seemed to soften, his shoulders dropping on a long exhale. “I know, sweetheart. But we gotta go to the hospital to fix that. I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“I should just call Wanda. Or Nat. You don’t have to be the one to take me.”

“I can take you just fine.”

“Why do you want to you? Aren’t you busy?”

Another long sigh, this one accompanied by hands on your shoulders, fingers at the base of your neck. “Get in the car.”

His eyes were boring into yours, searching for something, or maybe already finding it there. You still had your arm cradled to your chest and you titled your head to the side as you observed him. There was something else to his gaze that you couldn’t quite describe. It reminded you of his expression after he came home from a rough game. Angry. Discontent.

“You’re being weird,” you commented, breaking the silence you had created.

“You broke your arm and smacked your head on the ice,” he simply replied, as if the statement was an explanation.

“Yeah, but—”

“And then that douchebag did nothing about it,” Bucky interrupted. “So please, y/n, get in the car so I can help you before I find him and kick his ass. Because you know I’m not above fighting people.”

You blinked, and then slid into the front seat.

The drive was quiet. You’d never been in Bucky’s car before, but the spinning in your head didn’t give you much space to inspect it too closely. You caught hockey gear in the back, a keycard to the rink dangling off the rearview mirror, and a small collection of hair ties in one of the cupholders. One caught your attention.

“Hey, this one’s mine.” You picked up the purple band and rolled it between your fingers. “Thief.”

Bucky snatched it back. “Mine now.”

He made a sharp turn that had you sucking air between your teeth and repositioning your arm. Bucky sent you a quick, achingly apologetic look.

“Sorry, almost there.” A long beat of silence and then a mumbled, “I should keep your hair tie. You won’t be able to do your hair alone with a broken arm anyway.”

Your wrist was fractured, not broken. You also only had a minor concussion. This was all great news to you, especially since they told you after administering a hefty amount pain reliever. To Bucky, this was apparently terrible, life-altering news.

After practically body slamming into the front door of your apartment, he chucked his wallet and keys down on the kitchen counter and began grumbling to himself as he opened and closed kitchen cabinets. You watched from a distance, half amused, half concerned for the rusting hinges. He finally found what he was looking for—a cup—and continued to mutter to himself as he filled it with gatorade.

“Are you… okay?” you asked tentatively.

Bucky ripped the freezer open and manhandled three to four ice cubes. “I’m fine. You are not.”

“I’m okay now,” you assured. Bucky stalked over to you anyways, pressing the sports drink into your hand that was not wrapped in a cast.

You looked down at the glass and sent him a baffled look. He nodded at it and raised his brows, a silent demand for you to drink.

“Okay. And why do I need to drink gatorade?” Your words were slow.

“You were just on the ice and haven’t had any water for at least three hours.”

“Bucky,” you began. “I was ice skating recreationally for about thirty minutes. I don’t need to replenish my electrolytes.”

“Will you just… will you just drink the damn drink?” he groaned, gesturing to it with a firm hand. “Jesus, I can’t take care of you when you go and get yourself hurt by idiots. So just let me do what I know I can do, alright?”

“You don’t have to take care of me.” You were beginning to raise your voice, matching some of the frustration in the room.

Bucky threw his hands in the air, tugging at his roots on the way down. He moved further into the kitchen and leaned against the counter with stiff, rod-like arms propping him up. And then he sighed, long and profound as if this was the hardest conversation he’d had all year. His head hung heavy between stiff shoulders and you felt the environment shift.

You almost wanted to intervene on his thoughts again, to make some comment about the dishes in the dishwasher or pretend you were going to go take a nap. But he had something to say, something you needed to hear, and so you stayed. You blinked and clenched your fist in the uncomfortable silence, but you stayed.

“Y/n, I want to take care of you,” Bucky breathed out, words still directed toward the floor, almost too low to make out. “I’ve been tryna get you to see that for weeks now, but you’ve either got no clue or you want absolutely nothing to do with me.”

You stopped blinking, stopped fidgeting, stopped breathing altogether. You watched as Bucky drummed his fingers against the counter and still refused to look up. You swallowed hard because you weren’t clueless, but also because you wanted everything to do with Bucky Barnes.

And nothing at the same time.

“Bucky…” you began, with a tone of surprise you weren’t sure was believable.

“Don’t do it yet,” he stopped you. “Don’t…don’t tell me no yet. I’m still pissed as hell that you got hurt and you shouldn’t be alone with a concussion. I don’t need you avoiding me when you can’t even drive a car.”

“You’re being presumptuous.”

He snapped his head up, his eyes rushing back and forth between your own. The drumming on the counter ceased, instead replaced by balled up fists turning white under days old cuts and fading bruises. He didn’t say anything. You searched the empty air for a reply.

“I wouldn’t avoid you. I don’t know if I could avoid you—not anymore. You’re sort of a big part of my life now.” A good start, you thought. Not a real answer, but not a rejection.

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek and eyed the drink still perspiring in your hand. You set it down at his observance, moving closer to his slumped posture in the kitchen.

But Bucky stood up straight at your movement, becoming guarded, stiff. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Bad timing, just forget it. You should try and get some sleep.”

“I don’t want to forget it,” you softly spoke, shaking your head.

He clenched his jaw. “And I don’t want to hear that you don’t feel the same way about me that I feel about you. Not right now. I feel like I’m going insane, watching you go out on dates and having my best friend tell me that my girl—that’s not really my girl—is all banged up on the ice because of some asshole.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Bucky kept going, now pacing in the kitchen. “I mean, y/n, you’re my everyday. I wake up and you’re making coffee. You text me in class to ask what I need at the grocery store and then I call you after practice to make sure you got back to the apartment. I think about you so god damn much and I can’t believe there was a time in my life that I didn’t get to end my day in a home that has you. And you’re just my roommate. You want nothing to do with athletes, I get it—” he added, catching your eye in the middle of his rant, “—but, shit, I haven’t even looked at another girl since… well it doesn’t even matter.”

“Tell me,” you whispered. There were a million other things you could’ve said, a million explanations that would have made sense. But the two soft words stopped Bucky from tracking holes in the ground. They shoved him from his shallow breaths and made him look at you.

And, god, did he look at you. You must have been worse for wear. A hospital visit mixed with one too many tumbles onto solid ice probably had your hair in disarray and your face pressed with exhaustion, but his gaze was revering. Candy-coated red with soft blues melting below brows that fluxed with the movement of his lips; Bucky was beautiful, and he was looking at you as if you matched.

His tone confirmed as much, light and saccharin as he said, “That dumb movie a few weeks ago, the one about the superheroes. Your friends wouldn’t watch it with you so you made me. You were so excited even though it was awful and you were out like a light within the first hour. You rolled over onto me and I wasn’t gonna wake you up so I sorta just held you.”

He paused, trailing his eyes up to the light fixtures. “At the risk of sounding pathetic, it felt like I had you, you know? Like we were going through all our usual motions, but after I annoyed the hell out of you and you told me off, you were mine. I can’t… I can’t really picture that with another girl.”

There were very few times you had considered yourself speechless. But with Bucky Barnes standing in front of you, red-faced and vulnerable and still wearing the stupid hospital nametag they made him put on in the waiting room, you had no words. There was none of the arrogance you usually associated with him, no short-temper or pestering taunts. It was just Bucky, and he was pouring his heart onto the kitchen floor. For you.

“You get why you can’t tell me no just yet?” he asked, trying to get something out of you. Anything. “You can break my heart, but let me just make sure you’re okay first. And I can’t beat the shit out of Sean if we aren’t on speaking terms.”

The laugh that left you was one of disbelief, but the breathiness and accompanying tears fit the heaviness of the room. Your glossy eyes met Bucky’s and something flashed on his face, but it was soon out of your line of sight because you were kissing him. You were kissing him hard and your bodies were too close for the cast between you but it didn’t matter.

He didn’t respond at first, hand hovering at your back. But then he did and the cold linoleum of the kitchen floor was gone from your bare feet. He sat you on the counter, so gently, as if you were glass, and you let your hand brush against the cracks and divots of your home. The one that Bucky came back to every night to see you.

The one that had housed so many nights of confusion and longing and denial.

The one that had Bucky kissing the life out of you on the kitchen counter.

He pulled away first, forehead pressed to yours. “Didn’t think I’d ever get to do that.”

“You can do it again.”

“Oh, I will, baby.”

Laughter met in the air between you—sweet, short, intertwined. There was so much you wanted to tell him, so many instances like the one he shared before where you were left questioning boundaries and feelings and lines. But, you figured, there would be so many opportunities to tell him. So much time together.

“I texted Wanda that night,” you shared, interrupting the kisses he was pressing to your cheek. “After I woke up and you had taken me back to my room.”

He smiled against your skin. “What’d you say?”

“I told her I was an idiot—that I was falling for the enemy.”

Bucky ran a soft hand along the back of your head, a smirk lighting up his face. He was slotted between your legs and kept his other hand firmly pressed onto the kitchen counter, caging you in, making sure your arm didn’t hit the cabinets.

“And is that true?”

“I don’t know,” you hummed, connecting your foreheads once again, wanting to stay impossibly close. “Try to cure my broken bone with gatorade again and we’ll see.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes angst #marvel fanfiction #college!bucky

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imaginespazzi · 25 days

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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

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

332 notes · View notes

hunnidmilly · 2 months

Text

on wat you on. z.f

fuck my nigga, he ain’t shit! boy ain’t good for nun but dick, flodgin like you wit yo niggas, pussy boy you wit that bitch.

parings: zilla fatu x black!reader

warnings: TOXIC ASS RELATIONSHIP LMAOO it’s all i’ve ever known this might hit close to home tbh. cheating, name calling, smut.

where the fuck you at? 12:24AM

let me find out you with yo hoe ass friend shakin’ yo ass and imma be on 10. 12:25AM

missed call from: Z<3

bro now you really got me fucked up. turn yo lo back on, bro. 12:27AM

yo. on my life, don’t make me come find yo stupid ass, ma. 12:29AM

(6) missed calls from: Z<3

i told yo ass i fell asleep at jey’s house yet you still wanna do the fuckin’ most and shit. but nah. you tryna listen to what janay ugly ass wanna say instead of me tho. might as well be fuckin’ her. 12:34AM

i really don’t give a fuck bout’ what you saying nigga. i’m on whatever you on. you fuckin them lame ass hoes anyways…so wassup fr? 12:36AM

ight. bet. 12:37AM

coo. 12:37AM

“girl! fuck his trifling ass fr! i’m tryna have a good time!” your friend, janay, yelled over the music in the club

“you right. i’m not even tryna get on that with him forreal. it’s whatever.” you declined zillas next call before powering your phone off completely. he wanted to take it to the next level? let’s see who finishes the game.

he kicked the shit off the night prior by not only not coming home, but going to the club all night with his cousins without telling you. to further push shit to the fam, he was on instagram live acting like he didn’t see your phone calls, or comments but replying to other thirsty ass hoes.

the last year and a half for you and zilla already had been rocky. him wanting to always be a hypocrite. he took issue with you going out and partying and dressing sexy as you wanting attention from other dudes, especially if janay was involved. yet with the rising popularity of his cousins in the WWE, all eyes were on him. the son of the late umaga currently creating a name for himself, straying away from the shadows of his family. that created a shit show as more female fans appeared.

him greeting them, smiling, creating more conversation than needed, following them on instagram, liking their tweets, giving them free tickets all kinds of shit. he stressed how it was just him trying to create his image to get his name more popping…lying ass nigga.

zilla loved the attention. especially from Aaliyah, a promoter at a local wrestling venue trying to recruit him for a match. she’d always make sure to show up in the tinest baby tee from the target toddlers section, low rise jeans showing off her tattoo near her midsection, a butterfly belly piercing, and lipgloss giving zilla ‘fuck me eyes’. he ate that shit up, too. smiling—making sure every diamond from his grill was flashing—making jokes, and laughing. you knew how important it was to zilla to join his family, but he couldn’t do that without being a friendly ass nigga?

everytime you brought it to his attention, it all started and ended the same. an argument until he fucked you into submission until tears streamed down your eyes making you forget exactly what causes the argument. you’d be cool for a few days and it’d all repeat again.

“ight yall. this next one for all my ladies in here lookin realll and i do mean reallll sexy.” the dj spoke before mixing the current song to get it sexyy by sexyy red.

the club wasn’t the place to nurse a broken heart. but having your hair, makeup, and nails done looking good? you felt better anyways. the music was a plus.

“cmon! i’m tryna dance. ill deal with that nigga tomorrow.” you tossed back your drink before grabbing janay and heading to the dance floor

you begin throwing your ass back without a care in the world. whatever it caught just happened. you knew your poster girl dress left little to the imagination, but that was neither here or there right now.

you felt hands slide across your ass bringing you towards someone’s lap. liquor taking over you backed into the dude behind you throwing your ass onto him and grinding. he got to excited as he pressed his growing erection onto your ass. while dude definitely wasn’t getting any play, you hoped someone was recording or was a friend of zilla to show him two can play the game. the dudes hands palmed over your thighs are you leaned against him letting his head fall into your neck, the strong smell of henny coming from him.

“damn baby. you tryna get fucked in the back? all this ass forreal. bet that pussy good ass fuck, too.”

“nah. i got some in the back for yo ass tho.”

your eyes went wide as the dude was snatched from behind you. you quickly spun around to see him getting punched in the face by zilla.

how the hell? who the hell, actually?

“what the fuck is wrong with you? why would you do that?” you yelled, uselessly shoving him backwards

“shut the fuck up and getcho ass in the car. yo ass got me so fucked up.” he yelled grabbing your wrist to drag you out the club

“nah! i’m good. get the fuc—“

“yo man, i ain’t know she was yo bitch. she lookin like she was ready to take some.”

zilla moved back towards the guy delivering another punch to his eye landing him back onto his ass. he grabbed your wrist back into his tight grip pulling you outside the club.

“get off me!” you snatched your arm back from him

“this the shit you doin! dancing with another motherfucka like a hoe knowing you got a man? this why ion want you with her ass! she put you up to this bullshit!” he yelled looking over your shoulder glaring at janay

“nigga fuck you. i wouldn’t have to convince her of shit if your toxic ass wasn’t a liar! what makes you think she wasn’t gone go out tonight to nurse her heart after you wanted to be with some groupies on ig live?” janay responded with just as much hatred for zilla

“mind yo fuck ass business. you deadass? i told you what i was doin! where i was!”

“the next day in the afternoon? oh so you just man of the year? fuck you.” you gloated rolling your eyes

“watch yo fuckin mouth talkin’ to me like that. i ain’t having this conversation out here with you either. get in the car.”

“what so you can go to the club with random bitches but i do it? im a hoe? i’m the problem? you’re crazy.”

“oh so you in there giving other dudes some play? like they finna line up for pussy cause you got an attitude? ight. bet.” zilla opened the passenger seat to his car eyeing you “getcho stupid ass in the fuckin car. you ain’t about to be out here tryna give some other dudes some pussy on some independent revenge shit.”

“ugh! fuck!” you grunted into the mattress as zilla plowed into you from behind

“nah, you wanna be big and bad right? take that shit like a good girl, ma.” zilla breathed out placing his foot ontop of the bed giving himself more control to pull your ass backwards, “throw that shit back, ma.”

your mind couldn’t even put 2 and 2 together from his rhythm, so his request went unanswered. his hand roughly came down on your ass cheek making you gasp, “what i say? hm? throw that ass back like you was on ole dude.” his hand came down on another slap before you began to throw it back onto him

“yeaaa, that’s right. look at that pussy. only dick she’ll ever know. had that motherfucker’ thinkin he was finna get some tonight. thought my baby was gone give him some. you was gone give him some baby?”

“ah! n-“

his hand came down on another slap making your pussy clench around him in a death grip.

“tight ass pussy. you was gone give him some of my pussy? what belongs to me?”

you couldn’t shake the feeling overpowering your anger. your pussy aching for that release, you knew your man was going to give you. each thrust had a small sting as zilla was forcing you to take all of him without allowing you to adjust for a moment. zilla not only had a big ego, but a big dick to match it. each time feeling like the first of getting fucked. zilla was a whole lot to handle and sometimes you needed a moment to take him in before he got started. but tonight was different. you ran your mouth off and he was once again, fucking you into submission and near amnesia to sweep the nights activities under the rug.

the car ride was filled with spiteful words. soon as you got home, you grabbed a duffle bag deciding you couldn’t do it anymore. you couldn’t take him wanting to be a hypocrite, an asshole, and being friendly. you were over it. calling your bluff, he yanked the duffle bag out your hand.

“you ain’t going no fucking where. sit the fuck down and take them panties off. running yo fuckin’ mouth. put that ass in the air, ma.”

“you really think, i’m about to give your bitch ass some? nah! let that other bitch get your dick wet. fuck you!”

“there is no other bitch. you think i’m letting you go over some bratty ass attitude you got? you wanted to get fucked tonight right? let me give you whatchu want. get them panties off.”

all it took was for you to raise your dress up to ur hips for zilla to see you had no panties on, for you end up in your current position. dress torn to shreds around your body, him naked, and pumping his dick into your pussy with no mercy, making you take every inch he had.

“whatchu was on tonight? wearing no panties? you like making me like this shit huh? you worried about me fuckin’ her, all i’m worried about is fuckin’ you. but you wanna be annoying and shit.” he grunted before speeding up his thrust

“shit! zilla—ssss—wai—“ you hissed out as you pushed back against his abdomen at an attempt to get him to slow down

“this wet ass pussy, nawl. you wanna be grown, showin yo ass, right? take this shit.” he pulled both your arms back into his wrist pinning them against your back. he rammed his dick into your tight space, using the advantage against you.

your sobs bouncing off the walls with the noise of your pussy squelching with every move of his hips. you couldn’t stop leaking like a faucet onto his dick. your juices connecting you to his lap as your ass rippled with each draw back. zilla gathered some of your arousal onto his thumb before pushing against your 2nd hole; it immediately clenching onto him.

“shit, baby! oh! ohhhhhh myyyy goddd.” you moaned at the feeling

your expression was priceless. teary eyes, pouty lips, and whines with the sheets coated in drool at how your pussy had a tight fit around him as he pumped. it felt too good. zilla quickly averted his attention to the ceiling with his lip in between his teeth; he was about to nut watching your pussy squeeze him. tonight was about teaching you not to fuck with him. while he crossed the line in your head, you crossed the fuck out of it in his.

“fuck, ma! i love this pussy. you was gone take her from me?” he panted speeding up “this pussy ain’t goin n’where. you ain’t going n’where.” he moaned out “takin’ me all good and shit. whining about how big it is. you can take this dick—keep that back arched f’me.”

“mmmmm.” you cried out feeling your nut rushing towards you. if he didn’t slow down soon, with his dick and his thumb, you were gonna make a mess all on him and the bed

“you wanna cum, ma? you think you earned it?” he asked removing his thumb and grabbing your hair to pull you towards him. his hand lowering towards where you both were connected and rubbed your clit in circles making your mouth open on a scream “who owns you? who this pussy belongs to?”

you tired to form a sentence in your head—anything! to please him to let you cum.

“who owns you? whose pussy is this?”

“yours.” you croak out in a small voice throwing your ass into his lap chasing his high

“nah.” zilla bends you forward again pushing at your back for your arch, “you wanna cum f’me? show me how bad. get that nut, ma.”

you placed your hands onto the bed before reversing the roles and fucking yourself with his dick. your body shuddering as you pushed yourself onto him.

“whose pussy is this? you ain’t cummin’ till you tell me.”

“mmmm fuck! yours zilla! it’s your pussy! a—i’m cumminggg ahhh.” you collapsed—temporarily loosing consciousness—to the bed as you gushed around his dick, your pussy convulsing around him mimicking your body as you thrashed on the bed babbling. zilla following behind you flooding your pussy with his cum. he let out a moan watching it spill out around the sides.

he wrapped you into a bear hug, panting deep into your ear as your bodies shuttered. he released a deep guttural moan as his dick kept twitching with spurts of his cum still shooting out.

“you ain’t going no fuckin’ where y’understand me? this pussy stayin right here and so is you,” he panted into your ear “you’re mines. no other fuckin’ dude. remember that shit. im yours. and you mines.”

“if i catch you talking to those groupie ass bitches again. imma cut all of yall. i mean that shit.”

zilla let out a chuckle as he pulled out of you. he bit his lip at the sight of your pussy pushing out whatever it couldn’t fit inside onto the sheets.

“i know, ma. i know.” he responded before heading to the bathroom.

even though you were in and out of consciousness fighting sleep, you didn’t miss him grabbing his phone out his pants pocket before.

you heard the sound of the shower running, nearly tuning his voice out, “…yea…just put her to sleep. have them panties off f’me when i get there. y’know how i want it, baby…you and janay getting all this dick t’night, aaliyah. t’care of each other fore’ i pull up. wantchall ready fa me. betta be wet too…ight…on the way.”

FA THE PLOT???? 😭. i wanted this have a cute ending but my trauma wouldn’t allow it LMAOOOOOO. 2 FICS IN ONE DAY IS CRAZYYYY

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steveslevis · 6 months

Text

‘tis the damn season

AUTUMN

chapter contents/warnings: exes to whatever the hell this is, a little bit of smut, angst, weed and alcohol use, mutual pining, steve is an idiot and is afraid of commitment </3, barely proofread (sowwy)

w/c: 5.3k

The first big frost of the season blankets the town of Hawkins when you arrive on Wednesday night, the bits of ice glittering on the orange and brown leaves making the barren streets seem less intimidating as you make your way through your hometown for the first time in months.

There’s a sense of anticipation and dread that fills your stomach while navigating the streets you know so well, knowing you’re going to be asked the same mundane questions about college in the big city a thousand times over during the next three weeks. You know that’s not the only thing filling you with dread for the weeks to come, but keep telling yourself that’s all you have to worry about — right?

The first evening you arrive in town is jam-packed, since your friends insisted on having a so-called “Friends-giving-mas” as the night that you arrived, due to your anticipated absence on the aforementioned Christmas. You spend a few hours with your mom and dad before leaving, enlisting your mom to help you make some cookies for the party, promising you’d leave her and your dad some behind.

The clock hits 7 p.m. and you’re finally finished getting ready, having just thrown on a red velvet, long sleeved dress that hit just above your knees and your best black boots, Robin had requested everyone to look their best so she could take photos with her new camera throughout the party. You grabbed your secret santa gift and jacket, checking yourself in the mirror one last time before leaving your room.

“Alright, I’m leaving.” you call out as you bound down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Don’t forget your cookies, sweetheart! They’re on the table.” she replied from her place next to your dad on the couch, watching some rom-com while he was dozing beside her, “if you need us to come pick you up, we will.”

You let out a laugh at her remark, knowing that you were only walking to the next house over on the road, so picking you up would be ridiculous.

“Oh, I think I’ll manage just fine.” you joke in return while grabbing the plate of cookies, “love you guys!”

—————————

The outside of the Harrington’s house is gleefully lit with warm string lights, wreaths already adorning the front windows and main door to the house in anticipation of Christmas in a few weeks. You always admired the way their house looked during the holidays, but knew it was only a cheery facade to hide the dysfunction that lay within the halls of the residence.

You knew the family all too well, having grown up next to Steve your entire life. You were the same age as him, grew up attending all the same parties as him, but ran in completely different circles than him — well, up until your senior year of high school at least.

Long story short, being best friends with Robin led to you ultimately becoming so-called friends with Steve Harrington as well. The two of you had what you now called a stupid summer fling before you left for Chicago in August, but the rest was history. The two of you had agreed to stay civil and not let the remnants of any unresolved feelings come between your friendship and the rest of the friend group.

So here you were, knocking on Steve Harrington’s front door on a random Wednesday in late November, cookies in hand as you stood there, shivering. You faintly hear Robin say that she would get the door, then hear footsteps pad towards the entrance.

You’re greeted by your best friend with the strongest hug you swear you’ve ever experienced, and you feel like you might not ever be let go if she has anything to say about it.

“Oh my god! I missed you so much.” Robin exclaims, the widest grin on her face as she grabs for your hand, “everyone’s in here, we’re just waiting on Nance and Jonathan then we’ll be ready to eat but come in! I have so much to tell you about everything you don’t even know—”

You follow behind her wordlessly, smiling to yourself as she rambles on about college applications and band and Vickie — who just so happened to be in the kitchen helping finish making the mashed potatoes so you had to be quiet — and everything that she can think to fit in a conversation to catch her best friend up on after months without. She leads you to the dining room after dropping off the cookies, where you hear two familiar voices having a very passionate conversation.

“I’m telling you, man, I’m cursed—“

“You’re not cursed, Harrington. I’m telling you, you’re just looking in the wrong place for love.” Eddie retorts to his frustrated friend, rolling his eyes at him.

“Oh yeah? And where should I be looking?” Steve snorts, haphazardly tossing forks, knives and spoons atop the napkin at each seat of the table.

“I’ve been saying ever since what happened this summer, you should be going after — oh shit, Y/N!” Eddie interjects, cutting himself off when you trail in behind Robin.

The metalhead pulls you in for a bear hug, whispering in your ear about how he promises not to ask you boring questions about college like everyone else. As you’re being engulfed in his embrace, you hear the sound of silverware tumbling to the ground from the other side of the table, followed by a string of mumbled curse words from the dropper.

You pull away from Eddie’s hug to look at where the noise is coming from, only to see Steve fumbling with a fork and spoon while trying to stand up from where he was just kneeling. Your gaze lingers on him for a moment too long, taking in everything about him that you told yourself you didn’t miss. Eddie gives you a knowing look and you roll your eyes, knowing that he’s trying to tell you to not make things weird, so you try your best.

“Stevie, how are you?” you call to him while walking around the table, putting on the best oblivious and excited face that you can.

“H-Hey, Y/N.” Steve says, feigning coolness as he pulls you in for a quick hug, nearly stumbling over his words when you use the nickname you always loved to tease him with, “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

His eyes flicker over to Robin momentarily, who shoots him a guilty grin before mouthing ‘sorry’ over your shoulder.

“Yeah, it was kinda last minute on my part, I just so happened to be coming home tonight since my finals were all at the beginning of the week. I kinda forced Rob to tell me when it would be so I could crash it,” you lie, trying to throw the blame on yourself instead of her, “sorry if I messed anything up, I-I’ll lay low and won’t eat if that messes up numbers or something—“

“No!” Steve rushes to retort, shaking his head at you adamantly, “I mean, shit—sorry. No, you’re not messing anything up at all, you know you’re always welcome here.”

The smile on Steve’s face is genuine as he speaks, but there’s a glint of sadness in his eyes while he scans yours for any sign of hesitancy. You give him a small smile in return, quickly moving your gaze from his to push down that sinking feeling in your chest you know is coming. Your chest aches as you focus your eyes downward, realizing that this night would be a lot harder than you had convinced yourself that it would be.

“Well!” Robin interjects, interrupting the growing awkward silence filling the air of the dining room where you stood. She reached for your hand while smiling over at you sympathetically, beginning to drag you towards the kitchen as she spoke, “gotta go say hello to everyone else before dinner!”

Your best friend whirled you around to the rest of the guests–which was just Nancy, Jonathan, and Vickie–who were all in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the meal.

A slew of awkward questions about Chicago ensued in the moments leading up to and during dinner, but you took them in stride as they distracted you from the bright eyed boy across the table who kept sneaking glances in your direction any chance he got. You explained your major, what you did for work outside of class time, and talked about all the new friends you met in the short few months you’d been gone. You could’ve sworn Steve’s jaw clenched at the mention of a date you went on prior to leaving for break, but you didn’t put too much thought into it.

Dinner goes by fairly quickly, and then it’s time for Secret Santa gifts in the living room. Robin begged everyone to participate, and even went through the effort of making sure you and Steve didn’t get each other, partly to not ruin the surprise of you being here and partly to diminish any awkwardness that might arise from it.

You had drawn Jonathan’s name, so you gifted him a few rolls of different camera film. Each person had to guess who their Secret Santa was, but apparently your gift was pretty obvious since he hadn’t been able to find any film like it anywhere near Hawkins, so he guessed you first.

Your turn rolled around and a small red gift bag was sat in your lap. You immediately knew who your gift was from, halfway from the grin plastered on his face and halfway from the smell lingering from inside the back in your hands.

“Thank you, Eddie.” you giggle out while pulling out four perfectly rolled blunts from the gift bag, courtesy of the best dealer in Hawkins.

“It’s always a pleasure,” he jabs back, “we can fire one up after presents if you’d like.”

You nod quickly at him, grinning widely before turning back to the circle where Robin was handing out gifts.

—————————

It’s not long before drinks are flowing and laughter is spilling through the Harrington residence, something that’s happened very few times within those halls. The night seems to go by too quickly, you notice how quickly when you check and it says 11 P.M. already, even though it feels like you’ve only been there a few hours. You’re sitting on the couch with Robin and Vickie, giggling their way through a story about some guy in the Hawkins band, when the sight of the back door sliding open and closed catches your eye.

You turn your gaze to see Steve stalking into the cold on his own, head turned down as he walks towards one of the ice-slicked pool chairs on the deck. A frown passes over your face as you furrow your brows, excusing yourself from the couple on the couch as you slip outside to follow him with your bottle of wine, one of your newly gifted blunts and a lighter in hand.

It’s the last thing you should be doing tonight, really. You shouldn’t be following Steve Harrington – the man who was too afraid to say he loved you and too afraid to commit to you – onto the porch. You should’ve stayed inside and drank some more wine with the rest of them and let yourself cut loose for once, but you just couldn’t do it. You just had to talk to him – you weren’t so sure what you wanted to talk about, but you just felt the need to.

“You alright?” was all you could slip out as you closed the sliding glass door, watching the brown haired boy from afar, making sure you weren’t making the wrong decision.

“Yeah–Yeah, just needed a little bit of fresh air.” Steve stammered, eyes widening for only a moment when he notices that it’s you that followed him outside.

You only hum in response, stepping closer to him as you sense no annoyance or anger in his voice, finding a spot on the chilled pool chair next to his. After setting down the bottle of wine you’d been nursing throughout the night, you took the blunt you’d brought as a peace offering between your fingers and waved it in front of his face.

Steve looked up for a moment, gaze shifting between the blunt between your fingers and your lips that curled up into a mischievous yet friendly smirk. His own lips perked up in a lopsided smile, raising an eyebrow at you when you brought the blunt to your lips, followed by the lighter.

“Would you like to partake?” you joke while puffing smoke through your lips, mixing with the cold puffs of breath coming from Steve’s.

“I’ll never say no to that,” he retorts, reaching to grab the blunt from your fingers.

There’s a breath of comfortable silence between the two of you as he inhales, then lets out a long exhale before focusing his gaze back onto the pool in front of him, onto the ice forming on the pool cover as a way to avoid your eyes.

“So, how’s the Stevie Harrington been faring since I’ve been gone?” you joked after a moment more of the quiet, shoving any nerves down that were threatening to force you to run back inside.

Awful, utterly dull and extremely depressing, was what Steve wanted to say.

He wanted to tell you how he fucked up so badly, how he hasn’t been the same since the last time he saw you, how he hasn’t even been able to look at anyone without thinking of you. He wanted to grab you by the cheeks and pull you in for a kiss and never let go. He wanted to scream and tell you how much he regretted ever letting you leave without knowing how he really felt, but he couldn’t now. It was too late, so he just said; “Oh, y’know. I’ve been fine. Just the same shit, different day.”

Steve wanted to kick himself for saying something so lame, something so uninteresting when the most interesting person in the world was sitting right in front of him.

“Does ‘same shit, different day’ just mean you’re stuck being the same old chauffeur-babysitter you’ve been for the last two years?” you tease, reaching down to grab the bottle of wine at your feet.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Steve chuckled, giving you a warm smile as he took another puff.

It only took a few moments to finally break the ice between the two of you, then things fell right back into place, right back into a comfortable normalcy. There was something that put you so at ease being outside with him, being able to talk to him without the looming thought of who would be the first to say “I love you” or who would be the first to leave waving over both of your heads.

The next hour went by in a breeze, and it seemed the party inside died down by the time the two of you decided to walk back in. Steve closed the sliding glass door behind you two and you noticed only Eddie and Robin were left standing in the living room. Vickie was presumably in the guest bed, where Robin was about to head to. Jonathan and Nancy had left twenty minutes prior, only popping their heads out to say a quick goodbye before driving off.

Robin said a quick goodnight to you before heading up the stairs, along with a promise to see you tomorrow for a girl’s day. Then, it was just you, Eddie and Steve in the living room, Eddie at the couch setting up his bed for the night while the two of you stood in silence by the sliding glass door still.

“I–I guess I should probably head home for the night,” you say, breaking the silence between the three of you as you start towards your bag and coat on the other side of the room.

“Why don’t you just stay?” Steve interjects a little too loudly, the weed and wine in his system instilling some false confidence in him. “It’s so cold out and I’m sure at this point your parents already think you’re staying anyways.”

You stop on your toes at Steve’s voice, cheeks heating at how interested he sounded in you staying there for the night. It’s not like it was a far and dangerous walk, Steve just wanted an excuse to be around you for longer. You turn around to look at him, then to Eddie, who was giving you a tired smile.

“We can have a sleepover on the couch,” Eddie chuckles, reaching for one of the pillows he was setting out for himself to move it to the other side of the couch for you.

“I don’t have any clothes,” you suggest, looking down at your velvet dress that would be extremely uncomfortable to sleep in.

“Oh, I’m sure Stevie has some clothes that you can sleep in!” Eddie says, shooting a smirk in his direction.

“O–Of course I do, I’m sure I still have your favorite pajama pants up there if you want them.” Steve says hurriedly, as if you would change your mind if he didn’t answer quickly enough.

You give the two of them a smile, pretending to contemplate the decision for a moment before nodding. You could’ve sworn you heard Steve let out a breath of relief at your nod, but he turned towards the stairs before you could acknowledge it. Without a word, you follow right behind him up the stairs, slowly realizing the effects of the cherry wine and weed are coming to the surface.

Steve steps into his bedroom and you follow behind him, a situation the two of you knew all too well.

—————————

You don’t know what led to this, but there you were, in Steve’s bedroom, him towering over your space on his bed as he pulled you in for a heated kiss. Tongue against teeth, hands against cheeks, legs tangled together, just like they were meant to be.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, you swore to yourself you wouldn’t come crawling back every time you were in town, but here you were.

Somehow coming upstairs for a stupid pair of pajamas led to Steve giving you that look of lust and utter desire, led to you becoming a willing participant in his games once again after swearing you would never touch him again, led to you letting him sneak his way into your heart – and pants – yet again.

Your head is spinning as he kisses you, his lips slotted into yours like they belonged there, a perfect fit. You’re unsure if it’s the wine, the weed or the sheer yearning that’s making you feel like this, but you don’t want it to stop any time soon.

There’s a gnawing feeling in your stomach when Steve props his knee up on the bed next to your hip, you know you should stop before he gets any further, but the ache between your thighs is outweighing any thought of what would come after he spreads you open.

Steve groans into your mouth when you pull him closer, fingers intertwining with and tugging the hair at the nape of his neck, and you only smirked against his lips in satisfaction. You knew everything about the boy who was turning to a puddle just from the touch of your fingers. You knew exactly how to make him tick, and him the same for you.

“Fuck,” Steve breathes when he finally pulls away from you, full lips parted as he stares down at you. There’s a twinkle in his eye that you haven’t seen in so long, one you used to mistake for love but now only know to be pure lust. “I–I’m sorry I just, I need–I need you.”

You stare at the desperate, doe-eyed man in front of you for a long moment, mind wandering to a place of fear as you think about what you’re about to do.

Instead of saying anything in reply, you close the space between the two of you once again, smashing your lips into his in a feverish and bruising kiss. Steve is on you in an instant, gently pushing you back and up on the bed, letting your head fall on his pillows. You can tell by the way he stumbles on his way up to you that he’s intoxicated — on the weed or the wine, or you, you’re not sure — but you soon realize that you are too.

A hand wanders toward the hem of Steve’s sweater, tugging at it quickly as he pulls away from the bruising kiss. He wastes no time in pulling the cable-knit up and over his head, tossing it to the side while sitting up on his knees to take you the sight of you in. Your skin was hot and your eyes were blown with lust, cheeks flushed and lips parted as you stared up at him.

You’d only been under him for a minute and had completely folded to his touch. You cursed yourself for letting your inhibitions crumble so quickly, but another part of you didn’t actually care, the same part of you that wanted to claim him as yours forever.

Steve’s eyes trailed over you, from your cheeks to the low neckline of your dress, over the curve of your hips, ending on your thighs spread on either side of his knees. The crushed velvet of your skirt bunched where your leg met your hip, letting the fabric ride up enough for Steve to see exactly what he was searching for.

He sucked in a breath at the sight of your white lace underwear beneath, having to hold himself back from diving in right that second.

“You’re so beautiful,” he groaned, hands tracing over your hip bones while lowering his lips to yours once again.

A moan falls from your lips as his meet yours, his knee coming up between your thighs, creating friction against your core.

“Fuck—Stevie,” you say, choking back a pitiful whine while grinding against his thigh desperately, “please, I need you.”

You swear you hear Steve nearly choke at your words, three words he’d been dying to hear from you for months.

“I know, I know, baby.” he coos at you, trying to keep his cool as he strains against his pants, “I’ll take care of you.”

You nod feverishly as he leans down to pepper kisses along your neck, taking his sweet time while trying not to get drunk off the scent of you.

“This—This doesn’t mean anyth—this doesn’t change anything,” he stammers between kisses, peering up at you as he speaks, “we can still stay close—keep being friends after this.”

You hum in agreement, ignoring the dread building in your gut as you do. You want to be more than friends, you want to scream at him until he admits that he loves you too. But he nearly said it doesn’t mean anything, so you’re convinced he wants nothing to do with you after tonight, nothing but a friend to laugh with and a pretty face to fuck on every break from college.

You push the thoughts from your mind, focusing on the boy in front of you as his hands begin to massage your inner thighs, inching closer and closer to your core with every circle. Steve chuckles lowly as you let out a whine of anticipation, teasing you silently as he gives in to your desires.

Steve knows your body like he knows his own, so what comes after pulling off your dress is nearly second nature to him. One large hand trails to the waistband of your underwear while the other reaches for your breast, nipple peaked from the exposure to the cold air conditioning. You moan in surprise when he wastes no time in putting his mouth to work on your other nipple, tugging your underwear down your legs simultaneously.

His fingers immediately fall to your core once you’re free of the underwear, fingertips circling the bundle of nerves at the top as you let out another whimper.

His moves are careful but quick, he knows you want to waste no more time, and you’ll whine about his teasing if he doesn’t act soon.

He’s out of his boxers in an instant, one hand keeping contact with your clit as he situates himself above you.

“You look so good like this, sweetheart.” Steve says, voice low as his eyes raked over your body, “so pretty spread out for me, all fucked out for me even though I’ve barely touched you.”

“Stevie…” you whimper, reaching a hand up to him, but he pulls from your reach with a smirk across his face.

“Tell me what you want from me,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek as he lines himself up with your slick, teasing the tip against you slowly.

“I—I need you, Steve.” you beg, cheeks flushing at the admittance, “I need you to fuck me, please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” he retorts with a smirk, sliding into you with ease.

You both let out a low moan as he bottoms out, filling you in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. You forgot how thick he was in the time you’d been gone, your body wasn’t used to the stretch of his cock inside you, but it still felt like he was meant to be there. Like he was the only one who could make you feel this way.

And you were right, nobody could make you feel that way. Nobody else could touch you and make you fall apart in less than five minutes like he could. Nobody else could get you so riled up over a few praises thrown in with some condescension (which you embarrassingly loved too much) like he could. Nobody could hold off from cumming long enough to give you three orgasms before getting one of their own like he could.

Nobody did it like he could.

This doesn’t mean anything you repeat in your mind, clinging to his arm like your life depended on it after the two of you calmed your breathing and cleaned up. You weren’t sure if you were repeating those words to convince yourself or to ease your own mind about what just went down, but you knew they stung your heart more than any fighting words the two of you had ever exchanged.

“I missed this, cuddling with you, holdin’ you like this.” was all he slurred out against your hair, pressing a sleepy kiss into the crown of your head.

“Yeah, me too.” you mumble in return, accepting the warmth of his embrace as sleep finally took you in, ignoring the gnawing pain growing in your chest.

—————————

The spice of Steve’s cologne mixes with the familiar scent of his room, filling your senses when you wake, nearly sending you into a panic. You sit upright in the bed, turning to face the boy you claimed you wanted nothing to do with romantically just a few hours ago. Steve is sleeping peacefully next to you, plush lips parted and brows furrowed as he subconsciously pouts about the loss of your touch. The alarm clock behind him read 2:03 A.M., meaning you hadn’t been out for too long, but long enough to sober you up somehow.

Shit. Shit. Shit. I gotta get out of here. Is all you can think as you stumble out from under the comforter, knowing you would never live it down if anyone found you’d slept in his bed, especially with your limbs entangled like they just were. You quickly dress in the clothes you’d originally come into the bedroom to fetch, and snuck out of the bedroom without a sound.

Before making it to the living room, you turned toward the dimly lit kitchen for a glass of water. What you weren’t expecting to be faced with in the kitchen was Eddie, but there he was, leaning against the counter with disheveled hair that probably mirrored your own.

“What a night so far, huh?” he jokes as you shoot him a knowing glare while trudging across the tiled floor.

“Don’t even start with me, Munson.” you warn, absentmindedly reaching your hand up to the cabinet for a glass while shaking your head.

“Woah, don’t get that attitude with me! I didn’t say anything,” he laughs, setting his own glass into the sink, “but that also doesn’t mean I didn’t hear anything.”

“You did not,” you snap back, eyes wide and cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he gives you a shit-eating grin, “there’s no way you heard anything because nothing happened.”

“You’ve always been such a bad liar, Y/N.” Eddie laughs, stepping out of the kitchen to walk towards the living room where the two of you would be sleeping.

A sigh escapes your lips when Eddie leaves, letting you be alone with your thoughts finally. There was an ache in your chest that wasn’t going away any time soon, and it was in that moment that you wondered if you would ever be able to get over Steve Harrington, or if you would be in a continuous cycle of hurt and comfort for the rest of your damned life.

You collected your thoughts as you downed a glass of water, throwing back two ibuprofens with the last chug for good measure, before finding your way back to the living room. Eddie was on his side on the long side of the L-shaped couch, leaving the shorter side for you to sleep on. His eyes were closed as you laid down with your feet next to his own, but you knew he wasn’t asleep yet.

“I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” you heard through the darkness after turning off the table lamp once you were settled.

“I know.” you sigh in return, staring up at the ceiling that was only lit by the streetlights flowing in from outside. “I just don’t want to live like this forever, I–I can’t keep being the secret that Steve is too embarrassed to talk about.”

“He’s not embarrassed of you,” Eddie said, voice barely above a whisper, just loud enough for you to hear, “he’s just afraid of fucking everything up even more than he already has.”

If only he could say that to my face, then maybe I’d believe it, you thought to yourself, chest tightening at just the thought of the brown-eyed boy who was fast asleep upstairs.

You don’t reply to Eddie, unsure of what to say back, unsure of what you could squeak out without breaking down.

“Goodnight, Eds,” is all you say in return, though you know you won’t be getting any sleep.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

—————————

After falling asleep for all of fifty minutes around 5 in the morning, you decided you had to leave.

The entirety of the almost four hours you laid on Steve’s couch consisted of staring at the ceiling and fighting off tears while thinking about how you regretted everything you said and did over the last twelve hours.

Coming to the Harrington house was a mistake, even stepping foot back in Hawkins was feeling like a mistake at this point.

The only words repeating in your mind were This doesn’t mean anything. This doesn’t mean anything. This doesn’t mean anything.

You eventually had enough of the self-loathing and inability to sleep, so it was time to go. It was time to hastily change out of the pajamas that smelled too much like the boy you loved too hard, and time to go collapse in your own bed. There was no telling if you’d actually fall asleep once you made it there, but that was beside the point.

It was when you finally made it back to your parent’s house, to your childhood bedroom, that you swore that you wouldn’t see Steve Harrington again for the rest of Thanksgiving break, and hopefully would avoid seeing him again for a long while, for the sake of saving yourself from another heartbreak.

---------

tags: @carinacassiopeiae

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stevis writes #ttds*

530 notes · View notes

stvolanis · 8 months

Note

i loveeeeee ur writing ah!!!!! just read ur most recent farleigh one and i was foaming at the mouth <3 idk if ur reqs are open but i cant stop thinking about being in a situationship with farleigh and finally getting sick of it, u break up with him and hes like ‘?? whatever’ thinking that u will come back but when u dont after a few days/weeks he starts lowkey panicking and basically begging u to take him back… just need him crying begging and being pathetic <3 rlly making him beg for it and purposely making him jealous with other guys just to make him suffer :p then when u finally decide to forgive him he fucks u crazy good and RAW 💕

Thank you so much! Also, sorry if this isn’t like EXACTLY what you wanted D:

Love & War

PAIRINGS: Farleigh Start! X Fem! Reader

WARNINGS: foul language, situationship, toxic! Farleigh, mentions of drugs & alcohol, angst, possessiveness, jealousy, crying

NSFW WARNINGS: Switch! Farleigh, Switch! Reader, choking, spitting, tummy bulge, face sitting, breath play, slight size kink, slapping, degradation, praise, dumbification

˚ ꒰�� ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

Farleigh Start was a cunning, asshole of a man. You’d know, because you’ve been in love with him since you’re late highschool days.

Well—you didn’t know him personally till you both started attending Oxford. You admired him from a distance, as did many other people. You were never popular enough to bask in his limelight. You only ever dreamed of being with someone as amazing as him.

You thought Farleigh had no idea who you were, and truth be told, he didn’t. But he knew of you. He seen you everywhere, always somehow where he was. You were pretty, probably the most prettiest girl he’d ever seen; you were just so quiet. He knew that the people he hung around would eat you alive. You wouldn’t survive in his world.

So, he never dragged you into it. He watched you from afar for years, both of you unknowingly having feelings for each other. Deep down inside, Farleigh knew his friends weren’t the only reason he couldn’t be with you. He, himself had many issues of his own. One of the worst ones being his fear of rejection, and the second runner up; his pride. Always held so high, never coming down for anyone. It would get him hurt one day, but he’d have to realize that on his own.

When you began attending Oxford, you became friends with Oliver, who had become friends with Felix. He was your ticket into the “in crowd”, as you liked to call it.

You attended parties, stuck around for drinks and quickly grew popularity of your own. This didn’t go unnoticed by Farleigh, who you finally, after years of silence, began to talk to.

It was everything you imagined. He was nice, funny, a bit of a bitch in just the right way. Even when you were in a group of people, your eyes somehow always found his. The two of you would sneak away together, talk about nothing aimlessly for hours on end. Counting stars as you rambled about your favorite constellation.

At night, you’d meet at the bridge, sit on the edge in complete silence just to be in each others presence. Your hands would meet, and electricity sparked through your body. He made you feel like you were walking on clouds, and there was never a dim day when you were with him.

He was charismatic, confident, charming—everything you wanted to be. You were complete opposites of each other, but in just the right way to balance each other out. He noted every little thing about you, so much so that he began to do some of the things you did.

He’d use the dorky slang you used subconsciously when talking to other people, or start playing with the pretty rings on his finger like you told him you did when you got nervous. He listened to the music you recommend him, and connected the dots as to why you liked those songs. It all made sense, they explained you perfectly.

Everything was going great, till it wasn’t.

You didn’t know how it happened, or why, or maybe even what you could’ve done that changed him—but suddenly, he started acting different around you. The time you spent together was shortening and as were his touched and glances.

And the worst part about it? You weren’t in a relationship. You never where, but everyone just kinda knew that you were Farleighs’, and Farleigh was yours. No one ever questioned it, not even you, till now.

As you sat across Farleigh at the pub, playing with the flimsy black straw in your cocktail. You were so tired of him and his hot and cold actions and words. First moment he wanted you, and the next, he acts like he doesn’t even know you. It hurts, and you were sick of it.

Farleigh was talking to Felix about their home in Saltburn and stupid stories of how they used to throw these ‘amazingly grand’ parties during the summer and breaks they had. You huffed, standing up before harshly pushing in your chair. Why did you have to sit here and deal with this fuckary if you didn’t have to? You deserved better than the half-assed shit he was barely even offering.

As you walked away from the table full of people, a certain pair of eyes followed you, but you’d rather have died than look back. You heard footsteps follow hastily behind you as you exited the pub, the cold air welcoming you as you shivered.

“What’s your problem?” He shouted from behind you. You laughed dryly, spinning around to face him on your heel. “Oh you must be fucking kidding.” You laughed out. “My problem? No, what the fuck is your problem?” You yelled back at him.

“You’re the one who stormed off like a damn toddler! So enlighten me.” He fired back at you with furrowed brows. You felt your eyes water. God, you didn’t want to cry in front of him, but it hurt so badly. “Farleigh…why are you being like this?” You muttered.

He groaned as he ran a hand down is face. “Jesus, what are you on about?” He yelled out. “You keep leading me on!! I don’t understand it. You want me one second and the next you don’t!” You yelled back, pausing for a moment.

“You act like you love me and leave me the next second and it hurts, Farleigh. You hurt me!” You sobbed out, wiping your tears from your cheeks with your sleeve. He was taken aback for a moment, his mouth opening and closing. Almost as it he was at a loss for words. “That’s not—no, I didn’t—“ he started, but you cut him off as he reached to grab you.

“No. We’re done. Whatever we had is done. It’s over.” You said as you back away from him. Something inside of him snapped, and you could see it in the way his jaw clenched and eyes hardened. “Fine. Go on then. See if I give a fuck.” He chuckled out, shrugging his shoulders.

You couldn’t believe him. You couldn’t believe the words that were coming out his mouth. After everything you’ve said and done together, he has the audacity to act like he’s the superior one in this situation? It was the icing on the cake for you.

Tears ran down your face, and as they hit the ground, Farleigh felt his heart clench. Never did he wanna hurt you, but it’s what he had to do, or so he thought. He was gonna have to leave to go back to Saltburn with Felix in a month, and he couldn’t bring himself to take you.

Yes, he had fun times at Saltburn—but his family was crazy, rich, narcissistic assholes and he didn’t want you around them. More over, he didn’t want someone like Venetia to corrupt you in that way. He didn’t want you to become like her.

He knew he was being a dick, distancing himself from you. And he planned to keep it that way, but god, you made it nearly impossible to stay away. You were so inviting, how could he not succumb to his urges when it comes to you? He knew better, but he felt on top of the world when he was with you and he didn’t wanna let that go.

Watching you walk away from him right now made tears form in his own eyes, but all he could do is watch as you slipped further and further away from him. And he knew it was all his fault. All because he couldn’t communicate to you what the problem with himself was. He felt like such a coward, but he refused to hurt you more than he already had.

It had only been two weeks since you and Farleigh fell off. It was hard for you, and it was the hardest thing you’d ever done, but it was needed. You knew that.

When you stopped talking to him, you continued being friends with Felix and Oliver, but it was a nuisance. You were trying your hardest to forget about the tall, curly haired man and move on with your life, but they nearly made it impossible.

When you would all hang out, other friends included, Farleigh would show up and say act as if nothing had ever happened between the two of you. Felix and Oliver weren’t dumb, Farleigh was the one who came crying to them about what had happened. They seen right through Farleighs facade, acting as if he’s okay.

They were doing this kind of stuff on purpose, casually. Asking you about Farleigh, or bringing him up in conversation. They wanted you to give Farleigh another shot, but you gave him one too many chances to redeem himself, and you weren’t having it.

Felix invited you to one of his little frat parties, and I say little very lightly, because everyone knows the entire campus attends his parties.

You had no interest, but Oliver had insisted on you coming. Making it his mission to drag you out of the comfort of your bed. “You need this.” He insisted as he dug through your clothes. He pulled out an ed-hardy, strapless dress and some red platformed boots. “Oh this is fuckin�� perfect, love.” He smiled as he held it up to you.

“I dunno, Ollie. I don’t think I should go..” you muttered as you sat down on the edge of your bed, bringing your knees to your chest. Oliver sighed. “Cmon, just let loose tonight. You’ve been moping around for like ever!” He huffed out, yet a smile returning to his face as he held up some jewelry. “These’ll go good with it.” He urged.

You groaned and got up, snatching the clothes and jewelry out of his hands. “Out.” You grumbled. Oliver clapped his hands excitedly as he stepped out so you could get dressed.

The ed-hardy dress he chose for you hugged your curves in all the right places, your tits pushed together with the small padding built into the dress. You let Oliver back in and his jaw dropped. “You look fucking edible! Maybe you’ll get laid tonight.” He said, bumping your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes, yet a smile danced on your lips. Oliver always knew how to make the best out of a bad situation, and you loved him for that. “Let’s go before I change my mind.” You laughed, he nodded his head.

When you arrived to the party, the lights were flashing different colors. Red, blue, green, etc. it reflected off of Felixs’ shirt as he approached you, Farleigh following next to him. You clicked your tongue and looked around for an exit.

A boy caught your eye. You’d seen him around the campus, he was friends with Felix a while ago but Farleigh didn’t like him, which ended with Felix ending their friendship. Nathan, was his name, you thought as you approached him.

His eyes trailed up and down your body, stopping at your breasts that were spilling out of the thin top part of your dress. “Hey.” You purred, batting your lashes up at him. He smiled. He was handsome, you had to admit—but no where near as handsome as Farleigh.

You shook your head from the thought, directing your attention back to the mediocre boy in front of you. “Hey, baby.” He whistled out. You giggled, obviously fake, but he couldn’t tell; most likely strung out on cocaine and alcohol.

His hands snaked around your waist and he pulled you to him. He was disgustingly sweaty and reeked of cheap cologne, almost as if he poured the whole bottle on himself. Sickeningly too strong, making you gag. You forced yourself to ignore it, instead focusing on the way his hands cupped your ass in your dress.

You turned around, your back pressed to his front, only to be met with Farleighs eyes from across the body-filled room. He was staring at you, then down to the hands around your waist, and his jaw clenched. Anger, betrayal and hurt was all Farleigh felt as he watched some stranger feel you up.

But he couldn’t do anything about it. He brought this upon himself, and he knew that. But he also knew he’d do anything for your forgiveness, so he marched his way over to where you stood. You knew you should have ran away, but you didn’t.

You let him rip you away from the stranger holding you. You let him drag you all the way back to your dorm silently, a painfully tight grip on your upper arm the whole way there. You knew this was wrong, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care anymore.

Once you reached your dorm, he slammed you against the door that was now shut. “What the fuck was that, hm?” He muttered. But something was different. His voice, still hard, wavered and you noticed tears in his eyes threatening to spill over. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You muttered.

All the sudden, he broke down. The tall boy, usually filled with confidence and pride fell to his knees before you with a small, barely noticeable sob. You stood there, unknowing of what to do, or what to say. This was new territory for you.

“M’sorry, baby. Please—“ he said through his tears. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry. Know I was I piece of shit, I’m sorry.” He repeated the words you longed to hear over and over again. “I’m sorry.” He said. Those two words weren’t ever said enough from him, and you basked in every moment he said it. It made you feel a sense of power over him.

You turned his arrogant, cocky ass into a whiney little boy begging for your forgiveness at your feet and, nasty enough, you fucking loved it. You loved that only you were able to bring him to his knees like this.

“Oh, You’re sorry? Hm?” You cooed down at him, running your fingers through his curly hair. He sniffled as he looked up at you, his pretty lashes wet with tears. “So fuckin’ sorry. Promise I’ll be better.” He muttered out, hugging your stomach.

“Prove it.” You told him. He rubbed his eyes with one of his hands as he looked up at you again. “What?” He muttered. You smiled. “Get on the bed.” was all you said.

He nodded before climbing onto the bed, laying on his back. “What—“ he started, but you didn’t let him finish. “Eat my pussy good, make me cum with your mouth and then I’ll forgive you.” You said. He sat up on his elbows and watched you undress through hooded eyes, till you were wearing absolutely nothing.

Your nipples grew hard under the cold air, and the wetness between your thighs he could see from where he lied on your bed; it glistened in the dim light of your bedroom. Your lips were glossy and plump as your tongue glided over them, and he felt his cock harden in his pants.

You climbed on top of him, hovering your pussy over his face. His mouth watered at the sight, and he gripped his cock through his pants. Your lowered yourself onto him till your full weight rested on his face.

He began lapping at your cunt with everything he had. Licking and slurping at your juices that ran down his chin. You tasted like heaven on his tongue, and he couldn’t get enough. You were the drug in him, and he was going fucking wild.

He was a starved man, and it had been too long since he had you like this. He whined when you lifted off of his face, pushing his head back down when he tries to extend his neck to connect his mouth to your pussy again desperately.

You click your tongue. “So desperate, hm?” You mocked with a laugh. Farleigh played nice long enough, you were holding up his meal, and he didn’t like it. “M’not fuckin done.” He growled out. You let out a gasp as his arms wrapped around your thighs, slamming you back down onto his mouth.

You moaned out as his tongue swirled around your bundle of nerves. “Farleigh!” You yelped. He groaned into your messy cunt, sending vibrations through it that had your head falling back. “Perfect little cunt.” He said, Voice muffled by your pussy.

His laps at your cunt more erratic as your moans became more high pitched, signaling that you were on the verge of your orgasm. Your hips moved against his face, your hands entangling themselves in his hair as you glided your cunt across his tongue.

“M’gonna cum, oh my god—“ you moaned out as you squeezed your breast. Farleigh moaned. “Cum on my fuckin’ tongue. Good girl” He grumbled against you as you felt a wave of pleasure roll off of you. The little pinch in your stomach finally releasing into that delicious orgasm you were so desperately chasing.

Farleigh was drowning in your juices, slurping and licking, taking everything you had to offer. He let you ride out your orgasm, your little clit bumping his nose in just the right way, your moans growing lower as you came down from your high breathlessly.

“M not done with you. Actin like a fuckin slut, letting that motherfucker touch you.” He said through clenched teeth as flipped you around onto your back, hoisting your legs over his shoulders.

He lined his cock to your entrance, clenching around nothing. He smeared his pre-cum around your folds before slowly, almost teasingly, sinking into you. You felt him fill you so full of him, almost painfully. The sting was so agonizingly good, and you wanted more.

When he bottomed out in you, his bottom lip was between his teeth, biting down so hard he nearly drew blood. You yelped when he lifted his hips before harshly slamming himself back into you, over and over again.

His pace began to pick up, his balls slapping against the flesh of your ass loudly. You gripped around him firmly, so much so that he could barely pull out of you. It made him wince, but he wanted this more than anything. He’s been craving this since you left him; he jacked himself off at night to the thought of being in your warmth.

His hand found it’s way to your throat, gripping tightly. “Take this cock, baby. Know this slutty pussy can take it.” He muttered as pried your mouth open with his thumb. He spit into your mouth, lightly slapping the side of your face, signaling for you to swallow, to which you did.

You felt so small beneath him as he pounded relentlessly into you, the grip on your throat never wavering. His groans were like music to your ear, and the sudden flip in him turned you on to no extent. It was fucking perfect how he could be so needy in two different ways. First, begging for anything you’ll give him, and the next, taking what he wanted from you desperately.

“You with me, honey?” He moaned out against your ear. You mumbled incoherently, your words slurring together. You couldn’t focus enough to form a sentence with the way he was fucking you, your mind going blank. “Fucked you dumb. My stupid little whore.” He mocked as his hips stuttered against yours.

You knew he was close by the way he throbbed and swelled inside you, squeezing down onto him more as he hit that bundle of nerves inside of you with each thrust. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you gripped onto Farleighs wrist that held your neck, heels digging into his back.

His breathing was uneven and both of your bodies were sweaty messes together, but what really had you in a chokehold was the way that even when he was dominating you, his whimpers never stopped. Still so needy for your cunt as you let him take what he needed from you helplessly.

He came deep inside of you, painting your gummy walls white with his seed. His hips stilled against you, making sure to stuff you full of his cum, not wanting any of it to go to waste. When he finally released your neck, you looked down to where you were connected but your eyes froze on the sight before you.

His tamed mound of hair above his cock was soaked with your juices, but what really got you, was the evident bulge showing through your stomach. He grabbed your hand, holding it onto your stomach where the bulge of his cock was. “Feel that? Remember, only I can fuck you this good.” He spat out as he pressed down, and you released a moan at the sensation.

His free hand traveled down to your clit, rubbing harshly and fast. “Gonna cum, please, can I cum?” You whimpered out as you clenched the sheets beneath you. Farleigh nodded feverishly. “Cum for me, be a good girl.” He muttered as he slowly fucked his cock into you at just the right pace.

The way he dragged along your walls, paired with the stimulation on your swollen clit, deprived clit had you reaching for the moon as you came for a second time tonight. Your mouth hung agape, not a word slipping out as a breathless moan slid past your plump lips. You needed this. You’d been craving this, and you finally got it.

Farleigh nestled himself in you, leaning his head down till his forehead was pressed against yours. Your hair was matted to your forehead from sweat, as was Farleighs, but you didn’t care. It was the least of your concerns. All you wanted was him, and you finally had him again, and this time it actually felt right.

But the words he spoke was what sealed the deal for you.

“I love you, y/n. From the moment I seen you sitting alone at lunch when we we’re sophomores back in Highschool, I’ve loved you. I loved you when you were small, shy and quiet, barely knowing anyone; and I love you now when you’re the socialist butterfly I know. I love you when you laugh, when you smile, when you speak, and even when you cry.” He said, tears running down your face.

“I will always love you.” He finished, kissing the tears that fell onto your rosy cheeks.

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

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cleoluvrr · 7 months

Text

notice me (rafe cameron x reader)

born too late for you to notice me

warnings: obsessive reader(she's delusional </3), explicit sexual content, unhealthy behavior, slight age gap

masterlist

your panties were soaking, the arousal leaking from your clothed slit creating a mess of the fabric. it clung to your skin uncomfortably, folds visible through the ruined undergarments. you wanted to rip them off, but rafe held them flush to your pussy as he licked a wet stripe over the drenched cotton.

he stared up at you from his position, blue eyes glowing with mischief as took in your impatient whines. his actions did nothing to solve your frustration. the barrier between his wet mouth and your throbbing cunt was only making you more desperate as the minutes ticked by. his fingers drawing circles over your swollen clit made your hips grind into his touch, the friction of the panties against the bud doing little to satisfy you.

“r-rafe, please…” a broken plea for him to end his incessant teasing left your throat involuntarily. your pussy had taken over your brain function, whatever clear thoughts you had now replaced with a primal need you’d never felt before.

"calm down," he murmurs, his tone tender and soothing. your knees were forced far apart, kept completely at his mercy each time he leaned in to attach himself to your pussy. “just enjoy it…”

you were tempted to push him away, but the hand you placed on the top of his head only pulled him in closer as you bucked your hips into his face. the texture of his tongue and the rough fabric in combination against your swollen lips was far too intense for you to handle, and yet, you still wanted more–needed more.

“y/n…” his voice was muffled below you, barely audible over your heavy breathing and the blood rushing through your ears. “y/n…” your mind was still in a distant place, thighs squeezing tightly around the sides of the blond’s head as he lapped up the arousal leaking through your panties.

“y/n!”

rafe’s voice was clear as day, the fogginess of your brain dissipated as your friend’s older brother stared at you in annoyance. your eyes widened in realization before blinking away the lusty haze that coated them. heat traveled up your chest rapidly to reach the soft flesh of your cheeks. swallowing dryly, you hummed in response, not trusting yourself to use your real voice.

“jesus, kid, what’s your problem? you can’t hear?”

“sorry, i was…” you blinked at the man on the other side of the kitchen island, his cold eyes leaving a trail of goosebumps over your arms. “sorry..w-what’d you say?”

the years-long crush you had on your best friend’s older brother only increased tenfold the longer you two were in proximity to each other. you thought that it would go away after freshman year of high school, but you were far from correct. your first year at college had just ended, months filled with new parties, new faces, and new boys to become attached to.

you were certain that you’d get over rafe this time, and yet, here you were. home for the summer and daydreaming about…things you’d never say aloud.

it was hard not to. no matter how many times you told yourself it was wrong, you just couldn't help but let your mind drift when he was around. the smell of his cologne was intoxicating, and the way he carried himself made your thighs squeeze together instinctively.

he was just so...rafe.

rubbing his eyes frustratedly, he sighs. rafe was never one to have patience for anyone and it was clear to you that he was running low from interacting with a barely-there you. while the oldest cameron always had a bit of a soft spot for you, it still didn’t take much to push his buttons.

“i said get out, my friends are coming. i don’t want you around them.” rafe says firmly. he leans against the kitchen counter, eyes no longer boring into you as they were a few seconds ago. his fingers tap rhythmically against his phone screen, presumably texting the friends that were supposed to appear sooner or later. when you don’t move from your spot by the kitchen’s island, his head pulls up to meet your puzzled gaze once again. “you didn’t hear me? leave.”

your brows knit together lightly in confusion. rafe had never taken issue with you being around his friends before. granted, you’d never been around them alone. sarah had always been there, and it was never on purpose. any time you were around when his friends came over, rafe would never really give time for them to speak to you before pulling them away. kelce and topper were nice enough from what you’d experienced with the two of them, so you couldn’t understand what the issue would be.

sarah stepped out with ward for something a while ago, leaving you all by yourself in the house with rafe until the two of them returned. you stood from your seat on the barstool to make your exit but stopped before you could get too far. facing him again, you opened your mouth to speak.

“why?” you asked the older blonde curiously. his eyebrow twitched in annoyance, but that didn’t deter you from questioning the order. “do they not like me?” ‘do you not like me?’ is what you really wanted to say, but you bit your tongue to refrain from it. you were too scared of what the answer might be.

rafe chuckled dryly as he shook his head at you, hand reaching up to comb through his golden locks. pushing off the counter, he walked around to meet you where you stood. the way he stared down at you left you feeling a bit startled, the pair of heavy blue eyes drinking in every inch of your frame indiscriminately. it was difficult for you to remain calm with him looming over you like that.

you nearly jump out of your skin when he places a hand on your shoulder and spins you around roughly. it caught you off guard but you didn’t stumble, instead you made a sound of protest at the sudden contact. you could feel the heat of his gaze against your back and if your face could get any hotter, it would. the puff of his warm breath against your ear is what made you jump, but rafe’s chest against your back made you freeze in place.

the feeling of his hand traveling down your shoulder blades, the dip of your back, and the curve where your waist meets your ass left your skin covered in goosebumps and the palms of your hands uncomfortably clammy.

you’d been hanging out with sarah for the three weeks that you’d been home, and each day you meticulously planned your outfits just in case rafe happened to be around. the oversized sweatshirts had been packed up in the back of your family’s garage and the breasts you’d been hiding since you got them were finally free of the skin tight sports bras you used to strapped them down all those years. the shortest skirts you owned were being put to work the entire summer until something came to fruition.

“do they not like me?” he repeats in a mocking tone. “kid–y/n…that’s not the problem.”

“rafe!” you exclaimed. the feel of his strong hand reaching under the hem of your skirt left you shocked, jaw slack with disbelief. you were worried about what he would find under there if he reached too far, the dampness of your panties enough to leave them sticking to your skin and able to expose you if he were to accidentally brush against them. “what are you doing?” your imagination had left you feeling indecent and hot, and you wished you would have left the room when you had the chance to spare yourself the embarrassment.

relief washed over you at the feeling of him tugging the fabric of your skirt down to cover as much of the exposed skin as the material would allow. you could hear him kiss his teeth as it barely covered the tops of your thighs, the fold of your ass almost visible anytime you weren’t standing completely still.

the sound of the front door opening filled your ears, topper and kelce’s loud voices traveling through the empty house as they called out for their friend.

“go upstairs. now.” rafe pushes you away roughly and you waste no time shuffling out of the room.

his eyes were glued to you until the moment you left, the feeling of his ocean blue orbs burned into your skin as your nike-clad feet padded against the old floorboards. your heart was beating firmly against the bones in your chest and you could still feel the way his warm hands were so close to somewhere they shouldn’t ever be, but where you wish they could stay forever.

when you reached sarah’s room on the upper floor of the mansion, you finally released the silent scream that you’d been holding in since rafe first walked into the kitchen.

you’d felt him watching you the entire time, his eyes raking over your frame as you stared down at your phone pretending that you couldn’t tell. you knew sarah had plans with her dad today but you insisted on coming over anyway, claiming that you didn’t want to miss a single day with her this summer. you knew rafe would be here too, because that was the first thing sarah warned you of before she left you alone with her brother.

you spent months–years–doing whatever it took to get his attention without completely throwing yourself at him like you so badly wanted to. the last thing you wanted was to come off as the desperate, embarrassing best friend, but you had to do something to stand out amongst all the other rich, pretty, older girls that flocked to him everywhere he went.

he was the kook prince, and you were just his little sister’s friend. it was hard for you to get him to see you any other way.

when you came home for summer break, you had a plan. your days were meticulously planned around him, which definitely sounded insane, but after years of pining you couldn’t find it in you to care.

the local goodwill took in all your old clothes during the winter to make room for your new wardrobe. you learned how to do your makeup, lost the contacts, and opted for consistent manicures rather than the brittle nubs for nails you had your entire childhood. months worth of confidence lessons on youtube, manifesting, and subtle flirting practice with the boys at your university were going to pay off this summer.

it had to.

the kid he was used to was gone. the nail biter with chunky black glasses, a stutter, and old band shirts had been banished and in her place was the improved version of you. the one that planned her outfits a day in advance, always had french tips, and could hold eye contact without stumbling over every word like it was her first. you walked with a sway in your hips and showed off parts of your body that nobody except sarah and yourself knew you had.

you refused to be the awkward, nerdy kid anymore. things had to be different this time–and they were.

when presented with the opportunity to be alone with rafe cameron, you took every measure possible to get his attention without begging on your hands and knees. for nearly a month you tried to be as lowkey as possible; pretending to not care if he was there or not, ignoring him completely when you two were in the same room, flirting with other guys when rafe was in hearing distance–whatever it took. it was tiring, but you couldn’t give up–not after all these years.

staring at yourself in the full body mirror propped against the sarah’s wall, you smiled and took a step closer to examine yourself. rafe finally saw you. he called you ‘kid,’ but he finally saw you as something more than that. you were finally one step closer to your silly little daydreams becoming reality.

“he noticed me…” you whispered to yourself.

he finally fucking noticed.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey #outer banks #obx1 #obx2 #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron x black!reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x oc #obx fanfiction

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maybesamikins · 17 days

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𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 » 𝐬.𝐰

sam winchester x female!reader

genre: smut warnings: NSWF , 18⁺ , explicitly sexual content , mention of readers death , spoilers? wc: 2.6k

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when sam faces death, he wakes up in heaven and is forced to relive one of his happiest memories with his late girlfriend who tragically passed away six years ago.

𝐚/𝐧: this idea literally came to me in the middle of the night… i’ve never written smut before nor have i ever actually posted a fan fiction, please be nice or i think i might die. and please ignore any typos and grammatical errors i don’t feel like proofreading.. ENJOYYY!! <3

ꔫ » 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝟓𝐱𝟏𝟔 “𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧”

the two men standing before sam exchanged looks, nodding at one another. sam’s heart was pounding so hard he swore it was about to burst out of his chest. sam clinched his eyes shut so he no longer had to stare down the barrel of a shotgun. the sound of the trigger clicking echoed through his ears, then all he remembered was the bright flash that followed. he felt his body growing cold as the world fell quiet.

“sam, c’mon we gotta leave!”

his eyes fluttered open, in a confused daze he began checking out the very familiar surroundings. his dorm. and was that her voice?

“sam? you dressed yet, babe?” after hearing your voice for the second time sam came to the conclusion that this was the light at the end of the tunnel before eternal hell.

your sweet voice came from behind the door of his room. a smile instinctively grew onto his face. the small sound of the door knob twisting followed by the larger sound of the door opening grabbed his attention, he turned to face the now open door. his eyes instantly met your face. the familiar glow of your face and the welcoming smile that had stuck with him over the years made him feel like he had just fallen in love all over again. god how he’s missed you. he had only seen your face as an image in his head for the past six years. and to see you now, so vividly, it felt so real– it made his cheeks hurt from smiling so hard.

“what’s got you so smiley?” you giggled at his goofy smile as you walked further into his room. he remembered now, this had happened before. a full year before you died, the night of some halloween party, which explained the angel costume, coincidentally enough. he remembered how you had wanted to go with the witch costume, which sam had talked you out of— he hated witches.

“just happy to see you.” he found himself stuttering over his words trying to gather the right things to say. sam couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face even if he tried his hardest. he walked over to you and gently placed his hands on your waist that was covered with a sheer white fabric. leaning down, not once letting his eyes fall away from you, slowly connecting his lips to yours with anticipation. it was just as he remembered, your lips still soft and sweet. the distinctive taste of the chapstick you always wore he had been dreaming of for years.

your arms flat against his chest to playfully push him off.

“alright, loverboy. where's your costume?” you stood with your arms crossed waiting for an answer. he could only smile, this all felt so surreal. to feel your lips plush against his for the first time in forever, to taste the reminisce of your sweetness lingering on his own lips. he was so happy to see your face again, this time your eyes filled with light instead of terror. for years the scared expression you had before you died had haunted him.

“you know halloween isn’t my thing.” he finally spoke.

“yeah yeah, whatever,” you rolled her eyes in a toying manner. “you ready to go then?” you gestured to his current outfit. he had on what he had every time this memory would repeat in his dreams, the button up shirt that had the sleeves pushed up a little past his forearms and his jeans that hung the slightest bit low.

sam looked at you for a moment, his eyes falling over each and every one of your features before his gaze finally met your eyes again,

“mm’ not yet.” he hummed to himself with a low mumble.

he pulled you in by the waist once again, this time with more grip in his touch. one hand falling on the small of your back guiding you closer to his body. your hands glide up his toned chest and land on the back of his neck, you pull him down to you connecting your lips with his. the hand that laid on your back moved to the warmth of your cheek only pulling you further into the passionate kiss that was growing sloppy. your hands now in his soft brunette hair, playing with it gently in your fingers— including an occasional tug. his tongue slowly grazes over your plump lips, slightly parting your lips allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth ravenously. his hand slid onto your back as you arched closer into his needy touch, he kissed slowly along the soft skin of your neck. you tilted your head giving him additional access to more of your tender skin. taking your swollen bottom lip in between your teeth clenching your eyes shut at small tickling feeling of sam kissing up your neck.

he couldn’t help but tease the skin of your neck, abusing the sensitive bits of your skin that would make your breath hitch and your heart speed up a beat. sam was like a starved man in front of a perfectly plated meal, and he just couldn’t get enough. his hands wandered over your clothed body feeling more of your warm skin. reluctantly removing his lips from your skin, he gently tossed you onto the bed with a sense of urgency. immediately climbing on top of you, your hips slotted together perfectly. he left small kisses on your body occasionally sucking harshly on your skin. leaving a trail of small pecks as he made his way back up to your lips. his arm on the side of your head caging you in propped him up over your body, while his free hand rested beneath your back. his knee between your legs supported the rest of his larger body that covered yours entirely. the hand beneath your back now grazing over the fabric of your costume. he began slowly slipping the material over your shoulder as he kissed further down your neck and along your collarbone taking note of the spots that made you let out those cute little noises. his free hand pushing more of the costume material down your body, leaving your upper half in just that white lacy bra that he could never forget. he slowly slipped the straps from your shoulders, still kissing along your skin.

“this okay, pretty girl?”

he looked up at you with those beautiful hazel eyes. begging for your permission to go any further. he already knew what your answer was, he had relieved this moment time and time again in his head and his dreams, but he just needed to hear you say it— to listen to your sweet voice telling him to continue.

nodding frantically, you answered. “mhm, please keep going, sam.”

and that’s all he needed.

the underlying hints of sultry and desire in your voice made his mind foggy. his thoughts being taken over by the pure feeling of lust. your lips link together once again, like two magnets being pulled together. warmth coursed through his core as he deepened the kiss, his body ached for more. his fingers fumbled with the clasps of the white lacy bra that had been committed to his memory by now, he was quick to discard of it by tossing it to the floor. you simultaneously run your hands beneath his shirt against his toned torso urging him to lose the layer— which he happily did. quickly unbuttoning the buttons that lined his shirt then throwing it to wherever your bra had ended up. he pulled away to take in the image of you laying beneath him; your bare chest rising and falling at a quick pace, lips parted sucking in the cold air of the room. his legs now straddled over your frame, soaking in the moment with a growing smirk on his face. his coarse hands ran up and down your body appreciating every curve, the same hands that could be so violent, but were always gentle when it came to you.

lowering his head he began leaving small kisses against your chest all while taking your exposed breast into his big hand and massaging your tender skin. he hummed against your smooth skin as you played gently with his hair, urging you to continue combing your fingers through his hair. he ran his hands down your figure, pushing the material of your costume fully off your body and discarding it to the growing pile on the floor. you now laid beneath him, almost completely bare. the only thing that was covering you was the matching lacy panties that were decorated with a small bow on the hem.

you watched his own eyes trace the outline of your body, his eyes full of lust and desire. you return his gaze with a sense of anticipation in your eyes. his hands glide up your soft legs slowly parting them to make room for himself in the middle of them. he gently rests his hand on your knee as his other hand slides over your slit that was still clothed.

he notices the way your body shudders as he teased your sensitive core, and with no rush he slowly pushed your damp panties to the side. he then ran his two of his fingers between the slick of your folds. he watched you take your bottom lip in your mouth in an attempt to suppress the small whimpers that were on the tip of your tongue. slowly slipping his index finger into you with ease, he studied your reaction before he slipped his middle finger in along with the first one. your eyes fluttered open and closed as you felt this sudden feeling of pleasure. he leaned down connecting his lips to yours as his fingers continued to work inside of you.

he’d slowly pull his fingers out, then he’d quickly push them deeper in. repeating this process over and over, pumping deeper into you with more pace each time. his lips suppressing the moans that were dying to spill from your lips. your hands run up his bare back feeling his muscles flex as he pleasured you. his free hand connected with the small of your back as you arched further off the bed trying to get closer to the pleasure sam was giving you. he watched your eyes squint shut while you threw your head back letting out a few small whimpers that sent heat coursing through sam’s body. your hands fall down to the waist band of sam’s jeans that have failed to come off. your hands fumbling with the belt on his pants, your progress reset each time he’d push his fingers deeper into you. finally unbuckling his belt, you yanked the belt from the loops of his jeans and tossed it to the floor.

“sam, please..” you whimper his name, your voice hoarse. you begged him to take it further, you needed to feel him against you. and he’d do anything you asked for.

“please what, sweet girl?” he whispered close to your ear as he began teasing at your sensitive clit. he knew what you wanted, he just desperately wanted to hear you say it. to hear you beg to feel him deeper inside of you.

your hands gripped onto his flexed biceps in an attempt to pull yourself back down from this high. “need to feel you inside me.” your words came out broken and breathy from the pleasure he was not letting up on. your thoughts were scattered, barely able to finish one thought before you’d get distracted from the satisfaction you were feeling.

“yeah? i can do that for you, baby.”

he peppered kisses down your neck while he spoke to you, a tone of sultry in his voice. he once again leaned over your body and kissed your swollen lips, this kiss being more aggressive and hungry. the proximity made you feel how hard he was against your bare pussy. you squirmed beneath him as he slowly grinded against you. he finally sat up and began to unbutton his jeans, you eagerly watching as he pushed the waistband of his jeans and boxers down at the same time, then discarding them to the floor just like every other layer of clothing that had been shed. you bit down on your bottom lip, your gaze focused on his finally completely bare body. your eyes traced over his v-line, noticing each and every vein. he took his hard dick into his hand and guided over your wet slit, coating this tip of his cock in your slick. he slowly pushed himself into you, watching your face twist as he pushed further in.

“shit, you feel so good.. so tight.” he slurred against the crook of your neck.

you were boxed in beneath him, his forearm on the other side of your head keeping himself propped up above you while he left sloppy kisses down your jawline. when he finally bottomed out in you, he found your eyes with his own looking for approval to start moving. you nodded, looking at him through your lashes. he took a moment to take in the look on your face, committing the way you looked at him to memory. the way your eyes had been lit up pretty much the whole night, and how your lips looked so soft and plush.

“my beautiful girl.” he whispered to you, his voice low and almost hurt.

he had finally started to move inside you, pulling out just enough to push further in. repeating this movement over and over picking up pace with each thrust. your hands gripping on to his back, digging your nails into his toned back as you felt him push further into you. he went back to leaving sloppy wet kisses over your body as he continued to push deeper into you. your legs now wrapped around his waist trying to get even closer against him. the sound of skin slapping synchronized with the moans and breaths you’d let out.

as you felt yourself getting closer you felt a knot growing in your stomach, your eyes closing shut as a small tear fell down your cheek. sam’s thrusts grow increasingly more sloppy as your walls squeezed tight around his cock.

“s’close..” you moaned against his neck, your words were slurred and broken. he began to whisper strings of praise against the cuff of your ear. going on about how good you were taking him, trying to get you closer and closer to the edge. his thrusts not showing any signs of mercy as he continued to plunge deep into you.

“c’mon, cum f‘me pretty girl.”

you finally felt the pure bless of your release, letting out a loud breathy moans as a few tears stream down your face. at your release sam pulls himself out, and with his hand he strokes his cock over your body. within seconds he came, spurting out a stream of hot liquid onto your body, groaning as he squeezed the last few drops out.

his tired body falls next to yours after he had fetched a towel and cleaned you up. his back flat against the bed. the two of you laying next to each other sweaty and out of breath, now both of you under the covers of his bed. you cuddled up next to sam, tracing small circles over his chest as he looked up at the ceiling with his arm under his head.

seconds later the moment of peace was interrupted by the door flinging open, dean falling through. sam shooting up from his side of the bed. meeting eyes with dean, who immediately went to cover his eyes.

“jeez, you dirty dog.”

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