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strawberrychampagneglass · 1 month

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Roses - pt. 1

Paige x Azzi

CW: cursing, implications of domestic violence (ONLY AT THE END), angst, maybe some fluff?, pining

9.3k words DAMN

A/N: holy shit guys I did not think I could pull this off and to think that this is gonna be a series is wild to me. Jokes aside, this took me about 2.5 weeks so expect (somewhat) infrequent updates due to school work and all that. Ik y'all have been waiting so I'll drop the first chapter. Something to be mindful of: initially this thing was in GSV then I changed it to LA last minute and then I changed Nika to Cam and Gabby to Dearica because Gabby and Nika didn't make sense to me at all so yea enjoy AND PLEASE DO GIVE ME FEEDBACK!!! I appreciate it a lot I WILL ADD A MASTERLIST WHEN MY HEART COMPELS ME TO

October 15th, 2028

Los Angeles, California

“Azzi,” her urgent voice calls out to the dark. She nearly trips over the entrance mat as she enters her apartment in the early morning hours. She drunkenly yells for her again as she stumbles towards her bedroom.

The only response she gets is an echo of her voice.

She lands in her bed with a soft thud, her hand searching for the familiar warmth of another body. When she feels the cold bed sheet under her hand instead, the only thing she can hear is the hammering inside of her head while her heart throbs, threatening to pry itself out of its cage. Tears well in her eyes as she falls asleep.

When she wakes up and checks her phone, she has one notification: a text message from Curt Miller. While it makes her heart palpitate as she remembers the happy memories, alarms blare in her head, reminding her of the bad that outweighed the good.

Her excitement quickly turns to bitterness. Paige doesn’t want to play on the same team as Azzi. Not after the incident in her redshirt senior year. Not after their catastrophic argument at the 2025 WNBA draft. Not after she saw a new person with her Azzi. Not after she saw the diamond-studded ring on her fourth finger.

Most of all, not after she built a stronghold with the most formidable defenses around her heart.

July 29th, 2018

Minsk, Belarus

The Belarusian crowd roars during the FIBA U17 Women’s Basketball World Cup final, drowning out the melody created by a screeching flute and deep, dulcet drum. With a very comfortable 32 point lead against the French in the middle of the fourth quarter, Paige is subbed out. She accepts the high-fives from her teammates before taking a seat at the end of the bench. Cheers flood the bench while they watch the clock wind down intently, waiting to relish in the intoxicating adrenaline following the victory.

The blonde raps her foot against the floor anxiously; her jaw propped up by her clenched fists. From the point of view of her teammates, she is engaged in the game. However, inside of her mind, a storm brews. She thinks of her best friend, the brunette girl with the number 6 on her back who is sat two seats to her left. Paige indulges in the memory of her fingers lingering on Azzi’s for that extra second after a high-five, their intertwined hands during the national anthem, and even when their shoulders brushed together in the team huddles and neither of them moved.

Her mind continues to wander until the bench unexpectedly explodes with chants of “USA” as the clock winds down into the last minute of the game. Paige springs from her seat on the bench, hollering as the adrenaline pumps through every vein in her body. When the final buzzer sounds, she shakes hands with the opposing team before hurling herself into the sea of navy jerseys.

The rest goes by in a blur, her adrenaline depletes rapidly. The energetic girl is uncharacteristically quiet during their team dinner and even on the bus ride home where she opts to sit alone in the back, leaning her head against the cool window that soothed her aching head.

As the bus pulls up to the hotel, Paige and Azzi lock eyes from opposing ends of the bus. The fatigue she once felt is quickly replaced with delight when Azzi gives her a tired smile with softened eyes, making her heart beat erratically. It’s still early in the evening, but the team agrees to celebrate in Cameron Brink’s room, without the coaches’ knowledge. While the team shuffles off the bus in a single-file line, Paige pushes through the never-ending hoard of her teammates until her eyes rest on a familiar brunette. She puts her hand on the brunette’s cold shoulder, catching her attention as she leaned into the warmth of Paige’s hand. Azzi chooses to ignore the pink that rose to the older girl’s cheeks and smiles at her.

“Are you going to Cam’s?” Paige asks sheepishly, trying to hide her smile. Azzi chuckles before responding with a nod.

“She is my roommate, so I guess I’m obligated to go.” Paige grins from ear-to-ear as they chat until they reach their respective hotel rooms. She changes into sweatpants and opts for a Hopkins Basketball hoodie. Although it's the middle of summer, the temperatures in Minsk are frigid compared to the Minnesota heat.

Furtively leaving her hotel room, she spots her teammate, Zia Cooke, attempting to sneak several bottles of cheap vodka into Cam’s room, her shoulders are tense and eyes rove across the empty hallway. Paige giggles before walking over to the shorter girl to offer a hand. When her teammate’s eyes land on her friendly face, the muscles in her shoulders loosen.

“Paige, thank god,” she breathes, relieved. “I was so scared that Carla or Stephen would jump out of their rooms.” Paige laughs at the image of Coach Berube catching Zia while looking like a deer in headlights, juggling 5 bottles of vodka. Feeling bad for her teammate, she takes three bottles from her arms and opens the door to Cam’s room. The two girls are met with 10 pairs of curious eyes who cheer at the sight of the vodka bottles.

***

An hour later, the potent odor of vodka floods the room. Most of her teammates gossip about their crushes back home; others watch the late-night shows on the Belarusian TV channels, a few are even snoring obnoxiously on Azzi’s bed. Paige, who is completely sober, feels irritated from her spot on the floor as she watches the dramatic show that is being projected on the TV. She isn’t sure if it was the lack of alcohol, or if it was the sight of her best friend who presses her body against Hailey Van Lith while an arm that wasn’t hers is strung around the brunette’s waist and resting on her toned abdominal muscles.

When Azzi notices the blonde’s glare at Hailey, she walks off the bed and carefully treads towards the table of alcohol, pouring a full glass of vodka. Her eyes flick to Paige, who stares at the glass of vodka in her hand. Unamused and frustrated, Paige returns her attention to the show on the TV until she feels a warm hand tilt her chin back. Azzi looks at her, emotionless, as she stands behind her. They stare at each other wordlessly before the older head lands on a soft, toned leg. Her lower lip meets the cool rim of the glass that Azzi filled with vodka.

The brunette moves her face closer before she tips the glass upward while noticing a light streak of red across Paige’s cheeks. “Drink,” she whispers, and Paige complies. She feels the alcohol burn her esophagus as she swallows the oily and bitter liquid. Their faces linger in the close proximity as they breathe in synchronization. It takes every ounce of self control in Paige’s body to not close the distance between their lips.

“You look pretty,” Paige smiles, hoping for a laugh and a friendly slap across the shoulder from her friend. Instead, Azzi returns a frown with furrowed eyebrows, moving her head away.

“Paige, I can’t enjoy my evening when you’re glaring at everyone I’m sitting with,” Azzi huffs with an edge to her voice. “Go get drunk and leave me alone.” Paige scowls; she knows that Azzi isn’t exclusive to her, but she wants some exclusivity. At the end of the day, they’re just best friends, nothing more. Nevertheless, the thought of another girl’s body pressing her body flush against Azzi infuriates her. From her spot on the floor, she feels the warmth of her friend’s body disappear as she walks back to her spot next to Hailey.

She grabs her wallet and phone and leaves the room.

***

When she returns to her hotel room hours later, she slams the newly-bought bottle of vodka on her nightstand, shaking the entire room. It isn’t a big bottle; it’s around the size of a Gatorade bottle. The cashier at the convenience store didn’t bother checking the 16-year-old’s ID, assuming she was of legal drinking age. She popped the cap off the bottle and brought it to her mouth. Her lips begin to form a suction around the opening as she tilts her head back, swallowing the searing liquid. She throws the rest of the liquid down her throat when the thought of Azzi’s words cross her mind. She tightens her grip on the bottle and her tongue scours for the last few drops of the liquid, hungry for the feeling of the alcohol. She sits on her bed in silence, staring at her feet until she feels the effects of the alcohol course through her veins. Her vision begins to blur and the entire room begins to swirl. Through her blurred vision, she still manages to identify the lamp that sits perfectly still on the nightstand. Her free hand reaches for the dangling chain that serves as a lever for the light. Giving it a slight tug, the light flickers briefly before illuminating the entire room. To her shock, a familiar brunette girl with bronze skin sits across from her.

“Are you done being an alcoholic so we can talk?”

“Azzi, what the fuck?” the blonde stammers, frustrated. She sets the bottle down and stares at her friend in disbelief. When Paige gets no response from her, she stands up and starts stumbling towards the door, nearly tripping over herself.

“Paige, wait,” Azzi catches the blonde, observing the older girl’s cloudy eyes. Even while drunk, her blue eyes remind her of her lake house; her second home. The thought makes her heart flutter despite the agonized look painted across her best friend’s entire face. “I’m sorry, we can talk about this if you want. I know I hurt you, and I take full accountability for it.”

Paige knows she is in damage control mode, but she has a soft spot for the girl; a part that is willing to forgive her and move on.

She chooses to ignore it and let her irritation control her words. “You didn’t want to talk before, so you don’t get to talk now,” she hisses. Azzi flinches, unaccustomed to her hostility. “You told me to leave you alone, and now you’re in my room, begging for forgiveness. I don’t understand you.” Her arms fly erratically before reaching the collar of her hoodie, tugging it down to ease her tense muscles.“For god’s sake, we’re best friends. Sure, best friends tell each other everything, but my best friend doesn’t get to tell me to leave her alone and show up in my hotel room 2 fucking hours later.”

“I’m not yours, Paige. You don’t have any right to control my actions.” The retort makes Paige wince. “If I want to be with Hailey, you have to respect that. I have a right to be frustrated because I don’t belong to you.”

“Okay, how about a heads up next time instead of you getting cozy with someone else in front of your best fucking friend. I thought we agreed that we would ‘see each other later’”

“She was drunk and she came up to me, and we did see each other. There was nothing binding about that agreement. I can be friends with other people and you can too, unless I’m your only friend.” Azzi’s anger rises as well as she picks at her cuticles.

“You’re an asshole.” Paige breathes, releasing the hoodie. “You tried to get me drunk while trying to seduce me.” The other girl’s mouth opens before getting cut off. “Then, you went back over and cuddled up to her. I don’t have a problem with you seeing people, but even a short-term notice would’ve been nice. It’s fucking awkward when I’m sitting there–surrounded by drunk people who are all passed out on the damn floor–and my best friend is cuddling up to a person we barely even know.”

“You know what? You sound really fucking insecure right now. Maybe you should go book a flight back to fucking Minnesota and we’ll never have to see each other again. You’ll never get jealous over me when I go on dates with other people.” As soon as the words leave her mouth, she wishes that she can take them back and shove them down her throat. Paige stares at her, emotionless. After a few minutes, Azzi’s voice cuts through the thick air. “Say something, please. You’re freaking me out.”

“I wish I was yours, Azzi,” Paige whispers softly, so softly that Azzi thinks she mishears. She scowls, but her heart flutters from the confession.

“I need you to tell me that when you’re completely sober. I can’t trust you when you’re drunk.” she sighs, looking at the blonde who has tears brimming in her eyes. However, she can’t shake the warm, fuzzy feeling in her heart from her words. She can’t describe the feelings, and the thought of treading into unexplored emotional territory makes her queasy.

“I wish I was yours,” Paige urges, with genuine sincerity in her tone despite the alcohol.

“Paige–”

Before she could finish her sentence, Paige grabs her wrist and pulls the younger girl into her. The blonde drags her along a premeditated route, stumbling several times. Biting the nails on her free hand, Azzi’s mind swarms with endless possibilities of danger; they could be kidnapped by random Belarusians, the coaches could catch them while getting a midnight snack, or they could get lost and never see their families again. But Paige was Paige, guiding her to their destination. The warmth radiating from the other girl’s body hypnotized her. It felt safe. Too safe.

Paige leads her through the maze of the city until they reach the edge of a river. Even under the late-night sky, airplanes weave between silhouettes of clouds; their green and red lights blink, bringing life to the sky. The city is calm and serene at this hour, with the occasional passer-byer that ignores the two girls. The solitude is disrupted by cars gliding across the bustling road across the river bank with horns that blare occasionally. Street lights hug the river bank; streaks of yellow and orange rippled back and forth on the water. The breeze is soft, like a baby’s blanket. It carries the occasional, faint scent of cigarette smoke which is unexpectedly comforting.

The two sit in mutual silence, away from each other. They both avoided the topic of the prior conversation. Paige hums softly, her body warm from the alcohol. “I didn’t know they had fireworks this late at night.” Her speech is slurred, yet Azzi still laughs in response. The sound of her laugh is like a piece of music written by Beethoven to her; a sound that can be played over and over without getting old.

“They’re not fireworks, they’re street lights reflecting off the water.” The blonde squints, squatting on the large cement block that she had been sitting on. As she cranes her head closer, nearly falling off the block, Azzi scrambles to catch the blonde as she reflexively yanks her waist backwards. They laugh before Paige puts her hand on hers.

“You’re acting really sober,” Paige declares while studying Azzi’s facial features.

“I am sober, so I think it’s a good thing that I’m acting sober.” The younger girl chuckles, punching her friend’s arm lightly with her free hand. Flustered, Paige averts her gaze to the shimmering undulations on the surface of the water. Unsure of whether it was the alcohol that was twisting her mind, or if it was the dim, golden lighting that lights up the left side of Azzi’s face, all she can think about is that her best friend is beautiful. It drives Paige insane; her bronze skin gleams and her umber eyes light up and become a light, almost golden shade of brown.

“Sometimes I wish that you could be in Minnesota with me all the time.”

“Well, you could come to Virginia and stay with me…” Azzi proposes before smiling at Paige, but she doesn't meet her eyes. The blonde is scrunching her face with her attention on Azzi’s arms, and not her face. “What’s wrong? Paige?”

“You’re cold,” Paige whispers, shifting her weight so she and Azzi sit facing each other. Trailing her hand up the other girl’s arm, her fingertips dance along the mountain ranges of goosebumps on her tender skin. Paige’s warm touch makes her feel something. Their eyes clash, uncertainty swarming in both pairs. “I meant what I said earlier,” Paige glances at her lips, breaking the eye contact. “I wish I was yours.” Her hand reaches for Azzi’s cheek, cupping it lightly, and the brunette melts into her touch.

Panic rises as a lump in her throat. They’re young–too young. Azzi’s feelings are new and confusing. She doesn’t know what love feels like and it scares her. As a kid, she was told that “love” was when two people cared for each other a lot. It was obvious that they care for each other a lot. They talk for hours, each word flowing effortlessly while they howl in laughter about something that the other said. Every touch they share is electric: sparks fly erratically through every vein of their bodies. After every argument, Paige is the first to apologize because she knows that Azzi overthinks.

She moves her face closer and drapes her hands on the blonde’s nape. Paige takes the bait.

Her slightly-parted lips meet Azzi’s warm and soft lips. She closes her eyes, pulling the younger girl’s face in before pulling away after several seconds. The kiss is short, but sweet. Azzi looks at her hands, not wanting to meet the blue eyes knowing that she made a mistake, and the kiss shouldn’t have happened. The once well-established boundaries of their friendship are permanently breached. Yet her cheeks flush and she misses the warmth provided by the close proximity of Paige’s body.

“Raise your arms,” Paige mutters shyly as Azzi is enveloped in the warmth of a thick hoodie. Paige’s hoodie. The scent of Paige’s rosy perfume encases her and a contented sigh escapes her lips.

“Are you cold?” Azzi observed her best friend’s exposed arms.

“Nah, I’m alright. You can keep that by the way,” she motions to the hoodie that hugged Azzi’s torso. “It can be a souvenir from Belarus from me. Something that can remind you of tonight forever.” The brunette smiles and wraps her arms around the blonde; she is the clay that Paige can shape into anything she wants. They just fit together.

The girls dance through the city and totter unsteadily to the hotel, where they collapse in the comfort of Paige’s bed, satisfied laughs slipping out of their mouths after sneaking past the rooms of their teammates.

“Would you like me to walk you back to your room, Madame Fudd?” Paige teases before a pillow slams into her face. “Hey! Azzi!” She shrieks, scrambling to grab another pillow before falling flat on her face. Azzi laughs hysterically for a few moments until the room stills into an unsettling quiet.

“You’re so chivalrous, Bueckers.” Azzi looks around her room, fidgeting with her fingers. “But, uh, since there’s a few drunk bodies on my bed,” The blonde cocks her head at her and smirks; the simple motion makes her heart lurch. “And also because you also don’t have a roommate and I thought that you might be a little lonely tonight, especially because you’ll be hungover in the morning, I was wondering if I could stay here tonight.” Paige breaks out into an ear-to-ear grin and tackles her in a bear hug, shoving them to the bed where their bodies melded into each other.

Amongst the clamor, there is an uneasy feeling in Paige’s gut that she can’t shake, but she chooses to ignore the feeling as she lets her body intertwine with the younger girl’s.

October 19th, 2028

New York City, New York

Azzi is selfish.

Anything she gets her hands on, she wants to keep for herself. She is a hoarder who wants to keep everything that she loves forever.

Unfortunately, when you fall in love with everything, you can’t have it all.

She paces back and forth at the gate, biting her nails and avoiding the gaze of her fiancé. Tugging the collar of her hoodie from her high school days over her head, she allows a satisfied sigh to escape her mouth as she is cloaked with a comforting rose scent. It was nostalgic; it held so many memories that felt so important and so irrelevant at the same time. But the scent made her feel hopeful of something she couldn’t place.

“Is everything okay, babe?” startled, she drops the hoodie to smile weakly at her fiancé.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a little tired. The thought of everything scares me a little.” Azzi chuckles. Instead of a friendly smile from her fiancé, she notices his scowl at the text on her hoodie. Her heart drops into her stomach, knowing that this would prompt an argument from him over a certain college teammate.

“I’m so happy you finally chose to leave the cesspool of New York,” her fiancé sneers, “and, I’m so excited to soak up the LA sun.” Azzi doesn’t react to his comments, avoiding an argument at all costs. He came to all her games and cheered her on, but he always hated New York City. It was either too cold or too hot, too rainy or too sunny and never the perfect balance between the two.

As long as he’s happy, I am too.

Los Angeles, California

Paige is protective.

She loves her possessions and hates it when people take them. She wants to shield everything she loves from hurt and pain.

Orange and pink rays of sunlight stream through the tall glass panes by Paige’s bedside, bathing her bedroom in a warm glow. She stirs awake, her sore body begging for 15 extra minutes of sleep. Her throat feels raw and her eyelids are weighted. Instead of fighting against the weight, Paige lets her eyes close while thinking about the consequences of not showing up to Azzi’s welcome party. When she first caught wind of the news, she called Cameron Brink to come to her apartment. She complained to her for hours while blackout drunk before inevitably passing out. When she woke up the next morning to dozens of angry texts from Cam, she apologized profusely, showing up to her apartment with the shoes that her friend had been eyeing for months and bags of Sour Patch Kids.

It was safe to say that Paige wasn’t allowed anywhere near alcohol tonight if she chose to go. At least, not under Cam’s watch.

The Sparks had an extremely successful campaign last year and capped off the season with a championship title along with Paige’s first league MVP and finals MVP awards. The feeling is still surreal, and the thought of it pumps more adrenaline through her body. Even though the season was extremely successful, the threat of injuries plagued the guards last year. Also, the Sparks were in desperate need of a guard with the ability to knock down shots and step into the role of a strong playmaker.

Was she expecting Azzi to join the Sparks? Eventually, yes. She is desperate for a championship run.

Did she want to celebrate a piece of her past she let go before her birthday? No.

Is she happy about it? Absolutely not.

Her phone began to vibrate violently under her pillow, prying her from her thoughts. She rolls over to scrutinize the contact name with a groan. Her blood runs cold and she taps the green phone icon on the 4th ring.

“Paige! Thank god I got in contact with you.” Katie Fudd exhales. Paige feels the weight of her panic that reciprocates her own through the phone. “I know we haven’t really talked in about, um, three years,” she pauses, unsure of how to continue when she hears Paige’s sharp inhale, “but, have you heard from Azzi recently? She’s supposed to be arriving in LA today, at least that’s what the media says.”

“No, I…I haven’t heard anything, Katie,” she rasps, her throat ablaze. Her lips run dry. The media?

Paige makes small talk with Katie, catching up on major events in their life while both of them try to avoid the topic of Azzi. It was brought up once and Paige could barely perceive the muffled, yet pained sobs on the other end of the phone.

“I know you have your Unrivaled league coming up in the new year, but it would be great if you could come visit us during Thanksgiving or even Christmas,” Katie proposes as they near the end of their conversation.

“I’ll take a look at my schedule and try to pull some strings, but no promises. I have plans to visit my dad and Drew over the Thanksgiving weekend in Maryland, so we’ll see what happens.” Paige replies, acknowledging the piece of her that wants to let the past go. The part where she was too close to Azzi and her family. She knows that visiting them means treading into foreign territory.

“We miss you, Paige. Jon and Jose miss their ‘son’ too,” Katie laughs, relieving Paige of a heavy, bone-crushing weight on her heart. “Happy early birthday too, we could never forget. We love you, you’re still family to us.”

Paige smiles, a genuine ear-to-ear grin. “Love you too, Kaite. Tell the brothers and Tim I say hi as well.” She says before hanging up.

“You’re still family to us.” The words rang in her head, warming her frozen heart. It wasn’t enough to thaw it, but it was enough to invoke thoughts of hope. She was torn from her reverie by a knock at her door. Humming to herself as she sauntered out of her bedroom, she opened the door to her apartment.

“Woah, I never thought I’d see you smiling like you’re on Disney Channel,” the blonde at the door laughs, surprised. Paige scowls at her words which prompts Cam to laugh harder. “I did bring breakfast though, knowing your current mental state. You look like shit, Paige.” She sets two paper bags on Paige’s kitchen island. They sit across each other on the spinning bar stools Cam loves.

The two chat buoyantly; Cam tells her stories about her boyfriend, Ben, and his new obsession with cars or whatever. Paige doesn’t really pay attention to her rambling because of a painful ache in her heart. Even though it had been a year since Cam moved to Los Angeles, the two still learn new details about Over the past year, Cam used the fact that the shorter woman struggled to maintain a relationship for more than a few weeks as the butt of all her jokes. Despite being annoyed at first, Paige was quite amused with herself.

“Azzi’s mom called me earlier,” Paige abruptly says, interrupting Cam in her spiel about her brother’s recent breakup.

“...is that why you were smiling earlier? Paige, not even 5 days ago you made me-”

“From what I’ve…figured out, they haven’t been able to get in contact with Azzi. Katie seemed distraught when she accidentally brought her up.”

“Are you implying that she got kidnapped?” Cam laughs uncomfortably, trying to avoid the weight of the situation.

“It’s a possibility.” Paige mutters. Cam stops laughing and an uneasy silence drapes the room like a heavy curtain.

“I guess we’ll find out later, but don’t stress about it. You could be overthinking the entire situation. Don’t make that face, I know that you don’t want to go, but out of respect for your future teammate, you need to.” Cam sighs while rubbing circles on her temples. “I’m going to pick her and her supposed fiancé up at the airport. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Thanks for breakfast, Cam. Drive safe,” she calls out as the door to her apartment shuts. And suddenly, her mind is thrown back 5 years to the keychain that Azzi bought them in their early 20s as a gift. Drive safe, I need you here with me. I love you.

***

“Azzi Fudd! This is Kendra Andrews with ESPN. What are your thoughts on the Sparks franchise?”

“What prompted the move from New York to LA?”

“How do you plan to integrate yourself into the team?”

“What excites you the most about the LA Sparks franchise?”

Dozens of reporters and journalists surround her. They fight amongst each other to thrust microphones into her face. Sweat beads down the back of Azzi’s neck as she tries to answer as many questions as she can while being mindful of her fiancé’s limited patience. He had gone on his phone, ignoring Azzi as she drowns in a sea of cheap cologne and felt-tipped microphones. She quickly interrupts the reporters after 10 minutes and bid a polite farewell. Her heart stings with a bit of remorse when some of the reporters in the crowd express their frustration through whisper-shouts to their colleagues because they got a different answer than what they would’ve hoped. As she makes her way to her fiancé, her head hanging low, she mentally prepares herself for the incoming argument.

“You’re a piece of shit,” her fiancé hisses, “you took ten fucking minutes to talk to some fans.”

“Please, not here. Not while the reporters are still around,” Azzi whispers, frantically scouting for reporters.

“Save your bullshit for later. Call an Uber and get me out of here.” While leading her fiancé towards the airport exit, Azzi picks at her cuticles. “Oh, and next time,” her fiancé continues, “don’t be a pussy-sucking people pleaser and just give them an autograph. I don’t have the time for this, there are better things I should be doing that does not include waiting for you.” Tears begin to well but she blinks them back, trying to put up a facade for the public as she smiles half-heartedly for selfies. The lump in her throat threatens to roll out of her mouth. The thought of a night in the hotel sends a cold bead of sweat down her back. She doesn’t want to be left alone with her fiancé. She doesn’t trust him.

A firm hand grabs Azzi’s wrist, pulling her back into the present. She rips her hand away reflexively before processing the familiar face that belonged to her temporary roommate in Belarus. For the first time since she left New York, Azzi breaks out in a full-faced smile and throws herself into Cam’s open arms.

Her mind wanders to the other future WNBA teammate, who she had not seen since the 2025 WNBA draft. The thought of her quickened her heart, but the feeling sours when she becomes aware of her fiancé by her side.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever, oh my god,” Cam laughs, punching Azzi’s arm lightly, a gesture from her USA basketball days when Coach Berube made an off-handed comment. She flinches in response, which Cam chooses to ignore. “Oh, and you must be Azzi’s fiancé. I’ve heard so much about you, and it’s so nice to meet you. I’m Cam,” the blonde chirps, turning her attention to Azzi’s fiancé, offering a friendly smile and a hand. “I don’t think I ever got your name.” Her fiancé remains silent, but his jaw muscles tighten and his cold, green eyes look at her with animosity and spite. Not wanting to raise suspicion, Cam plasters a smile and leads them to her car.

Cam makes a mental note to tell Paige about their interaction with an emphasis on the flinch.

“...This is the Uber you ordered?” her fiancé snarls when the other woman is out of earshot.

“You need to calm down. She’s my teammate, and this is a thoughtful gesture,” Azzi retorts before covering her mouth. Her breathing becomes shallow and her face pales as her fiancé inches his face closer to her ear until his hot, rancid breath drowns out her awareness of everything around her. The hustling environment of the airport disappears and her world is engulfed in silence until four words snap her out of her trance.

“Drop this shit, now.”

***

The ride to the hotel where the two would be temporarily staying was brisk, although Azzi wished it would have lasted longer. The brunettes reminisced on their college days while laughing hysterically.

“Have you talked to Geno after he finally retired?” Cam asks playfully, making eye contact with Azzi through the rear-view mirror. Instead of Azzi’s warm brown eyes, she meets her fiancé’s swampy green eyes. The blonde feels a chill run down her spine, unable to detect any emotion on the fiancé’s face.

“Nope, not at all.” Cam raises her eyebrows, clearly amused.

“Wow, it’s been two years since he retired. He even went to the draft to support you and, um, nevermind.” The blonde shakes her head, cursing to herself. Azzi laughs awkwardly, trying to lift the guilt off her friend’s shoulders, but her fiancé is unamused. “About time though, I thought that he nearly got a heart attack during the March Madness championship in 2025.” The two erupt in laughter, tears falling from their eyes. Her fiancé glares at Cam through the mirror, prompting her to awkwardly change the topic to the Sparks and their team culture. Azzi ignores the glare and continues her conversation with her friend.

Her fiancé isn’t completely out of the loop despite his apathy towards Azzi’s WNBA career. He knows who Paige Bueckers is, the national championship they won in 2025, but he only vaguely knows about the relationship that she and Azzi shared during their collegiate campaigns. If their relationship was an iceberg, her fiancé only sees the tip of the iceberg, the visible part that the media shared, the two in a million SLAM cover, their rise to stardom in USA U16 basketball, and most importantly, their adversities through injury together. What she doesn’t know is the true depth and complexity of their relationship, veiled beneath a thick layer of dark, murky water that neither she nor Paige are ready to uncover. As their lives began to diverge, so did the currents in the water; they pushed and pushed on their relationship until it came crumbling down, splitting the iceberg into two parts that are now just Azzi and just Paige.

Thanking Cam as they slip out of the car, Azzi checks into the hotel room where she and her fiancé sit on opposite sides of the king-sized bed. Her head hangs and she looks at her hands before her fiancé breaks the silence first.

“Hey,” he sighs, walking over to Azzi. When she lifts her head to meet her fiancé’s eyes, branches of tears stream from her eyes and down her cheeks, splitting into multitudes of different directions.

“Am I not good enough for you? One moment you hate me, and the next you’re suddenly in love with me again.” Azzi sobs, pulling her hair in frustration. “I’m trying my hardest, and it hurts when you don’t reciprocate the feelings.” She wipes her eyes while her fiancé stares at her in disbelief, masking his anger. He paces to the door before walking back to Azzi, feigning an empathetic look.

“No, baby, you’re perfect.” Her fiancé mutters , pulling the brunette’s head to his chest as he kisses her forehead softly while wiping her tears. “I love you so much. I appreciate everything you do.” Azzi could feel that his words felt wrong and uncomfortable coming out of his mouth.

“Love you too”

***

Paige walks in circles around her room while Cam summarizes the airport pickup, sprawled out on the blonde’s bed. “You didn’t even get his name. Damn.” Paige’s voice is laced with worry.

“All you need to know is that her fiancé is fucking weird. He was like ‘I’m so sick of this bullshit’ the whole time without speaking a single word. I introduced myself to him like a normal fucking person and he stood there and stared me down, as if I was competition or something.” Cam breathes, putting her face in her hands. Paige feels the same, unable to piece together the puzzling situation. “This whole situation is crazy. I was talking about Geno’s retirement and she hasn’t talked to him in years. Isn’t that weird? I feel like he’s also the jealous type. She wore your Hopkins hoodie and her fiancé kept eyeing it the whole time.”

Paige’s heart skips a beat at her words. Her Hopkins hoodie. The one from the night in Belarus: even though it had been over 10 years, Paige remembers it clearly. It was the first time she was in love. “That’s weird. You picked them up from the airport, and he was glaring at you the entire time in the car. Then, you- like, jokingly punched her. How hard was this punch?”

“KK-punching-Ice-after-losing-a-bet-about-your-life hard.”

“Okay, so not that hard.”

“I’m pretty sure I heard her fiancé call her a stuck-up pussy eater while they argued about the reporters before I picked them up.” Paige raises an eyebrow at the statement before coughing awkwardly, mumbling under her breath.

“Just– be careful Paige. She isn’t yours anymore. I know you’re still not over her,” She winces at her friend’s words, “and it’s the harsh truth, but I seriously think that you need to find someone else to distract you.”

“We both know that finding someone else hasn’t worked for me either. I’m worried about her. She’s my best friend, my ride or die.”

“She betrayed you. You need to move on. Best friends don’t betray each other like… that.”

***

Flanked by her fiancé, Azzi walks through the large, wooden doors of the restaurant next to her hotel. It was a short walk, but she took in the salty smell of the city. The breeze was sharp and it nipped her exposed arms. She was shivering and rubbing her hands up and down her arms.

“You must be Ms. Fudd,” the waitress waiting for her arrival smiles at her, “your table is over here, please follow me.” The short walk through the labyrinth of tables set with velvety red cloths that had a golden trim on its edges was interrupted by a crimson-colored curtain. The chatter behind the curtains feels daunting, and she wants to turn around and run back to Arlington. The waitress pulls the curtain to the side to reveal a table full with people, her teammates, laughing and talking boisterously amongst themselves. The first person to stand up is Cam, who embraces her in a loose hug. Seconds later, nearly all of her new teammates have thrown themselves into her arms.

The last person to stand up is the blonde. Her wavy, blonde hair, lighter from the Californian sun, is tucked behind her ears and falls down her back like a loose shawl. Her skin glows gold against the yellow lighting of the dining room. She wears a freshly ironed button-up dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose her toned forearms. Only the right side of her shirt was tucked into her brown trousers that hang loosely from her hip, ghosting her ankles. A beige bomber jacket that matches her pants is slung around her shoulders and a watercolor-patterned scarf is draped around her neck. The gold studs and helix ring on her left ear reflect the light of the chandelier that hangs from chains above the dining table. When their eyes meet, Azzi searches her eyes for a sense of comfort in her familiar blue eyes that her dark mascara emphasizes. Instead, she finds nothing in her cold and emotionless eyes. Paige embraces her new teammate in a stiff and loose hug, her muscles tense when Azzi’s hands roam her back. Immediately, she is engulfed in her rosy perfume, the same scent that she finds solace and comfort in. Her stomach churns, yet there is a certain warmth that flickers in her heart. Everything about the blonde screamed Paige, and Paige is beautiful.

“Welcome to LA,” she says while pulling out of the hug. Refusing to look at her, she turns to the man looming in the corner while offering a hand. At the table, Cam sucks a sharp breath in, casting a warning glance at Paige which is ignored. Azzi stiffens and her heart hammers. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Paige, and you are?”

“I’m Charles,” he murmurs, accepting the handshake and offering a small, sly smile. Azzi’s eyes widen. Her fiancé is rarely friendly, especially not to Paige. They glare at each other for a brief moment before she takes a seat next to Cam.

Her fiancé and her sit side-by-side at the table, across from Paige and Cam. Charles slides his hand into Azzi’s under the table, squeezing it softly. The small gesture makes Azzi smile as she leans into her fiancé, enjoying his comforting presence. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to take her mind off of the blonde sitting directly across from her, laughing with her WNBA teammates. It annoys her.

Azzi is selfish.

***

The entire table has some sort of alcoholic beverage in their hands or in their stomachs. Paige sits awkwardly, sipping a Shirley Temple whose sugary and overly sweet grenadine has become bitter on her tongue. Nausea seeps into the edges of her head and begins to spread like wildfire and she finds herself rubbing circles on her forehead. She can’t stand the sound of Azzi’s bubbly laughter across the table. The sound that threatened to burn a hole through her heart.

“So, how did you guys meet?” Dijonai Carrington cocks an eyebrow at the couple while swirling her cocktail in her cup.

A brief panicked look flashes across Azzi’s face before Charles cuts in. “We met in college.” His answer is curt and dry, yet polite. Several of her teammates cooed at his response, gushing over the couple. The two women jump into a conversation about their college lovers.

That should’ve been me.

“What a fucking people pleaser.” Paige snickers to Cam while blinking back the unwelcome moisture that began to form under her eyes. She throws back the rest of her drink before dropping her head into her arms.

“Are you sure you don’t want any alcohol? Like, a thousand percent positive?” Dearica Hamby, the star forward of the Valkyries asks Paige while rubbing the taller woman’s back. Through the seemingly innocent image of the question, she notices genuine concern painted in the woman’s softened eyes.

“She’s alright without it,” Cam answers before she could open her mouth. “We made an agreement that she would have no alcohol tonight because I had to clean up after her last time.” The entire table howls in laughter, and Paige joins them with a half-hearted smile while heart fractures.

If her smile didn’t split into a frown at the corners of her mouth or her chin didn’t wrinkle, Azzi’s heart wouldn’t have stopped and she would’ve been laughing with her teammates.

“Yeah, I had to show up to her apartment with shoes and a shit load of candy because I felt so guilty.” She sneaks a glance at the brunette sitting across from her. Instead of laughing with the team, she was engaged in a conversation with her fiancé, prompting her to avert her gaze. It takes every piece of her dignity not to stare at the brunette. Her dark, curly hair is braided and hangs just above her shoulders; the same hairstyle that she jokingly called a bob back in their college days. She wears a baby blue knitted tank that reveals her muscular arms and white, flowy linen pants that hug her hips.

However, when Paige’s eyes pass by the soon-to-be married couple, searching for something, they follow the pattern of their intertwined arms and hands hidden under the table. Looking at Cam, she whispers, “I need to get out of here.” the taller woman waves a hand at her, signaling for her to go ahead. She files through her wallet and grabs a few hundred-dollar bills and hands them to Cam, which she graciously accepts. Dearica flashes her a sympathetic look before returning to her drinking game.

“I got a call from my mom and I gotta take it. I’ll be right back.” Announcing to the table, she grabs her phone and stands up, stepping over her drunk and overly rowdy teammates. When she finally slips behind the thick velvet curtain, she finally feels as if she can breathe. The curtain has become a barrier between her and a certain pair of brown eyes that burns holes through the back of her head. She knows that man. The blur of dark curls and olive and brown skin became too vivid. She needs to get out. It hurts her.

Paige is protective.

***

The neat blonde bun disappears behind the curtain with a soft, almost inaudible swoosh. She tries to talk with her teammates, laughing at their jokes, but everything feels forced. The image of Paige's stiff posture and the death grip she had on her phone haunts her. All of a sudden, her fiancé’s once soft hand feels heavy and scratchy against her skin.

“I need some air. I’ll be right back,” She announces as she gets up, dropping her fiancé’s hand. Cam and Dearica pause their argument over their stupid drinking game and stare at her with their mouths agape. There is undeniable panic swirling in both pairs of wide-open eyes, but Cam gives a hesitant nod.

“Is everything alright babe?” Charles’s voice is soft but urgent. “I can come with you.” Azzi looks at him with a warm smile before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

As she exits the restaurant, she is met with an intricate spectacle of orange, pink, and blue. The light of the day quickly disappears, but she discerns a hunched silhouette on the beach that glows under the golden light. Her attention shifts to the orange circle that barely peeks out through the edge of the horizon as it slowly sinks underneath the water, leaving a trail of orange and pink light rippling across the surface of the water. Waves crash loudly against the shore before they are drawn back to the ocean while laughter and joyful screams from children join the peaceful ambience.

“Are you just gonna stand there or do you wanna sit?” A tired voice rips her out of her thoughts as she tears her gaze from the astonishing scene in front of her. She glances at the woman sitting next to her who has her knees up to her chest and her head resting on her forearms. Azzi decides to sit a few feet away from her. For a split second, it feels like their fragmented friendship could be salvaged again.

She slips her sandals off and lets her feet absorb the texture of the flaky sand while shivering when a gust of wind hits her skin. Instead of ignoring the mechanical sound of teeth chattering, Paige shakes the jacket off her shoulders and hands it to her which Azzi graciously accepts. When she wraps it around her shoulders, she is engulfed in the aroma of roses again.

“I thought you had a call to take,” Azzi remarks, her voice soft. Veins snake down the woman’s arms and hands until they disappear behind her knuckles. Her pale skin had become golden and her biceps protrude from the rest of her arm. The neat braids in her hair are now ruffled and frizzy, and small wisps of hair dance with the breeze. On her wrist is a beaded bracelet that reads “RESILIENCE.” The bracelet from her camp before their explosive argument. The sight of it makes her heart flutter, but when she reaches her face, a cold wave of dread washes over her as she notices the smeared mascara and faint patches of salty skin on her cheeks.

“Yeah, I did.” Paige answers bluntly, her voice cracking slightly. An uncomfortable silence falls upon them; the air heavy from their unspoken words. Azzi’s heart throbs at her cold tone. “What brings you out here?” she asks after a few moments.

“I felt nauseous.” Paige scoffs at her response, shaking her head.

“Bullshit.”

“Paige, why are you so fucking blunt?” Azzi exasperates, throwing her hands up in the air in surrender. “You hugged me earlier and that whole time, you were stiff as a rock. It’s been 3 fucking years, it’s time to grow the fuck up.” When Paige says nothing in response, Azzi continues. “I’m trying to be the bigger person here and you’re being unfair. I told you that we can stay friends and then you fucking gho-”

“Your fiancé,” the blonde sneers, tearing Azzi out of her rant. Her voice is shaky and dangerously close to breaking. Through the golden light, she can see the tears brimming behind her smudged eyelashes. “He’s the one that you met at Ted’s, right?” Azzi stays silent, giving Paige the confirmation she needed. “You’re not being the bigger person, not at all. You’re only talking to me because you want something out of me. Azzi, you’re being selfish.” The last word hits Azzi like a cold bucket of water.

“You’re being unfair,” Azzi says shakily, refusing to meet the blonde’s eyes.

Paige lets out a strangled sputter before opening her mouth. “I’m being unfair? Me being mad over you getting cozy with another man after our natty suddenly means that I’m being unfair?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. You’re being unfair because you’re hurting him with your comments. Do you think I can’t hear the derogatory names you’ve called him tonight?” Azzi scrunches her face and turns to the blonde, whose attention is on the sand that snakes between her toes.

“Are you happy?” the older woman finally asks after a period of silence.

“I don’t know.”

“What?” Her blue eyes dart towards hers.

“P.” Paige freezes at the use of her nickname, “I miss you. My offer still stands. We can go back to our friendship.” The last words are quiet, almost as if they aren’t supposed to be spoken. Memories of what they were rush through both of their minds. The women have something unreadable in both of their eyes as they stare at each other.

“No, we.. we can’t.” Paige finally speaks, tearing her gaze away from her, letting out a shaky breath and gets up to leave, but before she can take a step forward, she feels a forceful hand clasp around her wrist that prompts a wave of panic to flood through her. “Azzi, let me go. You can’t do this. You’re getting married soon for god’s sake.”

“Our last night in Belarus, I know you remember it. You wear the same perfume, you even gave me your hoodie. Shit, Paige, that was the time I knew that I fell in love with you. Every little thing you did for me felt like you were giving me your entire world. You fell in love with me too. Every argument we had, we made up, and we can make up from this too. I’m asking you to believe in us again. I won’t leave you.” For a split second, Paige’s eyes soften and she lets her walls down. She desperately wants to let go of her "tough guy" facade and let herself taste Azzi's lips again.

“No. You don’t get to say that now. Not when you have a fiancé waiting for you in the restaurant.” The vulnerability that Paige showed is once again blocked by the ramparts of her castle. The remembrance of Charles’s presence hits Azzi like an 18-wheeler. “It’s evident that you can’t own up to any of the mistakes that you made.”

“You’re not taking any accountability for it either! Do you think I haven’t tried?” Paige flinches, backing away from Azzi who is now screaming. “You had to address it at the fucking draft. For fuck’s sake, let me explain my side of the story.”

“I tried to give you space because clearly, you wanted to fuck around with him. You don’t get to explain your side of the story. It was the night of the March Madness championship and you ch-”

“Oh, shit.” A new voice joins their argument. Paige whips her head around and sees Dearica and Cameron looking at them with wide eyes. “Azzi, I don’t think you should-”

“No it’s okay,” Paige feigns a smile before pulling out of Azzi’s grip. “Welcome to the City of Dreams, Azzi. I’m sorry for having to leave so abruptly.”

And she’s gone. Packed away in the backseat of an Uber. It hurts Azzi more than it should. The doors to Paige’s heart that used to be held open for Azzi are now barricaded off, isolating her.

“What the fuck happened?” The blonde turns to Azzi with an edge of hostility in her tone. Dearica glares at her, and Azzi’s heart free-falls into her stomach.

“Azzi?!” Charles’s deep voice calls out, and Azzi is grateful to be saved from the awkward confrontation. When his eyes land on her, they soften and he wraps her into a tight embrace. Every piece of contact between them feels scratchy and uncomfortable, especially in Paige’s jacket. “Don’t fucking leave me again.” He snarls into her ear before glaring at her jacket.

The other women turn to leave before exchanging an uncomfortable look with each other.

***

An empty bottle of tequila is the only company Paige has on her bar table. Right as she lets the effects of the alcohol take her consciousness, her front door flies open. Every muscle in her body tenses and she buries her head into her arms in hopes that she will disappear.

“P?” It’s Cam. Her body relaxes.

A second pair of heavy footsteps make their way to the table. She stiffens again.

“It’s me, don’t worry. You’re alright” The other voice belongs to Dearica. She exhales and looks up. Cam’s eyes are fixed on the empty bottle of tequila and a heavy breath falls out of her mouth.

“Again? Seriously, Paige?” When Paige puts her head back down into her arms, Cam’s hands rub her back.

“Yeah. Again.” Sobs begin to wreck the blonde’s body and she shakes violently. Dearica and Cam exchange a panicked look before embracing their teammate.

“I’m sorry, Paige. What she did is fucked up” Dearica’s voice is soft and reassuring. “We tried to talk to her but, her, um, we were interrupted.” She and Cam are walking on thin ice; one bad step and their teammate will plunge in the freezing cold water.

“Let’s get you to bed. You have a big day tomorrow, so let’s make the most out of it.” Cam and Dearica carry their teammate, whose body is shaking violently while sobbing to bed.

For the 5th night in a row, she cries herself to sleep.

I need you.

***

“Charles, why do you want to marry me?”

“Because I love you baby, and I want to spend every second of my life with you. With us.”

“...Okay.”

“I promise I’ll never hurt you. I’ll be the one to protect you forever.”

“Azzi Fudd. What the fuck was that?” Charles sneers. His emerald eyes are alive, burning with acrimony. She doesn’t look up from her phone screen where her fingers shakily hover over the call button under Paige’s name.

“I’m sorry? I told you I was getting some air and I ran into Paige.” Her tone is surprisingly even and steady despite her trembling body. When a dark look falls across his face, she shudders. Suddenly, her phone is ripped from her hands and shattered against the wall with a loud smash that rings in her ears.

“Don’t fucking talk back to me. You saw what happened to your phone, and I know that you don’t want to be next.” He slams the door of their hotel room and stomps down the hall. When she doesn't hear the obnoxiously loud footsteps anymore, she allows her body to collapse and cries into her pillow while she thinks about the promises that they made on their engagement night.

I need you.

#pazzi #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #angst #pazzi fics #Spotify

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chronically-ghosted · 6 months

Text

fade into you

rating: Explicit (18+)

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: 4K

summary: counting down the days until the new baby arrives, you’re already wound to a breaking point. Fortunately, Dieter is as good a husband as he is a father.

warnings: pregnancy, hormonal behavior due to pregnancy, fluffy cute behavior with kids, oral (m!receiving), Dieter is a sensitive king and loves your tummy, brief body insecurity, pregnancy sex, smut, thigh fucking, daddy/mommy dynamic – mostly tongue in cheek, and finally the return of the greatest tag gone far too long from our lives - daddy!dieter

a/n: congrats @burntheedges you are the first prompt for my 1k follower celebration! This was your prompt for Dieter: "Your shirt is inside out." "Can you help me fix that?" This takes place in the same universe as Little Monsters, but you don’t have to have read that one to understand this one. Thank you SO much for sending this in!

🤍Dieter Bravo Masterlist 🤍Masterlist

I wanna melt in I wanna soak through I only wanna move when you move I wanna breathe out when you breathe in then I wanna fade into you

“C’mon – c’mon, just –,” your outstretched toe barely scrapes the end of the pen. You’re sweating – of course, you’re sweating, you’re always sweating these days. You try inching further down on the bed, as far as your aching back will allow, your leg fully extended, stretched so long you know you’re just flirting with a massive cramp –

You manage to snag the pen between your toes but as you bring it forward, the weight of the top slips back – “fuck, no!” and with a clatter, the pen tips backwards out of your grasp and onto the floor. After spending ten minutes trying to a fucking pen that you accidentally put there only after you managed to roll your way off the bed to go to the bathroom for the third time in forty-five minutes, the weight of it all hits you. The massive weight of you sinks back against the pillows, eyes scrunched shut, begging yourself not to cry.

You had all but demanded some time alone to work on the bills the producer wanted you to sort through. It was the last thing on your to-do list before you mentally allowed yourself to start your maternity leave and at this rate, it would be done by the time the nearly-grown baby in your stomach was a walking, talking ten year old. In that weird sixth sense mothers and their unborn children share, you feel your son turn and gently one foot presses against your forearm draped over your massive belly. In any other context, your heart would have been made ten times stronger, fortified by the love of your son.

Right now, it just makes you burst into tears.

You’re crying so hard you don’t hear the back door open, or the rousing chorus of Baby Shark that echoes through the house. If you were listening, you’d hear the squelch of wet flip flops traipsing through the kitchen floor, the song only occasionally broken by giggles and jokes about towel monsters coming to get little girls who drip water all over the living room, and a loud raspberry on soft skin.

He opens the door before you even have time to try to pull in the loud, wailing sob.

“Baby, look at –,”

“Dieter, don’t –,” you snatch up a pillow and shove your face into it, ashamed, embarrassed, and angry all at once. “Don’t look at me like this.”

When he had left you an hour ago, you had your hot tea by the side of the bed and your game face on – one of your sexier faces, if anyone asked him. You swore up and down this was the last thing and then it was smooth-sailing. You loved overworking yourself even while eight months pregnant, so Dieter and your doctor managed to make an agreement with you: all work must be done in bed.

You had your tea, a snack, even a towel wrapped around the headboard so you could pull yourself upright out of the bed to go to the bathroom unassisted while Dieter and Zelle went down to the pool . You, like you so often do, had a fool-proof plan. And to be quite honest, those were Dieter’s favorite kind of plans.

Listening to his ‘you think I can’t do it? watch me, fuck you’ wife and mother of his child (soon to be another) wail like the house was on fire made something inside of him break on a microscopic level. Like his organs were suddenly perforated with a million tiny cuts.

His bottoms still wet from the pool and Zelle’s wet suit quickly soaking the front of his t-shirt, Dieter approaches, his hand squeezing the arch of your foot to let him know he’s there. That did nothing to deter the anguish sobbing or inch the pillow away from your face.

With Zelle on his hip, he slides closer, touching you the whole time until he’s seated right beside you, his hand on your thigh. Your sobbing might only be second to Zelle’s own yelling cry in successfully destroying him from the inside out.

“Baby . . .”

You don’t flinch but he sees your knuckles go white – you’re nearly at the end, but you can’t seem to stop. As Dieter waffles between drawing you into his chest with his free arm or just being there for you while you let it all out, the weight on his hip shifts and a little pudgy hand brushes the back of your knuckles.

“Mama?”

Your sobbing stutters to a halt with a deep hiccup and all at once you go still. Very slowly, the pillow is lowered and your pink, snotty, dribbly face peers up at him. It’s not funny for you, and he knows this and he knows he won’t laugh but he wants nothing more than to pull you in close and kiss off those tears that have been nearly a constant presence in the last two weeks. Instead, his little girl beats him to it.

Zelle wiggles off his hip towards you and you take her in your arms, letting out one more whine as she wraps her tiny arms around your neck. She rubs her little face in your neck and you huff.

“Now, I feel silly,” you blubber. With a small chuckle, Dieter reaches over and gets a few tissues from the bedside table. He hands them over and you try to juggle Zelle and reaching over your swollen tummy to take them.

“C’mere, baby, let Mama have a second.” Zelle folds into his shoulder, her bright, inquisitive eyes never leaving your face as you wipe yourself dry and blow your nose. He rubs your thigh in circles. “You’re not silly. Whatever ever made you break out into deep sobs on a Thursday afternoon in our secluded bedroom is totally normal.”

You give a watery laugh, sniffing as you try to adjust your pillows, Baby Brave Number Two rolling back into your kidneys. He doesn’t kick, he's as unassuming as possible, but he can’t help how he floats.

“I dropped a pen,” you murmur with a sigh. “I just got comfortable after waddling back in from the bathroom and I dropped my pen.”

“Mama mad?” Zelle hides her little face beneath a curtain of hair. Dieter Bravo’s offspring in every conceivable way, Zelle is rarely this timid – only when there’s even but a hint of an implication that she’s in trouble. You’d see those same puppy dog eyes come out of the man with his hand up against her small back more than a dozen times.

“No, baby, I’m not mad.” You shake your head and those wide eyes get even bigger. “I’m just having a lot of feelings and I’m not doing a good job at managing them.”

“Yeah, like remember how you felt on your first day of preschool?” Dieter slides Zelle across his waist so she sits between you two. She glances back between your faces, anxiety and confusion twisting up her little features. “You were mad and sad and scared all at once so you started crying when we dropped you off?” She nods and he tucks a strand of delicate hair over her ear. “But then we had that talk in the car and you felt better. Mama just needs to do that.”

“Talk? Mama talk?”

He smiles at her and pulls her into his chest, smelling her strawberry L’Oreal shampoo, and a peace he’d never known before sinks into his bones. He feels whole with his little girl in his arms.

“Yes, she just needs to talk. Right, Mama?”

He pulls back and watches you visibly swallow. Not a knot of sadness but something else. It’s gone from your eyes by the time Zelle turns back around.

“I’m just really excited for your little brother to get here,” you say with a soft smile, your hand absentmindedly stroking the swell of your stomach where a little foot had been pressed just a few minutes ago. “Aren’t you?”

Zelle nods, smiling, and puts her ear to your stomach. A minute later, Dieter’s wide palm covers yours. He interlaces his fingers with yours and he smiles. The smile that’s been cultivated and cured over half a dozen years together, and recent late nights as new parents. A smile that has never graced a single magazine cover or Instagram reel. A smile that is forever and always will be yours.

“Come on, love bug, it’s bath time.” Dieter swings Zelle up into his arms and nibbles on her neck making her giggle.

“Then dinner time,” you grunt as you inch towards the edge of the bed. You try and swing your legs off the edge but end up nearly toppling over your lowered center of gravity.

“Baby –,” his firm grip steadies you, stops you from rolling into the bedside table. Those lines at the corners of his eyes sharpen for a second as he looks you over, worry all at once endearing and annoying. You hated being coddled but Dieter loved to coddle.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you can hear how out of breath you sound and you grimace. Dieter doesn’t let go of your arm until you’re firmly planted on the ground next to him and you squeeze his bicep as reassuringly as you possibly can. He loosens his grip, concern wrinkling his forehead, his hand sliding from your arm, to your elbow then over your belly once again. Baby Bravo jostles you where his father’s hand sits.

“See, we’re all okay.”

Your gazes meet at the same time and something softens in his eyes, soothes him and you down to the very beat of your heart. As if in a daze, Dieter’s eyelids flutter half-shut and his eyes slip to your mouth, he puts his hand on your swollen waist as he kisses you – deeply, with an intensity that makes your knees quiver.

“Ew.”

A puff of breath fans your cheeks as Dieter breaks the kiss with a laugh. On his hip, Zelle chews on her little fist, an all-too-familiar glint in her eye.

“You can’t say ‘ew’. You only exist because of kisses like that –,”

“Dieter!”

He shakes his head before kissing Zelle on her little nose. “Tough crowd tonight. But even little sharks need to get a bath before dinner.”

Zelle scrunches up her nose, baring her crooked little teeth, and raises her fingers like claws. “Rawr.”

You hear Dieter chuckle as he walks her down to the bathroom. “Yes, baby, that’s definitely the sound sharks make.”

The bills aggressively shoved to the floor, you are folding the last bit of laundry over the bed after dinner when Dieter saunters in. Still in his trunks and shirt from earlier in the day, a faint pink blush warms his nose and cheeks – which would be gone in a few days, only to be replaced by a gorgeous dark almond color. Dieter Bravo could naturally tan so perfectly it was honestly heart-breaking.

“She’s out?”

“She’s out.” He nods with a sigh. He scratches the back of his head and snags his phone off the bedside table. When he sits down on the edge of the bed, you see the tag of his shirt over the lip of his collar. You muffle your grin and quietly finish with the towels. “The guy who came up with the lyrics ‘Baby Shark, doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo’ is either a genius or a madman. Two rounds of that and she’s basically comatose.”

“How do you know it was a man?” You arch your eyebrow at him.

Dieter lifts his head from his phone and smirks at you. He reaches for you and you let him tug you between his legs. He kisses your wrist, your hands curled around his broad shoulders. “That was incredibly sexist of me, darling, can you ever forgive me?”

Dropping his head, he presses a soft kiss to the swell of your stomach, his eyes flicking up to you at the last second, the bottom half of his face hidden. The sight, one you haven’t seen in recent months but one you craved like a drizzle of honey over a bowl of fruit, loosens the tension in your back and liquifies your underwear.

“Dieter?”

“Yes, O Love of My Life?”

“Your shirt is inside out.”

The sultry look in his eyes immediately flickers out and he huffs a laugh, shaking his head and pressing his face into your neck.

“What would I do without you? Can you help me fix that?”

“Mhm hm.”

His back arched, you roll the faintly damp shirt up his spine, careful to take in the notches visible through his skin. You watch in delight as more of that broad back is revealed, more golden skin and freckles. The rim of the collar catches the back of his head so when you finally tug it off him, his hair is scattered in a dozen different directions. It takes nearly all of your willpower not to moan at the site.

“Or . . .” you make a deliberate show of dropping the shirt and Dieter goes honey-eyed again.

“Yeah?” He tilts his head up, wraps his massive hands around the back of your thighs, squeezing you above the backs of your knees, then higher up, his fingers pressing into your inner thigh muscles, and finally resting on your ass.

You nod and gently push him back. He goes without being told twice. “I want to thank you for taking Zelle to let me work today.”

His eyes go wide, his elbows locked with his arms set apart behind him, when you go onto your knees in front of him.

“B-baby, your back –,”

“Then give me a pillow, Dieter.”

He nearly launches himself back to snag a pillow by the headboard.

“My back is one thing, but I’m more worried about the knot of your trunks.”

Dieter busies himself with the drawstring of his shorts, his movements frantic, giving you a chance to muffle a grunt as you ease the pillow underneath your knees. He’s right, of course, but fuck if you couldn’t get those goddamn bills done, the least you could blow your husband until he popped off in your mouth.

“Love, you really don’t have to do this.” You glance up at him and despite the evident tent in his swim trunks, his wide eager eyes, he will do everything in his power to make these last few weeks even somewhat bearable.

With a smile, you lean forward and squeeze his knees. “I know. And honestly, I don’t know how long I’ll last, but I wanna try. Is that okay?”

An awe-struck grin splits his lips apart and he laughs, a high-pitched sound and breathless. “How long you’re gonna last? Been half-hard all day since you put on those leggings this morning.”

“Well, you were so good with Zelle today, talking to her about feelings, it made me kinda hot and bothered so I feel especially grateful.”

You lean forward, fingers plucking at the damp strings and out of the corner of your eye you see his knuckles go white against the sheets. You tug and he helps you by lifting his hips.

“S-so that’s what that look w-was.” He swallows roughly as you take him in your hand, stroking him gently at first. He squeezes his eyes shut – god, could you really make him come with just a few touches? “I’m j-just – fuck – doing my part.”

You kiss along his length and his shoulders lock up as his breathing quickens. You suck the spit in your mouth before dropping a string of drool right on the head and Dieter’s groan elongates, the muscles of his neck tense.

“Well, Mommy likes it when Daddy does a good job.”

Tongue out and jaw loose, you swallow him down nearly to the base. Maybe you’re biased because you married the himbo attached to it, but Dieter’s cock is one of the – if not the – very best cocks you’ve ever seen in your life. Thick without being overwhelmingly long and always oozing precum the instant you breathe on it. A slick vein that has him whimpering with a single lick.

“Fuck, Mama, you’re so fucking good at this.” Dieter’s hand floats to the crown of your head, his nails scratching your scalp, the weight of his palm soothing as it follows the motions of your head. With every little sigh he makes, your pussy squeezes with every bob of your head. Dieter’s sensitivity has always been a near drug for you, a chemical reaction that floods your brain, branding those noises on the lining of your skull as he drips down the back of your throat. You meet his hot gaze just as you drag your mouth up and nearly off him, only to kitten-lick the lip of his head and he clamps his eyes shut, shuddering.

When you hear his heel kick the ground beside you, his chest heaving and chin tilted up, you drop your mouth down to his base – years of taking him training you to smother your gag-reflex – and with hollowed cheeks, suck him all the way up to the tip. His wiry curls smell like chlorine and musk.

Dieter jerks, his hand flying to your shoulder as if to pry you off him.

“Mhmm – baby, p-please – shit,” he swallows and you pop off him, his cock red and shiny from your spit. Dieter is panting, soft center fluttering, flush high in his throat. Your underwear sticks to you as you realize he very nearly came in your mouth without warning. Call it being a masochist but you loved making him come before either of you realized what was happening.

“Get off your fucking knees and come here –,” he yanks you into his naked lap and you go, giggling as he palms your ass and kissing you so hard you tilt back. He bites your bottom lip and you keen. “Can’t believe I let my pregnant wife fucking suck me off like that when she knows I worship that little pussy.”

He cups you through your leggings and the dampness soaking through the fabric sends a moan through both of you. Dieter’s jaw goes lax as he rubs his thick fingers across your folds, the material catching and dragging, and you whimper – and not in a way he knows means a good thing. His gaze floods with worry and you shake your head – the instant the doctor gives the go-ahead you’re gonna have him rail you through a bedpost – “It’s okay. I’m just sore, baby. Last night –,”

He tsks, frowning. “I told you I was being too rough.”

“I asked for it. Also, so not the time for an ‘I told you so’. Help me stand up.”

With his hands on your hips, he eases you off of his lap and onto your feet. You lift up your exasperatedly large shirt, the hemline of which has been steadily shrinking as you grow, and clip off your bra. Dieter stares, mouth open, as you slip your leggings and your sticky underwear off your round hips and to the floor. With your second baby, you’d managed to quell the looming anxiety about your body changing but with a boy, you just feel ten times your normal size, bigger than you did with Zelle. Your heart hitches in your chest as Dieter’s eyes roam from your shoulders to your swollen tits, your belly, your thighs, and you’d be happy if he just thought you were –

“Gorgeous, baby, just fucking gorgeous.” He stands and kisses you without another word, his thumbs on your jaw tilting your mouth into his. He palms your breast, hard and weighed with milk. He approaches you with a level of sensuality that makes your eyes roll back in your head and your knees shake. How can he touch you like that when you’re already filled to the brim?

“How do you need it, baby?”

The tension that had been locking down the muscles in your back, your hips, since you woke up this morning, only heightened over those stupid fucking bills and feeling incredibly sorry for yourself, cracks at his words. Without your hands on his chest and his big hands cradling your jaw, you’re sure you would have melted to the floor. You lick your bottom lip, eyes scrunched tightly to clear the sudden tightness behind them.

“On my side, but between my thighs?”

His eyes are all heat, all dark wanting, but he hits you in the knees with one of his crooked grins. “Yeah, you’re gonna let Daddy fuck your thighs?” Total reverence, filth that has your toes curling coming as easy to him as it is to breathe.

“Please.”

He stands back at a distance, watching with half-set eyes as you climb into bed and peel back the covers. As you settle, Dieter flicks off the overhead light, and then the lamp by your bedside. His body lined in dark shadows and the cool touch of the moonlight, you track him as he rounds the bed, sliding in behind you in bed, the covers up to his shoulders. There’s a breath of silence, of anticipation, of a yearning so deep your skin flushes with goosebumps at his proximity. You know he’s there, you watched him dip on the other side of the bed, but a spark of panic tightens your lungs, you want to reach back for him, your baby unmoored as you are, trembling and desperate for the calming touch of the father –

He kisses you over your shoulder, broad, warm hand starting at your hip, then scooping down around your naked bottom to settle on your belly and from where his hand sits, you radiate with heat. Melting and growing sticky like tree sap, you drip for him, slick smearing across your thighs with no material to soak you up. His mouth is warm, the short hairs of his mustache numbing your upper lip, the taste of the red wine from dinner light against the back of his tongue.

When he cups you again, finds the sticky sap gathered in your curls and leaking onto your thighs, he breaks the kiss with a grunt and presses his teeth into your shoulder, his cock fully present against your back. You nip his bottom lip with your thumbnail, pleased beyond words at his reaction.

“I love you.”

That’s not what you thought he was going to say. He lifts his furrowed brow, eyes dark but struck with such earnestness, you feel your heartbeat in your ears. He sucks the mark his teeth made on your shoulder, his hips hitching closer, turning his weight over you, before dropping closer to kiss you again.

“How did I get so fucking lucky with you, hm?” He asks of no one. Delicately, he guides your knee back over his hip, his breath warm across the curve of your shoulder, his other hand pressing gently on the back of your neck. He would never, ever choke you in this state, but fuck you missed it. You missed it when Dieter loses himself entirely in you.

The head of his cock taps the wet triangle of your thighs and you fist the pillow beneath your head. He shuffles closer and you can feel his chest trembling with restraint.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he says in one breath. You know if you look over your shoulder, he’s fixated on watching you take his cock. Oddly enough, his ADHD always seemed to clear out during sex. “Do– do you need my fingers – a-a toy to prep you, ‘cause I can–,”

“Dieter, please.”

He exhales and, with a slow thrust that smears your arousal all over his spit-licked cock, you finally feel relief. The noise that leaves your throat is unrecognizable. That ruddy tip kisses your clit and the moan that tears out of you is nearly a scream.

A wide palm claps over your mouth, a breathy giggle falling down your back.

“Baby,” low, strained, barely audible over the sounds of your slickness sucking your thighs together around Dieter’s cock. “If you wake up that child before I’m balls deep in you, I will never forgive you.”

Using his hand as leverage, he pulls you back against him, pressing himself even further between your soaked lips, prodding your clit so gently it sends sparks up your spine and you come, a small wave, that somehow has you leaking more onto his cock.

“Ah – oh my god – did you just –?”

You whine and wrap your hand up into his hair, and finally he’s skin to skin up your back. His hips jolt you forward, the hard smack loud and sloppy in the mess between your thighs. Dieter leans over you and nips at your earlobe, his thrusts faster now, each one catching your clit with just enough time apart to send you ratcheting higher.

“That’s so good, Dieter, you’re doing so good –,”

A sharp intake of breath, high through a vocal shudder, and he drops down onto his shoulder against the pillow, looping his arm around your chest, a wide palm cupping your sensitive breast. Skin to skin, he is a wall of heat behind you, his hands both steadying you and begging you for more against your hip. It’s moments like these, when he’s swallowing up every sense you’re still in control of, that you really believe your soul lives in two bodies.

He tucks his lips near your ear and your skin tingles. “Can I touch your clit, or does that hurt?”

“Just put your hand –,”

You take him by the wrist from the curve of your waist, where he grips you tight, fingers pocketing your flesh, and slide him down between your legs.

“That’s it, baby, take what you need.”

Between the consistent bouncing of his cock between your pussy lips and the heat of his four fingers, stocky and thick, you have nowhere to go but up, your own hips thrust back aimlessly, bliss hurling towards you, until it breaks – and you whine, squeeze Dieter’s hand so hard, you think you hear a bone pop.

Wetness floods your thighs and, half a dozen strokes later, Dieter spills with a groan, white cream splattering against the low curve of your belly and onto the sheets. Covered in literal spend, exhaustion soaks your bones, gasping for air and never finding enough. You lie together, your bodies buzzing, blood roaring loud beneath your skin, until Dieter tilts his weight off you – you didn’t even realize he had nearly smothered you – and his cock slides out from between your numb legs, his grip loosening from your breast and his hand flopping down into the sheets. His skin is pink from exertion.

You grin and roll over as gracefully as you can, out of breath and the size of a house.

“An unexpected bonus,” you sigh, ringing your belly button with your finger, “I think we rocked him to sleep.”

Dieter huffs a laugh as he pushes a handful of damp curls off his sweaty forehead and his other arm curls around your shoulders. He rests his other palm over your fingers on your belly.

“Glad I could tire all three of us out.” You giggle into his shoulder. Both of you are sticky hot, sweltering in a fog of your own mess, and you can feel sleep tugging at the corners of your eyes. Humming, you curl up closer to him, your knee over his hip, tucking your nose into his neck as his fingers absently play with strands of your hair.

“I meant what I said, you know that right?”

Your body as supple as warm wax, eyes melting shut, you nod vaguely. “Mhmm hmm.”

“I love you, baby. Thank you, for everything.”

You return the sentiment, the words dribbling out of your mouth as sleep overwhelms you.

Later, when you wake up in the early blue hours of the morning, rain pattering against the glass, and you feel something cool and soft against your belly, you stir, reaching for him.

“Hush, baby, stay still for me.” He hums somewhere above you. You nod, on the precipice of sleep again. “You gave me the world, I’m just returning the favor.”

Later still, when you awake to a soggy light, Dieter and Zelle down the hall excitedly picking out which movies to watch on this designated Stay on the Couch day, you roll onto your back and realize he’s painted a globe onto your stomach.

A foot inside you presses up against Chile and you grin into space, content beyond your wildest dreams.

#dieter bravo #daddy dieter #gonna make this an official tag if its the last thing i do #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x oc #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfic #the bubble fanfic #the bubble

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in-my-feels-probably · 2 years

Note

Alright why not

Sirius Black x reader..

Reader's first animagus transformation (she is a wolf), Sirius didn't know she was learning how to become one, she doesn't know he is one either. Mild chaos ensues because there's a wolf in Gryffindor tower (that's not moony lol) Reader is fond of mischief and waits until right before they decision to send for a professor for help to attempt to transform back.

Gen reader or Fem reader preferred.

Canis Major

Request: Reader's first animagus transformation (she is a wolf), Sirius didn't know she was learning how to become one, she doesn't know he is one either. Mild chaos ensues because there's a wolf in Gryffindor tower (that's not moony lol) Reader is fond of mischief and waits until right before they decision to send for a professor for help to attempt to transform back.

Hi! I altered your request just a little bit, I hope that’s alright. If you want me to fix anything or write you something else, just let me know. I hope you enjoy it!

(Warnings: swearing, let me know if i missed anything)

—

“I am so bloody sick of their pranks,” Lily groaned, marching into the dorms. You put down your book, sitting up.

You gave her a sympathetic smile, patting the spot on your bed next to you for her to come sit. “What did they do this time?”

“I just finished transfiguring a few of the second year’s faces and hair back to normal. They were nearly in tears when I found them downstairs. Apparently, Remus found a way to charm jellybeans into a form of polyjuice. Their hair was as white as Dumbledore’s. How they managed to get one of his hairs, I’ll never know.”

“They played that prank on Sirius last week,” you laughed, remembering the tantrum he threw when he couldn’t fix it himself. “It took me ages to figure out how to reverse it. I have to commend Remus on his brewing ability.”

Lily groaned, clearly not sharing your idea of humor on the matter. “I’m a prefect, you know. I can’t always turn a blind eye.”

“Who’s idea was it to use the jellybeans? I thought Remus just used it to get back at Sirius for nicking his chocolate stash.”

“I managed to crack James,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Apparently, it was meant for the Slytherins. There was some kind of mixup, and the second years got a hold of them before they could stop it.”

“Morons,” you mused, shaking your head.

“We need to get them back. They’ve gotten a little out of hand lately, and I don’t fancy being the subject of their next joke.”

You grinned, rubbing your hands together. “What do you have in mind? I’ve got plenty of ideas personally, but I’m open to yours.”

“Think about pranking your boyfriend often?” She asked grinning, her brow raised.

“You think I’m safe just because I’m dating him?” You asked, chuckling. “Even I am not immune to his little games. It pays to be one step ahead.”

Lily sighed, taking your hand in hers. “We’ll have to just come up with something good, then. It’s the full moon in two days, you know.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” You asked, turning your body to face her. “Remus will be preoccupied all day, I assume the boys will be as well. You know how he gets the day before, they’ll probably stick to the dorms so he doesn’t have to exert himself much.”

“Exactly.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “What’s your plan?”

You knew that Remus was a werewolf, as did Lily.

It didn’t take long for either of you to figure it out, and Remus reluctantly told you the truth when you confronted him about it and promised you would never tell. You had even offered to swear an Unbreakable Vow, but he declined. You resigned to letting the boys fill you in on what happened when Remus would return to their dorms, knowing they’d be the ones he turned to if he needed someone.

Lily knew that you were an Animagus, too.

She was the one you came to when you began training for it. Each month when Remus would return from the hospital wing, you’d cringe at the sight of his fresh scars. You wondered if there was a way you could help him, beyond brewing Essence of Dittany and visiting him the morning after. There had to be a way you could help him each transformation, something you could do in the moment, and not after. The thought led you to your training, which you eventually had to confide in Lily about so that she could help you.

Surprisingly, she was very helpful about it. She did scold you, and berate you about how dangerous and not to mention illegal it was. But she wanted to help Remus, too, so she agreed to help you.

What you didn’t know was that the boys beat you to the idea. They had already begun accompanying Remus on full moons, a fact that Lily discovered for herself. She was just that clever, putting together the pieces before anyone else.

The nicknames they openly called themselves may have had something to do with that.

The boys becoming Animagi probably eased her reaction when she discovered you were also training to become one. She had by then done some research on the topic herself, helping you with the final stages.

Together, you finished the trials, and you finally took the form of a wolf. Ironic, considering what had inspired you to begin training in the first place. You had yet to follow Remus to the Shrieking Shack on a full moon, figuring going alone probably wasn’t the best idea. You hadn’t quite figured out how to tell him or your friends about it, figuring they would think the idea was insane.

It was a wonder they had somehow managed to hide the fact from you that they had already done it themselves. You’d figure it out later, and have the opportunity to scold your friends and your boyfriend for not including you.

But for now, Lily was the only one who knew the whole truth.

And she would use it to her advantage. What better way to get back at her friends would there be, than to scare the shit out of them in their own dorm?

“I have a plan,” she smirked, giving you an uneasy feeling. “Not on the full moon, of course. I’m not reckless in the way they have been recently. But if they have a wolf, I think it’s time we use ours.”

Your eyes widened at her words, and you shook your head. “Are you mad? You want me to show the boys that I can turn into a wolf at will? Don’t you think they’ll wonder where I learned how to do that?”

“Oh, come on. There’s no harm in it. They won’t tell anyone, I promise. I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought they would react badly. Trust me on this.”

“Are you sure?” You sighed, your voice less than confident. “I’m not so sure Sirius will fancy the idea of his girlfriend turning into a giant beast.”

Lily grinned, disagreeing. “I have a feeling he’ll be very open to the idea. You practically have him on a leash. Where you go, he follows. It’ll be fine.”

You missed how she tried not to laugh at her own joke, and you stood, finally agreeing.

“Alright! How do we do this? Alone, right? I’d prefer scaring the shit out of them without other people seeing.”

“Tomorrow night, just after dinner starts. We go eat, and hurry back here before them. We’ll say you aren’t feeling well or something, and tell Sirius you’ll wait for him in his room. Their dorm will be empty, I’ll make sure of it, and they’ll be the only ones coming back so early. You sneak in and wait for them, I’ll come down and make a big fuss. They’ll rush up, and you scare them. Easy enough, right?”

You looked at her warily, both impressed and terrified by her plan. “You’re fucking scary, you know that? I’d hate to see what you and those idiots could come up with if you put your mind to it. It’s a good thing you don’t ever join them.”

“Never have, and I never will,” she mused, grinning at you. “But I’ll join you. It’s about time they got a taste of their own medicine.”

—

The next evening, as planned, you excused yourself from dinner. You made sure Remus’s plate was loaded up so that he ate enough to keep his strength up, and then you stood, pressing a kiss to the top of Sirius’s head.

“I think I’m gonna go lie down a bit,” you said, smoothing your hand over his hair.

Sirius turned around, looking concerned. “Are you alright, love?”

You smiled, reassuring him. “I’m fine. Just a little tired. Mind if I lay down in your dorm for a bit? Some of the girls are in mine and they’re always quite loud after dinner.”

He nodded, running a comforting hand up and down your arm. “Of course, darling. Do you want me to come up with you?”

Your eyes softened as you looked down at him, almost regretting the prank you were about to pull. But as your eyes met Lily’s, she reminded you of the plan, and you shook off the feeling.

“No, it’s fine, stay and eat,” you said, squeezing his shoulder. “Lily, would you mind coming with me, though? I wanted to ask about the Potions lesson today, I think I missed some of the notes.”

Lily nodded, standing up. “I’m finished anyways. Come along, darling.”

She linked her arm with yours, leading you away from the table and out of the Great Hall. As soon as you were out of sight, you snickered together, rushing for the dorms.

“Get up there quickly,” she said, ushering you through the portrait entrance. “Sirius seems rather worried about you, the lovesick git. He chooses now to be a good boyfriend?”

“He‘s always a good boyfriend,” you laughed, heading up the stairs to the boys dorm.

“Yes,” she agreed, playfully rolling her eyes. “It’s sickening at times. Now hurry up, before he decides to come back and do something sweet and ruin it all.”

You nodded, quickly pushing open the door to the boys dorm, closing the door behind Lily. You looked around the room once you both were in, and Lily’s eyes widened in shock.

“Merlin, they’re messy,” Lily gasped, bending down to pick up stray items of clothing and pieces of parchment.

You snickered as she tried to clean. “I’d be careful what you touch, love. You don't know where all this shit has been.”

She grimaced, quickly dropping everything in her hands. She took her wand out of her pocket, casting a cleaning spell. You watched as everything on the floor hovered in the air, before categorizing itself either onto a bed, bag, or in the bin.

“I casted a listening charm in the common room, we’ll be able to hear when they come in.”

“I’d probably be able to hear it, anyways. Wolf hearing and all,” you thought out loud.

Lily nodded, turning to you. “Alright, let’s see it. Do your thing.”

“Where do you want me?”

Lily thought a moment, before shrugging. “It doesn’t matter, I don’t think. A wolf in any part of their room will freak them out…although maybe you should sit on James’s bed. Something tells me he’d scream the loudest.”

You laughed, nodding. “See you in a bit, then.”

Without another word, you shifted into your wolf form, now on four legs. You stood tall, bowing to stretch as you got used to being in this form.

Lily nearly gasped when you finished, looking at you with wide eyes. “I nearly forgot how big you are like that. Of course you’re black, too. You match your boyfriend. Why am I surprised?”

You huffed, jumping up on Sirius’s bed. You sat on the edge of it, laying down. Lily came over to stand next to you, running a hand along the fur on your spine.

“You really are scary, you know. I think James is going to cry.”

You wished you could laugh, turning to nuzzle your head into her hand. Suddenly, Lily perked up, heading to the door.

“They’re coming! Get down, stand right here behind the door. I’ll corral them all in here, and shut the door so they can’t get out. Do try to not get hexed, I’ll do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen. Be right back!”

She opened the door, feigning terror. She let out a scream, bounding down the stairs.

“James!” You could hear her call. “Sirius, Remus! Someone help!”

“What is it?” A unison of voices said, and then there were footsteps bounding up the stairs.

You took the sound as your cue to hide, stepping behind the door so you couldn’t be seen at first. The door was pushed open, and one by one, the boys filed in. They all stopped in their tracks, looking at each other confused. Lily closed the door behind them, standing against it so they couldn’t leave.

“Lily, there’s nothing in he—“

Remus was cut off by a low growl, and the boys turned to see you stalk closer to them from the side of the room. James let out a yelp, clambering to climb up onto his bed.

“What the fuck?” James screamed, nearly shaking on the bed. “It’s humongous.”

“Is that…that’s a…it’s a…,” Sirius stuttered, before Remus grabbed his shoulder, pulling him behind him.

“A wolf.”

“A werewolf or a wolf wolf?” James asked, and Sirius scoffed from behind Remus.

“Don’t be daft, James. Werewolves can’t just turn at will, not like this. And it’s not a full moon yet.”

“That’s not what I look like is it?” Remus asked, looking down at you cautiously.

“Where’s Y/N?” Sirius asked, frantically looking around. “Wasn’t she up here with you?”

You had yet to move, looking between your friends. From the door, Lily was trying to hide her snickers. You huffed out a breath, taking a slow step forward. All three boys let out a squeal, stepping back.

Lily rolled her eyes, taking a step towards you. “Not very brave, for a bunch of Gryffindors.”

“Lily, no!” James yelled, jumping down from the bed. You let out a growl at him, making him hesitate. He tried to step forward again, but Sirius held an arm out across his chest, holding him back.

“Sirius!” James argued, but Sirius wouldn’t relent.

“Just wait!” Sirius said, looking at you with curious eyes. “Evans…keep going.”

Lily nodded, slowly approaching you with an extended hand. You feigned interest, sniffing her hand. After a minute, you nuzzled her hand with your snout. She let out a giggle, running her hand through your hair, reaching up to scratch behind your ears.

“Is Lily petting a fucking wolf?” Remus asked, looking back at his friends. “Am I going mad?”

“If you’re mad, then I’m batshit crazy for this,” Sirius said, slowly approaching you. “Please don’t bite me, please don’t bite me…”

His voice trailed off as he crouched down in front of you, letting you sniff his hand. He avoided your gaze, his hand slightly shaking with fear. You decided you had stalled long enough, flexing your paws. Suddenly, you leaped, landing on Sirius and knocking him to the ground. You pinned him to the floor under you, hovering your face just above his.

“Fuck!” Remus said, reaching for his wand.

James had already drawn his, moving to stun you, when Lily stood in between you and them to block you.

“Don’t!” She said, drawing her own wand. “Don’t hurt it.”

“Are you mad? It’s on top of Sirius right now, move,” Remus said, trying to reach around her. “Lily, this isn’t funny.”

“If we aren’t going to do something about it ourselves, then we need help. I’m going to get a professor,” James said, headed for the door.

“No need, boys,” Sirius called up from the floor. “I think I’ve got it handled.”

Lily moved out of the way to reveal Sirius on the floor, with you resting flat against his chest. The boys looked at him stunned, and Sirius was reluctant to move under you.

“We may need a professor to help get you out,” Sirius said, smoothing a hand down your fur. “But I think it’s safe to say you aren’t going to kill me.”

Lily whistled, and you climbed off Sirius’s chest, moving to stand beside her. She gave you a look, and you took that as a sign, slowly shifting back into your regular form. You stretched once fully stood, smoothing down your clothes.

Sirius gaped up at you from the floor. “Y/N?”

“What the fuck is going on?” James asked, pushing his way out from behind Remus. “How did you do that?”

“She’s an Animagus,” Remus realized, nearly grinning. “And a wolf. Ironic, isn’t it? Should I feel flattered, Y/N? Do you love me?”

He drew out the ‘o’ in love, making you laugh. Sirius looked between the two of you with wide eyes, flustered. You cooed at him, reaching for his hand. He begrudgingly let you take it.

“I hate to disappoint you, Remus, but I’m not in love with you. I am loyal to you, though. A bit protective. I suppose that had something to do with it. I didn’t choose my form, you know. It just happened. It’s like a patronus.”

Lily let out a small gasp, smirking in realization as she looked at Sirius. “Sirius…the wolf is akin to the dog, is it not? I wonder what your thoughts are on the matter.”

James visibly paled, trying and failing to hide his shock as he put the pieces together. Lily knew. But how?

Sirius was beginning to wonder the same thing. “James, you dickhead! Why’d you tell her?”

“I didn’t tell her anything!” James exclaimed, raising his hands in surrender. “I don’t know how she knows!”

You looked between your friends with a confused look on your face, piping in. “Know what? What’s going on?”

“You figured it out, didn’t you?” Remus smirked, interrupting the bickering between the boys. “Nicely done, Evans.”

“Thank you,” she curtsied, grinning at the confused look on the rest of her friends' faces.

It was your turn to figure it out as your eyes widened in shock. “Holy shit! You’re all Animagi, too. How didn’t I figure that out sooner? It’s obvious, now that I’m thinking about it.”

“I didn’t know you were one,” James said, shrugging. “I don’t think it was that obvious.”

“That’s because you can’t keep your eyes off Lily long enough to notice much of anything,” you mused, making your friends snicker.

“Alright, I think that was a success,” Lily said, clapping her hands together. “Let’s go, boys. I’ll explain the rest.”

James and Remus nodded, heading for the door. Lily gave you a smile, following them as they filed out. You could hear her teasing James, stifling a laugh while he was still in earshot.

“That scream was truly something. How very valiant of you, James,” Lily said, smirking. “My hero.”

James groaned, the sound of his voice quieting down the further away he got. “Forgive me for not jumping into action at the sight of a fucking wolf in my room.”

You shut the door as their voices drifted away, turning back to Sirius. You narrowed your eyes at him, slapping him across the arm.

“What was that for?” He whined, clutching his arm.

“For not telling me you’re an Animagus!”

“You didn’t tell me you’re one, either,” he pouted, still rubbing at his arm.

“Don’t be a baby,” you said, rolling your eyes before bending down to place a quick kiss to the spot you hit. “I didn’t tell you because I haven’t worked up to going outside yet. You’ve all been going with Remus for months, haven’t you?”

Sirius gave you a sheepish look, nodding.

You groaned, shaking your head. “Your form is a dog, I suppose? I guess the nickname Padfoot is actually clever, then.”

“It is a dog. Ironic, I know. When did you start training?”

You thought for a moment, pondering. “A few months. Three, maybe?”

“Smart girl. It took me six,” he said, grinning. “I’m flattered, by the way.”

You furrowed your brows at his words. “Flattered?”

“Your form matches mine, you took after me since mine was established first. It isn’t because you’re loyal to a wolf, and therefore a wolf yourself. It’s because you’re loyal to me. We’re alike.”

You could feel yourself flush at his words, smiling. “So, you saw me. Do I get to see you?”

Sirius grinned, before quickly shifting into his form. You smiled as a wiry black shaggy dog appeared in front of you, with fur as unruly as Sirius’s hair could be. Padfoot was quite adorable, but also slightly terrifying. You had that in common.

You ran a hand along his fur, noting the black sheen of his coat. “We match.”

Sirius shifted back into himself, taking a seat on his bed. He held a hand out for you, pulling you to sit beside him.

“You might be cuter as a dog,” you mused.

He playfully nudged you in the ribs, shaking his head. “You’re insufferable, darling.”

“Hush,” you said, grinning at him before grabbing his hand. “You told James to stop. You let Lily approach me, having no idea whether she’d be attacked or not. Why?”

He was quiet for a moment, scanning your face as he gave you a small smile. “Your eyes.”

“What?”

“You have the same eyes as the wolf. I could see you in them.”

You smiled at him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as you squeezed his hand. He squeezed back, letting his head rest against your shoulder.

“We’re gonna have to come up with a nickname for you," he murmured. “I suppose you’re going to want to come with us on full moons now, aren’t you?

You chuckled, nodding. “You won’t be able to stop me, love.”

—

A/N - Hi! I hope you enjoyed it, let me know what you think!

#harry potter #marauders #marauders imagine #sirius black x reader #harry potter imagines #sirius black fluff #sirus black #sirius black x you #sirius black imagine #marauders x reader #the marauders #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader

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archangeldyke-all · 7 months

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okay so, sevika and reader have been friends for a few years and obviously there’s feelings but they won’t admit it🤭 and reader goes on a date but gets stood up😟 and sevika comes across her crying her eyes out and maybe there’s some feelings coming out??

CUTE cute cute

men and minors dni

good luck on your date

you sigh as you stare at the message from sevika. she's so sweet-- checking in on you because she knows you're nervous.

there's no new messages for you from your date-- no new messages from anybody besides the one from sevika.

you try to relax. it's only been ten minutes, your date will show up eventually. she'll probably be here in a minute, with an explanation for her lateness. you take another sip of water and pick at the roll you've been eating, then play a quick game of solitare on your phone.

you win. you check your phone again. 15 minutes late now, no new messages.

she's late. you text back to sevika. the message is read in an instant, and you feel yourself relax incrementally at the sight of the little typing bubble in the corner of your phone.

relax. she's probably just in traffic. sevika's response comes through. you sigh, wishing that sevika was here with you.

it's not that you guys are stupid. you both know there's a shared attraction between you two. it's just that...

it's just that sevika's your best friend. and you're her best friend. and both of you are so guarded that it's nearly impossible to make any new friends, so you need each other, forever, preferably. and a relationship would just... complicate that. and jeopardize it. right?

you don't know. you're starting to question that decision, on your end. because this is the fifth first date you've been on in a month, and you're getting fucking sick of it. you wish things could be easy, like they are with sev. if she was here, you'd both be too busy laughing and joking to look at the menu. and when you finally did, you'd likely order two dishes that you'll share equally, because you're both indecisive and like variety. and you'd drink through a bottle of wine and end the night with a shared slice of cake, and then crash at sevika's-- cuddled together in her bed while a movie plays in the background.

but it's not sevika you're waiting on-- sevika'd never keep you waiting in the first place. it's a girl you met on tinder, who seemed incredibly interested in you over text, but now that you're meant to meet it seems like she's much less into you.

it's been a half hour now. you're getting a little worked up, horrible thoughts swirling in your mind as humiliation starts to settle in your stomach. the waitress has been shooting pitying looks your way, your date's ice water has melted into just water now.

your phone buzzes, and you scramble to open it. she there yet? sevika asks. you bite your lip.

no. how long do i have to wait before i accept that she stood me up? you reply.

you anxiously watch sevika's typing bubble pop up, then down, then up, then down again. you gulp.

give it ten more minutes. if she doesn't show, block her. sevika replies. you chuckle, taking a deep breath and leaning back in your seat.

okay. ten more minutes. you can do that.

you play another round of solitaire and eat another piece of bread. each time someone walks past your table your head whips up to look at them. it's never the girl from the app, it's just waiters and couples.

a lump is forming in your throat-- this is why you don't fucking date. people are unpredictable and rude, and you can't stop yourself from feeling like a fucking idiot for even trying. you feel... ugly and strange and rejected and undesirable, and the more time that passes, the worse that feeling gets. you feel tears starting to build in your eyes, and you duck your head, pretending to study the menu to hide the fact that you're crying.

"hey, beautiful." you jump, your head snapping up from the table top to look at the woman across the table from you. relief floods your body at the sight of your best friend kicking the chair out and slumping against it. she reaches across the table and wipes your tears away, and you lean against her palm.

"hey, sevika." you sigh. she smiles sadly at you, pinching your cheek before putting her hand back on the table.

"i'm sorry your date's an idiot. she doesn't know what she's missing out on." sevika says as she grabs your hand. you smile.

"you don't have to say--"

"shut up. you wanna eat here or you want me to take you home?" she asks. you sigh and squeeze her fingers.

"let's eat. i'm starving, and i'd feel even worse if i went home and let this outfit go to waste." you say. sevika smirks.

"you do look hot." she says. you giggle.

"you do too." you say, nodding at your friend. she must've gotten dressed up to come rescue you-- her usual weekend sweats traded out for nice dress slacks and a button up-- and it makes your heart skip a beat. "thanks for coming."

"fuck off, i'd do anything for you, you know that." she says, not looking up from her menu. you squeak, then reach up to cover your mouth, and sevika looks up from her menu to study you. "what?" she asks. you blink at her.

"why..." you trail off. sevika raises an eyebrow at you.

"what?"

"forget it. what're you getting?" you ask.

dinner goes like it always does. you guys share your food, split a bottle of wine, laughing and talking the entire time. you can't tell if she's trying to be a little extra caring toward you because you've been stood up, or if she's always like this: feeding you bites from her plate, holding your hand when you're not using it to eat.

you also can't stop thinking about how this feels better than any date you've been on this month. you can't stop thinking about how soft sevika's hair looks, how fucking sweet she is when she smiles all big and toothy, how warm her hand is, and how attractive and tantalizing the tiny flash of cleavage under her unbuttoned top buttons is.

when the night ends, sevika insists on paying. you try your best to pay the bill, but sevika kicks you under the table hard enough to bruise and glares at you when you reach for your wallet. so, you let her handle the check.

she walks you out of the restaurant with her arm slung around your shoulders, and you try to keep yourself from leaning against her chest and inhaling the smell of her cologne.

"did you drive here? i can give you a ride home." she offers. you turn to look at her, studying her under the streetlights. you've been through an emotional roller-coaster tonight, but with sevika by your side, you feel settled. she's beautiful and considerate, and you're tipsy off wine and warm from the night spent with your best friend, so you ask the question before you can second guess yourself.

"why aren't we dating?" you ask. sevika blinks at you, her eyebrows shooting up her head.

"what?"

"i mean. it makes sense, right? i find you attractive, and you find me..."

"beyond gorgeous." sevika fills in, nodding. you laugh.

"and we get along great and... i dunno, sev. i've been on so many dates but none of them feel anywhere near as right as just sitting on the couch with you. and i know we're friends but i don't think... i don't think much would change, do you?" you ask. sevika's still shocked, but there's a tiny smile playing on her lips.

"really?" she asks. you shrug.

"yeah. you've never thought about it?"

"i think about it all the time." she says. "all the time."

"really?"

"i've been tearing my hair out all month. each time you went on a date i'd be at home fucking praying that it didn't work out. i just thought-- i thought you wouldn't want me." she says. you gulp.

"of course i'd want you." you say.

"is this finally happening?" she whispers. you giggle.

"if you want it to." you say. she grins.

then, she's kissing you. her lips are soft and warm, and you feel fireworks in your stomach. you reach up to bury your fingers in her hair, and she wraps her arms around your waist, backing you up until you're against the brick of the restaurant.

you moan against her lips and she growls, sinking her teeth into your lower lip. you gasp.

"f-fuck, sev."

she pulls away with a smirk.

"sorry. been wanting to do that for a while." she says. you smile.

"do it again." you say. she grins.

"i think you're only supposed to kiss once after the first date." you giggle and pinch her side, and she laughs.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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codecicle · 11 months

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The QSMP is looking for smaller English-speaking streamers, so I figured I'd take the time to introduce qsmpblr to none other than Eric "Condi" Condifiction!!

// this will contain (very minor) spoilers for jrwi riptide, apotheosis, bitb, some prime defenders, and the SCU //

Condi is an English-speaking Canadian who's a part of Just Roll With It (JRWI), the absurdly powerful dnd podcast he runs with his friends Bizly, Grizzly, and Slimecicle!! He plays several characters across their multiple campaigns, along with DM'ing his own campaign of Apotheosis. He plays/played Jay Ferin for Riptide, Rolan Deep for Blood in the Bayou, Sylnan Vengolor for Fated, Flynn Gustwind for Convergence, and Vyncent Sol for Prime Defenders. (plus something im probably forgetting whoops anyway)

He is insanely talented at rp and improv, with some of the more infamous and my favorite examples being episodes 53, 100, and 101 in JRWI: Riptide. The way he plays Jay Ferin is emotionally devastating and incredible, and she's genuinely brought me to tears multiple times. Though he plays his absolute heart out with every character he makes, she's just a neat example of his range and talent. Looking at the differences between Jay, the Navy's daughter, and someone like Rolan Deep, a lawyer returning to his hometown of Galloway to experience The Horrors™ is just wild man. Not to even mention everything he does with Vyncent and his multiple different characters inside him; along with everything he made for his own campaign of Apotheosis.

Something something charlie slimecicle calls him "God Gamer Condifiction." He's really good at video games dude I have no way to talk about this he just is its really scary honestly. On one of his more recent streams he went live playing Only Up! and he beat it in one go without any major setbacks, fast enough to refund the game and get all the money he spent on it back. Just for context.

He also has a background in minecraft roleplay specifically!! He was part of the SCU (Slimecicle Cinematic Universe) where he roleplayed several different characters. God!Condi and 100Days!Condi being the more defined ones. Everything he did in the SCU was nearly pure unscripted improv and incredibly impressive, and I highly recommend you go through and watch it!! (I go into detail on how to get into it on this post)

He doesn't just have background in the roleplay aspects of minecraft though, he was also briefly on SMPEarth and is skilled at regular minecraft too. He mainly strives at the roleplay aspects, but again the whole God Gamer Condifiction thing so ^_^

youtube

^ Here's a good example of his regular PVE skills in this video where his chat tortures him through a crowd control mod as he tries to build a cottage core lesbian house

youtube

^ Along with a link to of one of my all time favorite videos of his, which I think shows his humor and style of jokes off in a cool way :]

Overall I just really need my dnd guy to be in my favorite minecraft server so he can make so many SCU references with Charlie Slimecicle, then emotionally devastate us through the roleplay aspect. I really hope he manages to get in so everyone gets a taste of his amazing roleplay and gaming (i guess thats how im phrasing it) abilities :DD

Condifiction 👍

#i make yet anothet post just for me 👍#qsmp #qsmpblr #jrwi #its weird putting his first name but it feels wrong without it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#id in alt text #^_^#THIS ENTIRE THING TOOK WAY TO FUCKING LONG #ANYWAY‼️‼️ im so hyped he even expressed interest in this server dude #im literally qcondi truthing so hard 🙏🙏#if qcharlie is real than qcondi can be real PLEASE

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misspanicdead · 2 years

Text

When Eddie is little they play this game.

It starts late one night, when Eddie is supposed to be asleep, tucked up in the bed that used to be Wayne's but is now solely Eddie's. There's a freak thunderstorm that wakes him, and he wanders his way into the living room and into Wayne's lap.

It's still early in their relationship, Eddie still trying to feel Wayne out- figure out how much he really cares, how safe Eddie truly is here. So, wrapped up in a blanket, head tucked against Wayne's chest, Eddie asks "would you still love me if i slept here tonight?" Voice barley audible over a crack of unexpected thunder.

It continues from there. Eddie asking random little questions at odd times. A "would you still love me if i turned purple?" at bedtime. A "would you still love me if i ate all the cheerios?" at the grocery store. Even one very memorable "would you still love me if i was a worm?" on a rainy day- he'd stopped midsplash in a puddle to ask Wayne that one, face scrunched up in seriousness.

Every time, without fail, Wayne always answers that yes, he will still love Eddie, even then.

Even as Eddie gets older and the questions get more serious, Wayne's answer never wavers.

Never.

When he comes home from work one morning to find Eddie sitting on the couch awkwardly, hands trapped behind his back, trying his level best to look casual, and asks "if i almost got busted tonight and needed you to pick the lock on some handcuffs, would you still love me?" Eddie's smile is impish, shy, but there's real fear sitting in his eyes. Wayne sighs, gets a drink, and works on setting his nephew free.

(It takes nearly an hour and three bobby pins, but Wayne still gives the kid a gruff "yes" before kissing his hair and going off to bed.)

"Would you still love me if i didn't graduate again?" Eddie asks, voice scratchy and eyes red rimmed. There's a bag sitting by his feet, overflowing with Eddie's things, like his boy is expecting Wayne to kick him out for this.

"I'll always love you, kid. And this will always be your home," he says, picking up the bag and dragging it back to Eddie's room where it belongs.

..."Would you still love me if i was gay?" It's barley a whisper, shaky and tear filled. Eddie's sitting on the far end of the couch, like he's afraid he might need some distance here and that simply won't do. Wayne stands- knee cracking painfully- and sits down next to his boy. Wraps an arm around him and pulls him into his side. He still fits like he did when he was seven.

"You listen here, and you listen good," Wayne says, "There is nothing that you could ever do or be that would make me stop loving you. Not a single damn thing."

"What if i, like, murdered somebody?" Eddie jokes wetly. Tears are starting to spill down his cheeks and Wayne knows that he's seconds away from sobbing.

Wayne sighs. "Shit, I'd probably help you hide the body." A laugh bursts out of Eddie and then they're off, laughter quickly turning into tears. Wayne holds him through it, letting a few tears of his own drip into Eddie's unruly hair.

Wayne thinks about this when he's sitting on his porch steps, smoking a cigarette and waiting for the cops to come. A dead girl lying on his living room floor behind him.

Eddie is gentle. Sweet. That just isn't in his nature to do. And Wayne knows that. Will fight tooth and nail to prove that, to find where his boy is.

Because just like he always said, he still loves Eddie.

#stranger things #eddie munson #wayne munson #eddie and wayne munson #im sorry about this one fellas #it plagued me while i was trying to sleep and wouldn't go away until i wrote it #if it makes anyone feel better i think i hurt myself while writing it

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apomaro-mellow · 1 year

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42!

The funny part of it all was that there had been a single, solitary moment, where Steve entertained the thought that this was all a joke. After all, in what universe did Eddie actually love him? But every touch was so natural. His smiles all looked genuine. He had really convinced Steve it was real.

Unfortunately for Eddie, his little game got revealed when Steve overheard him talking to his friends.

"I can't believe you've actually been dating Harrington for this long. I bow to your acting prowess", Gareth had said.

"What're you gonna do when time's up?", Jeff asked.

"I don't know...dump him...I guess."

Steve's heart had shattered but he forced himself to stay and listen. This had to be a mistake, a misunderstanding. Eddie would nev-

"Are you gonna make it brutal?", Craig asked.

"Naw, he doesn't deserve that. We had a few laughs and now we're moving on. And I'll be 60 bucks richer", Eddie grinned.

Steve felt like he was falling. He still was, even now as he stood in front of Eddie, confronting him when they met up at Skull Rock for a 'date'. What would've been their last date, had Steve not caught on.

"You...heard all that?"

"$60. That's all I'm worth to you?"

"Steve I-"

"Shut the hell up Munson. I'm done. You can get your money. Just don't ever talk to me again."

"I'm not-"

"Oh my god! Just give it a rest. I don't care if you feel guilty, or if you're trying to convince me this wasn't a game. I heard everything. I know it's fake. And I know you're an asshole." Steve turned to the side, not able to look at him all the way.

It was very easy to remember all the sweet nothings Eddie whispered to him. How it felt when he held his hand. But it was like Gareth had said, he was a good actor.

"We had a few laughs right?" Steve let out a watery chuckle. “Who’s laughing now?”

“…Clearly not you. You’re crying, dear God.”

Steve turned back to look at him just as he reached up to touch his face. It was wet. He hadn't cried when he and Nancy broke up, or when he was beaten within an inch of his life, or when he nearly saw Max die right before his eyes.

But of all things, of all people, THIS was what brought on the tears.

Happy Ending here

Send me a dialogue prompt

#finally got some angst up in here #stranger things #steddie #apo writes #thanks for the ask!

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ingravinoveritas · 6 months

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hey, if you watched comic relief, did you think david looked unbearably tired? he sounded near tears at times and idt it was just bcs of the charity videos

Hi there! I'm not in the UK, so I wasn't able to see Comic Relief while it aired, or any clips until now.

I didn't notice the tiredness at first, but it definitely seemed to become more visible later in the show, as did the sounding near tears. This moment (which I got from a fan on Twitter who compiled all of David's bits) in particular really got me, as it's so apparent here...

As to what could've been causing this, I think there are several things that could have been happening, possibly even all at once. Up until I got into Good Omens/David/Michael, I wasn't at all familiar with Comic Relief, but having watched the show for a few years now, there are some really striking things I've noticed about how it's structured and what it involves.

On the one hand, you have lots of famous actors and comedians and musicians putting on a show and telling jokes...and then on the other, you have emotional videos of people in dire situations, both in the UK and abroad. And because Comic Relief is live, it's much harder to build in transitions between these two things, so you end up dramatically shifting from lighthearted to serious and back, and it leaves you with a bit of whiplash as a result.

So if those abrupt tonal shifts are difficult for us an audience, they must be even more challenging for the host(s), including David. I think the live aspect of the show makes it very similar to theater and how David might have reacted in differing moments during Macbeth, because we're seeing emotional reactions in real time, without the benefit of editing. Tonight was also the last occasion of Comic Relief that Lenny Henry was hosting after nearly 40 years at the helm, so I feel like that probably made David emotional as well, given how much he has worked with and admires him.

As for the tiredness, it seems there were at least a few interviews that David did prior to the broadcast, so he was probably running around all day trying to get everything done. Then you add to that the chaos of multiple hosts on stage and everyone trying to find their marks (which seems to have been something David was stressing out about a bit in one of the interviews today), plus the charity videos, and it's no wonder that he looked so drained.

(Another thing I also wonder is if David's demeanor had anything to do with sharing the stage with Davina McCall, who was allegedly outed as a TERF last year. Given the attacks from the anti-trans loons that David and Georgia have endured over the last several months, I can imagine that he might not be comfortable co-hosting with someone who espouses such views. And for the record, there was something about Davina that inexplicably annoyed/seemed off to me long before any of the TERF stuff came to light. It seems like my instincts have been confirmed in that regard...)

So yes, those are pretty much all of the things that came to mind regarding David's demeanor at Comic Relief. He's probably been running himself ragged lately with new projects since Macbeth ended (the Genius Game hosting gig, for one, and an appearance on the SmartTV game show, plus multiple upcoming Comic Con appearances), so hopefully he can find some time to relax and breathe in between all of this, because he more than deserves a break.

I hope this helps to answer your question. Thanks for writing in! x

#lxvenderjewel #reply post #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #comic relief 2024 #red nose day #it breaks my heart to see him so wrung out #and to wonder what if anything else could be going on #but i will leave it to my followers to make up their own minds #i just hope David knows that he is lovely #and deserves good things #thoughts #discourse

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sweetestofchaos · 10 months

Text

Run From Me - One | K.TH

p. vampire!taehyung x vampire hunter!reader

g. soulmates - enemies to lovers - reincarnation

r. 18+

w. mentions of blood - hints to murder - mentions of torture - hints to a past life - verbal threats

wc. 782

an. divider and support banner made by @benkeibear

previous | next

Taehyung licked at the blood that bubbled to the surface of his split lip.

He had forgotten how much of a fight you liked to put up. He chuckled as he wiped his mouth with his thumb. The digit, soon wrapped within his lips as he sucked the blood back into his body. You backed away panting. Your chest heaved up and down, your pulse, even as faint as it was, drummed rapidly. Taehyung smiled as the broken skin on his lip started to heal.

"Run from me again and again. I will find you. Every. Single. Time. You are mine. You were mine then as much as you are mine now, my dear."

It was an unspoken truth. You belonged to him. You belonged by his side. You belonged in his bed. It was a tale as old as time.

"So, run. Flee from my arms and take shelter from my eyes. I will grant you this wish, but know this dear one." He stared right at you unblinking. His brown eyes were nearly black as he stepped forward and you took a step back. You didn't want the distance between you to lessen. Not if you could help it. He flashed a wicked grin.

"If anyone else so much as looks at you, I will rip their throats out. I will serve you their blood in the finest of glasses whilst filling a pool. I will burn this world and all those who stand in my way to hold you in my arms once more."

You shook your head in disbelief. Your face twisted in disgust as you looked for a way out.

"Do you think I'm joking, dear one? Do you want me to act upon my words?"

Your eyes snapped to Taehyung's face at the question. How could he be so cruel? Was this nothing more than a game to him? It angered you like never before. Who was he to torment your very soul?

"No?"

You blinked and he stood in front of you. The toes of your shoes touched, your chest raised with each breath and touched the fabric of his red blouse. "Hmmm, how much I have missed this. Missed you."

Taehyung's voice was so warm as he stared at you. He spoke with such honesty that it scared you. Your breath froze in your throat as his hand cupped your cheek; his thumb brushed against the soft skin under your eye.

"Come now, there is no need for tears." he whispered to you. "You can run if you would like. I will not stop you. I would never stop you...the chase is just as fun as the catch."

That mocking smile was back on his lips and you felt your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. What did Taehyung mean? Why did he speak to you as if-

"Be a good little hunter and make it a challenge this time, yes?"

The hand on your cheek slipped down to the back of your neck. His thumb stroked the curled hair as he spoke. "I wouldn't want to spoil the fun too soon."

Horrible images of dead bodies with their throats torn out came to mind. Streets painted in red, the blood of millions.

"Don't give me that look, dear one. You know what those eyes do to me." The grip on your neck tightened and Taehyung pulled you closer, your chests now touching. You tried to move your face away but he held you firmly, forcing your cheek to rest on his shoulder. He inhaled your scent, creamy sandalwood and cardamom spice with a hint of green citrus.

"Mmmm, maybe I shouldn't let you go?" He nuzzled his nose into the throbbing vein of your throat. His lips ghosted over the tender skin.

"Should I lock you away? Chain you to our bed? Run a stake through your heart while you sleep, so peacefully beside me?"

Your body shook as he listed all the way he could and most likely would kill you. You found yourself asking as much. Wondering if the vampire would be merciful enough to do it quickly.

"Kill you? No, no. I would never kill you, dear one. I cannot live without you. A stake would insure your place by my side, that is all."

You felt sick..A place by his side? He was insane!

"Oh, forgive me. It seems my words have frightened you. Apologies, dear one. I am just rambling. I would never act on such foolish ideas." He inhaled once more before he stepped away from you and licked his lips.

"Now, will you run or will you stay? The choice is yours, of course."

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#taehyung fic #taehyung x reader #taehyung angst #vampire!taehyung #bts vampire au #run from me #soc taehyung

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 2 years

Text

Can you love me most?

Part 2

requested: I keep having dreams that Azriel and I (or x reader) are in a politically arranged marriage and have to learn to love each other and I feel like that would make a good fic if you want fluff requests.

warning: this involves some heavy topics like attempted suicide, mentions of abuse (no descriptive scenes just mentions) so please be causes. And this does have a pretty big age gap but no one is a child in this. All interactions are between adults. ⚠️

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Azriel was furious. His anger was practically dripping from him as his shadows frantically flowed all over the place. "How could you!", the shadow singer roared as he stood before his high lord, "Azriel", "Don't you Azriel me, Rhysand!" The situation with summer court had been wobbly for some time. Ever since the fiasco that Cassian pulled yet again, things have increasingly gone downhill. Apologies did nothing. Gifts didn't smother the high lord, and the war was about to break. And for some unknown reason, it was he who had to pay the price.

"Everyone's mated. You're the only valid option left", Azriel only shook his head in disbelief, "So I'm just an object in your game? Is that all I am?", Azriel had done so much for this court and had sacrificed so much. All he wanted was some decency in return. And even that was off the table. "Tarquin agreed to let it all go if...", "Do you even realize what you are doing, Rhysand?" Maybe the irritation would have been less blazing if Azriel had been involved in a discussion of this, but no. Azriel was greeted with a letter while he was in the middle of the mission. A letter. Not even a conversation with Rhys himself. "We'll find a way," Rhys reassured the male, but Azriel only stepped back, "She's so young," "That's not true, she's nearly a hundred."

Azriel choked out a laugh, running a hand over his face and asking, "Are you hearing yourself? Do you hear how stupid you sound?" And Rhys felt awful; he did. The last person he wanted to drag into this was Azriel. But he had no other choice. Tarquin appeared to have a sister, whom Rhys suspected the male was trying to get rid of. The deal was to marry her off to someone important in Night Court so that the Prince of Summer would feel less threatened. "Does she even know about this?" Azriel's voice was way lower now. He might have been pissed that he was dragged into this, but he had at least a solid five hundred years of experience in different things in life. You... He didn't even know that you existed until he read about you in the letter he got. All he knew you might have been locked up somewhere. Still as pure as the first snowfall in winter.

"I... I'm not sure," Rhys choked out, and Azriel gaped at his high lord, "Tell me you're joking?" But the shadow singer knew from the way his brother's face paled that the girl had been left in the dark. Shaking his head, Azriel stepped closer, saying, "I will never forgive you, and she won't either." Holding his gaze for a moment longer before he stormed out of the room.

Azriel didn't even get to meet you before the ceremony. He felt like the biggest clown standing there. The black suit felt suffocating, and if he could, he would rip it off. This felt like the biggest mockery ever to him. Yet even now, even without ever meeting you, he found himself worrying about you. The music was making his head pound, and he hated the way all the flowers were messily scattered all around the room. That's not how Azriel imagined his wedding to be. Not that he ever imagined it, but... Still not like this.

The main door to the ballroom opened, and everyone instantly turned to look. You were visibly shaking. And it was clear that Tarquin had a firm grip on you, as even now you tried to escape it. Pulling at your brother's hold as he practically dragged you through the tiled floor. The veil did nearly nothing to hide your tear-stained face. Black streaks of mascara painted your cheeks. A shiver ran down the spymaster's back. The same feeling as when he saw Nesta being forced into the cauldron shifted past him.

He wanted to apologize so badly. Wanted to put the Summer Court prince in his place, but... Azriel wasn't sure what consequences would accrue. What would they do to you if he refused to marry you? Had they done anything as of now? So they could break your spirit just a little. Azriel felt like he didn't blink through the whole ceremony. Once your hand was placed in his, you didn't meet his eyes. You didn't wrap your fingers around his palm; they stayed firmly straight as your hand trembled without a trace of stopping. You mumbled the vows under your breath as tears streamed down your cheeks, and Azriel felt like being cursed by the Mother would have been a happier fate than this.

"You may kiss the bride now," and if Azriel was being honest, he didn't know why he even learned it. Didn't know why, after seeing your tears and quavering body, he thought it was a good idea. But he did it just the moment he got close enough to you, you turned your face away from him before lifting the material of your dress as you turned to run out of the room.

"Sit down," Azriel turned to Tarquin, who rose to walk after you, "She's not your responsibility now." With everyone still watching him and still slightly mortified by the whole situation, Azriel crossed the room in a couple of steps. The moment everyone was left behind, he tugged at the tight collar of his shirt, ripping the first two buttons open. He unleashed his shadows, sending them swirling around the empty hallways. Having no clue where you were. The shadows almost screamed at their master once they got back to him. Outside balcony. Run. Run. Azriel frowned as he made his way there. Even if the shadows were flowing around him more frantically, he brushed it off as the aftermath of heightened tension. However, the moment he stepped a foot outside Azriel's heart sank.

You were up on the glass railing, bracing yourself on the stones. The wind must have ripped the veil out of your hair and set your crystal white hair rattling alongside the breeze. In all honesty, he wasn't even sure how you managed to keep your footing steady. His movements now had to be sharp and calculated. One mistake, and you would be falling. Some of his shadows tugged at the back of your dress, but you didn't seem to notice. A tear-stained face turned to face the horizon in front of you.

Azriel cleared his throat, making you instantly snap your head in his direction, your legs wobbling as you lost your balance for a moment. Azriel stepped forward, "Get down, dear," his arms reached for you, but you backed away from him, shaking your head. The fall was a long one. Standing here, you couldn't even see the bottom as the clouds covered the ground. "I want to help," the shadow singer continued speaking softly, but you only choked out, "If you'll move any further, I'll jump." Azriel lifted his hands, yet his gaze was still more than alert. He couldn't help it. It was in his blood. Heart breaking with every tear that rolls down your cheeks.

"I can only imagine how scary this is for you. I have no interest...", "Don't speak", you pushed one of your hands to cover your ear. Everyone around you had been talking for the past few days. Speak about you. Speak for you. You only wanted to know why. What changed that your brother suddenly wanted you out? What exactly had you done? "I don't want you to..." Azriel tried again, slowly inching closer to you. "I said don't speak!" you yelled out. Turning to face your now-husband, you lost your footing beneath you and slipped over the railing. You managed to let out a yelp as gravity took full control over your body. The sensation of free fall rushed through you as you tightly closed your eyes. It felt like, for the first time, you finally felt alive. As if you've finally heard your heart. All the voices were gone. Only the wind. Cold, cold wind biting at your exposed skin.

It didn't have time to fully set in, though, because two strong arms wrapped around your middle and everything came to a halt. Those arms clung to you for dear life. You had a feeling it was him. Azriel. The shadow singer. The females who dressed you pitied you, saying prayer after prayer to save your soul. He was a monster, they said. They told you not to speak and to always obey because one wrong move could send you to the other world. The male knew no mercy, and you were never going to feel loved.

You shivered like an autumn leaf in the wind as Azriel walked with you in his hands. He said nothing, and you didn't dare to push your luck. You could tell that he was tense. His muscles felt like rocks. Was it just because he was fit, or was it because he was so mad at you? The room was dim and dark. It didn't have a bed, but you let yourself assume that one of the doors would lead you to a bedroom. Azriel just stood there. Looking at the window at the end of the room. Kind of there, but at the same time in a completely different dimension. The view of you falling played on and on in his brain. What if he didn't catch you? What if you had hit the sharp side of the rock? What made you jump to such extremes? To not fight but to give up without a second thought.

"Will you hit me?", your voice was so small that Azriel felt like he was going to vomit from the sheer amount of fear that dripped from you. "Or do you want me to get naked and please you now?", you didn't look at him, but you moved to pull the material of the sleeve off your shoulders. "No," Azriel found himself stuttering as he watched you. Your hands firmly move to wrap around your middle. "Listen to me. I would never do such things. Never", he desperately wanted to meet your eyes just so he could tell if you believe him even a little bit. "Has anyone... has anyone ever hurt you in that way?" The shadow singer knew this was a dangerous question and that asking it like that was wrong, but a part of him was ready to slaughter a whole village if he had to. No woman deserved to be harmed in such ways. Azriel kept his distance from you, knowing how intimidating his size can be. You shook your head slowly, and Azriel found himself feeling somewhat relieved.

"I own you an apology and want you to know that I had nothing to do with all of this", the spymaster continued, "You own me nothing", "Don't I as your wife need to carry out all of these duties, tend to your needs, bear you children?". This had to be some old lady's doing. Digging into your brain like that, "No, you don't have to be anything you don't want to be." You nodded your head once again, slowly lifting your gaze at the male before quickly dropping it back down. He was attractive—that was not a lie—but you still didn't know him. He was a stranger who, in a matter of minutes, owed you by the rights of gods.

"How about we start with an introduction? Azriel," he said, reaching out his hand to you, which was covered in deep-rooted scars. From a battle? From killing innocent? Self-defense? Or was he harmed by someone? You shook your head quickly, shaking away the thoughts as you reached to hold onto his hand, "Y/N". That was the first step in your journey together. The place turned out to have two separate bedrooms, and for that you were thankful. You two barely talked, and if Azriel were to walk in while you were still in the shared living space, he would simply nod his head your way before disappearing into his office. You attended most of the not-so-serious court meetings together, but the moment Azriel noticed that they only dampened your mood, he dismissed you from any of the work that Rhys wanted you to be a part of, and since you had to obey your husband, you spend your days cooped up in your chambers.

The scars from this didn't all heal overnight. The pain of this bargain was still flowing through the both of you. Azriel heard you weeping multiple nights in a row. He heard you but didn't leave his bed. At first, it was easy. It almost soothed him. As if you were letting out all the emotions for both of you. Then came the frustration, and he found himself gripping the sheets, wishing he wouldn't hear you. Only after a week of listening to your cries did he get up. Walked out of the room as quiet as the darkness itself. Watched you as you sat all curled up by the window. Even in the darkness, he saw your tear-stained face and your trembling shoulders.

The moment you turned to face him, Azriel only let out a deep sigh before sitting down not far from you. "Come here," he mumbled, already dropping one hand over your shoulders. Your hesitation didn't last long, as you fell into his embrace. Your arms clutched him as you clung closer to him. His fingers slowly brushed your hair as you trembled. Without really realizing it, Azriel found himself humming. He hummed a melody his mom used to hum when he wasn't feeling well. He held you that night till your body eased and sleep took over. However, after he gently lowered you to your bed, he couldn't find the strength to pull your hand out of his. You needed him. He had to step up. He had to be a good husband. So he stayed.

After that night, you would fall asleep together in either your or his bed almost every night. Fell asleep, but we never woke up together. You didn't blame him. Nor could you blame yourself. He was a busy male, and you... Well, you just didn't know how or when to approach him. So you settled for occasional exchanges of words here and there. Azriel was working more simply so he could take his mind off of you. Of everything. He wanted to somehow melt the ice between the two of you, but he didn't know how, and he wasn't about to run to his family for a piece of advice when they were the ones who put him in this situation in the first place. Before he stepped through the door of your chamber, he waved at his shower, who swiftly handed their master a bouquet. Nothing special, but he saw them on his way back from town and figured he'd get them for you.

However, his body was ridged with fear the moment he stepped in. Blood. He could smell blood. He couldn't tell if there was a lot of it, but there was blood. The spymaster struck your bedroom first, but seeing no sign of you there, he knew you would only be in the bathroom. It's the blood. It's the first day. The image of you on the railing flashed through his mind. There was blood; he smelled blood. "Y/N," Azriel said, firmly banging his fist on the wooden door. No answer. His fist rose again, but then, "Go away." It was clear to him that you were in pain. A lot of pain, "Open the door or, at the very least, tell me what's going on." He had never felt so helpless standing on the other side of the door. But all he heard in response was a hiss coming from you, and that's all it took for him to kick the door open. He knew that this was invading your privacy, but if you were hurt, he felt the right to make an exception just this once.

And here you were. Hair frown up messily. That tired look on your face, along with the purple bags under your eyes. One hand gripping the counter. The other clenched your stomach. Stomach. His eyes fell to your blood-stained thighs, and his gaze instantly shifted to the floor. Your cycle had started. Mother strikes him for his stupidity. He wasn't sure what to do. You were clearly in pain, and now, on top of everything else, he had to embarrass you like that. Azriel wasn't sure of what he was doing. He moved around the bathroom, pulling out some clean lines, before handing them to you so you could wash up. He would have offered to help you do that, but from the way your checks burned red, he decided against it. Walking out of the bathroom so he could grab you some of his clothes so you wouldn't need to struggle in all of these tight corsets and uncomfortable dresses.

"Please just..." Your hands were covering your face as you sat on the floor with your still blood-stained nightgown on, "I don't mind, this is natural", Azriel tried to sound as calm as possible, but his heart was beating rather rapidly inside his chest. "It's disgusting", "It's just blood. Come on, let me get you to bed," you wanted to protest, but Azriel scooped you up with ease. He didn't carry you to your bed. He carried you to his instead. Before offering you his clothes and some privacy to change.

When he knocked on the doors once again, you were already swallowed up by all the warm blankets that surrounded you. "I brought you a topic for the pain, light snacks, and a lot of water. You need to stay hydrated", you looked at him through your droopy eyes. The pain made you rather disoriented, "I'm sorry you had to go out of your way to do all of this", Azriel frowned at your words. "I'm doing this because I wanted to", you watched him for a moment. His wings were neatly folded behind him as he sat on the end of the bed. You weren't sure why, but you reached your hand towards him, and he took a hold of it instantly. "Can you lay with me?", "I have a...", but Azriel cut himself off mid-sentence before nodding his head as he made his way onto the bed. The moment you were close enough, Azriel placed his palm on your lower stomach, and that extra warmth of his skin instantly made you purr in delight.

"Come on, tell me something good", after the whole period fiasco, you two had started talking to one another more. It was quite ironic that the period and your dying in bed for a couple of days would be the things that got you two speaking, but you were thankful for him and the amount of time he had spent with you. "What is something?", you two were now sitting in the little living room that joined the two bedrooms, both nursing a glass of wine each. "Well, you lived, traveled, and fought in multiple wars," Azriel growled as he leaned back on the sofa. You've been nudging him to tell you tales of his travels for a while now, but he always found a way out. "Oh, come on. You are such a stubborn brood."

Azriel instantly turned to look at you, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. Have you finally crossed the line? But he only let out a laugh before shaking his head. "Ah, so that's how it is?", you crossed your arms over your chest and watched him, "No, actually don't say anything. I'll find a book in the library." As you two continued to stare at each other, Azriel let out another laugh. "Don't do that," he muttered after some time. "Do what?", you asked him innocently, not dropping your eyes. "Don't look at me like you want to kiss me," you swallowed harshly, quickly dropping your haze to the glass in your hands. That night, you two parted ways, both aware that if you shared a bed, one thing would lead to another, and then...You bit your lip as you stood with your back to the door. You couldn't help all the thoughts that raced through your mind. Your gaze fell onto another set of fresh flowers on your nightstand and a box of sweet treats. You chuckled under your breath as you saw a rather thick book lying on top of your pillow. War tactics and the art of battle.

Azriel was raging as he ripped his leathers off. The day had been horrible. His spying mission failed, and that in itself happened so rarely that it set him off first thing in the morning. And then there was Rhys. Rhys never seems to shut up these days. Stupid was the fact that, till not long ago, Azriel thought that it was Cassian who spoke simply for the sake of speaking. The spymaster was desperate for a boiling bath. To simply sit in the hot water until it cooled along with his temper. But he was met by you. You were in the middle of the bath, and the bathroom was filled with endless amounts of bubbles. On the floor, walls, everywhere. Like mirrors, they illuminated the room and you in it. He was about to turn around and leave when he heard your voice, "Oh no, spymaster, come join me." Azriel wanted to say no. Especially after discovering an empty bottle of wine by the bathtub's side. "I'll cover my eyes so you can get all naked," you chuckled, placing your palm over your hands, but not even a heartbeat later spread your fingers apart to peer in between them.

Azriel couldn't help but let out a laugh, the worries slowly slipping away from his mind. "You are quite something," he said, "I prefer gorgeous, attractive, and sinful, but I'll take quite something this time." You leaned your head on the side of the tub, smiling at the male sheepishly. "You're drunk," Azriel said while undoing his pants, and you instantly frowned, "I am not; don't make me challenge you to a drinking game." You knew that you would lose a game like that in a heartbeat, but with the slight buzz in your system, you were feeling quite confident.

Azriel entered the tub on the opposite side of you. Eyes once again not leaving one another. There was this weird, unfamiliar itch. This needs to somehow get closer to him. But instead, you scooped up a handful of bubbles before blowing them toward Azriel. He wasn't quite quick enough to cover his face, resulting in bubbles covering his face and hair. Azriel quickly grabbed a hold of your hand, dragging you close to him and making you squeal. "You're giving me that look once again." He was so much closer to you now. Your hand was lying on his thigh under the water. Your mind was racing so fast that you weren't sure if you would be able to form a sentence.

"I didn't kiss you during the wedding; I owe you a kiss," you mumbled softly, your hand coming up to wipe away some of the bubbles from the side of his cheek as you giggled under your breath again. Azriel went rather stiff as your fingers grazed his cheek before you very carefully leaned in. You pulled away after a single pack. It was Azriel who quickly placed his hand on the back of your neck, bringing you closer to his lips once again. Kissing you over and over again. Kissing you till your lips were all puffy and red. Kissing you till there was no breath in your lungs.

This feeling had been eating you up. It's like now a part of you was consumed by it. By Azriel. Rubbing your palms together, you walked back and forth in your room. You've been meaning to tell him this for some time. But even after the kiss, not much had changed. You talked, laughed, and ate dinner together, but he was still closed off. And at times it felt like he opened up himself to you only when it suited him and his interest. No, he was just more introverted than most. So you walked out of your room in a hurry, quickly knocking on the door that led to the room Azriel worked in. He was surrounded by paperwork. You had never stepped foot here, so the shared curiosity made you stop.

"Did something happen?", Azriel's voice sounded slightly frustrated, but now that his eyes were on you, you had no choice but to go on with your plan. "I think I'm falling for you," you blurted out quickly. Azriel lowered his inked pen onto the table and asked, "Falling for me?" You quickly nodded your head, waiting for him to say something, but his face broke out in a smile that made your heart flutter slightly. "Well, I don't think it's something that should or could happen", those words stung you, and if not that, then how he picked up a piece of paper with you still there and returned to the work he was doing. You knew that you didn't need to say anything and that he wasn't going to care, but you still muttered, "Right, right, of course," before turning around and walking away, quickly wiping away the tears as you headed towards your room. Maybe they were right after all you were not going to find love in the spymaster's embrace.

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All acotar writing: @brekkershadowsinger @cityofidek @baebeepeach @lucyysthings @hideing @urfavbrunettebish @historygeekqueen @marina468

#azriel x reader #rhys x reader #cassian x reader #acotar imagine #azriel x you #acotar x reader

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starsandhughes · 1 year

Note

Penalty box blurb!! Cole meeting reader and Quinn having to explain the adoption comment?

“Well if it isn’t Cole McWard!” you said grinning as you walked down the hallway of the Canucks practice arena. You were visiting Quinn in Vancouver before the end of the season to meet the newest rookie, as well as see some of your favorite people. It was Cole’s second game tonight, and you were here to watch it. Plus, you hadn’t seen Akita play, either.

“Hi!” Cole smiled, “Y/N right?”

“The one and only!” You held your arms wide open, and luckily Cole was also a hugger and took you into his arms with no problem.

“I told you she’s humble,” Quinn said sarcastically.

“Alright, what horrible things have you heard?” you asked the rook, ignoring your best friend.

Quinn swatted you on the arm at the joking accusation, “I don’t talk bad about you!”

Cole was smiling at the two of you, clearly entertained, “Everything I’ve heard is good, don’t worry.”

After catching up with everybody and going out with Petey and Quinn for a late lunch, it was time for you to get ready back at their apartment, and them to head off to the arena.

You took an uber to the arena, mainly because you didn’t want to drive Quinn’s car he left for you, all dressed and ready in your Quinn jersey.

The game was amazing. Quinn got a penalty, Cole scored not only his first NHL goal, but the opening goal of the game! Kuzy won the game in a shootout, and Quinn’s speech at the end nearly brought you to tears. He’s grown so much and you couldn’t be more proud.

That statement was wiped away the second you saw Cole in the halls outside the locker room after the game. He was so happy, and his smile grew wider when he saw you.

“Y/N!”

You held your arms open and laughed as he scurried over to hug you, “That goal was beautiful, love! You’re officially adopted!”

Cole’s head tilted at this. You mentioned “adoption” in your instagram, but it had slipped Quinn’s mind to explain it.

“Sissy, you can’t just announce to someone you just met that you’re adopting them. He doesn’t even know Jamie,” Quinn sighed as he walked up and hugged you from behind. You rotated your body in his arms to hug him back before escaping and getting behind him. Without skipping a beat, he bent down for you to hop onto his back for a piggy back ride.

“See, I was thinking we’d actually split custody of him,” you said.

Cole’s confusion deepened, “Uh… Quinn?”

“It started with my youngest brother, Luke, accidentally calling her mom when he was in middle school during the one month her and my middle brother, Jack, were dating. They ran with it, and have been joking ever since that she’s his mom and Jack is his dad.

“Then, when Luke hit college two years ago, and Y/N met his teammate Ethan, she told Jack that they were adopting him, too. Why she picked Ethan I don’t know, he’s had many other teammates over the years.”

“Why did you pick Ethan then?” Cole asked. You shrugged, “I don’t know; he just screamed my child.”

“I scream your child?” Cole asked, slightly laughing.

“It’s a high honor,” you nodded. “Go, Quintin.”

“Skip to last year when her and Jamie Drysdale got closer. Her and Jack divorced is what they call it, and her and Jamie got married. The weirdoes have silicone rings and everything.” You held up your ring finger and grinned at this. “They decided to adopt Trevor Zegras, who, by the way, is her boyfriend of five years, just to add to the crazy that is my life. Z hates it, but we all think he kind of enjoys the gag.”

“Is that it?” Cole asked.

“I don’t know, maybe?” Quinn breathed out a laugh.

“Seamus Casey is up for discussion, but he’s not officially a Devil yet.”

“Right, of course. And Luke says something about an application?”

“That’s mostly a joke, but there is a contract.”

“Z signed a contract?”

“He was held at scissor point.”

“You threatened your boyfriend with scissors?” Cole asked.

“That’s not what I said,” you stated.

Quinn laughed at that. Quinn made sure he mentioned everything about your “adoptions” and Cole ended up finding it very amusing.

“Sooooo,” you grinned at him. “What do you say? Care to have the highest honor of being mine and Quinn’s first child?”

Cole asked about Jamie, and Quinn raised that question after Cole asked it, to which you explained that this would be a split custody adoption so you weren’t cheating on Jamie. Cole faked relief, “Well… as long as you’re not cheating on my… step dad?”

“Don’t get her started on that,” Quinn interjected. Cole laughed and held his hands up, “Alright! Sorry, sorry. I’d be happy to be your and Hughesy’s son!”

#penalty box series #penalty box series: quinn hughes edition #penalty box series: blurbs #quinn hughes #cole mcward #vancover canucks #trevor zegras #jamie drysdale #jack hughes #luke hughes

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halfusek · 1 year

Text

man. batdr archives. what

i hate them

sorry im gonna go full on hater mode here because oh my god? oh my god

i’ve got a sneaking suspicion that this came out now as damage control for the AI thing because 1. it wasn’t included in the game all along like BATIM’s archives were and 2. this tweet

like was it thrown together in such a rush that they forgot a whole ass character?

or it is a joke and was a planned action half a year after the game came out but eh who knows

either way this is not what i’m here to rant about (cuz im sure this is gonna turn to a rant)

it’s about bad writing, bad exposition and bad game design. buckle up!

i see what they mean with the smile being a challenge to create, you can see in countless animations for fansongs how different artists tackled that and for one i think they did that very well

however. why the clothes exactly? is it just a meta reason with no reasoning in-universe whatsoever?

and look i’m not a fan of the ink demon having a voice (though i respect the craft behind it, the voice actor is very talented, it’s just a personal preference) BUT if you made the ink demon talk you should by logical extension either make toon bendy talk as well or explain why the hell he’s talking? i can see it being distracting but there are characters that have squeaky annoying voices in games and they’re fine (and it’s not like toon bendy is around the player for a super long time)

i dunno what logic this whole thing operates on anymore but if joey commissioned the ink machine then it should be his and arch gate got all his shit after he passed away so idk what retrieve is supposed to mean here

but it could just be badly written sentences and the archive is full of those (once again making me think that the thing was done in a rush)

that’s fair i guess

yall did make him look like a generic demon tho

i mean... it could be worse? if the goal was to make him look out of place then it was achieved but idk if it’s actually a good thing

i do like the bit about Wilson influencing how things look under him being in control of the cycle (though they have a very silly definition about what the cycle is but more about that later)

dude. the beast bendy design was already bad in BATIM and they made it even worse in BATDR like what TToTT

its just an angry mountain of muscles, the batim design at least had that leg injury thing going on which made moving with front arms make more sense, this dude right here is just a big inky gorilla (and not in a good way)

playing as the final form in on itself isnt a bad idea, does sound quite fun, personally tho i did not enjoy the very ending on the game

i dunno it just felt weird and all the other characters randomly appearing and the lost ones attacking being so awkward and ink demon acting as if they could kill you... nah man i wasn’t feeling it

okay so lets get this straight

cycle = a series of events that repeat

breaking the cycle would mean doing something different and stopping the cycle from continuing (so what... wilson was doing actually)

saying that making it restart again is what breaking it means is just??? no?

“satisfying face reveal” welp. each to their own XD

i see their purpose theme and thats neat and all but man do i hate how henry in this game is just. there and how some stranger is the person helping him get out of his horrible fate like its sooooooo unsatisfying

yeah she got more personality ill give her that

but she’s not a beacon of hope. she’s a beacon of tearing away the satisfaction of defeating a villain that we as the player worked hard towards

and uh... isn’t getting thrown into a horrible dimension full of monsters that audrey isn’t familiar with and is supposed to be freaked out about a bad moment to introduce a familiar face? like from a writing perspective, because it happens nearly instantly as chapter one starts

shouldn’t audrey be unmotivated then and struggling to figure out the world on her own? the player should also be haunted at this world, like it’s a horror game bestie ! don’t make me comfortable

well glad to hear the confirmation on that batds is happening in pararel to batdr

but his involvement in the main story is honestly such a nothing burger

is he there just so you can put batdr on the “can you pet the dog” site?

oh ok so what you’re basically putting down here is that he’s a boring perfect extremely rich guy, wasn’t even a bad father, completely stripping wilson’s arc of depth, cool, was afraid there would be something of substance powering the backbone of the plot of this game

and saying that both joey and wilson are worse people because theyre cringefail at business XDDDDDDDDDDD

ok here is something that im glad they addressed because ive been wondering about it - how audrey forgot that joey was her dad and how did she end up working at arch gate then

i suppose it implies that there’s something we might still learn/theorize about it, like for example if it was the machine drawing her in or gent wanting to get the machine back and manipulating things into place from behind the scenes

i really wonder how you can enter in and out the ink realm unnaturally but good to mention why he looks like that if he’s supposed to be nathan’s son

you cant just say that a character was important to the story, its not gonna happen from words

how is she important exactly? she just talks and uh.. helps audrey make the drink that makes you fall asleep? man that section of the game was Weird

i do want to like her, she seems nice and there could be interesting things to her backstory but as for the plot she really didn’t do much, sorry, betty

if you wanna say that pushing the plot forward by giving audrey that drink and then alice appearing outta nowhere and kidnapping here is a good big contribution then idk what to tell you... its such a bad way to make the plot progress, it was so confusing because characters were behaving as in forced to do Things to Progress the Plot (especially Audrey drinking that thing at all like seriously girl?? and Alice appearing comically at the last sip like wooooooow are you for real)

ah. so they were attempting a redemption arc

[saying this he didn’t threw aside the large rock. he was right to be holding the large rock]

this sucks man! what did joey help correct exactly? created more ink people to suffer eternally? wow, dude, thanks

also lmao what learned from his mistakes, did you HEAR his dialogue at the end of batim?? (an audrey can be heard right after that scene as well so isnt his whole change of heart supposed to be happening around here + allison has already been added to the squad)

it’s just... it’s just such bullshit man

you can make us like joey as a character but don’t you fucking dare make us like him as a person

bad. just bad

(aaaaaand this is the part that made me realize i wish the archives just. weren’t added! wow! i’m even surprised with myself with how much I Don’t Like them)

WHAT flaws??? hello??? please give it a big thinking and tell me what flaws does Audrey have im shaking and crying

also is her “deep dark past” supposed to just be like bEINg JoEY DRewS DAUghtER OOOoooOOo? lmao. wow so dark wow so deep

i dont know why this story needed a fresh pair of eyes because the story is that audrey is joeys daughter and that wilson is nathan archs son and that bendy is bendy. wow so deep so dark and complicated!!!!!!!11!!111

also whats the point of fresh eyes if you welcome us with familiar faces?

also sorry to break this to you but its not hard to stand out from the kinda cast that is presented to us in this game. sorry i cant decide if i care more about audrey or random employee number 24 with a random problem that i have 0 reason or time to get attached to. i seriously cant decide

suuuure we were so muddled xD oh you got us so good you sneaky little cheeky little quirky little

cant fucking believe we almost had a proper nathan arch jr and a secret one eyed villain that there was so much hype about and theories that they obviously tried to deliever here

its speculative but. knowing that they take inspiration from fan theories - they admitted to it and ex employees said so, i think we would have to be in some serious denial to think that @lucky-dreamfisher‘s one-eyed bendy theory wasn’t meant to be represented here with wilson’s character

ALSO THIS NARRATIVE. THIS NARRATIVE HAS ZERO- NO, NEGATIVE AMOUNT OF COMPLEXITY

GOD

this story makes so much LESS sense based on what you said! aaaaaaaa we were so close to greatness

what is so wrong with not resetting the cycle then?

not that im a fan of how wilson was approaching things, he very clearly wanted to make himself the ruler of this realm and have power over everyone but sounds like that sure beats living under ink demons reign?

but also idk if this is entirely true like in batim chapter 5 we can see that lost ones were capable of making that lost harbour and sammy is later mentioned to have mastered a special ability too so??

i wish we learned more about the pit because it sounds quite interesting and we were working hard towards getting there and finally didnt get to see it at all (a shame! very unrewarding to the player)

im not gonna comment on reverting here cuz its a serious mental thing im not knowledgable about

i haaaate this

you... this is not how exposition is done!

show don’t tell?? how about SHOW don’t TELL??

what in the goddamn. you can’t just pull that outta your ass and say yep. this is how it is. bro. dude.

im referring here to the ink machine bit, the previous sentences can actually be seen in the story

but the design does not reflect what is written here

and they are doing so much of that in these archives, this telling of the story in a place that is not meant for telling of the story, you do that IN the STORY. rarghrgrh

surprise i found another nice thing: confirmation on that alice was the one who mutilated the butcher gang, cuz i dont think that was ever confirmed before but at least you can find implications of that in the game so its fine to outright confirm that here, good job about that

i dont know what theyre on about carley, she doesnt really look like that to me and ive looked at her model in the archives, in the files and at peoples renders of her and i just dont see it

but i guess it might mean it was like a suit that someone got stuck in- FNAF?!>!!>!?

no way. no fucking way

we got robbed what ToT

he was removed in favour of WHAT???? AMOK????

dude there ill be real. there’s barely anything that is worth keeping there instead of having him play a bigger role

and im not even that big on sammys character! hes one of my least liked characters personally even! but at least there is something more to him and just man after 5 years you could have given him more than just a dumb wilhelm scream joke, that almost feels like a spat in the face lmao

thanks for again confirming something though with that flow thing, as we noticed sammy uses gaps in the wall in batim chapter 2 to travel around the place

why not have him teach audrey the flow ability? imagine how could that would have been

im just baffled this exist but sammy apparently had to be cut out

lol

lmao

moving on

my brother in christ why are you making it a mystery if she will appear, she literally appeared in every game so far with quite major roles

also... what layers? sure in batim with her story (susie’s story) there sure been some layers, susie’s story in batim is probably aside from joey’s story the deepest character arc they got

but alice in batdr? she’s there to play a stupid game she set herself up to lose, get mad at that (eh?) shoot you and die

what layers, really

gender

but also idk i found the fight annoying and random, you could throw it out and not much of value would be lost, put sammy back in

YOU MADE HIM NOTHING

YOU TOOK A PERFECTLY FINE ENEMY AND GAVE IT ANXIETY THATS WHAT YOU DID /j /ref

idk if id describe the ink demon as putting the player on edge because he doesnt actually roam the place

you see a grey overlay on your screen and you need to hide or you die... which gets tiring fast and annoying

you totally could still have lurker (even if just restricted to some areas) as a free roaming monster

and the unlikely ally thing is just so bland like yeah he’s there, we know nothing about him aside from that he eats hearts, incredibly charming fella

not thrilled by his design either but that issue i already had with the first trailer but i guess they just sticked with that

bendy devs not use mental illnesses as derogatory terms challenge

i like the crab boy design, he’s sillay

bro forgot a texture tho

so yeah not. happy with the archives

sorry if im like overly negative but ive honestly tried to give this sequel (because despite what they were saying it IS undoubtedly a sequel) my best assumptions and it turns out its nearly all the worst assumptions

its annoying, im annoyed

they should hire a writer to help them get this mess together, maybe get adrienne in on it, i dunno, because clearly if they need to be specific and not leaving things open like in batim, then they arent managing very well

they even fucking killed harold

#bendy and the dark revival #bendy and the ink machine #batdr #batim #halfpost

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