#but the party wouldn’t have been a success without you lot
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leviiackrman · 9 months ago
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Mumma’s 60th Birthday - Speech:
So this Sunday gone, we had the party and the absolute bestest time, but I thought I’d share the speech I gave for anyone wanting to see🤍
The speech wouldn’t have been so amazing without you all helping with the fundraiser, so THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart!! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!
The fundraiser is now known to her, so if you can help by sharing this post or the original, that would be incredible! If you have already donated DO NOT feel obligated to do so again, but thought I’d let you all know that your kindness brought my mum to tears🤍 she is beyond grateful, and so am I!
GoFundMe || Kofi Donations || Commissions
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prythiansprincess · 1 year ago
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azúcar.
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pairing: mattheo riddle x reader.
song inspiration: baby by madison beer.
author's note: benjamin being active on tiktok is dangerous for my health. i actually feel like i'm about to crawl on the ceiling from how badly i want this man. literally tweaking. anyways, enjoy 😊
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There were a lot of quidditch related superstitions you were willing to put up with. 
Wearing the same socks during every match. Kissing your boyfriend good luck before every game. Even the rowdy common room parties that you and Mattheo often snuck out of to have a celebration of your own was a tradition you welcomed with open arms. 
But this was not one of them. 
“It’s absolutely absurd,” Pansy huffed, her sleek black hair grazing her chin as she tucked her legs underneath her on the velvet couch. “Blaise has lost his mind.” 
“Sounds like you’re the one losing it, Pans.” 
Pansy rolled her eyes. “You would too if your boyfriend suddenly announced a sex ban as part of some weird quidditch superstition.” 
Since the start of the season, the quidditch team had taken a few hits. Usually, the boys dominated the other houses, but they barely won against Hufflepuff and came to a draw against Ravenclaw during the last game. Ending in a tie was apparently the last straw because the day after the match, Blaise told Pansy that the team had taken a pact of celibacy. 
For some deranged reason, the boys believed that abstaining from sex for a week would help them secure a win for the rematch on Friday. For the next five days, they intended to sleep, breathe, and eat quidditch. Apparently, your feminine wiles would have to be set aside for the meantime. As if sex were the problem and not their constant drinking and partying, which probably contributed to their lack of focus as a whole. Not that the boys would listen to common sense at this point. 
You scoffed. “Please, Mattheo wouldn’t last a day without sex let alone a whole week.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Pansy said rather bitterly, picking at the cushion in her lap. “The lot of them are taking this entirely too seriously. Blaise won’t even allow himself to be in a room alone with me.”
”Well, Zabini has a surprising amount of self-control. Mattheo, on the other hand, is perpetually horny. There’s no way that he agreed to such a ridiculous pact.”
“Lucky you,” your best friend said with a long suffering sigh.
You nudged her knee with your foot and smiled mischievously. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m more than willing to help. Blaise may be disciplined, but he’s also just a man. What do you say we pop into the village? I think I saw a lace emerald lingerie set that had your name all over it.”
Pansy perked up at that. “I knew I came to the right person.”
Your best friend smiled as you hooked your arm through her elbow. “Of course you did. Now come on, let’s bring Zabini to his knees.” 
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Sprawled out on Mattheo’s bed, you flicked through the pages of your novel and waited for your boyfriend to return from practice. The trip to Hogsmeade had been a complete success. Just as you suspected, the little set you glimpsed through the lingerie store window looked absolutely stunning on Pansy. Blaise didn’t stand a chance. 
As a matter of fact, you’d given the two of them privacy tonight. They were due for a study session at your shared dorm tonight, but you quietly slipped out in the midst of their heated argument about the Goblin Rebellion and happily skipped off to your boyfriend’s room. 
Given the late hour, Mattheo was due back any second now. As if summoning him from your thoughts alone, your boyfriend sauntered into the room, looking sweaty and sexy from running though drills all afternoon. Mattheo grinned the second he spotted you on his bed. 
“Hi, princesa,” he greeted, his voice low and husky. 
”Hi, Matty.” You propped yourself up on your elbows and smiled. “How was practice?” 
“Absolutely fucking brutal,” Mattheo grunted as he pulled off his shoes. “Theo clobbered the fuck out of me, but I suppose it’s better him than the Ravenclaws. Mark my words, we’re going to beat those twats come Friday.” 
“I don’t doubt it, babe.” You pushed off the mattress and scooted closer to him. 
Mattheo licked his lips as you neared, breath hitching as you brushed his damp curls off of his forehead. You smirked and leaned in for a kiss. At the last second, Mattheo turned sharply, causing the kiss to land on his cheek instead of his lips. 
“I’m all sweaty,” he explained. You quirked a brow. Sweat, dirt, and grime had never stopped the two of you before, but you brushed it off. He was probably just wound up about winning. Mattheo smiled apologetically and kissed your temple. “Let me shower first and then we can cuddle, okay?’ 
You made the mistake of looking into those big, brown eyes. Damn him and his chocolate eyed gaze. The twat knew it was your weakness. 
“Fine,” you said as you crawled underneath the covers. “But hurry up, I’m getting tired.” 
Ten minutes later, you were fully engrossed in your book again. Just as it reached a particularly steamy scene, the door swung open, revealing a half-naked Mattheo. The white towel wrapped precariously around his trim waist gave you a perfect view of his toned chest and ripped abs, beads of water clinging onto his glistening skin like rain drops. You bit your lip as he tugged on a clean pair of boxers over his legs, cocking your head to appreciate the curve of his arse before he slipped into his sweatpants. 
Unaware of your ogling, Mattheo climbed into bed and wrapped his arms around you. “What are you reading, mi amor?” 
“Nothing that can’t wait,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss your boyfriend.
This time, Mattheo gladly accepted the kiss. His lips slanted over yours, sighing softly as you melted into him. Your kisses were soft and sweet, punctuated by cute little pecks that had your boyfriend smiling against your mouth. You took the opportunity to slide your tongue against his, making Mattheo groan as his fingers slipped through your hair. 
“Damn, mami. You missed me that much?” 
You rolled your eyes at his cocky smirk while you climbed into his lap and straddled him. Mattheo gripped your hips, moaning as your lips latched onto his neck. His pretty brown eyes rolled back as you left a trail of kisses along the column of his throat. You raked your nails along his chest, dragging red lines down to his abs, and tracing his happy trail as he captured your lips once more. Mattheo let out a choked groan as you tugged at his waistband. To your surprise, he grabbed your wrist and blinked up at you. 
“Y/N…” Mattheo said breathlessly. “Maybe we should…maybe we should go to sleep.” His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he tried and failed to swallow his own words. 
You raised a brow and settled over his lap, squirming against his hard length as Mattheo bit his lip. “You want to go to sleep? Right now? While I’m on top of you and willing to do whatever you want?” 
Your boyfriend looked pained. Conflict was evident on his face. Without a word, Mattheo nodded. 
“Oh my god,” you blurted in disbelief. “You agreed to that stupid sex ban, didn’t you?”
Mattheo groaned. “Only for a week, love. We really need to win this match.” 
You scoffed. This was absolutely ridiculous. “I know you, Mattheo. You aren’t going to last a week.” 
“Hey! Have a little faith in me.” 
Rolling off of him, you crossed your arms against your chest. “First of all, you didn’t even ask me if I’d be okay with it.” 
That seemed to be the wrong thing to say. With a shit-eating grin, Mattheo cocked his head at you. “It sounds to me like you’re the one who can’t last a week, princesa.” 
“Please,” you said with an eye roll. “I have my book boyfriends to keep me company. I can channel all my sexual energy into reading smut. You, on the other hand? You can’t even make it through class without dragging me into a broom closet.” 
Faster than you thought possible, Mattheo flipped you onto your back and pinned you to the mattress. A cocky smirk curved against his lips as he trailed them down your neck. “Oh?” he hummed, kissing the sweet spot just below your ear, his hand gripping the inside of your thigh, making you press your legs together to suppress the need. The bloody bastard. “But can your book boyfriends touch you like I can?” 
Channeling every ounce of self-control within you, a calm and unbothered expression clicked into place like a mask. You tugged at his curls, forcing him away from your neck. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about me, Matty. I’ll be just fine.” Mattheo released a choked groan when you palmed the front of his boxers. He twitched at your touch, his cock painfully hard. “Looks like you’re not doing too hot, though. Let me know if you need help. You know I’d be more than happy to give you relief, baby.” 
Mattheo cursed under his breath as his own plan backfired on him. Blood rushed down to his cock as you squeezed gently, making him harder and hornier than ever. You chuckled darkly as he grinded against your hand. With one last squeeze, you kissed his cheek and peeled yourself away from his bed. 
“You know where to find me, papi.”
He watched in disbelief as you gathered your things, cute little ass swaying farther and farther away from him as you hauled your bag over your shoulder. “You’re seriously leaving?” 
You smirked and waved at your boyfriend as you pulled the door open. “I have a hot date with my romance novel. Good luck with your pact, babe. You’ll need it.” 
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Merlin, Mattheo was going out of his fucking mind. 
For Salazar’s sake, he was starting to get the shakes and it had only been two days since he last had sex. Granted, it felt like an eternity since you were more than determined to get your boyfriend to break. Could lack of sex actually drive a person to the brink of insanity? Mattheo was pretty convinced that the answer was yes as he gaped at the lacy red bra peeking out under your white blouse. 
Had your clothes shrunk in the wash? Mattheo could’ve sworn that your shirt hadn’t been that tight before. You were nearly bursting out of it and the view of your tits pressed together as you leaned across the table to steal a blueberry off of his plate made his mouth water and his dick hard. 
“Stay strong, Riddle,” Theo whispered beside him. “We’ve got this.” 
Never in his life had he wanted to throttle Theo more. The only thing Mattheo had at the moment was a painful fucking boner. Three more days. That’s all he had to endure before they called off this stupid sex pact. 
He could make it. Couldn’t he?
As he looked up at you sucking on a strawberry, Mattheo’s confident wavered. You were truly testing what very little self control that he possessed. You were right when you said that your boyfriend couldn’t last a single class without dragging you into an empty broom closet. You were just so pretty and sexy and hot and that was when you weren’t trying. 
Now that you were determined to tease the fuck out of him, Mattheo didn’t stand a chance. 
All day, you focused on making his life an absolute living hell. Perching on his lap, fixing his tie, smiling prettily while you brushed his curls back and left glossy kiss prints all over his cheeks. His hands were in permanent fists, fingernails digging into the flesh of his palm so deeply that he wouldn’t be surprised to find himself bleeding. This was torture. Cruel and unusual punishment. 
The final straw came when the two of you were studying in the library later that night. Bouncing his leg, Mattheo forced himself to pay attention to the Ancient Runes textbook in front of him instead of ogling you from across the table. It wasn’t working though. Every few minutes, he caught himself glancing up at you. Your lips, your eyes, your hair. There was nothing sexual about you taking notes yet he was so turned on that he felt dizzy. 
Mattheo lowered his head, trying to keep cool. When he looked back up, you were no longer in your seat. Instead, you were reaching for a book on the shelves behind you. Whatever you were looking for was on the lowest shelves, so you bent down to retrieve it. When you did, your skirt rode up, revealing that you weren’t wearing any underwear. Mattheo hissed, scrambling to pull your skirt down. 
”What in Salazar’s name are you doing, Y/N?” Your boyfriend gripped your elbow, anger and frustration radiating off of him in waves. 
You blinked up at him, putting on an innocent smile. “Oh!” you exclaimed, placing a hand on Mattheo’s chest. “Did I forget to wear underwear? Silly me.” 
Your boyfriend groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. He muttered something under his breath repeatedly. Breathing exercises. You bit back a smirk. 
On his third count to ten, Mattheo finally opened his eyes. Without a word, he gathered your belongings and hauled you out of the library. He didn’t speak until the two of you were back in the dungeons. 
“I’m going to study in my room,” Mattheo declared as he handed you your book bag. “You’ll study in yours.” 
You grinned. “Oh, Matty. We both know the only thing you’ll be studying is your cock in your hand.” Mattheo tensed as you traced a finger down his jawline. “What a shame. I’d be more than willing to put an end to your misery if you just admit that the pact is stupid.” 
For Salazar’s fucking sake. Mattheo was so close to calling this whole thing off. He wanted you. Screaming underneath him. Crying from pleasure. Moaning his name. But he couldn’t. He had to stay strong. 
Mattheo sighed and kissed your temple. “Good night, mi amor. I love you. Even though you’re determined to drive me fucking mental.” 
You smiled before pulling him in by his tie. Mattheo groaned as you placed a sweet kiss on his lips, barely giving him a taste of what he wanted. “Love you too, Matty. Sleep tight. I hope you dream of me tonight.” 
With that, he watched you saunter off in the direction of your dorm, skipping through the common room without a care in the world. Mattheo stared up at the ceiling and counted to ten again. 
Friday could not come any fucking faster. 
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You had to admit that you were impressed. Your boyfriend had miraculously survived an entire week without sex. 
Despite your best efforts to thwart the stupid pact, Mattheo stayed true to his word. A pretty impressive feat given the fact that you’d practically thrown everything you had into seducing him. Sitting on his lap, licking your lips while he talked, kissing that sweet spot below his jaw, wearing your clothes shorter and tighter than ever, and even sleeping in his favorite silk red set, which you knew was particularly hard for him if the erection pressed against your back all night was any indication. 
Still, Mattheo withstood all of your attempts. 
You would’ve been upset had it not been for the fact that Mattheo looked absolutely pained by the whole ordeal. This entire week, his fists were permanently clenched at his side, his jaw locking and unlocking with every suggestive comment you threw his way, his eyes flickering over your body, groaning in frustration as he tortured himself by looking at what he couldn’t have. 
It was amusing to watch your boyfriend twitch at your every move. As you predicted, you fared better than Mattheo had. After all, you had a wild imagination and a collection of toys to hold you over. That wasn’t to say that you weren’t needy and aching for him, but you had ways of coping. 
“I’m so fucking glad it’s Friday,” Pansy grumbled beside you as she took a swig from her flask. 
After the whole bring Zabini to his knees plan failed, she’d been crankier than ever. Neither one of you expected either of your boyfriends to even make it this far without caving at least once. 
“Me too, babe. As much as I’m rooting for our boys, I can’t wait for this bloody game to be over. Win or lose, I know the sex is going to be insane.” 
Your best friend smirked as she handed you the firewhisky. “I’ll cheers to that, babe.” 
Surprisingly, the tension and frustration helped the boys play better than ever. They were ruthless on the field. Theo and Enzo were vicious as they defended the goalposts, giving way for Blaise and Mattheo to chase after the opposing beaters, nearly taking some poor bloke’s head off with a bludger. You almost felt bad for the Ravenclaws. 
When Draco caught the snitch, you cheered loudly. You and Pansy screamed until your throat felt raw and hoarse by the time the game was officially called. The two of you swayed as you descended from the stands, slightly inebriated from your generous swigs, but you didn’t mind. The liquor kept you warm and served as preparation for a night of drinking and debauchery for the common room party. 
Blaise wasn’t at all surprised that you and Pansy pregamed. In fact, he took the flask and downed the rest before tugging his girlfriend towards the castle. 
“Have fun, you crazy kids!”
Zabini chuckled. “Oh, we will. By the way, your boyfriend’s waiting for you in the locker room.” 
With a conspiratorial wink, Blaise wished you good luck as Pansy grinned from ear to ear. You chuckled before making your way over to the locker room. The doors opened, revealing a very smug looking Theo. With a frown, you swatted the back of his head. 
“Ow!” The brunette exclaimed, rubbing his newly acquired injury. “What was that for?” 
“For encouraging my boyfriend to agree to this stupid sex ban.” You crossed your arms and glared at your friend. “I know it was your idea, Theodore.” 
“Hey! We won the game, didn’t we? So obviously, my idea was brilliant.” 
“It was just dumb luck,” you replied with a scoff. “Honestly, I didn’t think you guys would take it so seriously. Especially you. You’re even worse than Mattheo. Celibacy for a week must’ve been hell, huh?” 
Theo shifted his weight, looking abashed. You narrowed your eyes at him as you read the guilt in his body language. “You little weasel! You caved, didn’t you?” 
“There was this really hot Ravenclaw…” 
“With the opposing team, too? You’re shameless, Nott.” 
“Please don’t tell the guys.” He looked genuinely contrite as he pleaded with his eyes. “They’ll murder me if they knew that I couldn’t even stick to my own pact.” 
You rolled your eyes. “Fine, but you owe me big time.” 
Theo smiled before leaning over to kiss your cheek. “You’re the best. I’d say see you at the party, but with how tense and insane your boyfriend has been, I probably won’t see you two for the next few days.” 
“I wonder who’s fault that is.” 
“The pact was my idea. Teasing him was yours. Honestly, he almost stabbed a fork through my hand because you bent over in front of him.” He smirked as he held the door open. “You’ve got that man on a tight leash.” 
You fought a smile. “Leave before I get the urge to hit you again.” Theo nodded, making his way out. “Oh, and congratulations on the win.” 
After a cheeky wink, Theo was gone. Leaving you to find your boyfriend on your own. When you rounded the corner, you could hear the sound of water running echoing off the tiled walls. You ventured farther in the stalls and found Mattheo standing underneath the scalding hot shower, tipping his head back against the spray. With a smile, you leaned against the wall and admired your boyfriend. Merlin, he really was beautiful. 
Mattheo was a sight to behold; biceps flexing, abs taut, and back muscles tense as he washed away the sweat and grime. Your gaze trailed down to his trim waist, licking your lips as your eyes snagged on his backside. The longing sigh you released gave you away. 
Water glistened on his skin as Mattheo looked over his shoulder, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he surveyed you. Your boyfriend didn’t bother covering himself as he sauntered over to you. His chocolate brown eyes roamed over your body, smiling softly when he saw that you were wearing one of his jerseys. Mattheo traced over his surname embroidered right above your heart. 
“The Riddle name looks good on you, mi amor,” he whispered huskily, backing you against the tile. “I can’t wait to make it official one day.” 
You hummed while you tangled a wet curl between your fingers. “Oh? That won’t be happening any time soon, Matty.” Mattheo frowned as you caressed his cheek. “Not with the way you’ve neglected me this week.” 
“Don’t be like that. You know it was hell for me, princesa.” 
“I know,” you said with a grin. “I’m just teasing you. In reality, I’m kind of impressed. You didn’t cave once even when I threw everything I had at you. You were so good, baby. You crushed those Ravenclaws too.” Mattheo groaned as you kissed his jaw, nipping at his sweet spot. “Maybe the pact wasn’t so stupid after all.” 
Your boyfriend groaned as he gripped your hips and pinned you against the wall. “Oh, I won’t be doing that shit again.” Mattheo rested his hand on the base of your throat, eyes black and filled with lust as he squeezed. “It was torture not to touch you.” 
When you spoke, your voice sounded husky and seductive thanks to his possessive hold. “Could’ve fooled me. You seemed perfectly in control. So much so that maybe we should extend it another week. Abstinence really helps clear the mind, doesn’t it, baby?” 
Mattheo chuckled darkly. He knew you were baiting him. You weren’t used to not getting what you wanted in your relationship. Your boyfriend was well aware that he spoiled you rotten. You were going to make him work for it tonight, but he didn’t mind. In fact, the idea thrilled him. He wouldn’t have been dating you if he wasn’t up to the challenge. 
Without warning, Mattheo tugged you into the shower, making you squeal as the water soaked your clothes. He wasted no time before crashing his lips onto yours, claiming you in a starved and possessive way that had you gasping for breath. Your boyfriend was frantic as he hoisted you up and wrapped your legs around his waist. 
Mattheo sucked harshly at your flesh, his dark chuckle a seductive caress against your skin. You groaned as he grinded his cock against your clothed pussy, which was already throbbing and aching for him. “Brace yourself, sweetheart. We have a whole week to make up for and we’re not leaving here until you’re properly punished for teasing me like the little brat that you are.” 
You flashed him a saccharine smile. “Do your worst, baby.” 
“You’ll regret that, mami.” 
With a wicked grin, Mattheo slid your panties to the side and teased along your folds. He hissed when he felt how soaked you were, practically dripping down his fingers as he eased one into your pussy. You bit down on your lip as the delicious pressure awakened a familiar heat in your core. 
“Not so brave now, are you?” Your boyfriend taunted as he slowly fingered you. After going without, you were embarrassed to find that a simple touch was enough to set your teeth on edge. “This is payback, baby. Wearing those tiny little shirts with your lace bra peeking out. Bending over in front of me knowing that you had no panties on. Grinding on my lap and making me so fucking hard that I almost sprained my wrist wanking off in the restroom like a madman.” 
“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” You rasped, groaning as Mattheo picked up the pace. “Not if this is what I get in return. I like when you’re rough, Matty. It makes me wet.” 
Your head lolled back as he added another finger, curving them inside of you and reaching that spongy spot that had you seeing stars. 
“Good,” Mattheo whispered as he nibbled at your earlobe. “Because I’m about to fuck you until you can’t walk.” 
The filthy words sent you over the edge. Mattheo flicked his thumb over your swollen clit and you clenched around his fingers. “I can feel you squeezing me, pretty girl. So fucking greedy, hm?” 
You let out a choked moan. Mattheo grabbed your wrist and slid your hand down his front. “Do you feel that, princesa? I’ve been hard as fuck for you all week. Are you gonna be a good girl and help me out?” 
“Yes,” you breathed out. “Let me take care of you, papi.” 
Mattheo twitched in your hand as you gripped him, tugging as he watched you with lust blown eyes. The intensity of his stare made butterflies erupt in your stomach. 
“I thought about this while getting myself off this week. Your hands. Your eyes. Your voice.” 
“I thought about you, too,” you confessed. “But it doesn’t compare to the real thing. God, you’re fucking sexy.” You rubbed your thumb over his tip, rubbing his precum over his head. Mattheo whimpered against your neck. “I missed you whimpering for me.” 
“I don’t whimper,” Mattheo countered. 
You raised a brow and picked up the pace, working him until his eyes rolled back. Despite his denial, Mattheo whimpered even louder this time. 
“You’re playing dirty, baby.” 
“I thought you liked it dirty, Matty.” 
“I do,” he said with a smirk before curving his long fingers inside of you. You shuddered as he hit that sweet spot. “Now come on, pretty girl. Come with me.” 
You nodded, picking up the pace and groaning as Mattheo pulled you in for a sloppy kiss. He licked the roof of your mouth, shuddering as he bucked into your hand. You tugged at him, coaxing him to cum as he panted against your neck. 
“Fuck. Don’t stop, baby. I’m so fucking close.” 
“Me too, Matty,” you whimpered, grinding against his fingers to take more. 
The orgasm crackled over you like a lightning strike, singing your veins with heat as your boyfriend continued to fuck you with his fingers. Mattheo wasn’t satisfied with one orgasm. He coaxed another out of you, laughing as you greedily bucked against his hand, biting into his shoulder while the second wave hit. 
By the time your third orgasm rolled around, you genuinely felt as though you’d left your own body. Mattheo only relented when your eyes rolled back and your legs trembled, cries of his name falling sweetly from your lips. 
“Tú eres dulce como el azúcar.”
You opened your eyes slowly and found Mattheo lapping up your cum, swirling and sucking his fingers clean with a smirk. You’re sweet like sugar. Though the words were seemingly innocent, Mattheo was anything but. Your boyfriend knew exactly how much it turned you on when he spoke Spanish and he was definitely using it to his advantage.
“That was just the appetizer, baby. Got you all warmed up for my cock. Think you can take it, Y/N?” 
“I’ve been waiting all week,” you responded hoarsely. 
“It’s worth the wait,” Mattheo declared cockily as he flipped you over. He stripped you of your clothes, carelessly tossing them behind his shoulder while he positioned your hands on the tiled wall. You groaned as he bent you at an angle, smacking your ass before he lined up behind you. “I promise to fucking ruin you, mi pinche puta.” 
Anticipation coiled in your stomach as Mattheo sank in slowly. Both of you groaned as he slid all the way in, twitching as he stuffed you full. It was familiar yet new at the same time. It had always been a tight fit, but given your involuntary break, you could feel yourself struggling to adjust to his size once again. 
Mattheo gripped your hips, leaving bruises in his wake as he slid all the way out. You whined at the loss, but it wasn’t long before he thrusted all the way back in, knocking the air out of your lungs as he set a punishing pace. You braced yourself against the tile as he spread your legs further apart, allowing him to hit an even deeper angle. 
“Oh fuck, how do you always feel so good?” Mattheo grunted as his hips snapped against your ass, brutally burying himself inside of your pussy over and over again. “You were made for me, princesa. We’re perfect together.”
”Matty, baby, please…”
You keened as Mattheo tugged you by the hair, kissing you sloppily as he continued to ruin you. He cupped your tits, flicking his thumb over your nipples as he squeezed your flesh between his rough, calloused hands. Mattheo kneaded your breasts and used the momentum to drive deeper. His palm trailed down your torso, pressing against your stomach to feel himself moving with each thrust. 
Tears streaked your cheeks as your eyes rolled back. “Oh gods. Fuck me. Right there, baby. You fill me up so good. I love being full of you.” 
“Yeah?” Mattheo drawled as his hand crawled up your throat. “You like when I fuck you rough? Deep down, you just want to be treated like a slut. Don’t you, princess?” 
“I do,” you breathed, groaning as Mattheo squeezed your neck. “But I’m only a slut for you, Mattheo.” 
“Damn fucking right, baby.” He said proudly. “This pussy is mine. All fucking mine.” 
You clenched, squeezing him so tightly that Mattheo felt like he might cum then and there. “So greedy. Milking me fucking dry. God, you’re perfect. Mi princesa, mi vida, mi amor.” Your boyfriend shuddered as you grinded against him, picking up the momentum as the two of you neared euphoria. “That’s it, baby. Just like that. Fuck, I’m gonna cum—“
”Cum inside me, Matty. I want to feel you. I want all of it.” 
Mattheo cursed, his body seizing as he came with a loud cry. The sensation of him filling you to the brim, his hot cum dripping out of you and coating the inside of your thighs was enough to send you over the edge. You trembled as the orgasm hit you all at once and nearly passed out from the sheer force of it. 
Fortunately, strong arms wrapped around you before your legs could give out from underneath you. Mattheo pulled you against him, holding your trembling body as you came down from the high. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder as he cleaned you up. Your boyfriend took his time washing your body, taking great care when it came to your sensitive core. 
You smiled up at him as he lathered shampoo into your hair, letting you return the favor and sighing in satisfaction as you scratched his scalp. Mattheo grinned, flashing you a lovesick smile as you rinsed the product out of his hair. 
“I love you so fucking much,” he whispered softly. 
“I love you more,” you countered.
”Impossible.” 
After the two of you dried off, you leaned against the wall and allowed Mattheo to clothe you in his hoodie and sweats. He tied your shoes before giving you a sweet peck. 
“Ready, princesa?” 
You nodded and took his hand. Without the support of the solid wall, your legs wobbled as you struggled to walk. Mattheo caught you around the waist, a smirk tugging at his handsome face. 
“I warned you, Y/N.” He looked entirely too smug and satisfied for your liking. “Told you I’d fuck you until you couldn’t walk.” 
Your boyfriend chuckled as you rolled your eyes. “Poor baby. Don’t worry, mi amor. Let your Matty take care of you, hm?” 
“I take it back. I kind of hate you right now, Mattheo.” 
You squealed as he picked you up bridal style. He didn’t even break a sweat as he carried you across the field. “No, you don’t. But you can fuck me like you do.” 
“Deal.”
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covenofagatha · 1 month ago
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hiiii <33
Could you write something about Agatha being a little insecure about being older than the reader?
Maybe they're at a party and someone the reader's age is going to talk to her and Agatha feels jealous and a little insecure, but pretend not to feel anything?
Then they go home and the reader shows Agatha that she loves her more than anything :)
If it's not too much to ask, the reader could have an obsession with Agatha's breasts and... really like eating her out? (like, a *really* big obsession) (sorry, Mrs Fletcher is on my mind a lot lately)
sorry for the details, lol, this came to me in the middle of the night
and by the way, I love your writing <33 you write very well
and I'm looking forward to the but you are my stepmother update :D
kisseess <3
I may have changed the setting a little bit (I've been watching Succession and was influenced lol) but hopefully you like! Also, Mrs. Fletcher literally changed my life so I completely understand
I combined this one with another request for being obsessed with Agatha’s breasts
Happy New Year to everyone!
Glitter on the floor
When Agatha gets jealous at the company New Year's Eve party, you remind her that she has nothing to worry about
Word count: 4300
Warnings: oral sex, oral fixation, breast fixation, marking
“Do you think anyone would notice if we just leave before the party even starts?” You ask, throwing a stress ball up in the air and catching it without even looking. 
You’re laying on your back on the couch in Agatha’s office and she snorts from her seat at her desk. 
Unlike you, when Agatha said she was going up to her office to quickly read over a contract before the company New Year’s Eve party, she meant it. You had just followed her up here to see if she was willing to get up to any funny business. 
“You don’t think they would notice that the CEO and General Counsel of the company aren’t at the company party?” Agatha asks amusedly, sarcasm dripping from her tone. 
Spellbound Network is a multi-billion dollar news conglomerate that Agatha Harkness is the Chief Executive Officer of. She’s absolutely ruthless and doesn’t hesitate before tearing anybody and everybody down. Nothing will stand in her way of world domination. 
As General Counsel, you’re a little less important, but you know that Agatha is right. The last thing you need is people speculating. 
The two of you have been involved in a more than professional relationship for seven months now. It all started when you offered to stay late to help her finish up with some end-of-quarterly reviews before the deadline and the two of you had ended up going out for drinks when you had finally finished. Agatha had let her hair down and told you just how stressed she was, and you had stupidly told her that you could help her relieve some of that stress. 
She had raised an eyebrow and you had taken it as a challenge. The next thing you knew, she was calling a car and the two of you were making out in the backseat on the way to her penthouse. 
It had grown into a relationship, a relationship that no one else in the office knew about. Things were getting pretty serious, and Agatha had even brought up you moving in with her. 
But you roll your eyes anyway. “It’ll be boring,” you drag out the last word slowly, sitting up to face her. “Wouldn’t you rather go back to your place, or even just stay up here?” You give her an impish grin and a wink. 
It’s a lost cause. Agatha has never let you touch her nor has she touched you in the office. 
She fixes you with a glare. “If you’re not going to behave, you can go downstairs and help set up for the party.” 
You hum in acquiescence and you’re about to resume your position on your back when Agatha leans forward and props herself up on her elbows, pushing her visible cleavage together. 
Your mouth runs dry. She’s wearing a long black dress with a low neckline that puts her breasts — that you may or may not be obsessed with — very much on display. You wouldn’t be surprised if she did it to tease you. 
“Agatha,” you whine, trying to sound pathetic so she’ll take pity on you. You can practically taste her skin with how badly you want her. 
She knows what you’re thinking, as always. “Stop,” she says without even looking up from her desk. “You aren’t going to goad me into touching you. Hasn’t worked any other time, isn’t going to work now.” 
You pout. “What are you talking about? I’ve never tried to.” It’s a bold-faced lie and you both know it. 
“Oh yeah?” She asks, at last looking up at you. “So when you got me that vibrator for the Secret Santa at the Christmas party, ‘not realizing that it was a public gift swap’; that wasn’t an attempt to work me up? Or when you just happen to come in here almost every day and knock over my pens so you have to bend down and shake your ass in my face?” 
You can’t help but chuckle at the reminders of your brazenness. To be fair, you had genuinely thought that the Secret Santa swap would be done in a group but then the gifts would be opened alone. And much to your surprise, you were wrong and when Rio Vidal, the head of Human Resources, had announced that it was time for everyone to open their gifts, you had quickly dragged Agatha upstairs, making some excuse about a phone call about a breaking news story. 
She had been furious at almost having to open your gift in front of the entire staff, and instead of having a very Merry Christmas Eve, courtesy of your generous gift and a well-placed bribe to the person who had actually drawn Agatha in the swap, she hadn’t touched you at all that night. 
But Christmas Day was much better, when she had put you on your knees for almost an hour and you made her cum four times with just your mouth. 
“You’re not letting those go anytime soon, are you?” You mutter. 
She throws a paper clip at you. “Go downstairs and stop bothering me,” she orders, fondness still in her voice. 
You huff a big sigh, one that tells her that just because you’re obeying doesn’t mean you’re happy about it, and walk over to place the paper clip and stress ball back on her desk. You straighten out your own dress, a long maroon one, and lean over to press a chaste kiss to her lips. 
To your surprise, she lets you do it and she even deepens it, flicking her tongue against the entrance to your mouth. When she pulls away, her eyes are dark and you’re about to ask her to reconsider, but she ushers you away with her hand and turns back to the contract. 
There’s not very many people in the lobby where the party is taking place, so you stand alone at a table and accept a glass of champagne from a waitress. It’s only ten pm and you know most of the staff won’t get here until closer to midnight, which would’ve been smart. 
If only Agatha hadn’t insisted that you and her come in for the entire day and get ahead of all the stuff that’s coming up in the new year. She didn’t even let you go back to your apartment once you both had finished, instead letting you shower in her private adjoining bathroom. 
And she wonders why you’re already so bored; you’ve been at the office for fourteen hours. 
Still at least two more to go. 
You take another glass of champagne and set it down next to your already half-empty glass. You’re going to need it once more people start showing up. 
It’s not that you don’t like them, it’s just that…if the building was on fire, you’d only really think or care about saving Agatha. 
“Hey there, General Counsel,” Rio says, slinking up to you. 
You smile. She’s an oddball, but her wry sense of humor sometimes is the only thing that gets you through business trips. Besides Agatha, of course. 
And it’s not exactly a secret that she has a bit of a crush on you. On paper, it would make more sense than you and Agatha. Rio is your age, and for all intents and purposes, doesn’t have any power over you, nor you her. 
But you’re in love with Agatha, and older women have always been more your type anyway. You’re perfectly happy with being friends with Rio, and it seems that Rio is content with your relationship now too. 
“Hey, Rio,” you greet, lifting your glass in a silent toast to her. She lifts up the other one and smoothly downs it in one gulp. 
And then the elevator dings and Agatha steps out and you forget all about Rio and everyone else. Your eyes follow her as she glides through the lobby, not even looking at you once, and she picks up a plate of caviar while the Chief Financial Officer, Jimmy, goes to talk to her. 
Rio taps her fingers to the rim of the empty glass. “So, I heard Harkness is thinking about acquiring Hex Industries for better tech.” 
“Water cooler gossip,” you say dismissively, not wanting to talk anymore business for the day. You’ve done enough with that with Agatha. And then you lower your voice conspiratorially. “But I did hear that Jimmy got divorced again?” 
It sends Rio into a fit of giggles and the two of you swap the details you’ve heard from various people and try to piece together what really happened. It does make the party go by faster and before you know it, there’s only about an hour before midnight. 
You cannot wait to go home with Agatha and forget all about work and this party and just focus on her. Ever since she changed into the dress she’s wearing tonight, you haven’t been able to focus with how delicious her breasts look in it. 
Some might call it an oral fixation, some might call it mommy issues, but there’s no denying how much you love to suck on her nipples. And to eat her out. 
Fuck. You can’t be thinking about that. Rio is saying something, something now about Tony, the Chief Operating Officer, and you’re shifting your weight thinking about the sounds Agatha makes when you get your mouth on her. 
You look around the room and you find her, standing alone, nursing her own glass of champagne. But what startles you is that she’s already watching you with a strange look on her face. You give her a small smile, your heart filling with adoration for the older woman, but she looks away. 
“Will you excuse me for a second?” You say to Rio, who nods. You walk over to Agatha and slide up next to her, your hand brushing against her lower back. “You okay?” You murmur into her ear. 
Agatha clears her throat and rolls her shoulders back and you have to make a pointed effort not to stare at her boobs that get pushed forward. “Just ready for this party to be over,” she says, voice clipped. 
“Oh yeah?” You whisper, cocking an eyebrow. “What do you have planned for when we get home?” 
She looks at you, finally looks at you, and you can see a guarded look in her eye. “We’ve had a long day, and this party won’t be done until after midnight. I’ll probably turn in.” 
“Oh, Mommy, your age is showing,” you tease mockingly in a hush, wearing a dramatic pout, another joke about how much older she is that she usually rolls her eyes at and then makes a comment about how much you like it.  
But she stiffens today. “Well, you’re more than welcome to go home with Rio if you want someone your own age.” The retort hits you like a punch in the gut and you’re left dumbfounded as she walks away, heels clacking on the floor. 
Is she…jealous? Surely Agatha can’t be, she knows how much you want her and love her. She knows how willing you are to show her. 
And maybe, just maybe, she’ll let you remind her right now. 
You check your watch. Forty-five minutes until midnight. You can feel her gaze from across the room, but when you try to make eye contact, she pretends like she isn’t looking at you, and you make the executive decision to try something that will probably backfire. 
Pulling out your phone, you pretend to take a call. You can feel her air shift; she knows that if someone’s calling you this late, it must be something urgent. You nod like you’re listening and then after a minute or two, you put your phone down. 
You meet her eyes and tilt your head toward the elevator, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. This could backfire. She could get so mad at you. 
But you have to try. 
Agatha excuses herself from the small group of people that have congregated around her table and she follows you into the elevator. 
“Who was that? What’s wrong?” She demands, and you almost feel bad for making her this panicked. 
You shake your head. “Just wait until we get to your office.” You think it should be a hint, but she doesn’t pick up on it. Instead, Agatha chews on her bottom lip and tosses her hair back over her shoulders. 
The doors ding open on the sixtieth floor and Agatha trails behind you, hot on your heels, as you take her to her office. You tell her to get on the couch while you draw the blinds to the glass windows facing the interior of the building, just in case anyone should happen to walk by. The television is on outside in the hallway and you can faintly hear the sounds of the New York Ball Drop show. A little over thirty minutes left. 
“What is going on?” Agatha asks again, clearly exasperated by you dragging this out. 
You turn around and almost moan at the sight of her sitting with her knees pulled up under her and her elbow propped up on the couch. This time, you really can’t help your gaze from darting down to her breasts and she snaps her fingers to get you to focus. “Rio’s just a friend,” you say bluntly, and Agatha scoffs. 
“What does this have to do with anything?” 
You slowly walk over and kneel down in front of her, pulling her legs out so that her feet are on the floor and you rest your chin on her knee and look up at her through your eyelashes. “There wasn’t a call,” you confess, already wincing on the inside at how she’s going to react. Her face remains stoic. “You were bothered by Rio and I talking.” It’s a statement, not a question. 
But Agatha jeers. “Is this your excellent counsel that I pay you so much for? That I’m bothered? Don’t think I don’t know about the little crush she has on you.” 
“So what if she has a crush? I don’t like her like that. You know I only have eyes for you,” you say, slowly inching the hem of her dress up her legs, waiting to be rejected. 
Her hand slides up your head and fastens into your hair, tilting you back so you can look straight at her. “Oh yeah?” She asks, daring, challenging you to go further. 
 You swallow hard. “Let me show you?” You offer timidly, praying it’s the right answer and you’re not reading this wrong. 
Agatha growls, a guttural noise deep in her throat, and she yanks you up and kisses you, nipping at your bottom lip. Her tongue forces its way into your mouth and you moan at the feeling, settling into her lap with your legs on either side of hers. She tugs at your hair and the sting makes you keen, only making you need her more. 
You can’t even wait, you’ve been on edge for too long, and you trail your lips down her neck, scrape your teeth against her collarbone, and then she helps you take the straps of her dress off. 
The second her breasts are free, you’re on them like you’re starving and they’re your salvation. You cup both of them with your hands, feeling the sturdy weight of them, and you knead softly, running your thumbs over both nipples. The dusky rose color stands out against her pale skin and you watch with fascination as her nipples harden under your gentle touch. Part of you still can’t believe she’s letting you touch her in the office. 
Not that you’re complaining. 
You swoop down and take one into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the little bud, and Agatha’s back arches off the couch as her fingers dig into your hair to keep you there. You’ve never felt more content in your life than like this, and you happily suck on her as the most delicious sounding noises fall out of her mouth. 
Her free hand finds your hip just as your fingers tug at her nipple that isn’t being occupied by your mouth and you can make out what she wants. Without moving away from her, you shift and place a leg in-between hers, able to feel the heat radiating from her pussy through her underwear and dress. 
“Fuck,” you mutter brokenly when she grinds up against your knee and you can feel just how wet she is. 
Agatha huffs out a chuckle. “You love sucking on Mommy’s tits so much, don’t you?” She asks and you switch sides and hum against her skin. “Mommy loves it, too.” 
You groan and take a break from directly stimulating her, instead, opting to lightly bite at the skin around her nipples, taking extra care to mark the curvature under them. She’s especially sensitive there, and her little gasps only spur you on. 
After you’ve left sufficient proof that you were there, you pull back and admire your work and you sharply inhale. Her breasts are absolutely painted with red marks that will surely fade into bruises by tomorrow and her chest heaves, a ragged look in her eyes. Agatha is still undulating against your leg and you can visibly tell how turned on she is. 
“Am I convincing you yet?” You ask, your voice coming out a little hoarse, and Agatha barks out a laugh. 
Her wicked grin has a thrill running inside you and she shifts underneath you until you figure out what she is trying to do. It’s a bit awkward, but she manages to turn her body so that her legs are on the couch horizontally but you’re still on top of her. 
She hums thoughtfully. “Think I might need a little more. If you’re willing, that is.” 
Only too willing. You can’t help yourself from leaning down and giving her a hard kiss, pulling away and sucking one nipple and then the other roughly until she moans, and then you move down her body and bunch up her dress at her hips. You put your hands on her shins and guide her legs up so they’re bent, her heels on the couch. 
And then you settle between her open legs and mouth at her sopping cunt through her underwear. A groan tears out of you before you can stop it at tasting the wet fabric, thick with her scent which you’ve become addicted to. You suck on her underwear, pulling the moisture out of it, and Agatha jerks underneath you. 
“We don’t have all day, pet,” she says tightly and you can hear the television outside saying there’s fifteen minutes left until New Year’s Day. 
You chuckle at her impatience and finally pull down her underwear. You wish your dress had pockets so you could store it for later, but you made do for just throwing it somewhere in her office. 
And then you drag your tongue up her slit and absolutely lose yourself in the taste. There’s something so indistinguishable and indescribable about it, and you lazily explore her pussy, getting as much of her wetness as you can into your mouth. You vaguely realize that she’s wrapped a leg over your shoulder and her heel is digging in, the sting only turning you on more. 
Small gasps are pulled out of Agatha’s mouth and her hips buck, trying to get more stimulation, but to no avail as you are completely focused on just licking her slowly. You moan into her and the vibrations make her whimper, but you almost don’t even hear it. This is your favorite place on earth, between her legs, and you don’t want to ever leave. She’s so warm and wet and responsive against your tongue and you fucking love it. Love getting her wetness all over your face, love feeling her clench around your tongue, love the taste and smell and how she reacts when you lap at her clit. 
You do that now, and her thighs tighten around your head and she sighs like she’s finally getting some of the relief that she needs. 
“I love your pussy,” you say, but the words are garbled. She lets out a muffled sound and you look up through hooded eyes to see her head strewn back in pleasure, dark hair fanned out beneath her, bottom lip between her teeth, and her fingers tweaking her raw nipples. The sight makes you moan against her again and her hips jump. 
She looks down to meet your gaze and you feel the fire inside you only being stoked more when you realize that almost all the blue in her eyes is gone, entirely swallowed up by dark desire. “Please,” she begs, sounding more needy than she ever has since you’ve started sleeping with her. “Mommy needs this so bad.” 
And the only thing you love more than tasting her with your mouth is making her cum with your mouth. 
So you oblige, thrusting your tongue inside her and almost losing all composure when her walls flutter around it. She lets out a loud whine when your nose brushes against her clit and you keep doing that, curling your tongue inside her and moving your head up and down so she can get some desperately needed stimulation to her clit. 
“Fuck, baby, your mouth is so good,” she practically sobs, and you can feel her throb. She never takes long, which is almost a shame because you’d stay between her legs forever if you could. Building her up, feeling her legs tremble around you, that’s half the fun right there. 
But she needs it, and you can hear that it’s getting closer to midnight. Only a few minutes left. 
You double the intensity, dragging your tongue over her clit again and again, feeling it pulse. You slip a hand between your own legs and groan at the wetness you find, fingers strumming at your own clit through your dress and soaked panties. Nothing gets you more turned on than Agatha’s pussy in your mouth, absolutely coating your face. 
She’s pinching her nipples now and you almost lose your rhythm from wishing you were the one doing that to her, but you don’t falter. Wetness is dripping out of her cunt onto the couch below and you almost smirk at the thought of seeing the stain tomorrow.  
Agatha better let you fuck her in her office more often. You clench at the thought of being under her desk, eating her out while she’s going through contracts or in a meeting or having lunch. Anytime you can. 
“Fuck, fuck, baby,” she chants and you can hear the minute countdown start. You lick and suck and nip and her hips are moving furiously, grinding on your face and you can’t breathe but you don’t even care because she tastes so fucking good. 
“Five…four…” You shove your tongue inside her and curl it up, stroking against the spongy spot that makes her gasp. “Three..two…” You scrape your teeth against her clit and she keens. “One…Happy New Year!” 
You suck her clit into your mouth hard and that does it. She goes flying over the edge, wetness gushing out onto your face, and you blissfully lick her through her orgasm, not even realizing that she’s too sensitive until she’s tugging at your hair, pulling you away from her. 
She brings you in for a kiss, a tradition when the clock strikes midnight on January First, but also something she always does when you eat her out, moaning at the taste of herself on your lips, and you don’t even care that you haven’t cum yet. You clasp her cheeks and your tongue sweeps into her mouth until you finally have to break apart to breathe. 
“What a way to start the new year,” you joke and she laughs and fluffs her hair. She looks like a thoroughly-fucked mess, but also the hottest you’ve ever seen. You soften and press a gentle kiss to her lips. “You know I love you, right? I don’t care about how old you are, you know I fucking love that. You don’t have to worry about Rio, or anyone else, no matter if they’re my age or not. I want you and only you.” 
Agatha smiles and kisses you again, and then kisses your nose. “I want all your midnight kisses, baby. I love you too.” It’s the most romantic thing she’s ever said. 
And of course you immediately have to ruin it with a joke. “Office sex isn’t that bad, hm?” She pokes your side and you giggle. 
“Let’s get back downstairs before anyone notices that we’ve been gone for so long,” she says. 
You whine but reluctantly get off her when she pats your hips and she finds her underwear that was thrown to the ground. You both fix your make-up in the mirror and then you’re back in the elevator, descending the sixty floors. If anyone asks, you’ll say it was an emergency with an acquisition. But you doubt anyone will. The champagne is flowing and it’s a party. 
Before the doors open, Agatha takes your hand, squeezes it three times as if to say I love you and then there’s a ding and it’s back to reality. 
But she gives you a wink meant only for you when she toasts to the company and all the good things yet to come and a warm feeling fills you. 
What a way to start the new year, indeed. 
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anaconamor · 2 months ago
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plis clingy!bf jude headcannon !! 😽🫶
mr. clingy - jb headcannon
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i feel like someone has wrote this or had a similar idea, if so please lmk so i can credit you!! 🤍
bf! jude who insists and insists he’s not clingy and getting riled up when you tease him or his friends, but he truly is and he can’t help it!! “i’m not clingy! i don’t even follow you around what do you mean” … “jude-” … “i’m not!”
will follow you anywhere you go, he won’t even say anything just trail behind like a attached bf. or would wait till you are further ahead and then proceed to see what you’re doing!! he would just yap and yap!! “did you know lucas made some cookies for us? they’re honestly so good i might-” … “jude, please i just want to use the restroom, wait outside” … “what no i haven’t even gotten to the best part!”
bf! jude who can’t sleep without skin to skin contact!! will literally hold you tight, your back against his chest, him on top of you, your head on his chest, literally not pulling away the whole night!! or if you had an argument he will give you space but hold your pinky or tangle your feet with his!! “please i want to sleep” … “y/n i can’t sleep without you” … “i’m right here!”
when out in public will literally stop walking if you don’t hold his hand or let go of it, kiss your head continuously and make sure you’re okay and comfortable!! scare of any guys or if a fan comes up to ensure your safety is well!! sometimes he’ll even pull the laraxpeter move where his hand is in the back pocket of your jeans!! “what? my hand was cold!”
we’ve discussed and he is definitely the type to message you silly texts or memes!! call and check in then and there to see what you’re doing, if you’ve ate, what time you got off school/ work, what the plan was for dinner, just doing anything to hear your voice :(( “i miss you baby” … “i miss you jude” … “how much do you miss me, tell me”
jude always respects your girl time, especially when you’re out with friends but he gets slightly anxious when you’re not there with him or haven’t checked in, but he knows you’re in safe hands and you know how to protect yourself!! so that keeps him in ease, yet it doesn’t stop him from sending you compliments and texting you even if you don’t respond. “idk if you’ll see this but i love you and i miss you, and i can’t wait till you come back, be safe and have lots of fun!”
before a home match, he will stride over and get his good luck kiss, and don’t even get started after especially after a successful win where he clings onto you, relishing the moment and not caring who sees him because you allow him to be that vulnerable and show his love language!! “did you see me? dedicated my goal for you pretty girl, you always!”
if you guys are out eating he won’t be the type to sit next to you but will hold your hand across the table like in the movies, caress your knuckles and draw shapes and just give you lovey dovey eyes, “stop that! we’re in public!” … “what? i’m not even doing anything!” … “yes you are! i know you and that damn look!”
let’s say you’ve attended a house party or you’re just out in a social setting, would always keep and eye on you to make sure you’re okay, and if he sees that he needs to intervene he will but if not he won’t!! sometimes he will find a way to talk to you and you would just smile and shake your head “i’ve been gone for 45 minutes” … “exactly! 45 minutes of not being able to talk to you, be near you, what if you needed to reach a higher shelf? or fight off a bear?” … “don’t be dramatic!” jude laughs and leans down “it’s kinda my thing…”
despite it all, jude will always respect your boundaries and know when not be so clingy or attached!! he understands and knows how easily it can be for you to get overstimulated or upset, and the last thing he would want is to lose you over that or be that reason you’re not okay!! he may be clingy always but he won’t ever over step!! he also wouldn’t be excessive to the point where you’re doubting how he is 😓🤍
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imaginespazzi · 6 months ago
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Part 8: The Toxic In Intoxication
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Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14
Your mouth is poison (your mouth is wine)
(In which an all over the place writer, writes something that's a little bit all over the place)
Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd
Themes: Angst, Fluff, Jealousy,
Words: 9.0K
TW: Swearing, a little bit of violence, mentions of blood, men being men
A/N: Hi lovelies :) Unfortunately, as I've been warning y'all for a while, the deadline did finally slip through my fingers. However I'm hoping y'all will forgive me for it because I am only one day late and this chapter is quite long. I do wanna warn y'all in advance that there won't be a chapter next week because I am going on vacation and my laptop is staying very, very far away from me. There's a lot going on in this chapter and I'm not sure how I feel about the whole thing but I'm hoping y'all will enjoy it anyways. I did actually edit this time but who knows how successful that was, so please let me know about typos/mistakes. As always, feel free to tell me about what you liked, what you disliked and anything you'd like to see going forward. Have a lovely rest of your weeks my loves <3
August 2025
Azzi Fudd is a spectacular liar. She excels at keeping up a façade of yes everything is perfectly fine in front of her friends and family. She’s quite good at tricking people she can barely stand into thinking oh yes i’m totally enjoying this conversation. But the person Azzi lies the most to, is without a doubt herself. As she steps out of the car into the hot Indiana air, bustling with noises from the growing crowd inside, Azzi internally repeats a lie to herself again: she did not show up to all-star weekend for a glimpse of her ex girlfriend. She’s here, as per Colleen’s managerial advice, to build connections, to further her career and to expand on opportunities in the basketball world. The fact that Paige Bueckers, who Azzi hasn’t seen in three months -the longest period of time they’d spent apart since she’d started at UConn- is definitely also going to be attending tonight’s party, is merely a happenstance. 
Taking a deep breath, Azzi puts one kitten heeled foot in front of the other, trying to ignore her heightened nerves. This isn’t her preferred scene by any means. She’d much rather be back in her hotel room, curled on her couch with a book and a pint of ice cream. It’s not that Azzi doesn’t like parties; she has her fair share of fun at Ted’s, but it’s the unfamiliarity of the environment and the lack of that once ever present comforting hand that used to tap out i’m here for you against the back of her own at big events like these, that has her yearning to crawl back into the car and hide away. 
“Azzi?” a familiar voice calls from behind her and Azzi lets out a sigh of relief as she sees Aaliyah walking towards her with a large welcoming grin, “Azeray!”
“Li-Li. Thank god you’re here,” Azzi reaches up to hug her former teammate, mentally thanking whatever god was looking out for her. She’d dreaded walking in by herself and now she wouldn’t have to. Really she probably should probably send Coach a ‘thank you’ text for having so many alumni in the league that there was bound to be a Husky she could attach herself to for the night. 
“I’m glad to see you too Az,” Aaliyah says, pulling away and looking at Azzi with a semi-concerned look, “but you seem a little extra relieved to see me? You good dude?”
“Just- just a little nervous,” Azzi admits, shuffling her feet uneasily. 
Realization dawns on Aaliyah’s face, “cause of Paige?”
“No you know I don’t like big unfamiliar places,” Azzi sighs when Aaliayh gives her a pointed look, “but I guess maybe- maybe a little cause of Paige.”
The Mystics forward shakes her head before linking her arms through Azzi’s, “I swear, I leave y’all for one year and everything implodes-," she bites her tongue, "shit was that insensitive?”
“No,” Azzi grimaces, “that’s pretty much exactly what happened.”
Something hard coils in her stomach at Aaliyah’s words. The truth is they’d been fine. Better than fine even. And then suddenly Azzi was lighting a box of matches she hadn’t even known she was holding and her whole world was on fire; an implosion of everything Azzi had once thought inflammable. She’d burned her hands trying to rescue them and all she has to show for it are invisible red hot pustules that refuse to heal. But perhaps, she thinks, that’s what a pyromaniac like her had deserved. 
Azzi cowers under the flashing lights of the cameras, clinging tighter to Aaliyah’s arm as the two of them make their way onto the orange carpet, the cameramen immediately swinging their devices to capture the college basketball player more than likely to be the number one pick in next year’s WNBA draft. She feels herself tense under their piercing gaze, anchored only by Aaliyah's strong and steady presence next to her. And as they pose for the cameras, she’s thankful for her former teammate’s company but she can’t shake the feeling that it should have been someone else. 
“And look who we have here,” Lexie Brown says excitedly as the two of them approach the interviewer, “y’all Huskies clean up nice.”
“We try, we try,” Aaliyah answers charismatically, doing a little hair flip to match her tone. 
“Aaliyah, it's your first all-star nod, how are you feeling?” 
“I feel great, you know it’s always good to see yourself being acknowledged and being an all-star has always been a goal of mine. So, I hope it’s the first of many and I’m just hoping my team gets the W tomorrow,” Aaliyah answers diplomatically.
Lexie turns to Azzi, “I bet you’re really proud of her. I mean you’ve got a couple of teammates who are first-time all stars between Aaliyah and Paige. You’ve gotta be feeling pretty proud of them”
“Y-yeah I mean,” Azzi clears her throat, trying not to flinch at the mention of Paige’s name, “It’s been- it’s been really exciting to watch them and I’m extremely proud-”
She’s cut off by the sound of excited chatter filling up the air and Azzi doesn’t have to turn around to know who’s just entered the premises. Not when she has a whole separate sensory system that flares up just for her. Azzi’s skin prickles as she registers the sound of familiar peals of laughter echoing from the orange carpet. She digs her nails into the palm of her hand, forcing herself not to turn around. 
“Speak of the devil,” Lexie says goodnaturedly, getting her hand ready to beckon the blonde over and Azzi feels panic suffocate her lungs, not quite ready to face Paige yet. 
“Oh I don’t think-” Aaliyah tries to cut in, glancing worriedly at her friend but it’s too late. 
“Paige,” Lexie calls out, beaming over Azzi’s head at the Dallas Wings’ newest star point guard. 
The world seems to move in slow motion as Azzi feels Paige getting closer and closer to her. She smells the faint scent of fresh mint weaved with a hint of citrus first. Then she hears the sound of Paige’s breathing, perfectly even to anybody else but Azzi can hear the staggered harshness hidden beneath it. And as the blonde passes over her to settle on Lexi’s other side, she feels Paige’s arm brush against her own and it hurts to breathe. The contact lasts for a second but Azzi swears it’ll last forever, tattooing itself on her bicep as a wretched reminder of a touch she’s no longer allowed to crave. 
It’s funny, there’s a hurricane swirling between them and Paige can barely look at Azzi, keeping her eyes firmly on Lexie and Aaliyah as she greets the trio. And yet, there’s a sense of calm -of peace- that seems to wash over Azzi just by having Paige near her again. The older woman seems to possess some sort of magical power that weaves itself into Azzi’s nervous system, soothing away her frazzled nerves with an unspoken promise of and if you give me the chance i’ll make it all okay. 
Despite the hectic transition from a full college season to a frantic W season, Paige looks ethereal as always. Her two piece cropped vest top and straight fitted pants match the color of her eyes and a silver chain dangles across her chest. Two strands of blonde hair hide her signature diamond studs, the rest of it pulled back into a slightly messy bun. Azzi gulps at the way the vest top parts right above her midriff, Paige’s toned abs playing peek-a-boo behind it. She lets her eyes roam over Paige’s exposed arms, trying to ignore memories of how they used to go taut under her touch, down to the blonde’s bare fingers and she feels her heart constrict. No rings. It feels wrong. But then again, nothing has felt right for three months. 
“Azzi,” Aaliyah hisses and Azzi snaps out of her thoughts, realizing she’d been asked a question. 
“Sorry,” she laughs nervously, moving a strand of her hair out of her face; Paige’s eyes intently following the movement, “what was the question.”
Lexie smiles, “I was just asking about your thoughts on Paige’s amazing rookie year so far?”
“Oh um-” Azzi hesitates, shivers inching up her spine as she feels Paige drinking in the sight of the her body like she's a woman parched, “I’m just-” their eyes lock with each other’s and everything else seems to vanish until it feels like it’s just the two of them floating in between remnants of what they used to be, “I’m just really proud of her. I always knew she’d be amazing. She’s just doing what she always does. Being the best player she can be. So yeah I’m just- I’m just really proud of her.”
And Azzi doesn’t know how they got to this point where Paige seems almost shocked that Azzi could be proud of her, to this point where there’s droplets threatening to spill over both of their water lines and they no longer have the right to wipe each other’s tears away. 
“Aww,” Lexie coos, oblivious to the tension, “well on that sweet note, off y’all go and we’ll see y’all later.”
The walk into the party is kept alive with Aaliyah’s attempt at keeping a conversation going. While Paige tries to at least entertain some of, Azzi finds herself completely zoning out until they finally make their way inside into the cacophony of music and laughter. 
“Y’all wanna get-” Aaliyah begins.
“I see Jewell and Téa,” Paige cuts her off immediately, her legs already moving in a rush, “I’ll see y’all later.”
She gives Aaliyah a tentative grin but barely looks at Azzi as she practically trips over her pant-sleeves trying to get away. It feels like something’s biting against her skin, sharp teeth indenting you did this to yourself as Azzi watches Paige walk away. She watches as the tension slowly leaves the blonde’s muscles as she’s pulled into a hug by Jewell and then by Téa. The fake smile that she’d politely kept on her face the last couple of minutes for the sake of the cameras and reporters is replaced by something far more genuine. Azzi watches as Paige is absorbed into the warmth of the growing crowd, embraced by a league that adores her, and she feels the ice cold pinch of she belongs somewhere without you now start to freeze her own heart. 
***
Azzi’s doing fine. She’s gotten through the night with Aaliyah by her side, making small talk with a bunch of different players and she’s managed to keep a friendly smile the whole time. She’d even danced for a little bit, letting loose with some of the other college basketball players that had made the trip to Indianapolis. Sure, she’d occasionally been distracted by her eyes flickering over to the bar and finding a new pretty influencer batting their fake eyelashes at Paige but really she’s doing fine. Her head’s a little dizzy and maybe the third shot of tequila, influenced by a one leggy brunette that had gotten a little too handsy, wasn’t her brightest decision of the night but really, Azzi’s doing fine. 
Until she’s not. 
And it’s Paige's fault. She had to know that it would be Azzi’s last straw. She had to know that Azzi could live with watching a thousand girls flirt with Paige as long as the blonde in question stood rigidly by the bar doing nothing but smiling politely at them. She had to know that Azzi, after having spent most of their college life watching girls fawn over her girlfriend, could deal with the flirty hands that lingered just a little too long on Paige’s bicep. But it’s when Paige leans into this one girl -whose dark curls and tanned caramel skin are just a little too reminiscent of her own- when Paige’s lips graze just a little to close this one girl’s ear, that Azzi realizes she’s decidedly not fine. 
“I need some air,” she manages to bite out, ignoring Aaliyah’s concerned look as she marches out the back door, heading towards the deck. 
Azzi buries her face in her hands as she leans back against the brick wall. She knows she’s being unfair; knows she has absolutely no right to feel this way but something burns within her anyways and the light breeze does nothing to cool it down. 
“I’m not cheating on you,” a harsh voice interrupts her pity party and Azzi sucks in a sharp breath, “We’re not together and I can flirt or kiss or fuck-” she flinches, “anyone if I want to.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” Paige’s voice is laced with accusation, “because the way you just stormed out says otherwise.”
Azzi continues to keep her head in her palms, refusing to look at the blonde, “it’s hot and stuffy in there. I just needed some fresh air.”
“Don’t you ever get tired of lying,” Paige spits out. 
“Well what do you want me to say instead?” Azzi finally looks up, her even cadence in stark contrast to Paige’s fiery tone, “I know we’re not together-”
“Because that’s what you wanted-”
“I know,” Azzi yells, and then quieter, “I know. I know I- I know I did this. But that- that doesn’t make it any easier to see you with someone else,” she swallows, “doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss you.”
Paige scoffs, rubbing her face as she begins to pace, “you miss me? I was at Mohegan when y’all had summer camp. The whole team showed up to the game except for you and you want me to believe that you miss me?”
“I didn’t think you’d want me there,” Azzi confesses in a whisper, “you were so mad at me after-after everything- and I just- I didn’t want to ruin coming back to Connecticut for you.”
“For me,” Paige lets out a laugh devoid of any emotion, “god Azzi there you go again with this fake ‘selfless’ bullshit.”
A thousand and one retorts die on the tip of Azzi’s tongue as she shakes her head and pushes herself off the wall. She can smell the alcohol on Paige, can tell the blonde is itching for an argument but all she feels is pure exhaustion. 
 “I don’t wanna fight Paige. I’m tired and I just-” she bites her lip, fighting the urge to caress Paige’s cheek, “believe it or don’t but- I really do miss you.”
Sparks of electricity dance their way through Azzi’s veins when Paige curls a hand around her wrist, stopping her in her tracks from going inside. And suddenly she doesn’t feel so cold anymore. 
“Dance with me,” Paige whispers. 
“What?” 
Paige shrugs, tugging on Azzi’s hand to pull her closer, “you said you don’t wanna fight and I- I don’t want you to go,” the confession hangs between them as Paige’s hands fall to Azzi’s waist, “so- let’s just- let’s pretend.”
“What are we pretending?” Azzi asks quietly and despite the warnings ringing in her head, she wraps her arms around Paige’s neck. It feels like coming home. 
“We’re pretending that we’re okay,” Paige says softly, holding Azzi’s hips as she begins to sway them gently, “we’re pretending that three months ago you said yes.”
“Paige-”
“Close your eyes Azzi,” the blond waves her hand gently across Azzi’s face, willing both of their eyelids to flutter shut, “we’re pretending that we’re not here- we’re in Minnesota or DC or I don’t know just- anywhere. And our families are here, laughing and talking and some sappy romantic song is playing. It's the best day of our lives and we’re both- we're both dressed in white-”
“Paige,” Azzi lets out a sob, as she begins to understand the picture Paige is painting for them; a picture drawn on a canvas that Azzi had torn up before any color could touch it
“Sshhhh just- let me have this okay,” Paige’s voice trembles as she leans her forehead against Azzi’s, “if I can’t have it for real, please just let me pretend.”
If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Azzi would fight Paige’s tightening grip. If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Paige would let go. Instead Azzi lets Paige play pretend, lets them keep their bodies pressed against each other, moving from side to side in rhythm with the wind. 
It isn’t until she hears footsteps approaching them that Azzi hurriedly moves away first and she can see the betrayal of if only you’d just let me hold you in front of the world written all over Paige’s face. They’re both quick to swap their tears for smiles that don’t reach their eyes as they turn to face the intruders. And Azzi wonders if Paige wishes she’d drank a little bit more too. Because maybe if they were both just a little more drunk, then tomorrow they wouldn’t have to remember just how right it had felt to play pretend tonight. 
April 2033 
“You look so pretty Mama,” Stephie gushes from where she’s perched on the bed as she watches Azzi put the finishing touches to her makeup
“Thanks baby,” Azzi smiles, blowing a kiss in the mirror. 
“Miss Buecks,” Stephie flips the running facetime call, skipping over to her mother with the phone in her hand, “doesn’t Mama look beautiful?”
Sixteen years later, and maybe it’s because of all the time they’d missed in between, but Azzi can’t help the bout of shyness that flushes across her features when Stephie places the phone, Paige’s face illuminated all over it, against the mirror so the blonde can get a proper look at Azzi’s outfit.
“You look-” Paige clears her throat, eyes dilated as they rake over Azzi’s whole body, “you look phenomenal.”
“Big word Bueckers,” Azzi teases, trying to disguise her blush, “did you just learn it?”
Paige rolls her eyes, “can’t even give you a compliment without an insult Fudd.”
“You guys argue too much,” Stephie says exasperatedly, shaking her head at the two adults who laugh. The younger girl sometimes seems far wise beyond her age. 
“We’re not arguing Stephie, we’re just-” Azzi struggles to think of a word. 
“Foreplaying,” Paige mutters under her breath and Azzi immediately glares at her. 
“Paige!”
Stephie scrunches up her nose at the screen, “what does that mean?”
“Nothing,” Azzi says shrilly, “Miss Buecks is just making up words.”
“Why would Miss Buecks do that?” Stephie asks, looking back and forth between her mother and the screen. 
“Why does Miss Buecks do anything,” Azzi babbles, as she begins to usher Stephie out of her room, “go grab your things Stephie-bean. Mama’s almost ready to drop you off at Nana and Pop’s house.”
Stephie pouts, “I wanna go to the party with you and Miss Buecks. It’s no fair you both get to go and I don’t,” she picks up the phone, looking at Paige with wide guilt-tripping eyes, “don’t you love me Miss Buecks?”
Azzi has to hand it to her daughter. She’s a smart one to choose Paige as the victim of her emotional blackmail, knowing her wiles had long stopped working on her mother. 
“You know I’d take you with me if I could Stephie,” Paige says, “but I’ll make it up to you tomorrow I swear.”
Stephie smiles and Azzi shakes her head at how quickly the five-year old’s plan had worked, “you’ll take me to the park and then we’ll get fries and then get ice cream?”
“That’s a lot of junk food Steph-”
“Ssshh Mama,” Stephie chides, “this is between me and Miss Buecks.”
“The park, then fries, then ice cream it is,” Paige concedes and Azzi rolls her eyes. 
Stephie grins brightly, puckering her lips to kiss Paige through the phone and eliciting a laugh from the older woman when she cheers, “you’re the best-est-est Miss Buecks. See you in a little bit. Don’t hang up without saying goodnight.”
“I promise I won’t,” Paige calls out after the little girl as Stepehie hands the phone back to Azzi and starts skipping towards her room. 
Azzi gives the blonde a look, “we have got to have a conversation about you learning to say no to her.”
Paige shrugs unhelpfully, “I don’t want to learn how to say no to her.”
“You’re a lost cause,” Azzi remarks, hands on hips, “and foreplay? Seriously? Us bickering is not foreplay.”
“Well it could be if you’d just let me fuck you after,” Paige grumbles and Azzi’s mouth falls open at the bluntness of it. 
“You say the most romantic things to me Paige Bueckers.”
They’re both quiet for a second as Azzi moves around her room, collecting her wallet and keys and to put into her purse. 
“You know there’s still time for me to come pick you up,” Paige says finally.
“Paige,” Azzi sighs, not wanting a rerun of the same argument they’ve been having for the last week. She knows it’s a touchy subject for Paige; that it veers a little too close to insecurities that stem from their past but she’s not quite ready to take this step yet. There isn’t quite any rhyme or reason to her logic except well, she’s haunted by memories of the last time they’d let the personal mix with the professional. Her phone still holds invitations to countless team reunions that she’d actively avoided and a group chat that she’s long muted. Azzi hasn’t stepped foot in the state of Connecticut since she’d entered the draft; she refuses to lose California too. 
“Teammates can carpool,” Paige explains vehemently, “it’s easily explainable.’
“I know-”
“Is this about Clémence?” bitterness tinges the edge of Paige’s voice as she chews her bottom lip. And there it is, the other subject they’d been tip-toeing around since it had been brought up at breakfast a week ago. Paige and Azzi are both excellent at avoiding talking about the harder topics but they’ve never quite managed to let anything go forever. 
“Why would this be about Clémence?” 
Paige narrows her eyes, sitting up from where she’d previously been lounging against her pillow, “maybe you don’t want her to see us together? Maybe you’re trying to spare her feelings I don’t know.”
“Paige-”
“You know what it’s fine,” Paige huffs, “I’ll see you at the bar Azzi.”
She hangs up before Azzi can say anything and the brunette lets out a litany of curses under her breath, annoyed with Paige’s ability to go from A to Z by skipping everything in between. There’s a part of her that knows Paige deserves an explanation about Clémence, a chance to have her lingering doubts confirmed or denied, but amidst the egoistic thoughts of well she married someone else and the self preservationist urge to prevent a potential fight, she hadn’t been brave enough to approach the topic just quite yet. Azzi’s about to step out of the room, when her phone pings with a facetime call from Paige again. 
“Are you calling to apologize for hanging up?” Azzi asks with a frown. 
“No,” Paige replies stubbornly, “I called because I hung up without saying goodnight to Stephie and just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I’m gonna miss saying goodnight to her.”
Something wonderful and warm blooms in Azzi’s chest as she silently walks over to Stephie’s room. This is a new chapter in Paige’s storybook that she’s slowly beginning to read; one scribbled with the blonde’s devotion to Azzi’s baby girl. Azzi still has every other chapter memorized; had thought nothing could be more beautiful than the words within the one that had been dedicated to her. But she’d been wrong. Because every day that she watches Paige and Stephie fall more and more in love with each other, she finds herself falling in love with how much they love each other. 
“Miss Buecks,” Stephie squeals, practically snatching the phone from her mother’s hand as she goofily grins at the screen, “you didn’t hang up.”
“I promised I wouldn’t,” Paige says, the hardness that had existed in her voice while talking to Azzi, dissolving into adulation, “you be good for Nana and Pops okay?”
“I’m always good,” Stephie says matter-of-factly, “can you come over really, really, early tomorrow?”
Paige laughs, “I’ll be there as soon as I wake up.”
“Good,” Stephie claps contentedly as she grabs Azzi’s hand to start walking towards the car, “good night Miss Buecks.”
“Good night Stephie-bean,” Paige echoes, blowing a kiss through the screen. 
“Paige,” Azzi says urgently, trying to stop the older woman from hanging up, “can you just hold on a second while I buckle Stephie in.”
“Az-”
“Please.”
“Fine,” Paige says, averting Azzi’s gaze as she sulks. 
Azzi lifts Stephie onto the car seat, fastening her seatbelt and pressing a kiss to her daughter’s cheek, before she closes the car door and uses it as a stabilizing structure to lean on as she pulls her phone back in front of her. 
“Hey,” she whispers. 
“Hi,” Paige says back begrudgingly, “you wanted to say something?”
“I-” Azzi swallows, “don’t go the bar-”
“Oh fantastic,” Paige cuts her off, her voice furious as she glares daggers at Azzi through the phone, “not only do you not want to go to the bar together, you don’t want me to go at all. Fine. Okay. Whatever. I won’t go. You have the time of your life with fucking Clementine or whatever-”
“Yet,” Azzi says loudly, trying to speak over Paige’s angry rant, “don’t go to the bar yet.”
“What?” 
Azzi licks her lips, “don’t go yet. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents-”
“What does that have to-”
“Will you just let me fucking finish?” Azzi almost bangs her fist on the car in frustration and she’s glad to see that it makes Paige look just a little bit sheepish, “as I was saying. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents and uh- your house- it’s um- it’s on the way to the bar so I thought,” she shrugs with fake nonchalance, the edge of her mouth turning upwards, “I thought maybe- maybe I could pick you up on the way.”
Paige stares blankly at the screen, eyes blinking as Azzi’s words slowly register, “you- you wanna go to the bar together?”
“I didn’t say that,” Azzi teases, eyes twinkling as she basks in the thrill of eliciting that Azzi smile from Paige’s lips, “teammates carpool right?”
“Teammates definitely carpool.”
April 2029 
“You invited Clémence to our movie night?” Jana asks in a whisper, as she walks into the kitchen where Azzi’s making popcorn. Her Saturday nights have gotten rather boring since she’s had Stephie, consisting of alternating between movie nights with Jana and dinner with her parents. It wasn’t the most thrilling of times but she looked forward to them all week, excited to not have to spend a night in solitude.
“She asked what I was doing tonight and I told her we were having a movie night and then she asked if she could join and well I couldn’t just say no,” Azzi explains, sticking the bag into the microwave. 
Jana cocks an eyebrow, “do you want me to leave?”
“Why would I want you to leave?” Azzi asks, crinkling her nose as she juts out an ear just in case the baby monitor goes off. 
“C’mon Az,” Jana says pointedly, leaning on her elbows against the kitchen counter, “you’re telling me there’s nothing going on between the two of you?”
Azzi grimaces uneasily, not quite wanting to answer the question, “nothing that would require you to leave.”
“If that’s the way you want to play it,” Jana relents, grabbing a soda from the fridge on her way back to the living room, before she pauses in the doorway to look back at Azzi, “but I know what it looks like when somebody’s in love with you. And that girl out there,” she nods her head towards where Clémence is daintily sitting on the couch, “she’s definitely getting there.”
Jana’s a rather observant person but Azzi knows that she’s at least a little bit wrong this time. Because Clémence might be a little bit in love with -even if that’s not a fact Azzi particularly wants to acknowledge- but it's impossible for her to look at Azzi the way Jana remembers someone else looking at her. That had been something completely different; a gaze that saw all the little chinks in her armor, all the imperfections carved against her walls and loved her inspite of them, maybe even because of them. Clémence might love her, but Azzi doesn’t think anyone can be in love with her the way the person she’d been hopelessly in love with, had. 
When she walks back into the living room with the popcorn in hand, still plagued by her younger teammate’s words, Azzi’s deliberate to sit on the couch next to Jana instead of the open space next to the francophone. The flash of hurt in Clémence’s eye causes guilt to trickle down her spine but Azzi thinks a flash is better than the tsunami of pain she could cause if she doesn’t start to ease herself out of this right now. There’s a selfish part of her that doesn’t want to, that’s going to miss having somebody who hangs onto her every word. Azzi likes this feeling of being wanted, even if it’s not by the person she wants. But that person isn’t hers to want anymore and she won’t torture Clémence by barricading her in the same jail that has held Azzi’s soul captive for the last four years. 
They’re about half way through the movie, awkward tension eased by Jana’s incessant chatter, when Azzi’s phone buzzes. Already confused at the timing of the call, she’s even more perplexed to see Ice’s name flashing on the screen. 
“Oooh Iceyyy,” Jana’s eyes light up when she catches a glimpse of the CallerID, “put her on speaker. Ice is one of our UConn teammates,” she explains, turning to Clémence who nods in recognition, “she probably did something dumb as fuck and need Azzi’s advice.”
“Don’t be mean,” Azzi scolds with a grin, knowing that Jana’s probably right as she picks up the call, “hello-”
“I hate you,” Azzi freezes at the sound of the familiar voice, laced with unfamiliar malice. Next to her Jana stiffens immediately while Clémence observes the scene in front of her with a guarded frown. 
“Paige who the fuck are you calling?” Ice’s voice is muffled in the background, “oh shit, Paige give me back my phone.”
“No. She needs to hear this,” Paige grits out, her pitch wavering with the effects of alcohol, “she needs to hear how much I fucking hate her. Azzi do you hear me? I can hear you breathing. I know you’re there. Did you hear what I said?”
“Paige,” Ice hisses again. 
Azzi swallows the lump in her throat, fingers digging into her bare thighs as she grips her phone so hard, she half-expects it to break into pieces in a reflection of her heart, “I heard you Paige.”
“Good. Because I do. I really fucking hate you,” Paige repeats again and Azzi flinches, “you ruined me Azzi. And now you’re ruining my marriage. My wife is perfect. She loves me. She loves being seen with me. She loves being known as my wife. Everything I ever wanted from you, she’s willing to give me. But she saw that damn hug at the Olympics and she- she’s upset with me. She thinks- she thinks I’m not over you.”
“Az maybe you should-” Jana says softly but Azzi immediately raises a hand to stop her. Maybe she’s a masochist but she can hear the hurt laced underneath the anger in Paige's voice. And if what Paige needs to get rid of her pain is a target to aim all her arrows at, then Azzi’s willing to sacrifice her heart, or at least what little is still left of it. 
“And the worst thing about it,” Paige’s voice breaks, “is that she's probably right. I have the perfect fucking woman at home and I can’t seem to get over the one who broke my heart and never looked back. Isn’t that pathetic?”
“Paige,” Ice pleads again and Azzi can hear her former teammate trying her best to wrangle the phone out of Paige’s firm grasp. 
“I’m not done yet Ice. I need to talk to her and I need to talk to her now because if I don’t, I’ll never get the courage to say any of this again,” Paige is sobbing now, and her broken whimpers pierce Azzi’s heart deeper than any words could,  “why couldn’t you just have said yes Az? I know- I know your reasons but why- why couldn’t you have just loved me enough to look past them? How do you do it Azzi? How do you live without me because it’s been four years and I- I still don’t think I know how to live without you and I hate you, I hate you because you do.”
No, Azzi thinks, I really don’t. But she doesn’t say anything, rapidly blinking back tears as she avoids both Jana’s concerned look and Clémence’s more thoughtful gaze. 
“I wish I could just feel nothing towards you Azzi,” Paige confesses, heaving as she struggles to breathe through her tears, “I don’t want to hate you. I don’t want to miss you and I really- I really, really don’t want to love you. Please just make it stop. I’m so tired of this Azzi. I’m so tired of hurting. How do I make it go away? Please tell me how I make it go away? How did you make it go away?”
“I didn’t,” Azzi whispers, so soft she’s not sure Paige heard it; she’s not sure if she wants Paige to have heard it. It’s the kind of pain, she thinks, she’s destined to feel forever. It’s weaved itself into every crevice of body and now it exists as just another innate part of her. Paige thinks Azzi’s learned to live without her but really all Azzi’s learned is how to live with these permanent scars of i think i’ll miss you forever. 
“That’s enough Paige,” Ice’s voice is clearer now, having finally snatched the phone out of her teammate’s grip, “Azzi-” she begins apologetically, “she’s just drunk. She didn’t mean-”
“She did,” Azzi clears her throat, sinking into the way Jana's arms wrap around her, “she’s um- she’s gonna be really hungover in the morning. Make sure she- make sure you give her water but don’t- don’t give her coffee. She’ll want it but it’ll only make it worse because she uh- she- when she drinks too much, her stomach hurts and the caffeine- it just- it makes it worse so- don’t let her drink coffee tomorrow morning okay? And make sure- make sure she eats something before she takes painkillers. And Ice?’
“Yeah Azzi.”
“If she doesn’t remember any of this tomorrow morning, please don’t remind her.”
***
April 2033
The bar is buzzing with noise by the time Paige and Azzi finally arrive. It’s an exclusive enough place that they won’t be too bothered by fans asking for pictures and autographs but the size of the crowd still puts Azzi a little bit on edge. She can’t help the small smile that flitters across her face when she feels Paige’s hand resting on her lower back as the blonde guides the two of them through the crowd in search of their teammates. For the last eight years, Azzi has been her own protector and she’s learned to guard herself but it’s nice -it feels right- to have someone else ready to be her shield too. 
“You know Bueckers,” Joyce says as the two of them finally approach the table that had been reserved for the Valkyries, “some might say that one should be on time when meeting their new teammates. Just a thought.”
“And some might say Edwards that being fashionably late is being on time,” Paige quips back. 
Joyce grins, “alright time for introductions.”
“I’m pretty sure I know-”
“Shut up,” Joyce reprimands, throwing an arm around Paige’s shoulders, “let me introduce these brand new people to you.”
“They’re not-”
“Sssshhh. Let me have my fun. We’ll start over here with Westbeld and Booker. You might know them, their teams kicked your ass during the 23-24 season,” Joyce says with a smirk. 
“Oh I do remember that,” Paige says thoughtfully, eyes twinkling with mirth, “what happened the season after?”
“Don’t be cocky Bueckers. It’s unbecoming,” Madison chides as she rises from the table to give Paige a hug. 
“Yeah I try not to remember that Elite Eight game thanks,” Laila says, making a disgusted face. 
Joyce glares at her, “did I introduce you yet Miss Phelia?”
Laila raises her hands in surrender as Joyce continues to give Paige a tour of the Valkyrie team. Azzi had known that Paige would fit in well with her teammate -really the blonde had the uncanny ability to fit in anywhere- but seeing it realized in front of her, it seems even clearer. Paige feels like the last mosaic piece, slotting in right where she belongs. 
“Those two over there are our babies,” Joyce points to Haylen and Jayla, “they’re like five years old but we love them anyways.”
“I’m almost 25,” Haylen protests. 
“See,” Joyce remarks, “literally children. And that one,” she points to Jana who beams at Paige, “well you already know her even if you sometimes wish you didn’t probably-”
“Hey!”
“Oh shush Jana,” Joyce says airily, “and I supposed there’s no point in introducing Azzi to you since y’all came together,” she pauses to look between them, “y’all don’t live that close to each other. Why didn’t you just carpool with Jana? I’m pretty sure she lives closer to you.”
Paige opens and closes her mouth a couple of times as Azzi feels her own cheeks heat up at the innocent enough question, “we um- well it's just- you see- my house is on the way from her parents and she had to drop off Stephie so it just- it just made sense you know? For efficiency’s sake.”
“Oh yeah for efficiency’s sake. They’re both very efficient,” Jana smirks, “makes a lot of sense.”
Joyce gives all three of them a weird look, “y’all Huskies are strange. It was just a question but anyways,” she grins as she finally steers Paige towards the blonde in the corner and Azzi stiffens at the way Paige’s body immediately tenses, “a couple of our teammates aren’t here but we do have a former teammate. Paige meet Clémence.”
“We’ve met,” Paige says, attempting to school her features to resemble anything but the discomfort she’s feeling within, “during the Olympics that is. We’ve beat France a couple of times.”
It’s a purposeful word choice, beat instead of played and Azzi's fingers fidget with the hem of her top as she tries to avoid looking at either of the two women. 
“Yes. It is good to see you again,” Clémence says tersely, her French accent stronger than the last time Azzi had spoken to her. She shakes Paige’s hand rather formally before her eyes focus on Azzi and she determinedly walks towards the brunette, “and it is really good to see you Azzi. I have missed you.”
“I-” Azzi stutters at the French woman pulls her into a hug; over her shoulder she can practically see steam coming out of Paige’s ears as she hyper focuses on how Clémence makes it a point rub her thumb down Azzi’s back, “it’s um- it’s good to see you too.”
She pulls away and she can feel the disappointment reverberating from Clémence’s body as Azzi practically flings herself on the chair next to Jana, wondering what she’d done to deserve this moment as a punishment for her sins. 
“Save me,” she pleads as Clémence and Paige sit as far away from each other as possible, occasionally shooting glares when they think the other isn’t looking. 
“Save you from having two hot women fighting over you?” the center teases, “you truly have such first world problems Azzi Fudd.”
“They’re not fighting over me-”
“Azzi you will have your usual rum and coke no?” Clémence asks and Azzi looks over to where the francophone is intently staring at her, “I will go-”
“Oh there’s no need,” Paige says immediately, “you sit Clémence. You already have a drink. I was gonna go get one for myself and I’ll get Azzi’s too. Besides, Azzi's more of a fruity drink girl. Az I’ll get you a piña colada-”
Clémence narrows her eyes, “maybe she liked that when she was in college but Azzi likes something different now.”
“She might like something different now,” Paige counters, standing up aggressively so she towers over the table, “but she’s always gonna love a piña colada right Azzi?”
All eyes turn to look at Azzi who wants nothing more than to cower under the table- or hit Jana who seems to find this very unamusinging situation rather entertaining, “I um-” she swallows, “I think tonight calls for something stronger. Round of shots for the table? On me?”
It placates the situation for a while as the rest of the team cheers on the idea, beckoning over one of the bartenders to orders a round of tequila shots for the table. For a moment, Azzi tricks herself into thinking maybe that’ll be the end of ridiculous situations for the night as the team downs shots to Jana yelling “to the Valkyries” but she should have known it was wishful thinking.
Half the team ends up on the dance floor, swaying to the mixed rhythm of the music and the newly minted alcohol coursing through their bloodstreams. Azzi watches with a smile as despite her protests, Joyce manages to drag Paige onto the dance floor with her, engaging her in some eccentric dance moves as they try to outdo each other on who can look the silliest. And as the rest of the girls cheer the blonde on, it feels like Paige is chiseling out a place for herself in another part of Azzi’s world. 
“She is easy to love,” Clémence’s hot breath fans Azzi’s ear as the francophone takes Jana’s empty seat next to the brunette. 
“Clém-” Azzi sighs. 
“She fits in well with the team,” Clémence continues, something wistful in her voice, “I have seen her play. She will fit in well on the court with you guys as well. She will fit in well next to you.”
“That’s the hope,” Azzi says softly as she tilts her head to look at the other woman, “you fit in well too. I mean it Clém. We’ll miss you at GSV.”
Clémence smiles bitterly, “I would have liked to stay but they needed the cap space so they could sign her. She- she’s quite expensive. I mean considering she is casually wearing swarovski crystals on her neck in a bar on a random Saturday night, I am not surprised.”
The two of them laugh despite the gravity that looms heavily over them. Azzi and Clémence haven’t been anything in a long time but she’d never quite shut the possibility of a potential future done. She can hear the lock ready to click now. It’s bittersweet doing the right thing but as Paige glances over from the dancefloor, eyes darting cautiously between the two of them, Azzi knows that she doesn’t want to keep any other doors open. Not when the one with Paige’s name etched on the door handle, leads to home. 
“One last dance?” Clémence asks softly, holding out her hand. 
Azzi hesitates, knowing that it would irritate Paige but she thinks she probably owes Clémence this and so she smiles and takes the francophone’s outstretched hand as they join their other teammates. It’s nothing beyond friendly and they both keep their hands to themselves as they sway to the music, but Azzi can feel the annoyance radiating off of Paige from across the dancefloor. She would never admit it, perhaps it’s a little toxic of her, but there’s a certain thrill to making Paige jealous. There’s something about the way the blonde’s blue eyes flare with ice cold envy, the way her jaw hardens as she grinds her teeth. The way she looks at Azzi like if she had her way she’d drag the brunette out of the bar and mark her with a possessive you’re mine you’re mine youre mine. It makes Azzi clench her thighs together as she tries to focus on Clémence. 
“I understand now,” the francophone says thoughtfully as Azzi’s peers up at her in confusion, “when you told me that you could not be with me. I get it.”
“I don’t-”
“You are here with me but you aren’t actually. You will always be with her,” Clémence tilts her head towards Paige, “you always have been. I understand now,” she says again simply before her face hardens, “even after all those words she said to you on the phone that night.”
Azzi’s stomach curls at the reminder. She knows exactly what night Clémence is referring to. Sometimes when she closes her eyes, it’s those words, coated in anger and malice, that shower around her like acid rain, seeping into her skin and infecting her bloodstream.
“I told you, you deserved better,” Clémence says and Azzi gulps, “but you said- you said you deserved worse. I hope you don’t believe that anymore Azzi. Just because you hurt her doesn’t mean you need to let her hurt you too.”
“I-” Azzi’s cut off by a hard body ramming into her own and she feels herself going stumbling back into the unwanted arms of a random man, “I’m sorry,” she says tersely, struggling to get out his grip. 
“No worries pretty girl,” he says toothily, the heavy stench of alcohol in his breath making Azzi feel nauseous, “but now that you’re here, how about I buy you a drink.”
“No thank you,” Azzi says sternly, trying to push the man away but he’s relentless. 
“Aw c’mon don’t be like that sweetheart,” the term of endearment sounds like an insult falling from his lips and Azzi loses her patience, stomping her heel into the man’s foot to finally free herself from his grip and he yelps in surprise.
“I said no thank you.”
“What the fuck,” the man spits out, standing up as Azzi takes a step back. He’s got some muscle and although, despite his bravado, she knows she’s strong enough to take him, she’d rather not create a scene. Her plan is to walk away. Paige seems to have other ideas, suddenly materializing in between Azzi and the man, a furious look on her face as she squares him up. 
“Do we have a problem?” the blonde asks menacingly. 
“Nothing other than your little friend here being a fucking bitch.”
Paige’s eyes darken as she takes a threatening step towards him, prevented from going further only by the way Azzi immediately laces a hand around her wrist, “what the fuck did you call her?”
“I called her a-”
“It doesn’t matter,” Azzi cuts in, stepping in between a glaring Paige and a man who’s clearly underestimating her strength, “let it go Paige.”
“Yeah,” the man mocks, “let it go Paige.”
“You fucking-” Paige tries to lunge at him but Azzi’s quick to shove her back gently. 
“Don’t cause a scene,” she warns. 
“Azzi-”
“Paige please.”
“Holy shit,” the man wolf-whistles, “y’all play for the Valks. You’re Azzi Fudd. I know you.”
“Good for you,” Azzi spits out at him before turning her attention back to Paige, who looks like she could kill the man if given the chance, “c’mon let's go back to our tab-”
“It’s funny you’re acting like such a fucking prude when you have a bastard chi-”
An unmistakable crunch rings out through the bar as the man goes flying backwards. Azzi’s knuckles are bleeding as her breath comes out in ragged huffs. She hadn’t wanted to cause a scene; could have walked away from a man being a drunken idiot, could have walked away from being called a bitch or hell, even something worse. But the man had attacked the one part of her that she’d always be ready to go to war for. He’d brought up Stephie and she’d seen red. Her fist had moved of it's own accord.
Paige doesn’t say anything and Azzi can feel the anger still vibrating from the older woman’s body as she roughly grabs Azzi’s unhurt hand.
“Let’s go,” the blonde’s voice is eerily low, “we’re going home.”
***
It’s a subconscious choice to let Paige drive Azzi’s car even though they’ve both sobered up considerably, not that one shot had done much in the first place. It’s a subconscious choice that Azzi reaches over to lace her fingers through Paige’s free hand, resting it on her lap, as the blonde use her other hand to grip the steering wheel. It’s a subconscious choice that they end up driving to Azzi’s house in complete silence. She’s not sure who’s mad at who, if they’re even mad at each other or that man or just the world but she can feel the fury suffocating the air. 
“Where’s your first-aid kit?” Paige says gruffly as Azzi unlocks the door. 
“Bathroom,” Azzi says quietly and Paige is off towards it before the word has even fully left the brunette’s mouth. Azzi scrambles after her, pausing in the doorway as Paige rummages through drawers, knowing better than to interrupt to help when Paige looks livid like this.
“Sit,” Paige points to the sink once she’s finally found the sanitizer and gauze to clean up dried up blood staining Azzi’s knuckles. 
“I can do it my-”
Paige glares at her, “just sit on the fucking sink Azzi.”
Putting away her own irritation at being told what to do, Azzi lifts herself onto the flat surface of the sink, opening her legs slightly so that Paige can stand between them. Despite still quivering with barely concealed rage, Paige’s touch is gentle as she dabs at the remnants of red liquid on Azzi’s hand. 
“You should’ve just let me punch him when I wanted to,” she says finally. 
“So you could be the one bleeding?” Azzi raises an eyebrow. 
“No because he would’ve never gotten the courage to say shit about Stephie if you’d just let me kill him when he called you a bitch,” Paige bites out venomously. 
“And let you go to jail? I couldn’t do that to Stephie,” Azzi tries to lighten the tension in the room, “she’d miss you too much. 
“This isn’t funny, Azzi,” Paige seethes as she begins to wrap the white gauze around the wound. 
“I know,” the younger woman says, trailing her other hand down Paige’s arms trying to soothe her anger, “but it’s fine-”
“It’s not fucking fine,” Paige yells. 
“Baby-” the word slips out from Azzi’s lips before she can catch it. She hasn’t used it for someone other than Stephie in so long that it feels foreign on her lips and yet, it fits exactly right. 
“Did you call Clémence that too?” and there it is, the real reason behind the volcano erupting as Paige decidedly looks away from Azzi. 
Azzi narrows her eyes, “I don’t know Paige. Did you call Olivia that?”
“That’s different,” Paige grits out, “Olivia was my wife.”
Azzi flinches at the word; hates that somebody else had ever had the honor of being called that even if she knows it’s unfair of her to feel that way when she’s the one that had turned it down first. 
“Exactly,” she says slowly, “you married someone else-” she holds up a hand when Paige protests, “I know. I know I said no but you married someone else Paige. So you don’t get to be mad at me for having something with someone else too.”
Paige is quiet for a moment and Azzi sees the exact moment the fight leaves her body as she lets out a sigh, leaning her head against Azzi’s shoulder. 
“You’re right,” Paige whispers into Azzi’s neck, hands moving to rest against the brunette’s thighs. 
Azzi runs her hand through Paige’s hair, brushing it in tandem with the harmony of her breathing, “we can’t keep throwing the past in each other’s face, Paige.”
“I know,” Paige breath tickles against Azzi’s skin and she shivers in spite of the tense moment,“I just-” the blonde lifts her head to look at Azzi, “I need to know who Clémence was to you. You- you know what Olivia was to me and I- I just need to know the same about Clémence.”
“She-” Azzi hesitates, “we hooked up a couple of times,” she squeezes Paige’s hand when the blonde flinches, “but then she- she wanted more but I couldn’t- I couldn’t do that. Partly because I didn’t- I didn’t feel the same- don’t look so smug,” Azzi chides when a small grin forms on Paige’s face, “and partly because we were on the same team. I didn’t want to complicate things, not like last time. Feel like I should probably have a rule not to date teammates.”
“Right.”
Azzi watches the cogs turning in Paige’s brain and she reaches out a hand to ease the creases forming on her forehead, “what are you thinking Bueckers?”
“I just-” Paige bites her lip, “what about me?”
“What about you?”
“I mean we’re gonna be- I mean we are- we’re on the same team too,” Paige says and Azzi can hear the insecurity of will you leave me again weaved through her voice. 
“You don’t get it yet do you,” Azzi whispers, reaching up to cup Paige’s face, “baby you are the exception to all of my rules.”
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moviestarmartini · 11 months ago
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ella es mi fiesta — jude bellingham x hispanic!reader
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es la favorita, la mujer más buena / la que más me gusta de todas las nenas / es la mamacita, se me agua la boca / que no más las miro y todo me provoca.
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summary: jude has completed his move to madrid, and while you watch him shine, you've got a wedding to plan.
wc: 3.1k
warnings: wedding!! tried not to specify much so it adapts to everything (methinks), good mother/daughter relationship lol, short nsfw but still 18+, brief female masturbation, unprotected sex (not endorsing it!!!), lots and lots of sappy crying, smau at both the beginning and the end, sentences in spanish, a paragraph in spanish will be translated at the end hehe
previous part
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A bigger, brighter spotlight started to shine on your fiancé. 
You knew Jude deserved that and more, and you were more than satisfied with his success. If college wasn’t occupying your nights, you saw him at the Bernabeu whenever you could, preferring to sit outside than inside the VIP boxes to feel la afición you grew up with. Feel that passion and support surrounding you, coursing through your veins. 
Nothing had really changed; you still supported him through thick and thin. You cried when he scored a brace against Barcelona, and held him close after the endless recovery hours when he was injured. The fact he was physically closer only improved your relationship further. 
You never knew how much you needed to have him close by. 
But being at Real Madrid had its disadvantages. You barely got to hang out around campus to avoid people asking too many questions, wanting to know more about your relationship with the golden boy. But most of this chatter wasn't even questions about you or him, they were directed towards your relationship. 
The same comments you’d read on Twitter and his Instagram Posts— not yours, considering you decided to keep your account private for the time being. Things ranging from your age, the time you’ve been dating before the proposal to downright wishing you wouldn’t even make it to the wedding and just cancel the engagement. 
You’d discussed these comments with Jude, and his reassurance was more than enough to keep you at peace about your relationship. But the criticism only made your body burn with the necessity to prove everyone wrong. So you kept your head down, concentrating on your studies and planning the wedding on the side. You had bimonthly reports to Jude about the progress of everything, though Denise had been a godsend this whole time. Any decision you needed an opinion on, she was there to provide the most helpful insight when Jude wasn’t able.  
As he settled into the team, the teammates he grew closer to got to meet you, all of them absolutely adoring you and the pair you made with the englishman. 
“When are we getting our wedding party ask? Cama here wants to be the flower man.” Tchouameni joked, elbowing his fellow french national on the ribs as the group exploded with laughter. 
During one of the international breaks Jude surprised you with his return by joining you during a cake tasting. He wasn’t fully recovered from the injury and was sent back, having taken a few hours off to be with his ‘best girl’— he said himself. 
“Shoo, or I’m going to report to the mister that you’re playing hooky.” You stuck your tongue out while dropping him off at Ciudad Real Madrid for his recovery training. The truth was, you had a dress fitting that afternoon. Your mom, Denise, your cousin and your best friend were in attendance. 
You’d find your dream dress at a boutique in the city center, the streets crowded enough for people to recognize you and snap a few blurry pictures entering the shop. None of those wearing the dress, thank goodness, but by the time you found out people started to realize you and Jude were actually getting married that year, you were too elated to care. The dress fit like a glove, and your mom couldn’t help but sob by seeing you in it. She bought it on the spot without much consideration, and considering you were the only girl in your nuclear home, your mother was going all out for her little girl’s wedding. 
As the temperatures dropped, the planning became more frantic. You had fifty calls to make every single day confirming everything, keeping Jude updated and checking one last time for the RSVPs. As November edged in, you only felt more and more nervous. 
“Are we too insane for this? We should’ve waited for two years from now maybe…” You wondered out loud to Jude as you finished the engagement photoshoot. Brunch was your thing, so it was a playful twist on the theme. 
“Look at me,” He incited, taking your face in his hand. His eyes were full of reassurance, and it always surprised you to see how he never doubted anything for a second. “I’ll do whatever you ask of me. If you want to delay it for fifteen years I’ll wait patiently.” The photographer was already packing up his things, but perked up when he noticed the intimate moment going on. He didn’t interrupt, just taking a few candids. 
His understanding just melted away any doubts instead of reinforcing them. You scooted closer in your chair. “I’m not moving anything. The wedding’s in a month, and I couldn’t be happier.” You cooed, your fiancé humming happily as he kissed your forehead. 
When you received the pictures you came to notice those candids turned out to be your favorites. Not that the others looked bad— on the contrary, you both looked stunning— but they transported you back into that moment full of reassurance and love. 
Before you knew it, the last game of the season transpired, along with your last class before exam season took place in January after your Winter vacations. 
After your wedding. 
For your bachelor and bachelorette parties respectively the two of you decided to celebrate during the day so that night the rehearsal dinner could take place at the same cozy chateau the wedding was taking place the next day. It was more of a mixer than anything else, considering Jude had guests come from all over to the event. All of them you knew, since you both agreed to keep it tight knit on both sides. There had also been a sworn secrecy, you’ve giggled for hours reading Twitter threads speculating when your wedding was taking place when it was literally happening right under their noses. 
It had been an hour or so since the last of the guests either drove home or crossed over to stay at the boutique hotel nearby. Both of your families were sleeping in the other rooms in the venue, but the matrimonial bedroom was left for your solitude. 
“Can’t sleep either, eh?” You turned to Jude’s husky voice from the bedroom door. You got up with a nod, watching as he closed the door behind you. “Anxious?” 
“Definitely.” You agreed, pulling him down and into a hug. “Young bride was not something I ever pictured in my resume but that was before I met you.” You muttered, cupping his face and kissing his forehead. 
Jude observed your movements slowly, feeling the cold white gold against his cheek. He turned his face and kissed your palm before taking it in his hand, kissing your fingers, never breaking eye contact. He inched in, nose brushing against you and you knew well enough his intentions. 
“In twenty-four hours we’ll consummate the marriage, Belli-bear; don’t.” You warned him with a playful smile, noticing how he leaned down and kissed your neck slowly. You couldn’t resist, tilting your head back. With all the planning involved, you barely got to see anything of each other, even less intimately. 
“I don’t care.” He grumbled, sliding his hands on your thighs as you stumbled over to the edge of the bed. He sat first, drawing you over to his lap. “I’ve barely seen you in the last two months.” Jude linked your lips together, and you melted right into his lap. It was slow, taking your time. He pulled down the straps of the soft cotton pajamas, letting the top roll down and pool at your waist. 
Your bare chest heaved against his clothed one, and he removed the shirt before his hands cupped your breasts. The tension building up in the room was something you’ve never experienced before; it was mind numbing, almost. 
“I love you.” You muttered something you’ve said so many times previously, but it felt like the first time. You noticed how he swallowed hard, his eyes looking up at you with utter admiration. Instead of replying right away, his hand sneaked under the matching shorts, past your underwear. Your breath hitched, his middle fingers drawing circles slowly. 
“Yo también te amo.” He replied, licking his lips. You slightly raised your brows in surprise; it was usually the other way around. You said it in Spanish and he replied in English. Now his tongue spoke your language with ease each day. Your mouth twitched lightly into a smile, interrupted by a moan as he gathered the slick pooling around his fingers. 
“Let me take you, please.” His begging was sincere, knowing you could easily decline and follow traditions. Not that you hadn’t done it before, but maybe right before your wedding was pushing it. “I’m too eager… I don’t think I can wait until tomorrow. 
You have been feeling his boner pressing against your thigh for a while now, yet again adding to his honesty. Your thoughts were racing a hundred miles per hour, but you concluded there was nothing traditional about this in the first place. The two of you were bending the rules over backwards from the day you met. A smile still rose to your lips, pulling him into a kiss and pushing him onto the bed. 
“Take me now. Tomorrow you’ll do it forever.” You brushed your nose against his, and he switched places to lay on top of you. Without wasting any time he pulled your pajama shorts and underwear down, his own following soon after. 
“Uh, fuck— I forgot,” He looked around the room, trying to figure out if you’d brought any condoms. You pulled his face towards yours, cupping his jaw in your fingers. 
“I’ll take a pill tomorrow.” You noticed how his eyes shone in a way you’d never noticed before, and he caught your lips in his once more, brushing his tip against your entrance. You mewled, feeling the stretch and embracing it warmly. Your fiancé held you against his chest, kissing the top of your head. 
“You feel so warm,” He practically whined, starting to draw out long thrusts. You could barely reply to the praise, trying to keep your moans muffled by hiding your face in his neck. “So perfect for me, my girl.” 
He knew those strained moans like the back of his hand, the kind where you seemed to be choking on air. The way your cunt squeezed him was enough indication. “Yes, baby. Do it, cum for me.” You exhaled in a way it was apparent the permission lifted a weight off your shoulders. He held you closer to his body, allowing your moans to leave your mouth more freely without escaping those four walls. 
The stutter of his hips that came soon after, followed by a string of curses gave away that Jude was close too. You kissed his strong shoulders, giving him words of encouragement as he perched your legs over his shoulders and started a painful pace to find his release. Still, he looked down at you with a fondness that made your heart melt, leaning down for a final kiss as he pulled out and shot ropes of white to cover your lower tummy. 
“How about a warm bath?” He proposed tenderly, and you couldn’t have said no, even if you wanted to. Without even noticing you fell asleep curled up in his chest, the light steam surrounding your bodies. 
You woke up the next day to the empty bed, haven’t felt so well rested in a while. There was some chatter going on downstairs, and you peaked from the bedroom window to notice staff being led by your mother and soon to be mother-in-law assembling the ceremony venue in the vast backyard. The reality soon dawned upon you, and you wanted to throw up from the nerves and scream in glee. 
But that was the last time you were left alone with your thoughts, as a soft knock rang through the room. “Coming! Denme dos minutos!” You sprung up from the bed, quickly fixing the bed and slipping into the silk slip dress you bought for the whole ‘getting ready’ part of it. The house had a great heating system from the dropping temperatures, but you still got a matching bolero in cashmere. Upon opening the door you were greeted by your small wedding party, consisting of your cousin and best friend. Your other female family members were getting ready with you with the same team of hair and makeup. 
The greeting hugs everyone gave you were so different. They were full of warmth, positivity. You had to hold back tears when your mom hugged you, easing up all your nerves. It was as if they were confirming to you that they were there for you, sending all the well wishes for the years to come with a simple embrace. 
You had your favorite breakfast with mimosas before getting ready. Music was blasting, everyone was chatting it up and helping each other. It felt as though you were getting ready for a regular party, until your brother came knocking at the door. “Delivery for the bride.” He smiled, and the room full of women squealed. You were done with your hair already but you were going to be the last to get your makeup done. 
With a smile you kissed your brother on the cheek before ushering him out the door, taking a hold of the large box and placing it on the bed. Upon removing the lid, you gasped at the delicately placed bouquet, the one you were going to be walking down the aisle with. 
“You like it? I helped him choose. He assembled it himself last night after everyone was gone.” Denise came up to you with a warm smile, and you couldn’t help but give her a tearful nod, setting the flowers aside to give her a tight hug. You figured this whole thing was a big change for her, considering how much of a mama’s boy Jude was. 
But that embrace felt just like the others; full of support and well wishes. 
In no time your makeup started and the women got dressed, only leaving your mum to help you with the dress and the veil. “Ay mi princesa.” She exhaled, fanning her eyes as you took a step back to look at yourself in front of the mirror. You took a deep breath in, having to hold back the need to start crying. Your dream wedding dress fit you as perfectly as it did on the first fitting, and the lacy veil was as perfect as it was on your mother all those years back. 
“I think we should head downstairs. Get some pictures of our family together. Jude should be waiting outside already, so there would be no peeking.” She laughed, carefully cleaning away the tears right at the edge of her eyes. 
The following reactions were similar. Your father looked as though he was about to pass out, and your brother was left speechless. But you only cared about one reaction, and you stood perfect for the family pictures as you could only imagine how Jude would react. 
Still the anticipation couldn’t have prepared you to see him shedding real tears as you walked down the garden, unable to stop looking at you. And for a second there, you swore it was just you and him in the entire planet. 
You couldn’t stop looking at each other throughout the whole thing, no matter if you were supposed to look at the officiant. You said your vows first, eyes brimming with tears. “Most importantly, I love how you make me think I’m the brightest star in the world, no matter how bad either of us are feeling. And I promise I’ll drive you everywhere for the rest of our lives, don’t get that license, amor.” You finished with a bitter sweet chuckle. But you couldn’t have expected what Jude had to say next. 
“Uh, I’ve been practicing my vows for the past six months. If there’s any mistakes, just… keep it to yourselves.” The audience chuckled lightly, but they were as intrigued as you were. He started out by saying your name, almost breathless, “Siempre te he dicho que eres la razón por la que creo en el amor a primera vista.” You choked out a sob, as people in the audience gasped. 
Jude had written and learned his vows in Spanish. Without telling a soul. 
He apparently grew more confident, sucking a big breath in. “Y hoy, puedo decir con toda certeza que creo en el amor sincero y eterno. Todo por ti, preciosa,” His bottom lip quivered, noticing how you were made a mess, eyes full of tears. 
“Eres la estrella que alumbra mis días. Mi chauffeur que me lleva a todos los lugares sin que se lo pida.” He cleared his throat, inhaling the tears in. “Gracias por confiar en mí y en nuestro amor para llegar aquí hoy. Te amo.” 
You smiled at him warmly, and knew he would tease you later for having matching vows without knowing. The rest of the ceremony flew by, and Jude really took the ‘you may kiss the bride’ part too seriously. 
“I can’t believe you copied me…” He huffed as you made way inside the mansion, waiting in a separate room for your entrance. “…Mrs. Bellingham.” He practically giggled, and you laughed from the mirror as you were retouching your makeup.
“You’re the one that copied me! I said my vows first, idiot!” You joked, finishing the lip combo before getting to his side, holding his hand to do your entrance to the dining hall. The nerves filled you up and he noticed from the way you shifted your weight from one side to another. 
He kissed your hand and winked, and you knew everything was going to be alright. 
You found out that night most of your guests were hefty drinkers, or at least they had decided to be so for that particular occasion. But you also found out later that night that thank God you ‘consummated your marriage’ the previous night, considering you had to ask for a few of his fellow athlete friends to carry him up to the newlywed couple’s bedroom. You later laid there staring at the ceiling, stomach churning from… anticipation? The drinks? 
But even as Jude was snoring right next to you, you knew deep down everything was going to be alright. 
For the rest of your lives together.
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judebellingham mr. and mrs. b 🤍
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A/N: my bf still says we can't get married so enjoyyy this delusion i'm using to cope KFDSKLSDFKLV lowk did my dream wedding here but it wasn't at the same time. hope everyone enjoyed this sappy sappy short series !! the translation to jude’s wedding vows are in that lil note in the smau !!!
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yan-lorkai · 5 months ago
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Hello! :) I just really love all of your works for Hellsing and an idea popped into my mind. Could you write an Alucard x darling!Reader where Integra sends them on a mission to Brazil in disguise as a newlyweds on their honeymoon? I'm just sooo obsessed with his Riocard look, I thought it would be so fun to imagine! <3
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.⁠。⁠*⁠♡ A/N: To be honest I get you anon. He is so handsome in his RioCard form, with his little glass full of blood and wearing that suit 🤭💕💕. @marieisaghost
.⁠。⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, reader is unsettled by Alucard but both of them keep flirting with one another lol, mention of killing, gn!reader
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"Lulu, you travel a lot, don't you?" You turn your face to stare at him, gorgeous smile already on his lips as soon as that little nickname left you. "What is it like in Brazil? How are the people?"
He thought about. Ancient as he was, Alucard was present to see or hear about all major events from humanity. And later on, to visit those same countries, as you two are doing now - hunting for a potentially dangerous vampire who climbed the stairs to the success, he was so important now, so powerful but Integra had her way of getting you and Alucard into one of his big parties.
After a few seconds pondering, Alucard glanced at his glass full of blood, long, dark hair hiding his eyes from you as he chuckled.
"The air smells like golden hour and the birds sing so loud, as if they wish for you to sing among them. The Brazilians are like fairies, if you will, as they can't lie but contour whatever promise they made with polite words and jokes. And the common folk are very affectionate." He sipped from his glass, little trinket of blood running down his lower lip before he could lick it. You laughed at that. "And their words sounds like a gentle song, so familiar yet so distante you can't quite remember where you have heard it."
The gentle hum of the plane's engines filled the cabin, the dim lighting casting soft shadows against the sleek leather seats. You sat beside Alucard, watching the clouds drift by through the small window. A moment goes by before you answer him.
"Quiet poetical, don't you think?" You mused, imagining the country based on his description. "Well, I'm looking forward to see it. We will be able to sightsee after the mission is done, right?"
Alucard turned his head slowly, he was still sipping from his glass, sometimes just shaking it to see the red liquid sway gently. His crimson eyes glimmered with amusement, lips curling into a slow, knowing smile. He always found your mortal, innocent optimism endearing — if not a bit naive. But he never discouraged it outright. No, he enjoyed watching you dangle the idea of freedom, without realizing he was the one holding the string.
He was the one who chose you for this role. So beautiful and all his, pretending to be his cute little spouse.
“Sightseeing?” Alucard repeated, his voice low, filled with the silky cadence you knew too well. He leaned back further into his seat, fingers steepled together as if considering your words. “That all depends. If the mission goes well and... if you behave, darling.”
You shifted uncomfortably, pretending to be preoccupied with the view outside. Sometimes Alucard took his jokes too far, the line between truth and joke unclear.
“Well, I just thought… if we’re pretending to be newlyweds, we might as well enjoy the facade a little more!” You explained your point of view, trying to sound casual. “A little sightseeing wouldn’t hurt. Husband.”
Alucard’s chuckle was soft but dark, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. It was a beautiful sound yet terrifying in other circumstances. “Oh, you’ve been enjoying this facade more than you admit, darling” He teased, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. “Playing the role of my beloved spouse… It suits you.”
His words were laced with a possessiveness that you couldn’t ignore. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding as you tried to maintain composure under his piercing gaze. Alucard thrived on your uncertainty — on the way you balanced between curiosity and frustration in equal measures. He loved seeing you struggle. You knew that. He was an asshole like that sometimes.
“Maybe,” You replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper and your face heating up. Ultimately it was better to let him have this little win or he'll pout and throw a tantrum the entire time. “But it’s hard to keep up the act sometimes, you’re very convincing. I fear I won't be as convincing as you are.”
Alucard’s smile widened, a dark, predatory gleam flickering in his eyes. He leaned toward you, his cold fingers brushing against your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw with a delicate yet possessive touch. He seemed like he wanted to say something, a secret passing through his eyes, black long hair hiding his face like a curtain, and then he pulled back.
“Rest now, my love,” Alucard said, his voice softer as he reclined back in his seat but the command was clear. "We still have a few hours until we get there. And perhaps, I’ll indulge you with that sightseeing you’re so fond. There's so very interesting places that are open at night.”
You rolled your eyes. "Aye aye captain."
Yoou reached out, your hand sliding around his arm and tugging him toward you. His eyes widened slightly, not in surprise but in curiosity. You didn’t say a word, there was no need. All that mattered was the closeness, the warmth, even if it came from the cold embrace of a vampire. Without a word, you rested your head against his arm, and he allowed you to whatever you wanted, his lips curling into a soft smirk as he watched you for a few seconds.
/⁠~⁠♡
The private plane had landed hours ago, and the sun now hung low on the horizon, casting the hotel room in a warm, golden glow. You stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the fabric of your outfit, a carefully chosen disguise for the next phase of the mission. The luxurious suite you were in felt almost too extravagant, too different from what you were used but trying to argument with Alucard was near impossível. And he wanted to stay at the most expensive place just for the sake of it.
Greedy vampire, you thought, he wouldn't even be able to sleep. After all, he's used to sleep at morning and you, as a Hellsing soldier, is more than used to sleep in whatever you can lie on during night. Extravagance was not your style.
Behind you, Alucard moved with quiet grace, his eyes fixed on you in the mirror. He had already shed his coat, his shirt untucked slightly, looking every bit the devilish rogue he was. He stepped closer, slipping a gloved hand around your waist, guiding you as you fumbled with the buttons on your collar.
"Let me," He asked, his voice low and smooth, as he brushed your hands away and began fastening the buttons for you. His fingers worked skillfully, but his touch lingered a bit too long. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips.
"You know, I can dress myself," You teased him, raising an eyebrow at him through the mirror.
"Of course you can," Alucard replied with a smirk, not missing a beat. "But why would I miss the chance to enjoy this view?" His hands slid up to adjust the collar, his eyes flickering with amusement.
You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. "You’re impossible, you know that?"
Alucard chuckled softly, his breath warm against your neck as he leaned in just a bit closer. "I’m many things, love. Impossible is only one of them." He finished with the last button, his hands lingering on your shoulders, fingers tracing the fabric as though he couldn’t help but touch you. You turned slightly to face him, a playful glint in your eyes.
"So husband, what's the plan?" You teased him, emphasizing the word, adjusting your sleeves as he watched you with that ever-present intensity. "Or you're just want to take care of everything alone while I stay helpless by your side, like a damsel?."
Alucard raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. "Playing the damsel role certainly is fun but not safe. Besides it's counterproductive. I'II catch our target while you search his office for those documents."
You nodded, trying to think of ways to enter the target's office, but the warmth in Alucard's eyes made it impossible. His thumb traced small circles against your waist, and though you hated to admit it, his presence was comforting in moments like these, when the mission loomed large and the stakes were high. He knew how you soothe your worries and fears with just a few gestures.
"Focus, Alucard," You said, but your voice lacked any real conviction.
"I am focused," He replied smoothly, his lips dangerously close to yours. "Just… not on the mission right now."
You felt your heartbeat quicken, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned into him just a little, your fingers brushing the fabric of his shirt. "You’re incorrigible."
His eyes gleamed as he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice a low, teasing purr. "And you love it."
You laughed softly, shaking your head again as you turned back toward the mirror. "You’re lucky you’re helping with this mission. Otherwise, I’d leave you to flirt with yourself.
Alucard chuckled, stepping back slightly, though his hand never left your waist. "Oh, I can flirt with myself just fine. But it’s much more fun with you."
You met his gaze in the mirror, your reflection showing the playful tension between you two. Despite everything, the danger, the complexity of your relationship, moments like this felt oddly natural. Easy, even.
"Fine," you said, adjusting the last piece of your outfit and putting your weapons in their proper places. "After this mission and you taking me to sightsee, you should really take me on a date, Alucard. I wouldn't say no."
Alucard’s smirk softened into a more genuine smile as he pressed a kiss to your temple, his hand squeezing your waist lightly. "Whatever you want, darling. But until then…" His eyes sparkled mischievously. "We make quite the team, don’t we?"
You couldn’t argue with that. Despite the chaos, despite the danger, there was something undeniably magnetic about being at his side. Even if he drove you crazy half the time and acted strange sometimes.
"Yeah," You said with a sigh, a smile tugging at your lips. "We do."
The night air was crisp as you stepped out of the grand hotel, the city’s lights reflecting off the polished black limousine waiting at the curb. The distant hum of life in the city created a soft backdrop of noise, but here, in front of the sleek vehicle, everything felt quieter, more intimate. Alucard, as always, had his hand lightly resting on your lower back as he guided you toward the car.
“After you, love,” He said smoothly, his voice laced with amusement as he opened the door for you. His crimson eyes gleamed under the streetlights, and even in the dim evening, he looked effortlessly sharp in his tailored suit, dark and dangerously handsome.
You gave him a playful smirk before slipping into the limousine’s spacious interior. The leather seats were cool against your skin as you settled in, and a faint, luxurious scent lingered in the air. Alucard followed, closing the door behind him as he took the seat beside you.
As the driver began pulling away from the curb, the city lights blurred past the tinted windows, creating a dreamlike atmosphere. Alucard stretched his arm along the back of the seat, his fingers lightly brushing against your shoulder in a way that felt casual yet intentional.
“Excited?” hHe asked, his voice low and teasing as his eyes flickered to yours. “Or is it nerves I sense?”
You glanced at him, rolling your eyes slightly. “Excited isn’t the word I’d use. This is a mission, remember? Focus, Alucard.”
He chuckled, his hand sliding down to lightly squeeze your shoulder. “I’m always focused. It’s you who seems to be on edge, dragul meu.” His voice was a playful murmur, but there was that undercurrent of seriousness you knew all too well. He thrived in these high-stakes situations, while you, well, you preferred a little less danger and a little more simplicity.
You preferred a better plan, you preferred having more allies. Yet, you had to make it do with just Alucard by your side. Either way, you knew he wouldn't let you hurt yourself.
“I’m not on edge,” You retorted lightly, turning to face him fully. “I’m just thinking about the plan. We’re supposed to be subtle, blend in, gather intel. You remember the whole ‘don’t draw attention to ourselves’ part, right?”
Alucard’s lips curled into that familiar, devilish smirk. “Subtlety isn’t always the most fun, but I suppose I can behave for one night.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Of course, if things get boring, I might have to… stir the pot a little.”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I prefer the term ‘charming,’” He corrected you, eyes gleaming mischievously.
The limousine cruised through the city, the lights outside glowing brighter as you approached the heart of the bustling nightlife. The party you were heading to was in one of the city’s most elite venues — a towering glass building that loomed in the distance, sparkling against the night sky. The event was exclusive, crawling with high-society types, all hiding secrets beneath their polished exteriors. You and Alucard were here to uncover one of those secrets.
As the limousine neared the grand entrance, you adjusted your clothes, making sure everything was in place. Alucard watched you with an almost predatory gleam in his eyes, though there was a softness in the way his gaze lingered.
“You look stunning,” He murmured, his voice softer now, devoid of the usual teasing edge. “They won’t know what hit them.”
You met his eyes, feeling a flutter in your chest despite yourself. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”
He smirked, leaning in just a bit closer. “Just ‘not so bad?’ I think I deserve more credit than that.”
You nudged him lightly with your elbow. “Let’s just get through this without any chaos, alright? Then I’ll give you all the credit you want.”
The limousine came to a smooth stop in front of the towering venue, the driver stepping out to open the door for you both. Alucard was out first, offering his hand to help you out, his grip firm but gentle. As you stepped out onto the red carpet, the flashes of cameras and the murmurs of the crowd were already starting.
He pulled you close, his arm slipping around your waist as you both made your way toward the entrance. You could feel the weight of his presence beside you, commanding and magnetic.
“We’ll be the perfect couple tonight,” Alucard whispered into your ear as you ascended the stairs, his breath warm against your skin. “Just follow my lead.”
You glanced up at him, your lips curving into a small smile. “I’m used to that by now.”
With that, you both stepped through the grand doors into the glittering party, where the real game was about to begin.
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tinytennisskirt · 6 months ago
Text
Rematch
ex situationship patrick x reader
summary: you and patrick used to be the epitome of casual. aside from a few things... he was cheating on his girlfriend with you and all you could do from then on was hate him. eight years later, you work together. you're forced to share transportation and stay at the same hotels. The close proximity isn't much good for two people who have gotten by on avoidance. And it only becomes harder to avoid certain words. and certain actions.
warnings: smut! mentions of sex, unprotected sex. enemies to lovers- hateful words, slight miscommunication (through hating so much), a lot of swearing. somewhat edited...
“You’re hitting on my sister?” You said, overhearing him as you approached the outside gate of the tennis court. You walked over, knocking Patrick in the chest with your racket. That sly son of a bitch didn’t budge an inch. “You know she’s only nineteen? And she’s a fucking lesbian you absolute idiot.” You followed up. He just grinned. 
“I didn’t know she was any of those things,” he shrugged, hands up in surrender. “You don’t look alike. She’s actually pretty.” 
You rolled your eyes. You knew he didn’t mean what he said but still said it. “Fuck you, Zweig.”
“You used to like that, you know,” he said, grin widening to something evil. You didn’t know how he could stand in front of you and say the stupid shit he was saying, seemingly unabashed. 
“That’s enough,” your sister said to both you and him. Your racket didn’t waiver from the place it rested against his chest. You kept that warning in your eyes. “Y/N, he didn’t know. And he wasn’t inappropriate. He just said my swing was good with a weird tone.” 
“Weird tone?” Patrick repeated.
You smiled just a bit at that. “It’s better than good. You know- you are the same guy you were eight years ago somehow. Grow up and go away, Zweig,” you said, glaring at Patrick. And to think you were the sweet one in your family. It was all fun and tennis until Patrick was around. He wasn’t exactly an ex, but someone who frequented the bed in your dorm room eight years ago at Stanford. He was a drug of choice, a situational type of person who when visiting his friend Art Donaldson, would also visit you, a few dorms down. 
It was hot. He’d be sneaking around with you at parties, finding unoccupied rooms to kiss you with a force that usually winded you, wide hands on your waist, holding you close against a wall, a door, and sometimes the floor. If he saw you in the cafeteria all it took was a glance at you to communicate exactly which stall in the bathroom to meet him in while he excused himself from Art and Tashi Duncan. He’d be in your room late at night making you finish in three different ways and walking back to his friend’s room at four in the morning. 
Sometimes you’d make out for hours on end with only touching, but all of it, every action, every trace of his finger, every word was all traced with lust. Sometimes you swore he liked you, lingering after you both had finished, still grazing his hands over the curve of your hip, kissing your forehead, tucking your hair behind your ear… It was supposed to be casual, you reminded yourself. He was too attached. 
The funny thing was, you’d been in Stanford tennis too, a hometown prodigy with a father successful in the tennis world. Tashi called nepotism and you never got along, but you and Tashi never hated each other more when she found out you were fucking her boyfriend. If you had known you wouldn’t have been doing it, but the damage was done and there was no apology for a girl who fucked her knee up after a big fight with Patrick. No apology could include the extent of how sorry you were without telling her what for. 
And you met with Patrick just to yell at him. He was a shitty person with shitty morals and you made sure he knew that. And even in all the yelling, you still fucked him in your car. But that was the last time. The second your lips disconnected for the last time, it was supposed to be the last time you spoke to him. And it was simple. “Fuck you. You’re an asshole, I never want to see you again.” His eyebrows furrowed as you collected your clothes and disappeared back home. 
It went well, not seeing him again. He stopped visiting his friend who had sided with Tashi, he had no reason to come around. But he picked up a job coaching in the area you moved to seven years later. Your boss was a powerful woman and the pay was amazing, so Patrick became your coworker and you put up with that. And it was awful, but you scheduled yourself away from him and your paths only crossed at meetings and maybe once every few months, but it was still too much. You made do with the few words you had to give him, but other than that you stayed far away, and rightfully so. The only conversations you’d had in all of the year you’d been around him again were easy jabs, quips, argumentative things. But for the sake of your job, it didn’t go farther than easy insults. You still hated him for what he did, for how he used you when he was seeing Tashi. For how he treated you when he had a whole girlfriend waiting for him after hours. You weren’t proud of what you did and he was just a living reminder of something that haunted you. 
He was this adult douchebag-type now- you swore you saw him with two different women at the cafe you passed on your way to work. You could mind your business, but it was fucked to know he hadn’t changed. Eight years and no change. So yeah, Patrick talking to your sister, granted- step-sister, was something you had to nip in the bud. 
Patrick nodded, his jaw tensing. “Your sister here is my student today.” He said, gesturing to the split court. Sometimes split courts happened, but you’d only been paired with him on one once. “The list here says so.” He uncrumpled a piece of paper from his pocket and pointed at her name. 
“So you’ll switch me. Easy,” You stated, trying all you could not to hit him with another insult. Your sister picked up her rackets, moving to your side so Patrick didn’t have a say. It was your turn to smile. “You’re lucky I don’t fucking report you.” You added. 
“You’d miss having me around too much, I don’t think you have it in you,” He replied. 
You narrowed your eyes, “Get a grip.” You said, turning away from him. You heard his low chuckle as he called your student over. You rubbed your face while you walked to the other side, trying to wipe away the feeling you’d lost brain cells just talking to him. This was why you didn’t engage with him- it never went well. “Sorry.” You apologized to your sister. 
“It’s fine, honestly. He’s such a dick.” 
“I know,” you sighed. “I’m unfortunately cursed with knowing when Patrick has the intention to flirt. He’s fucking obvious.” You said, grabbing a ball. 
Your sister laughed. “He was coming on a little weird. To be fair I think he thought I was some random girl outside the court. But this is why I don’t date men.” 
You were glad you didn’t have to see him for another two months. You continued to train your sister as the other girls you were training had all fallen off. Your company made sure to only train the most competitive of girls and that was your sister for sure. She was amazing- not better than you- but amazing. When the time came for another Junior US Open, she was the perfect candidate for it. Your company, your boss, she usually sent two, booked them and their trainer a room at an amazing nearby hotel, paid for travel and food and gave a spending bonus for the hard work and you were hoping to god that it was your sister. You’d lost the Junior US Open to a twisted ankle- and Tashi Duncan and it would be amazing to see your sister go and win. 
She had worked so hard for it. And finally, your boss called all the trainers in for a meeting. There were ten of you, some with two students, most with only one, but you all sat in the fluorescent-lit room in front of the projector that projected the logo of the company on the white wall. Your boss thanked you all for coming and congratulated all of you on all your amazing seasons and work coaching the students. Talking about the best of the best. Eventually came to the portion where she would name the two students who were going to the open, the two that were going on the trip. 
And she said your sister's name. Your chest filled with excitement and happiness and pride and obviously you had to contain it. You were going back to the Junior US Open, it was an amazing way to get her name out there as a player and make everything all worthwhile. You started thinking up creative ways to tell her, thinking about the company limo on the way up, thinking about how to increase training all crossing your mind. “-And Simon Abernathy.” She added. For the boy's division. His name was familiar. 
And it was no wonder. Patrick clapped once out of success and you felt your eye twitch just a bit. It was his student, it was Patrick’s student, which meant you’d be with him this entire trip. He would be one of the only people you knew out that way- and it would be just him, you, and your students. There was only one word and it slipped out of your mouth quietly enough to go unnoticed. “Fuck.” You avoided Patrick’s gaze, but you just knew he had that big stupid grin on his face. 
When the car pulled up outside of your apartment, you insisted on putting your own bag in the trunk. It was just how you were. You were first to be picked up and it was always fun to be in a limo. A road trip was still a road trip, two days to be specific and it would have been something to look forward to if it wasn’t for him. Thank god you picked up your sister next, then Simon, then Patrick. You and your sister were far too engaged in your conversation to think about the boys on the other end. You talked about training, and game day, and you went over what it was like when you competed. 
The day passed by, book in hand, iPod on, and earbuds plugged in. You stopped once for lunch and another for gas but at the end of the night you were at a nice motel. Nothing like the motels you knew when you were in the Junior Open. In this motel, everything worked properly, smelled nice, and was actually clean. Patrick, unloading his bag for the night passed you yours and you said the only word you’d said to him all day- “Thanks.”
You and your sister hung out in your motel room, two-bed, talking about the day. She lay like a starfish on her bed, but she rolled over to face you as you pulled on your pajama shirt. “You never told me why you hate Patrick so much.” She said, eyes wide. You just groaned and rolled onto your back. “Come on. You obviously know each other from something.” 
“I will be so honest with you, I am too tired to get into it,” You said. “I just… ugh.” 
“It’s fine- like you don’t have to give me all the details, I just want to know why.” She replied, moving to sit on the edge of your bed. “You guys dated, right?” 
You covered your face, “Not exactly.” 
“Okay, so? What happened? I’m nineteen, Y/N, come on.” 
You hated talking about it, you hated admitting it. Knowing that he was one of the few men in the world to ever touch you but the only one who had left impact, left you wanting in his wake, the only one to make you finish… It was crazy, it was despicable. You hated remembering it had only ever been him to touch you right. And now you were admitting it to your sister. “Casual… sex. Friends, almost. Mostly the benefits.” You said, trying to keep it simple. Her eyes widened even larger. “Turns out he was cheating on his girlfriend with me.”
“He’s just a dick,” she nodded, understanding. “I’m so sorry, that must have put you in an awful position.” 
“I felt awful, I still feel awful,” you told her. “One of the worst things I’ve ever done.” 
“I get that,” she nodded. “Was he any good anyways?” 
You hated the question. “No.” You lied. “Awful.” 
She laughed, “Makes sense.” You knew she had more questions but didn’t want to pry. Besides, you were both tired. She showered before bed and by the time she got out, you were asleep, waiting for the next day of the road trip to be over. In the morning you showered, tied your hair up, and got into the car again with your sister. Patrick and Simon were doing their own things as the car got back onto the road. 
You continued listening to music, looking out the window, shutting out the sounds of the car. Your sister watched you change the song three times, but when her gaze shifted back to the conversation with Simon, she noticed Patrick’s eyes on you. Knowing what she knew now, she hated him just a little bit more. She watched him for a bit and he didn’t look away, so she addressed him to take his attention off of you before you noticed. 
That night at another motel, your sister was much too tired to stay up watching the motel television bullshit with you and passed right out on top of her covers. You fixed that, obviously, but after getting into bed yourself you let an hour pass with no sleep. You just couldn’t, no matter what you tried. At that point, you said fuck it and put your bathing suit on. The motel had a hot tub and a pool and maybe a quick swim could tire you out. You wrapped yourself in a towel and headed out to where the motel pool was. The lights from within the pool gave off a sort of aquamarine tint to the things around it- it was the only source of light aside from the ones lining the wall of the motel and the shining motel sign that flashed gold and red. It was perfectly dim and the night was perfectly still, just as the empty pool was. You put your towel to the side and waded in, pulling your hair up into some lazy updo so it wouldn’t get soaked in pool water. You were barely up to your shoulders when his voice spoke up, “It’s a bit late to swim, don’t you think? Isn’t it your thing to get an early sleep for an early start?” He asked. Patrick was in the hot tub, you’d completely missed him. 
“Maybe when I was playing or when I’m coaching, but we’re in the middle of nowhere with no court in sight.” You replied. “Can I just enjoy my swim, please? I won’t bother you if you don’t bother me.” 
“Fair,” he replied. You could hardly see him in the dim of the pool lights, but you could make out his figure, arm draped over the edge of the hot tub like he was reversing a car. “Since you said please.” 
“Uh huh,” You replied. You didn’t stay for as long as you intended. Being alone anywhere with him was too gross for comfort. Neither he nor you said goodnight when you went back to your room, showered, and fell asleep.
The next stretch of road was the last before the hotel. You were set up nicely and you thanked the concierge boys who helped you with your bags as you went to the front desk to retrieve your room keys, everything dealt with already by your boss. You handed the keys out. “Here’s how this is going to work. There’s a week before the Junior Open and this hotel, even if it comes across as luxury, it’s here so you can get a good, safe, comfortable rest on the days leading up. If Patrick and I have nothing on the schedule for you, you’re free to roam around the local area, however, curfew is 11. Please check your emails for the daily schedule.” 
Simon nodded and Patrick looked like he didn’t pay any attention- why would he anyway? “Sounds good,” Your sister smiled. “And we get our own rooms?” 
“We have the second-to-top floor suite. It’s like four hotel rooms joined into one, attached to a main bathroom, living room, place to eat, and a kitchen. Kind of like a house with a four-person hotel hallway built in.” You said. You were so excited to finally lock yourself away in your hotel room with a book and not have to sit in a car with Patrick for hours at a time. Sure, he’d be nearby but the hotel and its amenities would make for an amazing way to keep yourself far from him. He plucked his key card out of your hand and as he passed, you could smell his cologne. 
The room was amazing and the view was even more beautiful. There was a balcony in the suite as well as in your room, but the joined balcony beat that one out for a better view. You curled up in your super comfortable hotel bed with your book and finished it before dinner. Your sister came in and out wondering what she should wear to the Junior Open, already stressing about that because she didn’t want to stress about the actual game. You helped for a bit, then you went out to the main room. 
“Simon, do you have dinner plans?” You asked him. He was on the couch playing with some portable video game device. 
“Nah, I was thinking room service. My parents gave me a hundred to spend.” He said. 
You nodded, “I was thinking the same thing.” Your sister agreed, busy going through her schedule. So you ordered room service for everyone, sending Simon to go see what Patrick wanted. You were surprised he even stuck around the room and wasn’t at the casino downstairs or out at some club already. Dirtbag activities. 
The next day was a late start, but you and your sister went down to the hotel gyms to work out a bit before going to the hotel courts to practice. Three days until the game. You practiced all methods, swings, serves, and Patrick and Simon practiced in the next court over. Then you went separate ways for lunch just to meet back after at the court. You were done around four so you didn’t overdo it and the rest of the night was free. You and your sister continued to talk strategy and gossip over cranberry juice in the main room of the suite and you were vaguely aware of Patrick sitting in the corner going through his phone, his hand on his head, elbow resting on his knee. He looked up at one point, meeting your eyes and you looked away. The price you paid for being curious. Your sister and Simon, both tired from the day went to their rooms a little early. You decided to get dressed properly and head downstairs to the casino and play a few hands of whatever games they had going. 
You adjusted the length of your skirt as you sat down at the table and took part in everything happening. You were dealt in and in only a small amount of time, you had a good amount of money owed to you. You were definitely on a roll. “Didn’t know you gambled,” Patrick said, sitting beside you on the empty stool. You groaned out loud, rolling your eyes. “You're good, too, what is this, around $400?” 
“$700, and what are you doing here?” 
“I can’t enjoy the casino?” 
“You couldn’t enjoy any other game?” You asked, not even caring to look his way. You raised your hand to signal the dealer to let you out of the game. 
Patrick waved the dealer off and turned to face you better, “Don’t stop just because I’m here. And I like this game- my favourite one, actually, and the only table that has it.” He told you. You looked at him, hoping your eyes would burn through him. But he looked maybe half genuine, aside from the smirk. It was your favourite game too. 
“You’re just going to lose to me, you know that, right?”
“I’m okay with that,” he smiled and his eyes met yours. “Or, I’m okay with you thinking that. Say goodbye to your $700.” His grin slowly crawled up his face.
“Uh-huh?” You laughed at him as he got himself dealt into the game. It was a laugh of disbelief- one, that he thought he could win and two, that he was really that sure. “You’re really still that sure of yourself?” 
“Still? You think I’m sure of myself?” 
“It’s not a compliment, Zweig.” Your laughing at him died down just a little, you couldn’t maintain it when he was just such a fucking loser.
“I am that sure of myself.” He replied. “You don’t think I can?” 
You shook your head and spoke firmly. No. I don’t think you can.” Your tongue pressed against your cheek and you pushed all your winnings to the centre, eyes not leaving his. “Try me.” Anything to put him in his place, truly. You could taste the win in your mouth the way it handed itself to you on a platter. And Patrick put a little extra money in on top of yours and the other player’s, eyes not leaving yours. But he did end up looking away first and the hand began. 
He had good cards and knew how to play them, but yours were better and you knew how to use them to their fullest potential. You placed yours down and they were better and the hand was about to go to you, but at the very last moment, unexpectedly, another player had a card just above yours and it was over, just like that. The man swept away your winnings and you just scoffed. 
“You were that sure of yourself?” Patrick replied. “Nice.” 
“Nice? Asshole.” You got up from your chair and grabbed your purse, ready to move on to another game at another table and let him enjoy his ‘favourite’. “My cards were above yours anyway.” You said as your face passed his. He just grinned as you walked away. 
You were good at other games, thank god. It wasn’t all lost money. You won another $350 by midnight and decided to stop and leave behind the men who had been hitting on you during the last few hands of poker. You were happy with the winnings and the fact Patrick hadn’t been seen the rest of your night. It was a good distraction either way. 
You bought yourself a bottle of iced tea with your winnings and walked over to the elevator, pressing the button to go up to the suite and using your key card to confirm it. It was just your luck that Patrick walked into the elevator. “You have your own keycard, you know that, right?” You sighed, turning away from him and pulling out your phone to pay attention to anything else as the doors closed, locking you in there with him.
He held it up, then shoved it into his pocket. “So did you end up winning your money back? I watched your games, you’re not all that great at poker. I don’t think a career in gambling is in the cards.”
“I think I missed the part where I asked, Zweig.” You stated, folding your arms. “And I think you missed all of the context clues that tell you that I don’t want to talk to you.” 
“You’re so angry,” he remarked, leaning against the metal elevator wall. “Isn’t it exhausting?” 
“Not as exhausting as talking to you.” 
“Fuck you,” he replied. 
You turned to look at him, pausing a beat just to look at him in disbelief. “You used to like that, you know?” 
“You’re not better than me for anything that happened after. You knew I cheated and you still fucked me after, you remember that one?” 
“It wasn’t very memorable,” You chuckled to yourself even though it was one of the biggest lies you’d ever told anyone. He’d put you in a corner. Of course, you knew you weren’t better than him for that last time. It haunted you, but not much more than the entirety of it haunted you. His lips against your lips, his lips against your skin, his lips between your thighs, they were memories that acted like ghosts. All of it was wrong, every kiss, every touch. It was sickening to remember that it wasn’t just you- and that it wasn’t just Tashi either. It was memorable, all of it, but for all the wrong and right reasons, and those right reasons were ten times more haunting because it was so wrong that it felt right. You knew Patrick sensed the lie but you couldn’t act like it. “I can be civil with you, Zweig, if you leave me alone like you have the past year or so. I don’t want to talk to you, why can’t you get that through your head?” 
He was silent, just staring at you, no grin on his face, not even a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. And as soon as the elevator doors opened, he funneled out and right up to his room. You let out a breath and blinked a few times to recalibrate. You took your melatonin, changed, washed up, and headed to bed. 
The next day he kept up exactly that. He didn’t address you, he hardly even looked at you and even if he did, you didn’t notice, you were far too busy. The Junior US Open was tomorrow. You woke up your sister at dawn to go to a hotel aquafit class and then dry off and hit the court. Patrick was there with Simon running east swing drills and you got your sister working hard. She was more than ready, you knew that, but you also knew that giving her any break would make her believe that you didn’t think so, so you kept her going. 
Simon called to you and your sister. “Doubles? For fun, before lunch?” He asked, walking over. Patrick stared at the ground as he walked over just a few steps behind. Poor guy didn’t know the vendetta both you and your sister had against Patrick. She nodded, so you nodded. You hadn’t played in a match in a while, honestly. It was all training and hitting the ball back and forth. 
You stood opposite Patrick on the court and it reminded you of a time when you had played him and Art next to Tashi, for fun. How you didn’t know they were together was beyond you, but you did remember how Art looked at her. You had to blink a few times to get the imagery out of your head as Simon served the ball. You were lucky your sister was on it. 
Patrick still played rough, swinging hard just to challenge your sister a bit. You appreciated the push from him if you were honest. She needed it. It was a good game and there were a few flop swings from you and Patrick that were laughable. You laughed more at him than yourself but he didn’t seem to mind it at all. He just dribbled the ball and served it back to you to hit it over to Simon, etc. 
Your sister watched how Patrick’s eyes stayed on you when the ball was over with Simon being served. She couldn’t help but think it was a little weird how he seemed to be fighting a smile and she followed up with wondering why. And you didn’t notice at all. 
Lunch was good, but you were back to it until dinner, then at the gym after dinner doing a bit of yoga. Your sister turned to you, “He knows that you don’t like him?” She asked. You hated knowing who ‘he’ was. 
“Mhm,” You hummed, stretching upward.
“He doesn’t act like he cares very much.” 
You looked over at her, “I don’t care if he cares. And he’s had around seven years to not care about any repercussions, so that’s just on the passage of time.” 
She moved into downward dog, “Have you talked about it?” 
“No.” You answered. “Kind of. When it had just happened. But that was all I ever said to him about it.” You disregarded last night. “He knows what he did was wrong and I don’t let him forget.” Your mind slipped back to what it felt to lay in his arms afterward, the way he kissed your hair and still cupped your face, the way all of it was wrong, the entire time. And how it felt to feel his hand trail against your skin as you pulled yourself away from him that very last time in your car. 
She clicked her tongue, “I can’t believe you have to work with him. Couldn’t you get him fired for so many things?” 
You nodded, but it hadn’t ever occurred to you why you hadn’t. It would have been simple, a collection of evidence and a complaint and surely he’d be out, but you hadn’t done anything like it. “I could.” You replied. “But I’m not that much of a bitch.” 
“You’re never a bitch,” your sister laughed. “You only become one when he’s around.” 
It was true. And later that night the only hint of Patrick there was, was the eye contact you made with him on the way up to your room. He sat on the couch on his phone while you exited the balcony with your cup of tea. Then it was early bed- the Junior US Open was tomorrow. 
That rolled around all too quickly. You got your sister up early for a massage and a stretch, you ordered her a protein shake as she stressed the entire time. You only spoke in affirmations all morning as you double and triple-checked that she had everything she needed, rackets, water, food, etc. The day was warm with a perfect cool breeze that was gentle enough to play tennis in. You tried not to let the stress of the day get to you as you were driven to the courts. You reminded your sister of all she trained for and she was more than excited, she was bouncing more than the tennis balls were around the court as she warmed up. She wasn’t on until later, so you hit the ball back and forth to pass the time outside. 
Game in game out she was a winner and she knew it, winning her games consecutively. 
In between, you watched Simon’s games and he did well until he didn’t, falling behind. Your sister continued later and by the time she was on the very last game, you knew she was a winner. You were on the sidelines cheering her on. She won, of course, she won. 
She came right to you and hugged you tightly, thanking you for everything. It was an amazing victory and nothing could ruin it. 
The car ride back to the hotel was your sister just yapping uncontrollably about the details of her game to poor Simon, who had not won. She was so excited about it, she was talking endlessly. Patrick was engaging with her at her own speed and you were tired, it was a good thing someone could do with all that she had to say. 
She had the biggest nap of her life when she got back to the hotel room. She was almost asleep in the car and she was lucky she made it to bed. You had a nap on her hotel room couch, that’s how tired you were as well. It was a big day. You woke up around seven pm, but she was still dead asleep. You snuck out quietly and into your room. You’d finished your book, your phone was boring, and Simon honestly wasn’t the best company so you showered the day off, dried your hair, put your makeup on and got dressed again. 
Just a black skirt and a comfortable black long-sleeved shirt, some jewelry you liked, and a bit of sparkle to your eyeshadow. You deserved it. All that and some easy kitten heels and you headed downstairs to the restaurant and bar. It was beautiful, warmly lit and dim, stained glass between the bar and the kitchen casting the light through the panes in different colours across the bar. You ordered a vodka cranberry and ate the lime out of it first. 
“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?” A man said. It wasn’t any man you knew, but a stranger. He came from behind you, old, but not too old, and a little bit handsome aside from the obvious aging. “I’ve never seen a pretty woman alone at a hotel bar. Hotel bars are for the straggling men, lost in the city. Like that one over there,” he said, pointing to the other end of the bar. You weren’t sure why your stomach flipped when you saw it was Patrick. He didn’t seem to see you, but he sat there at the bar with a short glass of what you knew was whiskey, swirling it around, his head resting against his fist. He was wearing a black t-shirt and black pants, having changed from earlier as well. “Now what’s your story, I’m curious.” 
You turned your attention back to the handsome older man. “Tennis,” you told him. And it sparked up a conversation that was really more insightful than the being hit on that you were expecting- not that you weren’t bought drinks by two other men at the bar who smirked from where they sat at a booth. The man seemed to be in his early sixties with some good things to say and you listened intently, not noticing Patrick’s eyes on you from where he sat. 
It was good to talk to someone so removed from the tennis world who had so much to say about investing in stocks and surprisingly, you didn’t hate it. You sipped your drink, getting a little surprised at the attention you were getting and it was something new. The night continued with more men hitting on you, trying to sit with you… You weren’t the most beautiful woman ever but you weren’t ugly… this was a lot either way. The night continued to pass. 
When Patrick got up, you noticed it, he locked eyes with you, raising his eyebrows and chuckling. At what? At you? You watched his tongue press into his cheek before he pointed at you on his way by… it took a moment to realize what exactly it was he was pointing at until you looked down. Your shirt with only a few buttons at the top, had all of the buttons undone and you had somehow not noticed. Your bra was on display like a hooker or like some common whore and you knew Patrick’s chuckle was at exactly that. 
“Fuck!” You said, turning away from the man and getting up without explaining a thing. You must have looked a little crazy. Patrick laughed out loud as he passed you; your anger and embarrassment got the best of you. Your voice became genuine, “Did you know the whole time?” 
He looked at you, looking at the hand that covered the undone buttons, “Almost, yeah.” You didn’t want to be angry, instead, you just stayed humiliated, your eyebrows furrowing. You couldn’t be mad, not now. So many paid-for drinks you didn’t even drink and so many compliments you’d taken so graciously and you didn’t know and he did? “I thought maybe it was on purpose, though. Maybe if I haven’t changed, you haven’t either.” He said. And now you could be angry. He couldn’t be unaffected, he couldn’t be normal. What he meant by what he said was that you were a slut. And that wasn’t fair.
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that and let it go because you’re drunk.” You said, straightening yourself out, trying to shake him off. “Not because you’re just an asshole who can’t mind his own business.” 
“I know my business- it’s you who came to the bar after me, today. If you wanted space so badly, why follow me?” 
“Follow you? Don’t flatter yourself, Zweig.” Your conversation moved just a few steps outside the hotel bar and into a corner of the vast lobby. You chuckled at the fact he really thought so. “I wanted a drink so I got a drink, like an adult who goes to a bar, I didn’t know these are your moping grounds.” 
He shook his head, rolling his eyes, “And you wanted civil?” 
“Everything you say is so completely self-absorbed. You’re obsessed with yourself, honestly get a fucking room. It’s disgusting how much you want to fuck yourself, pardon my reaction to it.”
He just grinned, “Yeah, okay, have fun with your senior citizen, how’s the bra thing working out for you?” 
You shook your head, tone changing again, “That- I didn’t know. I’m mortified.” 
“I’m sure. You know most women who are trying to gold dig go for a more subtle route.” He said, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. 
“That’s enough,” You snapped. “That’s enough. You’ve been drinking, I’m not arguing with you over something so stupid as the buttons on my shirt. You’re not worth it. You’re not worth a second of my time, you are so beneath me, I am so past you. You are so pathetic, thinking I still give a fuck about what you think of me.” 
“That’s what you think of me? I’m pathetic. You say you don’t care but you seem to care an awful fucking lot.” That terrible fucking grin was so aggravating. 
“Then you’re delusional. Grow up, honestly. I asked you to leave me alone, not slut shame me for some stupid buttons. How much would it have cost your ego to have told me that my buttons were undone? I hate you but I would have had the decency to tell you if this was you in this situation. Fuck!” You ran your hand through your hair and the argument paused for a beat, then two. You breathed out heavily, turning, your hand still on your chest. And you just started walking toward the elevator. What else could you do but just walk away? He was the problem but you became one too when you were with him. It was almost unavoidable when everything he said upset you for reasons both explainable and inexplicable. You had no control over it all, you just had too much to say, so much internalized rage for what you’d done, for the position he’d put you in all those years ago. You were glad the elevator was empty as you scanned for the suite and the doors closed, but the elevator didn’t move, it just made a clunking noise and you knew, as the doors opened again, that there was no escape from this personal hell. Thank god you only had a day and a half left here with him, you thought, as the doors let him into the elevator with you. 
“Walk away like you had no part in that, yeah,” he said, moving to his side of the elevator. You groaned out loud, rolling your eyes so far back it hurt. “Reminds me of the other time you did the same thing.” 
“Was last night not enough?” You laughed in genuine disbelief. “You put me in a disgusting position that nobody should have to be in. You cheated! On your perfect girlfriend! With me, over and over and over and I had no idea because you didn’t have the decency to tell either of us.” 
“I was also nineteen years old!” He retaliated. “You expected me to have my shit all sorted out? I’m sorry I wasn’t a five-year-plan type of guy!” 
“That’s a crazy take when not cheating is one of the easiest things to do.” You laughed, scoffing when you caught your breath. “You used me.” 
Another beat, his eyes softened just in the slightest. “I didn’t use you.” He replied. “For what? For sex?” 
You guessed he didn’t need you for that. The elevator became uncomfortable as it rose between floors. Both of your hands fell to your sides, the top of your shirt falling open again unnoticed. You just blinked at his words, looking away. But no, what? You went right back into it, “Then why? Tell me that you weren’t just selfish, keeping two girls around to satisfy yourself beyond the regular needs of a man. Tell me that you weren’t only thinking about yourself and not the feelings of both your own girlfriend and the girl you’d sneak out to see. You made me some fucking mistress! The other woman, I didn’t know I was the other woman, can you imagine what finding that out feels like? The guilt? The shame? Tell me you weren’t just selfish.” 
“Not everything comes down to that. You’re seeing this how you want to see it. You are at fault, you are not innocent in this. You knew and you still fucked me and-” Patrick hit the pause elevator button and you just glared. “No matter what you said to me afterward, you still did it. None of this is linear or organized, it just fucking happened. You are not the victim you say you are, you deserve a good portion of that guilt because you fucked me, even after, no matter what you’ve done to shut that part out.” He said. You felt the fire behind your own eyes. 
“I haven’t shut it out, I’ve grown past it. What you did is still wrong.” 
“I know that! I know that- I ended up with nothing when it was all said and done. I was fine with not having Tashi, but-” he paused and pressed a hand to his temple for just a half-second. “You’re still so angry! It’s hard to believe you’ve grown past it when you’re still reminding me of one of the biggest mistakes I’ve made constantly.” 
You scoffed again, “I’m sorry you can’t deal with your own problems and the shit you put on me still haunts me. How is it you get to live it down and I don’t?” 
“I haven’t fucking lived it down.” 
“Pathetic.” 
“Fuck you. Honestly.” He said. “I made a mistake as a teenager, I don’t know how to go back and fix how I felt about you. I can’t take anything back so I don’t know what you want me to do here. Was I selfish? Yeah, I was. You’re right. Does that make you feel better about yourself? Do you feel like less of a victim now? I’m so sure of myself, yeah, okay, at least I haven’t tricked myself into believing I disliked how wrong it felt.”
You blinked hard and hit the elevator button again so it would begin to move once again. “You think I liked it?” 
“I think you did. I think some part of you hated Tashi and you liked the fact you could have me once more for good measure. I think that is what ‘haunts’ you. That you liked it.” He said. And the elevator doors opened to the empty main room of the suite. You stepped out the second you could, trying to get away from this so desperately. “I admit I’m selfish so you can admit that. Or at least try and admit it to yourself.” 
At those words, you tossed your purse on the couch and turned on your kitten heel. You walked right back up to him and pressed your pointer finger to his chest. “You are still so fucking self-absorbed that you think I liked being your side-chick or whatever the hell I was to you? You think so highly of yourself- you’re presenting yourself as a thing to be had between girls? Some trophy? A prize?”
“You weren’t so special either.” He lied. As if he didn’t like you, truly like you, more than he liked Tashi, unfortunately. His mistake was trying to balance things while he figured out how to tell you that he wanted you. Tashi loved tennis more than anything, she was mean and she was cold and she was hard to please but you in his bed, you were warm in more ways than one and you always listened and you weren’t all about tennis the way she was. And he liked you- genuinely liked you. But he went about it entirely wrong. He told you that you weren’t special but you were. You always were. He watched your eyebrows furrow at his words and more bitter things came out of his mouth, “And you said you couldn’t give a fuck what I thought of you.” 
“You’re not worth my time. Fuck you, Zweig. Fuck you and your self-obsession. Get a grip, get a life, and get over yourself.” You pressed your finger hard into his chest and let your hand fall to your side, eyes meeting his, the fire in your eyes reflecting in his own. “Fuck you. You’re an asshole.” The stare lingered before you shook your head, just disbelieving in this entire stupid conversation. It felt like talking in circles. Pointless. You’d never see his point and he would never see yours. He just looked at you like nothing you said meant anything and was only to provoke him when it wasn’t. He made it feel pointless. And you were fuming, so fucking angry. He matched that as well, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. So you just turned and walked right into your hotel room, shutting the door behind you. 
What a fucking waste of time and breath, you thought. He wasn’t worth it. Any of it. You just breathed out, hearing his hotel room door shut next to yours. You pressed your hand to your forehead, letting out a second sigh as you thought about just how stupid he was, deflecting, avoiding. You were glad you were out of the heat of that moment. If you’d been out there any longer yelling at him who knows what you would have done? Or said. The number of times you’d said ‘fuck you’ were uncountable and you hated who he made you. You weren’t this person he made you- you were kind and sweet and gentle and patient but right now all you knew was this person he turned you into. He was just so disgusting and so self-centered and you couldn’t get past what he’d done and he never elaborated on what he meant by ‘I don’t know how to go back and fix how I felt about you’. Fuck, he just made you so fucking angry and it really was exhausting being around him. Dredging these things back up. Him and his fucking ego, really. 
You weren’t exactly sure just what you were going to say to him, the conversation felt final, but there had to be some reason you opened the door to your hotel room again. Took your back off of the door, turned again, buttons on the shirt still very open, and you opened the door by some possession of the mind and it was just coincidence that when you looked up, Patrick stared back at you, standing outside your door like he was about to knock. Your eyes met his and it was easy to see that there was still fire in his eyes the same as there was in your own. It was only a few seconds, maybe ten, maybe fifteen and he stood there and so did you, wordlessly. Silence, empty, just blinking and breathing and silence. Before the mutual crash of him stepping toward you, grabbing your face, and kissing you hard. You had met him in the middle just between your doorframe, and your hands immediately found themselves flat against his back, fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt. No other thoughts.
He kissed you like he meant it, with all of the hateful things that you had said still very much on the tongue that swiped past his own. And it was desperate, the way you kissed- hot, heavy, so passionate, too passionate. Your back was against the stretch of the wall just inside your room as he pressed you to it and him against you. The door shut beside you and it was a good thing. So much feeling, so much hate and so much time, so much weight in his kiss but it was as easy as breathing. 
He held your face between large hands that slowly slid down to your jaw, one of them down your neck, his body pressed so closely to yours that you thought maybe you’d start sinking through the wall against your back. His hand traveled downwards and you let it as his hand went around your neck, not pressing, not squeezing, just placement. It sent chills through your whole body though your bodies only radiated pure heat. Small sounds escaped both of your lips, small hums, as his hand slid down and over the exposed bra from your undone buttons. His hand cupped your chest, not too rough, but definitely without being gentle. None of this was gentle. 
You popped your knee out just a bit as he pressed himself against you so that when he did, he felt it. He groaned just a bit as you then took a step off the wall, pressing him to the wall opposite the small entrance to the hotel room. Still so desperate, still so in need, his hand still on your chest and one of your hands traveling to rest on his jaw while- as he began to take off your shirt- your other hand slid down his chest to break the waistband of his pants, just gently rimming it with your pinkie finger before undoing the button of his pants. His lips didn’t leave yours even as you slid your hand down into them. He was hard, he was so hard and in this desperation even you didn’t have the time to think. You didn’t want the time to think as your shirt was pulled over your head between the sound Patrick made into your mouth. 
All of this hatred just seeped out of your skin at a scalding temperature as you pressed yourself against him, your hand gripping him harder, he didn’t waste another second gaining back his leverage, kissing you as you walked over to your bed. He kicked off his pants and in seconds he was on you, really on you, over you. Climbing over you in your bra and little black skirt. Your hand left his boxers and you began to pull at his t-shirt, all of your actions desperate and wanting and his lips were on your neck, his hand resting at the base of it again, moving your hair aside. Gentle, but starving. His skin against yours, hands trailing all over your body, one of them deciding to drop down between your legs. With only a touch of his finger against the inner of your thigh, you opened them just a little so that very same finger could gently press against you where you needed it. This was too gentle, in a world that wasn’t gentle, so when you kissed Patrick harder he knew to cut the bullshit. You weren’t delicate, he didn’t need to act like it. He pulled your underwear to the side to gently rub circles into your clit and easily slipped his other finger inside of you, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from you. 
You hated how it was almost familiar, his pattern of heavy breathing and his fingers pumping inside of you with that careful curving middle finger hitting that perfect spot inside of you. You hated how it sent a flush over your whole body and made you feel almost euphoric like he was some sort of drug. His fingers curled inside of you, moving up and down as he went half in, half out, his thumb on your clit like it was the easiest thing and it probably was- he had good practice. You were moaning as quietly as you could, breathily against his skin before without warning, he cut that out too, just to pull your underwear down from inside the skirt and you kicked it off somewhere far away. His fingers went to resume his actions, but he wasn’t so lucky to go back to something so easy. 
With a swift rocking motion, you were able flip yourselves over so now you were on top of him. You pulled your hair to the side as you bent down to kiss him now, feeling his hard dick against you, still hidden by his boxers. You kissed him, still fast, still hot, still in need as you slowly rolled your hips against him, causing him to groan out into your mouth just the same way you just had when his fingers were inside of you. And in seconds he was getting rid of his boxers and his dick was standing, waiting. He was so hard, still so in need, he almost pushed you down onto it but you didn’t want to waste any time either, moving down just a bit while his hands began sliding down your bare waist, resting on your hips, his eyes meeting yours for what felt like the first time since you’d crashed against each other at the door. His mouth was just a little open, eyes on you like you were everything, and it felt like a pause but it was only half a second. 
He kissed you again, just as hungry, his lips meeting yours in such a sickeningly sweet way but it was all so fast, his tongue in your mouth in a way you had not forgotten. A kiss only broken by the moan that slipped between both of your lips as you sank down onto him. His fingertips dug into the flesh of your ass, pushing just gently as he filled you entirely. You hated that with all the men you’d been with since, none of them had ever filled you the way he did. And that hate was momentum enough to begin to move up and down, hips rocking with his guiding force. “Fuck…” he said through his heavy breathing as you rode him, moaning in response as the rocking turned to a slight bounce, his hips lifting to meet you halfway. 
It was so all-consuming, the feeling. Like some hot flush in your body every up and down was worthy of the extreme rush of the perfect feeling of him. Fucking yourself on him, his hands tight on your hips, pulling you up and down harder, faster, as your hair fell into your face time and time again. This desperate sex got more desperate as Patrick made a move to regain his control, flipping you onto your back without even pulling out. You grinned breathlessly as his hands moved back to your jaw to kiss you all the same, not letting up on how hard he kissed you while he began to fuck you harder than before. Your legs wrapped around his body and his arm propping him up rested just beside your head and you needed each other more than anything it was violent, the way his body met yours rapidly, perfectly. It was a mixture of breathing hard, whispers of ‘fuck’ and ‘god’ and skin and the moans you tried to suppress along with his own. 
Your eyes rolled back as he fucked you. It felt like nothing had ever compared, like nothing could even come close to this feeling. It felt like you were losing all sense of the world outside the bedroom, being fucked truly dumb and numb to any other part of this, not the morals, not your principles. Nothing else mattered aside from this violent show of passion. His hand now on your waist, yours around his neck and his eyes met yours again. 
Barely open, in this world of lust, he looked back at you through his eyelashes like none of this was happening. You couldn’t see fire in his eyes anymore. His eyes were more showing water, still, calm, despite his actions and despite it all. Things slowed. And he kissed you again, slower, as his thrusts continued with the same power and the same force. Your hands slid into his hair and there was nothing you wanted more in this moment than the kiss… Somehow ignoring the outside world for sex became ignoring the sex for the kiss. You wouldn’t breathe if you didn’t have to. “Mm- I’m so close, fuck,” he mumbled over your lips, mouth opening just a bit as he picked up the pace and your fingers closed in fists of his hair as a new wave of pleasure completely overtook all of your thinking. 
“Uh huh,” You nodded, using your hands to kiss him again, to keep him close to you as his thrusts got sloppy and more spaced but still hard as finished. His moans mixed with your own as he slowed to a stop. “Fuck…” You sighed heavily. It was over, it was over, it was over and you were a mess underneath him. Your makeup all fucked up, your hair ruffled, your body sticky from the sweat of it all. Nearly-naked, almost entirely, under Patrick, of all people. You would have to deal with the high and it’s comedown, its consequences. 
The consequence seemed to be not having anything witty or hateful to say to him as he moved to lay next to you, rubbing his face, obviously thinking this over the same way you were. You propped yourself up on your elbow and looked at him, really looked at him. And all he had for you was that stupid, arrogant grin. But it made you laugh. And for the first time in all of the times he had ever fucked you and left after dating back eight years- he reached over and pulled you into another kiss, silencing your giggle. A real kiss, hands staying put on your jaw, your hand gently pressed again his bare chest. The high was gone but the comedown was cushioned in a way you had never felt before. You couldn’t hate someone who kissed you this way with nobody waiting for him at home. Like pieces falling into place, after eight years, there was the first kiss with no intention of sex. 
You couldn’t hate how right it felt with nothing about it having to feel wrong. It was surprising, how different it felt. The consequence was that you liked it. 
And on the way home, your sister knew something had shifted. You sat closer to him than you ever allowed, he addressed you when he had something to say and it was just all too normal. There was another night at the motel where you’d ended up talking everything out with Patrick, finding out how he really felt about things without the need for argument. He confessed to just about everything before the night of conversation ended with you both a little bit too close. Your eyes met his in the glow of the motel pool you sat next to and before any other words were said, his hand slid around the back of your neck and he kissed you again. You didn’t have sex that night. But you ended up in his arms, your hair being tucked behind your ear, his fingers tracing patterns over your thigh. 
Your sister knew something was up for sure when you returned to the motel room around 4am, but she didn’t question it. The biggest tell was that you were your regular, sweet self again. That and you had stopped calling him Zweig. There wasn’t any need to dwell on the past, you’d both decided. He was forgiven over a few cups of coffee. And your past actions felt less like something haunting... more like a mistake from the end of your teenage years.
It truly was exhausting feeling so much and not letting it serve a true purpose, you both found. You began to recognize that not everything formed in the fires of lust stayed on fire forever. It was better to succumb to the still waters that his eyes reminded you of. You liked this rematch, it was one of the best games you'd ever played.
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twstgarden · 1 year ago
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❀ ❝ 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗯𝗶𝘁 ❞
━ riddle rosehearts x gn! heartslabyul! reader x trey clover (separate) ━ you would have never thought that your precious childhood friend would have a crush on you. (f/n means first name)
requested by: anonymous <3 request type: oneshot requester's message: Hello! I see your request are open🌱🌱 May i request oneshots or scenarios romance with Trey Clover and Riddle Rosehearts, with crush [Reader] who was their childhood friend and based on white rabbit from alice in wonderland. The Reader are in Heartslabyul dorm as well! Feel free to ignore this request if its make you uncomfortable or breaking the request rules. I hope you have a good day💙💙 florist's note: hello, dear anon! i wasn't sure if you wanted them together or separately, but here it is! apologies for the wait~
this work does not contain spoilers for chapter 7, diasomnia’s arc.
do not steal or translate without my permission.
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— 𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙨 —
painting the roses was always a regular task, but painting one with your dearest childhood friend and crush made the task even better than usual.
riddle’s recent incident was a lot to handle. you were there when riddle lost control and overblotted right in front of your very eyes, and you had to fight hard alongside the other involved parties to make sure he comes back to his senses and stop the mess he was creating.
the attempt was successful, save for the fatigue you and the others felt right after battling a magician in their overblot state. since then, riddle has been getting the medical attention he needed to ensure his entire state is well and healthy, and things in the dormitory were starting to return to its usual joyful chaotic state.
it has been a few days since that incident, and you were all preparing for the unbirthday party once more. you stood alongside trey with a clipboard in hand as you checked out all the required items, “white tablecloth, check; pastries including the tarts, check; tea set, check; chairs, check. okay, what else?”
as you continued to mumble under your breath, trey laughed a little as he spoke, “you’ve been going back and forth with the preparations for hours ago. everything is all set now. no need to be nervous.”
“well, yeah, but… it’s my duty to make sure all is well and done,” you spoke with a sigh as you glanced at your vice leader, making him hum in response. “your sense of duty is always admirable, but take it easy, f/n. riddle wouldn’t have your head if one spot goes wrong… i hope…”
trey mumbled the last two words under his breath, but you were well-aware of the words he said, causing you to grow even more nervous as you spoke, “aaaahhh… i better recheck everything!”
before he could say anything else, you ran off and inspected the venue.
“…and there they go.”
after assessing the venue, you checked on your pocket watch to see the time, realizing the party starts soon. you quickly went back to where the venue was and held your trumpet, blowing it as you announced, “make way for our leader, the red ruler: prefect riddle rosehearts!”
right after announcing, the crowd started cheering, “three cheers for prefer riddle!”
riddle then came into view as his eyes scanned the entire area, nodding his head in satisfaction, “perfect. the roses are red and the tablecloths are white. truly a perfect unbirthday party. i assume the dormouse is inside the teapot as expected? …well, i guess it doesn’t really matter now.”
“you don’t have to change so suddenly, you know?” spoke trey, “and we can use the jam on the scones, if you’d like. we don’t have to stop altogether at once. we can take things slowly.” riddle hummed in response as he glanced at trey, “yes, you’re right.”
you sighed in relief, causing riddle to glance back at you as you quickly straightened your posture and kept quiet. riddle smiled at you before looking around, “…wait!” he then pointed at one rose that was white in the sea of red roses, “that white rose…”
immediately, cater panicked and started questioning ace and deuce if they forgot to paint the other roses. at that moment, it seemed like chaos was about to erupt and trey was quite ready to console riddle, but unexpectedly, riddle smiled.
“i’m joking~ i won’t get mad over every little thing now,” spoke riddle, causing you to smile a little in response, “and it will be quicker if we painted it all.” the other heartslabyul students were relieved and thrilled to know their heads won’t be chopped this time.
you and riddle stood side by side as he held his staff and used his magic to quickly colour an entire rose bush red in a blink of an eye, making your eyes twinkle in admiration. “woaah~ you were always so cool when it comes to magic!” you stated as you painted the roses with him, “hehe, i remember when you tried to make a tart appear out of the blue, but you couldn’t!”
your giggles were met with riddle’s embarrassed huff as he spoke, “i was not as advanced as i am now, n/n…”
“but you’re still cool!”
riddle blushed lightly as you kept complimenting him, ‘and you’re beautiful…’
you two continued painting the roses as he grabbed one red rose and took off its thorns, making you pause your painting as you looked at what he was doing to the flower.
before you could speak, he tucked the rose behind your ear with a small smile – you could sense how nervous he was at that point.
“there… you look nice…”
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— 𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙮 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 —
losing your precious pocket watch is actually a blessing in disguise.
“where is it? where is it?!”
you fumbled around your belongings in search for your pocket watch that you lost earlier. you had remembered placing it on the lounge as you were working on something over there, then you went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and came back with no pocket watch beside your study notes.
“i can’t lose it, no. maybe i was imagining things…” you told to yourself as you rushed back to the lounge and started taking off the cushion and even lifting the flower vase settled atop the table. during your search, the vice leader came across the lounge and feigned curiosity, “what are you doing, n/n?”
hearing the familiar voice made you look up as you sighed, “i lost my pocket watch. can you help me find it?” you were frowning as you said those words, and he immediately agreed to your request. you spent a few minutes in the lounge until trey suggested some other place, “maybe you left it outside and you did not remember? let’s check the tea garden.”
you were a little hesitant.
“i had it in my possession when i was in the lounge, though… it would be impossible to see it in the garden…” you spoke, causing him to smile at you reassuringly. “trust me, n/n,”
and so, you did.
you were quick to reach the tea garden as you were naturally a fast walker and runner. upon arrival, you saw a single table that was set up so perfectly as if someone was about to have tea with a partner. the tablecloth was laid perfectly along with the flower vase, the plates, the utensils, and of course, the sweets for dessert.
and right there, beside the sweet platter, was your precious pocket watch.
you gasped and immediately rushed to the table, grabbing your pocket watch before looking at the table. from your side of the seat, there was a folded piece of paper that had a smiley face on, making you glance back at trey to see him smiling at you.
you instantly knew what he was doing. you laughed a little as you crossed your arms, “you sneaky little guy.”
he laughed in response as he spoke, “sorry, n/n. i initially wanted to properly ask you out, but i… kind of chickened out. i didn’t mean to make you anxious, though!”
light-hearted laughter was heard from you two as you replied, “don’t worry, if anything, i like the way you executed this. it gives me a sense of adventure and the result was sweet. well then, shall we?”
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© twstgarden 2023 || please do not steal, translate without my permission, or use this to train a.i.
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ficcidio · 2 years ago
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YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL
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pairing: fiancé!hyunjin x fem!reader
genre: comfort, fluff, a little suggestive in the end
warnings: insecurities, problems with food & feeling guilty after, swear words
a/n: hii, i’ve never written abt hyunjin so i hope i did well! i’m sorry i didn’t post in so long i’ve just been struggling a lot lately and i couldn’t find the energy + this was written at 1 am sorry if smth doesn’t make sense (not proofread yet) 😭 also please read the note at the end, it’s very important
ᯤ now playing: young and beautiful by lana del rey
— 시작
your body started panicking as you felt everyone’s eyes on you. you looked around the room, trying to figure out the reason. was it your makeup? or did you eat too much? your dress probably looked horrible on you too. it was all of them, maybe. you started to walk, looking for you fiancé, hyunjin, who was nowhere to be found. he had left you alone in the middle of the party with all those unknown people.
as you moved you heard a group of people calling your name “y/n! come here” “y/n, come talk with us” “y/n!” “y/n!” you tried to escape but suddenly one of your old friends caught your wrist and made you approve her and her husband.
“wow, you look really different” she said “did you gain weight?” she asked as if that wouldn’t hurt you “yeah, i guess…” you whispered trying not to cry. it was the third time they said this to you tonight and you were started to get anxious. why did they only look at your body? why couldn’t they talk about your success?
“oh, that’s good too eh! i didn’t mean it in a bad way” she tried to fix it, but you were already overthinking. you didn’t want her to pity you. “look, i really have to go, it was nice to see you, bye” you answered quickly as you ran away, trying to look for hyunjin.
when you finally found him, you sighed in relieve and ran to him. thank god he was alone, you wouldn’t be able to bear with any other comment about you. as you ran, he looked at you, confused by your worried eyes and desperate speed to get to him. “what’s wrong, my love?” he asked gently, trying to calm you down. he knew something was off as soon as he saw you. “let’s go home” you whispered as you clung onto him.
“why?” he waited for an answer but it didn’t come. you didn’t want to explain yet, because you knew if you talked, your eyes would fill up with tears and you’d start to cry desperately. “let’s just go, please, hyunjin” your cracked voice told him everything he needed to go home. that’s when he decided to say goodbye to some people near him and he ran with you to the car. he quickly started driving without any words.
you felt bad because you knew he was really excited to come to this party, and you made him go home for a stupid reason. it had been 10 minutes in the car and you were still far from home. the way he didn’t say a word made you feel terrible, was he angry? did he really get mad at you? it wasn’t your fault. or was it? did you exaggerate it too much?
“i’m sorry i ruined your night” you whispered, trying to stop yourself from breaking down in front of him. 
“ruin my night?” he asked gently, which surprised you “yeah-“ you tried to continue “you didn’t ruin my night, if you’re uncomfortable then i have to take care of you, and you didn’t seem very happy. it was getting boring, anyway.” he stated as be continued to drive. a single read fell down your cheek but you wiped it as soon as you noticed it. you couldn’t let him see you in that state. “thank you…”
you spent the rest of the drive home silent, and when you got to your place you ran to your bedroom as fast as you could, leaving him confused in the entrance, though he followed you seconds later. when you got to you room you almost immediately broke down, falling on the bed and letting your tears fall continuously without thinking that your boyfriend may hear you. you really didn’t want him to know, really, but you couldn’t help being loud while remembering all those things everyone said to you hours before. after all you went through, every meal you didn’t eat, every tear, every time you yelled at someone because they wanted you to eat, every time you fainted, all that for nothing at all? you suffered so much, you really thought you got better but they made it look as it was nothing with all the anger and sadness you felt with their comments.
you felt his hands grab your waist and try to turn you around for you to look at him, but you refused to let him see your red eyes. “baby, please talk to me” he said gently while he rubbed your back. you finally acceded, but you hid your face on the crook of his neck. “love…” he started, but he didn’t get to finish the sentence because you cut him off “why do they always have to comment on my body as if i don’t see myself in the mirror every fucking day” he separated you from his body so he could look at you. your eyes connected and his showed his worry and care.
“what did they say?” he asked as he brought to back into his chest. you didn’t answer, letting your sobs be heard “y/n, what did they say?” he questioned again, while he patted your hair “they said i looked worse, they said i gained weight…” you whispered with embarrassment “everyone’s eyes were on me, hyunjin, everyone was staring at how bad i looked” he was about to let his jaw fall to the floor but he stopped himself as it wasn’t what you needed right now. he was so shocked, because in his eyes you were more than beautiful. how could someone think that dress looked bad on you? god, he almost died when he saw you in that gorgeous black dress.
“bad? you looked stunning, y/n” he answered, speechless at how you talked about yourself “you’re saying that because–“ he cut you off as you did before “i’m saying that because that’s how it is, i’d say that if we were friends, strangers or even enemies, because you looked like a work of art. you always do.” he answered sweetly. your sobs where barely audible now as you has calmed yourself hearing his voice. now all that was left was your breathing. you looked at him with a smile, still with puffy eyes and hugged him again. “thank you…” you muttered “it’s fine, darling, you don’t have to thank me” hyunjin promised
“i was scared i would have to go through everything again” you justified yourself, but it wasn’t necessary now. “shh, you won’t, not as long as i’m here. don’t ever say that about yourself again, mhm, beautiful?” he kissed your forehead and continued “god, i don’t know how anyone could ever think that way about you, i almost couldn’t control myself when i saw you” he said, making you blush and you hit him lightly “shut up, dumbass” you said, still hiccuping from the intense crying but laughing, and he did the same.
he put you into the bed an caressed your hair until you felt tired and wanted to sleep. you had wasted too much energy already, you felt so exhausted. “princess, if someone every says anything like that to you again, tell me and i’ll make sure they never say that again” he whispered.
“i love you”
“i love you more.
A/N: hello so, i wanted to talk about the struggles with food as someone who’s had an eating disorder for six years. if any of you struggles with food, please look for help. remember that food helps us, without food we’d be dead. you need to eat, it’s necessary. please don’t give a fuck about other peoples opinion, because they don’t know the real you, and they don’t know what’s really going on. to stop eating is bad in so many ways, your health will worsen, you as a person will change and you will lose people. i’m talking from experience, with my ed i lost a lot of friends, i fought with everyone and i was always in a bad mood.
throughout my life i have been judged by everyone because of my body and valued without thinking about my personality, my intelligence or my maturity. some people only care about your looks, that’s true, but you mustn’t be embarrassed for the body you have, because good people will know you’re worth much more than just what they see. you’re not your body, you’re your favorite song, your favorite film, that melody you sing in your head when you’re bored, you’re that quote in a book you once read and never forgot of. you’re that time you helped someone who needed it, that sunrise you once saw, your favorite clothes. you’re your favorite flavor, your favorite season, your favorite singer, your favorite color. you are what you like, not how you look like. so please, eat what you crave and don’t restrict any foods. i love you for who you are. and if you’re struggling, my dm’s are always open, don’t be scared to ask for help. i love you, unconditionally.
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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 2 months ago
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CS Winter Bingo--Square 5 (receiving a terrible gift): A Match Faked for Christmas, ch. 4
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Hi there and happy holiday season!  In an attempt to continue procrastinating my season 4 rewatch drabbles–and to not feel guilty about it–I decided to participate in the CS Winter Bingo event.  I received nine winter/holiday related prompts arranged in a square like a bingo card.  My mission is to make a bingo by writing at least three of my prompts before winter is over, but I’m hoping to do better than that!  I’m hoping to finish all nine!  Given the nature of the event, you can expect a lot of fluff (but then what else would you expect from me, after all?)  I’m hoping to keep them short as well, but I’m usually not nearly as successful at that.  And without further ado, let’s play CS Winter Bingo!
Rating: G
Word count: 1933
Today’s prompt: Fake Dating: Holiday Edition
Other chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (6)
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Killian adjusted his tie and then glanced in the mirror as he artfully mussed his hair.  Giving himself one last glance, he nodded and then headed out the door.  They’d made it to Christmas Eve, and it was time to pick Swan up for the Nolans’ annual Christmas party.  
A pang went through him at the thought.  They’d nearly reached Christmas, which means it was nearly time to end the ruse.  Oh, they’d never made firm plans about when they would “break up”, but it seemed to be understood that their dalliance wouldn’t last into the new year.
They’d laughed together as they’d strategized exactly how the break up would happen, each proposing more outlandish suggestions for the cause and manner of their relationship’s demise.  It had seemed funny a week ago as they’d trimmed the tree or gone out for coffee or watched a cheesy Christmas movie.
Now, with the reality of it looming so soon, the humor was gone and all that was left was the depressing reality:  Despite his better judgement, he’d fallen in love with Emma Swan.
Oh, he’d been attracted to her from the first–even before this sham relationship started–but this past week, getting to know her, getting glimpses of the real her behind the wall she built, spending time with her, had shown that he didn’t merely fancy her.  He loved her.  He could envision long years ahead with her as his lover and best friend, and it was a future bright with promise.
Instead, within a few days time, it would all be over.  Their break up may be no more genuine than their relationship itself, but the pain….well, that would be real.
He shook his head, letting out a long, slow breath as he knocked on Emma’s door.  Those were sorrows for another day.  Tonight, he had to convince Mary Margaret and David that he and Emma were blissfully happy together.  No difficulty there!  He wouldn’t even have to act.  In fact–
All thought left his head the moment she opened the door.  Emma Swan dressed casually in her jeans and leather jacket was beautiful.  Emma Swan dressed up for a Christmas party was positively dazzling.  After several moments he literally had to force himself to breathe again.
“Swan,” he finally croaked, “you look–”
She smirked.  “I know.”
She wore a sleeveless red satin dress embroidered with sparkly snowflakes.  Her hair was up in a high ponytail, and candy cane earrings hung from her ears.
“So you ready for our big performance as ‘couple in love’?” she asked, as she reached for a white lacy shawl and matching handbag.
He blinked, forcing himself to snap out of it and (hopefully) avoid making a complete idiot of himself.  “I think I’m up to the task.  Where’s your gift?”
She looked at him blankly.
“Swan, don’t tell me you forgot!” he said. “Mary Margaret mentioned a Dirty Santa exchange in the invitation.  We’re all supposed to bring a gift.”
She groaned, slapping a palm to her forehead.  “I can’t believe I forgot.  Now I need to find something…”
She looked around, rummaging through a bit of the organized chaos on her end table, and then landed on a large, rectangular brick of what looked like it was once fruitcake.
“You think this will do?” she asked holding it out to him.
He took the thoroughly unappetizing confection into his hand and grimaced at its weight. “As what, a holiday delicacy or as a festive paper weight?”
She laughed, taking the fruitcake back and tossing it haphazardly into a gift bag. “Giftee’s choice, I suppose.”
He laughed with her this time.  “Well, I suppose half the fun of a Dirty Santa exchange are the…less than ideal….gift options.  Where did you even get that monstrosity?”
“Cleo handed them out with our Christmas bonuses this year,” Emma said, referring to her boss at the bail bonds company.  “I’m pretty sure they’re regifts from last year–or before, given how hard and stale this thing is.”
“Well, let’s hope the proud new owner of said fruitcake chooses to go with the paperweight option rather than attempting to ingest it.  So Swan, are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” she said, putting on a large winter parka.  Killian helped her on with her second arm, and then gently pulled her hair free from the coat.  It was so soft, so silky, he longed to bury his fingers in it as he pulled her close and kissed her until they were both breathless.
He pulled his hand away and curled it into a fist.  Best not let his thoughts head in that direction. He opened her door and gestured her to precede him, before closing it behind them.
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The Nolans’ Christmas party had been fun.  It had been a relatively small affair.  Aside from Emma and Killian, they’d invited Ruby and Graham, along with Granny, who was doing the catering, Leroy and his brothers, Astrid and Blue, and a handful of others Killian didn’t yet know.
It had been a night of good food, good company, and lots and lots of laughter.  There had been only one awkward moment when Astrid had asked how they’d met.  He and Emma had answered in unison.
“In the produce aisle at the store, over a grapefruit.”
“I brought him a plant when he first moved in.”
Killian saw David give them a confused look, but he managed to play it off by putting an arm around Emma’s waist, pulling her close, and saying “Well whenever it was we officially met, it was the most fortunate moment of my life.”
She’d smiled up at him then, and if he didn’t know better, he’d say the look in her eyes approached affection, maybe even adoration.
The Dirty Santa game had been a raucous affair replete with all manner of holiday larceny.  In the end, Leroy had received Emma’s epicly bad gift.  He’d scowled at his misfortune, and then shrugged.  “Well, sister, at least now I have something to use to bash people over the head when they annoy me.”
But it wasn’t until the end of the evening when things really took a turn.
“Well look at that!” Ruby drawled, pointing one well manicured finger above the spot where Emma and Killian were standing together.  “It seems someone has found the mistletoe. Pucker up!”
Killian shot a startled glance above his head as his heart started pounding.  Sure enough, there it was, a big, bountiful sprig of mistletoe.  He heard Emma gasp beside him, and he looked down into her eyes, which had suddenly widened almost comically.
“I…uh…um, well, we–” she began babbling a bit inanely.
“I think what the lass is trying to say is that we’re not big on public displays of affection,” Killian answered, his voice not quite steady.
She shot him a grateful look, but if he’d thought that statement would mollify Ruby, he was sadly mistaken.
“Sorry,” she said, sounding anything but. “You get caught under the mistletoe, you plant one on each other.  Them’s the rules.”
Killian glanced at Emma’s red lips, his breath catching and his heart beating so quickly it couldn’t be healthy.  Kiss Emma Swan? He’d do so in a heartbeat. He’d kiss her over and over and never stop if he had his wish.  But above all, he was a gentleman, and mistletoe or no mistletoe, he wouldn’t push her for more than she was willing to give.
He moved his glance from her lips to her eyes, wordlessly asking her permission.  She was still for a long moment, merely looking into his eyes, and then she almost imperceptibly shrugged.
It was all the urging he needed, he touched his lips to hers, so lightly and gently the kiss was barely there at all. He pulled away almost immediately.
Only to have her surge forward and capture his lips with her own.  He groaned, his arms coming around her, hers burying themselves in his hair as she pulled him closer, closer.  The rest of the world fell away as her lips parted and he eagerly accepted her invitation to pillage and plunder.
It was only long moments later when the cheers and catcalls all around them brought Killian back to his senses.  He pulled away, chest heaving and, no doubt, cheeks flaming.  He brought two fingers up to his lips in awe, as he looked into Emma’s startled eyes.
“That was…” he whispered.
“Not anything I expected to happen,” she answered, voice breathless and far from steady.
It took Killian several moments to compose himself, but finally he turned back to Ruby.  “Well, did we satisfy the laws of mistletoe?”
She grinned saucily.  “Anymore, and you’d have needed to get a room.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
David Nolan put an arm around his wife as they sat together on the sofa before their Christmas tree several hours later.
“Congratulations on another successful Christmas party, honey.” he said, turning his head to kiss the top of her head.
“It did go well, didn’t it?” she asked.  “And my other project–setting up Emma and Killian.  It couldn’t possibly be going better!”
David gave her a curious, slightly uncomfortable look.  “Mary Margaret, I hate to point this out; I really do, but surely you realized the two of them are no more actually dating than Leroy and Granny are.  The way they didn’t know basic facts about their relationship.  The deer in the headlights look they both had at the prospect of kissing under the mistletoe…”
Mary Margaret waved a dismissive hand. “Well of course they’re not actually dating. Yet.  That was never the plan.”
“What?” he asked, pulling away and looking at her in surprise.  “It wasn’t?”
She laughed.  “Of course not!  I knew they wouldn’t actually fall for my little Christmas card ruse.”
“So you…don’t….want them together?” he asked in utter bewilderment.
“Of course I do, you silly man,” she said.  “I just knew I needed to play a little 4-D chess to accomplish my goal. They needed a shared purpose, a reason to be in each other’s company.  What better way than to team up to defeat the over-eager matchmaker?”
David shook his head and laughed.  “Let me guess.  You figured they’d fake date, but the time spent together would make them realize their feelings were real.”
She snapped her fingers.  “Exactly.  And did you see that kiss?  That was not the action of a couple of people who are indifferent to each other.  I’d say we have somewhere between a few hours and a few days of denial, and then voila.  The fake relationship turns thoroughly and beautifully real.”
David leaned over and kissed her, laughter still in his eyes.  “Mary Margaret, I love you like crazy, but I’ve got to admit.  Sometimes you scare me.”
She grinned cheekily.  “It’s a gift.  Now the only question is where to turn my matchmaking attentions once Emma and Killian are settled and happy?  You know, I thought Leroy and Astrid looked pretty cozy at the party tonight…”
Notes: We are approaching the end!  Only one more chapter to go!  Up next: Emma and Killian have to confront the truth of what that kiss exposed.  Is Mary Margaret right?  Will their sham relationship turn real, or will they have their planned public breakup?  (If you don’t know the answer to that, I might have to question your intelligence, hehe.)
–Bingo note:  And with this one, I’ve officially gotten a bingo!  I’ve covered all three squares on the right side!  Let’s see if I can get another one before this fic is over!
NEXT CHAPTER->
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ilyrafe · 2 years ago
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𝒂 𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒓 | 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰 ✧ 𝒂. 𝒘.
pairing: august walker x f!reader
warnings: angst, heavy talk
word count: 1k
a/n: read sleepy, three words and a bleak and barren moor for context! sorry it took so long! i rewrote the whole thing!
taglist (i’m tagging the people who commented on the first part!): @summersong69 @alexlupij @identity2212 @shotgunbunny @rebelangel1102 @chrisevansismysworld​ @fluffonlyplease 
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you dangle your foot anxiously as you wait for august in a hotel room. all your dates were a hotel room.
it’s been almost a week since that party. after much thought and reflection, you thought it would best to end whatever you have with august. you’re not happy about it, but you also know that it’s the best thing to do because at the end of the day, nothing but sex is going to happen on his part.
maybe if you and cassandra hadn’t met, you wouldn’t have that awareness. even if she is lying, you understood that being involved with someone like august is simply not good.
the most ironic thing is that he’s not even your type. how did you fall in love with someone you wouldn’t normally be interested in?
after only a week without august you realized that your life had started to revolve around him and his needs.
a bleak and barren moor. that’s how you feel about yourself.
that must be why you’re so nervous, because chances are this is just another “fun night”, and you’ll stick with him even though this is nothing more than a sex contract for him.
you don’t mean anything to him.
you’re so in your head, you don’t hear the door opening. it’s only when you feel his lips against the skin of your neck and his arms around you that you realize he’s there. you melt in his arms instantly.
“what a lovely surprise.”
indeed. it takes everything in you to free yourself from his grip, which makes him frown.
“uh... this is not why i called you here today.” you start, and your voice is already shaky. it’s impossible to contain your nervousness, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.
as always, he is very well dressed. august doesn’t skimp on clothes. on nothing, actually. his clothes are expensive and of great quality, his cars are the best one out there, his shoes and watches cost fortunes. you are successful and have a few luxury items such as bags and jewelry, but you have to work a lot to afford them.
truth is, you will never be on the same level, and that saddens you, because deep down, you look for reasons to continue with him, and you never find one that is valid and plausible. you want to feel equal to him somehow, but the reality is that you both could not be more different and far apart.
when you look at him, everything you’ve heard about him and everything you think about everything goes out the window. the feeling of actually believing that you understand and know him behind the tough facade he puts on is very real, and it leaves you ten times more confused and regretful.
“so, why are we here?”
“i called you here to say that i don’t want to do this anymore.” you state, and august is still clueless. “i’m terminating this contract.”
saying those words don’t bring a sense of relief, at least not now. you can only feel like throwing up and crying. should’ve done this on the phone, you scold yourself.
“why are you saying this now?“
“it doesn’t matter.”
“no, it does matter. last week we were fine, until you left me-”
“there is no we. the contract states that if either party verbally expresses that they want to leave, the contract is automatically and effectively terminated. i’m expressing that i want out, so it’s over.”
august takes a step back, visibly intrigued and upset. you can nearly see the engines inside his head working, as he clearly tries to analyze you.
“is there someone else?”
oh, how you wish you had someone else. it would all be so much easier.
“this doesn’t concern you.”
“why are you acting like this, y/n? what did i do?”
you sigh as you sit on the bed, trying to avoid his gaze. it all feels like a game, and you feel like you’re losing. indeed, if this was a game, it was not a fair play. you entered the field as a loser.
“it's not about what you did, it’s about what i did.” you admit, feeling the bitter taste of truth in your mouth. “i made a mistake.”
“what mistake? what the fuck are you talking about?”
“i fell in love with you, august,” you finally confess. “it wasn’t supposed to happen, so i’m terminating this fucking contract. i don’t know what the fuck i was thinking when i accepted this, it’s just ridiculous and sexist, ‘cause all i was to you was a cum dumpster, and every single time i remember that, i truly feel like dying.”
it’s hard to shock him, but you did it. august is transfixed by your unvarnished, unfiltered confession. it’s really appalling to hear you use profanity to refer to yourself. 
how can you be in love with someone you clearly despise?
“you can’t be serious... we were fine a week ago!” he protests, evidently disappointed and frustrated.
“i guess i came to my senses.” you shrug. “you thought i was going to be your personal fuck toy for the rest of my life? you clearly don’t know me, august.”
when you get out of bed, you hand him the contract, but it is torn into four parts. instead of picking up the pieces of paper, he gently grabs your wrist, forcing you to look at him.
your eyes are genuinely sad, and it affects him somehow. it’s just that august doesn’t really care that people are sad. but you were the person he wanted to spend time with the most, even on the basis of a stupid contract.
“what do you want me to do to make you stay?”
“nothing,” you shrug in defeat. “there is nothing to be done.”
you free your wrist from his hand, grab your purse and head to the hotel room door, but first, you feel like you should tell him one last thing.
“i know i don’t have the right to meddle in your life, but if there’s still some conscience in there... you should get professional help. people are not objects, august. you can’t control everything.”
he remains motionless, unresponsive. perhaps the advice was in vain. he’s out of your life anyway, and you want to die for it, but you know you’ll survive.
you go away, and leave him for good, hoping never to cross his path again.
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let me know iwhat you thought and if you want to be tagged on the third and final part!
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analogwriting · 2 months ago
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The Other Side of Paradise
Chapter 12: Show Pony
Killer x gn!reader word count: 1.3k a/n: SURPRISE THERE'S TWO! since the holidays are coming up, i'm going to be out of town so idk when the next chapter will be up, so i gave y'all a twofer tags: @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth, @h0n3y-l3m0n05 first|next
After vacation and without school, you were able to actually focus on forming your band. You had all just been practicing on your own for the most part while you finished up school, so that once you practiced together, it would be just chaos.
You had been working on songwriting too. You had a lot to say and a lot to get out, so it came pretty easy. Hop actually helped you compose a lot of it, surprisingly Dive was good at it too.
The four of you worked fantastically together and it wasn’t long before you had a solid set and a few songs perfected. It took all summer, which in the grand scheme of things, isn’t a long time. Hop found a work-from-home job as did Bubblegum, Dive kept her job, just moved to full time, and you started to work on the band full time. 
After perfecting your sound and abilities, you really began to lock in.
Bubblegum, Papas, and Reck actually came over to help convert part of the garage into a recording booth so that you could record the songs and start posting them.
Emma helped out with flyers and a website. She had a graphic design degree, which helped a lot in creating eye-catching logos and such. She created the band logo, some basic merch for whenever you guys would get to that point. 
You even recruited your friend Quincey. She was a couple years older than you and had graduated a while ago, now a successful fashion designer. When you finally revealed your grand plan to the friend group at the graduation party, she was more than willing and ready to help design costumes and such for your sets. 
She had taken your concepts and initial ideas for costumes and made them even more beautiful and wonderful than you could’ve ever imagined. She created several, too. She had grown bored and dull at her job, at a creative art block, but this seemed to help her get through that. She was designing things left and right and now you guys were set for a good long while.
UK and Gig, both being film majors, helped you guys create a couple of music videos as well. You shot everything around the town and at the house, so there wasn’t too much production cost.
You tried to pay your friends for the efforts, but they wouldn’t take your money. They were more than happy to help. After all, this affected all of them and they said it was payback for taking care of them all those years that you let them crash and whatnot at the house. Lots of ‘this is what friends are for’ and such.
It became everyone’s passion project, so you made sure to work as hard as you could to make sure everyone’s work paid off.
You talked to venues, setting up small gigs here and there in surrounding towns. Once you had a website, some social media profiles, and all that for the band, you began to pick up traction.
--
Another year passed and you took off. You went viral on the internet for a couple of your songs and agencies began to reach out to sign you. News stations and podcasts began to interview you to learn more about your little group. You didn’t do too many interviews, wanting to keep that mysterious side of you. You didn’t want too much out there on that aspect, you just wanted your music and vibes out there.
You turned down countless agencies. You were waiting for one in particular. You were waiting on DQE. You weren’t sure how long you’d be able to hold out, though you were doing just fine on your own. Your degree came in handy, you were able to manage your own band pretty well, but having an agency to help with production costs and just everything overall would definitely help.
It would be less on everyone’s shoulders. And your friends that helped out in the beginning weren’t able to help out as much, which was fine. They had lives, after all. 
They were all extremely supportive, coming to shows when they could, hyping you up on their socials. Some of them were still in and out of the house. Though, since the four of you were always travelling, you started locking the house up when you left - so all of your friends now had keys to the house.
All of your efforts would pay off. After a show in a sold out venue, someone approached you after the show. “Hey, is there a manager that I can speak to?” You looked up from behind your mask - you didn’t go anywhere without it. Plenty of people tried to take it off of you, interviewers tried to heckle you, but nothing worked. You refused to let people see you - all of you did this. Not a single one of you were seen without your masks, which also helped in general. You could just continue your other aspects of your life without trouble.
Bubblegum had even adjusted the masks and fitted them just right so that they were almost impossible for people to rip off as well. He was dedicated to the cause.
You straightened up from putting your guitar into your case. “That would be me.”
The man looked at you, confused. He was a very tall man. Blond and had a surprisingly kind aura to him despite the intimidating look he was trying to put on. “You also manage the band?” he said.
You nodded, putting a hand on your hip. “Yep. Gotta put that degree to use somehow.” You shrugged.
His eyebrows raised and he nodded, clearly impressed that you were able to juggle that. “Impressive.”
You nodded, looking at him for a moment. “So…is there something I can help you with?”
“Oh, yes.” He shuffled in his jacket for a moment, looking for something. “My agency has taken notice of you and have been watching you for a while…now where is that darned thing,” he mumbled, sliding off his jacket.
You watched him with an amused expression, not that he could see it. He shook his jacket, only to drop it and somehow simultaneously trip over it, immediately tumbling to the ground. Luckily, you had cleared off most of the stuff on stage, so nothing went down with him.
You raced over to him, helping him up. He accepted it, letting you help him stand. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit on the clumsy side.” 
“Clearly.”
He noticed something on the ground. “Ah, there it is.” He bent over to pick it up, smacking his head on the only mic stand that was still on stage. “Ah, fuck.” He was lucky it was off. 
He rubbed his head as he held out his card. “Sorry about that. Anyway, we’ve taken a notice to you and would like to sign you guys. Though, why haven’t you been signed yet? I would imagine people have been scrambling to get you guys under their label.”
You shrugged. “Waiting for the right label. No one had enticing enough perks, so we’ve just been staying independent,” you said, taking his card from him.
“Though,” you said, a grin spreading across your face under your mask. “I’m sure you guys might have what I’m looking for.”
The man blinked in confusion. “Hm?” 
You didn’t pay him any mind as you stared at his card. Finally, after a year and a half of hard work, it was finally paying off.
DONQUIXOTE ENTERTAINMENT.
DONQUIXOTE CORAZON. SENIOR MANAGER. 
(555)761-0715
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surrealisticduvet · 3 months ago
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Album Review: From a Radio Engine to the Photon Wing (1977)
Drawing from a surprisingly profound Allmusic review, I must mention that this album, having come out in 1977, is definitely inspired by 70s disco rhythm. The basslines are heavy, instrumentation is trancelike and steady, yet not boring. An album with such twinkling gems as “Rio” and “Casablanca Moonlight” could only have been effectively concocted during this musical era. Yet in typical Nesmith fashion, the album is not exclusively disco or rhythm – take a listen to “More than We Imagine,” where the intro blindsides you with a transition from 70s bluesy synth to a tropical pedal steel guitar riff (sadly not our good friend Red Rhodes – but still a delight). Suddenly, that bluesy swing is swung from dancefloor to beachside, and you have to just accept that you’re along for the ride. (Note - this song is so good that its title was used for the premier Nesmith lyrics website!) 
This album can get overlooked, falling in between The Prison and Infinite Rider on the Big Dogma – two hugely memorable productions.  However I truly think it holds its own, and deserves more than a little love; let’s get into it!
Favorite parts of the album:
“Rio” is obviously a fantastic song and probably doesn’t need any more lauding. It’s charming, catchy, and somehow does not overstay its welcome with a 7:02 runtime. I love the sound effects leftover from the music video in the background - it wouldn’t be “Rio” without the sounds of airport and party chatter (and of course, the “not Reno, dummy… Rio” at the end).
“Casablanca Moonlight” is quite darling, especially in the context of Michael’s fascination with classic television. As mentioned in the introduction, “More than We Imagine” is sublimely complex and is one of the more successful of his forays into genre-blending. 
“We Are Awake” is heavier than many of the other songs, dense with instrumentation and groove. There’s an extremely tasteful harmonica solo that never fails to delight me, layered on top of piano and guitar and that neverending bassline. Michael’s dry, subtle vocals don’t overpower, and neither do the backup singers’ echoes. 
“Navajo Trail” is one of my favorite covers of his – the “lolloping country & western bassline with his trademark minor chord changes” (to quote that Allmusic review) does something to my mind I can’t explain. It does not have that shuffling rhythm that it does in, say, “Tumbling Tumbleweeds” - instead, the bassline is so stiff and consistent that you could march to it, and it provides a magically captivating canvas for the ethereal vocal harmonies. 
“Wisdom Has Its Way” is a rather classic song in terms of what he usually writes. Stripped down, this could’ve featured on any number of his early albums. (Allmusic says that this song sounds like something off of Tropical Campfires – I scoff at that. That’s a stretch, at best.) 
Here, I’ll take a moment to say that I love a lot of the lyrics on this album. They’re neither too conceptual nor too practical and concrete. It makes sense that this album was made right after The Prison – not only does it incorporate the same inter-song transitions that tie the sound together into something that flows beautifully, but it speaks of spiritual enlightenment and self-actualization in a more practical manner than its predecessor did. Whereas The Prison spoke of practical matters in a conceptual manner, Radio Engine uses that which is tangible as an allegory for larger concepts. 
Critiques:
I know who we’re talking about but honestly – what is with the title? Do we know what it means? How are we supposed to remember it? (Walking into a record store in ‘77: “Do you guys have… the radio wing… photon… I don’t know, man. That new Mike Nesmith album?” “Huh? You mean that guy from the Monkees? Uh, check the bargain bin I guess...”)
“Love’s First Kiss”, co-written with someone else, which was rare, is the only middling song on the album in terms of lyrics and vocals. However, the song itself sounds so good musically that I tend to forget my complaints by the time it fades out; that, and it’s so grossly romantic that I’d frankly sit through a terrible song just to hear him say some of these things.
Finally – Michael knows how to write a hell of a disjointed album closer; I guess he just didn’t have anywhere else to throw this one. “The Other Room” is fine, and even good - but I don’t want to listen to it after sitting through what is otherwise such a groovy and relaxing album. It’s sort of like the album’s end credits… gets you ready to go back into the real world.
Conclusion:
I feel like I’ve said enough already. I don’t have a lot of context for this album’s creation to analyze it from that perspective, so I’m really just going off of the music alone, and the few things I know about the production of “Rio” and its accompanying music video. This was the beginning of a new, exciting era for Michael, and I think it sounds just great. 
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auspex · 8 months ago
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VtM Fangfest 2024 Prompt 7: The Lovers
Hello! Here is my seventh fic for Fangfest 2024 :)
All my fics will be about characters that are previously established, so you might not have context for everything mentioned or hinted at within :( Feel free to reach out to ask I love explaining!
I've never really posted my writing before so be kind!
my first fic is here
my second fic is here
my third fic is here
my fourth fic is here
my fifth fic is here
my sixth fic is here
This fic is about Mark and Cassidy, of course!!! Art of them here
They've done quite a bit together which I reference but could not fully explain below... so apologies for things mentioned without context!
I love them so much though <3 this is set just before they become a couple officially :)
Mark found himself overthinking his outfit as he walked down the endless stairs to the chantry entrance. Was wearing a whole new outfit, the one that he had picked out no less, too much? He hoped not. Surely it makes sense. Yeah. It didn’t matter, probably. Or maybe it did. Cassidy did seem to care about taste. Mark attempted to reason with himself though; one outfit wouldn’t make-or-break this. Either he was reading things correctly, and Cassidy was simply playing coy by not initiating things, or he didn’t like Mark, and nothing he did at this point would change that. 
Such were Mark’s thoughts as he made his way all the way to Cassidy’s haven. He took a deep breath before knocking. He will definitely be able to tell I’m nervous. 
Cassidy was already smiling when he opened the door. Mark couldn’t help but smile back and his nerves eased a bit. 
“Hello, Mark. I am glad you could make it. Come in.” 
“Ah, of course. I’m glad things are settling down.” Cassidy’s haven was as put-together as always; the blue couch he had helped Cassidy pick out was neatly decorated with matching pillows, and the bookshelves were finally both filled and organized. It was odd to see the room only lit by lamps; Mark missed the artificial sunlight previously provided by Gaius. He looked around and listened for anyone. “No Lillian?”
“No, she is making her report to Dr. White soon and so when I mentioned you were coming she went to her laboratory to focus.” Cassidy sighed. “I will have to make mine to him soon as well. Though it will be a successful report, I am not looking forward to the loss of free time.” He slumped onto the couch as he finished the sentence. 
Mark went to sit next to him. “Oh, yes, that makes sense. Erm, how often do you think we’ll be able to see each other, after that?” 
“It’s hard to say. I only know that it will be less.” He gave Mark a sad smile. “When I have time, I will certainly reach out to see if you are available.” 
“I would like that a lot, Cassidy. I should have a predictable schedule. Things have changed for me lately.” 
There was silence for a moment before Cassidy hesitantly spoke. “Ever since your sire met final death, yes?” He opened his notebook. 
Mark raised an eyebrow at the notebook but answered anyway. “Yes. He was, well, he asked a lot of me. And obviously entirely uh, changed my life, for the worse, I suppose. But there was a level of direction, and even of safety in a way, that I don’t have now - no one is telling me what to do, or asking what I’ve been doing, so. There’s a lot to figure out.” 
“I understand. What’s the phrase - ah, things have been turned upside down for you. And I know you said you were doing just fine, but sometimes, one’s emotional response to such a large change is delayed, so please remember, you can always talk to me.” 
“Thanks Cassidy. I’m doing ok though, really.” Mark attempted a smile. 
“Hm. I had asked you before what you wanted, Mark. Remember, after we were investigating that supposed Anarch party? At that time you said safety, and people you could talk to. Has that remained the same since your sire’s death?” 
Mark pursed his lips in thought; it was a question he had asked himself already yet still had difficulty answering. Before he got to that though: “Well actually, at the time of answering, I did want those things, but what I was really working towards was freedom from him, though as you might guess I had mixed feelings about it even then.” 
“This makes sense, and it is wise to keep such things close to your chest.” Cassidy made a note. “And what do you want now, then?” 
“I’m still not sure.” He made eye contact with Cassidy as he continued. “I have found people to talk to. And I’m finding some measure of safety, especially considering I won’t be asked to complete deadly tasks by my sire anymore. But I don’t know, Cassidy. I had a whole, uh, living life just a year ago and so much has changed. I know I sound like a broken record, but I’m still struggling to find my footing.”
Cassidy was writing quickly now. “And the sudden breaking of the bond didn’t help with this, as well as losing his direction, I am sure.”
Managing a weak smile, Mark replied. “No, it did not. I’m managing okay though, I think. Still, a lot changed. There are people and things I miss.”
“Certainly. It will get better with time.”
“Yeah, I guess so. You uh, help too.” Cassidy’s pen pauses for a moment. 
“You as well.” Cassidy replies quietly. “I appreciate you sharing all of this with me. I find it interesting, yet I am sure it is hard to talk about.” 
Mark scratches his neck as he speaks. “Well, like I said, you help. What do you mean by me helping you too, though?” 
Cassidy pauses first, and then speaks deliberately. “I suppose, I meant that there are things I miss too, and you remind me of them, in a good way. How is Bartholomew, also? Has he scratched up and destroyed any of your new furniture yet?” 
Mark adjusted his glasses, somewhat taken aback by the shift in topic. “Oh, not yet, but he does enjoy hiding under things. If you would like to see him, I am sure I’d be able to invite you somewhat soon, I would just have to discuss it with my roommate.” 
“Yes, I do remember you mentioning a roommate; I am curious. What is his name?” 
“Erm, JP.” 
“How did you come to live with him? Is he someone you are perhaps considering to allow into your coterie as a new member?”
“Ah, I don’t want to go into it too much, but it really just makes sense. We both are in basically the same situation and I wanted to help him out. There aren’t any issues, he just wanted some alone time and I should let him know if you’ll be coming over.” Mark smiled. “Unlike Lillian, he doesn’t have another private space to go to.
“That certainly makes sense, then. Shall we watch Fight Club now?” Cassidy was already moving to set the movie up. 
“Oh, yeah, sure.” Dammit. Mark had wanted to ask him before the movie started, but despite wracking his brain, he could not figure out how to ask. 
“You haven’t explained this movie to me yet. What is it about? Or is it intended to be a surprise?” Cassidy placed the movie in the player, and sat back down on the couch.
Was he sitting a bit closer or am I just hoping he is? Mark roused the blood to make his skin warm just in case as he replied. “It’d be better not to spoil it. I really do think you’ll like this movie, though it's not as, erm.” Mark shook his head from side to side and adjusted his glasses as he sought the right words. “Well, the themes are not as… explicit as the previous two we saw.” 
“I see. Will that be made up for in other ways?” Cassidy’s voice was entirely deadpan. 
“Oh, I’ll let you judge that for yourself.” Mark glanced at Cassidy’s notebook, which was in his lap as usual. His pen was poised to take notes. 
This time, Mark struggled not to sneak glances at Cassidy to see his reactions to the movie. Last time they watched a movie together, Mark hadn’t seen it before and had found it engrossing, making it much easier to focus. Since Mark had already seen this movie, he was much more interested in Cassidy than the screen. It didn’t help that they were sitting so close this time. Maybe he really had sat closer intentionally? 
Cassidy made notes frequently, and overall Mark observed that he appeared quite interested. He adjusted how he was sitting periodically, seemingly lost in thought, and tilted his head towards Mark. In these adjustments, most brought him closer to Mark - he still couldn’t tell if it was on purpose, but it was becoming harder to deny that it was. 
During a quiet scene, Cassidy caught Mark looking at him. By this point, Cassidy had maneuvered himself quite close to Mark, close enough for Mark to make out his eyelashes behind the reflected light in his glasses. 
They held eye contact for a long moment before Mark abruptly stared straight ahead at the movie. He felt the sleeve of Cassidy’s shirt brush against him as Cassidy then also turned his attention back towards the movie. If Mark just sat back a bit… 
And now they were touching, sitting with their arms against each other’s. Cassidy’s arm was cold for only a moment before he reciprocated Mark’s warmth.
Mark tried to relax, and failing that miserably, attempted to be very still instead, which was not so hard since he did not need to breathe. The positioning was awkward, but moving would either move Mark further from Cassidy, or require him to more overtly hold him, neither of which he wanted to do. 
Some time passed, and then, without looking at him, Cassidy spoke in a neutral tone. “Is this comfortable for you?” 
“Um. N- I mean, uh, I don’t mind.” 
“Hm. Is this better?” Cassidy shifted both forward and then closer to Mark; he was now somewhat leaning into his shoulder, with Mark’s arm almost around him. Without saying anything, Mark then moved to change that ‘almost’ to an ‘actually.’
Cassidy’s head was now close enough to Mark’s where it was in his peripheral vision even if he looked at the screen. Both kindred made slight adjustments until they were quite comfortable. 
“Yeah, that’s better. Th-thanks.” 
Cassidy did not reply, seemingly focused on the movie. Eventually, he pulled his legs towards his chest, placed his notebook in his lap, and leaned fully into Mark, crossing his arms. It was quite comfortable, really. 
This meant Mark had to shift to look at him again, which he did, unable to suppress a smile. Cassidy was right there; Mark could not have told you what was happening in the movie. He gave in to a sudden urge to touch Cassidy’s hair; tucking it behind his head, smoothing a strand, while being careful to not actually touch his face. 
Cassidy was still at first, then leaned into him more, so his hair almost brushed Mark’s cheek. Mark wished he could see his face, even if he knew he likely wouldn’t be able to read his facial expression anyway. 
Soon, the end of the movie came. As “Where Is My Mind?” played over the end credits, neither kindred moved. When the song was ending, Cassidy reached for his notebook. 
Still being essentially held by Mark, he started their customary discussion of the movie. “I quite enjoyed that, though unfortunately I do think some cultural references may have been lost on me. If anything, I should study this film further. I am curious, were you able to predict the ending the first time you watched it?” 
The credits had long since finished rolling and Cassidy had run out of questions about the movie. Fight Club had been the only thing they had discussed, neither giving any acknowledgment of their intimate position. Once they both had stopped speaking, Mark was very conscious of himself and his movements, no longer occasionally playing with Cassidy’s hair. The pair was sitting still in silence, faced by only a blue screen. 
Mark mustered his courage to say something and turned to Cassidy’s head, who at the same time turned to face him. Cassidy’s face was illuminated by the bluescreen, and his eyes looked directly into Mark’s. Their faces were closer than they had been before, in heavy silence. 
“You look handsome in this light.” Mark managed to choke out just above a whisper. “Though, you always do.” 
Cassidy’s eyebrows furrowed in a look of surprise and almost disbelief; vulnerable. He opened his mouth as if he was about to respond, but instead turned and buried his face in Mark’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around him in a hug. Mark felt Cassidy’s glasses press into his shoulder as Cassidy essentially nuzzled into him. 
“Oh.” Mark found himself holding Cassidy and slowly rubbing his back, unsure if he should say something else. 
They sat like that for a minute before Cassidy pulled away and made eye contact with Mark once again. His face was composed, though his hair had gotten somewhat tangled, when he finally replied. “Mark, I share the sentiment. I.” He closed his eyes for a moment, apparently recomposing himself. “I appreciate you sharing that. You, ah, probably will not be surprised to hear that I am not very experienced in this.” 
“This?” Mark raised an eyebrow, slightly teasing. 
“You know.” Mark felt Cassidy’s arm strain for a moment as if to gesture before Cassidy realized it was pinned behind Mark’s back. “Um.” 
“Yes?” 
“Well, what would you call it?” Cassidy gave a surprisingly awkward smile, slightly showing teeth even, which Mark had only seen him do once before when he first offered him a TV. However, this smile looked more anxious than happy. 
“Wha- Cassidy. You’ve said it yourself that you’re not experienced in many things. How am I supposed to guess which you mean now?” Emboldened, he reached around to fix Cassidy’s hair. 
Wait, hang on, was he about to cry? Mark got a glimpse of Cassidy’s composure breaking once again before he quickly set his glasses aside, and returned to Mark’s shoulder, face hidden. It was more comfortable than before without the glasses digging into him. 
“Oh, um, it’s alright. It’s ok.” Mark tried to make his voice reassuring; he wasn’t sure exactly what was wrong but clearly Cassidy wanted comfort. He checked his watch as he went to start rubbing his back again. Good, it wasn’t even 11 yet. “I, I like what is happening right now, if you do too. We can just do this for a while.” 
Mark felt him nod and hold him more tightly. Resolving to go at Cassidy’s pace for the rest of the evening, he refrained from teasing him further and returned to stroking his hair. He really loved Cassidy’s hair. 
The room was quiet save for the low buzzing of the TV. Mark continued for several minutes before Cassidy sat up again. This time, he sat up a bit straighter, took Mark’s hands into his own, and looked down at them.
Cassidy took a long, slow breath, seemingly just to steady himself, and finally spoke. “What I mean to say is, I suppose, is that I am not used to…” he trailed off. “To any of this.” He closed his eyes as he took another breath he didn’t need, and continued. “I don’t know what I’m doing, so once again, I will follow your lead.” Cassidy slowly started to run his thumb across Mark’s knuckles, but stopped himself, as he waited for a reply. 
“Right. Uhm, this is nice. But we should be clear on where we uh, stand.” Mark cleared his throat, prompting Cassidy to look up. Mark wasn’t used to seeing him without his glasses, nor Cassidy looking so wistful, or maybe worried, or maybe even hopeful - he had managed a trace of a smile. He stumbled over his words. “Uhm, right. Cassidy, I, well, I am, glad that I’ve met you and that we can spend time together. I uh, I like you. I’m romantically interested in you, is what I mean. Which I’m sure you can tell. God.” Mark’s voice lowered. “You know, it’s hard to confess when you’re looking at me like that.” 
Cassidy said “oh” in a very soft voice. He swallowed, but managed to maintain eye contact after a quick glance down at Mark’s lips. “I feel the same.” 
The two just looked at each other for a few moments, before Cassidy continued. “What now?”
“Whatever we want. I can stay for longer.” He started moving closer to Cassidy’s face as he whispered, “a lot longer.” 
Cassidy tilted his head and closed his eyes.
Mark felt his nose brush Cassidy’s own, and shifted to meet his lips. He started kissing him slowly, and was able to tell that Cassidy was mirroring his own movements - following his lead. Mark held Cassidy’s head with one hand and his waist with the other to shift him to a better angle; Cassidy similarly held Mark, though did not change his position. 
Mark enjoyed being able to almost teach Cassidy, in a way - the thought that this may be Cassidy’s first kiss, or perhaps first kiss with a man, or at the very least his first kiss in decades, rang in Mark’s head and he did everything he could to make it a good one, while not going too far. He kept his mouth mostly closed, only using hints of tongue. 
Cassidy whimpered softly, very nearly overwhelmed but not quite. 
Mark smiled as he kept going, maintaining the same mild intensity, holding Cassidy close, enjoying the feel of his lips and shy reciprocation of everything Mark did. This was his first time kissing anyone since his embrace, and it felt odd that his breathing remained steady despite his intense nerves. God, he couldn’t believe this was really happening. 
He pulled away briefly to look at Cassidy. He looked beautiful, staring up at him. 
After only a moment though, when Mark leaned in for another kiss, Cassidy leaned away. Seeing Mark’s look of concern, he took a breath and spoke. “That was wonderful, Mark.” Cassidy’s voice was full of emotion for a moment, making Mark’s heart hurt, before shifting to his moderate tone. “However, it’s… not something I’m used to. I need some time. As always though, I enjoy our time together, and I am sure I will even more in the future.” He stood up, and waited for Mark to follow him towards the door.
“Ah, what? Um, I mean. Ok.” Mark was not able to hide neither the surprise nor disappointment from his voice. “We- we can go slow I guess. We have eternity, after all.” 
“Indeed. I will see you soon, before I return to a formal schedule, hopefully.” He held the door open for Mark. 
“Right, uh, I will see you soon.” Mark paused in the door. “Goodbye?” He gave an awkward wave.
“Have a good evening, Mark.” Cassidy’s face was a mask.
It was very awkward leaving Cassidy’s haven. Sure, it had been awkward in the past, but it was different this time - Mark wasn’t sure why Cassidy wanted him to leave so early, even though they just admitted feelings for each other, and even kissed. Why did eternity have to wait? Why did Cassidy have to be so formal, after all of that? 
The walk up the stairs back from the chantry entrance felt like it took hours. 
Bonus:
Cassidy closed the door after Mark’s final wave goodbye. He stayed there for a moment, resting his head against the door, leaving his hand on the handle. 
Looking at his hand, Cassidy thought about how it had looked holding Mark’s. It was something he had only been able to imagine; now, it was something he could remember. He kept thinking about the sensation of Mark’s lips on his own, how his facial hair felt against his own face. The warmth of another pressed up against him - how badly he had craved that and how it was just as good as he half-remembered from over a century ago. 
Speaking of, he should write all this down. 
That thought brought him back to reality. 
The notebook was left abandoned on the couch; his attention had focused elsewhere and it had been left half open. This negligence concerned Cassidy. Even if it was in code, in the privacy of his own haven, on principle it should never be open and visible to others. 
Looking at it, Cassidy knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from crying for much longer. He quickly took the notebook and retreated into his private study, so that if Lillian got back early (against his wishes) she would not see him. 
Cassidy grabbed a cloth he normally used for cleaning and slumped into his new armchair. He missed his old one, but that had been destroyed when Lillian’s chimera got out of control. 
Now it was safe for Cassidy to let himself break. 
He started smiling and crying at the same time. The tears welled slowly, and Cassidy wiped his face deliberately each time; he knew it was healthy to cry, but it still did not come easily. He hadn’t wanted Mark to leave, though he was more patient than the fledgling and didn’t mind waiting to spend more time with him. But he could not cry in front of Mark, however, he could not have stopped himself from doing so much longer. 
He should have predicted this would happen. Perhaps he could have prepared himself better, or asked Mark to go slower, so he could keep his composure. Too late now.  
Steadying himself enough to write, he took out his pen and began recording, in his customary way, what had happened. The familiarity of it was calming. 
What did Mark say, exactly? ‘I’m romantically interested in you’, or something? 
Of course he would phrase it like that. 
16 notes · View notes
majesty-madness · 2 years ago
Text
"Liquid Grief" - Bucky Barnes x reader (sfw)
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Summary: Parties were never her thing, especially when alcohol is involved.
Word Count: 3700+
Warnings: angst, crying, panic attack, anxiety, alcohol consumption, mentions of being drunk/tipsy, past trauma, mentions of family problems
a/n: I won’t say too much, but I will say that this is based on a bit of my own experiences. So I just want to say that if you’ve been through something like this you are not alone, and because it’s difficult to bring up this topic with people I know, writing it out in a story helps me process through it. And if this helps you in some way, I’m glad you found comfort in it.
Also, I know the title is a little weird; it was kind of an ironic twist on the whole “liquid courage” phrase. Not proofread.
Main Masterlist
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She couldn’t believe she agreed to be here. 
This was the absolute last place she wanted to be right now, and yet here she was; on the top floor of the Avengers base in New York, probably Tony’s most ritzy floor in the entire building. 
Tony decided for one reason or another to have a small party to celebrate their successful missions as of late, and that was fine but eventually people who had nothing to do with the Avengers showed up until it was packed. 
That was just one of the downsides to having Tony as a friend, he invited way too many people.
Tony had invited Bucky as well despite their history, seeing as how he was a friend to Steve and Tony considered Steve his friend so to each his own. 
Y/N could tell the moment they arrived that Bucky had been slightly nervous as well, and it was because of his nervousness that Y/N was adamant in staying. Not to mention that her best friend, Natasha would also be there. 
No matter how uncomfortable Y/N was at the party, she felt that since she was such a homebody that she should try to enjoy something she didn’t usually participate in. 
A whole lot of good that turned out to be. 
As soon as Y/N got there, Natasha had been distracted by a retired SHIELD agent who she knew but Y/N did not. 
And while she originally stayed with Bucky, Sam quickly dragged him away once he saw the man.
It left Y/N to fend for herself, which meant talking to people she barely knew. 
To make matters worse, every single person there was drinking. Wine, beer, whiskey, vodka, you name it, someone had it. 
The sight of any kind of alcohol made Y/N anxious. It reminded her too much of her family. 
When they began to drink they acted like completely different people, people she didn’t recognize and while her family had never done anything to hurt her, in some way it still pained her seeing how they could barely get through one day without a drink in their hands. 
She remembered the countless times she timidly admitted that she was worried because they drank so much and acted like…well not themselves. Sadly after saying so she’d be met with anger or frustration at the fact that she pointed out their unprecedented behavior. 
They would go on to say she didn’t know what she was talking about and that she was judging them, trying to tell them she thought she was better than they were.
Though once they’d sober up, they apologized for how they behaved and the guilt was clear in their eyes, but the damage was already done. 
So nowadays, alcohol (no matter the form) put her on edge. 
However, Y/N wasn’t going to prance around telling people they were wrong for drinking alcohol because in small doses, drinking was okay. It wouldn’t kill you to have an occasional drink, but when someone needed it every day, that was a problem. A problem she didn’t know how to deal with. 
Was it a problem though? Was she being dramatic? Maybe too sensitive or emotional? Perhaps a prude for her grudge against the fermented beverage? 
That’s what Y/N thought at least. 
Her brain rationalized that she was a weirdo, an odd duck because she refused to drink. 
I mean if everyone else was such a big fan of it, then why wasn’t she? 
Quickly, Y/N shook her head out of the creeping thoughts that entered without her permission.
Her ears suddenly tuned back to the receptionist that had been talking to her for the majority of the night, not missing the glass of wine in the lady’s hand. 
“Do you think that a date to a cafe is boring?” The young woman asked her. 
Y/N blinked a few times, trying to get her head back to reality. “Uh, no I don’t think so. Bucky and I go to the cafe all the time.” 
The girl tilted her head to the side, eyes squinting in confusion. “Bucky?”
“Oh! I’m sorry, you probably don’t know who that is, um…it’s that man over by the bar. The one with gloves and black leather jacket.” Y/N quickly explained while she pointed to Bucky talking to Sam at the bar. 
The lady turned to look over her shoulder immediately seeing him and expressing that she saw him. “Oh, yeah! James Barnes, right? The guy who used to be the Winter Soldier. How is he? Ya know, adjusting to the modern times.”
The mention of the name HYDRA gave him, caused Y/N to pause and slowly process what she was asking. 
God, she needed to get out of here. Her anxiety was short circuiting her brain. 
“Uh.. he’s fine I guess, things are still a bit new for him so it's a work in progress.” 
She watched the lady nod, cheerily, a little too cheerily when another woman walked over. Someone Y/N, yet again, did not know. 
“Hey, Christine! How are you?” 
The receptionist beamed with a smile. “I’m doing great, Nicole, how are you? Did you get that new job?”
The two ladies began to chit chat amongst themselves, side stepping Y/N’s existence entirely. Not that she really gave a shit since she didn’t know these girls personally. 
Though she decided to stay for another ten minutes in case one of them did want to talk to her, but once the topic of the woman, Nicole's dog came up, Y/N ditched the conversation all together. 
Her feet subconsciously carried her to the man she desperately wanted to be beside. 
Y/N heard the familiar sound of Bucky’s laughter at something Sam said, causing the slightest of smiles to appear across her face. 
Unfortunately, the smile vanished when her eyes caught the shape of two shot glasses sitting beside them on top of the bar. 
Don’t freak out. She scolded herself, putting on an act as she stepped beside the two men. 
“Hey.”
Bucky met her gaze first, his hand coming up instinctively to rest on her back. “Hey, Doll.” 
“What are you guys up to?” Y/N asked while faking a casual attitude. 
“Just trading stories.” Bucky said, grinning from ear to ear. 
Clearly, he was completely relaxed, and Y/N knew that was thanks to Sam. He definitely had the lighthearted aura that Bucky needed, someone who let him look forward to the future. 
“And playing an old drinking game.” Sam added loudly over top of the music that was playing.
Suddenly her throat felt dry like she just swallowed sand. It was beginning to get hard to breath, to think, to calm down. The familiar rush of panic began to rise from the pit of her stomach to her heart causing it to thump harshly. 
Oh no. 
Y/N gulped. “Oh yeah…” 
“Yeah, so how about you join us?” Sam suggested, already pouring liquor into another shot glass. He held it up in front of him, toward Y/N. 
She felt her heart rate spike right then as she eyed the brown-ish colored liquid with an all too familiar smell. 
“No thanks, I’m good.” She declined politely, trying to keep her voice from cracking. 
Sam pushed it closer to her. “Oh come on, don’t be like that. Just one.” 
Sweat began to fall from her pores, her throat felt tight, and her tongue was heavy. For a second, she doubted she could speak at all. 
“I said no, Sam, I-I don’t want it.” Her nerves caused her body to tremble with anxiety, the recipe for a panic attack. 
Her brain knew exactly what was happening, making her repeat the same phrase in her mind. 
Don’t freak out. 
Don’t freak out. 
Don’t Freak Out. 
DON’T Freak Out.
DON’T FREAK OUT!
“One shot, that’s it.” Sam persisted.
Then she snapped. “I SAID, I didn’t want it, Sam!” 
As quickly as it came the shocked expression on both Bucky and Sam’s face, cleared away the anger and what washed over her was an enormous amount of guilt. 
Her eyes darted between the two men, sight becoming clouded with tears. “I- I’m so sorry…” 
She actually whimpered before turning on her heel, and sprinting right out the door on that floor. 
Y/N barely made it into the hallway when the tears rolled down her flushed cheeks. She sobbed as she ran down the empty space, hoping to get out from the four walls as soon as possible. 
Luckily, she was aware of a balcony just around the corner.
On the first day that she visited the inside of the Avengers base, she had found a little balcony tucked away a few floors below the very top. When at the vase, she spent a lot of time on that balcony just taking in the city view. 
It was the perfect spot to go unbothered for long periods of time and now she desperately needed that. 
She took a sharp right turn down another hallway, breaking off into a section that was the balcony. She pushed past the glass door, and stumbled outside until her body collided with the railing. 
Her hands gripped the railing, body hutching over, and breaths coming out in hurried huffs of air. 
Knowing that no one would hear her from below or above, Y/N let herself openly cry into the night air. 
Every little memory of her family drinking, every thought of frustration or sadness, every time she’d been rejected came to the forefront of her mind. Despite all the years that passed, the despair still felt fresh. 
She selfishly wished they would’ve stopped drinking, stopped acting like idiots, stopped promising they’d stop then do it again, stopped betraying her trust, stopped dismissing her when she expressed her concern. 
Just stopped. 
Y/N knew that they were only human, and humans were inherently flawed; of course she knew that. She had largely forgiven the times they hurt her, as she was sure that they forgave her when she hurt them, but she could never shake the sorrow of this ongoing problem. 
How many times did she have to go through this before it stopped hurting? 
What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to solve this? 
Had she not done enough? Too much?
What did she do wrong?
That last thought caused her body to go slack against the railing, and fall to the balcony floor. She sat on her knees with her hands planted to the floor, tears dripping from her cheeks as her face looked down. 
It had been a long time since she last cried so hard, and she already could feel her eyes swelling from the pressure. 
Y/N continued to cry for several minutes, heavy pants escaping her mouth even as she attempted to calm her breathing. It just wasn’t happening. 
Nothing pulled her out of her broken state until she heard the sound of someone stepping out onto the balcony. 
“Y/N?” A familiar voice gently spoke. 
She might’ve stopped crying had it been anyone else, but not Bucky. However, she made no attempt to speak, instead she shook her head. 
He stepped even closer to her, pausing just short of a few steps then crouched down. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
Finally, she found her voice. “I just don’t understand. I don’t understand why they drank so much because all it does is make them act like fools, act like people I don’t know.” 
The confession left Bucky a little confused as he wasn’t sure who she was referring to, but he stayed silent, simply letting her get it out. 
“They didn’t used to, they used to have fun without it, used to live without it. But once they started, they never stopped. And it was always so much, but when I told them I was worried for them they got angry with me, like I was attacking them.” She paused as a sob stuttered out. 
Bucky placed both hands on her shoulders, fully sinking down onto the floor with her. 
“I just wanted them to take care of themselves, I wanted them to go back to the way they used to be, be the people I know instead of being these entirely different people.” She brought one of her hands to cover her mouth to somehow silence the gut wrenching cry that hurt her throat. 
That time Bucky wrapped his arms around her, bringing her inside his warm embrace. She reciprocated by doing the same, tucking her face into his shoulder, and blind to the tear marks she left on his jacket. 
“I love them so much, and I just wanted them to be okay, to be healthy. But all I ever got was rejection, especially whenever I said that it made me uncomfortable when they drank. It’s like they didn’t care! No matter what, it just-” 
She didn’t finish opting to cry and hold Bucky as if he were her lifeline. In a way, he was. 
He cradled the back of her head, the other arm securing her body against him. “Shh, shh it’s okay, sweetheart it’s okay. I’m here.” 
Bucky felt Y/N shake her head on his shoulder. “I feel so stupid for being so upset, because I know that a lot of people drink, it’s me that’s the weird one.”
“No, darling, you’re not.” 
“They made so many promises, saying they would stop but they never did and I tried to be understanding. I really did, but it didn’t matter. We ended up right back to where we started. I don’t know what to do or how I’m supposed to feel. I hate this!” 
Y/N was breathing hard, so much so Bucky thought she was on the cusp of hyperventilating. “Darling, I know that this is hard, but I need to take a deep breath. On three, you’ll breathe through your nose then out through your mouth okay?” 
“I can’t..” She shook her head, making a gasping like sound when she sobbed again. 
“You can, I promise. Just breathe with me, listen to me. One..two..three, breath in.” Bucky then inhaled through his nose, hearing Y/N do the same albeit a little shaky. “Breathe out…” 
Both of them exhaled through the mouth, and he noticed that she trembled a little less now. 
“That’s good, let’s try it again okay? Breathe in….” 
She closed her eyes, following his instructions. 
“Breathe out…” 
They did that together several more times, and Y/N eventually came back to the present and calmly took in the world around her. The warmth of his embrace, the sound of his breathing, his heartbeat, the hand rubbing her back up and down, all of it.
Instead of being forced back to the real world, it felt as though someone had gently grabbed a hold of her hand and guided her back to a place of serenity. 
Bucky carefully pulled back, letting his hands stay on her back. “Are you okay? Feel a little calmer?”
Y/N gave a slight nod, wiping away a few of her tears. 
“Tell me what’s wrong, I promise I’ll listen, I’ll do whatever you need.” He reassured as he kept his voice low and soft so he wouldn’t overwhelm her. 
So she told him. 
She told him about how when she was a kid, her family began to drink and had never stopped. How irresponsibly they acted, how mad they got at her for bringing it up, their apologies while heartfelt didn’t change anything, and how much it had impacted her over the years as well as how silly she felt for being so panicked about it. 
In her mind, alcohol was something that everyone in the entire world had and took part in and so she thought perhaps she was the inconvenient one for choosing a different way of life. 
“That’s a lot to deal with.” Bucky said hushedly, sitting on the floor beside Y/N. 
She resorted to pulling her knees up to rest her chin on top of them. “I know.”
There was a lul of silence between them, the sounds of the bustling city way down below the only thing they could hear. 
Then Y/N sighed, throat still thick from crying. “The thing that kills me is that they’re good people, I mean they gave me a great childhood and everything. I just want better for them.” 
Bucky shook his head in her defense. “But Y/N you can still love them and not agree with the choices they make. And even if drinking is something a lot of people do, you’re not stupid for wanting nothing to do with it.”
“I know that too. It makes me sad though, they can’t seem to live without it; that’s not who they used to be.” 
Y/N felt the slightest bit of tears return to her eyes causing her to lift her head up and look toward the sky. 
Bucky noticed right away so he wrapped one arm around her shoulder, and tugged her toward him. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s alright to be sad about it, but listen: you are not responsible for what your family decides to do. They have the freedom to make those choices, that’s not something you can control.” 
She looked over to the love of her life, all teary eyed and despaired. Bucky lifted his hand up to wipe a lone tear that managed to escape. 
“If what you said is true, then your family does care about you. That’s a good thing, but they can’t expect you to be alright with the actions that make you uncomfortable and they’ll have to accept that you're not okay with it.” 
Y/N laid her head on his shoulder, face tucked into his neck. He then brought both of his arms around her, beginning to slowly rock back and forth. “What’s important is that you focus on trying to live your life, and not letting them take over your’s. Yes, continue to love them, but ultimately they gotta own their own decisions and not rely on you to tell them.”
He felt the familiar movement of her nodding as she pushed herself further into his side. He was a bit convinced that if she could disappear into him, she would. 
Most times, he felt the same. 
“Bucky?” Her small voice made its way to his ears. 
“Yes?” He whispered back to her. 
“I love you.” 
The super soldier smiled that time. “I love you too, sweetheart.”
“I’m sorry too.”
“No, no, no. None of that.” The man quickly interjected. “You don’t let me apologize for the problems I have so I won’t let you.” 
For the first time that night, Y/N laughed. “Okay, okay, I won’t apologize. Sorry.”
Bucky sighed. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Love me.” Y/N said, pulling back from his shoulder to kiss his cheek. 
“I believe I already do that, Doll.” He smirked then leaned into kiss her cheek too.
Suddenly, Bucky jerked back a bit and immediately went to his back pocket and he pulled out his phone. 
“It’s Sam.” He clicked the answer button then held it up to his ear. “Yeah, Sam?” 
Sitting next to him, Y/N made out some of what was being said, but not all of it. All she could gauge from the conversation was what Bucky said aloud. 
“I’m with her right now. She’s okay now, why?” 
He paused for a moment before pulling the phone away from his ear. “He said he wants to talk to you, are you okay with that?”
“Yeah.” Y/N took the phone from his hand and held it up. “Sam?”
“Y/N, I just want to say I’m sorry for being like that. I am a little tipsy, and I know I can be a bit much when I’m tipsy so I’m really sorry.” 
Y/N managed to smile. “It’s okay, Sam. And I’m sorry for yelling at you, I wasn’t really mad at you, it's just I let some…personal stuff get to me and I took it out on you.”
“No, it’s alright. I was being pushy, so next I promise I’ll tone it down.”
“Thanks, Sam. I appreciate that. Have a good night.” As soon as she heard him say good night, she handed the phone back to Bucky. He quickly said his goodbye then hung up. 
After he put his phone into his pocket, he looked to Y/N. “What do you say to some Chinese food and a movie back home?” 
“I’d like that.” She eagerly agreed, her once saddened expression turned delighted. 
“Alrighty then.” Bucky breathed, clapping his hands together briefly like he was gathering his thoughts before getting up off the ground. He held his hand out to Y/N who took it without hesitation, letting him pull her up from the floor. 
When she got to her feet, Bucky pulled her against his chest, eyes staring lovingly down at her. “You ready?” 
“I’m ready.” 
He pecked her lips, taking pride in her slightly embarrassed expression coupled with a bashful grin. 
Bucky grabbed a hold of her hand, intertwining their fingers together and gave it a reassuring squeeze. 
Y/N did the same, giggling when he looked back at her while heading back inside the building. The entire time, from the base to the Chinese restaurant to their apartment, Y/N’s mind kept returning to the moment she panicked to the moment Bucky found her and helped her. 
That always happened whenever the shit hit the fan, however, she realized this had been the first time she had someone to tell about what was going on inside her head. He was the first person to listen and not get upset because she admitted what was bothering her. 
She couldn’t tell her family about this problem because they were the problem, so she kept it inside. 
Having Bucky by her side reminded her that she didn’t have to live life alone, stuck in her head, but instead could work through these problems without being judged. 
For that, she was grateful. Unyieldingly grateful.
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a/n: If you’re reading this, thanks for making it all the way through. Sorry if this was a convoluted mess, things were really tough for me yesterday and it’s kind of difficult to explain and kinda makes no sense, but writing in this form helps a little. Regardless, hope you guys are having a good day. Looking forward to finishing the next chapter for “A Past Encounter,” so keep an eye out for that. 
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